#this reblog isn't ic i just lost it remembering this

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

For Your Own Good

Another fanfic written at night on my phone because I didn't want to sleep away the idea. Enjoy the products of my insomnia. Remember to comment and reblog, they are so so important!

Contains: D/s dynamics, kink negotiation, safe, sane and consensual, Dom Simon, sub reader, spanking, praise kink, fingering, P in V, fluff, aftercare.

1.6K words

In trying to avoid worrying Simon, you break a rule and he has to deal with it.

"You need anything, Love?"

Simon always texted you before he left work to see if he needed to pick anything up from the store. Your aching, sprained ankle said yes but you knew him, if you told him about it, he make a detour to the big pharmacy in the other direction of your house and return home with half of it. Sure, the first aid kit was stocked, but Simon would insist on picking up better pain meds and fresh wrap.

"No, honey, I'm good." 

You reasoned your reply wasn't a lie, you'd be fine with some rest and ice, and it wasn't that bad, but part of you was worried that you should have said something.

When the door swung open, the ice pack was still on your elevated leg, and he took one look at you and sighed. "What happened?"

He was already at your side, kneeling by you so he could lift the ice pack up to look at the bruising. "Misstep into a hole in the grass, I didn't see it."

He was gentle as he assessed the damage, pressing and moving and touching until he had made up his mind. "Does it hurt?"

If you had said yes, he would have worried, so you lied, and your no was met with a less than gentle squeeze. "Bullshit."

He marched into the laundry and returned with the first aid kit in a huff. "You wanna tell me why you didn't ask me to stop by the store and get you stuff to fix this?"

That tone wasn't good, it was time for damage control. "It's nothing a little ice and time won't help. I didn't want to inconvenience you."

The look he gave you told you the battle was lost. "We have been over this four times y/n, it's my job to look after you." A finger pointed at your necklace drove it home. "That means none of your needs are an inconvenience."

He took a deep breath and placed the ice back over your ankle. "I'm going to get some better supplies and pick up some better meds so you're not tossing and turning all night when that really starts to hurt. After that, well, talk about how we're going to handle this problem of yours once you're all fixed up."

He pressed his lips to your forehead and held your face in his hands. "I'll be back soon, alright? If it really starts to hurt, you better call me."

You nodded. "I will. I love you."

He smiled softly and grabbed your hand for a moment. "I love you too."

*****

He was back home within the hour and back at your side the second he was in the door. "How is it?"

"It's…" You weren't going to get away with telling him it was fine and you would only make it worse for yourself if you did. "It's hurting a bit."

He was gentle as the first fall of rain in spring as he wiped the damp away from the melting ice pack and wrapped your ankle, his focus so tight that you were sure nothing would pull him away. When he was done, he held his hand out for you to stand up, watching carefully for a sign that you were hiding that it still hurt. "Better?"

You nodded. "Much, thank you."

He picked up the TV remote and took you into his arms as you sat down to watch the afternoon news, and you leaned into his embrace as he started to speak. "You know I'm going to have to punish you for what happened."

You sighed. "I know. I broke rule."

He pressed his lips to your temple as his thumb moved back and forth on your thigh. "That you did, love. I'm not mad, I don't think I could ever get angry at you, I just don't know how to get you to understand that looking after you isn't a bother to me."

You took a deep breath. "I know, but I'm not the only stubborn one in that regard, Simon."

He exhaled sharply. "Don't push your luck, love, that's why we have the rule that we have to speak up when something's wrong so the other person can help. Once your ankle is healed, we'll talk about your punishment, and I don't want this to happen again."

You nodded. "It won't."

****

The wait was two weeks, one for your ankle to heal and the other for Simon to feel like he wasn't going to hurt it again. It was a formal affair; he had cooked dinner and insisted you ate plenty, then treated you to a nice dessert. Then came the negotiation, sitting opposite each other at the table as you went over what was about to happen, Simon trying to reassure you that you could always say no and he'd think of something different.

Once you were both happy, he led you to the bedroom with a hand on your lower back before sitting on the end of the bed with his leg splayed. He watched as you undressed, removing each piece of clothing and placing them down neatly folded so you could redress once the night was over, leaving you in nothing by the necklace of one of his dog tags that signified your collar.

He lifted his hands from where they were rested on his thigh so you could lay, bent over in his lap, and one of his hands ran up and down your back while the other made its way to your backside. "Are you ready, love?"

He didn't want you to count, this was far more about dealing with a rule being broken than anything else. "Yes, I am."

The hand on your ass pressed a little firmer before his gruff voice filled the room. "Ok then." Each hit was the same: heavy, even pressure, he handed two solid smacks, then moved to the next cheek. You knew he was halfway done when he paused to rub your skin. When the hit started again, he bent slightly, reaching down to grab your hand and lift it onto the bed so he could hold it as his other hand reached its full intensity.

It was over when the first tear fell, betrayed by a heaving breath and a stutter. His hand had stilled, resting on your skin to calm the blood rushing to your flesh before moving to the other cheek and doing the same. You could feel his erection pressing into your leg and his hand slowly sliding from your backside to your core, letting you know the rest of the night was ready to start.

"I'm so proud of you, love, you took that so well." He chuckled when he found you slick, his chest rumbling with affection as his fingers slid through your slit. "My good girl, I think you deserve a thank you for how well you did."

Your legs twitched as he made contact with your clit, and you sighed as he started to work in small, focused circles. "Thank you."

He smiled and slid two of his thick fingers inside you as his thumb replaced his fingertips on your clit. "You don't need to thank me, love, I'm enjoying myself." You believed him, considering that each time you shifted on his lap and brushed his cock his breath hitched.

He focused on your G-spot, his calloused fingers drawing pleasure from your body with practised ease. It didn't take long for you to reach the edge, and your request for permission was cut off by Simon with his steady pace and deep voice. "You don't need to ask, lovely, just let go for me."

He worked you through it, waiting until you were trying to shift away from him before removing his fingers. You heard sucking sounds and twitched your head to see him with his fingers in his mouth. He shot you a charming smile and moaned. "Like candy."

He brought you up onto his lap, being mindful of your heated skin. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, and he moaned into your mouth as you reached down to palm his cock through his sweatpants. You stroked him a few times before shoving his pants down just far enough to pull him out and nipped his lower lips as you held him so you could slide down steadily until you were fully seated and his jaw was clenching with restraint.

You started to rock in unison, and there was an unordered jumble of limbs to get him as naked as you. He pulled you into his chest, and you relaxed in his arms as he took over the pace and poured sweet nothings into your ear as he angled his hips to brush your G-spot with each stroke. One of his massive hands left your back to run your clit, and his teeth touched your neck as he once again worked you towards orgasm.

"Come on, Lovely, on last one for me." He swallowed your moans as you came and then followed behind you with a feral grunt and his teeth in your shoulder. He let you catch your breath, one hand rubbing up and down your back while the other stroked your cheek and once he was satisfied, the world shifted as he moved you both so you were lying on your sides.

He pulled you into his arms and spoke softly against your forehead. "You did so well for me." You muttered, and he chucked warmly. "You rest, I'll clean you up in a little bit. You need anything from me?"

You shook your head. "No. I love you."

He pulled you in closer, half revelling in holding you half because the cold was starting to seep in. "I love you too y/n."

Fin

@chaos-4baby @candy616

[jedi-hawkins]

"Strap in, kid. You're not gonna want to miss this view." - Sgt. Hunter

I've seen a few others make a tribute post for the batch and I felt some words pulling at my chest.

I was a latecomer to the fandom, I binged season 1 & 2 in July of last year and it's been a wild ride since. I've laughed and cried and everything in between. It's hard to even articulate what this show means to me.

I began my Star Wars journey like many others, with the original trilogy at some point in childhood (you could consider me a zillenial). I liked them, but I was much more of a Harry Potter nerd at the time, my head was at Hogwarts. The prequels, however captured my heart. I don't remember when I first watched TCW, but it's very clear my heart belongs to the times of the Republic.

Like things often do, other fandoms have faded out of my peak interests, Harry Potter, Hunger Games and Maximum Ride to name a few, but any time I've come back to Star Wars, it feels like coming home. A galaxy far far away so vast and full of hope and love and grief and sorrow.

The last year has been far from easy. For the last few years, that feels like all we've been saying, huh? But in all seriousness, I really did loose myself in the past year, but oddly enough, Star Wars was a constant for me, it was an escape. I joined tumblr right after I binged season 1 & 2 of The Bad Batch and immediately fell in love with the wonderful world of fans and writers and artists here.

At first, I was a lurker, just a name that popped into the reblogs, but I began interacting more and more. I've brushed on this with a couple people (so sorry for repeating myself), but it was actually through reading fanfiction, that I came to terms with the fact that I needed to leave a 2.5 year relationship. It's not that I 'fell out of love' with them or anything, I just realized I didn't trust them as much as I should, I didn't want to share as much as I should, I wasn't being fulfilled in the ways I needed. And for that, fanfic authors, I thank you. Please never stop creating.

I also learned a lot about myself, get ready cause I'm about to get cheesy.

Hunter, you brought me a lot of comfort. I saw how heavy the wellbeing of your squad weighed on your shoulders. How you sacrificed and starved yourself, mentally and emotionally for their safety and benefit. I've lived that more times than I can count and with you, I didn't feel quite as alone in that experience. Even though we never talked, and we never will, I feel like you saw me. Crosshair, you healed some of my faith in humanity. That people can change, they can see the error in their ways and turn against a system they just sort of slipped into. You reminded me that healing isn't linear, and that's okay. You reminded me that courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, but they are going and facing the mountain despite every atom in your body telling you to turn the other way. Echo, you reminded me it's okay to leave a group if your goals don't align. That it's not always an "in or out" situation. They can still be your family, people you rely on and who can rely on you even if you're not sharing bunks or meals anymore. You also reminded me that no matter how dire a situation is, or how grumpy you may be, a little humor goes a long way. Wrecker, you reminded me that people's perception does not define who you are. You can be big and gentle. you can love explosions and destruction and still be very intuitive. You can take some time to process things and still be skilled and intelligent. You reminded me to take joy in the simple things, a Lula, some Mantel mix, an ice cone. Things are always a little better with a full belly. Omega, you brought back some of my childlike innocence. You approached the galaxy with wide eyes full of wonder and always gave people the benefit of the doubt. You never lost hope. Even though you had to grow up too fast, you didn't let it break you, you still opened your heart to anyone who would see it. Tech, dear Tech. You reminded me to never dull myself or apologize for being authentically me. That my interests and skills are a good thing, no matter how niche they are. That I shouldn't be embarrassed or feel annoying for my knowledge or my eagerness to share it. You reminded me that love and humor and kindness and connection come in all shapes and sizes.

I've also made friends in this fandom at a level I wasn't even expecting to. I've made connections beyond the galaxy of Star Wars and found love and support in amazing ways. I was pulled to create more than I have in a long time, writing, drawing, hell even building my own server.

For sake of not clogging people's notifications, fighting with Tumblr's tagging bugs, and inevitably forgetting to tag someone: You all know who you are. Three M's, Havoc Marauder.

I began writing this tribute post before I watched the finale, and I'm finishing it after the finale. I'll end my ramble with this:

Dee and Michelle, thank you for bringing these characters to life over the last four years. You two really were the heart and soul of this project and your voices will forever ring true as Clone Force 99. Filoni, thank you for creating the concepts for this wonderful show that has become such a big part of so many people's lives. Brad, thank you for the immense work you've put into the show, your direction will not be forgotten. Jen, Joel, KinerBros, and Noshir (The Four Horsemen), y'all are a bunch of trolls and I hate you for it. I'm sending you my therapy bills. (I mean thank you for your work too, but you've been playing with my emotions for the past three months so forgive me if I'm a bit bitter)

It has truly been an amazing view. I don't plan on going anywhere, the fandom is just getting started, I am on the edge of my seat for all the wonderful fan creation that are yet to come.

CT-9901 ~ Sergeant Hunter ~ Havoc 1

CT-9902 ~ Tech ~ Havoc 2

CT-9903 ~ Wrecker ~ Havoc 3

CT-9904 ~ Crosshair ~ Havoc 4

ARC-1409 ~ Echo

Omega ~ Havoc 5

Clone Force 99 ~ Signing off 🫡

[egginfroggin]

(Tags from this reblog) (so, so late in responding to these, ouf)

Yeah, it is a horrible time for everyone!

(This got super long, so full rant is under the cut)

Ingo was raised to believe that his powers, like Emmet's, were a gift from one of the Dragons.

He's has been under the impression that his powers -- while unusually strong -- should be able to be controlled, and believes that he is at fault for his own lack of control.

In actuality, bonds are needed to temper the uncontrolled ice that Kyurem cursed him with at birth. The powers grew with age, and unfortunately, Ingo was cut off from the very thing he needed to have any hope of controlling them.

On Kyurem's side of things, however, it sought to spread the same agony of isolation that it felt to the humans that scorn it. Its curses, throughout the ages, always end in tragedy -- the cursed child is either killed, or goes mad and winds up dead by force or by choice.

Ingo is the first cursed child it has ever met, and it was intrigued by him. Here's this isolated, lost soul, deprived of the warmth all children should have, and yet he isn't mad. He's more sad, than anything, and desperate to keep his twin and kingdom safe.

So, curiously, it shares the secret of controlling its powers -- the warmth of bonds -- and forms a connection with Ingo. Ingo gets some control over his "gift," and Kyurem gets a bond for the first time in centuries, if not the first time ever.

So they both get solace and find a level of understanding in each other, and then things go wrong, and Emmet finds Ingo. Cue interaction and separation (may have dropped him down a chasm, oops), and Ingo's emotions becoming once again volatile and full of guilt.

Kyurem chooses arguably the worst time to confess that it cursed Ingo, because Ingo is already full of guilt and self-hatred for hurting Emmet again, and the Kyurem basically tells him that he was never meant to control himself.

Ingo was, as per Kyurem's interference, essentially born to sow misery in his family. Kyurem, when it cursed him, wanted him to be miserable, and to spread that cold hatred to those around him, because Kyurem couldn't do that itself.

Control wasn't ever anything Ingo was meant to have.

Needless to say, the abrupt realization that, frankly, none of this is Ingo's fault simultaneously lifted an enormous weight from his shoulders and incited the worst, most vicious wrath Kyurem has ever been on the receiving end of.

I remember mentioning that bonds need to be reciprocated and upheld. The bond between Ingo and Emmet is all but broken, and while Emmet keeps offering his end, Ingo never picks it up and ties it to his own, completing the connection.

Ingo breaks their bond just about immediately, which leaves them both worse off than they were before, because Kyurem can now properly mourn its isolation, and Ingo properly embraces his own (symbolized by his eyes adopting a sulfur tone and his skin turning pallid, almost gray, visually matching with Kyurem).

So... yeah, betrayal is a good word for it. Ingo has been trusting Kyurem and eagerly accepting its tutorship in the hopes of bettering himself, and then he finds out that... basically, it was this or death, and was always meant to be death.

Everything about Ingo's existence at that point in the fic is a happy (read as: miserable) accident set in place by Kyurem.

And Kyurem didn't even tell him, didn't even think to tell him, until when? When he tells it that he almost killed his twin again? When he's a mess of emotions? When he's already poured everything he has into their connection, worn his heart on his sleeve and confessed every bit of self-blame he's ever felt to it?

It tells him that it was all unnecessary?

It couldn't have said as such earlier, so that he'd have had even a tiny, modicum of a chance at making things right?

No amount of regret can fix this.

[creaturefeaster]

Could you tell us more about the world of Colorquest? I am fascinated by the world building you have done with it and I would love to know more about the people and places and species that inhabit the world :]

This is a request with a pretty broad range of things to go over, and thus is something I'll answer in pieces for you for time's sake. I think I'll elaborate a bit on geography and setting for this response, and I'll either reblog this again later with more info, or answer more specific asks to help piece things together in the future.

Anyway, CQ is set on an earth-like fantasy world and more specifically set on one special continent. There's actually much more to the world than what would ever be elaborated upon, simply because the heroes journey never leaves this somewhat isolated continent.

Continent enlarged for emphasis.

Native to this continent are primarily Bluple and Humans, with some various settlements scattered around. It is also the only continent that Talpians surface at. This is the reason why, while there's many different races in this universe, you tend to see these sorts of people more than others.

This part of the world's geological diversity is what I'd call remarkable. You will find boreal forests to arid plateaus to harsh mountain ranges to ice sheets to magical forests, etc.

This is generally where any given character native to the world lives. Tim/Brook/Hannah/Gary all live in a slightly warmer part of a taiga, Tanner/April/Leon live in the center-most town in the middle of the desert, Rachel/Bonnie reside in a particularly flat and dry part of the continent where the Talpian Dominion can be found, D/Vilmr/Samantha/Michael all live in a mountainous and magical climate, Taylor/Zack come from a coastal town, and Lauren/Elliot live in a uniquely bizarre spot dubbed the Deadlands.

I'll elaborate briefly on some of these locations.

The Talpian Dominion is an extremely complex & ancient set of caves underground, constructed through millennia of digging & tunneling by the reclusive Talpian people. Just how far this complex extends is unknown to all surface dwellers... and even most Talpians. It's pretty fucking big down there. Extremely warm temperatures, and even magma flows, would not be uncommon to see as you trek further into their world.

Lystrike is a dinky little town, whos only claim to any sort of fame is that it's pretty much exactly in the center of their continent. Other than that, it's pretty rustic and insignificant to the common eye. Someone that isn't from this world though, such as you the one reading this, may think that the glowing cacti & other local fauna are something of significance. However, this is merely a geological leak of... whatever magical substance that makes the distantly neighboring Forest of Love glow so bright.

The Deadlands are unique to this part of the world, and an enigma to all who do not live within its disorientating landscape. This land defies gravity whenever it pleases, it has an aura that dilates and heightens most senses, and its community is as strange as its surroundings. However, its biggest feature is that it's pretty much the world's lost & found dump. Anything that's gone missing ends up here, somehow, with no real explanation. The average Deadlandian can open their curtains in the morning to find that gravity is dangling lost items from across the world right over their lawn.

These ones are just as fleshed out, but I actually don't have (or just don't remember ><;;;;) names for them.

The jagged mountain range that Samantha lives in rarely sees sunlight. The weather is generally harsh and unforgiving, and for most of this range there's no life to be seen. However, this town dwells within a divot in the mountains, where they are sheltered by the towering rock a little more than other places to escape the bitter blizzards. That, and this specific location is unique in that it seems to have a lot more of that magic blue junk than pretty much anywhere else in the mountains. This magic is revealed through cracked geodes high in the rocks, which leak into mountain rivers, which just so happen to feed directly into the Forest of Love down a ways.

The Forest of Love is a large range of glowing blue forest that borders the east side of the mountains, and is generally the location that Michael, Debbie, and Vilmr live in. It is ever bright, and is considered one of the most uplifting places one could live in. Generally, those with magical inclinations live within or above the leafy glow of the forest to become more in sync with their magic, while those who do not practice tend to reside on the surface below. It's not actually clear if being closer to this magical canopy actually does anything, but that's just how those bitches live I guess.

Tim's area is probably the most neutral place you'll find in the story. It's much like cascadia, in that it's largely boreal and mild. Though his location is a little drier and more suited for farmland. This part of the land is a heavy export for the rest of the continent's basic grain & livestock material.

Zack & Taylor's town rests against a rather consistently rainy coast, where at least one day out of the week its weather parallels mild hurricanes. However much of the city is built with this in mind, and most areas of commute are sealed & domed. On the outskirts of town, though, spans mostly soggy beaches and marshy plains. Because of this location's wet climate, one may occasionally see the elusive fish person emerge from their oceanic abodes and wander the beaches. Usually in search of a beached fish snack.

*-~-~-*

Anyways, that's some info on some of the more significant locations in the CQ universe. It is 7:30 AM and I haven't gone to bed yet, so pardon any hiccups in grammar I may have left. I hope this helps you understand the world a little more. It also helps me to be able to write and cement this stuff down so I don't forget it later on, so thank you for being interested & asking me in the first place :3

[sansxfuckyou]

Coated in sludge [its trauma]

Summary: He lost his gloves, they slipped off, and he can see it all over again and he hates it.

Warnings: PTSD, hallucinations, blood, burns, freezing, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: REMEMBER WHEN HUNTERS GLOVES WHERE THE CRAZE AND OH WHATS GOING ON WITH THAT SHIT?! I do, and now I have enough knowledge on The Owl House to write some grotesquely, horrifying, PTSD-filled, hot garbage about it, also, illusion track Hunter anyone? Anyone at all? No, ok, once again, I take reblogs as a form of currency over likes.

He wanted to fucking scream as he shook, as he clenched his fists shut tight, they were bare, he could feel his skin.

It was torn.

It was broken.

It had layers and textures.

Everything hurt as they bled and they singed and they froze.

His skin was covered in so many scars, he looked like a zebra. They jumped back and forth over his hands and up his wrists to his elbows and they stung. The flesh was raw even though they finished healing, never entirely, years ago and he could still see and feel the wounds peeling open. He still watched in horror as skin came undone and fire charred flesh, the scent burned into his nose, ice dug into his wounds and caused a searing pain that had him hissing.

None of this is real, he knows this, his visceral memories keep the flames alive until he can't see his scars again.

Hunter knows he's fine now, he knows that he won't hurt him ever again, he knows that Eda promised to protect him. He knows that he has friends who will help him now, who won't let him near fire, who won't let him near ice and who won't let him touch sharp things. He knows what fucks him up, he knows who fucked him in the first place and he knows he wants that epidermis as a rug and that mask mounted on a wall and he knows that's too far.

A guy can dream of the cruelest revenge, can't he?

He's sobbing, he's panicking, he's crying out, he's shaking and his vision is blurry and he can barely get on his hands and knees to get his gloves. He's crawling, he's shimmying and he's barely able to differ the leather of his gloves from the floorboards below, of all the days for his friends to go on a mission. He reaches for his gloves, closer and closer to sweet relief as ice and fire crystalize and shoot out of his bleeding scars, and he wants to scream, it hurts so much.

First glove, on, I am half freezing to death.

Second glove, on, the world stopped burning.

Panting, Hunter was panting as he tried to calm himself back down, one, two, three, four, deep, deep breathes Hunter, everything is fine now. His gloves are soft on the inside and tough on the outside, just like he is. His hands aren't bleeding out and he can tell because his gloves aren't wet, the frost crystals on his wrists are melting and the fires are dying. He can't hurt him anymore, he isn't alive anymore, it's fine now, even with the heat on his arms not going away and the biting cold never really leaving him, he is surviving.

But, he's facing setbacks everyday, he can't even take off his gloves to fall asleep at night. He can't even use a fire glyph without the sounds of his screaming deafening his entire existence. He can't even look at ice fragments without feeling him jabbing jagged ice between skin.

Is he really surviving if he can't look his trauma in the eye?

No, no, he is surviving.

He's standing and fuck, that's a lot more than some people who've endured what he has and he'll be proud of the fact he's still breathing even though it seems small. Yeah, Luz is proud of him, Amity is proud of him, Gus, Willow, Lillith and Eda are proud of him, and he hopes-he knows they aren't lying when they say he's doing better.

Hunter still feels like an absolute failure when he rubs the tears from his face, wincing as he does so with the feeling of leather against not raw skin. The tears in his scarlet eyes don't stop coming, and the drone of his, Belos, insults and berating notations get louder and he starts to sniffle. He clenches his eyes shut and his fingers tense, estranged from a fist and he's curling up again, rolling out of view, under something as nonexistent footsteps get louder and louder. He screwed up again, now all that's left is waiting for whatever is next in line of his punishments, if their hands are broken, they'll never have working magic to rebel, Belos would say in private, and Hunter finally gets it.

And when the footsteps come to halt at the edge of Hunters bed, the screaming comes and he's dragged out from under his bed, scarlet met with raging black. The screaming never stops and it makes his ears bleed and then his gloves are torn off and scars are unfolded and ice is put back in place and fire sears flesh where it always has and always will like he deserves. Why, why in the name of fuck would he learn illusion when he knew that panic, anxiety, depression, trauma, mania and so many other mental conditions can affect it?

It's just in his head, but that will never make it stop hurting.

[spikerxcked]

((tag dump time))

[mismerccray]

All Night

This is a special request from @reayonce!!

Took me some time to get it just right, but I think everyone will enjoy it!

Don't forget to like and reblog. Let your momma and your friends know: Batman likes his women like his coffee, BLACK.

Word count: 1335

That man works too much. It's been ages since we've had a night to ourselves. But the Bat is always working and Bruce is never with me.

I sit, curled up on the leather loveseat in the library with my favorite Toni Morrison book resting on my belly. A fire is softly crackling in the hearth, it's warmth softly spreading around.

I can't help but remember our first date. I was his date to a Gala he was hosting. It was kind of a big deal (it was also the last time anyone saw Prince Harry and William actually happy around each other, ijs). But I consider the gala part two of our date.

Part one started when I was still a nurse on duty at the Gotham General hospital. Was being the operative word. Many of these high class wino housewives kept saying that how I dressed was distracting and disgusting. I wore the same scrubs as everyone else.

It isn't my fault that my ass is fat and yours is flat, Karen.

I digress.

Bruce came in to visit his son, Tim, after he took a pretty nasty "fall" very regularly. He'd spend most of his time with Tim, but he would take the time out to bring me coffee, that didn't come from a machine, and flirt me up! Somehow he knew my schedule... It was always a detail I racked up to "being rich opens doors and mouths".

After a few check ups and getting him out of the cast, I thought that'd be the last of him. And I was very wrong. The same day I was let go, we almost walked into each other outside the hospital. We talked, he took me for coffee, and with that enchantingly deep voice, he asked me to be his date to the Gala.

I didn't know how to react at first. But reality hit me like ice water.

I don't have the clothes for a gala. I just lost my job, I need to figure out how to pay rent or I'll have to go back to Momma and Daddy in the Carolinas. I am not in a position to do anything so expensive when I haven't even gotten my last check.

Apparently I was so flustered by his invitation, I lost all my cool points. I was thinking out loud and rambling out my thoughts. I was brought out of my anxiety by a large, warm hand on my thigh and kind blue eyes.

"Hey, take a breath. I can see you're in a bit of a tough spot. But don't worry about tonight, it's my treat. What kind of a date would it be if you paid for anything? It would be a shame if the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in Gotham had to leave. I can always put in a good word with a friend who owns a private practice, if you want?" He says slowly and soothingly. His voice wrapping around me like a security blanket.

And I'd be an idiot if I didn't say yes. And that is certainly one thing my mother did NOT raise.

He proceeded to pamper me for the rest of the day. Took me to a spa, got my nails done, a fresh pedicure, a massage, and this man even flew in Beyonce's hair stylist to do my hair and makeup! By the time I finished in the spa, he got a professional designer to bring me racks and racks of clothes, tailored to me.

When he had the chance to get my measurements? Not a clue and still won't ask to this day. I'm still loving the extra room in the booty. The dress caught the light in a beautiful purple, blue, and black galaxy pattern that made every curve on my body pop in the best ways possible. He even had a matching blue pocket square.

We looked like the power couple of the decade.

The nerves came back on the ride to the venue. I couldn't believe that it was only 6pm and I'd just been let go at noon! But there his hand was again, rubbing small circles into the side of my thigh and distracting my racing mind with enticing conversation. I never even noticed when we reached the red carpet.

Sure, I got some nasty looks, stares and glares, but Bruce treated me like I was truly the only person worthy of his attention. Every now and then, he had to schmooze with important people and rub elbows with other businessmen. But then his attention would be right back on me.

And we've been absolutely spellbound with each other ever since.

But that doesn't mean it was all smooth sailing.

Getting to know his kids was no easy task. Especially since he never mentioned that I was only a few years older than his eldest son. It took a while, but they slowly began to accept me. Damian was a tough nut to crack, but he has been my little shadow ever since I made him my Grand mama's greens, sweet potatoes, and Mac n cheese and showed him pictures of my dog Mali back home.

But that wasn't the biggest fight.

The biggest fight was this Bruce's fucking pride and ego. Him thinking he knows what's best for everyone and deciding for them.

Nothing pisses me off more.

When I stumbled upon the Batcave when trying to set the grandfather clock back for daylight savings, it opened and I saw Batman and company gathered around a HUGE computer (watching the Panthers vs the Cowboys on that bad boy is AMAZING).

They're attention was on me in an instant. The boys began speaking all at once but Bruce stood there quiet. He and I just stood there, staring at one another. He turned his head and had the boys go on patrol... I'd be a liar if I said that the Batman voice didn't do something for me.

I went down the stairs, telling the boys to be safe as they each left the cave. But now it was just the two of us. What does this ass do? He tries to break up with me. Kept going on and on about how dangerous it was to be with him and the kind of life I should be living.

Yeah, that one turned into a fight. I had figured it out the first night we were together. I saw his scars and kissed his crime. I had already accepted it and told him I loved him all night long. For some reason, he just couldn't see it.

So I fought ego with stubbornness. Guess who won? The baddie he married a year later, sitting up in this manor with the best husband a woman could think of.

I don't realize that I've nodded off until I am gently shaken awake. I open my eyes to see Alfred. smile tiredly at my father in law and check the time. 8:30? Everyone should be on patrol by now.

"Master Wayne has requested your company in the ballroom, Mrs. Wayne. He would like for you to follow this." Alfred says with his usual professionalism, but with a hint of mischief and fondness in his eyes. You follow his gesture to see rose petals on the floor, leading out of the library.

I saw him waiting in the living room with neo soul playing, Jill Scott crooning in the background. When I stepped to him, he held me the same way he did at the Gala. Like I am the only person in the world. He kissed my lips tenderly and whispered "How I've missed you, My Love".

That night was nothing but sweet love all night long. He took a week off, took me up to the lake house and we just kept going. Kissing, rubbing, and feeling up on each other. Wrapped up in each other was the best week.

Nothing like having my man home.

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|eighteen.

chapter eighteen: yellow pansy ↳ flower meanings:  thinking of you.

chapter summary: you left a journal in his top drawer. pairing: tom holland x y/n warnings: haha you’re going to HATE ME word count: 11.5K

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

it took me ages write this, my writersblock was awful BUT IT’S HERE ! We are missing one more chapter but here it is! I hope you don’t hate me as much as I think you will, I split the ending in two chapters because it was LONG, so expect the final chapter in these days

Please help me out reblogging tags havent been working for me and I know this will flop but I’m really happy I got back into writing

You kept a journal. With flowers printed on them. Each and every single one was given by him. You had recently remembered it, wondering where in your room it could be. Hidden behind some other lost forgotten memories or some other unforgettable mysteries. You wondered if the flowers had kept their color. Most of them hadn’t.

“Well, here goes to the happily ever after,” you said as you smiled, even when the notebook was still roaming your mind.

Tim offered a gentle smile, watching carefully, as the white dress fell down.

When it comes to love stories, happy endings are what we wish for. Life, unfortunately, isn’t like that. But often we are bombarded with stories that are just too good to be true, enough for us to believe this. With them down the sunset on a white horse. With prince charming being charming enough.

With Mister Darcy as the sun is rising telling Elizabeth “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.”

With Donna and Sam getting married, and a bunch of friends singing Abba songs.

With Noah and Ally peacefully drifting off, hand in hand.

With Baby and Johnny Castle dancing together.

Characters that are but a reflection of our deepest dreams. Ones that are kept secret and shut for the world. With stories that make us believe we are happy.

It’s fine to shield in. But it’s no good to dwell on them.

We often don’t get what we wish for when we shield in a dream.

You wondered, what about Valerie and William?

Or… Tom and Y/n?

Your own story was supposed to be kept a secret, yet it ended up being a script and then a movie that would be seen by thousands. Your story transformed into a story people could shield on. A story that had been merely sentiments, then words and a very bad misunderstanding and… then a film.

Seeing yourself on someone else might have been what helped you understand it. Transforming your story into characters and trying to portray a love story that was born out of hatred… had probably been the first mistake.

If we can say it was ever a mistake. How big of a mistake can it be when it brings you so much joy?

Your luck hadn’t been enough for your own faith. But you always wondered, what happens after the happily ever after? Is it truly the outcome? When two souls find each other? Isn’t it only the beginning?

Valerie and William hadn’t had it.

The story ended with Valerie and Robbie getting together, it fit. That’s how the story had been driven. Tom and you had discussed it over and over, the story was written for Valerie to end up with Robbie.

“This is a story, y/n, it’s not us.” He had assured you. “We need to disconnect from it.”

And it wasn’t. It wasn’t you. But how much had those characters stolen from you?

How disappointing, but you made the decision along with them.

It had been painful to relive some things, and the changes to the script had been made to soothe the pain.

But they had a happily ever after. Separate ways.

Who would’ve thought you’d be so right?

Films and stories often end when marriage comes, or when the couple finally gets together, the happily ever after. You barely believed it was the ending.

Because the real journey began with it. Doesn’t it? Isn't the true adventure when they find each other?

When something goes wrong, though, it means the journey isn’t over. The happily ever after is the ending isn’t it? Isn’t the story over until after they’re happily ever after?

Love, though it might be one of the most precious things, often comes with a heartbreak. A tragedy. It didn't hurt this time, though.

But love, when it’s real, doesn’t seem like a loss even if it ends. Because, isn’t it the ending when they finally are together? If we follow that rule, that the ending is when they’re together then it wasn’t the ending.

Or was it?

You couldn’t help but wonder, however…What if you lived a lie? Just a fairy tale that wasn’t supposed to have a happily ever after.

Though the script was far from reality, you felt like your own story was twisted. Why weren’t you in your ‘happily ever after’?

Maybe the side story was yours. Because you were not the princess about to walk into the sunset.

“I really love the dress,” Tim commented.

You did too, but it had you wondering about happily ever after?

What happens to them after the credit rolls? What happens to the characters when the last page ends? Are those characters strong enough to keep together? Are their stories just dried out? Like flowers. Easily forgotten in a journal hidden in your room.

A bouquet that once served as a beautiful symbol now was scattered on top of the shelf, as a few petals fell down.

Flowers dry out.

“Yes, magnificent,” you answered.

The dress made you remember the day you thought it would last forever. That Tom and you would have that ever after. That it wouldn’t dry out.

Tom had only looked up at you, sitting finally on a director chair and he had smiled. Gently. Caring.

And that thought came to your mind. “I hope this lasts forever.”

And for a moment you thought it could. Maybe it was the endless smiles or the constant yellow flowers adorning your room that would end up on your journal.

But nothing ever does last forever. Not the good things. Not pancakes, or ice cream, or street hot dogs. Moments don’t last forever, that’s why you have to grasp to them.

And there was a point at which you knew, you knew it wouldn’t last forever. Because the film continues.

However, you liked to think that love was like a flower. One that grows. Not one that is cut to be given. A perennial one. One that blooms, and continues to bloom when it’s taken care of. But perennial flowers don’t bloom all the time.

A flower can’t bloom for eternity. And a cut flower will not preserve.

In stories and films, we know detail by detail. From the very first word, to the last breath. But when it comes to your own, you often forget what is important. We barely stop to see, and suddenly, life escapes from your hands and you’re stuck in a moment and you can’t get out.

Before you know it, all you’re left with is a script and a movie you can’t bear to watch because it brings too many memories. But good ones, that is. Mostly good.

Before you know it, you have a box with his stuff, and you’re texting to see when you have to drop them off. And before you know it, he is standing there, and you’re hoping he will beg for one last time because you will give it, but he never does, and stays quiet. Too quiet.

Not every love is perennial. Not every love is meant to bloom again.

Perennial flowers, when they bloom, are the most wonderful. But when they’re away, the skies are gray.

But somehow, we go through it. At least you tried to.

The ‘what if’ comes as something complicated. No pillow talks would’ve helped your case, it seemed like any smiles were now hidden under the bed.

It’s needless to say and regard the multiple emotions that had gone by in the relationship, that week it started or that month it finished. That year, if we are honest. That whole year of your relationship. And you had to look back at it. For it all started in a breakup, that had opened the door to be with the love of your life. It all started with a revenge.

It was weird to see it. How a year before you dated Tom, you would have gone with Tim. How you had expected it, how you thought Tim was the endgame. How that year Harry had asked if you would marry Tim and you’d answered that maybe you would.

How at some point you had considered it again. How you even considered Harry. But Tim.

Had Tim waited for a little bit longer, maybe things would’ve turned out quite different. You were thankful he hadn’t. Tim and you were a lesson to each other. Tim had shown you you can be loved and you had shown Tim he can love. Tim and you were fine now, he had found a girl. Lily. Her name was Lily. Purity. Rebirth.

Because, although it had seemed that Tim had died a little with your last conversation before officially letting him go, he had seen himself shine again. How surprising, her name was Lily. Such a coincidence.

Lily, a girl that could easily be passed by. Yet Tim had stopped to see her.

Tim and you would never share what you both said in that conversation. The last flower he had given you was a daisy. A secret between two friends.

Cherry and you went back to what you were before, strangers to each other. But she’d found a girl, by luck. Heather. She was happy now. Happiest.

A year had gone by. Many things had changed. Mostly you, and though you would look back to your past self and warn her that another heartbreak by Tom would be coming, you wouldn’t change it.

A breakup had opened many doors.

Maybe this one would too.

It was bound to come. How on earth were you supposed to grow flowers on a battlefield? But you’d built it together.

And you had. And everything was good, with sunsets and polaroids, and flowers. And fights that would cycle and cyle. But end up cuddling watching reruns of an old 80’s tv show that you barely watched because you were too busy staring into his eyes.

With old fights that would resurface and other secrets that kept chasing you both. But it was good, when you were trying to get the garden back into place, to try and forget the battlefield. Loving him had come so easily, though. Waking up by his side was taken for granted.

You had thought loving him would be a buzzing street, with crowds bustling as the rain is about to begin. You thought loving him would be a Friday night waiting for someone to show up but never did.

You were wrong.

Loving him was walking through a flower field, and taking a Polaroid of the most beautiful sunset. Loving him meant holding his hand and kissing over and over again.

But loving him meant that the sun eventually would set.

And maybe the heartbreak that had come with this one hadn’t been an actual heartbreak and maybe that’s why it hurt. Because it didn’t.

Maybe you’d forged a heartbreak or a relationship. Maybe that had been it, conning yourselves into believing you were fine when you were far from it.

Looking back maybe it was because of Rome, New York, and eventually LA. Cities that you once said you wouldn’t dare to go back to. But now you are willing to visit. Happily, it’s better to walk in a city full of memories rather than one pointless illusion of the memories you could’ve had.

He had gone to New York, and still took his Polaroid everywhere. A habit you loved about him, it seemed he became an expert on holding onto memories.

The breakup had come after James’ wedding. Lovely wedding, by the way. Fairytale full of wonder. A year ago, shortly after the film had premiered, a year after it finished filming.

It was supposed to come. Because when your own brother was finding his way, you had lost yours.

But what happened? When did life slip in? When did it start ending?

Before you knew it, you had packed your stuff without you being aware of it. You had packed everything up, except your own heart. You left your heart right there, right next to that stupid journal, in his upper drawer, right next to his bed. Had he opened that drawer ever since or had he forgotten about it?

There was your journal, not in your room. In his. And he hadn’t given it back.That’s why you felt lost. Your heart was imprinted there and he hadn’t given it back.

But you had packed everything else, with him not even trying to stop you. Just watching you circle around.

Was it fear? Maybe it had been fear, from both. You supposed that’s how life was. Loving was not a duty.

You only had one request for him, one last request: “Remember me, I was the one to love you, and I was the one to call in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep. Just remember me when we’re no longer here.”

Because it hadn’t been your fault, your life just slipped in. Distance. No time for calls. Your job getting too much recognition, his job getting even more. Fights that were only to push each other away so it wouldn’t hurt when you both were away. Maybe being enemies had come useful when it was supposed to end.

Fight, and more fights in the end. Yet you were gripping each other. And life had just slipped in. Like it always does.

And it wasn’t him. And it wasn’t you.

“Tell me you actually want it to end,” he had asked when you had the final box.

You didn’t. But there wasn’t much you could do, expect walk out the doors.

Or was there? But even if it was a breakup, you both agreed to remain friends, and then it transformed into little excuses to see each other.

Because it didn’t end up badly. It had been life slipping in. With barely having any time for something that needed too much time to build on.

Filming initially had helped you, how beautiful it was creating it, what a beautiful outcome it had been out of your heartbreak. With music, and fights and everything that was splendid.

Maybe the film wasn’t a huge success, but it had been enough for you both to try and mend it after.

But when filming had ended and you had to go back, that’s when the problems started. His job, your new one. Him there, you here. When you were together, it was amazing, worth it. But then you barely could. And you could barely grip each other.

Then you were too different. Then you were just the same, so stubborn and stupid.

Then it was old arguments, and new ones.

When was it gone? Had he stopped loving you?

He had asked you, near the end. “Do you still love me? Are we still enough?”

“I do love you.” But you hadn’t answered the second question. And what was it? Why wasn’t it? “Why wouldn’t we?” you had questioned.

“Dunno, it’s delicate.”

It was.

Maybe it had been James’ words for Clark. About how love shouldn’t be forced, how love should be simple and love shouldn’t be hurt. About how they built it together. How it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t complicated.

And then Clark had said it, too. How he loved being with someone that he enjoyed silence with. How love was more than passion. How love was more than a kiss. Seeing how simple it had been for them, was a bit disappointing for you both. Your relationship was anything but simple.

And it wasn't now because you didn’t trust each other, or because you wanted to fight. No, it simply was life telling you, you shouldn’t be together. And maybe it was also the fact that you both thought you worked because you had never experienced silence together. Always a wreck. Always a mess. Always so passionate. But… was it only that? Maybe it was the passion of the moment.

You knew Tom still played the conversation with Tim over and over in his head. How by the end he said he felt guilty by it all.

You too, you were both driven by guilt and guilt eventually snaps you.

So it ended.

“Is it too soon to end this?” You had asked him.

Tom had shrugged. “Would you rather it be late?”

But that didn’t mean you… had to stop seeing each other. Or did it? So you based your new relationship on excuses. And the excuses had grown. ‘I need to give you this hoodie’, ‘I forgot my charger at your place’ ‘I need someone to drive me to do errands’, ‘I need help running lines’, ‘I need a date for this party.’

And then they didn’t even make sense. ‘I can’t open a jar’ ‘I can’t watch this movie alone’ ‘I need to rant about the ending of this series’ ‘I sneezed and no one blessed me’. Stupid things. And then it was the truth ‘I need to listen to your voice’. ‘I miss you’. ‘I want to see you’.

But it was only seeing each other, with no… relationship. No kissing, no anything. Only excuses. A… friendship.

True friendship, for the first time ever. And you could talk for hours with him until the sun came out, and you could laugh with him.

Maybe it hurt that it wasn’t more, but maybe it was never meant to be like that. But you were in a good place. In the best place you had been. The strongest you had both been, too. How civil you were with clothes on. And how many times had you stopped your will to undress him.

Your lips searched for his but they never got what they wanted, your hands hurt from keeping them to yourself, and your heart would only ache a bit.

From both sides.

Seemed that both of you knew what you had to build up on. And maybe you both knew the risk that would come if you were willing to give it a try without having something to settle on.

Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt. Because it would bloom again, right? Maybe you were preparing the dirt to plant it in. Not loose flowers now. Have seeds.

Or that’s the idea you built yourself into. Because honestly. Had you ever been more than enemies with benefits?

But now, you were friends. Good friends. Maybe you were in love with him, and grown fonder of him now. Really, really in love. But friends. Friends who stared a little bit too much into each other’s eyes, or friends who would easily recognize each other’s laughter. Friends who would have their feet up the headboard and talk about life. Friends who instinctively would give the other a bite of their food or offer a sip of their drink.

Friends who would take a deep breath each time the other walked into the room, and friends who avoided getting too close that it would be mistaken for something else. Secret moments. Standing on the other sides of the room, turning your head away each time your eyes met.

Maybe you didn’t get the happy ending you wished for, or not the one you had expected to.

But you were happy. And it had ended. Those things were unrelated.

But a lot had changed.

Ay first, you had to fight the urge to undress him. Now you had to fight the urge to stare too long into his smile.

Really, a lot had changed.

Tom had started dating someone else, you didn’t know how long that lasted. You had pretended not to care, although you did.

You went out on dates, too. Didn’t inform him, either. Not explicitly. Though he did know.

Because you were friends. That was the happy ending you deserved.

A lot had changed.

And you were currently helping a bride tie that bow in her dress as she stared at her reflection. Her hair hung to her shoulders and half of it was tied with perfect braids. She was finally having her happy ending.

“Are you ready for the veil?” Timmy asked, as he watched the reflection of the bride.

“Can you give me a bloody second, Timothée?” Emma snapped with her usual tone. “I’m fucking busy right now, the veil can wait, don’t be a dick.”

You only held your laughter eyeing Tim. Tim and you had stopped looking at each other like you felt guilty for a while now. Tom’s jealousy had not exactly been driven away, you guessed it never would go.

But surprisingly enough, they became...friends. Or they could stand each other now after James had talked to both of them.

James and the married life that seemed to suit him. His wedding had been very small, but charming nonetheless. You wondered if you would’ve had something like that, very personal.

Quite a different story from Emma and Harry now. Whose love had conquered. And they had had a rough patch but how difficult can it be when you find your soulmate?

Maybe Harry and Emma had Tom and you doubting too. Tom and you had seen several times that you were not meant to be. Your coincidences in life had not been so, rarely coincidences but the both of you fighting for something. Too stubborn to admit that life was getting in the way.

Tom and you had all the odds in your favor and the ones to fuck it up were you both.

While Harry and Emma always had everything against them and they managed to work it out.

Who’re the soulmates here?

“What a lovely thing the blushing bride is, eh?” Tim rolled his eyes.

Emma had been… quite the bride. Everything had to be perfect, which was not likely for Emma to be that way. But she did say it, since she was marrying the love of her life it had to be big enough. In a rustic hotel, full of books and vintage furniture. A very cottage-like wedding. Very Emma and Harry. Unique.

It was perfect.

It had to, honestly. After the crossroads… everything had changed for them.

How Emma and Harry got back together was no mystery, Harry had been brave enough to go for her. When two souls are meant to be even the rockiest path will be easy to travel by.

It was the opposite of what you and Tom used to have. Emma and Harry had all the friendship, relationship settled, they just missed… the passion.

And so when they found each other, and were like two horny teenagers running around, it became...so effortless. Because they had something built upon.

As if life was rewarding them for their patience. For the love they shared. For each and every smile.

Both wild flowers, Often disregarded, had found each other, and created the most beautiful bouquet.

You only chuckled at Tim’s remark. “Splendid bride.”

While you and Tom had never been friends. Only too driven by the other, and passion and… when it ended? What were you? Were you merely nightly romance?

Tim groaned. “Emma—“he raised the veil. “I’m not trying to—I just think you should be wearing this already.”

“Shut up,” Emma granted. “I will but right now I’m—“

“Staring at your reflection?” Tim challenged. Because Emma was actually just doing that. Staring at the perfect dress she was wearing. Shining brightly like a diamond against the sun, her skin perfectly sparkled.

Emma looked for your glance in the mirror,”y/n, love.”

“Yes?”

“As my maid of honor, what are you willing to do?”

You offered her a grin, “Anything.”

Emma stared into your eyes. “Kill Timothée.”

You chuckled, “Almost anything, you should’ve asked earlier. I don’t want to get blood in my dress.”

Tim was surprised by your words. “So you would’ve?”

“Possibly, I don’t want to encounter a bridezilla Emma.”

Timmy threw his hands in the air. “I just want to help.”

“Well, don’t,” Emma and you said at the same time.

“I’m going to check on the guys, I am one hundredth percent sure they’re still in their pj’s drinking beer,” You commented.

The hotel room for the boy’s was only a floor below. It was everything Harry and Emma had probably wished for. An outdoor wedding that was planned to the very perfection. Very fairytale like. Lights hanging from trees, flower petals covering the aisle, daisies as the centerpieces, and daisies in Emma’s hands. Emma’s dream had always been an outdoor wedding.

When speaking with Emma and Harry both had stated that they made the decision not to give up. Always leaving you to wonder.

There was a part of you that was blinded by desirous thoughts. Had it been a mistake? To conclude a relationship that you had fought so long for?

Lately it had been.

You made your way to the elevator and as it opened you found a familiar face. He seemed uneasy, though.

“Y/N!” His voice was only a confirmation to his precarious state.

Your cheeks furrowed as you smiled, “Clark, hi!”

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a hug, a very nervous hug. as you stepped into the elevator. “Fuck, you look stunning. Loving the flowers on the hair.”

The dress was absolutely stunning, you had to give in that Emma’s taste was remarkable. Sky blue had been her color choice, to match with the flowers. Daisies and hydrangeas. Innocence and beauty.

It was ironic, a bit. You’d helped her with the flowers, and initially she had like sunflowers. As if it had been sntached from you. Maybe it was destiny laughing in your face. Yet she’d gone for the delicate hydrangeas.

“Thanks, Emma’s idea,” you grinned. “Where are you—“

“Oh eh, with the other boys,” he said as you pressed the button. He was shaking.

“So, what’s got you all flustered?” You questioned.

You could see Clark sweating. “Hm?”

“What’s got you all flustered?” You questioned, again.

He didn’t give you an answer. “Clark?”

Clark bit his lip. It was never usual for Clark to be anxious or to hide thoughts for himself. The man was always certain of his thoughts and actions. There was probably a calamity waiting for you.

“I—I am only the messenger,” he said, “I was actually looking for—Tim but—“

There it was. “But?”

“I think you might be of more help,” Clark admitted.

“Clark?” Your brows furrowed as the elevator door opened. He only offered a nervous smile as he licked his lips.

You saw Tom at the end of the hallway, on a call, shirt buttoned half way, his other hand running through his hair, he looked troubled. You were hoping his eyes would meet yours. Ever since the wedding was approaching he had been inattentive. Maybe the wedding hurt as much. It had been so hard for him to switch from lovers to friends. Did he ever stop and wonder if you guys could’ve had one? Did Tom also hindered with painful thoughts of how everything had so carelessly ended?

Lately it was all you had in your mind, how you felt ready. Or maybe it was the pressure that the wedding was giving you. And just as you started getting closer, Tom had backed away without a warning.

James was just getting out of the room, mid hallway. Your brother seemed to be as stressed. The tie around his neck barely covering it, his hair was scrunched. James’ eyes crossed with yours and then went straight to his husband’s.

“You brought y/n?” James pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, fuck it,” he looked at his watch. “Yes, you might be more helpful,” James said as he gestured with his hand to come over.

There was clearly something going on. You eyed Tom, who still was not aware you were there.

“I—Sam, no, no, I’ll—I can’t stay here, fuck I have his phone here—“You heard him say before James had dragged you into the room.

You approached your brother. “What is going on?”

“We—couldn’t find Harry’s tie,” James explained.

A tie? This was all of it? This whole catastrophe was for a tie?

“Can't any of you give him yours?” You frowned. It was no surprise that they hadn’t come up with a solution to such a simple problem, you could not expect less from men.

James rolled his eyes. “So he went to search for it about an hour ago but he fucking left his phone here and—“

Then you understood what was going on. “Where’s Harry?” You closed your eyes.

James gulped. “That’s—the thing.”

“Where is Harry?” You questioned, again.

Clark cleared his throat. “We don’t—know.”

Oh, so you were fucked. “Whose stupid idea was—?”

“Well, Dad told me he left home about 40 minutes ago and he didn’t see him at home, Sam hasn’t found him—Their fucking twin telepathy thing is broken, I guess—“Tom had walked in staring at his phone, loudly explaining his previous conversation. “Oh—hi, y/n.”

“Hi.” It was rutinary, for both of you. To just—stop when the other walked into a room. You blushed. Only noticing until then how handsome he looked. Seemed you hadn’t realized how badly you wanted him. In the most innocent way, in the way that you only wanted to offer him your heart. In the way that you only wanted the sole confirmation that he still loved you. In the way you wanted to be the reason for his smile.

You wanted to ask him, if it was okay he was still on your mind. Was it wrong? Would he be chill with him visiting your dreams?

Because that had been the hardest part of it all. At some point you had both decided you needed to move on… Because both of you at the beginning were trying to get back together and after a long conversation that almost led to one kiss, you both decided it wasn’t appropriate. So pretending you didn’t love each other was the way you’d keep him, for whatever it was worth.

Tom had said it once, hadn’t he? How everytime you both stated your feelings… it hurt. So now that you weren’t stating them, you were supposed to not hurt. Why did it, then?

“You look—stunning,” he eyed you up and down, and licked his lips, “I—I’m sorry I didn’t-uh-call this morning-I was—“

“You look pretty, too,” you interrupted. Knowing that the missed call would be a subject for James’ interest. The short story was—you had probably had a few more drinks than you should’ve with him at the hotel bar with Clark and James and Tom had walked you to your room, only walking, not even a kiss on the cheek as much as you had wanted it, but he had promised to call in the morning after you had claimed he had been ignoring you. He hadn’t called.

And was aware of it, which meant he hadn’t forgotten. It meant he had avoided you, again.

It had seemed that from one morning to another Tom had decided that the word friends meant strangers.

Maybe he wouldn’t pay a visit to your dreams.

He reached for your hair, “I like the flowers—”

“Can you both leave your ‘in love but not together’ bullshit for later?” James snapped you both out of the trance. “The wedding is in two hours and the fucking groom is no where in sight.”

Both Tom and you turned to him, travelling back to reality. “Well it’s not my fault! Who—sent him? Why didn’t you guys offer to go for the stupid tie?” You snapped back at your brother.

Tom looked away.

Of course. You watched him. “Tom? How do you plead?”

“Guilty,” he admitted.

You took a deep breath. This was definitely not the scenario you wanted to find yourself in. Had… Harry escaped? It was… not likely to escape but then again, you’d learned not to expect anything.

It was reason enough to worry.

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Tom said.

James sighed. “He took my car and—“

“You gave him your car to escape—!” You snapped. “Your car always stops working!”

“No,to go for his tie, not to escape,” Tom snapped his fingers with a smile defending your brother. “We-”

“Thomas oh my god, I am not even- All of you, you all thought it was a good idea?” You were furious now. Whose stupid idea was it to-Of course it had been Tom’s. You were going to jump to conclusions. “To send the groom when any of you could have gone-?”

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

You really didn’t, however it was ineluctable. Not because Harry didn’t love Emma, but because Harry was… scared. You didn’t blame him. True love comes barely once in a thousand lifetimes and when we finally get to it, it might be too much for us to handle. However after your conversations with Harry this cataclystic outcome had not been foreseen.

“My dad is around the hotel trying to find him,” Tom quickly answered.

You took a deep breath. You perfectly knew Harry.

Harry and you were close as you had once been, in a way, Harry and you were well apprised of the other. Harry was reasonable enough not to leave his wedding.

“He offered to go,” James explained.

Harry wouldn’t have offered that unless he needed to go away. And you only needed one confirmation, there was no way Harry would’ve forgotten his tie. Harry would’ve never forgotten it, unless it had been self sabotaged.

You were conveyed to the drawers, opened each one carefully, fearing you’d find it, and your gut had been right. there it was. The tie in all of its splendor. “And you let him go?” You asked, taking the tie and swinging it to them. “To search for this tie?”

“Yes,” James closed his eyes. “Fuck. We should’ve known.”

Your eyes crossed with Tom’s and then you then realized it, Tom seemed calm. Tom wasn’t freaking out. Not externally. You weren’t sure if he really wasn’t or if it was the usual wall you both build around the other. Incomprehensible it seemed now. Always keeping it cool, So many things you’ve lived and you had let them go oh so easily?

But you were flawed. You had been. But not now, what was stopping you both? Wasn’t he still the one holding your broken heart in the palm of his hand? Had he not borrowed it?

You were still trying to hold his.

But your mind shouldn’t be worried about your relationship with Tom when the groom was nowhere to be found. When he had lied that he lost his tie and it was right in that drawer.

Yet, you somehow knew there was something… Something there.

“He was supposed to go home then?” You questioned Tom.

Tom was getting anxious by the second. “Yes, so we can go look for him.”

“The two of you?” James interrupted.

“Yes the two of us, we could split and look for him but...” Tom said. “Someone has to stay here.”

James was slightly annoyed, you could tell. But James was often annoyed at you and Tom. James had been the most disappointed about the resulting relationship. Honestly, everybody was disappointed. Had you been cowards for giving up?

So much drama and for what?

“Of course you’d think splitting up is a good idea,” James snapped with poison. James was annoyed because he always pointed it out to you, how much you’d fought to have him and how easily you’d walked out.

Walking out had not been easy. Walking out had to be the most painful decision you’ve ever made. And you remembered that night you had, the city was asleep, the night was quiet, and you were the only one standing on that street, under that streetlight. Alone. He hadn’t gone to you. You’d looked back to his window, expecting him to be there, and then the door had remained closed.

You cleared your throat. “I might know where Harry is,” you lied. You were at a loss of your mind at the moment. Maybe it was shock. Not maybe, it certainly was shock. The sole thought of Harry not appearing at his own wedding had not ever crossed your mind. You’d thought Emma would’ve. Would’ve been in character, but how stupid do you have to be to run from your wedding on your wedding day?

Tom directed a glance. “I think I might know where he is, too.”

Did he? Or was he only trying to prove a point?

Though the friendship was afloat, some habits could never wear out. Especially when it came to challenging the other. After the breakup it had become a sort of competition of who was dealing better with it.

Neither of you were coping well, but you wouldn’t admit it.

How disappointing, isn’t it? A whole story to end just in a few words. A whole journey to be plucked off your hands. So quickly, so easily.

How ironic it seemed that after such a long time, it was this breaking up bullshit.

James watched between the both of you. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” Tom and you answered and panicked at the other’s statement.

“Well, I’ll race you there,” you challenged.

Tom squinted, “I don’t have my car, dad gave me a ride.”

“Well, then, you should start running so I don’t beat you there,” you grinned and then walked off the room, decidingly. Only thing left was knowing where exactly Harry had run to.

“This isn’t a fucking game, y/n!” James reminded you. “We need to find Harry.”

“I know, Jamesy!”

Tom had rushed after you, “You have no idea where he is, do you?” He mumbled.

“Not a clue,” you admitted. “You?”

He laughed, “Not a fucking clue, either.”

You both got into the elevator. He dug his hands into his pockets.

“Do you think he escaped?” Tom questioned.

“It’s possible,” you admitted. You sighed, as you pressed the button to the upper floor.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked.

“I need my keys,” You said.

Tom’s eyes widened. “And are you telling Emma?” He was panicking.

“Of course!” You gave him the widest beam. “She’ll be delighted!”

“What?”

You jokingly slapped his head. “Of course not, idiot! How the fuck am I supposed to tell her? What would I even tell her? Hey! We can’t find Harry! He might have run off! No!”

“Right. Then what’s the alibi?” Tom asked. “Just showing up and leaving?”

You sighed, “You, you will be my alibi.”

Tom blinked but followed after you when the elevator door finally left you at your floor, you rushed to the room, but stopped in front of it, buttoning Tom up. He watched you with confusion.

“I thought I was your alibi,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “Not that kind of alibi, dipshit.“

Helaughed, rolling his eyes and avoiding your gaze. “Yeah, it’s been a while since that could be the alibi.”

You decided to ignore the statement, “Now, when I walk in, if you hear Emma question me—just call me and try rushing me.”

“Alright, but I think we need a solid alibi, y/n,” Tom pushed.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll take care of that,” you confirmed and opened the door where you were welcomed by Timmy, who was about to go out.

“Oh, hey,” Tim greeted and then eyed Tom. “Thomas.”

“Timothée,” Tom nodded his head.

Even when they both presumed to be friends, you knew that Tim and Tom would always have some sort of… disagreement.

“Uh, I was about to… go see Lily,” Tim explained, turning back to you. “Mind staying with Emma-? Her mother is on one last minute arrangements, it might rain so they’re trying to figure out what to do-So if you could—“

“Actually,” you cleared your throat. “An emergency came up, so I need you to stay here, maybe tell Lily to come here?”

Tim frowned. “What emergency?”

“We’re taking care of it,” Tom explained as you rushed in looking for your purse. “We’ll be quick,” he added. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Y/N, babe, you’re back!” Emma commented.

You squinted your eyes closed, “And I’m leaving—sorry, I need to uh—It will be quick I promise there’s an issue with—there’s an emergency—“

Emma was nervous, “y/n? Everything okay? Did something happen to the flowers?”

You couldn’t lie to her, but you could omit the truth. “No, everything okay with the flowers—I promise I’ll be here quickly, I’m just going to—“

“Y/N, darling?” You heard Tom outside. “We need to go, now.”

Emma heard and then she was no longer going to question you. Not right now, at least. “Ah,” Emma said, knowingly as she rolled her eyes. “I see, Tom— an emergency with Tom.”

“I promise it’s not like that,” you assured her. “But everything is okay and— I’ll be here in time.”

“I am freaking out, do you see the sky? It’s grey! Fucking grey! I need to stop the rain!” Emma yelled. “What if it’s a bloody sign? Fuck, I need to talk to Harry, I need him-”

You freaked out by then. “No, Emma, calm down, it’ll be okay, we will figure something out!”

“Y/N! Please!” Tom called in again.

Emma watched you, “I swear to god, y/n, if your emergency is fucking that man I will murder you.” “Trust me, it’s not.”

Emma glared, “Y/N, I’ll only say it one more time. If you’re leaving my wedding to have sex with that hunk, I will kill you.”

You shook your head. “I’m… Trying to figure out what to do with the rain, okay? Leave this ro me! I’ll see you in a bit, Emma!” You ran back out.

You saw Tom’s mother walking down the hallway, she offered you a concerned look.

Tom seemed calm enough for Tim, however, who was watching him with curiosity. You were thankful that they avoided conversing with each other, especially because Tom would probably screw up the alibi. One that you didn’t have. But probably Tim had bought it, even if he had yet to hear what the alibi was. However, you knew that Tom’s presence was a solid alibi for rather than anything else.

Tom had been an alibi for your nerves. You knew that Tim wouldn’t question why you were nervous because he knew you were always nervous when Tom was around. You certainly looked flustered and having Tom there would definitely explain why you were jittery.

Tim raised his brows at you, and you only took Tom’s hand in an attempt to drag him back to the elevator. Tim was explicitly confused.

“Ah, Nikki! I’m so glad you’re here, Emma is finishing up, would you mind helping her?” Your voice was coming out slightly coarse.

The woman gulped, “are Tom and you taking care of the...rain issue?” She questioned.

“Yes, ma’,” Tom quickly nodded, “we will… find the rain.”

Some things never change, Tom was still an idiot. And for being an actor how terrible was he at lying.

“Find?” Tim questioned.

“Nothing to worry about, Tim darling,” Nikki stepped into the room, trying to push Timothee back inside, “they are taking care of it and they should go look at it, right now, chop chop!”

“See you in a bit, Tim!” You said as you ran to the elevator as Nikki closed the door, you finally were able to let go of Tom’s hand.

He cleared his throat as he pressed the button, “So what was the alibi?” Tom second glanced at you. “Why would we take care of the rain?”

“Because it got lost,” you shrugged. “Why else would we find it.”

He closed his eyes as you both walked into the elevator. “I’m an idiot.”

“Biggest one.”

He chuckled, “I—uh, heard Emma’s comment. About her thinking we were going to-”

You blushed, “Yeah.”

Big distance between both of you. Never ever close enough to accidentally brush against each other or hands coincidentally touching.

How different it was from the elevator in New York.

Tom cleared his throat. “Good to know where she stands in that subject.”

You shrugged, “I would also get mad if my best friend ditched me at my wedding to have sex with an idiot.”

He smirked rolling his eyes. “I believe the term she used was hunk.”

You ignored the comment.

“Why didn’t Timothee question us?” Tom asked.

You shrugged, “Haven’t you noticed that no one questions us?”

Tom furrowed his brows. “How so?”

“Whenever we are together, they never ask anything, they just let us be,” you admitted. Because everyone was waiting for you both to get back together or everyone expected something more from you. You never gave it to them.

He tilted his head slightly, agreeing with you. “I guess they think they’re going to make things awkward.”

No. People let you be because they wanted you to solve it.

“As if they could be,” you chuckled. “I think that’s the best part of us right now, people just don’t… meddle.”

Tom smiled, “I guess.”

You cleared your throat, “Now, where the fuck do you reckon Harry is?” You asked as you reached the lobby, turning back to what actually mattered.

“Honestly, I have no idea, nothing can come to my mind, it’s just… Not likely from Harry to run away,” Tom said. “Like—Me? Definitely. I would’ve—“

“Yes, you’d definitely run,” you nodded as you jingled the keys. Tom asked for the car at the valet.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tom questioned.

“You’d definitely escape from your own wedding,” you chuckled. “You’re so afraid of commitment. It’s the Gemini in you.”

He opened his mouth with pride, “excuse me? Me the one afraid of commitment? May I remind you of your past, my lady?”

You avoided his gaze. “You may not.”

“Said no to a proposal, poor Timothee,” Tom started with a smirk.

“Okay that’s—“You cleared your throat, chuckling slightly. “You shouldn’t—“

“Then—Then,you faked a relationship.”

You eyed him, “are we really going to touch that subject, again?”

“You were scared of commitment enough to fake one,” he joked.

You could joke about it now. Or he could. You’d never joke about it.

“Or I knew you wouldn’t commit so I had to fake I didn’t want it,” you smugly answered.

He faked annoyance. “Well, you ran to another country, yes, just after confessing your lovely feelings through a letter—“

“That’s…different.”

“Then you didn’t give me an answer—you didn’t know if you wanted to date me,” he recalled.

You scoffed, “Thomas, may I remind you why I didn’t want to date you?”

“Then you called it quits after seeing your brother getting married and you were scared we were heading there too,” Tom said.

You gulped, “Ah, yes that last one wasn’t me—“ you reminded him. “Not entirely.”

Tom licked his lips. “Maybe we are both afraid of commitment.”

“No,” you nudged him. “I wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t either.”

There was a sudden silence. You’d barely talked about it before. As if the relationship had suddenly disappeared.

You hadn’t talked about the breakup once in months.

“I would say we are at a crossroads but,” he shrugged. “I do not believe that commitment was the reason for—“

“Nope,” you gave in. “It was not.”

Because it wasn’t, maybe it was the fact you were both too committed to a relationship without form.

“However—you did—“Tom cleared his throat. “I mean—we were headed in some sort of direction.”

“Thomas, I don’t think now is the time to have the conversation we haven’t had.”

“So we should keep pushing it, then? Pretending we are both fine with this agreement? Lately we don’t seem fine with it.”

You knew he was right. Neither of you were entirely happy with this whole new friendship thing. “I—maybe we can talk about it when we find Harry!”

Tom pursed his lips, “so you do want to talk about it?”

You took a deep breath, “Thomas, we can push aside that conversation but we cannot push aside the fact your brother is nowhere to be found on his wedding day.”

“Fine.”

“Besides I think if we’ve pushed it long enough—“

He laughed. “We are—particularly calm about that subject.”

“I don’t think we are,” you admitted. “We just like to pretend when we are calm around each other.”

Tom clicked his tongue, “Maybe. But I’m—We haven’t talked about that in a while.”

“And it’s not the moment right now, it’s your brother’s wedding, and he is nowhere to be found,” you repeated.

Tom’s smile faded and was overstrung again. The car was there.

You let him drive, he usually drove your car. Another habit that hadn’t worn out.

Now things weren’t calm, as if the sudden rush had become the both of you. You finally got it, the anxiety that should’ve come from hearing it. The anger and despair that you were supposed to feel from Harry running away.

He looked down, “what’s that?” He pointed at the cup on the cup holder.

“Coffee, from yesterday,” you explained. “Didn’t finish it.”

“You think I could die from that?” He asked.

You looked at him. “I—don’t know but—You're not thinking of—“

“Drinking it?” Tom smirked. “Yeah, I’m just—-thirsty.”

“Please don’t.”

He took the cup, “I won’t die.”

“I guess not but it’s been sitting here one day!” You tried taking it off. He gripped it and shook his head.

“I won’t die!” He said before taking a sip and scrunching his nose. “This is fucking disgusting.”

“Why are you bloody drinking it?” You laughed.

He laughed, “I—I don’t know, but no it’s not that bad.”

“Thomas what the fuck,” you couldn’t stop laughing. “If you die then I’ll have to take care of your dead body and finding Harry, and my priority is finding Harry so I’d have to pull a Weekend at Bernie’s”

Tom giggled and stuck his tongue out, acting so terribly as if he was actually dying.

“You know,” you watched him with fake repulsion. “You deserve an Oscar for that one performance.”

“Right?” He grinned. “I’ll thank you when I receive it.”

You chuckled, “I think we should focus on Harry instead, yes?”

You both discussed places where he would go, that park? Unlikely. That Pub? He wasn’t there. Home?

Where in the world would he go?

“What if he—?” You were getting tired. “What if he didn’t run away?”

Tom looked over, he was rubbing his face, angry you hadn’t found him at the third pub. “That’s the thing, I don’t think he did.”

“It makes no sense, does it?” You questioned.

“No, he—he loves her,” Tom licked his lips. “It’s cause—“ he clutched to the wheel. “I don’t think Harry would—“

“No, I don’t think so—I just—“

It started to rain, because of course it bloody had to. Seemed that the ambiance always had the urge to level up to the level of drama you were always living.

“Jesus Christ, can we ever get into a dramatic moment without it raining?” Tom questioned, angrily.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh. “I—It was on the news forecast, I am sorry to inform you, but we’ve got nothing to do with the weather.”

Tom laughed, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Alright, if he’s not at home then he’s—“You laughed, “Where the fuck is Harry?” You yelled, defeated.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—hate Harry.”

You agreed. “Wait—wait, where’s your dad driving around?”

“Dunno, but he would’ve called,” Tom admitted. “Bloody hell, I hate Harry—I—can’t believe he did this.” You stayed quiet. If he had. What had led him to it? The day before he had been alright. Of course, he seemed nervous but he was excited, dreamy. In love.

“What do you know?” He questioned.

You frowned, getting your gaze back to him. “What?”

“You have your—thinking face on,” Tom pointed out. “See? Brow furrowed and hand on hair and everything,” he said. “You feel...guilty?”

“What?” You chuckled nervously. “No!”

“I know you guys spoke yesterday,” he recalled.

“Well yes, I wished him luck, but nothing—He gave me no clue of that, no clues of running away!” you admitted. “He was scared but he—I mean I thought it was usual wedding jitters but—he didn’t—I just—Calmed him. I mean he talked to you before, you probably were the one to scare him!”

“I—what?” Tom was taken aback. “I—I didn’t—“

“He talked to you before me!”

“yes, we talked but I gave him brotherly—marriage advice.”

You scoffed. “You? You gave him marriage advice?”

Tom chuckled nervously, “I—no, but—love advice.”

“We are the last people on earth that should give advice on that,” you stated.

He sighed, “I know but—“

“What did you say to him? Maybe you scared him and that’s why he ran away!” You stated, poking him.

He frowned, “Did not!”

“What did you even say to him?” You pushed. “I just know.”

He rolled his eyes, and mocked, “you just know?”

You playfully slapped his arm. “Yes, idiot! I know, you give the worst advice on love, you’re so dramatic.”

“I am dramatic?” He laughed.

“Yes,” you interrupted before he could even defend himself, “and—and, and I am too. We are—Oh god, are we to blame for Harry running away?”

Tom seemed to realize it at the same time. “I mean—Considering what we both could’ve said—“

Neither of you couldn’t help but laugh, maybe with guilt.

“I’m scared,” Tom admitted. He sighed, holding one last laughter.“We’re fucked.”

You both stayed calmly, as the rain halted against the car.

“What did you talk about with him?” He questioned.

Of course the question held more than that. You knew what he was asking about actually.

Seemed that both of you knew you had basically laid it on Harry the day before. Or maybe not. But where else would Tom ever get his advice from?

You had told him not to give up, you’d told Harry that he had found it, whatever love is, he’d found it.

“How I was proud of him, how I wanted what he was getting,” you shrugged.

You had also joked about how you and him wouldn’t have worked out. But you’d also said you were sorry it hadn’t worked out with Tom either. How you knew that him and Emma were not headed there, that he had nothing to worry about.

How you regretted the script. Spilling out your heartbreak for the world to see. Spilling your love story that was barely one and how people had a lot to say about it.

How it was painful to hide your love. How you knew Tom hadn’t moved on either but probably was planning to.

You told Harry to keep his feelings for Emma, and only Emma. That he didn’t have to share it. You had told Harry to treasure every morning, and to find a flower to talk for him.

“You?”

“I apologized for ruining his engagement party,” Tom nodded, “the first one.”

You both gulped.

“But how I—“ Tom shifted in his seat. “How I thought that they had found the silver linings for it all. That after being apart they’d just come back stronger. And how—I was happy for him. How they overcame all obstacles. And how they were just meant to be.”

“Soulmates they are,” you said. “Which is why it makes no sense he is not there.”

“We need to find him,” he stated.

You nodded. “We are very calm, though, considering-”

“Yeah,” he gave in. “I—What about the park?”

“Oh? The park? Not a park, the park, of course, how didn’t I think of that,” you teased. “Oh yes, the park. As if there aren’t hundreds of parks. Yes the park.”

He snorted a laugh, “shut up! You know where I meant!”

“Well, drive, you pillock!” You chuckled. “Drive to—the park!”

He rolled his eyes and was about to start the car, yet again.

“Wait,” there was a part of you that thought you knew where he might be. But—to explain where it was would be difficult. “Let me drive.”

To try and find Harry. Which was technically the quest.

You had less time now. You were tired. But there was something that was making you believe you could find him. You hoped you were right.

Being behind the wheel with Tom as your copilot was weird. You always let him drive because you usually were in charge of the music.

“Well, given that I’m here, I’ll be for the first time in charge of the music in your car,”he said. He seemed to have the same thing in mind.

Which was completely stupid since you were looking for a lost groom, but well, Tom and you didn’t have much in common but you could always brag about the same stupidity and brain cell you shared.

He took the aux cord as you were driving, driving to that location that wasn’t far enough. A place you knew that gave Harry peace. The park.

But of course your own peace was disturbed as ‘I think we're alone now’ played.

You hadn’t listened to that song in a long while, since you’d danced to it on his living room, most of the lights out, your screen light and his own eyes being the only light you needed. When the things were good.

You had, purposefully, erased most songs that ever reminded you of him.

“You seriously have that song?” You snorted as the memories flooded back in.

Tom avoided your glance and shrugged, “What? It’s on my playlist.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I notice that. That’s how music works.”

There was silence. Probably driven by the growing fear of not finding Harry, probably coming from the fear that Harry had actually escaped. And what would that mean?

Had Tom and you really scared him?

But you both drowned the fear while humming the song.

Or maybe the silence came from the very memories of the song.

“It’s on this specific playlist honestly,” Tom said after a few songs.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“It’s—the song,” he cleared up. “haven’t you noticed the songs playing are only songs you like? Or songs—”

Songs with background. You shrugged, “Well, we have similar taste.”

He laughed, “No, y/n, we truly don’t.”

You glanced at him, as he was looking out the window. “Huh, alright—maybe that is the reason we broke up.”

Tom clenched his jaw. “Don’t be an idiot.”

You rolled your eyes. “Never mind, that is.”

“No,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “what Imean—this is my—you playlist.”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Tom asked.

“What does that even mean?” You questioned.

He licked his lips. “I—well.”

“So you ignore me but you have a playlist—a me playlist?” You questioned.

Tom licked his lips, “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, it’s—been hard.”

It had been, for you, too. “It’s harder if we are apart,” you pointed out.

He gulped, “That is my point,” he coughed. “We are friends,” he said. “And lately, before I started ignoring you—We were—“

You had been acting a bit more than what friends are supposed to act like. And a wedding always brings romance in everything so it was hard.

You cleared your throat, “It makes it weirder if we both walk away from the other.”

Tom bit his lip, “is it, really?” He watched you carefully. “Because, y/n, I—I’ve been… jealous, how they solved it. And how we couldn’t, after we both tried it was so hard, how we kept falling back.”

You had been slightly jealous, too.

“And, really, I—look, I love my brother and Emma, it’s not them ,” he continued, he rolled his eyes. “For all I know, we are both bitter because before James’ wedding happened we were both talking about… marriage and all,” Tom continued. “And they basically stole what could have been our wedding.”

So you were going to have that conversation. A conversation you had avoided even before the breakup. How both of you were… in talks. How you were expecting it. How you’d jitter if he ever got on his knee to tie his shoe, how every time you’d be waiting for it.

“We didn’t even get engaged,” you pointed out, in an attempt to be cynical, probably.

He coughed, “We talked about it. Good thing—We didn’t get that far because, well.”

“I think we both thought marrying would salvage us from falling,” you stated. “Or we thought it was the next step.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, I think we did,” he admitted. “But I—Back then I really thought, I dunno. I was really about to ask.”

You took a deep breath, “I would’ve said yes,” you said easily, though it hurt to even think about it. Though, you had been prepared to say yes.

“It wouldn’t have been right,” he pointed out. “We would’ve broken up before even getting to plan it.”

He was right. So, so right, because where you were heading wasn’t a wedding, you were heading to an even more hurtful breakup.

The decision had been made acknowledging this. Knowing it would hurt less then. Avoiding a terrible breakup.

“We were on a thin line,” you agreed. “Anything would’ve broken us.”

“I knew we were going through a rough patch but—I think we never realized how rough it was.”

You sighed, “Maybe I fucked up when we came back here, when I decided not to move in.”

Tom took a deep breath, “No, it wasn’t that.”

What was it? What had it been?

“I don’t know where we went wrong,” you admitted. “I really don’t.”

He shook his head, confirming he didn’t either. When asked, neither of you had a reason. It just—happened. Things had been just so rough and hard. Nothing to hold on to.

Though it didn’t make sense, you loved him. And he loved you.

“I think we both expected things to get better by themselves.” Tom played with his fingers and watched the window, staring at the raindrops slipping through it. Sliding easily, without no one stopping them.

“And we grew tired of fighting,” you added, as you stopped at a red light.

“Can't even remember what we were fighting about,” he confessed.

You took a heavy breath in, as the music still played in the background. “About nothing, and about everything. We fought over serious stuff, like whether we wanted to be public or not. A little about Tim and Cherry. And over stupid stuff mostly, yeah mostly over stupid stuff. Like when we were supposed to wake up for certain events or what tie you’d wear for James’ wedding, we fought over you staying at my place too much. We also fought about FaceTime hours, and whether we had to ask if we were available for it or not.”

Tom dedicated his glance back to you, sad, upset and full of regret. “I remember the cereal one.”

You raised your brows, “Yeah, that one was a smashing doors one.”

“Over stupid cereal,” he sighed as he brushed his face. “We were so—“

“Toxic?” You finished his sentence.

He chuckled, “yeah, mostly at the end.”

“The beginning too, I mean,” you shook your head. “I—We had sex to just solve everything. Thomas, we had hatred sex.”

He chuckled. “Well.”

You shrugged, “And that’s how we solved the fights initially.”

“It wasn’t enough at the end,” he added.

“It never was, and that’s—Thats why, although we both said we would talk we just—I think that’s why it didn’t work, at the end we just—grew tired of each other, the spark was gone.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Maybe it was the script,” you pointed out. “Everything concerning it.”

Learning he had a lot to do with the fact it was made had made you doubt yourself, the one true accomplishment had come because he had come to the rescue. Although it had been nice it had really started the downfall of your trust.

“No,” he shrugged.

He didn’t want to talk about it. You had had enough talks about the script, over the fact you wrote it and then regretted it. Over filming and the input he had in the movie, how the character had more in depth than before.

Over the fact he had come to your rescue because it hadn’t been good enough. That one specially had been the start of your downfall. Seemed that when you learned about it, you had completely gone mental. Though, it had come from his heart, he didn’t understand why you were angry.

You had always asked him not to ever give a hand with your writing, if you wanted to succeed it would be for your own accomplishments.

Then again, there was also this side that loved he had helped.

Truth is, it hadn’t affected your relationship, but it had affected your own self trust. And if you can’t trust yourself, however will you trust someone else?

Enough talks had been had.

“No,” Tom started. “We were guilty. Both of us, as if we were making it up for past mistakes. I never stopped thinking about what Tim said, and I think that’s why I always tried making it up for all the other times I hurt you. And then you tried making it up for the script, or—Whatever, it was a relationship built up on guilt.”

“Yeah, I think,” you whispered almost not wanting to be heard, “we both had things to learn about ourselves, and forgive ourselves first… and the timing was wrong.”

Tom shrugged, “Isn't it always wrong with us?”

Time was your true enemy. Or maybe it was easier to blame time rather than yourselves. Time was nothing.

It had been you and your pride or your fear, or whatever you came up with now.

However, there was some truth in that statement. Maybe in the past few months it had been time.

When you had told James and Harry you might want to get back together, Tom was dating.

When you were dating, Harry had told you he was thinking about it.

But what about now? Neither of you were dating, you were single and every odd could push you both to be together. Yet…You were not.

How disappointing, you would always think. Such a long story to end up like this.

How disappointing, really.

“No,” he stated, once again. “It’s not time. The problem might be we are the most stupid people to walk on earth.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you said. You nudged him, “look at us now, though, able to talk.”

“I like where we are, yeah,” Tom commented. “I think we are in a good place, we trust each other, we are friends, good friends, we take care, we hang out. We talk. And actually talk.”

You were focusing on the road, mainly, but your heart wanted to say more things. “Yeah.”

“There’s something bothering you,” Tom stared, intrigued.

“I don’t like you avoiding me,” you stated. “I really can’t stand it.”

“I won’t avoid you, then.”

Then, it was quiet. And it didn’t matter, you enjoyed moments of silence, and it wasn’t awkward. Both of you had learned that sometimes you just don’t have to say a word.

But you had to, in fear he would feel you were angry at the previous conversation.“It’s not even all songs I like,” you pointed out.

“Hm?”

“The playlist,” you decided you didn’t want to continue that past conversation.

He coughed, “So we are changing the conversation, huh? Well, they are songs that remind me of you but hey!” He nudged you. “Which ones don’t you like?”

So easily changing subjects and getting out a smile.

“I—we can get back to that later,” you turned to him and let out a soft chuckle. “songs that remind you of me?” You smirked, poking his shoulder.

He blushed, rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he admitted defeatedly.

You laughed, “You’re such a nerd.”

“What the fuck! It’s supposed to be sweet!” He complained.

You shrugged. “Or creepy.”

“No, it’s not—“

“I’m kidding I’m—more flattered than spooked—“ you admitted. “So why are you playing it?” You poked his cheek this time and he pushed your hand away.

“Because I’ve noticed you always complain about the music so when I play this you don’t!” He explained, annoyed.

“Oh, so it’s merely to keep me quiet,” you snickered, nodding.

Tom was moving his jaw, “Yes, basically.”

You glanced again, mischievously. “Wasn’t it supposed to be sweet?”

“No.”

You reached for his hair. “Tommy.”

“Don’t Tommy me,” he chuckled. “You called me creepy.”

“Yes, I don’t know how to flirt so I bully you, I thought we had that covered,” you snapped without giving it a second thought. Then completely regretting it.

His smirk was wide now, as he laughed maniacally. “Oh so you’re flirting.”

Your turn to blush had come. “No.”

He grinned. “You are.”

But then it was a miracle, a way to avoid this subject completely because it was not the conversation to be having with the current situation. “Shut up.”

“No, you are trying to flirt with me, I won’t shut up!” He mocked you.

“Shut up!”

“No!”

“Thomas! I think that’s Harry!”

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[thefallenbibliophilequote]

How You Get The Girl

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 10

"Then one day he came back"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 3,586

Warnings: violence, a badly written mission, blood.

A/N: I really hope you like this one! Thank you so much @peterbenjiparker for helping me organize this mess and make sense of the outline! Christy aka @chrissquares made these dividers! and thank you @nacho-bucky for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and YouTube

Loki listened to the sound of the heavy rain that surrounded the quinjet as they flew towards where you were.

It was too slow for his liking, he didn't want to imagine what they could be doing to you. It was his fault that they took you in the first place, he didn't know why he didn't recognize your Asgardian powers before.

The powers were so protective of you just as he was. Now he hoped it will be enough to protect you from your captives.

He absentmindedly twirled a dagger in his hand, his mind lost with thoughts of you. He could think of a million spells that could have protected you without giving you these powers, but in a state of panic he didn't think and used the oldest most powerful one. With the raging emotions he had he was certain he messed it up somehow and caused you harm.

All he ever tried to do was protect you. You were supposed to be protected after he left you, but instead you got dragged into this dangerous life and it led you here.

He didn't turn around when he felt the heavy hand on his shoulder, Thor's presence beside him was known.

"It's not your fault, you know."

"How can it not be? It was my mistake."

"You were trying to protect her, you couldn't have known."

"I should have known better, I could have done so much better." Loki's voice was as sharp as his blade, but he didn't push Thor away. He must have lost his mind, well in all fairness he is losing his mind thinking about you. "I thought it was the best way to keep her safe when I was gone. Then I left and I didn't take care of the spell well enough."

"Forgive me for asking brother, but if you loved her so much why leave her?" Loki was beyond denying Thor's specific choice of words.

"I left just before your coronation, when it all started. I couldn't drag her into this- and then I fell and years went by and I couldn't come back to her."

Silence took over and the seconds seemed to last an eternity.

"I think she would've accepted you, no matter what you did." Thor replied after a thought, he remembered the way you looked at his brother, he remembered the way you stood up to him and defended Loki against his father in the briefing room. There was no doubt in his mind that you would've stayed for Loki.

Steve leaned his head back against the wall as he sat on the bench of the quinjet; his supersoldier hearing gave his mind things to think about while the Asgardians' conversation died down.

•

Blue.

The tears on your face were cold as they stained your cheeks. Your mind was still foggy.

Five.

You now heard the voice say, it was clearer as your mind woke up.

Airplane.

You felt the pain as they inserted yet another shot of liquid into your body, your mind started to buzz.

"Rusted."

Another shot of electricity went through your body, you felt metallic taste on your tongue and yet you felt your mind relax with each word he uttered.

"Ice."

With every jolt of pain your mind drifted more and more even when you screamed.

"Nineteen."

"No, I don't want this. Stop." You whimpered. It was a method you learned from Tony- in your head you started naming all of your loved ones, thinking about each of them.

There was Tony, and also Natasha, and Wanda, Pietro and Bruce, Bucky, Steve, and now Loki- you let out a scream and opened your eyes again at the pain.

Folklore.

Your voice did no longer make a sound. You were distanced from your own body.

Longing.

You tried shaking your head but you only watched as your body stood still.

Furnace.

Your mind grew foggy as you saw your surroundings. You wanted to break out of it, you had to.

Red.

"Ready to-" you grunted and leaned forward from the chair you were strapped to as much as you could. "No!"

Your eyes flashed purple and you looked straight at the doctor, you saw the moment the pain hit him but before you could really harm him with your powers you felt the spasms of electricity pulling you back.

They stopped after a minute or so, the metallic taste came back.

"You want to play games? We will teach you to listen," he took your chin in his hand and made you look at him. "We will make you a perfect little soldier. Take her to her room."

He commanded and your eyes widened.

"No, please don't put me there, don't do it again." You started crying without noticing the tears.

"You should get a taste of your own medicine, understand what your powers are really for." He chuckled darkly as you got taken into the room.

The minute the door shut behind you the sensations began, you fell to the ground as the energies were sent to you until your eyes were foggy and you fell down into your own brain.

You saw the worst in there, and you couldn't get out of it.

You were tormented by your own powers.

•

Iyllir waited with her parents at the table until Odin arrived without his two sons and sat at the head of the table, she furrowed her brows, "Where are Thor and Loki? Will they not be joining us?"

"No, my dear, they had to go." Odin simply replied before the maids and servants began to serve their food.

"Did something happen?" Iyllir's mother asked.

"I'm afraid that Midgard is causing some problems." Odin sighed and leaned to talk to her parents more while she nibbled on the food that was served, keeping her ears open to the information the Allfather was giving her. "A wicked organization there got their hands on Asgardian technology, and now they got their hands on a girl with Asgardian powers. Of course then, you understand that I couldn't let them use the girl as their weapon- it would be dangerous, so I hope you forgive my sons for being absent as they are trying to find her."

Odin then looked at Iyllir.

"Lady Iyllir, I am certain Prince Loki will be back soon and all will be well." He sent her a smile and she returned it.

Focusing back on her food she felt her blood boiling, she had ordered for them to take it and kill the girl- and they betrayed her. That kind of humiliation will not go unpunished.

Excusing herself, she went back to her room. Some things she will have to do herself.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she said an incantation and a box appeared next to her. Opening it, she took out the old weapon and held onto the hilt of it, feeling the power of the Dainsleif she strutted forward.

She would kill the girl herself if she had to; nothing would be able to stop her now.

•

Steve walked through the quinjet, Thor promised that he isn't causing the weather but it didn't make him less annoyed at the delay the weather provided in landing as they got closer and closer.

He caught the eye of the younger Asgardian who stood at the edge or the vehicle, he remembered putting him seated there when he first fought him in Germany.

He lowered his head and with a breath he started to walk over. Loki studied him as he did, and Steve let him. They stood there in silence until Loki looked back outwards.

"Thank you, for helping me find her. I don't know what I would've done if I couldn't find her."

"I didn't help you find her, I found her- you were no part of it, you actually didn't help at all." Loki replied, before adding, "I did it for me. I cannot bear the idea of her being hurt." He remembered how it used to be.

"Darling?" Loki opened the door with the key you gave him. He was dripping on your carpet but when he saw you he quickly dried himself, magic is always so helpful.

"Are you insane, Loki?" He shrugged. "There is a huge storm outside!"

"It would be ironic if I got struck by lightning, now wouldn't it?" he joked before coming to you, giving you a peck on the lips and then to your forehead to calm down the worried crease that formed there.

"I guess so… from what you told me I wouldn’t be surprised if it was on purpose." You cracked a smile at him.

"Now, what are you doing?" you blushed when he looked behind you to the desk and to the marker you now had in your hands.

"I just… brought a permanent marker from my room." You nodded to him and cringed to yourself when he laughed and moved around you and walked to the table.

"You can't lie to the god of mischief, my love."

"It wasn't a lie!"

"No, but it wasn't the whole truth either." He pointed to the frames on the table.

Your cheeks got warmer by the minute, and so did his amusement.

He picked up a photo and a small smile lit up his face.

It was a picture you took of the two of you, he kissed your cheek as the fairy lights of the fair, which was right by the beach, lit up your surroundings and the water. It was a treasured memory, the view of you glowing in the lights.

You walked to him and took the picture.

"Why did you get it out of your phone?" he asked.

"I want it framed, so I can always see it- you, all around the house when you're not here."

He saw you write down the date it was taken behind the photo before you picked up a gold frame and put it in there.

"That is beautiful, my love." He went and picked up other photos that were scattered on the table. "Can you make one for me too?"

His eyes were soft as he looked at the pictures.

"You have illusions, why would you need a photo?" You questioned.

"I want you, the real you, with me wherever I go. I want more than just an illusion of you."

You walked to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You know exactly what to say to get the girl, don't you?" You leaned up to kiss him.

"I only want to get you."

"You have me." You whispered before he captured your lips in a soft kiss again.

He will get you back.

"We will find her." Loki was somewhat comforted by the conviction in Steve's voice. "Together."

And so they stuck together, the god of mischief and the righteous captain America. The team separated when they went through the vast grey warehouse.

No one cared about the body count, this wasn't just another mission and all of them knew that.

So with the gunshot sounds and yells- the god, the captain, and the sergeant made their way forward in search of you.

•

She paid no attention to the wild sounds coming from just outside the door. All Iyllir cared about was her one mission in the room she entered from the shadows.

The agents in the room were focused on transferring the girl who sat on the chair into the room she last saw her in.

"Gather all the stuff up, put her under fast! That will make sure they won't get to her." Doctor Zazu stood next to Commander Iago who was shouting orders.

The doctor organized his work, uncaring of your shaking body that moved as they lifted the seat of the chair to get you out of it.

The commander leaned in and the Lady could hear his whisper.

"I told you your little friends won't get you."

"Fuck you, parrot." You replied and got a harsh slap to your cheek even though you could barely move your head in the metallic chair.

Iyllir stepped forward in the room, her eyes like daggers as she focused on you and the commander.

The agents in the room turned around when they noticed her, guns raised and eyes afraid when they understood who they were pointing at.

"Lady Iyllir-" the commander started to stutter and moved forward, wearing a shaky smile. "We were just-"

"I heard you were building a weapon. We did not agree on that, commander." She awaited his lie.

"She could be very useful- and don't worry, he will not be able to get her. It's a good compromise, we can work it out!"

"Oh mortals are so amusing, betraying me was not a smart move-" she grabbed the hilt and pulled it out. She felt the weight of the power, of the need that was growing inside her. "I'm afraid that we can't back out now."

It was as if the sword acted on its own, seeking blood, and she let it find it.

The sharp edge first pierced the commander's stomach; she pulled out the bloody blade and turned around when she felt other agents try to fight her.

Looking up from the body- she saw you, you were wide awake and aware now, it might have been the power of the sword or her own hatred but she won't let anything stop her from getting what she wanted. You will not be the one to ruin her future, and she was on a time limit when she heard the fighting outside getting closer and closer.

•

Loki threw his daggers at the guy who tried to sneak up on the captain. After he did, he admired the knife throwing skill the sergeant had too before continuing on to find wherever it was that they held you in.

Before long the three located the room they thought you'd be in, Loki used his magic and threw open the two heavy metallic doors and then he saw you, being put inside a see through room. Then he took in the scene in front of him.

Bodies bloody on the floor, almost making a path to where his eyes rested at now.

The Asgardian redhead who he had spent so much time with the past few months stood there stalking towards a man in a lab coat, her royal dress had blood all over it as some still dripped from the sword he now recognized.

"Iyllir?" he called out, confused at the scene. Steve and Bucky came beside him, feeling the tension they stopped and assessed the way to you- down the stairs and through the guards in the big room and into the cell you were trapped in which was in the middle of the room.

"Loki," he saw her eyes widen and for the first time, she didn't look as innocent anymore. "I am so glad you're here-"

He couldn't even hear her when he heard your voice coming through the glass, the tears in your eyes and the half relieved half scared look in your eyes as you shook your head at him, yelling at him to not listen to her.

"The two of you go get her. I will deal with the girl."

He went towards the left then and the two supersoldiers went to the right, agents came their way but Steve knew nothing will stop him from getting to you.

The doctor took his chance to complete his work once Iyllir was occupied with Loki. He spoke in a loud voice at Y/N.

"Blue."

"No!" You screamed but her voice was hoarse.

"Five."

Bucky heard the chant and his eyes focused on the girl behind the glass and the doctor who held a notebook.

"No, this isn't happening again." He decided, knowing the effect of the words. In a silent conversation with Steve, he went in a different way

"Airplane."

Loki stepped up to Iyllir, trying to assess her.

"What are you doing here?" he watched her smile at him. "Do not lie."

His voice was dark now. He didn't know why she was here, but he trusted you, and more so the fear in your voice.

Iyllir studied the man in front of her for a moment before replying.

"Tell me Loki, did you ever feel that the throne of Asgard should be yours? I know that you did." She advanced towards him, still with a smile. "We can do so much you and I, we are very much alike. Why abandon that dream of yours? We can still make it happen.

Why abandon that dream when you know you'll make a great king, and I a queen?"

"Rusted." You shut your eyes and shook your head.

"That's not my dream anymore. This is wrong, Iyllir did you do this?" he saw his wand lying on the table just a few feet behind her.

"This is right Loki!" she swung her hand up in the air alongside the sword. "We had fun you and I, you can't deny it. So forget about her, think about your future- don't you want everyone to see how great you could be? I am your way forward, I'm your future, and I can get you that."

"Ice." You didn't pound on the glass anymore, your mind was hazy.

"I do not need that, I don't want that-" he raised his own daggers. "And I do not want you."

Her eyes shifted then when he started attacking forward.

•

"Nineteen."

Bucky shot another agent, moving forward and he saw Steve trying to get to the room.

"Folklore."

Steve looked at you, heaving your breath, still standing. You refused to meet his stare, you were so strong before, never bowing down to any outside influences, and now here you were.

"Longing."

The doctor's voice was shaking as Loki let his magic loose, Bucky rattled on the stairs he descended to get a good shot at the doctor. Your mind heard the word clearly though.

Loki held a dagger in one hand, and in the other he conjured spells. A green energy blast was shot towards Iyllir, she dodged it and sizzles and sparks flew when it hit a machine instead. Getting closer, she aimed the sword at him again.

"We could've been so powerful."

"You're not powerful, the weapon in your hand is. Do not be mistaken." He tilted his head and summoned a longer spear out of thin air.

"Furnace."

Bucky aimed his shot once he was in the clear. The room shook again, thunder booming outside, as he fired a shot, and then the doctor fell down to the ground.

Steve knocked the guy that came from his left with his shield, effectively clearing his path to the door of the strange room you were held in. He saw your hazed form falling to the floor. You tried to get up to Steve, but you almost fell. You pointed backwards but he paid no attention where you were pointing to.

With his shield he broke the handle and took down the entire door.

Once he was inside, he felt ringing in his ears and a light pressure fell upon him. He couldn't imagine what they were doing to you inside it.

You kept pointing backwards but he just pulled you up and carried you out of there.

"Steve, it's the-" you fought to stay up and aware.

"It's okay, you're safe now." He assured you but you shook your head.

"They are using the-" You couldn't finish your sentence as Steve took you up the stairs.

"Red." You heard the voice loudly and then as you felt waves of hurt crash into you, your mind sunk deeper and deeper and you fell to the ground with a scream, Steve catching you just in time.

The doctor held the wand in his hand, still bleeding out.

"Hail Hydra!" he sneered at Bucky, who turned to him and raised a new gun.

"Hail this," Bucky shot a magazine of bullets at him, his anger leaving no room for remorse. Bucky ran back to where you were with Steve.

Loki watched as you fell to the ground, his heart thudded in fright at the scream you let out. In a momentary of shock, he heard Iyllir laugh and he let out a small huff as the sword pierced through his side.

"See Loki, she wasn't worth it, now she's gone for good." Her smile was sickly. Loki noticed his wand on the floor next to the dead doctor.

His rage resumed as he fell to the ground reaching for it. Once the staff was once again in his grasp after all this time, the room shone with green light as he aimed the wand at Iyllir. The shot of magic he let out in the air hit her and left her breathless. She could feel pain in every cell in her body, she shook a bit before her skin turned as grey as ash and she fell to the ground.

Loki used the staff to get up and he rushed over to you, forgetting the wound in his stomach, you lay down against Steve, who was the only thing holding you up.

His hand was shaky as he cupped your cheek.

"Y/N?" he called to you but all he saw were your glazed eyes, a single tear escaped from them, running down your cheek.

And he knew- you were not with them anymore.

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

[lsholland]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

[amour393]

Time for my auto generated year in review lol

I posted 2,038 times in 2021

264 posts created (13%)

1774 posts reblogged (87%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 6.7 posts.

I added 316 tags in 2021

#ninjago - 87 posts

#asks - 54 posts

#amour articulates - 41 posts

#ninjago jay - 26 posts

#jay walker - 22 posts

#ninjago nya - 19 posts

#the great prabk war of 2021 - 17 posts

#ninjago jaya - 17 posts

#ninjago kai - 17 posts

#ninjago headcanons - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#so yeah after i finish rebinging all 15 seasons i will write that and vent on why it is entirely appropriate that jay would say that abt kai

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

no thoughts head empty just druig and makkari

159 notes • Posted 2021-11-06 23:32:01 GMT

#4

Seabound finale spoilers

Sometimes I remember them.

Their faces cross my mind from time to time. I remember times. Places. People.

I remember them.

Sometimes it is the metal ones. The purple one crying into my shoulder. The white one offering me a kind word.

Sometimes it is the black one. I see him laughing. It is late. We should be asleep, but we cannot rest. We are too busy talking. He smiles at me, and I feel a pang of nostalgia.

Sometimes it is the green one. He pranks the red one with me. He comes to me after a nightmare. He bites his lip and tells me about a girl. He wants help. I smile and say that he should be himself. It is so much better than being someone you are not.

Be yourself...

Sometimes I see the red one. I see him quite often. I see him hugging me after a nightmare. I see him offering me the last piece of bread when we were small. I see the strength in which he holds me when he returns from another realm. I see the tears he sheds when we think the green one is gone. I see him smile and ruffle my hair, and I suddenly feel sad.

And sometimes I see the blue one.

He is certainly the most common. I see his stupid grins after he tells a dumb joke. I see the lightning flashing from his hands in passion. I see the way he holds me after we turn back time. I see his scattered freckles and bright eyes and crooked smiles. I see the smiles and I see the tears. I see his hand outstretched with a pin, and I see my own hand receive it with lighthearted joy.

Sometimes I think about them, and they make me smile.

But they will soon be gone. Mortal lives are so fragile. I know better than most.

It does not matter. Mortal lives are short, but the sea?

The sea is forever.

177 notes • Posted 2021-05-01 01:28:53 GMT

#3

*slams hands on table*

WHERE IS MY NINJAGO POWER SWAP

Y'all, if there's anything that has to happen before the end of Ninjago besides Jay and Nya getting married, it's this.

Let's discuss.

Cole getting water an being sO CONFUSED

Like, water and earth are so different. Water, you gotta be neutral, feel the flow, the push and pull. Earth, you gotta stand firm and stand strong. You are in control, you must stand strong if you want to use every powers.

So, Cole is baffled because "IT'S NOT LISTENING!" and Nya being like "You can't force it, you have to submit and guide its flow." "I control it by submitting???? That makes no sense!!!"

So Cole is just lost

Zane getting lightning and continually accidentally short circuiting and frying himself

Jay getting fire and mastering it almost immediately because "hey, this isn't so different from lightning! It's all energy!"

Nya getting ice and mastering it instantly because she's manipulated ice before, now it's just an issue of freezing stuff

She also spends like a day trying to manipulate water because if she can manipulate ice while having water powers then she should be able to manipulate water while having ice right???

Wrong

By the time they switch back she still couldn't figure it out and it drives her insane

OR instead of Cole, Lloyd getting water and s t r u g g l i n g because it's the only element of the six he hasn't had control over at some point or another

Or Lloyd gets earth idc

And yes

That means that Kai

Finally

Becomes the green ninja

And surprise surprise, he loves it

He masters it fairly quickly because sometimes he practices in his room alone because he's a natural

He loves the power, a little too much

We get the same temptation deal that Kai gets in s4

"It's too much, I can't control it!"

At one point he goes to talk to Skylor, since she's the only other person who had experienced Lloyd's power and knows what it's like

They have a nice long chat, mostly consisting of Kai being like "I'm a horrible person, I'm gonna turn evil, please stop me." And Skylor being like "shut up, sit down, and get a hold of yourself. You're stronger than this, and you're gonna beat this. Plus don't worry I'll kick your butt if needed."

I just really love this

We also get some one on one quality time which is nice because so often they're in at least groups of three so it'd be nice to see some rarer duos

Like Zane and Nya

Or Jay and Kai

I need more Jay and Kai bromance

Nya and Cole

Jay and Zane

Lloyd and Cole is honestly an underrated duo

OR NYA GETS LLOYD'S POWERS

KAI IS SALTY

"The ONE chance I have to be the green ninja, Nya gets it? Oh, come on!!"

I could go on about this for 5 hours

A power swap

263 notes • Posted 2021-02-03 23:09:21 GMT

#2

So I have finally finished my epic 15 season Ninjago rewatch, so I'm finally ready to address the scene is s15 episode 15.

The scene I'm talking about is when Jay is about to drown and he says "Think! What would Zane do? Actually, no, think, what would Kai do?"

When the episode aired responses were full of "haha lol Kai dumb tho" and "lol *proceeds to drown* yup kai" and I have a PSA.

Kai isn't dumb.

Jay’s reaction is completely legitimate in this scene, and here’s why:

When you (or Jay, in this case) think of who’s smart on the team, of course Zane is the first to come to mind. So why would Jay say, no, what about Kai?

It’s simple. Zane is an analyst. Kai takes action.

Zane is smart in the way that he can observe an environment and analyze solutions, scenarios, plans, etc. In the s5 episode “Grave Danger” it’s Zane who solves the first puzzle, because he has time to think it through.

Kai, on the other hand, is very impulsive. Impulsiveness isn’t the same as stupidity. Kai thrives in environments and situations where he’s on a time crunch and has limited time and options. In the s4 episode “Versus” he defeats the master of smoke while on his feet and with limited options. He tries something. If it works, great! If it doesn’t, no harm done (probably), try again! 

Kai is a natural leader, and it’s no secret Jay looks up to Kai in tough, time sensitive situations. At the end of “Grave Danger” it’s Jay who asks Kai what he thinks he should do. Kai is best at quickly weighing options to come up with a quick solution, whereas Zane takes more time to come up with a more effective one.

So, in “Nyad,” Jay needs a solution to a problem. His first instinct goes to Zane, like most of us, because he needs someone smart. But he also realizes that he has a few minutes, max, before he’s out of time, and who does he know is good in time sensitive situations?

Kai.

So yeah, it is completely legitimate that Jay tries to put himself in Kai’s shoes, because if someone else was in that situation, I’m sure they would have done the same.

318 notes • Posted 2021-07-23 22:14:11 GMT

#1

we love our “i recognize that the fanon interpretation of this character is not consistent with canon, let alone itself, but on the basis that i enjoy the tropes part of the fanon interpretation i’ll allow it”

541 notes • Posted 2021-11-11 02:46:33 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[tenderlyrenjun]

the 90s love series

edit: to be clear, this is not a masterlist. it is just a list of ideas that I want to write, that all happen to be related to one another. I'm not going to write all of them, if no one is interested. no interest = no writing

update: I will BLOCK YOU IF YOU REBLOG WITHOUT COMMENTS, ESPECIALLY to a fic rec blog

edit: "official" masterlist link

i've been thinking about this since the teasers dropped ...

wanna go ice skating with me?

newbie hockey skater!yangyang x figure skating champ reader: you have a big recital in the next coming months, but a boy has capitalized your rink, doing the wrong skating moves. he doesn't even know a hockey stop, for God's sake!! he keeps trying to stop with a missing toe pick, so you take pity on him (and definitely not because when he takes off his helmet, he's attractive as hell)

strangers to friends to lovers, fluff

time-out

prequel

hockey co-caption!jeno x figure skating champion!reader: your coach (another skater who is about your age) has a stick up her ass, but more importantly, she has a rule: no fraternizing with enemy. And it's not like she has no basis for it. the gators have a losing streak, which obviously affects their co-captain, aka playmaker, so he keeps scheduling practices that go way later than his allotted time, straight into your individual practice time.

enemies to lovers, fluff/angst/suggestive, make out session in the locker rooms (maybe, lol)

health & fitness

freshman hockey player!sungchan x reader: honestly, you have no idea about hockey. you're actually surprised that your school even has a hockey team, much more when you hear that it's ice hockey. But a cute boy in your health & fitness class sneaks into the back of your class everyday and offhandedly mentions that he plays, after your professor pairs you on a project. soon, you find yourself researching a bit more about hockey and then you find yourself on the ice, belly flopping rather harshly after the zamboni clears the floor

strangers to lovers, fluff only, this is based on 13 year old me in high school when I "fell in love" with the cute 16 year old hockey player who said hello to me everyday during health class lmaoo

teacher's assistant

volunteer teacher's assistant!renjun x volunteer psychology research lab assistant!reader: you never really considered taking GS Professor Qian's music theory class, especially since you failed the AP Music Theory Exam in high school, but one of your friends told you that it was a breeze, plus the one of the GS's in your lab said he's a really nice guy. You show up on the first day and get absolutely entranced by how hot he is, so you go to his office hours for a little help (and whether you added a little spice to your outfit is between you and God). One problem: Professor Qian isn't there. It's some random undergrad named Renjun, who you vaguely remember passing out papers in class. And somehow Renjun already knows you, striking up a conversation about the hockey game last weekend.

angst/fluff, friends to lovers, etc. etc. (yes, ik that renjun's not in the 90s love line up but I love him)

hot girl bubble

premed major!Jaemin x chemist major!reader: Jaemin is nice. Too nice, and it comes across ... yeah, but as his biochem labs get busier and his courses get harder, he kinda retreats from the social scene. Just for a little while!! Only during midterms and projects season, but when he gets back to hanging out with his friends, they are all dating. He fifth wheels on one of the dates and accidentally ends up hitting on someone at the bar. It's not the first time it's happened, b it is the first time he responded to that 'lost connections' page on Instagram

fluff, college au (duh), strangers to lovers, doot doot doot, nerd Jaemin (ik that jaemin is also not in the 90s love unit but my brain rambled off renjun's part)

All About You

music major!Chenle x music major!reader: Ever since Renjun applied (and rejected the job), Chenle has wanted the learning assistant position with Taeil's group piano class. So, he does what every college student with too much passion does: stalks him. It half-works, considering that they are already pretty good friends, but the position is filled!! He finds out who you are quickly on and accidentally makes a teasing remark that sounds a little too bitter. You start to think that you are enemies or something, which is the last thing he wants! He just wants your job!

fluff, enemies (ish) to lovers, strangers to lovers, academic rivals to lovers!!

[ultraclops]

Day 3: Be True To Yourself

Aka me literally just infodumping about my Ocs because I love them ♡

Brought to you by Colorvision! Yep, I decided to get off my lazy butt and color traditionally today :)

First off, Tiara Depurrnaire (She/Her)! A Sweetypie cat who's partially related to the Snugglemagne family and, in my timeskip AU, Adorabat's future girlfriend. Like Adorabat, she lost her leg to a monster while wandering the King's dungeons. She aspires to be just as brave as Adorabat but lacks the gall, being content to watch and learn from the sidelines. As they both get older Tiara realizes that she is a lesbian, and develops a mutual crush on Adorabat that turns into a relationship. As she ages, Tiara' aspirations to become a hero fade, and she settles for becoming a ballet teacher. She learns to be brave in her own way and unconditionally supports her monster-slaying adventuring partner, no matter how their paths diverge.

T H E Y (Also I need to post my full adult Adorabat design sometime)

Next up is Sherbet (They/Them), a Sweetypie rabbit who makes ice cream for a living! I don't really have a backstory for them but I believe they realized they were nonbinary in their younger years (around early middle school age) and have fully embraced their identity! They don't let anything get them down and are eager to cheer up the citizens of Pure Heart Valley, one ice cream cone at a time. They're also good acquaintances with Badgerclops and Adorabat, for obvious reasons. Their eyes function similarly to Badgerclops', as they only open when they feel strong emotions.

Next (and honestly one of my favorites) is Moa Nola (Xe/Xem), an agender Oriental Shorthair cat who, surprisingly, isn't related to the Mao clan. Xe originally started off as a joke character based on the misspelling of Mao Mao's name in "I'm Mao Mao", but I eventually grew attached to xem and gave xem a full-fledged backstory. Xe comes from a family of fishermen, but after xyr father was killed in a monster attack, xe decided that xe wanted to become a legendary monster hunter. Xe created xyr cloak after xyr first successful monster fight. After being mistaken for the son of Shin Mao too many times, xe used it to xyr advantage and began going under Mao Mao's title for a while. However, after being stopped by Mao Mao himself, xe dropped the act and began looking for a new sense of purpose. Ironically, xe starts collecting antique ventriloquist dummies similar to Mr. Din Danalin.

Following up on the "based on a misspelling" theme is Rhapsody (She/They), a femme-aligned nonbinary Sweetypie vampire bat inspired by Adorabat's name being mistranslated as "doorbat" in YouTube autocaptions. She is Adorabat maternal cousin, as their mother is Sonara's sister. Rhapsody was heavily impacted by Sonara's death, but rather than becoming tough like Adorabat or overprotective like Eugene, she became more reserved out of fear that they could be next. In other words, she became a doorbat (haha funny). With the arrival of Mao Mao and Badgerclops, plus the defeat of the monster that killed their aunt, Rhapsody begins to come out of her shell and indulges in their biggest passion - music. Like Adorabat she learns to use their voice as a weapon, but hers is more of a siren's song than a sonic screech. In my timeskip AU, they leave Pure Heart Valley to become a popstar, writing songs inspired by her childhood memories and their home. It's obscured by the flag but the marking on her chest is a bleeding heart, emphasizing her passionate drive.

(Rhapsody's kid and adult forms [kinda old])

+ OCs of mine I didn't feel like making alternate drawings for:

Buzz-Buzz (Zhe/Ze/Zhey), a demigender Sweetypie bumblebee bat who protects the bees of Pure Heart Valley! Despite zer small stature, zhe is actually an adult, just naturally small. Zhe also grows herbs on the side and volunteers at the Pure Heart Valley hospital. Primarily because zhe has a crush on the head doctor there... (I did not make zer to selfship with Cuddlestein. Nope. Not at all.)

My Badgermao "fankid", Sai (They/He/It)! I say "fankid" in air quotes because they're from an AU where Badgerclops' spare arm became corrupt and gained a conscience. Their robot arm is actually their body - the rest of their body is a projection of light, similar to the gems from Steven Universe! They have masculine programming (as their AI was made using Badgerclops's DNA a la Cortana from Halo), but identify as agender and use they/he/it pronouns. Originally they began as a blank slate with no personality aside from the programmed personality Badgerclops gave them, but they eventually grow their own personality and moral compass as they analyze the Sheriff's Department's work. Just like Badgerclops, they have a passion for building robots and weapons, and can even modify themselves to fit the situation! Most of their creations are usually for fun, though.

Anf the last one I have a reference for but not the least, Karma Vesper (She/They)! This one is actually my self-insert, lol. She is a biro-ace demigirl Javanese Cream-Point Cat! Her necklace was a gift from her family, and her hood was a gift from her mentor. After her village was ambushed by criminals, she became a wandering hero, and accidentally stumbled upon Pure Heart Valley while following a report of increased monster activity. At some point during her adventures alone she realized that she was biro-ace, since she felt no sexual attraction but still felt romantic attraction. Around the time she came to Pure Heart Valley she realized that she never really felt, like, 100% a GIRL girl (if that makes sense) and began identifying as a demigirl. (Yes this is my hidden self-actualization story :>) She enjoys researching gemstones and ancient artifacts, and the Ruby Pure Heart immediately caught her attention once she laid eyes on it. While she is still a wandering hero, she has a temporary residence in Pure Heart Valley, where she stays to research the Heart's powers as well as assist the townspeople. Her and the Sheriff's Department didn't start out on the best terms since Mao was worried she was trying to replace them, but they tolerate each other now.

+ the OCs I don't have references for:

I did have a reference for these guys but idk where it is rn ;-;. Anywway, my most recent OCs and also some of my favorite OCs are Bernard and Pierre, a black bear and polar bear respectively (both use He/Him)! They are both gay and in a healthy relationship & live in a cabin in the forest together. They are just. Two old gay granddads and I love them. Anyway! They both met after an accident which caused Bernard to blow out his left knee and Pierre to lose his left hand; they had been best friends since, and boyfriends later on! Bernard is a baker while Pierre is a wood carver, although they indulge in each other's interests as well. For the most part they just stay in their cabin in the forest, but they leave to buy groceries and sell their products.

And the final OC I'm gonna talk about is Storm Mao (They/Them)! They're from an AU where Mao was born in a litter of five, like his sisters. Ever since Storm were young, they felt like weren't "normal" compared to their siblings. They didn't feel like a girl or a boy. After Mao came out as a trans boy, they began questioning themselves further. Eventually they decided to ask Contacts Sister for help, as she was among the smartest of the Mao children. Contacts explained to Storm that there are people who don't identify as a boy or a girl, and Storm realized they weren't alone. Since then, they started identifying as nonbinary and began using they/them pronouns, and their family supported their decision. Aside from them and Mao, their litter siblings are also LGBTQ+ - Mamoru (He/Him) is AroAce, Bernadette (She/Her) is bi and Zhijun (He/Him) is gay. I'd talk about the AU more in a separate post, if anyone wants me too^ ^;;

If I remember any other LGBTQ+ OCs I have, I'll reblog with them ✌

[legendary-cucumberdragon]

The beauty of Kahramanmaraş

Today I want to share some great pictures of a great city!

It is sadly unknown to many people but it has a lot of history

That is the kale (castle) of Kahramanmaraş at night

"MARAŞ BİZE MEZAR OLMADAN, DÜŞMANA GÜLZAR OLAMAZ" - Before Maraş isn't our graveyard it won't be a flowerfield for the enemies.

After WW1 the Ottoman Empire lost and got occupied by 5 countries. Maraş got occupied by the French along with some other parts of Turkey. Then the war of independence started and Maraş freed itself from the French occupation. After Maraş gained their independence on the 12th of Februrary in 1920, they got the name Kahramanmaraş.

Kahraman means hero or heroic. Since then the "independence day" of K.maraş is celebrated every year on the 12th of Februrary.

The Çukur hamam is an ancient bathhouse that exists since the 16th century.

That is the Kapalı Çarşı, it exists since the 1500s. There are a high variety of spices, various dry vegetables and fruits, a big diversity of sweets (for example pekmez sucuk and many other), handmade copper products, handmade wood products (both are very famous there), clothes, gold/jewellery and much more!

Such a beautiful view 🇹🇷

That was near the Çarşı (City) on a national holiday (Safer bayramı)

And one of my favourites! Ladies and Gentlemen the most ridiculous building in the world (dünyanın en saçma binası) and no I am not joking! That is the real name! XD This baby was built in 1994 and it can be seen from everywhere, because of its bright colours.

Did you know that this city makes also the world famous Maraş ice (Maraş dondurması)? It is usually made with goat milk and the roots of a special expensive plant that is called Sahlep. (If I remember right 1 kilogram of Sahlep costs 500-800 Turkish lira)

And the food above is called Tarhana. It is a special kind of chips/crisps that is made out of joghurt and crops. They cook it in very big cauldrons and then they dry it in the sun. The half dried Tarhana is softer and is called Firik. You can eat them together with nuts or fresh pistachios.

The chips/crisps Tarhana is just made there and not every Turk knows that kind. The other kind of Tarhana is the toz (powder) Tarhana, it has a red colour and people make soup with it.

There so many hidden beauties in that city, I wish I could put more pic in this post

12 Şubat kurtuluş bayramımız kutlu olsun!🇹🇷

If you want to see more:

A documentary about Kahramanmaraş in Turkish (reblog if you find something in English)

[metanoiamorii]

❛Falling for her wasn't falling at all. It was walking into a house and suddenly knowing you're home.❜

♧ Title: Coming Home [CH]

♧ Status: Drafting, honestly

♧ Point of View: Most likely third person, with two, three povs it can jump between

♧ Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Romance

♧ Warnings: Nudity, violence, attempted murder, eldritch beings, gore, witch hunts, using religion to commit atrocities, deaths, tragic endings, star crossed lovers, tragic romance, mention of past abuse, mention of past torture; I'm sure I'm missing some.

♧ Featuring: A cottage witch and her two eldritch idiots for a good start.... Diverse LGBTQ+ characters, enemies to begrudging allies to friends to lovers to enemies, complicated relationships, morally grey characters, complex and complicated world-building, slow-burn relationships, plenty of symbolism, witches, fantasy religions, found family, cottagecore, character redemption arcs, character corruption arcs; I'm sure I'm missing some but you get the picture!

♧ Setting: Honestly? It's kind of ambiguous as I can't make up my mind where it's set. Overall it's a cute remote cottage these three share. With mention of other places.

♧ Tease: Just because you are feeling lost, it does not mean that you need to go back their way, even if they were the only home you've ever known. You left it for a reason, remember? It is best to stay lost and search for a better home than to return to the home that was never really a home. Build your own home.

♧ Synopsis:

Liraz lives a simple life. Her days are spent alone, with her companion Blodeu. Together they live in seclusion in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. It is as they prefer, for their own safety.

In the mornings, Liraz wakes. She cooks herself breakfast and plans for the day. Until noon she tends to her cottage and her gardens. In the evenings, with Blodeu she ventures into the woodlands nearby and enjoys nature and all she finds. Before she sleeps, she leaves offerings to the spirits and to the gods. She wakes. The cycle repeats.

One night, however, the cycle is interrupted.

First comes a hailstorm as never witnessed before. When she stirs from bed to investigate, the wind calls her by what she is: witch. The next night opposed to a hailstorm and wind, there is a fire that blazes across the entire mountain. The flames too cackle in greeting by what she is: witch. The next night, she meets the spirits that have been interrupting her sleep.

Or so, she had expected spirits. She may have bargained a bit more than she could handle. But she isn't a woman that rejects a challenge.

Ultimately, Liraz comes to an arrangement with the two. Soon, they all fall into a pattern that involves a reliance and acceptance of each other. The company they provide, the cottage is no longer quiet and lonely, and Liraz... Liraz doesn't mind it as much as she should.

♧ Excerpt:

[this is one of the few times I write first person, so enjoy it. This all started since I was writing a journal for this woman in a dnd campaign]

I admit, I must have fallen asleep waiting. It's to my surprise, it did not come during the Witching Hour, but after, in what could be in the early morn, before the suns and moons would chime five. And it was not an it, but a they. It would make far more sense, than it being one entity. Their presence, not such a show as the night before, stirred me from my slumber.

The first clad in dark with skin to rival ice. Off the ground they walked, glided I believe is the right expression, on the wind. And in hand carried a gnarled staff made of ice. The second donned the head of a bird (more a vulture than a raven, I would say), with eyes made of ember and cloaked in a dark mantle of feathers. And they carried a gnarled staff made of fire opal and flames. One singed the earth where they walked, and I knew it was the one that came last night; the other chilled the wind when they breathed, and I knew it was the one that came the night before.

At the boundaries, where the wards began, they stopped. To me, they greeted, in voices that tasted older than anything I have known, "hail witch."

As I moved forward, to stand within my safety, but before them, I returned their greeting. "Hail spirits."

And how they laughed a laugh, one that chilled the air and my very bones, and another that ignited the blood in my veins and sent my heart racing. "We are no spirits."

"Hail daims then." I corrected myself.

And again, they laughed that very very laugh. When they settled, they replied, "you have not a name for what we are… some would call us—"

Although they spoke, I caught not what it was. It felt like a blow that hit hard and forced me back a step. In I took a breath and my ground I stood.

"What do you want from me?" I asked them as I held their eyes.

♧ Characters: Surprisingly, I only have four main characters for you this time. Sure there will be others, but this is their story. Get a taste of simplicity with me.

Ekaterine Liraz, The Cottage Witch

Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Witch • Asexual • Demiromantic

Liraz is the known witch who lives on her own at the top of the mountain. She lives around and comes to town only for supplies once or twice a month. Her only companion is the owl she keeps and she keeps to herself. She has secluded herself atop her mountain and in her cottage for her own safety, against the urge of he nature for adventure.

Blodeu, the Horned Owl

Male • He/Him • The familiar of Liraz

Blodeu is the faithful familiar of Liraz. He's moody and overprotective of his witch. With his unnerving eye, he keeps away any of the townsfolk who wish ill against Liraz. In return, he enjoys chin scritches, being able to fly the open sky, and being able to accompany his mistress on her endeavors.

Kregznic, or En for short, The Eternal Flame

Agender • They/Them [they will have days in which they will align She/Her and He/Him, but overall it's They/Them and you need permission for anything else] • Great Old One • Asexual • Aromantic

The Keeper of the Flame, En is well known amongst their own kind as a ruthless individual that holds no affection for anything except their other half. They're withdrawn and antisocial, and quick to set anything aflame. The few capable of becoming close to them get to see the unwavering loyalty and support they place, and their devotion to ensure the happiness and security of what they love.

Marzomme, or Moro for short, The Eternal Frost

Genderfluid • He/She • Great Old One • Asexual • Demiromantic

The Keeper of the Ice, Moro is well known by his own kind as a childish. He lacks the care to understand human concepts, but he does enjoy learning their traditions and cultures. Very airheaded, Moro carries a light attitude about him. He's immature and enjoys pulling pranks. Rarely does he share in En's indulgence of ruin and damnation, but when he does... most prefer the Flame.

Taglist: @little-boats-on-a-lake, @zielenbloesem, @cecilsstorycorner

If you would like to be added or removed, feel free to send in an ask, shoot me a dm, or reblog this! 💕

[sansxfuckyou]

We'll just go to the Pokemon center

Summary: Being unaware of what your local Pokemon center is like can be life and death situation, or, in this case, a getting pelted by golf ball sized hail or not getting pelted by golf ball sized hail situation

Warnings: None.

Authors Notes: Started playing Violet, and I'm sitting there, going what the fuck is this shit? In reference to the Pokemon Booths, as my family has lovingly dubbed the new Pokemon Center, and I decided that I should write gay fanfic about it, and @sobredunia, I'm tagging you because of tradition around gay Pokemon fic, once again, I take reblogs as a form of currency over likes.

Time seemed to move faster in the Paldea region, and neither champion was ready for that.

The two had simply spent the entirety of the day out catching new Pokemon and teaching other trainers how to properly challenge someone. They had to explain that sitting there and waiting for someone to engage a fight would get them nowhere, and that eye contact was a silent oath for battle. The next minute, it was dark out, and rain was starting to come trickling down on their heads, neither of them bought a raincoat, and the rest of their gear was at the hotel in the next town over.

Water started to pour down on them faster, bit by bit, slowly picking up quantity and panic slowly started to show on their faces. Red was first to move, frantically glancing about for civilization, and yes! Yes! Salvation, sweet salvation, a town! Within walking distance of their current location, his grip on Blues wrist was a vice before he started to drag along his friend. He got no objections as they meandered hastily to the nearest town, only to scramble for cover because raindrops were turning to hail that slowly got larger as minutes passed.

The glow of the Pokemon Center and they both knew that salvation was near, euphoria rushed through their veins at the idea of not getting battered by golf ball sized hail.

But as that glow of red edged closer and closer they realized that Pokemon Centers in Paldea aren't the same as any others they've encountered. No book rack, no seating, no walls, no roof, everything they had come to associate with Pokemon Centers isn't in this caricature of something so important to a journey. Sure, there was a machine (The boxes maybe?), and nurse Joy, a guy who was probably selling stuff was also there. It wasn't the same though, it held some of the elements needed, but it still didn't have anywhere for lost trainers to avoid the elements, or a wall to sleep against, it was different.

A large chunk of hail smacking into the back of Blues head broke him from thought and he was quick to drag along Red who was just a bit weirded out at the sight of the Pokemon Center. The ground below their feet was slippery and Blue nearly bailed multiple times, Red hoisting him back up every single time it happened. They ended up with arms around each others shoulders, body temperature the only heat they held as Blues vest was getting torn by the ice balls and Reds much more sensible jacket was soaked by the previous rain.

Blue practically threw Red to the ground, the pavement was dry, dryer than the ground they were just hobbling across, Blue was quick to join him on the ground.

"Dude, we aren't kids anymore, I think I heard something crack," Red said, he was rubbing his shoulder as it had hit the wall, they were merely in their early thirties, but he recently started feeling the waiting aftershock of three years of undernourishment on Mount Silver, he didn't notice it until a doctor said it was happening, a placebo effect of sorts.

"Oh shut the fuck up, you remembered to bring a rubbing cream for it, right?" Blue asked, silence followed his question and he sighed, what an idiot his friend was.

"No," Red answered with quietly, pulling off his jacket to check for signs of bruising, nothing much, he gave a sigh of relief as he rested the hood over his cap, curling his arms around drawn up knees.

"Lucky you I remembered to bring some, dumbass," Blue muttered the last bit, but the relief on Reds face was monumental, "how far away is our hotel?"

"A days walk, give or take," Red answered with, reaching into his pocket and pulling out three of his Pokemon, glancing through semi translucent red and realizing he forgot Charizard and Butterfree, his two Pokemon that could provide any coverage, "Please tell me you brought any of your bird legion?"

"Of course I did, but I'll have you know that I refuse to let any of them get pelted by golf ball sized hail," Blue said, very, very fast to defend his flying friends, he had become obsessed with them since Kanto, how could such a heavy body be hoisted by such fragile wings? It had his scientist mind perplexed and obsessed and he didn't spend a day without investigating winged Pokemon, Reds Charizard has become a common test subject.

"Even Pidgeot?" Red asked hopefully, the glare he got spoke volumes.

"Especially not Pidgeot, he has been at my side for over twenty years and you dare suggest I put him through golf ball sized hail?" Blue questioned, his tone was a statement and his gaze a demand that Red could choose to ignore, but he had a very good idea of how Blue would react if he answered wrong.

"Right," Red sighed out, he was shivering a bit, Blue leaned into him, grasping his torso and nuzzling into the slightest bit of warmth he could get.

A comfortable silence washed over the two, Blue was even getting close to conking out right then and there.

"Um, do you two have anywhere to stay tonight?" Came a voice that had Blue shouting a profanity or two out of shock as he snapped up, only to be greeted with the worried face on the nurse.

"Nope, to far away in this weather," Blue said, vaguely gesturing to the chunks of hail shattering as they hit the ground.

"Oh, will you to be alright then?" The nurse proceeded to ask, both Red and Blue shared a small glance, maybe Pidgeot would have to come out for heat.

"Probably, if we stop breathing can you bring us to somewhere warm instead of this fucking booth of a Pokemon Center?" Blue asked, he nearly sneezed at the end, the cold seeping into his bones much faster than Red.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, but if it happens I will," the nurse said, turning her gaze away from the two, Blue fumbling to release Pidgeot who wrapped a wing around the two gently after being quietly asked to do so.

"And could you put word in with whoever designed this infrastructure to make the Pokemon Centers actual centers for people who need to a night out of harms way?" Red added on, his choice of words had Blue a bit shocked as he usually wasn't so bold.

"I'll look into it," the nurse said, she sounded like she was lying, the two could hear that clearly, but chose to ignore instead of pressing her for more information on how the Pokemon Centers turned to booths.

Instead Blue simply pushed up closer to Red, and Red pushed up closer to the Pidgeot who rested its head atop the trainer, chirruping lightly. The warmth they shared was small, but it would surely get them through the night with down soft feathers of Pidgeot curled around the two.