#Because it's understood that of course it was an accident and I already feel terrible about it

[thesaltyace]

I am SO ANGRY.

I should have pulled out of the garage to open the back hatch. But I opened the hatch while it was inside. Which was actually fine. The garage door was open, plenty of room.

But then I hit the button to close the garage door. While the hatch was still open. And now I have a huge scrape in the paint, down to metal, on the hatch. 🫠

I can't even right now. I'm so angry I could cry.

[thebeautyoffanfics]

hello!! May i request tsuchigomori, akane and teru with a s/o whos an exorcist which uses their blood to use their abilities to the fullest??

Thamk you in advance !!

tsuchigomori x gn!reader, akane aoi x gn!reader, teru minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: of course!! I doubt this is what you had in mind, but the first thing i thought of when reading this is Beyond the Boundary (in particular, the character Mirai)! Which is a series I hold very near and dear to my heart <33 that being said, I’m writing this as if the reader is that similar to Mirai <33 if it’s not what you had in mind, it’s a funny little coincidence, and I hope you like it!! Anyway, thank you so much for requesting!!!

warnings: blood/anemia mention

word count: Collectively, 1,404

Tsuchigomori <3

He’s impressed- though he only shows it mildly. He’s never had much worry about being exorcised, so when he finds out that you’re 1) and exorcist and 2) use your blood to do your job, he simply raises his eyebrows a bit, muttering an “oh really?”

I feel like he takes relationships really seriously, and is probably friends with you for a while before considering himself ready for a relationship. Whether it’s before or after establishing a relationship, he makes sure that he trusts you very dearly before letting you know he’s a supernatural.

He definitely trusts you not to exorcise him- in fact, he’ll joke about how your ‘little abilities’ are amateurish, but at least they’re cute. He’ll back that up by saying “hey, if I had to fight, at least it wouldn’t make me anemic.”

However, despite joking about anemia, he genuinely does find himself worrying for your health. If you’ve been working hard and show up looking sickly, he’s sitting you down and scolding you as he goes to figure out how exactly he should help an anemic person.

Tsuchigomori makes sure that you eat iron-rich foods often. Buys you cereals, dried fruits, etc. He also buys you iron pills- while he’s not exactly supportive of exorcising just any supernatural, as long as you’re limiting it to those that cause harm, he puts your health first. Heck, even if you exorcised a few harmless ones, he’d probably want to make sure you’re in your best condition.

The best part, is how casually he cares for you- he genuinely will be ushering you to go to bed earlier so that you can heal up a bit with the same face he gives you when he tells you he’s off to work. 

Should you tease him for worrying so much, he simply stands up and leaves. He’s just messing with you of course, but as long as you don’t stop him, he will genuinely go into a different room. Just call for him, and he’ll be turning around, a hand on his hip as he tells you it’s his job to care for you.

“I’ve had to doctor you more than I have my students, (Y/N). Honestly, please learn your limits before I start making an actual doctor see you. Hey- stop spacing out. I promise you, if you pass out I’ll leave you on the floor.”

“You’re so meannnn,”

“Am I now? That’s too bad.”

Akane Aoi <3

Seeing as he’s on the student council with Prince Know-It-All, he probably knew you were an exorcist before entering a relationship with you. It doesn’t bother him though- it’s not like he’s fully supernatural anyway. Plus, supernaturals can really be pains- he dislikes them, and won’t hesitate to let you know that once the two of you have established that you’re both “not normal” in a seeing-supernaturals sort of way.

You and Akane are probably friends for a while before dating, but he doesn’t outright tell you he’s part supernatural until he’s comfortable establishing a relationship. He probably planned to make it a part of a confession, but you actually found out by complete accident- spotting him in his supernatural form as you were busy trying to find a particularly annoying supernatural.

“Hey, Akane, have you seen a- wait- Akane???”

“(Y/N)???”

Both of you were fairly concerned. You were seeing your friend and crush looking very different (to say the least. To say the most, he was looking fabulous as heck, and, quite frankly, hot.) And Akane was seeing his friend and crush wielding some sort of… bloody weapon? You rushed to exorcise the pest, but, the moment the creature was gone, you caught up with Akane. While you weren’t sure what to expect from him, you weren’t too surprised when the boy ran up to you as well. Plenty of questions were asked, but it was cleared up before too terribly long!

What you weren’t expecting, was for Akane to ask you out not long after that, but that’s a completely different story-

The only thing that bothers him about your abilities is that you were using your blood to assist in exorcisms. He definitely worries like crazy whenever he knows you’re out getting rid of harmful supernaturals. Heck, he even offers to assist you multiple times, sometimes not accepting no as an answer. The thought of his precious s/o out there not only fighting monsters, but risking anemia while doing to was too much for his heart to handle.

He can’t help but feel a bit uneasy when he sees your blood. Akane really, really doesn’t want you to get hurt. The moment he notices you getting pale or dizzy, he’s taking over completely, making you stand back. The moment it’s taken care of, he’s carrying you to a safer place and making sure that you’re going to be alright.

He realizes that his protectiveness is probably a bit overbearing, seeing as he’s sure you’re somewhat aware of how to take care of yourself, but he genuinely can’t help his concern. Akane cares about you so dearly- he couldn’t live with himself if, for some reason, a supernatural managed to slip you up. If you tried to push yourself just a little bit further, what would happen? Nope, no way. Not risking it. Sorry, (Y/N), you’ve got yourself a fairly protective one- 

Teru Minamoto <3

Teru, my man- he probably managed to already know that you’re an exorcist. I’m not entirely sure how, but he just… gives off those know-it-all vibes, you know? Teru somehow knows everything about everyone, and that’s simply how it is. One thing he didn’t know though, was how you exorcised supernaturals, but we’re going to get there eventually.

Teru was, honestly, a bit relieved to know another exorcist. Seeing supernaturals was overwhelming at times, so having someone that understood how he felt was rather nice. Therefore, Teru gladly welcomed you, and soon began to consider you a friend. 

He still finds himself laughing over the way the two of you realized the other was an exorcist as well- you were still fairly new to the school, having only been there for around a month, and were walking through the halls with Teru. You had glanced over at just the right time- getting a glance into the girls’ bathroom as a few girls were exiting. You felt your face drop, a tinge of both annoyance and disbelief filling you.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

“Fine, other than no one told me that even the bathroom would have a- wait- nevermind, it’s nothing, there’s just something up with the girls’ bathroom.”

“Oh, the supernatural in there? He’s a pain, but we can’t exorcise him. I told my brother I wouldn’t.”

“Ah… wait-”

As it clicked for you, Teru had begun to laugh, and continued to laugh as you asked him multiple questions. After he caught his breath a bit, he explained that he was aware that you were an exorcist, and that he was as well- in fact, he and his brother came from a long line of exorcists. You found yourself growing a bit more comfortable around Teru after that, now aware that you weren’t alone in such a strange world. In fact, you’re somewhat sure that the entire encounter is one of the reasons you fell so hard for Teru-

Once Teru showed you how he got rid of supernaturals, you showed him how you did as well. He was honestly impressed, telling you how he hadn’t seen anyone do it that way before. Teru will ask you plenty of questions, including whether or not it puts you at risk for anemia. After realizing that it does, Teru will definitely worry a bit, but he does his best to trust you. 

Especially after the two of you start dating, Teru finds himself wanting to assist you when you work. He’ll say that it’s because you’re his darling s/o and he simply cares about you, but it’s a bit more than that- Teru doesn’t want to even risk the chances that you get hurt by a supernatural or your abilities. 

Very prepared as well! He can’t cook, but he does make sure that Kou makes iron-rich foods whenever you eat at their home. He also carried around iron supplements, and will not hesitate to carry you away from a supernatural if he feels like you’re pushing yourself too far.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Five. "You guys gossip about boys without me?"

warnings: swearing, mentions of emotional abusive/manipulation word count: 3.2k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

.

Y/n dropped her phone on the bed and slowly rolled off and onto the ground with a soft THUD. She grunted, falling harder than she expected but the dull pain now present in her right shoulder felt deserved somehow. Why did she think she deserved it? Maybe because she was an unconfrontational worm even when the person needed to be confronted because he hurt her more than anyone ever had.

She closed her eyes and wiggled to get comfortable on the thin carpet in her room. Laying on the ground was relaxing to her, forcing her gamer back to straighten to how it was intended. It helped her think, being on the floor. She didn't know why but she didn't question it. Just laid on the floor in acceptance with the dirt and forgotten candy wrappers.

Why didn't she want to respond to Peter? Well, years of being with him and even the months of not being with him had taught her that her ex liked to get his way and liked to take his anger out in her verbally when he didn't.

You could say she's heard some terrible things over very simple inconveniences.

Y/n slowly pattered to her desk and slid on her headphones, finding the discord server Dream said he and George were on. It was a server that a lot of their friends were in, one that Y/n hardly went in since she still hadn't met a lot of them and wasn't super comfortable with talking in it yet.

She scrolled through the various text chats, one for boredom, one for stream questions, one for memes, one for pictures of pets, one for.... discussing the inevitable takeover of rats...? Y/n wasn't sure what that was about but she knew she didn't want to find out. The list went on. She was pretty sure they had made a channel for every possible message someone could ever send.

There were equally as many voice channels, most of them titled with the names of different games for when they only played with each other and didn't stream. Some of them were just random names and she noticed there was one to match the rat takeover text channel. Okay, who was responsible for that?

After what felt like an entire scavenger hunt and with many new questions in her mind, Y/n finally found the voice channel Dream and George were in and clicked on it. It was called memerz-only.

"I'm not a memer, am I allowed in here?" she asked. She hadn't realized how messed up her voice was since she hadn't talked all day.

"Holy shit, Bug, you sound awful."

She scoffed a laugh. "Thanks, Dream. Really means a lot." She did sound pretty scuffed. Her voice was a little scratchy from not talking literally all day.

"You doing okay, Bugsy?" George asked kindly, to which she hummed.

“I just have one quick question...”

“Mhm?”

“This is simple, please don’t elaborate further. There’s a channel on this server... did you guys mean rat as in BadBoyHalo’s dog or rats as in rats?”

Neither of them spoke for a minute before George understood what she was referring to. “Oh! Rats as in rats.”

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Yeah, Quackity—“

“No!” she interupted. “No! I said I don’t wanna know. I really don’t. I’m too afraid to understand.”

“Wha- HA, okay.”

“Good choice, Bugsy. I wish I didn’t know what it’s about. It’s a lot weirder than you’d think.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Dream said with a laugh. “How are you doing, Bug?”

"Neither of you are streaming, right?" she asked, doubling checking the twitch app on her phone to be sure.

"No."

"So I don't have to pretend to be happy and bubbly?"

"No, you can be as mundane as you'd like," Dream said. "We don't mind."

"Yeah, honestly, most of the time when Dream and I are on calls alone it's just us being super boring and hardly talking."

"That's..." she paused to find the right words and decided with, "actually really cute. You guys just enjoy each other's presence."

George scoffed and Dream giggled. "See, even Bug says we're cute, Georgie! Why can you tell me you love me?"

"I'll leave right now if you don't stop," George threatened. "Can we go back to how Bugsy's miserable?"

"I'm not miserable, I just..." she hesitated. She had already told George about why she was having a bad day, but Dream?

She didn't want to tell Karl because she knew he would yell at her. She didn't want to tell Sapnap because she didn't trust him not to tell everyone (on accident, of course). For some reason, it was a different kind of hesitation than with the others that made her not want to tell Dream. She didn't want to tell him because she didn't want to be... embarrassed? Maybe that was it. She thought it would be embarrassing to tell Dream about how her ex-boyfriend treated her like shit and how now he wants to get back together with her. Plus, she knew how everyone else individually would react but Dream was a complete mystery. Maybe he'd yell at her too and say she's stupid for being affected by an ex. Maybe he'd break down crying for some reason? Who knows?

"You don't have to tell us," Dream stated. "Seriously."

"It's embarrassing," she said, tucking her feet beneath her on her seat. As she said the words, she decided they felt right. She was embarrassed. "But George already knows."

Above everyone else, Y/n was okay with telling George about her situation because he and her tended to talk about their troublesome relationships quite often. He always came to her for advice and she to him. They were very similar in their ways of thinking and seemed to have lots of similar dating stories, even if neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. She knew he'd never judge her for thinking unclearly since he tended to do the same.

George hummed, not knowing what to say since she hadn't said much. She could tell he didn't wanna say something that might make Dream more nosey and start hounding her about telling him.

"What hap—never mind. Not my business," Dream said quickly.

"No, I mean, I kinda wanted to talk to George about it again anyway so I guess you can join in on the gossip." Guess my mouth decided for me on this one, she thought.

"Wait, what? You guys gossip about boys without me?"

"Oh my gosh, don't say it like that, Dream," George groaned. "Bugsy and I talk about relationship problems a lot, yes. Not just boys."

"How did I not know this?"

"Because you don't know a lot of things?"

"It's normally George sending screenshots of text conversations with girls and asking me how to let them down gently," Y/n explained with a giggle.

"Or Y/n talking about her asshole ex."

"George! What do you and Karl not get about not calling him names?"

"I'm so lost," Dream mumbled.

Y/n sighed. "Okay, well," she cut herself off with a groan. "It's so embarrassing. Basically, my ex asked me to 'chat' this morning which is code for he wants to get back together—"

"Do you know that for sure?" Dream asked.

"Yeah, we already decided that," George snapped. "Let her finish."

"Sorry."

"So he wants to get back together and I feel stupid for wanting to listen to what he has to say."

"How is that embarrassing?"

"Because he hurt me and I feel like an idiot because him even suggesting that means he doesn't realize how badly he hurt me. It makes me feel like, I don't know, like all the time I spent being upset was for nothing," Y/n explained in a soft voice. "And because his simple, like, five word text made me freak out all day to the point of exhaustion."

"I don't think you should be embarrassed, Bugsy," George offered.

"Have either of you, uh, have you ever considered dating an ex?"

"Didn't you just say he hurt you badly?" Dream asked. "You aren't thinking of getting back with him, are you?"

"No... but I want to stay friends so maybe I should hear him out?"

"Well, I've never gotten back with an ex," he said bluntly. "But to be fair, all my relationships have ended badly or for bad reasons so I've never wanted to see any of them again. Staying friends depends on why you and he broke up, I guess, but..."

"Um, how do I put this..." she trailed off. "He was mean to me."

"Then no? Simple."

"But I've forgiven him and I think he's changed."

"People don't change that easily. Didn't you break up like, a few months ago?" George asked.

"Yeah, but—"

"Honestly I think if a guy was ever mean to you he doesn't deserve any more of your attention," Dream decided. "So, no. Don't even be his friend. Don't listen to a single thing he has to say."

"That's what I told her," George agreed.

"If that were the case, you guys shouldn't be friends," she argued. "You're mean to each other all the time."

"But we know it's a joke," George defended.

"So you're saying if someone is ever purposefully mean to you just once, you drop them forever?"

"Well, no," Dream said. "Not exactly. But it sounds like he was super mean to you since it's why you broke up."

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to go into detail. She was already uncomfortable enough talking about her personal life so much, but she trusted both of them and needed to get it off her chest and they were there and willing to listen. They had already established wanting to listen to her if she wanted to speak and right now, she wanted to speak. Maybe not the full story, but at least some. "He, um, well, the mean things he said, he said because he was trying to get me to see what he thought was the truth about myself."

Both of them were silent for a few moments. "I'm still confused," George admitted.

"Me too... But you don't have to tell us." Dream explained again. She thought it was sweet that they kept reassuring her that.

"I know, but I want to. If it's not too much for you guys..."

"No, go ahead, if you want."

"Uh, he lowkey emotionally manipulated me by telling me I wasn't good enough for anyone and stuff and how he was the only one who could ever love me. The second part he said truly believing that he was being romantic. There are a lot worse and specific things engraved in my brain but that's the gist of what he would tell me. He made me believe that I could never leave him because I could never be loved by anyone else. But he said it all in a way that... he thought he was just... letting me in on something no one else had the guts to tell me."

George gasped. "What?! Bugsy, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was like that."

"Woah, what the hell? No. Absolutely not. Don't give this guy a second thought. Cut him off for good," Dream said sternly, angry that anyone would say that to anyone, especially to someone like Y/n. "Wait, so, you broke up with him?"

"Yeah. After Karl yelled at me a lot and explained his outside point of view, I finally realized Peter was gaslighting me and emotionally abusing me and stuff so I dumped him. I guess right now I'm just upset by it because I thought we were past this and I was healing and him reaching out affected me again. I'm just emotionally exhausted. Like I said, it hurts to know that he doesn't realize what he did to me."

"I'm really sorry, Bug," Dream said softly. "Gimme his address and I'll punch him for you."

She laughed through her nose. "That's okay. Thanks."

"Yeah, she can go set his house on fire if she wants. She's proven that already."

"Shut up, George," she said with a small laugh.

"Wh......at?" Dream stuttered and George briefly explained.

"Well, Bug, just so you know, in case you weren't aware, you're really cool and sweet and funny and we really like having you around–" Dream started.

"Oh, ugh, no don't do this," she tried to joke but he ignored her as he continued his speech.

"–and you're way too good to be hanging out with either of us, and whatever that asshole was showing you wasn't love. 'No one could love you like he did' because what he was doing was not love, it was abuse." Dream's voice had a certain gentleness to it as he spoke that comforted Y/n and made her believe him. He was blunt but it didn't stab her in the heart like it should have.

If Y/n ever cried, she might have just then from how sweet they were both being. But she didn't because that wasn't something she did. She never cried over anything Peter said, never cried during movies, and didn't cry then. But she did smile very fondly at the Discord screen in front of her.

"Thank you, Dream."

"You know I'm not good with words, but, yeah, what Dream said," George said. "I'm sorry you had to go through that thinking it was normal. Please, please, do not get back together with him and please don't be friends with him."

"He's fine as a friend though."

"Bug. Whether he's fine as a friend doesn't matter, he doesn't deserve to have you as a friend. He treated you like shit, it's okay to be a little cold to him."

She sighed. They were right. "Okay." There was a long pause before, "thanks, guys. Sorry for coming in here and dumping my problems on you—"

"Don't be sorry," George said. "We're the ones that asked you to come in and share. We knew what we signed up for and don't regret it."

"Seriously, Bug, we care about you. You're allowed to, you know, talk about yourself." How did he know that's what she meant by that sentence? The way he could read her mind was heart-warming.

"Also, George knows this but Dream, there's a strict no-telling policy about this kinda thing. Please don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't even think of it," he promised. "My lips are sealed."

"Good."

A soft animal noise came from one of their mics and Y/n strained her ears to listen. "Was that a cat?"

"Patches has entered the chat," George joked.

Dream chuckled. "Yeah, my cat just jumped on my lap."

"Aw, you have a cat? Lemme see lemme see lemme see!" Y/n begged. "Partly because I would love if we could stop talking about my ex-boyfriend and the other part because I love cats."

"There's pictures of her in the pets channel on Discord—"

"No, no I want a picture of her on your lap. Is she all snuggled up?"

"Yeah, she is."

"PleASE, Dream. I need to see the snuggly cat."

"Fine, fine, if you insist. Give me a second."

A few moments later, she got a DM from Dream and smiled at the picture. His room was dark but the computer screen cast a cold glow over a ball of fur on a lap clad in sweatpants. "Awww, she's so cute."

"Dream, I wanna see it too," George whined. "Send it to the pets channel."

"I'm literally making this my lock screen," Y/n informed, making Dream laugh.

"No, George, it's only for Bug. She's had a bad day so she gets exclusive Patches content."

"What? That is so messed up."

"You know what's messed up, George?" Dream asked. "You never come to me with advice on how to reject girls. We're on the phone for 12 hours a day but you can't talk to me about girls? Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"You'll just make fun of me."

"Why would I? What makes you think that?"

"Because Sapnap and I make fun of you? So obviously you and him would make fun of me?" George said with a laugh.

"....that's fair."

Y/n locked her phone and clicked the home button to admire her new lock screen. "I love her," she whispered.

Dream and George both laughed. "I'm regretting sending you that. You're gonna, like, make a shrine or something."

"What would be wrong with that? She's precious. She deserves a shrine."

"Yeah, Dream, you're the one that feeds her gormet cooked food," George teased with a laugh. "You probably have a shrine."

"That's normal! That's what people feed their cats! That's completely normal!"

"I don't," George countered.

"Then what do you feed your cat?" Dream asked.

"I dunno, normal cat food?"

"Wait! You have a cat too??" Y/n asked. "I feel like we're missing a huge detail and it's that George never told me he had a cat."

"And a dog."

"WHAT? GEORGE! Send me pictures!!!!!"

"I can't right now, it's like three am. They're sleeping. Look in the pets channel."

"You're the worst," she grumbled, clicking and scrolling to find his pets. She saw a lot of cute pictures of other peoples pets along the way but couldn't find George's.

"Hey, do your animals have English accents?" Dream asked, making Y/n laugh.

"What?" George scoffed. "You're so stupid."

"How would that even sound?" Y/n asked.

"Like..." Dream thought, preparing to test out how it would hypothetically sound. "Meow," Dream meowed in his best accent, failing miserable.

"Oh gosh, never do that again," Y/n begged.

Dream laughed into his mic. "That was disgusting. George, I really hope your pets don't have accents."

"They're animals, so probably not. And if they did, it definitely wouldn't sound like whatever that was."

"Oh come on–"

"OH I FOUND THEM." Y/n announced as she found a message from George in the pets channel with the message 'heard we're sharing our pets'. "GEORGE. THEY'RE SO CUTE."

"Are you gonna make them your background picture now?" George asked.

"What, no way! It's Patches!" Dream scoffed.

"Yeah, I'll make George's pets my home screen. Oh, what a good day." As soon as she said it, a metal bowling ball fell to her stomach, reminding her of all the reasons it was, in fact, not a good day.

She got off after a while, feeling the weight of a particular idiot man's stupid simple text catch up with her again. She thanked Dream and George for letting her join, they invited her to always hang out with them, and she went on her way.

Y/n fell on her bed and curled up under the covers as her mind started to wander from Peter to Dream. She was really glad she met him. He was a really good person and he was always so incredibly kind to her. George and Sapnap and Karl were all great friends, so caring and understanding and always looking out for her, but Dream was different and she didn't know why.

Maybe it was because he seemed untouchable still, like he had no reason to hang out around someone like her. But he wasn't untouchable in the celebrity was since he had a large following, because all of her friends did and they didn't seem untouchable. Then what was it? What set him apart from, say, Karl? She trusted Karl with her life and had known him for quite a while. She knew Dream for maybe a few weeks and almost trusted him the same amount.

Why?

She picked her phone up off the bed and pulled up Twitter, deciding to DM Dream since he was already existing in her mind rent-free. Might as well make him pay his rent by bothering him.

*********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

*********

A/N: EEEEEEEE I hope that all made sense lmaaoooo basically yn ex = gaarrbbaaagggeeeee and ruined her self-worth a lot!! not poggers!!!!!!  THANK U GUYS FOR BEING SO SWEET ALL THE TIME ALL FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK ON ALL THE  CHAPTERS!!! I love seeing you guys make predictions and tell me how aljkDFB chapters make you feel bc same :/

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn​ @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk 

[mintawasalreadytaken]

Much Longer Than Six Sentences on a Halloween Sunday

i'm taking a page from the books of @thusspoketrish and @tackytigerfic, who tagged me in their recent WIP snippet posts, and posting the whole damn scene. who makes the rules? we make the rules. i think everyone i know has been tagged already this week, so i won't do so again (though i do want to read what everyone's working on!)

this is from my one mammoth WIP. Harry and Draco have raised Teddy over the course of ten years; he's gone missing along with a few Hogwarts schoolmates. Draco has asked the room if anyone would like a cuppa and the parents of said missing schoolmates are. not. pleased.

xxx

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Draco spoke lightly.

“You heard me,” Mrs Cottswald answered. Her voice shook with unspent tears. Her husband looked not to Draco for a response, but over to Harry. At was a hard look, one that said do something.

"Draco," Harry leaned forward in his chair and reached out to touch the arm of their jacket, sending every warm and calming feeling he could muster through. Draco waved him off casually.

“No, really. You asked how I could think of tea at a time like this? What is it that would prevent me from such a simple thought?”

“Your son could be dead, and you’re waltzing around like—like nothing’s happened!”

Her shout was too loud for a room with so much glass, enclosed in concrete walls. It amplified her anger.

“Our daughter is with him! What if he’s gotten her k-killed too?��

“Let’s not go saying things that we’ll later regret,” her husband said, his tone somewhere between beseeching and warning.

Tears crawled the same well worn mascara'd tracks down her cheeks as she and Draco stared at one another from across the room.

“That’s where you and I disagree,” Draco said after a moment. Their face was so still, then, and in a word, it held control. It was the control in the face of such an emotional day that was unnerving. Harry understood how it could be read as coldness. Even he was sometimes perturbed by it.

“Please allow me to explain myself,” Draco continued. Their tone was light as a feather caught on a breeze, polite as anything. It was dangerous, that lightness. Harry was afraid of what would replace it.

“When I was a boy, a friend of mine lost his little brother. A baby—a wisp of wild magic when his mother turned away for a split second, and a shelf toppled over. Terrible accident.”

Draco paused, and Agatha Cottswald astonishingly gave them the space to continue.

“My parents spoke about it over dinner, and I remember very clearly my mother citing some s—s— some number of how when a child dies, the parents nearly always split. It’s too painful to look at one another and see something of your child’s face, I suppose. She was hopeful that they’d be lucky and weather the situation together—that’s not the point here though.”

“You do have a point, don’t you?” Agatha sniffed into a handkerchief, and Harry glared at her but didn’t open his mouth. Not yet.

“I do. I remember asking when I could, what my parents would do if I died. I hadn’t an actual concept of death yet, but I didn’t like the idea that if I were gone, that they’d have to leave one another. It seemed cosmically unfair.”

They swallowed thickly. Harry saw something flutter beyond their eyes—the wings of the memory itself. It wasn’t a happy place Draco was visiting.

“My father was so upset that he stormed out and I couldn't understand why. My mother took the time to explain his reaction to me, and the day we knew we would have Teddy in our care, I thought back to what she told me then. She said that my father had to leave because when you’re a parent, even contemplating the death of your child is too much to bear. It hurts too much to think about directly. That if I were to die, anywhere, anytime, she and my father would know it in their souls and the pain would be so great that they would lay down and would never be able to rise again.”

There was a long pause before Agatha spoke again. She leaned forwards in her seat, a snarl to her top lip.

“What’s that got to do with you not feeling a shred of concern for our missing children?”

Draco’s seemingly serene face gave way to the faintest edge of a smile.

“I’m fine because the universe I live in is one where I cannot be up and living my life at the same time he’s not. If he were dead—” they pointed out the windows to the misty scene beyond, “—if he’s been in a bog all night, I would feel it. I would know it in my soul, and I would lay down, and I would never be able to get up again. But I’m here, and I’m standing, so may I be so bold to ask again if anyone would like some tea?”

There was some polite coughing, and a room of contrite looks directed at hands in laps.

Harry slouched back into his seat and cleared his throat.

“Me, please. Herbal.”

Draco's eyes met his and they inclined their head in assent. It took another few long seconds before others murmured that that would be nice, yes, please, me too. Sniffling, Agatha and her husband were the final two to join their number, mumbling thanks.

“Wonderful," Draco gave a curt nod. "I’ll put the kettle on, then.”

[ganseybois]

If you feel like it, a peaky blinders prompt: some tenderness between Aflie and Tommy after his head injury?

Thanks :))

maybe this is a fix it fic for me you cant prove anything. (enjoy, thank you for the prompt, I hope you like it!)

“Do you know something, Alfie? This morning, I tried to read the paper and I realized that the only consequence of my terrible accident is that I now need glasses.” Tommy looked over at Alfie, and Alfie was stunned to find that Tommy’s eyes were hard with tears. He looked away a moment later, biting the inside of his cheek, very clearly, trying not to cry.

Now, people would say and could say what they wanted about Alfie Solomons. He was a killer, a criminal, and all that. It was all true. But what most people did not know was that Alfie Solomons also had a soft spot for Thomas fucking Shelby, and it was certainly not something he preferred disclosing. But what was a man like him meant to do, when the object of his desire, was sitting in front of him looking like needing glasses was just about the worst possible thing in the world. Of course, he knew, obviously, that it was really about the terrible trauma he had faced, and how it added on to the fucking list of things that Tommy would now have nightmares about.

“Right…” Alfie said. He couldn’t help himself. He could not just sit here and let Tommy wallow in misery. The need to make him feel better was overwhelming, even if it was just through stupidity. He took his glasses out from his inside pocket. “All right, well. I know a man who can make you a pair of these. Now, he's a magician, mate. He's a magician. So not only will you be able to read your newspaper but you will also be able to see into the future. Now I know this, right, because he made this pair here for me. So you don't have to worry about telling me what this is all about because I have already seen it.”

Tommy, at least, by the end of it, was smiling lightly. Alfie sighed, continuing, “You're fucking about with the Russians, ain't you, you silly boy?”

And it was that, that made Tommy finally allow a tear to drop. He wiped it away quickly, as though the act of crying in front of Alfie was insulting. He understood that, he’d have felt the same. But Alfie, fucking Alfie could not help himself, and he reached out for Tommy, placing a hand tenderly on the back of his head. It was an intimate act for the two of them, who had not crossed the line, although Alfie had made his intentions very clear towards Tommy.

Tommy was still not looking at him, but moved his head, his eyes fluttering shut, his hand coming up to grab Alfie’s and place it on the side of his face instead.

Tommy’s eyes were shut tighter now. “I don’t know what to do.” he admitted in a frightened whisper. Alfie didn’t know what to do either, he was rooted to where he sat, his hand on fire from where it touched Tommy’s skin.

Alfie’s heart was doing backflips in his chest. He wanted this so badly, but everything stood in Tommy’s hands, didn’t it? “Is that why I’m here Tom? To tell you what to do? Because let me tell you something mate if you want my advice on what to do about Russians it would be to fucking kill them.”

Tommy opened his eyes, his blue eyes shining, that small fucking smile returning. “Everything is so loud Alfie.” he moved Alfie’s hand again, simply folding it in both of his hands. “I don’t know what to make of my thoughts. You’re right, what you said before, everything is fractured.”

“Mate, if you thought you weren’t fractured before, boy, I have some sorry fucking news for you.” His hand twitched inside Tommy’s embrace, but he wanted this too badly, and too much, to try and remove it. “Not one fucking man who came back from that war is put together.”

“It’s not just that.”

“So, what is it then, hm?”

Tommy looked right into his eyes, and it was significant. “I thought you could see the future. You must know then, what I’m about to say, Alfie.”

Alfie, who was a great and powerful man, was thoroughly frightened about the implications behind such a sentence. He brought up his other hand to pat Tommy’s and said gruffly, “Whether I do or don’t, is for me to know, innit? But you Tommy, you have to fucking say the words, otherwise, yeah, we will both be fucking stuck here.” Tommy knew already, how Alfie felt, what Alfie wanted from him.

Tommy sighed, and brought Alfie’s hand up to his lips, kissing each finger very, very softly. Alfie’s eyes were hard, careful on Tommy, watching him. He might have even held his breath.

Tommy looked at him from under his long lashes, when he kissed Alfie’s ring on his index finger. “My head might be fractured and loud, but you make everything so quiet.” Tommy admitted softly. “Which is interesting considering how much you actually talk.”

Alfie hoped his voice was smooth, because the inside of him felt as though he was falling to pieces. Look at him, acting like some kind of fucking schoolboy. “You should be so lucky to be around to listen to my words of wisdom mate. I have nothing but good fucking things to say, right?”

Tommy smiled gently. “Right.”

Alfie’s free hand made its way to Tommy’s face, and taking a chance, he ran his thumb along Tommy’s bottom lip. He watched as Tommy let out a shaky breath, felt it too, and how his eyes fluttered short for a brief moment before opening again.

“This is a dangerous game, Tommy.”

“I’m not playing a game. I…” he sighed, collecting himself. “I don’t cry in front of others, ever, Alfie.”

Alfie took his hands away from Tommy to remove his hat, placing it on his knee, before grabbing Tommy by the back of his neck and forcing him forward. Tommy held his breath, but Alfie did not kiss him. He simply met him in the middle, making their foreheads touch together, their faces close, their breath mingling.

“You already know I’m fucking here for you, right, don’t you Tommy?” In the same way that Tommy’s vulnerability was crying in front of him, Alfie’s was saying these words out loud. It was more real this way, instead of his passing flirtations. “I ain’t looking for anyone else. It’s me and you, if that’s what you want, yeah?”

“That’s what I want.” Tommy breathed. He closed his eyes. “Did your glasses show you that?”

“Yeah mate, they fucking did.”

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

[plus-size-reader]

Accidents Happen

Logan Howlett x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1306 words

Warnings:none

Summary: Logan accidentally hurt you and never forgives himself for it. He sees the scars on your body and has a breakdown over it

——————————————————————————————————

It was an accident.

You understood that as well as anyone else, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

Mutant powers could be dangerous and unpredictable, but they could also be gentle and helpful, you knew that going in. It was all on a case-by-case sort of basis but in Logan’s case, it was pretty cut and dry.

He never used the power he had for anything other than good but when he lost control of it, he could be deadly.

You weren’t a mutant, and had little to no understanding of what it was like to be one, but that didn’t change the fact that Logan loved you.

Logan loved you, he loved you and had never even raised his voice at you unless he had to. However, that didn’t protect you from accidents, things that neither of you could see coming.

Nightmares were common for Logan, closer to night terrors than anything else, and you knew that better than anyone. They were terrible, the worst nightmares you’d ever even heard of but that was because they played memories.

He had to relive all the horrible things that happened to him every time he closed his eyes and there was no escaping that.

...Of course, that wasn’t inherently bad for you.

Until the worst of them came, in the middle of the night, a few years back by this point.

You slept beside Logan every night, and while he frequently woke up screaming in a cold sweat, he had never physically harmed you, only narrowly missing your side of the bed.

It was a hot, midsummer night, which meant that you and Logan were just laying under a sheet to escape the sweltering heat. You were both sleeping rather peacefully, but that came to an end quite quickly.

Out of nowhere, Logan began having a really bad nightmare, worse than normal and before either of you really knew what was happening, he had shot up out of bed, arms on either side of the mattress.

As you did every night, you reached over to flip on the light, focusing fully on checking on him.

It wasn’t until the room filled with the yellow light of your lamp that you realized that he’d punctured through you with those claws, leaving both yourself and Logan in a pool of blood.

As best you could tell, the wounds weren’t too deep, only serving some veins and soft tissue. That caused all the bleeding but it wasn’t really a fatal wound.

Still, Logan tried to insist that you went to the hospital, something you ultimately refused.

Not only did you not want to drive all the way into town to see a doctor, but you also weren’t in the mood for all the looks and judgement toward Logan.

You already heard it enough.

The warnings were almost constant, with people coming out of nowhere to tell you that Logan was going to hurt you and that he couldn't control himself.

It was a lie, and you knew it, but this was the sort of fuel to the fire that you didn’t want them to have.

So, all you did was dress it and get it all cleaned up before getting back in bed. You were fine with the exception of the pain and wanted to go back to sleep but Logan wasn’t going to let it go so easily.

In his eyes, he had hurt you and that was unforgivable.

It didn’t matter if it was an accident or not. I didn’t matter how it had happened or why. All he cared about was the fact that it had happened and he did it.

The details were of little interest to him.

Even now, several years later, you understood that he was never going to let it go, even if you didn’t blame him in the first place. He was your best friend and the man you loved.

You understood completely just how unpredictable his mutation could be and you also understood that scars would heal.

You just had to be more careful now than before.

...but you weren’t blind.

You saw the way that he looked at you when you lifted your shirt about your head to change before bed, and he caught a glimpse of those three wide slashes.

It broke his heart, and your body was a constant reminder of how he had failed you.

In that way, you were tired of feeling like you were the thing that was wrong. You were tired of constantly having to talk about what happened between the two of you.

You didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

In that way, the blow up was inevitable.

You had just gotten back from a hard day, where you were currently working as a waitress in town and all you wanted to do was relax. At the moment, your tentative plan was to get changed, go back into town with Logan and get some dinner.

It was all you were thinking about, and you didn’t think twice about stripping down in your bedroom, searching for a pair of jeans that were clean.

You didn’t even realize that Logan had entered the room until you turned around, finding him there in the doorway.

“Hey, how was your day?” you hummed, closing the space between you to wrap your arms casually around his neck. You had found the jeans you were searching for but hadn’t gotten to a shirt yet.

Granted, you didn’t really care.

Logan had seen you topless a million times before, not to mention literally nude so you didn’t have to feel self conscious, you had gotten over that a long time ago.

Now, the natural progression of the conversation would be for Logan to tell you about what he’d done while you were at work, and then ask you about yours, but that wasn’t the case.

Instead, all he was doing was gently running his fingers over the scars just above your hip bone, about halfway to your belly button.

Of course he was.

You usually remained calm over the whole thing, doing your best to make him feel better about it and moving on with your night but today was different.

Today, you were exhausted and you just wanted to have a normal conversation with your boyfriend. You wanted to talk like adults, you wanted to go get some food, you wanted something normal.

...But Logan couldn’t help it.

Whenever he saw what he’d done to you, it was all he could do not to break down completely. You were the only person he cared about, the only person he would do anything for, but he’d hurt you.

He’d done that, and there was nothing he could ever do to take it back.

“Come on Logan! Why can’t we just go back to the way it was before this? Accidents happen, I wish you would just let it go” you huffed, storming out of the room with nothing else to say.

You wanted so badly to be normal, to forget what had happened but maybe Logan wasn’t capable of getting over it in the way that you had.

In any case, you knew for a fact that something had to change or else you would lose your mind. You loved Logan more than anything, but you couldn’t do this anymore.

You couldn’t constantly feel like you were some kind of broken toy, some totem of his shame. If you could accept what happened to you, there was no reason he couldn’t.

There were only so many times he could apologize, and there were only so many times you could hear it.

It was an accident, and you had healed. That was as far as you wanted to look into it, anything else would be too painful.

[sevlgi]

you were beautiful

requested: no

group: stray kids

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: amnesia!au, dancer!minho, receptionist!reader who can’t remember him

warnings: mentions of an accident

synopsis: There isn’t much you remember from your old life, but you know someone is missing. When he comes to find you, you have to decide how many memories of the past are worth bringing back.

a/n: lmao please give my fic a chance, i promise it’s worth a read

word count: 7.5k

Deja vu. 

For the longest time, Minho hadn’t understood what the word really meant despite all of Seungmin’s attempts to explain the concept to him. He just didn’t know how something could be so familiar and yet foreign at the same time, could feel like the past despite being the present, and he definitely didn’t believe that he’d ever be able to feel it for himself.

But on a sunny Monday afternoon, being dragged to the hospital by Felix, Minho understands. He feels, and he stumbles onto his friends in front of him.

“Minho hyung, are you okay?” Changbin asks, seeing the look on the dancer’s face. He absolutely would be pushing him back, if it wasn’t for the stricken expression that currently resides on Minho’s face “Hyung?”

“It’s her,” Minho breathes out, his eyes scanning the front of the hospital for the all-too-familiar smile that he’s sure he saw. Felix exchanges a glance with Chan behind his back as Minho bounds up the stairs, panting from the exertion it took to sprint across the courtyard. “It’s Y/N, I know it is--”

Felix frowns, “Y/N? Which one? I know there’s a receptionist working here who’s named Y/N, but...”

“No, you don’t understand,” Minho interrupts, whirling back to face the 3 others. If Jisung or Seungmin were there, Minho would’ve already been ripped to shreds, but Chan, Felix, and Changbin only stare at him worriedly. “My Y/N.”

It clicks in his friends’ minds, and Changbin surges forward to yank the hospital doors open. “It can’t be,” Chan insists, though he follows the other 3 inside. “Minho, Y/N broke up with you and said she was moving to England 2 years ago.”

Shaking his head, Felix sighs, “Okay, wait. Hyung, we have to go see Jisung, the others are waiting there for us. I promise we can go and look later, okay?”

Minho opens his mouth to protest, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. Hyunjin, probably, calling to make sure that they’re on their way to comfort Jisung about his broken leg. And Minho has never hated the squirrel-cheeked boy more as he sighs and nods, following the others to the reception desk that Felix claims is two halls down.

Of course, it isn’t. “I’m sorry,” the blonde boy sighs and takes his phone out. “I’ll call-- my friend. Hang on.”

He talks lowly over the phone, and Minho has to bite down, hard, on his own lip just to keep himself from running down the hall again. But soon enough, he hears Felix laughing, exchanging hello’s with someone, and he has to turn.

As soon as he does, the thing that he assumes to be deja vu hits him again, and Minho clutches his hand to his stomach. It’s you, in the flesh-- after all, no one would be able to replicate your smile so perfectly, and no one could possibly be able to mimic a face as perfect as yours. Your hair’s different than he remembers, but it’s been years, and--

“Hi. I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself, shaking hands with Chan and Changbin before holding your hand out to him. “I’m Felix’s friend, the receptionist.”

“Uh,” Minho manages. Something about the look on his friends’ faces tells him no, that it isn’t the right time, but he can’t exactly stop himself. “Y/N, it’s me. Minho.”

Your smile is confused now, and your hand falters in the air. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Have we met?”

He frowns, stepping slightly forward, though not enough to alarm you. Felix looks panicked behind you, but he’s frozen in place as Minho says, “Don’t- don’t lie to me. Y/N--”

“I’m sorry,” Chan cuts in, stepping between you and Minho. “He... he had an ex, uh, with the same name. I guess you guys look alike too.”

You still look concerned, but you pass it off with a smile and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. Same name, same face? If she wasn’t your ex, I’d like to meet her.”

Changbin laughs for him, tugging Minho forward. “Yeah, it’s really funny. Uh, what room is Jisung in?”

With the prompt, you turn back to Felix and affectionately punch him in the arm before leading the way. Minho’s stomach twists with jealousy; after all, there’s no way two people who look and sound the exact same exist, especially with the same name, and he can’t shake the thought that you are the one he’s been trying to forget. But you make your way to Jisung’s room soon enough, and open the door for the 4 boys. “Here you are. Come get me if you need anything,” you smile, your eyes lingering on Minho for just a second before you leave. Maybe he imagines it.

“Yo, hyungs and Felix!”

Jisung shouts loud enough to distract Minho, and he turns to find the hospital room filled with his friends. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin are crowded onto one tiny sofa, while Changbin has started to annoy them. Felix and Chan crouch by Jisung’s side while he waves and grins at Minho. “You see what Hyunjin has done to me?”

“I did not,” the long-haired boy protests, a tangle of long limbs under Jeongin, who’s basically treating him as part of the couch. “You tried that stupid trick after Seungmin dared you, it’s not my fault.”

“Shut up, both of you, and hand me a pen,” Minho grumbles, sinking to a side beside Jisung’s elevated leg. To be honest, he wants some excuse to see you at the desk again, to listen to your voice and compare it to the one always echoing in his head, but he distracts himself. “I’m drawing a dick and you can’t stop me.”

“Chan hyung,” Jisung whines while he tries to kick Minho away with his good leg. The cast is bright pink, to Minho’s amusement, and it picks up the black of his marker well. “Minho hyung, I’ll never forgive you if you make me walk around with a dick on my leg.”

Minho snickers, “You can’t exactly walk.”

Chan sighs and shoves Minho, though it’s light. “Come on, stop bullying him.”

“I have to go to physical therapy, too,” Jisung pouts. “You’ll embarrass me.”

“Oh yeah?” Despite all his bravado, Minho just signs his name near Jisung’s ankle, as messy and large as he can make it. “For how long?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jeongin speaks up. “Y/N’s going to come in and tell us, but I really want to go out and ask her.”

Excitement courses through Minho, and he stands up, the pen clattering to the linoleum floor besides his feet. “I can do it. I remember where the reception desk is.”

Felix looks concerned and he asks, “Are you sure you can... handle it? Hyung, I’m friends with Y/N, maybe I should go.”

Minho waves their concerns off, Seungmin leaning in to ask Changbin what happened outside. “I won’t embarrass you, Lix, at least not terribly. I’ll get Hannie’s results, and then I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s out of room 914, the warmth and light inside escapes, and the smell of alcohol burns Minho’s nose. In all his excitement, he had forgotten how much he hates hospitals, hates the way everyone inside only looks one step closer to death. But he peeks around a corner to where he remembers your desk to be and arranges a polite smile on his face as he approaches you. “Y/N?”

“That’s me, how may I--” You pause when you swivel around to him, but the smile reappears soon enough. “Minho, right? You’re done visiting Jisung this quickly?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckles. “Uh, I just heard from the others that they’re still waiting for his results? About how long he has to do physical therapy and stay here?”

You nod at that and pull your keyboard towards you. Gods, you’re so familiar-- the way your tongue pokes into your cheek as you type, the way you narrow your eyes despite being able to see the screen. Minho hates how much he remembers about you. It has to be you, he convinces himself, whether you’re lying about knowing him or not. “Ah. Well, hang on, the system’s a bit slow,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” Minho shrugs. It’s actually exactly what he wants-- time, for him to ask a few simple, nonimposing questions. “So, uh, when did you start working here? I’ve been here a couple times, never saw you.”

“I actually only transferred here last month,” you answer with a smile. “I used to work at the hospital downtown, Lixie met me there.”

“Lixie, huh?” Minho attempts at a smile, but you don’t know him well enough to see that it’s fake. “That’s cute. You guys are close? Did you help him there or something?”

You shake your head, typing something into the computer despite the loading screen. “No, actually, I was a patient at the time. I had amnesia,” you sigh, tapping your fingers on your chin. 

Minho raises his eyebrows. His heartbeat is quickening-- depending on when you had amnesia, it’s a possible explanation for whatever’s happening. “Amnesia. That’s tough. Uh, how’d you get it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” you smile, turning back to him. “It was about two years ago, I think. I got in a car crash, but I got lucky. My cousin was with me, so the doctors knew my name and all my essential information. It would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t know who I was, you know?”

He opens his mouth to ask another question, but he feels an arm slide around his neck. It’s Hyunjin, apparently escaped from the confines of Jisung’s tiny room. “Hi, Y/N,” he greets. “Are we any closer to those results?”

“Just about,” you exhale, standing up. “They’re printing, I’ll go get those for you guys.”

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Hyunjin murmurs, “Chan hyung told me what’s up. So, you think it’s her?”

“I don’t think,” Minho hisses. “I know. She said she got in a car crash and had amnesia two years ago, and it matches up with why she doesn’t recognize me. She still knows her name because of her cousin, and- it’s her, Hyunjin. It has to be.”

Hyunjin hesitates, apparently not as convinced as the older boy. “But if she was with her cousin, wouldn’t she know about you? I mean, if it was me, I’d tell my cousin about the guy she just broke up with.”

Minho almost answers, but you’re back, sliding a file across the table. “Get that to Jisung, okay?” you grin, sitting back down. “And come find me if you need something else. Nice talking to you, Minho.”

Snatching the file away, the younger boy guides Minho back to the room. “Hey. If you really think it’s her,” Hyunjin says softly before opening the door again, “go for it. You still have the texts saved, don’t you? Show her. Even if you can’t help her remember, you’ll get your closure.”

Quietly, Minho shakes his head. “I- I can’t. Even if she never broke up with me-- which isn’t possible-- I can’t know that she’s still here, still alive, and that she’ll never remember me.”

Hyunjin reaches over to shake Minho and argues, “But she hasn’t changed. If she loved you once, she can love you again, okay? Just... just try. For yourself.”

Before he can debate Hyunjin again, Seungmin opens the door with a fake scowl. “Hey, what took you so long?”

“Asshole,” Minho frowns back, glad for something to argue about. Seungmin’s always the perfect one to bicker with, his eye rolls as he backs away to let the two boys in the perfect way to rile Minho up. “Hey, don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

For all of his friend’s glances at him, glances that he lets slip by as he ruffles Jisung’s hair rougher than necessary, Minho can admit to himself that he won’t approach you again, at least not for the purpose of finding out what truly happened. It’s difficult, but he can even admit to himself why he wont.

He’s scared. Terrified, even, that he’ll only find out what he knew all along.

You’re good with faces.

It’s kind of a requirement to be a receptionist; after all, nothing makes people happier than being remembered, even if it’s something as simple as being recognized without an introduction while arriving to physical therapy. Besides, after struggling to get back to your normal life for two years, your biggest fear is to lose your memories again.

So when Jisung gets driven to physical therapy a week after you meet his friends, you instantly recognize his driver.

“Minho,” you smile, waving at him. He flushes for some reason, and you stifle a chuckle at the tint of pink in his pale cheeks. He’s cute; your first meeting just put you off a bit. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’t I get a greeting?” Jisung pouts, pushing through with his crutches. He’s joking, of course, so you only laugh fondly. “Well, you know why I’m here.”

You check him in with a nod, and call out after Minho, “You don’t have to stay with him for PT, you know. It’s going to be boring, you can come back out after helping him inside.”

Minho laughs, “Thanks for the tip. I’m definitely not staying with him, I’ll be right out.” Jisung’s protests follow them down the hall, and you return to your keyboard with a soft chuckle.

It’s true that after your first encounter with Minho, you wondered whether there was something about your life before the accident that Dahyun didn’t tell you. But your phone broke in the car wreck, and there must’ve been things that you didn’t tell your cousin. 

However, in the back of your mind, you can still hear the way Minho said your name. ‘Y/N’, he had breathed, so desperately. You had to have been important to him, too important for you to have never told anyone about him, but when he comes out of Jisung’s room, you assume the role of the friendly receptionist once again.

“Hey,” you wave. “Just so you know, Jisung’s scheduled for a full hour. I’m clocking out for the day in a couple minutes, but you can have him text you when he’s done so you can pick him up. I have to get going, I need to eat before I get on the tram, and it’s a long walk from here.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, shuffling his feet. “You’re clocking out?” At your nod, he clears his throat and offers, “If you haven’t eaten yet, I can drive you to the tteokbokki place near the tram station? I can drop you off, I won’t stay with you if you aren’t comfortable.”

You laugh at his awkwardness, though he’s charismatic enough to make it simply cute. “That would be great, actually. Just give me a second.” While you’re gathering your things, Minho shuffles aside, staring outside to the parking lot as if it’s genuinely interesting, and you crack a smile when you approach him. “Hey. I’m good to go.”

“Let’s go, then,” he smiles, and opens the door for you. The more you see of him, the more familiar he feels-- it really is as if you’ve met him before. Even his car feels like you recognize it, the steady thrum of the engine and the feel of worn leather beneath your fingertips something that you can’t quite put your finger on. Minho doesn’t speak much, though he puts on some music that feels vaguely familiar to you, some boy rapping over a simple beat.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the station, and it barely takes a couple minutes to walk down to the tteokbokki place. For some reason, you feel comfortable around Minho, safe, like you’ve felt with Felix and all his friends that you’ve met so far. Maybe the Australian boy attracts all the good people, you smile to yourself, or maybe you do.

“I’ll pay, what do you want?” Minho offers and takes his wallet out. Though you move to protest, he smiles and holds up a hand, “I insist. You’ve had to deal with me this much already, it’s the least I can do. Besides, you’ll be seeing me a lot, with Jisung’s PT.”

You can only agree and watch him rattle off your order to the cashier. Minho’s smile is almost the same for everyone, his eyes curving and his teeth bright, but it’s the eyes that make the difference. It’s interesting. “Are you the only one of Jisung’s friends who can drive?”

“Ah, not really. The 00 liners and Jeongin don’t have their licenses, of course,” he hums and hands his credit card over. “But Channie is busy with work all the time, and Changbin feels like Jisung bullies him. So that leaves me.”

“I see,” you exhale, following him to an empty table. “You must make quite a bit to afford a car and a parking space. What do you do?”

“Me?” Minho clarifies, even though he’s the only one you could be talking to. “I’m a dancer. Mostly a backup dancer, but sometimes I teach classes or choreograph for idols. I don’t make that much, but I drive all over Seoul, so I thought a car would be a good investment.”

“Not a bad decision,” you smile. “Especially since you saved me the walk over here. You know that every time you drive Jisung over, I’ll be forcing you to give me a ride, right?”

You’re joking, of course; you barely know Minho. But something about your tone changes the glance in his eyes, and his grin fades the slightest bit. Suddenly, he moves towards his bag. “C- can I show you something?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “As long as it’s not... you know.”

“You’ve got jokes,” Minho mumbles, digging through the pockets for his phone. “I like that.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, slightly heightened by his frantic scrolling. You greet and thank the ahjussi who brings you your food, still waiting for him to show you. Before he does, though, Minho looks up with a hesitant expression. “Y/N. Whatever I say, you can’t be alarmed, okay?”

“I can’t make that promise,” you shake your head, “but I’ll do my best.”

He inhales-- then exhales. “Your name is Y/N Y/L/N. You were born on _ _/ _ _/ _ _ _ _, and you were born here. You attended college at Seoul University, though you’ve probably forgotten your major. Your parents’ names are __ Y/L/N and __ Y/L/N, and your cousin is Kim Dahyun.”

Instantly, you bolt out of your seat, ready to run. “H-how do you know that?” Your voice shakes, and your eyes dart from Minho to the booth. He doesn’t look like a threat-- in fact, he looks pained, biting down on his lip before sliding his phone across the table. “What is that?”

“Just take a look.”

When you gingerly slide your eyes to the screen, you gasp; it displays what you assume to be an old photo of you-- and Minho. You remember Dahyun showing you pictures of yourself with that hairstyle-- high school, she said-- but you definitely don’t remember seeing any pictures with Minho. He’s unmistakable even in the uniform, and you’re laughing at him in a way that suggests what you’ve suspected since meeting him-- you were close, to say the least. “We were... friends?” you whisper, barely daring to meet his eyes. When he shakes his head, you lower your fist, previously held up to punch, and say softly, “We loved each other. Like that.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs, taking his phone back. “By the way, does the date 5/19 ring a bell to you?”

“It was the day I woke up,” you answer. Suddenly, your throat is too tight to swallow, and you take your place next to him cautiously. “They... they told me I’d never get my memories back that day. What does it mean to you?”

Minho bites his lip and hands you his phone again. “It was the day you broke up with me.”

"Lee Minho,” you read aloud, “we need to break up. Ouch, that does not sound like me.”

He winces but tries to play it off with a chuckle, “Yeah, I know. I had to read that.”

“We have dated for years, but we...”

You frown and shake your head, scrolling through the text again even though you’re sure that you didn’t miss anything. “The wording, the phrasing... it doesn’t sound like me.” But that’s you on the profile picture, the exact photo of you that Dahyun showed you to gain your trust that first day in the hospital. You raise your head to look at Minho, who’s still staring at you. “This is fucked up.”

“You’re telling me,” he sighs, plucking his phone away. “I tried to text you back after this, tried to call you, but you never picked up. I did all I could, but I watched you leave. So... I think you understand why I was so desperate when I saw you.”

“I think I do,” you say, with your voice soft. It makes sense, now, why Minho looked like he was seeing a ghost when he caught that first glimpse of your face. Because you were a ghost, at least to him, somehow back from the dead in the lobby of the tiny hospital you worked in. “They told me my phone was dead. That’s why I didn’t have any of my old contacts, or my information.”

Minho fills your silence. “And that’s why you never saw my texts, or heard my calls. I- I’m so sorry, that I blamed you at all.”

You catch his wrist and try to smile, “Hey, I don’t blame you for blaming me. It isn’t possible for me to have texted you this with a broken phone and no memories, so... whoever did text you was an asshole. You can blame them all you like.”

His eyes flick over your face, almost like he’s committing you to memory in case you become a ghost again. “Yeah.” But the alarm rings, ten minutes before the last tram home leaves, and Minho’s phone buzzes at the same time. “Um. Can... can we talk about this again? Next time I see you?”

“Of course,” you answer. Maybe you’ll regret that promise, but you know that you’ll regret it more if you never search for what actually happened. And the glow to Minho’s smile when you say ‘yes’ follows you all the way onto the tram, or more specifically, the look in his eyes.

You’d already noticed that Minho looked differently at different people. His gaze was fond at Jisung, sometimes annoyed, and his eyes crinkled in a polite smile in front of the booth workers or your fellow receptionists. You had just never been able to tell how he looked at you, because it was strange, an expression you didn’t recognize.

But staring at his newly-inputted contact on your phone, you realize what it is. Minho looks at you like he knows you inside out, like he loves you more than anything else in the world. 

And you aren’t sure which is worse.

Felix isn’t a good liar; from the first time you met, and he told you that you didn’t look horrible in that grimy hospital gown of yours, you knew that he’d never be able to keep a secret. So when you don’t know how to move forward from the whole other side of yourself that you just uncovered, he has to be the first one you talk to.

“Y/N!” He shouts your name with his hands cupped around his mouth despite only being a couple feet away from you, and he plops down onto the stool next to you. “What’s up?”

“Felix, what has Minho told you about me? Or, about Y/N?” He tenses up at the question, and you can’t blame him; you usually aren’t so direct, and it must be difficult to tell you about his friend’s secrets.

But Felix bites his lip and sighs, looks up at the ceiling as if it’ll tell him what to do. “Um, well... he said you guys were classmates. High school and college, but you only started dating when you were 17. He never showed me pictures of you, so I assumed that you hurt him really bad.” You wince at that, but motion for the Australian boy to continue. “Minho hyung... he never dated while I’ve been friends with him. We all thought it was because he was never over you, and I guess he still isn’t.”

“Well, shit,” you sigh, sinking into your hands. “I feel horrible now.”

“Why?” Felix places a gentle hand on your shoulder and shakes you lightly. “He said that you didn’t think it was you who sent the text, and Dahyun just didn’t tell you about him? It’s not your fault.”

You only shake your head hopelessly and attempt to explain, “I didn’t want to get back into this. I trusted Dahyun to tell me everything, and after 2 years, I find out that I had a boyfriend? Who I ‘broke up with’, and who I hurt really bad. I have to know now, for Minho’s sake if not for mine.”

Felix sighs, “Look, Y/N, I’m sure Minho hyung will understand if you don’t want to get into it all again. He- he loved you, but I think he knows you aren’t who used to be. I think.”

“No, Felix- he never told me that he wanted me to find the answer,” you say quietly. “I just... I can see that he’ll never be able to disassociate me with the Y/N he knew. My face, my mannerisms- Dahyun says I act the same as I used to, and that’s too painful for him if we’ll never know the truth.”

He pauses, then passes you the coffee that a barista slides across the counter. Maybe Felix doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to tell you. But he murmurs in his familiar deep voice, “You’re kind, Y/N, but you have to think about yourself, okay? It’ll hurt Minho to not know, but it’ll hurt you to find out. And I don’t want to see either of you with a broken heart.”

The next time you see Minho, you find yourself analyzing every one of his movements, as if the tiniest hint of familiarity will bring your memories of him back to you.

You’re only drinking coffee together and trying to act like nothing else is between you, but you’re staring at his hands when he cracks his knuckles every so often. You wish that the way his lips curl into a smile was familiar, and you wish you recognized the way his eyelashes frame the brown of his eyes. But as much as you think you’ve seen something before, the fact remains that you barely know a single thing about Minho, while there’s nothing about you that you can hide from him.

It’s been years since you hated how little you remembered. Back when you first learned that the first twenty years of your life had been wasted, you screamed out for whatever all-seeing being to restore your life, and you had no idea if you could go back to the life you had been living with absolutely no memory of it.

Dahyun said she showed you everything. She brought you back to your family home, told you what she could about your parents, who hugged you with tears in their eyes. You stayed there at first, but you couldn’t handle the glances that your family made at you, couldn’t handle the way they still mourned the loss of their daughter.

You didn’t know enough about what used to be to miss it. But when you speak to Minho, you realize that there is something you would miss, something that you would want to chase. And so, you can’t know what it is.

“Y/N, you okay?” He asks, the smile still on his face from telling you about the cats you helped him pick out when he got his own place.

Shaking your head, you nod. “Yeah, sorry for zoning out. I’m just... thinking.”

“About what to do, right?” Minho takes your silence for agreement, and he turns to the window with a sigh. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking too. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, I was selfish not to think how it would make you curious about your old self.”

“No,” you sigh. “I get it. You had to tell me, I imagine it’s still painful to see my face.”

Minho shakes his head, tilting his head as if that’ll let him see more of you. “No, it isn’t painful at all. I see you analyzing me, though, trying to recognize me.”

Heat rises to your ears, and you try to hide it by flicking your eyes away from his face. “Was I that obvious? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Minho.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. He cracks his knuckles again; you imagine that you used to put your hands over his to get him to stop, but you brush the thought away as fast as you can. “What do you want to do, though? It’s too difficult to stay away from each other in a town like this, especially when we have a mutual friend. But I’ll try my best to do what you want me to.”

You bite your lip and tap your hands on your knee. To be truthful, you’ve known what you wanted to do for a long time; you know exactly what you want to say, and you know who you want to say it to. “I want us to talk to Dahyun,” you answer. “I think... I can’t ask her about it. But I want to see how she reacts to seeing you.”

When he doesn’t respond, you almost move to touch his arm. “Minho? You can tell me if you don’t walk to talk to her, I won’t force you to do it.”

But he turns, tries to disguise the rueful smile on his face. He fails, of course, and you draw your hand back. “No, I... I’m sorry, that just reminded me of something. I’ll come with you.”

“Okay. I’m going to lunch with her tomorrow,” you explain, scrolling through the calendar on your phone, “and I think that’s the time. I’ll just say you’re my friend or something, and we’ll see how she reacts.”

Minho frowns, “Is it suspicious to randomly bring a friend to lunch with your cousin? Or do you do that often?”

You sigh at that and pause your scrolling to think. “No, you’re right. I think I’ll have to say you’re my boyfriend or something, then she’ll be excited to expect you.”

“Boyfriend? How do you know I’m not dating someone already?” Minho jokes. You laugh lightly and push his arm without thinking, but his smile only grows as he protests, “I’m serious! Do you not think I’d be dating someone by this time?”

“I see the way you look at me,” you chuckle, “If you were dating someone, I’d feel bad for them.”

Silence settles again, and you wince, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, should be me that’s sorry,” he mumbles, ruffling his hair. “I shouldn’t be making you uncomfortable, I know that you’re a different person at this point. Uh, could you send me the location of the restaurant? And the time?”

You recognize his attempt to change the subject, and you accept it gratefully. “Yeah. It’s noon tomorrow, but I think we should arrive together.”

“I’ll pick you up from the hospital,” he smiles, moving to crack his knuckles yet again.

Maybe it’s out of nervousness, maybe it’s just a habit, but you move to stop it this time, your hand resting gently over his. “Stop that,” you mumble to hide the heat in your cheeks. “I read somewhere that it hurts your knuckles. You’ll get arthritis.”

“You work in a hospital, you should know that that isn’t how it works,” Minho snickers, but he doesn’t move your hands off him. Strangely, this feels familiar, like you’ve done it before, like it’s always been comfortable. So you don’t move, only sip your coffee with your spare hand and try not to think about what could’ve been.

Minho opens the door for you yet again, bowing slightly when you pass through the doorway. “She’s here already, yeah?” His voice is soft when he speaks to you, and his hands in his pockets when he catches up to you again in the restaurant. He’s the picture of calmness, except for the way his eyes flick around the restaurant like he can recognize your cousin before you do. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

“She went to the same school as us, didn’t she?” you mumble, looking through your texts again for the table number Dahyun texted you. “She’s a year younger, she told me.”

“Yeah, but Dahyun hung out with us a lot,” Minho explains, “she was pretty cool. Funny, too, I don’t know if she’s showed you her eagle dance yet?”

You laugh at that, turning onto the stairs. “She has, actually. Made me laugh instead of cry. I appreciate that about her.”

Dahyun’s easy enough to recognize; her hair’s bright blue among a sea of dark-haired people seated at the tables, and she’s a good head shorter than the people who sit around her. You rush up from behind her and wrap your arms around her neck, almost putting the girl in a headlock. “Y/N,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face as she struggles against your grip. “Get off, I’m here to see your boy--”

Her smile instantly disappears when she sees Minho, but she rearranges it quick enough to bow to him. “Hi. I’m Kim Dahyun, Y/N’s cousin.”

So she wants to play like that. You give Dahyun another squeeze before sitting next to Minho on the other side of the table. “So, this is my boyfriend, Minho. What do you think?” you joke, keeping your tone as light as you can.

“He’s cute,” Dahyun answers. Usually, she’s good at keeping a hold of herself, but her voice sounds stifled this time, like she wants to lean over and punch him in the face or something. “I... Y/N, where’d you guys meet?”

Minho steps in to answer, “At where she works in the hospital. I keep dropping my friend off for PT, and I just keep seeing her.” That part’s true, at least, though you’re surprised at how charismatic and natural Minho seems while he lies. “She told me how she started working at the hospital downtown after being treated there, so I guess that’s how I never saw her before.”

Dahyun sighs, “Do you know what she was treated for?”

“Amnesia,” he frowns, “what else? Y/N told me that when we first met.”

A beat of silence passes, and you’re almost sure that Dahyun can see right through your lies, but your thoughts are cut off when she blurts out, “You’re lying, right? Minho, I don’t know if you’re lying to Y/N or if the both of you are lying to me, but you can’t be... you can’t be telling everything about this. She broke up with you years ago.”

“We all know that’s not true,” you say softly. Maybe there’s a hint of deadliness to your tone, though, because when you lean forward, Dahyun scoots back in her chair. “You told me my phone was dead on the day I woke up, the day that the texts were sent. How could I have sent those texts, from a shattered phone, without the contact that you wouldn’t tell me?”

The blue-haired girl presses her lips together, but she says, “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of here.”

“No one’s accusing you of anything,” Minho shakes his head. “But we have to know. What happened here?”

Dahyun’s voice is almost too quiet to hear when she finally answers, “Minho, you would’ve been wrecked. And- letting her know that she would never be able to remember you... would’ve wrecked her more.”

You can’t keep your voice from getting louder when you ask, “So?” Minho squeezes your hand and you soften before saying again, “So? What did you do, Dahyun?”

“I texted him in place of you,” she blurts, clasping her hand over her mouth. Her eyes must reflect the hurt you feel, because you lash back when she reaches for you. “I... I never told you about Minho or any of your friends. I’m sorry, Y/N, I did what I thought was best, and all these years, I didn’t know... I didn’t know how I could fix that.”

Minho says nothing close to what you think he will, and he’s nowhere near as angry as you are. “I know why you did it, Dahyun,” he says. There are tears brimming in your cousin’s eyes, and you’re sure that Minho’s doing his best not to let them spill. “But- you knew me, knew Y/N. I don’t think you should’ve made that decision for us.”

“You definitely shouldn’t have,” you almost snap. You stand, tugging Minho up with you by his hand. “I... We have to go. I just need time to think, Dahyun.”

And if you were thinking rationally, you’d never leave like that. You’d never leave a conversation half-finished, with an angry end, but you can’t concentrate about anything other than the warmth of Minho’s hand in yours as you storm out of the restaurant.

Once you are hidden in an alleyway, he holds you by your elbows, as if he’s trying to stop you from running away. “Y/N,” he says softly, “look at me.”

When you do, you’re surprised at how blurry his face is, the shadows and highlights of his face swirled together in your tears. “We know now,” Minho continues. “I know you’re hurt right now, but I just want to say that you don’t have to know what to do now. You... we have time to think about what we can say about that information.”

“Stop,” you cry out, tearing your hands out of his grip to press them to your eyes. “Stop being so good to me. I know you only remember how much you loved the old me, and we have the same face, but we aren’t the same, Minho, you don’t love me. So- you don’t have to be so good to me just because you used to--”

He pulls you into a hug. It’s a bit aggressive, and you collide with him a little harder than you would in a normal hug, but against his chest, you can hear the sobs that he stifles in case anyone’s listening. “I’m not doing this because I used to love you, Y/N. I’m doing this because I think I can love you again.”

“That’s worse!” You push him away slightly, just enough to untangle yourself and your own heart. “Minho, that’s so much worse. You- you’ll never love me, you know. You’ll never stop seeing that Y/N in me. I just. I need to think.”

For the second time in that day, you end another conversation like you never would, but you keep your head down to hide the tear tracks on your face. There’s nothing you can say without hurting someone you seriously care about, no matter how much you wish you didn’t care about either of them.

You do. God, you do, and it hurts so much.

Jisung hobbles his own way into the lobby. He’s fast on his crutches, actually, and he almost doesn’t need you rushing to open the door for him. “Hey,” you smile, though you’re sure that your eyes are still puffy under your makeup. “Alone today?”

“Hyungs are all busy,” he pouts, though he obviously doesn’t really mind. “Y/N, have you checked your email recently?”

“Uh. No?” you answer, raising your eyebrows as you guide him down the hall. “Why? Did you send me something weird?”

He moves the crutch to smack the back of your leg, grinning even when you poke him as hard as you can without literally hurting him. “No. But there’s something in there I think you’ll want to see. I’ll see you in an hour, Y/N, hopefully.”

All of Jisung’s cryptic messages leave you scowling at the closed PT door, then frowning all the way back to your desk. You click fast through your inbox and ignore all the other messages for the one at the top, the one from j.one@naver.com, entitled ‘ywb’.

It’s a video message, and when you click on it, Jisung appears. “Hi, Y/N. I’ll keep this short,” he smiles through the screen. “But this message isn’t really from me. No matter what, I want you to watch the whole thing, can you promise me that?” You nod even though he’s in a whole different room, and he flashes a thumbs up like he can see it. “Cool. Enjoy, and try not to cry.”

The screen goes black, then flashes to a girl running through the snow. But she turns, and you gasp, because it’s you-- it’s a beanie and a scarf that you still own, sitting in your closet, but it’s a smile that you have only seen in pictures. And when you see the look in your eyes, you know who has to be behind the camera, and as much as you wish you wouldn’t, you’ve promised, and you keep watching.

Because every time that the outfit and the scene changes, your smile stays the same. You only see flashes of a hand, the peal of laughter under the soft music layered over, but you know. It has to be Minho, and you almost yearn to be the person in the videos again, grinning at him like there’s nothing else you can think of.

Slowly, he starts appearing in the video too, just flashes of the two of you singing at the top of your lungs in a karaoke booth, a short clip of you squirting him right in the face with a water gun. And the smile from the video makes its way onto your face, completely unconscious as you stare at the video.

Hours could’ve passed in minutes, and you wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t break from your trance until the screen goes dark again. But this time, Minho’s face appears, his features lit by a bright desk light in the darkness of his room. “Hi, Y/N,” he says softly, running his hands through his hair. “Thank you for watching this far. Uh... I just wanted to show you those videos. Because I just deleted them.”

He hums for a second before continuing, “I realized you were right. As long as I hold on to who you used to be, I’ll never be able to truly love you right now, even though I really want to. You aren’t the same person as you were, and even though you might not think so, I want to know you right now.”

Minho’s eyes curve sweetly when he reaches for the camera and fiddles with it. He smiles, “So if you can believe me, I want to take those videos again, with you this time. I’m more than willing-- no, I want nothing more than to get to know you again. So just... call me. Whenever you see this. I don’t really trust Jisung to get this to you in time.”

You manage to laugh through the blurriness in your eyes, but you’re already moving to pick up your phone when the video ends, Minho’s hand the last thing you see on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey.” You can hear something in the background, probably the other people in his studio, but they get quieter as Minho talks. “I guess you watched it?”

“I watched it.” You save the video to the drive always plugged into the laptop, but there’s a small smile on your face as you imagine Minho staring into the mirror of the dance room as he talks to you. “How fast can you get here?”

“Uh. It takes 5 minutes to drive to you, so you can expect me in 10,” he answers. The smile on his face is audible, and your own grin grows when he covers the mic to shout at someone. “I won’t look gross, promise. But, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

He ends the call before you can say anything in return, but you smile at the phone screen all the way until you poke your head around the corner to shout at Seulgi. “Hey! I’m clocking out in 10!” Maybe the grin in the video is familiar after all as you reach for your bag.

While you’ll never get your past back, there’s always the future. You will never get the perfectly fresh start you want, but it’s a start nonetheless. It’s the step towards something new that you’ve been needing, and it’s with the person that you never thought you’d find again.

[pochiperpe90]

[L’Officiel Hommes] Luca Marinelli, rising star of Italian cinema

To win his first film role, Luca Marinelli agreed to put on sixteen kilos. For the second, he had to shave his whole body and learn to walk in heels more than eight inches high.

"If I believe in the part, there is nothing I'm not willing to do," says the twenty-six-year-old protagonist of ‘The Solitude of Prime Numbers’, the film by Saverio Costanzo presented at last year's edition of the Venice Film Festival.

To play the role of a boy devoured by guilt due to an accident that happened to his sister, Marinelli did not hesitate to ruin his athletic physique by gorging himself on fats and carbohydrates, and giving up any activity for three months. As soon as he could, he started running again to lose the extra pounds. Between football and swimming he has always been used to playing sports. But the forced immobility had atrophied his muscles, and at the end of the first runs he ended up vomiting his soul from the effort. After a month of intense exercise, however, he had already lost the extra pounds.

"Changing your body makes you feel more vulnerable and you become prey to irrational fears: when I was fat I was afraid of dying every time I took the stairs, when I was hairless I was afraid that my eyebrows would never grow back," says the actor while he eats a salad sitting at the bar of the Palazzo della Triennale in Milan. "But it's always a very interesting experience", he continues, absently stroking the hairs on his forearm, still growing since the end of the shooting of “L’ultimo terrestre”, a film that will be released next year by Gipi, an Italian illustrator making his debut behind the movie camera. It’s a love story set against the backdrop of an invasion of extraterrestrials, in which Marinelli plays the role of a transvestite friend of the protagonist. To prepare for the part, the actor watched dozens of crossdresser and transgender footage and had to practice for hours walking with extravagant stilts instead of shoes.

“I was told that, as a woman, I move well and I'm quite beautiful. In short, the experience gave me a certain satisfaction”, he jokes, winking with gray-blue eyes.

Compared to the film debut of ‘Solitude of Prime Numbers’, this new film offers him a smaller role and visibility. But Marinelli is not concerned about this. He knows he was very lucky to end on the red carpet of one of the most important festivals in the world with the first film. And he would almost feel calmer if his career were to continue more gradually.

"It was so lightning fast that I was not prepared. Venice was a wonderful experience but I was in panic. In the evening I came home with a terrible headache, I felt like I had two tight screws in my skull. I almost felt at fault to start out so great. And now I'm happy to start again slowly”.

Marinelli finished high school in 2006 and three years later graduated from the Silvio D'Amico Academy of Dramatic Art in Rome. Before being chosen by Costanzo for the feature film that gave him notoriety with the public, he had already played several roles in the theater with directors such as Carlo Cecchi and Michele Monetta. His father, actor and film voice actor, tried to introduce him to the world of entertainment as a child, without achieving great results. He had made him voice the voices of Tip and Tap, the grandchildren of Mickey Mouse from the cartoons, and had offered him some amateur roles. Despite being fascinated by the profession, however, the son didn’t feel cut out to be an actor.

“As a child I was shy. I liked being the center of attention, but only with people I had a lot of confidence with. More than being observed, I was interested in observing the lives of others. Not the present ones, but the past ones”.

After high school, Marinelli enrolled in the faculty of archeology in Rome. But after two months in which he attended only lessons that had nothing to do with his course, he realized that the university wasn’t for him and threw himself into acting, overcoming the fears he carried within him since he was a child. Even today, however, it retains some of that shyness. To the point that, whenever he is about to go on stage, he has to resort to small exorcising rites to reduce tension and cancel thoughts. And when we ask him how it feels to tell a complete stranger about himself, he confesses to being a little nervous.

"This is my second interview. From the first, I came out as some kind of psycho. I hope this time it goes better”, he jokes.

He has pain in his neck from a fall that occurred a few days earlier and moves his torso in a slightly stiffly way. He jumped on the ball and crashed to the ground during a game of "calciotto", the eight-a-side football that is popular in Rome, the city where he was born and raised. Every time he turns his head he makes a grimace of pain. Apart from that, Marinelli seems to be quite at ease, and does not resort to clichés. Nor does he try to hide behind sophisticated characters: he wears a blue shirt, military green trousers and brown jacket, in a style that he simply defines "for men", made up of garments unearthed among vintage shops and thrift stalls rather than in the boutiques of the big names. He loves to run around with his bike, although he admits that the longest trip he has done was from Rome to Fregene with a friend. And as soon as he has a free moment he takes his dog Nonò, a foundling dachshund who also follows him on tour, and takes him around the capital for long walks in the company of Sandy, the dog who lives in his parents' house.

Even though he’s aware of the difficulties and uncertainties he risks facing in his profession, he speaks of his dreams with passion and without anguish. He would like to pursue a project as a director and is enthusiastic about the collaboration with Cecchi in “Sogno di una notte di mezza estate”, a piece with which he will tour Italy between November and February.

"I know that being an actor is a job with a very high risk of failure and depression, but for the moment I try to live this lucky moment to the fullest."

Marinelli is not religious, but he’s particularly fascinated by the figure of Christ. He loves reading books and watching films that tell the Nazarene in his human dimension (from the Gospel according to Matthew by Pasolini to Scorsese's Last Temptation of Christ), because when he sees a miracle he feels the "smell of burning" and is immediately distracted.

"The story of Jesus, understood as a simple person, is a proof of the wonderful things that man is capable of. And studying it helps to understand how far we live from the example that has been given to us".

Among the dreams in the drawer, remains to work with Eimuntas Nekrošius, the Lithuanian theater director who recently staged Albert Camus' Caligula in Rome. And with Pedro Almodovar, the master of Spanish cinema whose language he knows well. In fact, Marinelli's father spent his childhood in Argentina and passed on to his son his love for Spanish, which Luca speaks with a slight South American inflection.

Of course, the situation in Italy for novice actors is not reassuring. Most of his fellow academics are still looking for work. The lucky ones earn a few euros by acting in the theater or making fiction which is exhausting for the body and demoralizing for the spirit. The others are making a living with alternative uses waiting to be discovered.

“I'm working, but not because I'm the best of those who came out of my class. Luck matters a lot. In Italy the environment is closed and there is little money. Abroad, however, it seems that this art is much more accessible".

His response is interrupted by a strange sigh that sounds like a whale song. It’s the ringtone of his cell phone, a reconstruction of the original music used in the Greek tragedy. Marinelli doesn’t respond, but begins to show signs of unease. He noted that the Palazzo della Triennale hosts an exhibition of Pasolini's portraits that he would like to see. He has little time left, but he adores the poet and insists on entering.

Inside the exhibition, observe the black and white photos taken by Dino Pedriali in 1975 which show the artist reading in his villa in Chia, writing on an Olivetti 22 and walking on a bridge in Sabaudia with his hair down from the wind. Then he stops in front of a photo of Pasolini naked, portrayed in his bedroom.

"What a fascinating man, in this image he reminds me of the bad lieutenant in Abel Ferrara's film," he says as he heads towards the exit. Then, unexpectedly, he turns to his interviewer and asks him with the relieved tone of someone who knows he has completed a business: "Prof, how did the exam go?".

“I'd give you a nice twenty-eight”, we reply according to the game.

"Okay, I accept it".

L’Officiel Hommes

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)  

[blog-jei6x]

How start to love favoritism and get redemption arc in LO.

So i want to talk about Underworld work, especially how much there prospers favoritism. There is you can read post why favoritism is bad 

link

as in this post i started to interest in it after discussion between Daphne and Thanatos, but after i started reread LO i have seen how much Thanatos was right, but his position was shamed by everyone, by"good" characters, by audience, even Author have shown it as something wrong, and only he strated to love Persephone and thought that special attitude to her is fine, he became good person and start his redemtion arc.

i don't want to talk about how unbalanced this relationship is (I saw many posts about it and i have nothing to add), i am more interested how it influences on other co-workers.

Favoritism in underworld or maybe on Olymp seems to be something normal, because Hera given this work for Persephone for to get closer with Hades (it was hinted very clear), although they had antoher opotuinities for this, with their finances and love for Savor they could do Dinner party, ball, party etc where Persephone and Hades could know each other better. Why was love affair at work best variant for it? I sincerely have no idea.

Wherein Persephone said that she isn't enough skilled for this work, so someone enough skilled doesnt get this position, because Hera want to make couple from Persephone and Hades.

i would be fine if Persephone try hard for this job, yes, some characters said that she is smart, but I didn't see her labor and striving, i dont feel like she deserve this position, her only merit on that moment was beuty, it  s not enogh i think, btw to be nice and kind too. As they say in my country "a good person is not a profession".

Let's look on Underworld's bosses.

in story RS tried to show as Hades is hard worker, he preferred work to relationship, he thinks about work even in strip club and many characters said that he is so. But his behavior shows him absolutly from another side.

to my mind he and Hecata busy only his personal life. With Minthe and after with Parsephone.

as soon as Hades knew that Persephone in Underworld he left everything and flew to save her, very romantic, isn't it? but let's think a bit: Persephone came in dangerous closed facility (btw where their security system?) and made accident, it like someone broke in secret laboratory and start the fire, even if it accidentally it s not something that would be left without responsibility.

Someone can said: it's not her fault, it reptile Minthe! I partially agree with it (only partially) but it s truth for audience not for Hades, he didnt know it. For him it should be random person which got into forbidden place and acted badly there.

Hades reaction: he started to regret her, to apologize, to go everywhere with her, What the Hell was going on? oh yes and another co-workers had to look for Persephone`s brooch and cloak, so they had to left their their direct responsibilities, because somebody coulndt go away after she understood that this place is dangerous, she could wait after door of Tower 4 or befor Hades cabinet, she wouldnt lost anything in this way. But Persephone is sooo smart, isnt she, Hera?

btw very considerable moment Thanatos started to worried about his work when he knew that Persephone is liked by Hades, because he entered in train before her, does it mean that Hades not only choose favorites but shamed co-workers which dont like this favorites? we will see that yes he do it.

Another situation is presentation Persephone, oh i feel your cringe Minthe, i were in similar situation, my past boss forced our team to congratulate his girlfriend with birthday, should i say that we even didnt know her?  it was so awkward. when i read this part of story i feel the same cringe as in that day. Yeah this boss was kinda terrible, mb he didn't like me because i am not enough beauty for him? i have this feeling after LO reading.

First working day of Persephone is just quintessence of favoritism. initially Hecate went with her everywhere, after - Hades started to do it, they even changed his schedule and yeah i find indignation of Minthe and Thanatos (i dont care about their motives now) very reasonable and Hecates arguments were just silly. Why he should work with someone unqualified? and why boss dont have better business than to take an excursion ​on Underworld with new intern?

Hecate arguments is annoying, he cant said that she is unskilled (she is really so) because he eaten her baklava? great. Why they need to apologize for Persephone stupidity? Tell me someone pls, it s to hard for my mind. And yeah it's not school prom, mb Hades will start to work and stop flirting with new intern?

Oh i start to hate her, how she can be one of the favorite character by audience. Can she just be honest? Persephone is here and everyone go around her because Hades find her attractive.

Another favoritism example it is Persephone salary, Author could not accentuate that trainee dont get salary in Underworld, and it would be fine, okay she get receive income now but no, Persephone should be special and other interns aren't so special,  it would okay if she would work in office some time and she would be so hard worker that leadership would want to prize her for it. But she is just special, just because she is attractive for Hades. 

In chapter 88 Persephone confessed that she flirt with Hades, but she dont want special treatment, but she embarrassed only by business card, not salary, not that everyone worry about her. It shown as joke, oh ha-ha how naive Persephone, for me it looks not like joke, more like mockery for people who work hard and don't have such prizes, because they are not attractive for their bosses.

And in this chapter Hades left his working place and gone to decide Persephone's problems, problems other workers don't matter, but Hecata asked nice question.

i think no, how Hade's corporation are still active and success with such directors?

but actually no, looks like Thanatos and Minthe are still try to do some job, because only they could teach Persephone how to work with computer program (why is not Hermes? he works in the same position as Thanatos does it mean that he doesn't understand in this work anything because she even did not ask him?) and  I on Thanatos side in this, why he should spend his time for her?  (He already has trouble that he works worse than Hermes) and btw he tried to work, did not fawn for boss favorite, so he tried to make his work better in honest way.

And maybe she will try to read user guide? if she learned how to rule car from reading what is problem to do the same with computer program? and doesn't waste time of another workers.

Anyway It's strange that people which try to work are not fire yet. Because another worker who tried to do her work right was almost fired, because princess don't know her ID. Whose fault is it? Again for Persephone's fault another worker had trouble, and why is shown as humor again? why pain and fear are funny here, and it's unfunny where Gestia acted with Persephone in similar way. I think if it s funny it should be funny with everyone not only with defenseless and weak workers which isnt boss favorite.

and of course hades gone to bank with their interns, because what else he could do on the work? pffffff

the only time where Hades reaction looks adequate at the start at least, it accident where Persephone given coins to souls which made riot  because of it and again with it should deal other workers. everything what happened with Persephone that Hades was a bit angry and after they kissed, she transformation in butterflies, he forget about this accident and started to search what transformation means.

I thought it makes no sense to compare relationship Hades/Persephone and he\his other workers. For everything that she done any other worker would be fired, beaten, killed or something.

this leitmotif in LO if you like Persephone you are nice, if you don't - go to hell. Thanatos redemption start from his liking Persephone and think that Favoritism is fine.

Why it should care other workers and Thanatos especially? because they have trouble because of her, she tried to waste their time, and some great hard worker dont get any prize, where she get prize only for flirting with boss. their boss became unproductive and don't care about them, he think only about his sweet princess. 

So go away Daphne, pls. You are such smart as Persephone.

Btw Thanatos is gathering souls, and Hermes falsified counts of souls because of Persephone, i am not sure about that but looks like Hermes productivity were such great because of this falsification,  so if it is so, he can hate her with pure conscience, because he was blamed that he is lazy and bad worker and didnt get increase in salary.

So okay, i think Favoritism can be in fiction, but not how it was shown in LO, as something unequivocally positive and romantic, and Thanatos opinion was unequivocally shamed, everything it can work with grey moral story and such type of characters, someone can say: in LO characters are "grey", maybe, for me they are much worse than grey, but in story they dont show as grey, grey moral story it s when you can like any character and dont be in others eyes "misogynic" or no one will say to you "dont sit right with me" because of it, and another phrases which get person who prefered unpopular LO characters.

Oh what a huge post, thank you if someone read it to the end)

[animeyanderelover]

Another person who wanted to stay anonymous. Angelina deserved better😢.

Request: 41 with Madame Red please?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, pregnancy, possessiveness, obsessiveness, overprotectiveness, paranoia

Prompt 41: “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll look cute with a swollen stomach carrying our child.”

It seemed to be early afternoon when you finally woke up, bright sunlight hitting you right in your face and making you pull the sheets over your head, whining something about it being too bright in here. You had for once a morning where you didn't have a terrible morning sickness which had more than just once kept you from just enjoying the warmth of the bed and not having to lean over the toilet and feeling miserable. You didn't blame it on the child though.

Angelina wasn't next to you, the place next to you was already cold which must have meant that she had left a while ago, as quietly as possible so she wouldn't wake you up. She had been so happy when you had agreed that you wanted to have children as well and were ready for a test-tube fertilization as well. You knew from Angelina's terrible backstory and how she had lost in a horrible accident her husband, her baby and her ability to have children. And you knew just as much with how much sadness and envy she always looked at other people who were playing with their children. There had been so much pain in those red eyes.

But all of that had seemed to disappear when both of you had received the news that the fertilization had been a success and that you were pregnant. Angelina had cried tears of joy when hearing the news and the rest of the day you had been showered with kisses and praises, the joy and hope in her face had made you feel like you had just done the best thing that you could have done for her, next to having come into her life in the first place of course.

Since both of you had received the news, about one month had passed by and currently you were, according to An herself, in your eleventh week of pregnancy and you were sure that your stomach had already started to swell the tiniest bit, you knew in the following weeks it would continue growing and growing and you knew that it would lead An to being even more touchy than she was already.

You felt like she had gotten ever since more careful with you, more than she had been already. You couldn't blame her, you guessed that after what had happened to her, she was a bit paranoid over you. It wasn't like she treated you bad, she did everything for you and you didn't really have to move a muscle, especially know that you were carrying. But maybe she was a bit too suffocating since you needed your space from time to time too and now that you were pregnant your hormones would start the one day or another to go crazy which meant mood swings.

Still, you weren't angry with her. Your anger always faded away the moment you saw her sincere and joyful smile, exposing her true beauty. And you looked forward to having a small baby as well, you had confidence that the baby would have a good life and would be treated with much love, Angelina would never let anything harm the baby or you.

Maybe you were the tiniest bit nervous about all the months to come, but that was normal. Pregnancy was not something to take lightly and you had already heard so many stories about labor pain that had managed to make you anxious, not wanting to experience the waves of agony washing over you for hours straight. It was in the nature of a human that they feared pain and wanted to avoid it. It made you feel scared as well, but you had to be couragous now. Currently you weren't only taking responsibility for yourself, but for the life inside of you as well.

A soft knock was suddenly heard on the door, causing you to turn around in bed, still wrapped up in the sheets like a caterpillar in a cocoon. It was delightfully warm and you were lazy, your body had slowly started to feel more heavy and tired recently and An had explained to you that this was completely normal whilst carrying a child since it took a lot of energy.

The door was slowly slid open, Angelina's face peeking in, wanting to look whether you were already awake or not. She smiled softly when she saw you neing burried in the sheets, only the upper part of your face being visible, the rest hidden under the blanket. "So you finally woke up. Did you sleep well?", she asked, closing the door behind her and walking over to you, sitting down next to you and carressing your hair.

"I didn't storm this morning to the toilet so I slept well, it is already afternoon after all.", you replied, sitting slowly up and letting a yawn out. "That's good to hear that the little one didn't make too much troubles today." She had a warm look in her eyes when saying this, one of her hands placing itself on your stomach and rubbing over it slightly.

"What do you think it will be? A boy or a girl?", she asked in a mellow tone. You let out a small huff. "How should I know? Is there something you would prefer?", you asked her, looking with a fond look down your stomach as well. "No. I will love them, no matter gender.", she responded and you knew that she meant it. "But I feel like it might be a girl."

You tilted your head a bit, giving her a surprised look. "Why do you think so?" Angelina shrugged her shoulders a bit, looking like she didn't know herself. "It is just my intuition telling me that it will be a girl." The thought of a little daughter filled you with a warm tingling, already imagining how much An would love the little princess.

"If you are already that sure that it will be a girl, what do you think would be a good name for her?", you asked, starting to think about possible names that you could name the little one. You wanted a name that had a meaning, something unique and special, just like the girl. When you said this, the woman suddenly seemed to hesitate for a bit, telling you that something was bothering her. "An, what is it?", you asked worriedly, grabbing her one hand that was still resting on your stomach.

"I...was thinking of naming her...Rachel.", she replied after a while slowly, the words seeming to cause her pain. And your eyes widened shocked when you heard the name she had thought about, knowing instantly what this was all about. "Rachel after your dead sister?" Her red eyes met yours, a unsure, but also decided look in them and she gave you a short nod.

"Rachel...", you murmured the name, glancing shortly down at your still flat stomach before you returned your gaze to hers, giving he a reassuring grin and nodding. "Why not? It is a pretty name. Fitting for a pretty girl. But what if it is a boy?"

"I will let you choose the name for a boy since I already suggested one for a girl. Any ideas?" You let out a sigh, chewing on your lips a bit whilst listening in your head all possible names that you could think off in that moment. But not one seemed to amaze you. "I don't know. There are so many, but not one of them seems to be to my liking.", you whined, making An laugh a bit. "You still got time darling. No need to stress out. I'm sure you'll choose a name befitting for a handsome young boy."

A short moment of silence came over you two, but it wasn't awkward in the least bit, it was relaxing and soothing, Angelina pulling her closer to you and you pressed yourself gladly against her, enjoying the closeness to her. A feint scent of tea and food was hanging on her clothes, you guessed she had prepared breakfast for you downstairs. "Do you think everything will be fine?", you decided to ask her after a while, needing to let this question finally out of your mind.

"Are you scared?" You hummed a bit, feeling the doubts in you stirring up now that you had finally spoken up about it. "It's normal to be unsure about the pregnancy, no matter if it's the first time or not. Nevertheless, I will ensure personally that everything will be alright. You don't have to worry, I will protect you and the child. I won't let anything harm you two. I won't."

When she said the last sentence, you felt her body tensing up slightly and her grip tightening a bit around you, flashbacks filling her mind and mixing bad feelings and old pain up in her. But you trusted her when she said those words, feeling like you shouldn't be so down and insecure about all of this. Especially since An had already gone through so much you felt like you shouldn't make her worry because you were scared.

"What about my belly and the way my body will change?" You meant to change the topic a bit, but you were surprised by how insecure you sounded when hearing you saying this, taking not only Agelina by surprise. "(y/n)...do you worry about how you will look these following months?"

You blinked a bit, forming an answer in your head before letting out a small sigh. "Maybe a bit. I'm just worried that I might become a bit too hard to deal with during the next few months. I truly don't want to make you worry since you already do so much for me. I...kind of feel like I might become a burden."

"Then I want you to know here and now that this couldn't be more wrong. You are anything, but a burden for me.", she protested, sounding a bit angered that you were thinking like this. "I do all of this gladly and whatever troubles I will go through, I'll do it to make sure that both you and the baby will be fine. I will protect my family with everything I can and can't do. Understood?"

The passion and emotions in her voice struck your heart in a painfully touching way which led you to tear up a bit, but maybe these were already your hormones making you more sensible. "Sure, sorry for saying stuff like this. Instead of worrying about such things, I should start feeling more happy and thankful for all I have."

"It's alright. You're just being a bit anxious. But I'll be here for you whenever you need me," , she reassured you with a gentle voice, pressing a kiss against your temple. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll look cute with a swollen stomach carrying our child."

[insomniamamma]

Late Bloomers: Ezra x F! Reader w/Cee

A/n: Set in the "Liminal" AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's legal guardian after a car accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Set sometime between "Ferris  Wheels Are For Old People" and "Surf City Goodness." Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship (sort of, IDK how to tag what they are). For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Kissing. Touching. A little spicier than I usually go, which isn't saying whole lot. A little language.  Cee, as usual, needs her own warning. Set during the pandemic shut down. Mentions of covid. Also, I feel like 'The Apple' needs it's own warning. I'll link the trailer at the end.

           "You sure you don't want to come with us, Birdie?" Cee sits at their scarred kitchen table, her laptop, textbooks and a pile of papers around her. She frowns.           "I gotta study," she says, "Ms Stewart is really serious about this quiz. She's not grading on a curve this time." Ezra narrows his eyes.           "You have never spent a Saturday night studying in your life," he says. Cee frowns up at him.           "You've never been in Ms. Stewart's physics class," says Cee, "She's a hard ass. Anyway, I'm still pulling an 'A' in her class, but I don't want to fuck up my average."           "Jesus, Cee," Ezra mutters, and you have to smile. She rolls her eyes.           "I know, I know--"           "Don't say 'fuck' at school," they say in unison.           "They're doing double features all summer," says Cee, "I can miss one. I've seen all these movies anyway." She smirks, "I want to hear what you think of 'The Apple.'" Ezra rummages around for his keys and Cee drops you the most exaggerated wink you've ever seen in your life.           "Have fun, guys," she says.

         Covid has nuked most of the things you used to do for fun, restaurants and shows, hell, even the libraries are closed. The only business in town that's thriving is the Star-City Drive In. There haven't been any big studio releases in a while, so they've been doing Fright Night Fridays and Sci-Fi Saturdays. Tonight's double feature is Flash Gordon and The Apple.          "They've got this weird way of operating the concession stand now," says Ezra, "Cause of the pandemic. You've gotta text them your order and I guess they bring it out to you--" Ezra's gotten pretty good at working his phone one-handed, but you can see the frustration clouding his face.          "Let me," you say, loading the menu onto your phone, "Let's get a big popcorn and share it. You okay with the fake butter?"          "Of course I'm okay with the fake butter, what kind of monster do you take me for?"          "How about candy?" You ask, scrolling through, "It's the usual suspects."          "Sno-caps," he says, "How about you?"          "I'm thinking Milk Duds," you say.          "Now that is an excellent way to lose a filling, Sunshine."          "Popcorn and Milk Duds together? Worth the risk," you say and text your order off to the concession stand. It's not quite dark yet, a reel of movie trivia that no one cares about shines ghost pale on the screen. Ez has got the radio tuned to pick up the sound, but there's not much to listen to yet so it's turned down low, background noise with the cicadas and birdsong. The big screen backs up against a farmer's field run wild and a dark stand of trees.          "Switch places with me," says Ezra, and gets out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you.          "Why?"          "Indulge me," says Ezra, so you do as he asks and settle in to the driver's side. Ezra's truck has bench seats with vinyl that creaks and cushions that hiss slightly as you move around. There's a tap at the window and you hook your mask over your ears and crank it down, popcorn and candy and you already payed with your phone, but press some rumpled bills into their gloved hands.          "Why'd you want to switch places?" You ask around a mouthful of popcorn.          "Shhh," says Ezra, "The movie's starting."

         Flash Gordon is just as fun as you remember it being, majestic in its absurdity, a big love letter to all the terrible pulp sci-fi movies that came before, the two of you watch and snark and laugh and sing "Aaa-ahhh" whenever someone says Flash's name. We owe it to Queen, you say, and Ezra smiles big the way he does when something's caught him off guard, the way that crinkles his eyes and reveals his dimples, indeed we do. We owe it to Freddie Mercury.          At some point his arm finds it's way around your shoulders and you lean into him.          "So this is why you wanted to switch spots," you murmur. He raises his prosthetic arm, flickering movie light shining on the double hook at the end.          "Can't exactly get handsy with Mr. Claw, now can I?" He grins, "These hooks might be a little chilly."          "And pokey," you say, demonstrating with a dig to his ribs. The end credits are rolling.          "You ever seen this next movie?"          "The Apple?" He says, "No. Some sort of cult-movie thing. Cee made me promise not to IMDB it. She said I should go in with an open mind."          "Oh boy," you laugh.          "Right? Cee's tastes are all over the place. I suspect this will be either amazing  or terrible on a scale that recalibrates our internal gauge of what terrible is."          "You know she set us up, right?"          "Yeah," says Ezra, "Little Bird fancies herself quite the matchmaker."          "She winked at me." Ezra dimples.          "Did she now?"          "She looked like a cartoon," you laugh, "About as subtle as a ton of bricks." Ezra brays laughter and leans against you, squeezes you closer to him at the same time. He is beautiful when he laughs, all dimples and teeth eyes screwed shut in mirth and you take this opportunity to press a kiss against that tender place on his jaw where his beard refuses to grow. Ezra freezes, you feel his body go rigid against yours, and your first thought is to apologize, to pull back, and then he reaches for you, his broad, calloused palm cradling your face, drawing you to him, presses his lips to yours, a soft, reverent kiss that he does not fully withdraw from, his hand now resting on the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours, somehow more intimate than a kiss, this closeness, breathing each others exhalations, leaning against each other.          "Cee's not wrong," you say, "We're good together."          "We are, aren't we?" He gives your nape a gentle squeeze, and lets you go. The opening titles of The Apple flicker on screen and the music starts up.

         "Oh, Ezra, what the fuck did we just watch?"          "I don't know if 'watch' is the right word, Sunshine, we did not 'watch' The Apple. The Apple happened to us."          "I don't think I've ever understood Stockholm syndrome until now."          "I have been assaulted," says Ezra, "My civil rights have been violated."          "It's like..." You trail off, "It's like if someone took '1984', 'A Star Is Born' and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' and put them in a blender. I'm pretty sure this movie violates the Geneva conventions." Ezra laughs and so do you, leaning in to each other, giggles that become kisses, soft at first, but increasingly hungry, laced with need, your arms twine around his shoulders, his hand lingers at your side, toying with the hem of your shirt.          "S'okay, Ez," you say as he nips at your jaw and then your neck, gentle graze of teeth that makes you shiver, "You can touch me." He kisses you deep, his tongue fever-hot against yours, hand sliding up the soft slope of your belly, cupping your breast, and you arch into his touch--          Tap Tap Tap. And there's a bright light shining through the passenger's side window.          "Oh shit," says Ezra. You frantically yank your shirt back down, heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks, your earlobes flaming.          "Movie's over guys," says the shadowed figure behind the flashlight's glare, "Take it someplace else." You open the door to switch places back with Ezra, the overhead light shows him red faced and horrified.          "I'm sorry, I just--"          "Get us out of here, Ez."

         You stare out into the dark past the window, half-moon shining over fields and trees like a lazy eye. You snort laughter.          "What's so funny?"          "We got caught," you say, "We got caught necking at the drive-in like a couple of teenagers."          "You're laughing because we got caught?"          "I'm laughing because I've never made out with anyone at a drive-in, even when I was a teenager, and I'm laughing cause we got caught. After watching that trash-fire of a movie. We got caught making out over the end credits of 'The Apple'. I feel like we deserve some kind of award." You rest your hand on Ezra's leg, can just pick his smile in the dim lights from the dash. Ezra chuckles.          "I never made out with anyone at the drive in before tonight either," says Ezra.          "Bullshit," you say, and give him a good-natured poke.          "It's true," he says, "For one, I didn't have access to a car. I would've had to borrow Ma's car, and there was no way that was ever going to happen. Also, I was not what the girls back then referred to as 'dating material'. Skinny as a rake with a mouthful of braces and an obvious birthmark? I was like a puppy trying to grow into it's ears and feet, a late bloomer if you will." You move your hand higher up along his thigh and give him a squeeze.          "Better late than never."          "Indeed."

Flash Gordon Trailer

The Apple Trailer

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 21~

Before reading this story I suggest you read Kurama and Ibuki's past. Also I’m sorry for not putting any screenshots of the chapter, I accidently deleted it.

Chapter 20

*

*

*

-------Part 1-------

After bathing, we returned to the temple in the mountains and started preparing for bed. Kurama: "Sleep well tonight. We have to leave early, tomorrow." Yoshino: ".....Mm." (It's just the two of us in the same room....now, I'm starting to get nervous....) I started blushing as I recall our time at the lake. I lay down in the corner of the room and used my haori to cover up. Yoshino: "Doesn't Kurama ever sleep?" Kurama: "You know, right? Demons don't need sleep, unlike humans." Yoshino: "I see...." Kurama: "Why are you making that face?" (Ah......) Suddenly Kurama came to my side and kneeled down to turn my face towards him. Kurama: "Is that an invitation to sleep together? Or...is it a plea to make love to you." As soon as I heard those words, my heart started beating fast. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1. What if, it is.....(+4/+4) 2. I don't care.... 3. Not at all... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yoshino: "......What if, it is?" I was so excited that I almost forgot how to breathe and pretended to be calm... Kurama: "Then, I'll fill your head and body with more pleasure than you can possibly imagine." Yoshino: "You know what, forget it." Kurama: "Then what do you want? What are you thinking?" Kurama's fingers caress my cheek in a compassionate manner. (You're not teasing me, right.....?) The touch of his palm that has the power to kill me in an instant was terribly gentle. That's why my heart is beating faster and faster because I can't get rid of it. Yoshino: "I was just feeling anxious." Kurama: "Anxious of what?" Yoshino: "It's just....Kurama will be awake while I'm sleeping, right? So I was anxious about embarrassing myself in front of you when I'm asleep. Like, what if I sleep talk or snore loudly...?" Kurama: ".........." Yoshino: "Oh, you're probably thinking, 'What a load of rubbish,' aren't you?" A hint of dismay flashed across Kurama's face. Kurama: "Ohh, I see you've learned to read my thoughts." (I was right....) Yoshino: "Of course, I know that Kurama isn't interested in seeing me asleep....But even so, it's embarrassing to know that you were watching me sleep." Kurama: "Stupid woman." Yoshino: "Stupid...?" I lightly looked at Kurama. Kurama: "Why do you think I'd be more interested if you went to the trouble of saying so?" (Ehh...) Yoshino: "No no way." Kurama: "Don't worry. I'll tell you tomorrow if you were drooling or not." Yoshino: "Hey!!!" (Wow!!) He gently pushed me down to the bed when I tried getting up. Then, his big hand covered my eyes. Kurama: "Sleep now." Kurama's deep voice was gentle in the darkness created. Kurama: "What I see of you now will never swoon me. I've seen you scared, in tears and.....also you're sultry face when I play with you." (...What are you...) The embarrassment never went away, but the mystery was compelling. Yoshino: "Indeed, I have always been my true self to Kurama." Kurama: "You're the only woman I've ever known who could be so brazen in front of me."

-------Part 2-------

Kurama: "You're the only woman I've ever known who could be so brazen in front of me." Yoshino: "Hehe...really? But..." (I feel like I can express my feelings more honestly now that I can't see Kurama's face.) Yoshino: "I just couldn't complete with Kurama, who was so much stronger and different than me. First I didn't want to be killed, then I wanted to be recognized.....and finally, I wanted to be equal." Kurama: "-----I see." Yoshino: "Mm....." I felt Kurama's other hand gently stroking my hair. (It feels good. I wish you would do it all the time.) I know that my wish wouldn't come true. We sharpen our awareness of the feeling that we may never be given again. Kurama: "-----Yoshino." Whether in a dream or not, I heard Kurama's voice calling my name. That was the last thing I remembered that night. When Kurama sees Yoshino starting to breathe slowly, he stops stroking her hair. Kurama: ".....Yoshino? You're already asleep." Her face was more innocent than usual. Kurama was sitting in crossed leg position, leaned forward, and looked at her with an insatiable gaze. Kurama: "What I see of you now will never swoon me" is what I said....why did I lie?" The smile on her face when she looks at something trivial, the peaceful look on her face when she sleeps. Those moments always touched Kurama's heart and will probably never go away. Kurama: "What is this...feeling?" (It's called love, dumbass!) Kurama put his hand to his chest in the darkness and raised an eyebrow.... ..................... ------Next day, early morning. Yoshino: "We're going to join up with the Rebel reinforcements, aren't we?" Kurama: "Yes." I was walking along with Kurama into the mountains. Kurama: "In half a day or so the reinforcements will arrive on the battlefield, and we'll make our way to a point where we can join them. It's a circuitous route, but it's easier to deceive the enemy if you go through the mountains. If we should meet any assassins, I will destroy them myself. If the Rebels and the Shogunate are to assemble, the Imperial Court will have gathered a number of pawns to oppose them." (There's no one more reliable than you to have on my side. But....) Kurama: "What? If you have something to say, say it." Yoshino: "Of course, I agree with the plan, but I thought it was a surprising decision for Kurama." (From what I've seen so far, Kurama could fly through the air and join up with the reinforcements at once and....) (He also said, he is going to find the enemy and beat them up...) I didn't have to explain myself to everyone, that I understood what he's trying to say. Then Kurama opens his mouth annoyingly. Kurama: "In the shadows of the marauders of the court are at least Yasuchika and Ibuki."

------Part 3------

Kurama: "In the shadows of the marauders of the court are at least Yasuchika and Ibuki. We don't know what they're up to, but it's easier to fight after making sure your safe." (You mean you've changed your normal ways because of me....?) Kurama, who is not stained by anyone else, is working for me. I didn't even know whether to be happy or horrified, so I just kept quiet. Kurama: "Wait!" (Hm?) Suddenly his hand blocks my way and my body stops. The air around Kurama was tense at once. Kurama: "Come on out----Ibuki!" Yoshino: "!!" In an instant, a blade of wind blows and cuts through the depths of the grove. Ibuki: ".....My my, that was scary. I could have died, you know." (Shuten Doji, Ibuki!) Ibuki walks towards us with a relaxed expression on his face, and despite his words, he is unharmed. Kurama: "How did you find out where we were?" Ibuki: "I was having a hard time because I lost the traces of your magic. I had no choice but to cry and beg Yasuchika to help me. He used some kind of astrology or something and here I am." (Yasuchika-san can do that too....? That guy is unbelievable.) Kurama: "Do you really think I'll believe that?" Ibuki: "You're right. You're the third person who I can't trick. But more importantly, what's your deal with her?" (Me....?) I squeezed my fingertips together and stared back into Ibuki's amused eyes. Kurama: "I don't have any business with her." Ibuki: "Really?" Ibuki raised one hand in the air as if it were an extension of small talk between friends. Ibuki: "Then, you won't mind if I take her, right?" Kurama: "----!! Come here." (This is!?) Something like a thunderbolt is running around Ibuki. The next moment----- Yoshino: "Kyaa!!" The roar was deafening and the light dazzled me with its intensity. At the same time, my body is already flying in the air, held by Kurama. Kurama: "Hold on tight." Yoshino: "Yes." I looked back and saw that the ground where we had been standing was scorched by the bolt of lightning. (This is Ibuki's power!?) Ibuki: "Oops, I missed." Once again, a bolt of lightning shot through the air, which Kurama avoided with me in his arms. We tried to go further up, but.... Kurama: "-----A barrier!" As if sensing an invisible wall, Kurama swooped down and clicked his tongue. Ibuki: "The only way to trap flying birds is to put it in a cage." (You mean, we're trapped in here, forever?) Ibuki: "Well, it won't last long---I'm afraid we'll have to settle for a short game, Kurama." Kurama: "I don't need to be told that I'm not going to have a long game with you." The air swirls and distorts noisily, and countless transparent blades head towards Ibuki. Ibuki: "Heh.....Hahaha...." Ibuki jumped to his feet, pulled out his greatsword, and thrust it hard into the ground. Then the sands of the earth flew up like a shield to protect Ibuki. (What is that!?) Yoshino: "I thought your power is thunder....how can you...?" Ibuki: "It is a simple application. The iron in the sand is attracted by my lightning power."

-------Part 4-------

Ibuki: "It is a simple application. The iron in the sand is attracted by my lightning power." Kurama: "Clever as ever." A flash of a fan sends a gust of wind so strong that it is impossible to stand properly and breaks the wall of sand. Ibuki: "...!" Behind the dust, blood trickled down Ibuki's shoulders and arms. (So much power....!) Ibuki: "I'm impressed you're this strong even after making a deal with a human. As expected of the Karasu Tengu, the quality and quantity of his abilities are far different from those of any other ordinary." Kurama: "Don't try to flatter me. The same goes for you too. But----" His red eyes sharply narrowed. Kurama: "Ibuki, you are sharing your power with someone. With whom?" Yoshino: "Eh..." Ibuki: "You're as intuitive as ever." Kurama: "I was wondering what you were doing with all that power...there's something wrong with the quality of your powers and the smell." Ibuki: "..............." Yoshino: "No way, Ibuki also made a deal....?" (However.) -----Tamamo told me that it was very rare for a demon to make a deal. (Because it halves their power by sharing it with humans.) (He said they don't make a deal with humans unless they like them very much.) Yoshino: "Maybe, Yasuchika-san.....?" Ibuki: "Wrong. Making a deal with an Onmyoji will cancel out each other's powers and we'll both destroy ourselves." (Then who....) Ibuki: "There's one more interesting person." Kurama: "Interesting, huh?" With me behind him, and Ibuki at a distance, Kurama continued calmly. Kurama: "Your powers had been subtly altered. I've never heard of anyone influencing the quality of the power cast by a demon." Ibuki: "You'll both meet each other soon enough. For now, watch me....okay?" Holding his greatsword above his head with one hand, Ibuki smiled wryly. Kurama: "Yoshino, get down." Yoshino: "I'll fight too. I can use my powers...." (I want to be an equal----because I want to be strong.) Kurama frowned but tried not to stop me anymore. Ibuki: "You two are so cute. But there's nothing more frightening than an impromptu fight." (Ah.....) A white flash of light comes from the sword, which is swung with ease. Kurama: "Yoshino!" I raised my hand towards him and Kurama holds me. (I'm scared, but.) (If we can't fight here, everything we've been worrying about will be for nothing!) (Please, lend me the power of the nine-tail fox!) Ibuki: "Let's see what you got."

-------Part 5------

Ibuki: "Let's see what you got." The golden dew rises and the palms of my hands become hot. But a series of thunderbolts were aimed at me again. Yoshino: "Nn...." (He's too strong. I can't take him on my own!) I was on the verge of being scorched and Kurama was quickly holding me and kicking the earth. Yoshino: "T-Thank you." Kurama: "You stay focused. I'll dodge and counterattack." Ibuki: "So you've changed your mind about making her as your toy? Kurama." The blades of the wind are caught and dodged one by one. Moving too fast for his height, Ibuki unexpectedly lifted a rock from the ground. Kurama: "...!" (Ngh.....) Ibuki: "Here we go." Without saying a word, Kurama hits the thrown rock with a tremendous wind and reduces its momentum, but----- The impact of the rock, which just barely missed the path of the direct hit, knocked me off my feet and sent me stumbling. Kurama: "Yoshino!" Ibuki: "There there." Kurama: "Nn...ha..." A flash of lightning burned Kurama's arm as he brought me to my feet. Yoshino: "Kurama!" Kurama: "It doesn't matter..." (You got hurt because of me...) I bit my lips when I see Kurama covering me up with his bleeding hand. Ibuki: "You can counteract the ability, but you can't prevent a direct attack. A mixture of powers and brute strength will be enough to counteract it. Too bad, huh? Yoshino." (I know....the weakness of my fox power is that I can't fight alone. But....) Yoshino: "I can't believe this..." I look at the rocks on the ground and mutter. Ibuki: "There's nothing to be surprised about. Demons are known for their strength." Kurama: "If you

want to show off, do it somewhere else." Ibuki: "Don't be so sure, Karasu Tengu must also have things to be proud of, right?" Ibuki grumbled as a wall of sand barely blocked the deadly wind. Ibuki: "Karasu Tengu is not only powerful, but they are also fast and use their wings to attack in all directions. But Kurama, unfortunately with Yoshino in your arms, you've been denied that advantage." (Ah.....) Kurama: "..........." I looked up Kurama without thinking of the strong wind. Ibuki: "Is this your first time fighting for someone?----Boy, you look like you're having a hard time." Kurama: "Shut up." (....I knew. I knew I was slowing down Kurama.) Ibuki's shield, a wall of sand, collapsed with the blade of the wind. Ibuki kicked the ground in spite of this. Ibuki: "I love to hear you calling me 'Oni-san' again..." A whirlpool of wind flies in pursuit of it, and the dust again stands in the way, moving as if trying to swallow it up. Ibuki: "You're weak now, Kurama. In the old days, you had a chance to win against me." (Be careful!) In a single breath, Ibuki's sword swung down on Kurama. Kurama: "----You don't get to tell me about my past." The heavy blow was caught by Kurama's iron fan. But he was pushed by the great force----- (It is because he got hurt earlier....?) Ibuki: "Didn't I tell you? Kurama. The weaklings are destined to die at the feet of stronger ones. I'll remind you of the humiliation of being taken from you by force." Kurama: "Nn...." (What!?) The sword and the fan touched each other with a crisp sound, and blue-white sparks flew from them. The impact created a momentary gap and Ibuki slashed Kurama across the shoulder. Yoshino: "Kurama!" Fresh blood dripped down and stained Kurama's kimono. (......I can't believe that Kurama is so hurt.) Kurama: "----A different kind of power wrapped in the golden air. Depressing as ever." Ibuki: "You know me too well. Well, I did raise you with these hands. Oh, by the way, Kurama....do you remember a promise I made a long time ago? That, one day you'll have someone you care about, and I'll break them with my own hands." The tip of Ibuki's sword, raised in laughter, was suddenly pointed at me. (Eh....) Ibuki: "That time has come." Kurama: "Stop! Ibuki-----" Yoshino: "......!!" Kurama pushes me and I fall to the ground. The next moment, I felt a splash of blood on my face. I realized it was Kurama's blood. Yoshino: "Kurama...what..." Kurama: "Nn.....Didn't I order you not to get scratched by other men?" Chapter 22

[slaylinski]

5 Times Something Almost Happened And 1 Time It Did

Pairing: Sam x Bucky (AU) 5+1

Word count: 8704

Warnings: angst, major character death (mentioned), grief, miscommunication, Sambucky can be absolutely idiots sometimes, mutual pining, fluff, happy ending

Prompt: Sam and Bucky are obviously in love with each other, but each secretly thinks the other is the boyfriend of their recently deceased friend (Steve) and that they should respect the bro code. 

A/N: So, I recently saw that prompt on IG and since there is no fanfiction out there that covers that I decided to write one myself. Prepare yourself for some misunderstandings, angst, grieving and sambucky fluff!

btw, shoutout to @januarystears and @gwen-novella for being my beta reader and emotional Marvel supporters🥰💕

Please be aware that English is not my first language.  

1

Bucky was looking at the tombstone in front of him, still not able to process what happened the last few days. Steve Rogers was his childhood best friend. He remembered them being 5-year old’s trying to steal some of the cookies his mother had baked; he remembered Steve calling him at 3am on a Sunday, crying and telling him about his mother‘s car accident, the one that had made him an orphan. He remembered his parents not even hesitating for a second before they took Steve in. 

And now Steve was gone. And everything Bucky had left were a few memories that were already starting to fade.

Since his parents were dead not many people came to Steve’s funeral. A few friends he had met in Chicago, Bucky’s family and of course Sam Wilson. 

After he and Steve had finished college, Steve had gotten an amazing job offer in Chicago and since Bucky had decided to stay in New York, they had had to adapt to not being able to see each other every day. They had still managed to see each other monthly, most of the times Steve coming to New York, since Bucky’s family, meaning Steve’s family, was still in New York as well. And every time they had visited each other Steve had talked about Sam. Every damn time. Bucky had felt like he already knew the other man. Obviously, he had been happy that Steve had found a boyfriend in Chicago.

Since Bucky was bi and Steve had been gay, they had had a few first times together. From having their first kiss with each other to some things he was not going to mention here. They had tried to make their relationship work, but ultimately decided they were better off as friends. Since then they had not really talked much about their relationships. The only thing that had mattered to Bucky had been that Steve was happy and the way he had talked about Sam had made Bucky realize that he had been happy.

“You okay, man? “ Bucky looked to his left and stared into a pair of brown eyes.

“Yeah, I am okay," he said quietly, which was far from the truth. He still could not believe that Steve was dead.

“I am Sam, Sam Wilson," Sam introduced himself to Bucky, which made the latter chuckle. “Yeah, I already know that. Steve talked about you, a lot," Bucky tried to smile but his eyes were still focused on the tombstone in front of him.

“You know, it is a shame that he never introduced us," Sam said.

“It really is, but I feel like I already know you from all the stories Steve told me about you. I am glad he had someone in Chicago who took care of him. I am sorry for your loss," Bucky felt terrible. He felt like he could not breathe, like drowning but not being able to swim to the surface.

“I am really sorry too, Bucky," Sam whispered. Bucky barely remembered the next few hours. They went to the Barnes house for a funeral service. He saw his sister Becca who tried not to cry but miserably failed, he met his parents’ eyes. His mom was silently crying, and his dad wore sunglasses, trying to hide his swollen eyes as well. To his parents it was like they had lost one of their children. To Becca and him it was like they had lost their brother. And Bucky could not even imagine how hard it was for Sam to lose his boyfriend, his significant other, the person he wanted to grow old with. However, Sam looked more pulled together, like he tried his best not to cry in front of Bucky. Which Bucky understood, it was not like they knew each other very well.

“Do you want something to eat?" Sam asked and tried to feed Bucky some of the cake that was sitting on the kitchen counter. It was one of the many cakes people had brought over to the Barnes house after they had found out about Steve’s death. Everybody had loved Steve Rogers and it was a real shock to them that he had died at such a young age. Bucky, however, did not feel like eating. He felt like sleeping. Like the kind of sleep that makes you forget reality, the one that comforts you. He had not slept for the last couple of days, he was afraid of dreaming, afraid of dreaming and waking up. Afraid that his mind was going to dream about Steve and then him waking up and realizing that it was only a dream and that he was really gone.

“No, thanks. Do you want something?" Bucky asked but Sam shook his head. It was the first time that Bucky took a closer look at Sam Wilson. He was a little bit shorter than Bucky. His brown eyes were warm, and they looked worried, and Bucky felt like Sam was as close to breaking down as he himself was but tried to hold it together. The longer he looked at Sam, the more he understood Steve when he had talked about how warm Sam's eyes were or how good his smile looked. Sam was exactly the type of guy Bucky would go for. Sam tried to comfort him, and Bucky did not understand why. It was not like he had lost his boyfriend. He had lost his best friend, which was pretty hard as well, but not as hard as what Sam was going through now.

“Sorry, I need to get out of here,” Bucky told Sam and rushed out of the house.

The Barnes house was pretty small, barely enough room for two children, but they had squeezed together when Steve had moved in. The backyard had a small garden. A bench facing the giant cherry tree Bucky and Steve used to climb up.

Bucky felt his lip tremble and sniffed. He was all alone now. Steve was gone and there was nothing he could change about that. He felt a tear slipping down his face and tried to wipe it away with his shirtsleeve, but his stupid shirt was too tight, and he could not reach his eyes, and everything was just stupid.

A few moment later his vision was blurred with tears and he tried hard not to sob. It was horrible. He had not even realized that Sam had followed him outside until he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Hey, it’s going to be alright, Bucky,” he said and tried to calm him down. The second he noticed Sam; Bucky felt like shit. Sam had just lost his boyfriend and Bucky was out here crying and not even thinking about Sam for a second.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky looked at Sam. “I just… I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now and I-,” he tried to continue but Sam interrupted him.

“If you try to apologize for having feelings, Barnes, I am going to throw you into your neighbors’ pool,” Sam pointed to his right to the swimming pool next to them. “I’m not joking. I don’t know what Steve told you about me, but I’m a man of my word,” Sam laughed. Bizarrely, Bucky laughed as well, like a real laugh, not the ones you fake to seem polite.

“You know, he would’ve hated that,” Bucky declared.

“What? “

“Us here, moping around. He would have wanted his funeral to be party. Has he ever told you about the first years of his life?”

Sam shook his head.

“When we were younger, Steve used to be sick, like all the time. He had the worst allergies and asthma and everything you could possibly imagine. Some winters were hard, there were times when he was in the hospital for week.

Then one time he had this stupid idea to plan his funeral because somehow in his 10-year-old brain he was thinking that he was going to die. And me, being the other 10-year-old, agreed to that so we were in that chapel and he was reading a text that he’d written and playing some weird ass song he’d found on his Mp3 player and then we were all mushy and crying. A couple of weeks later he was home again. A few years after that, he got his height boost and most of his allergies were gone and he became the Steve you know,” Bucky hadn’t even realized that he was crying again but it was a weird combo of crying and laughing.

“God, I miss him so much already,” he sniffed.

“So, Steve Rogers would’ve wanted a party for his funeral? “Sam grinned, and Bucky couldn’t help but start to notice Sam’s laugh. The way his eyes crinkled and the way his whole body moved when he laughed.

“We’re going to get through this, Buck. I promise,” Sam put his arm around Bucky and patted his shoulder.

“You know, you can always call me if you want to talk,” this was the first time that Bucky saw that Sam had tears in his eyes as well. Sam quickly looked in a different direction but left his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky was not mad that Sam called him ‘Buck ‘, he felt horrible. He was a horrible person. His best friend had just died and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss his best friend’s boyfriend.

 2

Sam Wilson was fairly sure that Bucky Barnes was one of the strongest people he had ever met. He could not even imagine what it must feel like to lose his boyfriend. Well, until the funeral, Sam hadn’t been quite sure if Bucky really had been Steve’s boyfriend because even though he had known Steve for more than 4 years, he still did not remember one woman or one man that Steve had ever mentioned with as much enthusiasm as he had radiated when talking about Bucky. So, it was kind of weird to Sam that they had only visited each other occasionally and still hadn’t been living together after so many years, but he hadn’t wanted to ask why. It was not his business anyways.

Even though he did not know much about Steve Rogers’ love life, he considered him one of his best friends if not his best friend. Therefore, it was hard on him to have lost Steve so suddenly. He had never heard of somebody dying of an asthma attack. Especially someone who hadn’t had one in more than ten years. He remembered Bucky’s call and nearly dropping his phone. Bucky’s parents had been Steve’s emergency contacts, so it was unsurprising that they, and thus Bucky, had gotten notified first.

He had been in the middle of cooking dinner for him and Steve, since they were sharing a flat. It was not like they were poor or not earning enough money, it was more about not being alone and being able to save up a bit for the future. None of them minded living with a roommate, though.

After the call he had travelled to New York to attend Steve’s funeral. It was not how he’ imagined his first trip to New York and it certainly wasn’t the way he had wanted to meet the famous Bucky Barnes. After the death of Steve’s parents when he’d been a teenager, Bucky’s family had been all he’d had left.

Sam had felt a little anxious, and even though two of his and Steve’s friends, Wanda and Pietro, had come with him, he still felt like an intruder. He still could not believe that Steve was really gone.

He recognized Bucky immediately. He had seen a lot of picture over the years and even met him one time via face time but that could not have prepared him for what he saw the first time he looked into Bucky’s eyes.

Even though he was on the verge of crying, he looked like one of the most beautiful men Sam had ever seen, and the second he thought of that Sam wanted to slap himself. He felt like the worst person on earth. His best friend had just died and all he could think about was how good-looking his boyfriend was. He was going to end up in hell.

For the next couple of days Sam felt numb. Bucky kindly invited him to stay over at his flat in New York, so Sam didn’t have to bother booking a hotel room or anything like that.

Since his boss had known Steve as well but could not attend his funeral due to business, he kindly gave Sam two paid weeks off. Sam was not sure how he was going to handle going back to the flat he shared with Steve. He already felt lonely and was not sure if he could handle throwing out Steve’s stuff.

But right now, he was thinking about a lot of different things, for example about Bucky, who was sitting right in front of him, eating a bagel for breakfast.

Bucky’s flat was not what Sam expected. After living together with Steve Rogers for nearly three years, he thought that he knew the way Steve liked to live. Pretty messy was an understatement. His room looked like it belonged to a messy 3-year-old. Bucky’s flat however was completely clean. So clean that Sam would not have been bothered eating off the floor. The thought of Bucky constantly reminding Steve to put away his stuff made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky looked at him curiously and swallowed the last bit of his bagel.

“Oh, nothing,” Sam tried hide his grin.

“Hey, that’s not fair. Tell me,” Bucky protested but he was smiling as well. The pretty smile, the one that made Sam’s heart flutter. He quickly put that thought aside.

“Well, you knew Steve better than me and when I see how clean your flat is all I can think about is how messy ours used to look.”

That made Bucky laugh as well. “You know, I asked myself the same question. Do you remember when you were on that business trip? That time I visited Steve, and it was the first time I saw your flat and I was shocked how clean it actually looked. Not that Steve was a messy, but I’m amazed how you managed to get along with him not putting his stuff everywhere.”

“Well at least he tried with you, whenever he was coming home, he just threw his jacket on our couch and went into the bathroom,” Sam laughed. `

“Yeah, he tried his best whenever he visited me,” Bucky answered.

‘Perks of being the boyfriend, Sam thought but didn’t say it out loud. He did not want to upset Bucky and tried to talk as little about Steve as possible, only referring to him when Bucky told him a story about them.

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky asked after they put away the dishes from their late breakfast. “I’m done sitting here and moping around. I need to get out of here, get some fresh air.”

“Do you have something in mind?” Sam looked at him. It was weird, even though he never met Bucky in person he felt like he already knew him. Steve used to talk about him all the time, mentioning him even when he was talking about the most unnecessary things. At first Sam thought it was cute, but after a while it kind of annoyed him. However, Bucky really was as great as Steve had described him. In the last days he got to know him and found out that he was one of the most generous and humble persons he had ever met.

“I actually do. I have been craving ice cream ever since I saw that Ben and Jerry’s commercial last night and thought that we could go to the Central Park,” Bucky suggested.

“Sound great. Let me get my jacket and I am good to go”.

They each grabbed their phones, wallets and jackets. Bucky stuffed his keys into the pocket of his leather jacket. Sam could swear that Bucky had at least five different versions of the same leather jacket in different colors.

Bucky’s flat was close to the Central Park since he lived in Manhattan. Sam was not quite sure what kind of job Bucky had but it must have been paying really well if he could afford living that close to the city.  They didn’t talk much while walking to the park, but Bucky took the time to show Sam some of Steve’s favorite spots, for example his favorite coffee shop. Whenever they walked past a shop or cafe Steve used to like, Sam knew immediately because Bucky tensed up.

Obviously, Sam had never been to the Central Park in New York and he had only ever seen it on pictures so far, so he was surprised how big it actually was. There were a lot of children, parents and young people walking around. A couple of them were inline skating or even skateboarding. It was a sunny afternoon, which made for a crowded park.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” Bucky asked him after they sat down on a free bench they found.

“Pretty much any ice cream flavor,” Sam laughed.

“You know, that was Steve’s answer to that question as well. He ate pretty much every flavor of ice cream I bought so I always had to hide it or buy an extra pack,” Bucky smiled but his eyes looked sad.

Sam wasn’t sure what he could do to make him feel better. And the worst was that he was still thinking about how good-looking Bucky was. “Just surprise me, okay?”

Bucky nodded and quickly walked away to the nearest ice cream van.

Sam leaned against the bank and closed his eyes. His mind was still trying to process Steve’s death. When he was younger his dad had died, and his mom had made him go to a therapist for a couple of months. The woman had told him about the five different stages of grief, and Sam was sure he was still stuck in denial. He just couldn’t imagine his life without Steve Rogers, and he still did not know how he would manage living on his own. He might get a different flat, one that was smaller.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bucky, who returned, carrying two ice cream cones in his hands. There were at least three scoops of chocolate ice cream on each one. Sam’s eyes grew big once Bucky settled the ice cream into his hand.

“I thought we might as well treat ourselves,” he only stated and started eating his ice cream.

If there was something worse than having the hots for your dead best friend’s boyfriend, it was watching his so-called boyfriend licking ice cream.

He quickly looked away and stared at the ice cream in his hand, which was slowly starting to melt.

“You know, I bought this for you so you could eat it. Not watch it melt, but you do you,” Bucky raised his eyebrows and looked at the ice cream that was slowly dripping around the cone.

“Yeah, of course. Is it a coincidence that you chose chocolate because it is Steve’s favorite ice cream or is it your favorite flavor as well?” Sam asked curiously.

“You got me there. It’s my favorite ice cream flavor, too. So now you know why I had to hide my secret ice cream stash in the freezer whenever Steve came around,” Bucky laughed.

They were quietly eating their ice cream when Bucky stood up all of a sudden and grabbed Sam’s hand. Bucky’s hand was warm, warmer than Sam had imagined. The former quickly pulled him to his feet and Sam felt himself blushing. Hopefully, Bucky didn’t see that.

“Come on, we are going to see the ducks,” Bucky shouted and ran to the lake that was in the middle of the park. Sam just laughed. Sometimes he felt like Bucky was still ten years old and not 28. He followed Bucky and found him a few seconds later, throwing the last crumbs of his ice cream cone to a little duck family that was quickly picking up the crumbs.

“You are such a child, Bucky.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and tried to pet the small ducklings. However, the mother duck was not having that and tried to pick at Bucky’s hand. It even started to flutter towards him. Bucky let out a scream and started running to Sam. “Help me, ahh. It’s trying to kill me. Sorry duck, I was only trying to pet your babies,” Bucky exclaimed. “I wouldn’t hurt them.”

Sam was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. He noticed a couple of other people around him who were watching them. A few seconds later he just gave up and completely doubled over. He was wheezing and already feeling the weird looks he got from the people surrounding him. Tears started to form in his eyes and that was the first time the last few days that the reason for them was not him being sad.

Bucky finally came over to him, laughing as well. “They were so cute, I just had to,” he exclaimed, and before Bucky was able to say another word, Sam grabbed him by his hips and pulled him over to him. He let his hand sit on Bucky’ waist for a short moment until he realized that Bucky was staring at him, especially at his hand. Sam felt blood rushing into his head. He probably looked absolutely flustered and he noticed that Bucky was blushing.

“Anyways. They were cute and Steve loves, I mean loved, ducks,” Bucky said quietly.

After hearing Steve’s name Sam felt guilty again. Following that awkward incident, they quickly went back to Bucky’s apartment and never mentioned it again.

 3

Ever since Sam had left to go back to his flat in Chicago, Bucky felt lonely. He had never felt that way when Steve had left him to go back to Chicago or when his other friends visited. It might have to do with the fact that Sam was the first person who really calmed him down after Steve’s death. His parents and his sister tried their best, but they were still trying to process the fact that Steve was gone. Sam’s reaction to Steve’s death was different. It almost made Bucky a little angry, because how could he not have cared about Steve, but then he remembered that Sam hadn’t know him as well as the Barnes family. Sam might have tried to pull himself together because he had not wanted to cry in front of Bucky. The last couple of days Bucky had gotten to spend with Sam he understood what Steve had loved about him. Sam was kind, made him laugh and the best thing, he was honest to Bucky.

Bucky’s last relationships had not been exactly what he pictured. The last girl he had dated had been someone named Natasha, who he’d met through work. She was nice and pretty, but after a few months she’d told Bucky that she did not see a future with him. He wasn’t sad that their relationship ended, he was sad because it meant he was alone again.

Right then, he was sitting on his couch, watching his favorite tv show. Suits. The first time he’d watched that show he couldn’t decide whether he would rather sleep with Donna or Harvey. Seeing that he was a lawyer himself, he knew the series was nowhere close to being realistic, but he still liked it. Practicing law wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured it in college but still, it made him happy.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. He quickly grabbed it and smiled once he saw the name displayed on the screen. Sam Wilson.

“Hey, Bucky,” Sam greeted him.

Bucky felt his chest flutter but tried to ignore it. Sam was his forbidden fruit, but he already felt like Eva ogling the red apple in garden Eden. Apparently, he and Eva would share going to hell.  

“Hey Sam,” Bucky answered quietly.

There as an awkward pause.

“Something wrong?”

“Well, I don’t know if this might seem weird to you but yesterday, I was finally able to enter Steve’s room and was trying to sort his stuff and because he doesn’t have any family left, I thought you might want some of this and- “

Bucky interrupted him. “Sam, you are rambling. What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I was just wondering if you might want to fly to Chicago and look through Steve’s stuff. Like, I know he would have wanted you to get most of his things. I understand if you are occupied with work but honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready to get rid of his things. It feels like I’m starting to forget him. I’m already starting to forget what his voice sounded like, and it’s starting to drive me crazy. And I know it’s a lot I’m asking of you and it is a shitty thing of me to cry to you about it, since he was your-,” Sam sniffed and before he could continue Bucky interrupted him again.

“To quote you, Sam: If you dare apologize for having feelings, I might throw you into your neighbor’s pool. Even though I don’t know if your neighbor owns a pool, but you get what I’m trying to say here,” Bucky could hear Sam laughing, although his voice was still a bit cracked. He sounded like he had been crying for at least a couple of minutes. Then again, Bucky would probably react the same if he’d had to sit down and sort out Steve’s stuff.

“I’m flying out to you tomorrow,” Bucky stated. He could hear Sam breathing. “You don’t have to if you have work to do or something else, I can get Wanda or Pietro to help me,” Sam said, guilt lacing his tone.

“No, you’re right. I should have thought about that earlier. It must be hard for you. Of course, I can help,” he assured Sam.

“Thanks, Bucky,” Sam replied.

“You’re welcome, Sam. I’ll text you my flight information.”

However, he did not mention that he was excited to meet Sam again. He was sure that the last thing Sam was worried about right now was finding a new boyfriend, and Bucky still felt guilty about even thinking that he had a chance with Sam. Sam had been Steve’s boyfriend and was grieving, and Bucky was selfish for thinking that Sam could like him that way.

Immediately after the phone call ended, he grabbed his laptop and started looking for flights straight to Chicago. Since it was on such short notice, the flights were way more expensive than usually, but he didn’t care about that.

The day he arrived in Chicago was rainy. The weather was characteristically bad, so he was glad that Sam had offered to pick him up from the airport. Once Bucky had grabbed his suitcase, he made his way into the arrival hall of the airport. He already noticed Sam from far away, due to the fact that the other man was waving like crazy at Bucky, which made him laugh. Sam was such a dork.

“Hey, I’m glad you made it. Thanks again,” Sam tried to carry Bucky’s suitcase, but Bucky pushed his hand away.

“I got it, thanks,” he still thought it was cute.

They walked outside to Sam’s car, talking about random things. Bucky noticed that Sam didn’t mention Steve’s name. He was probably waiting until they got home, and Bucky did not want to upset Sam any further, so he did not mention the deceased’s name as well.

Bucky could count on one hand how many times he had been to Steve’s and Sam’s flat. It was still weird to him that they did not sleep in the same bed. But after knowing Steve Rogers for nearly two decades, it was impossible for even him to sleep next to Steve. Whenever the latter had slept, he’d snored so loud that Bucky had been sure the neighbors next door could still hear him, so he did not blame Sam for having wanted a separate bed.

The flat had not changed much since the last time Bucky had been there. The walls were decorated with a lot of artwork - most of it done by Steve. While Bucky was not able to draw a straight line, Steve had been able to draw the most amazing things with only a pencil.

“You can keep some of them, if you want,” Sam commented and squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but you should keep most of them. They’re in your home, anyway, so why should I take ‘em with me.”

Sam only stared at him in confusion.

“I guess I’ll move into a new flat once we are done here. It’s too big for me anyway. Might as well get another roommate,” Sam stated.

“Roommate?” Bucky looked at him “Aren’t you a bit old to live with a roommate?” he asked, seemingly confused. He knew Sam was nearly 3 years older than him and Steve.

“I am what?” Sam raised his eyebrow.

Immediately, Bucky felt bad. He was such an idiot. Sam had been living with his boyfriend for the last 3 years, of course he was going to feel lonely living on his own. “Nothing. Forget it. So, where did you put Steve’s stuff?”

Sam pointed to a couple of boxes that were lying in one corner of the living room. “I got rid of most of his clothes and furniture, apart from some t-shirts and hoodies. Thought you might want to keep some of these.”

Bucky’s eyes wandered to a green hoodie that was crumpled up in one of the boxes. He quickly snatched it and pressed it against his chest. It was the hoodie Steve had worn the day they had gotten their college acceptance. It even smelled a bit like Steve.

“You should keep it,” Sam mumbled, “I have so much of his stuff, and you have nothing and…” His voice started to crack.

Bucky felt helpless. He was trying to think of something that would make Sam feel better. The only thing he could think about right then was a hug.

He quickly wrapped his arms around Sam and pressed his chest against the other man’s. He could feel Sam’s breathing and heartbeat.

Sam started to calm down, still pressed against Bucky. They stayed like this for a moment until Bucky started to feel something. ‘Oh god’, he panicked. Not now. It had been a few months since he’d last had any physical contact and it was starting to show. Sam clinging and moving against him did not make things better. Bucky felt his face heating up and tried to think of a way to break out of the hug.

“You, okay?” Sam asked and quickly ended their hug. He’d probably felt something was wrong.

Bucky was still red and quickly looked away. ‘So much to not thinking about Sam in that way,’ he thought to himself.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” Bucky just knew Sam had felt it. However, he was glad that he didn’t mention it. It was already awkward enough for him. They continued to look through Steve’s stuff and neither of them said another word.

“I am glad you are here, Bucky,” Sam whispered after a while.

“I am really glad you called me,” Bucky responded. It was going to be okay.

  4

“What movie do you want to watch?” Sam asked and started zapping through Netflix. It had been a couple of months since Bucky’s visit to Chicago, but he and Sam had been in contact with each other nearly every day. Bucky had started to slowly crawl into Sam’s daily life, but he did not mind it. Quite the opposite. The more he talked to Bucky, the more Sam caught himself thinking about the way Bucky smiled and laughed. The way Bucky’s eyes lit up when he talked about his work or his cat, Alpine. The cat was cute. Sam remembered Bucky finding her near the trash cans in the backyard of his flat and the moment he’d seen her he’d known that she was supposed to stay with him. Just like Steve and Bucky used to do, the two chose at least one time a month to meet up with each other. That month it was Sam’s turn to visit Bucky.

Right now, they were sitting on Bucky’s couch. Bucky was on his phone trying to figure out what he wanted to eat for dinner. Alpine was cuddled against Bucky’s chest.

“I don’t care. Chose something you want to watch,” Bucky answered Sam’s question. He stroked Alpine’s white fur. The cat snuggled closer to Bucky and purred. Sam could not blame her. Bucky’s chest did look comfortable.

“Okay, then.”

It still took Sam more than fifteen minutes to find a series he wanted to watch.

“Have you decided on what you want to eat?” he asked Bucky, who was still scrolling through his phone.

“No,” Bucky let out a groan. “They have so many options. How am I supposed to choose? I want fries and sushi and pizza at the same time,” he exclaimed.

Sam laughed. One of the many things he had learned about Bucky in the last couple of months was that Bucky loved food. It was close to being an unhealthy obsession.

“Well, how about we just get something small of everything and share?” Sam offered but Bucky did not seem convinced.

“Sam, I don’t want to share,” he pouted.

“Okay, well, that’s your problem. I already know what I want to eat,” Sam crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch. It was comfortable and probably cost more than Sam’s monthly salary. He had learned that Bucky was a corporate lawyer, which explained how he was able to live so close to Manhattan. It also explained the amounts of money he was able to spend on food. The first few times, Sam had tried to split the bill, but Bucky had always protested. Sam had stopped trying after that. It was sweet of Bucky, and Sam wondered if that was the way Bucky had treated Steve as well. The more he got to know the other man, the more he caught himself falling for him. He knew it was wrong, and that Steve would probably hate him for feeling that way - he even hated himself a little bit for it - but he couldn’t change his feelings. He tried his best not to get too touchy with Bucky, but he failed sometimes.

“I want pizza.”

Sam looked at Bucky. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Bucky started to scratch Alpine’s belly, and the cat purred in response.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. He knew that Bucky would probably change his opinion once the pizza was here, but he still called the pizza place and ordered.

45 minutes later the doorbell rang, and Bucky stood up to answer. Alpine looked up in confusion once she noticed that Bucky was gone and started walking towards Sam. After looking at him, she decided he was worthy and cuddled against his chest. Sam patted her.

“Oh, this is so cute, I need to take a picture,” Bucky had returned with two large pizza cartons and a smaller one containing some garlic bread. Sam smiled, but the second Bucky got his phone out, Alpine jumped up and quickly walked away.

“Stupid cat,” Bucky mumbled. It was almost like she heard him because she turned her head and hissed at him.

“Great, now she’s mad,” Sam sighed.

“She’ll get over it. Here’s your pizza,” Bucky gave him his carton and settled down to eat his own pizza.

“By the way, my sister wants to finally meet you,” Bucky said after a few minutes. It didn’t take him long to finish his pizza and he moved on to the garlic bread.

“I can’t wait to meet her. Steve used to talk about her all the time. He really loved her like a little sister.” Sam didn’t know Becca personally, apart from that short meeting at Steve’s funeral, but back then hadn’t really been the right time to get to know her better.

“Yeah, he really did. She is our little sister,” Bucky mumbled, a sad undertone present in his voice. Sam wasn’t going to lie, he thought about Steve a lot, but whenever he visited Bucky or got a message from him, the thought of his best friend was pushed a little bit further back in his brain. Every time he caught himself doing that, he felt guilty. Guilty for starting to forget the way Steve’s voice sounded, for getting a smaller flat because he couldn’t stand continuing to live in the same flat, he used to live in with Steve and mostly, guilty for slowly starting to fall in love with Bucky Barnes.

He wondered if Bucky sometimes forgot about Steve, too, or if Sam was just a horrible friend. He didn’t have the courage to ask Bucky about it; he did not want to lose the closest thing he had to a best friend since Steve.

They continued to watch the series. After a while, Alpine came back from wherever she had hidden. She settled into the crook of Bucky’s arm and looked into Sam’s eyes. He almost felt caught by her. He did not really like cats; however, he made an exception for Alpine.

Shortly after the movie, Sam noticed that Bucky was snoring. He was leaning against Sam’s shoulder, Alpine still lying on him.

Sam caught himself watching Bucky for a few seconds. He looked so cute and calm and the way he was resting against Sam’s shoulder gave him goosebumps. His skin looked so soft, and Sam had to fight with himself not to touch his cheek. He decided to close his eyes for a few minutes as well.

The next morning, Sam noticed something furry on his nose, tickling him. He sneezed and opened his eyes, only to look at something white. He tried to push Alpine away from his face and started to look around. He remembered falling asleep on Bucky’s couch. He noticed that somehow during the night, Bucky had shifted and was now laying on Sam’s chest. Sam’s arm was wrapped around Bucky’s torso. He tried to shift without moving too much but failed. He looked at Bucky’s face and noticed that the younger man was still sleeping peacefully.

‘Great and now I have to pee’, Sam thought. He ran his other hand through Bucky’s hair. It was as soft as he imagined. A few minutes later Bucky’s eyes fluttered, and a pair of blue eyes started into Sam’s.

“Morning,” Bucky said with a rusty voice. It took him a while to notice that he was lying nearly on top of Sam.

“Have you slept well?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded and stared at him so intensely that Sam briefly thought he was going to kiss him. However, Bucky quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“So anyways. Do you want some breakfast?” Bucky changed the topic, already half up off the couch and on his way into the kitchen.

Sam stared after at him. ‘What the hell was that’, he thought but shook it off and quickly followed Bucky into the kitchen.  

 5

Today was the 6th month anniversary of Steve’s death and Bucky’s day had already started out shitty. Firstly, he’d nearly missed his alarm clock, then his client had stood him up for lunch and finally he’d managed to spill his coffee all over himself and had to ask his assistant to get another one. He was currently sitting in his office, staring at the framed picture in front of him.

It was a picture of him and Steve when they were younger. He still could not believe that Steve had been gone for 6 months. It felt like yesterday to him how he’d called Steve nearly every evening to talk to him about his boring day.

The only thing he was looking forward today was that he was finally going to see Sam again. Thinking about the dark-haired man made him smile. The last time Sam had visited had been kind of weird. That one morning, they’d woken up all cuddly and Bucky had nearly kissed Sam. Thank God, he’d caught himself in the last moment. Sam would have probably thought Bucky was a horrible friend, and Bucky refused to lose his newest friend to something as stupid as a little crush.

He probably felt like that because the last time he’d had sex had been back when Steve had still been alive. Yeah, that was the most reasonable explanation as to why he could not stop thinking about Sam’s lips and his toned arms. He quickly looked back at the file in front of him. It was a case about a holding company that was trying to sell one of their firms they owned. It was boring, to say the least. He tried to get it done as quickly as possible.

Finally, a few hours later, Bucky was able to close the file. He looked at his clock; it was 20 past 7pm already. His eyes widened. He was supposed to meet up with Sam at 7pm at his flat. He pulled out his phone and noticed that he had a missed call from Sam and a few text messages.

 Barnes, you there?

Buckyyy

Where are you, man?

Okay, I am just going to let myself in, I know where your spare key is 😊.

 Sam had added a bunch of random emojis, and Bucky smiled. Of course, he knew where Bucky’s spare key was.

Bucky packed up his things, bid goodbye to the colleagues who were still in the building and made his way home. He was pretty sure Sam was comfortable enough in the flat to entertain himself, so Bucky ended up picking some food on the way. Thai. It was Steve’s favorite food.

As he opened his apartment door, his hands full of takeaway boxes, he could already hear the TV. Once he entered the living room, he could see Sam lying on his couch. Alpine was sitting on his lap and Sam was cuddling her. It was adorable.

“Hello, person who does not live in my home,” Bucky said and walked over to place the food on his couch table.

“Well, I decided I do now.”, Sam exclaimed. “Your cat likes me better anyways. Isn’t that right, Alpine?”

The cat snuggled closer to Sam.

“Traitor,” Bucky whispered. But he was glad that Sam liked her as much as he himself did. They were a package deal.

“What is that?” Sam pointed to the food boxes.

“Food, duh. Thai. It was Steve’s favorite,” Bucky said. After mentioning Steve’s name, he noticed how Sam tensed up. Bucky decided not to comment on it; instead, he sat down next to Sam and started opening the food boxes.

“Fuck,” Sam whispered and ran his hands over his face. “I can’t believe it’s been 6 months already. How has he been dead for 6 months? I feel like it was yesterday that I talked to him, we were planning a trip to California this summer. We wanted to take my nephews to Disneyland. There were so excited and devastated when I told them we could not go anymore and cried when I told them why.”

Bucky felt his heart aching. He knew Sam had nephews.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Bucky said and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

“I still cannot process that he really is gone. Some days I forget that he is dead, just for a short moment, and then reality hits and I feel like I just want to fold myself into a corner and cry. He was my best friend.” Bucky looked down and noticed that Sam had started to sniff.

“You know, I still get nightmares about the day you called me,” Sam admitted.

Bucky saw a single tear roll down Sam’s face and he quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. The man next to him looked so small and vulnerable. Bucky wanted to hug him so badly.

“I always wonder what would have happened if I had been with him. I should have made sure he’d take his inhaler with him. God, I am so sorry, Bucky,” he started to sob.

Bucky froze. It was the first time Sam cried in front of him. He felt helpless, the only thing that he could do was try to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Sam. It was not your fault. Steve was an adult, he should have known better than to not carry his inhaler with him, even if he hadn’t had an asthma attack in more than 10 years,” Bucky tried to calm him down, but that made Sam even more upset.

“I was supposed to look after him, you trusted me to look after him-“Sam was starting to hyperventilate.  

“You did, Sam. You did. It was not your fault, and it wasn’t mine either. It was just a stupid, terrible thing to happen, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Please stop trying to blame yourself for his death,” Bucky shouted. Apparently, this was the only way Sam understood he was not responsible for what had happened to Steve.

Sam stared at him, not being used to Bucky raising his voice.

“I’m serious, Sam,” Bucky said again.

“You are way too good; do you know that Bucky?” Sam said with a weird mixture of laughing and crying. “God, I still miss him so much.”

“I miss him too, Sam, but Steve would have wanted you to move on with your life. He would have wanted us to live the best life we could possibly have. And I know that sounds harsh but please don’t blame yourself.” Bucky wasn’t sure if his words were what Sam wanted to hear. He would either think that Bucky was a total asshole for thinking that he should move on this quickly after his boyfriend died or he would agree with him.

“Yeah, you are right. He would have wanted me to move on. He would have wanted that for you as well, Bucky,” Sam answered quietly, and the next thing Bucky knew he was pressing his lips against Sam’s.

 + 1

Sam felt Bucky’s lips pressing against his own. At first, he was shocked that Bucky really was kissing him but after a few seconds he returned the kiss. He pulled Bucky closer to himself and started moving his hand to the other man’s neck. Bucky groaned and started to move closer to Sam.

It was everything Sam had dreamed about for the last couple of months and if Bucky was ready to move on from Steve, Sam was ready for that as well. They continued to kiss for a while, none of them saying a word. The sound of them kissing was the only one heard in the apartment. Sam was already starting to slip his hand under Bucky’s t-shirt when Bucky suddenly pulled away from him.

“No, no, no-,” he exclaimed and looked at Sam, both their lips slightly swollen from their kissing.

“This is wrong,” Bucky whined.

Sam could almost hear the crack his heart made the second Bucky stopped their kiss. Of course, he thought it was wrong. Steve and Bucky had been together for more than 5 years or maybe even more, obviously, Bucky wouldn’t move on so quickly.

“God I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Sam,” Bucky looked at him with blue eyes and Sam wanted to kiss him again, so badly.

“Sorry, I just thought that… you’re right, this is not fair to Steve. God, I’m a horrible person, Steve would hate me,” Sam whispered ashamed.

“No, I’m the bad friend. I kissed you. I kissed my dead best friend’s boyfriend. I’m pretty sure they have a special place in hell for people like me,” Bucky let out a groan.

Sam looked at him confused. What the hell was he talking about?

“I was his what now?” he asked and stared at Bucky.

“Boyfriend, partner, significant other, I don’t know what you called each other, but I’m pretty sure that if there was one rule for friendship it’s that you don’t make a move on your friends’ partners,” Bucky gestured between Sam and him.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he was out of breath and pushed his hair out his face. His cheeks were starting to get redder.

“No,” was the only thing Sam said at first. “You’re his boyfriend”, he continued and pointed at Bucky.

“Huh?” Bucky replied, still confused.

“No, you are. He always talked about you and he visited you nearly every week and-,” Sam was starting to ramble, but Bucky interrupted him.

“You two were living together?! I thought you were his boyfriend, what was I supposed to think? I didn’t assume two grown men would be living together as roommates,” he exclaimed.

“Hey,” Sam felt offended.

Bucky quickly noticed the way Sam looked at him. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just…I thought you were his boyfriend.”

“No, I’m his best friend,” Sam answered, this time a bit louder. What the hell was going on?

“No, I’m his best friend,” Bucky mumbled, still trying to process what had happened in the last few moments.

“Wait. So you’re not in a relationship with Steven Grant Rogers, and you never were?” Sam asked slowly.

“No,” Bucky answered, though it sounded more like a question. “I mean we used to when we were teenagers, but that’s nearly a decade ago.”

“And you’re not in a relationship with Steve either, right?” Bucky added and looked into Sam’s eyes.

“Nope, and I never was.”

There was an awkward silence between them until Bucky asked Sam, “So, the last few months you thought I was grieving my boyfriend, while I thought you were grieving your boyfriend?”

It was the thing that made Sam crack. He started to laugh. Loudly. He even started wheezing, tears forming in his eyes.  

“I cannot believe this. That little shit,” Sam cried out. “He never corrected me when I referred to you as his boyfriend. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Finally, Bucky busted out laughing as well. “We’re so stupid. We could have just asked each other but instead we just assumed that the other was the grieving widower.”

Sam could feel the way Bucky was staring at him, trying to figure out what to say next. Sam, on the other hand, knew already what he was going to do next. He got closer to Bucky and kissed him again.

This time Bucky didn’t hesitate and pushed himself against Sam. “You know,” he mumbled between kisses, “We could have done that way earlier.” The complaint was evident in his tone.

“Better late than never,” was the only thing Sam answered before he kissed Bucky once more.

And somewhere out there, Steve was looking at them, smiling to himself and thinking how much of an idiot both of his best friends were.

Feel free to leave any comments or any suggestions for improvement!

Thank you so much for reading my first ever English written One Shot! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I'm really looking forward to writing more Marvel fanfiction, especially Stucky and Sambucky.

much love, your local stucky shipper xx

 ***

[melanielocke]

Love will tie the Tourniquet

After some very valid criticism of the Sanctuary scene and the very limited canon Thomastair content I figured I’d write a scene where they talk it out and Thomas apologizes. I wrote this rather quickly and didn’t edit much so sorry for any mistakes.

Title is from “Tourniquet” by Breaking Benjamin which is definitely an Alastair song (although I find the lyrics difficult to interpret). I think it’s from the POV of someone who is struggling with something and realize love won’t fix them, but also believe nothing will. Love will tie the tourniquet and suffocate me. 

CW for period typical racism and homophobia, implied PTSD, mentions of bullying

Alastair was surprised to hear someone knock on the door. His mother was still on bedrest and wouldn’t be receiving any visitors and certainly no one would want to see him. He opened the door to see Thomas Lightwood in the door, hatless as always, snow had fallen in his hair. Even covered in snow Thomas was a beautiful sight to behold. Alastair tried to stop staring, but wasn’t quite sure how. Why was he here, after everything? Alastair had taken his time to think through what happened, but had arrived at the same conclusion, it was impossible. In retrospect, he wasn’t even sure Thomas liked him that much. Like Charles, he probably just saw someone who could fulfill his needs. After all, Thomas had seemed quite disappointed when Alastair had refused to take things any further than kissing in the Sanctuary.

‘Good afternoon,’ Thomas said awkwardly after a silence. ‘Can I come in? I… I thought we should talk.’

A bit hesitant, Alastair let him in and took his coat. He asked Risa to make them some tea, and brought Thomas into the parlor.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ Alastair asked.

‘I wanted to apologize,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Why? You have nothing to apologize for.’

‘I do,’ Thomas said. ‘I was angry with you because of that rumor, but that gave me no right to publicly humiliate you. I treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve that.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of this. It had hurt, badly, the way Thomas had spoken to him, but he’d told himself over and over again that this what he deserved. 

‘Didn’t I?’ Alastair asked. ‘I was awful at school, perhaps less so to you, but still. I can’t imagine why you’d even want to be around me.’

‘Because I forgive you,’ Thomas said.

Alastair stared at him, eyes wide. He tried to hold back the tears, but wasn’t sure he could.

‘Why? Why would you forgive me? I thought you hated me.’

Thomas looked confused. ‘After the Sanctuary? After we kissed?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Charles kissed me many times, we did more than that, and he didn’t love me. He just thought I was convenient and I could fulfill his needs.’

It had been mostly about sex with Charles, and it had taken him so long to realize that it didn’t have to be like that. He’d given Charles everything he could, hoping that perhaps someday he’d receive love and affection back.  

Thomas’ mouth fell open. ‘You… you thought I would be like that? That I only wanted you for physical intimacy? Why would you think that?’

‘What else was I supposed to think?’ Alastair snapped, trying but failing to hold back the tears. ‘You wanted to kiss me only moments after you said I deserved to be hated. And because I wanted you, because I love you, I gave in. You wanted to keep me a secret, you were ashamed of liking me, so ashamed you couldn’t tell anyone, not even people who would not mind that you liked men. Just like Charles.’

I couldn’t have told them how I felt about you. Thomas’ words echoed in his head, and it was worse than Charles being ashamed of liking men. At least he understood Charles’ fears, even when it did not justify how badly Charles had treated him.

‘I never meant… I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, and I said some stupid things. But I don’t want to keep you secret. There were so many things I should have said to you then, and I’m sorry I messed it up so badly. You do not deserve to be hated and I should never have said otherwise.’

Alastair wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He was desperate for affection, always had been, that was why he’d given so much to Charles, but how could he be sure Thomas wasn’t going to be the same?

‘Why not? Did I not cause you and your family terrible pain?’

Alastair was crying now and to his surprise Thomas came to sat down next to him, awkwardly putting his hands around him. Alastair pushed him away.

‘Please… please don’t.’

Thomas backed away as if he’d been burnt.

‘Physical affection isn’t easy,’ Alastair tried to explain.

He wasn’t used to hugging or even being touched at all in a non sexual way. Cordelia tried often to show her affection physically and he was grateful, but it just didn’t always work for him. Sometimes a touch could burn, be so overwhelming he only got worse.

‘What do you need?’ Thomas asked. ‘How can I help?’

‘Just keep talking,’ Alastair said. ‘Please. Tell me how you really feel. Be honest with me. If you… If you don’t really love me, it’s alright. I just need to know. Because I don’t understand anymore. Do I deserve to be hated? To be loved? I don’t get it.’

Thomas hesitated. ‘I was wrong. I was grieving and I was pushing these feelings away and I took it all out on you. But that was no excuse. You do not deserve to be hated, not when you regret what you did so much, and you do not deserve to be treated the way we… the way I treated you. And I’m so sorry. I think I do love you, I just never knew what to do with those feelings so I hid them. But I’m not going to hide anymore. I’m not ashamed of loving you.’

Alastair wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I told Christopher, and he took it well. Or, well, he said he already knew and was under the assumption everyone already knew and we just didn’t talk about it. And I told my parents and Eugenia.’

Alastair hesitated. ‘Did you tell them I like men?’

‘No,’ Thomas said quickly. ‘Just about me, and how I feel. And that I’d at least like to have you as a friend, even if you weren’t interested in more.’

‘And your family, they accepted you?’

‘They were very kind and supportive, although my mother did say I might be worse at this whole romance thing than my father.’

Alastair frowned. ‘What did your father do?’

Thomas laughed, and Alastair could only think how beautiful his laugh was, how it lit up his face. ‘As you know, my mother was a servant before she became a shadowhunter, and my father decided to regularly ask her for scones, which he doesn’t like, so he could see her when she brought them. He then hid them under his bed.’

Alastair burst out laughing. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew he had no right to laugh about the people he’d brought such shame to, but at the same time he couldn’t imagine this happening. If Gideon Lightwood disliked scones so much, why not ask for literally anything else?

‘He also accidently blurted out his intentions of marrying my mother in her presence before he even proposed,’ Thomas added. ‘I’m not sure which part is worse, but it does make for good stories.’  

‘I’d say the scones are worse,’ said Alastair, taking a sip from his tea.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ Thomas said suddenly. ‘When you laugh. Also when you don’t laugh, but I like seeing you laugh. You always seem so sad.’

Alastair looked Thomas in the eye. ‘Really? You think I’m beautiful?’

‘Of course I do, who wouldn’t? I love your hair now that you’ve dyed it back to black.’

Alastair felt the tears coming back, and Thomas looked startled. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

‘No, it’s just… No one has told me I’m beautiful. And no one has told me they like my hair. It wasn’t an easy decision to dye it back. I didn’t want to pretend to be something I’m not anymore, but I thought everyone preferred the blonde.’

‘I’ve always liked dark hair, and it suits you well. And I’m glad you’re more comfortable with it. I guess I have no idea what it’s like, to be judged for the color of your hair or your skin.’

‘That’s the second part of what happened at the academy, what I hadn’t told you yet,’ Alastair said sadly. ‘No one there looked like me. They latched onto the rumors about my father, of course but they also treated me differently for being Persian, made fun of my features, my language… I thought it would get better if I adapted more to what they wanted.’

‘Alastair, I’m so sorry,’ Thomas said, reaching out his hand as if to touch him, but retreating. He probably remembered Alastair’s warning, but right now he did want to be touched. Now he knew Thomas did care for him, even if he had an odd way of showing it sometimes.

So Alastair leaned into him, resting his head against Thomas’ chest. It was comforting to feel his chest rise and fall with his breath. Perhaps he did like to be touched sometimes, but only if the other person loved him. There were very few people who did, and Alastair wasn’t so certain if Cordelia loved him anymore.

‘Is this alright?’ Thomas asked, putting a hand around him.

‘It is. It’s actually nice. But Tom, how can we make this work, if your friends still hate me?’

‘Christopher doesn’t,’  Thomas said. ‘He is willing to give you a chance. All you have to do is help him out with his experiments, show some interest, and he’ll like you. Lucie is going to adore you, I’m sure of it. As for James and Matthew… I’m not sure, but they don’t get to decide who I like or don’t like. For so long I tried to hate you out of loyalty to Matthew, but ultimately that’s his issue and not mine.’

‘But what if you lose your friends because of me?’ Alastair asked. ‘I would never want you to lose people you love for me.’

Thomas put his hand in Alastair’s hair, and Alastair thought about how Thomas had said he loved his hair. He’d never considered someone might. Charles had certainly preferred his hair blonde. He had been the one to suggest dyeing it.

‘That would be their loss,’ Thomas said. ‘You deserve to be loved too, Alastair. I will tell James and Matthew when they get back, and if they decide not to accept it, then perhaps they’re not very good friends.’

Alastair was surprised to hear him say that. He’d thought the four boys were exceptionally close, the kind of friendship he longed for but never had.

‘That’s what my mother said,’ Thomas added.

Alastair frowned. ‘Do your parents know I spread that rumor? Surely they would not accept you pursuing me if they knew?’

‘I told them,’ Thomas said. ‘But my father said that when he was young, he’d done worse. He realized he was wrong and changed, uncle Gabriel too. He said it would be hypocritical to hold this against you.’

‘Really?’

‘So far they seem to like you,’ Thomas said. ‘And they are very grateful that you made sure to keep me safe. And… I am too. I never thanked you, but I should have. I am grateful that you put so much effort into protecting me. But please do not risk your life like that again. I would never forgive myself if you died trying to keep me safe.’

‘Only if you promise never to do something as reckless as those patrols again,’ Alastair said. ‘Someone had to keep you safe, and I certainly wasn’t going to let you die because of your own recklessness. Because I love you.’  

They sat like that for a while, Alastair taking in the sensation of being held. He didn’t remember ever receiving such affection, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

‘I’m not going to patrol alone again,’ Thomas said. ‘I promise.’

‘Then I won’t follow you as you patrol alone either,’ Alastair said. He paused. ‘I never expected you to come back for me. I never thought you could love me.’

‘I do. I loved you since Paris,’ Thomas said. ‘I mean, at school I liked you as well, but I thought you it was daring that you said whatever you wanted. I saw your sadness too, but not the real you. Not like in Paris.’

‘I certainly did not say whatever I wanted,’ Alastair said softly. ‘I said what I thought I had to so they wouldn’t hurt me.’

‘I can’t even imagine how badly they must have hurt you,’ Thomas said softly.

Soothing words eased some of the pain, but not all of it. Alastair wasn’t sure if it ever would. Love would tie the tourniquet. It might suffocate him. He would have to find another way to starve the pain within, if such a thing were possible.

‘You were treated badly as well, I’m sure you have some idea.’

‘Yes, but you were always nicer to me than to the others, and I think that shielded me from the others as well. Are you going to be alright, Alastair? I want to help you, but I’m not sure I know how.’

‘I have no idea,’ Alastair admitted. ‘But I’m going to try. You make me want to try. I have no idea how though.’

He knew he needed to get better, if he wanted this to work, to find a way to heal from everything that had happened to him. He knew he couldn’t depend on one person to heal him like he had with Charles, someone who had ultimately broken whatever was left of his heart.

‘Perhaps you could talk to uncle Jem,’ Thomas suggested. ‘If anyone can help with that, it’s him.’

Alastair hadn’t considered that. His cousin thought he hated him. He’d reached out once, back when Alastair had attended the Academy, and he’d pushed him away like he did everyone else. He wasn’t sure Jem would still be willing to help him after everything. But perhaps he could try. Perhaps it didn’t always have to be like this. 

[literaila]

these memories live with me

spencer reid x reader

summary: a collection of letters the reader writes to spencer :D

warnings: fluffy. kinda cute. there are memories. some inferences to death. nothing too bad. and bad writing.. but yeah

****

Spencer, 

Do you remember the time we went to the beach? 

You swore to me, over and over, that you weren't going. 

“Y/N, there is an average of 3,536 fatal drownings at the beach each year, not to mention the boat accidents. We aren't going.” 

I just laughed. I was pretty sure you’d never actually been to the beach before that. It didn't seem like it, seemed more like you were trying to protect us from danger that wasn't there. I’m not sure if it was for me or for you. 

Do you remember laughing? Do you remember how much fun we had? How sunburned we were the next day? 

Do you remember me running away from you, throwing me in the water? Do you remember that little boy coming up and asking you to build a sandcastle with you? Do you remember getting dinner later that night and spilling sand onto the booth? You hated that. Do you remember the glow we had for days after? The cold showers we had to take? 

I don't think anything could’ve wiped the smile off of your face that day. Before that, I don't think I’d ever seen you have so much fun. 

You’re usually so reserved, usually, you throw out facts to fill the silence, and explain to me everything about everything. Except for you. You never really told me anything about you before that. But that day, god that day you just lit up. Suddenly nothing had to be kept secret, suddenly you weren't afraid to be yourself, weren't afraid to tell me about the books you were reading, the thoughts you were thinking, the interesting little things that I didn't know could be so interesting. 

That day you told me about your Mom. You told me how you’d always felt guilty, guilty for not being there for her, guilty for letting her be alone all the time, you told me that you wished you could visit more, that your Mom deserved more visits, more time with her only family. You told me that you could never get the image of her begging you not to go to the hospital, to stay home, out of your head. You told me that was the one thing you wished you could forget. That having a memory like yours was only good when you needed to be a textbook. 

You told me that you felt really tired. 

But you were smiling. You were telling me all these things about you, all these things that would break a normal person down, that would crush anyone else's bones in half, but you were saying all of these horrible things, all of these things I wished I could erase from existing, and you were smiling. 

I still can't imagine how you were still smiling. 

I can't imagine how you could tell me all of that and still have fun, still mention loving the beach after we left. I can't imagine how that could be a happy memory for you. But I’m glad it was. I’m glad I was the first person to introduce you to the joys of the beach. 

You have always been stronger, been so much better, so much more than everyone else. I will never know how you turned out to be such an amazing person. I will never understand how good you are. I will never understand. 

But I still know that I wouldn't change a thing about you. 

You always smiled with me. I’ve never known why. 

That day at the beach you introduced a new side of yourself to me, you decided to tell me the truth, but you also didn't allow me any room to feel bad for you. You decided to smile instead, and ask me if I wanted to go swimming. 

That's one of my favorite days with you. One of my favorite nights. 

I wish we had taken more pictures. Wish I could look at you smiling all the time, and wish that I had more memories of that day. 

Do you remember going to the beach? 

That was fun. 

She sighed and dropped her pen. She rubbed her eyes. Maybe it was time for bed. 

*

Spence, 

Do you remember going to that pottery class? 

From our bed, I can see the distorted pot that we made together. 

You were the one who set up the date. We wanted to try something new together, something that wasn't just a movie. You said pottery was the perfect thing. And while I complained before going, secretly I was happy to go with you. Mostly because you were so excited.  

You explained it all to me before we were there, told me about the proper way to make a clay pot, the best way to spin on a wheel, you explained everything to me before we even left the car, crammed all that information into your brain for that one date. 

It was adorable. 

Your eyes were so bright that night, you looked so excited to be able to learn something new with me, even though you basically already knew how to do everything. You were practically buzzing in anticipation on the way over, you were jumping up and down in my car and you were still smiling. 

I love your smile. 

Have I ever mentioned that? That I love it almost as much as I love you? It's one of my favorite things about you, one of the only things that never ceases to make me amazed- besides your brain of course -because it's so beautiful. I hope you know that. 

But once we got there you pulled me out of the car, barely letting me get the keys out of the ignition. You begged me to hurry up, 

“This is exciting Y/N, come on!” 

And once we were in there, we had no idea what we were doing. 

Apparently, reading and watching videos is not the same as doing it. 

I think you were upset about that. 

I think you wanted to impress me, wanted to show me what amazing things we could make together. But, when we finally got to sit down, both of us were not really paying attention. I think it's partly your fault we weren't listening to the instructor because you told me you knew how to do it, but you’ve always disagreed and said it was my fault. 

In the end, we left with muddy hands, dirty clothes, and what looks like an oval-shaped vase. 

I love that vase. 

You got mad at me for putting it on display. Secretly I think you love it too. 

I can feel how warm you were even while writing this, I can still imagine your soft breath on my neck, the kisses you gave my neck and cheeks when we did something right together. I can still feel your hands on mine, trying to intertwine but never quite making it due to the slick. 

I still smile when I think of the pout on your face when the wheel stopped spinning. 

Although we have a terribly made pot sitting in our house due to your idea of a date, I’m glad we went. I’m glad I got to spend time with you. I’m glad that we have this memory, one that isn't perfect, just for the two of us. I’m glad we can look back on that night and laugh at it. I’m glad you decided that making pottery was a good idea. 

I’m glad that you enjoyed it as much as you did. Before and after. 

I’m glad you got the chance to plan something for us, I’m glad we found time in between your busy schedule. I’m glad I still have the pot. 

But I will admit, my favorite part of that night was sitting in your lap. 

Her head was falling from her body. Nothing could keep it up. Maybe some more sleep would help. 

*

Love, 

Do you remember our first fight? 

Do you remember how scared I was, how used I was to all of my boyfriends leaving at any sign of danger, how terrified I was of you leaving me? Of you changing your mind. 

Because I was, I was so terrified. 

I will admit I don't have the best taste in men, that I choose guys that are bound to hurt me because I’m afraid, I’m afraid that I’m unloveable, I’m afraid that everyone will leave, that I’m not good enough for anyone to stay. I’m afraid that no matter what, nothing will last for me because that's just how I am, that's just how it's supposed to be. I was always afraid that the cards I had would never change. 

So, when you got mad, when I got upset, when we decided that it was time to fight, that not everything could be perfect for us, I froze. 

We were fighting over some silly little thing, about me going out late, being out too late for you. And looking back, I can see that you were just scared. I can see that it didn't matter how safe I could be, that you knew what kind of evil was in the world, that you understood all the bad people more than I could ever imagine. I can see that you just wanted me to be safe, that you just didn't want anything bad to happen for me. Looking back, and seeing the expression that remained on your face, the little bit of concern, the frustration which I now know was directed at yourself, rather than me. You were always so frustrated with yourself for wanting to keep me safe. 

I can see why you were upset now. I can understand it. But, I can also see myself, and I can see how annoyed I was with you taking care of me, I can see how annoying it was that you thought I couldn't take care of myself. 

I think that's why we started fighting. 

I think that even though my past was a big part of my fear, I think I was also scared because I knew you were just trying to protect me. I knew that you were only doing whatever you could to keep me from all the bad things you saw every day. 

I think I was scared that you would leave, that you would see I didn't want to be controlled, that one of us would leave and that would be it. 

I remember crying. Do you remember that? Do you remember the sobs that came out of my mouth once I saw what was happening, once I realized that we were actually fighting, that we were not perfect like I thought we were? 

I remember you being scared of my tears. I remember your face turning from irritation and concern to shock and worried. I can still hear your voice begging me to stop crying, that I didn't need to cry, that there was nothing wrong. 

I can still see the hurt in your eyes at my fear. I can still see how much it hurt you that I was upset. 

I can still hear you saying “I’m not going anywhere baby, shh, I’m not going anywhere without you beautiful.” 

I’m not sure how you knew exactly what to say, but you did. 

Sometimes, when I’m upset, when I don't feel good, I play your voice, your words on repeat in my head. I listen to your calm reassuring voice, I listen to the warmth that masked everything you said to me even then when our relationship was so young. 

I’ve always chosen bad guys, always picked from the bunch of people I knew would leave me, the people I knew I wouldn't get too attached too because I didn't want that. I didn't want to make a commitment and then lose it. I’ve always thought like that, always picked the people I decided to love like that. 

Except for you. 

I chose to love you because you were worth it. Because I knew that even if you left, even if we couldn't be together forever, that you were worth it, that even a day with you was better than nothing at all. Even when we didn't know each other well, I knew that. 

I’ve always thought you were so much better than everyone else. 

I was right. 

I’m so glad that our small fights taught us so much about each other. 

She yawned and looked at the clock. It was too late. She wasn't supposed to be up. She went to bed before anybody got there. 

*

Pumpkin, 

Do you remember the first time I told you I love you? 

Because I do. Because I still live in that moment sometimes. My epiphany. 

I remember driving with you, for twelve hours, because that's what we liked to do. We liked to spend all day in the car together, all day just talking and listening to music and watching the world pass behind us. I remember that. 

Sometimes, I still want to go on long drives with you like I used to. 

I loved that so much. 

I remember you complaining about the music, I remember you looking over to me and covering your ears, I remember laughing. 

I remember you smiling at my laugh. You always smiled when I laughed. 

I remember asking you if you wanted something if there was any place you wanted to stop before I started driving home. 

At that point, I already knew I loved you. Before that moment it was clear to me that I loved you. It was the feeling of stars bursting in my stomach, the intense want to be around you whenever I could, the tears in my eyes at your pain, the laugh in my voice at just your smile. 

It was your warmth, your undying kindness, your much too willing acceptance of who I was. It was everything about you that I loved. There was nothing that I didn't love about you. 

But, in the end, I think it was your smile. 

Your smile always paved the way for me, always brightened up every day, always made me feel better, always filled my heart with nothing but bold emotions, with nothing but everything that I was feeling at once. 

Your smile was always so intense, always so loud and bright, always there when it could be because you rarely stopped smiling. 

I think that's what I loved most about it, that you never stopped. 

And, at that moment when you smiled at me, your happiness was as plain as day, at that moment, I couldn't stop myself from telling you that I was in love with you. 

Spencer, I know you’ve denied this before, I know that you’ve always said that you were never shocked, that it wasn't too fast because you loved me too. 

But you were surprised. Your face was frozen for a moment, and you looked at me, not in a bad way, no you never looked at me in a bad way, but this was an expression that I had never seen come from you before, this was something entirely new. 

You looked like you were in awe. 

Like you couldn't believe I could love you like you had just imagined the words in your head like they weren't actually real. 

And no matter how much you deny it, I know the truth. I don't need your words to confirm it. 

But after I blurted out the words, looked shocked at myself, after that, you looked at me and finally asked 

“Is it because I don't like this song?” 

And I laughed again. And you smiled again. 

I love you. 

I will always love you. 

The tears running down her face were nothing. The hand rubbing her shoulder was nothing. 

*

Spence, 

My shoulders hurt today. 

I’m not sure why. I haven't been doing much. I never really do much when you aren't here. 

But my shoulders hurt. 

I wish you were here. Whenever my shoulders hurt and you’re in bed, you always offer to give me a back rub, always persist at my initial refusal, always tell me that you just want to be close to me for a little while. 

And you’d always whisper little things to me, always telling me how beautiful I was, how amazing I looked without any makeup on, how incredibly harsh I was on myself. You were always telling me just how proud of me you were, just how much work you’d seen me do, you always made sure to let me know that I was appreciated. 

As if I wouldn't know that by the look in your eyes. 

I wish you were here now so I could feel that again. So I could feel your hands rub up and down my back, so I could feel the warm pressure you always use to get out the knots. I wish I could hear your voice in my ear, the breath on my cheek. I wish I could ask you to rub my shoulders, not take it for granted this time. 

I miss you, Spence. 

My shoulders are sore without you. 

Come back soon. 

She didn't utter a word after that. 

*

Dr. Reid, 

When we first met, when you first explained to me about your job, you persisted the fact that you weren't going to be there all the time, that I wouldn't get you whenever I wanted like a normal boyfriend. You told me that we were going to have to work to be together, that our relationship would take work, that you understood if I didn't want to do that if it was too much for me. 

And I don't think you ever understood. 

Although I knew that you were going to be gone a lot, that it would be hard nights alone, cold nights waiting for you on the couch. That there were going to be nights when I might regret it, nights that I might miss you so much that I’d wish that we had never known each other in the first place. I knew that there were going to be days where I was lonely, days that you couldn't help me with my feelings, days when you had to be an agent first, and a boyfriend second. I knew that my attachment issues were going to be a struggle, that it was going to take more work on my part to be okay with you leaving all the time, that it was going to be hard to be so far apart from you for so long. 

I knew all of these things. 

And you’d warned me about them, you’d looked at me with hard eyes and explained everything, explained everything as if it would matter to me. You frowned for the longest time, and all I could remember was wishing for your smile. 

You didn't understand then, and I still don't think you understand. 

I could never leave you. I could never ever let go of you. 

Almost as soon as we’d met, you became like a drug to me, so relaxing, so amazing, so perfect. I knew that I was obsessed with you far too quick, that my addiction was too intense too fast. I knew that, but you never did. 

You never understood how much I tried to resist, tried to keep myself apart from you so that I couldn't become addicted, you never knew how much I had failed at doing that. 

Two months in, and you warned me, but it was too late at that point. Your warning wouldn't do a thing because you were a drug I couldn't get off of, you were something that was permanently attached to me. 

You never understood that. 

I wish I understood more. 

She fell asleep at her desk. Pen in hand. 

*

Spencer, 

I remember the first time you told me you loved me. 

I remember how elated I felt, how high my heart had soared. 

It was a couple weeks after I told you, a couple of weeks of pretending I wasn't hurt by your hesitation, a couple of weeks of trying to come to terms with the fact that you didn't love me yet. 

It was a rough couple of weeks for me. 

But you erased all of it, every inch when you mumbled the words while we were watching that movie, the one I can't remember the name of because I was so distracted by you. 

You have always been so amazing to me. 

Always so loyal, always so devoted. 

There has never been anyone who has loved anyone as much as I love you. I don't think any amount of words, any synonym for love will compare with how I feel. 

It's unfortunate I can't tell you exactly. 

I’ve always hoped you could feel it. That you didn't need words when you had me. 

I remember never being hesitant to say it again after you told me, I remember not being afraid anymore once I knew that you loved me back. 

It was a breaking point for us, the start of a new chapter. It was almost an entirely new book. 

I’ve always been sure that I loved you more. 

But, I think that as long as you loved me even a fraction of an inch as much as I loved you, it would be enough. 

It was enough that you loved me. 

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She lifted her head slightly. 

*

My love, 

They think I need to go someplace else. They think I need to getaway. 

Emily says I should stop writing. 

They all think that it isn't good for me. 

I love you. 

*

Spencer, 

Do you remember the time you forgot about our anniversary?

Do you remember how tired you were? How exhausted you had been when you got home and I was waiting for you on the couch. 

You seemed so disappointed in yourself, so upset for disappointing me. 

I was worried about you that day. 

Because, no matter what I did, no matter how many things I had planned, that day there weren't enough smiles. 

It was okay though. 

Because the next day you made up for it. It was a day late, but it was perfect. 

Thank you for tying yourself to me. 

Thank you for devoting yourself to me. 

Thank you for remembering everything I’ve ever told you. 

I wish I could remember. 

When she handed over the journal, they all pretended not to notice the tear stains ratted along it. 

*

Reid, 

I unpacked some of your boxes today. 

I moved. 

I don't like it in this new apartment. 

It's too cold without you. It doesn't smell like you. It doesn't have the bookcases. It doesn't feel like ours anymore. 

I unpacked our vase. 

And the seashells we collected. 

And the movie ticket.

And the polaroid pictures. 

And the scrapbook. 

I found the ring today. 

*

Spencer, 

I love you. 

I’ve always loved you. 

*

She sobbed as she pulled at her hair, as she fell to the floor, battered in scars and bruises that would never show up on her skin, battered in nothing but imaginary marks that she didn't think would never go away. 

She hated black dresses. 

*

Baby, 

You used to call me that. 

I miss it. 

I went to your funeral today. 

I don't think I’ll ever remember you the way I want to. 

I wish we had taken more pictures. 

*

Spencer, 

This is the last letter for now. 

I’m not allowed to write anymore. 

Everyone has insisted I get out. So I’m going to. 

I’m moving even farther this time. 

It's been a year my love. 

I miss you. I love you. 

Please don't forget about me. I’ll never forget about you. 

She slammed the car door. She put on his jacket. She had a long way to drive.

***

Sorry! I was an idiot and something happened while editing. 

Heres the taglist (again): @missdowntonabbey @your-eternal-muse @qonble @bisoner @purelypanicking 

masterlist here