#again. i have watched it all the way through a couple times

[gallavichsreddie1128]

I’m Sorry (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Rafe didn’t tell the Pogues that Y/N (his wife and their ex best friend) (and JJ’s ex) would be on this trip to get the crown with them.

Word Count: 2,558

Rafe didn’t tell the pogues that his wife, their ex best friend, would be on the boat. JJ and her dated for a while but things didn’t work out and she ended up in the arms of Rafe Cameron.

The pogues disowned her after they found out that she was dating him. She was heartbroken and Rafe put her heart back together. She was with him while he stirred the boat. The others outside the door talking about them.

She knew that they didn’t trust Rafe and they probably didn't trust her. She didn’t blame them but she had hoped that this would make them see that they could trust them, mostly her. “Rafe, Y/N.” John B said the couple’s names.

They both turned to look at the group that was by the door. “Hey guys.” Y/N said but her voice was quiet. She hadn’t talked to them in so long and to hear her name fall from his lips was crazy. “We just want peace.” That would have been simple until JJ decided to punch him.

Y/N felt rage through her body at him doing that. Almost like JJ had always wanted to do that, probably has. “REALLY?” Y/N yelled at him. “I don’t trust him, none of us do. Not sure if we even trust you.” He said. That had hurt her a lot.

She wasn’t the reason their relationship ended, it was him. Rafe fixed her and sure he wasn’t the best guy but it was enough for her. “I’m not the one who fucked you over JJ, you fucked over me.” Y/N said. 

Y/N waited for Rafe to wake up. It was a battle but she convinced them not to tie him up. She had food and pain killers waiting for him. He woke a few hours after the incident and looked around, “Hey babe. I brought you some food and painkillers.” Y/N told him.

He was pissed and wanted them off the boat after that but again Y/N had to convince him not too. “He punched me. Let’s not pretend that this is just about me not being trustworthy.” Rafe said to her as they ate. Y/N raised her eyebrows.

He was probably right. “Yeah well that was 3 years ago, Rafe.” She was over it and was even ready to forgive him but JJ didn’t feel the same. Maybe JJ was still in love with her after all. 

The boat started to rock like crazy causing them to get up and see what was going on. It was a disaster waiting to happen. The boat was crashing into the water and flooding. “Guys what’s going on?” She asked. “The storm.” Kie said. Y/N managed to make her way to where John B was.

JJ and Sarah are also there. It was bad, so bad to the point that Y/N ended up in the water. “Y/N.” JJ yelled and grabbed a raft and threw it in the water. “I’m coming.” He yelled and jumped in the water after her.

Rafe got there just in time to see them get covered by a big wave. He screamed his wife’s name and Sarah managed to hold him back so they didn’t lose more people. 

Rafe was crying and freaking out. The others had hope that they would turn up but Rafe had lost too much. They all felt bad and guilty that they treated them like that and realized that they aren’t bad people. Y/N never was and she might be dead. Sarah couldn’t help but cry.

Maybe it was the guilt or the sadness but she was crying so hard. Rafe was thinking about it so much. His wife was most likely dead and JJ jumped in after her. If they were alive he couldn’t even be mad about it. What if JJ had saved her life but what if she realized that she still loved him?

Rafe was deep in thought that he didn’t realize John B looking out in the distance at two people. “Guys.” Everyone looked over at the two people walking towards them. Rafe jumped up and ran to them. As he got closer he saw his wife and he laughed in relief.

She saw him and ran to him as well until they collapsed on the ground in a hug. Both of them were crying and saying that they love one another. JJ watched as the couple kissed and laughed in relief. He saved her life and though she was thankful, she was not going to leave rafe for him. 

“I saved her life.” JJ tells the others as they all sit around the fire. “And I am thankful for that JJ.” She said to him. He couldn’t meet her eyes, why was it that he thought she would love him all over again now? “Thanks for saving her.” Rafe said to him.

Everyone was shocked by that but also it made sense. Y/N was his wife after all.  Rafe wanted to be mad and yell at him but he couldn’t. She might not be alive if it wasn’t for him. But the thought of JJ and her together sickened him. Rafe wasn’t an idiot and saw right through JJ.

He knew that JJ was hoping for her to love him again and that’s what scared him. What broke him out of his thoughts was her yawning in his arms. “Well, I’m tired. Goodnight guys.” She said. Rafe followed her to where she was sleeping and laid down next to her. He pulled her body right up against his and he felt her snuggle up against him.   

Hearing that Sarah was pregnant actually made Y/N happy. She knew that John B and Sarah would be good parents and she was very excited for them. Rafe and her wanted kids but Rafe was scared. He never wanted to treat his kids the way he was treated.

Sure he loved his dad but it wasn’t a hidden fact that he wasn’t the greatest dad. But Rafe had no reaction to hearing that Sarah was pregnant. Y/N wanted to ask him about it but they really had no time. When Rafe almost got arrested for something the others did, it slipped her mind.

And Rafe had a lot of questions for her when they were walking around. “Did he try anything after saving you?” He asked after buying them clothes. “No. We barely talked.” Which was true. She thanked him and even hugged him but besides that they didn’t talk. “Did he tell you that he was still in love with you?” She looked at him like he had three heads. She shook her head, “No because he isn’t.” Rafe wanted to argue that factor but instead asked another question.

“Do you feel anything for him after that?” “Rafe, what?” She asked. “He saved your life and did something I couldn’t.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. Whether he was going to admit it or not she knew that was his worst fear. “Rafe, I can assure you I don’t love him. I love you.” She tells him.

Before he could respond he notices someone and pulls Y/N with him up against the wall. The people were talking about Groff. They listened and figured that he was close by. 

Rafe didn’t wanna leave her alone so he bought her a four wheeler and told her once he has Groff to speed off with them. She nods and waits for her man as he kicks some ass and gets Groff. Before Groff could say anything to her they drove off. She followed Rafe to wherever it was that he was headed.

She got off the four wheeler and Rafe immediately started to question Groff. Groff didn’t even get to say anything to Y/N with how Rafe was questioning him. Groff didn’t have the money anymore but he had the map to the treasure. Y/N gasped when they started fighting and Rafe took those things from him.

The Pendant was beautiful. Y/N couldn’t wait to wear it but that slipped her mind as Rafe pushed him in the well. “HAHA CHECKMATE BITCH.” Y/N bit her lip, finding that hot but knew it wasn’t the right time. He handed her the pendant and she put it on. “It looks beautiful on you.” He winks at her. She smiled at him and he looked at the map. They had a long way to go. 

“You know it was really hot when you pushed Groff into that well.” She said to him. He looked over at her and smirked, “My wife is a freak.” She laughed at him and shook her head, “Anything you do I find hot, Rafe.” He looked back at the map as they walked.

“Yeah well I would love to fuck you right now after hearing that but we gotta get our money first.” She sighed. It was truly unfortunate that they couldn’t. “Give me the pendant.” He says and she takes it off and hands it to him.

He tries to read the map with it but gets frustrated. “Here.” She said and took the necklace from him. She used to do this treasure hunting stuff with the pogues all the time. He smiled as he watched her figure it out. 

Rafe, who had the map in his hand, held up his hands as they were held at gunpoint. Y/N also held up her hands and looked at her husband, nervously. “Let her go she has nothing to do with this.” Rafe tries but they don’t care. “Drop the map.” Rafe nods and announces that he’s doing it slowly.

Y/N couldn’t look anywhere but her husband, missing her old friends ready to shoot the guys holding them hostage. It was in a flash of a second that Sarah shot at them and Rafe took Y/N’s hand and they ran. The pogues followed them. Rafe picked Y/N up and ran faster. She told him to wait as she saw the pogues but he didn’t listen until they barged through the door. “Next time we’ll let you get shot.” Kie tells him but Y/N thanks her. He sets Y/N down but still has the map. “Groff didn’t have the money.” She says to the others.

“Hand over the map.” Y/N looks at Rafe knowing he wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Rafe, baby give them it. They know what they are doing.” He looks at her, “You also know.” While that was true this was their fight now. “Dad would want us to work together.” Rafe was about to break. He believed that Sarah killed him. Y/N didn’t. “Rafe, they are willing to work together.” Y/N tries but he yells at Sarah saying that he couldn’t trust her because of Ward. “Dad died saving me. I was gonna die.” Y/N felt tears in her own eyes. “You’re so quick to blame me for everything.” That was true. “You’re gonna leave me just like everyone else in my life has besides Y/N. She’s the only one keeping me going. You’ll ruin that. He’s trying to ruin that.” Rafe pointed at JJ.

JJ stayed silent as Sarah talked to him, “I’m all you have.” “Baby look at me. She’s telling the truth. I know them baby, they aren’t bad people. Nothing will ever come between us.” Her heart broke at the sight of him crying. “We’ll still get our cut?” Rafe asked Sarah. “Yes.” He goes to hand her the map but she pushes it away and she hugs him. Y/n smiled at the sight and rubbed his back as he tried to hold back tears. 

“Hun, I’m going down there to stop them.” “No.” “Rafe, they are killers.” Kie said to him. He looks at the two of them. “I’m a killer too.” He says and if he said that at any other point, she would have been so turned on but right now they were on a mission. Kie and Y/N couldn’t really see JJ but kept telling him to hurry up. He was trying but he was going to find it no matter what.

Y/N kept looking behind her hoping to see Rafe but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose him and this was making her think she would. “JJ we have to go.” Kie yelled at him. He was reaching into the eye of the sand statue and it looked like he pulled something out but she couldn’t be so sure.

The sand was everywhere. She heard yelling and cheering from him and smiled to herself. He got the crown. A few minutes later he showed them the crown and they all hugged. It was a nice feeling, one that she missed. They ran down to get the others and Y/N’s mind was on her husband. She had to make sure he was okay.

She yelled his name as she looked for him but gasped as she saw Groff. She hid so he couldn’t see her and he grabbed Kie. Y/N had to cover her mouth. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hurt her but of course he was willing to trade her for the crown. They were so close.

Y/N watched as the trade was made and sighed in relief. She was glad her friends were okay. Sure she wanted the money back but their lives were and always will be more important. She turned to go find Rafe but heard Kie gasping. Y/N turned around and her eyes widened, her heart dropped and her soul left her body. Groff had stabbed JJ.

She didn’t care anymore and ran over to him as Groff ran off. She thought about chasing him but didn’t want to get killed. “JJ.” She cried and he looked at her. For once since they reunited he looked at her and he didn’t look mad. Kie and her helped him to the ground.

“You’re gonna be okay. We will get you out of here.” Kie said. JJ gave them a smile, “It’s okay.” “JJ we can get you help.” Y/N tells him. He looks over at her, “Y/N I’m sorry that I messed up with you and never gave you what you deserved.” “JJ I don’t care about that stuff.” He could barely get out words but he had to tell her, “Kie I never told you my wish.” Kie was crying.

“JJ it’s okay…” “I have everything I could ever wish for right now.” He holds both of their hands. “My best friend.” He looks at Kie. “And the woman I’ll always love.” He looks at Y/N. Y/N starts crying harder. “I love you both.”  He said and his grip on their hands weakened. He was dead.

The others started showing up and everyone was crying. Rafe showed up and saw Y/N put JJ’s hand in his lap. He couldn’t even feel relief about this, nothing about it was. He wasn’t jealous or mad cuz for once he knew that she was his and that no matter what they were together.

He got on the ground with her. “Hey.” He said and she collapsed in his lap crying for her friend. “It’s okay baby. I understand and I promise you we will avenge him.” He whispered to her. One thing she learned about being married to Rafe Cameron was that he kept his word. Especially on Revenge. 

[moonstruckme]

jilly x reader where the reader gets hypothermia

cw: symptoms of mild hypothermia, (implied?) freezing water, non-sexual nudity

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James half carries you back to the cabin. This is partly because you’re shivering too hard to walk as quickly as you’d like, and partly because your legs simply won’t move the way you tell them to. Your wet lashes feel heavy with the ice crystals you imagine forming on them. 

He passes you off to Lily while he unlocks the front door. She rubs one hand uselessly over your arm through your soaked coat, using the other to unstick a frigid piece of hair from your face. 

They both help you inside. Set you down on the couch, and James makes a sound close to a laugh when you protest about getting wet on his mother’s cushions. 

“Start a fire, please?” Lily is all business, panic making her stern. Or maybe not stern so much as resolved. Her features are set, green eyes alternating between worried and determined, but her hands are characteristically gentle as they unzip your coat and pull you out of it one arm at a time. 

“Love?” 

You realize she’s been talking to you. “Hm?” 

Delicate brows pinch in either concern or relief. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” 

“Oh. Um.” Your chittering makes your words come out jolting and stilted. “Cold.” 

“Tired?” she asks. You put your arms up when she motions for you to, letting her lift your jumper over your head. The thought that you’re the only one getting undressed between your partners doesn’t occur to you; you only know that Lily seems urgent, and you trust her. 

“Ye—yeah.” 

“I think we have an electric blanket around here somewhere,” says James. He’s poking at a log in the fireplace, trying to provoke a bigger flame. “Get her closer to here, love.” 

“I’m still trying to get her out of her wet clothes. Can you help me?” 

James helps you to stand so Lily can tug your trousers off. They stick to your legs but crinkle oddly, stiff with ice. James kisses your temple and murmurs something you can’t quite make out. You feel guilty for ruining what was meant to be a fun afternoon of ice skating on the pond near James’ family cabin. You’ve never heard Lily shout like she did when the ice broke beneath you. 

They wrap you up in an electric blanket and put your hair up in a towel to get it off your neck, and you let James massage warmth into your fingers while Lily makes something warm for you to drink. 

“Jamie,” she calls from the kitchen, “do you all keep a thermometer here?” 

“Um, I’m not sure,” replies James. “If we did, it’d be in one of the drawers in the bathroom.” 

You hear your girlfriend whizz off in that direction. 

“How are you, angel?” James presses a couple of firm, warm kisses to your face, squeezing your hands. “Do you still feel tired?” 

“A little,” you admit. Your shivering has lessened, though. “Is it okay that we left our skates by the pond?” 

“What?” He gives a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. That’s not really the top concern right now, you know?” 

You frown. It’s supposed to snow again tonight. “I don’t want them to get buried…” 

“I’ll go get them later,” James reassures you. He kisses your nose. “Don’t worry about that, lovebug. Just try to get warm, okay?” 

“I sort of feel like you guys are doing all the work for me.” 

James’ laughs as Lily comes to sit beside you. 

“Here, can you keep this in your mouth for me, please?” You nod, but when she slips the thermometer under your tongue she evidently makes a last-minute call to hold it herself instead. Lily’s thumb drags heavily over your cheek. You notice her bottom lip looks colored and bitten. 

“I think I’m okay…” you try to tell her, but stop when she shushes you gently. 

“That’s good, lovely, but don’t talk with this in your mouth.” She gives you a terse smile. 

James transfers both of your hands to one of his, using the other to squeeze her elbow consolingly. Both of your partners watch you intently as you wait. 

When Lily deems it's been long enough and looks at the thermometer, her posture slumps with relief. 

“Oh, it’s—that’s not so bad.” 

James grins, reading over her shoulder. “It must be coming up,” he says confidently. 

You offer your girlfriend a smile. “I told you, I think I’m fine.” 

Lily makes a soft, strangled sound, eyebrows pinching in the moment before she throws her arms around you. You see some of your own surprise reflected in James’ expression as you catch her, bringing her into the heated dome of your electric blanket with you.

“I didn’t know…I was really scared,” she confesses tearily, squeezing you around your neck. 

You rub her back in an attempt to reassure her. Behind her, James is doing the same. He gets his arms around the both of you, holding your shoulders through the blanket. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We must be doing something right, yeah? Or she wouldn’t be getting better so quickly.” 

Lily exhales a shaky breath. “I am never, ever going ice skating again.” 

“Yes, you are,” you tell her fondly. 

“No. And you shouldn’t either! In fact, I hope our skates do get buried, and neither of you can ever find them.” 

You make a sound of protest, but James speaks over you, “Alright, lovely. We can let nature roll the dice tonight, if that’s what you want.” 

“But James—” 

“Angel, you weren’t witness to your own blue lips,” he tells you, rubbing your shoulder pacifyingly. “I think we’re permitted a bit of overreaction right now. I say bury the skates.” 

You give a little laugh. “You’re both taking this too far. We don’t have to use them, but there’s no reason to leave perfectly good skates out there in the snow.” 

“Mm, let’s say we return to that debate when you’re no longer shivering.” 

You all sit there for a while, holding each other while the fire crackles and warmth seeps into your fingertips. Lily’s hands are actually quite cold around your neck, but you refuse to tell her lest she spring away from you. When the kettle starts to whistle, she sniffs and pulls away anyways, wiping under her eyes. 

“I’ve got it,” says James, standing with a kiss to each of your heads. “What are we having?” 

“Hot chocolate.” She takes a breath, collecting herself. “She needs something with sugar. Thanks, Jamie.” 

You smile at her. “You’re so brilliant. How do you know that?” 

Lily’s lips tilt slightly in response. “I read it somewhere.” 

“So brilliant,” you repeat, kissing her softly on the lips. They’re noticeably warmer than yours, but you feel much more yourself than you had when you first got back to the cabin. “Thanks for helping me.” 

She makes a scoffing sort of noise. It doesn’t sound terribly derisive when it’s bent by fondness like this. Lily touches the backs of her fingers to your cheek, caressing. “You don’t have to thank us. Either of us,” she says. The tears have cleared from her eyes, leaving a raw caring in their wake. “We love you. A lot.” 

Your heart feels more than sufficiently warmed as you close the gap between you again. “I love you a lot, too.”

[livwritessometimes]

At Least One Of Us Got Our Happy Ending

: Part 15 (Lando's Version)

: Spring Fling is finally here…that’s a good thing right?

: Prev | Next

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - You can refer to Interesting *Cue Evil Laugh* to get the context for a certain part.

…

As Y/n and Lando watched Oscar pull his girl in for a kiss, she couldn't help but join some of their friends in hooting for the new couple. It was nice to see Oscar finally be with the girl he'd madly been head-over-heels for—Y/n could recall countless conversations they'd had about this. Smiling at the scene, she felt Lando pull her close to him, his hand resting on her waist.

"Should we get back to the table?" Asked Lando

Looking away from the scene in front of her, Y/n nodded at him and started leading him to their table.

There sat Max, one of Lando's friends who he constantly played games with, and his date.

Taking a seat, Y/n said, "It's so nice to see Oscar finally be happy."

"It is! I'm glad he came today," Lando said, looking at Oscar.

Max laughed to himself, leaning back against the chair he said, "I guess it's nice when things work out the way they're supposed to, huh?" He said, looking at Lando.

Lando narrowed his eyes at Max, "Max..." He said in a warning tone.

Confused by the exchange Y/n asked, "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

Max shrugged casually, taking a sip from the flask he had snuck in, "Oh, it's just funny how it all started you know? I just didn't think you guys would actually make it," Max finished.

Lando could feel his heart beating faster, "Max," He said again this time with hint of anger.

Y/n couldn't help but tense up, looking between Lando and Max. "What does he mean by 'How it started' Lando?" She asked.

"Oh nothing, you know how I am, I love to talk nonsense," Max said realizing that he might have said a little too much.

"Lando...What does he mean by that?" Y/n asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando sighed deeply, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. He felt angry—angry at Max for opening his mouth when it was not needed, angry at himself for agreeing to do such a stupid thing.

"Y/n..." He started, his voice hesitant. Reaching out for her hand, he said, "It wasn't supposed to mean anything...I had no idea that I would actually fall in love..." He said. He could see the dread wash over Y/n's eyes.

*flashback*

*present*

Y/n felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. All hope and dreams for an amazing night disappeared in an instant. She sat there in silence as she let Lando's words sink in.

"So I was just a 'Dare'?" She asked, still in disbelief.

Lando avoided her gaze, his throat feeling dry. "I—I never imagined that it would turn into this," He said. "At first, it was just a stupid dare, I was just angry about the complaint, but I never thought that..." Lando's voice trailed off. He was not sure what he could say or do to make any of it sound better.

Y/n could feel her eyes sting with tears, "So does that mean all this time, every single conversation we've had, every single moment we've spent together...It was all just a game to you?" Y/n said as tears trickled down her face.

"No!," Lando said suddenly, a little too loud for his liking. He tried to reach out for her hand, but she pulled away, "I didn't mean for it to be like that. It was just a dare at the start, I admit, but the more time I spent with you, the more I realized that I just couldn't continue. I was going to tell you, I swear Y/n," Lando said. "I just didn't know how...." He trailed off again.

"So if you hadn't "fallen in love" with me, would you have still gone through with your plan?" Y/n asked, her voice a mixture of anger and hurt.

Lando opened his mouth but no words came out. He didn't have an answer. Deep down, he knew that no answer would make things right. The damage had already been done.

Y/n stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Congrats!" She spat, her voice filled with bitterness. "You've won your stupid dare. I really hope it was worth it Lando," she said as she started walking towards the exit.

"Y/n please wait!" Lando pleaded.

"NO!" Y/n said, finally letting go of the emotions she had been holding onto till now. "Don't you dare follow me. You've lost the right to do that," she said, her voice cracking at the end.

And with that, she made her way out of the hall, taking Lando's heart with every step she took.

…

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[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you” to the hashira

How would the hashira react to you not saying “I love you” back to them?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

Sanemi not saying “I love you” back is extremely rare. It’s usually the case that the wind hashira is too distracted by something and instead of reincorporating your affection, he might mumble “Yeah, yeah” or a simple “Me too” under his breath, thinking he did say those three magic words properly, only noticing that he didn’t when he noticed that you were being pouty once he did manage to find time to solely focus on you.

Sometimes, when you two lay in bed together, you mumble a quiet “love you”. As you close your eyes and think that your husband is already deeply asleep, you hear Sanemi sleepily respond instinctively to your affirmation.

“Don’t let the rice eat you.”

At least he’s being concerned for your safety even in his dreams.

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

It would actually make him really sad. Sanemi strongly believes that he probably did something to upset you, what other reason could be there for you not to reincorporate his words?

He’d silently glance at you every now and then throughout the whole day, trying to analyse your body language to find out if you’re upset at him. Sanemi would hover near you, almost like a kicked-puppy, still waiting on you to give him love, despite the situation of you not reincorporating those words was early in the morning and with that several hours ago. He needs you to reassure him, or else no missions will be finished that day.

“Hey, you forgot something.” He’d try to remind you, but you not knowing what he meant you just cock your head in slight confusion. Sanemi ran his fingers through his hair and sighed quietly. “Nevermind. Whatever.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

Impossible! Either you didn’t hear him over his mouth being stuffed with sweet potato fries, or he overthought the perfect moment on when to say his favourite three words to the point where he forgets to say them at all. After missing the perfect moment and not saying “I love you, Kyojuro’ll just give you a simple compliment or a wonky yet bright smile, trying to convey his love for you in that way.

If he sees you get confused or even sad about how he is not reincorporating your love, he’ll quickly almost yell the words out, not wanting to upset you.

“I love you! I promise I do!”

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

Kyojuro’s first instinct would be to think that you are just too busy or preoccupied to reply to him, especially with you having to run so many errands today. After a couple hours pass where you spend your time elsewhere, he’d briefly worry if there is something that is bothering you, but that thought quickly faded away since your husband is sure that you’ll share whatever troubles you when the time is right and you feel comfortable enough.

So, once he sees you again, Kyojuro’ll continue to give you affection and reassurance, trying to make you feel loved without words by giving you light pecks on your cheek, holding your hand while you two walked or taking you out on a small, unplanned date. He’ll tell you that he loves you again, watching you expectantly with big eyes until you finally utter the words that make his heart melt every time.

“I love you, my firefly!” He had a big grin on his face while those words left his mouth, now awaiting for your reaction. Chuckling quietly, you responded with a small kiss on his cheek. Kyojuro’s face briefly turned into a pout, wanting to hear you say it back. It was just too adorable to tease him like this…

Gyomei Himejima

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

The reason Gyomei barely says “I love you” is that he feels that actions speak louder, and besides, you already know that he loves you more than any words can ever express. Although, if you tell him that you love him, he will of course respond by reassuring you with a soft smile and leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back

If you don’t reincorporate his affirmation, Gyomei wouldn’t mind at all. Just like he does, you express your love for him in other ways: touching him in any way, kisses, small gifts or your presence alone is reassuring him of your love. Yet, it is nice to hear it every once in a while. If you ignore his “I love you” in order to tease him or whatever other reason, he grows very quiet and thoughtful. He wonders if you have any troubles or if he hurt you in any way, sitting down in a quiet area to reflect on all his actions and behaviours over the past weeks, praying quietly.

Your husband also will ask you outright if you are upset at him after pondering for a while. If you tell him no, Gyomei will grow even more worried. Perhaps you were using sarcasm? Surely something must’ve moved you to not respond to his affections, right?

“I love you, my light.” Your husband calls out to you, pulling your attention away from whatever you were doing, responding with a simple “Okay.” You watched as his whole face morphed into one of worry, him slowly retreating back into the gardens to continue to self-reflect and pray.

Giyu Tomioka

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

It happens on accident sometimes, Giyu either forgets or is too nervous to say it back. He’s not quite used to the idea of being loved and cherished by someone he loves so much, so his brain temporarily halts when you tell him that you love him. Sometimes, he gives you a nasty look on accident as a response, as if silently judging you for choosing someone like him to date and spend your time with. He hasn’t quite processed everything yet, so please forgive him when he either doesn’t respond or mumbled a very quiet “love you too”

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

His heart is shattered, thoughts about you loosing interest in him or not loving him anymore now running in circles over and over in his mind. Those three simple words can do so much with a person’s mind, can’t they? Giyu grows immediately extremely quiet, pulling away from you and heading off to any available mission right now or going to train, trying to give you space. He tries to concentrate on training or the missions but he keeps thinking about you not saying that you love him back. Giyu feels so nervous and nauseous about coming back home, thinking you are not there to greet him and gone forever, or suggesting to break up. He may be overreacting, but he just can’t help it!

Once the water hashira walks through the front door of your shared estate, carefully looking around for your presence, he spotted you in the bedroom. Giyu brought all the courage he had together for this: “I love you.” You lifted your gaze and glanced at him, giving your lover a small smile. “Love you too.”

Oh! His shoulders visibly sagged, tension leaving his body. He gave you an awkward nod before leaving. So his overthinking was all for nothing.

💠

This was inspired by this post (from the Genshin fandom) and I wanted to write my own kny version of it, even if it’s not as long or detailed as the original XD

Anyways, I somehow got sick again and wrote this during the periods I did not feel nauseous but I hope you all enjoyed this anyway <3

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[lqveharrington]

Bus Stop | R.L.

summary: both you and remus miss the bus during a rain shower.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, strangers being cute, cursing

a/n: i seriously need to finish my coriolanus series help 😭

As a meteorologist for the local news media, you knew what the weather was going to look like everyday. In fact, plenty of people tuned in to hear the forecast just from you. It was something you enjoyed doing, you liked helping people out for the smallest things. You could predict whether or not the sun would be shining to the point where ice cream would melt in an instant, or if it would snow so hard that the roads were to icy to drive in.

It felt nice to be helpful and appreciated in a community you’ve learned to love.

But every once in a while, the computer system the station owned would make small mistakes. There would be times where it predicted hard rain, but instead ended in light rain with little to no clouds. Of course, it was something so rare that you always disregarded it and moved on.

Except for today.

You were standing underneath the thinnest awning as rain pellets fell harshly from the thundering sky. You missed the bus for the first time in years. It was stupidly coincidental that the day the computer system decided not to work was the day you missed the bus. It had shown that only light rain would be coming to your area.

Wrong.

So now you were trapped in a small space until a bus appeared or the rain let up, which was unlikely.

The wind blew harshly on your skin and made the rain splash everywhere. You were getting drenched by the minute and all you could do was wait. Your Mary Jane’s were completely ruined and your tote bag completely soaked, which incased your book and notepad. It was all destroyed.

A frown made its way to your face. You couldn’t even tell if tears were streaming down your face or if it was the rain as you felt your chest constrict. But even the universe had its limits and thought it was cruel to have you all alone in the storm. So it sent you one companion who happened to miss the bus as well.

A man ran over to where you were, his eyes wide in frustration and annoyance. You watched him run underneath the awning with his jacket over his head, which did little as he was completely soaked from head to toe.

He gave you a slight nod and looked out toward the obstructed street view, “How long have you been waiting?”

You blink in confusion before realizing he was talking to you. Heat covered your neck when he gave you an amused grin as he ran his fingers through his wet hair in attempts to squeeze the water out.

“Oh! Uhm, maybe a couple of minutes? Only two buses come down this way.” You look down to your shoes, the puddle underneath rising toward your ankle, although you feet were already drenched.

He sighed and leaned his head back on the brick wall behind, rubbing his palms in his eyes. “Fuck, okay.”

After a few seconds, an awkward silence took over despite the heavy rainfall. It wasn't like you intended for it to get awkward, but standing in a tight space with a man you never met really set off tension.

Yours eyes flickered from the rain puddles to the man beside you. Clearing your throat, you began to speak, but at the same time, the man spoke as well.

“How—“

“What—“ Your eyes widen and the previous heat creeped up to your cheeks. “Sorry, go ahead.”

“No, that’s quite alright. I was just trying to make small talk.” The man shrugged and sent you a small smile.

You grinned back and fiddled with the strap of your tote back. “So was I.”

Despite the attempt, another silence took over. This time, it was less awkward. The rain continued to pelt down and the sun began it's slow descent down when you decided to strike a conversation again.

“What made you late?”

He looked over toward you, his mind zoned out from the pattering of the rain. “Mm?”

“To the stop, I mean." You smile sheepishly and waved your hand around. "I got here just as the bus left, but you were minutes behind.”

“Ah,” He nodded and pushed his hair back again. “My car is at the mechanics and I wasn’t sure when the coaches come around. I guess I was a little off.”

“Just a little.” You pinch your finger together as a small laugh falls from your lips.

A comfortable silence took over this time. You had yet to know the man’s name, but you knew that he was alright to be around for the time being. Who knows if there were weird people out in the rain coming to get you.

The rain only grew harder, causing you and the mystery man to push closer in hopes of staying out of the harsh weather and not freeze to death. Well, more so than already.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before.” The man spoke and glanced at you to see an amused glint in your eyes.

“Yeah?”

He squinted his eyes before snapping his fingers in recognition. “You’re the meteorologist on channel 8.”

You laugh softly and place your hands on your hips, smiling like you would on television. “The one and only.”

“I didn’t think I would meet a celebrity waiting for the coach.” The man chuckled and ended with a content smile, shaking his head at the fact he did meet someone everyone loved.

“Where do you work?” You ask out of the blue, catching him off guard. “It’s only right, you know my place of work.”

He raised his brows like it was the most obvious thing. “You’re on the tele.”

“Same difference.”

You both stared at each other as if you were in a silent competition before you looked away, clearing your throat. Sensing your fraction of discomfort, the man answered your question.

“I work down at the bookstore on King’s street. It’s beside the café.” He gestured toward where he came from and smiled when your eyes lit up.

“Oh! My friend Lily works down there. I love that place, they have everything I ever need in life.” You grin at the mention of your favorite store downtown, but purse your lips when you remember what exactly you had in your tote. “But, one of the books is kind of destroyed in my bag.”

"You destroyed public property?"

"Not on purpose!" You defend yourself and put a hand up, the small smile on your lips showing your true emotion. "That's not funny."

"It was."

You roll your eyes in an amused manner and settle into a short silence. Time felt like it was going so fast yet so slow, and you weren’t exactly sure what that meant. Picking at your nails, you ask him another question he hopefully knew the answer to.

"Since you work with Lily, do you know a guy named Remus? She said he worked there with her, she wants me to meet him."

He raised a singular brow at you and tucked his hands under his arms as the wind blew harder. "I may or may not know. Why?"

"She said we would hit it off right away." You shrug and shiver, causing your body to instinctively pull closer to the man beside you for warmth. "And every time she wants me to go over to meet him, I'm really busy with work."

He hummed and looked down at you, meeting your eyes with pure joy and mischief. "I think that you would hit it off right away."

"You think so?" You murmur, glancing down at his lips for a split second before looking back up to his eyes in shock at your own action.

"Oh, definitely. You'll have the time of your life with his horrid humor." He chuckled as you huffed a breath out, the heat from your mouth shown in front of you.

"As bad as you laughing at me for accidently destroying a library book?"

"Precisely." The man nodded in agreement, pulling you further back into the stop as a car drove by without slowing down. "How long have you been a meteorologist?"

"Oh gosh," You bite your lip in thought and go back to your first time actually working as a meteorologist. "Maybe two years officially? I studied a lot in college for it and was given an internship with NASA back in the states for my last year."

His lips turned-down into a smile, not that surprised by the fact with how much you loved your job. "I'm impressed."

"Thank you." You tilt your head down and look down at the ever growing puddle, sighing at the sight. "Although, sometimes I wish I had chosen a job back in the states rather than come back here."

"Why is that?"

"The weather here is mostly the same all year round. There's nothing too interesting about it." You gesture toward the rain.

As you pointed out the harsh rain you would always report on, the bus lights finally appeared through the thick fog. You shut your eyes in thanks before holding tightly onto your tote. But before the bus got to your stop, you decided to speak once more. Maybe, just maybe, the mystery man was alright.

"I never got your name."

He turned his head to you and shrugged, his brown hair splashing you with water. "Technically, I didn't get yours either."

"Doesn't count, I'm on television." You quip as the bus comes to a stop, but the look on the man’s face caught you off guard. "What is it? Why are you smiling weirdly?"

"I'm Remus Lupin." He struck his hand out and kissed your knuckles. "And it was a pleasure to hit it off with you."

"You're joking." You gape at the mysterious man who you could now identify as the same Remus Lily was talking about. "You're incorrigible."

"And your coach is going to leave you behind soon." He tilted his head toward the flashing headlights of the bus.

You purse your lips and quickly get your body on the bus. You paid your bill and turned around to see him still standing at the stop. Furrowing your brows, you call out to him only to be interrupted.

“Will I expect to see you in the bookstore soon?” He cupped his hands around his mouth to enhance his voice over the heavy rainfall.

A small smile graced your lips as you responded. “Maybe!”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[t1red-twilight]

while you were sleeping

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, established relationship

summary: peter confesses something while he thinks you’re asleep.

word count: 0.5k

masterlist p. parker masterlist

you heard the window slide open and peter step inside. you did not feel inclined to move; the bed was much too comfortable. there was a soft rustling as he changed out of his suit and into his pajamas. (you silently hoped that he was wearing the matching ones you had bought together for christmas last year.)

a slight chill shivered up your spine as he pulled the sheets back and climbed into bed. you felt him fidget as he struggled to find a comfortable sleeping position. the sheets tugged as he continued to pull them up his body.

hopefully, he remembered to close the window this time. the last time, a couple days ago, he left it open and the room temperature had sunk to a brisk fifty-eight degrees by morning.

as the moments passed, his breathing slowed. you almost thought that he was asleep, until he started speaking again. “i love you,” he mumbled.

your eyes shot open. any sleep that you were being lulled back into was zapped from your body immediately. no one had said that yet. some sort of you was waiting for a perfect moment that might not even come. or, maybe you were too afraid of how he might respond. well, you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

you didn’t dare move, no matter how much you wanted to. he continued to speak: “did you know you pull your tongue between your teeth when you think? i did. i love that.” did he think you were awake?

“one of your knuckles cracks twice. your voice goes up in pitch and volume when you’re talking about something that you love. you prefer to have your feet up when you sit,” he continued. his tone insinuated that he wasn’t speaking to you, merely to himself. “i think i’m going to tell you. that i love you, i mean. i think it’s well past time.”

bingo. he thought you were asleep. you attempted to keep your breathing as still as possible, biting back a smile. god, how you loved him. how many times has he talked to himself, about you?

thinking back, it made sense. that he loved you. peter had all of your orders memorized, knew and enjoyed watching your favorite show, knew how your parents took their coffee.

maybe he knew, that you loved him. you tried to show how you felt in unspoken ways, like folding his socks in the very meticulous way he preferred. or, like how you made him tea when you could tell his body ached from swinging through the city.

peter scooted closer to you. the warmth from his body radiated through you. he slung an arm over your form, and kissed the crown of your head. when it seemed the dust had settled, you swallowed the nerves that had crawled up your throat.

you inhaled, but tried to keep your composure. “i love you too, pete.” now, you didn’t have spider-tingle-senses, or whatever they were, but you swore you could feel his heart cease beating.

his body stiffened. peter lifted his head off the pillow to look at you, only to be met with your closed eyes. “really?” his voice had quieted to a whisper. strange that he had had no clue that you were awake.

you opened an eye to look at him, a small smile playing on your face. “uh-huh.”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.

Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.

“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”

“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”

She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.

They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.

“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.

The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.

“Shut up.”

Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.

But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.

He just wants.

Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.

Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”

She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”

Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.

They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.

It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.

“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.

His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.

Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.

*** 

Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?

He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.

It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.

So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.

       Eddie —

       How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?

       I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.

       I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.

       I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.

       Yours, Always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.

Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.

He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all. 

He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy. 

There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.

“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room,  all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.

Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.

Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.

“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.

He never looks Eddie’s way at all.

“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.

“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.

Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.

Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”

Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?

Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.

Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”

And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?

It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.

Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.

The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.

Steve’s embarrassment suits him.

Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”

“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”

“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.

Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.

“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”

Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.

And they’re off!

It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.

He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.

Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.

Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.

After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show. 

Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.

Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again.  When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.

Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?

“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.

Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.

“At what, big boy?”

“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”

Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.

Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.

“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”

Neither of them wait for a reply.

The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.

“How the hell should I know?”

Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.

“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”

That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.

The only answer is the door swinging shut.

*** 

Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation. 

When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.

“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.

“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.

It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.

“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.

“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”

Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”

“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”

Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”

Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”

It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.

Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”

Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.

Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”

Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.

Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.

Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.

Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.

“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.

“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?

Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.

“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”

Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”

Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”

“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”

Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.

He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.

Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.

He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.

[in1-nutshell]

Can I request drift (idw/lost light) having an opposite personality, daughter? With said daughter being with him since he was deadlock?

First of the MTMTE cast to have a daughter with the opposite personality!

Hope you enjoy!

Drift with a daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Deadlock found the little sparkling while wandering aimlessly through the gutters of the Dead End.

The poor thing was struggling around in a deep puddle of oil, whirling and chirping for help.

Drift immediately went over and scooped her up from the puddle and placed her down.

Using some cloth and thinner pieces of scrap, he managed to get most of the gunk from the little one’s vents and cleaned most of the excess oil off her.

Drift: “There.” He feels a bit proud he managed to help someone out, even if it wasn’t much. The sparkling stared at him with wide optics and curiously chirped at him. Drift looked around. Drift: “Where are your guardian’s at—oh?” The sparkling was attempting to hug his pede. Drift: “Oh! I’m not—Little one I’m—now go on now.” Drift gently pushes the sparkling away from him. The sparkling looks a bit confused before waddling right back to him… but not before tripping going headfirst back into the puddle. Drift quickly grabs the sparkling from the puddle again. She blinks as Drift once again cleans her face. Drift: “You need to watch where you’re going, little one. Now go and this time the other way.” Drift gently pushes the sparkling in the opposite direction. The sparkling chirps at him sadly before waddling sadly away. Drift spark clenched. This was for the best… Right… SPLASH! Drift: “Oh sweet Primus not again!” Drift picked up the sparkling in the cloth, but this time made no move to put her down. Drift: “…I guess you’re stuck with me… At least until your guardians arrive.” The sparkling chirps happily as she snuggles up into his chassis.

What was he doing?

Drift barely had enough as it was to support himself and now, he had a little sparkling!

…But he buckles up a bit and tries working odd jobs to at least get more credits for some kind of energon for the sparkling.

He was grateful that the little thing was quiet and not that fussy.

Though her curiosity and slight clumsiness were the downside.

Drift is looking around for his sparkling. Drift: “Little one! Little one where are you!? I really need to name her…” He hears some chirping and frantically looks around him. A rock falls on his helm. Drift: “OW!” He looks up and feels all the energon draining from his frame. The sparkling was sitting on a rusty guard rail a couple feet up in the air. Drift: “How did you get up there!?” Drift pulls a stray crate and stands on it trying to reach her. Drift: “Hey little buddy, come here. Come to papa buddy!” The sparkling chirps before the rail gives in. Drift manages to catch her just as the railing came down. He frantically looks at his sparkling, who was thankfully unharmed. Drift: “Oh thank Primus… you really scared me there buddy. Buddy? Hmm… that’s sounds nice don’t you think?” Buddy chirps in agreement.

As the years grew on, Buddy matured much quicker than Drift would have liked it.

It seemed that one minute he was holding her servo as she nervously tried her first transformation.

The next she was carrying him to safety after a couple of mechs decided to beat him to a pulp for not giving him the rest of his circuit booster.

She often scolded him about taking those… enhancements and telling him the damage they could cause.

Buddy manages to messily wield a bit of scrap metal onto his arm. Drift winces a bit. Buddy: “…This wouldn’t happen if—” Drift: “I laid off the boosters. Buddy how many more times are we going to go through this?” Buddy gives him a slight glare. Buddy: “Enough times to see when that message gets into that thick helm of yours… I don’t know how to fix you if you…” Buddy grunted a bit, not even daring to say the last thing. Drift gives her a reassuring smile. Drift: “Have I mentioned I have the best daughter a mech could ask for?” Buddy smiles a bit. Buddy: “Not too often… but that still doesn’t mean I’m forgetting about the boosters.” Drift: “Scr—” THWACK! Drift rubs his helm. Drift: “Buddy!”

Buddy was a scrapy youngling when Drift nearly overdosed on speedster circuits and engex.

She remembered cradling his glitching frame, crying for someone to help her.

Was pushed and nearly beaten by some thugs who wanted Drift’s frame, before the famous officer Orion Pax cuffed them.

Buddy tried to stand up and protect her father by trying to shield his body with her frame.

She was utterly terrified but ready to fight for him.

Was surprised when the officer kindly told her he knew someone who could help her and Drift.

As frightened as she was, Buddy decides that any chance of saving Drift was worth the risk.

She makes it very clear that Drift needed more care than she did and would refuse until Drift was okay.

Thankfully Ratchet was able to get Drift stable and moves on to help Buddy.

Ratchet starts patching up Buddy. Ratchet: “I take it the mech I just fixed is your guardian?” Buddy: “He’s, my dad.” Ratchet: “Hmm…” Buddy twitches a bit. Ratchet: “You got a question kid?” Buddy hesitantly nods. Buddy: “What are those tools for?” Ratchet: “Those help me see better into a bots smaller crevices.” Buddy: “…Do you think you can teach me how to save a bot from overdosing?” Ratchet stops for a minute. Buddy: “I just don’t know if he might do it again and I want to be prepared for it.” Ratchet looks at the youngling who had determination and slight twinge of fear in her optics. Ratchet: “I can teach you how to better hide some of the boosters and the warning signs, but I can’t teach you the proper procedure.” Buddy looks down a bit. Ratchet: “Not because I don’t want to, but because it is a difficult procedure to do, near impossible without any prior medical knowledge. If you come to me with at least some sort of certification you can do some healing besides a standard patch job, then we’ll see.” Buddy smiles at him with a new look of determination. Buddy: “Then… can you tell me about that tool?”

Drift is glad to see Buddy okay.

He brings her close as they start to depart.

His audial ring a bit with what the doctor had told him about starting a new life and to watch for his daughter.

Buddy makes sure to remember the location of the clinic.

Ratchet is surprised to find the youngling back.

She wants to help him, help others like he did with Drift.

Buddy couldn’t exactly go to school or medical school, so he was the next best thing.

Ratchet makes her work for it.

Constantly randomly asking her random questions about certain parts of the frame of a Seeker, to names of certain tools and what they are used for.

Buddy makes him proud by putting the work in.

Drift doesn’t notice Buddy’s absence.

He had taken up more tasks and jobs that were taking even more time than before.

As much as Buddy loved Drift, she did wish he was home more.

Those were peaceful moments where they would staring into the sky and see how many constellations they could spot.

Buddy soon stops coming by the clinic, which worries Ratchet but there are other things he needs to worry about now.

As much as it pains him…

What happened?

Drift had brought Buddy to one of Megatron’s rallies.

There was supposable going to be some free energon at the event.

The pair is surprised when the leader of the movement himself came to them.

Megatron asked Drift if he’d like to join.

Drift accepted seeing a new opportunity in life, maybe a better one for him and Buddy.

He was even given a new name, Deadlock.

Buddy didn’t like the name, but never voiced it.

Megatron kindly turned to Buddy and asked her if she wanted to make a difference, to help bots less fortunate to find a voice.

Buddy was onboard with the idea of helping others.

Just like doctor Ratchet!

They became Decepticon’s that very day.

Being a youngling, there wasn’t much Buddy could do but do odd little jobs or be a messenger.

She showed promise in the healing department, and given that the Decepticon’s were short on medics, thoughts on teaching her the ropes didn’t seem too bad.

Buddy was taught by engineers and other doctors around the base.

She quickly rose up to the occasion once the injured started arriving.

It would take a couple more years before she officially was given her doctor’s title.

This happened around the beginning of the war.

Deadlock started becoming this infamous bounty hunter.

Buddy did not like this deadlock persona.

He was rude, snappy, and at times even cruel.

The pairs paths crossing was rare.

The only time they would be in the same room for more than a minute would happen whenever he was sent to the medbay.

Deadlock refuses any medic besides Buddy to see him.

She would feel flattered if the injuries he came back didn’t hurt her spark.

Buddy is patching up Deadlock. He hisses at some of the sparks. Deadlock: “Would it kill for you to be a bit gentler?” Buddy: “Would it kill you to be more careful out there?” Deadlock stays silent. Buddy: “That’s what I thought.” Deadlock: “…How are the exams coming along?” Buddy: “I passed those exams… 6 months ago…” Deadlock: “You did?” Buddy: “I’m a doctor now.” Deadlock chuckles a bit. Buddy swears she hears Drift for a second. Deadlock: “Look at you. I would be proud if you could be a bit gentler with your patients.” Buddy doesn’t say anything as she finishes patching Deadlock up.

The first time he snapped at her, she gave him the silent treatment, a bit in shock that he did that.

Deadlock would later apologies by managing to snag a couple of new tools for her to use.

He would be gone for an unknown number of times, but Buddy found herself trying to cherish the time that she did have with Deadlock.

Deadlock was the last thing she had left of Drift.

Soon enough she stops giving him the silent treatment when she patches him up and continues to scold.

Buddy was tired of seeing her loved ones and friends get hurt all the time, there was some part of her that hoped that nagging enough would get them to be more careful.

It never happened or worked too well.

She hated losing her patients to this war, she hated losing everyone to it.

But the only thing she could do now was do her job.

This was not the future she thought when she stood in front of a smiling Megatron.

Soon enough Buddy was given a promotion.

As Megatron’s personal nurse/doctor.

A doctor that also became a therapist of sorts when he’d started ranting about Prime or the recent battles or just about Starscream.

Given the recent attempts on his life, Megatron saw fit to have someone trusted to care for him.

Buddy just so happened to be the least likely to betray him on his list of medics.

Also least likely to do something other than heal his frame.

Buddy was patching up one of his pedes from a nasty mesh wound. Buddy: “If I’d have to guess… this was Starscream’s doing?” Megatron: “Not entirely.” Buddy: “How so?” Megatron: “I do not believe that is part of your concern.” Buddy gives him a tired look. Buddy: “Yes, silly me, a doctor asking her patient how they got hurt. Silly me for wanting to make sure I am healing it properly.” Megatron: “… I trip down the stairs.” Buddy blinks. Buddy: “You what?” Megatron: “And in falling I kicked Starscream in the face causing him to retaliate.” Starscream on a nearby berth: “How do you think I would have responded!?” Skywarp laughs by his side, ‘playfully’ slapping the Seeker. THWACK! Skywarp was now on the floor groaning as he held his helm. Buddy has another wrench in her servo while not taking her optics off the wound. Buddy: “Don’t touch my patients like that.” Megatron: “…How is it that you never decided to join your fa—” Buddy gives him a sharp look that surprisingly shuts him up. Buddy: “I’d rather fits the bots that I see, not dismantle them.”

Buddy began to see Deadlock a bit more too, no surprise him being one of the few mechs in the warlord’s inner circle.

Though not much was said between the two.

It wasn’t personal, but there wasn’t a lot of time between the pair given one’s job being outside the base taking bots out.

While the other spent most of her time in the base patching up the wounded.

It would be a simple miscalculation that would cause a major shift in Buddy’s life.

Someone had breached the information of the location of Megatron’s base.

It was compromised and they all needed to move.

There was a rapid panic through the troops as they tried to move everything before the Autobots would arrive.

Buddy was in the med bay trying to get patients to safety when the first shots were heard.

She only had two bots left.

There was an explosion knocking her back.

Waking up, Buddy quickly realized that she was pinned down by some of the debris.

The doctor struggled to move when a blaster was shoved close to her faceplate.

Buddy freezes staring at the blaster. Spark pulsing too fast. Suddenly the blaster was yanked back. Buddy just stared dumbfounded at the red and blue mech. The scene seemed strikingly familiar to her. Buddy: “Optimus Prime.” Optimus looks down at the medic before it clicked. Optimus: “Buddy. It has been a long time. I see you made yourself a medic.” Buddy: “Doctor actually sir.” Optimus chuckles a bit before he starts to get some of the debris off her. There are some bots arguing against the action, suggesting leaving her there. Buddy stiffens a bit at the thought of being trapped under the rubble alone in the dark. Buddy: “Sir, if I may. I am a doctor and word around is that you need more medics. Allow me to help you.” The Prime looks at her confused. Optimus: “You’d willingly leave your side of the war to join the enemy?” Buddy gives him a serious look. Buddy: “I joined this cause in the promise to help bots and make a better place for Cybertron… I have been deceived sir. I am disappointed and to say I am furious is an understatement.  I can’t think of a better way to get back at the Decepticon’s than taking away a good medic who knows where the secret compartment of data slugs of the location of the next base are.” Buddy was hoping that the data slug would be enough to persuade the Prime. Optimus looks at her with surprise and slight suspicion. He finds no sign of lying. In a single kick, he manages to get most of the debris off Buddy. She now noticed she was down a pede thanks to the explosion. Optimus gently picks her up. Optimus: “Lead the way, Buddy.” A couple hours later in some remote location… Deadlock gets a call. Deadlock: “Yes Lord Megatron.” Megatron: “The base was compromise. We are moving to the next base of operation in the South quadrant.” Deadlock’s optics widen a bit. Deadlock: “The entire base?” Megatron: “The Autobot’s took no prisoners. Anyone who was in the base has been massacred.” Deadlock is silent. Megatron: “…You have my condolences on your loss Deadlock.” The call ends as the Decepticon screams into the silent night.

Buddy was brought into Autobot custody.

She kept a stoic face on meeting the other Autobot’s.

Buddy knew well enough that these bots did not trust her, not that she would blame them.

The only reason she was alive was because she was a medic.

After a fresh coating of paint and change of insignia the doctor was finally allowed in the medbay.

Her façade almost completely dropped seeing Rachet there.

Buddy had long come to the terms that he had offlined at some point in the war.

Her spark warmed seeing her first mentor had survived this long.

Ratchet was surprised to see his former student in front of him.

Under Optimus’s direct order, she was to always stay by Ratchet’s side unless under dire circumstances.

Buddy knew this was for the team to get used to her, but the thing she cared most was seeing how her mentor managed to stay online for so long.

The two would eventually sit down and talk about the past and why she was a part of the Decepticon’s even though she had different views.

Ratchet’s spark clenched a bit hearing one of the biggest being her father staying.

She truly thought if she left the Decepticon’s earlier that he would not last long.

But now… call her cruel but she did not care where he was.

It wasn’t like Deadlock would look for her.

It was thanks to Optimus and Ratchet that Buddy would get integrated fast into the group.

A lot of the bots thought Buddy would soften up Ratchet considering she was younger.

They were so wrong.

Buddy might as well be known as Mini Ratchet because she acted JUST like him!

Buddy finishing the final patch work on Sunstreaker. Sideswipe and Bumblebee were on the berth next to them, wrapped up and waiting for one more look over. Buddy: “And what was going through your processor when you and Sideswipe decided to take on the Elite Trine alone? And to bring Bumblebee, of all bots as back up? No offense Bumblebee.” Bumblebee: “None taken.” Sunstreaker: “In our defense—” Buddy tightens her grip on his armor making him wince. Buddy: “Try again? Sideswipe: “We had it under control.” Buddy gives him an unimpressed look. Buddy: “Yes because nothing says that you have it under control than sitting in themed bay with injuries that could have been avoided—” Bumblebee: “Aww, you do care.” Buddy huffs and continues working. Buddy: “One more peep and its lights out for you.” Sideswipe: “Yeah, like you’d hurt a poor defenseless mech—” THWACK! Sideswipe was knocked out on the berth with a wrench on his chassis. The other yellow mechs stared at her in shock. Buddy just continued her work. Ratchet enters the room. He glances at Sideswipe. Ratchet: “He couldn’t stop running his mouth?” Buddy: “To be fair I gave a warning.” Sunstreaker: “Are you sure that Ratchet isn’t your father?” The young doctor tenses up. Buddy: “And that’s nighty night for you.” She presses a pressure point and watches the mech crumble on the berth. Bumblebee makes the right decision and lays back down.

Buddy hadn’t exactly introduced herself to Drift.

She remembered hearing about Deadlock defecting and going by Drift once again.

She also remembers waking up in the medslab with a concern Rodimus by her side.

But any opportunity of meeting him Buddy had to stop herself.

It was too painful.

Too many why’s and hurting for Buddy to handle.

Ratchet was very admitted about having her go and meet him, that he was nothing like Deadlock.

She still refused to.

The young doctor knew that if she met this new mech and didn’t see any sign of Drift...

She’d rather avoid that as long as she can.

Timeskip to Lost Light boarding… Buddy was accompanying Ratchet to the med bay when Drift and Rodimus turned the corner. Drift stopped dead in his tracks staring at her. Ratchet continues into the medbay, completely unaware of the inner turmoil Buddy was going though. Buddy mentally and physically steeled herself up. Buddy: “Captain Rodimus, Third in Command Drift. What brings you two to the medbay?” Rodimus: “Buddy you can lose the title thing.” Buddy: “I’m just being polite Captain.” Rodimus raises an optic at Buddy. Buddy: “…Fine. How does Roddy sound?” Rodimus puffs his chassis. Rodimus: “Now that’s better! Anyways, Drift and I were just doing the last walk around the ship. You’ve met Drift, right? You know he defected too?” Buddy and Drift just stare at each other. Buddy: “I am well aware of who Deadlock was.” Buddy pretends not to notice Drift wincing a bit at the sound of his previous name. Buddy: “Now, if you two excuse me, I need to make sure everything is secure and ready for quantum leaps.” Buddy returned back into the medbay sitting close to Ratchet. Rodimus shrugs and continues his walk with Drift who had yet to say anything. Rodimus notices his friend’s silence. Rodimus: “You okay Drift? Did you and Buddy have some sort of history?” Drift: “Rodimus… that was my daughter.” Rodimus: “Oh just your daughter, I thought you—wait what!?”

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 5

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.9k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: It's time for the first mixed program of the spring schedule, and so it's finally time to see Din perform.

a/n: Thank you everyone for your lovely comments on the last chapter. Everything still feels pretty shitty but being part of this community does not! See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), a bit more angst (sorry), but we also have fluff

Chapter 5

In stark contrast to that disaster of a rehearsal, your performance in the January program went well. The first night had its usual jitters, but even so, you felt proud of the performance you and the others put on. And Jee had been excited and full of praise, with only a couple of notes about the choreography, which made you more excited for the next performance.

On Friday, though, you had a small costume malfunction, and so you were busy getting stuck with pins and missed Din’s solo. You heard the music from La Bayadère start and cursed — you knew you wouldn’t be back in time.

On Saturday, you saw it. You saw him.

You were standing in the wings, huddled with Adrian and a small group of dancers when Din’s music began. Everyone backstage quieted as soon as the orchestra began. He was wearing a sort-of doublet and white tights that screamed classical ballet. He started in the wings just in front of you and you watched the line of his neck and back as he walked calmly onto the stage.

You knew Talia had chosen three of Solor’s variations from different versions of the ballet. She had Din moving off stage and back on to continue with the three solos that usually appeared at different moments throughout the long performance. Three demanding solos, all in a row.

The music swelled and Din swept his arm upward and, from his first movement, he stole your breath away. Your eyes followed the sheer height of his jumps, the beautiful lines of his extensions. You couldn’t help but marvel at the perfection of his technique, the absolute ease of his movements. You watched the flex of his muscles and wondered at his strength. He made everything look effortless. He had such control, but none of that showed — his face was calm, expression serene. 

You tightened your hold on Adrian’s hand.

Din dipped into the wings and back out for the second variation, and you felt someone next to you suck in a sharp breath when Din launched himself into the air into a double saut de basque in attitude followed by a revoltade. How did he look so weightless?

Talia had been right — this was the perfect way to showcase the absolute phenomenon that was Din Djarin. His strength, his precision, his control, his power, his grace: all of it was on display. 

In the third variation, you assumed he must have been tired. But he soared through multiple double assemblé turns with such ease, it looked like he was floating. 

When he fell into his final pose, the audience lost their minds.

You looked at Adrian, and he looked at you, eyebrows high. 

“That was insane,” Adrian whispered, and you nodded. “I knew he was good, but oh my god.”

You agreed. And you couldn’t help but start to worry, again, about the pas de deux. How were you supposed to partner someone who danced like that? 

…

You worried over that question so much over the next few days that the words started to feel meaningless in your mind. You found yourself waking up too early, too anxious to sleep. It was only a matter of time before that started to show in your dancing. 

In class you didn’t look at Din. You knew you were letting this grow into something in your mind that it probably wasn’t, but you couldn’t get a handle on it. You’d been through this before — moments where all you could see were your own flaws — but none of the tricks you’d learned over the years to claw your way out of it were working this time.

By Thursday, you were so anxious about the entire thing that it must have shown on your face, or in your body. Adrian took one look at you after morning class and pulled you into the smaller, sad break room (with the couch everyone hated) to make you breathe with him until you calmed down.

“Look at me,” he said after you’d taken several deep breaths in unison, squeezing your hand. “You can do this. One practice isn’t enough to make or break anything, you know that. You’ve been there before.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and clutching his hand with both of yours. 

“He’s good, we’ve all seen it. But so are you.” Adrian’s voice was firm and you tried to believe it, too. “And you know Kuiil picked you for a reason. Think about it — Din Djarin has never danced anything remotely like this choreography. On Saturday he was doing what he’s best at, and of course it was freaking amazing. But you’re better at this.”

He was right. You let that truth of it settle somewhere in your chest. You felt at home in more contemporary ballet choreography, and to your knowledge Din had never so much as tried it. Concordia would never even consider it, that much was definitely true.

“You can do both, you know? I bet that was part of it. Casting someone who could show him how to let go of what he knows. He isn’t going to be the only person in that room who’s an expert on something.”

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes. When you met Adrian’s gaze, he smiled. “There you are. You ready?”

You nodded. “I can do this.” You couldn’t let yourself get in your head like that. You knew better.

“Hell yeah, you can. Come on.” He stood and tugged you to your feet, and then grabbed your shoulders. “Go fucking blow him away, ok? I know you can.” He shook you a little, and you laughed.

“Ok! Ok. I can do this.”

…

You tried to let that run through your mind like a mantra as you stepped into the small rehearsal studio. You can do this. 

Kuiil and Din were standing by the sound equipment again. As always, Din was wearing black tights, black sweats cut off at the knees, and a tight, long-sleeve black shirt. You pointedly did not let your eyes linger on the line of his shoulders.

“Come in, my dear. We are going to start with something different today.”

You tried not to wince as Kuiil beckoned you forward, remembering the disaster of the week before.

“Today I will give each of you part of your solo pieces for the start, and I would like you to watch each other as you learn and begin to practice them.” He looked at each of you in turn as you nodded. “I want you to pay attention to each other. How do your bodies move as you learn? How do you come to inhabit the movement? How do you each make it your own?” He gestured between you. “As you know, after these moments, you will encounter each other on stage for the first time. Think about what that would feel like, as you watch each other today.”

You nodded again, frowning a little as you tried to work out what he wanted from you. To watch, to observe? To notice something new? To watch as if you’d never seen before? You supposed you could only watch and try and see what you found. 

“Let us begin.”

He started with you. It was only a few counts of 8, a few moments following the wandering path of the violin in the music. What he gave you was very bare bones — you knew, from working with him in the past, that he sometimes wanted you to find your own way to connect things together. Kuiil always wanted his dancers to put themselves into his choreography.

You realized, after he had shown you everything he wanted to, that you hadn’t even looked or spared a thought for Din as you focused on the steps and the music. You were feeling better, more confident, focusing on choreography that played to your own strengths as a dancer.

“Good. Now, give it a try with the music a couple of times, and then I will show Din how he will begin. Do not be afraid to try different things as you let the movements settle.”

You nodded and took up the first position he’d shown you, arms extended a bit behind you. He started the music and you moved, finding your way through the moments Kuiil wanted in this brief part of the first movement. You let yourself sink into the music and the choreography, trying to feel it more than think about it. You whipped through turns and flicked your leg, almost smiling when your développé was timed perfectly to the music. There were moments that felt more awkward, moments you knew you’d need to work on, but overall you felt the weight in your chest lighten as you danced. You can do this.

Kuiil stopped the music just after you found the final position, and you sucked in a deep breath as you relaxed out of it and turned to look at him. 

“Very well done, my dear. I can see the shape of it forming. One more time, and then we will switch. Try to smooth out that transition into the turn.” You nodded, but your curiosity got the better of you and you darted a glance to Din.

He was watching you intently, which you supposed was only following Kuiil’s directions. But for once his face wasn’t expressionless.

Din was smiling. It was a small thing, barely there, but it took your breath away.

…

Adrian was waiting for you after your rehearsal, and for once you were out the door and down the hall before Din.

“So?” He raised his eyebrows at you as he tucked his arm through yours, leading you down the hall to your rehearsal for the February mixed program. You were both in the same piece, for once, a collaboration between Jee and Vince. “How did it go?”

You told him all about it, about the way Kuiil had split the time between you. “Maybe he realized we need to get used to each other first? But we didn’t really do a lot of that, we didn’t even talk to each other much.”

“But you look like you feel better about it.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I got to do what I’m good at.”

“Hmm.” Adrian looked thoughtful. “I think that makes sense, though. Letting you learn about each other’s style.”

You shrugged. “Well, maybe. I guess we’ll see next time. But Adrian… he smiled at me.”

“Who, Kuiil?”

“No,” you almost whispered, glancing around the hall. “Din.”

Adrian’s jaw dropped as you led him through the door for your second rehearsal. “What,” he hissed, but there wasn’t time for him to ask you for more details. You put it out of your mind. You had to focus on the dance in front of you, anyway.

You took that motivation forward through your weekend and the next week of rehearsals. You had so many performances coming up — the February mixed program, Midsummer, and then after that, Swan Lake. And another mixed program in April. And Cinderella. You usually didn’t let yourself think that far ahead — you had so many rehearsals, and so much physical therapy, that you tried to focus on the next performance and maybe the one after. The ones that were right in front of you.

But it was a helpful distraction, for once, thinking through the rest of your season. 

You knew Din had joined the Balanchine ballet for the February mixed program, and you knew those rehearsals were heating up. So you barely saw him outside of morning classes, and you’d been trying not to watch him as much. You wondered, a bit, if you should try to talk to him again, but you weren’t sure what you’d say. Hey, let’s get to know each other so we can actually dance together? 

That one smile aside, he was still so closed off you weren’t sure how to bring yourself to try.

…

The Thursday of your third rehearsal with Kuiil arrived, and you moved quickly down the hallway, almost running — your rehearsal for Midsummer had gone long and you didn’t want to be late.

You turned the corner, moving quickly, and let out an “oomph” as you almost slammed into someone. You felt strong hands come up to steady you and once again blinked up to find Din looking down at you. His large hands were warm where they rested on your waist. 

“Shit,” you cursed. “Din, sorry, I was —” you took a deep breath. “Sorry. I was running late. Obviously.” 

His face was, of course, expressionless once more, but you could have sworn you saw the tiniest lift in the corner of his mouth as he looked at you. “It’s ok. I’m late, too.”

You smiled at him, hesitant, hoping to find that bit of ease you’d briefly had together before your rehearsals started. “Balanchine?”

He nodded. “Balanchine.”

You stepped back a bit and ignored the way it felt when his hands slid from your waist and brushed over your hips before falling by his sides. “How’s it going?”

Din fell into step beside you as you started to walk towards the small rehearsal studio where Kuiil would be waiting for you. “Good. They hadn’t rehearsed much when I started, so it was easier to step in and join one of the pairs.”

“Who have they paired you with?” Symphony in C featured four principal couples, and many of them had danced together for years at this point.

He nodded, seeming to understand your question. “Yuna. They hadn’t finalized that pairing yet, so it was easy to step in. And we didn’t do a ton of Balanchine at CBC, but I’ve danced the first before.”

That made sense. Yuna had just made principal this year, and had yet to form a strong connection with any of the others. You couldn’t imagine them breaking up the pairing of Mira and Diego, for example, or giving Din the adagio in the second movement, when he barely knew anyone yet. And that role, the pair featured in the first movement, was tough. It was perfect for him.

“Yuna’s great. She’s so good at partnering, too.” You could almost see Talia’s vision for them, in your mind — she and Din would dance beautifully together.

You’d arrived at your studio, but before you could step inside, Din said, “she said the same thing about you.”

You froze as Din moved past you into the studio. He had talked about you? With someone else? You stepped inside, in a bit of a daze, as you tried not to wonder what they’d talked about.

Later, during rehearsal, you clung to that positive moment in your mind, because it felt like the first rehearsal all over again. Kuill had you both run through the sections he’d shown you the week before and then returned to the moment you met on stage for the first time. But you could tell from the start that it hadn’t gotten better.

Somehow, it had gotten worse.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d tried it so far, but you took a deep breath as the music started. You started your pass across the floor, leaping into an attitude before rolling out of it. You were supposed to stand and find Din in front of you, except he wasn’t where you expected him to be, so it didn’t quite work. And then the moment passed. 

No matter how hard you tried, you and Din couldn’t seem to find each other at all, throughout the rehearsal. You had no idea why you couldn’t seem to connect with him. Were you feeling the music differently? He felt so distant from you, even standing only a few feet away. Your movements felt separate, like you were on two separate stages, rather than sharing one space together. 

You could feel the frustration begin to build from the base of your spine. You didn’t understand how you could have such an easy conversation with him in the hall and then hit this wall inside the studio, where it should have been easier to connect with him. It had never been this difficult for you to get to know another dancer before.

“Alright.” Kuiil stopped the music and you tried not to read into his tone. “That is enough for today. I know you have the mixed program this weekend. Focus on that, clear your minds, and next week we begin again.”

As you started to leave, feeling defeated, Kuiil called you back. You turned and saw Din hurry out the door in the mirror. You caught a glimpse of his expression as he did and realized he was frowning. Your own mouth turned down in response. 

“My dear, I can see that you are frustrated.” You nodded. As he’d said before, your body couldn’t lie. “I want you to think about something before our next practice. How did you learn to connect with other dancers on stage?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Through movement, I suppose. And interpreting the choreography together.”

Kuiil nodded. “How is it different, when you are performing different styles?”

You blinked. You suddenly understood where he was leading you. “In classical pieces, it’s more pre-defined. It’s constrained. The connection, I mean. And how we are able to express it.”

He nodded again. “Think about that, as you rehearse this week. And we will try again.”

…

prev | next

a/n: so 👀 how do you think the next one will go 👀🩰

Solor - this is a very difficult, technical role in a famous classical ballet, La Bayadère! Here’s a really long video of an almost complete performance by Sergei Polunin. The exact number of variations/solos that Solor has can vary by production but there could be as many as three, one per act, and I decided to make Din do all of them. Here’s one, two (and another one, and another, and another), and three with the double assembles. You may have noticed that the second variation can have a lot of different jumps in it – I stole the idea for the double saut de basque and revoltades (and another) from a couple places. I know I saw someone doing the double saut de basque in attitude where most of these men are doing a double saut de basque en dedans (both are in that video) but now I can’t find it.

Symphony in C - a very NYC Ballet piece choreographed by George Balanchine. It’s basically 100% focused on technique and it’s hard!! There are four principal couples featured in four movements. Din joins the first couple. Reader also mentioned the third. This is the sort of performance CBC would have been less likely to do, but it’s so technical and classical they would have added it to their repertoire to broaden it without moving from their classical stance. Here’s a recording of the whole thing from 1973.

Classical ballet - I’ve mentioned this before, but now I’ll say that not everyone would interpret classical ballet the same way. Din’s previous company was on the more strict end of the spectrum. We’ll learn more soon!

I know I've mentioned attitude before, but this time we also see a développé!

tag list coming in a reblog!

[kandadze]

Ep 27 loose thoughts

Well, that's one way of snapping someone shell-shocked out of making a drastic decision. I feel like PSJ snapped something in herself at this moment, too. Anyone else found the ancestor's commentary going on in the background while the girls are bawling their eyes out hilarious? Just me? Okay.

While I was waiting for the ever burning wood to activate or something, the moment WX opened the box to reveal dried flowers I choked. ZYC!!!

Baby!Yichen breaks my heart, so impressionable, so open to learn. It's interesting to see that the phrases about suffering we've seen him use as an adult might have come from WX... Not a fan of telling people in mourning to stop dwelling in misery and sadness like it's as simple as flipping a switch (not to mention, she apparently *just* met him for the first time? The heck?), but at least the rest of her words seem to have helped him... so much that he kept the flowers 😭 The irony of her snow metaphor contrasted with their current predicament is indeed exquisite, A+ for that.

Are they going to be saved by the power of lurrrrve??? (At least this time. Still holding out for how that's gonna play out in the finale.) I mean, what other way to sway an ancient creature who's seen pretty much everything there is to see, than to show them something new? What's that? A test for a future event? (I'm getting really paranoid about nothing we've seen so far being real. It's like Alice in Wonderland on a bigger scale. Or Finnegans Wake on a smaller scale. I don't know.)

Oooh Bingyi and Ying Long, our original doomed couple (of self-sacrificial idiots)! I would watch a whole drama just about them. And damn, I can definitely see where Zhao Yuanzhou got his masochism from. Stoppppp not "Just let me be the first star"! (Especially since I just remembered ZYZ's "I'll be the rain...") It's not supposed to be literal! 😭😭😭 Ahhhh this scene just broke me, also because it seems to reinforce the idea that ZYZ *has* to be killed for the greater good. The visualssss in the execution- sacrifice? What the heck do I even call it?- scene though, soooo good!

"Let me do it myself." LET ME DO IT MYSELF??? FUCKKKKKKK DAMNIT HE JUST- ::head in hands, crying forever::

"Remember. This is my choice, not yours. You don't have to bear any blame or guilt." That's not how that works. That's not how any of that works!

Again, we're dealing with choices. But the fact that ZYZ choice was the same as Ying Long's... the fact that YL says that neither he nor Bingyi had any regrets... oh this is going to hurt.

Oh? ZYZ's future is not what he wants? (And wouldn't that be funny, considering ZYZ's own words while schooling ZYC in the very first ep... 9 times out of 10, things don't go our way?)

"You two are really like us." 😭😭😭

I was wondering if they were going to show us what ZYC saw, and not only does the image of ZYZ's body on that dark floor mirror Ying Long's body floating in the water, both ZYZ and ZYC wear the same clothes as in the very few scenes from the trailer that didn't happen yet... These poor sods, they've been Going Through It for almost a decade now with the only end in sight being yet another tragedy (even if the drama seems to suggest that they don't see it that way at this point.) ::head in hands, crying continues::

"My friend is here. We'll go together." The *sound* I made. Everything else this drama has given me aside, the growth of these characters and their bonds is so well done, and absolutely precious to me.

I want Ying Long's hopes and wishes for them to become true. Seeing how there's hints everywhere in this drama, I hope the words of one of the most powerful beings in existence will count for *something* in the end! (Am I grasping at straws? Maybe. Let me be delusional for a bit longer.)

What do you mean, five, ZYC? What's Ying Lei, chopped liver?

Oof this *almost* hug before WX starts feebly hitting ZYZ. It's relief, it's anger, it's fear for the next time, it's all the feelings that became too big to contain. I feel her so much. (I would've started whacking both him and ZYC way earlier tbh 😅) And ZYZ allowing her that release before pulling her in for reassurance, patting her as if she was a scared child. 😭 Cut to PSJ, looking as if she wanted nothing more but to be the one offering the reassurance to WX. Cut to ZYC, remembering that willingly or not, he's going to hurt WX beyond reassurance. Once again, the bonds in this drama!

Wait hold up hold on what? You just removed Bingyi's blood from him, that should mean that ZYC will not have to become a demon, right? So what's that about developing the inner core? (Also, I just realized that so far all they got from this trip was "go east and ask for a dragon scale" lol) Thankfully him and ZYZ had their conversation(s) about titles and identities so being asked to make that particular choice was not completely out of left field at this point. And all he cares about is whether that means that the last trace of Ying Long will disappear! 😭 (I'm so with Bingyi on this one... I would hold onto that last shred of my friend's existence, too, *especially* if they offed themself via my goddamn sword.)

What's with that look after he says that he thinks he has it - the inner core - is there a joke here somewhere? (I *gotta* go back to learning the language, the things I'm undoubtedly missing on!) The only thing I can think of is - did they think he said he's pregnant??? ::dies:: "So what's your true form?" "Must be dragon." "I say you're a mule." "Better than being a monkey." "I'm a white ape!" ::dies again:: Nice to see we still get a friendly ribbing between all of them, and I can breathe after all the angst. Fingers crossed? There's still 5 minutes left...

Oh good, let's talk about getting Bai Jiu back! (I knew there was one more character from the opening credits that didn't show up yet... guess it's the rebel princess.) While Ao Yin is eavesdropping! Talk about good hearing. Sigh, here it comes, another goal they have that will conflict with Li Lun's; they want the scale to restore the sword, and LL not only doesn't want that to happen, the scale could potentially help him get rid of the poison.

Oh for fuck's sake, I think I was subconsciously waiting for Chongwu Camp to show up, knowing that they've eavesdropped on the gang earlier, and here they are. ZYZ should really think of putting up some sound barrier when they discuss important plans, everyone seems to know exactly what they'll be doing at any given moment!

Ahhhh we're getting a nod to that little cough and stumble WX had shortly before this trip. Something's wrong with Baize token? Or with her connection to it? We only have 7 episodes left, drama!

(ZYC is such a good little brother.) Oh great, it was the rebel princess who killed WX's dad? I repeat, we only have 7 episodes left!

Sigh... with only 7 episodes left, we *also* find out that the goddamn 3-face-mask has history with the princess? And has everyone and their mother sat on that little bridge???

This feels like the endless final scenes in Peter Jackson's "Return of the King," my head is spinning.

Note to self, *stop* looking at previews. Ying Lei, what the absolute fuck?

[podiumackles]

the moments that stay (they turn out all wrong)

In which the man she could never forget suddenly turns up at her cell, but he has no remembrance of the woman in front of him. And the moments that stayed with her for decades, turn out to be her memories only.

series masterlist

CHAPTER 4

A/N: This one took me a while, but I'm back! I've been to two comic cons in a row, and I've just been so busy with work as well, so my writing motivation was little to none. But here's part 4! English isn't my first language!! apologies in advance.

Outlines: After being his sidekick in Payback for years, you-better known as your supename Fury-ended up on the same end of Soldier Boy's violence as every other person. What you didn't realise, however, was that your old team had set you both up for betrayal, right when you thought you were helping them in getting him. After decades of being stuck in Vought's testing lab, you heard Soldier Boy got out. But the man who appeared in front of your cell wasn't the man you knew.

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of gore, mentions of blood, mentions of death, soldier boy (yes, this man should be considered a warning), and possibly wrong storytelling in lines of the canon events. I'm not that good at remembering, guys. and the boys was just kinda complicated. forgive me.

Present

It was only a couple of minutes later when Butcher finally broke the dreading silence, but your mind had raced through a timespan of hours. “We need to get out. Get up, love.”

A tight grip fastened around your right upper arm, lifting you urgently but with slight care. Your eyes barely left the horror scene of several guts splashed against the walls in the hallway, body parts scattered around the floor, and in the back of your mind, you remembered the two decapitated bodies Ben had been the cause of.

The air felt electric, the smell of smoke burning through your nostrils and finding the dreaded way towards your throat. You could barely believe it was your doing, but there was no denying the destruction that lay in your wake.

Ben stood rooted to the spot near the door, his shield lowered but still gripped tightly. His eyes flicked toward you, and for the first time, the cold indifference you had become accustomed now labelled as fear. And it frightened you because, for a second, you got the feeling he would lash out like he did all those years ago.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“No,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

You could barely recall the moment you lost control, the power that had surged through you. But the aftermath was all too real. You stared at your trembling hands, electricity still sparking between your fingers, the residual energy crackling like a distant storm.

Ben didn’t respond. The tension between the men hung in the air like a ticking time bomb.

“Like I said, we need to move,” Butcher said, his voice gruff as he pushed away from the terminal. “We’re locked down for now, but Vought’ll be on our arses soon enough. Let’s get the fuck outta ‘ere.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. The adrenaline from the fight was fading fast, replaced by a gnawing fear—of yourself, of the power you’d just unleashed. You could feel it, the wild storm inside of you. You had no idea what had triggered it or if you could control it again. And judging by the way Ben was looking at you, he wasn’t too sure either.

As the three of you moved out of the control room and into the hallway, the facility felt strangely empty, the echoes of your destruction trailing behind you like a shadow. But you knew better. Vought wouldn’t give up that easily.

Ben walked ahead, his broad frame cutting a path through the blood-splattered hallway, but his movements were more cautious now. The confidence and rage that usually simmered beneath his surface were subdued as if he was watching you closely, waiting for you to lose control again.

You didn’t blame him.

Everything was silent. Too silent.

You just wanted either of the men to scream at you- put you back in that cell as a result of their fears.

But none of it came.

Butcher, ever the pragmatist, kept his focus on the exit, but even he glanced at you from time to time, something unspoken in his gaze. He had seen supes use their powers before—hell, he’d fought against them—and while he wasn’t afraid, he certainly wasn’t going to let his guard down around you. Not anymore.

“Oi,” Butcher muttered as you approached the final set of doors that led to the outside. “You good? That little light show back there—gonna happen again?”

You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the trembling in your hands. “I don’t know.” you admitted, hating how uncertain your voice sounded. You didn’t want to make yourself weak.

But with the way you lashed out, you didn’t think either of the two would think you were weak.

Except maybe Ben.

Because he thought you were a lab rat.

Butcher raised an eyebrow. “Well, now’s not the time to go rogue on us, love. We still gotta make it outta ‘ere in one piece.”

You bit back a retort, knowing he was right. But his words only fuelled the fear already building inside you. You weren’t sure what this would mean for you.

Ben stopped at the door, glancing back at the two of you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary. “You sure you aren’t going to fucking kill us?” he asked, his voice gruff and unkind.

And you knew then. He didn’t think you were weak.

He thought you were a monster.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. “Fuck if I know.”

For a moment, the three of you stood in silence, the distant wail of sirens and alarms a constant reminder that your time was running out. Then Ben nodded, accepting your answer without further comment. He shoved the door open, leading the way into the cold night air outside the facility.

The wind hit your face like a slap, fresh air filling your lungs like the first glass of burning whiskey on a night out. You felt exhausted, nearly falling to your knees at the spot. You glanced up at the night sky, stars barely visible through the haze of city lights, and took a deep breath. For the first time in decades, you were free.

But freedom came with a cost.

And you weren’t sure you could pay it.

Ben and Butcher kept a steady pace as they made their way through the fallen snow, the white burning into your eyes like you’d just stared at the sun, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at you.

The facility was behind you, but Vought’s reach extended far beyond those walls. And as much as you wanted to believe the worst was over, you knew better.

This was only the beginning.

As the three of you approached the extraction point, the sound of distant helicopters filled the air, and you could already see the headlights of Vought’s vehicles in the distance, closing in fast. There would be no rest, no time to process what had happened. Not yet.

A black van stood in the dim light of the moon, right behind the final passage of your imprisonment. The two men ran towards it, making you realise this was their transport. You tried to bite through your exhaustion, your pain, but it was to no avail.

Right as you saw a figure leave the vehicle, you fell to your knees on the ice-cold ground- the joined snowflakes burning your knees through your pants.

But you could barely pay it any mind.

The figure from the van moved quickly, their boots crunching through the snow as they approached you. It soon took the shape of a scrawny-looking man, but he couldn’t have been much older than thirty. A slight stubble caressed the lower half of his face, and a few fluffed pieces of hair came from under his beanie.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling the last of your adrenaline slipping away, the cold seeping into your bones. You could barely make out Butcher’s voice, barking orders at the newcomer, but it all sounded distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears, the sounds of the helicopters. Even the weather couldn’t give you strength this time.

But amongst the sounds you could vaguely hear, Soldier Boy’s voice was not one of them.

“Stay with us,” the newest person said, their voice unsurprisingly gentle as they knelt beside you. A hand gripped your arm, steadying you. You tried to focus on them, but the edges of your vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the corners.

About two more people left the van, but you didn’t have any energy to analyse them.

A face appeared above yours, concern etched into their face. “You’re not dying on us,” they growled, and their care confused you. You didn’t even know them. “We need you to hold it together.”

And you tried. God, did you try.

You weren’t weak.

You weren’t pathetic.

And most of all, you weren’t going to make a fool of yourselves.

So, instead of succumbing to the darkness that had crept into your mind, you looked up at the broad figure and focused on his kind, but demanding eyes. Three men held you up, and you could vaguely make out the figure of your former companion getting into the back of the van without a word.

You were helped up into the vehicle, and for a moment you felt like the fool you were afraid to become. You were a supe. A soldier. There shouldn’t have been any need to get lifted into a van by three men.

Taking your place near the backdoor, you lifted up your legs and wrapped your arms around them to keep yourself warm. You tried to summon the power of the sun, the warmth of fire. But all you got was electricity. Cold, prickling electricity.

Looking out the back window, you tried everything not to make any eye contact with the people around you, as the last person stepped inside and closed the side door.

The air was thick with tension and a strange, almost hesitant feeling of understanding. You slumped further against the cold metal side, feeling the slight vibrations as the van roared to life and sped away from the facility. Every bump on the road sent jolts of pain through your body, but you bit down the groans that threatened to escape.

The scrawny man from earlier sat beside you, his gaze flitting between you and Soldier Boy, who sat in the far corner on the other side of the vehicle, keeping his eyes trained out the window as well. He didn’t acknowledge you, but his silence spoke volumes.

Butcher, sitting directly across from you, watched you carefully, his gaze flicking between the sparks still dancing faintly along your hands and your exhausted expression. He was assessing, weighing whether you were still a threat.

“Listen,” Butcher’s voice cut through the quiet, “I don’t give a rat’s arse if you’re feelin’ sorry for yourself. We need you sharp if we’re gonna get through this alive. That means no more ‘accidents,’ got it?”

His tone was harsh, but beneath it was a sliver of something else—almost like concern. Or at least, as close to concern as Butcher could ever muster.

You managed a nod, barely meeting his eyes.

Part of you was angry.

Angry at yourself, angry at Butcher.

But most of all, angry at Ben.

Because how the fuck could he walk around, swinging that shield like it’s nothing, without a single memory of you lingering inside his mind?

You bore your memories. You were burdened with them.

But now, you bore his, too.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” You decided to speak up, deciding to no longer make a fool of yourself. Truth was, you had no idea if you could keep the outburst from happening again. The power felt wild inside you, like a caged animal ready to break free the moment you lost your grip.

You turned away, focusing instead on the faint vibration of the van as it rumbled along a rough road. The cold had settled deep into your muscles, making you shiver uncontrollably. It felt like you’d never be warm again.

Butcher, noticing your discomfort, threw a blanket your way, which you caught with clumsy hands. “Don’t say I never do nothin’ for ya.” he muttered. There was no softness in his tone, but it wasn’t entirely unfriendly either. Maybe he didn’t hate you—yet.

He was the one who wanted to get you out of there, anyway.

For his own damn purposes, that is.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself, trying to gather your thoughts. “What is this about?” you asked, not sure if the only thing they’ve done was lie to your face. “The truth, this time.”

Ben switched his gaze towards you instantly, sending you a look that was close to a death glare. And you were the stupid one who locked eyes with him at that moment.

And at that point, you missed his caring gaze. His words that only you had gotten in the past. The person he cared enough for to catch a bullet to the head.

Until he didn’t.

Butcher tilted his head, sending Ben a daring glare, which caused him to look away.

“Butcher’s got a thing for picking up strays.” Soldier boy spoke sternly, absently averting his gaze back outside, his eyes trembling as they followed their surroundings.

You broke your stare towards Ben, and you could sense the weight of his words passing towards you. You were just another stray to them. And you weren’t sure what that meant.

Butcher still didn’t answer. Either he didn’t have one, or he didn’t want you to know about it.

The silence inside the van thickened, each unspoken word a weight pressing down on you. Ben's brief outburst still echoed in your mind, the sharpness of it reminding you just how far you'd fallen from the fragile trust you thought you’d shared with him. He wouldn’t even look at you now, the distance between you as icy as the snow you’d collapsed into earlier.

Butcher leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. It was like he was weighing whether to trust you with more—or if it was safer to keep you in the dark.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice low. “We’ve got a little operation. Some resources, a few people who ain’t fond of being Vought’s lapdogs,” you noticed a slight tremble in his voice. One a regular person wouldn’t have noticed. “We just needed one more backup- someone who knows all about the company. You.”

You clearly felt like it was a lie.

A straight-up, fully thought-out lie.

Butcher’s words grated against your nerves, the blatant half-truth curling like smoke in the air between you. It was too clean, too practised. You could see the calculation behind his eyes—what he was willing to share and what he wasn't.

You raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch out uncomfortably as you locked eyes with him. “Just needed backup, huh?” you echoed, your voice cutting through the tension in the van like a blade. “And it just so happened that your ‘backup’ was locked in one of Vought’s prisons?”

Butcher’s jaw tightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He didn’t like being called out, but he didn’t deny it, either. “Look, it’s more complicated than that,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. “Vought’s got their hands in everything. Any chance to screw with ‘em, we take it. You were there, we got you out. Simple as.”

Ben scoffed, turning his head toward you. His gaze was sharp, scrutinizing. “Yeah, and it’s not like you’ve got anywhere better to be, do you?” His voice was harsher than you remembered as if all the warmth you once thought you saw in him had been stripped away, leaving only the bitterness behind. “Or would you rather be back in that cell?”

You clenched your hands into fists beneath the blanket, feeling the sparks crackle faintly against your skin. It was a good reminder that you were far from powerless, even if you felt lost. But you held the charge back, not wanting to give them any more reason to doubt you—or fear you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admitted quietly, and the honesty of the words stung. “But I know I don’t trust any of you. Not yet.”

Butcher gave a rough chuckle, but it lacked humour. “Yeah, well, join the club. We’re not here to make friends, love. Just keep your head down, and don’t fuckin’ lose it in the process.”

You looked away, your mind racing with the implications of this uneasy alliance. The cold seeped through the metal walls of the van, biting at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill in Ben’s gaze. He had been your ally once, your only friend in the darkness. Now, you couldn’t tell if he’d ever been on your side at all.

As the van bumped along the dark road, the tension between all of you settled into a heavy, uncomfortable silence. But despite everything, one thought gnawed at you, refusing to be silenced.

Whatever Butcher’s real reason was for pulling you from that cell, it was more than just needing an extra set of hands. And you would find out what it was—one way or another.

A/N: as always, feedback is appreciated! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @demodemo909 @deangirl96 @mostlymarvelgirl @n-o-p-e-never @daisydark @mxltifxnd0m @lamentationsofalonelypotato

[givekennyabreak]

Irreplaceable. (Kenny Liu x gn!reader)

Summary: A cop arrived along with Tabitha, and she thinks she owns the place; you think it's time to teach her how to be humble.

Rating: T

Warnings: whole lotta cursing, canon-compliant violence, spoilers for S3E8 of From, survivor's guilt, mourning, Acosta slander, reader is jealous but for a good reason, mentions of blood, mentions of gun. Acosta is her own warning.

Word count: 2.15k

Tabitha was back.

She went through the tree, got into a lighthouse, went outside and wound up back in town. She was hurt - scared, you could see the way she looked around with wide eyes at every waking moment.

You talked to her once; it didn't go far, though, as Jim arrived a couple minutes after you finally got the poor woman alone, telling you whatever went on in their life wasn't any of your business.

You flipped him off.

"If you ever need to talk," you told Tabitha, eyes as gentle as possible. "I'm at the station."

Not only did Tabitha come back, she brought in Victor's father with her (by accident, she said. Of course.). Henry, he said his name was, was a gentle man through and through. You could see how much he cared about Victor - the way he tried his best to be patient and reconnect with his son.

He never berated the man, listened to whatever he said with the utmost patience and always tried to remain calm, although you're all only human - he panics a few times, too.

He went to the goddamn caves with Victor.

If that isn’t love, you don’t know what is.

Victor, your first friend in this hellspace; one of the four people you trusted with your life - the other three, obviously, were Boyd, Donna, and Kenny.

The man was a gentle, misunderstood soul. If anyone asked you who was the person who wanted to leave this place the most, out of everyone, Victor would be your answer. He was used to it, yes - but he didn't like the place.

He was tired.

You were tired.

That's why you tried to help him as much as possible.

(Victor told you how he tried to remember what happened with Christopher and the townspeople at the beginning, but it didn't work - he was going to see Sara.

"Does it have to be her? Do we have to do this?"

"Yes."

"Dude, c’mon. She-"

"I know. But it’s gonna get scary, and she’s the scariest person in town."

You blinked up at him. He blinked back.

You sighed.

"Fine. But I'm taking a knife with me.")

Yet, there was a third party who got in town with the two good parts; and, as all is never well in this place, the woman was an absolute menace.

Acosta was her name - surname? Who knows -, a policewoman who refused to change out of her uniform, going around asking people invasive shit and managing to piss you off more times than you can count by berating Boyd, of all people.

Her last stunt was to come up to the station as you were talking to the sheriff about the kinds of food you managed to find with the last group of people who went foraging, demanding him to give her gun back.

She did so without even acknowledging your presence, trading insults back and forth while you watched the scene, flabbergasted; Boyd, tired of her shit, actually gave it back to her without the ammunition (this is why you trusted him so much), and she walked out of the station, without as much as a glance towards you.

"Am I invisible?"

Boyd sighed. "To her? Most people are."

And then - there went your last straw.

Just as you arrived at the diner, ready to give your boyfriend a tight, much needed hug, you caught sight of a blonde ponytail and blue uniform.

"Oh, hell no."

You swung open the inner door, and walked up to the stools just as Kenny poured hot water into a mug.

"Yeah, they… they do that sometimes." He said, as the jukebox played by itself (again.).

Acosta looked at him - really looked at him. “Is that something else you get comfortable with?” A pause. “Look, thanks for the tea.”

He looked down at the mug. “Uh, you didn't even...”

She stood up, body almost colliding with yours. “Excuse me.”

And then, Kenny looked up, eyes locking with yours. He brightened up immediately - his smile widened, and he put the pot back in its place, just to beckon you over with his free hands.

"Good morning, my love." You said, ducking under the opening to the back of the counter. When you straightened up, your boyfriend was already by your side, arms wrapped around your shoulders, drinking in your presence.

The blonde turned around, now staring at you, with furrowed brows and a scowl on her face.

“Mornin’.” He swooped down, lips connecting with yours in a chaste kiss. A sigh left your body, arms encasing around his shoulders, and you heard a scoff sound from behind, followed by the door opening and closing.

You stayed there for a couple of minutes, in each other’s arms, just enjoying the peace and quiet – the rarest thing to happen when in town. You nosed at Kenny’s throat and he inhaled deeply, red creeping up the side of his neck.

“I missed you.” You whispered. He stayed silent for a few seconds, squeezing you tighter.

“You saw me last night.”

You could hear the smile in his voice; this is it, you thought. This is a good change.

Kenny was hurting.

Kenny was mourning.

But the town – the people, didn’t give him the time he needed to go through this, so the best thing you could do to not see him fade away was stay by his side and not let him wither.

(You missed Tian-Chen, too.

She treated you like her own. She loved you, and you loved her.

She told you to stay with Jade and Victor that night.

You shouldn’t have.)

“It’s a few hours too much, still.” You replied, grinning.

Kenny let go of the embrace first, in favor of throwing away the – now – cold tea. "You're veeeery cheesy."

"This is how you love me, anyways."

"Yeah." He sighed, leaning back onto the counter, arms open again. He didn't need to ask - you gladly embraced him, arms around his waist this time, as he leaned down and hid his face near your collarbone.

"I do."

You stayed there for God knows how long, fingers carding through Kenny's soft, thick hair; humming a song you knew he loved, whispering about how your mornings went, and the dreams you had.

You both had given up on the house after Tian-Chen passed away, and Jim permeated the place with his presence (although you knew he meant no harm, the place was suffocating). Kenny moved into colony house, while you stayed at the station with Boyd. Victor would have no qualms about you moving there with him, seeing as he had the safest room in that place, but Henry was there with him, and you didn't mean to intrude.

The both of you left the diner together, hand-in-hand, ready to face the day ahead.

Shortly after, Boyd assigned you with the task of helping him around - there were more people now, and he could use some help figuring shit out. Ellis was panicking - something happened with Fatima -, and the man wanted to help his kid, so you left to do some of his own chores.

Night came.

You slept in the "archive room", a little nook used to store boxes in the station; Boyd had helped you get a bed in there, and that was good enough. There was one little window on the upper side of the room, and, even though you kept it tightly shut (you nailed it, as a precaution), the whispers and giggles still seeped into the space and made it harder for you to sleep.

The sun rose with a golden hue. The orange glow shone through the clear glass, straight onto your face; with a groan, you rose up from the mattress, stretching as your body slowly woke up.

Another day where you got up, did your shit and hoped for the best - except this time, there wasn't even any hope to begin with.

"Tillie's dead." Boyd told you as you got to colony house, a few minutes after him. "We don't know who did it, but it wasn't a creature."

Ellis fidgeted beside his dad; it looked like he wanted to say something, but held himself back.

"You okay, Ellis?" You asked, with furrowed brows. "Is Fatima okay?"

Ellis inhaled sharply. Boyd glanced at him, and back at you.

"She's fine." The young man replied, nodding his head. "Aside from the nausea, and the, uh. The other stuff."

The ultrasound issue.

"Oh. Make sure she's safe, okay?" You said, nodding at the sheriff. "'m going in."

Boyd shook his head no.

"Wait here, please. Kenny and Acosta are inside, questioning the folks."

A burning feeling made its way up the back of your neck, up to your cheeks and forehead - although it was commonly associated with red, you knew what this was: green.

Jealousy.

Now, you wouldn't consider yourself a jealous person in any way, no; but the lingering glances, the manner in which she scoffed with no shame at your affection, how she thought she was the crispiest fucking fry of the batch?

Oh, fuck no.

Boyd and Ellis rushed away while you steeped in your own anger. Not long after, you heard two sets of footsteps walk out of the house, and there they actually were - your boyfriend, and the blue-uniform menace.

Kenny had a troubled look on his face while Acosta - what the fuck was her name, again? - yapped away with no regard to his feelings; obviously, no one would walk on eggshells here when it came to other people's feelings, but this was too much.

"Was what that guy said about Sara and your dad true?"

Enough is enough.

"It's not that simple."

You trailed off behind the duo, your own brows furrowed and fists tightly closed as you breathed in and out slowly.

Do not fight her. Do not throw fists. Do not. Refrain.

"Okay, you didn't think it was worth mentioning the girl that already murdered two people?"

"Look, it's just, uh, she's different now, and Boyd trusts her."

"Who gives a shit what Boyd thinks, okay?"

"Hey!"

They stopped at your shout, turning around. Turns out you were closer than it seemed; four steps were all it took for you to walk up to her stupid face and swing a fist straight to her jaw.

Kenny yelped, rushing to your side as Acosta doubled over, hand cradling her face; wild, blue eyes stared into your own as she straightened up, raising her own fists. Your boyfriend tried to step in, but you walked around, pushing him behind your own body.

"Come on, hit me." You said, ready for a blow. She hesitated, and then - you spoke up. "You're walking around like you own this place. As if you're mightier than anyone who has been stuck here."

Kenny moved, but you lifted up your hand, placing it on his chest. "Hun, please. Sit this one out."

Acosta scoffed. You faced her, seeing the way she looked between you and Kenny.

"Yeah, we met here. Yes, we fell in love here, we got together here. Yes, this has become our routine. Do you think we wanted to be here? You think we chose to stay?" Her eyes softened. "No, we don't. But we're trying our fucking best to stay alive and sane, because that way, we can think and figure out how to escape."

Your fists shook, angry tears threatening to fall.

"You have no idea what it feels like to witness the people we love wither away and get lured in by those fucks by night. So, at least, try to be a little more considerate of these people's feelings, won't you?"

Kenny took one of your closed fists in his own hand, slowly opening it and lacing your fingers together.

"That way, you might be able to actually help someone." You finished, staring at her bruising jaw. "Sorry I punched you."

Acosta swallowed deeply, glancing between yourself and Kenny.

"I never thought about that." She said, eyes finally settling on your own. "I understand. Apology accepted."

Kenny squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Well, that's better than nothing."

You held in a snort, bumping your shoulders together.

"Are you going to come with us?" She asked, tilting her head towards the forest.

You nodded your head. "Yeah. What did you guys find out?"

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, a shrill yell echoed through the place.

"Help!"

Ethan.

Everyone looked towards the boy, as Kenny rushed to ask him what happened.

Acosta looked at you, and nodded; the both of you ran, and you sure fucking hoped this was the beginning of a good teamwork.

[silverynight]

Muichiro's favorite

Tanjirou is really happy to see Tokito again; he seems to be doing great, even after all that happened in the swordsmith village.

And now he can be trained by him, even if it's just for a while; Tanjirou knows he's very talented, he watched him train with the Yoriichi type zero after all.

"Tanjirou!" Tokito beams; his smile becomes impossibly wide and his eyes glimmer with happiness. "I was waiting for you!"

Such undivided attention makes him feel a little bit flustered, especially because the other slayers around are staring from one to the other like they can't believe what's going on.

"I'm glad you're feeling better!" He mumbles after a couple of seconds.

Tokito nods and tells the others they can take a break. Then he approaches Tanjirou immediately and asks him if he's hungry.

They eat together in Tokito's room while the others stay outside.

Since Tanjirou has noticed that none of the other slayers are shirtless, he puts his own uniform back on. Tokito pouts.

"You can train shirtless if you want, Tanjirou!" Tokito says, eyes roaming all over his body; maybe he's making sure Tanjirou doesn't have any injuries or perhaps he's just curious about the new scars.

"No... it's okay," Tanjirou rubs the back of his neck. "I'd feel weird if I'm the only one like that."

"I can ask the others to–"

"No, it's fine!"

The training session is hard, but Tanjirou likes it; he knows he'll become a lot better that way. Besides, Tokito is an excellent teacher.

At night, Tanjirou goes to the room where all the slayers are sleeping and puts his own futon in the middle of the floor.

"Kamado..." one of the slayers whispers shyly, as the ones around look at him with curiosity. "Could you please tell the mist hashira not to be too harsh on us?"

Tanjirou considers it for a couple of seconds, before turning around in his own futon.

"It's also difficult for him because he's training all of us without a break and then he goes out at night. Maybe he's patrolling the area or something, but he must be exhausted too and yet he's doing this for us, to prepare us for what's about to come."

The others listen to him with their undivided attention and nod.

"Well, at least tell him to be kind with his words, please?"

"I could... but I'm not sure he'll listen to me," Tanjirou says. Besides, Tokito has been a lot nicer to him lately... He has made a lot of progress already.

"Are you kidding me? He adores you!"

"He doesn't–" Tanjirou gets cut off by the noise of the sliding door being open and suddenly, Tokito is standing next to him.

"Tanjirou... come with me," Tokito says, grabbing him by his shirt. "I can't sleep alone."

"Alright..." Tanjirou smiles, thinking about how much Tokito has suffered before becoming a hashira, maybe he misses his family. He understands that completely.

He's about to grab his futon when Tokito takes him in his arms, giggling and carries him towards his room.

"But my futon!"

"Mine is big enough for both of us!" Tokito smiles again, fluttering his eyelashes at Tanjirou.

It's true that his futon is a little bit bigger than the others, but they have to lie really close to each other anyway.

It's alright because Tokito seems to enjoy cuddling with Tanjirou. He buries his face in the curve of the redhead's neck and nuzzles against him every now and then as he purrs like a very content cat.

Tanjirou is happy to help; he even runs his fingers through the Pillar's hair until they both fall asleep.

When he wakes up, Tokito is walking back into the room with breakfast; he looks impossibly happy and even kisses Tanjirou's forehead before kneeling next to him to eat.

Tanjirou wonders why they don't eat with the others, but he's too hungry to ask at the moment.

They dress and go back outside only to see the others are already stretching; Tokito keeps a hand on his waist the whole time and for some reason the others get flustered when they notice it.

"Good morning!" Tokito smiles at them, shocking them for a second; usually he only smiles at Tanjirou. "I had an amazing night! I hope you did too!"

Some of the slayers choke and others turn red before looking away from them. Tanjirou is not sure what's going on.

"Well, I have to prepare everything for today's session!" Tokito grins, before kissing Tanjirou's cheek. "I'll see you later, Tanjirou!"

Only when he's back inside the others seem to relax and look back at Tanjirou with curiosity.

They're still blushing though.

"So did you..."

"Or did he... I mean, how did it work?"

"Was it good? Well, he seems in a good mood so I guess–"

A female slayer hits the ones who were asking questions on the back of the head.

"I apologize on their behalf, Tanjirou. They don't have manners... but we know it's not our business."

Tanjirou is so confused that he doesn't know what to say or do other than nod.

They keep looking at him and Tokito in a funny way for the rest of the day, especially when Tokito touches him, but Tanjirou has no idea why they're so curious about that.

It gets even worse the next day because Tokito asks him to go to his room again.

Maybe the others want to be Tokito's friends too? He'll try to come up with something so the others can make friends with the mist hashira as well.

***

Patreon

[srslyblvck]

dating headcanons, tony stark

pairing: tony stark x fem!reader

synopsis: headcanons for dating tony stark

genre: fluff, kissing, making out, suggestive content

word count: 0.6k

Personal Hype Machine: Tony is always bragging about you. Did you open a jar for him? He’ll tell everyone how you could’ve invented the jar yourself.

Endless Spoiling: You just have to glance at something in a store, and the next day, it’s gift-wrapped in your living room. Say you don’t need it? Too bad, it’s already engraved with your initials.

Clingy but Classy: Tony needs to be touching you at all times. Hand-holding, shoulder drapes, waist grabs—he’s glued to your side in the most suave way possible.

Compliments with Extra: “You know, I’m a genius, but dating you was the best decision I ever made,” he’ll say, right before taking you to dinner somewhere with a Michelin star.

Late-Night Workshop Visits: You wander into his workshop to find him tinkering, only to have him abandon his project the moment he sees you. “Break time,” he says, tugging you onto his lap and kissing you senseless, his hands running through your hair as he pulls you even closer.

Jealous? Never: When someone so much as glances your way, Tony smoothly steps in, an arm around you as he casually drops the fact that you’re with him. Him, the billionaire genius superhero. No big deal.

Date Nights of Dreams: Forget simple dinners. He’s setting up rooftop views, complete

PDA, Everywhere: Public spaces are just places to show off how much he loves you, whether it’s a lingering kiss on the cheek or a casual, handsy hug that definitely makes people blush.

Morning Coffee & Endless Pep Talks: Every morning starts with him bringing you coffee and recounting all the ways you’re amazing, sprinkling in a few of his infamous “Tony-isms” for good measure.

“I Wasn’t Eavesdropping…” He knows every single detail about your goals and ambitions, “accidentally” overhearing you and then surprising you with something helpful or wildly extravagant.

“Power Couple” Costume Coordination: If there’s a Stark Industries gala, he insists you both arrive like the powerful duo you are—coordinated outfits that look like they belong on a magazine cover.

Elevator Escapades: On the way up to his penthouse, he stops the elevator between floors with a quick press of a button. "We’ve got, what, 30 seconds?" he says with a smirk, pulling you in close for a heart-pounding kiss. If it goes longer, he’ll just press the stop button again.

Compliments with a Twist: “Who needs a suit when I’ve got you?” He’ll smirk, winking as he implies you’re a better sidekick than any Iron Man tech.

Surprise Getaways: One minute, you’re watching TV; the next, he’s casually suggesting a quick trip to Paris because “you deserve it, and the jet’s already fueled.”

Never-Ending Flirt Mode: Every time he sees you, it’s like he’s meeting you for the first time, showering you with the kind of cheesy, heartfelt pickup lines that actually make you blush.

Ultimate Cuddle Monster: As soon as you’re alone, he’s on you like a magnet, wrapping you in a bear hug and practically making you his personal armchair.

“I Made This For You” Projects: He’s always tinkering with little gadgets, each personalized to make your life easier—or to just make you laugh. “Everyone needs a watch that can also make coffee!”

Protective Without Being Possessive: He’s not controlling, but anyone who tries to mess with you definitely gets the subtle “remember, I’m Iron Man” reminder.

Dancing Anytime, Anywhere: He’ll pull you into a slow dance wherever you are—living room, lab, even in the middle of a grocery store aisle if the song is right.

Spicy & Subtle Teases: Tony’s a master at whispered comments that make your cheeks flush, leaning close with that trademark smirk when he knows he’s flustered you.

Random “Just Because” Texts: Expect messages like, “Have I told you I’m ridiculously in love with you today? Because I am,” when he’s just down the hall.

Constantly Plans the Future with You: Every conversation about future tech, Stark Industries, or even the Avengers has “we” in it. He’s not building a life alone anymore—it’s always you and him against the world.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

[Fic] The Glory, the Shame

This is what happens when I try to come up with something to write at 7:00 am on Veteran's Day - you get Thomas and Peter sitting on @alex51324 's Island of the Gays philosophizing.

Not certain I'm going to include this one in the Island Sandbox, since it is now about twelve hours after I started, I am tired, and not at all certain it hits the right notes. But it's a thing and I wrote it, so here. Can be read as pre-relationship or just buddies, as you so feel moved.

Needless to say it is beta free. Also free of guppies, goldfish, loches, koi...okay, I'm going stop now before someone hurls a salmon at my head. On to the story instead.

-

Thomas sat on the bluff outside of town, a cigarette dangling in his fingers, watching the seagulls. A stiff wind was blowing, making his cheeks sting, but at least it wasn’t raining. Most of the village had decamped to the pub, intent on reducing Tully’s whisky supply to dregs. Thomas had thought about joining them, but his heart wasn’t quite in it.

A crunching noise alerted him to the fact he was about to have company. He looked up, half expecting it to be the herd of cattle they let roam the island south of the village, but it turned out to be Peter Fitzroy.

“Mind if I join you?” the one armed man asked.

“Sure,” Thomas replied. “The ground’s none too soft, though.”

“Probably better that way. Easier to dust off after.” Peter lowered himself to the ground with his usual easy cheer. “I take it the pub was a bit crowded for you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. “Don’t get me wrong, I could use a pint or two about now. Maybe three or four, but there wasn’t even standing room in there.”

“I know what you mean.” Peter pulled out his own cigarettes and worked one out of the case. Even though he was perfectly capable of lighting it himself, Thomas lite it for him. Less hassle that way. For a minute the two of them just sat and smoked. Finally Peter said, “I thought it was a lovely service.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. It touched on all of the key points without being soppy or condescending. Father Tim did a good job.” That was one problem with people who hadn’t actually been in the war. They could easily make it sound like they had been, like they knew exactly what the soldiers had been through when it was very clear they didn’t. It tended to lead to lofty proclamations about bravery and sacrifice that stank like the mud of the Somme, or sneering dismissal of the misery that had lead to missing limbs and haunting nightmares. Admittedly, Thomas had as little patience for the nightmares as the next person, but mostly because they interrupted his sleep and he did not like being woken up, thank you very much. He understood, but…well. His nightmares never disturbed anyone except himself.

“What did you think of the suggestion that we build our own war memorial, like villages are doing on the mainland?”

Thomas frowned at that one. “I’m not entirely certain. I wouldn’t fight it, of course. But I don’t know that it would help me any.”

The other man gave him a curious look at that. “Isn’t there anyone who’s gone that you want remembered?”

“Maybe.” Thomas took a slow drag and thought for a second before blowing out a long stream of smoke. There was Lord Flintshire’s valet, and a couple of other servants who had visited Downton frequently, but they’d been friends, not lovers. He didn’t know if anyone here would even know them. “I’m the one who didn’t know anyone in London, remember? Yeah, there were blokes I had it off with now and again, but never more than a couple of times. The people I’d really care about, well. They weren’t our sort. Seems a bit pointless to put them on there.”

“Hm. I suppose.” The other man allowed. “Then again, there are those of us who would want brothers on there, so I don’t know that it would have to be just our sort.”

“I still don’t know if any of my brothers made it through,” Thomas admitted. “I might be the last one standing.” He tried not to look at his gloved hand, but his eyes flickered to it involuntarily as he stretched his fingers.

Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to notice. “Is there anyone you could write to find out? Or do you not want to?”

Thomas shrugged. “My sister, perhaps, if she’d write back to me. I don’t know that I’d bother, though. They might as well all be dead, as much as we pay attention to each other. Again, I don’t see that there’s anything to be gained by knowing.”

“That’s fair, I suppose.” The two of them lapsed into silence for a bit. Again, it was Peter who broke the silence. “What do you suppose Kit’s doing?”

“He planned on spending the day working on play bills for the theatre’s next production,” Thomas replied. “If he finishes that, he’ll probably read or something like that, I’d imagine. I’ve told him not to feel poorly about it, that he was well out of it, but. Well. No one likes to feel like they didn’t do their bit.”

“If they were clever they would.” Peter frowned, the expression out of place on his normally cheerful face. “I keep trying to tell Davy Hall that no one’s looking down on him for not serving, but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.”

“Davy?” Thomas looked askance at the other man. “You’re joking.” The other man shook his head. Thomas blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “The man had rheumatic fever as a boy. The doctors expect him to drop dead of a hear attack or have his kidneys give out any day now, and he’s bemoaning the fact that he failed his physical and they wouldn’t let him go get shot at because his health might give out before the Germans got him?”

Peter gave a rueful sort of smile and a one sided shrug. “Apparently his brothers both died, so he really is the last one standing. And he’s here, so it’s not as if the line is going to continue. I think he feels as if, had he gone, one of his brothers might have survived.”

Thomas was aware of that sort of thinking, but he couldn’t imagine feeling that way about anything. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, even if I was expected to die young, I can not imagine feeling that suicidal.”

The comment earned him a sideways look that couldn’t decide whether to be fond or exasperated. “No, I can’t imagine you could. You’re too determined to live.”

His cigarette half way to his lips, Thomas froze. He slowly turned to look at the other man, gauging whether that comment had meant what he thought it did. When Peter lifted his eyebrows and shot a look at Thomas’s glove, that was a pretty clear answer. “Figured it out, have you?” Thomas replied, smiling tightly, trying to make a joke of it. He supposed if the other man was going to get him kicked off of the island, he’d have done it by now, and he didn’t seem like the sort for blackmail.

“Yeah.” Peter turned and crushed out his cigarette. “Several of us have. Me, Tully, Jessop, Rouse.”

“Dr R knows?” Thomas cringed. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“He does.” The other man gave him a wan smile. “He doesn’t blame you, though. None of us do. If you get right down to it, you were the clever one, getting out of there rather than waiting for the Huns to drop a shell on your head.” He nodded to the glove and added, “Not to mention you could easily have died of infection. Difficult to call someone a coward when they’re doing something they know full well could kill them.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time,” Thomas admitted. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing he could do, but if Peter didn’t think poorly of him already, he doubted the truth would change that too much. “I just, I’d had it. I’d signed up to help save them that could be saved, not to die for a country that would just as soon kill me themselves. Or lock me away for two years and then let someone beat me to death when I got out, which is close enough.” He crushed out his own cigarette, then, after a moment’s thought, went to get another.

Peter shrugged. “You’re not wrong. And I still don’t blame you.” His eyebrows knit together and he asked, curiously, “Although, if I might ask, how did you manage it? It’s a difficult shot to manage yourself.”

“I didn’t manage it myself.” Thomas tucked his lighter away and blew smoke into the air. He would never understand how some people managed not to smoke. What did they do for their nerves? “I took myself out to a nice, quiet corner of the trench, lit m’self a cigarette, and then held my hand up over the wall. A German sniper took care of the rest for me.”

Oddly, that garnered a smile from the other man. “Well, that was nice of him. Did you send him a thank you note?”

“No,” Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly in any condition for it. Too much morphine. Who knows? By the time I was thinking clearly again, he was probably dead anyway.”

“Probably.”

They were quiet again, for a stretch. This time Thomas broke it. “How long have you known?”

“Several months now. We put it together about the time Gordon ran off.”

“Blimey.” Thomas blinked at that. “And it took this long for any of you to say something?”

Peter shrugged. “It didn’t seem important, really. After all, who decided it was cowardice? And who decided that cowardice was something to die over? A bunch of men who never left England, except on holiday? The men who wished they had the guts to do something like that?” He looked down at his own shoulder. “I may not have invited a German sniper to have a shot at me, but I wasn’t exactly crying when they told me I couldn’t carry a stretcher anymore.”

“I should think not.”

“We did our bit. Then we went home. It’s what we said we’d do.”

“Too right.”

“We’re just lucky we made it.” Peter gave a salute to the clouds. “To the Glorious Dead.”

“And the Inglorious Living,” Thomas added, giving his own salute.

The other man leaned in, resting the stump of his shoulder against Thomas’s. “Glorious or not, I’m just as glad to have you hear instead of lying under poppies in France.”

“Thanks.” Thomas smiled and looped an arm around the other mans’ back to help them both stabilise. “I could say the same.”

[ghastbutlikegay]

i love smugly grinning at my mom binging criminal minds on my way by like im not grabbing a snack specifically so i can go back upstairs to binge criminal minds