#.. it’s just a lot it’s hard to comprehend. these tiny things mean the universe and that makes me cry

[tutuandscoot]

POV: lying in bed tearing up about Scott going to the store specifically to by a bucket and several bags of rice to fill it to the brim to take to Tessa’s door, ring the bell then leave in time before she answers it so she can see it and read the note he left because he knew this would mean everything to her and then T saying several times in the proceeding years that it is the best present she could possibly receive.

It’s not things like kisses or pda that make you know they love each other more than anything- it’s shit like this; like calling her a terrifying athlete to her face when he knows not feeling like the standard of athlete he was or loving the sport as much as he did was her biggest insecurity. It’s her saying she loves how passionate he is and she thrives off that when he feared he was too much to put up with or how he’s the best ice dancer ever and moves in such an honest, pure way that makes her want to move with him when he was so self conscious about dancing and being compared to her. Fuck literally everything else because they actually saw and do see each other for everything they are and love unconditionally because they kept showing up for each other and seeing all of each other for so freakin long. The simplest act of caring for another human being was essentially the essence of their career and I think that’s why we are so drawn to them and some go crazy over it bc sometimes the simplest things are so inconceivable to understand..

Fuck sometimes I’m fine then I’m like man a love this pure actually is possible 😰

[whore-era]

infatuation - part 1

☁︎ delinquent!ellie williams x preppyfem!reader, enemies to lovers trope ☁︎ smut, angst, tiny bit of fluff ☁︎ summary: don’t let your boyfriend stop you from finding your girlfriend.  ☁︎ warnings: 18+ only. kissing, fingering & oral (r!recieving), masturbation, mentions of weed and smoking weed, mentions relationships w/ men, feelings, kinda mean ellie but then shes nice again, arguing and yelling kinda (let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes) ☁︎ a/n: i wrote this in like one day. hope u all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it! ya nasties ;) ☁︎ word count: 4,347 ☁︎ 1/2 - part 2

you swore to yourself you’d never let yourself get involved with the university’s infamous delinquent— ellie williams. but you should’ve known that’d be hard to avoid, knowing she was just in reach as your roommate’s best friend. 

ellie was always, and i mean always, there in your dorm. either chilling with dina, talking with dina, or, much to your disliking, smoking with dina. 

ever since you ran into her on the first day of dorm move-in, she was constantly there, bickering with you, poking at you, and judging you for every little thing you did. 

ellie had this image of you; an image of this perfect, high maintenance, always put-together, prissy, goody-two-shoes. it was far from the truth, well, kind of. 

you did pride yourself on being one of the smartest girls on campus, and being very active in numerous extracurriculars at school. you were in the student body, the recycling club, the campus book club, the health club, the cooking club— you were just in a lot of clubs. 

but it would be an understatement to say that ellie williams is everything opposite of you. she was on the other side of the spectrum you were on. 

ellie williams was aggressive, a smartass, foulmouthed, risky, and usually up to trouble. always going to the dean’s office for a fight she probably started. the only reason why she hadn’t been kicked out from campus was because her stepdad is the dean's brother. don’t get yourself wrong, she was brilliant being an engineering major. but she was always doing something she wasn’t supposed to as if it fueled her drive.

you unlocked the door to your dorm, greeted with a fog of smoke. hacking out a cough, you switch on the lights, “dina!! what’d i tell you?” you lecture, stomping over towards the window to open it, “if you’re gonna smoke in here, at least open the window!”

“sorry, roomie,” dina coughed out, “we were just hotboxing.” 

you turned towards the pair, criss-crossed on dina’s bed, and furrow your brows, “what? hotboxing?” 

“yea, you know, smoking weed ’til the room fills up with smoke, so the high is more enhanced.” dina explained, you tilted your head to the side, still not fully comprehending whatever hotboxing was. 

the brunette girl leaned against the wall, giving you a smirk. “c’mon, dee. don’t waste your breath explaining,” ellie retorted, “i’m sure lil miss perfect here never smoked or drank before.” 

you scoffed, crossing your arms, “for your information, i have drank before.”

“oh yea? when was the last time, princess?” god, you hated that nickname. you hated the way it made you red in the cheeks. 

“….at church.” you muttered quietly, sending ellie and dina into a fit of laughter. 

“did you hear that, dee? at church! she said the last time she drank alcohol was at church!” ellie let out a boisterous laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. 

“good one, princess.”

you huffed, rolled your eyes, and rummaged around your side of the room to search for what you were looking for in the first place.

was it so wrong for you to not drink or smoke weed? you didn’t think negatively about anyone who used it, but you just didn’t feel comfortable using something that had such an effect on you. you wanted autonomy over your body at all times. 

bingo. you found the cropped white baby tee you wanted to change into, finding it more comfortable than the scratchy sweater you had on currently. turning away from the chatter of dina and ellie, you lifted the sweater above your head, tossed it in your laundry bag, and slipped into the more fitted and more comfortable white tee. 

standing in front of your mirror, you checked your outfit. you thought a simple t-shirt and black yoga pants were cute enough to hang out with jacob in. you fixed your hair, and looked up at the corner of your mirror, your eyes meeting green ones. 

ellie bit her lip, watching the beautiful yet stubborn girl in front of her. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. you just looked so goddamn beautiful. she couldn’t help but take a peek at the way your bare back curved or how soft your skin looked as your sweater slid off your body. ellie definitely didn’t complain about the yoga pants either and how they hugged your ass and thighs in all the right places. 

knowing she was staring at you, you hiked your yoga pants higher and bent over a little, reapplying your favorite shimmering lipgloss in the mirror. you weren’t sure what came over you, but the feeling of knowing ellie was watching you, gave you butterflies in your belly. 

you see her smirk and break eye contact with you. picking up your backpack and your ‘Organic Chemistry 101’ textbook, you bid dina a goodbye. 

“i’ll be back later tonight dina, don’t wait up for me.” you said, slipping your shoes on. 

ellie cleared her throat, “where you headed off to?” 

“pi kappa alpha frat.” you met ellie’s eyes. they looked disappointed, but then quickly rolled to the side, masking whatever sadness you thought you saw.

“hm, i see,” ellie commented, “gonna go blow some frat dude’s cock, huh?”

you groaned, “ugh, no, idiot. i’m just gonna go study.” 

“mhm, whatever you say, princess.” you open the door and leave, hearing the sound of dina yelling ‘be safe’ right before you left. 

walking down the corridor, you thought to yourself ‘jacob isn’t that bad’. i mean, you both aren’t in a relationship by any means. you would describe it as ‘situationship’. jacob was nice, funny sometimes, cute, had a nice body, and was cool. him as a boyfriend though? you weren’t sure about that. he was good company, provided mediocre sex, and was nice to talk to, well, usually he’d talk about hockey and you’d listen. but that’s beside the point. you’re content with this situation, right? 

-

walking back to your dorm from what was probably the worst sex of your life was, quite frankly, embarrassing. you spend time changing into a cute outfit, fixing your makeup, and spritzing on a little bit of your favorite expensive perfume to show up to this dude’s room with him reeking of sweat and ham. you were disappointed, to say the least.

yet, you stayed anyways, unsure of what even compelled you to do that. you stayed for the company, and that company starts rubbing on your ass and tits not even 5 minutes into the netflix show. eventually, you give in, feeling in the mood from a little making out, and you were met with 3 thrusts and cum on your stomach. 

needless to say, you left in a hurry. currently cuddled under your pink duvet with your earphones on, you end up scrolling about on instagram, tapping to like and swiping up to comment on your friends posts. 

while aimlessly scrolling, a picture from @e.williams pops up on your timeline. you study her picture in fascination.

it was a mirror picture of her in the gym, she had her hair up in her usual half-up half-down style with a tight tank top accentuating her physique as she was flexing her arms. gosh, how could someone so annoying be so gorgeous? your eyes trail to her arms and hands. and so fine? you double-tap on the picture, looking at it for a second more before scrolling past to the next post. 

your phone vibrates, and you check the notification from your instagram dm’s.

@e.williams: you checking me out or something ??

you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. luckily, ellie wasn’t here to see that, or else you would’ve never heard the end of it. you type back.

in ur dreams idiot 

you lay in bed closing your eyes, and somehow, your mind drifts off to that annoying green-eyed girl.

your mind goes to the way she looks at you when she thinks you don’t notice, or how even though she comments on everything you do, she’s so attentive about it. your mind plays in your head the way she calls you those stupid nicknames, and as much as you claim to hate them, you can’t deny the way it makes your heart flutter. 

then, your mind floats to the corner of your brain that you keep locked away. you think about the way ellie bites her lip when she gets anxious, how better her lips would feel pressed onto yours. you think about the way she flexes her arms and hands, wondering how they would feel stroking your most intimate parts. 

you find your hand inside your panties. luckily, dina was in the communal showers, doing her 25-step skincare routine. knowing you had the time, your hand goes down to your wet heat, rubbing your clit in slow circles. 

you close your eyes, picturing her in your head, imagining her fingers working on you instead. you think about how perfect she’d look above you, looking down at you with adoring eyes. you knew she’d take good care of you. you suppress the need to moan by biting down on the duvet. 

even when she wasn’t here, ellie had a way of drawing out unrecognizable responses from you. your finger still rubbing circles on your clit, an orgasm began to bubble in your stomach. you picked up the pace, legs beginning to shake, “fuck, ellie..” you manage to moan out as you finish on your fingers. 

gosh, what was this girl doing to me?

-

it was saturday night and you had managed to get another date with jacob. you rejected him at first, but he was very persistent and promised ‘mind-blowing sex’ and takeout from one of the best restaurants in town. you obliged, clearly in it only for the takeout. 

you thought it’d be a good idea to hang out with him. his hockey stories distracted you from the real person you had your mind stuck on, ellie. 

you thought about her all the time, it gave you a migraine. you couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore without feeling nervous. luckily, you managed to avoid her all week, hanging out at one of your good friend’s dorm room ’til you knew the coast was clear. 

you didn’t let yourself think about what it would be like being in a relationship with ellie williams. she didn’t like you at all, not in that way anyway. she’d probably make some comment like ‘hell would freeze over before i even look at you like that’. the two of you together would be a recipe for disaster. you literally despised each other. 

smoothing down your dress, you smiled at the mirror in satisfaction. you went over to your desk and sat down, getting ready to apply some light makeup.

hearing the door open and close, you assumed it was dina.

“damn, who died?”

your head turns and meets those stupid green eyes and that stupid smirk adorned with those stupid freckles that make your stupid heart race a little faster. god, you were so stupid. 

“ha ha, very funny,” you snapped, “what are you doing here, anyways?”

“dina doesn’t get off work for a couple of hours and i didn’t have jackshit to do, so i thought i would wait for her here,” ellie plops down on dina’s bed.

“hell, no. get out,” you demanded, pointing to the door. you really just wanted her to leave so you could let go of the breath you’ve been holding. it made you anxious being alone with her and the fact that she wore that stupid blue button-up that made her look so good didn’t make anything better either. 

“chill out, princess,” ellie said leaning back against dina’s head board, “you won’t even notice i’m here.” 

you huffed in frustration, trying to hide the crimson creeping up on your cheeks. you proceeded to get your mind off the brunette by continuing your makeup, intently dabbing your concealer in, and carefully curling your lashes. you pat your face gently with some powder and brush out your brows, once in a while looking to the side of your mirror, catching ellie looking at you before she quickly looks away, pretending to be on her phone.

“gettin’ all dolled up for your lil’ boyfriend?” she asks dryly, still looking down at her phone. 

“wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“please, do enlighten me, princess.” you swallow hard, “i’ll have you know that i’m going out with jacob anderson tonight.” 

“no fucking way, is that the shithead you’re seeing from pi kappa alpha?” she says, surprised with wide eyes.

“mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, still rummaging in your makeup.

“why am i even surprised, you did always gravitate towards the assholes.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”, you paused and raised a brow. 

“you go for assholes,” she stated, “do i need to spell it out for you?”

“jacob is not an asshole, he’s really nice.” you muttered, patting on some blush. “he’s hell of a lot nicer than you.” 

okay, you knew that was a lie. but you had to think of a way to get her off your back.

“m’yeah, i highly doubt that. he’s a fucking tool,” she says nonchalantly, “where’s he even taking you anyways?”

“he asked me to meet up with him at the frat house, we’re gonna watch netflix and eat takeout and stuff,” you admit. 

“you fuckin’ with me?” ellie looks surprised and almost pissed. 

“no, why would i?”

“are you serious? it’s pouring rain outside and he asked you to come over,” she points out, “the asshole didn’t even have the decency to come over here and walk with you himself.”

your eyes look out the window, barely registering the pitter-patter of the rain hitting your window. you didn’t even know it was raining and you wore a dress. your mind was so consumed with classes, ellie, clubs, ellie, student body, ellie, and ellie. the small details just flew right over your head.

you stay silent, and she just gives you a look. a look you couldn’t decipher.

“you’re a real piece of work, y’know that?” ellie retorts, crossing her arms. jesus, why did she have to look so good like that?

“what’d i do this time? please, share with the class.” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“you just go for guys who treat you like garbage or who’re way out of your league.” she argues, “they’re either too stupid or don’t give a fuck about you.” ouch. that kind of stung.

you close your eyes, waiting before answering back at her, “can you stop it?! just for once. stop judging every single thing i do.” you yell, exasperated.

ellie’s eyes widen and she lets out a laugh, which sets you off even more.

“you think this is funny? you always make some snide comment about me. i’m too high maintenance, i’m a teacher’s pet, i’m spoiled, i go after horrible guys—“ 

“because you do!” she yells back.

“and why do you care, ellie?!” you yell, becoming out of breath, partly due to the hard pounding of your heartbeat in your chest, “why do you care so much?

she goes silent. 

“god, you infuriate me, ellie williams.” you breathe out. you felt almost as if fire was igniting inside of you and your slow breaths were releasing the smoke. you close your eyes, attempting to calm down before opening them again and putting on the last finishing touches on your makeup. as you stand up grabbing your purse, and you hear ellie let out a heavy sigh. 

“you’re seriously still gonna go out with that fucking frat bro prick jacob anderson? after everything i said?” she snarks, “i thought girls like you were supposed to be smart.” 

“yea, as a matter of fact. i am still going,” you give her a mocking smile.

“why? so, he can fuck you missionary in the dark while he finishes in 3 seconds?” she lets out a harsh laugh, “how fucking romantic.” 

“again, why do you even care? you don’t even like me,” you counter, her head spins in your direction.

“who told you that?” ellie appeared angry, her eyes sharp and a serious tone in her voice.

“no one that matters.” 

there’s a pregnant pause in the air as if she’s hesitating to say something. 

“well, whoever the fuck they are, they’re wrong.” she confessed, her voice wavering.

“what do you mean?”

she sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair before standing up in front of you. 

“i’m infatuated with you.” 

“huh?” you manage to croak out in shock. did you hear her correctly?

“yea. you heard me. i’m infatuated with you. you fucking consume every corner of my mind. every capacity of my being.” she comes closer to you, backing you up against the door, “you drive me absolutely insane.”

“then why do you treat me like this?” you ask, looking up at her with big, curious eyes. ellie’s eyes soften at you.

“because— i hate seeing you go on dates with those dicks who don’t deserve you. i hate seeing the way you dress in those short-ass fucking dresses and skirts for them. i hate knowing that they don’t even make you feel good. i hate that you waste your time on those assholes instead of—,” she breathes, “—instead of me.” 

you look at her, searching for any sign of doubt in her face. nothing. no. she couldn’t do this. she couldn’t spring this on you. she couldn’t act one way to you for months and then tell you something different the next.

“so what? you think you deserve me? you deserve my attention?” you snap ungraciously.

“as a matter of fact, yes. yes i do.” she whispers, getting closer to you. “you and i both know it,” her breath fans your face, “i’d make you feel better than any of those assholes could.”

you shift uncomfortably in your spot, pulling your eyes away from hers. 

“i can give you everything you deserve. i can give you everything you want.” she swears. “i can make your pussy feel so, so good, baby,” you can feel your wetness pool in your panties. 

“can make you whimper and moan,” ellie suddenly grabs you by the bare flesh underneath your ass, her warm hands hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around her waist. 

“jus’ give me a chance to show you.” she whispers lowly. you smash your lips onto hers, your hands holding onto the nape of her neck. you knew this was probably a bad idea, but god, the way her tongue felt in your mouth felt ungodly. her tongue rubbed against yours, exploring your mouth like it was something she was destined to do. 

walking towards your bed, your frame still wrapped up around her, she bent down to lay you on your bed. ellie pulled away from your lips and looked down at you, scattering gentle kisses below your jawline towards your neck, your legs still firmly wrapped around her figure.

with your eyes closed, savoring the feeling of her lips all over your neck, you attempted to put an end to this. “el, we can’t,” you nearly moan out.

“why? ‘cause of jacob?” ellie lets out an amused laugh, before pressing her lips against the weak spot of your neck, sucking on it. 

another moan vibrates through you, “god, ellie,” you let out meekly. 

“tell me to stop,” she commands, her lips moving to suck on the spot above your collarbone, the tip of her tongue gliding against your skin. don’t stop. 

“tell me that i’m wrong,” ellie murmured, “that i don’t deserve you.” you deserve me.

her fingers lift up the hem of your dress, exposing your stomach. her lips pepper sloppy kisses against the supple skin of your stomach, “tell me you don’t want me,” i want you, “that you don’t feel the same for me.” i do feel the same for you. 

“tell me, baby,” ellie kisses in the space between your breasts, “tell me you’re not mine.” 

your heart was beating in and out of your chest. this was it. this was your chance. getting an opportunity to be with ellie williams was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and you weren’t passing up your dream girl. 

you grab her face, lifting her lips up to yours. “i’m yours, ellie,” you cooed, “i’m all yours.” 

leaning her forehead against yours, her lips curled into a smile, before pressing onto yours one more time. her warm hands rubbed against the skin on your waist, exploring every inch of warm, flesh. you whined against her mouth, wanting more. you needed more. you needed her. 

ellie’s hands trailed upwards, lifting the dress off you and discarding it somewhere in your room. she took this opportunity to pull away from you for a second, her eyes grazing your body. ellie found it hard to believe she was in this situation, with you underneath her, nearly naked and looking angelic. she took a mental picture of this moment, never wanting to forget how you looked at her— with love.

her fingers went behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall and tossing it to the side.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she whispered, “you’re beyond anything i could’ve dreamt of.” 

your stomach erupted in butterflies, flushed at this newfound sweet side to ellie. her mouth placed sloppy kisses on your chest, sucking on the soft skin and leaving maroon-colored marks as a reminder of where she had been and where she belongs. 

she took your breast in her mouth, letting her tongue wrap around your hardened nipple. “oh my god, ellie,” you hissed. she smirked up at you, letting one of her hands massage and pinch on the other nipple.

“please, ellie,” you begged, “touch me, please.” 

she let out a sickening chuckle, the heat of her mouth fanning your skin, sending shivers up your spine. 

“where, sweet girl?” she said bringing her lips down to suck on your nipple again, “use your words.”

you bucked your hips up, “please, el, touch my pussy. pretty please.” you breathe out.

“ah, ah, ah, can’t hear you, baby.” she mocked, pulling her lips away from your now sensitive nipples.

“ellie, please,” you whined out, “i want you to touch my pussy. please.” 

she smirks, satisfied with where she has you. “that’s my good girl. how obedient, hm?”

she stands up, still in between your legs, and pulls your body to the edge of the mattress. her hands go to the waistband of your panties, using her fingers to ever-so-slowly peel them off of you. she was intentionally moving agonizingly slow. her hands caressed your inner thighs and calves, finally chucking your panties somewhere on the floor. 

“fuck, i’ve been waiting so long to do this,” ellie said, crouching down on the floor in front of you. you could feel her hot breath against your pussy, and you couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“please, i need you, el,” you beg, hoping for some relief. her hands lifted your thighs and placed them on her shoulders, her lips pressing soft kisses in between your thighs. she presses a kiss against your inner thigh, on your pussy lips, and then finally on your clit. 

ellie works slow and patiently, using her fingers to steadily spread your pussy lips apart and gather your wetness with her tongue. she uses one finger and inserts it inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. 

you throw your head back, “oh my god, ellie, yes,” you moan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“look at you, getting what you want, you spoiled girl,” she mutters against your pussy, before putting her lips on your clit again, sucking on your sensitive core. her finger pumping in and out of you easily, the slick sound of your wetness reverberating throughout the room.

“you taste so fucking good, baby,” ellie hums against you, slurping up every drop of your juices. she adds a second finger, stretching you out a bit, but still sliding in and out of you with ease. 

her tongue flicking against your clit combined with her fingers fucking you was enough to almost send you over the edge, you cover your mouth with your hand, suppressing a loud moan that was tempted to come out.

“no, let me hear you, sweet girl,” ellie orders, “let everyone in this whole goddamn hall hear how good i’m fingerfucking you right now.”

you let your hand drop to your side, relishing in the ecstasy, and letting out a moan you were holding back.

“that’s my girl.” 

you hear your phone ring, knowing it’s jacob, probably wondering why you haven’t shown up by now. but here you were, with ellie, knuckles deep inside your pussy. 

she grabs your phone from the nightstand with her free hand, while the other is picking up the pace with her fingers, eliciting another moan from your parted lips, “hey fucker, leave a message. she’s busy right now.” 

you should’ve scolded her about how she answered your phone, but right now, any consequences you thought about vanished as she continued licking circles against your swollen clit while simultaneously curling her fingers up inside your leaking hole. 

“el—“ you barely choked out, “m’gonna— gonna—“

she kept the same pace, not for a second slowing down, “you gonna cum, baby? huh? you gonna cum for me?” 

you nodded weakly, clenching your pussy around her fingers and tightening your thighs around her head. 

“go ‘head, angel,” her pace never misses a beat, “show me who you belong to.”

your back arches off the mattress and you cry out, riding out your orgasm and letting your juices flow out of you. 

after cleaning your thighs with a wet wipe and towel, ellie comes up to hover above your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips. 

“is it too late to ask you to be my girlfriend?” she asks, letting out a sincere laugh. 

“i thought we already established this, idiot.” 

read part 2 here

[dancingbilly]

♱ ❝ I Wanna Be Adored ❞ - The Stone Roses [1989]

A song that allowed myself to momentarily let tears stream down my face for 4 minutes & 52 seconds

The first time I ever heard this song was back in March 2022. It was a late Friday evening, around half 9 maybe 10, and I was hanging around town with my best friend. It was a full moon and we were sat in one of our local park’s band stands, surrounded by the dead of the night. Although we could hear the faint bustles of the fancy bars and restaurants across the street, the moment was full of tranquility and, what seemed like something I had forgotten about during this time, a feeling of serenity.

As the song began to play, I found myself immediately falling in love with the sequences of bass and guitar riffs that introduced themselves at the beginning of the track. I fell even harder as soon as the dreamlike vocals of Ian Brown could be heard, and all I could think about in the moment was how beautifully composed this song was. I’ve heard similar before but, nothing could comprehend to what I was hearing in that moment.

My friend began to tell me about the guy she had been talking to and how this song reminded her very much of him; reminiscing on the adventures they had shared within the short amount of time being together. I sat in silence next to her, listening to what she had to say, focusing on the emotions held behind each word whilst the song continued to flow in the background. I love to hear people’s point of view on music, especially when it’s songs that hold greater meaning to them personally. Of course, once the song had ended we began chatting about other things, before continuing whatever it was we had planned for the rest of the evening. I didn’t think much of ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ after this, and truth be told I completely forgot about it.

Until one night.

It was the early hours of the morning back in August. I was awake in a mind spiral, overthinking about numerous things. University, the future, my purposes but most importantly romance. I’m a bit of a romantic, you see, having grown up reading wattpad and fantasising about the possibility of marriage; all that sappy, ‘doesn’t really exist’ crap. There had been one boy in particular who had been running through my mind for such a long time now, and in a way I was sick of it. Sick of being hung up on something I knew was going nowhere. Sick of not being able to just ‘get over it’. I was frustrated, tired and in actual fact, had had enough.

Music helps me with a lot of things, especially understanding my emotions. It’s a way for me to express myself through the melodies and the lyrics that pass through my ears. So with this in mind, it’s no surprise I was plugging in my AirPods and scrolling through Spotify. I’m very fond of the Discover Weekly playlist that Spotify composes for you. In fact, I check it almost every week to see what gems it beholds to me (I’ve found a lot of great stuff through it). ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ by The Stone Roses was the first song to be suggested to me, and I was immediately remembered of my wonderful friend showing me the track a couple of months back, and vaguely remembering that I enjoyed it.

I gave it a play.

Immediately, I was falling back in love allover again. The riffs, Ian Brown’s vocals, the lyrics; it was even more beautiful to me than the first time I had heard it. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten such a tune. As soon as I heard “ I wanna be adored…’’ echo through the tiny speakers into my mind, I could feel the tears leaving my eyes. I cried; properly cried.

I hadn’t cried so hard yet so soft like the way I had cried during this song in such a long time. A build up of so many feelings, so many thoughts pouring down my cheeks as I laid in bed. Although I knew I was upset, I could feel a heavy weight lift from me, like a sigh of relief when you know you have nothing to worry about, nothing to stress about; that everything is going to be okay. I allowed myself to cry, allowed my pillow to get a little bit soaked. I even allowed my nose to get just a little bit snotty. I knew that I needed this release, and I knew that it would do me the world of good. As the song ended, I felt myself taking a deep breath; slowly in and slowly out. Gathering composure, I dabbed my cheeks dry and sat in silence. Thinking, but not too much.

I had never felt myself get so emotionally worked up over a song like I Wanna Be Adored before. In fact, I have never cried over a song like that before. Once again, I am astonished at the emotional capability music is able to hold over us as listeners, and what such a powerful impact it has. Of course, there are songs that make me think, that make me feel emotionally understood, but none that have ever made me tip over the edge like this one. I had it on repeat for the rest of the night, letting it engrave itself into my brain as I fell asleep.

I Wanna Be Adored by The Stone Roses is a song I think everyone should listen to. At least once. Although it won’t give you the same feeling I experienced during my re-listen, I know deep down it is a song that can mean anything to anyone, depending on who is listening (like many songs).

This is the power of music. It holds onto emotions, fills you with nostalgia and allows you to feel like the world isn’t ending, at least not yet.

♡ Weezie

Interested in aesthetics?

Check out my personal; @oheloise

[likimard]

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[purposelynana]

What Did I Watch: #23

EVERYBODY SHOULD WATCH TRIAGE.

Triage could take the whole world by storm if not airing on the same period as KinnPorsche. Because personally, me thinks, Triage is a better story than KinnPorsche. That is true, its set production a lot poorer than the later but, the foundation of a great visual medium is always the story and characterization. And goddamn Triage is surely like has been written by Christopher Nolan in his teenage years probably. I'm not exaggerating, I mean I could say it's like had been written by Christopher Nolan on his prime era (*cough*The Dark Knight*cough*) but Triage still had its minor flaw. It was too rushed on certain parts, over-simplification, and making some scenes just like a complete dumb. Yet overall, I'm going to write something controversial.

This by far, the closest I felt joyous, like having nearly the same feeling as I watched Interstellar.

It was freaking genius. On the level script, I have not found something as this genius as what.... when was the last time I watched a genius series? Sherlock? I mean I rarely watched time-travel thingy when it presented in TV. But the logic was tight and the rules on the universe did make sense. And I just can help to compare this little series that the minority of the world know to a mega box office such as Interstellar. Because you see, you know that when you watch both of those things. The foreshadowing, clues spreaded into tiny little details, and god actually a BL which didn't try so hard to became a BL. Fuck even you can ignore all of the BL aspects, it would still a decent drama. This is, motherfucker, what I want on a freaking drama.

And Love Mechanics, why this wasn't trending when now its currently airing? Nobody told me that the shots were straight like movies eh. The framing is to die for, and everything seemed so screenshot-able. Genuinely I felt rather surprised because the budget sure hell increased a lot than their previous incarnation. It presented like, "yes, now we're damn expensive!".

Sure, the Director's Cut is more in conjunction to each scene rather than the usual Cut, because the usual Cut, I'm not saying it's all over the place, but it's quite a bit messier. When I watched a certain scene, sometimes I wondered why this happened, why it suddenly cut to the other scene that has nothing to do with the previous scene. Meanwhile Director's Cut is neater and I could understand the purpose of why something happened in the first place. I get the point why they had the urgency to separate the two cuts (it's money, no surprise). But as far as I concerned, this isn't airing on broadcast television. It's only on the streaming platform, why bother? God, capitalist.

Love Mechanics is still following Vee Vivis, the ultimate asshole who can't seem make up his mind, and the unfortunate Mark Masa. Thank God the story did tone down from the novel by a lot. Vee is all the same, a destructive unknowingly bisexual, but this time, unexpectedly, I understood him. I understood his intention to try his damn hard to make everybody happy. And Mark, I just couldn't help but to comprehend his stupidity to falling in love with someone like that. Well I know that we couldn't choose the person who we fell into. I've been there and certainly having issues to see my stupidity reflected back at me through Mark's action.

At the end of the day, Love Mechanics is a reminiscence of past events. Past loves. Exes. How stupid I am back in the day.

By the way this is what we called Emmy contender for outstanding lead actor in a drama series. Can we agree on that?

[stxvercgersslut]

Love Without Doubt

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Part 1: It’ll be over and I’ll Still Be Asking When

Other people mentioned: Natasha, Tony, Clint, Wanda & others

Warnings: Mentions of death, heartache, language like normal, angry reader, sad steve, dead Tony, smut in the future, pregnancy, a whole load of angst and a whole lot of fluff in future parts.

Description: Losing Tony Stark was the worst thing to ever happen to you. But finding out that you were 3 months pregnant with your late husbands baby hit the nail on the head. You were alone, heartbroken and Scared. Steve’s riddled with guilt, knowing you were out there alone and pregnant hurt him, how could he leave you like that? Exactly he couldn’t.

A/n: I know the pictures are of a white girl but this is by no means a white girl fic. In fact this is reader insert! Meaning that you get to imagine yourself in this fic as y/n, so I will not be addressing the colour of her skin because that is for you to do! :) I know that this chapter is just a short one but this is the prologue. I didn’t think it needed to be that long.

A/n: ahhhh it’s been a while. I’m sorry for my absence I didn’t really plan on writing this again. But after a lot of thinking 🤔 came to the conclusion that I honestly adore this fic too much not to continue it.

Positive.

Shit!

'No no no no no! Y/n this can't be happening right now! How on earth could you let this happen?' You screamed in your head. Just some of the thoughts that were running wild in your brain as you continued to stare hundreds of tiny little holes into the pregnancy test.

Tony had always wanted kids, ever since the pair of your had begun to date those long 7 years ago he'd been open with you about his longing for children. But now the moment you should have shared with your loving husband was shared with you and your reflection in the mirror. The man you loved would never get to meet his beautiful baby and that fact alone was enough to shatter your heart into slivers. There truly was no coming back from this pain.

How could this be happening right now? More importantly, how could this be happening to you right no! After everything you'd been through the world just wouldn't give you a break?!? With Tony gone how on earth were you even going to provide of a baby? Let alone looked after it on your own!

As these questions continued to race around your brain at 100 miles an hour, your hands began to shake uncontrollably whilst tears began to fall from your eyes. It was no surprise that you were understandably distraught with the cards you'd been dealt by the world.

————————————————————

Despite your pain, Steve was going through heartbreak just as much as you were, completely traumatised due to being forced to watch one of his best friends sacrifice himself in order to save not only the world but also the universe it's self. Not only did he have the trauma but he also had the guilt of your pain looming over you.

Due to what he'd witnessed Steve would find himself experiencing nightmare after nightmare every single night, barely managing to sneak in any sleep before the images of his former best friend, Tony Stark, dying in front of him reappeared in his brain for what felt like the millionth time. It had only been 3 days since that dreaded day yet he'd been tossing and turning ever since. Living alone in his currant state was never a good idea. But since he had no one to help him through the PTSD he had to just struggle on through.  With all his failures coming back to haunt him it was tough but he had to try. Otherwise what was the point in anything?

As the early hours of the morning sunshine began to shine through his half open curtains, Steve jolted awake. Once again awakened by the deadliness of his nightmare. However, this time, unlike any other time, he woke up with an overwhelming sense of guilt towards you. His entire heart burning from what you must have been going through.  After all he knew exactly how close you and Tony use to be, how could he have been so cruel to rip that away from you when you'd been so happy?

Knowing that you'd be all alone in that huge cabin, alone with your thought eating you alive just like his were, truly didn't sit right with him. It was just in his blood to help people, whether or not they actually wanted his help was a different question but if someone was in distress, which he somehow had a feeling you were, he had to at least try and help.

Grunting, the still slightly panicked soldier stretched out his limbs, releasing all tensions from the night before as he did every morning even before the blip. It was just apart of his routine now and he'd never be able to stop that.

'Alright, time to get up I guess' the male mumbled to himself as his feet met the hard wood of his apartment bedroom floor. Ever since the blip Steve hadn't been able to stay at the Avengers compound, too afraid of having to relive all of those failures again. Now, with the compound completely and utterly destroyed, it was just an added reason for him not to go back there. Especially with everything that had gone on in there before.

He may have looked okay from the outside but on the inside? Oh he was a broken man alright. What did anyone expect from a super soldier who'd been through as much trauma as him?

As the male prepared his morning coffee his mind wandered back to you, wondering what on earth you could have been doing in a cabin all alone by yourself. Maybe you were still asleep in bed , shaking off all the loneliness and all the heart break with as much sleep as you could? If that was the case then maybe Steve could rest easier knowing that for the most part you were okay. Maybe he would have been able to forget about you if he knew for certain that you were able to slip into a state of peace when you fell asleep.

But for some reason Steve just couldn't shake the idea of you maybe crying yourself to sleep every night. Or even worse, what if you were listening to that damn hologram again? Or his voicemail again? What if you still hated him? Oh he had to put this right.

Deep down Steve knew you hated the way that he'd handled things, the way he'd brutally dragged your husband away from you. Bursting the bubble surrounding the two of you in the process. But if there was any possible way that he could put all the heartbreak right and ease his Conscience in the process then he had to try right? No matter how much you hated him right now he knew that you'd need a friend right now.

So without a second thought, the super soldier poured his morning coffee into a travel mug (one Bucky had bought him one year), threw on a t-shirt and jeans, grabbed his leather jacket as well as his keys and left the house. There just had to be a way to put this right.

As Steve made his way to the cabin that used to be shared by you and Tony, he couldn't help but lose himself in deep thought. Struggling to comprehend how life had just fucked everyone over so awfully. Yeah they managed to get their lives back and bring everyone home in the process. But what good was that when Tony didn't arrive back home to you safely? What use was bringing all the blipped back when Steve had to explain to you that your husband was never coming home. The world was cruel, that he knew for certain.

It hadn't taken him more than an hour to finally arrive at your cabin, sucking in a deep breath as he slowly exited him car and made his way up to the front door.

Was he really about to do this? Was he really about to attempt to talk to you even though he knew that you most likely hated his guts?

Apparently so since his he curled his hand into a fist and gently knocked on the door, staring is hung that he could hear the sound of joyful laughter. But in reality all he could hear was painful sobs. That was the hardest part, hearing you sob was already breaking his heart. It was times like these he truly did wish that his hearing wasn’t as strong as it happened to be.

With one more breath, Steve finally pulled himself together and knocked 3 times, hoping you’d opened the door for him.

————————————————————

You'd been so caught up in your emotional agony that you'd barely had enough time to hear the first couple knocks, but by the third knock your senses seemed to finally come back quick enough to only slightly hear the very last knock.

After straightening yourself up a little you finally made your way towards the door, dreading the panic attack that was most likely coming your way after everything you’d gone through. However, nothing had prepared you for who you found at the door upon opening.

“Steve?” You groaned almost angrily; practically spitting it out.

Tags: @jtargaryen18​ @chuckbass-love​ @et-lesailes​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @cevans-fics​ @dwights-new-plague @sweetllamaparadise @jessyballet @lharrietg @patzammit

[anissanightyoung]

Paint my world | Minghao

[SUMMARY] At the age of eighteen, you received your soulmate mark, which reduced your vision to black and white. It seems as if fate is playing tricks on you when you receive a vibrant bouquet.

Soulmate au

1,450 words

You walked into your favorite café and sat at the corner table when the waiter asked, "Same as always ma'am?" You politely nodded and replied, "Same as always, Mingyu." And I thought I told you to avoid addressing me as ma'am because we're the same age.” That comment made him laugh, and he reminded you that this is his workplace, and his boss is inside. You loved this table by the corner because it gives you some sort of privacy where you can see and hear other people. At the same time, it gives them the impression that you’re not to be disturbed. You have always been independent and you are proud of that.

Your mother, on the other hand, doesn't approve. "You're already 24 years old and you still haven't met your soulmate." You would have been fine with that, but your family is putting more pressure on you as each cousin and friend marries or meets their soulmate. The problem is that you don't understand why they're putting so much pressure on you. "It's not like I'm avoiding him," you explain to your mother, "it's just fate." The way you see it, this is just not the time to meet him.

You wish your family could comprehend what you're going through. It's been six years since you lost the ability to see colors and could only see black and white. It's difficult for you to see someone else enjoying the world's colors and marveling at its wonders with their soulmate.

You went to work after finishing your meal at the café. You have a 9-to-5 career that you don't like, but the pay keeps you afloat, so you stick it out. Since you don't see colors anywhere in the building, you know your soulmate isn't one of your coworkers. You had hoped he worked there, but you knew fate wouldn't let you find your soulmate that easily.

“Good morning Y/n,” your co-worker, Seokmin, greeted you with a flower in front of you.

“Oh. Hey Minnie, what’s up?” Seokmin urged you to take the flowers from him. “What’s this for?”

“To brighten up your day.” and smiled at you.

“Thank you, Minnie. They’re wonderful, the colors complement each other.”

You were about to start work when you realized what you said. “..the colors complement each other?” So you immediately get the flowers and look at them, staring in disbelief at how the flowers have colors - white daisies with yellow-green pollens, surrounded by tiny yellow roses, with green scrunched leaves in between, wrapped in brown paper, with a yellow ribbon linking it all together. You were afraid your heart would fly out of your rib cage because it was pounding too fast and too hard. This can only mean one thing.

You’re close to meeting your soulmate.

--

On the other hand, Minghao is an art student, particularly skilled at painting when he lost his sight of colors. Did he get upset? Of course, he did. Minghao was very passionate about painting. He loved how intricate coloring can be. He knows he won't be satisfied with the color mixes until he sees it himself, which is why he dropped out of university for the meantime. Provided that the majority of people with color blindness as a soulmate mark were always artists, the administration was understanding of the situation.

His aunt is particularly fond of him, so she offered him a job at her flower store to keep Minghao occupied. Minghao initially hated the idea, as flower arrangements are often based on color palettes. His aunt, however, insisted that he only receive the same sort of flowers in complementary colors. Minghao agreed with this.

Did he hate you? No, of course not. He can't hate someone who is going through the same things he is, and the problem isn't your fault in the first place. It's something about which neither of you has any control over.

He had just finished delivering a bouquet that someone had requested three days prior and was about to deliver another when he decided to stop by a café where his friend, Mingyu, works. It's his first time there, and Mingyu has been pleading with him to come for months because he knows Minghao will adore the setup. He met Mingyu at university, and the two of them shared a passion for photography. He's one of Minghao's friends who respects his privacy about his soulmate mark, and he likes him for it.

“Where are you going to deliver those? They’re very pretty.”

Minghao replied, “down by the corner, that’s why I came here first. Can I order now and get it on my way home?” He has been craving that mushroom pasta that Mingyu cooked for him one night. So, he ordered that and asked Mingyu to add a drink that goes best with the pasta. He took a look around the cafe after he placed his order. When he saw a colored table, he couldn't believe his eyes.

“Hey, everything fine? You look pale,” giving him a worried look. 

“I-I’m fine, I’ll come back for my order okay?” On his way out he kept thinking, if that table has a color, that means you would’ve frequented that table to fill it. This means he'll just have to return to the café at various times in the hopes of bumping into you.

--

Minghao stuck to his original idea of visiting the café every day at various times to see if there were any new colors. So far, it seems that you haven't returned; the café is only black and white, with a single colored table. So he went during Mingyu's shift one day with a different goal in mind: to touch as many things as he could.

“Hey, how long have you been waiting?” He'd request Mingyu's schedule and inform him that he'd be waiting outside.

Minghao responded, “No, I just got here,” eager to enter the café and touch anything he could. It might sound strange, but it's the only way he'll be able to find his soulmate.

“So listen,” Mingyu says, interrupting Minghao's thoughts, “I know you work at your aunt's flower store, but my boss has been seeing you coming here for the past two weeks. He was considering-"

“-God I’m sorry Mingyu. Were you scolded because of that-“

“No! He was considering giving you a place here. They said you've been here a lot in the last few weeks  and figured that you have a lot of free time.” 

Minghao got embarrassed at that thought. It is true, though. He was eagerly waiting for you to return, awaiting the moment when he would finally meet you. "Uh, what job though?”

“Cashier, so they can transfer me to the kitchen full time.”

Minghao didn’t have to think twice. He needs this job to meet you. “Okay then. When can I begin?”

--

You didn't have time to return to the cafe for some reason. And after a few weeks, you're the most free you've ever been. As a result, you were happily trotting down the street on your way to the cafe. Once you were in front of it, you were astounded with the colored handprints on the window wall that read "here". “God, he's here,” you think as your heart races. With so many emotions running through your mind, you tried to breathe calmly. As you enter the cafe, the colors gradually appear before your eyes, until you notice that only a small portion of it is black and white.

Minghao experienced the same thing. He was having lunch in the kitchen with Mingyu when the colors appeared out of nowhere, glistening on his peripherals. “Mingyu, she's here.”

“W-what?! What are you doing! Get up and go!” Mingyu pushed him out of his seat, his face confused by the vibrant colors.

Both of you were looking down at your own feet as you followed the still black and white path. When you saw another pair that wasn't yours, you slowly looked up, stunned by the emotions and colors that were bombarding you, as well as the outline of the man in front of you. You see him, but due to the colors, your vision is still hazy. You were both squeezing your eyes, trying to figure out who was in front of you.

You were able to see this wonderful person in front of you when the surroundings went clear.

“Hey, I’m Y/n.” you were going for a handshake, to not make it awkward, when he pulled you to him and hugged you. “Minghao.” He takes a deep breath and exhales contentedly, “Finally. Thank you for bringing color back into my life.”

--

Ackkk finally. This was long overdue Im sorry. 🥺 I was overthinking every scene and I changed this plot around three (?) times. Hope you like it. 💖

[anistarrose]

hello, my love (ao3)

a slightly late @taznovembercelebration fic for the day 19 prompt “established relationship,” albeit in possibly the least conventional sense of the phrase. in other words, this is the culmination of a lot of Blupjeans feelings I couldn’t not write about any longer

*

It — it feels wrong to say I’ll miss you, but —

No, I get it. It’s gonna be so fucking weird, and I — I know it won’t last forever —

Okay, I — I can’t do it like this. Not if we make it sad. Lup, I love you so much, you know you’re the light of my life and undeath…

Of course, babe.

…and I’ll see you soon.

The world Barry wakes up in is tinted green, obscuring everything besides a few ill-defined silhouettes. His limbs are numb at first, but as… red sparks? run down his arms, the feeling returns as a strange sort of weightless sensation, like he’s floating beneath the surface of a lake.

A few bubbles escape from his nose, and oh shit, he really is submerged in something. Before he can even wonder which way is up, his hand grazes something that immediately tears away — and with it drains out the mystery green liquid, which he’s just going to pretend is water. He staggers onto the floor of a cave, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the light. It’s definitely a cave; he can feel the cool air on his skin and the bare rock beneath his feet — so why is it so bright?

The answer arrives in the form of a voice, whose owner becomes a little more visible to him with each blink of his eyes.

“Care for a towel? Actually, I’m giving you one whether you want it or not, ‘cause if you die of hypothermic shock after everything we’ve gone through to get here, that’s just gonna be awkward.”

She’s beautiful, he knows before he can truly see evidence of the fact. There’s so much care in her voice that her joke can’t disguise, and the towel she slings over Barry’s shoulders is warm, but not as warm as her hands. This feels like the correct moment to freak out over being, as far as Barry can tell, completely buck naked aside from the generous towel gift — but instead, his attention is captivated by his companion, who in complete contrast to himself, seems to be more clothes than body as she comes into focus.

It doesn’t feel right to say she’s wearing her red robe — it’s more like she embodies it, as it moves subtly to indicate her posture, her emotions, rather than to conceal them. What little of her that isn’t a robe is ablaze, but not violently — if Barry only had one word to describe her, he would simply say warm.

Her eyes are negative space amidst the flames, darkness where one would expect unbridled light, but there’s nothing sinister about them — more of a fascination, if anything, evident as she locks her gaze with Barry’s.

He’s been staring, hasn’t he? And she’s been staring at him.

He expects the sheer embarrassment of this whole situation to catch up to him any second, but it just doesn’t hit him. There’s nothing uncomfortable about sharing the room with her.

“Hi,” he says, giving a little wave. “I don’t know how I got here, but… I like your robe.”

She bursts into laughter, illuminating the cave in an ever-changing pattern of red, orange, and pink — and Barry can’t help but wonder if there are a few tears in the mix too, given how hard it is to tell on a face made out of fire.

“Oh, babe. Oh, Barry. Of course you would.” She brings a spectral finger to Barry’s face, evaporating a droplet of water with a single touch, but the warmth that rushes to Barry’s cheeks has nothing to do with the temperature of her hands, only her touch itself. “Sit tight for a second, babe. I’m gonna grab something you’ll like.”

Babe? He’s paralyzed for a few seconds, the word echoing in his head as she floats across the room, sifting through piles of scrolls, jeans, and miscellaneous other items that couldn’t be further from naturally occurring in caves. Does she know me? Does she like me?

He’s finished drying himself off by the time she returns, holding a second red robe — and a corporeal one, no less. She drapes it over Barry’s shoulders, and he slips his arms into the sleeves without thinking twice.

It’s cozy, but something about looking down at himself wearing it brings a fuzziness to his mind that’s not nearly as comfortable as the fuzziness of the fabric. He focuses his gaze on the ghostly woman instead — who makes his mind turn to static in her own right, but in a way that’s more than balanced out by the joy of just looking at her.

“See, we both look good in red,” she says with a wink, and Barry feels the temperature of his face rise another degree or two. He’ll wind up on fire like she is, at this rate. “You’ll want to sit down. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Um, I think… I might be just a tiny bit amnesiac? Like, just a little. ‘Cause I know who I am, but you sound like you know me, and I don’t know you.”

He takes a deep breath, and decides there’s no harm in admitting what she’s surely already noticed. He’s been too confused to try and be subtle. “Also, I definitely just fell in love with you a couple orders of magnitude faster than I thought I’d ever fall in love with anyone, so that’s, uh… cool, but weird?”

The lower half of her face brushes his forehead — not quite solid, but not unpleasant — and he realizes just as soon as it’s over that it must’ve been a ghostly kiss.

“We were gonna ease you into the ‘us being in love and you losing your memories’ thing,” she tells him with a chuckle, and Barry’s too giddy to even wonder what she means by we. “Lay out the groundwork first. We should’ve known better.”

“My bad?” Barry blurts out, and that makes her laugh even harder, until embers are dripping from her eyes like glistening teardrops.

“Oh my god. This must — this must be so much for you, babe, so much to take in. How are you doing it? How are you — taking this so in-stride, and still sounding so much like you, I mean?”

“I mean… I wouldn’t know,” Barry admits. It is so much to take in, and he knows that if he’d woken up here all alone, with no idea how he’d arrived, then he’d be a mess by now — and not the hopeless romantic kind. As it is, he’s holding it together, trying not to think about his headache and taking comfort in the more pleasant of realizations — but he’s still adrift and disoriented, clinging to a figure he can’t remember his reason for trusting. “It — it doesn’t quite feel real, to be honest? Like, I — I believe you, I believe that I loved you — but it’s the forgetting that gets me…”

He can see himself falling in love, but he can’t see himself falling in this kind of love quickly. This soaring feeling in his heart could only be propelled by years of incremental intimacy, years that he can remember none of, years that don’t exist according to the static roaring inside his head. “How could I forget all this?”

She hugs him in a way unlike any hug he can remember, overlapping with the space he occupies until he’s engulfed in gentle flames, and the threads of her robe feel like they’re what’s doing the hugging, having reformed and rewoven themselves around his arms. Not knowing how else to embrace her back, Barry wraps his arms around his own chest, and feels her presence grow warmer still.

He can just barely wrap his mind around the thought that the warmth coming from his own chest might be borne of subconscious familiarity.

“You still have a big obvious head-over-heels crush on me, don’tcha?” she teases, her laughter surrounding him. “Nothing can make you forget that.”

“Yeah, every version of me’s a hopeless romantic. We’ve got that,” Barry admits. “But I — I don’t even remember your name —”

He would know it if he heard it, he’s sure; it’s so close to the tip of his tongue that he’d probably blurt it out instinctively, if only he didn’t always think so hard about his words before saying them. It’s so tantalizingly close, and he wants to know it again, to say it again, more than any other favor the universe could grant him, and doesn’t the universe owe him at least this much —

“Well, I know how to fix that.” She withdraws from the hug, remaining at his side. “And I think it’ll help if you hear it from yourself — if you hear all the truth we can give you, that is.”

She extends a hand, and a simple golden coin flies across the room to land in her palm. It’s embossed with a vaguely familiar rune that Barry can’t translate, but his mind really starts to reel when she places the coin in his hand, and he hears his own voice emanate from it:

Your name is Barry Bluejeans. You are afraid of the dark. Your very favorite thing in the world is swimming in very cold water on a very hot day, but you cannot remember who taught you to swim, or why you’re always so much more scared of the dark at the end of the year.

The beautiful undead woman next to you is named Lup, and as much as it pains you to realize, you have forgotten her, too. There are fundamental truths about the world, about your loved ones, and about yourself that you have been blocked from comprehending — you’ve had more stolen from you than you realize, and there are very few ways to undo it.

Barry, I’m you just moments ago, and I’m about to forget so much. But right now, I remember, and Lup can help you remember too.

Another voice joins the recording — Lup herself, who sounds just slightly different than she has today, just a little less burdened.

If you haven’t guessed from how this nerd talks about me — Her words are punctuated by an affectionate grumble from Barry — we’ve been dating longer than you can imagine. I wish we could just —

You also can’t remember that Lup’s as much of a nerd as you are, Barry, his past self interrupts. You met because you were both nerds.

Oh, come on, you’ll still be smart enough to figure that one out by yourself! But like I was saying, we had a hell of an epic love story I wish we could just tell you — but you wouldn’t be able to understand much of it, and you’d get a headache trying.

So, Barry adds, we thought about what would be the next best thing. And I think we got a pretty good idea.

A classical music piece fades in, beginning with a piano but quickly adding a violin. Barry can’t put a title or a context to the tune, but he recognizes it from the first note and starts tearing up by the third. His fingers tap out a pattern in sync with the piano part before he even realizes they’re doing it, and when he closes his eyes to let the music wash over him, he realizes that the Lup of the present, the Lup at his side, is almost imperceptibly humming along with the violin.

“You’ll remember this again,” she promises, choking up, when the tune eventually fades. “One day.”

Already, the music has stirred ghosts of memories, fleeting emotions, that Barry can almost imagine in context — quiet moments, private conversations that no one could rip away from him because no one else but Lup ever knew they’d happened — and that day feels close, reassuringly so.

Like him falling for Lup again, it feels like an inevitability.

[gureishi]

Happy birthday, darling Lea!

I love you a lot, my dear @quirky-and-kind​. Here is a little story to start your day 🤍

She is starting to nod off in his arms when Zen whispers her name, pulling her back from the brink of a dream.

“Lea.” He sees the way his breath ruffles her hair and smiles, pushing it back off her face. She is curled up against his chest—and at the sound of his voice, her eyelashes flutter and she wriggles closer. There is the slightest crease on her cheek—the imprint of the fabric of his shirt—and for a moment he is frozen (captivated by her peacefulness).

Lea, he thinks, is the sensation of sunrise—when the world is flooded with light and everything springs to life. She fills the space around her with the ferocity of her love and the strength of her gentleness; she radiates vibrancy in a way he can’t even comprehend.

She is full of energy and dedication all the time, and so he loves to see her resting like this: she deserves to sleep soundly. Zen hears the way her breathing has deepened and wonders if he should just let her be.

But tonight is too important; but he needs her to see this.

“Lea,” he whispers again, kissing her forehead. This time, she stirs.

“Sorry,” she murmurs groggily into his neck. “I fell asleep.”

Zen laughs softly because she has nothing to apologize for. He pauses the movie they were watching and runs a hand through her hair.

“I know you’re tired, princess,” he says (and she twists in his arms to look at him, smiling and shaking her head as if to reassure him that she’s already up). “It’s just that it’s nearly midnight and I have something to show you.”

Lea yawns and stretches her arms over her head and something stirs in Zen’s chest. Again, he thinks of abandoning his plan—thinks of pulling her tight against his body and making her melt for him. But it is almost time; but he needs to—

“Come with me, angel,” he murmurs. Lea slips from his lap (he can’t suppress a little groan of disappointment) and stands, looking remarkably alert.

“Where are we going?” she asks. Ah: she trusts him incontrovertibly. It makes his heart shiver.

“You’ll see.”

Zen rises slowly. This couch is so much larger and softer than the one they have at home; it’s easy to sink into it. This whole room, in fact, feels gigantic in comparison to their apartment. And it’s beautiful: the lights are a soft shade of amber; there are fresh flowers on all of the end tables.

And, in the distance, Zen can hear the whisper of waves hitting the shore.

“Is it okay if I’m in my pajamas?” Lea glances down at herself, laughing. She’s wearing the set he bought her for this trip: cute little shorts in a pattern that matches his shirt. And she didn’t ask why it was that he wanted to match even in their sleep: she understood—as he knew she would—that it’s not about being seen, but about knowing that they are a pair.

A set; two halves. It’s how they’ve always been.

“It’s nighttime, darling,” he says, reaching for her hand. “There won’t be anyone out but us.”

So Zen leads Lea across the spacious room; she follows him, curious and eager. Their feet make a gentle patter on the hardwood floors. He holds the door open for her.

“Shoes?” she asks, arching her eyebrows. Zen smiles widely (and it has the desired effect: Lea blushes and her eyes twinkle).

“We’re not gonna need them.”

Lea steps through the door and Zen lingers for a moment. The resort where they’re staying opens directly onto the beach; Lea stands on the sand with moonlight in her hair and Zen forgets how to speak.

“What are you doing?” she asks him. A gentle sea breeze blows her short hair all around her face; Zen thinks his heart is going to burst.

“You are…” Zen shakes his head; the wind catches his hair and whips it around and he struggles to find the words.

“In my pajamas on the beach?” Lea asks.

“Magnificent,” Zen says.

Lea shakes her head and gets that look in her eyes: the one where he knows she is going to turn the compliment back on him. He lets the door fall shut behind him and runs to her side, wrapping her in his arms and sweeping her off her feet.

“Hyun!” she shrieks. He stumbles a little in the sand but maneuvers her easily onto his back. “I can walk in the sand.” 

“You can do everything,” Zen tells her (and it’s true). “But I’m still going to carry you, angel.”

Lea’s arms settle around his neck as he sets off down the beach. He flexes his shoulders a little for her and hears her breath stutter; ah, he knows how to set her whole world spinning.

“You were right,” she says (and her voice is so close it gives him goosebumps). “There’s no one out here this time of night.”

“It’s all ours,” Zen says. He means the beach—he means the universe. He means this single moment in time and every second of their bright, shimmering future.

When he reaches the water’s edge, he sets her gently on her feet.

“Now,” he says. He wraps an arm around her waist and points at the ocean. It’s calm and quiet, lapping delicately against their bare toes. “Look at the water.”

“I’m looking.”

“It’s empty,” he tells her. And it does look that way: so clear you can see straight through it. It’s dark and practically colorless.

“It’s pretty, though,” Lea says, leaning into his side. Zen chuckles, because of course she’d think so.

“That was me,” he says plainly (and Lea peers up at him through the hazy darkness, puzzled). “For a long time, that’s who I was. I was here—rushing against the store, drifting in and out with the phases of the moon—but there wasn’t anything more.”

Life was monotone, he thinks. He worked and slept and dreamed and yearned; he saw everything in shades of black and white and silver.

“Hyun,” Lea says (forceful in the way she gets when he’s hard on himself). “You were always—”

“Take a step,” Zen says.

Lea looks up at him—looks at the ocean—and steps into the water. It rushes over her ankles and shivers around her legs.

Then:

“Oh,” Lea says. Her breath catches in her throat. There it is.

As Lea walks into the water, glitter bursts all around her: bright sparks of light, shining bright as the moon just under the surface of the waves. She looks back at Zen and the awe in her eyes makes him weak.

“Bioluminescence,” she says, her voice raspy. She knows—of course she knows.

She’s brilliant, Zen thinks. He’s always thought so.

“Yeah.” He wades in after her and the lights grow brighter all around them. Tiny radiant plankton dance beneath the water; everything shines.

“And this is—”

Zen comes to stand behind her and wraps his arms around her waist.

“What you’ve done to me,” he says.

Lea waits, knowing he’ll say more. Zen drops one hand to dangle it in the water and sparkles trail behind his fingertips.

“You stepped into my monochrome world and flooded it with light,” he whispers. There’s no sound but his voice and the gentle rushing of the waves, breaking and swelling around their bodies. The bottom edge of Lea’s pajama shorts is getting damp, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Lea turns, then, so she’s facing him; her eyes reflect the sparkles on the surface of the water. He can see that she’s thinking—that she has a million things to say—that her heart is racing.

But: “I love you,” she says simply—and that’s all she needs to say. Love encompasses all of it: adoration; gratitude; devotion. 

Just then, Zen’s phone buzzes in his back pocket. It’s the alarm he set so he’d know when it was time.

Lea raises her eyebrows and he grins and kisses her—bends her all the way back, a firm hand on her waist keeping her from dipping beneath the water’s surface. Her smaller hands grasp at his back and tangle in his hair and he feels as though the water has taken him and carried him away.

“What was that?” she pants as he tugs her upright. Yes: her shorts are definitely wet, and the ends of his hair glimmer with water droplets.

Zen pulls out his phone and holds it up to her. Midnight.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he says.

“Oh,” Lea breathes, and then she throws her arms around his neck. The water is cool but her body is warm; he kisses her again and again and feels like he’s dissolving.

Around them, the ocean glitters. Zen feels himself rocking to the rhythm of the waves and thinks of tides—drifting in and out; endless and unbound. He has always been like that: rushing and breaking; never sure where to turn.

But Lea taught him what it is to be whole. She is the light that shimmers under the surface of the waves; with her, everything shines.

[justalarryblog]

📄 Hometown by @allwaswell16 (2k) | Not Rated

On the day Harry gets his driver’s licence, he drives through the suburbs, heartbroken that he can’t drive home to Louis.

📄 Overkill by @fivesecondsofmae (4k) | Explicit

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

Or Louis and Chubby!Harry are as close as best mates can be and clearly are in love. Time to take it to the next level.

Top!Harry smut and fluff.

📄 New Places, New Possibilities by orphan_account (12k) | Explicit

Harry has always longed for Louis from afar, never sure exactly what Louis wanted, or if they could even have what they wanted. Even though Louis would sneak into Harry’s bed every chance he could, they’d never gone further than cuddles and innocent kisses. But when the boys are finally away from home on their first visit to LA, things finally begin to change.

📄 In All Its Imperfections by @BriaMaria (15k) | Explicit

From: Louis Tomlinson

To: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

“What happened, mate?” Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?”

📄 If We Have Each Other by @pocketsunshineharry / ishiplouis (23k) | Mature

“When are you going to accept my offer to go out again? It’s been seven years and you’re still saying no to a fun night?” Niall complains.

“A night in with Mads is a fun night for me Ni, I already told you that.” Harry responds while serving a customer.

“You’re infuriating, I just want my best friend to go out with me tonight, is it too much to ask?” Niall pouts but all Harry does is chuckle and prepare the coffee machine for the double espresso the customer ordered.

“Playing the victim, are we now?” Harry is so used to Niall’s techniques. “Well, I have good news for you, Maddie is having a sleepover at one of her friends so tonight so I’m all yours.”

OR AU where Harry is a single father and a one-night stand is going to change his life forever.

📄 In Dreams by @dolce_piccante (23k) | Mature

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

📄 Love Is on The Radio by @whatevertearsyou​ / perfectdagger (sincerelyste), @star_k (35k) | Explicit

“So Louis, who’s the lucky person that will not only get to see Arsenal and Manchester United facing each other, but will also possibly become your girlfriend… or boyfriend? I mean, that’s a good catch, to ask someone out like this on the radio. It will be hard to say no after this.”

“It’s, hm, his name is…” Oh boy, Harry was about to pass out, he couldn’t bear to hear what Louis would say. Susie was looking at him, worried eyes watching him from the till as she noticed that Harry had simply abandoned his cupcake duties. “Harry. Harry Styles.”

To win a pair of tickets to watch Manchester United playing, Louis may have possibly lied to Nick Grimshaw on the BBC Radio 1 Breakfast Show, asking Harry, his best friend, to be his boyfriend. Problem is - Harry has always been in love with Louis and so, this Valentine’s he’s gonna see his dreams come true, with a tiny bit of a twist, in order to watch the football team they have loved together since they were kids.

📄 That’s What I’m Here For by @taggiecb (46k) | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson is a dairy farmer on a tiny farm in eastern Canada. His wife of nearly thirty years has left him and his children are all grown up and out of the house. Louis needs help running his business but has no idea where to even start looking. Luckily for him his children know just the man for the job.

Part 1 of Grace, Too

📄 Pinkies Never Lie by @alltheselights (83k) | Explicit

“I just think if we’re both into it and neither of us is looking for something serious, why not?” Harry asks, eyes soft and voice sweet. He pauses and gives Louis a moment or two to answer.

There are countless reasons why Louis shouldn’t agree to this, but in the end, none of them really matter. This will end with Louis in pieces, but he’s been in love with Harry for four years. There was only ever one answer.

“Yeah,” Louis answers finally, hoping his voice sounds normal. “Why not?”

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

Part 1 of Pinkies Never Lie

📄 Dress you up in my love by @LucyStarkid (103k) | Explicit

Harry is single, and more than anything wants to find love. Agreeing to sign up to a dating website was a bad, bad idea. Niall’s bad, bad idea. Louis is single, but has no interest in relationships. Or so he tells himself. ??Harry is a lawyer, his boss, Nick, happens to give him a bonus, which he decides to splurge on a new work wardrobe. Louis is a frustrated designer, working as a personal shopper at Selfridges. Louis happens to be working on the day a very beautiful, but out of his depth, new customer ambles into their department in need of advice. Louis might have just found the muse he never knew he was looking for.

Featuring: Sophia as Louis’ colleague, with a somewhat unhealthy obsession with his love life, whilst being oblivious when it comes to her own. Liam as the ‘IT bloke from downstairs’ with the mother of all crushes on Sophia. Niall as Harry’s sport’s writer flatmate who spends most of his time making Harry’s life as complicated as possible. Zayn as Louis’ flatmate and lifelong best friend, whose cat, Noodle/Princess/Princess Noodle loves Louis more than it loves him. And Nick as Harry’s boss and one of Louis’ regular customers: is Imelda Marcos reborn.

📄 amaryllis by @hattalove (146k) | Explicit

“Where are we?”

“Um. A little while out of London?” Niall tries, seemingly the only one willing to not be mysterious and provide Harry with information, and. Oh.

“London London? As in, the capital of England London?” he asks, just in case he’d misheard.

“No, the other London,” Louis laughs, low and biting. He comes closer finally, the moonlight just enough to reveal a sharp-cut jaw and pale skin. “Sorry, Pup.”

Nobody’s ever called Harry a “pup”. Frankly, he finds it quite insulting, but he lets it slide to try and comprehend his current crisis.

or the one where harry gets bitten by a werewolf. louis is the mysterious not-quite alpha, liam and zayn have Things going on, niall is their token human, and together, they watch a lot of TV.

📄 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere (149k) | Explicit

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe.

//an X-Men AU.

📄 Have Faith In Me by @stylinsoncity (183k) | Mature

As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world’s most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he’s grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants.

When his mum’s newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting…

This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.

📄 Built Memories by @fresharold (211k) | Mature

“It was a comet.

The boy saw the comet and he felt as though his life had meaning.

And when it went away, he waited his entire life for it to come back to him. It was more than just a comet because of what it brought to his life: direction, beauty, meaning.

There are many who couldn’t understand, and sometimes he walked among them. But even in his darkest hours, he knew in his heart that someday it would return to him, and his world would be whole again… And his belief in God and love and art would be re-awakened in his heart.

The boy saw the comet and suddenly his life had meaning.”

» where louis and harry after long years start over again. they’re strangers again and introduce themselves, they relearn what they already know and what they don’t know, come with new inside jokes, create new memories and give each other a second chance.

📄 Relief Next To Me by @dolce_piccante (333k) | Mature

AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

✨You can also check my fic tags for more fics! ✨

[fruitydiaz-archived]

with the comfort of a billion stars (and you)

chimney and eddie get high in eddie's backyard and talk about what it means to be a good father

because of @hetheybuck's tags on this post about chimney and eddie being blaze buddies

drug use | sweet conversations | stargazing

1,691 words

AO3 link

Chimney wrapped his arms around himself instinctively as he slipped out into Eddie’s backyard, rubbing his hands rapidly along the tops of his arms as he breathed out, watching his air puff out into the cold like white smoke before quickly dissipating. The bite of the cold air against his skin was a welcome reprieve to the flush brought on by too many bodies in too small of a space.

He thought he was alone for a moment, leveling out his breaths and staring up at the sky, squinting as if he could stare just long enough to actually be able to make out some stars in the black of the LA sky—before he heard another sharp intake of breath from his side. He turned, staring down the line of Eddie’s backyard, surprised to find Eddie there, alone, curled up on a lawn chair, head tipped back as he blew out a soft puff of smoke, a joint dangling from his fingers. Chimney blinked, hesitating just for a second, before he stepped off Eddie’s porch and made his way over to the chairs.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Chimney called out as he neared him. Eddie’s head tipped back forward, eyes wide, then squinting in the dark as he tried to make out who was approaching him. The corners of his lips curled up into a soft smile.

“Every once in a while. It was a bit much in there,” He explained with a shrug. Chimney smiled back at him before settling down into the chair next to Eddie.

“I hear ya.”

Eddie smiled again, glancing down at the ground and nodding a bit before stretching his arm out towards Chimney. He shuffled the joint between his fingers, holding it out in offering. Chimney considered it and then looked back at Eddie, eyebrows raised.

“You sure?”

“Course, Chim. It’s my house. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t share?”

Chimney nodded appreciatively, taking the joint and holding it up to his mouth, inhaling gently. It’d been a while since the last time he smoked and he struggled to maintain a cough, tipping his head back against the chair like Eddie had and releasing the smoke back into the air.

“God,” He said on the exhale. “It’s been a while.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgment, taking the joint back from Chimney’s stretched out hand.

They didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, both of them staring up at the night sky, trading off the joint every once in a while, in comfortable silence.

It was nice, Chimney thought, getting to have this quiet moment with Eddie. They didn’t get to do this often; always racing off to different emergencies or juggling conversations with everyone else on the team. This was nice. He felt loose and relaxed—and maybe that had something to do with the weed—but he was also pretty sure it had something to do with Eddie, and maybe something to do with how dark the sky was, and how instinctively he knew that staring up there were actually billions of stars in the sky, and how actually he wasn’t staring at some flat surface but rather the entire universe that expanded all around them, and how even though he couldn’t see any stars, light from those stars was currently traveling at speeds he’d never ever be able to comprehend, and how some of those stars that he couldn’t see but could see under different circumstances were actually dead, like long dead, and how some stars were dying at right this very second, and how some stars were being born this very second, and how all of that made him feel very small and comforted and insignificant and important all at the same time.

He was a little high.

When Eddie’s hand knocked against his, joint stretched out between his fingers, Chimney laughed a little and waved him off. Eddie smiled, taking one last drag before tapping it out on the ashtray next to him and setting it down.

Another moment of silence stretched between them. Chimney furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m scared of being a terrible dad,” He said suddenly, no idea where the thought came from. He saw Eddie nod slowly from the corner of his eye, like he was fully expecting Chimney to say that.

“How do you do it?” He asked, turning to face Eddie, who turned back towards him, eyebrows raising. “With Christopher. How do you...how do you...not mess it up?”

Eddie snorted and took a deep breath before answering, the corners of his lips curling softly.

“I mess up all the time, Chim.”

Chimney frowned. That’s not at all what he wanted Eddie to say.

“You’ll mess up,” Eddie continued, turning forward again, his face serious. He looked back up at the sky and sighed, rolling his neck from side to side. Chimney waited for him to say more but he didn’t.

“That doesn’t actually make me feel better, Eddie,” Chimney pointed out. Eddie giggled a little. It made Chimney giggle a little, though he kept trying to force his face back down into a scowl. This was serious. He was serious.

“No, I know,” Eddie straightened up in his chair. “I think...I think the sooner you realize that you will mess up—the less you’ll...mess up.” Chimney blinked and Eddie frowned, face scrunching up like he was trying to work exactly what he was trying to say. “I mean. We’re in charge of this...little life, now, you know? Sometimes I still feel like a kid myself but—I’ve got to be responsible for my actual kid now. And...I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. My parents weren’t...the best examples. So I’m just...doing my best. That’s all we can do.”

He nodded again, more confidently this time, solid. Eddie turned back to Chimney.

“I think Christopher’s okay, right?”

“Eddie,” Chimney said, voice stern. “Christopher is amazing. And you do this all on your own. I can’t imagine. I’m...so lucky to have Maddie.”

“I don’t really do it alone,” Eddie smiled. “Buck helps a lot. And we have Carla.”

“You're his dad,” Chimney felt the need to remind him. Eddie ducked his head, smiling wider, prouder.

“I am.”

There was a pause. Chimney watched, transfixed as Eddie dug the heel of his shoe into the dirt in front of him, dragging abstract patterns into the ground. It was fascinating.

“I think we’re too hard on ourselves,” Chimney said. Eddie snorted again.

“That’s what Buck says.”

“He would know.”

“He would know.”

Another pause.

“I don’t want to be like my dad.”

“You won’t be.”

“Are you sure?”

Eddie sighed, flattening his foot and dragging it through all of the lines he had just made. Chimney was pretty sure he heard his heart break. Over the dirt art.

“Well, you will be, sometimes, in tiny ways. But you’re not him. You’re...parts of him, parts of your mom, and parts of you, you know?”

“I hope I’m mostly parts of my mom.” His voice sounded wistful.

“You’re mostly parts of you.” Eddie didn’t see the way Chimney’s face pinched in disappointment, still staring at the patch of dirt on the ground.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“It is,” Eddie’s tone was determined and final—and with that he pulled his legs back up into the chair and leaned back, blinking back up at the stars. He looked strikingly childlike, loose and relaxed.

Chimney sniffed. He felt—he felt warm. It was cold out but he felt this warmth radiating from somewhere in his chest or maybe his stomach—somewhere in his core, he wasn’t really sure—and it spread everywhere throughout his body. He almost felt like it spread even further, encompassing Eddie and his backyard and his house along with everyone inside it and all of LA.

The last few months had been hard. The last couple of years had been hard. Hell—life had been hard. And sometimes it was easy for Chimney to get lost in that; to look at Maddie fighting to pick herself back up, to look at Albert pushing to become a firefighter, to watch the Lees take on his kid brother and watch him go through the same process their dead son had, to watch Eddie and Bobby recover from their shootings, to watch Bobby and Athena mend their relationship, to watch Buck fall apart and stitch himself back together, to watch Hen and Karen grow attached to Nia only to lose her when they had expected it all along and somehow that hurt worse, to pretend through it all that he could shoulder the responsibility of having it all together, to be the friend and partner and father that he knew he needed to be.

It wasn’t about him—but it was. And he felt heavy and tired.

But sitting next to Eddie, a little high, comforted by Eddie’s sincere words—Eddie who would never sugarcoat it, would never lie, who always chose his words with careful intention—he felt lighter. Looking up at the sky, feeling the presence of stars young and old, alive and dead, feeling but not seeing, knowing that just inside were all his friends and family, laughing and reconnecting and healing after months and years of trauma, knowing that all around them billions of lives were being lived. And while bad things happened and people got hurt—good things happened too.

Good things like his baby girl being born. Good things like his baby brother making it out of a terrible car accident.

Good things like survival and healing and happiness and love. Things that persisted.

It was all around him constantly. He didn’t feel it all the time—but he did then.

“Hey, Eddie? I love you.”

Eddie stilled for just a second before his face cracked into a wide grin and his shoulders started to shake as he giggled, again.

“I love you too, man.” Chimney swiveled around in his seat.

“No, seriously, I mean it. Family we chose, right?”

Eddie’s giggles died down and he studied Chimney’s face carefully, smile softening, before nodding.

“Yeah, Chim. Family we chose.”

[wtf-yoongi]

Flawless.

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | you’ve lost count of how many notes you’ve left in between tae’s textbooks, from the silliest to the most profound, loving ones. and yet, even after all these months, taehyung doesn’t seem to have noticed any of them

genre/warnings | university fluff bc y’all whipped by university student!tae am i right

words | 3,070

note | this concept was inspired by a plot line in romance is a bonus book (which you can and should stream on netflix). also: for some reason i didn’t know but found out while writing this that i would do anything for kim taehyung and that’s just a fact

You don’t know how that even started.

It sounds like the kind of thing people who lose bets would be forced to do. If you lose, you’ll have to write a silly letter confessing your love to a friend. It would be funny, a story worthy of being shared with friends in between bottles of beer and other tales from college years.

But it really isn’t like that. Definitely not as funny or entertaining – just you being bored one day and then too into it to stop it.

You don’t know what had gotten into you the first time you did it. You arrived a little early at the apartment Taehyung shared with Jimin. Tae was still taking a shower. Jimin let you in and apologized for having to leave you alone because he was working on a paper due only a couple of days later. You sat down in the small living room area. Looked around for a while. Picked a thinning stack of sticky notes from your backpack. Wrote something silly on one of them. Added a little #1 to it. Entered Taehyung’s room. Picked a book out of his shelves. Opened it on a random page. Sticked the yellow note there. Closed the book. Left it alone. That was it.

After that, it was like an addiction. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught someday – eventually, as you thought – and having a good laugh with your friends about it. You could actually picture it: Jimin and you cracking up in the kitchen after Taehyung shows up with a handful of notes you’ve written. You tell them you’ve been doing it for weeks and leaving them everywhere. Jimin jokes about Tae not even opening a textbook to pretend he’s studying. Tae eventually joins, giggling and shaking his head.

//

“Hey, what’s up?”

You blink quickly to focus your mind again, looking up to see Taehyung free his shoulder from the weight of his bag and place a bottle of water on the table you are now sharing. He looks relaxed despite the craziness of the end of the semester, smiling and waving at a known face two tables away before sitting down.

“You good?” He asks again and bumps his elbow against yours to coax an answer out of you. “You look too serious.”

“I was…” You start and look down at the scattered pieces of paper in front of you, trying to make any sense of them. You pile it all to at least appear a bit more put together – the papers and yourself. “I was in the library, but the tension was too much to handle, so I moved in here.”

“It’s noisy.”

Well, yes, it’s a common area filled with students doing anything but studying. You wish to feel at ease like these people. Are they done with the semester or what?

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too noisy to study?”

“Yeah, but there’s a whole lot of people talking and I can’t tell them apart, so it doesn’t bother me,” you answer, maybe a little too quickly after a few beats of silence. You decide to add something else, something to not end it on a bad note. “It’s oddly calming.”

“Well, if you think so.” Taehyung raises his shoulders and flashes you a simple and toothless smile. 

You don’t know how that even started. Liking him like the way you do.

It sounds like the kind of thing you would hear from someone else. I think I’m in love with a friend, what should I do? It would be funny, giving them advice on this sort of thing, but it only happened in movies, right?

But it really isn’t like that. It’s real. And it’s not as funny or entertaining. It kind of hurts, actually, but you can’t stop feeling those feelings and it drives you crazy sometimes. 

More than often you had found yourself thinking about this before going to sleep at night – and sometimes losing sleep over it as well. It definitely wasn’t like a switch, but it sure felt like it. You gradually fell in love, but only realized it when Taehyung came running down the stairs at the Art Department to meet you. 

There was nothing special about him that day – it was just the same old Tae –, but it wasn’t the art that had changed. It was the artist’s eye. You knew the second he made eye contact that something was up, but didn’t immediately jump to any conclusions, no. Love was something that came to you much later. At first, you thought maybe he had his hair done differently or the sweater he was wearing just fitted him too perfectly, the color matching everything else flawlessly.

But you had never used the word flawless to describe Kim Taehyung up until then. That’s when you realized you were the one looking at him in a different way. And that’s also when you started to wonder if that would ever happen the other way around, too.

//

But, of course, that never happens. He never finds out. Maybe the books you were picking up were way too random or hiding the notes inside just made it too hard for him to find them, so you decided to stick a note to a cover for once. 

You could feel the adrenaline rush as you did it, almost as if you were committing a crime. What you wrote is far from incriminating, though. #19 this is a test to see if you’re truly that clueless about your own stuff. you tedious friend, you were supposed to find these. what’s the joke in me leaving them if you don’t?

After that audacious move, you were a little apprehensive for a few days. You couldn’t stop looking at your phone, waiting for it to light up with a new message. At any moment now, you thought to yourself – and it did come, the message, but it wasn’t what you were expecting. It was just a you up? I need help with an Impressionism piece and this is more your thing.

//

“This is your last one, right?” Taehyung asks after a few minutes. “Last test?”

You blow a strand of hair that has fallen in front of your eyes. “Yeah, this and a project due tomorrow, but I’m done with that already.”

“Oh, the one you were working on last week when I asked you to come over and you said you couldn’t?”

“Yup, exactly.”

When you disconnect your eyes from the words in front of you to look at him again, he’s calmly playing with the water bottle with a subtle smile on his lips.

“I wish you could’ve come that day.”

//

You had sticked a note on his only book on Impressionism just a few days before.

To be honest, you were disappointed. Over the months, you had found yourself wanting more and more for him to find the notes – and not just the ones that had jokes on them, but also the ones that ask about the weather, about how he’s feeling, apologizing for that day two years prior when you bought spicy snacks instead of the regular ones, praising his photography skills and everything else that was on your mind. 

Taehyung not noticing anything gave you a more whatever attitude to it, almost as if you knew for a fact that he would never ever find them. That’s when you started to write deeper ones that sounded a little bit too much like a confession. You were talking about your fear of the future, the pressure your parents put on you, the pain of being the second child after a perfect one, how you were scared of failing in life and all the stuff you were too much of a wimp to say out loud. So many you ended up losing count and they no longer had a tiny number written in the corner.

At this point, you were running out of books. Taehyung had a good collection on his desk and shelves, piled one on top of the other without any order – but not enough for the rate you were going at. You left a note every single time you were there and able to sneak into his bedroom and caught yourself finding reasons why you had to visit just to leave another one. It was the safest way to get something out of your chest. Tae wouldn’t see it and, honestly, if he ever did, it was also ok.

//

“Hey!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What do you mean what’s up? You’re the one who called.”

Taehyung laughs.

 “Actually, you never call. What is up?”

“How did the test go?”

“Did you really call just to ask how I did?”

“I wanted to know if your semester’s finally over… And if you’re free.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“I guess I am… I have some books to return, but that’s it.”

“Can you come over after that?”

“Sure. Do you need anything I can pick up on my way? I think I’m stopping at the convenience store for some much needed and deserved alcohol.”

He laughs again.

“You’re right, you deserve it. In that case, can you get those potato sticks I like?”

//

Only it wasn’t ok anymore if he saw it. Not after you wrote that one. 

A whole month had passed after that day at the Art Department. You thought you had had enough time to understand what was going on – what you felt. And even after that, it was still hard to comprehend how you could let yourself fall like that.

It wasn’t like Taehyung was paying any special attention to you. He really wasn’t. He treated you just like any other friend – maybe a closer one, yes, but not that much closer. It was hard to distinguish, though. He was friendly towards everyone, always looking for ways to help. 

You racked your brain. Had he ever offered to help you with something you didn’t think he would do for anyone else? Had he ever shown interest in any way? What the hell was it that made you feel this?

Maybe it was just him. Effortlessly. Just like that.

That day, instead of going with something that popped into your head right there and then, you had a plan for once. You had imagined something a little bit longer, organized the structure of it all inside your head – sentence after sentence –, but couldn’t bring yourself to write the right words even after your third try.

That was when you decided to settle for I think I’m in love with you, you idiot. You’re driving me insane. Stop that now.

//

“Your beloved potato,” you say to Taehyung, handing him the children’s snack as soon as he opens the door. “Can I get a thank you, you’re the best or what?”

“Thank you, you’re the best,” he repeats your words with a small smile on his lips. Inside, the butterflies want to start fluttering everywhere, but you beg them to keep quiet and still.

You smile back at him, soon entering the small living room and leaving your much lighter backpack on the floor. “Is Jimin home? I bought him some as well.”

“No, but you can leave it in the kitchen and I’ll…”

“I don’t trust you, traitor,” you interrupt, hand immediately raising to point a finger at him, eyes squeezed in suspicion as you pick the round package and start walking again. “I’ll take this to his room and hide it somewhere. Don’t you dare look for it!”

There’s a moment of silence after you move into Jimin’s slightly messy room, looking for a spot to hide the chips and soon picking up your phone from your back pocket to let him know exactly where to find them later. When you walk towards the living room again, Taehyung is seated on the sofa with his back to you, slowly moving his hand through his growing hair.

Nothing sounds out of place or any less than completely peaceful until he opens his mouth again. He waits for you – for you to be seated and comfortable and fully focused, phone forgotten inside of your back pocket.

“Why did you stop numbering them?”

You freeze.

“What?”

Your first reaction is almost immediate. Your whole body tenses, going into panic mode with the force and speed of an electric shock. Somehow, you can’t seem to disconnect your eyes from his serene ones – a complete opposite from yours. 

Your brain, on the other hand, is running a million miles per hour. It wants to know and it has so many questions. When did he find out? Did he read every single note? Did he notice you had left one inside almost every book – sometimes even two or three? Where were they now?

But, most of all, had he read that one?

“Why did you stop numbering them? The notes, I mean,” Taehyung calmly asks again. He’s so composed and gentle you start to wonder what he is thinking about you now and what conclusions he has jumped to from reading all of that. “I know the exact order you left them up to a point and then I’m lost. It kind of bothers me, you were telling a good story.”

He smiles again and an invisible hand clenches your heart.

“I just…” You struggle to find the words and, when they do come, your throat feels dry and tight and like it doesn’t want to make a sound at all. You can’t face him anymore. “I lost count one day.”

“Too bad,” he admits with the same tender tone. “I was really enjoying it, you know? Your story. There are sixty-four notes in total, so I’m guessing you’ve been doing this for a long time.”

So he has read all of them.

Your palms start to sweat and your whole body grows cold all of a sudden. You let out a small cough, but your words still come out a bit too raspy. “Kind of, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry to be this blunt, but I just got to know,” Taehyung’s voice loses its cool a little and you can see his whole body reflect that, agitated, while he turns to you. His hands reach out a little, but end up halfway, resting on the sofa. 

Then, his words come out like he has finally opened his brain’s tap. 

“I just have to know since when you’re feeling like this. Are you still feeling like this? You wrote me a note saying you’re in love with me and I don’t know when that happened. How could you not tell me that? God, I’m so selfish. You wrote a bunch of things about feeling like you’re not enough and being scared of the future and all I can focus on is this one thing.”

You swallow, but your mouth and throat don’t become any less tight. “It’s usually a one-time thing, I don’t always feel like that. We’re all worried about the future, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You nod. He lets out a long and staggered breath and shifts his hands impatiently. He wants to move them closer, but doesn’t know if the timing is right. “You didn’t answer my first question, though.”

You freeze again.

“It was a…” You take one deep breath, your voice as small as it has ever been, but still somewhat audible. “It was a few months ago.”

“A few months?” He repeats, voice escalating in tone, and you simply nod once again. “You should have said something. You know you should have said something, right? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t reject you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got scared.”

Wait. He said what?

“What did you just say?” You repeat the words screaming inside your head.

Taehyung laughs, his easy-going demeanor back again. “You should look at yourself right now, your face is priceless.”

You really have no words. If the circumstances were any sort of normal, this would be the time you would raise your hand to pinch or straight up hit Taehyung, striking wherever part of him was closest to you. But this isn’t anywhere close to normal, so you just let your jaw hang open, your brain struggling to process the information.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, I truly never told this to anyone,” Taehyung starts, smile still plastered on his silly and flawless face. “I had a crush on you a long time ago, I think it was when we first started talking. I got over that quickly, actually, because you seemed so dead focused on being the best student and showed no interest at all. I thought it was ok, you know? At least I had you as a friend, you were a nice person to have around and I wanted to keep your company.”

And I was fine about it. Really, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t your friend just because I wanted something more, I really love being your friend. And I was ok for a long time until I found a sticky note and then another and another and another. I couldn’t believe you left so many and I never noticed it, like, how stupid am I? I should get a prize for being this slow.”

And then there was that one note. The one you wrote about being in love with me. I swear, I… I didn’t know what to think and then it hit me like a thousand bricks and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was nervous around you again, I wanted to impress you so hard, I wanted to make you smile and happy. I honestly don’t even know how I’m still going at this without stopping, probably because I practiced. Yeah, I did.”

A few moments of silence pass before Taehyung is speaking again. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Your dropped jaw turns into some sort of awkward smile. “Did you really practice?”

“Really?” Tae asks with an overdramatic expression. “I just said all of that and you’re asking me if I really practiced?”

You shrug. “I thought that was cute.”

“My God,” he overreacts, throwing his whole upper body towards you on the sofa. His voice comes out muffled now, but as playful as ever. “This thing only started and somehow I already know I’m doomed.”

Read more ›› masterlist

[bentforkent]

to the moon and to saturn - chapter one

spencer reid x fem!reader

navigation and summary 

word count: 2753

no content warnings 

next chapter

seven

“you’re boring.”

“no, i’m not, y/n!”

“you never want to play pirates with me!”

spencer’s hair is long and his glasses are sliding down his nose. the light seeping into y/n’s room from her large bay window is muted by the white sheet covering it. the sheet rests precariously over a chair, forming a blanket fort carefully engineered by spencer, and haphazardly constructed by y/n. there are throw pillows tossed throughout the fort, and spencer makes an attempt to straighten them whenever he gets the chance.  whenever he comes to y/n’s house, ringing her doorbell with a backpack full of books, they work together to add on to their secret hideaway. the white sheet is the newest addition, especially designed to let more natural light into the blanket burg. this follows a poor mishap where a lamp y/n had left on too long burnt a hole through her carpet.

previously, the pair had constructed a stuffed animal room, a reading corner, a designated snack area. y/n’s starting to run out of linens. the fort has been standing for weeks now, y/n’s parents very rarely involved enough to enter her room, giving her and spencer free reign to create their own imaginary worlds to play in undisturbed.

except spencer, with all his practicality, isn’t particularly adept at the “playing in imaginary worlds” part. y/n can’t comprehend that. it’s simple for her to slip into a different universe, enjoyable, even. she’s begged spencer to play mermaids, bank robbers, fbi agents, firefighters, princesses---you name it. spencer indulges her for the most part, but y/n can always tell that he’s not that into it. he’s much fonder of tucking into some obscure poetry book, reading aloud when y/n requests. she never comprehends much of what he’s saying, but he reads so confidently that it fills her with glee anyways.  

for seven year olds, it’s clear to outsiders that they both don’t quite act their age. y/n, with her big doe eyes, dreams too much, her escapism both her greatest asset and most fatal flaw. spencer’s a stickler to the realistic, his pragmatic nature an unconscious choice that gives him a beautiful worldview but will make him grow up too fast. for now, though, the children don’t worry about that. they worry solely about balancing each other out and the purity that comes with being in youth.

y/n is splayed on her back on the floor of the fort, where her scratchy carpet is covered with a fluffy pink blanket. her hair fans out around her head in a halo. spencer’s physics book is closed and set gently in the corner, and he’s attempting to braid a small chunk of y/n’s hair. “pirates is my least favorite game,” he says.

“what about knights?” y/n angles herself to look back at him. she’s far too young to execute a soul searching gaze, but the way her eyes strain to scan his face comes close. she takes note of his facial expression giving away his inner thoughts. the way his lip quirks up indicates that he definitely does not want to play knights with the girl in front of him, but the softness in his eyes tells y/n that she’s won.

without another word, they crawl out from their blanket fort and jump onto the bed. “my armor is blue,” y/n says, unsheathing an imaginary sword and holding it up in joust. “knight armor was typically made of iron or steel, and there was no way to make it blue in the late 15th century,” spencer piped up, mirroring her actions. he likes playing at y/n’s house. his parents would never let him jump on the bed. y/n’s parents let the two of them do a lot of things, spencer thinks, and he’s never heard them fight like his parents do either.

“cool, spencer!” y/n says enthusiastically. she’s always enthusiastic when he tells her a fact, even though she rarely really understands him. she knows people are terrible to spencer because of his intellect, and had made a pact with herself when they first became friends that she would never ever ever be mean to spencer for being smart. “we can pretend, though. yours can be blue too!”

“okay,” he replies, and y/n begins to coach him through the game, attempting to loosen him up a bit. they play, bouncing around on the bed and wielding fake medieval weapons until the sun begins to go down and spencer remarks that he needs to go home before dark or his mom will be upset.

y/n reluctantly lets him leave, knowing that he has a lot less fun at his house, but finding comfort in the fact that he’ll come back the next day.

spencer and y/n spend every day together, without fail. they’re young, and they don’t know much about life, but they know that they’re the only people for each other. they’ve been inseparable since y/n had toddled into spencer’s first grade class and heard him reciting a john lyngate poem. her favorite book at that time was a brightly colored picture book, so she was both fascinated and confused by the boy in glasses in front of her. that day, they’d sat together on the bus and chatted the whole way home. the pure elation that occurred when the children realized they shared the same bus stop was unmatched. y/n, who’d just moved to las vegas, was relieved she’d met a friend in her new hometown.

she didn’t really meet any other friends after associating herself with spencer. he’d warned her that being his best friend was basically social suicide, but y/n was already attached to him like superglue. once, a girl in their class had tried to invite y/n to sit with her at lunch. the girl not-so-subtly made it clear that spencer was not invited to the table, and y/n had shut that down quickly with a swift spoonful of red jell-o down her shirt. spencer decided then that red jell-o was his favorite.

to sum it all up, in super simple terms, y/n and spencer were close. and everyone in their town knew it, including their parents, although both sets of adults were generally nonplussed about what their children were involved in as long as they were alive and surviving.

y/n’s parents aren’t neglectful, per se. she’d just had to learn how to fend for herself very early on. y/n’s existence had been an accident, and although she didn’t know that in explicit terms, it wasn’t hard to figure out based on the lack of maternal instincts from her mother. y/n’s mother sat on the back porch of their house a lot, looking out at their tiny, barren backyard with a cigarette in hand. her father went away on many business trips, coming back to greet the family only with a pat on y/n’s head before he padded up to the bedroom to slip into bed. one day, y/n would realize the intensity of the mental health problems both of her parents were suffering from, but as a child, the adults in her life just felt far away.

spencer’s parents were similar in a sense that they weren’t the best. rather than the silence that settled over y/n’s house, his home filled with argument. it’s why he found solace with y/n, with their blanket fort. y/n’d offered to let him live with them constantly, but spencer couldn’t leave his mother. his father? he couldn’t care less. but his mother...as much as spencer longs to spend his days curled up in y/n’s bed, reading, he knows above anything else, he’s got to protect his mother.

after closing the door behind spencer, y/n skips to the kitchen to pour herself a drink. her and spencer had made fresh lemonade the day before, squeezing lemons y/n had stolen from her neighbor’s tree. spencer had been in charge of the sugar, and he’d added way too much. the pair tried it, though, and liked the super sweet taste.

y/n fills her glass with ice, having to stand on her tippy toes to reach it in the freezer. after the cup is filled with the sugary beverage, she takes a second to peer out of the window and check on her mom outside. y/n expected to find her in her usual plastic chair, cloud of smoke encircling her. but she wasn’t there. this was odd. she sets her sweating glass down on the table, and wanders upstairs to get a location on her mother.

loud moans float down from the top of the stairs, and y/n, ever naive, follows the sound to its source. the stairs creak under her feet, her house old and probably close to crumbling. y/n pushes the door to her parents’ room open with both hands, and is immediately sick at the sight. at seven years old, she doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, but she knows that whatever she is seeing is wrong.

william reid, spencer’s father, is laid naked next to her mother, also fully exposed. they’re startled by the door opening, shocked to see young y/n standing there, witnessing their adultery. the three of them are in a trance, suspended in surprise. y/n’s brain is moving a mile a minute, she knows, but she can’t seem to form any cohesive thoughts except “this is not right.”  it feels like forever that y/n is holding eye contact with william before her mother speaks. “y/n,” she starts, but y/n doesn’t stick around to hear the end of the sentence. she’s out of the bedroom and out of the house in 30 seconds flat.

as she runs down the suburban street, she’s barely aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks or the pain in her feet. she’d forgotten shoes. she runs, runs, runs, hair flowing behind her. she runs until her thoughts catch up to her. where can she go? she realizes that her body had been taking her straight to spencer’s house, but she couldn’t. how could she look him in the eye? how could she tell him that her own mother is responsible for his family falling apart? how could she ever even be near him again? stopping in the middle of the road, y/n lets out an anguished scream. a ferocious scream. a scream that claws its way out of her chest. and then, sufficiently exhausted by both her physical activity and her emotional despair, she turns back the way she came and begins to trek back towards her house.

- - - - - -

“penny, i have no clue how you do your job,” y/n says, handing the blonde woman before her a hot macchiato in a to-go cup.

her hair is longer now, her eyes more weary. the wonder she felt as a child is long gone, sucked out of her on that fateful night. y/n hardly thinks about it anymore, but that night after she had gone home, her mother made her pack her bags and took her as far away from vegas as possible. as far away from spencer as possible. she never saw him again. it’s been almost twenty years since she’d last seen the geeky boy. the loss of her childhood best friend was a dull wound now, one tucked safely in the back of her subconscious. sometimes she wonders how he turned out, but their time together feels more like a dream than a memory.

y/n moved away from her parents as soon as she turned 18, straight to washington d.c.. with no money, no degree, no friends or family, y/n turned to her work. she got a job in a tiny coffee shop, and the elderly lady who owned it took her under her wing. her name was janice, and she was an old, childless widow. y/n’s kind disposition filled a void janice had given up on trying to fill, and the two became a fierce pair. janice provided y/n with the apartment above the shop, higher-than-minimum wage, and when janice passed five years later, y/n inherited the coffee shop itself. she’d been owning and running it ever since.

it was at this shop that she met penelope garcia. penelope frequented the kitschy coffee place before work, and had gained quite the soft spot for the raven-haired owner. the two of them chatted every morning as y/n flitted around behind the counter, making whatever caffeine-filled concoction penelope had ordered. eventually, their friendship progressed past casual small talk at y/n’s work into wine-filled sleepover nights at their apartments.

“my job is hard, my friend,” penelope replies, shuddering. “some of the stuff i see gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“yeah, like dead bodies.” y/n turns and begins making her own personal coffee to start the day, penelope leaning on the counter in front of her. “heebie jeebies is an understatement!” y/n faces penelope again and grins, pouring copious amounts of sugar into a mug that janice had used while running the café.

“you know, y/n, i only know one other person in the world that takes that much sugar in their coffee,” penelope remarks while she watches the barista stir her obscenely sweet coffee with a wooden stirrer.

“hmm, they must be my soulmate, then,” y/n says. penelope’s ears perk up at that. she makes her way to the door, and y/n raises her mug in lieu of a wave. “have fun at work, pen! see you at your place tonight! i’ll bring wine!” penelope responds with a witty goodbye and heads to work, just the jingle of the bells on the door to signify she was ever there.

-----

penelope saunters into the behavioral analysis unit office 30 minutes later, cup of coffee long empty. “good morning, babygirl,” derek says.

“i’ll show you a good morning, hot stuff,” penelope deadpans, walking through the bullpen to greet all of her coworkers. penelope’s so bright that she immediately lights up the dreary BAU.

“spencer!” she calls, prompting the shaggy haired doctor to look up from his desk.

“good morning, garcia,” he says with a small wave.

“this morning, i got coffee at my favorite place,” penelope begins to gush, “and the barista puts just as much sugar in her coffee as you do!”

spencer doesn't understand why garcia is telling him this until she continues.

“this particular barista happens to be super cute and also one of my closest friends.”

spencer shakes his head with a laugh. “no, garcia, i’m not letting you set me up again.”

“okay, the first one was not good, i’ll admit.” she perches on the edge of his desk.

“but i actually know this girl! and i love her!”

spencer shakes his head again, giving penelope a light, joking push off of her seat. “no,” he emphasizes, and garcia gives him a dramatic sigh.

“okay,” she says, dragging out the word. “i’m going to go to my lair now to give you time to

think about it.” she presses a kiss to the top of his head, and with a ruffle of his hair, she floats to her office.

i’ll convince him, she thinks. i mean, how could i not? coffee aside, the kids are perfect for each other. she doesn’t know how she missed the blatant similarities between them. penelope’s usually very perceptive, and that makes her really good at setting people up. i might as well be cupid, she thinks, except for that one date i’d sent spencer on. she chooses to ignore that one. a minor lapse in judgement.

penelope pulls out her phone to text y/n.

penelope (7:56): y/n, my love, my light, i have found the most perfect guy for you

y/n (7:57): no penny, not again

y/n (7:57): remember the last date you set me up on?

oh yeah, penelope remembers. she’d sent both of her friends on two completely separate, shitty dates. maybe cupid wasn’t the best nickname for her.

penelope (7:59): you’re right. ugh. ix-nay on that idea then

she attaches a lot of sad emojis, then tucks her phone away. there goes that. penelope tucks that idea away, into the depths of her brain, and forgets about it.

[burninglilys]

run for your life with me

Or, 4 times Pang and Wave imagine beginning anew and 1 time they actually do.

(#thegiftedweek, day one: new beginnings)

1.

"Do you ever think about running away?" Pang asks, his jaw clenched, staring determinedly at his bulletin board as though he'd posed the stupidest question that Wave has ever heard to the board and not Wave. 

It has only been three days since they decided to work together. Three long days, in Wave's opinion, who feels quite rattled at the influx of all that is Pang. He has been drenched in confusing feelings, too mingled up to pick apart the intricacies of it every time that he’s around him. Wave would love putting it in a tiny chest and hiding it under the loneliest corner of his mind, avoiding it all, but there this inexplicable  pull of Pang -- with his easy smiles and sharp mind -- that he just can’t deny. 

Wave peels his eyes away from Pang, who stands honey-hued in the room reflecting the sunlight that pours in from his window, and turns his gaze towards the board. 

"No," Wave replies, honestly. 

Pang startles at the answer, his arms that were sternly crossed against his chest falling at his side. 

"Really?" 

"Really," Wave confirms, looking at Pang again. "This is my reality. I have got to accept it because there's no way out of it but this."

Pang looks all out of sorts at that. "Why?" Wave asks, "Are you thinking about running away and starting anew?" 

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Pang clenches his fists again. "They're just fantasies, you know? Of running away, beginning again. It helps deal with the reality easier," Pang says in a small voice that Wave decidedly does not like. "I'm not actually going to do that, not when we have just started; certainly not when we have so much left." 

"Well," Wave starts, deciding to do something he'd only ever thought of as a mythical concept -- compromising, "As long as they're just fantasies."  He internally cringes at how sharp his voice sounds, when he actually means: please don't run away. I would not know what to do if you did. 

"It's just," Pang huffs, rubbing the flat of his palm on his face. "It doesn't hurt to imagine, you know? Running away from Rithda. A life where the director does not exist; a life where we can live in this bubble of ignorance about everything that's wrong with the education system as a whole."

Wave looks at him, at a complete loss for what to say. 

“You should imagine how you’d like to live your life away from this all,” Pang says. “It helps, I promise. Then you have an idea about the future that you’re fighting for. That we are fighting for. And we can get to building it right away, once this all ends. Or just away from it all, if it doesn't.” 

Wave chooses to ignore the multiple ‘we-s’ that scatter throughout all of what Pang said. "Yeah, right. As if you wouldn't do the same anywhere else. Running away from this responsibility of making things equitable for all is equivalent to running away from everything that makes you, you. A place would hold no power over it." 

Pang's eyes crinkle around the edges, his dimple deepening, as he lets out a laugh full of mirth. "Oh?” he asks, his tone teasing, “You know me that well, huh, Wave?” 

Wave hurriedly averts his eyes from Pang. “Shut up,” he grits out. 

“I thought you hated me,” Pang says, taking a step towards Wave. “I thought that you couldn’t stand to be around me.” 

“I can’t, you asshole,” Wave says, stepping away, ignoring the deeply contradictory feelings that run through him. “You’re the worst.” 

“You wouldn’t have agreed to work with me if that were true,” Pang hums, coming to stand beside him, their shoulder brushing against each other. 

Wave stares at the withering corner of the bulletin board, prepared to not look at Pang until he moves away. “I just hate the system more than you,” he says. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” 

“Your friend, huh?” Pang asks, bumping their shoulders together. “You think of me as your friend?” 

Wave sighs, turning his head to steal a glance from Pang only to realise that he is already being looked at. Wave holds his gaze, not dropping it despite how much he wants to, scared of the emotion that might just burn him from inside. 

“I think of you as an annoyance,” Wave answers and does not move away. “An annoyance who wants to bring down the system and yet thinks about escaping from it all.” 

“I am a complex person,” Pang states, turning his eyes away from Wave. “I could want it all, you don’t know.” 

Wave does not say: I would come and live with you in the bubble of ignorance if you ever decide to. Or: I could help us escape without a digital footprint in a second. Instead, he says, “Let’s get back to this so you can stop building castles in your fantasies away from all this.” 

“Not castles, Wave,” Pang says with a small smile on his face. “A small apartment for us would suffice, no?” 

2. 

Pang meets Wave’s eyes from across the canteen, his eyes neither blinking in recognition nor in any sort of liveliness as it usually does. Just blank. Always blank, these days. 

It is not that Wave expects Khun Pom’s potential to suddenly weaken in a way that makes Pang remember everything, but he still hopes. He hopes and he wishes in a fervour, losing his mind over the empty eyes that Pang looks at him with. 

“We will get to him,” Namtarn softly says, nudging their elbows together. 

“It is taking him too long,” Wave replies with undisguised impatience, stabbing into his food. 

“Don’t take it out on your food,” she says firmly. “We are going to find a way.” 

“What if we don’t?” Wave asks, surprising himself with the words that fall from him. “What if he never remembers? What if he just never remembers us?” Never remembers me?

“Wave,” Namtarn says, holding his elbow. “He is going to remember everything and everyone that he has forgotten. We are going to make sure of that, remember?” 

“But what if--”

“We will figure it out,” Namtarn says, gently. “Whatever happens, we will.” 

Wave gets less optimistic by the minute. Pang’s memories don’t ever leave him. It consumes him whole; it takes up the very little space he has left to give and takes up some more. 

Wave wonders what Pang would say if he were beside him in almost every situation that Wave finds himself in, his laughter filtering through his mind whenever something remotely funny happens, his warmth holding him tight when he thinks that he might just fall apart at all the blank looks he receives. 

Right now, Pang’s own voice reverberates somewhere behind his ribs, saying, "Do you ever think about running away?" 

Yes, Wave wants to say now. He should've always said yes; should've convinced himself and Pang to run away from it all if it meant having Pang safe. We should have run away when we had the chance all those weeks ago. We should’ve run away all those days in between. 

That thought begins unravelling a lot more than he’d ever signed up for. In the comfort of his room (that looks too empty without Pang’s overwhelming presence), he turns to his paper and pen. 

Pang, he writes, in my imagination, we are living in a small house by the beach. The weather is somehow always pleasant -- not too sticky, not too cold -- just perfect, all for us. We can watch the tidal waves from the long windows that house, I’ve decided. There is no Rithda, no vicious Directors trying to take all of what you fought for from you, all of what you remembered from you, and… and all of what I love from me. I like you a little too much, you know? There is just you and me, our house by the beach beside our friends’ houses, and the world promising a better present laid out for us. Come back to us -- to me -- please.”

Wave stops short at the monstrosity that he has written on the paper in front of him and crumples it in a ball, ready to throw it in the trash. Fantasies of a future that wasn’t for him were dangerous waters he really did not want to sink under. Nothing good ever came out of it. 

3. 

“It is not your fault,” Pang softly says, sitting beside him. 

"How is it not my fault?" Wave asks his voice tethering on something that might resemble a cry if he thinks too hard. "I asked her to go there! I asked her to go. Me. This would not have happened had I not."

"You could not have known," Pang says, sounding more rational than he ever has the right to. "If it's anyone's fault, it is mine."

"How?" Wave asks, edging on incredulity. "How is this your fault?" 

"The anti-gifted was formed because of me, don't you remember?" 

"The anti-gifted was formed because of their ideologies," Wave corrects. "This is not on you."

"Exactly why it's not on you either," Pang replies with a shrug. "It's entirely on the anti-gifted." 

Wave sinks into the uncomfortable chair of the infirmary, unable to look directly at Pang. "I asked her to go, Pang," he says in a voice he doesn't remember as his own. 

"I am the cause of anti-gifted," Pang replies easily, sounding as though he truly believes it. 

"We've been over this."

"Exactly," says Pang. "If I am supposed to stop blaming myself for this and believe in it the way you and everyone has been insisting, then you're not either. Those are the rules."

"Your rules are as stupid as you," Wave counters. Blaming yourself for being the cause of a group that is determined to pull the system down with unnecessary violence is not the same as directing your friend to go to an auditorium while there's a live bomb in it. Wave does not understand how Pang can't comprehend the difference. 

"Do you guys think that everything in this universe happens because of you both, huh?" Mon asks frustrated. Startled, Wave looks at her looming figure above them both, a sharp contrast to her red-rimmed eyes and how pale she looks. "You can be the most considerate people out there and follow all your plans well and yet there are things that you can't control! Like this! We could not have controlled this." 

"We could've --" Pang and Wave both start, before Mon interrupts again. 

"Seriously, guys. Just because you're the leader, Pang, does not mean that we've to agree to everything that you say. If you're blaming yourself for the 'anti-gifted', then you might as well blame all of us because we did agree to it. It was a mutual decision." 

"Exactly," Wave says in half-hearted triumph.

"And Wave, you did what any one of us would've done. Namtarn was the closest to the auditorium," Mon says, choking on her name. "Besides," she adds, resembling someone trying their hardest to keep it together, "it's not going to be that bad. We're going to keep in touch with her. It's not going to be bad at all!" 

"Whatever," Wave says, standing up, knowing full well that Mon is 100% right. "Whatever," he repeats, leaving the infirmary altogether. 

It is when he reaches in his room that his phone screen lights up with a message. Wave ignores it, feeling scrubbed too raw with the long day that they've all had. 

Pang (21:33)

do u ever think about running away? 

Pang (21:37) 

we could run away from this all. i could make them never want to look for us. u could erase our digital footprint. only mom and our friends would know who we are and where we are. we could change our names and delete everything. 

Pang (21:49) 

we could begin again. 

Pang (21:56)

one word from u and the plan is on. we leave tomorrow. 

Wave (23:06)

As if you could order someone to do something without feeling guilty. (As if you could leave this school before doing something about it.)

Pang (23:07) 

i culd if it meant us having a chance to begin again. (it doesnt hurt to imagine, wave.)

Wave (23:07) 

What would our new names be, then? 

Pang (23:08) 

haven't thought that far. all I know is that we'd b together

Wave (23:09) 

Where would we go? 

Pang (23:11) 

anywhere u want. we could leave the country and move into the countryside. we could stay in the country and live by the beach. we could go on the moon, if you'd like. anywhere with u. 

Wave (23:16) 

Anywhere with me? 

Pang (23:16)

anywhere w you. it's all I'd need, really. 

Wave (23:22)

Yeah. That's all I'd need as well. 

Wave (23:23) 

we're going to have to destroy the director first, though. 

Pang (23:24)

duh -_-

4. 

Ohm slams the door shut, leaving a tightly wound silence in the air, leaving Pang, of all people, heavy with defeat.

"When you're done being emotional about all this, call me," Wave says, causing Pang to look away from the door, at him. "I'll be waiting." 

A slow smile creeps on Pang's face. "You're really with me?" 

"Idiot," Wave answers. "How dare you question that?" 

"How can I not?" Pang mumbles. "Don't answer that. And I will call you. I promise. Unless…"

Wave crosses his arms across his chest, sinking deeper into the chair, urging him to go on. "Unless, you want to have dinner together. Right now," Pang continues, looking away. "Only if you want to," he hurriedly adds, "it's okay even if you can't. I mean, I'm sure--"

"Pang."

Pang meets his gaze. 

"I have instant noodles in the pantry. We can make them and go to the rooftop." 

Pang's face loses all of its uncertainty in an instant. "Yeah, okay." 

They make the instant noodles in silence and Wave has this urge to fill it. It had been way too long since they'd seen each other and although there's familiarity in Pang's presence, he doesn't know what's allowed anymore. Their hands brush against each other when they try grabbing the Tupperware at the same time and jump away from each other as though scorned. 

"Sorry," Pang awkwardly chuckles. "I just. Uh. Yeah."

"It's okay," Wave replies, moving towards him. "Just carry the Tupperware and I'll carry the drinks and the mats, okay?"   

The rooftop has always held a sense of permanence that Wave has never before attached to a place. It would only make sense then, for Wave to make it accessible for him even at night. Wave taps on a switch effectively turning on the LED light strips attached to every nook and cranny of the walls. Wave watches Pang -- completely transfixed with the way the rooftop is now enveloped with a soft-golden glow.

"You really did all this?" Pang asks in wonderment. 

"Obviously," Wave answers, "How did you think we'd be able to see our food, Pang?" 

Pang sheepishly holds out his phone. "The torch, I'd assumed." 

"Idiot," Wave mutters. 

Pang moves to bump their shoulders together. "You love me anyway." 

Wave does not acquiesce that with a reply, focusing entirely on setting the boxes as a makeshift table and placing their Tupperwares on it. "Eat," he says, shoving the chopsticks in Pang's hands and opening both their Tupperwares. 

"Give me your phone," Pang replies. 

"Why?" Wave asks, handing him the phone. He watches Pang tinker with his phone before soft, lulling music fills the atmosphere. 

"What's this for?" Wave asks, focusing entirely on his food and not on how this looks like -- a dinner with someone he likes akin to a candle light dinner with sombre music playing in the background. 

Pang looks at him with a tiny, indignant smile. "I'm here, at my favourite place with my favourite person, after days, Wave. Let me have this." 

Wave huffs, adjusting his jacket draped over his shoulders. "Alright, weirdo." 

Pang shakes his head, finally turning towards his Tupperware. The music fills in the gaps in their conversation and it's so pleasant, that Wave could almost forget about the impending doom that lies beyond them. 

They shift to lie side-by-side on their mat, a while after dinner. Their elbows brush against each other as they stare at the stars above them. 

"Do you ever think about running away?" Wave whispers, the wind around then picking up pace. 

"All the time," Pang says. "But I can't, now. We can't. We're too close to changing it all, Wave."

"I know," Wave replies. "But it doesn't hurt to imagine now, does it?"

Wave feels the pressure of Pang's gaze on him and determinedly does not look back. "It doesn't," Pang replies, shuffling to his side, his head resting on the fold of his elbow. 

"So," Wave says, "imagine this with me."

"A home on the outskirts of the city," Pang replies. 

"Like an apartment?" Wave asks, turning to his side as well. 

"No," says Pang. "A house. A home. We go to the university nearby. The Director feels like a faraway nightmare we barely remember."

"How are we affording an entire house on a student budget?" 

"Shhh. This is just a fantasy, Wave," Pang says, moving to ruffle his hair. Wave swats at his hand before reaching over to pull his hair, reveling in the delighted shriek he lets out. 

"Evil. Wave is so evil."

"Shut up. Tell me more about this. Are we still Pang and Wave?" 

"Always. We don't need to hide here. We're safe."

"We're safe," Wave smiles. "Seems unbelievable, huh?"

"We are going to win," Pang says, a shift in his tone apparent. "You know that, right?" 

Wave sighs, turning to lie on his back again. "We're going to give our best."

"And we're going to win," Pang says.

"Another one of your fantasies?" Wave asks. 

"No," Pang replies softly. "In my imagination, we're away from this all, Wave. We're safe and happy and… ah, nevermind. We probably volunteer in an animal shelter on Saturdays. Have movie nights every Sundays. Have one of those chore lists stuck on our fridge." 

"I scold you for leaving the kitchen cabinets open all the time and leaving your socks everywhere."

"And I scold you for taking all my things and putting them away."

"You probably just made a mess of our living room, Pang."

"It has to look lived in," Pang insists. 

"Lived in, not like a garbage dump."

"Garbage dump my ass," Pang says, chuckling. "Then, I bring you the strawberry ice-cream that you pretend to hate as an apology."

"And I let you choose the movie," Wave replies, his heart suddenly full of the possibilities of how it would be like to live together, attend a university together, have a future mapped out around each other. 

"There we go," Pang says, threading his fingers through Wave's hair. "What a perfect world to live in."

Wave looks at Pang, the love of his entire life, and sighs wistfully. "Perfect, indeed."

+1. 

"I would've never pegged you as the last minute packing kind of person," Pang remarks, zipping open Wave's bag that lies haphazardly on the floor. 

"I was busy, okay?" Wave sniffs at Pang slowly shaking his head in his direction. 

They had all been busy, after all. The high of their victory didn't fade away with the conclusion of their exams, strengthening with every moment that convulates since that day. It was Punn's idea in the end, to take his dad's private jet to Phuket and to spend a month there at his beach house, until they've to come back and face the reality of university admissions. 

"We were all busy," Pang says, shoving his clothes in that bag. "And yet, Ohm managed to pack, and you didn't." 

"If you want to complain so much, then don't help me," Wave mutters, not even bothering to fold his clothes properly. They were to leave in three hours and half of Wave's room was still nearly arranged in place. 

"Kidding, kidding," Pang concedes, laughing. Wave tries not to dwell on how carefree Pang's laughter seems now and fails, miserably. 

Out of all the people in the world who deserved to be happy, Pang was the most deserving, after all. Wave would do everything in his power to keep him smiling just the way he does.

"I'll clear the bookshelf for you as well?" Pang asks, dusting his pants off. 

"Obviously," Wave answers, turning away, knowing that he'd only end up getting more distracted than ever if he kept looking at Pang. "Just shove them in that bag," Wave points and gets back to his clothes.  

"Yes, sir," Pang replies, doing just that. 

It's silent for a few minutes before a thud, a yelp, and a sharp intake of breath. 

"Are you okay?" Wave asks, after a minute of silence, still not turning towards Pang. 

"Yeah," comes Pang's high-pitched reply, before he clears his throat. "Just fine, but, uh… you want to live by the sea?" 

Wave's heart touches his feet. 

"You imagine us… living together?" 

Wave is frozen on the spot, the embarrassment turning his insides into hot ash. He should have thrown that letter away all those years ago; should've thrown it and burnt it until all that remained of it were the permanent ink stains crushing his heart. Except...he couldn't. Like all things related to Pang, he couldn't just throw this away. Hiding it in a book he rarely touched was, in retrospect a bad idea, was something that he could have avoided. 

He hears some shuffling until Wave's chin is lifted by Pang, his eyes full of something akin to unabashed hope. 

"Let it go, Pang," Wave says, trying to snatch the crumpled paper from his hands. "It was from two years ago." 

All the mirth from Pang's face vanishes in an instant. "Oh. Oh, okay," he whispers, something broken -- Wave, a little too frantic to notice that. 

What can Wave even say to explain himself? That he started building a future only after meeting Pang? That Pang, without fail, painted the walls of his imagination with his presence? That Pang was in every single one of the new beginnings he thought of?

"I'm sorry," Wave whispers. "You don't have to…you don't have to think about this. Or reply to this. Or anything. I value you above all and I don't care if this doesn't…mean a thing to you."

Pang continues tightly clutching onto the note. "This is addressed to me," Pang says. "Can I keep it then?" 

Wave meets Pang's eyes. "It was when you couldn't remember us," Wave explains. 

"I got that," Pang replies, his eyes lighting up again. 

"It was when you couldn't...remember me."

"I got that too," Pang replies easily. 

How much more obvious does he have to be before Pang finally gets that? 

"I like you," Wave grits out. "That is what you don't get." 

Pang takes a step towards him, Wave following suit. "I always felt a part of me missing, when I couldn't remember you," Pang says. "I think, subconsciously, my eyes always looked for yours." 

Wave is rarely ever rendered speechless. This just prompts Pang further. He takes a step forward and weaves their fingers together. "I think my eyes will always look for yours -- in crowds and empty spaces. You're the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning. I want to tell you everything and anything that crosses my mind. Do you get it?" 

"What?" Wave whispers, trying to wrap his head around the reality of it all. 

Pang leans forward to press their foreheads together, bringing their interwoven hand to his chest. "I like you too," Pang says. "I like you so much, Wave. I don't see a future for myself without you in it. In my imagination, we were always away from all this, but we were also always together."

All breath seems to have been stolen out of Wave's lungs. "You...like me?" Wave asks. 

"I like you," Pang affirms, dropping his hand and wrapping it around his waist. 

Wave leans into him, resting his head in the crook of Pang's neck, tightening his hands around him. "You like me," Wave repeats. "I like you too. I like you so much."

Pang moves his head to kiss Wave's temple. 

"Do you ever think about beginning anew?" Wave asks. 

Wave feels Pang nod. "A small house, 10 minutes from the university that we have enrolled in." 

("Well, it's 15 by foot," will say Wave, three months from now. "But I think it's good enough.")

"We live there for a year or two before moving to a bigger one." 

("We were supposed to live here for a year, at least," Pang will say, a year from now. 

"But that one is bigger," Wave will insist. "And better. You can't deny that. The faucet doesn't drip all night long despite multiple repairs there." 

"Alright," Pang will concede, kissing the top of Wave's head. "I agree.") 

"We'll figure things out," Pang says, "one day at a time."

"But, together," Wave adds. 

Pang holds him closer. "Always together."

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 69: Nice

Chapters: 69/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: 

Relationships: Loki x Reader 

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Bucky (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Has A Worse Time,

Summary:  You find yourself in an explosive situation. Loki figures some things out, and so do you.

You floated through nothing, bathed in sparkling blue light. Loki held your hand, pulled along behind you, staring into the azure cascade with gentle joy.

Forever forever forever

Til death do you part

The words pulsed inside you, so deep down that it was more like a feeling than a voice. What did it mean?

You knew you were going to be linked to Loki for the rest of your life. If he hadn't figured out how to sever that connection yet, he never would. But this beautiful light seemed to promise more.  More than your life. Adventure. Knowledge beyond your world. Power. Romance. The high and exciting life you had always dreamed of. Or safety. Love. Comfort. The stable and idyllic life that you really wanted. You could have it all, if you would just... Learn me learn me learn me “I'm trying.” You were. You had been. You were grasping your power. You were discovering your romance. Your love and comfort. You were gaining that knowledge, you had tasted adventure, and weren't sure that it was to your liking. Still seeking that safety and stability though. Perhaps it was holding your hand right now, gazing serenely into the light. Perhaps it was the light itself, bathing both of you in such glory. You stretched you arm out toward it. Closer. Closer. If you could just grasp it, you would have everything you ever wanted. If you could just understand it. If you could just learn it. But Loki was tugging your other hand now, slowing your progress. You looked back at him in confusion. His face, no longer suffused with contentment, now showed concern. He wanted you to stop. But you were so close now! So close...it was just right there! If you just...reached...a little further... He was pulling hard, like he did when he was trying to keep you out of the dream-void, but the void was no longer there. Now it was just the light. Your fingers just barely brushed its center. The light resolved itself into a brilliant sapphire blue crystal, rough but pure. It screamed for you, and Loki screamed for you, and with a final push, you closed your hand around the gem.

Knowledge flooded you. Light and power flooded you, more than you could ever hold. Your physical body disintegrated into light, and like a tiny Bifrost, you scattered across the universe.

                                                                               *****

You awoke screaming, flailing out of your bed, tearing at your blankets. Light filled your eyes, blinded you. You could feel runes marching up and down your body in blazing trails, like fire ants. It was too much!

Your brain pounded at your skull, too big to fit. The mark on your hand seared down to the bone. Too much!

Your whole body contorted with the overload of energy. Your stomach twisted and lurched.

Too much, too much, too much!

You shrieked again, and a pulse of magical energy burst from you. Everything in your room lifted, began flying around. Things crashed into the walls, through the walls, through the window. The door ripped from its hinges.

You heard Loki shout, heard Andsvarr's distressed cry, and more crashing, in the hallway and beyond. How far would it carry?

Loki appeared in your ruined doorway, just as your sight faded back in. His body coruscated with runes, both eyes blacked out, save for the bright glowing blue of his irises. Did you look like that right now?

But with the power released, your body relaxed, your stomach calmed. Finally, you collapsed, shivering, and Loki scooped you up into his scintillating arms, the runes already fading.

“I will go fetch a healer!” Andsvarr exclaimed, and rushed off down the hall. Loki carried you through the little library, past skewed shelves and fallen books, to his room, in which a dresser now rested on its side, a mirror toppled.

He lay you down on his bed, making sure to give you the pillow you preferred to use. He up-righted a chair and sat next to the bed, clasping your hand in his.

“Do you know what happened?” He asked. “Are you hurt?”

“I don't think so.” You said weakly. “Not injured at least. It hurt, but not now.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“Not really. A dream. Light. Flying. Trying to reach something and then...too much light, too much energy. Do you remember?”

“No.” He said quickly. “Don't worry about it right now. Just rest.”

Bjarkhild arrived, looking as if she had been hastily roused, and gave you a quick look over.

“There doesn't seem to be any damage to your body, though your mark looks freshly burned. I want you to see me tomorrow, so I might see it more clearly. You are suffering magic fatigue, but I think his Highness might be able to do something about that. Gently.” She said, giving Loki a stern glare. “She is in no shape for more...energetic activities.”

Loki looked away sharply. It might have just been the firelight, but his face looked red.

“I will care for her according to her needs.” He said with as much dignity as he could muster.

After Bjarkhild left, Loki crawled into bed with you, snuggling close with one arm around you protectively.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I will be. The fatigue always feels better when you're close.” You wished you had a better handle on it though.

“Yes. But...are you okay?” He asked again. You could see the worry not quite hidden behind his eyes.

“No. No, I really don't think I am. I don't feel right. I feel like I should be screaming right now, or something. Why aren't I screaming?”

“Because I am here to protect you.” Loki declared. “I'm here. I'm here forever.”

Forever forever forever

Til death do you part.

What did it mean? Half-remembered words and blue light.

“Are you upset about the giant too?” Loki asked.

“Of course I am! He was right there! And he tried to kill me! And then you killed him! Right in front of me!”

“Well, technically Thor killed him.” Loki began.

“I should feel worse than this. I could have tried talking to him, but I just jumped up on a table with my knife. What did I think he was gonna do? I should have done something else. I should be freaking out, but I'm not.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that.” Loki said. “It seems to me that you are, but you are being less up front about it. Like one of your computers. A 'freak out' program running in the background, sucking up all of your processing power.”

“Loki, this isn't...you know, I want to say that this isn't a joke, but that's a good analogy? I'm so worried, I can't think. I'm scared it's going to happen again. That lady in the ice. We're going to dig her out, and then what? You have to know she's gonna hate us. Last she knew, we were the enemy. And what if that was her guy? What if he was the kids dad?”

“I have it on very good authority that he was not.” Loki assured you. “He left behind some information that let us know, at least vaguely, who they are. The child is, presumably from a noble family, and the woman, her caretaker. The woman might be a threat; she is still ten feet tall, after all. However, and I hate to put this so callously, she will soon see that she has little choice but to cooperate. There's not really anywhere else for her to go. As for the girl...no one will harm her. She's not a warrior, she's just an innocent child.”

“Yeah, but will everyone else see it that way...Loki?” His face had suddenly gone crimson, lips pressed tightly together. “What's wrong?”

“There is this curse.” He muttered. “It says that when you get to a certain age, you will find yourself opening your mouth, and your father will come out.”

“Yeah, we have that saying too. Why?”

“No reason.”

Right.

“But you understand, right? Why I feel like this about...feeling like this? I don't want this to become normal. I don't want to get used to this kind of thing.”

“Fear not.” Loki said soothingly. “There will be no more killing of Frost Giants, and hopefully no more Asgardian deaths while you live.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“But you understand?”

“I understand. Now rest.”

You were exhausted. You let yourself drift off to sleep, feeling just a tiny bit better about things. As long as he understood, it would be all right. As long as he understood.

                                                                         *****

“I just don't understand!” Loki complained into his phone. He sat, naked and dripping in front of the bathroom mirror, on a call with Barnes, the only human he believed to be capable of helping him comprehend the bizarre nuances of human cultures and relations. “She has seen death before. She has been in battle. She's defended herself. We're teaching her how to fight. But there is this resistance in her. She doesn't want to get better. She doesn't want to overcome this fear. It is part of my duties to help her face war with a still and steely heart, if need be. But she wants to remain soft.”

“Well yeah, that makes sense.” Barnes said from his end of the line. “Nobody likes war.”

“A single glance at your species' history shows that to be a lie.”

“Yeah, okay, we do fight a lot. But nobody actually wants to go to war. Well, except the people who make money off it, but they aren't the ones actually going into battle. No one else likes it. Why do you think we invented so many machines for it?”

“So you do it all the time, but you hate it?” Loki tried to reason out. “Then why do it so much?”

“Because a lot of us are greedy SOB's who don't give a shit about anyone else, and those are the kinds of people who usually grab up leadership positions. But for someone like her, peace is the ideal. For her, getting used to violence means she can more easily perpetuate it, and she wouldn't want that.”

“She wouldn't want to slay her enemies swiftly and cleanly, so that she can go back to peacetimes?”

“No, she wouldn't see it that way. To her, the act of killing would end peace forever, because that act would just stay with her forever.”

Loki paused for a moment, rolling this over in his head. The contradictory nature of humans. You'd punched him before; when you were afraid. Had you felt guilty when you had done that? Was it normal behavior for you, or a product of everything you had been through?

“Look, I know it doesn't make sense. But we're different than you guys. Our brains, I mean. We're really not supposed to be doing this. It messes us up pretty bad. And you can't forget that she's seen some pretty terrible things, too. I mean, you and I were soldiers. Well, sorta. Weren't you?”

“In a way.” Loki said. “Asgard was in a state of relative peace through most of my life, but we did muster to the defense of our protectorates fairly regularly. As soon as I was old enough, I was sent with our warriors to direct them, and fight alongside them. I wasn't rank and file, but I've led armies, and I've been in battles.”

“Yeah, well she hasn't. Your experiences and hers are extremely different. This isn't something she was brought up to, so it's not surprising that it repulses her.”

“So...I should be preserving her pacifist nature.” Loki said slowly. “Rather than encouraging her to move past it?”

“Maybe. Maybe that's what she wants.”

“But I want to keep her safe. She's already been exposed to so much danger. And this is a time of upheaval for us; there will only be more.”

“And I'm not saying to make her stop learning how to defend herself, I'm just saying to be sympathetic. She's culturally different than you. She's going to react differently to things than you do, and this is a big difference between you. Don't just brush it off.”

“Right.” Peace was the ideal, violence was an abhorrent last resort, and compassion was a precious treasure. Even if you struggled with them sometimes, these were important facets of your being.

“Got that straightened out, your Highness? Can I go back to bed now?”

“Er, yes. Thank you for this.”

After they had said their goodbyes, Loki remained in front of the mirror. There were some other things to think about. He held out his hand, the Space Stone, wrapped in its icy containment, sat in his palm. Blue spread down his arm, over his body. This was the only use of his native Jotun magic that he currently employed, and it 'revealed' him whenever he held the frozen sphere for more than a moment.

“Just what are you up to?” Loki mused.

Why should the Stone be appearing in your dreams? Was it the source of the blue light that was so often featured in them? Did that mean it had been there all along? Why?

The possibility shed a new and disturbing light on some of the events of those dreams. How you sometimes seemed to be listening-even responding to-a voice he could not hear. How you sometimes brought physical objects out of those dreams of far away places. The dust and dried leaf from Titan, the snow from Jotunheim. As if you had in some way actually been there. Maybe you had. But how? And again, why?

And most worrisome, was it actually possible for you to free the stone from its containment, through dreams, and bring it back out into the world, out of his possession? Was that what it had been trying to do?

But you couldn't handle it. In the dream, you had shattered into beams of light. He hadn't wanted to tell you.

Did it want freedom? The stone was not...often... malignant. It seemed to enjoy being used. It liked to make things, to empower things. Was it bored?

Perhaps he ought to take it to work on the Bifrost a bit more often.

He heard a choked off gasp from the bath chamber door, turned just in time to see you retreat. Heard you run down the hall and out of his quarters entirely.

Well, that was familiar. But it wasn't as if you hadn't seen him naked in the bath before, so why-

Blue light, blue stone, blue skin, blue him!

You had seen.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

The Shakespeare Substitute {2} Kim Taehyung x black! fem! reader (College AU)

Parts: 1 2 3

Pairing: Taehyung x reader Taglist: @agustdpeach, @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore​

Summary: After coming down from the high of meeting your old crush, Kim Taehyung again, you end up over analyzing your previous encounter with him. Of course your best friend James teases you for your awkward, yet false sense of bravado. You think about contacting Taehyung, however he ends up contacting you first, sending you down memory lane and wondering where this familiar encounter can take you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance, College AU, Smut(in later parts)

Word Count: 2, 194

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Author’s Note: I’m glad people are enjoying this! I want to know actually if these black readers are working for people, like I just want black bts army to feel included with fics like this, since I’ve never had fics like this when I started to read/wrtie fanfiction. Also! If you guys read part one of my Jungkook fic, this is the same university that the reader in that fic goes to. If you want to read part one of Welcome To Shimmer Star, click here. So, let me know how it makes you guys feel. Requests are open for BTS and EXO, send me some! Thanks! One more thing, let me know if you’d like to be a part of the taglist, just message me about it!

I’m halfway out of the English building when James comes sprinting at me with that intense stare. Maybe I could have made it out of the building, but not with Shimmer Star University’s former track-star at my heels.

“Uh, Y/N, hold up!” he urges. 

I turn toward James, who gives me an upturnt grin. 

“What?” I ask with a little too much bite. 

James stifles a chuckle, he raises his hands up in defense as I give him a hard side eye. 

“I-I was just wondering what took so long with Mr. Kim,” he says.

I roll my eyes. 

“It’s Taehyung, God I can’t believe he’s here,” I groan.

James crosses his arms. 

“You were pretty fixated on getting out of the building,” he says, “you sure Taehyung didn’t try anything?”

I notice how serious James grows with those thick eyebrows furrowing and his jaw clenching. It’s scary. I shake my head in order to reassure him. 

“No, we just talked for a moment,” I say, “nothing to worry about.”

I try to walk away from this conversation again, trying to comprehend my thoughts but James doesn’t let up. Of course he doesn’t.

“It’s nothing to worry about?” he asks, “then why are you blushing light skinned princess? And why are you so fixated on getting away from me? We usually grab tea after Shakespeare, remember?”

I blink up at him. 

“Damn! I, shit, James I really forgot,” I stammer, “I-I just got to finish up on some homework.”

James keeps an amused look on his face, still trying to suppress his growing grin. 

“Taehyung totally got you smitten, didn’t he?” he asks, “what happened to putting that shit in the past?”

I don’t even know that myself. Here I thought Kim Taehyung truly left my life at eighteen, fled back to Korea to do something while leaving me baffled with the potential of having a relationship with him. I’m still reeling from his return at Shimmer Star University! Out of all these universities in the country, he chooses Shimmer Star! What the actual fuck!

“Y/N,” James says, “you good in that head of yours?” 

I grimace and shrug. 

“I don’t know,” I admit, “that entire exchange overwhelmed me and I just don’t know what to do.”

James whines. 

“Aw, c’mon sweetie, I’m sure a green tea can ease you,” he reassures, “you can get a mango shot and everything!”

“I don’t know James.”

“Please?” he begs, “it’ll be on me! my treat! you won’t even have to waste your meal plans, or get that rinky dink small cup, you’ll get a large today!”

I can’t help giggling at his goofy ass. 

“Ok ok, fine,” I say, “I’m only going for tea, don’t expect me to stay at the cafe long.”

James only nods with a fist pump of victory before pulling me into a tight hug. 

“Don’t worry girl,” he says, “if things don’t work out with Taehyung, can I take a shot at him?”

I stiffen against him and pinch him hard under his armpit. He yelps, flinching back as his arms fall from around me. 

“Fine! I’ll quit it!” he exclaims as he puts an arm around my shoulder, leading me towards Shimmer Star Cafe.

                                                      ━     ━    ━

Shimmer Star Cafe isn’t as crowded as it usually is during the day. Noon is it’s peaked hours, line trailing almost through the library where the cafe is connected with. Once James I get there around 5:15 pm it’s practically empty, the baristas are conversing among themselves prior to one of them popping back around to the cash register. 

“James, hi there!” the barista greets. 

James beams as I glance at him and the barista beams back. 

“Hi! Could I get two large iced green teas? One with a mango shot and the other with a strawberry shot,” he says. 

The barista grabs the cups from the left of the register swiftly with a nod. 

“Coming right up real soon!” she says with a wink. 

“Thanks boo!” James says. 

We retreat to a booth near the back, it’s secluded, except for a tiny pile of books on a square table next to it. I stand beside it as James sits. 

“What’s with that look?” he asks. 

“Does that girl have a crush on you, or something?” I ask, doing a double take back to the counter.

 James chuckles. 

“Mandy? Nah, well, she knows I’m gay, but I’m not sure,” he admits, “it might be because I’m so dope, right?”

I roll my eyes and plop down across from him. 

“Hardly,” I joke. 

James pops his neck out in a false attempt to fight, but I’m ready this time with my own false fighting stance from an old Dragon Ball Z game. 

“What the hell?” James asks through a fit of laughter, “your anime head ass, lord you win damn!”

He pats my hand, rising to his feet as his name is called from the counter. 

“I’ll be back-”

I cut him off as I get up. 

“No, I should just take my tea and leave,” I say, “thanks for treating me like this dude.”

James pouts.    

“Aw, but I wanted to talk more,” he whines, “we don’t even have that much Shakespeare homework.”

“I’ve got other classes,” I counter.

James mutters a fine as we both walk back up to the counter together. Another barista hands us the teas from the end of the counter. While grabbing our napkins, straws, along with any other sugar condiments we’d need. 

“Um, what could I get you?” the barista asks. 

I turn towards her and my mouth nearly drops. There’s Taehyung standing next to another handsome guy, a bit shorter than him with medium length brown hair. I hide behind James and sip my tea slowly. 

“Girl what is it-oh,” he says, noticing Taehyung as well. “Don’t panic, I know that guy with Taehyung.”

“You do?” I ask. 

“Yeah, “ he says, “yo! Jungkook!”  

Jungkook turns along with Taehyung, who raises an eyebrow.

“James, what’s going on dude?” Jungkook greets.

James slips into a slick handshake with Jungkook who follows it effortlessly. I can’t help but watch in awe. Of course James knows this guy, he’s so bubbly. I was joking earlier, but James is really electric, he’s got a way of putting people at ease, it’s helped me a lot since freshman year. 

“Y/N?”

I look up and Taehyung is standing in front of me, his black turtleneck clear in view while his black coat is missing. 

“Um, hi, uh, “ I stammer, “I gotta go!”

Taehyung takes a step forward.

“Wait, please I-”

“Uh, I’m sorry, I got homework, bye!” I let out quickly as I sip my tea for dear life and flee.

                                                       ━  ━   ━

The tea is halfway gone once I get home. I kick off my shoes before plopping onto the blue sheets on my bed and roll onto my back. My eyes shut as I try to fathom what the hell just happened today. Not only does Taehyung teach as a substitute, he’s also subbing my class and one of his friends (or acquaintances) know James. This just got so much more complicated than I could handle. 

My phone buzzes again, echoing it’s irritating noises from my drive back here. It’s got to be James, of course I could ignore it and actually start on homework, however, if I ignore him there could be grave consequences. His stank face is a worse punishment in itself. I rise and pick up my phone from the dresser, it reacts to me with multiple text message icons littering the screen. A swipe of my finger awakens it, I punch the numbers in and it unlocks revealing a few missed calls from James, along with a few texts. 

They read:

I’m sorry I didn’t notice Taehyung

He’s Jungkook’s friend, he’s really chill for a TA!

Girl, this man is husband material, or at least enough for a pleasant dick appointment 

I regret my actions. Of fucking course James is thirst texting. Why am I not surprised. 

Another text interrupts my reading. This one read:

I know, you’re in the middle of homework. I caught you off guard today and I just wanted to talk. 

I freeze as the person continues to type.

It’s Taehyung btw

Is he in control of my phone service now? Could I just get a moment to catch my breath? I’ve been in a whirlwind all day. 

James is cool, great guy

I can’t trust James to do anything. I decide to text Taehyung right back.

Did he give you my number?

Taehyung responds right back.

Yeah, that ok?

I guess, but not for him. I’m surprised he didn’t you his number.

Taehyung’s response takes a bit longer this time. 

Why- wait, he’s gay, isn’t he?

Great observation Sherlock. JK, he’s got great duality, he usually isn’t too charismatic unless he’s around me. He wasn’t flirting, was he?

No, but Jungkook was egging him on to do something, I polity had to decline. He seemed rather bisexual to me.

I smile down at the phone before responding. 

I’m glad to see you weren’t eyeing my friend, can’t say I can speak for the rest of my peers. 

I stare at the messages for a moment as Taehyung doesn’t even type this time. Instead of another message popping up, an incoming call does instead with the number Taehyung texted from. A groan escapes me as I press the green phone button and answer. 

“Hello?”

“What do you mean the rest of them?” Taehyung asks. 

I’m caught off guard at how his voice comes through, just as deep as it’s always been. 

“I didn’t mean for you to call me,” I explain. 

“Do you think I’ll let those girls in class get to me?” 

I hum at his question. 

“I don’t know, Jessica was practically throwing herself at you,” I say.

Taehyung chuckles lowly. 

“Were you jealous?” he asks.

I tremble at his question. I know he did not just ask me that.

“Tae, I’m hanging up,” I declare. 

“Hold on Y/N! Wait, please!”

I hold the phone against my shoulder, shuddering against how soft and familiar his voice is. It reminds me of how tender he told me of his feelings that night, four years ago at prom. God, why couldn’t he have just kept his thoughts to himself? I wouldn’t be in this mess if he wouldn’t. 

“Y/N, are you still there?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” I whisper, “God, Taehyung, don’t you understand the shit you put me through the year you left? You can’t just come back and flirt with me like everything's ok!”

I cover my mouth as soon as the words come out. 

“Taehyung I-”

“No, Y/N, you’re right,” he says, “I was being too informal.”

“Taehyung,” I start but he cuts me off again.

“I’m sorry, ok,” he admits, “God, let me at least make it up to you. What can I do?”

I chew on my lip and fall back against the bed. This is the first time I’ve had the control before. When we were almost a thing back in high school, he admitted his feelings and I just accepted them without much thought besides how good looking me was. 

“I-I don’t know,” I say, “you apologizing was a step in the right direction, what do you have in mind?”

Taehyung shifts in wherever he is, I hear papers crinkle and shift around him.

“You have classes Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” I say, “just one in the morning though.” 

“Let me take you out,” he suggests, “we can start over, I can get to know you better and actual listen.”

My heart pumps at his words.

“Really?” I ask, “where at? I need to make sure I can afford it first.”

“That doesn’t matter Y/N,” he says, “I’ll take care of it, let me treat you.”

“Are you sure?” 

Taehyung chuckles and hums.

“Of course, the kids back in school didn’t call me Mr. Gucci for nothing,” he jokes.

A fit of giggles escape my mouth.

“I can’t believe you remember those idiots calling you that!” I exclaim.

Taehyung laughs again.

“Hey, it got you to laugh that’s all that matters,” he notes, “how’s homework going? Did you read Act one of Hamlet yet?”

I bite my lip and shake my head. 

“No,” I admit, “I was going to, but I’m on the phone with my gorgeous substitute.”

“Ah, so you can flirt, but I can’t,” Taehyung says with a hint of amusement. 

“Sorry,” I say, “that was a little informal of me.”

“No, you’re fine,” he says, “I have no problem with this, I can act very well and play your well behaved sub.”

I sigh against the sheets and bury my face between them. This man will be the death of me.

“I gotta go Tae,” I let out.

“Did I make you blush?” he asks.

By his tone I can practically hear the boxy smile on the other line. 

“That’s none of your business Tae!” I say, “goodbye.”

Taehyung chuckles lowly. 

“Goodbye beautiful.”

He hangs up soon after, leaving me a flustered mess.