#all ​my childhood my memories my teenager years all is gone

[gurophism]

i spent so much time doing nothing i mean it was years!!!! i couldn’t do anything i was in a really bad state of burnout but i feel bad because to me is like wasted time and it makes me anxious. i could have created so much and i could learned so much but i made nothing

[dekuphilia]

ALWAYS HERE

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x reader

Warnings: nsft content, friends to lovers, step sibling relationship (not heavily referred, no titles like 'brother' or 'sister'), afab reader, light dom/sub(?), praise, begging, mention of izuku touching himself while thinking of you, mention of stealing readers underwear, breeding, cervix fucking, creampie, fingering (f. receiving), feelings of doubt involving sex, aftercare

Things between the two of you changed over the course of your life. You just miss your best friend, where have the times gone?

note: all characters are aged up to 21+

nsft under the cut

You and Izuku had always been close, almost every memory regarding your childhood involved him in some way. you remember how he stood up for you in primary school, being a few years older than you, he thought it was his duty to protect a sweet girl like you. He never left your side, always there when you needed him. 

He was always there to help you up when you had fallen over, or offer you a hand when you tripped and scrapped your knees. you really looked up to him and admired his kindness. 

it was no surprise you were still close now as adults, sharing a house as you grew older. He was just always there.

you recall whenever him and his mother moved into the small apartment you and your father occupied.

“Remember your friend izuku from school?” your father asked in a soft voice, crouching down to meet your eyes.

you nodded excitedly, your messy braids bouncing around as you held your excited little fists to your chest, “Mhm! he’s my bestest friend!” you giggled.

“Well, him and his mom are going to stay with us for a while,” your father smiled at you, “Just for a little while.”

it turns out ‘a little while’ meant more than you had thought, seeing as they never left and became one with your family, not that you minded.

More time passed, and as you grew older, you realized what was happening between your father and your best friend’s mother.  what started as a simple friendship between coworkers had clearly developed into something more.

While you were still in your adolescence, you attended their wedding, watching your father smile and shed a few tearas he said his vows to your best friend’s mother. you were so excited back then, becoming bonded to izuku in a way you hadn’t even thought of at the time. 

you continued to grow together, your feeling for him unchanged as time went by, He was still your best friend, your sweet izuku. even though he was your step brother now. 

you recall moving into a bigger house, one with enough room for you and izuku to not share a room anymore, as you were getting to an age where it didn’t seem appropriate to your parents anymore, not that anything strange ever happened. Most nights consisted of you and Izuku staying up all night, giggling as you chatted from separate beds, staring at the glow in the dark stars scattering your shared ceiling. Part of you didn’t understand why you had to have your own room, but as you grew into a teenager, you understood why it was important for you both to have your own space, at least from your father’s and izuku’s mother’s perspective.

Soon enough, coloring pages turned to spelling tests, and spelling tests became essays, and the next thing you knew, you were studying for final exams for UA something you had watched Izuku do just a few years prior. 

Your relationship with your best friend seemed to fade a bit, as you were both so busy with, you with your studies, him with his hero training, that you hardly saw each other.

Sure, maybe you’d pass each other in the hallway on nights that he was home, watching as you drug his aching body to his bedroom. Maybe even early in the morning, when you sat at the kitchen table, awaiting your coffee maker to alert you that it was finished. you’d even steal glances when he’d walk past your room late at night, entering the bathroom before the shower clicked on. 

the point was, you didn’t really get to see him anymore, not unless you went out of your way to insert yourself into his busy schedule.

you’d often stay up late, wondering if he still even considered you his best friend.

had he made other friends while he was training?

Were they more like him than you? strong like him? kind like him? 

Able to offer him more than you were? 

You had pushed these thoughts aside for a long time, hoping they would go away. Of course they didn’t, lingering in the back of your mind, leaving a sour taste in your mouth as a bit of shame and jealousy overtook you from time to time. 

There was another thing that caused distance in your friendship, your lack of a quirk. 

you remember, even from a young age, Izuku was fascinated by quirks. always studying them, always writing in his notebook about anything new he learned. you remember when he told you he didn’t have a quirk, and really, you were so thankful to hear that when you were just a little girl. you had finally met someone like you.

As the two of you grew older, things changed, he developed a quirk, and that’s when things started to fall apart.

you were left alone most of the time then, missing your best friend as he stayed out training until the sun came out.

you longed for the friendship you once had with izuku, the inseparable, unselfish love you had for each other.

things were just different now.

You sat at your desk, sighing as you continued to scribble away in your notebook, attempting to finish your studying session. 

your eyes darted away from the page in front of you, taking note of the time. it was already past midnight now, the sun had long faded away, leaving your room dimly lit by a small lap sat nearby.

Izuku had been gone all day, out training or doing some type of competition for school, you couldn’t really keep track anymore.

your father and his mother were gone as well, off for the week on a work trip. leaving you completely alone in the house all day. 

you had tried to keep yourself busy, but you were on day three of being mostly alone, only seeing izuku in the morning as he left for UA. 

you grew bored in that moment, yawning as you pushed aside your notebook, resting your elbows on the wood of the desk before resting your face in your hands.

you stared down at the note page in front of you for a few seconds, relaxing your mind, “Jus’ a little break,” you mutter to yourself, pushing your hair back, knotting your fingers into it as you hummed, soothing yourself.

“Hey, do you know where the towels are?”

you nearly shrieked as a deep voice interrupted your thoughts, your head flying up to meet forest eyes as Izuku stood in your doorway, leaning against the frame. He held his shirt in his hand, his chest exposed to you.

though it was nothing you hadn’t seen before, you found yourself shifting in your desk chair, trying resist the urge to glance down for more than a second at a time.

This was the first time you had spoken to him all day, aside from a quick ‘good morning’ as he left earlier. 

“Uhm—,” you thought for a moment, glancing down at his toned chest, your eyes shifting a bit lower as you realized he was only clad in a pair of black underwear that seemed to hug his muscular thighs, “Maybe— Maybe in the dryer?”

you had hardly managed to get the words out, your mind clouded with unfamiliar thoughts. 

Sure, you knew he was attractive, you had always found him cute, even in your younger days, But something about your feelings now felt a little less than innocent, as they had back then.

“Mm?” he hummed, “Everything okay?” His voice held genuine concern as you met his gaze, his head tilting slightly to the side, “You seem stressed, bunny.”

your cheeks flushed as the nickname left his mouth, the one he used to call you when you were younger, he often referred to you as a timid rabbit who needed to be protected.

you knew it was just an innocent name, one that had stuck so long ago, but he rarely referred to you that way anymore, often using your name, or not even referring to you at all, seeing as you hardly spoke some days.

“Mhm?” You took your lip between your teeth, sucking in a breath as your mind hazes with thoughts of your hands pressing against his chest, feeling the ripples of his skin beneath your fingers.

he notices right away something is different in the way your eyes seem almost glazed over as you speak to him, “Mhm what?” he questions, stepping further into your room, until he’s comfortable sat on your bed, muscular thighs parting slightly as interlocks his knuckles, dropping them into the empty, “Something on your mind, bun?”

You feel his gaze on you now, tension thick in the air as his graze drops down to your chest. He nearly smirks as he notices your nipples pebbling beneath your thin shirt, but he holds himself together, playing coy with you as a soft, innocent smile covering his lips as his eyes flicker back up to meet yours.

“Just stressed, Mhm,” you’re attempting to keep your composure now, eyes drifting to his clasped hands, not daring to look beyond them.

tension is thick in the air and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. you’re acutely aware of the feeling between your thighs now. 

You shift in your seat again, turning until you're almost facing him, holding back a whine as you feel a wet spot forming against the cotton of your undergarments. 

Of course, Izuku takes note of the look on your face as you adjust yourself, resisting the urge to adjust himself as well as he watches your cute lips turn into a soft, almost uncatchable pout for only a moment.

“Just stressed, huh?” he repeats your words, his voice ringing in your ears in an unfamiliar tone, something sultry replacing his normal, cheery one, “Anything I could help you with?”

He’s standing now, hovering over you slightly as he leans over your shoulder to look at the notes you had previously written. Of course, he wasn’t actually reading them, this was all a ploy to get closer to you.

You’re engulfed in his scent as he leans over you, reminisces of his day lingering on his skin, soft tones of mint and citrus permeating through the space.

words seem to escape you as his soft curls brush against your cheek as he leans a bit further over you, his chest pressed against the back of your chair as his eyes scan your notebook.

“S’getting late, ya’know?” he mumbles, his chest vibrating a bit as he speaks lowly, “Maybe time to lay down and relax, Mm?” He stands back now, still lingering behind your chair.

You feel a calloused hand on your bare clothed shoulder, rubbing soft circles with fingertips. your mind fogs, your head threatening to lull to the side as he continues his gentle movements, fingers drifting towards the nape of your neck, applying a slight pressure.

you give a small nod, unsure how to respond, not that you could even if you wanted to. a soft whine passing your lips instead, feeling a bit of your inner tension release at his soft touch.

“You’re so sweet, bunny,” he mutters, “Miss hanging out with you everyday,” fingers drift a bit further down, ghosting over your collarbone, threatening to slip past the collar of your shirt, but he’s still testing the waters, not wanting to push too far, “Miss protecting you, keeping you to myself.”

within a moment, he grows a bit bolder, touring with your shirt collar, “Jus’ been so busy,” your head lulls back, resting against the back of the chair, “M’sorry, bunny.” 

you’re not sure why he’s apologizing, maybe it’s because he’s touching you? or maybe because he hasn’t had time for you lately. maybe even both. 

“No one compares to you,” a soft smile plays on his lips, though you can’t see, “My sweet, soft girl.”

his girl.

His hand dips past the collar of your shirt, fingers brushing against your nipple, causing you to jolt slightly, the sensation only exciting your further, though a feeling of something along the lines of guilt hang in the back of your mind.

“Izu?” you manage to speak, your voice coming out rushes, “s’this okay?”

you sound so innocent in that moment, your sweet voice only egging him further, his stuff cock flexing beneath the thin material of his boxers, as it’s pressed to the back of your chair. a soft groan passes his lips, “baby, s’okay —yeah, s’okay.” he assures you, and also himself a bit. 

you're not really his sister, are you? just tied together by the marriage of one of each of your parents. your bond remained the same over all those years, nothing more than a friendship, right?

Izuku wouldn’t deny he had thought about you in some distasteful ways in the past, even in his teenage years, he found himself fisting his cock to cute selfies of you. maybe he’d even gone as far as stealing some of your underwear from your shared laundry bin, though he’d never admit that part. He was far too prideful to admit he was so perverse. 

“Let's move, Mm?” he cups your chest, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “Jus’ wanna give you some attention.”

Before you know it, you’re standing and he’s leading you to your twin sized bed with a quick tug of your hand, “S’okay, bunny,” he soothes your mind, “S’just me,” his face holds a soft smile, but the look in his eyes is what really gets you, his pupils are blown wide, a small rim of green all that’s left of his irises.

“Mhm, s’just you,” you repeat, “jus you and me, ‘Zuku,” your breath comes out in soft pants as he hovers over you, pinning you to the mattress with his hips, his stiff cock pressing against your thigh.

“Mhmm,” he lets out a low hum, “jus’ me,” he shifts until he’s pressed against your clothed cunt, “jus’ your ‘zuku, huh?” a teasing smile covers his face, his cheeks dimpling.

“Mine,” you say shyly, pressing your waist forward in an attempt to get any kind of friction, a whine bubbling in your throat as he withdraws, teasing smile turning to a smirk.

“Mm, yours.” he confirms, “Don’t get cocky though,” his calloused hand grips your hip, your shorts pushing down a bit, “M’older than you,” his hand move further, dipping into your underwear, “n’ stronger,” a satisfied grunt leaves his lips as he ghosts your clit, feeling how soaked you are, “n’ bigger.” 

you attempted to hide from him, tilting your head to the side whilst burying your face into his arm that rested just above your head, “Don’t tease,” you plea, trying to keep still.

“Shh, Shh,” he toys with your clit, watching as you squirm beneath him, “Jus’ wanna take my time,” he leans down, nuzzling his face into your neck, his curls tickling your cheek again as he places soft kisses on your skin.

Truthfully, he was trying so hard not to go too far, not to scare you, or go too fast, but his sense of control was running thin, threatening to snap any second. this was something he had only dreamed about.

“Please, Please, ‘Zuku,” you continued to whine, raising your hips to meet his hand, “jus’ touch me.”

He really lost himself then, his fingers dropping to slip inside of you, pushing two digits into your drooling hole.

“S’so wet already,” he can’t help but groan, sinking his fingers a bit deeper, “Can’t believe you’re already soaking my fingers.”

he can’t help but imagine how you’d feel clamping down on his leaking cock, just the thought causing it to twitch against your thigh.

“don’ want your fingers,” you whine, squirming against him, “wan’ more, please ‘Zuku.” 

He shakes his head slightly, “Need to— god,” a low growl erupts in his chest, “Need to prep you, baby, I have to.” 

he almost whines, thinking about shoving his cock inside, thinking of how you’d squeeze around him.

“jus’ want it,” you desperately press against his fingers, tears threatening you spill onto your cheeks, “Can’t wait, can’t wait, please ‘zu.” 

that’s the final crack in his foundation, causing his walls to tumble down.

“yeah, baby— baby, don’t cry,” he pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt, “M’gonna give it to you— Fuck,” he jerks back, pushing his underwear down until his cock’s finally free, velvety tip pressing against his abdomen as he he reaches up to fist it for a moment, glancing down at you, “s’all yours—“, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, your teary eyes pulling at his heart strings, “‘Zuku’s gonna give it to you, s’okay.”

With a shaky hand, he presses his swollen cock against your slit, dragging it up until it catches on your clit, causing you to let out a string of swears. He does this a few times, watching as his tip gets coated in your sweet juices.

One final time, he drags his leaking cock up toward your clit, before bringing it back down, pushing the head inside with a huff. you’re already engulfing him, your greedy cunt sucking him in.

“Baby—, bunny, my god.” he can’t think straight, so intoxicated on the way you’re drawing him in. 

you whine, squirming under him as you attempt to get him to go further, but truthfully he’s trying not to release his seed into you at that moment, attempting to clear his head enough to give you more.

his eyes are fixated on your sweet cunt, taking him in as he pressed further, burying himself inside you to the hilt.

you gasp, feeling his cock bullying its way inside of you, filling you until you feel dizzy, “Please ‘zu,” you whine, reaching out to press your hands against his chest.

you don’t even have to say anything, he can read you so well, knows exactly what you want, what you need.

“S’so fuckin’—“ Izuku grits his teeth slightly, rocking his hips as he gives you what you’ve been craving, “So tight,” he slurs out, planting both of his hands on either side of your head, caging you in, forcing you to look at him as he gives you what you want.

He’s overtaking you, overwhelming your senses in ways you didn’t even know was possible, every thought in your mind is of him, nothing else seems to matter. just you and your Izuku.

Your eyes lock with his, a fawned look covering your face as your eyes widen, feeling yourself gripping his meaty cock, “Please, ‘Zu,” you manage to pant out, “Please, don’t stop.” you babble.

As if he would even imagine stopping, he’s so intoxicated by just the lock on your face, watching the way your mouth hangs open as your eyes flutter closed. He’s watching your cunt take him in now, watching the way he disappears inside of you over and over again, cock head pressing against your cervix with each thrust of his hips.

“Feel’s so good—,” his moves one of his hands down from near your face, thumbing your clit, “feel’s so good inside,” his breath is coming out in short huffs, he’s trying so hard not to cum inside of your pussy, but it’s so hard when you’re practically milking him, “Bunny, bunny, jus’ need you to cum on my cock.”

you’re squirming under him now, so close to the edge, so close that all it takes is a few praises from him to make you cream all over his cock.

“tha’s a good girl, such a good girl, bunny,” he groans, focusing on working you through your orgasm, “my good bunny, all mine.” 

he can’t take it anymore, the feeling of your sweet cunt convulsing around him breaks him, “jus’ need to cum inside,” he slurs as he spills inside of you without warning, continuing to lazily thrust into you, “S’okay bunny, jus’ let your ‘zuku fill your pussy with his cum,” he grunts, chest heaving as he finishes releasing inside of you, the mixture of your arousal and his coating his cock.

you’re completely fucked now, sweating coating your forehead as you look up at him, pupils blown wide to match his. 

He slowly unsheathes his cock from you, glancing down to see his seed dripping down onto your sheets before he meets your eyes again, clearing his throat.

“Look at you, bunny,” his tone drops to a sweeter one now, one that holds comfort and years of love for you, “m’pretty girl,” he still hovers over you, his hot breath fanning across your face as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“Mm,” you hum sleepily, “I needed that,” you press closer to his face, feeling his lips ghost against your cheek.

“Me too,” he replies softly, placing soft kissing against your skin, “M’always here for you.”

He tends to your unspoken needs, backing away from your face, brushing the pad of his thumb under your eye to brush away tears you hadn’t even realized were sliding down onto your cheeks.

“Still here,” he mutters, nodding softly as he keeps his eyes locked with yours, “Always here,” he continues rubbing against your cheek, “I’d never leave you, never let you go.” 

[thirteenfrogs]

‘hot & heavy’ — leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x fem!reader

based on hot & heavy by lucy dacus !

italics are flashbacks

not proofread and idk if makes sense

so. many. words. (7.8k)

—

being back here makes me hot in the face

hot blood in my pulsing veins

england, you know, is home.

you associate that word with the country so often that it always surprises you that the dictionary definition of home isn't simply the polaroid of your house in milton keynes that you took when you were 8.

england is home even when you leave, and it's home when you come back after years away.

being back in england — specifically in milton keynes — makes your cheeks warm, and you're not sure whether it's the uncharacteristically hot sun or something deeper in the pit of your stomach that makes you all too aware of the hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weighing on my brain

hot and heavy in the basement of your parents' place

your memories of milton keynes are varied — some are from your childhood, where you spent hours wishing on dandelions, kicking a ball around the neighbouring streets, and chasing the ice-cream van with a 50p coin you found in the gutter in the hopes of a screwball or a mr. whippy.

some memories are from your teenage years, where the bus ride to school was more entertaining than any parties your friends dragged you to in short dresses and the promise of a kiss from the good looking lad in the year above, no matter how much you insisted that you would much rather go to the cinema with your mates (and sneakily hold hands with your best friend).

few memories are from your adult years, when you decided to travel to neighbouring cities and spent hours exploring the intricacies of museum architecture and flirting to get free drinks in the new pub that opened around the corner from your secondary school.

every memory, though, includes her.

leah williamson — your childhood best friend, teenage love, and the reason why being back home feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time.

you used to be so sweet

leah used to pick flowers.

it was something that, more often than not, ended with you both being chased down the street by an angry neighbour who had fists in the air yelling that they were already on the phone to your mums and you would both be in for it when you got home.

it was always worth it, though, when after running so fast for so long you swear your legs could fall off, leah presents you with a fistful of whatever flowers were growing in that particular garden with some blades of grass and the roots still attached to the muddy bouquet. there would always be a dandelion, too, and the blonde girl would insist you make a wish just so she could pester you for hours after about what you had wished for.

and even when your mum does inevitably tell you off after the streetlights had come on and signalled your time to retreat home, the crumpled flowers you hold tight in your grasp remind you that tomorrow you'll do it all again, and the collection of wilted flowers on your windowsill will surely grow once more.

when she sees you again for the first time in almost 5 years, leah refrains from breaking into the nearest garden to steal you a flower and instead settles for a quick hug that feels more like home than any house she's ever lived in.

now you're a firecracker on a crowded street

couldn't look away even if i wanted

it’s merely a coincidence, you tell yourself, that your trip back home coincides with leah’s 26th birthday.

she invites you to a small get-together she’s having in london, and you try not to think about all the birthday traditions that have been broken in the years apart from your ex-best-friend. gone are the sleepovers you held the night before, gone are the parties your families had in your back-gardens, and gone are the shared slices of your favourite cakes.

get-togethers in hidden bars in london are new to you, but they seem familiar to leah and those she considers most important to her.

meeting up with her teammates and friends is a bittersweet experience, and you try not to think about how the leah they’re celebrating is wildly different to the leah you’re celebrating.

you look at the blonde and see the girl you once considered your better half, your extra limb, and they simply see the woman she is today.

leah’s the same as she always was, you notice from your seat at the bar, as she attracts the attention from the entire room without even trying. she’s still the same leah that was a thousand times more popular than you, and she’s still the same leah that never seemed to notice the hold she had on others.

you watch the way her eyes light up when she’s had a drink, and it takes you back to bonfire night when you were 7. when leah first held a sparkler on your crowded street, and her immediate thought was to try and cast a spell on you, giggling like a madman when you throw yourself to the floor like you had been struck.

you think the sparkle in her eyes is still there, and you pretend not to notice the way it brightens when she catches sight of you watching her. you couldn’t look away even if you wanted, and it takes a tap to your shoulder to snap you out of your leah-induced haze.

“kei!” you throw your arms around the ginger in a warm hug, and she responds back eagerly.

“hi, y/n/n, it’s so good to see you again.” keira smiles, squeezing your shoulders gently.

“it’s been a while.” you agree, letting her take the seat next to you.

you find yourself sticking with keira and other familiar faces, such alex and georgia, for a lot of the night — getting tipsy as you reminisce on shared memories and anecdotes about a certain blonde who was drunkenly serenading the entire bar.

at one point, it’s just you and keira, both equally drunk as you laugh about that time leah fell off a swing and was convinced that a ghost had pushed her.

“she was mad — still is, i think.” keira grins, glancing over to leah as she dances around the room.

“it’s a wonder i survived so long.” you agree, a smile on your flushed cheeks.

“i always thought you were it for each other, you know.” keira muses quietly, glancing between you and leah across the room.

“me too.” you take a large gulp of whatever drink georgia had forced into your hand 5 minutes prior.

“i still do.” you glance up at her in confusion, but keira’s slightly slurred words continue, “i know i’m drunk, and i know you are too, but i really think you shouldn't give up on her. she never gave up on you, not really.” at your silence, keira backtracks slightly, wincing at her own drunken word-vomit. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have- i know you're happy in spain now, i didn't mean to bring up old-"

"i’m moving back to london soon.”

and with that, you make your way to the bar to order another drink, eyes drifting around the room and automatically landing on the woman of the hour, who takes that as her cue to stumble over for the first time that night.

“dandelion! i didn’t think you were coming!” she shouts over the song that you know was once her favourite, wrapping her arm over your shoulder and squeezing you close in a once-familiar embrace.

“neither did i.” you admit quietly, never one to be able to lie to her.

“i’m glad you did, now we can sing our song!”

“no karaoke-“

“yes karaoke!”

and like no time had passed at all since you were leah and y/n, the blonde leads you to the small stage with a firm hand.

“one song, and then i’m sitting back down.” you say firmly, and leah simply grins, pushing a piece of hair out of your face as gently as she can with her clumsy hands.

“that’s my shy girl.” she coos as she pinches your cheek teasingly, and you simply roll your eyes. "you never were one for the stage, were you, dandelion?"

try to walk away but i come back to the start

led me to the floor even though i'm not a dancer

the night before your year 11 prom was spent in leah's bed — which was practically yours too with how much time you spent there growing up — laying side by side and staring at the ceiling as if the answer to why your cheeks were so warm was written above the bed.

"what if someone asks me to dance?" it's the first question you ask that betrays how nervous you really are for the upcoming event, and leah scoffs in response.

"tell them to shove off because you've already got a dance partner." the answer is so leah that you have to take a moment to roll your eyes, and because she apparently has eyes on the side of her head, she kicks you for it.

"i don't suppose that dance partner is you, is it?" you tease lightly, bumping your shoulder with hers and watching expectantly for her rebuttal.

"who else would it be?" she turns to look at you, blue eyes searching your face for the answer she knows she'll never get.

because the answer is nobody. there's not a single other person on planet earth you would trust to dance with you, and since there aren't any martians visiting any time soon, you'll stick with leah.

and stick with leah you do.

you're attached to her side when your mums take as many pictures as their cameras can physically hold, leah's hand settled on your waist and your head leaned against her shoulder as you stand outside your house. you pretend the blush on your cheeks is from the never-ending compliments from your families and the warm sun, and not the way that your best friend squeezes your hip gently to remind you pay attention to the cameras and not her.

you remain within arm's length of leah the entire night except for the 2 minutes that she disappeared to fetch you a drink that she knew you would need in the warm room, and even then she had tried to take you with her.

your interlocked pinky fingers keep you close as you make your way around the room, mindlessly chatting to your classmates.

you didn’t go near the dance floor, though, no matter how often leah tried to drag to towards it. you had made your opinions on dancing very clear and leah swore if that she heard the words “i’d rather die” come out of your mouth again then she’d kill you herself.

instead, the pair of you mingle with all of your friends and poke fun at the teachers’ outfits as they supervise the room with eagle eyes, though the blonde never lets up in her begging for a dance.

“come on, dandelion, just dance with me? please?” the pout on leah’s face is one you’ve seen many times in your decade of friendship, and not once have you ever had the heart to deny it.

“lee,” you whine, feeling your resolve crumble further when she steps closer. “i’m not a dancer. i don’t dance.”

“i do! i’ll show you how to do it.” she looks down at you with her most pleading expression, “please?”

“i’ll look-“

“you won’t look stupid, and don’t even think about suggesting it again.” she squeezes your pinky gently with her own, and you know you’re gone. “if anyone says anything, i’ll kick ‘em right in the face with these stupid heels — and that’s a promise!” you bite your lip hesitantly with a smile and leah presses further, “come on, y/n/n, please? don’t make me beg in-front of everyone here.”

“…fine. one dance.”

“that’s all i need, my girl.”

with leah’s hand in your own, you don’t feel nearly as nervous as you would’ve normally, and she leads you to the floor where you spend the rest of the night.

you find that you don’t hate dancing so much when leah’s your partner.

ask me all the questions that your parents wouldn't answer

"did you know that olivia in your geography class has two mums?”

it’s a tuesday night and leah’s in your bed. you’re 15 and there’s not much to do on a school night other than talk about whatever comes to mind. leah’s the first, tonight, and you wonder if she’ll finally let slip the reason she’s been deep in thought all day.

“really? she’s never mentioned it before.” you shrug, unsure of where your best friend is going with the conversation. “i guess she wouldn’t have a reason to, would she?”

leah bites her lip, clearly deep in thought. you have half a mind to tell her not to think so hard or her head will hurt, but you refrain.

“hey, what’s up?” you poke her cheek gently, hoping to snap her out of whatever headspace she was in. “you a homophobe or something? because i’ll have you know my cousin’s gay and-“

“i’m not a homophobe, you dick!” leah shoves you with a huff, and you grin at your success. “i’m just curious!”

“bi-curious or just curious?” you tilt your head, knowing it would only annoy her further.

“dandelion, i’m getting annoyed here.” she warns, glaring at you as best as she can with her 16-year-old baby face. “i’m just-“ she sighs, flopping back down on your bed. “do you think it’s…okay?”

“for?” you ask, laying down beside her.

“for two girls to…y’know, have a baby? get married?”

“i don’t see why it wouldn’t be okay?”

“i don’t see why either, but…” leah glares up at the ceiling. “when you think of getting married, what do you think of?”

you blink at the slight change of subject, but conversations with your best friend often go from topic to topic, so you shrug and answer honestly.

“cake- ow, leah! don’t hit me!”

“be serious for once!”

“i’m trying!” you huff, rubbing your shoulder from where she had so kindly elbowed you. “okay, when i think of getting married i think…a white dress, and some nice flowers. i think about songs i’d like to have play too. and cake.”

“what about who you’re marrying?”

“i don’t know, i never think of that.” you shrug, wondering what leah was getting at.

“well isla in our form class is convinced she’s going to marry jack, and she says she imagines it all the time. do you?”

“do i imagine marrying jack? god, no.” you snort at the idea. “he picks his nose still, did you know that?”

“y/n! be serious!” leah groans.

“stop beating around the bush and ask me what you really want to ask, then!” you huff, kicking her shin.

there’s silence for a moment, and you risk a glance towards the blonde.

she’s already looking at you — blue eyes piercing yours. “…do you ever think of marrying a girl?”

you roll over to your side and look back at her, eyes roaming over her freckled face that seemed awfully troubled for a simple tuesday night.

you shrug, “i dreamt i married lucy liu once, but i think that was because i fell asleep watching charlie’s angels.”

“was it…did it feel weird?” she furrows her brows the way she always does, and you reach out and press your thumb between them to remind her to stop.

“no, it was nice until she went all bridezilla on my dad. i can’t remember why, though. think he said her dress was ugly or something.” you remove your hand from leah’s face, but it doesn’t go far because the blonde reaches up and intertwines your pinkies and lays your hands on the pillow between your faces.

“i’d go bridezilla on him too. just for fun, though.” leah nods thoughtfully.

“and that’s why i wouldn’t marry you.” you roll your eyes, squeezing her finger.

“no? not even if i proposed with a million dandelions?” she asks with a smug smile, and you grin as she finally seems to relax.

“hmm…if you did that and got me a pretty ring, i wouldn’t say no.” you nod.

“the haribo ones aren’t good enough for you anymore?” she smiles, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips.

“diamonds are a girl’s best friend, lee. you gotta know that if you’re ever gonna propose to someone.” you poke her nose gently with your spare hand, and she grabs it with a gentle squeeze.

“i’ll keep it in mind.”

how could i deny a diamond in the rough?

it was awfully cliché, and you're aware of that, but leah had insisted that it was a rite of passage to play dancing queen on your 17th birthday, and so you allow the blonde to twirl you to her heart's content as the lyrics blare through your house. she sings along as she always does, never one to shy away from showing her passion for music and love for singing.

your families are scattered around the house and the back garden — leah’s grandmother playing scrabble with your aunt at the kitchen table, jacob kicking a football outside with your cousins, and both your’s and leah’s mums gossiping over a glass of wine while your dads manned the barbecue on the deck. to anyone else, this wouldn’t be considered a very good 17th birthday celebration, but to you it was perfect.

your other friends don’t understand that this is how you’d rather spend your birthday over getting drunk in a field (though, you weren’t opposed to that every now and then), and so it’s only leah who you spend the evening with, singing, dancing, and drinking as much as your families allow.

when it’s time to blow out your candles, it’s leah who stands beside you with a soft smile as your families sing the song you hate so much. it’s leah who presses a kiss to your cheek and tells you to close your eyes and make wish.

‘i wish it could always be like this.’

you open your eyes as watch as the smoke rises to ceiling, blushing as everyone cheers and claps, and giggling when jacob begs for the cake to be cut already.

“what did you wish for?” leah asks quietly, eyes solely on you as you watch your dad carry the cake over to the counter.

“you’ve asked me that almost everyday since we were 6, lee.” you chuckle, leaning into the arm she has around your waist. “and i’ve never once told you.”

“i was hoping today would be different.” she pouts dramatically, “but, alas, my dandelion keeps her secrets.” the hand she places over her heart makes you roll your eyes fondly, and leah simply continues her theatrics for as long as she can before getting distracted with a slice of cake — typical.

you can’t help but feel like today is different, though. maybe it’s just because your head feels a little fuzzy from the beers your dad had allowed you to have, or maybe it’s because leah’s arm had been wrapped around your waist all day and you wonder how you’ll cope if she never does it again. either way, there’s something in the air that evening, and you feel it close in on you when leah shoves a piece of cake in your face, smearing icing across your cheeks with a laugh so loud, you wonder if you’ll go deaf.

you freeze in shock when it happens, and even though you can see everyone in the room cracking up, it’s leah’s laugh that captures your attention, and it’s her smile that you want to shove a piece of cake into.

so you do.

war is declared that night, and despite your mum’s protests about getting food everywhere, you and leah find yourselves in a cake fight that resembles the great snowball war of ‘05.

your cousins and jacob join in, like all children do, and you can hear your dad placing bets on who’ll be the first to tap out, but your attention is solely on your best friend and how stupidly beautiful she looks when she laughs. you don’t know anyone in the world who could pull off a cake-smeared face so well, but leah seems to do it in a way that has your heart beating faster with more than just adrenaline as you run around the kitchen with cake in your fists.

you know you’ll regret this all when you have to clean up later, and you know your hair will never forgive you for the amount of chocolate in it, but in those moments where cake is flying across the kitchen and out the back door, you know you’ll be okay.

eventually, your mum puts a stop to it all and orders your dad to hose you all off in the garden (something he takes sadistic pleasure in as you all scream and run away from the ice-cold water, leah even using your dog as a shield while you used her), and your aunt ends up taking your cousins home before they could catch a cold.

people start to leave slowly, giving you one last birthday wish and a kiss to the head, until finally it’s just you, leah, and your parents.

your mum sends you both upstairs with a reminder not to stay up too late gossiping like always, and you and leah simply share a look before running up the stairs and attempting to push one another down them.

after you take turns showering and changing into some pyjamas, you both settle on your bed with the lord of the rings trilogy lined up for the 4th time that month, just because it was leah’s favourite.

“that’s you.” you point to the screen where gollum currently is, like you always do, and leah smacks a pillow down on your face, like she always does. “that never gets old.” you grin.

“it never gets funny.” the blonde huffs, stealing popcorn out of your hand instead from the bowl like a civilised person. “one day that mouth of yours will get you in trouble, dandelion.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.” she nudges your shoulder with her own. “and i’ll have you know i look nothing like gollum; i’m far more beautiful.”

“that’s not a very nice thing to say about your twin, leah.” you shake your head disapprovingly, and leah scoffs.

“that’s it!” and before you can even begin to comprehend what’s happening, leah’s attacking you.

the pillow that was once behind her head is now in her hands as she swings it down on your face, and you barely have time to react before it comes down again. leah’s laugh is loud as you squeal, trying to escape her wrath to no avail.

“i surrender!” you finally shout after far too long, and leah grins triumphantly from her place above you.

your breathing is heavy, and your cheeks are warm, but leah’s eyes are comforting. they don’t hold your gaze like usual, and instead they glance down to your parted lips with an unrecognisable expression.

“you surrender?” she double checks, holding the pillow threateningly.

you nod, trying to catching your breath.

“and you won’t say anything else about my appearance?”

“my lips are sealed.” you nod, watching as leah drops the pillow

“i can’t think of anything clever to say about your mouth,” she says, brushing some of your hair out of your face gently, “i just…”

you hold your breath as leah leans in close, lips brushing against yours, tentatively, for the first time.

you think about the first time leah ever kissed you when you were 6. when you had just learned how to ride your bike and in your excitement to show your best friend, you stopped looking where you were going. you had hit the curb and flown over the handlebars and onto the pavement. it was leah who pulled you up to your feet, and it was her who pressed a magic kiss to your grazed palm to stop your tears.

you remember thinking it was best magic kiss you had ever gotten, because it worked in taking away like the pain like all magic kisses too.

now, though, you know it pales in comparison to this.

you don’t think anything could ever live up to feeling of leah’s soft lips on yours, and her gentle hold on your jaw. nothing will ever compare to the way she slowly pulls away, smiles at you, and then pulls you back in for another.

you led me in your world until you had enough

the day after your kiss with leah, you find that she’s nowhere to be found.

you don’t wake up to leah’s arms wrapped around you like you usually do after a sleepover, and a quick look around your house tells you that leah’s not downstairs critiquing your mum’s pancakes like usual either. your dog sits at the front door whining in the way he only does when he misses your best friend, and you wonder why leah left so early and where she could have possibly gone.

you find that as the day goes on, your worry for leah increases. she hasn't responded to — or even read — the numerous texts you've sent, and even jacob had simply shrugged his shoulders when you asked where she could be.

you're pretty much moments away from reporting her as missing when you hear her familiar laugh in the park near your house. you wonder if you've gone crazy enough to start hearing things, but once glance out your bedroom window confirms that leah is, in fact, at the park. she's kicking a ball around with some girls you recognise as her friends from football, and you wonder why she hasn't invited you like she normally does.

despite every cell and fibre in your body telling you to close your window and pretend you never saw her, you find yourself clipping the lead onto your dog's collar and walking him across the road like you had a reason to be there apart from confronting your stubborn best friend on why she had seemingly disappeared all day.

leah doesn’t notice you — if she does, she ignores you — as you approach, your dog tugging the lead with the insane strength that only appears whenever he sees leah.

“hey, y/n!” one of leah’s friends waves, and that’s when the blonde finally looks your way.

leah reluctantly kicks the ball away, sending her friends chasing after it, and turns to you with an air of coldness that you had never been on the receiving end of before.

“haven’t see you all day,” you remark casually, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes dismissively. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, fine.” leah shrugs, patting your dog’s head lightly as he happily licks her hand.

“oh.” you’re not really sure what to say after that. you watch her for a moment, taking notice of the way she avoids your gaze. “did you want to talk about-“

“look, i’m really sorry but my coach says i don’t need any distractions. can you leave me alone?”

with that, your best friend (?) walks away, leaving you standing there in confusion.

“coach says i don’t need distractions.”

you wonder if leah sees you as a distraction, or simply just the kiss. you hope it’s neither, but the way she seems to avoid you like the plague for weeks after your conversation tells you it’s probably both. she spends all her time with football, and even in school she seems to find a way to distance herself.

and so you see less of your best friend as her passion for football grows, and you feel selfish when you find yourself missing her.

you don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for her, but a part of you deep down knows that it’s because you don’t want her to be happy without you.

she is, though. and that hurts more than anything. leah seems perfectly fine to spend all her time with her football friends, and you find that your late night talks have been replaced with an occasional text asking about homework that never leads to anything more than a 1 minute conversation.

leah doesn’t call anymore, and so you don’t either. she doesn’t knock on your door and beg you to come out, so you take the long way around town to avoid her house.

you still attend her matches — because no matter how upset you are at her, she’s still your best friend and you’d always support her — but she doesn’t run to you at the end of the games anymore, instead she sticks close to her teammates and barely glances in your direction.

drifting away from leah is a slow process, and yet you feel completely blindsided because one minute she was your leah, and the next it felt like you barely knew her at all.

you knew that i wanted you to bend the rules

how did i believe i had a hold on you?

losing leah feels like losing a part of yourself, and you hate that it’s because, technically, you are.

you had always been leah and y/n.

when one of you wasn’t in school, teachers would ask the other where your other half was. when your mum made dinner every evening, there was always enough for another plate because she knew that your best friend would be there whether she was invited or not. when leah’s mum booked that family holiday to spain in 2008, there was an extra ticket with your name on it because she would never dream of separating leah from her y/n. you would never find one without the other, and that’s the way it always had been.

leah and y/n.

you don’t know how to just be y/n.

you find yourself looking to your side to tell her a funny thought that popped in your head, only to be met with nothing because leah’s not around anymore.

your parents don’t understand when you tell them you’ve simply grown apart, and neither do you, because ‘growing apart’ wasn’t in the cards for leah and y/n.

leah and y/n were supposed to stay together until the very end, even when the street lights turned off. leah and y/n were meant to stand by each other’s side, even when you were being lectured for stealing dandelions from mr. miller’s garden. leah and y/n were forever and always, like you had promised when you were 7.

but you’re not 7 anymore, and leah hadn’t given you a dandelion in so long, you wonder if you still know how to make a wish.

you were stupid to think you were ever important to leah. how did you believe you had a hold on her?

you were always stronger than people suspected

underestimated and overprotected

you knew that leah joining the senior squad for arsenal was inevitable — she was an amazing player with passion for the game and a love for arsenal that could rival even the biggest gooners.

it doesn’t surprise you at all to hear through the grapevine about leah’s permanent move to london, but you think that fate isn’t on your side when you find out she lives close to your new london flat that you share with your friends from university.

you’re just grateful that your busy school schedule and leah’s packed football life means no accidental meetings in the big city.

except it does. because of course it does.

you think maybe it's because your body had been accustomed to being near leah your entire life that it seeks her out even when you know it shouldn't. you think that must be why you always seem to bump into her no matter where you go.

it certainly doesn't help that you can't resist attending her matches too. call it routine, or simply call it love, but you don't think there's a single world where you wouldn't support the girl you once considered your best friend. watching leah play football had been a staple in your life for as long as you can remember, and there had been too much change in your life for you to ever consider giving this comfort up.

you pretend you don’t notice the way her eyes always seem to find your figure in the mostly-empty stands, and you always make sure to wear a jacket over your williamson jersey just so she doesn’t know that she’s the only reason you’re still there when everyone else goes home.

after a particularly good match, a few months into the season, leah finally picks up the courage to approach you. it had been months of longing stares from the pitch, showing off whenever she was near your section, and trying to catch your eye at the end of a match, and leah was now finally ready to speak to you.

properly. for the first time since she decided to be a coward almost a year ago and tell you you were a distraction instead of saying the truth.

the truth was that she loved you.

leah had loved you for as long as she could remember, and she was sure that she’d love you for the rest of her life.

the only thing to do now was ensure that you’d actually be in her life, so she could love you up close again.

it’s after a pretty intense match that leah finally had enough to confidence to approach you (after a few words of encouragement from alex, of course). you were sat in the stands, talking animatedly with another girl about the game.

leah swallows the brief feeling of jealousy, and walks towards your seat. you look up almost immediately, like you can sense her, and your expression doesn’t change. you pull your jacket tighter over your body, and leah catches sight of the red jersey beneath.

she hopes it’s her last name across your back.

“big fan?” leah nods towards your jersey as she leans over the barriers slightly, her voice surprisingly not giving away the nerves she was feeling at being face-to-face with you again after so long.

“oh, absolutely,” you agree, your voice dripping with the sarcasm that she knows too well, “i just love vicky losada.”

leah scoffs, “you’re wearing #6, really? let me see.” she gestures for you to take your jacket off, and you shake your head.

“6 my favourite number.” you shrug.

“14 is better.” she taps the #14 on her shorts pointedly.

“ever so humble, williamson.”

“you know me well, dandelion.” the nickname falls from her lips as easily as it used to, as if no time had passed at all since the last time she said it.

like you were still leah and y/n.

she seems to think so too, because leah grabs her own jersey and pulls it over her head. “here,” she says, holding it out to you, “it’s not a #6, but one day it will be. for you.”

you hesitantly take the warm jersey, “i’ll hold you to that.”

“wait, let me sign it.” leah grabs a sharpie that someone had left in the seat beside you and you hold the jersey out for her, trying to keep your eyes solely on her hands and not anywhere else. “there.”

“how much do you think this would go for on ebay?” you ask, folding the jersey and tucking it under your arm.

“not funny.” leah frowns, the familiar crease forming between her eyebrows. “you have to keep that.”

“we’ll see.” you grin, waving goodbye as you step back.

“see you next week.” leah waves, watching you go.

it’s only when you get home do you realise what she’s written on the jersey.

‘call me?’ with her phone number attached.

your roommate wonders what has you smiling so widely for the rest of the evening.

—

things with leah don't go back to how they were — you doubt they ever will — but the new normal, you find, isn't so bad either. it definitely helped that leah had offered a sincere apology for what she had said and how she had been acting with a collection of your favourite snacks, your favourite movie, and a dandelion she had insisted you use to make a wish about her embarassing herself at her next match — which she seemed to think she deserved for how she had treated you.

you don't bother telling her that when you close your eyes and blow on the flower, you only wish for the best for her, like you always have.

you want the best for leah, and a part of you deep down knows that you don’t fit into that idea anymore.

you cherish the time you spend with your once-best friend, and you let her cart you around london with her teammates for months before you break the news that you’re leaving for good.

when i went away it was the only option

couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution

the job offer comes at the perfect time. if you didn’t know better, you’d probably say it was divine intervention or the years of dandelion wishes catching up to you and granting you this once and for all.

either way, you don’t dwell on what causes your boss to offer you a position in spain, you simply give a grateful smile and ask when you can start.

you try not to think about the fact that spain reminds you of leah — of that family holiday you were invited to back when you were 9. you try not to think of the hours you spent playing mermaids in the pool and getting sunburned while eating as much food as your little bodies could handle.

you think you’d be able to find a connection to leah no matter where in the world you are.

every time you walk past a group of children playing football, you’re taken back the hours of running around fields with your blonde best friend as she dribbled past you like you weren’t even there — and then letting you take the ball back moments later because she felt bad.

every time you go grocery shopping, your brain subconsciously reminds you which foods leah does and doesn’t like, as if she’ll be popping around for tea like you live on the same street again and not in a whole different country.

leah didn’t take that easily, either — the fact that you wouldn’t be within in walking distance of her anymore.

you remember the way her eyes shined with tears when you showed her your transfer email. you remember the way she begged you stay, insisting that the better pay and higher position wouldn’t matter if you moved in together. she promised she would take care of bills, and that all you’d have to do is stay.

she didn’t understand that it wasn’t like how it used to be.

leah wasn’t the sun. not anymore. your life had to revolve around something else now.

spain is quite sunny, anyway. you’re sure you’ll find something new.

the most that i could give to you was nothing at all

the best that i could offer was to miss your calls

you settle into your new home quickly, and when you ignore the constant ache in your chest, you find that spain makes you quite happy.

leah calls more than she did when you were in london, and you find yourself purposely ignoring them for the sake of letting her down easily. you lived in spain now, and leah lived in london. it just wouldn’t work.

you wish you were a big enough person to pick up the phone, but you knew that the second you hear her voice again, you’d be back to square one.

the most that you can give is nothing at all.

try to walk away but i come back to the start

and it happens over and over and over and over again

over and over and over and over again

i wish i was over it, over it, over it, over it

even in spain, you think of leah.

you always think of leah.

you watch her games whenever you can — both for england and for arsenal. you buy a williamson #6 jersey when she changes her number and you wear it proudly whenever you sit in front of the tv and watch her play the game you had become so accustomed to.

the signed jersey from all those years ago is the one you wear to sleep. leah’s message has long since faded, and it doesn’t smell like her anymore, but the comfort it brings is the same as it always was.

every birthday, you find yourself staring at the candles wondering what you should wish for. back when you had leah everything, you could always come up with something new to wish for. now, though, you don’t know. there’s only one thing you want, and you can’t have her it. when you close your eyes, the warmth of the candles in front of your face uncomfortably familiar, you only see images of leah. you see her smiling, laughing, and playing.

you wish for her happiness.

you’re not sure what that means for you.

a hidden gem, my own goldmine

you had the wide and wild eyes

leah isn’t just your favourite footballer anymore.

she’s an inspiration to thousands of people, one of the best in her field, and you know deep down that you’ve done the right thing by leaving.

she’s doing everything she ever wanted, what does it matter if she’s not doing it with you?

you’re sure she doesn’t miss you, anyway.

you pretend not to notice when leah views your instagram stories, and you act like it doesn’t make your ache to reach out to her.

but you can’t.

you were a secret to yourself

you couldn't keep from anyone else

now you're the biggest brightest flame

you are a fire that can’t be tamed

you're better than ever, but i knew you when

leah williamson, england captain. but you remember when she was simply leah, the girl with legs too long for her body and a smile too wide for someone in the middle getting told off for tracking mud into her mum's kitchen.

leah williamson, european champion. but you were there when she was just leah williamson, the teenager determined to prove herself and make her family proud.

you held her when she had a bad game, and you cheered on the sidelines when she played her first match as a gunner.

before she was anyone else, she was your best friend.

but...she had always been more than that, hadn't she?

she was always meant for more than you and your garden bouquets and your late night conversations.

she was always going to be more than that little street on milton keynes, and maybe you had always known that you were doomed for heartbreak.

leah williamson had never really been yours.

not even when you were 16, and she told you she liked you the way girls should like boys.

she wasn't yours when she tentatively pressed her lips against yours for the first time on your 17th birthday.

she wasn't even yours when she promised she was.

she had always been her own person, and you were simply the idiot on the sidelines with your arms open for whenever she felt like being someone else’s for a moment.

she had never been yours, but you had known since the day she first presented you with a stolen flower when you were 6 that you were hers.

leah wasn't yours, much like that dandelion wasn't really yours either. because she had ripped it from the ground outside mr. miller's house much like she had done to your heart when she told you that you were a distraction.

you’ve had a long time to get over leah, and an even longer time to find yourself outside of being her best friend. but either you simply don’t want to, or that birthday wish you made when you were turning 17 really did come true, because you find that leah’s the only person you want even after years apart. even after leah had broken your heart and failed to fix it, you still want her to hold you at the end of the night and tell you everything she thinks and feels, and you want nothing more than to listen to her voice and the steady beat of her heart and know that you’re home.

you think that maybe it’s not a bad thing to still want leah. maybe you can start over. you can be leah and y/n again.

it's bittersweet to see you again.

you spend most of your time home falling back into routine with leah, much like the one you had when you were 16.

and while the conversations no longer revolve around who of your classmates fancies who, or how badly you think you did on your recent exam, you feel the same warmth on your cheeks as you did when leah first held your hand so many years before.

your inside jokes still make you laugh harder than any comedy show you've been to, and leah's arm over your shoulder fits better than that tailored coat you got for your 21st birthday.

being back with leah feels right, and that terrifies you.

because it was wrong, wasn't it?

it was wrong to look at leah and see everything you could've had.

but when she catches your eye and glances down to your lips with pink cheeks, you think maybe you'll always be the girls in milton keynes, and maybe the flowers blooming the ground would belong to you once again.

the grin on her lips makes you hot in the face, hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weigh on your brain as she presses her lips against yours like they were coming home, and you register her slide something soft into your palm as she kisses you.

reluctantly, you pull away with bated breath and open your hand, peering down curiously at what you now hold.

a dandelion.

“make a wish, y/n.”

you glance up at leah — your leah.

“i don’t think i need to.”

—

[stupidlittlespirit]

[Ch.1] - Teacher's Pet

Rating: SFW Type: Longform, multi-chapter Tags: No use of pronouns for reader, fluff, smitten!Reigen, teacher!reader, flirting Word count: 3465 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reigen meets one of Mob's teacher's and loses his mind a little bit.

Schools give Reigen the creeps.

He has no fond memories of his own time in them and they've always represented something rigid and hierarchical in his mind, filled to the brim with stuffy old teachers who live to judge children and pressure them into the perpetual motion machine of working life.

As Reigen rounds the corner of the final street before Salt Middle School, and the establishment's gates iron peek into view, the familiar sense of dread he remembers so well from childhood pools in his chest. Even as an adult he distinctly dislikes them.

On his approach, he can see a smattering of students hanging around the entrance, milling about on their own time before they head off home for the evening, trading stories of the day and laughing with each other as they part ways until tomorrow.

To add to his existing unease, Reigen recalls the most recent escapade that brought him within 10 feet of an establishment like this. Last time, had almost landed him in jail, and although he’s dressed far more appropriately this time he still knows it might look suspicious to be a lone male skulking around young teenagers without a parental excuse.

In Reigen's defence, he is here under legitimate reason.

Thirty minutes ago, a frantic phone call from Mob begging him to bring a couple of his textbooks to school had upended his easy day.

Mob had explained that he had left them, forgotten, in the drawer of his desk, and when he'd called the office in a panic about late fees and potential accusations of unreliability against his name, Reigen had had no choice but to drop it off himself and save the boy from combusting in fear.

Mob isn’t exactly known for being the best when it comes to handling stress appropriately.

Reigen considers it to be the most obvious thing about his protégé, and if he can help him cope just a little better then he’ll always do his best to rescue the boy from a struggle so dutifully he had shut the office early and taken off at a good pace to make it to the school on time.

Mob has gotten better at managing his worries, of course, especially in the past year, but the boy is human; he can't help it if he slips up every now and then and far be it from Reigen to persecute him for that. It's not like he's much better with stress himself.

This week, school tests loom in almost every subject and poor Mob has really gone to pieces under the pressure of achieving good scores.

It makes Reigen’s heart hurt to think about how worried he’s been about it all and every waking moment of their work (that hasn’t involved directly facing a spirit) has been filled with his constant studying.

His dedication is impressive, if a little obsessive, and Reigen doesn't envy his struggle. He remembers how it feels to be ground up in the gears of education all too well.

As Reigen shifts the set of heavy textbooks in his arms to sit on his hip, he considers that he might have to start paying for the kid's therapy if he doesn't stop forgetting everything he owns the moment he starts getting worked up.

At the edge of the school's entrance driveway, Reigen stops. He shifts the thick textbook under his arm again and scans the crowd in search of his assistant, peering amongst the throngs of students for the familiar bowl cut of Mob.

Other than the children, there’s only one other person on site that he deems tall enough to be an adult and they’re far enough away, back turned to him, that he doesn’t think they'll be able to see him provided he’s subtle about it. He doesn’t particularly want to draw an official’s interest to himself. Not again.

Once he determines that he’s suitably out of earshot from the others, he raises an arm to try and get Mob's attention, waving his hand stiffly.

Unfortunately for Reigen, Mob doesn't even glance up. He's too engaged with whatever his sandy haired friend is saying and not even once does he look towards his boss.

Reigen sighs to himself and puts his arm down, choosing a different strategy. Though he’d prefer to blend in just in case someone does think he has scary intentions, in his infinite wisdom, he blows his cover immediately.

"Yo!" He half shouts, half whispers in Mob’s general direction, standing on tip-toes and waving at the boy like he's wishing him farewell on a train station platform.

Reigen winces inwardly at the mistake. Usually he’s much better at thinking things through, but he’s so on edge about being near the school that the small portion of his sensible brain has turned off for the evening.

Within seconds, he can feel curious heads turning toward him and very slowly, he lowers his arm.

Thankfully, this time Mob has heard his call at least. The boy's head turns and he breaks his concentration to find his master in the crowd, giving him a small wave in return. He's looking slightly less stressed than he sounded on the phone and there's a bundle of papers in his arms.

Although pleased to have finally succeeded, Reigen casts a glance out toward the interested strangers as subtly as he can.

He’s momentarily relieved to see that most of the kids have gone back to doing whatever they had before his arrival, heads swivelling back to concentrate on their games consoles or their gossiping, and then Reigen abruptly meets the eyes of the only other adult on site.

His stomach drops, crashing down into a cold pit of fear: the most responsible party here has noticed his presence and now they’re going to come and accuse him of being a freak. And then, like something out of an old cartoon, said stomach suddenly flutters right back up into place half a second later.

Whoever you are, you're beautiful. Beautiful enough to make Reigen's head fill with cotton wool and his body go warm the instant he sees you. Any thoughts of potential criminal charges disappear in favour of a pleasant static that buzzes through his brain and wipes out his concerns in an instant.

He's enamoured by your features, the cut of your clothes, the way a tiny frown knits your brow together in confusion at the sight of him.

There isn't much he can do but stare across the gaggle of children at you.

Reigen feels like he's trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car; A tiny rabbit pinned in the middle of the road. He can't bring himself to scrabble in either direction, away from the threat, and rather than hop away he instead pulls back his lips into an almost-sneer, not-quite smile.

It's stiff and awkward, and he knows that if he didn’t look suspicious before, he almost certainly looks like a total creep now.

He watches you look away momentarily to address a child that has approached your side and for a second, he thinks he might be off the hook if your attention is divided by someone more important than he is. With the threat gone, Reigen lets out a sharp breath of relief and flexes his hands as though they're numb. He's tingly all over and the sensation is foreign to him.

He’d assume it was fear, but Reigen knows that feeling very well. This is… Different. Not entirely disagreeable.

At his side, someone clears his throat.

"Hi, Master Reigen." Mob says, smiling politely. "Thanks for bringing the book."

"Shit!" Reigen starts, physically startled from his trance. When his feet touch the ground again, he frowns down at Mob, annoyed at both the interruption and the scare. For a moment, he completely forgets the reason for his being here. That is, until Mob nods at the bundle in his arms.

"Oh, right." Reigen says, clearing his throat and handing over the goods. "Remember it next time, alright? I'm not making a habit of this. I had to close the office for it." He tries to sound stern but it's hard to carry yourself with authority when you've just had the soul scared out of you.

Mob nods quickly and clutches the book close to his chest, taking the light-hearted chastisement to heart instantly. "I'm sorry," he starts. "I'll make sure I-"

"Forget it," Reigen interjects gently, waving away his disciples' apology. "I'll let you off if you tell me who they are." He inclines his head towards your still turned back, but ensures to keep it as low key as possible. It's no good drawing even more attention to himself and if he keeps quiet for the rest of the time he's here, there's every chance you'll forget about him.

For no reason whatsoever, Reigen feels a little disappointed about that.

Mob lifts his head and follows his master's line of gesture to where you stand across the courtyard, chatting away to another student. "Oh," Mob shrugs. "They teach English here. I have them for the second period."

"Huh," says Reigen, absent-mindedly straightening his tie as he sneaks another look in your direction. "Are they nice?"

Mob frowns up at him, slightly confused as to why his Master might be so interested in one of his tutors. "You're not going to try and talk to them, are you?" He asks hesitantly, eyeing him up.

Reigen scoffs like he’s been asked the most ridiculous question of his life, looking at the boy in disbelief. "I don't know what you mean." He says defensively. There's a breath of a pause and then Reigen starts up again. "And anyway, why not? I’m allowed to talk to whoever I want."

"Because they're nice." Mob says, as though that's ample reason for him to avoid you.

"I'm nice." Reigen protests. "I brought your book back, didn't I?"

"You're…." Mob pauses, thinking through his words carefully. "You're a different kind of nice, Master Reigen. That's all."

Reigen gives Mob a blank, unamused look and sticks his tongue out at him. It's childish, yet it gets a laugh out of Mob and Reigen grins. He loves seeing the boy smile and even if he’s a little offended, he knows Mob doesn’t mean anything hurtful by it. Reigen isn't so stupid as to be unaware of his abrasiveness. The assessment is fair enough, he supposes.

Reigen opens his mouth to tell him to hurry up and get his book back on time when he's cut short by a raised voice.

“Hey, Shigeo!” Someone calls from across the walkway. “Wait a second!”

Slowly, like the protagonist of one of his shitty horror B movies, Reigen glances over his shoulder to the source of the sound. Much to his absolute terror, he sees that the only other adult here is crossing the entrance to the school and heading straight toward him. It's exactly what he hoped to avoid and now he can do nothing but stand, frozen on the spot, and try to remember how to breathe.

Reigen makes a funny sound in the back of his throat and starts to turn away, fully intending to flee now that his task is complete.

"Please don't be weird…." Mob mutters to him, catching the look of fear on his face.

"I'm never weird." Reigen protests, his voice weak even to his own ears.

Hopefully nobody will call the cops this time. Eyes fixed on the ground, listening intently to the growing sound of footsteps, he waits for Mob to explain the entire situation.

"Shigeo," says a pleasant voice, much closer now. "Is everything okay?"

From his limited view, Reigen sees Mob nod out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, it is." The boy says, voice level and calm as always.

Despite the fact that his head is ducked and his eyes are glued to the concrete under his feet, Reigen can feel the heat of your scrutinising gaze on the back of his neck. It makes the hair there stand up on end and his shoulders tense. Not even ghosts make him this nervous.

"And who is this?" He hears you ask, tone cooler than he might like to hear.

"This is my Master." Mob says helpfully, without even attempting to make the title sound less ominous.

"’Master’?" You echo, sounding unconvinced.

Reigen realises he's going to have to step in and clarify what the boy means if he wants to avoid having the police called on him, and he steels himself, turning on the spot to assure you he's actually a very nice, very professional, legitimate businessman and that Mob is really in no danger at all from him.

However, as soon as he meets your gaze, Reigen feels the silver tongue between his teeth turn to lead. His breath dries up in chest, throat constricting uncomfortably and stomach lurching.

Up this close, he can see you in far better detail than before. You're even prettier than he'd thought and it knocks the wind out of him completely.

None of his usual charismatic quips come to mind and his repertoire of smart deflections is nowhere to be found. He’s left floundering like a fish washed up in low tide, gaping and gawping on the shore with a mouthful of sand.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Reigen somehow manages to force a single word around the lump in his scratchy throat. "Hi." He croaks, with as much charm as a rock.

Your brows raise slightly and he tries not to squirm as you look him up and down, silent and critical.

He half expects you to simply laugh in his face and tell him he's got ten seconds to get off of school property, but much to his delight, you smile.

Reigen thinks his legs might give out at the sight of it.

"Nice to meet you." You say evenly, extending a hand to him.

Reigen stares at your offered palm for longer than is socially acceptable. He doesn’t know what to do. All of his social skills appear to have flown out of the window along with his brain, and he stares for so long, in fact, that Mob is the one to bring it to his attention. He elbows Reigen in the ribs gently and the contact jolts him into an automatic response.

Reigen takes your hand in his, his grip instinctively tight like he’s closing a regular deal, and he shakes it stiffly. He does his best not to get caught up in the feeling of your soft skin against his own and instead blurts out the first thing he can think of.

"I'm his boss." Reigen says, louder than he needs to. "He's my, uh, apprentice."

Realisation dawns on your face and you breathe out sharply. "Oh, you work with him," you say, visibly relieved. "For a second I thought- Well, never mind." Your cheeks look a little flushed and Reigen realises that you're embarrassed about assuming his reason for being here.

He manages to find the confidence to laugh nervously and rubs the back of his neck. "It's fine, I just came to drop off his stuff." He shrugs. "I-!"

"Oh!"

Mob's voice makes Reigen jump again and grits his teeth in annoyance at the interruption. The boy doesn't mean any harm, but Reigen feels like he might combust if he gets another fright today.

"Here," Mob says, handing you the book in his arms. "Master Reigen helped me out. I didn't want to be late returning it so he shut the office to bring it to me."

All of the annoyance evaporates instantaneously. Reigen has no idea if Mob knows how much a comment like that helps him out right now. He’s making Reigen look like a paragon of kindness and compassion over a menial act, and judging by the way your expression softens, it’s working in his favour.

He tells himself it's only to ensure you don't think he's a weirdo, but still, Reigen makes a mental note to pay for extra ramen the next time they go out to eat.

"Thank you for returning it, Shigeo." You say, propping the book on your hip.

Disappointment wells within Reigen for a brief moment: you’re glossing over his contribution! He's the one who technically brought the book back, so why aren't you directing that bright smile at him? Why isn't he getting any praise? And why is it suddenly so important to him that you acknowledge his contribution? Reigen starts to panic; You're going to ignore him and forget him, and, and-

And then you're turning to him, your warm smile growing in appreciation as you address him directly. "Thank you for helping him out. I really appreciate it."

The words are simple and ordinary, and to any normal person they wouldn't mean more than an acknowledgement by way of being polite, but Reigen completely short-circuits.

He doesn't know why, and he can't find the coherence to even consider the cause, yet his throat goes dry again and the most he can manage in response is a shy hiccup of a laugh and a nonchalant shrug. “S’nothing,” he says. “Happy to help.”

What follows is another brief pause of silence. Both of you hold eye contact until your gaze flicks up and down his form again, quick and subtle as you seem to assess him in a less professional way than before. You don’t appear to want to look away from him when you meet his eyes again and Reigen finds that he can’t manage it either. He’s completely powerless again.

Your stare shifts, imperceptibly, into something that suggests you might be interested in more than his simple acts of kindness, and Reigen’s head swims.

Mob clears his throat. The both of you jump.

"Don't we need to get back to the office?" He asks, tugging on his Master's suit sleeve as he begins to step away.

"In a second," Reigen mutters, shaking his head to clear the fog. "Grown ups are talking."

Mob sighs softly and resigns himself to standing beside his master for just a little while longer.

"It's alright," you laugh, waving them off with an apologetic smile. "You're free to go. Sorry to have kept you both, I'm sure you're busy."

"No!" Reigen protests without thinking through how maniacal he might come off. At the confused look you give him, he clears his throat and hurriedly corrects himself, hand flapping uselessly in the still evening air. "I mean, yeah, kinda. I am." He says, aiming for a cool, detached vibe. "We get pretty busy."

You nod solemnly, taking his claim seriously, but even Mob can see that you're trying not to smile.

The boy ducks his head to hide his own.

"Better get back to it then," you say, not unkindly. "I have a lot of papers to grade, I'll see you tomorrow, Shigeo?"

"See you tomorrow." Mob smiles brightly, turning to leave.

Considering his reluctance on the way here, Reigen suddenly finds himself wanting to hang around the school for a bit longer, office be damned.

Now that he has your attention it feels imperative that he keep it for as much time as possible. He can’t remember the last time he felt so drawn to someone and he'd like nothing more than to stand here until the sun goes down, wasting precious working hours to chat with you.

As though you've read his mind about wanting to linger, you jerk your thumb over your shoulder toward the main building. "I've really gotta go…." You say, reluctantly backing up.

More disappointment crawls up Reigen's throat, but he's adult enough to understand that you probably do have a lot of shit to do before tomorrow comes and he does his best not to let it show on his face. "Oh, yeah. Sure. Me too." He mutters.

You give him one last smile, apologetic around the edges but sweeter than anything he’s ever seen, and offer him parting words that paint themselves on the walls of brain. "Maybe I'll see you around, Master Reigen." You laugh softly, teasing.

Reigen knows you're only addressing him by the title you've been given but the way you say it, playful and amused, knocks his brain on its ass instantly.

His stomach flips over and he gulps back the dumb little giggle that threatens to tumble from his mouth. He watches you leave in a stunned silence, unable to take his eyes off of you whilst you retreat into the confines of the schoolyard, and it takes so long for his senses to come back that Reigen finds himself rooted to the spot for an embarrassing amount of time.

Eventually, Mob has to come back to get him.

(chapter 2 to follow shortly)

[shadeysprings]

A Toast to New Beginnings

—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary — Reconnecting with your childhood best friend was supposed to be a wonderful experience—until it wasn't.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, drugging, implied kidnapping, childhood best friends to lovers with a dark twist, possessive Bucky and more that I could have forgotten.

Word Count — 1.7K

A/N — My second entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. And it was such a thrill to write for Bucky again. As soon as I was able to choose what item to pair with him, my mind just went berserk. I mean, how could you not?!

Shoutout to my beta @sgt-seabass. But all mistakes are mine alone.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

“It’s really good to see you again, Bucky.”

The smile you give him is mirrored on his face as he takes your empty plate, stacks it with his, and places them in the sink.

It’s been years since you last saw him, years since you ran away from home and established a new life in the city. You thought he would be angry for leaving him, your only friend in your small town, after you had both promised to be there for each other no matter what.

Though life back then was tough and unpredictable. And as a teenager, it gave you no choice but to leave everything behind, to escape the hardships. Including him.

The years seem to have worn on him with the way he’s grown. You couldn’t believe that this is the same Bucky you knew who roughed up the kids that made fun of you, and stole lollipops from the local store just because you wanted them. He was reckless back then, a bad boy as the old women called him. But now, he seems like an entirely different person and yet at the same time familiar. Like home.

Gone is the long hair you’ve always known him to have, recalling how he beat up the boys who teased him for it, and loved how his mother would comb it out for him despite saying how much he disliked it. Now, his hair is neatly trimmed with the shadow of his beard just kissing his face. He’s also grown bigger; muscles bulged from his shoulders and arms, almost making his navy henley shirt too tight for him. 

Guilt suddenly swirls around you, twiddling your fingers together as you remain seated at table and watch him tidy up the kitchen. You even take the time to observe his apartment—a complete bachelor’s pad. But you can’t help but notice the small touches he’s added that reminds you of his childhood home.

He’s never brought up the past once since you met last week by chance at the grocery store. Never once has he shown any emotions of betrayal for what you’ve done. But with you, it’s all you’ve been thinking about after parting ways and agreeing to his invitation to reconnect.

“You remember my mama’s eggnog back then?” He says, disrupting your train of thought, a smile still ever present on his lips when you look up at him.

You smile once more, the memory washing over you like a wave. “How can I forget? She always made mine with chocolate.”

“You always were her favorite,” he laughs heartily. “Liked you more than her own son.”

“Well, she always did want a girl. And I’m the closest thing to a daughter she’ll ever have,” you say with equal mirth.

“Yeah, yeah. Go sit on the couch.” Bucky instructs with a playful inflection in his voice.  You stand from the dining table, already making your way to the living room. “I’ll bring you a mug before I give you your present.”

“Present?” That surprises you.

Taking a seat on the couch, you finally notice a small red box sitting on the low coffee table, your name written on the card. You didn’t know he was preparing something for you, and you came to his place empty handed. If the situation were different, if this were to happen in the past, you would have teased each other about it. But with so much time wedged between the both of you, you can’t help but feel another bout of remorse and realize how much things have changed.

“Here you go.” 

You look up at Bucky and take the offered mug, the warmth radiating in your palms. He joins you on the couch, a mug for himself in his hand, and a smile grazes his face when he takes a sip. His blue eyes cast over at you, curiosity present. 

“You’re sad.” He says, turning in his seat to face you completely. “Did something upset you?”

Placing your drink on the table, you clasp your hands tight and stare blankly into nothing. Of course something upset you. Everything since Bucky came back into your life upset you. It wasn’t because he was part of the past you wanted to forget but more so because you abandoned him.

Yet here he is, making you meals and your favorite drink, the gift adding to the pain that you desperately keep hiding deep in your chest. 

“Bucky— I—”

“You don’t have to say anything.” You look over at him when he interrupts, his mug now sitting beside yours. “You did what you had to do, I know. It took time to accept it, but I eventually did.” His hands then envelop yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. There’s a slight smile on his face, the same one that always brought you comfort whenever something troubled you. 

Slowly, he reaches over to give your cheek a gentle pinch, ultimately making you chuckle at the childish gesture. Your mug is placed between your palms, and he takes his all the same, sipping on it before nodding in your direction. 

“Go on. Mama’s eggnog always makes you feel better during the holidays,” he urges. 

“Well, she always made mine special,” you respond, sticking your tongue out playfully at him, and take a heavy gulp of the warm beverage. But your face twists when you swallow, a sour aftertaste scattering on the surface of your tongue that makes you look at your mug, then at Bucky. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

“No,” you say, trying to appease him, but the cough you release lets him know otherwise. “Just— I don’t remember it being this bitter.”

“Shit. I must have added too much cinnamon in it.” There’s a frown on his lips as he stands from his seat, holding his hand out for the mug. “I can make you a new one if you like. Probably hold back on the cinnamon this time.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” You tell him, schooling your features as you take another sip. “It’s still good. But maybe I can have a glass of water with it?”

“Already on it.” 

You take another mouthful as he leaves for the kitchen, hoping to get used to the bitter aftertaste. But it’s an endeavor you stop, placing the mug back on the coffee table and instead reaching out for the red box to guess its contents. 

But your heart begins to beat at a rapid pace, hands shaking uncontrollably, and you gasp when you feel your muscles tighten then loosen altogether, making you lean back against the cushions of the couch like a wilted flower as you try to decipher what’s happening. You try to call for Bucky to help you in your mysterious ordeal, but no matter how hard you try, no words leave your lips. And in just a matter of seconds, you’re rendered helpless and incapacitated. 

Your eyes widen when you see Bucky return, eyes cast down on you as he sets the glass of water beside your mug. He says nothing, not even questioning how you’ve come to be this way, yet there seems to be no sense of urgency permeating through him. And instead, he lets out a chuckle when he takes your legs from the floor and lifts them up to the couch. 

“Well, what do you know! It does have a fast reaction time,” he says with a grin, taking a seat at your side and reaching over to caress your face.

What? He did this on purpose? But why?

Confusion runs wildly in your head as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel nothing yet everything all at once; the sound of his heavy breaths when he leans closer, the heat that flutters on your skin when he grazes his fingertips against it, and the sight of his intense stare, how the blue of his eyes grow bolder, the concern and, dare you say, love in them earlier replaced with hunger, possessiveness and something darker.

“After years of waiting, I finally have you, my Dove.” 

That name. 

It’s been years since you’ve heard it. And it was only him and his mother who called you as such. The name that used to bring you joy each time you heard it. Yet now, it elicits fear in your chest.

Sapphire orbs bores into your eyes while his hand caresses your cheek. “Unlike before, I won’t let you go that easily.” His hand snakes down to your neck, then lower to your breast, taking a tit in his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “In all honesty, you did this to yourself. If you never left me, we would never be in this situation. We could have been married. Living a simple life on the outskirts of town. Maybe even here in the city.” Releasing your breast, he pushes his hand lower, skating down your blouse and stopping just at the edge of your jeans. With deft hands, he undoes the button and pulls down the zip, your chest pounding as you foresee the coming events, wanting to kick him away from you—but it’s no use.

You no longer see your childhood best friend, your protector through the years. What you see is a stranger, a monster, here to haunt you through the next.

He’s strong, pulling the fabric off your thighs and tossing them haphazardly to the ground. He then stands, eyes raking over your body, and you’re once more stricken with fear when he starts to undo his pants. 

“Now, I’ll make sure that you never leave me,” he continues, kicking his pants away and taking your legs in his hands, lifting them over his shoulders as he kneels before you. 

You do nothing but watch in horror and feel his ministrations when he pushes your panties aside and presses his thumb against your clit. He rolls it slowly, teasing, dampening your cunt with each stroke he makes, pulling at the pleasure you desperately tamp down, but all your efforts are useless with your body subdued.

He lines his cock against your cunt, feeling the way he rubs the tip against your folds, taunting to penetrate at any moment. 

“This time, I’ll make sure we’ll be together forever.”

[buckybuckyboo]

Dad’s best friend

Summary: After quitting your job and finding your boyfriend in bed with another woman, you decide to go back home for a while to recharge.

Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count: 3,017

Warnings: NSFW. MInors DNI. P in V, age gap (reader is in her 20′s), oral (male receiving),  

A/N: Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!! Any feedback is welcome. All mistakes are my own.

------------------------------------------

It has been a hell of a week at work, well more like ever since you started working there. You finally had it with your boss and told her to stick her job up her ass and that you quit. Packing your stuff and heading home, you decided to stop in at your boyfriend's place to tell him you did what you wanted to do for so long. Maybe he would feel sorry for you and buy you some dinner. When you got to his apartment, his door was a jar and you instantly thought he had been broken into. Slowly you pushed the door open, nothing was out of place and everything looked fine. Then you heard some noise coming from the bedroom. Walking towards the door and swinging it open you see your boyfriend in bed with another woman. Talk about the final nail in the coffin.

Storming out of his apartment and heading back to your place, closing the door behind you and sinking to the floor "Fuck! What the fuck is happening!?". Pulling yourself together, getting off the floor, and deciding to get rid of the pictures you have around your place until you found a family photo. Your mom, dad, and your older brother. It's the only place you wanted to be right now so you give your dad a call.

"Hey, dad! I was wondering if I could move back home for a bit?"

"Of course honey! We would love to have you home! Is everything okay?"

"Thanks, dad, I'll tell you everything when I get there. I'm gonna pack a few things and then I'll be on my way. Love you. See you soon!"

In minutes you had your bag packed and you were on your way home. This will be just what you needed, going back to your roots. Fresh start. The drive home was relaxing, you listened to music the whole way, loudly. Your now ex never liked the radio up loud in the car. Everything was under your rules now and there was no turning back! It wasn't a long trip home, just about 3 hour drive. All your childhood memories came flooding back as you drove into the neighborhood. Flashbacks to riding your bike along with your childhood friend. As you pulled into the driveway, turning your car off, your dad was already waiting for you at the door with a big smile on his face. Running to him and wrapping your arms around him.

"Thanks for letting me come home"

"You're allowed to come home whenever you need to honey, no questions asked"

Heading inside to the kitchen, your dad made you some tea and a snack.

"It will be just you and I for a few days. Your mom is having a few nights out with her friends"

"That's okay, I'm glad she's out having fun. Did you have anything planned while she was gone?"

"No, just the regular night in with Bucky, drinks, and whatever sport is on. Or we will play poker. He will be over tomorrow evening and he sometimes stays. You don't mind?"

"Not at all dad, I don't mind at all. It will be nice to see Bucky again. Haven't seen him since I left for college. Wow, that's a long time ago"

It was true, you hadn't seen Bucky in years. You always had a teenage crush on him. You couldn't help but think how he looks now. Putting your cup and plate away then heading upstairs to your old room. Everything was just as you left it. You were exhausted from the trip and telling your dad everything that happened. Just wanting to sleep and forget about this whole day. Climbing into bed and falling asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

_____**______

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of bacon. Heading downstairs and heading into the kitchen to see your dad made a full breakfast, eggs, bacon, and pancakes. He remembered just how to cheer you up after everything that's happened.

"Good morning honey! Just making some coffee. Take a seat, pancakes are almost done"

"Thank you, dad, you didn't have to you know"

"Shh, I'm just happy to have you home with me" You smile and start eating your eggs and bacon then your dad brings over the pancakes.

"So, what time is Bucky coming over?"

"He comes over at around 7. I was thinking your car could do with a wash, wanna help after we're done here?"

"Sure, dad! But don't you have to -"

"I don't mind at all but take your time, and make sure you eat" You smile again and go back to eating. Then grabbing some coffee. Looking out the back window, watching your dad get everything ready to start washing your car. You head upstairs and change and meet him out there.

You both spent most of the afternoon washing your car, you couldn't help but mess with your dad throwing water at him but he knew you were just having some fun. He wanted you to have that big smile on your face.

"Do you want me to go out for a few hours so you can have your guy's night tonight?"

"No honey, you don't have to leave. We spend most of the night in the living room. You won't be bothering us"

"Okay, well I'll just have my dinner and head upstairs, watch a couple of movies"

"You could always join us if you want"

"Then it wouldn't be boy's night" You laugh.

"I'm gonna head in and get cleaned up" Dropping your bucket and sponge, you head inside and upstairs to shower.

After your shower, you headed back downstairs to make yourself some dinner. After the day you had yesterday, this called for a big bowl of pasta. Just as you sat down at the kitchen island to eat, the doorbell rang "Oh hon, that's Buck. Will you let him in, please? I'll be there in a minute."

"Sure!" Getting up and going to answer the door. When you open the door you see a very handsome man standing before you. He looks older, you can see the bits of grey in his beard.

"Hi, Bucky!"

He stands there mouth hanging open as he looks at you.

"Y/N What are you doing home? Did your dad cancel? I didn't get a message or anything."

"No, he didn't cancel Bucky. I didn't want to interrupt your night. Come on in, I'm sure you know where the living room is"

"Thanks, doll, you didn't answer my question though," He says as he walks past you and turns to look at you.

"What are you doing home? Something happen? Are you okay?"

"I just needed some time, I'm okay" It's like he can sense that something has happened, you didn't want to get into it again though and you didn't want him feeling sorry for you.

"Dad will be with you in a few minutes, I'm going back to the kitchen to eat my food before it goes cold. See you later."

Heading back into the kitchen and sitting back at the island. You could see Bucky come in seconds after you and put his beers in the fridge. You have your back turned to him but you can feel his eyes on you. Sitting there, eating your dinner, scrolling through your phone till you see him out the corner of your eye, then he is in full view and leans against the kitchen counter.

"So, I haven't seen you since you left town with that boyfriend of yours for your new job" He smiles. "Yeah, a long time ago, and now I don't have either of them"

"What?"

"New start. No more assholes"

He moves beside you at the island placing his hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay baby girl?"

"Yeah Bucky, I'm fine" You give him a sweet smile and move off your chair, leaving your plate in the sink.

"Cause you know I'll take care of him, just give me the word"

Moving over to him and placing your hand on his cheek and kissing him on his other cheek, then looking into his eyes. You feel his hand placed on your hip. "No need Bucky, He's already miserable without me". Where is this confidence coming from? He smiles and you leave to go back to your room.

A little while has passed and you're sitting comfortably on your bed looking through the job section on your laptop. You could hear them downstairs laughing and shouting at the TV, well mostly your dad shouting but you could hear Bucky laughing too and it made you smile. Then the daydreaming started. Thinking about back into the kitchen after kissing his cheek, leaning in again, and kissing his lips. It left tingles all over your body. Your phone ringing pulled you out of your daydream, it was your brother.

"Hello?"

"Hey Y/N you at your apartment? Need a place to crash for the night. Had a couple of drinks, can't drive"

"No, I'm back at mom and dad's, don't go to my apartment"

"Why?"

"Long story"

"Okay, um, can you get dad on the phone please?"

"Yeah, sure, give me a minute". Hopping off your bed, you made your way downstairs and gave your phone to your dad. He left the room and you turned to Bucky.

"Having a good evening?"

You noticed his eyes on your legs, then his eyes snapped up to yours. You had forgotten that you changed into something more comfortable to lounge around in. Just an oversized shirt of your dad's. Bucky smirks at you.

"What?"

"You look good in my t-shirt sweetheart"

"Oh, this is yours? Thanks, it's nice and comfy" Your dad comes back into the room.

"Honey, I have to go pick your brother up and take him home. I'll be about an hour or more till I get back. Rain check Bucky?"

"Um, dad?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Can Bucky stay? I don't wanna be alone"

"You mind Buck?"

"Not at all, I'll stay till you get back"

"Thanks, I'll be as quick as I can"

"Drive safe!"

He grabs his keys and heads out the door. "Can I get you a beer doll?"

"Sure, that would be nice" He gets up and heads to the kitchen to grab one for you while you take a seat on the couch. He comes back into the living room handing you your beer. "Thanks, Bucky, sorry your boy's night got ruined"

He sits beside you on the couch. "It's okay doll there's not a whole log going on anyway" He stretches his arm over the back of the couch behind you "So you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Why?"

"Well, do I need to beat him up?"

"He's definitely not worth it. I just need to get the strength to get my stuff out of that apartment"

"I can help you with that"

"That would be nice Buck. God I don't even wanna see him"

"You won't have to doll. Tell me what he did."

"I came home from work after an awful day and told my boss to stick her job up her ass"

"Good, I'm proud of you"

"Thanks" You smile sweetly at him and then it fades. "When I got to his apartment, I found him in bed with a tall blonde. She was everything I'm not. I left, and decided to come home"

"I'm glad you did sweetheart, you don't need that"

"Yeah, been thinking about going blonde"

"Don't you dare, do not change because of that asshole."

Looking at him and smiling, your eyes moving from his lips to his eyes and back to his lips again, leaning in and kissing his lips softly. "Um, what was that for doll?"

"Just shut up and kiss me James" Placing your hands around his neck and kissing him deeply then he pushes you away gently.

"Sweetheart we can't do this, your dad will kill me"

"Who's gonna tell him?" He looks at you surprised

"A-are you sure?"

"Yes James, show me how a real man treats a woman" Bucky leans back in, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. You don't waste any time and slip your panties off from under your oversized shirt and climbed onto his lap, kissing him deeply and grinding against his jeans. He's already hard, you feel him through his jeans.

"Well, you don't waste any time getting hard huh?"

"Oh baby, I've been rock hard ever since you opened the front door to let me in"

Wasting no time and undoing his jeans and zip, reaching in and wrapping your hand around his cock. Bucky's head falls back on the couch as you slowly stroke him. His tip already leaking pre cum. Wping it with your thumb and bringing it to your mouth and moaning at the taste. "Shit baby girl, you're killing me here. You not gonna let me taste you?"

Taking your other hand and bringing it to your core and pushing two fingers inside yourself, taking them out and rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds and lining him up. Pushing your fingers into his mouth as you slip down on his cock, both of you moaning together. Your reaction had both pleasure and pain. Bucky was bigger than your ex, the sting adding to the pleasure as he slipped in more. He left you to take control so that he doesn't hurt you. He was sucking on your fingers greedily and moaning at the taste of your pussy.

Bucky pulls you closer to him, pulling your shirt up and moving your bralet, taking your nipple into his mouth. You hissed at the feeling and he did the same with your other nipple and gently biting at your skin. Pulling his head up and kissing him again as his hands now rest on your hips. Looking into his eyes, you start to move your hips back and forth, gently at first. Once your pain had stopped from the stretch of his cock, you were overwhelmed with pleasure. He let you have control, and you gently rocked back and forth on his cock. You couldn't help moaning "F-Fuck Bucky!"

Leaning your head back as he attacks your neck with kisses as he lifts his hips to meet yours, pushing his cock deeper.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good doll, so fucking tight and perfect"

"I'm close Bucky! I'm gonna cum!"

"Cum all over my cock baby it's all yours"

His hands help you move back and forth on his cock. His fingertips dig into your skin as you move. He moans against your skin as your pussy tightens around him

"Fuck! Oh, FUCK!"

Moaning against his lips as you kiss him, his hands still on your hips moving you back and forth on him. Your body jerks, coming down from the high.

Pushing your hair out of your face, he looks deep into your eyes. "Are you okay?" All you can do is nod. Bucky's hands move from your hips to your back as he kisses you passionately as he moves to lay you down on the couch, grabbing one of the cushions to lay your head on. You both smile at one another while exchanging kisses. His hand moves down your side holding your hip, once again as he holds you in place as he pushes his cock into you again. Your breath hitches as you feel the stretch again. You knew from this moment that no one else would give you this feeling. Bucky slowly out and back in again. He grunts softly as he fills you. "Bucky, faster, please"

His movements pick up, he's hitting a new spot and you can't help moaning. Your moans fill the room. Wrapping your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Sneaking your hand down between your bodies and starting to massage your clit. Bucky grabs your hand and holds it to the couch. His hips move faster, the sound of skin slapping and both of you moaning filling the living room.

"I'm getting close doll, I'm gonna pull out though okay?"

"No, please don't, I'm on the pill. Please don't stop I'm so close again"

He buries his head in the crook of your neck as his movements become a little sloppy.

"Yes, Bucky! Right there oh god fuck!" You moan as your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy clenching around his cock as you come sending Bucky into his own orgasm.

He moans into your neck as his movements become slower. Bringing his head back up and kissing you softly, then he rests his head against yours and you both smile. You don't know how long you have been there on the couch but you don't want it to end. Never thought this would be your happy ending to the week you've had. Then you see headlights shine through the window and car doors closing, your dad and your brother laughing.

"Shit! they're back! I gotta go upstairs!" You get up quickly fix your shirt and run out the door and to the stairs. Bucky quickly fixes himself up and runs behind you "This only a one-night thing?"

Turning to him quickly and kissing him.

"It doesn't have to be, I'll see you around" Smiling and then running upstairs. Bucky smiles and rubs the back of his head turning back into the living room. He sees your panties on the floor and quickly picks them up and shoves them into his pocket. Your dad comes inside "Hey Buck" You're still here?"

"Yeah, um, I gotta go though. Give me a call when you wanna have a game night or whatever" He quickly leaves your house and makes his way home.

A few hours later when everyone is asleep, you sneak downstairs to get Bucky's number from your dad’s phone and you send him a text.

"Hey, it's Y/N. Still wanna help me get my stuff from my apartment?"

[thebigsl33p]

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it? 

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant. 

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories. 

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk. 

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos. 

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool. 

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned. 

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker. 

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way. 

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way. 

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over. 

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes. 

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement.  He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly. 

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet. 

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly. 

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit. 

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself. 

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come. 

-

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold… 

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here. 

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic. 

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax. 

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?” 

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.” 

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?” 

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.” 

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.” 

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?” 

“Leonid.” He repeats. 

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?” 

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya? 

He says it anyway. 

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?” 

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head. 

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him. 

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost. 

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff. 

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up. 

 He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking. 

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. 

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful. 

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly. 

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her. 

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt. 

-

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake. 

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment. 

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve. 

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows. 

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies. 

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use. 

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it. 

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food. 

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire. 

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him. 

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand. 

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a  mouthful of cake. 

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?” 

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…”  he gestures at her - at her glowing. 

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?” 

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms. 

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little. 

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl. 

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.” 

And again, they both laugh. 

-

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things. 

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers. 

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction. 

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did. 

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.” 

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword. 

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer. 

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men. 

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs. 

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining, 

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees. 

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm. 

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly. 

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot. 

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away. 

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp. 

-

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake! 

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun. 

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead. 

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-” 

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.” 

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath. 

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said. 

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say. 

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.” 

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?” 

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features. 

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.” 

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even. 

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.” 

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right. 

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently. 

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.” 

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.” 

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.” 

-

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’. 

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha. 

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times. 

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow. 

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.” 

“Grisha?” The man interrogates. 

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.” 

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair. 

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening. 

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…” 

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.” 

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary. 

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further. 

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night. 

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts. 

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind. 

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world… 

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired. 

His feet take him to her room. 

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that. 

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy. 

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times. 

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly. 

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire. 

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing. 

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you. 

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?” 

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.” 

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.  

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.” 

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently. 

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?” 

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?” 

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.” 

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s  mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention. 

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word. 

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed. 

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke. 

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her. 

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.” 

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed. 

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.” 

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

[xoxobuckybarnes]

Stucky Fic Recs

@gabulinkasposts asked for some Stucky High School, College, and Sports recs, so here are some of my favorites:

High School AU

Lost Boys and Broken Toys (Rated: E, Words: 204K) by KK_Banyu

Summary: When 17-year-old Steve Rogers moves from Brooklyn to Manhattan with his mother, he's eager to attend his new high school and meet new friends. He looks forward to trying out for the track team and involving himself in the visual arts. Although Steve is ready to face any challenge head-on, he still finds himself haunted by an incident from his past--when his childhood best friend disappeared under mysterious circumstances. If Steve leaves Brooklyn now, will they ever have a chance at reuniting? Jamie Pierce has been a resident of Manhattan for as long as he can remember, ever since being adopted at a young age. His memories of his life before then are fuzzy at best. Now 17, he's finding more and more that his home life and relationship with his father are not typical compared to other kids and is struggling to reconcile with these differences. When Steve and Jamie cross paths at school, their spark is immediate, but somehow, both boys share the inexplicable feeling the thing between them is different--more than just a horny, teenage crush, their connection feels deeper, more like coming home. But that's impossible--they've never met before...right?

Then I'd Be Another Memory (Rated: M, Words: 190K) by Kellyscams / @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Bucky Barnes has it all. He’s the captain of the basketball team, has a great social life, his choice of ivy league schools, and was just announced as his class’s valedictorian. Senior year is going perfectly. Until he gets assigned to be a peer mediator to Steve Rogers – one of their class’s biggest trouble makers who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut and goes around picking fights with everyone. The last thing Bucky needs is to get mixed up with Steve and his pretty blue eyes and soft blonde hair and heart-melting smile. Even if it turns out he’s not quite what Bucky’s thought all this time. Even if maybe someone just needs to listen to Steve’s side of the story. Even if Steve’s heart is so much bigger than Bucky could have ever imagined. Because Steve Rogers is so not worth becoming friends with. Again. Bucky learned that lesson years ago. Unfortunately, there are some things that Bucky just can’t control. Steve Rogers – and the way Bucky feels about him – is one of them.

Conundrum (Rated: M, Words: 45K) by this_wayward_life

Summary: Bucky Barnes is not popular in the slightest. He's overly sarcastic, has no interest in fashion, and everything about him screams "Do Not Approach". And Bucky is totally okay with that. It's his last year in school, anyway - and unless his entire year level turns out to be evil aliens, he doesn't care about any of them. Then Bucky meets Steve Rogers. Steve is handsome, friendly, sweet, funny and completely irrelevant to Bucky's life. Bucky is determined to ignore him, but Steve has a life of his own - and he's determined to have Bucky in it.

Tripping On Stars (Rated: M, Words: 32K) by goldheartedsky

Summary: When Bucky Barnes finds the school’s golden child, Steve Rogers, passed out and not breathing in the locker rooms from an apparent drug overdose, his world turns upside down. After performing CPR long enough for the ambulance to arrive, he struggles to understand how someone with everything going for him could throw his life away like that. Over the next few months, they grow closer and closer and Bucky starts to realize that maybe they’re both holding onto more secrets than either of them know.

Your Shadow Weighs a Ton (Rated: M, Words: 72K) by me (xoxobuckybarnes)

Summary: Steve Rogers is a little lost in the world right now. His mother is gone, he's about to be evicted, and he's just been arrested. Just when he's about to lose everything, George Barnes, his public defender, rescues him, taking him in, acting as his legal guardian. With a new temporary family, comes a new friend: George's son, Bucky. Bucky Barnes has had a bit of a rough go the past few years. But he's come out on the other side stronger than ever and ready to start his senior year of high school. Even better, he's got a new friend to battle high school with: Steve Rogers. Steve and Bucky have met each other exactly when they needed each other most. Each one is exactly the type of friend the other one needs. And perhaps, there might be something more than friendship on the horizon...

College Au

Alkynes of Trouble (Rated: E, Words: 11K) by yammz / @yammz

Summary: “Doing nothing would be helpful,” Bucky said before he could stop himself. He averted his eyes from what was sure to be another kicked puppy expression. “Look, I’m just gonna be real with you. I can’t fuck up this lab. Fury’s got open positions in his lab, and I need to look good for those, okay? This isn’t just a checked box on my requirements,” he told him honestly. “It’s nothing personal but--” “But you’re smarter,” Steve supplied, a sad smile on his lips. He ducked his head, a motion that simply would not work to make him seem small. He was way too big for that. “I get it.”

Not the Same River at my Fingertips (Rated: E, Words: 11K) by giselleslash / @gigi-gigi

Summary: Steve desperately needs a ride home for Christmas but the last person he wants to take help from is Bucky Barnes. There’s a one night stand gone badly and four years of hurt feelings and misunderstandings between them. Of course there's a road trip home that goes perfectly smoothly.

That Boy Is a Problem (Rated: E, Words: 10K) by 2bestfriends

Summary: In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve's dick and he's really into it. (The leash is a metaphor. For now.)

He's All That (Rated: T, Words: 88K) by crinklefries / @spacerenegades

Summary: “That one,” Tony says gleefully. “I pick him.” “Him?” Bucky hisses. “Steve Rogers?” “Bet’s a bet,” Tony says smugly. “Make Steve Rogers the class president by the end of the year.” “Motherfucker,” Bucky curses. Then he takes a fortifying breath. He can do this. He’s Bucky Son of A Senator Barnes. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the front just the way he knows men and women like it. “Fine,” he says. “Okay. By the end of the year. Easy.” *** When Bucky Barnes--son of a state Senator, future president of his fraternity, and co-captain of his college’s soccer team--gets unceremoniously and very publicly dumped at a party, his entire reputation hangs on by the thinnest thread. Drunk and humiliated, he does the only thing that makes sense--he makes a bet with Tony Stark. Now Bucky has the length of the school year to take Steve Rogers--small, asthmatic, environmentally-conscious art nerd, political activist, and complete social disaster--and turn him into the student body president. How many misunderstandings, shenanigans, and college tropes will abound before Bucky realizes that Steve Rogers, well, he’s all that?

Learn Me Hard Oh, Learn Me Right (Rated: E, Words: 60K) by AHM1121 / @love-ha-fge

Summary: “Have you always struggled with math, Steve?” Dr. Potts asked. The blush crept higher as the same shame that he had felt since the second grade crawled up his spine. “You’re not the only one.” She assured, handing the papers back to him. “Luckily, you can get one-on-one tutoring at the student center, your tuition covers two sessions per week.” “Thank you ma’am.” Steve accepted the paper and stood, sliding his backpack over his shoulders. Making his way out of her office he paused when she called his name. “Ma’am?” “Ask for Bucky Barnes.” Her lips turned up at the name. “He’s one of the math majors that I oversee, haven’t had a student work with him who hasn’t passed.” No pressure, Steve thought. “I’ll make sure to do that. Thank you Dr. Potts.” “Good luck Steve.” He didn’t need luck, he needed a miracle.

Home for the Summer (Rated: T, Words: 1K) by Ladyjaybird

Summary: Steve is really glad his best friend Bucky is back from college for the summer. And the little touches and sweet compliments Bucky keeps giving him aren't bad, either. But Bucky is just a naturally flirtatious guy, right? Or is something else happening here? (Spoiler: yes)

Sports AU

Citius, Altius, Fortius (Faster, Higher, Stronger) (Rared: M, Words: 50K) by MarcellaBianca

Summary: Steve Rogers. James Barnes. One, an NHL star with dreams of finally capturing an Olympic gold medal. The other, a former World champion and Olympic silver medalist, now a current coach and choreographer for the top flight figure skaters in the Russian Federation. But before all of that.. they were Steve and Bucky. Until they weren't.

Targeting (Rated: E, Words: 140K) by queenmabscherzo / @queenmabscherzo

Summary: Steve and Bucky end up playing for rival college football teams.

Fixed Links Circumnavigate (Rated: E, Words: 30K) by paperstorm

Summary: Steve’s eyes stay glued to Bucky on the television, and he tries to be happy for him. He tries, with everything he’s got in him, not to feel like in a split second, in 10 little words – the Pittsburgh Penguins are proud to select forward James Barnes – that he just lost Bucky forever. Bucky is drafted into the NHL. Steve loves him in secret, and from a distance. An accident ends Bucky's career when it's barely started, and Steve is left to pick up the pieces.

lane lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

Summary: Steve Rogers has spent his entire life swimming and now is poised to take the Wakanda 2024 Olympics by storm. The only thing he’s missing is a friendly rival to help get him there. Enter Bucky Barnes, who doesn’t seem to take the sport quite as seriously despite his raw and enviable talent. Steve hates him. Bucky doesn’t care. That makes Steve hate him more. - aka: the Olympics swimming AU that nobody but me asked for

Okay, so he can play... (pretty's got nothing to do with it) (Rated: E, Words: 50K) by darter_blue

Summary: This is supposed to be Steve's year. He's meant to be taking his team to finals. He's meant to get signed to his dream club. He's meant to have it all. Until in walks the new kid, with his beautiful face and his tiny shoulders and his long hair and his graceful skating. Who doesn’t look anything like a proper hockey player. Who's going to ruin everything. Bucky Barnes is about to bring Steve Roger's world crashing down. And Steve is about to realise that's a good thing. Maybe the best thing that ever happened to him.

Howitzer (Rated: E, Words: 11K) by spacebuck / @spacebuck

Summary: Bucky Barnes, figure skating champion, is forced to switch his skates for hockey ones when he leaves for college. Problem is, he's never played hockey before, and now he has to be good enough to get the scholarship he needs. Enter Steve Rogers, Carter University Men's Hockey player, who's decided that he'd do anything to get this guy on his team. Cue five am runs, overwhelming classes, new friends, plenty of snow, and a sport that's fast becoming a way of life.

Full Count (Rated: M, Words: 50K) by Ink_Dancer

Summary: Full Count: a baseball term referring to a situation during a player’s at bat where there are three balls and two strikes on him. As this is the maximum one can have without either walking (base on balls) or striking out, this is generally expected to be a very stressful situation for both the pitcher and the batter. The pitch that is then thrown on this count is expected to be the one that decides the batter’s fate, and carries with it a certain expectation of change. It’s known as the payoff pitch: it’s the payoff for a long wait. or: a stucky au that takes place in the world of Major League Baseball, in which Bucky is a catcher, Steve is a closing pitcher, and their lives are stuck in a perpetual full count—until life throws the payoff pitch and they end up on the same Dodgers team.

Going Yard (Rated: E, Words: 41K) by Brenda / @brendaonao3

Summary: Going Yard: Baseball vernacular for hitting a home run. This is the love story of shortstop Steve Rogers and pitcher Bucky Barnes, estranged childhood best friends about to be reunited on the same team. This is a love story about New York's other baseball team, the Avengers, and their quest to claim the National League East division title. This is a love story about going home and new friends and team bonding and first loves and how the people you're the closest to can also drive you the craziest. But mostly, this is a love story about baseball and the boys of summer who play it.

Armbands & Bandwidth (Rated: E, Words: 61K) by sopdetly / @poedinson

Summary: Steve Rogers, captain of the Philadelphia Forge and the US Men’s Soccer National Team, keeps his head down and leads his teams quietly but effectively. Carol Danvers, captain of the Philadelphia Marvels and the US Women’s Soccer National Team, sports a pink-streaked fauxhawk, demands equal pay, and is anything but quiet. When Carol asks Steve to start a podcast with her to promote their teams and spread their love of the game, Steve thinks it’ll be a fun experiment and his agent thinks maybe he’ll start showing some personality. What Steve doesn’t expect is to meet a devastatingly hot producer. For his biggest secret to come to the surface. For this one offer to change his entire life.

wholesale change (Rated: M, Words: 83K) by biblionerd07

Summary: Steve Rogers, captain of a losing NHL team, has taken so many bad penalties this season he's worried he's going to get set down to the minors as punishment. His agent comes up with a plan to make Steve irreplaceable to the fans--a reality dating show. Where the contestants want to date Steve.

Lessons in Falling (Rated: M, Words: 28K) by lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: Bucky is a diver stuck in a rut. His synchro partner treats him like a deadweight and his coach keeps threatening to cut him from the team. After his spectacular failure in the FINA World Diving Championships, he’s ready to take a break from the sport. And then he meets Steve, a brilliant newcomer to the competitive diving scene in search of a synchro partner.

Going for Gold (Rated: E, Words: 58K) by me (xoxobuckybarnes) & art by heckalecki / @heckalecki

Summary: A long time ago, Bucky and Steve used to be friends. From the moment they met on the youth soccer field, they were inseparable, bonding over their love for the game and planning for a future together where they both got to do what they love. But Bucky hasn't seen Steve in four years. Not since their friendship ending fight. Bucky achieved his dream, became a professional soccer player, good enough to play for the U.S. Men's National Team. When Steve Rogers shows up to write a book about the Men's journey to the Olympics, Bucky's shocked. And a little angry. Can Bucky and Steve get over their fight? Can they ever have that friendship they once had?

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 20

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

Author Notes

Memories appear. We see Relvin steadying a tiny, eager Imogen, about three years old, in the saddle before him.

Imogen: (VO) I’ve spent my whole life in Gelvaan, although we didn’t always live so far out of town. Mother was gone before I even had a chance to remember her, so it’s always just been my dad and me, and the horses.

We see a very young "Laudna", about the same age, barefoot in the garden with her father, watching intently as he demonstrates the planting of seeds, which she is carrying in her apron. A row of apple trees in flower is visible nearby.

Laudna: (VO) My youth was not very different from yours, I think, in many ways. I had a lovely childhood on a small farm on the outskirts of Whitestone, back when the tree was flourishing.

Closeup of young Laudna in the woods, about five years old, lying on her elbows on the ground. In the foreground we can see an arrangement of leaves, rocks, flowers, berries, and acorn caps in the shape of a fancy dinner party, in which she is attempting to convince a beetle and a snail to participate.

Laudna: (VO) My powers of sorcery manifested at a young age, though, which made things difficult for my parents. I spent most of my time alone, playing in the woods in the company of my own imagination.

Imogen, around eight, is alone on the school playground, reading quietly by herself while the other children whisper together in the foreground.

Imogen: (VO) I never really had the knack for makin’ friends, even before my powers came in. It was easier to let them alone and be left alone.

About nine, Laudna is being reprimanded in front of the class by a teacher, who is pinching her ear. Wincing, she holds out her palm in anticipation of the ruler.

Laudna: (VO) But it wasn’t just magic that made me the freak of the town. I was never really sure how I ought to be behaving. The particulars of social conduct were, and have always been, something of a mystery to me.

Imogen, now a teenager, working in Faramore’s stable, grooming the horses while a young man leans over the fence, watching her. She looks uncomfortable.

Imogen: (VO) And then when they did, the noise and the shame of hearin’ everyone else’s thoughts all the time made it hard to be around other people. The horses were much easier to get along with.

At the bottom of the page a view of a rolling hillside with mountains in the distance gives way to a more ruggedly mountainous pine forest. The two of them, now grown to young adulthood, sit on either side of their respective landscapes, facing away from us, close but a continent and decades apart.

[soleilceirinen]

The older I get | Shelby family x sister!Reader Modern AU

Summary: after being away for years, you must return to Small Heath to face the loss of a beloved one. But, will you be able to forgive the past and leave it behind? A/N: English is not my first language, sorry in advance if something makes no sense. Warning: death of a family member, angst. Words: 3.1k

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

"Y/N? Honey, are you still there?" Lizzie's soft voice echoed through the phone. 

"Yes, thanks for calling," you said, fighting back the urge to cry. "Hey, why hasn't he called me?" 

Lizzie sighed tiredly. "He's busy with work. Besides, he wanted someone else to tell you in case you didn't take it well." 

"How the hell am I supposed to take this?" You asked with anger filling your veins. It wasn't Lizzie's fault and it wasn't fair to take out your frustration on her but you couldn't help it.

"I know," she conceded, "but you know your brother, he's having a hard time. Everyone's having a hard time."

Despite the lump in your throat, you nodded. Of course you understood but that didn't make you feel any better. Your Aunt Polly had just died and you had to find out through your brother's ex-wife. 

"Thank you for taking the time to call me, see you tomorrow, well in a few hours," you hung up the phone and threw it hard against the mattress, it bounced several times before falling to the floor. The noise that the device made when it hit the ground resonated like an explosion in the silence of the night. 

The tears you had been holding back rolled freely down your cheeks. You fell down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow and letting out a choked sob. 

It was too late to go to Birmingham, or too early, depending on how you looked at it. In a few hours you would take the first train so you could attend the funeral. You weren't sure what scared you more, facing the reality that Polly was gone or being in the same room with all your siblings again after seven years apart.

-

Since you couldn't fall asleep in the remaining hours until dawn, you packed some clothes and personal items, not many because you didn't plan to stay in Birmingham for too long, and tidied up your room. Cleaning would keep your mind busy. 

The train ride was a fucking nightmare. Despite it being so early, your car was full of people, people with children who couldn't stop screaming and running between the seats. Wasn't anyone capable of teaching their children some manners? The boy right behind you had been kicking the back of your seat for more than twenty minutes, the damn thing. 

Taking a deep breath, you rested your head on the window as you watched the landscape and tried not to think. The soft rattle of the train rocked you as if trying to comfort you. However, it was not that simple. Memories of your childhood in Small Heath flooded your mind, some of them good, some others the kind you would have liked to banish from your memory. The kind of ones that made you take the decision to put some distance between you and your family in the first place.

Finn and you, as twins, were the youngest with a considerable age difference compared to the rest of your siblings. Due to family problems, your parents had always been absent from your life, so your Aunt Poll practically raised you as her own. Polly was the closest thing you had ever had to a mother figure. 

Your childhood and adolescence weren’t easy. Deep down you felt bad for thinking like that, you knew that your older brothers had had it worse while your father still lived with them, but still. As a teenager nothing seemed fair.

It was all screams and arguments, a house immersed in violence. Aunt Polly began to drink more and more, Arthur only thinking of his drugs or who knows what, which caused more fights. When the shouting started you used to run to your room and close the door, getting  into bed, covering your head with a blanket and listening to music at full volume until your ears hurt.

And then you prayed just as Polly had taught you. You prayed that you would fall asleep and wake up with another family, a normal family where no one screamed or came back in the middle of the night beaten up and  covered in blood.

You wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks with the back of your hand as you noticed a little girl staring at you. 

"Why are you crying?" she asked in a squeaky childish voice.

Before you had time to make up any excuse a man who must have been her father spoke out loud, clearly making fun of you.

"She broke up with her boyfriend, right, pretty face?"

The look you gave him could rival Tommy's. No one would hesitate to say that you were a Shelby. Slowly, his smile faded from his  face and he looked away embarrassed, grabbing the girl by the arm to make her return to her seat. 

-

When you finally got off the train, your eyes were swollen and your nose was red from crying. You took a couple steps through the station and then stopped. Who were you looking for? You didn't even know if anyone was going to pick you up. 

“Y/N!”

Turning around, you looked everywhere trying to find who was calling you. They could be calling someone else but the voice was too familiar to be a mistake. And then you saw him, a few metres from the entrance, greeting you with his arm and a huge smile. 

"Hello, Isaiah," you said with a small voice. He wrapped his strong arms around you in a tight hug and you buried your face in his chest, a position similar to the one you two shared the last time you said goodbye. 

"How are you?" He asked when you stepped away but he immediately rolled his eyes. "Sorry, that was a stupid question." 

"It's okay, I'm fine. What about you?"

He shrugged. "Great, given the circumstances. I have the privilege of picking up and bringing home the princess of Small Heath," he joked, winking playfully. 

You hit him on the arm, of course not hurting him. You followed him only to stop next to the car, he took your bag and put it in the trunk. Once inside, Isaiah pulled out and placed his cell phone on your thigh. "You can choose the music."

The ride was quiet, both of you listening to your favourite songs and humming or making up the lyrics from time to time, like when you were teenagers and ran away from home along with Finn. 

"Why did you come to pick me up at the train station?" 

Isaiah glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, not really taking his eyes off the road and remained silent for a few seconds. "Why, am I not enough for you?" he joked, in an attempt to light up the mood. 

"I won’t hit you because you're driving" you murmured, he laughed softly. "My brothers, why have none of them come? I know Ada was busy with the kids, she texted but they haven’t even talked to me.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know. You should talk to them about that. You've been away for many years, they've changed." 

You nodded silently. It had started to rain. "Sure. Thanks for coming to pick me up, Isaiah." 

He squeezed your leg. "You know I'll always be there for you."

-

The rain was now pouring fiercely as a reflection of your current mood. 

Everything in the house screamed Polly, every corner reminded you of your childhood. It would always keep fascinating you how a simple scent could bring you back in time so easily. Blinking rapidly, you tried to clear your cloudy sight. Ada stepped in front of you, hugging you and murmuring comforting words in your ear and you leaned into her. You had missed her so much in the past few years. 

As a little girl you felt devotion towards your only sister. You wanted to spend time with her, sometimes you stole her make up and she ended up mad at you because of it. The rest of the time she just pushed you away, not wanting to babysit you. Back then you thought it was unfair but now you understand, Ada was a teenager and she wanted to go out with her friends and her boyfriend, not staying at home with two little kids. 

However, as you got older, it was more and more common for your sister to call to include you in her life. 

"Will you stay with me and the children? Hey, Y/N. Are you listening to me?"

You looked at her worried face and nodded. “Yeah, thanks Ada. I don’t want to spend more time here than necessary.”

Ada rubbed your arm as she gave you a sympathetic look. “I know, dear. Have you seen the others? Or Polly?”

Your heart jumped against your ribs with fury. “No, not yet.”

“Y/N!” Arthur called out, striding towards your direction. He stopped a step away from you, undecided whether to give you a hug or not. He looked thinner than you remembered. Actually, he looked older. You were the one who stepped forward and hugged his slender body. He reciprocated right away, burying his face in your hair and sobbing. 

“It’s okay, Arthur” you whispered against his chest. 

Taking a step back, you stared at him once again, mentally thanking that he wasn’t the one picking you up from the train station. He was a total mess. 

Somehow, seeing your older brother like that sent a pang of guilt directed to your guts. Arthur used to be energetic, fierce and chaotic, but this man in front of you was nothing like that. He seemed like he needed a warm blanket and a cup of tea, and maybe sleeping for a couple days without worries. 

“Arthur, why don’t we go and talk to Lizzie?” suggested Ada, linking her arm with his and pulling him away. He smiled at you with his blue eyes filled with tears and reached to grab your hand but Ada didn’t let him do it. “Let's give Y/N some space, alright?”

You had been holding your breath without realising it. As soon as they left you alone you let out the air, feeling your lungs deflate. Throughout the house you could hear children screaming while playing, unaware of the sadness that filled the air. They were your nephews and nieces. Mostly John’s kids. You wondered if he was a good father now. When you were ten years old he used to make you watch horror movies such as The Exorcist or It, and then he laughed when you cried terrified at night. 

The lump in your throat became more noticeable, you needed to get out of there.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Finn and Isaiah talking quietly to Michael and a blonde girl you didn't know. Avoiding crossing glances with them, you headed to the kitchen looking for the door that led to the backyard. If you did, you would have to stop and talk to them, exactly what you didn't want to do at that moment.

You weren’t expecting to see Polly’s coffin in one of the rooms so you turned your face away when you walked by its door, almost running until you reached the knob of the door that led to the backyard and turned it, opening the door and stepping outside. The chill wind helped to cool down your feverish cheeks. 

After closing the door behind you, you leaned against the cold wall, eyes closed, trying to calm yourself down. 

I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, you thought, placing a hand over your heart. I'm sorry for not saying goodbye to you, Aunt Polly, for not taking time to tell you how much I loved you. I was angry with all of you. I'm sorry, I promise to think of you and to not forget your name. Polly. Elizabeth Gray. 

Letting out a choked sob, you opened your eyes. You didn't know if Polly was able to hear you, wherever she was now, but you sincerely hoped that your message would reach her somehow. 

Someone clearing their throat made you jump. To your right, leaning against the wall just like you was Tommy, taking long drags on a cigarette, as if his intention was to suck the life out of it. "Damn Tommy, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?" you yelled at him, brushing your hair out of your face and furiously wiping away your tears.

He shrugged and let out a puff of smoke. “Same as you.”

His voice was deep and hoarse, like if he had been crying. He used to be really close to Polly and now that you thought about it, it made sense. Just like Arthur, his appearance surprised you. 

In your memories Tommy was a young man with his freckles and blue eyes, the dark hair slightly curled at the ends when he let it grow and an encouraging smile that he only reserved for you and your siblings. That was the brother who taught you how to ride a bike and how to swim in the canal, how to take care of horses during the summer breaks and the one who used to tell you stories with funny voices whenever you couldn’t sleep at night. 

There was almost nothing of that brother in the man in front of you. Tommy was old. It had been around seven years since you moved away to go to university but time had hit him hard. He was in his forties now and his hair was turning grey in some parts, the wrinkles much more noticeable as well as the deep dark circles under his eyes. 

He threw the remainder of the cigarette on the floor and looked at you thoroughly, as if he were analysing you from head to toe. A mix of emotions crossed his face but you weren’t sure to be interpreting them correctly, such as a slight panic, a bit of sadness and finally something similar to approval. 

“You look good,” he stated, “how is school? Everything alright?”

Your eyes filled with tears once more but this time you didn't hold them back. All the rage that had been growing inside of you since Lizzie called you a few hours earlier came out freely. “I’m not in school anymore Tommy, I’m a PhD student and I’m writing my fucking thesis so don’t talk to me as if I were a stupid child.”

He seemed taken aback by your sudden anger. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like that” he apologised before clearing his throat, raising an eyebrow, “but if you haven’t noticed, you’ll always be a kid to me.”

Tommy didn’t let you say anything back, continuing with his speech. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he stared at some point far away in the distance.

“When you were born I was the first to hold you in my arms. You were so tiny, I could carry your little body with both my hands. Finn started gaining weight so damn fast but you didn’t and we thought you’d never make it” he pursed his lips as you listened in silence, although you had heard him telling you this story many times when you were younger. “Every hour we had to feed you a bottle of formula and it was no bigger than my finger” he pointed his index finger in front of you as a measurement. “It seemed like a toy. But it worked, just look at you now.”

He turned to you and wiped your tears with his callous hands. 

"Tommy, why didn't you tell me Polly was so sick?" you asked quietly, grabbing his wrists.

"You knew she was sick."

"Yes, but not enough to..." To die, you wanted to say, but the words got caught at your throat. 

Your brother sighed and when he looked at you again, he seemed more tired than ever. 

"I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. You have your life far from here, you yourself wanted it that way. Your priority is your studies, let me finish," he said, pointing a finger at you authoritatively. "What happened to Poll was so sudden, none of us expected this to happen and it has been a hard blow for everyone." 

“I didn’t say goodbye to her,” you muttered. 

Tommy held you against his body, hugging you tightly. “Me neither.”

You looked up at him, scrutinising his face. The rim of his eyes was red and his bottom lip trembled a little despite his attempt to hide it. He seemed somehow fragile. 

“Oh, Tommy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck and letting him bury his face on your shoulder. You felt the wetness of his tears as you caressed the back of his head. “Next time something like this happens, let me know. Call me and I’ll come. I’m not a kid anymore, I’m part of this family too and I can help. You don’t have to go through stuff on your own. Alright?”

As he nodded slightly with his face still pressed against your shoulder you felt the sudden realisation that you had been mistaken most of your life. All you wanted to do was run away from your family in order to be happier, thinking that they wouldn’t need you after living through your whole childhood feeling like a burden, like someone whom they had to take care of.

For years you had hated them because it seemed that they enjoyed being miserable day and night, continuously fighting with each other… you never stopped to think about the reasons behind all those arguments or their actions. But you were older now and life had taught you that we are all humans and we all make mistakes. 

Now everything was different. For once you were the strong one, able to stand by their side to support them. This bunch of sad and broken people were your family and they needed you just as much as you needed them. 

Sometimes it was better to put some distance in order to see things from a different perspective, to heal, you realised as you held the shadow of the man who used to be like a hero to you during your childhood. At the end of the day you would always come back to the place where you belonged. The only thing you regretted was not figuring it out sooner.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

new year's day (b.r.b.)

a/n: i wasn't sure if i'd actually be able to get this written and posted in time for new year's but it seem the inspiration bug struck! this is a sequel of sorts to a fic i'm working on called operation: boyfriend. this is shorter than i anticipated and it's definitely evident midnights is my favorite album, but oh well.

word count: 1k

warnings: alcohol mentions

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you”

It’s not just the alcohol you’ve consumed over the course of the night that is making you feel warm and fuzzy, pulling in closer to your boyfriend as the two of you wait for the Uber turning the corner. 

Bradley lets you slip in before him, never letting your hand go. He shuts the door behind him before reaching out for the heels you’d pulled off as you’d stood outside in the crisp San Diego night, complete with a salty sea breeze. You hand them over with a soft smile as he adjusts, moving to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you back close to him. 

The warm, fuzzy feeling stays as you lean into your boyfriend, his breath ghosting over your cheek as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. 

“I love you.” Bradley whispers. 

The countdown, a minute from midnight, echoes in the background as you stand out on the second-floor balcony of Penny and Mav’s that overlooked the dark ocean below. 

“I love you.” Bradley whispers, moving some hair behind your ear. 

“You’re being what I believe Fanboy would call a simp, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley huffs, a little laughter escaping him. “Careful now, or I won’t be kissing you at midnight.” 

You pout your lips at him. “You wouldn’t dare do that to me.” 

The smile he gives you in return is gentle, soft. “You’re right. I could never.” 

“You’d kiss me any time. Even at midnight.” 

“Especially at midnight.” 

“Can we spend every New Year’s like this?” 

He hums, rubbing circles into your shoulder. “Like how? At Mav’s?” 

While the party at Penny and Mav’s had been fun, full of light and laughter, glitter and alcohol getting stuck to their already sandy wood floors, that hadn’t been what you meant. 

“Just… together. You and me. I don’t care where or how we spend it, just as long as we’re always together at midnight.” 

The thought of having Bradley, every year, being the one he kissed at the end of the countdown at midnight, was almost too much for your heart to bear. 

The thought that you could spend every year kissing him like how he’d kissed you tonight, deep and dizzying, full of love, made your heart flutter. 

He squeezes your upper arm, before letting his hand travel down to your hand. He takes your fingers, intertwining them. 

He knows he can’t promise he’ll be able to spend every New Year’s here with you, kiss you like he had tonight when that clock finally struck midnight. He knows that sooner or later his deployments will take him oceans away from you over this favorite holiday of yours. 

But he understands what you mean, what you’re saying. 

He squeezes your hand three times, pausing as you squeeze it back. 

I love you. 

A gesture he’d so often gotten from his Mom, throughout his childhood after the loss of his Dad, through his tween years when affection from his Mom was seen as embarrassing, to when he was a teenager and her chemo had made her too sick for words. In those final days, when all he wanted her to know was that he loved her. 

The thought of his Mom not being here, another year gone, makes a lump rise in his throat. 

And yet, for the first time in a long time, that ache was soothed. Not entirely gone but less. 

She may not be here anymore, but she was here. And she would have been so happy and excited for him at the year to come. 

He was too. 

This could be the year the two of you moved in together, maybe even got a dog. Maybe the two of you would move to a house closer to the beach, so you could go surf on early weekend mornings and then get breakfast burritos together, like you had when this had all started between the two of you. 

You’d stayed with him, through the awards ceremonies and the galas. You’d stayed with him through the days when he didn’t feel worthy of the title of top one percent or when it had become too much weight to bear. You’d stayed with him through late night dances under the kitchen moonlight and midnight rain against the roof of the house. You’d stayed with him, through every moment and would continue to stay with him for every New Year’s to come. 

At least, he hoped that you’d stay. He hoped that you’d never become a stranger, someone whose light and laughter he’d recognize anywhere in the world. 

“Do you think we should’ve helped Mav clean up more?” 

The two of you had stayed an hour later than everyone else had after the party had winded down, helping them clean up the stray beer and champagne bottles. There’d been glitter all over the floor, something you’re sure would become as much of a permanent fixture as the stray sand from the nearby beach was. 

Mav had all but practically shooed you and Bradley out of the house, insisting that the two of you get home and get some sleep. Bradley even offered to come back over the next morning and help them clean and Mav had just sighed, telling him he’d see his godson for dinner the next day. 

Blinking, he belatedly realizes he’d never answered your first question. 

“Baby?” He whispers. You hum, almost asleep on his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” 

“You and me. At midnight, every New Year’s. Together.” 

You crack open an eye, a soft smile gracing your features. The gleam of the moonlight bounces off the ribbon in your hair, matching the velvet bow straps of your dress adorning your shoulder. 

“You mean it?” 

“I’ll be here. For as many New Year’s that you want to spend with me, I’ll be here.” 

You snuggle back into his chest. “Good.” You say, after a minute. 

He smiles, leaning to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

He’d hold on to you for as long as you’d let him.

[winter-kh-sideblog]

The thing with Kairi is, for all of the “she has no autonomy and is barely a character” jokes, she is so so interesting if you are willing to put a little bit of effort into understanding her. And this is kingdom hearts, the fandom of digging through offhand comments from games across every console imaginable to put together snippets of backstories, so like, I KNOW there’s an audience of people willing to put in effort? So here is my little essay on why Kairi has so much potential

I think a lot of people get lost because they assume that Kairi is Sora’s girlfriend? And they say “oh well the narrative doesn’t show that, the narrative is giving us more reasons they should move on than that they should stay togehter” and it’s like!!! You’re correct!!!! The narrative IS saying that!!! This is because Kairi is not, and never was Sora’s girlfriend!!!

Most people (correctly, sadly) get the “thrown to the side, no autonomy, barely a character” vibes from Kairi. But then they just go “oh she’s a one-dimentional stock Woman ™ character” and don’t think farther

i think that, a LOT of Kairi’s canon treatment makes more sense when you realize she’s not the “hot popular girl who’s a prize to be won” trope that people think she is. She’s the dead wife.

This sounds wild at first, because she 

Is a teenager

Has never been in a relationship, let alone married

Is ALIVE

So it’s like. What the heck. How could she be the dead wife. But she IS. and i think it’s impossible to unsee once you realize it.

She’s been dead from the beginning. She’s always haunting the narrative. She’s barely present and doesn’t get to make decisions, but the things that happen to her catalyze the entire plot of almost every game?

The thing is, her stock cliche ending is not, and never was “she ends up with Sora bc she’s the Prize and the symbol of Winning and they live heteronormatively ever after.” Her ending was always. She is perfect and innocent and pure. She dies. Everyone is sad and angry for a bit. They fight for justice. Then they move on. The happy ending is catalyzed by her and she gets credit, but she doesn’t do anything, she doesn’t have autonomy, and she doesn’t get to stick around for the ending. 

And this is a REPEATING motif in her life. When she was FOUR years old she was sent ahead to stop the apocalypse. She is basically dead to her homeworld. They weren’t getting her back. She lost her memories and her family and her life.

In kingdom hearts one, she dies in the apocolypse and becomes motivation and a prop for Sora and Riku. She doesn’t get to fight, she doesn’t get blood on her hands, she isn’t faced with messy decisions.

In kingdom hearts 2, she’s again kidnapped to start the plot. She doesnt get to be with sora or riku or even know what’s happening for most of the game.

And then of course in kingdom hearts 3, she’s literally killed, and it’s like. It’s not even a fight. She’s literally just slaughtered for no reason other than Sora fight motivation.

She’s the symbol of home and family to Sora. It’s not just a matter of romance, there’s not even romance between them? Not really? It’s about childhood and closeness and the promise of forever.

And the thing is. She clearly doesn’t want to be the dead wife character. I don’t think anyone would??? But it is ALL she’s good at. And that’s the problem. She’s a princess of heart, which is defined by absence. She doesn’t have darkness. She doesn’t have evil or badness or anger or malice or anything. And it’s just so?????? She’s narratively destined to die young before she has the chance to get older and get involved in anything messy or morally dubious. Her “job” is to be perfect and good enough that people miss her when she’s gone.

And then???? They don’t????? That’s the whole thing with melody of memory. They let her stay in a coma for an ENTIRE YEAR. Her friends are upset when she dies, but Sora’s the only one actually fighting to bring her back. No one else makes an effort to be with her???? It doesn’t seem like Riku makes any effort to contact her at all in the time between kh1 and kh2 when Sora’s in a coma for an entire year???? They fight and kill to wake Sora up but not Kairi anymore?????

They can't even make a kairi GAME without making her basically dead because that's her Role.

And it’s like????? What do you do when you’re the dead wife. When everyone theoretically loves you but only for what you’re not. When they love you because you’re fragile and pure and have never done anything wrong. When you’re not allowed the chance to live enough to become anything complicated, and people act like that’s for the best?

What do you do when you’ve been dead since the beginning, when everyone has already mourned you??? When they've all reached the acceptance phase and you're not sure if they want you back? They've spent too long learning to be Without you to remember how to be With you and now you're an inconvenience and a reminder of closed wounds?

What do you do when you’re alive but you never learned How to be alive, because you weren’t Supposed To survive????? What do you do when no one knows what to do with you??????

I think a lot of people who want Kairi to break free from the narrative are the ones who keep saying things like “oh she needs to move on from Sora and get better friends” but Sora is one of the only people who gets it?????? He’s been one of the only people that we see onscreen???? making any kind of attempt????? To love her like she’s alive?????? Its not much but its literally ALL shes given?????? And i dont fault her for holding onto that?????? And cherishing it????

And I do think it can be very cool to see her move on???? But i dont think people understand that,,,, if Sora and Kairi were to end up together, it wouldn’t be playing into the cliche, expected ending. Kairi LIVING is already breaking free of the tropes. Kairi being allowed to be messy and hurt and heartbroken,,,, being allowed to want things for herself,,,, being able to ask for help IN THE MOMENT instead of having people guess what she would have wanted after she’s gone,,,, being loved as a person rather than as an idea,,,,, Thats breaking free of the narrative tropes in such a profound way. And i don’t even think it matters much whether it’s romantic or as bffs or as teammates???? It’s just about being chersished as a human person and given a support system.

So yes, i do want to see Kairi make new friends and get some self confidence and move past her layers and layers of survivors guilt and make an identity for herself that doesn’t revolve around a man???? But also????? I think that its 2023 and people should stop pretending that sokai is inherently the boring or cliche expected ending when they’re LITERALLY doomed by the narrative already. Like do you guys actually not realize how subversive it would be if they were to end up together. The romance of staying alive for each other and breaking the cycle out of pure love and spite. The rebellious act of LIVING and taking up space while you're alive, of being a person instead of a concept to be idealized.

You can ship what you want and whatever sparks joy but PLEASE for the love of everything do not call sokai the boring ending. Please stop saying that letting kairi continue to exist and be alive will make the games suck or be cliche. Please.  Just like put a little bit of effort into themes and narratives i beg of you. It is so much more fun.

[mourningliliesmorningglories]

"It’s haunting to know that you still cry for something today that you also cried for 15 years ago."

Umm idk if this is too personal but would you break down why you gave each marauder the line that you did?

For some reason, Sirius' really stuck with. Literally I can't stop thinking about it.

If there was an award for best ask anon, I think you would win!!! I love when people ask about the intricacies of my writing because I just feel like everything that I write is so deeply personal to me!

This will be quite long as I think the best way to tackle this is to address each one with its context and then how I relate it to each marauder. So buckle in!!!

Anything underlined is referencing my other writing and will be linked!

See the original post here!

James: Two lives cannot overlap - one must be forgiven to forge the other. 

So I wrote this about the rivers of the Underworld in Greek mythology, in a wider piece of writing on coping with grief. It refers specifically to the river Lethe, the river of forgetting, where souls drink from it to forget their life before being reincarnated. I have mixed feeling about James as a character - on one hand as a young boy he's incredibly privileged to the point of almost ignorance but then is forced into a war he cannot fight and reasonably win. In a way this line can be applied to James in two ways: 1) he had to grow up to cope with the rapidly changing world he'd been basically thrown into and 2) harry could never defeat Voldemort if his parents were still alive. James and lily had to die so harry would have nothing to lose.

Sirius:  It’s haunting to know that you still cry for something today that you also cried for 15 years ago.

Okay so this was written in the same piece as above, in reference to a childhood memory. I cried for comfort but no one could come to me. No one chose to comfort me in that moment. I think we all have moments where we think 'I need my mum' or something similar but at it's core, its a plea for comfort - you want to be held, cradled, for the burden to be taken away. Sirius Black was denied affection as a child, denied love as an adult and then denied his life when he fell through The Veil. He had his friends as support but he also had to stare at James and Effie, Remus and Hope. He had moments where he needed parental love, where he felt like he would die without it. He was denied the chance to make sure Harry never experienced that, and when he did get the chance, it was ripped away almost immediately.

Remus: It is strange to cling onto remnants of someone who is no longer there.

This was written about losing someone and still having to live amongst their things. Everything is normal except the person is gone. It's describing that moment when you walk into a room and you feel their presence, like you're in the living room and it's so easy to convince yourself they're in the kitchen, but they aren't. The space they left behind is empty. I think with Remus, again it can apply in two ways: 1) himself - his whole identity is basically fed to him through the label of 'werewolf', the Order use him as a monster to tame a bigger beast. He is constantly mourning. In Hogwarts, he mourns his younger self. In the Order, he mourns the teenage, full of life, naive version of him. As an adult he mourns every version of himself - they trail behind him like a ball and chain. 2) everyone he loses - Remus outlives his best friends, and even the one he gets back, oh god he got him back but at what cost? Remus is a walking graveyard.

Peter: In every story, someone has to leave. This is not a burden taken lightly, nor is it one that can be shared.

I wrote this about Caesar and Brutus. When Caesar died, so did Brutus. As Brutus lives, so does Caesar. Today when one is mentioned, the other rarely goes unnamed. Brutus orchestrates the murder of Caesar because he fears his ambition and the ruin it will bring to Rome. Peter is both Caesar and Brutus. He fears Voldemort enough to do his bidding only because he's never had such power before. We see exactly how Peter's loyalty is manipulated - he felt more important to Voldemort then he did to his friends and so his loyalty changed accordingly.

Lily: The sunflowers turn to the light, but the sun will never recognise their presence.

Growth is difficult to justify in a non-physical sense. This was inherently about being an observer in my own life. We do things that have unremarkable impacts until one day the fallout of our actions are so grand we cannot outrun them. In terms of Lily, I do think in hindsight this may be more relevant to her characterisation moreso than her character. She is often represented as just a vessel to carry Harry and is overlooked as a complex character and a key member of the Order. James forgot his wand on the sofa - she protected Harry. She was an incredibly smart witch - she was, is, more than just her offspring. Treat her accordingly.

Regulus: One day we all realise that the first thing we lose is ourselves.

My earliest memory is a hospital visit and a funeral. We do not realise that the process of growth is intertwined with the ritual of loss. You are allowed to mourn the person you used to be. Death isn’t exclusive to those burned or bombed or buried. Regulus loses his brother then he loses himself. He has a role to play as the prodigal son. He is actively cutting himself open and stitching himself back up to fit seamlessly into the mould his parents have created for him. He watched Sirius fail, so he couldn't. Maybe he did believe in blood supremacy at first or maybe the whole thing was a ploy to try and grasp at the power and autonomy he'd grievously been denied his entire life. Regulus knew himself so well he'd buried the body undetectably.

Pandora: Nobody talks of death lightly. Nobody talks of what it tends to leave behind.

We obsess over death - how to prevent it, how to cope with it, how to be clinical about it. Yes a person dies and we are left with the aftermath - clothes, shoes, pictures, their tea in the cupboard, hair still in the brush. But obviously, a person dies. People are complexes - the most inherent part of death to me is how a person can just end. With Pandora, this sits within the realm of the HC that she is a seer. She must standby and watch the people she loves die twice - once in her head and once in real life. She must watch over her friends and loved ones and grieve them as she lives alongside them. To her, a heart is just a stopwatch.

Evan: He carried on with his journey but made time to be part of mine.

I met an old man who told me that at the end of the day, you do wish you could it all over again. That we are often ungrateful until we lose the thing, then all we want is to get it back. Evan Rosier cherished everything; his sister, his friends, his childhood. But this made him so weary of loss. He was possessive and sometimes cruel. He would do anything to keep what was important to him, even join a blood supremacy cult to keep his best friends and sister safe. When you die, they say you get seven minutes to rewatch the happiest moments. When Evan Rosier dies, he sees Barty and Reg and Pandora.

Barty: You can love something that does not exist anymore. Something that has never existed cannot be loved.

This one is slightly harder to explain. I believe it to be human nature to chase the things that we have only had a taste of. You cannot want something you do not know. Though I do wonder if this is more an act of conditioning than something inherently of nature. To cognise something is to give it a reality, whether this be a thought, an idea or a notion.  Barty Crouch Jr was a waste of potential. 12 OWLs. 4 languages. He could've been whatever he wanted. You can assume he was unsuccessful in fulfilling his potential - unless he wanted to be dead. And who can blame him with a father like that. Barty had to fabricate everything - would lick up his father's approval like a dog until the day he realised none of it actually mattered.

Dorcas: All prior things are made of shards, of tatters. All prior things look different in the daylight.

Past lives are just that. Past, nonexistent. Windows are walls. Shields are not always protective. Dorcas Meadows was hunted and slaughtered by Voldemort himself. She, obviously, was a threat. A smart, cunning, powerful witch who made the Dark Lord himself worry just how successful he'd be if she remained alive. But none of this mattered from the second she hit the floor, heart slowing down, eyes closing. She was not the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb. She wasn't even a sacrifice.

Marlene: One day I will sit in an urn, and I too will be smaller than the day I arrived.

I wrote this about not rushing through life. It was about savoring moments and people and the ephemeral. Marlene was the casanova - wanted by all but touched by few. Her bloodline dies when she dies next to her brother. Filled with potential and life, even the brightest stars will fade away. Sacrifice is often forgotten, drawn over, especially if it isn't grand. Not quite the brightest witch of her generation, nor pretty enough to get the one person she truly wanted.

Mary: I wonder if forgetting is betrayal or if it’s a favour, a privilege of rest.

I was wondering whether remembering people disturbed the process of dying. We don't know of an afterlife or what happens after you die. Does reminiscing drag a soul away from rest? I hold the HC that Mary obliviated herself near and dear. In this way, it's just another person coping with loss. I think because it's so deeply personal, it's very difficult to express in words.

Andromeda: We learn that just because one person escapes the inevitable, the other does not.

I wrote this about Orpheus and Eurydice. It's a story I adore and it's also often misunderstood. This is why it’s a tragedy, and why love often is a tragedy - loss is inevitable. In the case of Orpheus and Eurydice, he loved her enough to try and save her. He loved her so much that he couldn’t. Andromeda is the survivor - survives her upbringing, survives a war, outlives her family. She takes in Teddy even though he's a glaring reminder of her daughter and every moment of a past she tried to outrun.

Narcissa: Love is always a choice, even when we make the wrong one.

Again, this is from me writing about Orpheus and Eurydice. Their story was never about retrieval or righting a wrong. Even if Eurydice had been returned, she was a ghost. This was always a story about saying goodbye. Oh I could lament about Narcissa for days. She is her own greatest tragedy. She was the model child out of her sisters. She lived the ideal trajectory and suffered for it. Obedience and cunning were bred into her. She couldn't save her husband, her house, her sisters or her son. Narcissa lived her life always saying goodbye, wishing she could instead say 'stay'.

Bellatrix: Sometimes, it feels like I have been exiled from my life and no one has thought to tell me.

This was written about nostalgia, and living like a stranger in your own life. It's about the means and ways and things we do to gain some semblance of control back into our lives. Bellatrix has always been a very interesting character to me. She upholds her pure blood upbringing, marries a pure blood and yet she strives for more. She becomes a deatheater and makes herself so valuable to Voldemort, she becomes an intrinsic part of his inner circle. She outshines her husband and sisters - she is the patriarch.

Anon. I hope this answers your question! If you'd like further details on any of these please send me another ask or DM! I'd love to hear your thoughts instead of scribing mine!

[yesimtrashforit]

I Saw The TV Glow hit so hard for me

SPOILERS AHEAD

I went to go see it last night at my local AMC and nearly cried within the first 10 minutes. I'm a queer teenage girl who has struggled with depression and feeling just so far away from everyone else my age. This movie captures the growing up experience of someone born from the late 90s to the mid 2000s so well. I was born in 06 and even though this film is clearly set in the 90s for a majority of it, it still felt so personal. I couldn't even think as I was walking out of the theater. I just felt so heard and seen.

The first scene nearly made me cry because it brought up so much nostalgia of being in 5th to 7th grade and the huge mat/parachute thing was something we did all the time when I was in elementary and middle school. The hiding from your friends' parents, drawing with glitter gel pen on your skin, having awkward conversations with people you barely know, it all feels so reminiscent of my childhood. The scribbles of sidewalk chalk, daydreaming about escaping into your favorite stories, the books you'd read about your favorite obscure shows, the shows not being as magical as you remember once you grew up. The walking through the halls, memories flooding through your mind, ideas and whimsies just soaring through, doodling on your hands with neon pen.

This movie made me so emotional as someone who has struggled with their sexuality and not knowing what to feel.

"Do you like girls?"

"I don't know."

"Boys?"

"I think that I like TV shows."

That scene hit hard for me in a different way than was probably intended. When I was 12 and figuring out who I liked, I was so uninterested and uncomfortable with the idea of liking anyone.

There were so many scenes like that where I just knew that my personal connection to it wasn't what was intended but it still felt valid.

The scene towards the end with Owen screaming out of nowhere at the birthday party "I'M DYING RIGHT NOW!!!" but no one responds and he's still apologizing for it. That part reminded me so much of being in such a deep state of suffering that you just want to scream it out loud but no one hears.

But you still feel like it's on you.

I can't imagine how hard this must've hit for someone who is trans. I'm not trans myself but this still hit for me as a story about personal identity. Who are you and who do you want to be? What is real and what isn't? Does that matter?

I have seen Justice Smith before and he's really got a great career ahead of him. I know him from playing the video game The Quarry. It was a fantastic and terrifying game. He gives such a good and deep performance here. Owen is such a complex character and that's a testament to this performance.

I knew Bridgette Lundy-Paine from watching the show Atypical a few years ago. They were always my favorite part of that show. They are so talented and so mesmerizing in this role. I feel like I've known so many people like Maddie in my life. She reminds me a lot of my best friend from 5th grade who had an out-of-control father and found solace in weird shows and stories.

The soundtrack is incredible and I was overjoyed and very much anticipating seeing Phoebe Bridgers in this film, even if she's only in it for a few minutes. She's one of my favorite artists and her music resonates with me so much. I love that she and every artist got to collaborate on something this special.

Listening to yeule's Anthems For a Seventeen Year Old Girl as a 17 year old girl is such a personal experience. It was perfectly used for the trailer. The lyrics just slap so much.

Used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that / Now you're all gone, got your makeup on and you're not coming back / can't you come-

Sloppy Jane and Phoebe Bridgers' Claw Machine is also amazing and so perfect.

I think I was born bored / I think was born blue / I think I was born wanting more / I think I was born already missing you

The hair and makeup and clothing on every artist was incredible. The lighting and costumes and set design is impeccable in setting the tone for this film. The visual effects are stunning and so neon, nostalgic, childlike, etc etc. It felt like a dream in the most horrifying and yet beautiful way possible.

I also feel like this movie was made for the kids who grew up watching FNAF gameplays, reading creepypastas, going down terrifying internet rabbit holes, and reading about cryptids. Like the vibes of Local 58, DHMIS, analog horror, etc. There were so many little details that reminded me of being 8-13 years old and having these obsessions which you would escape in, not being able to process reality when you stopped watching or reading. The disappointment you feel when you come back to your body and realize that it's just a story.

I'm so grateful that this film exists. This is for the neurodivergent queer/trans kids who never felt like they belonged to anything or had a place. For the kids who dreamed about being in these fictional worlds and having adventures and friends who cared, people who listened!

This is for us.

I couldn't be more excited to see what this director has in store. I watched We're All Going To The World's Fair about a year or so ago and was completely fascinated by Schoenbrun's visual style and writing. If director Jane Schoenbrun somehow comes across this post: Thank you so much for sharing your art and talent with the world. This movie has made so many people feel heard and recognized. Congratulations on this masterpiece of a film.

GO SEE I SAW THE TV GLOW IN THEATERS

[whump-about-it]

Solid Ground

@whumpril Day 6: Dizziness

CW: vomiting, trauma recovering, dissociation, mentions of kidnap, drugging, memory loss, mentions of shooting.

The room was spinning around Whumpee. Warping and tilting dizzyingly enough to make their stomach spasm with nausea. They wanted to close their eyes against the living kaleidoscope in front of them but they knew that if they did they’d be trapped in the darkness behind them. The inside of their head had never been a particularly pleasant place to be, but it had been especially torturous as of recent events. So they stayed staring ahead of themselves, not even daring to blink until they were forced to by way of someone shining a light directly in their eyes.

Whumpee had forgotten there were other people in the room with them. Well, forgotten may have been the wrong word. They had been hearing talking, even yelling at a few points, but they hadn't registered any of the human noise, tuning it all out in favor of the spinning existence around them and the screaming voices inside of their head. Remembering that they weren't alone oddly settled the voices a little and the kaleidoscope with it. After a few minutes Whumpee was able force themselves to turn their head towards the person who had had been examining them.

Caretaker stood out in blessed focus against the backdrop of the the still spinning room. They must have been on duty because their normally soft knit sweaters and baggy jeans were replaced at the moment with much more professional work scrubs. They still looked back at Whumpee with the same familiar, laughing eyes though, even if their smile was a little sad.

"Hi Whumpee. Are you back with us?"

Whumpee swallowed, a metallic taste in their dry throat, and blinked at Caretaker slowly. They weren't exactly sure they could speak yet, but they didn't want to nod to let Caretaker know they'd understood them. The act of moving their head a fraction of an inch had been dizzying enough to make bile rise in their throat, and they didn't think it would stay there if they tried any more movement. Caretaker seemed to take Whumpee's blinking as a good sign though. Because they smiled again and patted Whumpee's hand.

"Getting there." They said more to themselves than to Whumpee.

"Who did I shoot?" Whumpee asked suddenly, the words slipping out of their mouth in a blank voice before they knew they had thought of them. They couldn't remember having shot anyone, but they knew they had, just before they had ended up here with Caretaker sitting in front of them.

"No one," Caretaker answered quickly "You missed."

"Who?" Whumpee asked again. Caretaker's eyes darted around the room before answering.

"My brother."

Oh, that's right.

Caretaker's brother was Whumpee's boss. Whumpee had been trying to get cleared for field duty again after being kidnapped by Whumper's men. During the shooting test they had tried to imagine the paper targets were Whumper and their goonies, taking all their anger and fear out on them with each shot. But that was when everything had gone down hill.

Whumpee had been drugged the whole time they'd been kidnapped and couldn't remember most of what had happened while they were in captivity. The memories had been coming back fractured and slowly over the past couple of weeks and Whumpee had been trying hard ignore them. Suddenly focusing on the memories, the little fragments of faces and voices that Whumpee could conjure in their head, had caused a sudden onslaught of confusing memory to wash over them. It had been like a tsunami crashing down on them and leaving behind broken debris of memory, suddenly all there and all at once, but not together. The memories of their kidnap had mixed with memories from childhood, teenage years, even seeping into the present. Whumpee didn't know what they had done to cause Caretaker's brother to call out their name, but Whumpee had heard it in Whumper's voice. Of course they had reacted.

The room began to spin faster again, and Caretaker began to sway in and out of focus. Whumpee gasped at the memory of shooting at their boss, and their poor stomach gave out. Bile was rising in their throat again, and before they could control themselves they were vomiting all over the floor.

Caretaker just had time to jump out of the way of the splash zone and pirched themselves on the edge of the bed next to Whumpee rubbing their back soothingly as Whumpee began to uncontrolably sob and shake.

"S-sorry" Whumpee managed between sobs.

"Don't feel bad. Someone's already grabbing a mop."

Whumpee shook their head and resisted the urge to throw up again.

"You're brother."

"Oh. Don't feel bad about that either. You know half of his employee's want to shoot him anyway, my self included most days. Anyway he deserved it. I told him you weren't ready."

Whumpee pulled themselves out of their doubled over position and glared at Caretaker.

"Don't look at me like that." Caretaker retorted "I know you. You bottle things and pretend to be fine until you have the convenience of dealing with them at your own pace, which is never. Sometimes those bottles explode. I warned my brother, but you had him fooled into thinking you were ready."

"I am ready."

Caretaker gave Whumpee a significant look and gestured at floor.

"I'm fine." Whumpee tried to argue even thought there were still tears streaming down their face "I'm just... dizzy."

"We put you on a mild sedative, it could be that. Or, Teammate body slammed you into the ground pretty hard. I was actually checking for concussion when..."

Caretaker trailed off as Whumpee shook their head. Ironically, the room had stopped spinning around them, but the statement still stood.

"Inside my head." They tried to explain. "It's just been dizzying recently. I can't tell the difference between my memories and my nightmares. Even the memories that slip through, they don't tell me anything about what happened. And I shouldn't be reacting like this. The nightmares, paranoia, the vomiting. I've been through shit before, and I wasn't even hurt that bad this time. If I just get back to work, give myself something to distract me, I can get back on solid ground."

Caretaker was silent for a moment, rubbing Whumpee's back and considering their words. After a minute they slipped their arms fully around their friend and pulled them into a tight hug.

"That's not how these things work." They told Whumpee in a low voice. "Every trauma is different, and you've never experience anything like this before. You were kidnapped, and drugged, and have no idea what happened to you. Of course you're scared. Pretending it didn't happen isn't going to make it go away."

Whumpee sat stiffly in Caretaker's arms. They felt clammy and gross. Their skin was crawling and they were shaking like a leaf. They had just gotten their crying under control but they could feel the tears welling up again and a hard lump settling in their throat.

"But..." They whispered frogily "how do I make the world stop spinning?"

"You have to face it." Caretaker told them. Then hugged them tighter when Whumpee let out an involuntary sob. "You don't have to do it alone. There are lots of people who want to help you. Lean on us. We'll be your solid ground."

Whumpee finally relaxed into Caretaker's hug. Dissolving into tears again as they did. They let the tsunami wash over them. Soaking them until they were an embarrassing puddle of raw emotion and fractured memory left sitting in the aftermath. It was terrifying. It was painful. But it was the stillest the world had been in a long time.

[littlemisscreator]

Cosma's Nightmare Time!

That's right, folks! Your girl's planned out a whole Nightmare Time fan-series! 20 episodes of both canon characters and my OCs getting put into situations, including rewrites of three of the original episodes!

Heavily inspired by @pastriibunz Nightmare Kai-me!

Forever and Always

Olive is overjoyed when her sister Emma marries Paul Matthews. Finally, they'll have a happy, stable life, a life that'll go just how Olive planned it. But all is not as it seems, and soon Olive discovers her sister and brother-in-law might not be what they seem

Honey Queen

Summer is in the air, and the annual Honey Festival is steadily approaching. Linda Monroe and Zoey Chambers will do whatever it takes to win the crown at the Honey Queen Pageant. For Marcella Johnson, however, it just seems to be a fun little thing to try out, much to the confusion of her competitors. It's not about having fun, it's about winning!

Hey Melissa!

Savannah and Rose find themselves tangled up in shenanigans with Sav’s co-workers, including Office Creep 2 Freddie Briggs and office secretary Melissa.

Loser Status

Max's friends have had enough of him, and finally stand up to him. Unfortunately, all this does is make Max announce them as losers. And by next Monday, everyone at school seems to know it. The strange part is, no one seems to remember them being popular at all. The gang must work together to adjust to their new social life and find out what changed them from clique to geeks

Rinse Re-Pete

Max Jagerman falls and dies in the Waylon Place, comes back as a ghost, and kills anyone he deems a ‘nerdy prude.’ But where the story changes here is that Peter Spankoffsi - with the help of a certain yellow goat - is given the chance to stop it from happening. Pete is determined to stop anyone from dying, to make sure no one is harmed, no many how many loops he has to go through to do it. But as the loops go and Pete's sanity wears down, his objective changes from making sure Ruth and Richie live and making sure Max stays dead.

The Kitty Cat Club!

19 year old Melissa Hey loves two (well, technically 4) things - cats, and her childhood friends Aubrey, Krissy and Mina. But as close as the girls are, they're growing up, and soon they'll be adults with busy lives and little time for each other. The girls are desperate for a way to spend time with each other. Luckily got them (and less luckily for everyone else), the creeps at Melissa’s internship give her an idea

Siren's Serenade

After almost drowning, Rose Spankoffsi’s body starts to change in strange and unusual ways - ways that are weirder than puberty. Rose isn't sure what's going on, but what she does know is that she's getting more scaly and her singing voice is getting better. On top of that, three mysterious women seem to be following her wherever she goes. Slowly, Rose starts to adjust to her new gifts, and suddenly she's questioning if she wants to keep her humanity at all.

The New Kid

Sunset Jagerman is sick of her brother, point blank. So when she sees him picking on shy new kid Jordan, Sunset befriends him out of spite. Slowly, the two’s bond becomes genuine, and they begin to like each other’s company. But Jordan has secrets, secrets he doesn't want Sunset finding out. Sunset tries not to push, but when curiousity gets the better of her, blood starts to get spilled.

Forget Me Not

Gone are the angsty, lonely, grieving days of Savannah Lamb’s teenage years. Sav has a job she's pretty okay with, a decently sized apparenment to herself, and most importantly, co-workers she can consider friends. It doesn't get much better for this. Unfortunately, a certain Lady in Black has other plans, ones that include getting Sav to dig up a memory that has haunted her for years.

Cheerleader 3000

Lacey Brooklyn Brent is the perfect cheerleader. Preppy, full of energy, always positive. A little too perfect, at least to Brenda and Stacey. The girls try to let their suspicions slide, but when Lacey starts acting weird and getting more and more defensive about cheer - well, the popular girls aren't exactly known for minding Thier own business

The Hatchet Girl

Max Jagerman’s bullying chased Lindsey Topet out of Hatchetfield High in sophomore year. So it's a wonder to anyone why she decides to come back to the same place that caused her so much pain. Well, that is until the popular kids start dying.

Space Star

Rose is a Spankoffsi. She is also the perfect little actress. Nobody wants two lords in black fighting over them, but unfortunately for Rose, she ends up caught in a fight between T'noy Karaxis and Pokotho to be their specialist little toy.

Universal Revenge

Angelou Brailer was once in Max Jagerman's little posse, until he got kicked out. When he returns to Hatchetfield High, students are immediately enamored by him and the chrisma he radiates. Max is determined to drag him back down again, but comes to discover Angelou has different plans, as well as some… divine intervention.

Little Candy Shop of Horrors

Stephanie Lauter makes an unusual new friend at the new candy store in town. One that's sweet, and craves it too. Unfortunately, Steph's new friend’s favorite treat is red and sticky, and is instant on Steph getting it for her.

Heart Eyes

Marcella has never really liked love triangles in fiction. So, when she finds herself in one, she's not very thrilled. Especially not when then triangle consists of her long time crush Bill Woodward and an Eldritch Eye God.

The Nightmare Well

After a visit to a mysterious well, PJ finds herself having frequent nightmares. What's more is that she finds herself coming back to the well over and over again, becoming more enticed to jump inside. She enlists Reese's help, but it soon becomes apparent the well has no intention of leaving her, or anyone, alone.

Pretty and Perfect

Lola Drayson is sick of being a Nerdy Prude. So when a beautiful red haired woman offers her the chance to be everything she's ever wanted to be - perfect, pretty and popular - Lola jumps at the chance. Lola is thrilled by her new life, despite her best friend Michelle's concerns. But beauty comes at a cost, and Lola's dreams are soon to become a total nightmare.

Web of Melodies

Michelle signs up for the town Talent show, hoping it'll take her mind of the weird visions she's been having recently. She's happy to meet most of the other performers, but one in particular seems somewhat suspicious. And when an old friend shows up, Michelle realizes just what she's getting into.

Honey Queen, 2009

What happened at the 2009 Honey Festival? How did six (known) people end up dead? That's for Christine Jagerman to know, and you to find out.

Grace Chasity and T'noy Karaxis VS The World(s)!

Tinky's been having a little too much fun lately, but luckily Grace is willing to help him clean up his mess. With a lot of annoying comments, of course.