#on the odd occasion he's on shift when they happen he asks someone else to cover him

[softquietsteadylove]

Some soft beautiful and cute moments for thenamesh Doctor au? They deserve a little break ❤️

"How is she?"

Ajak turns with a smile at the head just barely poking into the room. She waves him in, and Gil shuffles in quietly, his hands pushed deep into his hoodie pockets. "She's okay, Gil. She's coming down from the anaesthetics, her vitals all look good. Aside from some physio and some time off, she'll be just fine."

Gil chuckles, walking around to the other side of the bed with Thena sleeping soundly. "She'll be furious she has to take time off. If she comes in for physio she'll probably just slip away and try to work."

Ajak shrugs, giving him a grin, "I'm sure you wouldn't let her anyway."

"You're right."

Ajak averts her gaze as Gilgamesh reaches out to push some of Thena's hair away from her face. Maybe he's forgotten they aren't alone, or maybe he just doesn't care who sees him do it. "You know you can't take two weeks off too, right? I know you want to, but if Thena isn't here, then I'll need you more than ever."

Gil nods solemnly, his hand almost back in his pocket when he suddenly decides the place for it is around Thena's hand. "She wouldn't let me take the time off either, I'm sure. I can check on her between my shifts."

Ajak just shakes her head. It's not as if she would be able to do anything to stop him from doing so. "Just remember to get your proper rest, too."

"Yes, Ma'am," Gil offers a tired smile before looking down at Thena again. He reaches up to her hair again, but this time he trails a finger over her cheekbone, then down her jaw. "Oh, Thena."

Ajak is about to leave the two lovebirds alone when Thena shifts. "Thena?"

"Honey?" he whispers, leaning to get a look at her eyes. They're still hazy, but she blinks at him. "Hey, Sweetie, how are you feeling?"

"Hey."

Ajak's eyes sneak over to the heart monitor displaying her heart rate, blood oxygen and blood pressure readings. The heart rate has picked up speed a little, not that either of them have taken notice.

"Morning, Sunshine," Gil chuckles, visibly relieved at the sound of Thena's voice. He leans over her, liberally planting a kiss on her cheek. "How're you feeling?"

Ajak observes a funny little skipped beat, but it seems to be a momentary effect.

"I'm okay," Thena whispers to him, her eyes still struggling to open all the way. She makes the faintest attempt at pulling herself up.

"Hey, easy," Gil rushes to hold her. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, helping her up to her desired angle and bringing a cup of ice chips up to her lips.

Ajak adjusts the bed so Thena can lie down/sit up comfortably. Not that they notice that either.

Gil takes the cup from her as she swallows down the much needed water. "Better?"

She nods, her thumb moving against his absently as she tries to absorb her surroundings. She - finally! - looks over at Ajak. "What happened?"

Ajak smiles at her, pulling her blankets up again. "We got you right into surgery, got some blood in you. You're lucky it wasn't more serious."

Thena sighs, lying heavier against her pillow. "How long?"

"Two weeks, minimum," Ajak says firmly, and watches Thena make a face like a teenager being forced into a family reunion. "And that's if things heal quickly and your physio goes well."

Thena rolls her eyes at it, although she gets jabbed in her good leg with Ajak's pen for it. "Hey!"

"Don't roll you eyes at me, little lady," Ajak smirks at her, happy at least to see Thena regain some of her usual fire as she glares back at her. "I'm going to tell them that you're up. You two, wait here."

"I'll do my best," Thena grumbles, further ensuring her recovery. She smiles at Ajak on her way out before looking at Gil again. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" he asks, and then openly scoffs. "You were stuck under a car, Thena--for hours!"

"It wasn't hours."

"Well, no one would tell me how long it was!" he protested, "so I had to imagine the worst!"

Thena just sighs. She has a clear memory of him lying down with her, holding her hand and whispering sweet comforts to her as the rain and wind and her own impending death loomed over her. "Thank you."

Gil leans over her again, pressing his forehead to hers, as he had done in the moment under the car. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to you, Thena. I swear."

"I know you wouldn't," she whispers back. Her eyes flutter open again while Gil's are still closed. He's so close he's blurry, but she can make out the pinkness of his lips.

Gil pulls back, smoothing over her hair again. "Hey, what were you going to say?"

"Hm?"

"Just at the end," he frowns, twirling a long of blonde around his finger. "You started saying 'Gil if-' but I wouldn't let you finish."

"Oh."

That heart monitor is beeping faster again.

"I didn't want you to say anything because there was no if, then," he shrugs, more able to talk about it now that the immediate danger has faded a little. He tilts his head at her, "so, what was it?"

Thena's eyes dart around a little, listening to that damned heart monitor blaring her guilt. Not that it was as loud as media made them seem, but it wasn't as silent as she would like.

"I don't think I remember."

Gil tilts his head at her and her sudden unwillingness to look at him. He leans over until she has no choice but to see him (being stuck in a bed, and all). "Hey, wait."

Thena's fluster only worsens as his palm presses against her forehead. She squeezes her eyes shut, "Gil, it..."

"You look a little flushed," he frowns at her, and just now looks up at her monitor readings. "BPs kind of high too--you might be fighting an early infection. I'll get Ajak."

Gil takes off before Thena can really stop him and tell him not to. And at least it gives her a chance to try and get her traitorous heart to calm down a bit.

[autolovecraft]

Being without superstition, he did not care to imagine.

He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died.

Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling.

In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! Birch to the outside of a spare bed and sent his little son Edwin for Dr. Davis. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood.

When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he did not care to imagine. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. Being without superstition, he did not care to imagine. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box.

His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin! On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made.

It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin! The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he planned to save the rejected specimen, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds.

[thinkingofsimpyboisinc]

Using a random word generator to help make stuff for y’all. :,) If you have requests, send them now bc I’m on the grind.

WORD: GRADIENT

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?: an inclined part of a road or railway; a slope.

CHARACTER: TECHNOBLADE

WARNINGS: Yandere, Possible Predator/Prey (NON-sexual), Injury, Stalking, Implied Kidnapping

A/N: This isn’t CC!Technoblade. It’s just a random version of C!Technoblade. He still has pink hair, but the story takes place in modern times. Thank you for listening.

You had originally met him at a grocery store. You were new to the area and didn’t know where anything was in the store; he was standing in the same aisle up ahead. You had asked for one item or another and thanked him when he showed you, but he wasn’t done yet. He walked you to the area and continued chatting, which didn’t bother you; friends were always nice to have. He introduced himself as Technoblade, a bit of a strange name, but you weren’t one to judge (at least not openly.) You introduced yourself back, bought your items, and left. Little did you know, that was enough for him.

That night, Technoblade had never left your presence, not that you knew that. He made sure to be quiet, walking slowly and staying in the shadows. On occasion, you’d turn around just to check that no one was behind you, but Techno was quick. He avoided your sight and watched with interest as you walked into an apartment building; he had your address. He went home that night, remembering everything he had learned that day - learning your schedule would be hard, but not impossible. It’d just take time, time that he had.

Ever since that day, Techno would randomly appear at places you’d be at. You concluded that he must have been a rather active person, despite what other locals had told you about him. You recall a time where a gas station employee told you to ‘watch out for that one.’ You were puzzled but shrugged it off to dumb, small-town rumours. With his monotone voice and sharp, red eyes, some dumb teenagers or cynical, old women had to have something to say about him. You found it quite ridiculous, to be honest. Techno had been a real help to you while you’ve been here; he was rather attractive as well. Some people on this Earth just had to be awful.

You started realising that something was up when he had mentioned your cat on one of your meetings. You didn’t recall telling him about your cat; you never saw a reason to. He insisted that you had told him, that maybe you just didn’t remember it because it wasn’t too important. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, but you always found it a bit strange. The second incident happened only two days after. You and Techno had ran into each other at your workplace. It was late and your shift had just ended, so after closing up and exiting the building, you turned and immediately bumped into someone’s chest. Upon backing away and looking up (after apologising, of course,) you recognised the familiar face of Technoblade. He gave an awkward chuckle - something you noticed could be a force of habit - and asked, sort of jokingly but also not in a way, if you were still open. You found it a bit odd that he’d even think the shop would be open at this time of night, and deep down, you knew it wasn’t just a coincidence either. You still pushed the thoughts away and made a joke that maybe he could be an exception.

You made a bit of small talk and took note of the nice-looking car behind him; you recalled him mentioning his job once, saying it ‘paid nicely’ (something that you found weird was why he felt the need to mention his job that day, the conversation had nothing to do with work) so you assumed it was his. He offered a ride, saying he didn’t see any other cars around, which was true; no one else could be seen or heard at this time of night. You declined. You weren’t sure as to what it was, but something about Techno had just felt off today. Maybe it had something to do with him showing up to your workplace just a minute after you locked the doors or maybe that he was even out at this time of night, allegedly ‘just for a bite.’ You said you’d just walk home even if your home was far away, you didn’t see any reason to be scared. It was a rather safe area, anyway. He persisted and after a bit of back and forth, you became too tired to wanna walk home, so you gave in.

His car was just as nice as it looked. The seats were cozy and the car was clean. As soon as you were both in the car and buckled, he immediately started driving, not once asking about where you lived. Instead, he explored other topics such as how your day was, what was going on at work, any troubles with customers; just all the standard questions he’d ask. You couldn’t help but realise, however, how he knew the direct path to your house. You knew you never told him. You slowly stopped responding to his questions and comments to contemplate any point in time where he might’ve learned where you lived, and this behaviour didn’t go unnoticed. Techno glanced over at you and questioned if everything was alright. You couldn’t hide it any longer, you let it out. Blurting the question out, Techno glanced at you. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel harder; he gave a short sound of questioning and seemed visibly upset despite the shaky smile he wore.

You asked again, “How do you know where I live?” He gave an nervous chuckle and attempted to tell you that you’ve told him or he walked you home before; you called him out over and over until, eventually, he just went silent. You pressed forward, continually asking him and mentioning all the other things he had done that was strange. His face was full of anger, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. Any other time, you would’ve found his anger attractive, but as he took a sharp left turn, you questioned your taste in men. You felt the back of your head collide with the door and your vision went black for a few seconds before you came back to Techno shaking your arm, assumedly to make sure you were alive. You shoved his hand off you, now getting increasingly anxious as well as frustrated. He tried to de-escalate the situation, but you were persistent, demanding he stop the car and let you out. He refused and instead sped up.

As you sat there you came to the realisation that he was no longer on route to your house. The forest stood just a few yards ahead of the car, the trees were close to each other and it was hard to see through the thick woods. If he took you in here, you would never get out. Where would he even take you? What was he going to do with you? Why you out of all people? As the thoughts flooded your brain, you began to hyperventilate, tears pouring down your face. Techno glanced over to you and tried to calm you down, insisting that you would be okay and he’d ‘take good card of you.’ Hearing his forever monotone voice only made you sob harder. He was always so nonchalant about everything, how could he be calm in a moment like this? You looked out the window to try to get a hold of your surroundings - you were in the forest, deep in the forest. You looked behind, your vision blurred from your tears that still w from your eyes, and couldn’t see anything but forest behind you. You weren’t sure how deep in you were, but you couldn’t see the road you were taking anymore. Maybe that was just because of your blurry vision, maybe you were both out further than you thought - you couldn’t tell. You looked around for an escape, anything that could possibly get you out of this situation. Even if you knew that, no matter what, it would be either man or nature that took; you preferred nature.

The passagener side window was cracked, presumably from the impact of your head, and had some blood dripping down from the cracks, again, presumably from your head. The blood was worrying, but the sight of the lock controls on the door boasted your mood. You looked over at Techno, who was focused on getting through the clearing ahead; he didn’t question your silence (besides your continuing crying, that is.) You slowly reached your hand towards the door controls, never looking away from him; as soon as you would unlock the door, he’d know, so you’d have to open the door immediately. You’re grateful that as soon as he took the left turn, you’d unbuckled; it saved time and possibly your chance of escaping.

You unlocked the door and through it open.

As expected, Techno immediately looked over at you, but you were already out. You rolled a few times and combined with the feeling of your head pounding from the turn, you thought that going with Techno might not have been that bad. You push those thoughts down and pushed yourself up; Techno had already stopped the car a few yards ahead, you didn’t have time to stagger around. You bolted into the woods and tried to tell yourself that you would be fine, that you’d stick somewhat close to the path but even the most experienced adventurers would get lost in the thick wood. You ran without care, knowing that Techno would be right on your tail. As you continued through the forest, slowly losing your sense of time as well as direction, you began wondering how worth it this was. You went into the woods thick enough to make even the brightest days seem dark with no further experience with manoeuvring the forest just to spite a man whose intentions weren’t even known to you? You knew that there was no getting out of this, it was either him or certain death by nature. You debated turning back and going to hopefully find Techno but as you heard someone grow near, you snapped into reality and ran as fast as you could. This time, however, he wasn’t letting up; he was a fast runner and clearly knew more about getting through these woods, but you were determined.

The forest grew thicker and the night grew darker, but Technoblade was ever-so persistent. You were tired and covered in cuts and bruises from the tree branches and other parts of the woods. You ran as fast as you could, but you didn’t know how much longer you could go. You saw a bright shine from the moon ahead and opted to continue running in that direction. You pushed through and ran straight into light…. only to slip and fall down the gradient. You must’ve hit your head again while falling, or maybe you just lost so much blood that it seemed like that, and your vision grew darker. You heard the sound of someone sliding down the slope - they obviously had more experience in stuff like this, you wondered if you weren’t the first person this happened to - and a shadow was casted over you. As your vision began going dark for what you hoped to be the last time, Technoblade gave a slight huff and you felt yourself be lifted up and carried off.

[imagineimpact]

Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

[locke-writes]

Racing Hearts

Author: locke writes

Title: Racing Hearts

Song: Bad Habits - Ed Sheeran, Spike For: Anon

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,528

Tag List: @multifandomfix​ / ask to be added

You had no one to blame but yourself. If you actually thought hard enough about the situation that you were currently in then it was very clear that you had no one to blame but yourself. Yet still part of you wanted to blame others, part of you wanted to blame Buffy. She had been the one who introduced you to him after all. Sure at the time of the introduction she had introduced the two of you with caution knowing that Spike was recently new to not killing and you had known of his victims.

Yes you really had no one to blame for yourself for the predicament that you were in. You had no one to blame for the fact that you had fallen in love with Spike.

Spike had of course come on the Sunnydale scene like many other vampires in the area, hunting for the next feed. Entirely uneventful you had thought, easy to ignore as everyone had come to believe. Yet he kept popping up, kept coming around, kept running into Buffy. He kept on becoming some sort of annoyance for all of you and you hadn't expected him to be anything else to you at all. He was, to you, a vampire, only and always just a vampire and nothing more.

Buffy bringing him into the Scooby gang wasn't a betrayal, it was just odd. He was the enemy, he had on numerous occasions tried to kill her or anyone close to her, no matter what he hadn't seemed like the greatest ally that anyone should have. She explained that there was no way for him to kill anymore, something about a chip that prevented him from killing anyone at all although that seemed suspicious to you, some lie he might have created in an effort to infiltrate the group of the Slayer.

There was a sense of mistrust that filled you, maybe it would always fill you when you were around him. There wasn't anything that could ever calm you as you stood near him, as you worked with him. He was an enemy in your eyes, there wasn't anything that you supposed he could do to change your mind. A vampire and a human could be nothing more than enemies, it was something you had believed since the day you learned they were not more than fiction.

Each and every time you were asked to do surveillance, research, or pretty much anything at all to help Buffy in fighting some sort of the supernatural, you were paired with Spike. There was never a comment as to why you were paired up together, you had your thoughts (mainly that Xander and Willow were as suspicious as you) but you never said a thing about it. Never said a single word against working with him although you knew deep down what you felt about him had never changed.

Conversations were non-existent between you and he. The two of you would simply sit at the same table together pouring over books in an effort to find the correct creature. Silence fell over the two of you when out on patrol, the air still and the only noise the chirping of birds and the occasional car alarm. You kept your distance from him, you kept cautious of him although he had since proved that he truly could not kill. There was the thought that he might turn against you even without killing you.

You had thought you might go one continuing with your distrust of Spike, you thought perhaps that you would merely see him as an acquaintance if ever the two of you were to become more than patrol partners. You had thought a lot of things up until the night when Spike saved your life.

Some demons were stronger than others, some demons more brutal than others, these were things you knew, had been aware of, and yet still became ill prepared for. Granted when a hoard of demons appeared in Sunnydale under the disguise of a tour group you knew that anyone was ill prepared. The most demons that Buffy had taken on at once had been a small group, nothing in the twenties and thirties as had been estimated by Giles.

Buffy was the slayer but she was unable to go in alone for this one, everyone needed to be taught how to kill demons. Spike didn't need to be trained for anything, these were demons he was going up against. In an all out brawl with too many demons you were still shocked to find that you had managed to kill three before being gripped by the throat. Pressure was applied, everything going dark as you began passing out. As quickly as the moment began, it ended, the demon being pulled from you, its head being ripped from its body by Spike.

Certainly not the most romantic of moments, yet you knew something had changed between the two of you as soon as Spike began questioning you about you're well-being once the demons were all killed. He hated admitting it to himself yet it was easy for the two of youth see, he cared about you and you knew that you cared about him. Whatever animosity you'd had towards him before that moment had gone in an instant, replaced with a multitude of understanding and respect.

Caring, that's what began everything, caring. You attempted now to get to know one another, speaking about everything and nothing during research sessions. Spike began to get you into terrible British soap operas, you began asking him questions about the times and placed during which he'd lived. Told jokes, shared stories, grew with one another, that was what happened. Day after day the two of you grew into a friendship, one that often led to you visiting him on the nights when you couldn't sleep or even the nights where you had no patrolling to do.

Spike was the first one to change the nature of your relationship with him. You'd thought of him as a friend, only as a friend. Yet even though you kept telling yourself that the nature of your relationship was strictly platonic there was a part of you that wanted to be with him, that wanted to love him, that perhaps even did love him. Something you felt when around him had shifted from being pleased to have time with him to wanting to be near him and being pained when you weren't.

The two of you were watching the latest episode of a sitcom you'd managed to find that actually interested Spike when you felt his hand move on top of your own. You wanted to hold his hand, knew that was what he was asking in this silent manner but even still there was this fear that he had done it on accident, that he'd done it without thinking and he might regret the accident. You turned to face him, turned to face the downfall of a friendship but instead he pulled you to him and kissed you. When the two of you broke away you put your head against his shoulder, smiling against him.

It was easy to fall in love with Spike and even easier to know that you shouldn't. The chip was something that was to be taken away, he'd be able to harm people soon enough, be able to harm you. And even if he refused to harm you, you knew that he was a vampire, he killed to feed more often than just feeding and leaving the victim alone. Dangerous to love him, dangerous to be with him, yet you couldn't keep away from him.

No one knew you were sneaking out in the middle of the night to see Spike. Even if they did they never said a word. Night after night you'd go to visit him, there were a limited amount of things you could do that wouldn't lead to the two of you being caught together however night still led to some sort of date nights. He wanted to give you as normal a relationship as he could which was easiest when the two of you were on patrol together as there was less sneaking around and more just trying not make it obvious that you had feelings for one another.

Buffy, Giles, Xander, Willow, all of your friends perhaps suspected that you were in a relationship. Behavior changes often occurred when someone was happy in the way that you were. However even then you feared telling them, what would they think, what would they tell you? Perhaps it would end in a conversation about breaking up with him, theories about using you to get back at someone, there could be many valid reasons regarding why you should never date Spike. Still whatever they said you knew you would go against it.

It was a pattern you wanted to break although you knew that you couldn't. Try as you might you'd still come back to him. You loved him, there was never going to be any parting from him. A habit you knew you would never break.

[bokettochild]

I was trying to brainstorm the next chapter of  The Face of My Father (it’s shaping up to be an interesting one guys!), when my room-mate shot up in bed and startled me.

 Naturally, with LU on the brain and something weird happening when I was trying to lull myself to sleep, I was hit by inspiration. Thus, I settled myself down to write this 1,045 word piece of shit about the boys and their glowy animal eyes, and how it freaks the others out.

Enjoy!

(If you want to send a fic request at me, go on ahead! I have a list going, but I’ll get to yours in time!)

 There is a rule when their group stays at an inn.

 Legend, Time and Twilight must be roomed together.

 This rule is not to prevent separation anxiety of any sort, nor is it because the three are especially compatible or that they get along.

 No, this rule exists to spare Sky and everyone else from a heart attack.

 The first time it happened, it was Time.

 Wars had been on watch and had gone to wake the old man for his shift.

 Everyone had woken up, even Sky, at the startled shout the escaped the Captain.

 Time’s eyes glow in the dark. It’s not a normal glow either, not something that even makes sense. Time’s eye is royal blue, only a shade darker than Wars’ own melting stare, and though they’ve only seen Time open both of his eyes on a few occasions, they know that the other one is either pure white, or very faintly silver (Legend and Four have argued over the differences so many times that it’s gotten old).

 But when Time blinked up at Warriors that first night, brilliant blood red was all that could be seen in the dim light.

 Warriors has never taken the shift before Time since.

 It’s a strange thing, to watch as Time’s blue eye fades to violet with the setting of the sun, and once the light of the world has faded, it shines brilliant crimson. It’s unsettling to most of them, and Legend was downright cowering the first time he saw it, very nearly ducking behind the other heroes as Time’s single open eye had flickered over to them.

 They had been telling ghost stories, and now it seemed as if they were living one themselves.

 The only one who didn’t seem phazed at all was Twilight. In fact, the rancher looked to be right at home with seeing crimson staring back at him when he addressed his mentor, Four would say that Twi was downright giddy the first time that he saw it.

 No one knew why.

 But then again, Twilight did the same thing.

 It wasn’t red, and, like Time, they quickly noticed that it only happened when a light source was shining on the heroes, but Twilight’s eyes glimmered golden in the moonlight.

 It took Hyrule drawing his blade o the rancher one night for them to realize just what that meant for the man, and while Hyrule had apologized profusely, it was clear Twilight was hurt, although he didn’t seem surprised either.

 “It happens.” He assured the younger hero, big hands gently thumping against the traveler’s back in a show of comfort. “Don’t sweat it.”

 Except it's hard to live with someone when the minute the lights go out their eyes glimmer the same color you would expect from a wild thing, or worse, an enemy.

 Legend was found out last, whether it be because the Vet was always hiding under his long bangs or because his eyes were always cast in shadow, no one was quite sure, but all it took was Four tripping over the dozing veteran once before they all very quickly learned that Time and Twilight were not the only ones with odd eyes.

 Legend had shot awake again, eyes blown wide and glimmering with gold and red both as he stared up at the smithy. (The fact that Legend had frozen in place would never fail to make Twilight chuckle and the vet flush in irritation and embarrassment in future weeks).

 Most of them hoped with everything in them that it was just a trick of the light, something that happened only in this particular Hyrule. They were wrong. Every camp they made, every night, was haunted by five glowing eyes.

 If you startled Time enough, five would become six, and silver would join the show.

 No one really knew why it happened (Wild was desperate to find out, and he and Four had badgered the three for answers on multiple occasions), but it was immensely unnerving and made all of them rather uncomfortable.

 Time always shrugged it off. A quirk, he claimed, something that had happened since he could remember, a thing he had imagined all Hylians could do.  

 Warriors swore Malon must be blind or half asleep by the end of the day if she hadn’t said something by now, but Time had corrected him with a chuckle, voice deep and rich with laughter as he informed them that Malon had teased him about it endlessly. “But it comes with the benefit of never losing anything in the dark, so she’s grown quite fond of it.”  

 Twilight and Legend however, neither would answer questions.

 “You’re tired.” “Go back to bed.” and “Are you sure you aren’t imagining it?” and more had all been murmured by one or both a dozen times before, and every time they were asked the other would stare at his brother in confusion.

 And then came the first time a portal had split them, and when the two finally emerged from the forest with Sky, Legend’s hair faintly pink in the firelight and eyes even redder than usual, it was clear something had changed, and it was more than the vet’s weird pink hair. From that night on, neither Twilight nor Legend said a thing about their shared quirk, simply sharing wicked grins across the fire that made Time’s own ruby gaze sparkle with mischief.

 It was more than just slightly terrifying to have three men staring at each other like the slightest sound would send them ripping each other's throats out, but even so, there was mischief in their gazes and laughter in their eyes, even with the harsh looks they traded.

 When they stayed at inns, Time, Twilight and Legend had to share a room.  

 Thank Hylia that the three took to each other so well afterwards, because if any of their brothers had to wake up to glowing eyes leaning over their beds when there were finally beds to actually sleep on, then somebody was either going to lose an eye, or their life.

 Even heroes of courage are capable of getting heart attacks, and heavens knows how close they all came every time night fell and five glowing eyes started to shine in the darkness.

[doortotomorrow]

Memori AU / Before Time Runs Out : It wasn’t as if Murphy wasn’t planning on asking Emori out at some point-he definitely, definitely did, but hell begotten external forces worked against him at every point he wanted to. He tried to ask Emori to be his plus one at Jackson and Miller’s wedding? She was home sick with the flu. Harper’s birthday? He couldn’t go because his office had called him to fill in for someone and he couldn’t get out of it. Clarke’s art show in the park? It was rained out. And just when he thought he was in the clear to ask her to be his date at Octavia and Lincoln’s wedding anniversary, the stars aligning so immaculately, he was left devastated and adrift when Emori announced to everyone she has a date for the occasion.

It was some guy named Ryker, a fellow engineer she met at work. The mere mention of his name sounded like a fork running down a plate, causing his body to recoil in utter revulsion. Yes, he had no control over who Emori dated and she was the master of her own domain, but he couldn’t control the excruciating pain it caused him to see someone else guide Emori into a room. Reduced to grinning and bearing it, Murphy sat at his assigned seat, his fake laugh getting a huge work out as he tried to contain his bitterness at hearing Octavia and Lincoln’s romantic speeches to each other. Unable to take it any longer, he made a quick beeline to the bar, setting himself up with a whiskey sour to match his mood. 

In the corner of his peripheral vision, he clocked Ryker standing out on the balcony chatting with some of Octavia’s friends, making small talk. It didn’t amount to much to begin with(asking him what he did for a living, where he lived, the score of last night’s hockey game), until the conversation opened up about Emori. Hot, blistering pain seared its way up his spine, standing rigid and to attention, begging his heart to calm itself so whatever Ryker said wouldn’t be drowned out by his own maddened heartbeat. 

“You’re with Emori, right? How’s that’s coming along?” 

“It’s coming along great. We’ve been seeing each other for almost a month now and I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time to make things less casual and more steady between us. What do you think I should do?” Ryker asked the group, looking for some reassurance.

“I say go for it, man. This is the perfect night to do it since almost everyone’s got long term relationships on the mind tonight, so maybe she does, too.”

That was all Murphy could stand, practically leaping out of his chair, making the legs screech unpleasantly against the hardwood floor. Storming out, he tore his tie off from around his neck, loosening up the buttons on his dress shirt, and called for a cab. After spending hours of being mired in his own self loathing, laying on his bed of bad choices back at home, Murphy had enough, the fire inside of him sparking back to life as he sobered up. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight, getting into his car and driving over to Emori’s house. For once the odds were in his favor, the overall traffic being light and getting all the green lights on his drive over, making it to Emori’s in record time.

Murphy knocked three times on Emori’s door, marching anxiously back and forth, waiting for her to come and answer. He made desperate prayers to his father for Emori to be at home and not at Ryker’s, pleading with the heavens above he wasn’t interrupting anything here, either.

“John? It’s nearly midnight...I was about to get changed and go to bed,” Emori pushed back the curtains hanging on her door, getting a better glance at him. Her relaxed and casual body language shifted when she saw the stern and serious expression on his face, taken aback. “Is everything okay? Did something bad happen?”

“Is Ryker here?” Murphy asked flat out, going straight at the jugular, peering over her shoulder.

“No, he drove me home hours ago,” Emori replied, brow creasing in confusion.

“Good, because if he were here, he’d punch me in the face for what I’m about to tell you,” Murphy anchored himself down, battening the hatches in case this blew up catastrophically in his face, putting it all on the line. “Emori, I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Murphy, becoming out of breath, ripped the bandage off, exposing the vulnerable skin underneath. 

“You’re what?” Emori’s left hand pressed into her sternum, nervous fingers playing with the tiny ring dangling off her necklace. A bevy of questions soon invited themselves into her mind, not knowing which one to address first, so they all were let loose at once. “When did this-how long have you-how come-?”

Sensing they were on their way of creating a scene, Murphy stepped inside her front hall, shutting the door behind them, leading them both into Emori’s living room.

“I’ll answer all your questions and when I’m done, I hope you’ll be able to answer one of mine,” Murphy planted himself down on the leather chair across from Emori, leaning forward, unable to stop wringing his hands. “When did I fall in love with you? Practically since the day we met. How long have I’ve been wanting to tell you? Far, far too long. How come I haven’t said anything? If I got turned down by you-” Murphy could barely get the words out, his throat constricting around them as the fear of rejection held him hostage. “So I acted like I was over it, like I never had these feelings to begin with, but when you started dating Ryker, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I had to make my case and tell you before things got too serious.”

Emori nodded along, taking everything in, and did her best to maintain the neutral expression on her face.

“Here’s my big question for you, Emori...how do you feel about me?” 

Before Murphy could even register it happening, Emori had yanked him by his jacket, pulling him in for a passionate, ardent, and feverish kiss, blowing all of his fantasies about this moment out of the water. His hands ran down Emori’s back, finding a place to rest at her hips, keeping them tethered as their kiss intensified. Emori, needing to breathe, pulled away, smiling up at Murphy.

“Does this answer your question?! When Ryker dropped me off tonight, I told him I couldn’t see him anymore because when everyone was picturing what their perfect future would be, I kept seeing you in my mind. It’s you I want, John. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, and I thought you wanted the same, so I waited for you to say something-anything to give me a sign that I wasn’t on my own in this. The longer I waited, the more I lost hope, so...” Emori drifted off, letting the rest explain itself. Murphy buried his face into his hand, admonishing his past self for being such an oblivious idiot.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” Emori hummed as she settled into Murphy’s lap, running her fingers through his hair.

“We do-” Murphy started up another kiss, soothed by Emori’s soft touch, “but we’ve got plenty of time to figure things out.”

[meigh-day]

Meet Cute (Tendou x F!Reader)

Title: Meet Cute

Pairing: Tendou x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Status: Complete

Word Count: 2.1k

———————————————————–

"I can do this..." You mumble to yourself, eyes focused on the single page menu in your hands. The words scrawled across the page wanted to seem familiar but only a couple managed to find their meaning while the rest just sat there taunting you. Maybe choosing to eat out was a bad idea. It had been only a couple of weeks since you'd uprooted your whole life and moved to beautiful Paris. Sure, your apartment wasn't the prettiest or the biggest and yea maybe not actually speaking a word of French prior to moving wasn't the brightest idea but you couldn't say you regretted the decision. Not yet anyway. A kind looking waitress approached your table, pen poised to take your order as she spoke to you. Her words came quick and left you staring up at her with an awkward smile while she stared at you, expectantly at first and then confused when you said nothing.

"Oh... uh... un moment..." Is all you finally manage to stammer out in your very limited French. She sighs a bit but nods and disappears back inside, leaving you to stare a bit longer at the menu as you worry your lip between your teeth. With a sigh you place the menu flat on the table. Resting your chin in your palm as you stare out at the bustling street before you. People wandered by, laughing with friends, arms full of shopping or flowers, hands intertwined as soft words passed between them. It seemed familiar in a way, watching others pass by on their way to or from some place. Yet, that familiarity only seemed to make you feel all the more alienated, amplifying that feeling of loneliness that was starting to creep up on you. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, your train of thought derailing immediately after as you realize someone was talking to you and you'd absentmindedly acknowledged them.

"Ah, sorry!" You sit up, turning your attention towards the source. An amused smile greets you as a pair of sharp red eyes catch your own. For a moment you sit stunned, mind stuck on one word: pretty. A short chuckle brings you back and you clear your throat as you try to think of something, anything to say to this stranger. "Uhm... Ah... P-pardonner monsieur." You offer up a stammered apology, though you aren't sure if you are sorry for not hearing what he said or for deciding to grace this café and the city with your inadequate French. Both maybe?

He laughs and shakes his head before pointing to the seat across from you as if to ask permission. You nod, offering him a somewhat nervous smile as you watch him take a seat. He was tall and thin with the prettiest red hair you had ever seen. He squints his eyes at you a moment before plucking the menu from the table and reading it over. With nothing else to occupy your attention, you watched him, curious why he had decided to approach a complete stranger.

"Hmm, do you like sweet stuff?" He questioned, eyes peering at you from atop the menu, not a hint of French accent in a single syllable.

You smile and nod, humming in affirmation before your eyes widen. "Wait... You speak... You're not..." A sigh of relief passes your lips as you relax in your chair, grateful to not have to stammer and stutter through the minimal French you'd managed to remember. The red headed man snickered at your obvious relief, hiding his smirk behind the menu.

"Geez, you poor thing. I admire your courage."

"Courage?"

"Yea. I didn't try my hand at dining out for like the first 2 or 3 months." He lowered the menu, his smirk now visible to you as he placed the menu back down on the table.

"Oh, heh, yea probably not the smartest move. It just smelled really good and my stomach overruled my brain."

He nodded, almost as if to say he understood the feeling before glancing back up at you. "I know we just met and all but do you trust me?" He taps the menu as he asks, indicating the reason behind his question.

"I might be inclined to trust you a little more if I knew your name..." You chuckle, watching his eyes widen in the realization that not a single word of introduction had passed between you. The smirk that had been on his lips is replaced by a sweet smile, his squinted red eyes soften as his whole express shifts from that slightly mischievous one he'd been wearing to a rather warm one.

"Ah, yea. It's Tendou, Tendou Satori."

Several minutes later, introductions now over and your order placed by the very gracious man before you, you two sat chatting back and forth. Both curious what had brought each of you to Paris, almost equally as unprepared. You found out Tendou was attending school to get his associates degree in bakery and pastry arts with the intent on training to become a chocolatier after. You stared at him, eyes wide with excitement as he spoke very animatedly about his latest project.

"But yea, not super exciting or anything." His own excitement dwindled a bit, nervousness settling in as he realized he'd been prattling on about himself for the last ten minutes.

"That sounds incredible!" You finally say. It had been so fun watching and hearing him talk about something he clearly loved.

"What about you?"

"Me? Ah..." The main reason you'd come to Paris was school. Well that's what you told people when asked and it was true. Though you couldn't deny to yourself the underlying reason for moving halfway across the word was to get away from your family. They had wanted you to stay local, go to college and work at your uncles company when you graduated. What a nicely planned future, all neat and packaged with a bow. It wasn't what you wanted though and you expressed that on many occasions. In the end you decided that if you were going to go to school for what you wanted you might as well do it as far away as possible while you were at it. Not wanting to unpack any of that though you gave him a very watered down version of why you'd come to Paris.

Tendou could tell as you spoke that something was missing from your story. Maybe it was the way your eyes shifted around as you spoke, or the stiff smile on your lips, but it was clear to him you maybe weren't telling the whole truth. Though considering he was more or less a perfect stranger, he couldn't fault you for that. Just as you were wrapping up your food arrived so any further talk regarding your coming to Paris halted in favor of eating whatever deliciousness Tendou had kindly ordered.

"Ah, that was so good." You breath out happily, leaning back in your chair in an effort to alleviate the fullness in your stomach. Tendou gave you a wide grin as he set his empty cup down. "I did a pretty good job guessing at what you'd like then?"

"Mhm!" You agree enthusiastically. "God knows what I would have ordered if not for you. So.. uh..." You sit up a bit, fixing your eyes on him as your smile softens. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

He shakes his head, waving off your gratitude. "Nah don't worry about it." The waitress comes back around and leaves the bill, just the one, but before you can even think about how to fix this, Tendou has paid for the both of you.

"Oh no you don't have.. "

"Consider it a welcome to Paris gift." He stands and smiles down at you before slowly turning, a bit of reluctance in his step.

This was not how you had anticipated your lunch going. If anything you thought you might order something, hopefully delicious but at the very least edible, in your awful broken French and then go home. You couldn't fathom you'd end up meeting someone so kind and generous, who you maybe also thought happened to be the most beautiful person you'd ever seen. Yet you had, and now you were sat in your chair like a complete idiot watching his back grow smaller and smaller, he'd be lost in the crowd by now if not for his lovely hair.

"What am I doing?!" You harshly mutter to yourself as you stand, grabbing up your jacket and bag before breaking out into a run.

Tendou chewed on his lip as his feet carried him away from the small café. It wasn't like it was totally unusual for him to talk to strangers but he'd never just invited himself to eat with a complete stranger, pay for their meal and then leave. Yet here he was, having done all that, though the latter was being done rather reluctantly. Part of him wanted to turn around and go back to you. You'd only spent the better part of an hour together but he was curious about you. There was something that had drawn him towards you. At first he thought he'd gone to you out of the desire to help, and that was part of it to be sure, but maybe there was more to it. Sure your wobbly French had drawn him over but that wasn't why he stayed. Was it the way you had smiled up at him? Or was it the way you sat and listened to him ramble on with actual interest? Perhaps it was the gentle look on your face when he'd caught you staring off into space. Whatever it was, it had his already slow pace halting.

"Tendou!" His eyes widen at the shout of his name, turning to see you waving at him as you run, reaching him a moment later half out of breath.

"Miss me already?" He jokes, watching as you lean down, bracing your hands against your thighs while you attempt to catch your breath. He isn't kept waiting long as you stand upright, a nervous chuckle finally coming out in response to his initial reply.

"Kinda, yea."

"I-- uh... What?" Tendou falters as he tries to process what you just said, not trusting his ears.

"I know we really don't know each other but it seems like such a shame to just... ignore this."

"Ignore what?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"This!" You state as you frantically motion between the two of you. "I mean what're the odds we'd even meet. Besides, I don't know about you but I don't really know anyone around here and it'd be really nice to change that..." You end with a shrug, starting to second guess this whole endeavour as you watch Tendou stare down at you. His dark red eyes were wide at first, surprised that you had even bothered to run after him but even more so that you wanted to be...well friends or at the very least friendly. His look of surprise softened a moment, a smile on his lips before he narrowed his eyes at you, a glint of mischief in them.

"Sounds pretty suspicious to me but I suppose I can show you around or whatever." His smile widens, almost curling at the ends. "But it'll cost ya."

"C-cost me?" Oh no, maybe this was a bad idea. Perfect stranger remember?! "W-what?"

"Whoa now." He chuckles, holding his hands up in as if the action would ward off whatever dubious thoughts were drifting through your mind. "Just your number... It'd be pretty hard to show you around if I can't get a hold of ya."

"Oh... OH, yea right." You nod, cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. You pull out your phone and enter his details, not really sparing him a glance, too mortified by the assumptions that had sprung to mind.

"I'll text you so you have my number too." You mumble as you type a short message and hit send. A moment later you hear a ding and Tendou pulls out his phone.

"Ah, is that the time?!" He practically yells as the screen lights up, his carefree smile replaced with panic. "Shit, I gotta go!" He offers you an apologetic smile before hurrying away, leaving you a little startled by his sudden departure but overall happy with the outcome. Your grin down at your phone only to see it light up as it buzzes in your hand.

(02:37pm) Y/N: Hey it's Y/N :)

(02:41pm) Tendou: You Free tomorrow?

[kimnjss]

plot twist!namjoon | a-z

⤑  series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: just smut talk.

⤑ rating: explicit. // unedited.

⤑ warnings: smut talk... (mentions of) shower sex, cum shots, brat taming, doggy style, reverse cowgirl... sex positions, hair pulling, masturbation, semi-public sex, roleplaying, oral sex (f/m. receiving), rough sex, use of toys, teasing...

⤑ A/N: literally not even a full day and i already miss them :( they were such a mess but sooo much fun ., ugh. 

A = Aftercare (what's he like after sex):

While he enjoyed cuddling with you before going to bed, after sex was a whole different story. The act would have both of you all sticky and hot and Joon wouldn't be a fan in laying in that, he'd be suggesting sharing a bath before snuggling under the covers... which would most likely result in another round.

B = Body Part (his favorite body part of his and also yours):

It was no secret that Joon had an interest fascination with your back, especially when he was fucking you. But, what he liked most were the dimples at the end of the back, he'd often times find himself pressing his thumbs into them as he held you steady.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically...):

The two of you were not really a big fan of condoms and while you were great about taking your birth control, the pull out method had worked itself into your routine. Joon was either spilling out on your back or thighs and on special occasions, you'd let him finish on your face.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his):

Despite the excessive amount of eye rolls he gives you, Joon is secretly very into the spoiled brat act you put on. There was just something about the annoyed pout and scrunch of your nose that he found cute, more so when he was denying you.

E = Experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?):

You both were pretty equally matched when it came to the bedroom, although, you were a lot more adventurous than him. Always coming up with new things for the two of you to try, but it never took much convincing to get him to experiment.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying...):

Doggy style. Reverse cowgirl. Anything back to chest. Even if you were starting off facing each other, you'd soon be shifting into the spooning position, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist.

G = Goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc.):

Joon was pretty serious, but not so much that it made sleeping with him boring. He'd just get real concentrated on making you feel good and his entire focus would be on getting you to cum. Like in any other aspect of your relationship, you balanced each other out. You were playful and goofy enough for the both of you.

H = Hair (how well-groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes? how does he like you?):

He didn't really care how you kept yourself, however you were deciding to look down there was however he preferred you to look. It didn't make that much of a difference to him in the slightest bit. The same went for himself, he'd trim up from time to time but it never really was at the forefront of his mind.

I = Intimacy (how is he in the moment, romantic aspect...):

Very, very, extremely romantic. Joon was very into the emotional part of sex even if he didn't really vocalize it. Loved holding onto your hand and looking into your eyes while he was inside of you. And if it's been a while since the two of you have been together, he'd be putting together a special night complete with candles, bubble baths and flowers to make up for it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Not really his thing. Even before the two of you were getting together, he wasn't really into masturbation. Found it boring, actually. He'd much rather be with someone and experience that connection, rather than just getting himself off.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks):

He's got an extremely subtle brat tamer kink. Unrealized, but definitely present whenever you were pulling your tantrums and he had something to say about it. Sometimes, without thinking he'd do things that he knew would get a reaction out of you, just so he could do something about it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Anywhere the two of you could be alone without interruptions. He had given you shit about it before, but Namjoon wasn't opposed to fooling around in his studio with the door locked or even in your office when you weren't busy. Surprise blowjobs were his absolute favorite, especially if they were taking place underneath his desk while he was working.

M = Motivation (what turns him on, gets him going):

You're always very direct and vocal about what you want. Whether it being what you wanted him to do with you or what you wanted to do with him, there would always be a stiffness in his pants following your words. Paired with the need to be alone with you. He liked knowing that you wanted him the most.

N = NO (something he wouldn't do, turn offs):

There aren't many things that are off limits for Namjoon, but something he couldn't really seem to wrap his mind around would be roleplaying. Not like the two of you have ever tried it, but he knew that if you had it would end up being more awkward than anything. He'd have trouble staying in character and most likely would ditch the entire story-line and fuck you without the mention of it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Receiving. While he was not selfish when it came to oral, he liked it a lot when you were below him. You knew what you were doing and you did it so well, never failed to have his toes curling. He'd always return the favor, but was always perking up when you were offering to go down on him.

P = Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.):

Rough and sensual. It was no secret that he enjoyed all the romantic parts of having sex with you, but he was often mixing that with a bit of roughness. Hair pulling, tossing you around, hard thrusts, and sometimes biting were to be expected when he was losing himself in the moment.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often... etc.):

Nope. Not a fan. They just annoyed him. Didn't see the point of speeding through things when you could very much take your time with each other. If you were suggesting a quickie, he'd be eliminating whatever reason it was you couldn't go and have proper sex. Then going to do that.

R = Risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks):

Joon never really came up with new things for the two of you to try in bed, that was more something that you were into. He'd always be down to give anything that you were bringing to him a chance, at least once. While extremely different, the two of you happened to be into the same type of things... so there wasn't much to worry about there.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last...):

He's pretty good at keeping it together, insuring that he lasts a bit longer than you so you're getting everything out of it. Pretty spent after two rounds, but after one quick nap or something to eat, he'd be ready to go again.

T = Toy (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?):

No toys. Not that he was against them, he's just never really thought about adding them in to your sex lives. Just like everything else, though, if you were curious about it, or wanted him to use something on you, he wouldn't hesitate.

U = Unfair (how much does he like to tease?):

He likes to tease just enough so he's bringing out your bratty attitude. Simple things like denying you kisses or acting as if he wasn't interested, so he can see that pout take over your features. Sometimes, he'd keep you from cumming... but that never lasted long because he liked watching you cum a lot more than not.

V = Volume (how loud is he, what sounds does he make?):

Not that loud or vocal. He'd talk dirty to you from time to time or ask if something felt good, but other than that low grunts were the extent of his vocalization. He's usually a bit too focused to keep up with dirty talk, but you didn't mind either way.

W = Wild Card

He found it attractive when you were working hard. Especially if you were doing something that he knew you enjoyed, he liked the look of accomplishment on your face whenever you've completed something. And was never hesitating to reward you for your hard work.

X = X-Ray (let's see what's going on in those pants, pictures or words):

The guy wasn't tall just for show, that's a fact. Joon was an all around big guy and that translated down south as well. Not only that, he was thick too. And he knew it, took pride in the little gasp you'd let out whenever he was bottoming out for the first time that night.

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?):

He was very good at matching your energy, so he wanted you just as much and as often as you wanted him. But, if you were dressed a certain way or paying a bit more attention to him, it would make him want you in some type of way. He'd be thinking of ways to shift things to the bedroom.

Z = Zzz... (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards?):

Joon was hardly falling asleep right after sex, he'd want to get up and shower with you before getting comfortable underneath the covers again. There have been times he's fallen right asleep, but each times he's woken up in the middle of the night to clean off before going to bed.

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[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.2

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Two: Cherry: The engagement party. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, this chapter is a lil fluffy, this series is going to be a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: thank you all so much for the kindest feedback to the first chapter! i am so glad you liked it, genuinely it means so much to me!! you are all so sweet! 

-

Things between you and the hazel-eyed doctor have been strange to say the least. On most days, Spencer would avoid you like the plague. He no longer came into work before everyone else, he no longer walked you to your car at the end of the day. Your conversations were not only rare but also short and most often work related. He refused to sit next to you on the jet, and stopped going out with the group for afterwork drinks if he knew you’d be there. 

Overall, Spencer didn’t engage with you at all unless it was absolutely necessary. 

Of course the team immediately picked up on the shift in dynamic between the two of you. Profilers profiled. Even though Spencer and you haven't officially said anything was going on, everyone knew. It was obvious. 

You were glad however that they all kept their thoughts to themselves. The last thing you needed was for everyone to get involved with something that was simply between you and the brunette doctor. 

“What’s this?” Spencer asked confused as you placed a brown paper bag on the desk in front of him. 

“It’s breakfast.” You replied. Shooting you a hesitant look, the brunette doctor opened the bag and peeped inside. “I brought you a scone. I baked them myself last night, and this one is for you.” You added shrugging your shoulders lightly while Spencer retrieved the pastry. 

“You didn’t have to. What about-” Knowing what he was about to ask, you cut him off. “Don’t worry genius, everyone got one this morning before you came in. This one is rightfully yours.”

Spencer looked up at you, and half-smiled. “Thank you.” You immediately smiled back. “Don’t mention it.”

It was a strange feeling, being this nervous around him. Even after your breakup, you remained close. The two of you continuously dangled on this thin line between less than a relationship, more than a friendship. To an outsider it was definitely weird, but it was unique to your situation since neither of you really wanted to break up in the first place. The circumstances forced you too.

Spencer was your go-to person for pretty much anything, just as you were his. Which is why his current cold shoulder hurt your feelings. 

Truth be told, you found his attitude to be quite childish and immature. Yes, how he was feeling about your recent engagement was completely valid but as selfish as it may seem in your eyes there was no need for him to completely cut you off. 

“Look, I know things have been odd between us.” You began, resting your body weight against the edge of his desk. “But I just want you to know that I-”

He shook his head. “Please don’t finish that sentence.” “Spencer...” “No Y/N, I mean it. I don’t want you to tell me that you will always care about me, or that I will always have a place in your heart because that frankly doesn't make me feel any better about any of this.” He stated. 

“O-okay.” You breathed and turned your attention away from him, breaking eye contact. “So I guess that’s it then? You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” You asked without looking back at him. 

Spencer didn’t say anything. What could he say? That he didn’t want to be your friend because he wanted more? He couldn’t say that. That would make things even more complicated because as far as you were concerned he already moved on. As far as you were concerned Spencer wasn't in love with you, so he couldn't tell you now after all this time that he was. 

Which is why he distanced himself these last few weeks. It was easier to ignore you, to not talk to you unless he had to. It was easier to pretend you didn’t exist because if you didn’t exist the pain in his chest was imaginary. 

“Fine.” You snapped your head back to look at him. “I knew that you wouldn't take my engagement well, but never in a million years would I have thought that you would act like a complete dick about it.” The tone of your voice jarring. “I know that maybe you’re hurting Spencer, but like you said we both moved on so honestly grow the fuck up.” You spat before walking away. Only once has he heard you speak like this, back when he decided to break your heart and end your relationship.

Spencer cursed under his breath; something he didn’t do very often. He sunk back in his chair, and ran one hand through his already messy hair before sighing. You were right. He was being a dick, but again it was easier. It was easier to be an asshole than to deal with the turmoil currently going on inside of him. 

Although it may not seem that way, the last thing Spencer wanted to do was to hurt you. He was unhappy, yes. In retrospect he could have shown it less, he could have tried harder to truly be happy for you, because not once did you ever wish him unwell. Your breakup was hasty, and messy, and you had every right to hate him forever because of how it went down. But you didn’t. Apart from the initial shock, you were never angry with him. You stayed by his side, as a friend.

It dawned on Spencer in that moment, that’s why he was so vexed. It wasn't because of you; a friend. Spencer was angry with himself. He was the one that ended it despite your pleas. He was the one that cut you off. He was the one that pushed you into Ethan’s arms. It was because of him you were now engaged to someone that wasn't him. And he unfairly took that anger out on you. 

Tonight was your engagement party. He decided that he was going to go. It will be painful to see you in the arms of another, but he will show his support because that’s what friends do. Friends. 

The restaurant you picked wasn’t that far from where he lived. For a moment Spencer found your choice to be quite odd, given the history the two of you had with the place. But he quickly shook the thought away - it must be a coincidence. 

He stepped inside, and his gaze instantly landed on you. Wow. Gorgeous didn't even began to describe how you looked right now. You wore a figure-hugging white dress with a plunge neck, and floral appliqué detail. Spencer was mesmerised. And if it wasn’t for the fact that you were in a public place, surrounded by people that were here to celebrate you and your fiancé, he would have kept his gaze on you the whole night. 

Steadily, Spencer approached to congratulate you. 

It was then he noticed how Ethan’s jaw was locked. How even though Ethan had an arm around your waist, the two of you weren't standing right next to each other as a couple in love should be. When he got a little closer, Spencer also noticed how the makeup under your eyes was reapplied almost as if you had been crying. And that the smile currently present on your face was fake. Despite the occasion, you didn't look happy at all. 

“Spencer.” His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. Your eyes locked, and he could have sworn they lit up. “I- Thank you for coming.” You reached out your hand to gently squeeze his forearm, and smiled at him warmly. A real smile. 

The brunette doctor couldn't help but smile back. “I wouldn't miss it.” He replied. It was a lie, but it looked like one you needed to hear. You let your hand fall back to your side, just as Spencer turned his attention to the surgeon. 

“Nice to see you again Spencer.” Ethan uttered, a hint of vexation in his voice. “You too Ethan, and congratulations.” “Thank you.” Ethan glanced down at you briefly. “I’m a lucky guy.” He kissed the side of your head, before excusing himself to talk to another guest. 

Of course Spencer noticed that even though you leaned into Ethan’s touch, a small act that stirred the jealousy inside of the brunette agent, your body relaxed the second Ethan was out of sight. Sudden concern flooded through him. But before he could ask what was on your mind, you reached out your hand to straighten his tie. 

"I’m glad you’re here Spencer.” A soft smile circled your lips. It took every fibre of his being not to take your hand in his, and hold it right there on his chest. “I am really sorry about what I said this morning.” 

“No, I’m sorry Y/N.” He responded. “I hope you know that you will always be my friend, no matter what.”

“Good.” You let your hand fall and looked around the party. “Well, I better go and mingle.” You glanced back at the hazel-eyed doctor and sighed. “Wish me luck doctor.” 

Spencer wanted to stop you, but he knew better to bring up whatever was bothering you now. Knowing you, you wouldn't say anything anyway. Not in front of all these people. 

“Good luck.” Spencer smiled kindly. He watched you disappear into the crowd before heading off to find his friends.

An hour in and the party was in full swing. Chatter, drinking, and even dancing. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Everyone but you. 

You did your best to keep your head up and enjoy yourself but no matter how hard you tried, the feeling just wasn't there. With a drink in hand, you talked to your guests one by one. At this point in the night you have heard it all. From congratulations, to wedding planning suggestions, and even tips on having a  successful marriage.

Which is why you were glad that Ethan came up behind you and asked you to step outside. Even if the feeling was short lived.

“Listen babe, I have to go.” He stated. You furrowed your brows confused. “What do you mean you have to go?” Ethan sighed. “The hospital called. It’s an emergency.” 

“You told me that if anything happened they had you covered.” 

“Y/N don’t do this right now.” He breathed. 

“Don’t do what? It’s our engagement party Ethan.” You stated, annoyance levels rising. “My family flew from across to the country to celebrate with us. My dad is here to get to know you and you’re just-” “The hospital called Y/N. You know how this works, or did you forget the time you were supposed to meet my parents you got hailed away on a case.” He gritted.

“That’s different!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “How is that different Y/N?! Work is work!” Ethan grumbled. “Because you told me that if anything happened they had you covered.” You repeated sternly. 

“I don’t have time for this.” Ethan waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll stay at the hospital tonight.” And just like that he began to walk away. You wanted to yell after him but you knew it wasn't a good idea to get involved in his theatrics. So instead you wiped the single tear that was currently trailing down your face, and headed back inside. 

Thankfully no-one even noticed the two of you were gone - or so you thought. As you let out a deep breath, Penelope appeared in front of you. The bubbly blonde linked her arm with yours and eagerly pulled you gently across the restaurant to a table where the rest of the girls sat.

“Sit, sit.” She pointed to one of the empty chairs. “You look like you need a break sweetie.” “Thank you.” You breathed while plopping down and making yourself comfortable.

“So, how’s your night going?” Tara asked while taking a sip of her drink. “Are you having fun?” “Honestly, I’m exhausted. If I hear another comment on how you should never go to bed angry with your spouse I am going to throw myself out a window.” You replied making the girls laugh.

“It’s only uphill from here.” JJ joked. You rolled your eyes at her playfully. “Way to cheer me up honey.” “Anytime.” She shoot you a wink just as Luke and Spencer joined. Luke placed a tray of tequila shots on the table and pulled up a chair next to Penelope. 

“Hey, where did Ethan go?” He asked while sitting down. “I saw you guys leave when we were at the bar and only you came back.” Garcia nudged his arm, and he instantly knew that he shouldn't have said anything. He smiled at you apologetically as an inaudible sigh escaped your lips. “He got called to an emergency at the hospital.” No-one said anything. They just glanced between one another. 

“Excuse me.” You muttered getting to your feet, and as you walked away you heard Garcia say to Alves: “Way to go newbie.”.

The brunette agent suddenly jumped out in front of you causing a halt in your step. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hesitantly looked up to meet his comforting gaze. 

“Stopped me to say I told you so.” You mumbled fighting back tears. 

“I would never do that.” He affirmed even though he didn't have to because your statement was only rhetorical. Spencer was not the kind of man to gloat, or make you feel even worse than you already were. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“I’m not.” You replied honestly. “I mean my fiancé just left our engagement party, he told me he's not coming home tonight, and to top it all off he-” You bit your tongue. You couldn't tell him that last part. “Never mind. I don't want to bother you with my problems.” 

“You could never bother me. Never.” Spencer reassured.

A tiny smile circled your lips. “That’s sweet Spencer, and you have no idea how much it means to me.” He smiled back. “However, this is a party, so we best go and try have a little fun.” “Y/N...” He wanted to protest but you lifted up your hand and placed it on top of his. “I promise one of these days I will unload all my shit on you doctor. Tonight is just not that night.” 

Spencer nodded slowly agreeing with your promise. You smiled at him, still holding his hand. The two of you stood completely frozen and soundless; as if there was no-one else in the restaurant, no party. 

Spencer’s heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought it would burst at any given second. And even though his mind was racing in circles, there was a permanent image stuck vividly. You. He wondered if in that moment you felt as strong of a connection as he did.

His question was answered when you dropped your hand and broke the eye contact. The imaginary glass shattered; he was brought back to earth. 

He dropped his arms too, and cleared his throat. 

“Pumpkin, just exactly where is that fiancé of yours?” Your dad asked, suddenly appearing next to you. “He was supposed to-” His eyes landed on Spencer.  “As I live and breathe, Dr. Reid.” Your dad smiled. “I would shake your hand but I remember you’re not the biggest fan of that.”

“That’s alright Mr. Y/L/N.” Spencer responded reaching out his hand. “Good evening sir.” He greeted while shaking your dads hand. “Please son, we’ve known each other long enough, just call me Anthony. Plus if my memory serves me correctly I think I’ve asked you this before.” 

Spencer smiled softly. “Right, of course. How’ve you been Anthony?” 

Your dad smiled back. “Ah you know son, I can’t complain.” “Dad’s retired now, so he is spending a lot of time reading, going on walks.” You chimed in making your dad roll his eyes. He looked at Spencer. “Truthfully son, I am bored out of my mind. Retirement is boring.” 

“Dad, it’s well earned rest.” You noted.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead pumpkin.” Anthony joked causing you to gently nudge his arm. “Dad!” Spencer couldn't help but chuckle. 

Anthony waved his hand in front of his face before changing the subject. “Now, where is that fiancé of yours?” He asked again. “He had to go to work.” You answered, and Spencer could see that although he didn't say anything your dad wasn't impressed. 

“Well pumpkin, if he’s gone then would you mind calling me a cab back to the hotel? I’ll leave you kids to enjoy the rest of your night, and I will see you tomorrow for brunch as planned.” You nodded, kissed his cheek, and stepped away to call the taxi leaving Spencer and Anthony alone.

Once you were out of earshot, Anthony turned to Spencer. “Keep an eye on her for me, won’t you son?” He asked. “I want what’s best for my only daughter, and between you and me Dr. Reid, she doesn't seem happy.” 

Spencer didn't know what to say. He felt slightly guilty for not being there fore you these last couple of weeks. After tonight, and noticing the odd dynamic between you and Ethan, he agreed with your dad. Maybe if he hadn't been so distant he'd have noticed earlier? However, Spencer knew that if he told you how he felt you’d only go back to arguing and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

“I know it is a lot to ask given your history, and I will completely understand if you decline but quite frankly son, you’re the only person I can count on.”

“Don’t worry sir.” Spencer began. “I will keep an eye on her.” Anthony smiled at Spencer’s response. He placed a grateful hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gratefully. “Thank you Dr. Reid.” 

You rejoined them shortly after that. As your dad said his goodbyes, you asked him to text you when he got back to the hotel safely. 

Soon you and Spencer were alone once again - well not entirely given the party was in full swing. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” Spencer offered. You giggled looking back up at him. “It’s an open bar doctor.” You pointed out making Spencer chuckle. “Then let me order you a drink and keep you company.” He corrected himself. “Maybe ward off crazy relatives. How does that sound?”

“Given that my aunt May has been eyeing me for the last fifteen minutes, and she’s quite the talker, it sounds good doctor.” You replied. With a wide grin, Spencer extended his arm and pointed in the direction of the bar. “After you.”

No matter what his assumptions about your relationship with Ethan were, Spencer’s priority from this point on was going to be keeping that promise he made to your dad. 

Maybe it wasn’t over for him yet. Maybe he could still win you back. Truth be told he really wanted to try, but that was no longer important.

Being your friend was. As much as that would potentially suck.

I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the second chapter of this mini-series. i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

taglist: @girloncorneliastreet​, @haylaansmi​, @rexorangecouny​, @l0ve-0f-my-life​

masterlist | series masterlist

[erodasghosts]

memories & misconceptions | harry styles

chapter one: right where you left me.

↳ read Thea’s version (tom holland fic) by @peeterparkr

story summary: After Harry left with unexplained reasoning, and you lost two of your friends to even greater unknown motives, there was no way of knowing how you might react when deciding to go back into that environment where it all started. Back to that reminder of your beginning with Harry, and back to the memory of a simpler childhood and a closer bond.

chapter summary: breakups happen everyday, so why should you lose it? after having a falling out with nearly all of your childhood friends, you found yourself back home, where everybody moved on. still sitting in a corner you haunt, you weren’t sure what to expect out of this reunion. might it pull you into a brighter light? or will it only leave you deeper in the shadows of your past?

warnings: none?

word count: ~12k

a/n: it’s,,, a long chapter but i hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think :)

series masterlist

prologue

masterlist

“Fuck.” You took in a deep breath, clutching your chest as it seemed to tighten. 

Your eyes flickered anxiously around the small café, waiting for Harry to walk in. What would he be wearing? Would he look a mess, hair disheveled, clothes seemingly worn? Would you be able to read a lack of sleep on his face? Would a look of dysphoria be glossed over his eyes? You actually figured that he wouldn’t seem like any of those things in the slightest, he would probably look much more kept together, and likely unbothered.

Out of the two of you, you would be the one to look a mess, surely. But maybe he would surprise you, because you managed to convince yourself that he had been broken-hearted too. Surely he had also spent hours questioning what went wrong in the relationship, wondering if it ever could’ve been saved. Surely he had regrets just as you did, though some you didn’t understand. 

Did any of it ever matter to him? It had all mattered to you, much more than you would ever admit to him. The both of you were far too prideful. How could you admit to something so disconcerting with the risk that he had never felt the same? You wouldn’t be caught wasting time on something he had never even batted an eye about.

The cafe door swung open, pulling your attention to it once more. You sank down into your chair a bit upon seeing a small red-headed woman coming in, feeling a sense of relief wash over when you had realized it wasn’t Harry. Relief? It was odd, but you had felt incredibly nervous yet desirous at the same time. You hadn’t seen him in over a month, and you had, in truth, missed him.

You had also missed the café, Nana’s café, which made you question how much you actually missed him. Your mind had been spiraling nonstop for weeks at this point, ever since Harry had called off the engagement. But you were thankful that, in some way, the café still had such a calming environment.

Of course, the engagement. The entire reason you were there to meet him. You had nearly forgotten, so caught up in the anxiousness of seeing him again. It wasn’t exactly something you wished to dwell on for too long.You would avoid it longer, for as long as you could. 

Looking around the café another time, in hopes that the calm environment could be effective for you even now, you felt a new worry washing over your mind.

You hadn’t been home in a few months, since you had moved to London with a group of friends from school a few years back. It was meant to be a monumental shift for all of you. For you, for Harry, for Tom and Andrew. But it was wrong from the start, feeling an immediate disconnection from all expectations and even the reality of how things had once been.

Dorothea, your closest friend you had known as Thea, hadn’t been able to join the rest of you, which was something you had long ago pinned to be part of the problem. And, though you would visit often and do what you could to stay in touch, it was never the same. It essentially felt like Thea had been the glue to the friend group, so when she was separated things slowly began to crumble. 

You had tried to understand where it started to go wrong for a while now, long before Harry had even left you, and long enough to have somewhat of an idea now. 

It had started with Dorothea, though she hadn’t left the group exactly, rather she had been left behind. Everyone else had gone off to London, whilst Thea had stayed behind. You remember her saying that she could never really leave, that she wasn’t truly meant to either. Thea’s parents had gotten divorced during your freshman year of secondary school, and you could tell that it had continued affecting her life, as much as she might continue to deny it.

You always saw the way she had put everyone around her above herself, it was clear to see that she wanted everyone else to be happy. That was a downfall for her, though. Always so wrapped up in pleasing the world around her that she often forgot to look out for herself. You were convinced it was why she had never gone to London. She had to stay, for her father, or to be with her soon to be husband Nicholas, or for whatever excuse seemed convenient enough. 

So, Thea never left. Which meant here you all were, back in Hawkshead for Thea’s wedding. It angered you in a way, to see her wasting so much of her time and energy on something and someone you thought she cared so little about. She was marrying Nicholas, which didn’t come as much of a surprise. They were high school sweethearts, and the town was just waiting for the day they would get married. Still, it was somewhat of a disappointment for you to see.

The second to leave had been Tom, bolting off practically the moment you had arrived in London. He had felt betrayed by Thea, despite the fact that everyone knew he had the blame placed on himself for what happened between the two of them. It was a shame, really, to see how their relationship unraveled so slowly over time. Tom had never had it in him to step forward and admit how he felt for Dorothea, and she had been just as avoidant as him. 

It was painful for you to watch, really. Being close to the both of them, you were stuck in the middle of a situation that had such a simple solution from your point of view. The situation couldn’t be helped, and you had all silently agreed that it never could’ve been for a number of reasons.

Tom, though keeping himself far from Thea, had still talked to the rest of you on occasion, remaining the closest to Harry. By now, ties with you had completely ended. It was something you saw coming, after his fight with Thea he became so angry with you, blaming you for how things turned out with her. He claimed that had you told him Thea had a crush on him, though you weren’t sure if she even had when he asked, that they would’ve ended up together and he wouldn’t have to go. He had said hurtful things to you over it, trying to push you away further. And though he was angry with you, you couldn’t help but make excuses for everything he was saying. Your friendship with him had meant too much. 

Tom and Harry stayed friends through it, though they had been friends before either of them became friends with you and Thea, and that was probably why they stayed close even now. They had a strange friendship, one you never truly understood regardless of how hard you tried to. At least they had each other still.

It was never confirmed that Tom stepping away from you started when he fought with Thea, but you and Harry always knew. He just needed one last reason to completely cut you off, and it hurt to think that he was just waiting for a reason but it seemed to be true considering he cut all ties with you entirely once you and Harry broke up. 

You didn’t really expect him to stay friends with you after your breakup with Harry, considering they had been best friends for so long, but you were curious as to how Harry described the break up to him. You wished that Harry told him the truth, though you knew it wasn’t likely since he couldn’t even tell you what it was. But you hoped, because you didn’t want Tom to see you as anymore of a villain than he already seemed to.

You thought if Tom knew the truth maybe he would side with you, anything to ease your guilt on the breakup. You and Tom were always able to understand one another in a way that the others hadn’t been able to, allowing you to become closer in some ways, so it felt like there was hope there.

There was relatability between the two of you when it came to your reserved feelings. You both just felt much more comfortable holding yourselves in, while every other person in the friend group tended to just let it all out, being much more expressive in the way they portrayed themselves to the world around them. Thea and Harry had always been the most outgoing in the group, but they both did still hide away whatever they didn’t want to be noticed by others.

Cool air brushed past your lips as you let out a deep breath, shaky hands resting on your lap. The café didn’t seem to be helping to calm your mind much. Taking another look around, your eyes stopped on the wall to your right, filled with pictures and newspaper clippings of different events that had taken place at the small café. 

You wondered if Nana had kept a particular one up, it didn’t seem likely that she would’ve still had it at this point. If anything, Thea had probably taken it down considering it was her grandmother’s café, she probably was tired of having to see it. Had Thea kept any of the pictures from before? You remembered her collection of them, holding on to every memory.

Surprisingly, you found the picture still on the wall, exactly where it had always been. It was of all of you, from years before. It was near the start of Tom and Harry’s band, Pandora’s Signs, long before they had gained any popularity outside of the small town. 

Thea was smiling brilliantly right beside Tom, who was brooding and trying his hardest not to crack a smile after Thea had just left an imprint of her lipstick on his cheek. Andrew was dying of laughter at the idiocy, a hand covering his mouth in an attempt to quiet his laughter, you could still hear it so clearly. Harry had his arm around your shoulders, slumping down to rest his head on yours with a cheesy smile as you proudly held out a tee shirt that you had designed for their new band, Pandora smiling down at a single hawkshead flower. 

That was the day you and Harry had shared your first kiss, and you had officially begun dating. You could nearly still feel the warm breeze from that day. It was such a warm memory, a gentle reminder of how things used to be. At least, for the most part it was warm. 

So much had changed, and now you had wished you could forget the memory of when you were last all together, having been more of a painful thought compared to the memory from the picture. 

Continuing with the trend of where things went wrong, after Tom, you had lost Harry, though not for some time after. Losing Harry had nearly been the least expected, and was definitely the most painful to go through. Losing all of them had all had their different categories of how they hurt, and you at least hadn’t lost Andrew, though now you had lost your closest friend, Thea.

If you were honest, you were a bit surprised that you had still been invited to Thea’s wedding. At the beginning, you were planned to be her maid of honour, but after you had your falling out with her the title had been given to Harry. The job of maid of honour could’ve gone to anyone else in the world and it would’ve stung less, but her choice of Harry seemed to tell you more than even your fight had said.

“You villainize me for not showing my emotions but it got a pass when you were incapable of showing your's to Tom?” 

Looking back on it you sometimes felt that it was a very selfish thing, but you had decided that it needed to be said. As much as a part of you would always miss Thea, there seemed to be a bigger part that refused to forgive her for what she had done. The thing that seemed to hurt most about it was that she hadn’t told you about Nana. 

You couldn’t believe that she hadn’t told you about Nana, and her reasoning for it seemed so weak. She acted as if there was never any point in telling you, saying that you wouldn’t have cared anyway. Nana was Thea’s grandmother, but she had meant the world to you as well all of your life. To hear that Nana was now sick through Andrew, who was still a very dear friend but not the same as Thea, was very upsetting for you to have to handle. 

And Thea acted as if you had done it to yourself. As if your own struggles with your emotions and ability to express them was reason enough to not tell you. How could she think you wouldn’t care about Nana? And not just Nana, but how Thea was handling Nana being sick. 

From that incident sprung more troubles with Thea. Having not told you about Nana was reason enough for you to be angry with her, but she had taken it a step further when interfering with your relationship with Harry. Had Thea never said a word to Harry, you wondered if you might still be with him now.

Blaming someone else for how things ended with Harry seemed so much easier than just accepting that he was gone, you still needed somewhere else to place your anger. It was still such a new occurrence, he had broken things off only two months before Thea’s wedding, leaving you in a hopelessness that you couldn’t begin to understand. That hopelessness only worsened in the days after he left, when you had that conversation with Thea. And after it all, Andrew had stayed by your side, the last of the friend group. 

You were glad to at least have Andrew. You had always been rather close, but you didn’t feel very deserving of him. It wasn’t unexpected that you would remain friends, but then again it had never seemed likely that you would lose everyone else either. But Andrew had stayed, and he had comforted you through losing Harry, he helped you come to terms with how things seemed to end with Thea too. But had things really even ended?

It was unbelievable, how quickly you always seemed to spiral into all of those worries. You were never sure of when it might happen, it made you feel like you had less and less control. And now, here you were practically asking for things to get increasingly worse for yourself.

Hadn’t it been bad enough to have your heart broken when Harry walked away, and now you were asking him to come back? You hadn’t a clue as to why you had asked him to, you knew it would likely end in failure. How could it not? The last time you saw him he had been so cruel. 

Because the last time you saw him, he had been rushing to pack his things, suddenly in such a hurry to get away. You recalled that he did all that he could to look anywhere but into your eyes before finally hardly even explaining why he was suddenly calling it all off. And you still remembered how desperate and exhausted he had sounded, as if he was annoyed that he even had to explain. So why would you want to walk back into that?

You bit your lip and checked the time for the sixth time, only to be disappointed that only a couple of minutes had passed since you last checked. This entire plan was insane, you had gone completely mental. See, you hadn’t typically found yourself to be so nervous, especially not when it came to being around Harry. But things had changed, they were different now. 

You hadn’t actually seen Harry much within the last months, which was becoming increasingly difficult to grow used to. It only felt as if each day was a step further from the chance of him ever returning. But at the same time, you feared the day of ever seeing him again. 

What more did you have to be afraid of? It was already over, there wasn’t much else he could say to hurt you now. And he was never one to continuously dig at people once things had begun to settle, why poke at an already gaping wound? No, he wouldn’t say anything more to hurt you, this was Harry. Harry would instead act as if nothing had happened, probably even attempt to pick up a conversation as if you had seen him just yesterday.

Which was worse, you couldn’t decide. No matter how he would act you knew that it would end in pain for yourself. But you had still been so curious about how he was doing, though Andrew had told you he wasn’t worth the energy or concern anymore. There were so many unanswered questions Harry had left you with, or questions that sprang late into your now restless nights as you replayed the breakup, trying your hardest to understand it.

You wanted to see him, you had decided that just days before. You were prepared for all of the possibilities of listlessness, because now you needed answers.

Still, when he finally came walking through the cafe door you could feel the knots in your stomach tightening. Suddenly it was becoming more and more of a reality for you, and your thoughts were now frozen rather than racing restlessly. 

As he walked in he seemed so casual, as if it was just another day for him. Your cheeks were burning, and you swore you could feel your throat going dry. 

He looked… good. Like he hadn’t been the slightest bit bothered, just as you had predicted. He looked the same as he had two months before. His usual button up shirt was lazily tucked into his pants, and you watched as he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and glanced around for you.

Had he not even cared? About what he had done, about having lost you, about why he was even there? If he had, you would never know. He didn’t look as if he had lost even a single night of sleep, or like he had shed even one tear. But, appearances can be deceiving, and it was just one day of many. There was no real way of knowing how he had felt about any of it, which you knew but it was still shocking in its own way.

Harry could hold a grudge, and for far too long, but he didn’t let things get the best of him for long. But you thought this would be different, that maybe this time he’d be a bit more broken. But why would he be, he had been the one to leave you. And he had done that so coldly, almost immediately cutting himself off from you after. You didn’t understand what you had done, and you still didn’t really understand. 

You didn’t want him to be hurt, of course, not really. But the idea that he was perfectly fine stung, because what did that say about how he viewed his relationship with you? 

“Y/n,” he stepped closer, only a few feet away now.

Part of you was only regretting meeting up with him increasingly more. It seemed like a good idea to meet, an opportunity to talk again. Things had ended so abruptly, and you knew that you needed to talk to him again to have even a chance of moving on.

The last time you had spoken he left you in tears, and he had damaged your pride, though you had yet to admit such a thing. You tried to not let others see just how much it hurt you, but you weren’t nearly as good at it as Harry was.

There was a bit of anger rising in you too, thinking of the damage he had done yet he seemed to walk away without even a scratch. It hadn’t been fair. Yes, there was anger, but you mostly still felt so lost.

Harry pulled out the chair across from you, taking a seat and offering you a smile, “Hey.”

Hey? You weren’t sure how else you would prefer that he greeted you, but it felt so strange, almost cold. Yet he said it with a smile, giving off another confusing feeling. Was he happy to see you? How could he be—why would he be happy after everything that had happened?

“Hey,” you replied lamely, scolding yourself for your copied response.

You could sense the worry written all over your face, maybe that was why he offered a smile, to ease your mind. 

“How’ve you…” he licked his lips, glancing over you, “how are you?”

He had noticed the way you were wringing your hands, a habit you had often wanted to end because it so easily gave signs of your nerves. 

“I’m…” you took in a deep breath. You couldn’t say the truth, he probably wouldn’t even care anymore. “I’m fine, how’re you?”

“A’right, I suppose.”

Things had never felt so stiff between the two of you before, you weren’t sure what to say. It was as if everything you had wanted to tell him had now escaped your mind, or you had lost the nerve to say it. 

“Was there uh…” he raised his brows, “there a reason you wanted to meet?”

You had never needed a reason before, but now there was such a long list of reasons why. Him asking the question made him seem so ignorant, though. Of course you had reason, he had probably just expected you would never want to see him again though, and there was a part of you thinking you might’ve been better not seeing him again.

“Yes, I--” you sat your palms on the table, “I wanted to see you, to talk to you.” You tried to calm yourself down, at this point there was no going back. “We haven’t talked since…”

“Right,” he interrupted. 

Harry adjusted his posture, taking his sunglasses off his head and folding them. He hadn’t been ready to really hear that from you it seemed, you weren’t sure why when he had been the one to go.

That was the thing of it all. All through it, he had talked about it as if it was on you that the engagement had been called off, at least that was how you felt. He had been the one to take all of his things that night, deciding to never return. He hadn’t called, or even texted. He walked away, yet it was like he couldn’t talk about it. 

“Look, I…” you didn’t want to push him still. “You told me that it was... me, and I know you shouldn’t have had to hear that through Thea--”

His brows furrowed, “It’s not ‘cause of Thea.”

“But,” you continued, “I didn’t think-- I never wanted to leave, you know that, right? It just…” you took a moment to collect your thoughts, “it doesn’t make sense. You never really said… Can’t we--”

“Do we have to have this conversation again?” He glanced up at you.

Again? You never got to have such a conversation before, how could it happen again? It wasn’t worth arguing about that though, if you would start an argument about it you knew things would be guaranteed to spiral, you wanted the chance to actually talk.

“I just don’t understand it all.” You bowed your head, “I mean, you just… you left me.” Trying to understand, you shook your head and continued, “Was it… was it something to do with the band? Were you afraid I’d hold you back from growing? I know you’ve gotten more well known since thing’s ended.”

“It wasn’t the band,” he shook his head. 

You pushed, “Are you sure? Because if I took that job it would’ve messed with your plans for Pandora’s Signs, but I was never going to take the offer so I don’t know why Thea even told you.”

“It wasn’t just the bloody offer, y/n,” he snapped. “And that wouldn’t have been on Thea even if she had been the one to tell me,” If she had been the one to tell him? Harry’s gaze moved off to the side, trying to calm himself. “You should’ve told me yourself, but it’s more than that.”

“But I was never going to accept the job,” you repeated desperately.

“So that makes it okay that you hid it from me?” His eyes were cold, you could sense a slight anger in his words.

“No, I--” you whispered, his reply leaving you to feel less determined. “I should’ve told you.”

You should’ve, and you did regret it in some ways. You still wanted to stand by the idea that it was somehow Thea’s fault, because that felt like an easier option. You didn’t want to feel the guilt of it being on you, and you still struggled to stay mad at Harry for long before beginning to make excuses once more.

Deep down, you didn’t blame her at all. How could you be angry with someone for not realizing you’d want such a secret to be kept from the man you were meant to be marrying? And now, with what Harry had said, it seemed Thea had never been the one to expose that secret in the first place. 

“Whatever, it’s over now.” Harry seemed calmer, but much more annoyed than from the start. “I just… Even with the offer aside, I couldn’t fucking stay. It just made it more clear for me that I had to go.”

And there it was again, he couldn’t stay. That on it’s own reminded you where your previous anger was coming from, and you could feel the determination once more.

You wondered how long he had made himself stay. How long had he been unhappy in your relationship, because you had never noticed a single sign that he had been. But you figured you wouldn’t have noticed because, as Harry had graciously reminded you, you were apparently completely shut off from your emotions, so how could you pick up on anybody else’s?

“Of course, you couldn’t stay.” You repeated him, beginning to dig around in your purse.

He watched you carefully, trying to observe your sudden movement. He still seemed so detached from it, but at the same time it was completely clear that it had upset him in some way. It had always been hard to read such small details in Harry, while he did tend to express most of his emotions greatly, he would never show when something hurt him.

“I never meant to make you feel like you had to stay, like it was some…” you continued digging, “required effort of you.”

Harry was irritated, “y/n, c’mon, that’s--” 

“No.” You cut him off, ceasing your movement. “It’s what you’ve said, isn’t it? Maybe not directly, but you’ve said you couldn’t stay, right?” He seemed to be frozen, taken back by your reaction. “But you did stay, for years. And you… you had even proposed. So all I wonder is, when did it start to feel like you had to fucking stay? Hmm?”

He stayed silent, an unusual occurrence for Harry. You were coming from a fair place, he had broken your heart and was now trying to push it off like it was nothing. How could he expect you to just let it go? Maybe he hadn’t been ready to talk, and you really didn’t want to force him to, but you still deserved to be heard, he hadn’t given you that chance when he left.

You never imagined that you would just burst like that, but it felt nice in a way to be letting all of it out, even if it meant you had to hold yourself back from letting out a stream of tears in public, or even in front of Harry for that matter. 

“Whatever,” you turned to your purse again. “You don’t even want to be here, I’ll just cut it short, wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time. I’m sure you have plenty of maid of honour duties to tend to. Congrats on snatching the title, by the way.”

“You practically handed it over,” he scoffed. 

“Oh,” you laughed bitterly, “so you can comment on my issues? But you can’t be bothered to give me even the slightest bit of an explanation?”

“I have explained to you,” he leaned forward, “That I… I had to go.”

“Such a bullshit answer,” you muttered to yourself.

Tears were stinging your eyes now, a mix of emotions seemed to be placing them there. For two months you had felt so melancholic. You had spent hours, days, weeks crying. You had tried to understand it on your own, but no conclusion ever seemed to satisfy your mind. You wanted an answer from Harry, and now you weren’t even sure why you were wasting your time trying to get one.

He rubbed his chin, biting his lip, “It isn’t bullshit.”

“Isn’t it?” You looked back at him, “All you say is you had to go, and I’ve gotten that message by now. You did go, Harry. I stayed, for you, and you fucking--” you choked on your words, looking away from him for a moment in an attempt to collect your thoughts. “You left me, and now you’re just acting like I shouldn’t even be phased anymore?” You looked at him, and you could almost swear there were tears in his eyes now too. “What did you even expect from agreeing to meet with me?”

His gaze moved to the ceiling, and he took a moment to think. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, but he didn’t think something like this would occur. It was a bit odd for you to read such frustration on him in the moment. Now that you were actually seeing him upset it just felt like something you wanted to run from. 

“I don’t know,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Bit too late for sorry.” You finally pulled out a small box from your purse, slamming it down on the table and sliding it over to him, “You left this.”

Harry recognized it immediately, a small velvety black box. He knew it was the ring he had proposed with, but he was never expecting to get it back, he didn’t really want it back. You had still worn the ring for a week or two after the breakup, it was hard to imagine that it was all over. After that, you had probably spent hours staring at it, it had been one of the few things he had left behind with any sentimental value. 

It was a promise, so in a way it sparked some sort of hope that he might return. But then weeks passed, and he hadn’t even called. You couldn’t hold onto that hope any more, it was growing much too tiring.

“So it’s officially ended, then?” He reached for the box, clasping both of his hands over it and sadly closing his eyes.

“You decided for the both of us that it had officially ended when you left the apartment for the last time,” you stated, pulling yourself up from your seat. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

The entire conversation had been much worse than you thought, but at the same time it was so much more freeing. You had finally been able to ask him for answers, though he still avoided it, and you had been able to express your emotions about it to him, even if it didn’t come out as you hoped. 

You had probably made yourself seem so broken, and really you were but you didn’t want to admit that to him. Harry hadn’t cared, right? Because if he had, the least he could’ve done was give you a reason. But he never did, or at least he never explained any reason.

Harry could always so easily make your blood boil. He could read everyone too well, and he always knew just what to say to get at a person. You had always viewed it as something he did in defense of himself, but what did he have to defend when he called off the engagement? Because even then, at a time where there wasn’t any need for him to so cruelly defend himself, he still had.  

And you couldn’t completely blame him for the conversation in the cafe going downhill so fast, even if he had been so frustrating through it all. He actually seemed to be upset about the situation, even if only in the slightest of ways, because even if he would do everything in his power to seem as if he was untouched by any pain you knew that it was impossible that he had walked away with no emotion towards the situation at all. 

You had been together for years, since the latter half of secondary school. Thea had always sworn that the two of you would always be together, and when it had fallen apart with him you weren’t sure why you had lashed out at her. There were bumps within your relationship too over time, sure, but there was nothing that would’ve made you think Harry was going to break up with you. It was sudden, it was random, it was unexplained.

He had proposed to you just months before breaking up, but your relationship had been going so well before. You had wondered if maybe it was the idea of commitment that possibly scared him away, but he had already committed deeply to your relationship. So maybe it was just the idea of marriage, and had it been you figured he would’ve just said that. Maybe, if it had nothing to do with him, it had been you.

He had said it was you, yet when you just came to that conclusion when talking to him he was trying to interrupt and say that it wasn’t true. It made you wonder if Harry even knew why he broke it off.

So much for finding answers. Talking with him did still seem to give you closure in some ways, because it had been nice to finally say your piece. There was more you wanted to say, though, and more you wanted to know. But you didn’t want to have to talk to him again, not really. 

And it was a time like this that only made you think back on your friendship with Thea. She probably would’ve demanded answers from him, too, had your friendship not ended. Now she was likely going to listen to Harry rant on about you, because for whatever reason they had grown closer. It didn’t feel like she deserved Harry as a friend, but at the same time did you deserve him as a partner when you had been hiding information from him?

You didn’t have Thea anymore, no, but you did have Andrew. You had told him you were planning to meet Harry, and he had advised you that it probably wasn’t a very good idea, especially not to do it the night before the wedding. But you weren’t able to work yourself up to talking to him sooner, and if you were honest you had hoped to use the wedding to avoid seeing him after. 

Andrew had always been somewhat of a shadow of the group, always there with a view of just what everyone was going through. He had known how things with Harry would go not just because you were close to him, but because he knew Harry still too. He had known it was sensitive for the both of you, and that the timing wasn’t the best choice. Andrew could’ve predicted that Harry would avoid talking about it, and that you would become defensive. And he could’ve predicted that Harry would’ve acted like it was you that ended the relationship, when he was the one to walk away. 

Andrew knew, but he wouldn’t ever rub any of it in, why waste the time to? There were times where you could see that he did want to rub something in, but only if it wasn’t harmful in any way. He didn’t see the point in hurting people any more than they already had been.

So even though he knew what was coming out of you meeting Harry, you knew that he still would listen to you go on about it, but you also knew he would challenge you. Still, you decided to go to the local pub with him to chat.

“I mean, he couldn’t stay? Some bullshit, isnt?” You questioned, turning to Andrew on your barstool, “It’s all he says, ‘I couldn’t stay’ but he never says why.”

Andrew was sidetracked, “Is he really the new maid of honour?” 

“Yes!” You groaned, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Don’t even get me going about that, can you believe that Thea replaced me with him?”

“Well… no one ever said she was replacing you, and we know Harry, he probably gave himself the title.” He swirled his whiskey glass, “Didn’t you expect Thea to give someone else the title?”

Yes, you had. But Harry? Why Harry? Like Andrew said, there was a good possibility that Harry had given himself the title, so really you shouldn’t think of it as something personal that Thea had done against you. If anything, you were more angry with Harry now for claiming the title himself.

“But,” he waved his hand, “this isn’t about Thea right now. Did he actually try to act like it was you that ended it?”

“Yes, probably to make himself feel better.”

“Make himself feel better? You had lied to him, hadn’t you? You’d think you’d need to feel better.” 

“I didn’t lie,” you quickly defended, “I just.. I didn’t tell him.”

“Ah, yes…” he nodded slowly, almost to mock your response, “you just didn’t tell him that you turned down an offer to work at the Louvre. It was the next best step in your career with art, and you stayed in London. Christ, you turned down fucking France,” he exaggerated and took a sip of his old fashioned, “to stay with Harry. And don’t get me wrong, I can understand why you did... in a way, I suppose...” he was skeptical. “But, maybe he was upset that you had stayed. You had never really given him a say in the matter, you just decided on your own.”

Harry would have every right to be upset about that, you regretted not telling him about it now. At the time, the job offer seemed to be something that you needed to keep to yourself, you didn’t want it to become this huge ordeal that would only cause a number of other problems. It was amazing, but it was so overwhelming too. 

It didn’t feel like a decision you were making for the both of you, because it was you receiving the offer. You had told yourself that it would’ve been different had you been considered taking the position from the start, but you never really had.

“I didn’t turn it down just because of Harry.” Which was true, you really hadn’t.

Andrew hummed, “Does he know that?”

“He hasn’t exactly given me the chance to explain that,” you replied bitterly. “He just walked out, you’ll recall.”

Only so much of it could be blamed on Harry, which you knew, and really you didn’t want to blame him at all. It’s much easier to point fingers and imagine that the blame only belongs to one person, when in truth you knew that it wasn’t so simple.

Andrew sat quietly, he could see that you were becoming defensive so he wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t your enemy in the case, and though he had also felt you should’ve told Harry, he couldn’t help but feel empathy for you. He knew that you were never thinking of accepting the offer, which he thought was insane, so he had known that you never said anything to Harry because you didn’t want to cause an uproar.

When you had told Thea about the offer she was immediately filled with excitement, knowing what that meant to you, always so supportive of everything you did. The two of you had spent years planning out your perfect lives together, and she had known that working at the Louvre would’ve been another step closer to your perfect life. 

She had been so thrilled about the offer that you had nearly considered accepting it, but you reminded yourself what you would risk if you did. You weren’t sure what motive Thea could’ve possibly had in telling Harry about that, other than she could’ve just felt that he deserved to know what you had given up. 

“This wedding isn’t easy for any of us, you know?” Andrew was running his thumb over his lips, “Everyone seems to be worried about such vastly different things.”

It was true, none of you had seemed to be focusing on even a single same idea. More so, none of you were even really focused on the main reason you were all there, Thea’s wedding. 

“We’re all being so selfish,” you rested your head on the counter. “This is supposed to be about Thea getting married, and here I am worrying about a relationship that ended two months ago. And everyone else is worried about themselves too, d’you think anyone’s even asked Thea how she feels about all of this?” You quickly sat back up, a bit of concern washing over you, which you didn’t fully understand. “She must be so overwhelmed right now, don’t you think?”

Andrew shrugged, “I’m sure Harry’s been checking in with her. She’s been waiting to marry Nick for a while, I’d imagine she’s excited.”

“Oh, piss off,” you scoffed, “we both know she’s probably considering calling it off as we speak.”

Thea’s relationship with Nicholas had always been complicated. It was happy, but it was complicated. Most people in the town had expected them to be together forever, and those that knew Thea and Tom always thought otherwise. You had wished she chose Tom, and even Andrew, Nick’s stepbrother, had wished she chose Tom.

She could be happy with Nicholas, of course, but you had been worried about how fast that happiness would fade. Thea had put her life on a back burner for the sake of everyone around her, and that greatly included Nick. You had never liked Nick for that reason, because he was so selfish with Thea. Nicholas never meant to be selfish, and if anything Thea had become just as selfish in their relationship. It would surely be a loveless marriage, but who were you to care anymore than a stranger might now.

You never could understand what she saw in Nick or Tom. Especially Tom, he was an utter dumbass, but you knew that she cared for him. The rest of your friend group had tried to get them to say something, anything, about their feelings towards one another, but it never happened. Rather, they had been driven away from one another.

It was completely unexpected that those two would become so distant, but then again none of the current situation ever seemed to be a possibility before. But for them, Tom hadn’t spoken to Dorothea since you all had moved to London. He made himself distant from the rest of you too, due to whatever had happened between the two of them. You knew she was still going to try inviting him, probably hopeful that you could all be reunited, but you also knew that it didn’t seem likely Tom would show.

You had barely spoken to him, he did keep his distance from even you, and he would never talk about Thea, he didn’t want to dwell. All you knew about him now was that Harry had moved in with him after the two of you had split up, and you hadn’t talked to Tom sense. You hoped Tom would come, but maybe it was just because you still had hope that it all could be fixed.

Though, you really didn’t know where things went wrong with your relationship with Tom. At least with Thea and Harry you had something to grasp onto, some sort of beginning to figure it all out. But Tom really had just cut himself off. You knew things ended horribly between him and Thea, but he still never explained why that meant he had to walk away from you.

You had always shared that reliability of keeping your feelings to yourself, and it had allowed you to confide in one another over time. You missed being able to talk to Tom like before, but it was something that he had begun to spoil five years before any of this. From there, things just tumbled down between the two of you, like it was one regret after the other. 

Your eyes were focused on your glass, gently swirling it around mindlessly, “D’you think Tom will be at the wedding?” Part of you was hoping that he might be.

“Apparently he’s at least considering.” Andrew sounded surprised, pulling your attention to him.

He was looking towards the pub’s entrance, then pulling your eyes to that direction instead. “What’re you talking about?”

“Tom’s… he’s just walked in?” He pointed, “Did you know he was in town?”

Looking to the entrance you saw Tom walking in, “No, I had no idea…”

He was looking around, so casually deciding where he would sit before seeing you and Andrew already there. You could tell he had spotted you, as he seemed a bit panicked, he probably came to be alone. And after months of ignoring you in particular, you thought that the last person he would want to be around would be you.

You weren’t sure when exactly he finally decided that you were someone he would avoid, because Tom’s timing on most things seemed completely random. You could recognize that your past together was what inevitably pushed him away, but why so sudden? And it was something that you were convinced you had both moved on from, so it didn’t make much sense to be a problem any longer.

Tom must’ve decided that it hadn’t really mattered anymore, finding himself joining you and Andrew as you sulked.

“What kind of drinking are you two doing tonight?” Tom asked, taking a seat beside Andrew.

“Just here for a distraction,” Andrew smiled weakly, “what about you? Why’re you even in town?”

Tom glanced at the two of you before facing his head down, “Not sure, really.”

It still felt so strange that he was there.

You moved closer to the edge of your seat. “Did Thea still invite you?”

“I’m sure she contemplated it for months.” He looked at you, “I heard about your… falling out. I’m surprised you were invited too.”

“That’s not the same,” you scoffed, “you shattered her heart and then ignored her for years. I…”

“Blamed her for Harry leaving?”

You hadn’t expected that he would jump right back into calling you out, but then again you had done the same to him.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, “I’m not… I don’t want to fight with you tonight, can’t we just… drink and be glad to see one another again? All happy and whatever?”

You also hadn’t wanted to fight, though it was still very tempting. Things hadn’t ended well with Tom either, and he had given you as poor of a reason as Harry and Thea. But with Tom, you could’ve taken a better guess at why he left you.

You shouldn’t have cared anymore, why be bothered by someone who was pushing you out of their life? They clearly hadn’t wanted you. Still, your curiosity often got the best of you, and you had so many questions for Tom now, more than just ones to do with Thea too. You had once been so close with Tom, and now it was like you hadn’t known him at all. 

Then again, Tom had never been one for much consistency. Five years before, he had gone from gushing over Thea each day, to insisting that the two of you were suddenly meant to be in a timespan of maybe a week. And, as it turns out, after you gave you and Tom a shot, he was wrong about you being a perfect pair. But, you had been just as wrong about you and Harry.

Andrew cleared the silence, “So you did come for the wedding?” 

Tom sighed to himself, “I… don’t know.”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” Andrew chuckled. “But, and that’s a rather large but, if you didn’t… why are you here?”

There was silence for a few moments, which was what Tom had really come to the pub for. He hadn’t spoken to Andrew much within the past few months either, but he had somewhat missed Andrew’s ability to get him to talk so easily. They had been close once too, before you and Thea had met them or Harry. It had been Harry, Tom, and Andrew together, and you and Thea had known one another way before.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going yet,” Tom admitted. “I mean, can you believe it’s even happening?”

He already knew the answer both of you would give. No one thought that Thea would actually end up marrying Nick, at least none of you had. And he had known that you didn’t want the wedding to happen, though he recently struggled to see your indifference on the topic. Why should you waste your time worrying about them now?

“Nick…” he said in disbelief. “Of all people, she chose Dickolas?” It was a rather childish nickname Harry had thought of years ago, when you had all met Nick before Thea ever even dated him. “It’s the obvious decision isn’t it? Picking Nick allows her to have that… perfect life she always used to go on about, doesn’t it?” He spoke with venom, but he also seemed so tired. “I guess I just didn’t think she would actually choose Nick.”

“It was always Nick,” Andrew sat his glass down, “at least that’s what everyone around town is saying.”

Andrew had meant more in saying that than anything to do with just the Thea and Tom situation. He had probably known Nicholas better than the rest of you, though maybe not better than Thea now, considering they were step brothers now and had been for a handful of years. It was something he seemed to do his best to ignore, though he never fully explained why. Anyone could understand to an extent had they met Nick.

“That’s such bullshit,” Tom muttered to himself.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re saying it’s bullshit? You didn’t exactly give her any other choice when you left her-- when you left all of us.” Why defend Thea now? “I just don’t think you get much of a say when you didn’t exactly step forward.”

“Maybe I would’ve if I knew I ever had a chance,” he glanced at you before turning his gaze back to his glass. “You’re giving advice on choice making again? I don’t think any of our friend group gets to do that, maybe Andrew.”

Tom was right that you didn’t have much room to say anything about choice making, and Andrew did seem to be the only one of you that was capable of making the right decisions. Who were you to say a thing about anyone else’s choices? But it was still such bullshit that he was blaming you for him missing his chance with Thea.

“She didn’t choose him because I left,” Tom started slowly, “it was because he was a simple solution to her problem. Thea’s always had this… perfect picture of what she wants, and she’s apparently willing to give up everything she cares for to have it. And that’s all it is, a perfect picture.” He was biting his, taking a moment to think. “If you were to look through the curtains of their relationships I’m sure it’s…” he took in a sharp breath.

Andrew cut in, “We don’t get to make Thea’s choice, and we don’t get to judge them either.” 

“I’m not judging her.”

“You are.” Andrew gave Tom a knowing look.

“I’m not.” Tom placed his hands down, turning to Andrew, “I’m not judging her, I’m noting the fucking obvious. She was always willing to settle for Nick if it meant pleasing everyone else around her. You said it yourself, Andrew, the entire town has been expecting them to get married for years now, and you want to act like that hasn’t played into her decision?”

He was right again, it was very likely that it hadn’t played a huge part in Thea’s final choice. There was always a pressure on Thea’s shoulders to be perfect, given some of that pressure had been applied by no one else but herself. But it was still her decision, as much as any of you would disagree.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you scoffed lightly to yourself. “The wedding is tomorrow, and if you didn’t do anything to stop their relationship years ago you aren’t going to now.” 

It wasn’t about Tom and his falling out with Thea, but there was some part of you that couldn’t help but place some of the blame there. It was Thea’s decision.

“I shouldn’t have to stop her. She should be able to do it herself,” he was shaking his head slowly, “and she should’ve walked away from him when we all left for London.” 

Andrew seemed to be growing tired of you and Tom, “Oh yes, because London worked so well for the rest of us.” 

“It only fell apart when we no longer had Thea,” you pointed out.

Tom gestured his drink towards you, “At least one of you can understand in some way.” 

And there you were again, back to the idea that this was somehow due to Thea not going to London. That had been when it started to crumble, and you couldn’t help but feel frustrated with her at that time for refusing to follow her true dreams.

“You’re both just as bad as Nicholas.” Andrew spoke quietly, watching the liquid in his glass as it swirled.

“Don’t compare me to him,” Tom snapped.

“Then stop acting like him,” Andrew smiled plainly towards Tom. “You both used her too. You do understand that, don’t you?” 

You were puzzled, “What?” 

“Mmm,” Andrew finished his drink. “You want to act as if you’re any better than Nicholas, but how can you be? The both of you loved Thea until you finally had enough of her-- until she stopped simply following your desires. It took you what,” he looked at you, “five minutes to fall down a rabbit hole of an idea that Thea was responsible for Harry leaving? And you, Tom.” He sounded so determined now. “You spent your entire relationship-- which was only ever a friendship because you ruined that more than once- avoiding admitting any of your actual feelings for her, yet that’s somehow only on her? What did the two of you expect?”

What did you expect? You had never thought that you used Thea, but had you? No. You couldn’t let yourself sit on that thought for long.

As for Tom, he couldn’t as easily say that. He had shattered her heart when he told her five years before that it was you he liked, not her. And he had done it again by telling her on and on about how she was bullshit for not being her own person, right before leaving town and proceeding to block her out of his life entirely. He had directly hurt her over and over, yet still wanted to act so innocent. 

There were things you undeniably had done that hurt her too, you weren’t going to pretend that you were perfect. Things that you thought were resolved before your falling out, unlike Thomas who was still refusing to even see Thea.

“Whatever,” Tom murmured, standing up to leave, “I didn’t come here to be given a lecture.”

“Then why did you come?” Andrew asked again, truly curious but at the same time only wanting  to be bitter.

Tom scoffed, “You seem to have all the answers, you tell me.” He began to walk away but quickly turned back, pointing a finger at Andrew, “You don’t get to act like you’re any better than the rest of us. I know how you feel about this wedding, and I know you’re just having a go at me because of whatever the fuck you’ve got going on.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be taking it so personally then?” Andrew lazily glanced at him, no longer wanting to bother.

You could tell Tom was biting his tongue, and he had decided to just leave after that. It wasn’t how you expected the night to go, especially considering you hadn’t even imagined you would be seeing Tom. It was curious that Andrew was now getting so defensive about the situation, it made you question if he really was going through something of his own like Tom had said.

It stung that your first interaction with Tom in months had turned out to be so sour. For whatever reason, you had such hopes that when the friend group was reunited again it would be much more pleasant, now here you were with Tom walking out, having returned the ring to Harry, avoiding Thea, and not knowing where you stood with Andrew at the moment. 

What was there to say now? You weren’t sure how to feel about the things Andrew had said, because maybe they were true. You didn’t want to fight him anymore, you were much too tired and it didn’t seem to have any purpose to continue fighting. 

Why had you come for the wedding? You hadn’t even seen Thea and the wedding was now less than a day away. You had told yourself that you couldn’t miss it though, because something about not attending felt worse than just going. You were still angry at her, and the blame for Harry was still very much being put on her shoulders.

That wasn’t on your mind when you had decided to go, though. When you told yourself you were going it was somewhat out of hope that you could make up with Thea, as much as you would deny it. You had known one another since birth, it was hard to imagine you wouldn’t be at her wedding even as angry as you were.

When you had decided to go you had a certain memory with Thea on your mind, one from your childhood. You thought of the fake weddings you used to throw in your back yards, nearly every time you got ring pops. The two of you would pick some flowers, adding in dandelions for good measure, and scatter them around the yard for decoration. Thea was always sure to dress her part, no matter the part. For whatever reason, you couldn’t stop picturing it. 

It didn’t seem to do you any good to remember it now, as you would only remind yourself about how things had gone wrong right after. This wasn’t something as simple as a faux wedding that was only being thrown because you had gotten ring pops that day. Thea was getting married, and you had handed your ring back to Harry. Things were so different now. 

Even as you now stood in the chapel, waiting for Thea to come out, you were second guessing whether you should’ve come. You were longing for your friendship to be mended, but was that enough to make going worth it? By this point it was much too late to turn back. 

You were standing with the rest of the guests now, next to Andrew whilst Tom was nowhere to be seen, it was no surprise. You looked to Harry, who was standing where you were meant to be not long ago. He still seemed so unbothered. You almost couldn’t believe that he had taken the title of maid of honour. You had wondered if it was an idea of his or if it was Thea, either way you were convinced that it was done out of spite. 

It was a shock to hear that he took the title. It hurt as his ex, but as Thea’s friend too. To you, it seemed to be the nail in the coffin, confirming that Thea didn’t want to make amends with you. You were meant to be the maid of honour, something that you had planned together and agreed upon during one of your ring pop weddings, now here you were having not even seen the bride in months.

The doors at the end of the aisle swung open, revealing Thea waiting with her arm linked to her father’s. She looked perfect, you knew she would. She had her pearl necklace resting gently against her chest, her makeup looked freshly finished. You could still sense the anxiousness that had seemed so plain to you, though no one else had seemed to be concerned. 

There were quiet compliments of her beauty, people smiling ear to ear with excitement that the day they dreamed of was finally there. But you couldn’t feel that excitement, to you it was the day that your childhood best friend was signing her life away. You were no longer allowed to have such concern, though.

You glanced around, thinking of the ridiculousness of the whole event. The entire wedding seemed like such a waste. It made you wonder, would’ve it felt this way if you were to marry Harry? Had he not left, had Thea never told him about the job offer, would’ve it felt like an attempt to have a perfect life?

The music began, pulling your eyes back to Thea. You could see the bouquet of flowers moving, you figured she was fidgeting with them in an attempt to distract herself. Beneath her flowers you could see a blue bracelet dangling. It couldn’t be.

When you were younger you had made friendship bracelets with one another, wearing them for years to come. You weren’t sure why she would still be wearing it at this point, it must’ve been something else, anything else. Whether it was that bracelet or not, you figure it was Thea’s “something blue” from the wedding rhyme she had been repeating even months before the wedding as she worried about having everything to fit the rhyme.

Thea’s eyes were darting all around the room, looking at anyone but Dickolas you had noted. You could’ve sworn that her eyes had landed on you too, even if for the briefest of ways. Her anxiousness was more clear and confirmed to you when you saw her eyes, as if she was begging you for help, of all people.

No, you probably were just imagining things. Why would she look to for help? If anything, she probably hadn’t even meant to glance your way. And of all the things she could’ve picked for something blue, why would she go with the bracelet from a broken and lost friendship? 

She took her first step. 

So it was really happening? Thea was going to give up even more of herself to live out a perfect life. It didn’t feel right in a way to have to stand and watch her destroy her life. You had warned her, before the fight. Maybe that’s why she had told Harry about France, she was trying to get back at you for saying time and time again that you hadn’t approved of the wedding. You couldn’t just stand by, though.

Another step, though her foot seemed to be filled with lead as she struggled to continue going. Maybe Thea had been second guessing too. But what for? This was the life she had sworn she dreamed of, the life that she needed everyone else to see.

You were still upset with her, but you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t wish you could help her in the moment, even if it was in the smallest of ways. You could see that she was terrified, almost like she was wishing something would interrupt. It made you want to, to just step right into the aisle with her and run the other way. 

What a show that would be. You knew that it would make Harry angry that he hadn’t thought of it first, while Andrew would likely be disappointed in all of you. Had Tom been there too, he likely would’ve just followed along blindly, as he often did. The sentiment of the thought almost made you smile, before remembering how it had all fallen apart. 

“No.” You heard Thea whisper, now noticing that she had been frozen in place.

Everyone seemed to be confused, hardly even understanding what she had said. 

She was shaking her head now, “No.” 

As she took a step back her father tried to hold on and reassure her. “Thea? It’s okay.”

You could tell it wasn’t going to work, but you also didn’t believe that she would leave at this point even though you wished she would.

“No!” She yelled, causing everyone’s smiles to fade. “This is bullshit!” she pulled her arm away from her father.

No one could believe what they were seeing, Dorothea was about to walk away from her wedding. You had to stop yourself from smiling, a sense of pride filled you that she was really going to go. 

“Thea?” Her father questioned, trying to understand. 

There was no real point, you could see that she was no longer listening as she continued to slowly back away.

“Dorothea?” Nicholas was now calling for her.

You could feel a smile creeping back onto your face, but not in a way to make fun of Thea, you were glad that she was leaving. The entire thing was turning into more and more of a joke, though, surrounding itself with more and more drama and theatrics.

She was still looking at her father, “I can’t.” 

You had to pinch yourself to make sure it was really happening, Thea had begun sprinting back down the aisle and out the doors. Everyone was in complete shock, silence had fallen over the chapel while everyone tried to process what was happening. But how could anyone process that?

Most of the people attending had never suspected that she would have reason to run off, let alone even imagining that she would actually do it. And you, who had hoped from the beginning that she wouldn’t marry Nicholas, hadn’t expected her to run away. It was surreal.

You had wanted to follow, to make sure that she was okay as she went through whatever this was, but you weren’t sure that you had the right to anymore. As she gained more distance from the aisle, everyone began to realize what was happening. Nick had tried to follow her, her father too. Harry still seemed a bit surprised, somewhat of a smile on his lips too. 

“Should we follow her?” Andrew was concerned.

You didn’t know how to answer that, instead your smile seemed to be growing. “Maybe?”

Thea had lost her heel, along with the pearls and veil that she had ripped off in desperation to escape it all. You shouldn’t have found it funny, and really you didn’t, but it just didn’t seem real. There were people that were growing angry, at Thea but at you too for smiling.

“Maybe try not to be so happy about your best friend running from her wedding,” Nicholas’ mother, Gina, had spat at you.

Your smile remained, still growing wider at the occasion. More people had gone after her, most people now pulled away from their original positions. You had moved too, closer to the door to see where exactly she was going to be running off to.

Things just seemed to be getting worse and worse for your friend, you had recognized Tom’s car pulling in. She must’ve not known, or maybe she just hadn’t cared, because she jumped into the car and you could hear her demanding that he would drive her away. After that you could no longer hold back your laughter, it was too much of a storm.

Thea called out as the car pulled away, “Enjoy the lobster!”

You could only laugh harder at her words, while everyone else was taking the situation to be much more upsetting. People were still trying to run after, as if the car would be stopping. You wondered what drove her to finally do it, whatever it was it must’ve been something overwhelming, something to make her finally snap.

There wasn’t anything comical about it on the surface, so you couldn’t blame people for the looks you were receiving from them. The only other person that seemed to have even the faintest smile on them was Harry, who had been laughing right with you now. It was almost enough to make your laughter end, having been the only one laughing with him.

Was any of this even actually happening? You still weren’t sure. You were standing in a chapel, watching your old childhood best friend run away from her wedding and laughing along with the man you had returned an engagement ring to just the night before. Of everything that was happening, the most striking had to be that you were laughing with Harry again. Even that, simple laughter, felt like something so illicit.

Never would’ve you thought that you would end up here. Not five years ago, not two months ago, not even a day ago. You weren’t sure what to put your attention towards anymore. Did you focus on Thea? Or did you only consider yourself now? 

And it was ironic now that the memory of the ring pop weddings were what had drawn you into going to Thea’s wedding. It felt like you should’ve been running after her, that’s what you would’ve been doing had things not gone bad between the two of you. Harry should’ve been now, surely he recognized it as part of his new duties as her maid of honor. But, apparently he hadn’t.

He was approaching you, though you weren’t sure you could trust any of what you were seeing still. That had made your smile fade, it was reminding you of all the reasons you had not to be there anymore. You didn’t really belong anymore, and that was becoming more and more clear. Dicko-- Nick’s mother hadn’t wanted you there, lord knew Nicholas couldn’t care less one way or the other, and Thea probably hadn’t really wanted you there either. 

You could feel the tightening of your chest again, now you needed to escape from the chapel. Harry was stepping closer, you could tell he had recognized that you were suddenly growing much more anxious, but he had decided against pointing it out.

He decided on directing the attention back to the main event, “I can’t believe Thea took my advice…” What the hell did that mean? “I’ll start the car if you grab the cake?”

thea’s side

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[peppusae]

[semi eita] ambivalence ch. 3 (nsfw)

note: this fanfic has multiple chapters, so please look forward to more!

ambivalence: semi eita x reader (ft. tendou satori x reader)

genre: smut

word count: 2k+ words

>

ambivalence

ch 3: all night

It’s a bit embarrassing to meet eyes with both Semi Eita and Tendou Satori after that night.

Tendou keeps his promise: You can see that he is dying to ask you what happened, but he remembers his promise and does not ask you anything about Yamagata’s frat party.

And you’re glad, because the sober version of you has already felt like that while remembering all the shameless things you’ve told Semi to do.

It’s even worse because it looks like Semi has the intention of being friends with you; he actually gives you a smile when you pass by each other during changing lecture halls, or when he finds you sitting with your friends at campus while he’s going back to his dorm.

The one time he caught you on your own by your locker, he had come to say hello to you, and you dropped your 589-page textbook onto your foot, almost coughed up your lung, and then blasted away to the library, too embarrassed to even respond back.

No wonder Satori looks so worried each time he looks at me… It looks like Semi hasn’t told him anything, and he is worried sick about finding out what was wrong with me.

It’s a good thing the week that followed was so jam-packed. You had 3 assignments back to back, and working on it during every minute besides your lecture hours meant that the week passed by in absolutely no time.

It’s a Saturday evening, and your usual Saturday evenings were ordering in food with Tendou, and the mad crazy adrenaline you two synergized together forcing you two to have sex - and these were the best kind, because it was during occasions like those when Tendou was his roughest - impatient and slamming into you with all his might so that he can fill you up before you’re food arrived.

Today, you’re laying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to a little funk and soul while you wait for your meal to arrive.

It’s a bit sad to eat your food on your own, so you watch old re-runs of your favourite show while you eat.

Halfway into the second episode, you’re interrupted by a call - from a number you don’t even recognize.

Usually, you would ignore unidentified numbers, but you remember that you one of your lecturers would call to - very annoyingly - give unnecessary feedback on everyone’s reports.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. I’d have killed Satori if he gave me the wrong number.”

It’s weird because it’s crazy how Semi could recognize your voice instantly when all you said was a simple hello.

And It’s even weirder that you recognize Semi’s voice, too - Not when most of the speaking he did was in a very groggy, whiny drunk voice.

Hearing him now, his voice is much deeper than you recalled it to be, and your hands start to shake.

“Semi?!”

“That’s me. I asked for your number. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

It’s a bit odd that he would choose you out of everyone he knows and is acquainted with, so when you ask what you can do for him, you can hear a loud sigh from his side of the line.

“Not over the phone, though. Do you know my dorm number?”

Semi Eita is hot. You aren’t going to deny that. You remember everything he’d done and how good his tongue felt as he fingered you as if his life depended on it. The thoughts are embarrassing and it never leaves your head while you finish up the rest of your food, not forgetting to brush your teeth and put your hair up into a bun before you take out your keys and head outside.

Shiratorizawa Academy houses it’s university branch students in dorms divided into two wings of the building. The girls reside in the right wing, and the boys in the left. The academy is actually quite lax about rules, despite this separation; the only rule is that the students were not allowed in the rooms of opposite gender students after dinner at 9 pm.

The gays and lesbians win, for that rule . You think to yourself, finding it a little humorous while you take the lift for the fifth floor. Semi had sent you a text with his dorm room number, and you walk into the hallway, passing by the doors and finally coming across room 514.

Semi opens the door when you give a knock, and he welcomes you in while he gives a little hesitant smile.

No words are exchanged while you enter the room that looks like an exact replica of yours. Honestly, there isn’t much one can do to make their room that much different from another person’s. Because all of the rooms house only one student, the rooms are just big enough to fit a bed, a small cupboard, and a study desk. There’s only so much one can do to decorate.

The bedspreads are neat, and his desk is filled with various textbooks and notebooks, but otherwise, the cramped room is quite clean, for a guy’s place. You glance at Semi, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden, remembering how you avoided him so hard for the week, but you’ve come instantly when he asked for a favour.

“So? What did you wanna ask?”

Semi takes a moment to look at you while he closes the door. The way he takes a step closer to you makes you flinch, eyes going wide and taking a step back instinctively.

“What-”

“Why do you keep avoiding me?”

“Semi, what-”

Your sentence is interrupted when he takes two more steps towards you, and your move back till your back hits the door with a loud smack.

“I’m… not…”

“I didn’t make you go home that night so that you’d avoid me. I just didn’t want to do anything to you while you couldn’t even tell my face from someone else’s.”

“I wasn’t that drunk…” You fib instantly.

“Did you not like it?”

Your jaw drops open. For a moment his upset expression shifts to a little sad one, and it makes your heart race because that was the complete opposite of what your mind was reeling about.

“No! I liked it!” You end up blurting out. “God, I’ve been thinking about you literally every night since.”

While you want to smash your face against the wall in embarrassment, Semi responds with a little blink, tilting his head to the side.

“Then act like it.”

Those are the last words you hear before you feel his body against you, and Semi kisses you in an urgency that makes you moan as soon as you feel his tongue on your lips.

“The way you act in public and the way you do when I touch you are worlds apart.” Semi states in between kisses, his fingers rubbing circles on your skin from underneath your shirt.You’ve never felt so cornered and so embarrassed, your face heating up already because even the way Semi kisses is you insane, like he wishes you to devour you while he has you pinned against the wall.

“Please…”

“Lock the door.” He says, moving away, and as fast as you open your eyes, they shut right away when he begins to kiss your neck. Your entire body is shaking by now, legs feeling so wobbly as you try to keep your little whimpering sounds as quiet as possible and reach a hand out towards the door. Your hands are shaking like crazy while you lock the door, and Semi does not waste a single second, taking a step away from your neck - which instantly makes you frown - and asks you to strip.

You take a few seconds to get over the high.

“What?!”

“I’ve been really, really patient for long enough.” He says, taking your hand and leading you to the bed where you sit down, legs still feeling way too wobbly to keep standing. “So strip.”

The way he runs a hand through his hair is so hot, and you’ve always known that he was really, really good-looking, but it’s the first time you’re actually attracted to him, so your hands are shaking a lot while you unbutton your shirt, undoing your bra and standing up to take off your pants. Semi cups your face, kissing your lips once again and you lose focus a bit while you try to take off your panties.

“Please, please, please. ”

Semi softly makes you sit down, still not breaking the kiss and you can hear him unbuckling his belt, the sound of his jeans dropping down making you feel wetter than you already are. You slowly open your eyes, watching the way his eyes look a little hazy and half closed, biting at his bottom lip while he peels off your panties and throws them away.

He leans in, and you move back, lips meeting once again feeling his tongue once again in your mouth while he gets on the bed, slowly leading you to the head. When you rest your head on one of your pillows, you aren’t able to open your eyes because you can feel two fingers sliding inside you without warning.

That makes you gasp, the sound of his fingers going in and out of your cunt so loud that you find yourself turning red in embarrassment. You open your eyes, barely able to see the way Semi watches your every move, and eyes going a little wide when you grab hold of chunks of his hair from the pleasure.

Instead of adding more fingers, Semi bends down, tongue slowly swirling around your clit and making you arch your back.

You could swear your brain short-circuited for a moment when he softly sucks on your clit right as he inserts two fingers inside your cunt, curling them inside and making your legs come closer together at how different it feels, like he knew your body so well to be curling in right at the place that makes you see white.

When you pull at his hair and moan once again with shaky legs, Semi rubs his lips on your clit, and you’ve never ever felt this way, so much that you come right away, all over Semi’s fingers.

Your head reels, and you open your eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but Semi...

Semi is surprisingly, agonizingly slow in his actions - much more so than Tendou.

And not just that, but Semi is mad stubborn.

You learn this from the way he glances at you with his face smeared with your juices - and then plunges another two fingers inside you again.

“S-Semi!”

“You finally called my name.”

“S-Semi, don’t-”

“What? I thought someone like you would want another orgasm right away?”

Your eyes go wide at what he said, and before you could say another word, he licks inside your cunt again, his agonizing rubs on your clit making your stomach form yet another knot right away, your legs shaking much, much more than it did the first time.

You feel so good, but you’re so embarrassed that you try to close your legs, calling his name - But Semi holds both your legs tight and apart, tongue never leaving your clit for a single second, pressing kisses and sucking so softly that your legs shake like crazy.

You don't realize just how much he had you under his control, until you come all over his face yet again, your entire body shaking while you have your eyes shut tight at the electrical feeling you’re experiencing.

“[Name]. How do you feel?”

You finally open your eyes while you try to catch your breath, and Semi is hovering over you now, pecking your lips softly before he slowly lies beside you. You extend an arm to the side, and Semi raises an eyebrow, saying nothing but coming closer to you, burying his face into your chest.

“I will never get enough of that, oh my God.” You mumble, wrapping your arm around Semi’s neck, feeling his hot breath on your chest. You think you hear him chuckle, you think you even heard the rustling of clothes, and you think you also heard the door close, but you can’t recall anything while you slip from the little line between consciousness and sleep.

---

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Soon // S.B.

Request: Ahhhh!!!!! Congratulations on such an AMAZING milestone🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉!!!!!! You deserve all this and sososo much more girly. I’m glad ur being recognized for ur amazing talents 😩💓 Now for the celebration. Could I suggest: Sirius, Hogwarts, Soulmate au, fluff #13, and Misc #5 - @leahstypewriter

Fluff 13: “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls.”

Misc 5: “Are you quoting a film at me?”

A/N: Thank you so much, lovely! Here’s your request! I hope you like! I love writing soulmate AUs and I had to go searching for one that I hadn’t done before so here we are! As always, I hope you like!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: I continue to wax lyrical about the history of soulmates, hopeless romantic (reader and writer lol).

Word count: 2.3k

The magic of soulmates was first discovered centuries ago; too long ago for the story to be remembered correctly, but through the years, the general gist remains the same amongst families of witches and wizards.

From birth, a witch and wizard are paired with another witch or wizard. It would take time to find their match; it would take patience of the strongest sort, but they will meet their soulmate should good fortune befall them.

How do they know they have a soulmate?

Anything written on skin; be it a word, a quote, a doodle – it all appears on their soulmates skin. Anything other than their name. Centuries of debate and arguments over the exact reason for this decree fell over the world. In the end, the ministries and the scholars across the world threw their hands up in exasperation, declaring that the decree relating to the naming of soulmates would have to stay and the reasoning being that those making the decree were too awkward and stubborn to think of making life easier for an entire society that had to go into hiding.

For years, witches and wizards, once old enough, are able to communicate with their destined other half. The itch of a sentence being written becomes familiar; almost tolerable. Over time, they get to know their penmanship and their inner most secrets only dared scrawled onto their skin that could be hurriedly washed away if needed.

By the time the young witches and wizards in the United Kingdom have reached the age to start Hogwarts, their soulmate is already a part of them.

Now it was just trying to whittle down the student population of the school to discover who exactly was your appointed other half from birth.

---------

Most soulmate matches at Hogwarts are made in the months April to July – it’s when the weather starts to warm up; becoming bearable enough for the short sleeved blouses and shirts to be dug out from the very bottom of trunks.

Arms are on display for most of the day. It means that matches are made in the corridor, in the classrooms, in the Great Hall. Everywhere across the castle matches are made.

It’s wonderful, it is. But it also makes you more impatient.

You’re in the library when another match is made. Madame Pince tries her hardest to hush the new match into some level of quiet, but it does no good and thankfully, she evicts them from the library and the hush soon falls back over the great room with the same sense of a comforting blanket.

Rolling the sleeve of your cardigan up, you delicately write, “I’ve just seen the third match made of the day and it’s not even noon.”

It doesn’t take long for your soulmate to reply, “I’ve seen two so far. Where was your third?”

“The library.”

“I bet Pince was thrilled.”

You snort at their reply; amused at how well they know the school’s librarian.

“When is it going to be our turn?” You ask somewhat hesitantly.

The reply takes a few minutes, but it comes all the same in the elegant script you’ve come to know, “Soon.”

You rag your sleeve back down in frustration, repressing the building groan. You didn’t know your soulmate’s name, but you had given him the nickname of ‘aloof’. He had gone to great personal care to not reveal too much about himself other than the fact that he was male, he went to Hogwarts and he was your age.

That was something at least, but your countless attempts to find out more had been rebuffed. When you asked why, he simply answered that he wanted to leave as much as he could a surprise. You understood that, but the curiosity got to you.

You sigh heavily returning to the homework laid in front of you, but your mind continues to play the realisation that had happened only moments ago. The happiness on their faces; their utter elation tied in with the adoration they already felt for the other.

It was hard, you realise, to be in love with someone you’ve only spoken to through words and doodles on your arm.

-----

The week doesn’t get any easier; the weather only turns warmer, so the outer robes are ditched completely. You leave the Great Hall the morning Lily Evans realised she had been talking to James Potter since she was a child. You couldn’t watch it and still feel the same empty feeling that had settled within you so long ago.

Your friend June and her boyfriend follow you from the Great Hall. They find you facing one of the many tapestries that depict the meeting of soulmates; they’re found all over the castle and each one feels like a dagger to the stomach.

“It’ll happen soon,” June comforts, placing a soft hand on your shoulder.

“Soon! Soon! That’s all he says,” You explode. Then you repeat in a quieter voice, “That’s all he says. He’s here and he’s close and all he says is soon. What if he doesn’t want to meet me, June?”

June tuts, “Then he’s a damn fool. However, he does want to meet you. He replies doesn’t he?”

You nod your head, but her words do nothing to comfort the growing sense of dread within you.

It was rare, but the soulmate bond could be rejected. There were those in the wizarding world who were born without a soulmate, but there were also those who simply didn’t want one, so they never replied to their partner’s pleading. Instead, they chose to ignore every word, every plea, every beg. For the bond to be accepted, the first reply is important. If words are never painted on your skin, the bond is rejected.

For not the first time that day, you sigh, “I know we have forever to know each other, but is it so wrong of me to want that to start now?”

June squeezes your shoulder, “It’s not wrong at all.”

You continue to stare at the tapestry a little while longer after June and her boyfriend depart; the depiction of soulmates shown in the quill being held by both parties.

Running a hand through your hair, you turn your back on the portrayal of true love, your mind focused on how long it would be until you experience something of the same magnitude.

-----

The day after James and Lily have their realisations, you find Sirius Black’s eyes on you at breakfast. When you meet eyes, he smiles at you, raising his hand in wave. You smile back politely, waving back awkwardly before shaking your head and returning to your breakfast and the latest letter from your brother and his new wife.

They had settled well into their new house; they loved their wedding present, thank you; and yes, you were to have a niece or nephew by the end of the year.

Wonderful.

Shoving the letter from your brother into your bag with more force than what is needed, you feel someone standing next to you. Looking up you meet the grey eyes of Sirius Black; he smiles down at you, “Are you okay?”

You fix him with a puzzled look, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugs, “You were frowning so big I noticed it from down the table. I thought I would come see if you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me though.”

He nods, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t offer to fill the void, so the silence sits between you as heavy as a rock.

You stand from the bench; throwing your bag onto your shoulder, “Thanks again, Sirius. I’ll see you later.”

Sirius shifts out of your way, clearing the path for you, “My pleasure. I’ll see you later.”

You shake your head as you walk away; the encounter being an odd one given that your social circle didn’t tend to include any of the Marauders. But there was something about his final words; something about the way he uttered them that made them sound as if they were a promise to you.

You rush the thought from your mind; refusing to let yourself being occupied by someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

---

Sirius begins to take more notice in you; he starts to strike up small conversations whenever he can as well as numerous attempts to catch your eye at any meal time.

He starts to take up a lot of your time; sitting with you in the library on the rare occasion, but also joining you in class when the other Marauders are occupied with other pursuits.

It’s odd.

Muggle Studies remains one of the few lessons that hasn’t been interrupted with the growing number of soulmate matches in your year. Arguably, this school year could be the one with the most matches – the final year of Hogwarts; that final rush to find the love of your life before being sent out into the whole wizarding world without that safety net of the school to fall back onto.

The longer the professor drones on, the harder you find it to focus your concentration. The professor paces the front of the classroom, explaining their brief overview of what they hope the next few lessons will shape up to be like, but your attention is shot. It flickers between the marauder who has, for some reason, taken an interest in you and your soulmate, who still won’t reveal any more information about themselves or when you’ll be meeting.

A headache is close to blooming behind your eyes at the stress of it all.

Shrugging off your cardigan, you dip your quill into the pot of black ink sat in its holder. With the practiced precision of someone used to drawing on themselves, you begin to doodle.

Stars, planets, and moons appear on your left arm – decorating the inner forearm with an entire galaxy. They’re pretty rudimentary drawings, but it’s enough to keep you occupied from the droll being spewed by the professor who definitely hasn’t noticed they’ve lost the attention of most of the class.

The bell rings; finally signally the start of your only free period of the day. With a grateful sigh, you drop your books into your bag and make your way to the library.

You never make it to the library. On your way there, a hand grabs the back of your robes, pulling you into an empty corridor. With an angry shout, you face your kidnapper, “Sirius!”

He lets out an amused laugh at your affronted expression, “I’m sorry, I just needed to talk to you in private.”

You exhale, adjusting the heavy bag on your shoulder, “Sirius, I have to know. Why are you paying me so much attention? Surely you have a soulmate to think of.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“Really?”

Sirius nods. He takes a deep breath before saying, “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls.”

“Are you quoting a film at me?” You ask; an eyebrow raised.

Sirius shakes his head, repressing a laugh. He rolls up the sleeve of his jumper, revealing his left arm to you where decorating his inner forearm are the very same stars, planets and moons that you had doodled instead of focusing on the classwork.

Instead of saying anything, you roll your own sleeve up, lining your arm up beside Sirius’ where the patterns match perfectly.

It seemed that his attempts at conversation and his watching you from a distance was for a purpose.

Sirius Black is your soulmate.

“Oh…” You whisper.

“I told you we would meet soon,” Sirius whispers; a sight teasing lilt to his voice.

You shake your head, “I kept thinking you didn’t want to meet me; that you didn’t want a soulmate.”

Sirius grips both of your hands, “The complete opposite. I just needed to work up the nerve to find you.”

“When did you know?”

“Not that long ago. When James and Lily got together.”

You nod your head; remembering the day well.

“I overheard you talking to your friend when I was on my way to a lesson and you kept talking about how your soulmate kept promising you soon. And I realised that that was all I was saying to mine. Soon.”

You look down at your joined hands, “I never even had an inkling it was you.”

Sirius chuckles, “I suppose that should be flattering. I must be that good at concealing information, I should be a spy.”

You roll your eyes, “It almost drove me mad is what you mean.”

“Well we have a long time to get to know each other now,” He murmurs; voice soft and filled with promise for the future.

You smile shyly at the long-haired teenager, “We do?”

He nods, “Yeah, we do.”

Tentatively, you take a step closer to the long-haired Marauder. A small smile graces Sirius’ face as he takes in your movement. With a tug of his hands, you fall into him – an arm clasping itself around your waist, pressing you to him.

Sirius’ hand caresses your cheek; you lean into the touch, wondering if this is how every match felt when they found their soulmate or whether this was entirely Sirius’ effect on you. Either way, it was addicting… and he hadn’t even kissed you yet.

Finally though, after what feels like a lifetime of staring into each other’s eyes, Sirius dips his head to kiss you. You meet him halfway; the desire you feel for him controlling your every move. His grip on your waist tightens and your arms wind their way around his neck, holding him to you. This kiss is what breaks the dam; from the lightest pressure of his lips, long buried emotions bubble up to the surface and it’s all you can do to keep yourself in control.

Sirius breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t retreat far. He beams down at you; eyes bright with elation. It’s a smile that you return and more; happy to have found your soulmate, happy to know who he is and that he loves you just as much as you love him.

Happy to know that soon is now.

*******

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[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

A World-- Unsure

dabi / f.reader 

genre: real world to parallel world au? (is that an au? it’ll make sense dw), angst, pinning, fools to lovers? (or dabi is stubborn/scared as all get out)

warning(s): blood, violence/bar fight, descriptions of injuries, cursing (dabi and i both have a potty mouth oops) 

w.count: 9.4k 

synopsis: You were someone in the middle.  You had no mega praise for heros to speak of, but you also had no ill will towards villains either- you had seen both sides. After a few years running a hidden, underground medical base for villains who needed treatment beneath the bar that you ran and owned, you’ve met your fair share of villains.  It was odd to think of them as good people, since you depended on them a lot if you got yourself into a pinch.  In fact, a lot of your patients became bar regulars on the public downlow. It’s not a big shock that you end up meeting Dabi.  

a/n: teehee, first time writing for dabi! I’m pretty excited not gonna lie, since this idea was pretty interesting to think about.  this is the first part of A World -- a two part series! I’ll be working on the next part asap, so hopefully it won’t be a horribly long wait- but we’ll see how my time management is in the long run lol.  (also, the draft was like 8.6k, i dunno how i added a whole 800 more words)

-x-x-x-

You stood behind the bar, shining glasses as you set up the counter and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall just above the entrance of the small pub.  You sighed as you set the glass down before taking the rag you were using and throwing it over your shoulder.  It was quiet in the open room filled with circular tabs, rectangular booths and metal rimmed chairs- quiet except for the footsteps of employees prepping for opening. 

Your black jeans hung on your waist as your white button up was slightly wrinkled, the long sleeves rolled as best as possible up to your elbows.  Your hair up and out of the way so you wouldn’t be constantly fighting it when the rush started.  There was a small, pocket apron around your waist with a pocket for a receipt book, a pen, some napkins and pain medicine just in case another headache walked in the door tonight and a few other odds and ends. The only other thing on your person was the new pair of steel toed boots you had indulged yourself to.  

“Hey, Boss Lady,” one of your employees called. You looked around, seeing the one who called you peeking their head around from inside the rec room. The room itself was probably one of the most expensive rooms you’ve ever put together.  A pool table in the middle of the room, dart boards on either side of the room, a small little entertainment center, a sofa and another mini bar inside run by a trusted bargirl you hired when you opened your pub doors for the first time. 

“What is it?” 

“Is the rec room rented out for the night? I heard some of the others saying it was.”  

That was something else that was different about your little hole in the wall.  Since you weren’t all that popular or big enough for a special vip area or an area in general for occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, your patrons could call and make reservations and get the rec room rented out. However, you only let the room be rented on Fridays, Saturdays and Wednesdays.  The other days, it was open for anyone to come and go as they please so long as nothing is damaged. 

It was Friday night. You couldn’t think of anyone renting it out tonight, but there was a group coming in tomorrow so long as they don’t cancel on you. 

You shook your head. “No.  It’s tomorrow when it’s rented.  You’re clear to leave the dividing ropes put away.” 

“Right on,” they thumbs upped you before retreating back into the room to prep and clean before opening. 

7:45, a quarter ‘till eight- opening time.  You cupped one hand around your mouth. “Hurry up and get your final prepping all done.  Quarter ‘till!” Your employees all made some sort of response or sound back to you, signaling that they understood.  

Part of you always felt a little guilty each opening night since you knew it wasn’t just regular citizens or the occasional hero off duty who frequented your pub.  You knew of the bad people who walk in the doors, stay for a drink and leave without causing a ruckus.  You knew of them, because, unknown to your employees, you had a second job. 

A second job that had a lot to do with the large, concrete basement of your pub that you refused to tell them about.  It wouldn’t be a great business move if you just told people you let villains sneak into your pub to go into the basement where you had a large array of (stolen) medical equipment to treat their injuries. 

-x-x-x-

It was well into the midnight rush of the night when the door opened again.  The loud combination of everyone’s murmurs and the smell of every type of alcohol someone could name off filtered through the air and almost made you pull out your medicine. After three years running this place, one would think you’d become accustomed to the smells combined with the noise.  To no avail. 

You had stepped back away from the bar, your back close to the shelves behind you lined with bottles, cups, glasses, and a small old-style antenna radio that, despite being turned on, wasn’t heard over the ruckus. 

Heading to the opposite side of the bar after being paged by some random man for a neat glass of whiskey.  You snagged a glass, grabbing a bottle of the cheapest brand you could find- because this man’s lack of manners towards a lady, bargirl or not, didn’t impress you.  Pouring the liquor into the glass like it was second nature, you reached under the bar to scoop out a sphere of ice to drop into the glass.  

Sliding it over to the already tipsy looking man, you were called- more politely this time- from another patron for a bottle of beer.  Smiling at him and signaling to him that you heard him, you trotted over to the mini fridge under the bar and grabbed the brand he requested.  

As you carefully, and skillfully, popped the tab off with the bar’s edge, you placed the bottle on a coaster and slid it over to him, tapping the bar top with your hand and serving him with a smile.  He thanked you, which you were appreciative of, before he turned to his friend next to him and continued conversing.  

Moving back to the middle of the bar, you noticed a few empty glasses in front of empty bar stools with bills pinned under them.  Taking the bills and pocketing them, you took the glasses and stashed them below the bar in a small tub you kept in a metal cart for easily putting dirty dishes for later. 

As you wiped down the bar top, you saw another person, clad in a full black get-up slide into a bar stool that was recently left vacant.  They weren’t far from you, just a few feet, but you could smell the scent of smoke on them.  You sighed, knowing exactly who it was.  Anyone would think that the man who just sat down was just a heavy smoker- and he was, but not so much recently so he claims- but you knew better. 

He lifted his arm to rest his elbow on the bar, his chin resting in his palm as you felt him stare at you.  

You didn’t say a thing to him, only got a glass off the shelf behind you, mixed some coke with some rum and added a scoop of ice, before placing the glass on some napkins and sliding it towards him. 

“Like usual?” You asked, retracting your hand as he had already started to pick up the glass to sip on it. 

“Like usual,” he confirmed.  This particular man had a deep voice, always laced with a small rough sound- more rough when he’s tired or just plain exhausted.  It was a side effect of the smoking and other smoke-like quirks of his personality.  “You seem busy tonight.”

“We’re always busy on Fridays, nothing unusual about that.  It’s the start of the weekend, everyone wants to drink.” You threw your cleaning rag over your shoulder, shouting to a call of another bar sitting patron as you felt the black, clad, mask covered man’s eyes on your. “You gonna stick around all night, or are you gonna drink and go this time?” 

He pulled his mask down to uncover his mouth, dark scars showing under the hood of his jacket just long enough to take a sip, and pull it back over his face.  Setting the glass down, he let out a breath and circled his finger along the rim. 

“I think I’ll stick around, just to annoy you.” You could hear the smirk on his face as you held back an eye roll for professionalism’s sake. 

“How courteous, thank you so very much.” He chuckled at your reply as you left your place in front of him to tend to others paging you left and right. He pushed his curled hand into his cheek as he watched you pad back and forth behind the long bar.  You should be grateful he at least planned on paying tonight. 

He remained on his barstool the next few hours, only shifting to look around, take a short spin on the stool, or stand to stretch his hunched body before sitting back down.  Each time his glass was close to empty, you’d knock your knuckles on the bar top- a signal asking if he wanted a refill- and he'd either knock back or keep the glass away from you as a form of saying yes or no. 

Though, it wouldn’t be a proper Friday night mid-shift without something going wrong. 

You weren’t sure why, but when 2 am started rolling around, you always grew weary of your patrons.  It was the prime time for tipsy, or smashed, people to start trouble. Whether with you, or with other paying customers, or  even your employees.  Out of all options, you wished they’d pester you so you don’t have to deal with someone else being harassed.  Though, even when it did happen to you- which was often since your place was stuck behind a wooden, polished bar- you didn’t ever appreciate it. 

You glanced around the filled room and saw a few familiar faces of villains you had treated before who decided to stay in your good graces. 

Them being there did make you feel a bit better about you own safety since you knew if something were to happen, they’d jump up to throw down on your behalf, even if you could handle yourself plenty well. 

You were once again wiping down the wood of your bar for the gazillionth time this evening when some scumbag, a smashed man who was well over your age, stumbled his way to the bar and slumped himself into a stool and leaned over the counter like some hunchbacked gargoyle. 

He reached over the bar to start to fiddle with the beer spigots that lined the end of it. Before he could create a giant mess in the tray beneath them and onto the floor, you rushed over and slapped his hands away.  

Instead of hissing at your stinging slaps, he whistled at your actions to keep your property away from him grime hands as you rolled your eyes.  

“Sir, keep your hands off of the bar tools.” You reached over and grabbed the half empty bottle of beer from his hands before you poured the rest of the alcohol out of it and tossed it under the bar into the bin where it clinked together with the other beer bottles you’ve tossed tonight. “I’m cutting you off. Sober up, leave your payment and get out before I have you thrown out.” 

From down the bar, you knew the scarred man in black was watching you. Whenever this kind of scene went down, you could feel his and all the other familiar eyes on you.  For villains, they sure were people of action and debt. Made you feel bad for calling them villains- if you didn’t think about the crimes they most definitely committed on a day-to-day basis. 

The drunk man slurred what you assumed was probably something close to reluctance at you cutting him off for the night and your swift decision to kick him out after he paid what he owed.  

Persistently reaching over to try and yank on the spigots again, you once again slapped his hands away, going a step further and grabbing his wrists and tossing them away back over to his side of the bar. 

“I won’t ask you again, sir.” 

Your familiar scarred man set down his drink, the contents in it empty as the remaining, semi-melted ice cubes fell together in satisfying clinks against the glass. 

It was times like now where you wished the quirk laws would allow you to use your quirk publicly without a permit or license because of riffraff like this oh-so-lovely hammered gentleman.  You were one to break the rules anyways, so you would if push came to shove regardless and you knew that your customers would keep their mouths shut about it.  

You’ve gone many a night with bar fights and tassels and not a single cop was called because you could handle the situation yourself, or your trusty villain’s had your back. Your little pub and you were a bend in the rules with a great camouflage jacket over your head and trustful patrons willing to keep a secret or get so drunk they don’t remember what happened.  Either option suited you well. 

You weren't a hero, nor a villain.  You were in the middle- a civilian with some spare time and no interest in sharing what you did the time you're not running your pub. 

The man stood from his stool the moment you turned your back to him and not only did he shove his arm against three different beer spigots in a clumsy fall against the bar, but he partly climbed over the bar, reached towards you and yanked you back by your shoulder just so he could get a solid slap on your ass. 

The shriek you let out wasn’t loud, it was more of shock of what was happening, followed by instant disgust.  Your rear stung at the strength the disgusting man used to slap it before he was drunkenly laughing, his gross breath wafting towards you from his half climbed over body. 

Before you could take care of the situation yourself, he was yanked back off to his side of the bar onto his wobbly feet. The instant his feet hit the tile and his chin even twitched to look around to see what yanked him back, glass shattered across his face. 

The scarred man who had silently kept you company tonight- and previous nights before that- had grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, yanked him back and away from you as you righted the beer spigots that had already created a big enough mess and smashed his empty, rum glass against the side of his head. 

The drunk man hit the ground, grabbing and holding his head as blood dripped from the side of his face and ear.  The scarred man looked down at him, shaking his hand about, the purple scars of his wrist showing as he shook the limb.  The glass seemed to nick his palm a bit upon impact, but nothing compared to the nasty wound on the drunk’s face.  

As the drunk lay on the ground, groaning and bleeding, your defender bent to riffle through his pocket and nabbed his wallet.  Pulling out both a card and a wad of cash, he held both towards you. 

“What’s his tab?” His rough voice was stern as you just sighed.  

You plucked bills from his hand, a handful of twenties, before you put it into your pocket.  You looked around, seeing a table from the corner lift a bill in his hand before he waved it at you.  You nodded- they were signaling they had his bill.  They then held up four fingers and then a fist.  A four dollar tab.  You decided that you’d keep the extra as a bonus and maybe tip your workers as well for his behavior.  

“He’s good to go.” You said as the scarred man put the card back into his wallet and shoved it back into his jacket pocket.  He then picked the drunk off the tile and shoved him out the doors before making his way back to the bar. 

He stepped over his glass and ice mess as he toed at a larger piece of glass that used to be the bottom of it.  He then looked at you with a shrug. You could practically seem the smirk on his face before he spoke.

“My bad.” 

Instead of saying anything, you placed a small plastic tub on the bar top and slid it towards him. You flicked your eyes down and he just sighed.  Squatting, he picked up his mess of glass and ice the best he could before he gave the tub back to you to throw away.  You had already gotten a start on the beer mess that made your nose twitch at the stench.  

You always hated the smell of beer. 

“Smells like piss,” you muttered to yourself. The scarred man heard you loud and clear though and he stifled a laugh at your annoyance. Once you had it more or less cleaned, you glanced at the closed fist of the man’s cut up hand. You saw small beads of red drop onto your bar. You pushed a handful of napkins towards him to squeeze into his palm. “Come down when we close. We’ll get your hand properly cleaned up.” 

He didn’t argue. Just chuckled as he took a sip out of his water bottle you had placed in front of him as he shut the napkins in his grip tightly. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

-x-x-x-

4 am: closing time.  You sigh as you bid your final employee farewell before you locked the door behind them. You sighed as you walked back to the bar, untying your apron from your waist on the way.  You emptied the pockets and placed whatever was inside on the bar top.  There was only one person left in the bar, in the same stool he had been in all night.  

You thumbed through the bills in your pockets, rounding to behind the bar and unlocking the always locked money drawer just under the far end of the counter where a small card swipe sat for patrons not paying with cash.  

Tucking your cash safely away and locking the drawer shut you stashed the key on the keyring with all your other keys in the pocket of your jeans.  You pulled your phone from your back pocket and checked the time.  About half after now.  

“Okay,” you spoke, the man already standing. “Come around the bar and we’ll head down.” 

He followed your lead, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his large jacket with his hood still on even in the new found privacy.  You walked back into the kitchen and beyond to a small landing that had an unlabeled door and then a separate staircase leading upward past a different doorframe.  He looked up the stairs, knowing full well that beyond them lays your apartment.  

Part of him was envious that you lived in your place of work. Technically, he could live in his, but he had his own separate place of peace away for breathers. He could only deal with his comrades for so long in a single span of time. 

You unlocked the unlabeled door that you told everyone who asked was just a closet for your personal belongings that didn’t fit up in the apartment. Opening it, another set of stairs that lead down was beyond it. 

Descending them, the man followed and shut the door behind him. He locked it when it was shut at his back. There was a different entrance to the basement he was descending into outside the bar anyways for the people who knew it was there and needed it.  

At the bottom, you flipped on the lights to the large, open room.  It wasn’t a giant space, but it was large enough to move around and there was a sofa, a work bench you used as a counter for coffee and random objects, tables and chairs for your patients waiting comfortably.  There were two rooms off two of the left side of the main ‘waiting room’ and one to the right- all solitary rooms for overnight patients.  The furthest back room had no door and just past the frame was a storage room of medicine, wraps, gauze, antiseptics, salves- just whatever you could get your hands on. 

You’re even occasionally gifted treatment items from past clients in hopes to repay the debt they feel they may owe you.

You point towards the long, hard top operating table in the back as you make your way to one of the shelves on the wall.  You kept all the basic first aid out in the open since they were easy to replace.

“Go sit,” you direct as the man flipped off his hood and unzipped his jacket.  His white tank top was wrinkle from being inside the stuffy jacket all night and he adjusted his belt to sit comfortably and not pull on his belt loops to dig into his hips.  Ruffling his black hair, he made his way to the table to lean against it. 

You were soon in front of him, hand out towards him asking for his own to inspect.  

“You’re always causing some sort of scene every time you come by. You realize it’s getting old, right Dabi?” 

The face stapled, scarred pyro-villain just grinned down at you, chest jolting with a scoff of amusement as you pulled the blood beaded napkins he held in his hand since you gave it to him away. Then, you poked around with tweezers pulling small pieces of glass away from his skin.

“Don’t lie. You love when I come by. Besides, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.” 

“I don’t need to be ‘kept on my toes’,” you tutted, making sure there were no pieces of glass left in his palm.  When there appeared to be none, you started dabbing the small cuts with antiseptic as he just kept leisurely leaning on your table.  “If you keep coming here and just to get all cut up, I’m going to start charging you for not only your drinks, but all the patching up I do to you too.” 

“Oh, you’d never,” he mused. He knew you all too well and he also knew that even if he were here daily for scratching his knee or getting a paper cut, you’d never have the heart to charge him anything when it came to treatment.  

Maybe he took advantage of that, maybe he didn’t.  

It didn’t help that he knew you had the hots for him- I mean, you did tell him about how you felt weeks ago; straight o his face no less. He just brushed it all off, knowing good and well that he and relationships in general just didn’t work out.  Besides, he was someone the public knew the face of and he wasn’t just someone to pass on the street and forget the face of.  

Dabi rejected you, you knew he would, but he let you down as easy as he could.  You just simply wanted to put your feelings out there so nothing would be awkward in the future.  It stung sure, but you felt more open with your feelings not bottled up in secrecy.

You wrapped his hand in gauze and called it good enough, placing all your things back where they were. Dabi looked at his hand, flipping it back and forth as he inspected how neatly you’ve gotten at wrapping bandages since the very first time. 

“Not bad,” he hummed. The first time he heard of you and came to get treated, you had to treat a nasty gash on his leg and you were clumsily with your bandaging since he was already covered in scars.  You were so confused on if you could cover them or not and if you did, if there was a special way.  You leaved quickly though. 

“Not like you could do any better.  You don’t really need any more stitches or staples than you already have.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t think they’re sexy,” he teased as he stood up straight, plunging his hands into his pants pockets as he began to follow you around the basement room to room like a dog.  You soon left your basement, going back up the stairs, opening the door and leaving before going up the second set of stairs leading up to your apartment.  

Dabi followed you the entire way with a shit eating grin on his face.  

You sighed as you unlocked your apartment door and looked over your shoulder and down to the burnt man just behind you on lower stair steps.  

“Do you need something?” 

“Yeah. Inside.” 

You cursed under your breath, going inside and him following knowing that you couldn’t argue him out of it.  He often did this, getting treated and then going up to your apartment.  In fact, there was a time when he would pick your lock and let himself in, so you ended up making him a copy so he could just stop doing it. 

He may not be good in relationships and definitely not looking for one, on top of rejecting you, but he could very well enjoy his evenings pestering you instead. they were two distinctly different situations.   

Kicking off his boots and fumbling with his jacket, he hung it on the coat wrack- not willing to be yelled at by you for making your home a mess with his junk again- and let himself in.  He immediately made a beeline for your living room and plopped himself on your couch like he owned the place and paid your bills.  

You had ventured to the kitchen before you went to the living room and tossed him something.  Catching it, he saw a poptart in his hand, still wrapped in it’s aluminum wrapping.  

“Eat. I’m taking a shower.” He shrugged as you turned and headed to shower as he flipped on your television and let himself finally relax. 

It was odd, being around you and in your home.  He didn’t even feel this relaxed and loose in his own apartment by himself.  Where he lived was nothing fancy and it was cheap, but it was his and the location was kept on the downlow just like he needed.  Spending time with the league was fine and dandy, but they could be so damned irritating sometimes, so he didn’t dare even try and nap at the base. 

He let his head fall back against the couch and he took deep breaths.  

On occasions like this, he did feel a bit guilty.  It’s not like he was actually taking advantage of your feelings or your kindness to do what he wanted, you were just  too nice for your own good and let him. Don’t get him wrong, you would scold him if he did something you didn’t like- like leaving his jacket on the floor- so it wasn’t like you didn’t want him here. 

Dabi could hear your shower running just barely under the sound of the tv’s noise.  Sometimes, he’d find himself thinking back to when you told him how you felt and how easily you accepted the fact he said no. 

He was just coming back from another stupid league mission and had a pretty nasty cut behind his left shoulder. You were cleaning the blood off his skin, trying not to snag your rags in any staples before you were smearing something onto the wound, making him sigh in of relief of the cooling sensation. 

It was when you were pasting a gauze pad on his shoulder and patching it on securely when you blurted out that you liked him. All he did when you said that was laugh at you, to which your silence that followed explained that you weren’t joking and were in fact serious.  He looked at you with a face you hadn’t seen before, a look of vulnerability for just a moment, before it shifted to one of seriousness. 

“I’m not interested. Sorry, doll.” You nodded at his quick rejection. Though you accepted it fairly easily, he could still see the slight furrow of your brow and dip in your lips with his rejection.  You may have even seen his rejection coming, but hearing it still had to be a blow to your heart. 

He was glad the relationship between you two hadn’t changed regardless of how you felt and how he said no.  You still put up with his bullshit and he still hung around like a fly you couldn’t smash under a flyswatter because it kept evading the strikes.  It was still comfortable here- in your place. 

Dabi stood from the couch, moving to your window only to lean out when he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. You had really gotten on his ass once when you caught him smoking in the middle of your living room without a window even open.  You told him to smoke out a window, or go outside to contaminate his lungs claiming you dealt with the smell of smoke enough during bar hours. 

Flicking a small, blue flame with his index finger, he lit the stick and huffed.  Nicotine really accompanied his quirk- it was like he and cigarettes were just meant to be since he himself was a human-sized lighter.

He heard the door to your bathroom open and soon you stepped out with grey sweat and a cheap, cutoff shirt that just barely exposed your stomach on, towel drying your hair.  You looked at him, water still barely dripping off your eyelashes and hair strands untouched by the towel.  

“Glad to see you’re listening to me,” you told him as you nodded towards the smoke that he took a draw from.  He puffed the smoke out the window as he turned around to lean against the open pane.  His hand out the window to keep the crumbling ash from dropping inside.  

“I can behave sometimes too, you know.”

You scoffed at him, turning to grab a water bottle from your fridge in the kitchen and returning to the living room.  “Yeah, not likely.” You sat on the couch to mindlessly watch whatever channel the tv was on and once Dabi and finished smoking, he shut the window and rejoined you on the couch.  His arm was resting on the back of the couch as you had pulled out your phone and began to scroll through apps and occasionally looking back up to the tv. 

It was moments like this where the uncertainty really hit him.  

It was this- these comfortable situations- that frightened him.  He was a bad person, a person who’s done bad things and will continue to do bad things.  He used to sit around your apartment and bug you with questions.  Had you ever ratted anyone out? Were you really a completely secretive person when it came to your unofficial side job? Were you really someone to be trusted? Why did you do what you did in the first place? 

Now, he didn’t ask anything anymore. He grimaced at himself. Maybe he was letting himself get too comfortable here. 

���I’m going away for a while,” he suddenly blurted out.  You glanced up at him from your phone. 

“Have some big job or something coming up?” 

“Yeah,” he lied, “some league stuff I gotta deal with.” 

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?” 

“No idea.  Probably a few weeks I bet.” Dabi couldn’t stop himself from lying to you and he got irritated at himself for feeling even the slightest bit bad for doing so. This was the only way though, the only way to try and get back to the rough, guarded villain he was supposed to always be.  

Dabi had to get away from you for a while. 

“Well,” you started, looking back down.  He looked at you, seeing you frown just a bit- he bit his cheek.  “Stay safe. If you need any patching up when you get back, you know where to find me.” 

He lowered his chin, his eyes lidding as he hardened his resolve. His decision was final, and he had to follow through with it.  He looked back to the tv, trying to bask in theses few final moments. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

-x-x-x-

Dabi’s irritated. He’s been irritated actually.  

He’s sitting at the bar, not your bar, but the bar in the league’s headquarters.  He sat slouched in a stool as Kurogiri- as usual- stood behind the bar.  The glass of some brown liquor that Dabi had nursed for the past hour started to taste like static to him.  He missed your bar’s liquor- the revelation made him more irritated. 

The entire reason he’s avoided going to your pub and always looked around corners in the city to make sure you wouldn’t bump into him by accident was so he could squash whatever the fuck he was feeling when he was around you down into dust.  Though, theses recent last couple days had proven that his plan was backfiring. 

Instead of forgetting what it felt like to be comfortable and content and relaxed, he was missing it.  He was missing the air of serene you always carried everywhere you went and he dared to say he yearned for it again.  

Dabi clicked his tongue as he pushed his forehead into his palm when Shigiraki had walked into the bar from wherever he had been before.  Seeing the hunched over excuse of a comrade, he groaned. The leader had often heard of your patchwork jobs for villains.  He himself had even met with you once- not for any injuries he had sustained, but for a simple meeting to exchange greetings with potential allies. Anything helped for his cause. 

Shigiraki also knew that Dabi often frequented your pub, and for whatever reason he hadn’t been recently.  His sour mood as of late paired with his lack of attendance to your business and attention was too easy to put together.  

“I’m really sick of you moping around here,” the leader complained.  Dabi lifted his forehead from his palm and glared across the room to the leader who now took a seat one stool away from Dabi. “Go be a killjoy somewhere else.” 

“Oh, piss off.” 

His mood began to spiral rapidly when Toga and Twice had come into the bar as well, coming back from wherever the fuck they had been.  Toga- trying her best to get on Dabi’s every nerve- was told by Kurogiri that his mood was unpleasant because he hadn’t been to a specific bar in town for some time now.  

Dabi felt offended that Kurogiri connected his bad mood to the bar and not you. 

“Maybe I should kick the crap outta you myself, so you can go back to what's-her-name and then maybe you’ll finally lose the attitude.” Okay, that one earned the hand-fetishist leader a growl from the pyromaniac. It only made Shigiraki scoff in a small victory, knowing that everyone around the league could see that his sour mood was solely revolving around you- or lack thereof.

Toga, ever on the hunt for new ‘friends’, immediately jumped at the idea of finally going to the mystery lady who heals everyone just because she has a kind heart.  An idea that Dabi shut down without so much as batting an eyelash. 

“But, why not!” Toga whined.  Dabi rolled his eyes.  Villain or not, Toga was just a high schooler with more than enough psychotic tendencies to warrant concern. If he had it his way- you’d never even get the chance to set your eyes on the blonde, twin-bunned psycho.  

The constant chartering centering in on him and you began to grate on his nerves and before long he was stomping up to his feet and out the bar door.  Shigiraki just scoffed as Toga pouted. Twice was simply mocking and jesting at the burned man who ‘just ran away’.  

Dabi had had enough.  He was going back to your pub- but it wasn’t going to be because he missed you.  He just wanted a drink in peace and fucking quiet. At least away from those idiots. 

-x-x-x- 

Dabi had slithered his way into your bar- pushing his way in with a group so that when you shouted from your place behind the bar to greet them in and to tell them to just find a seat, you wouldn’t recognize him. He had stopped by his apartment before making his way here to change into clothes he hoped you wouldn’t recognize him in either.  

The large, indigo tinted turtle neck he wore was way too large on his torso. The neck was horribly stretched out and pulled up as far as it could be to cover his jaw and mouth so that he didn’t have to wear the mask he knew you would recognize.. He traded his normal jacket with a different one he’d kept around for city crawling as he had it half way zipped up and the hood flipped up to hide his hair and scarred ears. Keeping his chin down, he used the shadow of his hood and the shadows the pub lights casted to keep the scars just under his eyes more or less out of sight.  

He grumbled at himself. Why was he going to such lengths to make sure you didn’t see him in the first place?   In the past, he wouldn’t have gone to the lengths to stay on the downlow in public like this; he would’ve just gone back home and crashed or drank alone or something of the sort.  You probably weren’t even under the impression he was back from the mission you thought he was on.

He slid into a booth in the back corner where he could still see you working behind the bar.  Pacing back and forth, talking and serving patrons and just doing your general work.  It felt strange seeing you work from all the way in the back instead of in his usual barstool, front row seat.  He bit his tongue when he caught himself almost missing his up close proximity to you. 

He was soon slid a bottle of beer- even if he didn’t really like the taste- as he nursed it.  He’d occasionally scan the bar to see what kind of business you had tonight.  When he wasn’t, he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone with glances up to the bar every so often.  He felt uneasy when you weren’t in his sights, even with you so close by.  

An hour after he had entered the pub, the doors had opened roughly enough to make tables turn their heads or hush up their conversations to see who had just made the racket coming in.  Dabi glanced, pulling his hood back just a bit to see past the fabric of it. 

A group of three men had walked into the pub.  Gruff looking fellas, but nothing all that special.  They started scanning the pub area, looking from tables, to faces, to chairs, all the way to the bar.  The flame user didn’t appreciate the snarl on the middle man’s face when his eyes landed on you busting the bar top with your rag.  

Shutting the door behind them, the three of them split apart, one heading towards the rec room and another heading in Dabi’s side of the bar. The middle man marched up towards the bar and instead of taking a seat- opted to lean on the bar between two already seated patrons.  They ended up leaving their bills and scurrying out of the joint. 

You took their payment and bit your tongue to keep from telling the obviously trouble-looking newcomer off for running off your customers.  In fact, you completely disregarded him.  

Once your bills were collected and placed into your apron pocket, you looked at the middle man leaning on the bar square in the eyes.  You held unamused eye contact with him for a beat before you shut your eyes and easily turned away from him. 

Clearly unhappy with the attention he so desperately wanted, he reached over the bar and yanked on the back of your work button up.  You let out a shocked, choked gasp as you dropped the glass you had in your hand.  The sound of shattering glass echoed around the pub as it became completely silent.  

Dabi jumped from his booth, standing at his table instead of leisurely sitting like he had been as he watched the man reach out for your shirt. He growled under his breath when he yanked you back towards him over the bar. 

This trouble-seeker was new to your pub, you could tell this the moment he came in with his two buddies.  He didn’t know of the amount of eyes on him now that he had gained the attention he wanted.  And he didn’t know how many of those eyes were villains ready to take him out. 

You coughed as he tried dragging you completely over the bar just by your shirt collar.  Your lower back pushed painfully into the wooden edge of the bar as your heels came off the floor, your toes being the only leverage you had left on your side of the bar top.  

You wanted to swing your elbow back and pop the son of a bitch in the nose, but you had to keep all ten of your fingers on the front of your collar to keep it from painfully pulling against your throat. You attempted to unbutton the top buttons for a window of breath, but you didn’t get the chance to before you were dropped.  

“Hey!” A voice you had recognized from a past medical visit came from behind you and the man yanking on your shirt.  He had groaned as he dropped you, your unsteady toes combined with your heels slamming back down to the floor and your spine dragging down the edge of the bar all made you drop to the floor.  You hunched over on the floor, gagging as you pulled on your shirt’s fabric away from your neck- the hemming all stretched out and well ruined by now.  

The bar felt like walls that encased around your slumped over body and you soon felt someone hop over the bar and rub your back.  Looking up with teary eyes from your lack of breath, you recognized the female criminal you had treated a handful of times before.  She soothed you behind the bar as it sounded like pure chaos erupted from beyond the bar. 

The short screams and shouts of whatever customer didn’t feel like fighting and fleeing.  you even heard your employees ducking out- as you instructed them to do when bar fights broke out. You did not want to feel out accident reports, so your rules of running when things get nasty was non-negotiable.

You were content to just stay sitting on the floor, catching your breath until the fighting was done.  You knew those who were fighting against the law were already defending you and your pub- they would take care of it.  

It was their safe space and these thugs had just tried disrupting that space. 

It was only when a plume of fire shot out from what looked like to be the back corner of your pub did you jump to your feet. Leaning against the bar with the villainess at your side, holding you to make sure you didn’t tumble over, you saw Dabi.  

“Dabi?!” You were shocked to see him. He hadn’t been around due to his work (so he told you), and you were confused on why he was here now.  Why was he wearing clothes you hadn’t seen before and when did he get here?  

He was quick to jump into the fray, mixing in with forces to drive the stupid thugs out of your pub, but not without beating them within an inch of their life first. Between tables being thrown, chairs knocked over, fire bursting then dispersing and fist and legs flying- it was hard to keep up with what was actually happening.  

What you did see though, was from the rec room someone coming out and pointing their fingers out towards your villains- your allies.  Their fingertips started to open and sharp, needle like tips were ready to be fired out of them.  

You climbed over the bar, the villainess calling out to you to not get involved.  You stumbled into a chair, holding yourself up as you shouted over the commotion. 

“Hey! Get behind a wall or table!” You pointed to the man under the rec room doorway.  “Don’t let whatever he’s gonna shoot out of his fingers hit you!” You were ready to duck back behind a table when you were shoved in the chest by the third man you saw enter with the thugs earlier.  He just appeared from no where it seemed when he struck you.

Knocking you into a nearby table, you slid onto it before it tipped and you tumbled off of it when it fell.  Groaning, you cursed under your breath.  You were getting really fucking sick of being pushed around tonight.  You got to your knees to get yourself back to your feet when you felt something push against your back and wrap around your shoulders, keeping you down. 

Whatever was keeping you down and covered was warm.  It covered your back and kept your shoulders encased.  Reaching up, it was an arm that wrapped around your and it was someone’s chest that pushed against your back.  Looking back you saw his scarred ears and neck before you saw his face. Not to mention the blast of burning blue that shot out opposite of his outstretched other arm.

“Dabi,” you gasped as you felt his body start to push more into yourself.  You whined, his weight beginning to crush you. “Hey, get off me,” you huffed.  

“Oh, you so owe me,” he chuckled before he fell against your completely. His arm dropped and the one that wrapped around you previous fell limp and released you. Rolling off to the side awkwardly to try and catch his fall to the tile, you saw a small needle sticking from his neck.  

“Oh, shit” you muttered.  Turning, you lifted a table to cover your back while the rest of the chaos kept going on behind you.  Pushing him onto his back, he was out cold.  Looking him over, you didn’t see any worrisome wounds on him- in fact he didn’t look wounded at all.  It was only that needle in his neck. “No doubt from that guy’s quirk,” you mumbled as you inspected it.  

Did he cover you so you didn’t get hit with the needle instead? You didn’t want to work yourself up into a frenzy at the thought of him taking a shot for you- but no matter how you looked at the situation, that was exactly what happened. 

It was a small, thin like a sewing needle with a ball point on the back of it.  Whatever this needle is coated in obviously knocked the pyro out.  You peeked over the table to see the same man ready to shoot a second round from his fingertips. 

“Take out the needle shooter! His needles will render you unconscious!” Your shouted leadership to take out one of the three low-level threats was clear and it was probably 20 minutes later when the three thugs were tied up and unconscious.  

You sighed, finally feeling safe again in your busted and destroyed bar.  You groaned for the umpteenth time knowing it was going to cost a fortune to get the tables repaired.  Not to mention the seared wallpaper that peeled from the previous heat and broken glasses, frames and damaged light fixtures.  You would have to close your doors for repairs for at least a month. 

As you looked around, you moved from your sitting position to instead kneel at Dabi’s side. 

“Can someone help me bring him downstairs? And lock the entrance.” Dabi was picked up and was soon being carried back behind the bar and through the doors, waiting for you to come unlock the way down as someone else had safely latched your pub doors shut. Your employees would understand if you just shot them a few texts.  

Before you went into the back, you pointed at the unconscious needle shooter.  “Also, bring him down too, but keep him tied up.  I need to know what his quirk is so that I know exactly why he did and how to treat it. Anyone else who needs treatment, you can come down too.” 

An hour later, you had Dabi’s unconscious body hooked up in one of your rooms to small machines to make sure he wasn’t dying.  Whatever the needle was- you concluded that it at least wasn’t poisonous.  You had taken it from his neck and had it run for tests.  It wasn’t coated in anything, but the tip of it had released a sort of potion into his body from where he had been stores in the ball point end; but you weren’t sure what it was.  

You moved away from your laptop on the small desk you had next to Dabi’s temporary bed.  You leaned your elbow against the wood and stared at him.  

“Until I figure out what exactly happened, I have no idea when he’ll wake up.” You frowned as worry began to churn in your stomach.  It eased you that his life didn’t seem to be in danger, but that didn’t really help anything else.  He was immobile and unresponsive until further notice as far as you knew.

You sighed getting up and searching for his phone.  Finding it in his jacket pocket, you plucked it out and began to go through his contacts.  You were glad you watched him punch in his lock code one day and held it in your memory. 

Finding a contact under ‘Childish Leader’, you immediately began to ring it.  You knew who Dabi worked under, and who this so called ‘childish leader’ was- you did meet with him one time after all.  When the line picked up, you were greeted with a sigh. 

“What,” a strained voice annoyingly greeted.  

“You’ll want to come to the location I’m about to send you,” you started. You swore you heard the frown and confused brow drip on his face when it wasn’t Dabi’s voice that was on the phone.  “Want to know what happened to Dabi? Then get your wrap quirked friend to get you over here, Shigaraki.” 

You quickly ended the call, letting out a shaky breath and feeling your heart pound in your chest. Dabi only ever really complained about Shigaraki, and you had only met hi that one time for general introductions, so you didn’t know much about him.  You hoped that just telling him what to do before sending him your coordinates would be enough to just get him to show up.  You’d deal with the rest later. 

You stood from your chair as you looked down at Dabi.  He always looked quite peaceful sleeping- it was odd since he was always scowling when he was awake. He’d smirk and tease, sure, but you don’t think you’d ever seen a real smile on his face before.  

You chuckled to yourself, touching his hair just once before you stopped- knowing he didn’t like you touching him like that.  He wanted to keep you at arms length because of your feelings and you knew that- so unconscious or not, you had to keep his wants at the forefront of your mind.  

A knock sounded at the door when you saw one of your allied villains come in.  “Some guys are in the bar, asking for you.  Some freak with a hand on his face and a gimp looking dude.”  You almost laughed at the villain's description. 

“Tell them I’ll be up in a moment.” The villain left as you looked once more at Dabi. You smiled down at him. “Thanks for the save, you reckless idiot.” 

-x-x-x-

Dabi groaned as he rolled from his back to his side.  He was only vaguely aware he was previously on his back ,which already annoyed him- he was not a back sleeper.  He peeked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling above him.  

That wasn’t his apartment ceiling? Sitting up, he rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a breath.  His head pounded and he opened his eyes back up to see the room he was in.  It wasn’t his apartment at all.  He was in a bedroom, but he hadn’t seen this room before.  

The last thing he remembered was jumping into a bar fight at your pub and then covering your back when that finger-freak tried shooting something out of his fingertip at you.  He didn’t even realize his body moved until he felt the needle meant for you dart into his neck.  

Rubbing at his neck, he felt no pain.  Getting up, he looked around the room.  

This room wasn’t yours- he’d seen it before- and it wasn’t anyone else’s he knew of. He wasn’t at the league HQ either, that run down place didn’t have rooms as well kept at this one. Surely you wouldn’t have pushed him off to some random villain until he woke up and this was some stranger’s room... right?   

After a moment, he started getting nosy. As he opened more drawers and books and notepads, he got more and more confused. These were all things he was interested in.  All the notebooks had his handwriting in them and his name was signed on papers and sticky notes scattered on a corkboard hanging on the wall.  The phone on the bedside table and he unlocked with his passcode and started going through it- it was all his information just like normal, but something was off. 

He felt off.  He looked at his palms, the scars he’s had since he was younger still showing on his skin.  Something nagged in the back of his head and he knew that he had to get answers and the best way to do that is to track you down.  

Grabbing a jacket and zipping it up to his chin and placing sunglasses on his face, he left the room that was filled with, presumably his own things, but definitely not his things. 

The roads and buildings all around were the same as he remembered.  However, when he came to your pub’s building, it looked different.  Shabby almost. Trying to go inside, the door was rusted and jammed. Jostling with the door wasn’t getting him anywhere and he knew if he tried to bust it down you’d have his ass on the wall for the damage.  

Looking up, he saw the window that lead into the living room of your apartment.  Walking around the building he started up the fire escape and carefully treaded the side of the building to the window before he shimmied it open from the outside and hopped inside. 

“What the fuck?” The apartment that was once filled with your furniture and belongings was empty.  Not just empty, but it was dusty, barren and isolated like no one had been in there for years. Jogging downstairs, he ran into the bar to find it the same way: empty.

No tables, no chairs, no booths.  No bottles lining the dusty shelves and no frames of art or recreational items in the rec room. it even still had the old, tacky wallpaper instead of the wallpaper he remembered. The stench of dust filtered through his nose and made his throat burn- it was apparent that the place hadn’t been aired out in years.  

Turning back, the door to the basement he had been in so many times wasn’t even there.  When he left the building to go to the basement the backway, the backway in didn’t seem to exist either.  It was like the basement he had spent so much time in with you patching him up was never there to begin with. 

“This is fucking crazy,” he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket.  He wasn’t used to feeling whatever was bubbling in his chest.  It was painful, like caltrops tearing apart his stomach and chest as he searching for your number in his contacts.  He began to start walking back to where your apartment use to be, to go back inside the abandoned pub, when he dialed your phone.  He was soon stuck in his tracks when he caught sight of his reflection in a window.  

The window’s glass was cracked, barely held in place in the frame as he stared back at his reflection.  Reaching up, he ran his scarred hand through his hair. His hair that wasn’t dyed black; his hair that was as white as his mothers. 

“Where the fuck am I?” He breathed as he heard the monotone voice over the phone. 

-I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed does not exist-

[tsarisfanfiction]

(It’s the) Middle of the Night

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, Gordon

When he woke, it was dark.  But he wasn’t alone.

Well, this serves two purposes - one is some nice new Military Bros content for today’s apparent Military Bros day (yay!), and the other is a little birthday present to myself (it’s gone midnight, it counts) because I wasn’t expecting to get anything else today (it’s 00:46 and already I’ve been proven wrong on that front because internet friends are amazing) so I thought I’d poke at my muses until they gave me something.  I’m still not entirely sure what this is, but it’s just nice to have written something again.

When he woke, it was to the distinct feeling of pain.  Muffled pain, clearly stifled by painkillers, but pain nonetheless.

That didn’t stop Scott from opening his eyes slowly, scowling a little at the dim lighting in the room.  It saved him a headache to go along with the rest of the pain, but it didn’t make it particularly easy to determine where he was.

Although, really, there were very few options.  Either he was in hospital, back home in the infirmary, or some third party had decided to take care of him.  Scott knew which one he was hoping for.

“Is our sleeping beauty awake?”

The words were cliché, straight out of a bad kidnapping movie, and Scott rolled his eyes.  Well, that was one option dismissed, at least. Potentially two, considering the owner of that voice’s opinion on hospitals.

“Yes,” he croaked, letting his head loll sideways until he could make out the hazy shape next to him. “Lights?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”  The shape shifted slightly, and then there was a light touch on his shoulder.  “How are you feeling?”

Scott huffed, and instantly regretted it as the action ignited the residual pain.

“Okay, stupid question.” The hand rubbed his shoulder gently. “Do you remember what happened?”

Falling rocks.

A little girl.

Scott lunged to sit up, but his brother was clearly prepared for that because hands gripped his shoulders and kept him pinned to the bed.

“She’s fine.  Couple of bruises, but you kept her safe.” Fingers dug into his shoulders almost painfully, keeping him from moving.  “You, on the other hand, have more than a couple of bruises, and Grandma and Virgil will murder both of us if I let you move just yet.”

Gordon spoke sense, but that didn’t mean Scott had to like it.  Still, his body thrummed with repressed pain and his second-youngest brother was apparently finding it entirely too easy to hold him down.  He stopped fighting for the moment, knowing that Gordon wouldn’t lie to him about the girl.  Something else sparked at his brother’s words, though.

“Virgil?”

“Out on another rescue,” Gordon told him bluntly.  “Alan went with him.”

Alan?  Scott eyed his present brother suspiciously.  “Not you?”

“Well, Alan was hardly going to keep you in line if you woke up, was he?”  The words were flippant, and Scott was admittedly still waking up from an unwilling nap, but something struck him as not right about Gordon’s attitude.

He was too tired to try and parse it out the gentle way.

“Gordon.”

“Scott,” his brother mimicked.  One hand left his shoulder, brushing lightly through his hair before returning to Gordon’s side as his brother settled back down stiffly in the chair.

Stiffly?

Scott’s eyes narrowed, as if that would help him see in the half-light.  It didn’t, but he didn’t need to see to guess what was going on.

“How’s your back?” he asked.

Gordon sighed.  “It’s fine, Scott,” he said, although the way he was shifting in place made Scott doubt they had the same definition of ‘fine’. “Just wasn’t a fan of moving boulders so I’m taking it easy tonight.”

Moving boulders. Scott closed his eyes as the implications of that washed over him, only for the other hand to leave his shoulder in favour of a finger jabbing him in the cheek.

“None of that,” Gordon said sternly.  “Virgil did most of the work.”

“Virgil’s not the one with a bad back,” Scott muttered, peeling one eye open again to glare at his brother.  He got another jab in the cheek for that and lazily shifted his head enough to snap at the offending finger.

Gordon whisked it out of range with a light laugh.  A moment later, hands rested lightly on his arm, thumbs brushing bare skin gently.

“A bad back’s not going to stop me saving my brother,” the blond said firmly, just enough steel underlying his words to be at odds with his laugh.  The thumbs didn’t stop moving, rubbing light circles onto Scott’s skin.

Scott wanted to argue. If it was anyone else, about anything else, he would have done.  But Gordon’s back was its own topic, with its own rules, and no matter how much he wanted to wrap his brother up in cotton wool to make sure he never hurt it again, they had an agreement in place.  Gordon’s back was Gordon’s business.  As long as he remained honest about how it affected him day to day, Scott wasn’t allowed to try and control what he did.

No matter how much he hated the idea of something one day going wrong.

“I know,” he sighed, swallowing back the protests.  Gordon squeezed his arm lightly, in an acknowledgement that his brother knew it hurt him every time he couldn’t stop him.  “So, what happened to me?”

Safer waters it might not be, but the subject change sucked away the rest of the lingering tension in the room.

“Boulders don’t make for a good massage, Scott,” Gordon told him airily, before his voice hardened into something more serious.  “You’ve got extensive bruising all over, and hairline fractures in three ribs.”

Scott winced.  That meant he was grounded for weeks.

He hated being grounded.

Gordon hadn’t let go of his arm.  His thumbs were still tracing circles on his skin, a pattern that was more soothing than it had any right to be.

“You should get some sleep,” his brother told him quietly.  “It’s the middle of the night, you know.”

“You said,” Scott reminded him.  “Why are you still up?”  Gordon was strict with his sleep schedule, when rescues didn’t interrupt it, and the middle of the night was an hour his brother didn’t care to see outside of occasional trips to the kitchen for water.

The huff he got in response told him Gordon thought that a stupid question.

“Someone had to watch you,” he pointed out.  “Go to sleep, Scott.”  Then I can, was left unspoken, but Scott heard it loud and clear.  Sneaky, manipulative little brother.  “The others won’t be back for hours.”

Gordon would know better than him right now.  Still, Scott didn’t want to sleep so soon after regaining consciousness, even if he was weak enough that Gordon could overpower him with ease.

“I don’t need watching,” he protested.  Gordon made a sound that was entirely disbelieving in response and he scowled.  “You need to sleep.”  As if on cue, his brother yawned before letting out a disgruntled noise.

“I can stay awake a while longer,” he insisted, but Scott rolled his eyes.

“Bed, Gordon,” he insisted, trying to pull his arm away.  Gordon didn’t loosen his grip.  “Gordon.”

He half-expected to have his name mimicked back at him again, but this time that didn’t happen. Instead, his brother sighed, a little sadly.  Scott didn’t like that sound at all.

“I’m not leaving you,” his brother said, quiet but determined.  “You can’t make me.”  His grip on Scott’s arm tightened, enough to puncture through the painkillers and get his arm complaining again in real time.  “Not tonight, Scott.”

Despite being fully capable of tight, crushing, squid hugs, Gordon wasn’t particularly clingy all of the time.  Alan would cling, Virgil would hover with the promise of bear hugs the moment he sensed something awry, and even John lurked in his own way, but Gordon was content to keep his own personal space unless he was particularly worried – or mischievous.

Gordon didn’t get clingy like this unless there was something else going on in his head, and Scott knew from experience that there really wasn’t any way of getting the squid to let go once his tentacles had grasped on.  With Virgil and Alan both out on another rescue, and John as ever up in orbit, there was no way Scott could shake him.

If he was honest, he didn’t want to, either.

“Fine,” he accepted.  “But you need to sleep.”

“Scott-”

He didn’t wait for the complaints, twisting his arm around until he had hold of his brother’s wrist. It hurt, but it did its job of silencing his brother.  If there was more light, Scott suspected he’d see sharp amber eyes watching him with a mix of confusion and calculation.

“Sleep here,” he said, giving a light tug.  The infirmary bed was big enough for both of them, a necessity given the entire family’s tendency to crawl into each other’s beds at the first sign of a nightmare. Bruising and hairline fractures would survive a bedfellow.

It wouldn’t be the first time.  Injuries and nightmares came hand-in-hand.

The grip on his arm slackened, then fell away entirely.  Gordon didn’t pull away from him, though, and Scott kept his grip as his brother moved.

Sheets rustled and shifted, exposing him to a rush of cooler air that raised goosebumps all over his body before the mattress dipped and a warm body pressed up against his.

While there was space for two, in theory, Scott had been placed in the middle of the bed, leaving Gordon to squish himself in the smaller gap between his body and the edge of the bed.  Instinctively, Scott tried to shift over, but arms and legs wrapped around him loosely enough not to agitate his bruising, but firmly enough to keep him pinned in place.

“I’m fine,” Gordon said, breath tickling Scott’s neck.  Hair brushed against his jaw, smelling faintly of chlorine as always.  “Plenty of room.”  Scott doubted that, but his brother’s hold on him was firm enough that he couldn’t move anyway.  “Don’t forget to get some sleep, Scott.”  There was a yawn near his ear, punctuating Gordon’s words.  “Night.”

Gordon was good at falling asleep.  Not like Alan – teenagerhood and adrenaline crashing the youngest Tracy where he stood on multiple occasions – but more befitting the military lifestyle he’d once led.  There, sleep was precious, and being able to nod off at the drop of a hat was a vital skill.  Scott had long since lost that to sleepless nights of paperwork and what-ifs, but somehow, despite everything, Gordon could still do it.  The breath tickling his neck sank into something slow and even almost immediately.

His own personal lullaby.

Scott had no intentions of falling back asleep again, but Gordon hadn’t left him with a lot of options. The warmth of his brother soothed the pain, and the breathing against his neck soothed his mind.

It didn’t take long for his eyelids to slide shut again.

[lilacsandwhiskey]

Happy

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song inspo: CWJBHN / Jake Scott

Warnings: alcohol usage, fluff

“It’s raining.”

A smile tugged on your lips as the boy on the other end of the phone spoke.

Tom’s thumb tapped the lip of the bottle as he stared at you, wanting to know anything and everything about you. “What’s your favorite kind of weather?” He asked. You let out a small laugh at the question, thinking if you’d ever been asked that. “I love a rainy day.”

You peaked out the window, taking in the gray sky surrounding you, fog rising from the pavement. The rain fell slow and steady. You felt your mood shift, a happiness erupting through your body. “You’re right.” “I’ll be there in 15.” Tom said before hanging up.

Months ago when you’d answered that question, you had no idea how Tom would use that to get closer to you. When you’d met him after a break up at a bar, sulking on your own, he walked up to you, confident, kind, but not over the top. Other guys had walked up, practically demanding a good time, but Tom walked asking for friendship (fishy, right?). He made you more comfortable when he invited you to sit among his friends, after you’d told him you were new to the city. There was no doubt you’d all hit it off quickly and hanging out became more normal as time passed by.

Your friendship was instantaneous. You found yourself fond of the brown-headed boy. He took his time to get to know you, but there was no doubt you’d found him so easy to open up to. He’d watch you, listen to every word you had to say, and then - he’d remember.

The first time you noticed he remembered small parts of your conversations is when you had briefly mentioned that you were so obsessed with dachshunds. He just so happened to see one on the sidewalk while going for a morning jog and snapped a quick picture, sending it and mentioning that he’d thought of you.

Then he was back in London, and though you hadn’t seen much rain in LA, it was raining there. He called you just to tell you it was raining. You felt your cheeks heat up at someone taking the time to know you, study you, and memorize you.

Tom was patient with you above all. He knew how ruined your ex had left you several months ago, and how sudden movements and words could send your mind to places. You’d opened up to him about it one late night over a bottle of red wine in your scarce apartment that you were still trying to make your own.

——————

When he pulled up outside of your complex, you tugged the rain jacket that you hardly got to use over your chest before running out. The boy was out and opening your door before you reached the car. Head down but laughing, Tom ushered you in his car before trudging through the new puddles to get into the driver side.

“What’s the occasion?” You asked as he plopped down in his seat, slightly breathless from the quick movements. “It’s your favorite weather and we’re in the same place for once. Gotta take advantage of that.” He responded, giving you a smile before turning the radio up just a tad that it covered the comfortable silence between the two of you.

Your conversation built up further into the drive as you whisked through traffic. Tom heard you mention that you’d end up finding a chill Thai restaurant a few weeks ago, but he wasn’t in town to experience it. “Why not now?” He said, handing over his phone for you to type in the address.

When you’d both pulled up to the small restaurant, there were hardly anyone in the parking lot. The weather had cleared out some traffic, making it easier to maneuver through the city. As you walked in, Tom slipped his hand into your own, pulling you towards a small booth towards the back of the restaurant. The feeling of Tom’s hand in yours made your heart skip a beat, recognizing the soft grip of his calloused hand in yours. A blush crept to your cheeks as you sat down across from him.

After ordering, Tom sat back in the booth, twirling the straw wrapper in between his fingers. “Missed you so much these last few weeks.” He said with a grin. “I missed you too. It was hard not giggling over a bottle of red with you.” You replied, giving him a small smile. “Hm, maybe we should buy a bottle and do that tonight, whatdya say?” “Let me check my calendar.” You replied with a small laugh.

The conversations were easy. Tom told you about his time visiting with his family, how he’d gotten to go golfing with his brothers and dad, the walks he’d take Tessa on, the new cafe that opened minutes down the road from his childhood home that him and Harrison went to everyday to try a new flavor of pastry each time. You talked about your new job, the new friend you’d made in your complex, the time you thought you ran into Adam Sandler at a restaurant last week but it definitely wasn’t him.

Tom always listened with intent, asking questions to make sure that you knew he was listening. The food had arrived and you’d both been shoveling the food down, talking between bites. Laughter erupted one too many times, receiving odd looks from others in the restaurant, but neither of you minded.

It was hard not to fall for Tom. He was beautiful, really. His curls were always perfectly placed, no matter how messy, his eyes always bright with admiration. He was patient with you, understood why you could be stand-offish in certain situations because of your past. He never failed to remind you that you were important to him. He was smooth, no doubt, come backs and flirting was simple with him.

Tom had so easily fallen for you fast. From the moment he watched your chemistry with his friends, to the talks, the calls, everything, he found himself so intrigued. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met - so gentle and kind, so honest but never rude. But he knew you were still healing, and he was more than understanding of that.

As you walked out of the restaurant, Tom grabbed your hand, running through the pelting rain. Laughter erupted from the two of you as he quickly opened your door, with “love, get in, I’m soaked!”

When he jumped in the driver seat, he let out a breath, taking a look over at you. Giggles continued as you noticed his curls matted to his forehead, droplets of water littered over his freckles. If you weren’t so unsure of what this moment could’ve held, you would’ve kissed him. But you didn’t.

He seemed to hold your gaze a little longer than usual. “So about that wine…” He half-whispered, breaking the trance he’d held with you. “Oh yeah.” You say, recognizing you’d have to stop once more at the store.

One stop later, you were both on the way to his LA apartment where he’d stay in town. You wanted to curse yourself for not asking him to stop by your place so that you’d be able to grab a change of clothes, but the boy must have read your mind.

When you’d made it up the stairwell into his place, he’d set the brown paper bags on the counter, saying “wait here.” He walked back with a towel, a t-shirt and joggers. “You can change in my room, I’ll take the bathroom.” He said with a smile.

You felt your heart do flips as you pulled the shirt over your head, noticing the familiar scent of the boy lingering all over you. It was intoxicating in the best ways. You’d never wore any of his clothes before besides a hoodie here and there when you were out, which you always made sure to return even when he opposed.

When you walked out, your breath hitched seeing his loose gray sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips with a white t-shirt hugging his fit body. He had a speaker in his hand as he scrolled through his phone, music lightly playing in the background. He hadn’t noticed you enter from out of his room yet so when you walked over, his head snapped up but instantly his jaw dropped.

“You, uh, look better in my clothes than me.” Tom said, a smile covering his face. “That’s a bold statement, Holland”.

Music playing softly in the background, the television on playing some cooking show, and the two of you sat in the kitchen at the small table where matching win glasses were across from each other, never going empty.

A few glasses in and there the two of you were, giggling through the alcohol high that was produced. You weren’t entirely sure it was just the alcohol. That’s when Tom’s hand covered your own on the table, eyes beginning to gloss over.

“You know, it’s funny how the world works?” He said, staring across the table at you. “Yeah?” “Yeah. Like I just meet you one day and suddenly you’ve become my favorite person.”He hiccups, causing the both of you to let out laughter.

Your face felt warm as he pulled you over to the couch another glass later. “Cuddle me.” Tom begged, giving grabby hands as you sat on the other side of the couch. You couldn’t help but laugh, and though you’d cuddled before, platonically, you felt the butterflies erupting in your stomach and throat and everywhere else on your body.

You struggled allowing yourself to feel like this. It was Tom Holland for crying outloud, and you were just some regular girl with a regular job. You’d been hurt, and you let that creep into all your thoughts everytime Tom would attempt to get closer to you.

So as you fell into his side, his arm coming across your back and twirling tiny circles on you hip and side, you felt yourself get nervous. Tom must have noticed because he looked over with another hiccup and frowned. “I’m sorry, am I being too much?” “No, never, I just…”

He interrupted with another hiccup and blurted, “I like you.” His glossy eyes widened recognizing the words that left his lips. You played it off with responding, “I like you too.” “No, uh, oh what the hell, no like I like like you.” Tom said, giggling as he pressed his head into your shoulder.

Your heart was swelling with each interaction but perhaps how much was this true? He was a little drunk. As if the boy could actually read minds, he pulled back with a worried look on his face. “I’m not drunk enough to not know what I’m saying. I will remember this in the morning.”

You let a laugh slip your lips at the boys abruptness, and you couldn’t find it in you to want to argue. You had for sure fallen for him, but you were so scared of this too. You didn’t want him to realize that you were broken, that you weren’t worth it in the end. Tom had never made you feel like that though. He was always patient and kind and made sure you were comfortable. He checked in on you, even on his busiest days. He showed you he cared.

His forefinger came to the side of your head and poked. “I see those wheels turning up there. Did I say something wrong?” His voice wavered, the once confident voice was now weaker than before.

“No, no, I just. I really like you too, Tom. I just don’t want you to be burdened by me.” “Burdened? Are you insane?! Woah, no, didn’t mean it like that. But you could never. If anything, I’d burden you with my constant need of affection from the prettiest girl. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

With a laugh, the boy pulls you closer. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on in that beautiful mind up there, but I do know this. You deserve to be happy, we both do. Can we just… be? Be happy? Let me show you how special and important you are.” “Maybe we should talk more about this sober, but I will say this - you do make me happy and I’d be happy to explore this with you. Just not drunk.”

Tom giggled with another hiccup. “I think you’re right, but I’ll definitely remember this. I couldn’t forget the prettiest girl in the world telling me she likes me back.” His tousled curls tickled your cheek as he nuzzled deeper into your neck. “You think I’m pretty huh?” You retort, shaking your head at the affections. “Mhm, the prettiest.” He replies, leaving a small kiss on your shoulder. “The prettiest, darling.”