#Tyler sitting there writing fics about him and his best friend

[teeentyonepilots]

new fpe letter from Torchbearer to Clancy:

They believe [tear]

TThis oppression to end. [tear]

this archaic rule once and for all. We can meet out in trench at camp to lay out our plan. We will bring you evEErything you need. You have support from yellow and red now, and our militia is strong. No matter what, when that day comes, we will get you to the toweRR.

Covering you,

TB

[unknownati]

xi. christmas!

a/n: guys part of this was supposed to be the PROLOGUE to a 12 part sfw and nsfw winter/christmas themed drabbles (mini fics?) but i got too busy 💀 literally had 4 days left to write but then the 12th went by and i was like... damn

its ok tho i might upload the finished days just as separate fics

while we're here why does nle choppa have a christmas song

warnings/tags: none rlly, just fluff, SO corny, SO sappy, no use of y/n, no description of reader's features, gn!reader, decorating w/ ekko 🎉, reader is a THIEF, pre-arcane plotline (choosing happiness)

_______________________________________________

christmas in zaun was nothing close to ideal. it was never if people celebrated, but more if they could afford it, which most of the time was a no. unless people had kids, they weren't going out of their way to make it a whole thing. not only that, but people didn't really care for it, anyway. they had other things to do. sure, maybe you'd see some extra lights around, or maybe a few lopsided wreaths hanging on a weathered door, but it was always the bare minimum.

but ever since you snuck into piltover as a kid right at the tail end of december, your world was absolutely rocked by the blinding lights and stars and bows and garlands and wreaths and the huge tree sitting smack dab in the middle of the city, illuminating the night sky.

after that, you were obsessed with the idea of christmas. you never had the funds, nor the time, nor the energy, nor enough friends or family to make anything happen all by yourself. but the dream stuck to you.

and then came ekko, and with him, a chance. a huge tree? with an abundance of people living there? it gave you the best idea.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

cool november air was giving way to the first hints of winter, the sharp bite of cold nipping at the cheeks of zaunites. warm colored leaves were shriveling into themselves and trembling down onto the concrete, scattering through the town. settled in uneven piles, nestled in corners, where the wind could push them no further. christmas has long began to be advertised in piltover, and your excitement was uncontrollable.

quiet as a mouse, you slipped into ekko's work room. he's sat on his stool, elbows rested on the table with his figure shadowing over his work. your fingers glide across his biceps, chin resting against his right shoulder.

"hey handsome," you chirped, working your digits over the curves of his muscles. your lips curled into a grin you were incapable of withholding. "y'got a minute?"

"for you, always." he turned, hands hoisting the weight of his upper body on his knees. his eyes softened upon looking at you. "what's up?"

you slid on his lap, feet swinging back and forth, pendulum like. "soooo," you begin, leaning back on his shoulder. "i'm sure you know what christmas is."

"yeah, why? want me to get you something?" his fingers twisted at the hem of your sweater. you shake your head—not the goal right now.

"no. well, yes, but not what i'm asking you for right now," ekko's head tilts in response. your voice dropped into a playful yet unsure murmur. "iiiiii wanted to know if you'd maaaybe be willing to decorate the base and celebrate it this year?"

his thoughts stutter, and then he laughed. "baby, you know i'd love to, but i can't. don't have the time or the money."

a pout formed on your face, lips jutting out. "we don't have to spend money, we can use what we have lying around! and i have some extra money on the side. we're not flat broke."

"doesn't solve the whole time thing."

"oookay, make time. we'll have the kids help, too! you won't even have to do much, like—seriously, think about it. we don't even need to get a tree because the firelight tree, duh. we can use big cardboard boxes to look like fake presents, we can steal lights 'n' other stuff from the pilties—"

you rambled on, every idea you've ever had since childhood resurfacing and bubbling out of you in an unstoppable torrent. each thought, each plan, all of it spilled out, an overflowing pot.

"hey, hey—" he interrupted, thumb stroking your thigh. "listen, those ideas are great. but we can't. and you have got to stop stealing from topside."

your smile faltered. "but why!? think about the kids, think about me!" ekko hesitates to speak, eyes darting around the room as your face transitions into a pleading pout. "please? pretty please? i'll do the dishes for a month?"

"fuck," your eyes filled with stars. ekko groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "fine! fine, jeez."

the squeal that exited you entered directly into his ears, lips pressing kisses into his face in rapid succession.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! oh my god, it'll be great, we can have the kids make little snowflakes, we could have a little fucking wish box to get gifts for some of the kids—" you gasped loudly upon a realization, planting your hands onto his shoulders. "—you can be santa!!!"

he scoffs, brushing a loc of white hair out of his face. "don't push your luck."

you sigh in mock defeat. "fine, hiemerdinger's got that. i'll take what i can get."

"isn't he kinda short for santa?"

you shake your head. "don't height shame."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

ekko rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, a small groan rumbling in his throat as he reached over on the bed to find you.

empty.

his head flipped. you've left a now cool dent in the bed in your wake, blanket left in a wild mess.

he frowned, sitting up and looking around. you're nowhere to be found.

maybe you got up to use the bathroom, he thinks, standing up to search the place for you.

the second his feet hit the floor, his brows furrow.

'...glitter?'

his gaze lifts, and his eyes widen as they follow the specks of glitter scattered across the floor, which caught the faint morning light that bled through the curtains.

he followed the trail, small drops of glitter turning into discarded cardboard scraps, which turned into unfinished rolls of ribbon, which lead him to his workroom, where the door was slightly ajar.

he slowly pushed the door open, finding you hunched over a box that you were decorating to look like presents. you tilt your head up to look at him, a smile spreading ear to ear.

"w'ssup?"

he glanced at the small clock on his desk. "it's...five in the morning, why are you up so early?"

you gestured towards the pile of finished boxes in the corner. "working!" the sound of tape ripping off of the roll fills the air as you took a strip, taping the box shut. "i already collected a bunch of paper for the kids to make snowflakes, borrowed some lights 'nd garlands from topside, aaand i'm almost done making all these boxes."

a lot done considering you had had that conversation just the night before.

ekko crouched down to your level, eyes meeting yours. "but...you're gonna clean all this up, right?"

silence.

"right?" he repeated.

your eyes narrowed. "yes?"

"why is that a question?"

you scoff, pressing an empty roll of wrapping paper into his chest. "why are you asking me so many of 'em? get to work. and i need you to use your hover board to fly around and get those lights up," you nod towards a pile of lights on his desk without looking away from your box. he opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. "thank you!"

he rolled his eyes and stood, tossing the wrapping paper roll into the recycling bin.

at a more appropriate time in the day, you stood at the top of the firelight tree after capturing everyone's attention. public speaking wasn't exactly your thing, but ekko insisted you do it since everything was your idea.

you cleared your throat as the crowd settled into silence, all eyes on you. you shifted your weight onto your other leg.

"um—wow, okay, hi guys. so, i'm sure you've all...heard of christmas. and i know it's usually kinda lame, but truuust me, this year i'm gonna make sure it's—" you gather your fingers, kissing the tips of them and flaring your hand out. "—chef's kiss."

eyes leave you to glance at other's reactions, the silence lifted by an excited murmur.

"yeah, but i'm gonna need help. i have a bunch of paper that i need to be made into snowflakes, so that by the end of the day this place can look better than it already does."

you shifted their focus to scar, who carried a large bin of scissors, string, and paper of various colors. (earlier, scar questioned how you got all these supplies. you just smiled at him.)

after a quick tutorial, children started racing to gather around him, picking their colors and scissors. within a few minutes, the kids were gathered in groups on the floor, cutting out their best attempts at snowflakes.

pride swelled in your chest and you looked up into the bulk of the tree's leaves, ekko's form flying around in circles with lights being strung along behind him. with fists on your hips, you beam. "i'm amazing," you praise, making your way back inside.

everything came together surprisingly quick. ekko had never seen you that focused—hanging up lights, making paper bows to place at the points where lights held, and placing those big fake presents around the tree. of course, other people helped too, which made the work lighter.

you mostly left the mural alone, only placing a few extra candles and waving to the colorful portraits.

by the time night fell, the project was close to finished. it wasn't perfect, but to you, it was. the entire base was illuminated in warm, white lights, paper snowflakes dangling from the branches and twisting in the wind. the beat in your chest stuttered. it all felt...magical.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

over the next few weeks, you kept adding and adding to the scene. and it was all finished just in time for today, christmas eve.

by now, you'd forced ekko into so many christmas activities, some more enjoyable than the others. he thoroughly enjoyed making matching pajamas with you and drinking cocoa that was overflowing with marshmallows—being constantly tricked into mistletoe kisses, not so much. at least, he acted like he hated it. he secretly adored accidentally walking right into your trap of a hidden mistletoe and being attacked by an onslaught of messy kisses.

ekko finds you at the balcony again, glancing out into the scene below. "hm. not bad." he leans against the railing, hips bumping into yours.

"yeah, cuz it's awesome. i did that, thank you."

warm lips meet your cold cheek. "mhm. you did." he paused, tongue running over his molars. "i-um...got you something."

you perked up at his words, head whipping around to face him. "ooh, you just reminded me that i have to finish making your gift, i—"

as you're speaking, he pulls a little box from his coat pocket, black with a messy red bow.

"it's not perfect, but...y'know," his voice trails off. he pops the box open and offers it to you.

inside rested a delicate necklace, light reflecting off of the silver metal and glimmering into your eyes. the chain was thin, the links very neatly melded together, and a little circular locket hanging off the center.

you take the box and reach in, mouth agape in awe, gently pushing the locket open. inside was a tiny picture of the two of you, laying in bed, with you sound asleep on his shoulder. ekko's eyes were shut as he was in the middle of pressing a kiss to your forehead.

you smile down at the picture, warmth flooding your chest. for a long moment, you're just staring at it, ekko awaiting your reaction. your lips press together, your vision starts to blur, and a tear rolls down your face and into the velvet lining of the box. then they just kept streaming down.

ekko's face drops, immediately reaching to wipe your tears. "hey, it's okay, if you don't like it i can get you something else."

you hiccup, shaking your head. "shut up, i love it so much, this is just everything i've ever wanted for my whole life, and it's so stupid but you've literally made this the best christmas i've ever had a-and this necklace is really cute and this was so worth doing the dishes—"

you could've kept going but your joyful sobs cut you off. it was all too much, all the decorations and all the traditions you once wished for finally coming into fruition. ekko's arms wrap around you and you return the gesture, fingers twisting into his coat.

"i'd do it again in a heartbeat." he whispers, moving to peck your wet cheek. once, twice, three times.

"boo," a voice calls below you. "get a room."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

[oldiesstationlover11607]

HIII BESTIEEE!!!

If you’re open to the idea of writing a Joseph!Reader x Josh enemies to lovers where reader has always loved hanging around the boys playing music and wants so hard to fit in with them but Josh is always pushing her away and doesn’t want her to join the band (because he knows he can’t have her cause she is Tyler’s sister 👀👀)

Tyty I can’t wait to see what you do with this !!!

Pushing me away - Josh Dun x Joseph!Reader

Warnings: Angst lol but it ends in fluff

Word Count: 3057 - long for you bestie

A/N: Hope you enjoy this! I low key love writing sibling fics for tøp! Can't wait for your next request :)

It all began when Tyler, Josh, and I hit the road for their summer tour. I had only known Josh for a few months, but Tyler managed to convince our mom to let me tag along, claiming it would be a “learning experience”—something about getting a firsthand look at the music industry. I wasn’t going to argue. Since their first garage practice, I’d been sneaking into every jam session, wanting to be part of the music, part of their world. But on tour, it quickly became clear that one thing stood in the way of that dream. One irritating, maddening, nearly six-foot-tall roadblock: Josh.

Tyler was obsessed with him. Josh this, Josh that—his best friend, his bandmate, practically his shadow. And at first, I was excited too. I'd always admired Josh’s talent from a distance, the way he made drumming look effortless, how he could light up a room with a laugh or a silly face. But up close, I quickly realized that something wasn’t right.

Every time I tried to hang out with them, Josh would find some subtle way to push me away. It started with little things, like asking me to grab something from the van while they set up. But then it escalated. “Oh, Y/N, you should check out the local sights!” or “Why don't you explore the city today? We’ll catch up later.” Every single time, like clockwork, I found myself alone, wandering streets I'd never been to, while Tyler and Josh bonded without me.

Today was no different.

“Y/N, can you grab some coffee? I heard there’s this amazing spot just down the street,” Josh asked, barely looking up as he spun a drumstick in his hand, cool and effortless. Tyler was sitting on the floor, adjusting some tracks on his laptop, completely oblivious. I had been curled up on a chair, humming along to Tyler’s chords, holding his ukulele while they ran through ideas for the night’s setlist.

I blinked, the weight of disappointment settling deep in my chest. “Uh… sure, I guess.”

The words tasted bitter. I had been so excited for this particular stop on the tour. I’d even highlighted it on my phone calendar, dreaming of watching them work together, getting a glimpse of what it felt like to be part of the music. But instead, I’d been reduced to the role of glorified coffee runner.

I set Tyler’s uke down, grabbed my wallet, and headed for the door, my footsteps heavy as I left the practice space. The sun was just barely beginning to heat up the sleepy city streets. It was early, too early for the ache of rejection that pulsed through me. But I didn’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not with Tyler watching.

The coffee shop was cute, at least. Small, with mismatched furniture scattered across the floor. The walls were painted in warm, inviting shades of cream and teal, with a bright pink neon sign in the shape of a coffee mug glowing behind the counter. I couldn’t help but smile at it. Neon signs were kind of my thing. Tyler and I had even turned it into a game—spotting them along the way to each city. I loved how they glowed against the dark, offering a bit of light when everything else felt dim.

I ordered the coffee and leaned against the aquamarine wall, waiting for the drinks to be ready when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked the screen: Mom.

“Hey, Ma,” I greeted, forcing a bit of cheer into my voice.

“Honey! How’s the tour? Are you having fun?” Her voice was filled with so much warmth, I almost felt guilty. I knew she was thrilled that Tyler and I were getting to spend this time together, and I didn’t want to crush that hope.

“It’s… good,” I lied, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“Are you with the boys? Can I say hi to Tyler?”

My heart sank. “I’m, uh… grabbing coffee for them. They’re back at the venue,” I explained, trying to sound casual.

She hesitated. “Why aren’t you with them?”

I swallowed hard. “Josh—well, Josh’s been kind of… weird. Keeps finding ways to get me to leave them alone, I guess.” It sounded ridiculous now that I said it out loud.

Mom sighed softly, her voice gentle but firm. “Tyler mentioned something about that. He’s noticed, honey.”

Of course, he had. Tyler was always perceptive, probably more than I ever gave him credit for. “I just don’t get why Josh doesn’t like me. I’ve tried everything to fit in, but it’s like he’s always looking for ways to push me out,” I admitted, my frustration finally spilling over. “I just want to be part of what they’re doing. It’s like—like I don’t belong.”

Mom was quiet for a moment before she spoke. “Sweetheart, I’m sure it’s not about you. Sometimes… Boys are complicated. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed with the tour.”

I wanted to believe her, but I knew there was more to it. The way Josh would look at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. How his jaw would clench whenever I tried to be close to them. There was something else. Something he wasn’t saying. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I clutched the phone tighter. I didn’t know how to tell my mom what it really felt like—how every glance Josh gave me felt like a dagger, cutting through any hope I had of fitting in. But I couldn’t admit that. Not yet. 

“I guess,” I murmured, though I knew deep down there was more to it. Something Tyler hadn’t seen, something I couldn’t quite figure out. 

Mom’s soft sigh echoed through the line. “Give it time, Y/N. Things will get better. And don’t be afraid to talk to your brother about how you’re feeling.”

“I’ll try, Ma.” It was all I could promise. The barista called my name, and I pulled the phone away. “Gotta go, the coffee’s ready.”

“Okay, honey. Be safe. Love you,” she said, her voice warm and encouraging.

“Love you too,” I replied before ending the call.

I grabbed the drinks and started back toward the venue, my mind swirling with questions. Josh had always been distant, but now it felt like there was something heavier weighing on him whenever I was around. Maybe it was the tour stress like my mom said, but maybe… it was something else.

By the time I reached the venue, my hands were trembling slightly. I hated feeling like this—like I was always walking on eggshells, like I didn’t know where I stood. The sound of Tyler and Josh talking drifted out of the practice space as I pushed open the door.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Tyler grinned, walking over to grab his coffee. He gave me a quick side hug, as if he could sense the unease hanging around me.

“Yeah, no problem,” I mumbled, trying to focus on the warmth of Tyler’s brief hug instead of the way Josh was staring down at his drumsticks, avoiding eye contact altogether. It wasn’t unusual. He always found a way to look through me instead of at me.

I handed Josh his coffee without a word, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. He muttered a quick “thanks” under his breath, still refusing to meet my gaze. The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably between us, broken only by the faint buzz of Tyler’s laptop in the background.

This was becoming unbearable. Every moment around Josh was like this—tense, awkward, like we were circling something neither of us wanted to confront. And I was tired. Tired of being the one pushed away. Tired of pretending it didn’t hurt every time Josh found another excuse to distance himself. 

Tyler was busy adjusting his laptop, his face focused on the screen as the next track queued up. I glanced over at Josh, who was tapping his drumsticks on his knee, a subtle frown creasing his forehead.

Suddenly, Josh stood up, muttering something about needing air before heading toward the door. My heart clenched. If I didn’t say something now, I wasn’t sure when I’d get another chance.

Tyler barely looked up from his screen. “Josh’ll be back. He just does this sometimes,” he said, more to himself than me.

But I wasn’t waiting for Josh to come back. I was done waiting.

I stood up, ignoring the fluttering nerves in my stomach, and followed Josh out the door. The bright afternoon sun hit me as soon as I stepped outside, the warm air doing little to calm the rush of adrenaline flooding through me.

Josh was sitting on the curb, head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing deeply as if he was trying to calm himself. For a moment, I hesitated, but then the memory of him constantly pushing me away flashed in my mind, and I knew I couldn’t keep holding back.

“Josh,” I called out, my voice firm but shaky.

He opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything as I approached, just watched me with that same guarded look he always wore.

I stopped a few feet away, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to keep myself from trembling. “We need to talk.”

Josh’s gaze flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or frustration. He let out a long breath before responding. “About what?”

“About this,” I said, gesturing between us, feeling the weight of the tension in the space between us. “About you always finding ways to get rid of me.”

Josh dropped his head, staring at the ground like the cracks in the pavement were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “I’m not—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t act like you haven’t been doing it on purpose. I’ve tried to be patient, tried to be understanding, but I can’t do this anymore, Josh. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He flinched slightly at my words, his shoulders tensing as if they carried the weight of the world. For a moment, I thought he might ignore me, brush me off like he always did. But then he looked up, meeting my gaze with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“I’m not doing it to hurt you, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice rough around the edges. “I’m doing it because I have to.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Why? Why do you have to push me away?”

Josh stood up then, running a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Because you don’t belong in this, okay? You’re not supposed to be here. You’re Tyler’s sister—”

“And what, that means I can’t be a part of this band?” I cut him off, my frustration bubbling over. “That I can’t be around you guys? I’ve been with you since the beginning, Josh! I love music as much as you do, and I’ve worked hard to fit in with you two, but you keep acting like I don’t matter.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Josh said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “It’s not about you not belonging to the band. It’s about…” He trailed off, biting his lip, clearly torn between what he wanted to say and what he was willing to admit.

“What is it about?” I demanded, taking a step closer. “Because I don’t get it, Josh. If you don’t hate me, then why do you keep pushing me away?”

Josh hesitated, glancing around as if hoping someone else would swoop in and take over this conversation for him. When no one did, he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“It’s because I can’t… I can’t get close to you,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tyler’s my best friend. I’ve known him for years, and I owe everything to him. If he thought for a second that I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I can’t risk screwing that up.”

“Screwing what up?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something I wasn’t ready to name just yet. “What are you so afraid of?”

Josh’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, everything was laid bare between us. His carefully constructed walls, the distance he kept, all of it crumbled in the intensity of his gaze.

“I’m afraid of what happens if I let myself feel anything for you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Because once I do, there’s no going back.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. I stood there, my breath catching in my throat, trying to process what he had just said. All this time, all the distance, wasn’t because he didn’t like me—it was because he did.

I blinked, trying to steady my breath as the weight of Josh's confession settled over me like a thick fog. All the moments I thought he was avoiding me, brushing me off—it wasn’t indifference. It was fear. Fear of something real, something he couldn’t control.

“You…” I started, my voice trembling. “You’ve been pushing me away because you’re scared of liking me?”

Josh's jaw clenched, and he let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “Not just liking you, Y/N. I already like you. I crossed that line a long time ago.” His voice was rough, like he was admitting something he never thought he’d say out loud. “It’s more than that. Once I let myself feel—if I let myself care—I don’t know if I can stop.” 

My heart raced, pounding in my ears as his words sank in. I took a shaky step forward, feeling the pull between us stronger than ever, the tension no longer something I wanted to fight.

“Josh,” I whispered, the space between us feeling impossibly small. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He shook his head, his eyes locking onto mine with a look that was equal parts longing and regret. “Because you’re Tyler’s sister. He’s my best friend, Y/N. If something happens between us and it goes wrong… I could lose everything. The band, him—you.”

I felt my throat tighten. I knew what he was saying made sense in his head, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt. “But you’re already losing me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Every time you push me away, every time you find a reason to avoid me—it’s tearing me apart.”

Josh looked down, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I know,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought it’d be easier if I kept my distance, but… it’s not. It’s killing me, too.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. Josh, the guy who always seemed so in control, so confident, was unraveling right in front of me. And suddenly, I wasn’t angry anymore. I wasn’t hurt. I just wanted him to stop hiding.

I stepped closer, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from him, the tension crackling between us like electricity. “Then stop,” I said softly. “Stop pushing me away.”

Josh’s eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, I saw a flash of something raw and desperate in his gaze. “You don’t understand, Y/N. If I let myself have this—have you—I don’t know if I’ll be able to let go.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Maybe you don’t have to let go.”

He stared at me, his breath shallow, like he was fighting every instinct to move closer. The air between us was charged, thick with everything we’d been holding back for so long. I could feel the pull, the gravity of what this moment meant. But Josh was still hesitating, still caught in the war between what he wanted and what he thought he had to do.

“Josh,” I whispered, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I saw him tense under my touch. “You don’t have to be scared. We can figure this out—together.”

His eyes searched mine, his breathing ragged, and for a split second, I thought he might pull away again. But then, slowly, he reached up and cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. The touch was so tender, so full of everything he hadn’t been able to say, and my heart felt like it might burst.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” I promised, leaning into his touch, my own fear melting away in the warmth of his hand. “I’m right here.”

For a moment, neither of us moved, the weight of everything hanging in the air between us. Then, almost like he couldn’t fight it anymore, Josh leaned in, closing the gap between us. His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, but the second we connected, it was like everything else disappeared. The kiss deepened, and all the tension, all the longing we’d been holding back came crashing to the surface. I felt his hands move to my waist, pulling me closer, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, not wanting to let go. It was everything I hadn’t let myself hope for—raw, intense, and real.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s. Josh’s eyes fluttered open, and the look in them nearly took my breath away. There was no more fear, no more hesitation. Just him—just us.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but steady. “But I’m not running anymore. I can’t.”

I smiled softly, my heart swelling with something warm and unfamiliar—something I hadn’t let myself feel before. “Good,” I whispered, my thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Because I’m not letting you.”

He let out a breathy laugh, the tension between us finally easing, replaced by something lighter, something hopeful. We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the world around us fading into the background.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel like I was being pushed away.

//

Requests open!!

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

I am in pain writing my boys like this

part thirty-two

❝ EFFORT ❞

MONDAY — JULY 30 — 5:02AM

AFTER AN EVENTFUL DAY OF NEVER COMING OUT OF BELLAMY’S ROOM, BENTLEY WOKE UP ON MONDAY MORNING LAYING BACK TO BACK WITH HIM. 

And the first thing he thought about was Bruce.

He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything so bad — about the parties and the nightmares and the teachers and Tyler and Chloe and the (maybe?) Secret Keeper and his father. He wanted to just lay it all out at his feet so he didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore… but he couldn’t.

Because if he did, Bruce would come get them and take them home, and someone else would move into the dorm. He’d never see any of them again.

He had to show Bruce that he could do this no matter what kind of problems he had — he was thirteen, and he could deal with his issues by himself. He didn’t always need his dad or his brothers to swoop in and do it for him; he was capable. More than capable.

So for now, he decided, not a Wayne in the world would know a thing. Would it be easier on him if they did? Sure. But getting whisked home to live a life of solitude while every other teenager in the world did whatever they wanted didn’t sound like an ideal situation. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d have lost his mind if he didn’t stop homeschooling when he did.

It was okay. He was okay. Everyone was okay. Everything was okay.

He’d just focus on school — it was a good enough distraction. He did have seven classes to survive, and nine friendships to maintain.

(Or eight, if… Asten didn’t want to talk to him.)

So he decided that’s what he was gonna do. Just be a teenager, and try his best to forget about all the existential dread stuff.

He woke up, blocked the number his father had called him from, and left Bellamy’s room to go get ready. 

It was only a little after five, so he was able to get into his room and do everything he needed without waking Asten up, which was nice — because he wasn’t sure where they stood. They hadn't talked at all since the fight, but Bentley did end up in bed arrest in Bellamy's room, so he guessed it wasn't really either of their faults.

He grabbed his bag and all of his things out of his room and left, shutting the door softly behind him. Should he go back in Bellamy's room? Or just sit and the dining table and do something silent?

That moment was about when his phone vibrated in his hand.

The name on the text message was Chloe Singh. (He'd changed it almost immediately after she gave it to him.) It said: Hey, meet me at the fountain at 530?

He didn't even have time to think about replying before a second one came: Or at breakfast, if you're not a psycho that wakes up at 430 for school like me.

Bentley hummed to himself, typing a quick response.

Just text me when you're ready. I'm already dressed and all.

He hardly had time to look away before another message blipped onto the screen. Oh, okay! I'm ready then, haha.

With a faint little smile and a shrug, Bentley made sure he slid his keycard into his phone case and made for the door, leaving the dorm with his schoolbag in the dark.

When he made it down the stairs and the several sidewalks it took to get to the fountain with the willows, Chloe was already there in her uniform with her bag. Her blonde hair was tied up halfway with a black ribbon, and pin-straight so it looked extra long. She glanced back at him when she heard him approach and sent him a friendly wave, which he returned.

Were they technically friends now? How many times did you have to cry in front of someone before you became friends?

With that on his mind, Bentley made for the bench she was on, dropping his bag near his feet and taking a seat next to her.

"Good morning," She said quietly, eyes focused on campus staff that seemed to be moving something into the art building across the way, past the willow trees.

"Good morning," He replied.

"Listen, I just... wanted to apologize for Saturday night," She sighed, looking down at her lap and deflating slightly, a stark comparison to how confident she looked in class or the halls. "I had a massive breakdown and it was really weird. I word vomited so many unnecessary details."

Bentley shook his head, glancing over at her. "Don't apologize. We all have our moments. I, in particular, have had at least thirty since I moved into Redwood."

Chloe glanced at him, furrowing her brow. "I never imagined Bruce Wayne's heir would have moments."

"I wasn't always his," Bentley shrugged, forcing his father's voice out of his mind, focusing on Chloe's brown eyes that were watching him. "Anyways, it's no problem. Breakdowns suck, but they suck even worse if you're alone."

She blinked and looked away, then back. "That's why I wanted to say thank you," She continued, glancing down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. "For being there for me. I... can honestly say I don't have anyone else, as pitiful and attention seeking as that sounds. Living a double life is really hard when everyone only knows the fake part."

Bentley watched her breathe in deep, then blow it out. "Anyways, not to get all pitiful. I think I have the rumors handled on my end... my roommates were the only ones who knew I was going to meet you, and they swore they wouldn't say anything. What about yours?"

"Only two know I was gone, and they won't say anything," Bentley shrugged. "I think we're safe."

A beat passed.

"Thank God," Chloe exhaled, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'd never forgive myself if a chimp like Tyler Abbott got ahold of information like that. He'd have the entire campus believing whatever he wanted about us in, like, ten seconds."

Bentley didn't reply.

"Hey, you okay?" She continued, lowering her volume just a little. "You seem preoccupied."

Bentley shook his head in an attempt to shake himself back into the present and out of whatever routine of self loathing his mind was trying to put him in. "Yeah, just pretty drained. I've been really stressed lately."

"I'm sorry..." Chloe mumbled, and Bentley shrugged.

"It's not your fault," He continued, waving her off. "What about you? Were you okay after the other night?"

Chloe shrugged. "Same... just kinda drained. Emotions and their stupid, stupid existence have a way of doing that. But I'm feeling okay now. Practice for cheer tryouts starts after school today, so I pretty much am required to be okay."

A beat passed.

"So... did you and Layla end up having fun at the dance?" She questioned, looking across the way at the willows, a little hint of something he couldn't quite place filtering through into her words.

Bentley shrugged. "It was okay, but I... didn't go with her. I went with my roommates. To see the band that was playing."

"Oh," Chloe nodded to herself.

Another few moments of quiet passed.

"I... wanted to ask you something," Chloe started, turning to face him slightly on the bench, getting this... he wasn't sure. Embarrassed sort of look on her face. "You can totally say no if you want to; I know I'm not the easiest person to stomach."

"What is it?" Bentley questioned, turning toward her a little, too.

Chloe breathed in and out. "I know I was really mean and weird and stuff when we met, and I don't have any clever excuses to talk myself out of that. But I still... wanna be friends with you, if you want."

Bentley watched her nervously tuck a piece of hair behind her left her, her brown eyes straying down to the bench they were on.

"Yeah... I'd like that," Bentley replied, watching her anxiously pick at her nails. "But you... I don't want it to be some kind of ploy for your mom. If we're gonna be friends, I just... want to be friends. Not for anybody else."

"A hundred percent," Chloe nodded. "She won't have a clue I'm even talking to you anymore. She seems to have moved on in her searching for my perfect future divorce since I blew it with you already. Which means we're in the clear."

Bentley hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at her for a moment more before looking out at the trees again. "Can I ask an awkward question?"

"Sure," Chloe shrugged. "Can't be more awkward than me word vomiting my entire life's story, and my mothers."

Bentley found it in himself to chuckle at that. "I was just... wondering. Since you were only kinda acting, did you... mean what you told me? In class?"

Chloe glanced over at him quickly, her brow furrowed, before she seemed to realize what he meant. Her face flushed pink and she looked the other way. "That you're hot? I-I mean, yeah, I guess..."

Bentley didn't say anything.

"God, why can't I talk to you?" She mumbled, resting her elbows on her knees and dropping her head into her hands with a nervous little laugh. "It's so weird. Being, like, real. I always know what to say when I'm pretending."

Bentley shrugged. "Maybe you should... not pretend."

"I can't do that!" She said suddenly, sitting up. "My mother would disown me if I even thought about acting contrary to how she wants."

Bentley hummed. "How does she know what you act like here at school?"

Chloe looked up at him, a cringe spreading across her face. "She's the assistant Dean. She lives on campus."

Bentley blinked. "Oh..."

"Yeah..." Chloe shook her head. "I literally can't get away from her and her prying eyes through the school-day. That's why I wanted to talk to you now, before the day starts."

Bentley couldn't even imagine his father watching him like a hawk like that. When he first went to the Wayne's to, quote-on-quote, destroy them, he could hardly fathom the anxiety caused by the fact that his father may have possibly been watching. But Chloe's mom, putting her up to something out of greed, punishing her when she failed, watching her to make sure she was perfect... maybe they weren't so different after all.

Bentley didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“So, are you liking it so far, here? I’ve heard Gotham is way different from New York,” She questioned. (How many times was he going to be asked that question?)

He shrugged. “New York is really cool. I like it here. It feels more… alive.”

Chloe nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “There’s so much that goes on, it's hard to get away from it all. That's why I like it so much here.”

Another beat passed.

“So, if it's not off limits, what are your powers?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at her. “I haven’t seen or heard anything about them.”

“Oh, I…” Chloe started, looking off at the trees ahead of them. “I… uh…”

Bentley could recognize discomfort when he saw it. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I just…” She trailed off, breathing deep and holding it for a second, then exhaling. “I don’t have any.”

Bentley furrowed his brow. Wasn’t Redwood only for metahumans?

“My sisters do, and I have the genes for it, I just… they… haven’t appeared yet. My mom says that sometimes it takes a lot to make them show up,” Chloe shrugged. 

Bentley vaguely remembered hearing something about that when he was dealing with the whole Dr. Keene disaster -- it was like how Nico’s super speed only started to show up after he learned he was adopted, and only really showed up after he got kidnapped and put in a big machine that messed with his DNA. He remembered that metahumans finding their powers was… usually due to trauma.

He wasn’t quite sure what that said about the rest of the Redwood students. But maybe it was a good thing that Chloe didn’t have hers.

“I guess we’ll just have to see, then,” Bentley shrugged.

“I guess so…”

They fell into a comfortable silence, looking out at the willow trees in front of them.

Okay.. maybe Bentley had ten friendships to maintain.

--

When breakfast came around, Bentley sat across the table from Asten.

They didn’t say anything to each other. Bentley looked over at him a few times, but he was always talking to Rockie, or looking down at the table, or across the room. Valor was watching the both of them -- Bentley noticed his gaze a few times, calculating, contemplating -- but when Bentley’s eyes met his, it always switched to a supportive smile, faint enough to go missed by everyone else but present enough to be a little comforting.

Bentley and Asten didn’t talk at lunch, either.

And when music theory came around, Asten only spoke to Rockie, and Bentley only spoke to Vera, and in free period, Asten sat with Rockie, and Bellamy and Valor sat with Bentley. It was…

Weird.

He went to practice soccer with Varian and Koa, and they talked about nothing and everything. He went to dinner, where Asten deliberately ignored him even though they were within whispering distance from one another. And then he did his homework at the dining table, and listened to his roommates talk, and hung out, and texted Chloe, and went to bed without saying anything to his best friend who was sleeping one bunk away.

As wrong as it felt, Bentley was the one who’d been right. Asten was a hypocrite and all the lovely things Bentley had said in his anger fueled haze. So, for this one time, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t going to allow himself to apologize.

If Asten wanted to talk to him, Asten was going to have to put in the effort.

And as far as Bentley could tell, right now, he didn’t care very much.

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[callsign-dexter]

Always Daddy’s Girl

Request: hi I was wondering if you could write a Maverick x daughter reader please??

like she is at some party and she doesn’t feel safe so she calls Mav and wants him to come and pick her up but she is worried about looking like a whimp in front of her friends. Then Mav like tells her to come out the back and he will be down the block but then when she gets in the car she breaks down because she feels bad and Mav explains to her that she never has to apologize for not feeling safe and that he will always come and get her. Then he asks her what happened at the party(you can choose what happens) and he spends the rest of the night comforting her and just being the worlds best dad.

Pairings: Maverick x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, underage drinking (not the reader), attempted sexual assault

Masterlist

A/N: Goose is going to be alive in this fic.

It was Friday the last bell just rang singling at the end of the school day. Everyone was leaving some were going to their busses, some to their cars, and some too were starting to walk home. You opted to walk home, as you did every day after school since you didn't live that far away from the school. You and your dad lived close to the base but didn't live on it, his choice. Your walking buddies were Chloe Shaw and Bradley Bradshaw, but Bradley had been sick for a few days with the flu going around. You guys usually talked about nothing in particular but one topic came up, a party that none other than senior Tyler Avery.

Tyler Avery was the most popular senior at Miramar High School. Always throwing parties, anybody was invited, and the star baseball player. Every girl has a crush on him. But can be a jerk, a manwhore, and a womanizer. He had ocean-blue eyes and perfectly styled dirty blonde hair, every high school girls dream guy at Miramar High.

Chloe Shaw is your best friend and has been since elementary school. Her parents moved to Miramar due to her dad getting orders that ordered them to pack up and move. You both play softball together.

"Tyler is throwing a party tomorrow night are you coming? Chloe asked "We don’t have practice or games. Also, Tyler said that his parents are gonna be there." Chloe continued you trusted her and she wouldn't lie to you, right?

"I'll definitely be there!" You exclaimed not wanting to disappoint your friend. You were excited to have a weekend off with nothing to do. You both continued to walk and talk until we arrived at her house "I'll see you tomorrow night." You told her and hugged her.

"We're going to have so much fun!" She exclaimed, "I'll text you the details later!" She said and walked into her house.

You finally arrived home 5 minutes later and saw your dad's bike and Jeep in the driveway. Which was unusual for him since he usually got off at 5 PM, but it was only 4:10 PM. You walked into the house and saw him sitting at the kitchen table working on some paperwork. You kicked my shoes off and set your bag down.

"Hey, Dad." I said to him and he turned around and smiled he got up, walked over to me and hugged me.

"Hey, Sweetheart." He said and kissed the hairline of your head "How was your day?" He asked as he was letting go of you and going into the kitchen where you followed him. He leaned up against the counter while you went to the fridge to get something to drink. After getting it you turned around leaning on the fridge.

"It was good. Pretty long and boring. My Math teacher was a jerk and gave us a lot of homework due Monday and then a quiz due next Friday." you said exhausted. "What are you doing home early?" You asked him truly curious.

"Goose and my jet had some malfunctions so it's at the mechanics. They let us go home early." he told you and you just nodded. You were nervous to ask to go the party, you even hated to ask and him being your dad could tell something was up. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked you. You must've spaced out.

"I-There-" you didn't finish too afraid to ask. Even though it doesn't hurt to ask the worst he can do is say no.

"Talk to me. You can tell me anything." he told you getting a little concerned. You sigh now or never.

"There is a party tomorrow night at Tyler Avery's place, he's a senior. Before you say anything his parents are going to be there, so it's going to be supervised." You rushed the last part seeing his face and knowing what he was going to say. It was silent for a minute or so.

"If his parents are going to be there then you can go. I trust you." He told you and you let a breath you didn't know was being held. You went and hugged him thanking him profusely and he just laughed. "You're welcome, Sweetheart." He kissed the top of your head. You let go of him and stepped back.

"How's Bradley doing?" You asked your dad worried about your best friend.

"Goose says he's doing better than when he first got sick but should be better and back at school Monday." He said and you nodded satisfied that your best friend was going to be ok.

"Good! I miss him! I got some homework to do so I'll be in my room." You told him.

"Ok, Sweetheart. I'll call you when dinner is ready." He said as you got your back and headed upstairs. Once up there you went to your desk sat down and started pulling out what you needed. A few minutes into doing your work your phone dings signaling a text from Chloe telling you the details of the party and where it's going to be and that you'll meet up with her at her house.

An hour later your dad calls you down for supper. You get up and head down that way and once there you get your plate and start getting your supper, during supper your dad and you don't talk about anything important. Dinner is finished and is cleaned up and you both watch a little bit of TV and cuddle on the couch having some father, daughter bonding time until it's time for bed.

Saturday rolls around and you're up pretty early, usually sleeping in until about 11 AM but for some reason, you're up at 10 AM. You're just waking up when the smell of bacon and pancakes hits your nose and you slowly get out and walk downstairs to find your dad at the stove making breakfast.

"Smells delicious." You say to him and it startled him but he laughs it off.

"Wasn't expecting you to be up this early." He told you with a chuckle.

"Couldn't sleep very well." You replied honestly. You didn't know if it was because of the party or what but something wasn't right. Your dad just nods his head and grabs a plate for you and him and you both start making them. Breakfast is eaten in comfortable silence.

Nothing productive was done during the day. It was mostly spent lounging around the house and working on some stuff with your dad. Bradley was still sick so you couldn't hang out with him. You were still nervous about this party that you were going to for some reason. Were Tyler's parents going to be there or was Chloe lying to you because she wanted you to go?

Saturday night rolled around you said goodbye to your dad and promised that you would be safe. You had agreed to meet her at her house at 9 PM so you guys could walk over to the party that wasn't too far from the house or base. After arriving at her house and greeting her parents you both were off to the party.

Once you arrived at the party it was already in full swing. So far no adult was in sight and there looked to be alcohol everywhere. You pulled Chloe to the side.

"I thought you said that his parents were going to be here!" You exclaimed to her over the loud music and she just laughed.

"If I told you that they weren't going to be here would have come?" She asked over the music.

"No, and you know that!" You replied to her. It was true you didn't like to be at parties without an adult or Bradley and neither were here at the moment. You decided to just try and have fun and call your dad if things got out of hand.

It was an hour into the party and people were starting to get a little bit wilder, yup there was definitely alcohol here and in the punch. You stuck with the water bottle that you got out of the fridge and you were staying in the back out of the way just because the party was getting out of hand. Then Tyler Avery comes up to you and starts talking to you.

"How are you liking the party?" He asked you being all sweet and kind of getting close.

"It's good and fun." You told him starting to get uncomfortable. He was getting closer to you.

"Why don't we take this upstairs." He said as he was practically caging you in and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I don't think that's a good idea." You told him trying to push him off. The water bottle was forgotten, it had fallen to the ground at some point.

He ignored you and started to try and kiss you but you turned your head away and he took that as a win and started kissing your face. You were stiff as a board and not giving in. You started to cry begging him to stop.

Then you start to feel his hand start to wonder first, it was on your neck and then it slowly went down to your chest then slowly went down further, and that's when you drew the line. You brought your knee up to his groin and he doubled over in pain and that's when you took your exit. You found Chloe by the punch bowl and with other people around and told her you wanted to go home.

"Chloe!" You yelled at her and got her attention she turned to you and you could see that she had been drinking and could smell it. The others left. You tried to tell her what happened.

"Well that's great! He likes you!" She yelled while slurring her words. "I wish he would make out with me!" She yelled

"I'm thinking of going home." You told her and she scoffed.

"If you go home now you're just a wimp." She said and stumbled away to a group. You didn't want to look like a wimp so you dropped it but you knew you couldn't stay there so you went outside in the backyard and called the only family member you trusted, your dad. You pulled out your phone and dialed his number he picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, Sweetheart." He started. You just started to bawl. "Sweetheart are you ok?" He asked getting worried.

"No, I want to go home but don't want to look like a wimp by having my dad pick me up." You said crying and he sighed.

"Ok, Sweetheart. I'll meet you a block away. Want me to stay on the phone with you?" He asked.

"Yes." You shortly replied. You started walking that way. You stayed on the phone with him until you saw his Jeep and got in.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked you.

"Yes, but I want to be home first." You told him and he nodded his head. The ride to your house was silent and finally what seemed like forever you arrived home. He parked and you both got out and headed into the house to the couch.

"Ok, we're home. What happened?" He asked you. You started to tell him trying not to cry even more so you could get through it.

"Chloe told me about the party when we were walking home Friday and she told me that Tyler's parents were going to be there." You started "She knows I won't go to parties unless it's supervised." Tears started to slowly fall. Your dad pulled you into his arms and you leaned into him. "We got there and everything was going smoothly until an hour into it and everyone started to get louder and then I saw the half-empty alcohol bottles and I could smell alcohol coming from the punch bowl." You sniffled and felt your dad rub your back. "I was drinking water and staying in the back then Tyler came up to me," I said and started to chock up. "I could smell he had been drinking and he pushed me into the wall while I was trying to get away and begging him to stop. He started to try and kiss me and I turned my head away and he started kissing my face." I said almost full-on sobbing and heavy breathing not wanting to relive the next part "His hand started to wonder it started at my neck and then went lower to my chest and then even lower but before he got there, I kneed him in the crotch and he doubled over and I got away. I told Chloe what happened and she basically said I should be lucky and that it meant he was into me and that she wished he would've made out with her." I was crying and your dad pulled you closer to him and was making an enraged face that you couldn't see. "I told her that I was thinking of going home and she said that I would be a wimp if I went home now. That's when I went out into the backyard and called you. I didn't want to be there a second longer." You finished. Your tears had soaked a wet spot into his sweatshirt but he didn't care.

"Oh, Sweetheart. You did the right thing in both situations and you're never a wimp for calling your father." He told you and you knew he was telling the truth. "You can always come to me, call me, or talk to me when you feel uncomfortable. You know why?" He asked.

"No, why?" You asked sitting up and looking at him as he wiped your eyes.

"Because you will always be daddy's girl." He told you with a smile and you just dove into him with a hug.

"I love you, Dad." You said

"I love you too, Sweetheart." He replied and kissed your head.

The rest of the night you spent with your dad watching TV until you both fell asleep together on the couch.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hiii!! I’m so happy I found another Seduce me writer! I wanted to request a fic idea, you can totally say no if you want too! I wanted to request if you could write this for Erik and Sam. Basically Erik and the reader are really close and good friends, but the reader likes Sam. Erik likes the reader but doesn’t want to say anything because he knows about her feelings for Sam. He starts to notice Sam taking a liking to her too, and he tries to step back but feels conflicted when Damian tells him that Sam also likes the reader too. Erik feels guilty because he’s basically in love with the same girl as his brother. I would also like the song Are We Still Friends by Tyler The Creator to be kind of added in someway, so I guess a Song fic essentially!! Hope you’re doing well and please take your time with requests!! I love your writing sm!

A/N: I have to say i’ve never thought of these two being against each other, but now that you’ve mentioned the idea, i really love it, so thank you so much for your request!!

Warnings: conflicted / repressed feelings, angst?, sam’s happy but at what cost, damien’s a sweetheart still, Erik is living on his own in this, so kind of like the boys moved out! After SMTO 1 but before the demon war!

Navigation!!

Are we…still friends?

The dim light of the living room stretched shadows across the walls, Erik leaning against the arm of the couch with a bottle of beer in his hand. Across the room, you and Sam sat on the floor by the coffee table, sharing a joke that left you both laughing. Erik watched as your smile lingered, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at his brother, and the low hum of conversation between the two of you seemed to fill the space more than the quiet music playing in the background.

You had no idea what you were doing to him—how every laugh, every look, every accidental brush of your hand had Erik’s heart threatening to claw out of his chest. You were his best friend, someone he trusted with all the corners of himself that he usually kept hidden. But the cruel irony of it all was that while Erik had spent months falling for you, he knew where your heart lay. It wasn’t with him. It was with Sam.

He tried to ignore the signs at first—the way you spoke about Sam, how you lit up when he entered a room, the subtle nervousness in your voice when you asked about him. Erik told himself it was just his imagination. But it wasn’t. You liked Sam. And now, it seemed, Sam liked you too.

Damian had told him as much earlier that day.

“Sam likes her, you know,” Damian had said nonchalantly while they’d been sitting on the back porch. “I think it to be pretty obvious. You see the way he looks at her. It isn’t just casual interest.”

Erik had barely managed a response, just nodding and keeping his expression neutral. He couldn’t let Damian see how much it affected him, couldn’t let anyone know what was tearing him apart inside.

Now, watching the two of you, Erik felt like an intruder in his own home. He noticed how Sam leaned a little closer when you spoke, how you tilted your head in that way you always did when you were completely engaged in the conversation. And the worst part? Sam didn’t even need to try. His natural charm, his easy smile—it was everything Erik felt he lacked, despite how different they were.

He should’ve been happy for you. For the both of you. But instead, jealousy and guilt twisted together in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to support his brother, but not like this.

You glanced over at him then, your smile softening. “Erik, are you okay? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

He straightened up, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes, I’m quite alright. Just tired.”

You didn’t look convinced, your brow furrowing slightly. Before you could say anything more, Sam chimed in with a teasing grin. “ Pretty boy got nothing to say? That’s new.”

Erik just shrugged, avoiding both your gaze and Sam’s. He took a sip of his beer, hoping it would settle the knot in his stomach, but the bitter taste only made it worse.

The conversation moved on, but Erik barely registered it. He felt like a bystander, trapped in a moment he couldn’t escape.

After you and Sam left the room, likely to get more snacks, Erik stayed behind, sinking into the couch as the weight of the evening pressed down on him. The house felt unbearably empty without you, even though you were just upstairs. He stared at the darkened TV, the silence wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket.

He heard Damian’s voice from the doorway, breaking the quiet. “You look like hell.”

Erik didn’t bother looking up. “Not in the mood, Damian.”

Damian stepped further into the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “You’ve been acting off for weeks now. And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I’m not buying it.”

Erik ran a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Please just drop it, okay?”

“Fine,” Damian said, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. “But for what it’s worth, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you don’t say something to her.”

Erik’s head shot up, his jaw tightening. “What?”

Damian shrugged. “It’s obvious you’re like her aswell. And yeah, Sam’s into her too, but that doesn’t mean you have to just sit here and torture yourself.”

Erik’s chest tightened. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Why not?” Damian asked. “What’s the worst that could happen? She doesn’t feel the same way? At least you’d know.

“It’s not just about me,” Erik snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. “She likes Sam. And Sam likes her. I’m not going to get in the middle of that.”

Damian studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. “You’re too good at this whole self-sacrificing thing, you know that? But maybe you should think about what you want for a change.”

As Damian left the room, Erik leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. What he wanted didn’t matter. It never had.

The next time you came over, it was just the two of you. Sam was out, and you’d stopped by to return a book Erik had lent you, about house decorating.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow this,” you said with a smile, holding up the worn paperback. “It was really helpful. I finally know what color I’m gonna paint the study.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Erik said, his voice quieter than usual.

You tilted your head, your brows knitting together in concern. “You’ve been off lately. Did I do something wrong?”

The question caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. Finally, he shook his head. “It’s not you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

You stepped closer, your gaze searching his. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”

Erik’s throat tightened. He wanted to tell you. Wanted to spill every feeling he’d been holding back for so long. But how could he? How could he tell you he was in love with you when he knew your heart already belonged to someone else?

Instead, he forced a smile. “I know.”

You studied him for a moment, as if you could see right through his facade. Then you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. The touch sent a jolt through him, and he clenched his fists to keep from pulling you closer.

“Okay,” you said softly. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

You turned to leave, and Erik felt his chest tighten. He wanted to stop you, to say something—anything—but the words stuck in his throat. So he let you go, watching as you walked out the door and left him alone with his thoughts.

That night, Erik lay awake in his room, staring at the ceiling as his mind replayed the events of the day. He thought about the way you smiled at Sam, the way you looked at him, the way you cared about both of them in different ways.

He loved you. He loved you so much it hurt. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you—not when it meant risking your friendship, not when it meant coming between you and Sam, his brother.

Erik didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he couldn’t lose you—not as a friend, not as a constant in his life. Even if it meant burying his feelings, even if it meant watching you fall for someone else, Erik would stay by your side.

Because that’s what love was, wasn’t it? Putting someone else’s happiness above your own. Even if it broke your heart in the process.

[nicohischierz]

please write a part two for the cole mcward fic 🙏

it had been almost a month since the party and you had gone out of your way to avoid cole. well avoid him the best you can since you shared a house.

tyler has noticed the rift between the two of you as you chose to sit next to him and avoided cole at all costs. he felt as if it was his fault that you weren’t speaking to cole so he went over to talk to his captain.

so now tyler was laying on his captain's couch ranting about how he thinks he ruined your relationship. jake listened as tyler expressed his concerns and gave the freshman a squeeze on his shoulder.

"look dukes. y/n not wanting to hand out with us anymore is not your fault okay. honestly, it's cole's because everyone can see that girl is head over heels for him but him," jake explained.

"who's head over heels for who?" you asked.

tyler and jake scrambled from their positions to bring you in for a hug. "sorry for showing up unannounced but umm kate asked if I could get something from the store for her," you explained, holding up a bag of groceries.

the two boys nodded and allowed you to walk away from them. you placed the groceries in their proper locations before going to bid goodbye to tyler and jake.

you were still curious as to who they were talking about but as you tried to separate yourself from the group you thought it is better not to get involved.

"y/n/n, can i meet you at the cafe across campus tomorrow?" tyler asked. you looked at the younger boy before nodding. "I'll meet you there at 3:30 okay," you promised.

so there you sat in the coffee shop waiting for tyler to arrive. but instead, you were met by cole. your best friend took a seat in front of you and smiled. you usually loved that smile but at this moment you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off.

"what are you doing here?" you spat. cole wasn't expecting your hostility so he just raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just trying to figure out why my best friend has been avoiding me for a month," cole answered.

the two of you were lucky you were in public because you were contemplating murdering your friend at that moment. when you didn't answer, cole picked your hands in between his and forced you to look up at him.

"what's wrong?" he asked.

"i hate you. damn it cole i hate the way you make me feel and i hate that you don't see how much I hurt sometimes," you ranted. you grabbed your bag to walk away but cole stopped you.

your best friend got out of his spot and held your arm, turning you to face him. "don't leave me, please. i need you," he whispered.

"i needed you too cole. i needed you when my ex cheated on me and I still need you now. do you know how infuriating it is to pine over someone who will never feel the same way about you?" you asked rhetorically.

cole shrugged "i mean, i've been pining over this girl since I was a teenager but she doesn't seem to get the hint," he revealed.

you shook your head. you didn't want to believe him. sure this was what you had always wanted but now, you didn't want it anymore.

you tried walking away again but cole grabbed your arm again pulling you into his chest. without wasting another second cole brought you into a long kiss.

cole pulled away first but you just grabbed his scarf and kissed him again.

[vialism]

Oh wow carte blanche on dab questions!

For the scene where Tyler calls Josh asking if he wants to be in the band, please tell me you based it on the 2012 Columbus Monthly interview and it was not a complete coincidence because I would die if it is!

I did not find that interview until after I read dab and was like.. no fucking way!!

Are there any other things lifted from interviews or stories? (Other than the RAB series, love how you intertwine that so well).

I fucking love and laugh everytime at the "what do I feed Tyler Joseph do not read into it" lol

Love the way you handle Nick and Chris leaving feels very realistic and particularly Tyler's reaction and what we know about his fear of people leaving him (Navigating looking at you, even 10 years later).

And finallyyy, I am a bottom Tyler truther but I am always interested on other people's reasons why, particularly since you make Mark even so aware of it enough to ask Josh if he is a top lol

ack holy moly i love these questions! i will do my best to answer!

of course, of COURSE it was not a coincidence... hehehe I knew what I was doing! I love love love taking dialogue from actual things they've said and weaving it into fics as realistically as possible. I've seen other people on twitter discover that interview and been like "WAIT LIKE IN DREAMERS AT BEST" and honestly... MIND BLOWING that people find out canon things from my fic before they realize they're like. real. humbling as fuck and also makes my research feel worth it!!! i started writing dab not too long after i went through my clikkie rite of passage in which i deep dived and watched every single pilots interview of all time (which i assume all fans go through, or at least all neurodivergent fans LOL). so a lot of these things were fresh in my mind.

i'm trying to think of other major things off the top of my head that came from real interviews or stories that we know are true. we know they met at the newport (sadly the exit sign detail came later!), we know the timeline and details of how mark stumbled into tyler's life, ditto the timeline of josh filling in for colin in hoh - i REALLY tried to get the timeline leading up to josh joining the band right. we only learned later that he had been about to move to nashville when tyler asked him to be in the band. sitting on the rooftop of the grocery store is something they've talked about from their early friendship... obviously so much else was filled in around what we know, but the goal was to make everything believable with the details we had, and it seems like that's part of what really resonated with people about the fic!

i went through a phase where i could not stand rereading the first 4 chapters of dab. so hearing that you love that random text josh sends in chapter 3 is actually so validating. i feel like i grew as a writer SO much over the course of writing the fic, and sometimes it's weird to read the early chapters in contrast with the later chapters where... idk, the language is more sophisticated? but i try to remind myself that they were growing up over the course of the fic too. and, people love and cherish those chapters for what they are. and i finally do too.

ohhh i'm glad you mentioned the whole "kinda feels like everybody leaves" stuff in regard to nick and chris, because that is absolutely where my mind goes. part of the story that dab tells is that josh isn't just a great drummer and friend with sex appeal who would help the band get famous - josh did not want to do anything else with his life except play music with tyler. he would do anything for tyler. he would break his back hauling that fucking piano case for as long as it took. he was never leaving. and somehow we are still living that narrative in the lore in 2024. tyler. that boy is not going to leave you.

hello, bottom tyler truther... we are the same. i love the idea of either of them bottoming and truly either works, but... josh is generous. josh wants to give. he wants to take care of people, and he shows his love through quiet protectiveness. tyler has a personality where he clings to control - we know this. so a true mark of trust for him, his truest form of intimacy, is ceding control to someone else. it really doesn't matter whose dick goes where... tyler just needs to be cared for. and everyone, including mark, can see how well josh takes care of him.

OH!!!!! this got extremely long. i guess i also just want to always say that even 8 years after starting it i am IN AWE of how many people still care about that fic. it is humbling for real. thank you thank you for caring enough about it to ask these questions :')

[intrepidacious]

baby, it's bad out there

summary: Your best friend Kate has always been good at attracting trouble and this time, it’s starting to become your problem, too. Then again, what’s Christmas in New York City without meet-cutes and gunfire?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 9.8k

warnings: HAWKEYE SPOILERS, canon typical violence, more or less canon compliant, a holiday fic in january?? it’s more likely than you think, reader buys christmas presents but doesn’t explicitly celebrate, slightly deus ex machina in the form of [redacted]

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: happy new year everybody!! 💛 whether you celebrate the holidays or not, i hope you all had a calm last week of 2021 and a good start of 2022. three weeks ago i was watching hawkeye and thought “why don’t i write something christmassy” and then this sort of happened and got out of hand big time. apparently, i can’t write short things. huge thanks to @barnesafterglow for reassuring me when i felt like i was losing my mind, which was constantly. x

masterlist | read on ao3

Needless to say, you hadn’t seen your day ending up like this.

You’re clinging to the edge of the roof, trying desperately to grasp at something, anything, to hold onto and try to haul yourself back up. The wind is tearing into you, numbing your fingers, clawing into you like icy cuts. Your breath comes in hurried hazy clouds in front of your face.

Another shot sounds, and with a gasp, you lose your grip.

And then you’re falling.

***

eleven hours earlier

“An Avenger.” You snicker as you glance down on your phone screen again while trying not to lose hold of any of your shopping bags. Your friend’s large eyes seem to almost burst with excitement. “You know, you could’ve just said you don’t wanna come shopping with me this year, Kate. You don’t have to make stuff up.”

“When have I ever made something like that up?”

“Fifth grade,” you answer without hesitation, “when you said you’d met Captain America on that field trip.”

“Again, that was not made up, I saw him—”

“That was a random guy in a baseball cap—”

“—he was looking right at Tyler—”

“—Tyler needed glasses and he also had a crush on you, of course he’d agree—”

“—it was one hundred percent real and even if it weren’t, I was eleven, let it go.”

“You brought it up, Elsa.” You readjust the straps of the overfilled tote bag on your shoulder. “I will find someone else to go to winter wonderland with, by the way.”

“You’re a menace,” Kate grumbles. “I’m off saving the city and you thank me with threats.”

“Put the dog on screen again and I might reconsider,” you answer as you stop for a red light, holding your phone closer to your face again. “Aaaww, did you put him in a bow tie? Well, aren’t you a handsome boy!”

“You already love that dog more than me, don’t you?”

“One hundred percent,” you say, still cooing. “You’ll bring him next week, right?”

“Uhm, yeah …” Kate says, trailing off. She flips the screen again and sits down on the floor next to pizza dog, who places his head in her lap. “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it yet. What with all this—stuff going on. I’m gonna try, obviously,” she adds hastily, seeing the look of disappointment on your face. “I just don’t think these guys are gonna take the weekend off.”

“They better,” you sigh and join the crowd of people shuffling to cross the street while carrying their several salaries’ worth of Christmas shopping. “I miss you, Bishop.”

Kate smiles. “Miss you too.”

“And take a selfie with your new best friend. I have the right to see my supposed replacement.”

“Bye.”

You shake your head as Kate and pizza dog disappear from your screen with a chime.

It’s started snowing during your call, gray clouds covering the sky and turning the crisp winter air into icy gusts of wind that make your eyes water. So much for New York City at Christmas; they only ever tell you about the lights and the window decorations, not about the damn cold.

Thankfully, your apartment is only a couple of blocks away now. The thought of curling up on the couch with your cat and a hot drink is the one thing that keeps your spirits up while you try shoving your phone back into your coat pocket while also not slipping on the sidewalk.

Of course, that’s the exact moment someone bumps into you, sending both you and your shopping bags flying to the ground.

A surprised yelp escapes you as you attempt to break your fall on anything but your bags of presents. There’s a sharp pain coursing through your wrist and knees as you land, unceremoniously, on the curb.

“Well, merry Christmas, asshole!”you shout after the idiot who doesn’t even bother to stop and check on you. Continuing to curse under your breath, you scramble to get back on your feet and gather your bearings. The bags have soaked through, but at least nothing seems badly damaged.

“I think that’s yours.”

“Shit!” You take your phone out of the gloved hand offering it to you. It must have skidded away from you when you fell, and now the screen is cracked. You want to cry. “Sorry, I mean, thank you, I’m just—”

You take a look at the person in front of you and immediately lose your train of thought because, damn—he’s gorgeous.

The first thing you notice is that he hasn’t even bothered to close his jacket; it’s as if the searing cold tearing at you is nothing more than a light breeze to him, his gloves the one concession to the temperature.

Slowly, your gaze travels upwards. There’s some dark stubble on his perfect jawline. His cheeks and nose are tinted a beautiful shade of pink. A few snowflakes have got caught in his hair, and you would find yourself mesmerized by the way it curls ever so slightly on his forehead if it weren’t for his eyes. Wow—his eyes. Midnight blue with some lighter specs that make you think of the ocean, the color accentuated by his navy sweater. You’d be quite happy never looking at anything but his eyes ever again.

You realize you might be staring a little.

“Sorry,” you continue weakly. “That guy just barrelled into me.”

“I saw.” He frowns slightly and your eyes flicker to the little dimple between his brows. Your fingers itch to touch it. “You alright, doll?”

“Yeah, I’m …” You trail off, still nodding like a maniac, wondering for a split second if this is it, if you got sent into a Hallmark movie and you need to just let this happen, before you thankfully catch yourself. You’re being ridiculous, you think. Reel it back in, fast. “I like your sweater.”

Well done.

He blinks. “Thanks. I like yours, too.”

Tradition demands that Kate and you do your shopping together while wearing the ugliest Christmas sweaters you can find, and just because she’s blown you off this year doesn’t mean you’ll forgo that. In this moment, though, you wish you’d opted for anything that doesn’t depict Santa riding a dinosaur. You pull your coat closed.

There’s a slight twinkle of amusement in his beautiful eyes, but not like he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t say anything else, though, he just keeps watching you, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

He looks strangely familiar that way, as if you’d seen him before somewhere, but you can’t quite place him. You can only hope it’s not high school or something equally embarrassing.

Cringing slightly at the thought, you cough and do that awkward smile and nod. “Anyway, thank you, I should get—”

“Is it still working?”

Your head? Not while he’s looking at you, no. “What?”

“Your phone.”

“Oh!” Your hands shake slightly as you try unlocking it. The display stays black. Of fucking course. “I mean, I was running low on battery earlier, maybe plugging it in at home will help,” you say without much hope in your voice.

“Worth a try.” He glances at your bags. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Real life, not a movie. You still manage a smile. “Yes, of course, it’s fine. I’m not far ahead. Thank you, really. Happy holidays.”

“You, too.” He gives you another look and a light smirk tugs on his lips. And then he’s gone.

With a sigh, you turn down the street to haul your soggy bags home and mourn the fact that life does not follow the plot of your favorite rom coms after all. If it were, he’d be running after you now, insisting to carry your bags or at least ask for your number. The thought of it is so delicious you almost turn around, but thankfully, you still have an ounce of self-respect left, so you don’t.

You’re still distracted by your not-quite meet cute when you arrive at your doorstep, which is why you don’t immediately realize something is amiss. The green moving truck parked next to the entrance doesn’t strike you as particularly remarkable as you rummage through your tote bag for your keys.

Not until the guys get out of the car.

Your head turns automatically when you hear someone say your name, but you don’t recognize the men in front of you. They must be working for the same company, since they’re all wearing matching tracksuits. Maybe one of your neighbors is moving, you think, but you get a bad feeling from this. They’re not built like movers.

“Can I help you?” you say, grabbing your keys tightly.

“Hopefully,” one of them answers. His accent is heavy, Russian maybe, but you’re not sure. “We are looking for a friend of yours. Kate Bishop.”

Eyes flitting between the three of them, you take another step towards your door. What do they want from Kate? “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you mean.”

Either you're a worse liar than you like to think or they know something you don’t but either way, they just chuckle darkly. All the hair at the back of your neck is standing up now. Blindly, you reach for the handle behind you in the wild hope that it will just open on its own and you can put at least a door between those weird men and yourself. It doesn’t move an inch.

“Oh, but I think you do,” the same man says, and before you even have a second to breathe, you’re blinking down the barrel of a gun. Your blood turns cold.

“Come on, bro,” the guy to his right says, rolling his eyes. “She said just talk.”

“I am trying, but if she doesn’t want to do the talking, I am going to nudge a little. Show her we are not idiots.”

Should you scream? You feel like you should scream, but there’s no one else around and you don’t doubt that he might just shoot you where you’re standing. On the steps to your home, surrounded by a bunch of presents. What do they want from Kate? You’ve always been terrible in a crisis.

“What will she do, attack you with presents?”

“Fine, fine.” He puts the gun back into his trousers, but your heart is still racing. “See? No harm done. Just tell us where Kate Bishop is and we leave.”

Yeah, right. “Look,” you say slowly. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding …”

“I will tell you misunderstanding.” The man on the right takes a step closer to you and you flinch. It makes him grin, a ghastly, self-assured grin that makes you sick to your stomach. “Is when your friend got involved with the Ronin and pretends she knows what she’s doing.”

There’s only a couple of feet between him and you now and your brain short-circuits. So you swing your wet and heavy shopping bags at his face.

He does not expect that. The impact of the bags is enough to make him fall backwards at his companions, who also grunt in surprise. You frantically snatch your keys out of your bag, stabbing them at the hole to get into the building, but you’re not fast enough. You shriek when hands grab you from behind, kicking at whoever’s dragging you back down the stairs and into the alleyway next to your building. It’s no use.

For the second time today, you’re shoved to the ground roughly, but this time, you don’t get to catch your fall. You wince as your head hits the side of the dumpster, tears immediately springing to your eyes.

“Now can I nudge a little?” you hear one of the men growl. There’s the click of a safety catch being released, and you instinctively brace yourself for a shot.

It doesn’t come.

Instead there’s a yelp and a crash, and the dumpster shakes as something heavy falls on top of it. You push yourself upright where you landed in a small heap of snow, ignoring the sting in your wrist, and roll around just in time to see the second tracksuit guy go down with a groan. Someone shouts something in a language you don’t understand. A strange cracking sound and a scream. Then—

You scramble backwards when a shadow appears in front of you. There’s a wave of nausea that hits you at the sudden movement.

“Are you hurt?” You know that voice.

When you look up, you stare directly into those midnight blue eyes again. Once again, they almost take your breath away, even though now they’re dark with concern.

“I think so, I … I hit my head a little,” you say dumbly.

“Here.” You take his hands and let yourself be put upright, stumbling a little. His grip tightens ever so slightly when you do, holding you steady as the feeling of dizziness eases. There are a few stars swimming across your vision, but apart from that, you feel okay. Well, physically. “We gotta get you somewhere safe, doll, alright?”

You nod when you notice some movement behind his shoulder. The flash of a gun reflected against the snow.

The gasp falls from your lips the same moment as the shot rings out and the stranger in front of you whirls back around, pulling you behind his back with one swift movement. There’s a clanging sound as the bullet hits—metal?

Two more shots are fired and the man catches both of them with the palm of his left hand. He doesn’t seem to feel either of them. Within seconds, he wrestles the gun out of the assailant’s hand and hits him in the head with the hilt. And you realize why he’s seemed so familiar to you before.

“You’re Bucky Barnes,” you manage, eyes wide as you take him in properly.

His hair is short now, which is why you didn’t recognize him before, with his left arm hidden under his layers. There’s a hole in the palm of his glove now, though, and you can see the shiny vibranium underneath for just a moment before he balls it into a fist.

“I know,” he says, jaw set as he drags the unconscious guy further into the alley. Your knees buckle and you have to steady yourself against the dumpster. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

It seems such a weird thing to say, you almost laugh. If only you didn’t still feel like you’re spinning. When did the world stop making sense? “I didn’t think you would.”

“Good.” He brushes off his hands and picks something up from the ground. There’s something next to his shoe, a discoloration of the snow next to the dumpster. “We need to leave. More of them might show up.”

A surge of panic courses through you. “My cat, I can’t just—I can’t leave her here alone, she’s only eight months old.” For some reason, the thought of your kitten being left all by herself makes you sob involuntarily. But you can’t move. Your head is throbbing.

“Doll, you gotta breathe. Focus on something for me, alright?” You draw a shuddering breath, but your gaze is still flitting between the wall, Bucky’s arm, the snow, the men on the ground, your shoes. “Listen to me. What’s your apartment number?”

“4D,” you answer tonelessly. That’s blood right there on the ground. That’s definitely blood being covered by a thin layer of snow right now. It looks almost pink.

You feel another wave of nausea and close your eyes, gulping in huge gasps of cold air. This isn’t real, you keep thinking, it can’t be, even though every single beat of your heart tells you the difference, hammering the truth into your head until you feel dizzy with it. You tilt your head back until you lean against the wall, steadying yourself.

Rational, you tell yourself, hiding your face in your hands, you need to be rational about all this. One deep breath. In. Out.

“Three Men Injured After Attack On Civilian,” you whisper to yourself, trying to keep the bile down. “Read more on 12.”

Usually, it helps you to take a step back from it all, to see any situation through a more neutral lens, if you pretend you’re already reporting on it. Sadly, your brain doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

Maybe if you don’t open your eyes, you’ll just wake up from an ill-advised late afternoon nap and everything will be back to normal.

A loud screeching noise overhead has you flinch.

“It’s okay, it’s just me.” Bucky jumps down the last couple of feet of the fire escape. “I have her, let’s leave.”

Numbly, you follow him through the alleyway back to the street. You’re almost surprised at the noise of the city that seems to come rushing back all at once. Life has continued despite what just happened only a few feet away, people all around you looking none the wiser.

You steal a glance over your shoulder. If you tilt your head just so, you can make out a boot and some of that rose colored snow.

“Don’t look back,” Bucky says quietly.

You turn back to stare at him. It’s only now that you notice his jacket, which is halfway closed now, appears to be moving. Another tiny gasp escapes you when you realize he has your cat tucked safely inside. She’s surprisingly quiet for an unexpected venture into the streets of Manhattan with a man she doesn’t know. In fact, she seems to be enjoying herself, curiously sticking her tiny pink nose outside and watching as you move back towards the crowd.

Maybe you should take a few pointers from her. You take another deep breath.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” you ask, wincing at how hoarse your voice sounds to your own ears.

“They’re already on their way. This isn’t the kind of neighborhood where you can fire a few shots without anyone calling the cops immediately. Stop turning around,” Bucky says and your head shoots back forwards immediately. “Rule number one of not attracting attention is to act normally.”

“Right.” You can’t even remember how normal people walk. Do you usually move your arms this much? Hastily, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets. You feel your useless, dead phone inside, and your fingers clutch around it almost desperately.

“You’re doing great,” Bucky says and you almost laugh. You can still feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, but at least you’re starting to be a bit more aware again, the panic slowly subsiding.

“What just happened back there?” you say through your teeth as you attempt to rearrange your facial features into something that signals casual stroll and not complete shell-shock.

“I was hoping you could tell me that.” Bucky’s scowl radiates neutral disinterest. You try to pull your eyebrows down slightly. “Do you know who sent those men?”

You give up the grimacing. “Of course not!”

“What were they asking for?”

Your heart sinks and you bite your lip to keep your focus in the present. “Kate Bishop. She, she’s my best friend, but I don’t—I can’t imagine what they’d want from her.”

Unless she was telling the truth, something at the back of your head tells you, but it seems so ludicrous. There’s something about Kate, your Kate, working with an Avenger that’s so far away from reality you can’t even put it into words.

Just like some men following you to your doorstep and demanding you tell them where she is.

NYU Student Involved With Organized Crime, you try in your head. Kate Bishop, 22, claims to have been recruited by—nope. Absolutely not.

If Bucky notices your inner conflict, he doesn’t remark on it. “For now, we’ll hide in the crowd in case they kept eyes on your door from a vantage point.”

You accidentally bite down so hard you taste blood. “Is that likely?”

“I don’t know these guys. But better safe than sorry.”

You turn another corner onto one of the larger avenues. Your eyes are pulled to the place next to the crossing where you’d dropped your phone. It couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago, even though you feel like your world has been turned on its head twice over since.

“You were going this way,” you say slowly, looking at Bucky. “Why were you even there when they …” You leave the sentence unfinished.

He coughs slightly. “I noticed one of them following you. Didn’t feel right, so I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“And still are, huh?”

He lets his eyes meet yours again, another lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Still am.”

You’re pretty positive the flutter in your stomach has nothing to do with the leftover adrenaline. Neither does the heat in your cheeks as you look away. “Well, I appreciate it,” you murmur.

If Bucky hears you, he doesn’t answer.

***

“Pretty sure your cat’s asleep.”

Without your phone, you have no way of knowing how long you’ve been walking aimlessly through Midtown and Hell’s Kitchen, changing direction every now and then, seemingly at random. The sun has set completely and the wind has picked up, making the temperatures drop even further. At this point, you can barely feel your toes as you hurry to keep up with Bucky’s long strides.

You peek at his jacket. Your tiny white cat is barely visible anymore, cuddled closely to Bucky’s stomach to keep warm. Once again, you find yourself strangely jealous of her.

“She must really like you. She’s usually very vocal.” Your chuckle comes out in a white cloud of steam. “Her name’s Alpine, by the way.”

“Fitting,” Bucky says, carefully petting her between the ears without waking her. “You still haven’t told me yours.”

“Oh.” You’ve been talking on and off during your walk, mostly pointing out dogs or decorated windows, unimportant things that have kept your mind off the men asking for Kate. Somehow, your name seems to not have come up. “It’s Y/N.”

He repeats it with a smirk. “That’s pretty.”

You can’t say if Bucky Barnes is flirting with you or if he’s just taking the distraction very seriously. Either way, you’re not complaining, because there’s a warmth in the way he says your name that makes your stomach tumble over itself. And your cheeks are on fire. Frozen still and on fire at the same time.

“Why don’t you close your coat?” Bucky asks after you pull it closer around you for what must be the hundredth time.

“Zipper’s broken,” you mumble, tucking your chin into the collar. “It’s fine, the wind is just a bit annoying.”

“Mhm.” Bucky looks at you from the side and you press your tongue between your teeth to keep them from actually chattering, mouth firmly shut. “Hey, let’s go in there for a sec.”

You look up as Bucky’s already marching across the street, heading towards the coffee shop at the corner. Its windows are almost aggressively festive, but the lights inside look cozy and you’re too exhausted from the cold to question much.

Bucky holds the door for you and you sigh as the first gust of warm, sweet air hits your face. It smells like coffee and cinnamon. The cheery Christmas playlist playing on speakers overhead mixes with the sound of the coffee machines and the pleasant chatter of the patrons occupying most of the tables close to the windows. The barista behind the register smiles at you briefly before she busies herself with the drip coffee maker.

“If anyone was following us, we'd have lost them a couple of blocks back,” Bucky quietly answers your question before you can speak up.

He could have said that a couple of blocks back, you think, but bite it back.

“What can I get you guys?” the barista calls over as you follow Bucky to the counter.

“Could I use your restroom?” he asks. You blink in surprise.

“Only if you buy something, I’m afraid,” the barista answers apologetically, glancing at who you assume is her manager behind the pastry case. “Company policy.”

“That’s alright,” you say, stepping up next to him and pulling the loose change out of your coat pocket. “My treat.” It’s the least you can do.

“Oh.” For some reason, Bucky’s ears go slightly pink. “Thank you. I’ll have whatever you’re having, then.”

The barista nods towards the far end of the store. “Upstairs and to the left, code’s A-616.”

“Thanks.” He turns back to you for just a moment, giving you a reassuring little smile. “Back in a minute.”

You nod and watch him walk to the stairs, keeping one arm in his pocket to make the cat-shaped outline of his jacket at least a little more inconspicuous. You only avert your eyes when the barista quietly clears her throat to get your attention, grinning when she does.

“Your boyfriend’s cute,” she remarks lightly as she rings up your order.

“Ah. No, yeah, he’s—”

“What name do you want me to put on the cups?” she asks, oblivious to your embarrassment.

Well, shit. You should’ve thought about this. Do you give her your real name when there’s people out there possibly still looking for you? Probably not. A fake one, then, but which one? The barista’s name, according to the writing next to a little red-nosed reindeer on her name tag, is Lucy, so you suddenly find yourself unable to think of any other name on the planet.

Wow, you really aren’t cut out for this whole being on the run thing. Terrible Liar: Local Reporter Blanks on Basic Question. More on her move to the moon on page 3.

By the time Bucky returns, you’re tucked into a corner farthest from the window, two red paper cups sat in front of you, almost done with destroying the paper sleeve around one of them. You feel yourself slowly defrosting as you sip your hot coffee.

“Here,” he says, shoving something blue over the table as he sits down. “Put this on.”

It takes you half a second to realize he’s not wearing his navy sweater anymore. Instead, you can make out the outline of maybe the tightest black t-shirt you’ve ever seen on anyone, no longer hidden underneath the additional layer. You swallow heavily.

“I can tell you’re freezing, you know,” Bucky says, clearly amused at your flustered reaction. “Don’t make me beg.”

You’re starting to wonder why he even saved you earlier if his intention, evidently, is to kill you. Real life or a movie? The lines are weirdly starting to blur. “If you’re sick of my beautiful dinosaur sweater, you could just admit it,” you say, voice slightly straining as you slip out of your coat sleeves.

“Never,” he smiles, picking up his drink and looking at Lucy’s pretty cursive with a frown. “Why does this say Steve?”

“I panicked,” you groan as you pull his sweater over your head inelegantly. It’s still warm from Bucky wearing it, and it already smells like a mix of him and your cat. You could get used to this scent, you think with another stutter of your heart.

You emerge to an even deeper frown on Bucky’s face.

“What’s in this?” he asks, looking down at his cup.

“Christmassy goodness,” you answer, taking another sip from your own drink.

“It tastes like liquid sugar.” There’s the tiniest wrinkle in his nose.

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” he says, taking another sip as if to prove his point. “I just expected coffee.”

“It is coffee. Well, underneath the syrup.”

“If you say so.”

You shake your head in fake outrage at the blatant disrespect for your favorite holiday drink.

“How’s your head?” Bucky asks in a low voice, and the feeling of contentment vanishes again. For a few moments you almost forgot why you’re here, living in the fantasy Lucy the barista has provided you with, winking in your direction behind her register.

“It’s fine, really. I’m just tired.” You sigh. “And I wish I could talk to Kate.”

“Have you tried calling her?”

You grin mirthlessly. “Phone’s dead, remember?”

“You can use mine,” he offers, hand already reaching into his pocket.

“That’s sweet,” you say hastily, “but I don’t know her number.”

“You don’t know her number?”

You snort at his slightly incredulous tone. “No one knows anyone’s number these days, sarge. Last time I had to remember one I was still in middle school.”

Bucky shakes his head, but doesn’t comment further. He keeps the fingers of his left hand tucked into a loose fist on the table, you notice, still not taking off the gloves even though it is blessedly warm in here. You’re even starting to feel the tip of your nose again.

“Does your friend get into this sorta trouble a lot, then?”

You laugh. “Trouble? Yes. Trouble that involves Avengers and strange men with guns? That’s a first, even for Kate.” Fact or Folly: Fury Hires Young Crack Shot for Avengers Initiative. If true, it would be a fun article to break except for the fact either way, your best friend is in danger. “I just don’t get it. I talked to her just a few hours ago and she was fine, I mean she was a bit wound up because of college, but everything was normal and now …” You sigh. “I just wish everything could be normal again.”

Bucky nods slowly. “I can’t help with that. But nothing’s gonna happen to you again, alright? I’ll make sure of it.”

“Why are you doing all this? You don’t have to.”

“No, but I want to.”

You don’t know what to say to that so you just stare at your empty cup of coffee and wait for Bucky to finish his.

“What about you, then?” he asks instead.

“What about me?”

“Do you get into trouble a lot?” His voice is light, clearly trying to get you out of your own head again, and it works like a charm.

“Not apart from pissing people off. I work for the Examiner.”

“Ah.”

You stop ripping the paper sleeve into even smaller shreds. “What do you mean, ah?”

“Nothing. You’re a journalist.” Technically, you’re an underperforming columnist who gets most of her salary through writing the obituaries on the side, but you’re not about to correct him. “It just explains a few things.”

“Like what, exactly?” You cross your arms in fake offence.

“The amount of sugar in your supposed coffee. The newspapers on your dining table.” Right. He was in your apartment. “The fact that you look at everyone around you like you’re trying to find a story.”

Your heart drops at the same time as your grin. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“That wasn’t an insult. Just an observation.” You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. “I’ve met a few crazy reporters in my time, you don’t strike me as the type.”

“Maybe my crazy’s just more subtle,” you say.

“Your subtle is throwing your shopping at an armed guy’s face, doll,” he retorts with a lazy grin. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Point taken.” You groan. “Do you think people are gonna believe ‘sorry but your presents were lost at a crime scene’ or will I have to buy all of that stuff again?”

“Tough call.” Bucky finishes the dregs of his coffee and you grin at the way his face twitches at the amount of syrup that has accumulated near the bottom. “Some of it might’ve survived, you should take a look first before you spend more money. I just dropped ‘em in the hall though.”

You stare at him incredulously. “You are a hero in every sense of the word, Sergeant Barnes, you know that, right?”

“And you’re very dramatic.” It doesn’t escape you that despite his dismissive words, his ears flush a deeper shade of pink again. “Bucky’s fine, by the way.”

“Well, thank you, Bucky. Seriously.” He doesn’t look away this time, either. Just keeps looking at you until you feel that pleasant warm tingling in your stomach again. You ignore it. “I guess I should head back home again, anyway.”

You grimace slightly at the thought. Maybe the cops are still there. You probably can’t escape answering their questions forever even if they aren’t. Examiner Pen-Pusher Questioned for Battery. Wonderful.

“You don’t have to go back yet,” Bucky says, once again nonchalantly reading you like a book.

“No, it’s fine,” you lie. “I can’t stay here all night, and Alpine needs food, and, you know …”

“You can take my couch for the night, if you want.”

“I don’t wanna impose.”

“You ain’t. I’m offering.” He hesitates for a moment before adding, “Besides, I’d feel more comfortable not leaving you alone quite yet.”

The thought of not having to return to your dark apartment for the time being eases your anxiety somewhat. “Okay,” you whisper.

Bucky smiles at your admission and pulls his chair back, moving gently as to not stir Alpine too much. “Shall we?”

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the fogged up windows of the coffee shop as you’re leaving. With your own sweater underneath, his makes you look like a giant blue potato. Not to mention it clashes horribly with your coat. Another point for the not-a-movie list.

“I look ridiculous,” you snicker as you try and fail to pull your coat at least somewhat closed around you again. “Aren’t you gonna be freezing?”

“Not at all,” Bucky answers. There’s something in his voice that makes a shiver run down your spine, and when you look up, the warmth in his eyes heats up your cheeks until you step back outside into the snow, always one step behind him.

Eyes like that should be illegal, you decide.

***

You’re not sure what you expected Bucky Barnes’ apartment to look like before you got invited inside one long subway journey later, but even after the day you’ve had, he still manages to surprise you. Though, maybe you should’ve expected his space to be simple, neat, straightforward. It makes sense for the version of him you’ve started to get to know.

There’s not a lot of furniture. There’s not a lot of space. It’s barely larger than your college dorms were, if you’re really honest, but unlike those, Bucky’s walls are empty and there’s barely anything to suggest anyone is actually moved in, apart from a small stack of books on a table next to the couch. The kitchen looks a lot nicer, though. A single glass door leads onto a Juliet balcony.

Alpine has woken up again and starts talking loudly until Bucky lets her out of his jacket. She jumps to the floor gracefully and marches off to inspect the singular pillow on the floor.

“I’d offer you a tour, but … what you see’s what you get,” Bucky says with a shrug.

You’re not so sure about that. “It’s nice,” you tell him instead. You turn around slowly, taking it all in. “You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?”

“Why?” Bucky asks, leaning against the kitchen counter with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s just …” You gesture at the bare counter space. “Not very lived in.” Nothing that seems precious enough to come back for.

“I don’t like clutter.”

You feel like that’s not entirely true either, but decide to drop it. In the meantime, Alpine is eyeing the couch as if contemplating which leg to gnaw at first. You quickly bend to pick her up before that, but she makes a run for it, surprisingly fast for her size, and hides behind Bucky’s legs, meowing dismally.

“Alright, I see how it is,” you say, sitting down on the floor in shock of the open betrayal.

“I’m sure it’s nothing personal,” Bucky says, barely able to hide his grin. Alpine glowers at you. “D’you mind if I turn on the TV?”

You shake your head. It’s late enough for the two of you to have missed the 10 p.m. news, so the first thing flickering across the monitor is a weather report about the “unexpected blizzard hitting Manhattan earlier today” that quickly cuts to commercials. The volume is set quite low, more background noise than anything else.

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks after a somewhat awkward pause, clearing his throat.

You feel strangely reassured in the fact that you’re not the only one who doesn’t really know what to do now that you’re not actively running from anything. “Maybe a little.”

“That’s good, because I’m afraid I only have leftovers.”

Another commercial with an annoying jingle comes on and suddenly, you’re very awake as a memory flashes past your inner eye. You couldn’t have been older than ten or twelve, and you and Kate had been begging your parents to let you stay with Kate’s aunt for the holidays because her place was close to the ice rink you’d go to. Your parents finally agreed under the condition that the two of you report back at a certain time each afternoon. And for emergencies, they had you remember her phone number.

You’ve always been shit with numbers, struggling to memorize the stupid thing until you put it to a melody like you saw the car commercials on TV do. Specifically, this very melody that a local convenience store apparently still uses for their holiday sale.

“Hey, could I borrow your phone for a second, please?” Bucky doesn’t question your mood swing, just hands you a kind of flip phone you haven’t seen since 2013. “Thanks.”

You lock yourself in the tiny bathroom and sit down on the closed toilet seat, contemplating the number pad. She might have changed her number, and even if she hasn’t, she might not be home. In fact, she probably isn't. You’re pretty certain she usually spends Christmas down in Florida.

So yeah, it’s a slim chance, but it’s your only idea for the time being. And maybe it gets you somewhere.

Continuing to hum the jingle, you enter the number and press the call button. A few seconds pass as you drum your fingers on your leg. Then—

“Brandon residence,” a suspiciously cheery voice singsongs on the other end. It almost makes you drop the phone.

“Why would you pick up the phone?” someone you don’t recognize asks in the background.

“Kate!” you hiss, releasing the breath you were holding in relief.

“Because technically, I’m house sitting, that’s literally what I’m supposed to do! Sorry, what?”

“Kate, what on earth is going on?!”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Y/N?”

“Yes, it’s me!” You drag your hand across your face. “There were people at my apartment asking about you. Waving their guns in my face.”

“Shit.” There’s a bumping sound and a distant crash, followed by a string of curses, and you’re positive Kate just jumped up and into a table. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I got away.” You glance at the mirror. Your temple is a bit swollen from where you hit the Dumpster and your lips are basically bitten raw, but overall, you’ve looked worse. “I’m safe. Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, I’m—do you mind?” There’s some quiet bickering and the sound of a door slamming closed before Kate speaks again, her voice echoing like she’s sat down in the bathroom as well. “How did you even know I was at my aunt’s place?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. My phone broke and her landline was the only number I remembered.”

“Your phone broke—where are you right now? Do you want me to come get you?”

“No!” You stand up again. There’s not enough room to properly pace, so you basically just keep turning around. “Definitely not, you’re in a lot more danger than I am. And you’re going to tell me why.”

So she does, filling you in properly on the past couple of days while you walk in small circles around Bucky’s bathroom until you’re dizzy. “Your turn,” she finally says when your head is spinning with Hawkeye and the suit and the actual mob. “Whose phone are you calling from, exactly?”

“Right. Uhm.” You close your eyes. “I’m actually at Bucky Barnes’ apartment right now?”

There’s a prolonged silence on the other end.

“Kate?”

“I’m sorry,” she says slowly. “I was just processing. What?!”

“Geez,” you say at the unexpectedly loud exclamation and quickly summarize your strange afternoon. “In other words,” you finish, “I think i retain the privilege of processing time.”

Kate ignores you. “Wait a second, hold on, you had coffee with him?”

“Because I was freezing.”

“And now you’re gonna spend the night.”

“On his couch,” you gasp.

“Right, of course. Mhm.” You can almost see her shit-eating grin.

“Don’t mhm me! Get your mind out of the gutter, Bishop.”

“My mind’s fine where it is, thank you.”

“Come on,” you laugh. “I am severely worried about the thing you’re taking away from this whole situation.”

“You sound like you’re fine. And I really needed something to take my mind off this whole situation, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart.” The background noises at her end are getting louder again.

You bite your lip. “Stay safe, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You know me.”

“That’s exactly why I’m telling you,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Kate snorts. “I promise. I’ll see you next week, right?”

“Right.” You smile. “Bring the dog!”

“Love you, too.”

You end the call with a fond shake of your head, though not before you hear Kate sing teasingly, “have fuun”.

She knows you well, of course, you think, staring at yourself in the mirror again. She’s more than long familiar with your horrible tendency of being a hopeless romantic in any situation, let alone the one you’re currently in. Well, it ends now, you tell your reflection.

The look in her eyes doesn’t convince you.

When you leave the bathroom, you find Bucky sitting on the floor in front of his couch, entertaining Alpine with a piece of string he produced from somewhere in your absence. It’s such an unexpectedly domestic sight it almost stops you in your tracks. Your resolve quietly vanishes off the face of the earth.

“Is your friend okay, then?” The surprise must be visible on your face, because he grimaces apologetically and adds, “thin walls.”

Great. Just great.

“She’s fine.” You lean against the kitchen counter, still twisting his phone around in your hands. “She’s with Hawkeye, apparently. At her aunt’s place.”

Bucky frowns. “I thought Barton retired.”

“Maybe there’s no retirement for heroes.”

“Yeah.” A shadow seems to fall over his eyes, but it passes quickly. “Can Alpine have sushi?”

“She’s been buttering you up, hasn’t she?” Alpine meows loudly, as if protesting such an accusation. You feel yourself relaxing at the change of topic.

Bucky grins boyishly. “Only a little.”

“Any shrimp or avocado’s fine, but don’t give her raw fish.”

“Gotcha.” He picks Alpine up in one hand as he stands, placing her next to you on the counter. He’s pulled off his gloves, you notice. “Sorry, I haven’t had a cat in … ninety years?”

He has really nice hands. You wonder if his metal fingers are cool to the touch or if they run hot like the rest of him. No. “You’re forgiven as long as you don’t spoil her.”

“Now who would want that?”

“You say that now. She’s not serenading you at 3 a.m. Little devil,” you add more quietly while Bucky rummages through the fridge. Alpine mews indignantly as you scratch her between the ears. “Heartbreaking: Local Cat Has Never Been Fed in Entire Life, Claims Local Cat. Read full quote on page 10.”

“What?”

“Nothing!” To Alpine’s dismay, you drop your hand immediately, evading his amused gaze. “Do you need help with that?”

You really need to get a grip on yourself, you think miserably as you eat your dinner on the couch, Alpine stretched out between the two of you, paws basically attached to Bucky’s arm as she keeps begging for food. You literally just met the guy.

Even though it already feels longer, somehow. There’s something about Bucky that makes you feel strangely at home, even in an apartment as empty as this one. Something that makes it almost impossible to look away from him.

“What are you staring at me like that for, doll?”

Unless you are reminded once again that subtlety is not your strong suit. Quit It, Dumbass: Still Not A Movie. “No reason.”

But there’s a certain spark in his eye you find yourself missing as soon as you turn your head.

“Alright,” Bucky says, pulling up one leg on the couch to face you properly. Alpine crawls onto his lap and settles there, purring in content. You bite your tongue. “Let’s have it.”

“Have what?”

“The story.”

You blink. “What story?”

“You have that look again.” He leans back, still watching you. “Humor me. What are you gettin’?”

It strikes you, then, that he’s waiting for you to elaborate on your perception of him. Which is a horrible idea for numerous obvious reasons, starting with the fact you haven’t had a single clear thought since he handed you your phone back.

Not that you’re complaining.

“Well,” you say to buy time, letting your gaze wander over the empty walls again. “You’re not keen on letting just anyone see what’s going on inside your head, which makes sense. And yet you invite me in, after knowing me for less than a day, to eat leftovers on your couch. So that’s an interesting juxtaposition.”

The TV is still quietly rambling on in the background. You catch a glimpse of the trailer for It’s A Wonderful Life, “the classic holiday tale on Christmas Day, 8/7 central”. It makes you think of something else.

“It’s also only a couple of days til the holidays and everybody I know is invited to some party a friend of a friend is throwing or buying last-minute presents.” You gesture at yourself. “But you’re doing neither. You’re not celebrating at all, are you?”

Bucky shrugs with one shoulder. “Not exactly religious these days.”

“I don’t mean that,” you say, swallowing heavily. “I think you might be isolating yourself because all of this Christmas spirit stuff is a bit much, but that also means you’re alone during this time. And lonely.”

There’s a heavy pause. Bucky’s jaw is clenched slightly, but he doesn’t meet your eye.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, “I had no right to say any of that, I—that was stupid, I don’t—”

“It wasn’t,” he interrupts you. “I asked you, and you were honest. Nothing wrong with that.” He turns his head towards you, and the grin tugging at the corner of his lips is almost genuine. “You must be a pretty good journalist.”

You laugh. “Not really.”

“Why not? You’re observant.”

“Believe it or not, people don’t tend to wanna read that. Or any of the stuff I wanna write.” You tilt your head back until you’re leaning against the back of the couch.

“They should,” Bucky says.

Your mouth opens to tell him that he doesn’t even know your writing, so how could he possibly know that, but the expression on his face makes you lose your point. He looks raw, like you’ve stripped him bare of the mask you weren’t even sure he was wearing a few minutes ago, and yet he’s composed in a strange way that borders on contentment.

Yeah, you don’t want to look at anything but his eyes ever again, his beautiful, heavy, midnight blue eyes that seem lighter than they have before. Almost azure. For a moment, almost imperceptibly short, they flicker to your lips.

The air shifts with it.

“I’m not lonely right now,” he says lowly, and your head is whirring.

“Guess not,” you say. His face is even lovelier up close. You barely notice yourself moving.

Then of course, Alpine decides she’s had enough of all this and loudly starts commanding the attention be redirected to her again. The buzzing in your ears stops.

Bucky tickles her between the ears with a low chuckle. “I’m starting to see what you mean.”

“Mhm.” You hide your face between your hands, your heart still going a mile a minute. “She usually settles down around now, but she was asleep all evening, so you’re really gonna love having us for the next couple hours.”

“I’ll survive.” You can feel him get up, followed by the noise of your plates being cleared away. “What about you?” he asks. “Tired?”

“Exhausted,” you realize. The past few hours are starting to catch up with you.

There’s a spare toothbrush in Bucky’s cabinet, and once you return from the bathroom, he has the sofa set up for you, ignoring your weak protests about taking it from him.

“I don’t sleep much, anyway,” he says. Finally, you give in.

Your eyes fall shut as soon as you lie down, but you find that your thoughts are still too loud to shut down quite yet. For some reason, you keep going back to your first meeting.

“Bucky?” you say, and he hums. “Do you think we’d have met again? You know, without those tracksuits following me?”

Bucky doesn’t answer for a whole minute and you’re lying there, quietly panicking. “I hope so,” he finally says, barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat.

You listen to his slow breaths until you fall asleep.

***

A crashing sound wakes you only a few hours later.

For a moment you’re confused about the crick in your neck and the way your back presses against the sofa cushions. Reality comes back with the next crash and Alpine’s paw in your face.

“Bucky?” you whisper, clutching the blanket more tightly in your fist.

“I’m here.” The relief his low voice brings you is instant, but your heart still races.

Slowly you raise your head. Bucky is standing next to the window, looking down at the street.

“What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure.” His frown is visible even in the pale light of the street lamps outside. “I’ll go downstairs and check. You stay here.”

He’s in his shoes before you can even react, throwing on his leather jacket. You stumble to your feet, clutching Alpine to your chest. For once, she doesn’t protest.

“But Bucky—”

He catches you by the shoulders. “Hey. I’ll take care of it, alright? It’s probably nothing.” You nod slowly, because what else can you do? Bucky gives you a tiny reassuring smile that doesn’t make the frown disappear.

You follow him to the door, swallowing down the bad feeling in your stomach. “Be careful,” you whisper as he makes his way to the staircase. There’s no way he could have heard you, even though it almost seems like he’s about to turn his head back towards you.

He doesn’t, though. You close the door, leaning your forehead against it and taking another deep breath. In. Out. It’s probably just a stray dog or something.

“Geez, I thought he’d never leave.”

You don’t scream. Not a single sound leaves your lips as you turn, slowly, your head throbbing with dread.

A figure steps out of the shadows next to the glass door, which definitely wasn’t ajar a minute ago. Her voice had you expect someone taller than the young woman in front of you. In the moonlight, her blonde hair looks almost white.

“What a day, ah?” She crosses her arms, sizing you up, smiling. “Don’t worry, I will not hurt you. Or your cat. I am just here to talk, okay.”

“About what?” You’re almost surprised your voice doesn’t waver. She doesn’t seem to be armed, which is something, you suppose.

She smirks. “Kate Bishop.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh, I know who you are, Y/N Y/L/N. You are a writer, yes?” It seems to be a rhetorical question, because she throws her hands up and keeps talking. “Your column, it’s,” she makes a gesture that indicates her head exploding, “very good writing. Very funny!”

“Thank you?” you say tonelessly. The door is just behind you.

“Look, I’ll be brief,” she sighs. “Where—”

The sound of a car alarm blaring directly under the window outside interrupts her mid sentence, and she’s distracted for a short moment, clearly affronted. You don’t need more.

Throwing the door open, you start towards the elevator, sliding down the corridor in nothing but your socks. You just have to make it downstairs. Your grip on Alpine tightens. Too much.

“Please don’t make me run!” the woman shouts behind you, exasperated. “Did you hear the part about me not going to hurt you also?”

You yelp as Alpine extends all her claws at the same time, leaving tiny, but surprisingly painful scratches all over your hand. With a wail, she wriggles out of your clutch and starts clambering up the stairs, surprisingly fast for her size.

“Come on!” you cry, running after her. You can hear the woman already following behind you, so you swoop the protesting cat back into your arms and continue rushing upstairs, breathing heavily.

“You Americans are very distrustful, you know that?” you hear one level down.

The door to the roof is unlocked. You tumble outside and the icy wind starts tearing into you immediately. The snow has stopped, but there’s a thin layer of white covering the city.

You throw your head around, looking for the fire escape or any other means back to the ground floor. There appears to be none. Panting and shivering, you reach the edge of the roof and confirm what you already feared; you’re trapped up here.

“What did you do that for?” You turn back around to see the woman approach you once again, looking slightly annoyed now. “You had me run in my—it’s my evening off, these are new shoes. They are not comfortable for running.”

“Should have thought that through before you go around threatening people,” you say before you can stop herself. Her nonchalant demeanor unsettles you.

“I did no such thing!” she exclaims in fake offence. At least you think it’s fake. “I know you are not involved in this, those guys down there did some really sloppy work.” She blows a strand of hair out of her face. “Anyway, I took care of it. They should leave you alone now. I just hate it when things get messy for no reason, you know? Don’t you hate that?”

You’re shivering violently now, enough for Alpine to jump out of your arms again and run back towards the still open door. You watch her helplessly.

“Sure,” you reply weakly, not really understanding what’s going on. “But why would you do that?”

“Like I said, I like your writing,” the young woman says, unexpectedly somber for a moment. You can’t quite figure her out. “That was what I was going to tell you. And, ehh …” There’s a pause, as if she’s trying to think of the other thing. “Where is Clint Barton?”

“I don’t know that,” you say. It’s not even a lie, Kate had only told you they were continuing their “investigations”.

The woman only shrugs, not particularly shocked by your answer. “Ah, worth a try. I will find him tomorrow. You can tell Kate Bishop you’re fine, yes? I took care of you.”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

She smiles again. “Good!”

There’s a crashing sound that makes both of you turn.Bucky appears in the doorway, aiming a gun straight at the woman’s head. “Get away from her, now.”

“Oh, that is so annoying.” She rolls her eyes and then glances back at you with a little pout as if looking for your sympathy. “And we were just starting to get along.”

“I said now!”

She sighs, completely unperturbed be the weapon in her back. “It really was nice meeting you. This is nothing personal.”

And before you can open your mouth to ask what, she kicks your feet out from under you. You land on your funny bone with a sharp cry at the same time Bucky fires. He misses, the woman sidestepping the shot easily before she kicks him in the arm, trying to get him to let go of the gun.

You struggle back up to your feet as Bucky keeps a deathgrip on the weapon, pointing it at her arm instead. “Don’t!” you shout.

His gaze shifts to you for a millisecond, but it’s enough of a distraction. The weapon lands on the ground and you flinch backwards automatically, slipping on the icy ground and losing your balance. You shriek as you fall, hands catching the edge of the roof at the last second. You’re barely holding on by your fingertips, your eyes watering as you try to get a better grip.

There’s another shot, and Bucky shouts your name, but your blood is rushing so loudly in your ears, you barely hear him over the sound of the wind. Maybe if you can just stretch your arm a little more, you can hold onto a different—

You lose your grasp.

Time seems to slow down as you’re falling between the whirling flakes of snow you take down with you. What a stupid way to die, you think, with everything else going on.

And then, at the very last second, he catches you. You stumble, your knees weak as Bucky hoists you back over the ledge and you collapse in his arms, shaking. He picks you up with ease, hugging you tightly, all inhibitions lost.

“You’re okay, doll,” he says into your ear. “It’s over, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Over his shoulder, you can see the woman still standing there, her stoic façade not quite wavering. She nods at you shortly before turning her back.

You press closer into Bucky, burying your nose in his warm neck. He smells even nicer than his sweater did, and you inhale the scent in shaky gulps until you feel your breathing slowing again.

“Hey Bucky?” you whisper. “I think I just almost died.”

He sighs heavily. “I’m so sorry, doll, I never should have left you alone, I—”

“I just almost died because my cat ran up the stairs.” It stops him in his apologetic ramblings long enough for you to suppress a hysterical giggle. You just almost died. Suddenly, with the adrenaline still rushing through your system, the next question doesn’t seem that big of a deal anymore. “Do you wanna get coffee again sometime?”

Bucky laughs, then, a low, relieved laugh you feel vibrate against your chest. It’s beautiful. “How about dinner?”

You hum. “Maybe a really boring movie afterwards.”

His lips move against your ear. “Sounds perfect.”

No, you truly didn’t see your day going like this. But right now, safely wrapped up in Bucky’s embrace, even after everything else you don’t mind it that much.

please leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed this, it's the best way to support writers on here 💛

i also just had to include this, i'm not even sorry.

[finelinevogue]

hii im so sorry to bother, i’m trying to find a fic where harry and reader are best friends and its about how he wrote fine line for her and they listen to it together for the first time?? sorry again it’s ok if u don’t want to answer!!

hi i’m really bad at finding fics for people but maybe ask like a fic rec account idk?? i decided to write my own for you, though, in case you never find the others again!! i’m not sure whether it’ll be as good as the others but i enjoyed writing it;

Harry was really fucking nervous.

You were currently setting yourself up on the couch, along with Mitch, Jeff, Tyler and Kid, about to listen to Harry’s album for the first time. You were tucked on an arm chair by yourself and had a blanket draped over your body to keep you warm. The rest of the guys were on the L-shaped sofa, passing out beers between them. This was such a big day for Harry, because he would get to see you listen to his heart and soul through Fine Line.

This past year had been really hard for him, what with losing a relationship with Camille Rowe. Despite what had gone down between the two of them you thought that she hadn’t been a good person for Harry to be around, but that might be your jealous-ego speaking a bit too loudly. Jealous, because he had given his heart to someone that wasn’t you when your heart was waiting for him. Jealous, because you loved him so much and yet you were his best friend. You knew exactly who and what this album was going to be about, and it pained you that you’d have to lie about whether you were okay listening to it.

You weren’t, but you were his best friend so you had to be.

“Corona or San Miguel H?” Mitch asked Harry, from where he was setting up the audio features in his house so he could bluetooth his phone to the ceiling speakers. He was going to put those bloomin’ speakers to use since he paid a legs worth to install them.

“Don’t mind, Mitchy.” He shouted back and you smiled at the simpleness of this whole situation.

You loved getting to see Harry in his real life. He was so soft and comfortable with the people around him and you were honoured that you got to be one of the people to see him like this. You were his best friend after-all, so he’d want no one else by his side but you. You calmed him and grounded him when he needed it most and he owed a lot of his success to you, that’s why he was letting you listen to the first run-through of the final product. That, and he wanted his inspiration to hear how’d you’d impacted him.

“Y/N?” Mitch held up both bottles of beer and was silently asking you to choose.

“I’ll just stick to my cuppa tea, thanks Itch.” Don’t ask why you called him ‘Itch’, but you just did and it had stuck. He liked that he’d been given a nickname though - one different from anyone else.

Harry came into the room, beaming with happiness. He was wearing cream coloured pants with a blue and white striped shirt, an added bandana around his neck for good measure. He wore bright pink socks on his feet and had his sunglasses tucked into his hair as always. He looked just like your Harry from 18 years ago, but just with a beard, a tan and tattoos. He was still yours, even if he didn’t quite see that.

He walked past Mitch to claim his beer and thanked him along the way. You thought he was going to sit with his buddies, but he came over to sit with his best buddy instead.

“Up.” He demanded of you, making a grabby hand as if that was miraculously going to make you get up. You didn’t question him and just did as you were told, gripping the blanket still around you. Harry tucked himself onto the chair that you’d just been sat on and then pulled at your waist for you to sit back down, on his lap this time.

This, right here in this moment, is the reason why people often mistook you for being a couple. Not that you complained or corrected when they did.

“I’m not squishing you am I?” You asked, tilting your head to the side to catch his pretty face.

“No, not at all love.” He smiled at you, before turning back to the rest of the room - no matter how hard that might’ve been for him. He’d pick looking at you all day, every day, over anything, but he was so oblivious to you feeling exactly the same way that he didn’t want to seem like a creep - you, likewise.

“Ready for this H?” Tyler asked, his long jesus-hair reminding you of what Mitch’s used to be - what Harry’s used to be.

“Wonder what the trumpets on Watermelon Sugar are gonna sound like?” Kid asked, knowing how badly Harry had wanted to add trumpets to the song but had never stayed around long enough to actually hear them be added. He was in for a treat.

“You named a song Watermelon Sugar?” You chuckled at him and Harry frowned at how you were so quick to tease him, before even listening to the song.

He poked your side with his free hand - you knew this was a bad idea sitting in his lap.

“Oi no more spoilers, otherwise this one is never gonna want to make me play it out loud.” He spoke to the wider group, still tickling his fingers into your side like the wanker that he was.

You huffed and grabbed his sunglasses off his head and placing them on your face, covering your eyes over. They had an orange tint to them and it was trippy to see the world a little more burnt. Harry was quick to whip them back off your face, nearly poking out your eye in the process, and putting them bad on his messy head of hair.

“Woah! I looked good in them too, dickhead.” You scoffed at him, bringing your mug of tea up to drink.

“Yeah, but I wanna see your face when you listen to m’songs.” He replied, the tea steaming up your face a bit - or was it him?

“God, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“Only 12 songs.”

“I don’t have enough facial expressions to get me through 12 songs.” You tried to joke, putting him at ease because you could tell that he was becoming very nervous over the fact that he was showing you his most treasured baby.

“Just promise me you’ll tell me if y’hate something.” Harry made it clear that your opinion was his most important from the start of this project, and he needed it now more than ever. You’d only been let in the studio to head clips of some of the melodies and Harry would sometimes ask you for words that rhymed with other words, but you hadn’t fully heard any songs and you certainly hadn’t heard the album in full. It was both exciting and terrifying.

“Could never hate anything you produce, sunshine.” You turned to smile at him, tuning out the conversations that the other lads were having in the room.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Harry spoke sincerely, looking deep into your eyes to convey that he really meant it.

“For what?”

“For just being here. For supporting me. I feel like I don’t thank you enough for everything you do for me and have done for me, so thank you.” You choked up a bit over his words, finding your heart tighten and expand at how precious he was. He always managed to find ways to make your heart take more of him.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” You shook your head at him like he was being silly.

“I do, so will you just humour me and take the gesture?”

“Okay.”

You had to turn away from him, otherwise he would see your tears in your eyes and you didn’t want him to see them. At least not yet. You didn’t want him to think you were so overly emotional just because of some little words he said to you, however much they weren’t just little words to you.

“Ready?” Jeff asked, before he could press play on the phone that held the album on. A phone that had been purchased specifically for the album and had no trace to Harrys phone or anything, for the protection against it being hacked.

There were a few nods of heads and a couple of yes’, but you just focused on Harry’s words; “This is for you.”

You couldn’t get any words in before the introduction to the first started playing. It started off as some sort of piano and cymbal playing that made you almost want to get out of chair an start tapping your foot. You jolted back as the prime of the song started, making Harry chuckle at your reaction. The song made your feel so happy and all you’d heard was melodies.

“Oh I loved making this one!” Mitch exclaimed, shooting back a sip of his drink. Everyone looked really happy over this song and so you couldn’t help but smile too.

“Let me guess, Golden?” You asked.

“Mhm.” Harry nodded, proud of you for guessing right.

The lyrics were so well written and they fit the melody so well. It was such a happy and upbeat song, but you could hear the sadness behind the lyrics. His pitch was perfect and the way he complimented his own voice was beautiful. The bridge sounded like a little fairy dance and it made you dance a bit - it was just so catchy.

“Damn that guitar though Mitch!” Tyler shouted above the noise, praising Mitch’s skill on the guitar. He was a beast.

“Oh man this song is just so good!” Kid exclaimed, tapping his hands away on his leg to the song.

When you felt the song come to an end, the lyrics fading out and the tinkering of the cymbal continuing you felt so elated. That was such a go-happy song and if that was only the start of the album, you couldn’t wait to hear what else was to come. You felt Harry’s gaze on you and you just had to look at him. He was looking at you with nervous anticipation.

“Put me outta my misery already.” He said and bit his lip, waiting to hear what you had to say.

“I think that you’re so golden.” You smiled and he knew, no matter how cornily, that you had loved the song.

“Hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

No, he didn’t.

You looked at him again, knowing what he was thinking and feeling so engaged by his love in that moment. You wanted to learn the meaning behind the song and all the rest you’d get to hear. You were desperate to understand the way he felt whilst writing the songs and listen to the story that went along with the lyrics. He was a very private man, but for you he was so open. It made you think about the lyric in Golden; ‘I know that you’re scared because i’m so open’ and how it fitted perfectly to your relationship with him, which got you thinking more about the lyrics and what the song meant to him.

“Fuck, Harry, that was such a buzz!” Jeff shouted, breaking the moment between you and Harry. You looked away from him, after scrutinising every minute detail on his face, and coughed under your breath ready to listen to the next song.

“Yeah, thanks man.” Harry chuckled, only thinking about the last minute he’d spent looking into your eyes and your beauty and how much you truly meant to him. It was like he needed listening to his new music, which some was written about you, with you to make him understand the importance and significance of you in his life - to him.

He needed you more than a best friend. Want wasn’t a part of it anymore.

“Watermelon Sugar?” Jeff teased.

“Let’s have it!” Tyler replied.

“So excited to hear this trumpets, bro.” Kid spoke quieter now as the song began to play. It was so magical getting to see people so infatuated with music, like it was a passion within their soul. It made you want to learn and understand it all more. You wanted to under Harry’s world that bit more.

Another happy-feels kind of song.

“This is cute.” You told him.

“Cute, yet highly erotic.” He corrected you, making you shoot your head to watch him drink a sip of his beer.

“What?” You laughed.

“Just listen, y’pest.”

And you did. Fuck, he was right. This song was more than the strawberry picnic it sounded like it should be about. It wasn’t talking about the strawberries on the summer evening, it was about what pussy tasted like on a summer evening and how it tasted like strawberries. Watermelons too. It was about the euphoric pleasures of giving head and receiving it too. Harry’s lyrics sounded like he was starved for this kind of pleasure. He’d never wanted to taste something so badly.

It reminded you of the picnic you’d had with him. It had been around the end of june, beginning of July, and you were back in Holmes Chapel to see friends and family. He’d taken a picnic for you both and you’d gone to sit by a stream to eat it. It had been such a beautiful day. Full of laughter, watermelon and strawberries— My god. He was painting a picture of this exact evening through music. You wiggled in your posture, trying to ignore the feeling of your pussy heating up at the thought of Harry having such erotic thoughts over you. Had he really thought about what you tasted like? And wrote it in a fucking song to tell the whole world?

“Is this…” You couldn’t even finish the question. Hell, you didn’t even know what the question really was.

“You’re pretty darn good for inspiration Y/N.” He whispered in your ear, trying to make sure you didn’t run your arse over the stiffie he was now sporting in his trousers.

“Guess I can’t tease the song anymore.” You whispered back, earning a private low chuckle from the boy you were dying to make yours behind you. You were only two songs into listening to his album, yet you felt like the dynamic between the two of you was shifting - had shifted. You felt like he was becoming yours as he opened himself up through the art of his music.

“Keep teasing me though, sunflower. Get my inspiration from you, remember?” And there it was again - the butterflies in your stomach from your best friend. Should you really be thinking these things about your best friend? Then again, he was clearly thinking these things about you.

“Those trumpets, man!” Kid wolf-whistled and stomped his feet on the ground in love of the song.

“Oh shut up about y’bloody trumpets!” Harry laughed, making everyone else laugh.

“Sounded good H.” Mitch added, smiling at his best friend in pride.

“All you Mitchy.” Harry said, knowing Mitch had done a great deal of the melody writing on that particular track.

“Can’t take all the credit.” Mitch winked over in your direction and you thought he’d been winking at Harry, but when Harrys hand came and rested on your thigh - squeezing it slightly - you second guessed that maybe he had been winking at you. You cleared your throat and waited for the next song.

The next two songs were perfect; Adore You and Lights Up. Both were as good as each, which were equally as good as the two before that. Harry hadn’t written a bad song - not that you were expecting him to. It was clear that his musical talent had gotten better and he was a lot more open with this album than his previous. He was a lot more accepting in himself with this album and you didn’t miss the opportunity to tell him how you felt about all of this.

“Proud of you.” You told him, as the album had been paused so Mitch could go grab another crate of beers from his car. They’d been through enough beers for a family reunion of 108 between the 5 of them, leaving you to quietly sip on your tea. The other guys had gotten up to stretch and go for a wee, but Harry had said he was perfect with sitting rest with you.

“Means so much t’hear you say that, sunflower.” He smiled at you, you twisting yourself so you sat perpendicular to him - laying across the width of the chair and his lap. He placed his hands over your legs, cupping your kneecaps for extra warmth.

“Means so much that you trust me to listen to the album.” You cupped your hand over his and he twisted his fingers so your fingers intertwined with his. He loved the feeling of your soft and warm hands coat his, and he never wanted you to let go. Ever.

“You’re one of few people I trust, Y/N, so thanks for being one of them.” He was using every and any opportunity to say thanks to you and he was completely open about it. You appreciated his thanks, but he didn’t have to give it to you.

You squeezed his hand, suppressing a smile when he squeezed back. You didn’t want to look like a love-sick puppy today.

“Enjoying it so far Y/N?” Tyler asked you, the boys falling back into the room and back to the sofas. Mitch had a crate of beers and passed Harry another one, earning a thanks from him in response.

“So much, yeah. You’re all so talented.” You shared the praise, not being oblivious to the fact it didn’t take just Harry to create this album.

“Even me?” Jeff asked, making the guys chuckle.

“Yeah, even you Jeff. You’re the one who has to kick this ones backside half the time!” You laughed, Harry whining in response because he thought he was delightful - well he would!

“Pretty sure that’s your job, sunflower.” Harry added, earning a quick slap to his arm from you.

“Knobhead.” You argued.

“Oi big mouth, shut it.” Harry flicked your arm in return and earning an ouch from you to signal that that’d actually hurt.

“Ow, y’prick.”

“M’sorry.” He rubbed over your arm where he had caused you pain, hating to think that a bit of playful banter had actually ended up in him hurting you - that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Know you are, y’knob.”

“Should write a song about all the lovely and colourful things y’call me.” Harry joked, wanting nothing more than to put a smile on your golden face again.

“Oh yeah? And call it what?” You asked, playing along.

“Probably something really crap like ‘Tainted Tongue’, or… oh I don’t know.” Harry rolled his eyes, but you had to gulp down the words that were on the tip of your tainted tongue. You wanted to tease him, but you just couldn’t because you could tell that he was genuinely considering his words.

Considering your tainted tongue, even.

“Sounds Grammy award-winning.” You told him, squeezing his hand again before returning your attention to the rest of the room. Everyones conversations were coming to a unified end and Jeff asked whether everyone was ready again. It was yes’ all around.

“Okay, here’s Cherry.” Jeff announced, making Harrys grip on your knee tighten for some reason.

The intro started with a woman’s voice cooing and then straight into some ethereal guitar playing. It was so pretty and you closed your eyes to picture yourself on a bike ride through some flower fields. Harry’s words were so mellow and soft, it ran chills through your body. You listened to the lyrics carefully and tried to match it up with his real life, piecing together his story.

As the song progresses you could start to understand what, or more who, it was about. It was the lyrics such as “I just miss your accent.” and “don’t you call him baby.” that gave it away. That and the expressive voicemail that perched on the end of the song so beautifully. It was about Camille, or more for Camille. It was amazing and you were so proud of Harry for being so open. Camille’s and Harry’s relationship had become very toxic, so for Harry to be open about how she still held a place in his heart was something you were very proud of him for. He was being true to himself and was being vulnerable.

“Take risks, Harry. Be vulnerable, that’s what people want.” You had told him before he started writing the album and he’d done just that.

You slowly opened your eyes as the song ended, tears in your eyes for some unbeknownst reason. Harry chuckled at you. “Oh you big softie!” He brought the blanket up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “Y’crying ‘cause you hate it or because it was just that awesome?” He asked.

“I’m crying, y’tool, because you actually listened to me.” Knowing he would know what you meant.

“‘Course I did. Take y’advice above anyone else’s.” He was clear about that, you thought.

“Camille will love it.” You spoke softly, knowing it was important to him that the person he wrote the song about was okay with a song being written about them.

“Thank you.” He replied, bringing your hand up he could leave a simple kiss to the back of it.

“What did you think of the guitar playing H?” Tyler asked, opening another beer with a poof.

“Loved it man. Sounds better toned down a bit.” He answered.

“Happy with the voicemail too?” Tyler asked again, wanting Harry to understand it was no big deal if he wanted it out.

“No. I want to be take risks and be vulnerable.” Harry admitted proudly, and you shuffled your body around to curl into him and rest your head upon his shoulder. You could smell the Tom Ford perfume he loved so much in its’ strength against his neck and you loved it just ad much. It smelt familiar and warm. It smelt like home.

The group of you continued to play the songs, running through Falling, To Be So Lonely and She fairly quickly. Falling had, obviously, brought you to more tears and it had nearly brought Harry to tears too. You knew it was about Camille again and were so proud of him for being so open about his wrong-doings. He’d cheated and painted himself as the bad guy, but people didn’t know that she had too. He was too good to write that part in though. His ‘wandering hands’ portrayed such a powerful image and you got choked up on the power of it all. To Be So Lonely had made you tell him off for calling his mum a bitch, to which he groaned for missing the genuine meaning behind the phrase.

She. Well what a fucking song she was.

You wanted to turn the lights red and slide down a pole and into Harry’s lap. You had to adjust yourself in Harry’s lap, feeling uncomfortable with the way you were becoming a bit too wet down there. The sonf brought out you inner-stripper-ego and you wanted to just put on a tight leather dress and work your way across a guys lap, until you had him writhing underneath you - specifically Harry’s lap.

“Well that was fucking hot.” You chuckled to the group, knowing that Harry would sense the tension between you two and know your words meant more than just the song. It meant how hot it would be to get fucked to that song. How slow and passionate getting fucked so deep would feel so euphoric whilst ‘She’ played in the background. How empowering for a woman it would be to listen to that fire of a song.

“Told you the album was for you.” Harry whispered against your ear and you had to bring your mind to think of old people dying alone, before you jumped Harry right here and right now whilst forcing She to play all over again.

“That was the only song that Harry wouldn’t tell us the meaning behind.” Mitch told you, making you inwardly smug at the thought that you already knew what it was about.

You felt like that song was yours and Harrys dirty little secret and you were about to get high off the thought of that.

“Next we have Sunflower. Vol, 6.” Jeff announced before pressing play.

That made you sit up.

“Did he say Sunflower?” You asked, smiling so brightly at Harry whom was smiling just as brightly back. He loved you at your happiest. He loved that it was him who had put that happiness there.

“I don’t know? Did he?” Harry teased you and you playfully punched his arm, but you looked off to find a nearby wall really interesting as you took in the first bit of the song.

Now this was a vibe.

You felt like you were in some alternate 70s universe, where everything was happy and yellow. The lyrics were so happy and reminded you of yourself. Every time he said the word sunflower, you couldn’t help but let your heart flutter at the thought of him talking about you. You were his sunflower. ‘My sunflower’ he repeated and you wanted to kiss him for it. You couldn’t sit here and listen to this without dancing, so you didn’t.

You stood up quickly, pushing the blanket off of you, and holding out your hands for Harry. “C’mon then.” You spoke urgently, not knowing how much was left of the song and wanting to feel the rhythm of this song with him before it ended.

“Things I bloody do for you, aye?” He laughed, but took your hands anyway to pull himself up. His old knees cracked as he did so and the others laughed at him - calling him ‘cripplez’, and yes with a ‘z’.

You took one of your hands in his, planting the other behind his neck whilst his order went on your waist. Your body was set alight by his touch. You began to dance like you were the only people in the room, getting lost in other’s presence and happiness. You swayed to the beat and Harry twisted you around a few times when it felt right to. He brought you close back to his chest, holding you close as you swayed together, for the end of the song. When the little boops played you were so confused.

“What the fuck is going on?” You laughed as everyone else laughed too. Mitch and Kid followed along with the boops and sang them too, whilst Harry’s head was tilted back in laughter over seeing your reaction to them. “Seriously?”

“He was high on shrooms Y/N, so fuck knows.” Tyler laughed and you shook your head at the silly man in front of you.

“What the fuck Harry?” You laughed, letting him sit back on the chair first before he assisted you in sitting back on top of him.

“So…” He waited for your response, feeling somewhat nervous about this one.

You kissed his cheek, letting your lips linger there for longer than one Mississippi. “My sunshine, I loved it.”

At the tip of Harry’s tongue he wanted to say ‘I love you’ back, but he didn’t want to ruin the happy high you were on. Little did he know that you thought that the moment would be complete if he spoke the three words that held you back from becoming completely his. You loved that song so much and would be playing every day of your life to remind you how lucky you were to have someone so special in your life.

“Think that one was a hit, H.” Jeff laughed, others following with their own chuckles.

“Too right.” You answered for Harry and breathed out a sigh of joy as you relaxed into Harry’s warmth again.

“Ready for the next one?” Harry asked you, not wanting to cut you shirt from the high you were feeling. You hadn’t even focused on the lyrics you were so caught up in dancing with your favourite person.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” And so you did.

First, came Canyon Moon. What a beauty she was. It reminded you of sunsets and ice cream and cacti and long-drives. It was a summer song and it was a forever-love song too. It sounded like a reminder that whatever happened, Harry would always be coming home to where he belonged. God, you only hoped that was you - but you’d be narcissistic to ask that aloud. Secondly, and penultimately to the whole album, came Treat People With Kindness. You thought it was a genius of a song and something the fans would really love. You pitched the idea of maybe even creating a dance routine to it, but Jeff joked how a piece of wood had more hip movement than Harry. Both songs were fabulous and really made the album into something fun and refreshing.

Tyler cleared his throat, making you stop laughing at something Harry had just said and focus your attention on him. When you did you noticed how Mitch and Kid were stood up, looking like they were ready to leave. Jeff was handing Harry the phone and Tyler then stood up to.

“Where… Wait, I thought you said there were 12 songs? We’ve only listened to 11.” You sat up more, wondering why the guys were leaving now.

“There are 12.” Harry stated, making your eyebrows furrow in even more confusion.

“We’ve just listened to this last one more times than we have fingers and toes so…” Kid explained, but not really. Why are they passing the opportunity to listen to this song again? For the final first time too?

“You can stay though, for one more time.” You offered, but kept still in Harry’s lap.

“We’re going to get some food and bring it back instead.” Mitch smiled, smirking when his eyes caught Harry like they were having some telepathic conversation. Were you missing something? You felt like there was a big red flag somewhere within all of this and yet you were too stupid blind to see it.

“Want anything in particular?” Jeff asked, rustling around in his pockets to find his keys.

“I’m fine with whatever.” Harry answered vaguely, bur you were more definitive.

“Um i’ll have a Subway please. Just build it however I don’t really care. I’ll eat anything.”

“H, Subway?” Mitch checked with Harry, incase he was fancying something else.

“Yeah, sounds good to me. I’ll have the same as Y/N.”

You didn’t miss the way Mitch mumbled ‘course y’will’ under his breathe, but they were all out of the door before you could say anything.

“Ready for this last one then, m’sunflower?” Harry asked, returning and devoting his entire attention to you.

“Why do I get the feeling that you sent them away so we could listen to this one alone together?” You knew Harry, for Gods sake. He couldn’t be this smooth with someone who was his best fucking friend. This song obviously meant a lot to him and would maybe mean a lot to you too, so that’s why, you think, he wanted you to be alone for it. You liked that, though. You liked that he’d written something so personal that he wanted to listen to it with solely you. It made you feel purposeful and special - like you were his.

“Just shut up.” He rolled his eyes and smiled, clearly catching him in the act of his plan.

“I’m going to cry, aren’t I?” You rhetorically asked already knowing the answer.

“Maybe, I don’t know. No pressure.”

“Ohh, so you’re going to cry, that’s it isn’t?”

“Y’such a wanker, you know that?” He teased you before bringing the phone to hold in his hand and switching it on.

“You and your Tainted Tongue.” You teased him back and he looked up at you, but did nothing. Just looked at you and held your gaze. You felt powerless under his gaze because for once, you didn’t know what he was thinking. You both loved and hated the feeling.

“The honours are all yours.” Harry passed the phone to you, the giant ‘play’ button waiting to be pressed. You looked at Harry again to see he was looking at you still - oh so this is how it’s going to be, huh? A good old staring match to see who’s emotions would crack through first. Game on, Harry.

“Okay. Let’s play.” Harry didn’t miss the double meaning behind your words.

If there was ever a turning point in your life it was the next 6:18 minutes of you life.

The song started off really quiet and you thought that it might turn into some bashful tune to exit the album with a bang. You did not expect the mellow guitar to start playing. Looking up from the phone you met Harry’s gaze and caught him looking back at you, smiling softly because he knew that you knew this song was going to change things. Change you. Change your heart. Change the relationship between you two, forever. If you’d let it - him.

The lyrics were so delicate and his voice was high pitched. Your eyes started watering when you listened to the lyrics, instantly being able to pinpoint the memory Harry attached to each line. It hurt to think that this was your, plural, song. The meanings behind the lyrics were memories where you and Harry had gotten into rows and fallen out so hard that you thought you might lose each other. Your tears were flowing down your face, Harry’s eyes matching yours with his own tears.

Harry reached his hand up to your cheek, pausing for a second but not stopping until he’d touched skin with skin. You flinched a little but your tears also became heavier.

“Love, don’t.” Harry spoke softly, leaving his hand on your cheek and pulling you forward so you’d come closer towards him.

“I’m so-sorry.” You chuckled, but Harry just shook his head.

“Stop. Nothing to be sorry for.” Harry’s tears ran silently whilst yours were a lot more laboured, your chest hiccuping under the touch of how close he was to you.

“No I do. I hear you Harry. I do.” Referring to all the shit that Harry was referencing in his beautiful ballad.

“Yeah and do you hear that i’m telling you we’ll be alright, hey?” He chuckled, making you sob.

“I… I..” You struggled to get out your words, keeping your face close to his and looking deep into the emotions behind his eyes. There was love and sadness, but there was hope. Hope for you. For you together.

“It’s okay. You’re alright, love. Can tell me anything, I swear.” He made clear, caressing your cheek like it was the easiest job in the universe - yet his trembling thumb made it clear it was hard for him.

You wanted him to know how you feel for him. You wanted him to know that your heart was completely and forever his. He could have it all. You loved him more than anyone else in this fucking universe and he would always be your person. You saw in his eyes that he was waiting for you to tell him all of this. For the longest time all you wanted to yell your strongest feelings for him, but now you were frozen. Paralysed by fear that was becoming so real. He could be yours, but it was so devastating to think that it could all be broken years down the line.

“Stop thinking and just talk to me sunflower.” He softly spoke and you dropped your head to his chest, resting your forehead on his heart.

“I love you!” You shouted and then repeated more quietly, “I love you, Harry. I love you.”

“I know, I know.” Harry kissed the back of your head. “I love you too.”

Your head moved up and you looked at him deep in his eyes. You were both crying and the song was coming to an end now. It felt like such a powerful moment and you never wanted it to end. You felt strong. You felt loved, safe and happy.

“You know i’m going to have to kiss you now?” Harry chuckled, moving his face closer to yours so you could taste his minty breathe on yours.

“At least wait until the song’s over.” You smiled at his eagerness, but not meaning a word of what you just spoke. Harry knew that too.

“Oh fuck the chuffing song, c’mere.”

His lips sealed upon yours and fit together as perfect as Cinderellas foot and her glass slipper. Your stomach felt like it had been set alight by a match and your heart beat faster than you thought possible. You cared for nothing but his lips and the man behind them. Your heart felt so full and your lungs so empty. Harry had stole the air right from you and given life to himself, and you were so okay with it. Harry, less so.

“Y/N baby, y’gotta breathe sunflower.” He mumbled against your lips, but you only whined and pressed yourself more against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands came to steady you at your waist. God, he couldn’t get enough of you. “Hey, no, no.” You pouted when he pulled away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You took in a deep breathe, not realising how little air you had in your lungs. You were silently thanking him in your head, but would never actually say it to him out loud. He gave you a look though that told you he knew you knew he was right. Fucker.

“Dickhead.”

“Enough with the pleasantries, you already have me under your spell woman.” He teased you as if your crude language was getting him off.

“Wanker.”

“Yes, keep them coming.”

“Asshole.”

“Baby, oh ye—”

“We brought subs… Okay yeah we’re going to come back later.” Mitch started and walked through the door at the same time you and Harry were doing whatever the fuck you were doing. You buried your head against Harrys chest to hide both your embarrassment and your tears from earlier. You did really want your sub, but Harry you wanted so much more.

“Thank you, bro!” Harry called back.

“Yeah, just keep whatever is happening between you and your girlfriend down. Some of want to eat their salad in peace.” And with the sound of the door shutting you knew you were alone again.

You looked up at Harry to see that he wanted to burst out laughing and as if by rehearsal you both started laughing at the same time. You were in hysterics, not understanding what was even so funny in the first place. All that was understandable was how much you loved this man and craved the thought of officially being his forever.

“Sounded pretty good didn’t it?” Harry asked, coming to a natural pause in his laughing fest causing you to stop too.

“The album? Yeah I told you it—”

“No not the album,” You looked at him in confusion, straightening the sunglasses on the top of his head, “Mitch calling you my girlfriend.” You pursed your lips and kept your eyes down, fiddling with the bandana around his neck now to keep you busy.

“Yeah.” You said shyly.

“Yeah? Did you like it?” Harry asked, pulling up your chin to meet your beautiful eyes - his favourite feature of yours.

“I did yeah.”

“Wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Are you asking nicely or?” You messed with him, but also feeling like you deserved a bit more of a proper ask - you’d not waited all this time for a little half-arsed question, but neither did you want the full shebang.

“Y/N L/N? My sunflower? The absolute biggest pain in my arse and most hugest tit on this planet?” You couldn’t help but belly laugh as he incorporated your longest running joke with each other, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think on it and Harry’s eyes turned to worry for a second.

“Please?” He softly asked. “Say something.”

“I say yes to you and that Tainted Tongue.” You kissed him again and you felt his smile against your lips. He was happy. You were happy. You both knew this was the kind of happiness that would last forever.

You gasped against his lips as he picked you up and held you against his waist, carrying you like a koala bear clutching a tree. You felt his hands grasp your ass and they felt so good situated there.

“Let me show you exactly how tainted this tongue is baby.”

[islesnucks]

NOT SO COINCIDENTALLY - TLYER SEGUIN X READER

this used to be a fic for another player that i do not write for anymore, i didn’t know if i should delete it or what but so many people suggested reusing it for another player that i said whatever fuck it i loved writing this and put work into it it wont just go to waste

so if you’re reading it and think mmmm i’ve already read this is because you probably did but with another player lol

anyway hope you enjoy this new version, i made some minor changes

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: make out (?)

Summary: Tyler confesses your meet cute may not have been so much of a coincidence as you thought

Masterlist

Add yourself to the taglist!

Tyler was laying on the couch, head resting comfortably in your lap. There was some comedy movie playing on the TV, or maybe it was a drama? He was too focused on you to even know. Whatever you were watching was just background noise for him as he relaxed under your touch, your fingers running through his hair, gently scraping his scalp like you knew he loved.

“You’re missing the movie.” you said teasingly. You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, not that he was trying to hide it at all.

He let out a chuckle and then raised his arm, his hand sneaking to the back of your neck pulling you down to him. A smile appeared on your face matching his as you leaned down to connect your lips on a sweet kiss. You would never get tired of that feeling, it was always like the first time. His lips were warm against yours, tasting the coffee you had enjoyed minutes ago. You gave him a final peck and pulled away.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked going back to massaging his scalp. He had been quiet for a while, something really strange for him even if you were after all watching a movie.

“I have something to confess.” he said and quickly corrected himself when he saw your worried expression. “No, no. It’s good I promise. Well I think it’s good, depends on your reaction”

He lifted himself from your lap and sat next to you, facing you. You shifted on the couch to face him too and he took your hands in his, something he’d do whenever either of you were nervous.

“Is this when you tell me this was a bet all along but you eventually fell in love with me and want me to forgive you?” you tried to joke but he knew you, he could sense the concern in your voice even when you tried to play it cool.

“First of all you watch too many movies. Secondly, relax.” He squeezed your hand on a reassuring manner and his tender gaze was enough to calm you down. It was Tyler after all, your Tyler, he’d never do anything to hurt you.

“Can you just tell me so I can stop freaking out?”

“Ok, ok. Remember how we met?” he asked and you nodded unsure where he was going.

“Yeah, at the park when Gerry came running to me.” you said remembering that afternoon almost a year ago as you looked at the Gerry and Cash sound asleep cuddling in Cash’s bed not too far from you.

It was a meet cute right out of a movie. You were new in the city and decided to go for a walk to the park near your apartment, something you had been doing quite often since it was really the only place you knew and it helped you unwind from the stress of the moving.

You were walking down the gravel path when you saw a dog running your way, followed by a really cute guy shouting what you presumed was his name with another two dogs by his side. Thinking he had probably escaped his leash, you kneeled down and brought your arms to pet him so he’d stop running.

“Hey buddy.” you said to the labrador who was already reaching to lick you making you laugh.

“I’m so sorry, he normally doesn’t break loose like that.” He crouched next to you and now that you had him closer you were sure he was even cuter than you thought.

“Oh don’t worry. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Tyler.” he replied accompanied by his best smile. “And this are Gerry, Cash and Marshall.” He gestured to the three dogs that were already throwing themselves at you, fighting for your attention.

“A pleasure to meet you.” you said to the dogs, moving so you could pet all three of them. Tyler watched the sweet interaction and an idea came to his mind.

“Wanna join us for a walk?”

“I’d love to.” you answered, maybe a little too quickly.

That time you didn't walk around the park alone for a change, this time you were accompanied by a cute stranger and his two dogs. You spent the rest of the afternoon walking and talking, it felt strange to have someone to talk to. The moment you told Tyler you were new in town he saw his opportunity to ask you for your number with the excuse of showing you around the city. And so he did.

He texted you as soon as he got home. Next day he was already taking you to some of his favorite places and you had a wonderful time, for the first time you didn’t miss home so much. Then he took you to places he liked. Then to places he knew. And when he ran out of “new” places to take you to he decided it was time to actually ask you on a real date, to which you instantly said yes, almost too quickly again. So you went on a date, two, three. Soon enough he was introducing you to his friends and taking you to his games. Dallas started feeling like home, Tyler felt like home. And that’s how the cute stranger from the park with three dogs became your boyfriend.

“Well things may have been a little different that you thought.” Tyler’s voice brought you back to reality.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him confused.

“When Gerry went up to you, it wasn't because he suddenly decided to run away. I may have thrown his favorite toy your way …”

“No you didn’t.” You brought your hands to cover your mouth, trying to hide the smile as you realized what had happened.

“I did. I had seen you the last couple days at the park and I didn’t know how to approach you without looking like a creep so...” Tyler blushed and that only made your smile grow. Seeing him embarrassed was not something that happened often, you were really enjoying it.

“So you used your dog as bait?” you finished his sentence teasingly.

“Kind of.” he replied, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s low Seguin.”

“I mean I’d say it was brilliant.” he said, his usual witty tone coming back.

“Shut up.” you said rolling your eyes as you leaned in to give him what was supposed to be a playful peck on the lips, but Tyler had other plans.

The moment your lips touched him he started leaning more and more. You giggled into the kiss, already knowing where he was going. He moved so that you were laying on our back on the couch with him hovering over you, resting his weight on his forearm placed next to your head. His other hand grabbed you by the waist as yours met behind his neck, pulling him closer.

Tyler was about to go down your neck, already thinking about kissing that one spot under your ear just so he could hear one of his favorite sounds, that deep hum you’d let out as soon as his lips touched your skin; when a pair of paws appeared on the couch beside your heads and then he felt Gerry licking his face.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something.” he said, turning his head to face the dog with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. You giggled as you watched the stare down take place, Gerry completely oblivious to what was going on.

“Hey be nice. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” you reminded him, playfully pushing his chest so he’d move to make space for the dog.

He reluctantly moved away from on top of you, falling back on his spot on the couch from before with a loud sigh trying to seem irritated but failing. Gerry happily climbed on the couch and then to your lap once you had sat up. Soon Cash was joining you and Tyler couldn’t help but smile as he watched you struggle to accommodate both dogs on your lap so neither would feel neglected.

“Thank God Marshall isn’t here.” you joked a bit out of breath as the two labs moved on top of you. But as if he had heard you, soon you felt the sound of paws against the wooden floor approaching you.

“Incoming.” Tyler said as he watched behind you the brown lab make his way to the couch and climb on top of you to join his brothers.

It was a mess as the three dogs fought to be on your lap and having only two hands to pet three dogs didn't make it easier. Watching the sweet scene unfold in front of him he made a mental note to buy some treats for his dogs next time he went out, after all if it weren’t for them you maybe wouldn’t be sitting in front of him right now, and for that he was extremely thankful.

-

So I hope you liked it! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated and any type of feedback really, i love reading your comment!

taglist: @glassdanse @2manytabsopen @barbienoturbby @chieflawyerpastatoad @iwantahockeyhimbo @fallinallincurls @samsteel @jordiee95 @heatherawoowoo @sidscrosbyy @stars-canucks @wh0r3forpatrick @4ambagelbites @kaitieskidmore1 @barzysreputation @hotgirlhockey

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[regenderate-fic]

Lights in the Window

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Sally Salter, Patrice Okereke, Mook Jayasundera Rating: General Series: Eight Nights of DoctorRose (link goes to ao3 page) Word Count: 1,432 Other Tags: Hanukkah, Holidays

Read on AO3

Summary: The Doctor doesn't do domestics. Rose gets him to come to her friend's Hanukkah celebration anyway.

NOTES: happy third night of doctorrose!! all rose's friends (sally, mook, patrice) are members of mickey's band in the rose novelization and feature in audio material (sally is mentioned in dw redacted and parallel universe mook and patrice are speaking characters in the dimension cannon audio titled "the last party on earth") so that's where i'm drawing from for that. i love the idea that rose and mickey have this friend group full of lgbt people 😌

full disclosure no one committed to writing tomorrow's fic (it's supposed to be tenrose and donna) so if we skip a day. shhhhh. i'm going to try to write something small though

“C’mon! It’ll be fun.” Rose was tugging at the Doctor’s arm, pulling him away from the TARDIS console. “Everyone’s dying to meet you.”

“Let ‘em,” the Doctor said, trying his absolute hardest to turn back to the console. 

“Oh, don't be stupid,” Rose said. “You'll love them. Promise.”

The Doctor turned back to her. “Told you. Don't do domestics.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I told you. This isn't domestics. It's just a holiday with my friends. Or don't you do friends?”

“I've got you,” the Doctor replied. “How many more do I need?”

Rose counted on her fingers. “At least five,” she said. “Not counting Mickey.” 

“Oh, Mickey’s going to be there?”

“Oi, be nice.” Rose shoved at the Doctor. “It's just for an evening, and then you can go back to being all sulky in your box, all right?” 

The Doctor lifted his hand to tangle his fingers with Rose’s, and Rose grinned. She’d gotten him. 

“Fine,” he said. “Just the one night, though. I know how these holidays go.”

“Don’t worry,” Rose replied. “We’ve never done every night with Sally. Just the one. ‘Cause she was tired of celebrating Christmas.” She raised her eyebrows. “Which is something you and her will have in common!”

The Doctor glowered.

They showed up at Mickey’s flat half an hour late. As they approached, Rose rolled her eyes and said, “Some time machine you’ve got.”

“Oi, at least it’s the right year,” the Doctor protested. 

“Yeah, but you would've landed us in the middle of the Thames if I hadn't been paying attention.” Rose banged on the door. “Oi, it's me! Open up!”

It was Patrice who opened the door. He grinned to see Rose.

“Well, if it isn't our own Rose Tyler!” 

Before Rose could respond, she heard Sally’s voice from inside the flat, calling, “Is that Rose? Tell her to get in here so we can light the candles.”

“Coming,” Rose called. She stepped across the threshold, pulling the Doctor with her. They followed Patrice into the living room, where everyone was gathered around the menorah on the coffee table: Patrice dropped into a too-small armchair with Mook, and Sally was kneeling on the ground between the armchair and the sofa. Mickey was on the sofa. He moved over to make room for Rose and the Doctor to sit. 

“About time you showed up,” he said to Rose. 

Rose glanced at the Doctor. “That's what I said.”

“I do my best, all right?” The Doctor crossed his arms. “Anyway, we got here in the end.”

“And we're glad you did,” Sally said. “It's not a real No Hot Ashes Hanukkah without Rose Tyler.”

Rose laughed. “So let's get on with it, then.” 

“Right. Rose, has your friend done this before?”

“Not the way we do it,” Rose said with a grin. 

Everyone laughed. 

Rose nudged the Doctor. “Actually, have you done this?”

He stared at her. “Rose, I'm nine hundred years old. I was at the original.”

Sally was looking at them curiously, but Rose just rolled her eyes. “No need to brag.” She nodded at Sally. “Go ahead. He’ll be fine.”

“Right, everybody,” Sally said, straightening up. “We're looking at three candles tonight. Sing along if you know the words.” She began to sing the first blessing. Rose remembered about half the words from previous years, and she filled them in where she could: mostly she liked hearing Sally’s voice mingling with the others’, all coming together in the prayer.

Everyone was quiet when the blessings ended, watching as Sally lit the candle in the center of the menorah and touched the flame to the first candle, the second, the third, each flickering to life in turn. With the candles lit, Sally sat back again and broke into song. Rose didn't remember any of this one, but to her surprise the Doctor did. He was singing along quietly, his low voice mixing with the others’. Rose tried not to stare. He had a nice voice, Rose realized— she wasn’t sure she’d really heard him sing before, but he sang like he did everything else, with a consistency bordering on gentle. (Of course, if she called him gentle to his face, she was sure he’d protest, but it was true. He was always gentle, when it counted.) Rose closed her eyes, listening to her friends’ voices, feeling the warmth that came with a room full of people singing in the candles’ glow. 

“All right!” Patrice hooted, the second there was silence. “Now we can get the party started!” He leapt off the chair and went into the kitchen. Mook followed half a step behind, and the both of them came back a minute later, Mook with a plate full of latkes in one hand and a tub of sour cream in the other, Patrice with a bottle of cheap vodka and a handful of shot glasses. Rose groaned.

“Don’t start with that again,” she said. “Thought we learned from last year.”

“What happened last year?” the Doctor asked.

“Patrice made dreidel into a drinking game. Lots of fun, until Sally started dancing on the table and knocked over the menorah,” Mickey explained.

“And the rest of us were too drunk to do anything about it,” Rose added. “Would’ve burned down the flat, if Mook hadn’t smothered the fire with a blanket.”

“Was one of my favorite blankets, too,” Mickey said.

“Oh, come on,” Patrice said. “We’ll just make a rule.” He gestured towards the menorah. “Everyone stay off the table.”

“Or we could put the menorah somewhere else,” Sally added. “When I was a kid we always put it in the window. ‘Cause we’re supposed to broadcast the whole ‘miracle’ thing.”

“Pretty sure you’ve done your part just by having us over,” Mook pointed out. 

“Does it count if we already knew about the miracle?” Patrice asked. 

“I think it does,” Sally decided. “But the window’s better anyway.” She picked up the menorah, carefully balancing the candles, and moved it over to the windowsill. “All right,” she said, moving back towards the coffee table. “Now we can start the party.”

For all Rose had protested the alcohol, she had to admit the party was fun. Patrice did manage to convince everyone to play his drinking game, and Rose found herself losing badly, becoming tipsier and tipsier as the night went on. The Doctor seemed to be loosening up a bit, sitting on the floor next to Rose, laughing when she got particularly slap-happy and started tossing the dreidel in the air instead of spinning it. 

“Try this,” he said, picking up the dreidel by its stem and twisting his fingers as he dropped it. It landed perfectly, still upright, and spun for at least another ten seconds before it dropped.

“Show-off,” Rose scoffed. 

“No, really, try,” the Doctor said, passing the dreidel back to her.

“Thought it was my turn,” Mickey protested. 

“You’ll have it in a minute,” Rose said. She held up the dreidel like the Doctor had, trying to mimic his motion as she dropped it. It fell over. Rose shrugged. “Oh, well. Worth a try.” She tossed the dreidel over to Mickey. “All yours.” 

The Doctor, meanwhile, had taken off his leather jacket. Rose eyed his arms, still covered by the burgundy jumper— there was something so soft about him, with his defenses down like this. She couldn’t quite put words to how it made her feel. Instead of trying, she picked up the jacket and pulled it over her own shoulders, sticking her arms through the sleeves. She looked down at herself and giggled. 

“Look, I’m the Doctor,” she laughed, sticking her hands in the pockets. 

“You’re drunk, is what you are,” the Doctor said, brushing a hand across her hair. 

Rose grinned, leaning into him. “I’m the Doctor,” she repeated, lowering her voice. “And I’ve got a time machine, and a sonic screwdriver, and I think I’m so impressive.”

“If you’re quite finished—”

Rose laughed. She watched as Patrice spun the dreidel, and then laughed again when it landed on shin and he had to push his last piece of gelt into the circle. He tipped a shot into his mouth, and then spread his arms and said, “Okay, who’s gonna invest in me?”

Mook rolled his eyes and tossed two pieces in front of him. “But that’s the last time,” he said.

“That’s all I need,” Patrice promised. 

It was a few more rounds before Rose, too, was out of gelt— but instead of asking for “investments,” she just leaned against the Doctor, watching the others play. It was only another half hour before the game devolved into a lighthearted argument between Sally and Patrice, anyway, and then only fifteen minutes before Mook tugged at Patrice’s arm and said, “Getting a bit late, isn’t it?” Everyone said their goodbyes, and then Rose and the Doctor were walking back to the TARDIS, Rose still wearing the Doctor’s jacket.

“You had fun,” she teased, stumbling against him.

“You’re drunk,” he told her again.

“Yeah, and?” Rose giggled. “You still had fun. I saw you.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her up. “Nope,” he said. “It was domestic. I don’t do domestics.”

Rose just laughed harder, and the Doctor seemed to soften even more as he helped her into the TARDIS. 

“All right,” he said, guiding her to the jumpseat. “Fine. I didn’t hate it.”

“Told you!” Rose crowed. 

The Doctor gave her a look as he moved to the console. A flick of a lever and a press of a button later, he went back over to Rose, pulling her to her feet.

“All right, Rose Tyler,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

Rose sighed against his jumper. “Okay,” she said. She let him lead her through the corridors to her room. When they got there, she turned, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thanks for coming with me,” she breathed. “Means a lot.”

“Anything for you,” the Doctor said, and it sounded like a joke, but for one exhilarating second, Rose let herself believe it.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hey!! i’ve never requested before so 😢😅😅 anyways i’m obsessed w ur writing!! plus im so happy to see a fellow tøp writer still around!!:3

i’ll kind of you let you take the lead here of what you want to do, but i think the idea of “my brothers best friend” is sooo🥰

like josh is the readers brother, and of course tyler is always around & maybe you can do something fluffy where tyler was sleeping over at the house, and reader gets home late from an AWFUL date & they converse about it & reader admits that maybe these dates aren’t working bc her mind is on someone else..🤗

or something a bit “angsty” where josh teases his sister all the time, but tyler joins in as well and it really upsets the reader because she adores him

up to you!!!! i just like the concept^^

Bad Date - Tyler Joseph x Dun!Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Dun!Reader

Warnings: mild language, the date being weird and uncomfortable to reader

Word Count: 2659 - it's a longer one so ur welcome :)

A/N: Welcome new anon! Hope you like this one! It was super fun to write :) Definitely feel free to request another fic and if you become a regular we can assign you an emoji just like 💛 anon!

“So… did you like the movie?” My date asked as he pulled into the driveway of my house. He’d been begging me to go see some action movie he’d already seen twice before with his ‘boys’, because apparently ‘I was gonna love it.’ I’d met Matthew at work and he’d flirted with me for months before asking me out. Yeah, he was cute but not enough for me to be head over heels yet–I barely knew anything about him other than the fact that he was into movies and videogames. 

“Yeah,” I lied, staring at the front door and planning my escape route. Matthew turned to face me, a soft smile growing on his pale face. 

“Am I gonna get to see you again?” he breathed, the smell of the spaghetti he’d eaten for dinner wafting into my face. “Maybe I could meet your brother?” He reached out to stroke my hair like I was some domestic animal he could touch. I wanted to slap his hand away, the warm dampness of his palms waving over me. 

“Josh? Why would you want to meet him?” I scoffed. None of my other dates had ever talked about Josh and I was 90% sure I’d never even mentioned that I had a brother. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him more than anything but my dates were supposed to be about me. 

“He’s in that band that was playing Ichthus a few months ago right? Twenty one pilots?” Oh. It was about the band. It was about twenty one fucking pilots. 

“You know what? I’m gonna go,” I said, peeling his hand off me and getting out of the car. The lights beamed from the car, pathing the way for me to get into the house. 

“Y/N! Wait!” he shouted after me but stayed in the car. If he really wanted me to stop then he would’ve run after me. He was still shouting my name when I got to the front door. I knocked frantically on the wood, trying to get inside before I further embarrassed myself in front of the entire neighborhood. No one was answering and the lights inside were turned off as far as I could see through the window. I dug through my bag desperately trying to either find my keys or phone–anything to get into the house and out of the burning headlights of the car. The door in front of me creaked open before a hand pulled me inside and out of the cold night air. Tyler. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, leading me further into the house and into the lounge. It wasn’t rare that Tyler would spend the night at our house–he was Josh’s best friend and bandmate which meant after many late nights working on music he would just sleep over instead of going home. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I nodded, taking off my coat and hanging it on the rack in the hallway. “Has Josh gone to bed already?”

“Yeah, you know him,” he chuckled. “What was that about?” he pointed in the direction of the front of the house where Matthew’s car had undoubtedly already left. He moved to sit on the other end of the couch, resting his feet on our coffee table. 

“Just a bad date,” I attempted a laugh but failed to hide my embarrassment. 

“What made it bad?” he asked. I didn’t think he would care about his best friend’s little sister’s date. 

“Honestly?” He nodded. “I think he wanted to get to know Josh more than me–because of the band,” I sighed. Tyler’s mouth opened as if to say a silent ‘oh’. He looked upset, his face falling into an introspective visage that broke my heart. 

“Wait really?” he muttered and I nodded. “I’m sorry, that’s not fair at all.” He was right, it wasn’t fair at all. Clearly Matthew wasn’t for me. I got up to grab myself a drink from the kitchen and Tyler moved so he could see me from where he was sitting. 

“It’s okay though. I think I just haven’t found the right person yet, you know?” I grabbed Tyler a Red Bull from the fridge and poured myself a glass of ice cold water. His face lit up at the sight of the Red Bull can and I didn’t have the strength to hold back my own smile–his smile and laugh were just too contagious. I couldn't go longer than 10 seconds without bursting at the seams. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m just worried I’ll never find the right person,” I sighed. Tyler chuckled, taking a sip of his ‘liquid death’ as I’d called it almost every time I caught him drinking it. “What’s so funny?”

“I–I’m just thinking about it. What if you’ve already met the right person but you just don’t know it yet?” he hummed. I scoffed as if what he had said was ridiculous. Tyler was that person to say things no one else ever thought to say out loud–most of us just kept it inside out of the fear of being seen as ‘weird’. Tyler wasn’t afraid to be called weird. 

“That’s a bit unrealistic isn’t it? Surely if I had already met that person then I would know,” I responded. He pulled a face at me, as if to say ‘are you sure about that?’ “I don’t know Ty.” I shrugged. He scooted closer to me on the couch, moving so he was sitting right up against me. He reached up to curl my hair behind my ear in a much more genteller way than Matthew had earlier. I wanted him to keep his hand there, resting against my face–I really hadn’t realized how comfortable I was around him until tonight.  

“Listen, I think you’re going to find the perfect person for you in life. They’re gonna care about you so much and know every little fact about you–like how your favorite color is (insert favorite color here), or how Josh used to hide candy under your bed so no one other than you two could eat it. They’re going to love you more than anything and want you around 24/7,” he proclaimed. I really couldn’t hide the grin on my face, especially since it was now accompanied by a warm blush. 

“Have you met that person?” I asked. 

“I think so, yeah,” he breathed, placing the can in his hand onto the coffee table. 

“What’s she like?” 

He let out a loud breath before thinking. “She’s cool. One of the smartest people I know, beautiful and talented–though she doesn’t think she is–and she makes me love life more than anything. I haven’t told her how I feel though,” he dragged off. 

“Why not?” I questioned, taking a sip of my water and placing it next to Tyler’s can. I was invested now. 

“I think it’s just never come up before you know? It’s not like I can just blast my feelings at her when she’s off doing her own thing or it’s out of the blue.” 

I nodded, completely understanding. “I get that. I’m sure she likes you too, you’re a pretty great guy Tyler,” I smiled. 

“Pretty great huh?” he boasted. Tyler never really talked about his life outside of the band, Josh and I. I knew he worked at a church nearby and helped out with their music but other than that I had no idea what he did in his spare time. He smiled back at me and I found myself staring into his cinnamon brown eyes. I didn’t want to look away, in fact, I would stay here all night staring into his eyes if he’d let me.  He slowly and cautiously moved his hand back to my face, gently touching my cheek before speaking. “Can I ask you something?” I snapped out of the daze he’d caught me in. 

“Yeah anything,” I nodded. 

He took a deep breath before speaking again and looked away for a moment, curling a very short strand of his hair around his index finger and tugging it slightly. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?”

“Tyler, it's me. I’m not going to get mad at you,” I stated. I’ve never really been the type of person to get mad easily. His shoulders rose and fell as he chuckled quietly.

“And you won’t tell anyone? Not even Josh?” 

“That depends on what you’re about to tell me,” I answered. Josh and I didn’t really keep secrets from each other, ever. If he was going to tell me the band was breaking up of course I would tell Josh but if it was personal and didn’t affect my brother then of course I’d keep it a secret. He started to pull his hair a bit harder which I noticed as he became anxious. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on,” I reassured, taking his hand in mine and holding it gently. 

“I’m not sure how to say this but.. I… just… please promise me you’ll try and understand what I’m about to tell you…” Tyler was good with words, always knowing what to say so if he didn’t know how to tell me something then it had to be a big deal. He took another shaky breath, his eyes closing and opening again as he continued to look between me and our hands. I felt like I was about to pass out from the anticipation. What on earth would he want to tell me and not Josh? He squeezed my hand and swallowed before speaking. His voice was gentle and shaky, the most vulnerable I’d ever heard–even in his music.“I think–I think you’re my person.”

I’d never really thought of Tyler like that before. Sure, he was famous and talented and handsome and kind and actually interested in my life, but he–we weren’t supposed to–god he was pretty wasn’t he?

“Huh?” Damn it Y/N! What kind of a response is fucking ‘huh’. The awkward silence was growing rapidly with every second and I was beginning to panic. Tyler’s eyes were locked onto mine, his face conflicted but retaining the little confidence he had. “I–uh. Does Josh know?” He shook his head, holding my hand closer in his hand and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. He let out a short chuckle, his eyes darting away for a moment in embarrassment. It was a quiet chuckle, one that let out some of the shakiness he had before. 

“No, he doesn’t,” he muttered. “And I’d rather he didn’t know until… well until I’ve talked to you about it,” he continued, glancing up at me again and meeting my gaze. I nodded, trying to bite back the delusional smile growing on my face. He undoubtedly had noticed my poor attempt because his nervous demeanor softened as he cupped my face. “Can I do something that I’ve wanted to do for a really long time?” I hummed a yes, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He let out a shaky breath, his heart racing as he moved his free hand to gently rest against my chin. He tilted it up so he could meet and hold my gaze. He could feel his own eyes staring into mine as he almost lost all train of thought. There was so much I wanted to say. My brain was speeding like a bullet, endless trains of thought rushing through a mile a minute. He leaned forwards slowly, his hand still holding my chin and his other hand gently gripping my fingers. He was so close I could see every single detail–every tiny imperfection and scar, every eyelash, and every crease. There was something about him that made me feel like my life depended on this one moment and I absolutely could not mess this up. His thumb brushed against my lower lip and my eyes fluttered closed. He pulled my chin so he could meet me face to face, my neck tilted up to look at him directly. His cheeks had reddened from the intimacy of the moment. His eyes were staring into mine again, his gaze flickering between my eyes and my mouth. He was so incredibly close to me, his lips millimeters from my own. I could feel his warm breath against my face, my own coming out shakily. His fingers moved from my chin to my jaw, his touch feather-like against my skin. His thumb continued to gently brush back and forth across my lower lip and I found myself leaning up to him without even thinking. I didn’t think he could get any closer, but then he started to move his head down towards mine, and my breath got caught in my throat. I was absolutely, one hundred percent, completely and utterly screwed. My heart stopped as he pressed his lips to mine. I didn’t realize until now just how much I wanted this. How badly we had wanted each other. I breathed in sharply, trying to control myself and the flood of emotions that were trying to swallow me whole as I reached up to cup his face with both my hands. He pulled me closer to him, so that there was no space left between us. He let every single piece of love he had for me pour out of his body and into the kiss. And he made sure I felt it by pulling me so that I was almost in his lap, my legs on either side of his as he ran his hand up and down my back and through my hair. Everything he was doing was perfect, the kiss and the way his hands felt against my body. He was everything. I broke the kiss to take a breath, pulling back and getting my hair out of my face. “I’m guessing you probably want to give us a go then?” Tyler laughed, his hands moving down to my waist. I nodded, cupping his jaw with my right hand. “I’ve waited so long to do that.” He breathed out. He was smiling, a genuine smile. He gently gripped my hips, shifting me a little so I was fully in his lap. “You have absolutely no idea just how long I've wanted to kiss you.” 

“Well I’m glad I’m not the only one who was thinking about this,” I laughed. “At least now my dates aren’t going to ask me about Josh or the band.” Tyler’s chest rose and fell with each breath. 

“That’s true. Now you’re with the lead singer,” he sarcastically bragged. 

A quiet shuffling noise sounded through the hallway causing me to dart my head over Tyler’s shoulder. 

“Shit.” I climbed off his lap and grabbed my glass, running into the kitchen before the shuffling reached us. Josh. He was wearing his red plaid pajama pants and was shirtless. 

“Hey,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes. 

“How was your date?” he asked, filling up his water bottle in the sink. I looked at Tyler who had his arms folded behind his head and a smirk covering his face. I flashed a warning his way before answering my brother. 

“He was asking about you and the band,” I muttered, “we’re not having another date.” Josh looked apologetic, a hint of regret tangled in his voice. 

“I’m sorry. You’ll find someone–I’m sure of it,” he sighed, pulling me into a hug. 

“Yeah I have a feeling you’ll find someone soon. For all you know they could be right in front of you,” Tyler chimed. 

“Yeah, they could be right under your nose,” Josh yawned, pulled in into a hug before disappearing back into the hallway and away to bed, leaving Tyler and I alone once again. I waited a bit before jumping back onto the couch next to him, falling into his embrace. 

“You cannot do that again,” I scoffed, shoving him playfully. 

“You know you love it."

//

Requests open!!

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

*

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

*

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

*

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

*

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

*

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

[zackcollins]

hard to love || z. collins/t.heineman

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi!! I’m back with my first fic in what feels like an eternity. The fact that it’s an rpf fic about a rarepair my brain thought of for probably no reason in the middle of that shitshow of a Leafs game last night is something I can probably write a whole dissertation about. But, I’m not gonna and say I did because I don’t think I actually have it in me to write that many words about anything. Anyways! Tyler GIF credit to anotherhockeypage; Zack GIF credit to yours truly.

Warnings: A shoulder injury takes place in this fic (it’s to Zack). There is description of what the injury feels like as well as the use of a makeshift sling. If any of that bothers you, feel free not to read this. Feel free to let me know if I missed anything else and I’ll warn about it for you!

Word Count: 1.2k (literally on the nose LOL)

Title: Hard to Love by Lee Brice

Additional: If you found this by Googling yourself, are in this yourself, or know someone in this, please click back. No harm was meant in the creation of this fic. It’s a work of fiction that was inspired by the fact that Tyler was once an ice hockey goalie for the Jr. Kings in his youth. As for the jerseys I had them both wear... you’ll get a cookie in your ask box if you know why. Anyways! I hope you enjoy this and feedback is always appreciated and welcomed!

Tagging: @donttelltheelff​

As Zack stared down Tyler coming in on a breakaway, he prepared himself in the net. He was trying to remember everything that the aforementioned Tyler had taught him. Don’t commit too early. Don’t overcommit. Stay with the play. It sounded simple enough but seeing how fast Tyler was rushing at him, how he was moving the ball along the pavement... everything was suddenly becoming too much to handle.

Tyler made a move to Zack’s right; Zack moved with him. Apparently, Zack had forgotten one of the rules—don’t commit too early—because Tyler quickly moved back to his left and shot the ball towards the top corner of the net. Zack, in desperation, threw his arm out to try to stop Tyler from getting the goal. As soon as he had done that, he felt something in his shoulder snap in the wrong direction. Instead of stopping the ball as he had intended, he fell to the pavement and groaned in pain.

The ball clanked off the crossbar and deflected into the garage door behind the net It ricocheted back and plunked Zack in the back of the head before it rolled into the net. He barely registered the sound of Tyler cheering because the sound of the pain ruminating in his ears was incredibly intense.

When something touched his non-injured shoulder, Zack jolted in surprise. He had been so lost in his pain that he has forgotten that he wasn’t alone. When he looked up to see who it was, he relaxed when he realized that it was just Tyler. Zack felt something pull tight in his stomach when he saw that Tyler looked genuinely frightened and concerned.

“Zack? What’s wrong, bud?” He asked as he squatted down.

“My shoulder,” Zack said, using his good arm to motion to where it hurt. “I felt something snap when I reached for the ball.”

“Can you sit up?”

Zack nodded as he did as instructed, trying his best to keep as much pressure off of his injured shoulder as he possibly could. Tyler looked at Zack���s shoulder and manipulated it in every possible direction to test its mobility. The entire time, Zack hissed and groaned in pain because it felt like his muscles were going to explode from the pressure that was being put on them.

“I think you snapped your latissimus dorsi muscle,” Tyler said after a few minutes. He laid Zack’s arm flat against his chest. He took off the LA Kings Jonathan Bernier jersey he was wearing and tied it around Zack’s neck like a makeshift sling. “You’ll need to wear that until we can get you into the team trainers.”

“Fuck, alright,” Zack replied as he slipped his arm carefully—and painfully—into the makeshift sling. “Thanks, man. You seem to know your shit. I didn’t realize I was friends with a genius.”

Tyler chuckled as he helped Zack stand up from the pavement. “I was a goalie and that means a lot of weird injuries. You learn a lot of medical jargon from that.”

“Still, man. I’m a catcher and you get some weird ass injuries from that too. Doesn’t mean I know what the hell a latiwhateverthefuck is.”

“Yeah, yeah. I think it’s well-established that you’re mentally adjacent to something a trailer park cat dragged in out of the dumpster.”

Zack huffed in bemusement as he and Tyler walked from the driveway to the front door. Tyler opened it and motioned for Zack to go first. Nodding his thanks and smiling, Zack walked through the door and into the foyer of his house.

“That may be true but you know you still love me all the same.”

“In, um, more ways than one, bud.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Zack turned around to face the other catcher. He had barely heard what was said because Tyler had inexplicably slammed the front door; it felt to Zack like that had been strategic, almost like Tyler didn’t want Zack to hear him. When Zack looked at Tyler to gauge his reaction, he, predictably, looked scared out of his mind. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was rubbing at his forearms and shifting nervously from foot to foot as he seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at Zack.

“Did you just...?” Zack asked, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

Tyler nodded in response. He had stopped shifting from foot to foot. Instead, he had taken a couple of steps back towards the door, his face looking like he was ready to burst into tears at any moment.

Blinking owlishly, Zack pointed at himself with his hand that wasn’t in the sling. “Feelings... for me...?”

“If that makes you uncomfortable, I can ask for a trade,” Tyler said, his back now flush against the door.

“If you do, I’m asking for a trade to the same team because the way I feel for you is well beyond ‘strictly bros.’”

“It wouldn’t be the fir—excuse me?”

Zack chuckled as he held his hand out. He raised an eyebrow and gave Tyler a rather pointed look. The other catcher nodded so Zack took that as his permission to step forward and into Tyler’s personal space. As soon as he did, Tyler dropped his head against Zack’s good shoulder. Zack pressed a soft kiss to the top of Tyler’s head as he used his free hand to feather his fingers along the skin on Tyler’s side. He smiled into Tyler’s hair when he felt a shiver run up his side at the touch.

“I feel the same way, Ty.”

“Thank you,” Tyler said, though it was muffled by the All-Star Jack Campbell jersey Zack was wearing.

“I think I can honestly say,” Zack paused to press another kiss to the top of Tyler’s head, “this is the first time someone has thanked me for having feelings for them.”

Tyler lifted his head to look at Zack. Zack swallowed thickly when he saw that Tyler’s cheeks and eyes were wet. He grabbed the cuff of his jersey sleeve and took it to wipe away the wetness on Tyler’s face. Tyler responded by grabbing Zack’s wrist and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of it. A warm sensation blossomed at the point where Tyler’s lips met his skin; that made Zack sigh contentedly as he brought his thumb up to run it along Tyler’s cheek.

Smiling, Tyler turned his head ever so slightly and pressed another kiss to the inside of Zack’s wrist. The same sensation blossomed on his skin at the kiss; this time, Zack responded by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the other catcher’s temple. That made Tyler sigh and wrap one of his arms around Zack’s midsection as he dropped his head back against the good shoulder.

“When you’ve been as unlucky in love as I have,” Tyler said with a sigh. He patted Zack on the back a couple of times before continuing. “You learn to be thankful when something finally goes your way.”

“I’m not like anyone you’ve dated before, man.”

Tyler lifted his head and looked at Zack with a genuine smile. “Why do you think I’m thankful?”

[granolabird]

A Conversation on Fake Dogs and the Validity of Enjoying Whipped Cream

It’s 1Am where I am but I was inspired by today’s Stargirl episode to write an Hournite fic. I started one after last week’s episode too but I never finished it, so maybe expect that one soon too- Anyway I hope all my fellow Hournite fans enjoy this spur of the moment little drabble :)

Warnings: None!! This is just fluff <3

.

This is not a date. 

At least, that’s what Rick keeps telling himself. No, this is much the opposite really. Just a bunch of friends hanging out together and figuring out who, or what, the hell Eclipso is. And things were going well! They had some genuine leads, and Rick had managed to secure some more food for Grundy. 

Things were going well. 

Right. 

Except now both Courtney and Yolanda had left, leaving just Rick and Beth. 

Sitting across from each other drinking milkshakes. 

In a distinctly date-like fashion.

Rick really wouldn’t mind going on a date with Beth, but that’s not a fact he wants anyone to know. And, if he did go on a date with her, he most certainly would not like it to go like this. He’s barely concealing his disgust towards his chocolate milkshake as Beth berates him with questions about his nonexistent dog. He’s not even sure why he’s trying to keep the dog lie up. It was such a stupid spur of the moment thing he said to cover for himself but now it’s spiralled out of control, as most things in Rick’s life do. So here he is, providing vague answers about a non-existent ‘big dog’ that he’s taking care of, while forcing himself not to get too flustered by Beth’s soft smile. 

The conversation lulls into silence for a moment, Beth somehow running out of inquiries regarding the Grundy-dog, and Rick almost lets out a sigh of relief but before he can Beth is quick to speak again.

“I meant what I said earlier.” She offers suddenly, and Rick tips his head in confusion.

“What?”

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t really explain that right-” She pushes her almost empty milkshake glass towards him. “You can have my whipped cream!”

He stares at the glass for a moment, brows raised, before looking back up at Beth. 

“You really don’t want your whipped cream? That’s like, the best part.”

Beth shakes her head lightly, nudging the glass closer to Rick.

“It’s always too sweet, and they always put too much. You enjoy it more anyway, so go ahead.” She gestures vaguely to Rick’s half-empty milkshake glass as she says that last bit, pointing out how he had eaten all the whipped cream first. 

Rick isn’t sure what he’s more astonished by. The fact that the sweetest person he knows doesn’t like sweet foods, or the fact that Beth pays attention to him enough to know whipped cream is his favourite part of the milkshake. It’s stupid, but it makes him smile. Before Beth nobody paid him much mind, but she seems to take note of every little thing he does. It’s crazy. 

“Thanks.” He says with a smile as he grabs a spoon off the table and starts scooping whipped cream into his mouth. 

The smile Beth offers in return has Rick’s stomach filling with butterflies that he struggles to repress. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes track the spoon travelling to his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure what they are to each other, and he’s not sure he wants to put a name to their relationship. They’re not dating, not by a long shot, but they’re close. He likes to think of it as a flirtatious friendship of sorts. They trust each other, confide in each other, sometimes flirt, but nothing more. And Rick likes it that way. He’s not good with this sort of thing, romance has never been his forte, and with his family history he’s reluctant to pursue any relationship. His parents died trying to keep him safe, and he knows deep down that he would do the same for Beth. He’s already lost his parents, if something were to happen to Beth it would tear him apart. 

As he dwells on this thought, Beth pipes up.

“You’re out of whipped cream already!” She jokes, and he looks down at the milkshake, realising she’s right. He’s scarfed down the entirety of the whipped cream in what amounts to a minute, maybe two.

“It’s really good.” Rick says with a shrug and Beth laughs even more, making Rick grin and chuckle alongside her. 

God he is so whipped for this girl.

Before they can continue their conversation on fake dogs and the validity of enjoying whipped cream, Yolanda arrives with a massive paper bag presumably full of the burgers Rick ordered. She passes the bag to Rick with an exasperated huff, before she speaks;

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” She asks, giving Rick a sly look. 

“Yeah! Rick was just telling me about his dog!” Beth explains, and Yolanda nods sagely in response.

“And Beth was commenting on how much I love whipped cream.” Rick adds on, desperate to avoid any more questions regarding his fictitious pet.

“Frankly it’s absurd! He’s a whipped cream eating machine!” Beth exclaims, and the three of them laugh, happy to enjoy one another’s company.

“Well, I guess I should get going.” Rick stands, pointing to the bag of food. “The dog isn’t gonna feed himself.”

“You really should be feeding him proper food.” Beth sighs and Rick runs a hand through his hair, not sure what to say.

“I do, but he likes burgers as a snack.” As a snack? Rick Tyler you are incredibly bad at coming up with excuses- but Beth seemingly resigns to Rick’s inability to care for his dog with a sigh.

“Alright. Well, drive home safely okay?” She tells him and he nods with a smile.

“Always.” Beth is smiling back at him, and they stay like that for a moment, softly smiling at one another.

Yolanda glances awkwardly between the pair before beginning to clean off the table, the milkshake glasses clinking loudly against each other, breaking the duo out of their stupor. 

“Right! Well I’ll see you both tomorrow!” Yolanda says with a wave, and Rick gives her a nod, beginning his walk out of the diner. Just as he reaches the door, he spares a glance back, to see Beth watching him go. He tosses her one last grin and a small wave before heading out the door. Their relationship isn’t perfect, and hell it may never amount to anything more than a friendship but that’s okay. As long as Rick can see Beth’s smile every day he knows he’ll be alright.