#but more realistically it’ll end up being one and maybe coming in late on another

[starbuck]

i think. i am going to take a day off work

[edna-skiffens]

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

Lmk if you want to be on my tag list

[endeaavorr]

bokuto headcanons (if you were in fukurodani)

realistically, i’d imagine a scenario where you’re a third year too since i find those ‘pretty freshmen dating their popular senior’ cliché like the annoying kind of cliché bcs love like that either don’t last, or isn’t real.

bo was nearly late on the first day of highschool and the chair next to your were the only one left.

since that day onwards, for the whole three years you became chairmates.

idk about people but i fall in love easy so im sure i’d fall in love like after two weeks of school just because of subtle things like him reminding you not to forget your lunch or to check your drawer before you go home and he goes to practice, walking with you to other classes, the subtle accidental touches, yep what a simp.

but you didn’t confess because you wouldn’t want to ruin what you guys had.

so for the whole three years you were content being his really close friend, like you know the kind you trust so much and just have a default fond feeling for, the kind you remember to buy another box of milk for before going back to class.

he’s a natural athlete and is currently working on being a pro, but you don’t really enjoy physical things since you hate sweating.

you guys have complete opposite club activities.

as much as i like the thought of being fukurodani’s manager,, that’s not for this plot.

maybe a cooking club or debate.

but when your schedules collide, he accidentally meets you on his way out of the school, and gives you a toothy grin before offering to walk you home.

when you enter the third year of course things had to change, you have to prepare for college app and whilst he’s set on being a pro athlete he still needs to graduate first.

you stopped your club activities and on rare days when he’s not in the school gym, he’s at your house studying for finals.

your study sessions naturally became something you really cherished.

you get to see the side other people don’t.

the way his dyed silver eyebrows scrunch during math, the bright intimidating honey eyes that to you radiates only comfort.

the noisy remarks he made the entire 5 hours of study, the constant whine and complains.

the way he’d lean back to look at your ceilings after finishing a workbook page.

almost a year passed, it’s finally off season and he played his last match as fukurodani’s ace and captain.

you notice that your study sessions now feel heavier.

he’s still the same person with the same eyebrow scrunch and the same noisy whine and honey like eyes.

but you can’t help but feel like he’s slipping away.

finals are coming to and end and it’s time for your last study session, probably even the last in his life since, pro athletes don’t need to understand calculus to make living.

you feel like there’s this huge rock on your chest, it’s hard to breathe.

you don’t even bother to try and look at the abstract equations on your notes, you’ve done this your whole life, you don’t need to.

but him, the thought of a future where you’re not waking up at 4.30 am in the morning to see him, the thought of not being the person that he sleeps next to in class ?

he seems to catch on your silent distress and opted on a night walk around the neighborhood.

it’s 10 pm and the moon is smiling, you walk next to him on the inner side of the road, heart feeling full but not in a good way.

you were so drowned in uneasiness you didn’t realise the warmth next to you is gone, your heart tripped and look back for a second to see him 5 meters behind you.

the night is silent as he continues to walk to you, his eyes not leaving yours and oh how you wished this is how it’ll always be.

“talk to me, y/n.” he said with a voice almost bitter, as if he feels the same thing. you study his face with a visible shade of longing and even he too, felt his heartbeat start to falter.

“i-“

you almost had it but again the suffocating fear in your heart brings your head down for a moment.

“it’s our last final tomorrow, and you did a great job studying today, i’m sure you’ll do great.” he smiled lightly at that, saying how it’s all thanks to you and it’s a debt he won’t ever be able to repay. but he knows there’s more.

“that’s not what i meant.” your head is still down but you feel his gaze avert back to you. you raise your head slowly to look at him and the feeling takes you back to the days he’d always sleep with his head on the table facing you on the second recess while you do some work on your laptop, the beautiful little feelings you hold so close to your heart.

you muster up enough courage to go on and finally say it, “i, i’m always the happiest around you, koutarou-kun, the last three years i spent next to you, even on things that don’t matter like when you fell asleep on recess, when forgot to zip your bag because you were too excited to see akaashi, when you dramatically whined about not getting the last serving of yakisoba bun, and even on important events like when you became the team captain, or when you won the preliminaries, or when officials from national teams would come to talk to you in between your matches in the nationals.. they.. they’re all about you yet it made me so happy i got to be by your side,” you can feel your mind clearing up and words came out of your lips just like that, “your future is set and i can’t be any happier, but still, with our path so different, i can’t help but fear i won’t see you again after the bell rings twice tomorrow,”

your eyes no longer sting and your heartbeat managed to be, you hold your heart in your hands and words again dripped from your lips, like it’s blood, like it’s love. “i’m not asking you for anything, but i’m glad i spent the beginning of my youth with you,” his eyes widen at the realization of what’s coming out next “koutarou-kun, from the bottom of my heart, i love you.”

you managed to give him your smile before you feel his strong arms engulfing you, the hold you’ve been yearning for these three years, you can’t help but hold him back and let out the silent yet violent sobs, you’re just so relieved, so relieved. and he said in a voice you’ll take to your own grave,

“wait for me, i’m coming back to you.”

[1101001]

MAYBE, JUST MAYBE _

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‘ when high school ended, your relationship with oikawa did too. years later, something you didn’t want to call fate led you to each other on the sandy shores of a beach in brazil ’

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character .. oikawa tooru 

word count .. 1.3k

tags .. exes (but not rlly 'to lovers’) , no pronouns used , possible timeskip spoilers? but nothing explicitly stated , uhh fluff-ish , written for @itskoushi​ <3

You choked on your drink, turning your head to the side in futile hopes that it would hide your face. Why of all places and all times was he here, at a beach in Rio de Janeiro? Maybe it wasn’t him though, maybe it was just your eyes playing tricks on you.

You peered carefully over your friend’s head for another look. It definitely was him.

“Y/n, are you okay?” 

You nodded hastily, ignoring the suspicious look your friend was giving you. 

“Right, do you wanna come down to the beach with me?” she asked, pointing to the mob of people in bikinis and trunks walking around under the bright hot Brazilian sun. “Seems someone caught your eye too.”

There was a glint in her eye and before she could drag you with her, you shook your head, “No, I think I’ll stay here…”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She got up and muttered a ‘boring’ before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Not two seconds after she left, the very person you were hoping to avoid appeared right behind you.

“Look who we have here.” His voice was sweet like honey, and you had to steel yourself against it before turning around and facing him.

“Hello to you too Oikawa.”

Oikawa Tooru, a boy (now man) who caused you massive amounts of internal conflict. Did you miss him and his chocolate brown eyes and perfectly tousled hair and seemingly carefree exterior? 

Maybe you did, but before you could fall into the trap that is Oikawa’s charm, you reminded yourself that you've already been down that path.

“Thought it was you,” he said, lips curving into a slight smirk. He leaned one arm against the bar table and you suddenly noticed how much muscle he’s built since you last saw him. “So what brings you to this lovely beach?”

You took a long sip from your drink, trying to look everywhere but him for fear of accidentally staring too long. “It was a business trip but now I’m just relaxing.”

From the background, a couple of people were starting to shout for Oikawa. He turned towards them and yelled, “GIMME A SEC,” before turning back to you and asking, “Hey uh are you up for some beach volleyball?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“There’s this small tournament and I’m the only one without a partner.”

It was a very sudden offer and you were hesitant to accept. Volleyball? At the beach? With your ex no less.

It didn’t seem like the best idea.

“Cmon I know you’re good,” Oikawa pleaded.

You were still hesitant, but the thought of playing volleyball again made your hands and arms itch. It seems you missed it more than you thought. 

“Fine,” you said taking one last sip of your drink before grabbing your things and hopping out of your seat. The two of you made your way over to the nets set up on the sand and Oikawa led you to a table to register.

“Have you ever played beach volleyball?” Oikawa asked as he grabbed a ball and tossed it to you.

You lightly set it back to him. “No, and I haven’t played normal volleyball for quite a while either.”

“That’s fine,” Oikawa replied, once again tossing the ball back to you. “It’s a just-for-fun competition anyway.”

And that just-for-fun competition was a lot more intense than you expected. Beach volleyball, you quickly learned, is very different from normal volleyball. Running around on the sand wasn’t exactly easy and being on the same side of the net as Oikawa, although you tried to ignore it, was giving you weird and very annoying butterflies. 

Instead of it being a terrible experience like it should’ve been though, you found yourself relishing the adrenaline that came with the feel of the ball on your hands. 

You and Oikawa made for a great team too. The two of you barely exchanges words but knew what the other meant every time. That combined with each of your own individual talent and skill made you a deadly combo and easily a favorite for the win.

And you might’ve won too, had you been able to continue playing.

You gritted your teeth as you struggled to stand up after an unsuccessful dive. Suddenly, Oikawa was there by your side, extending a hand and helping you up. 

“You ok there?” 

Honestly, no. Your ankle hurt like hell from how you dived into the sand just moments ago. The unevenness of the ground really wasn’t something to underestimate. 

“Uh my ankle hurts a bit,” you muttered. 

“By a bit you mean it hurts enough you can’t play anymore right?”

You looked away and nodded lamely. You’d like to think you changed since high school but it seems he still knew you too well.

“Ok, let's get you to a clinic then.”

By then, the referee and a few other people had gathered around. Oikawa quickly announced your withdrawal from the tournament and led you off the court.

“Can you walk?” he asked, extending a hand to steady you as you got up. 

“I think so,” you replied before taking one step and immediately realizing this was going to be a slow and painful walk to the clinic. 

But you gritted your teeth through the pain and, with Oikawa next to you, hobbled off. You eventually found a way to angle your feet against the sand to minimize pain so it wasn’t too bad.

Although this way was much more bearable pain-wise, it was slow, so slow that Oikawa suggested he just carry you to the clinic.

“No thanks,” you said, gritting your teeth as you forced your legs to move faster.

“Y/n please. You’re slower than a snail.”

You stopped and sighed, a sign he took as you agreeing apparently because he immediately grabbed your legs and lifted you bridal style almost effortlessly.

You were about to protest but the words died away as he looked down at you with a smile.

That smile.

Suddenly, you were a teenager at Aoba Johsai again, walking through its crowded hallways, passing Oikawa and a few of his fangirls trailing behind him. He flashed that same smile at you he had now and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Let’s just hope your ankle isn’t messed up too badly yeah?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you responded with a simple ‘yeah’.

Your mind, at the moment, was focusing on other things. Not the way he carried you without a hint of tiredness on his face. Not the way your arms were intertwined around his neck. Not the way his hair bounced with every step he took, or the way his eyes glittered in the sunlight, or the way you could feel his heartbeat against you.

No, your mind was racing because even though this was hardly your most intimate moment, you felt ‘the feeling’.

Maybe you were caught up in it all. That was a very plausible and realistic explanation for why you were feeling what you were feeling right now. But as you two approached the clinic and he urged the nurses to care for you, your mind wandered.

Maybe he was just being a decent human being. Yes, of course, that was what he’s doing - being nice. The way he held your hand through it all made it seem like he was being more than just nice.

Maybe there was something more. When he looked at you, sheepish grin and concerned eyes, you couldn’t help but feel it.

You were getting carried away. It definitely seemed like you were. But you couldn’t think of anything wrong with the flutters in your chest. Sure the breakup wasn’t the smoothest but that was when you were young and going separate paths.

He might not even be feeling all that you were right now, but you gave yourself a sliver of hope because maybe he was.

And maybe, just maybe, a second try would be worth the while.

. . .

note .. NINI HI IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE BUT HAPPY FVKING belated BIRTHDAY !!! i know how much you love this trope and how much you love oiks soooo *holds this out to you like cake on a platter* ... not much slowburn tho sorry (i would but by the time i finish it’ll be ur next birthday sdkjghs) right anyway,,, hope you like it and again,, happy belated birthday <33

[dadsbongos]

Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

~~

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

~~

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

~~

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

~~

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

~~

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

[rosenallies]

hi are u still taking prompts from that list🥺 maybe number 13 for bratpack if u feel up to it ?? lots of protective gia&kenny and their angel synthia ❤️

I’m sorry since u didn’t specify if there was a specific au or anything I did a part of the little childhood friends to lovers type au that we talk about sometimes bc I just needed to write them as sweet besties 😭😔 i had to <3

13. "You're safe, I promise."

——

Synthia excitedly bounced on her heels as she watched out the window, waiting for Gia and Kendall to arrive. Finally 10, her mom had agreed to let her go trick or treating alone with her friends, her flip phone charged and in her bag just in case.

“Synthie,” her mom called, walking in the room, taking in her precious daughter in her white angel costume, “oh, don’t you look precious. Are you absolutely sure you want to go without me? I trust Gia and Kendall very much, but if you want me to still take you guys, I can. You don’t have to grow up so fast.”

“Mom,” Synthia groaned, “we’ll be fine! You promised we could go this year!”

Ms. Kiss sighed, tucking a strand white blond hair behind her daughter’s ear. “I know, honey, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to if you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready. We’ll stay together, I have my phone and Kendall has one too.”

“Okay, baby, you know how to get ahold of me if you need to, it looks like your little friends are here,” she replied, gesturing at them walking up the driveway.

Synthia shrieked with excitement, hugging her mom before bidding her a goodbye and running out the door. Ms. Kiss shook her head affectionately and watched them walk down the driveway until they were out of sight.

Walking with their arms linked, Synthia babbled on and on about how excited she was that they finally got to go trick or treating without her mom, even though Gia and Kendall’s parents had been letting them go alone for two years now. Synthia was somewhat of a late bloomer and being an only child to a single mother didn’t help.

They made it through most of the night without any incident, until it was half an hour before Synthia was due home and a house on the end of the block had set up a huge haunted maze in the front yard, letting trick or treaters go through to get their candy.

“You guys! We have to go though, it’ll be so much fun,” Synthia begged, yanking them toward the maze.

Kendall and Gia shared a look, even at such a young age, they were protective of Synthia and hated more than anything to see her upset. Gia had been through haunted houses like that before and Kendall was always watching horror movies with her older sister, but Synthia was a different story. Most of the time it seemed as if the wind blowing scared the poor girl.

“Synth, are you sure we should? It might be pretty scary,” Kendall tried to reason, uncertainty in her voice.

Gia nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it looks really scary.”

“Oh come on guys! Don’t chicken out!”

Neither wanted to hurt her feelings and admit they were reluctant to go in because of her, so they agreed, linking their arms together and going in with her.

They walked through the cracked archway, walking into a darkened cooridor, the sound of creaking and chains rattling following them. Each step made nerves gnaw in Kendall and Gia’s stomachs, constantly looking over at Synthia to check on her. She still seemed to have a smile on her face, even with lights flashing and a brief jump scare.

Relieved they were almost at the end, that quickly changed. Someone dressed in an all too realistic costume, jumped out from behind a wall and screamed in their faces. Glowing eyes and a terrifying scream had even Gia and Kendall jumping back. Though, Synthia was another story, her skin pale frozen in place, hands shaking as she tried to stifle her tears.

“Synthia,” Kendall cooed, trying to get her to snap out of it, tugging on her arm but she stayed still, shaking like a leaf.

“Gi, what do we do?” Kendall whispered, “she’s like stunned or something!”

They could hear screams ahead of them, signalling there were more scares ahead. “Grab her arm,” Gia instructed, taking her other.

“Listen up, fuckers, if anyone else jumps out at us, I swear to god,” Gia screamed down the corridor as they motioned for Kendall to walk her along.

Synthia was now crying, fingers tightening on Gia and Kendall’s wrists as they took baby steps to get her out and Gia continued to threaten anyone that came near them.

Finally, they made it out and Synthia crumbled against them.

“I-I’m s-scared,” Synthia managed to get out between sobs, “I-I want m-my mom.”

“Kendall is gonna call her, can you take deep breaths with me,” Gia coached her gently, their usual loud voice somehow soft.

Gia had no idea what they were doing but they remembered their teacher telling them about breathing exercises to use when they were angry and they only hoped they’d work for someone who was scared.

Synthia took breaths alongside Gia until it worked, calming her down enough to just be sniffling weakly against Gia while Kendall rubbed her back.

“You’re safe, we promise,” Kendall assured her, not letting go of her until her mother’s minivan was pulling up in front of the house they were at. Even then, they both walked her over the van and held her hand once they were all buckled in.

“I’m sorry,” Synthia mumbled as they pulled up her driveway, “I ruined Halloween because I’m such a baby.”

Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but she stopped herself as she heard little whispers coming from behind her.

“You’re not a baby, that was really scary. I was scared too,” Gia said.

“Yeah, me too, and you didn’t even scream, you’re so brave, Synth,” Kendall added.

Synthia giggled. “Really? You think I’m brave?”

In unison, they both agreed, sincerity behind every word.

Synthia’s mom smiled to herself, thanking the universe that her sweet daughter had some of the best friends in the world. Though, as she watched in the rearview, Kendall and Gia laying kisses on each of Synthia’s cheeks, she wondered if someday they’d be more than just the best friends in the world.

[noforkingclue]

How He Feels (Sam Wilson x reader x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: It was clear to everyone apart from you that Sam liked you. Maybe with a little encouragement Sam would tell you how he felt before it was too late.

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

Warnings: Angst, angst, all the angst and unrequited love!

Author’s Note: Prequel to Come Back

“You should tell her.”

Sam jumped when he heard Steve speak. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard him approach. Steve gave him an amused look as Sam folded his arms and looked away.

“Tell who what?” he asked

“Y/n,” Steve nodded out at the figure watching the sunset, “It’s obvious.”

Sam looked at Steve out of the corner of before sighing and looking away. He ran a hand over his face and said,

“That obvious?”

“To someone who knows you, yes.”

“Fuck.”

“Hey,” Steve clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “You need to tell her.”

“That would only make things worse.”

“How?”

“You know her rule, no dating team mates.”

Steve sighed and looked at his friend. Sam’s affection for you was clear, especially to Steve who could clearly see how much you meant to him. Ever since you and Sam had met you had gotten along. The bond between the two of you was clear and while Sam’s feelings were obvious yours were less so. You were naturally affectionate with most people so it was surprisingly difficult to tell your true feelings.

“Besides,” Sam continued, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. What happens if she doesn’t feel the same way? Things won’t be able to go back to the way they were before. Even if she says we can remain friends it’ll be awkward. There’ll be no going back if she rejects me.”

“Sometimes,” said Steve, “Things in life are worth taking the risk.”

At that moment you looked over at them and beamed. As you started walking towards them Sam’s gaze softened at your smile. He tried to push down the feeling in his stomach when he saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw them. Maybe Steve was right, maybe some things were worth taking the risk on.

 *

 “You’re in love with her.”

Sam looked over at Natasha who was standing next to him. Steve had gone out and you were currently sleeping on the sofa. When you, Steve and Natasha arrived on Sam’s doorstep he didn’t hesitate in letting the three of you in. The exhausted look on you face made Sam want to scoop you into his arms and never let you go. To assure you that everything will be alright and he’ll be there to protect you.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please,” Natasha gave him a pointed look, “It’s obvious.”

“That’s what Steve said.”

“Did he,” Natasha looked amused, “And you still haven’t done anything?”

“Why would I?

“This life,” Natasha looked back at you, “Is far too short to hold anything back. You think that you can put it off for one more day, that you’ll tell her how you feel tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes one of you might not be around to hear it.”

“So what you’re saying is I should tell her because one of us might die tomorrow.”

“Could even be sooner.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re an optimist?”

“I prefer the term realist.”

Natasha gave him a brief smile but Sam kept looking at you. He had initially tried to persuade you to take his bed and for him to sleep on the sofa. Of course it was because it was comfier than the sofa but a small part (a very small part) wanted to see you wrapped up in his sheets. To see what you might look like in his bed, to have a guess at what it might look like to wake up next to you. You turned over in your sleep and the blanket Sam had given you fell to the floor. Immediately Sam moved to place it back over you, much to the amusement of Natasha.

“Sam?”

Sam froze when you said his name sleepily. You looked at him and rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“What time is it?” you asked trying to sit up

“Early.”

“Then why aren’t you asleep?”

“Couldn’t fall asleep,” he said, “You should try and get some more. You sure you don’t want the bed?”

“Positive. Besides your sofa is surprisingly comfy. Night Sam.”

“Night sleepy.”

As Sam walked passed Natasha he ignored the pointed look she gave him. It was better to deny his feelings for you and preserve a friendship he wouldn’t exchange for anything then to confess and ruin it. Even if it hurt him to do so.

 *

 Seeing you, in that moment, made Sam understand why a crush was called a crush. It was because in the end someone’s feelings were going to get crushed. It just never occurred to him that it might’ve been his.

He was watching Bucky awkwardly trying to teach you to dance. A small smile was on you face and your cheeks turned red whenever Bucky touched you. Soft 1940s music echoed around the hideout as Bucky took one of your hands in his. Bucky hesitated slightly before moving his metal hand to your waist. It stopped just above it and you smiled up at him. You took Bucky’s metal hand and placed it on your waist, clearly not bothered by the danger you could be in. Bucky seemed startled by your apparent bravery but you ignore the look and started swaying to the music.

Sam didn’t comment when he heard Steve approach him or shake off the comforting hand he put on his shoulder. He didn’t realise how close you and Bucky had become since he had last seen you. It was something he wasn’t expecting. He had seen you smiled and laugh a hundred times before but what struck him most was the look in your eyes.

The soft, understanding gaze of someone who had found a deeper connection with another person. The way your eyes lit up when Bucky spun you around or when you lost your footing and Bucky immediately wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you. The way you laughed and rested your head against his chest. Sam closed his eyes and walked away not able to stand seeing you and Bucky together. He was vaguely aware of Steve following him but he didn’t say anything until they were out of the room.

“When did that happen?” Sam asked eventually

“They’re not together.” Steve said quickly

Steve gave him a disbelieving looking and Steve shifted awkwardly.

“Not very long, I think,” he admitted, “Not quite sure how it happened.”

Sam was silent for a moment then he ran a hand over his face. Steve stood back and grimaced slightly. Sam’s feelings had been clear from the start but you had always been oblivious to them.

“Look, Sam-“

Sam held up a hand and Steve stopped.

“Not right now,” he said, “What I really need is a drink.”

 *

 Sam had never seen a sunset quite like the one in Wakanda. Colours he didn’t even know that the sky could make were splashed across the sky. You were leaning against the balcony watching the sun slowly set as he walked towards you. The two of you stood in silence until you said,

“Do you ever think he’ll wake up?”

“Who? Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Good.”

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. That was the one thing Sam loved about being with you, even when the two of you didn’t talk it was never awkward. You could be doing completely different things and never have a moment of awkwardness between you. Sam could count the number of people he could do that with on one hand and most of them were family.

“I didn’t know,” he said eventually, “About you and Barnes.”

You looked over sharply. Even in the dying light Sam could see the red on your cheeks.

“He’s just a friend,” you said, “I don’t date colleagues.”

“He’s not exactly a colleague is he.”

Sam couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice and you looked at him in shock. Eventually you said,

“You still don’t trust him do you?”

“I’m just worried,” he said, “How well do you really know him?”

“I’m not dating him,” you said, “And we have actually spent quite a bit of time together. Steve’s been so busy lately so Bucky and I have been together. I’ve been helping him catch up to the modern world, watching films with him, introducing him to new music. He’s even been teaching me how to dance.”

Sam looked away, the memory of how close you and Bucky had been still fresh in his memory.

“This isn’t the Winter Soldier we’re dealing with,” you assured him, “It’s James Buchanan Barnes that we’re dealing with. He’s a different person. You trust me right?”

“Yeah. I trust you.”

“Good.”

You rested your head against Sam’s arm and he automatically wrapped an arm around your shoulders. The peaceful silence settled over the two of you again and Sam realised that there was nowhere else he’d rather be. With no one else around, and just you and him watching the sun set over Wakanda he could pretend that it was just the two against the world. While Sam knew his feelings weren’t reciprocated he was going to be there for you. He valued having you as a friend and right now that is what you needed more than anything in the world.

 *

 Sam practically flung open the door after you knocked. You stood there looking up at him for a second before you smiled and wrapped your arms around him. Sam enclosed him arms around you and rested his chin on top of your head. Everything had been so hectic since everyone came back that the two of you hadn’t had time to properly catch up. He breathed in the scent of your shampoo and you looked up at him amused.

“Missed me?” you asked

“Is that even a question?”

You laughed and playfully slapped Sam on the arm. He let go of you and stumbled back pretending to be hurt. You just rolled your eyes and entered his house, carefully shutting the door behind you. Sam had moved into the kitchen and started making you your favourite drink. It felt good to see you properly after so long and it had given him plenty of think to think over your relationship. A soft hand placed itself over his wrist and he looked up at you.

“What’s the matter?” he asked

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” you said, “It’s important.”

You had an anxious look on your face and Sam couldn’t help the butterflies that appear in his stomach. The bubbling nervousness that only increased when he fully took in your face. He had never seen you look so nervous before and you took a deep breath and walked away. You sat down on his sofa and patted the seat next to you with a soft smile. Sam didn’t hesitate in rushing to your side. He took your hand and brushed his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture he knew always calmed you down.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while,” you said, “But it never seemed the right time.”

“You know you can tell me anything,” said Sam, “What are friends for?”

“Of course.”

You smiled at him and Sam felt his heart skip a beat at it. He had forgotten how beautiful it was. How he wanted to pull you into his arms and kiss you and tell you how much he loved you. How he had always loved you and never wanted to let you go. Eventually you said,

“Sam, I’ve decided to retire.”

[teamddixon]

A New Normal

Summary: Set in the future of the TWD timeline, this story follows Daryl, Y/N and her brother through their journey in the world of the undead. It wasn’t like Daryl to let people in to his heart easily, but it was Y/N’s smiles that had captured him completely, and before he knew it, there wasn’t a scenario Daryl could think of about his future that didn’t have Y/N in it.

A/N: Hi guys, this is my first time writing a fic of our TWD badass, Daryl Dixon. It’s gonna be a long one, and a work in progress. I write because it makes me happy, and I hope it’ll make you happy too. The intro for this fic would be pretty long, and Daryl wouldn’t appear until slightly later, but I thought it would be important to touch on Y/N and her brother’s background since we already know Daryl’s background pretty well. I’m not a zombie apocalypse expert, and neither dare I call myself a TWD expert (I’m not, please pardon me if I get some facts wrong!), so some parts of the story may not be realistic. It is most certainly strayed from the current universe since this is meant to be set in the projected timeline after the eventual season 11, which of course we don’t know yet how Daryl’s narrative would be changed or if it would at all, (or do we?), so this story may or may not make sense after season 11 ends (maybe think of this as a spin off?). I do hope you like it, and don’t mind the fact that it is set way in the future of the universe. As mentioned, it’s still a work in progress and I don’t know how many parts it’ll be. But writing this is extremely cathartic for me so I’ll continue writing for as long as my brain (and my full time job) allows.  Comments and feedback are welcomed and appreciated! Please sit back and enjoy this journey with Daryl. :)

Photo is not mine. All mistakes in this are mine, please pardon them. 

There aren’t many moments in Y/N’s life where she’d just sit on a spot, completely and utterly at a loss. The camp where she’d called home for the last month was gone – just like that. Along with it, the people she considered her family. When an unexpected rogue herd of walkers stumbled across the cabin, she was out on a supply run with her older brother, Andrew. By the time they had came back, the cabin was in shambles and the smell of the dead overpowered their senses. Y/N stood rooted to the ground in shock behind the bushes, throwing a look of fear at Andrew. Biting back a scream, knowing it’ll give her position away, Y/N looked around, hoping to see a familiar face. A familiar face that was alive. There was none. It was too late for them to do anything to salvage their family, their home. There were too many walkers to take on and honestly, nothing much left for salvation.

Y/N had no idea how long she was behind the bushes watching the dead feeding on mangled bodies of people she once knew. She knew she had to move, but her feet wouldn’t allow. It was as if they were locked in position, trapped in the nightmare of a scene before her. The only comfort she could gather was seeing quite a number of fallen walkers with slash marks on their heads – meaning they had put up a strong fight against them.

“Come on, we got to go.” Andrew’s voice called out, his hand grabbing hers nudging her to move. There was a catch in his voice, although he tried to hide it. Still in shock and tears, Y/N willed her legs to move. Just one foot in front of another, just one foot in front of another. She had to keep her mind focused on what was in front, and to keep her legs moving forward. Y/N followed him, almost in complete auto-pilot. 

Without actually knowing how long or how she even managed to keep in tandem with her brother’s pace with her state of mind, he had led Y/N to a spot in the woods where the two of them finally crashed on the hard grounds. Y/N was shaking violently as she buried her heads between her knees. She had no idea if she was shaking because of the nip in the air, or because of shock. A low growl shook her awake from her reverie. She looked up to see a lone walker approaching from the right. Reaching for her hunting knife from her belt holster with her shaky hands proved to be a tremendous task. Y/N finally managed to unsheathe the knife and plunged it hard into the walker’s temple right before its jaw got onto her. She had no idea she still had that strength somewhere in her.

“Are you okay?” Andrew had walked over to her just in time to plunge his machete into the head of another walker that had approached Y/N from her blind spot. “Thanks. I didn’t see it coming.” Y/N mustered her strength and stood up before kicking the walker in its head with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“I don’t, I cant –“ Y/N finally allowed herself to sob into Andrew’s shirt. While there were only a few people in the group to begin with, she have had time to know them through this shitstorm and had grown to like them like her own family. They were the people she had been moving with for years. They had lost some people in their journey, but they’d never lost all of them entirely before. To lose them all at once was devasting. But all in all, she was glad her brother was there. Andrew was fiercely protective of her, especially in this new world. She wouldn’t be alive and standing today if not for him. All her survival skills, her knife works, hunting and tracking skills, had all came from him. Y/N was not prepared for this world at all. Without Andrew, she would have become one of the walkers a long time ago. But she was a fast learner, and had more than proven her survival skills. Despite all that, she never lost her sense of hope and cheerfulness, that was until that day.

She was thankful for Andrew for giving her the time to grief while he single-handedly took down more than a dozen walkers while she was still in a daze. She felt horrible, leaving her brother to keep her alive knowing he needed his time to process everything too. Andrew didn’t say anything, he just kept her alive.

Nightfall brings another set of danger – the temperature had dipped drastically. Y/N worked with her brother to build a makeshift shelter with leaves and twigs. Andrew had also got a small fire going to provide a bit of warmth. If the walkers doesn’t get to them, the elements most certainly would. Satisfied with the perimeters, lined with makeshift cans and marbles to alert them when any walkers enter the camp, Andrew gestured for Y/N to sleep while he kept watch.

Y/N tucked herself in next to the small fire and tried to sleep. But of course sleep eluded her. Every time she had her eyes closed, all she could see was the grotesque bodies of her friends back in the cabin. She kept your eyes close despite that, hoping to catch at least a little sleep. Y/N knew she would be in no state to fight for survival without rest. Andrew sat next to the fire and finally allowed himself to process the events of the day. Most of the people in the group had been his friends since he was a child. He had grown up with them, went through triumphs and heartbreaks together. Losing them was painful. Losing them and not being able to do anything for them was painful. He looked at Y/N who had now finally fallen asleep and willed himself to stay strong. He couldn’t – he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to his sister. Y/N was his only family left.

Three hours into Y/N’s fitful sleep, she woke up in a pool of sweat despite the night cold. Before this all happened, Y/N always slept like a log. An earthquake could literally be breaking her room down and she would have no idea. But in this new normal, her body had adjusted itself to wake up within a few hours and it had learned to survive on a couple hours of sleep each night.

She saw Andrew throwing logs into the fire to keep it going. Approaching him silently, she gestured for him to sleep while she took over the watch. Nodding his head, he vacated his space before taking over hers. Y/N was on high alert, determined to keep her brother safe while he catch his much needed rest. Andrew had been there for Y/N all her life. She was only a couple of years younger so they were very close since young. This trip was supposed to be a break from work, but instead, they were thrown with an even bigger shitstorm than they could imagine. Y/N almost laughed when she thought about the irony. She would choose to go back to her office job any day over this. Before long, the cackle of the fire begin to diminish as the day broke. Y/N looked up at the skies, trying hard to fathom how this was the very same sky before the world had turned into hell. The sun still came up in the East and the morning birds still sang, but nothing else about the world right now was the same.

Gathering up all of their belongings, Y/N and Andrew set off for another day. They had to find a more permanent shelter, a sturdier shelter than twigs and leaves at least. Stopping by the creek to gather some water, Y/N took the chance to splash herself with the cold water. As the water hit her face, she perked up. Having not had a shower for days, Y/N’s skin was starting to itch and peel. Her feet was swollen with blisters and her arms were filled with dried scabs from all the cuts she sustained while running away from walkers. Y/N looked at Andrew with a longing in her eyes. She needed that shower. Convinced that the area was free of walkers, Andrew gave in and gave her privacy while Y/N washed yourself. He told her he would try to track something for their food today and set off with his bag, gesturing for Y/N to follow when she was done. A smile almost crept up Y/N’s face as she washed away days of sweat, dirt, and walker blood off her body. She hadn’t dared to take her time though. Once she was done, she quickly put on a fresher set of clothes that she had and set out to look for Andrew.

Feeling more refreshed, Y/N tried to put on a new perspective of how life was going to be moving forward. She was determined to continue living, living for the friends who couldn’t. She was going to continue living for Andrew. She didn’t want all of Andrew’s effort teaching her survival to go to waste. Y/N followed the tracks on the floor, hoping to find Andrew soon. No more than 10 minutes into following the tracks, she heard a slight ruffle of leaves to her left. It was so slight it was almost unnoticeable. It can’t have been a walker – a walker would have made a louder noise than that. It was most certainly a person. She smiled and moved towards the direction where she heard the sound from, anticipating to see Andre.

“Hey, did you managed to –“ Y/N’s whispers faltered into complete silence when a tall, crossbow donning man with striking blue eyes, greeted her. The man had his crossbow trained on Y/N’s head. She stopped in her tracks, knife in hand ready to strike.

“Who are you?” The man demanded. Not only was his crossbow trained on Y/N, his eyes were trained on her too.

“Y/N.” She spoke calmly, hand still steady on the knife. While she knew she’d be dead with his arrow before she could attack him with the knife, she weren’t about to go down without a fight if she had to. Y/N looked at the man, trying to download as much details about him as she could. He wore a long sleeves black shirt with two top buttons missing, a pair of cargo pants that were slightly ripped on some parts and his boots carried the obvious evidence of blood and someone who had been out in the open. Y/N tried not to wince as she stared directly into the man’s eyes. Although his hair covered the side of his face, she could make out his stern expression – an expression of someone who had been surviving on his own. But behind all that, she just had a sense, a strange and unspoken sense that he wasn’t a dangerous man.

“Look, I’m just looking for my brother, all right? I don’t mean to walk into your zone.” Y/N explained. “If you promise not to shoot me, I’ll just turn around and be on my way.”

Adrenaline from meeting a lone stranger in the woods had had blood rushing to her ears, muffling her surrounding sounds. As she prepared to turn and leave, the man spoke again. “Behind ya!” That was when she heard it – the unmistakable sound of a walker behind her. As a reflex, Y/N bent her body forward and side stepped, but in her haste to evade the walker, she had missed her footing. Y/N cursed under her breath but quickly regained her posture. She raised her arm, ready to strike, but before she could, the walker’s dead weight had pushed her, causing her to fall backwards on the hard ground, losing her knife in the process. Y/N quickly worked to fight the walker off but all she heard was the hustling sound of an arrow and the silenced growl from the walker. Feeling the full weight of the walker now, she pushed it off and saw that it had an arrow right smack between it’s eyes. Y/N turned to look at the man as he approached the walker. With one foot on the walker’s head, he pulled out the arrow with one swift motion with his free hand. He then turned sideways to look at Y/N.

“That was really cool.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Seeing that the man had made no move to point his crossbow at her again, Y/N relaxed. She spotted and dug out her knife that had been partially buried during the fall and tussle with the walker.

“That was really cool.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Seeing that the man had made no move to point his crossbow at her again, Y/N relaxed. She spotted and dug out her knife that had been partially buried during the fall and tussle with the walker.

“Thanks. I owe you.” Y/N gestured to the walker on the ground as she dusted herself off. “What’s your name?” She smiled.

Daryl was immediately captivated by Y/N’s smile and the sound of her chuckles. Earlier when he had heard someone approaching, he was ready to strike, ready to take them down if he had to. But as he heard Y/N’s voice for the first time, he knew immediately that she was no threat. He hadn’t seen or heard another person’s voice for days. But even if he had, there was something about Y/N’s voice and her smiles that enchanted him. Despite the situation the world was in, Daryl was comforted to see a smile that seemed to make him forget everything else.

“Daryl.”

“I’m sorry again, you know, for walking into you.”

“Sorry for ta’ crossbow on ya head.” Daryl nodded his head slightly at Y/N as apology.

“We’re even then.” Y/N smiled again. It was nice meeting someone else in this crazy world of the dead. Something about Daryl had made her feel a sense of comfort and calm, despite just meeting him a few minutes ago. Daryl looked away, feeling his face flushed from seeing her smiles. There had never been anyone who had that effect on him before. Her smiles were a huge contrast to everything he had come to know in the last ten years. He wanted nothing but to remember them.

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - YELLOW

To reach such a high, if it were in any way something he could touch, it was her many kisses, her soft touches, her smiles and her laughs and the little details he’d never miss.

WORDS: 7539 WARNINGS: Sexual Content, Mentions of blood

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | BLUE

-----

You:

First love never dies.

For so many, it simply remains this fantastical dream. Of monsters and ghouls, fairies and witches. And perhaps, those people are right. In ways not everyone can imagine, most of the time, the realists and those grounded with what cruelties are out to get you, it isn’t always so healthy constantly hoping that the first one you give your heart to will ultimately be the last. Always, one’s immediate thought when they hold a hand or kiss another’s lips was that frivolous hoping and imaginative discourse that somehow, this is what it’ll be for the rest of your life. With that very person you chose to give your heart to and this illusion that you’ve given it enough thought, whether you actually had or hadn’t.

And those realists, those who are constantly out to get other’s hopes and irrational dreams, you never thought they’d speak to you that way until that first crack in your beating heart, the first gap made by the quakes of reality. Your first heartbreak.

And perhaps maybe the worst one, out of all the many heartbreaks you’ve gone through in your eventful young life. The ghosts of your past, the ones that never leave you alone and go on to haunt you for so long as you held onto some kind of hope, torturously holding onto that love and hurt all the same, you just let them exist. You tried to fight them, tried to move on. And for many years, you hadn’t. You failed and it brought you even more of this turmoil.

But had you really come to doubt that theory, the one that disproved that famous claim that first love, in fact, does not diminish, no matter the years and the people and the places you’ve gone through and met? Even with it so obvious that your first love came to such a disastrous, albeit expected end out of two teenagers hopelessly in love, did that love actually die?

Not when after all those years, everything you did and didn’t do out of love always ended up boiling down to him.

The time you shared, that fairytale of a story, one you were fortunate enough to live through and live by for all the years that came after, it wasn’t even because he was the safest bet, which he wasn’t. And it was unfair to call him that at all. It had its own risks, its own trials of hurt, but the triumphs you reaped, the light you’d inevitably saw at the end of that seemingly endless darkness, you never could doubt that it was there at all.

Perhaps that delusion of a fairytale was what brought you down in the first place. Perhaps all this was because you thought he, of all people, could never hurt you at the least, and he ended up hurting you the most. It was this illusion of some fantasy, one you wanted so badly to believe, that this wonderful story of how you came to be will continue for the rest of your life. That this contentment, this fruitful, carefree relationship will last and that troubles aren’t ones to worry about at all. This lie you told yourself that he could never hurt you, it was that very thought that did instead.

So perhaps it were true. Maybe first love never does die. What dies instead was that very mirage, this belief that it’ll continue to be a fantasy just as how it started. Because love never was a fantasy to begin with. It wasn’t how you came to be, or how magical it seems to someone who hears your story. It was how you hold on, how you never take your hands off theirs no matter how much the winds pull you apart. For so long as it continues to bring out the most beautiful version of yourself, love was holding on.

And for those years after your relationship, you did hold on. Both of you. With strengths unmatched by another. You held on.

You realized all that, this decision you ultimately made, a few months ago one night when you got a call from Steph when it should have been a call from Tim. But it wasn’t like you expected that latter at all. This happened one too many times than you would have hoped. But they said he was okay, just a little beaten up. He wouldn’t let the others touch him, however. That was when they called you.

You took a cab from your apartment, even when it costed a small fortune. You were worried, of course, but your hands weren’t shaking, your mind wasn’t a mess you no longer understood, your thoughts were coherent and still you could trail behind them with a red string attached to the back of your mind. All else was calm, as was the falling snow out the car window. You let that calmness get to you. You had to. Panicking wouldn’t do anyone any good. Especially not him.

You got to the manor with no one around to welcome you in save for the butler, which forced you to go straight up to Tim’s room, leave your coat by the rack. It was too early for the sun to be up, too late for it to stay that way for long. You hurried, stayed quiet, then you reached his room. You knocked no more than three times and opened the door without waiting for him to let you in.

They said he had been this way since the first incident, the one almost a year ago when he collapsed and ended up at the hospital. That at rough nights, times when his sharp eye wasn’t as sharp and movements not as quick, he refused to let anyone in for help. Maybe it was this denial that he was in need of any, denial that his lack of sleep and caffeine dependency was still a problem, or maybe he just didn’t want to trouble anyone. Though the same could be said for literally everyone else in the team. A lot of them get shot three times and brush it off just to save theatrics.

And maybe Tim was alright, better than the others let on, and it was because of that incident why they worry about him a lot more. Maybe this was just annoyance of that matter, his locking himself in his room even when a bullet wound over his shoulder so large was making his lips awfully pale and his skin an unnatural shade of white. Even when he didn’t need help, and in this case, he probably did, it didn’t mean you were going to leave him alone.

He was at the foot of his bed, back against the bed frame with a laptop in front of him, legs spread out relaxed and unbothered. Too relaxed, however, almost weak. And his eyes were droopy and low. He looked at you like he’d expected you to come, maybe even wanted to ask why it took you so long. But he didn’t say much. Nothing more than a faint hi spurred out his mouth.

You shut the door behind you and took off your shoes and your last layer of your sweater. When you stood close enough to see that the red stain on the bandage he put on himself wasn’t going to do him any good, you went straight to his bathroom, took out whatever kit he had lying around and settled on the floor right by his side.

“I’m fine, you know.”

“Shut up.”

You tried reaching for his bandage but he ended up grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“It’ll stop.”

“It won't if you don’t let me take care of it.”

Still, he held onto your hand, didn’t let it go even when it loosened, and you didn’t pull away either. Instead, you inched closer, tangled your fingers together so yours would rub calmingly against the back of his palm the way he often liked.

You didn’t know what movie he had on his laptop right then, and frankly you didn’t care much. When he’d loosened his hold on you just enough to let go and reach for a clean rag in his kit, his eye trailed back to the screen. His hand, however, stayed on your lap, lightly resting on your thigh.

His way of giving in. It was one of those days, as obvious as it was. Didn’t mean you weren’t there to annoy the hell out of him until it inevitably changes, or not. You just liked being around to make sure he’ll be okay. Often, he is.

You pulled on the hem of his shirt, and reluctantly, slowly, he sat up, didn’t take his eyes off his laptop and grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it off. You ignored that itch in your neck when he sat back down, lean abs rippling with his back crouched over.

You worked painfully slow, painful for you just as it was for him. His blood was everywhere, spilling out the bandage that had absorbed more of it than it should. You took it off, praising yourself for not taking another five minutes back at home doing whatever when it was apparent you should have gotten here two hours ago.

Like he expected some nagging remark out of you, he still couldn’t look you in the eye. And you, as frustrated as you were with him, opted not to say anything at all. You just took the rag and went to work, brushing it on the skin surrounding the wound red with the stains.

Nothing too lethal, though nothing you should ignore. You cleaned the rag and carefully, with the gentleness on your fingers you found to be present when you touched the most sensitive spots on him, you dabbed the cloth onto the wound, and with that, you found yourself sitting so close to his body, enough to smell the remnants of smoke from an exhaust pipe, probably from his bike, stained onto his bare neck.

No longer could you hear the movie that went on behind you, No matter how much noise there could have been, there was only silence, and with that silence there was that pull on your throat, one not too easily ignored unlike everything else you pushed to neglect.

Tim’s eyes were no longer on the screen, as it seemed when you glanced up to his face. There were on your hands, mesmerized by how soft you were touching him. Even with it just being a graze of your finger against his skin outside the wound, still it was this feathery touch, enough to have drowned him within a cloud’s misty bed.

It was, against your wishes, the kind of silence you wished wasn’t so deadly. Deathly silence, as you’ve come to learn, draws out the loudest voices in your head, thoughts in volumes you never would have otherwise comprehended. And there would be no ignoring them, not at that moment. And those thoughts lingered on the taste of his breath against your lips, his fingers that had went up from your clothed thigh to your cheek, brushing strands of your hair away even when they weren’t much a bother. They were on his hair, damp from sweat falling to his eyes. The smell of him, that mentioned smoke, the cologne he put on earlier that day, the natural musk of his scalp you once loved to revel in. It was the feel of his skin that seemingly grew warmer each second that passed.

You went on to clean the wound, even when your mind had long left that issue, though you convinced yourself it was reason enough for you to draw your head even closer. To have a better look at the wound. And at that, his face was close enough for you to hear the counts of his breaths.

Tim didn’t back away. He let you work, do whatever you wished with his chest without an ounce of protest.

Your other hand, the one without a rag to hide behind, finally found its way on his bare shoulder to hold onto when that hitch of your breath almost knocked you out cold, when at the faintest hover of his warm lips against your neck, the little trails of him cold on your skin.

You tried not to stop with the rag, but even that was hard to do. With your eyes closed shut, hands clenching to a fist just to have some kind of composure. Tim wasn’t pressing his lips against your skin enough to kiss it, to feel his tongue around it and send you to some heavenly descent. It was just there, barely even touching it, hovering so close enough to feel the chap of his dried lips but just not enough.

You almost clenched hard onto his shoulder when he breathed, hot against your skin, and continued to for so many more seconds.

Leaning into him would have been the easiest thing to do, to let his lips press hard onto your neck to leave marks, hand on your head tight enough to hold you in place.

But it was that knock on the door that pulled you both into the realities of what it was, or rather, what you weren’t. You didn’t kiss him that night, and since then, you never failed to ponder constantly on how you should have

That night was months ago.

Tonight, you hoped, that with every well-wishing angels and spirits there were, that with your hand on the doorknob, heart in your pocket, and breath held back for as long as it needed to be, that all this would only go as well as you’d hoped.

.

Tim:

He could smell the trouble he was in the moment she walked into his room unannounced. And only with her would it not bother him in the slightest, when if it were anyone else, he’d have sent them out his room three seconds after they’d barge in like that. She only knocked twice, just before she opened the door and walked in, thereby catching him in the middle of the untimely act of staying up past two in the morning, crouched over his desk so unhealthily bad for his spine that instinct screamed at him to sit up just to mellow down the eventual nagging.

But there wasn’t any of that, at least. “Hey,” she said, and she settled down with her jacket hung up on his door.

“You’re here late.”

“Figured you’d be up.”

“How’d you know?”

“I just did.”

Then he turned to his laptop, realized she knew because she saw his status was online, and that it didn’t have to take a detective or a best friend to figure that out. Tim stretched out his neck went back to focus on the screen. Thankfully, he wasn’t as bad as he used to, having a cup of freshly brewed coffee waiting for him at the side of his desk. Then, he’d never hear the end of it.

It was that kind of comfort, the same as having a hand to hold as you stared right into the eyes of an apocalypse or a face so beautiful to look at when all else around the world just seemed so wretchedly ugly, having her company even when it wasn’t to some necessary resort. She was just there, and her presence meant so much more than it should.

But he stayed calm, went on with his work, while she went over to his side looking over at the screen like it were any interesting. It wasn’t. Not for anyone who looked at excel files and felt the need to throw up.

A hand on top of his shoulder, however, loosened some tight knots on his arm, tensions he didn’t even know was there. He didn’t flinch nor move, though his fingers at the keys stopped for a moment, especially when she rubbed her palm over his clothes to ease even more of the tensions within him until he felt nothing less than jelly.

“What are you doing here?”

A snicker out of her proved she didn’t take that as much offence.

���Is it so hard to believe I just wanted to visit?”

“At this time of night?”

“Not like it’s any trouble, or the first time.”

“Last time, it was an emergency. I told you not to take cabs this late.”

“Tim, I’m fine. I just wanted to stay over.”

“And you’re welcome to, but you should have called. I’d have picked you up.”

Even if she called at five am asking him to take her out of town to pick up some paint or whatever just five minutes after his head would have hit a pillow, he’d do just that. She knew that right?

“You want me to come here less often?”

“No.” He leaned back on his chair, tipped his head up so he was seeing her face so gracefully smiling down at him. Immediately the sting on his eyelids that have long pained him since midnight have gone out the window. And with a smile, all else was as soft as the cloud at the end of some metaphorical window. “Stay. But come over when it’s still early.”

“Fine,” Y/N said. “I will.”

As if she heard his wishes for her to never take her hand off his shoulder, she listened. And she just stood there, silently at his side watching him go on about things she didn’t even understand. Or perhaps he wasn’t giving her enough credit. Either way, it was boring as hell.

Her finger tightened.

“What are you doing?”

“Just…” he shrugged. “You know. Work. You wouldn’t be wanna hear about any of this.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Just as he began to internally whine when she finally let go of her hold, to say he was soothed enough to close his eyes and just feel how wonderful her fingers felt, tangling themselves into the mess of his hair and drawing it to the back of his head, he didn’t want to be so obvious with his shivers, which were definitely there.

“But whatever that is,” she continued. “I promise you it’s nothing worth losing hours of sleep over.”

“I know I should listen to you more often, but trust me, I really have to get this done.”

“Really” she sneered. “Tonight, tonight?”

“Three hours ago, in fact.”

Telling her all this would be as useless as outrightly pleading that she leave him alone, which he definitely won't do, and she definitely won't listen to.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch me work?”

“If it puts any pressure on you to just leave it and come to bed, then yes. I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Want me to get a chair?”

“Don’t. Stand there. I dare you.”

“Watch me.”

Another run of her fingers through his hair and already he lost his streak of thought.

And it would have been all too painful if he went on to fight back that sneer, which he hadn’t realized had been there at all until he had to. Leaning towards his screen, fingers on the keys, he tried, with all his might, to just get this all done. Then he can stop dragging her along this nocturnal hell she’d come to adapt from him.

He kept working, and for a few minutes, he actually did get lost in it, even when he felt the back of his head being toyed around with her tying little braids over his neck, his bangs, the strands of hair that had grown too long. Hand over his mouth, he just glanced up through his side eye, and with her too engrossed on the braids she didn’t see him stop tapping altogether and watch her move.

Something he hadn’t expected, his whole body didn’t expect, or at all foresee even with the kind of intimacy he was used to, was when her hands that touched his neck, first with her measly tips of her fingers and eventually with her hands, had trailed down his broad shoulders, squeezing at the muscle and bone.

And her gentleness, the same that catered to wounds and held him like a faint, thin blanket would fall onto his skin, every hair on him raised, every part of him stiffened.

Every part of him stiffened. Not one left out.

She just went on. And on and on and on. Fingers down the sides of his neck, leaving faint white trails and nail marks down his shoulders and all the way back up his ears. His breath caught so short, every muscle in him so tense at the same time so awfully relaxed he might as well have fallen to the ground.

The thought of work didn’t dare cross his mind for a second after that. So what if he loses half a million tomorrow?

Those same hands, now squeezing the sides of his arms, were reeling him in like a caught salmon. Nothing else would have drawn him in so much, not even the devil himself. His fingers left the keyboard.

And just as he leaned back enough to startle her, Tim grabbed her wrists, pulled them across his neck so she was embracing him. Her stomach against the back of his head, and her face, like a bright yellow star smiling down at him from miles above, was looking directly below. Her smile was incomparable, even more so when she drew her hair back and the light allowed him more of her he never would have forgotten about anyway.

And he smiled back, made sure she couldn’t draw her arms away, then when she dipped down, his mouth met her cheek. She wasn’t bothered at the slightest. It only made the stretch on her cheeks from her smile more apparent.

Her hair, the sweet strands of daisies and lemon, pressed up against his skin as she leaned down, her face almost all the way down his shoulder. He held onto her arm as if to urge her to stay, to go further against him, to stand even closer so he could have even more of her than he already has, than he possibly can.

Tim stuck his nose against her scalp, just beside her ear, and breathed in. It tickled her enough to flinch, but not enough to let go of his tight hold.

It was mistake enough for him to open his eyes and repress all the other senses he had, the senses that mattered if he wanted to have her even more, he had to look onto the screen that had gone black, where it was no more than a dark mirror, one that stared back at him so painfully haunting.

He stared at her, holding him so intimately close, face stuck to his cheek and her lips leaving trails of her gentleness against his flushed skin. He stared at himself, and how he could just allow her to do all that and more, and not move so much as a finger, how he’d let her do anything to him, hurt him even, so long as she wanted him to.

How cruel she was, and how cruel he was to himself, to let her kiss and hold him like this, when they were supposed to be just friends, best friends, knowing how he felt, knowing how she affects him. How cruel of this world, and how he let those cruelties allow to consume him too much, rid him of any rational thought that when he wakes up that very morning and have to face the world again, she might end up choosing one of his brothers. How cruel it all was, for the world to let his hopes up, and for him to just let it. Allowing himself, and all others, to haul him straight to an inevitable world of hurt, and how for a few minutes of consuming bliss, having her so close to him that he could smell her hair and taste her skin, he was heading straight for that hurt himself.

Best friends don’t have boundaries, or lack of there is, like theirs. Which made all this even more painful. Best friends don’t hug and kiss and squeeze each other’s shoulders the way she just did. He should push her away, go back to work, let her sleep on his bed while he works away the night, and all this would be gone.

But all he did, regretfully, was close his eyes, eased into her like she were a bed of daisies and tulips and lilies, flowers without thorns to possibly stab him. Her lips, so gentle and soft, pressed themselves against the tip of his forehead and he felt her smile.

He kissed her wrist. Maybe it was a step too close, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He’d get lost in her and tomorrow he’ll never find a way out of it, out of all this mess, but he’d have brought it to himself. For these slow-moving minutes, it might not even be worth it. But he could convince himself that it was.

“Go to bed,” he whispered, far too intimately against her ear. He felt her stiffen. Did he have to whisper? No. Was it intentional? Perhaps.

He got a giggle out of her, a tug on his hair, and even more squeezes on the spaces between his shoulder and neck. This was getting way too touchy. Even for them. She hasn’t touched him like this in years.

And still, he allowed her to.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won't.”

The way her arms slid off him, even that felt so wonderful, against the clothes on his chest and the skin that seeped out his collar. His hands were reluctant to let her go, even to his own subconscious, and he only knew because the air never felt colder than when she’d fully withdrawn and no longer could he feel the heat of her chest pressed against his back.

He didn’t look up from his screen, but the work had long passed his head. He stared at it, everything this blank that couldn’t even be drawn, and let the silence overtake all thought.

.

You:

It was greatly inappropriate in just about every way imaginable.

Was it wrong to hold him like that, when not even you could talk yourself out of your own tempting voice and letting your nails dig into his shoulder, and lean in so your lips would reach his skin? Was it so over the line, a line you drew yourself that had long been vulnerable to a few slip ups?

Perhaps it was. Perhaps you were wrong that he might still want you the way you wanted him right then. Perhaps he did just want to stay friends, forever, and what you did might have been the end of all that. Start another fight, ignore each other for another few weeks.

You won't allow that. Not after your last fight, when you finally had it in you to tell him about Jason and it turns out, he already knew, the days and weeks of silence that followed after might have been the hardest to climb out of. For both of you.

But as it always has, it all fell right back into place. This place. This comfort not even the fuzz of a carpet laid in front of a nipping fireplace could give you. This place in his bed, and how you could just lay on it without a single shift in the air. How easily you just took off your prosthetic and showed him the worst parts of you, the worst parts you thought of yourself, and how he didn’t see them as the worst at all.

You truly did not deserve this kind of forgiveness, this kind of place with him, when you’ve had your share of mistakes just as much as he did. That silence that followed after reassured you that you cannot, even if you desperately tried to, live without Tim.

You laid on his bed, stripped to the thinnest clothing you had on and settled under the sheets. It wasn’t long before you heard him shut off his laptop, push back his seat. And with you facing away to the other side of the bed, you saw the lights turn off, then he got into bed beside you.

Then your eyes were on the ceiling, for you just couldn’t have the strength to face him, not when he was that close, and not when you, of all times, had doubts to go through with what you truly wanted. And what you wanted was him. After all that chaos, all that betrayal and hurt, was it right to give this one last try?

Tim was looking up at the ceiling as well, hands over his stomach. He was just as stiff as you.

But as easy as it was to forgive each other, it all molded back into this state of rightness, like this was exactly how things were supposed to be. Nothing to change. Nothing was supposed to change.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

His voice, even as a whisper, sounded a lot clearer with the lights off somehow. All you could see was the ceiling. You couldn’t even see his face.

“I’m sorry about everything…”

Some kind of click, but not even that could be heard. You just felt it. Somewhere. There was something about the air that was this sudden gust against your skin, up your face to let you know, much like a slap would remind you, of where you were.

“I’m sorry about… everything else...” he said.

Why wasn’t he turning over his stomach, falling asleep just as soon as his head hit the pillow just like he always does? Why was he still talking? Why was he still wide awake?

“You should sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

That was, in all honesty, the first time you’ve ever heard him say that and sound like he genuinely meant it.

“I’m not, either,” you said. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Maybe we should at least try to sleep.”

“That’s big of you to tell me that.”

“You’re the one who came all the way here,” he scowled.

“Fine, then if you don’t want me around-“

“Dude, come on

The snort that came out of your nose was not pretty at all, but neither was his own laugh that followed, one made even more resonant and mesmerizing to listen to with the darkness and the silence and how the only thing you could feel was how your toes were touching under the sheets.

That pulled you on your side, facing away from the boring ceiling and at the beauty that was Tim, how at the same time, he turned to face you as well. Hands tucked under your head, and his grabbing hold of the sheets, you were looking at him too obviously engrossed with that mistiness of how undeniably in love you were with him, even without so much as a touch out of your finger. You let your eyes do the touching. And with the way he looked back at you, you’d never seen a sight as perfect as his eyes. Even without much light, even with the details barely seen. You just knew he looked beautiful.

“So now you want me to come over at night and bug you at the expense of the company.”

“The company can afford the expenses,” he shrugged.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Kind of unfair how I’m the only one to visit.”

“Your studio doesn’t exactly scream office workplace environment.”

You shoved his shoulder, right where the healing bullet wound was, and you heard him hiss. “Ass.”

“You're an ass.”

His laughter again. It was so easy to fall into and keep your silence just so you’d hear more of it each time.

He was closer to you. Somehow. Between his exchanges and the distraction of his own voice, he’d inched himself even closer. Near enough now that you could see his lips and how his breath tasted.

You just kept smiling, like it just couldn’t wear off even if you tried, and slowly you reached for the collar of his shirt, thin against his hot skin. And with that you found him staring down at your hand, watching you do just that.

“I’ll go to your place,” he sighed. “Take the work home. I’m sure they won't miss me.”

“Tim, I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

You laughed and pushed your face against the pillow, which grazed his nose against your ear.

“Would you like that?”

“Hmm?”

A strand of your hair had fallen over your cheek. He brushed it back before you even had time to notice it was there.

“Me? Coming over to your place a lot to work?”

Your lips were dry. Your fists were not. You shouldn’t be nearly as relaxed as you are right then.

“Of course…”

“No, I mean…”

He moved, so much closer to you, then his hand was on your arm. The one right above your waist.

“I mean everyday… or at least, a lot of the time.”

His thumb, brushing over your skin. You never knew a sensation could be so addicting.

And your voice, snatched out of your throat. You never knew such a thing could happen after just a sentence.

“All those nights at the office, when I should have spent all that time with you, or even just answer your calls…”

Your own hand was against his chest now. It wasn’t pushing him away. It was just there, touching him. And you wouldn’t let it slip.

“None of it was worth it…” Again, his fingers brushed back your hair, but even after he did, he went on to hover them over your cheek. “And I was stupid enough to choose something else. But I should have chosen you. Always. Just like you’ve always chosen me.”

You swallowed and hoped it worked for the tears as well. “Tim, that was a long time ago-“

“I’ve never regretted anything more…”

Everything had stopped, even your own breath. You never thought so much could be caught at your through, especially all coherent thought. This cycle of a life, how it had all boiled down to one mistake. Finally, it came to a full circle.

“Are you okay with that?”

To have you all day? The way it was supposed to years ago? So I never would have had to lose you in the first place?

With the whole of my heart, definitely.

“I’d like that…” you said. “Very much.”

You didn’t even care if he felt you cry, with his hand over your face. This sense of security that wasn’t false in the least, this curtain you can always hide behind and fall back to when the world constantly would pull you down. It was his touch, like that very moment, that held you so gently not even a kiss from the kindest butterfly, trusting you with its fragility as it lands onto your skin could possibly compare.

You love him.

You love him.

You love him.

You cupped his face, just as his other arm snaked below your head so he was pulling you so deathly close. His strong arms now around you, encasing you in him, the way you always sought out to be held. Only with him did it feel so right. To move closer, to have your limbs tangled, to exchange breaths and look into each other’s eyes and see everything there was about him.

It took too long, possibly because all this had come too much to process, even with it so long overdue.

The harps that played beyond the sky and resonated only to you and your ears alone, it was all the more apparent, all the more did the songs of angels sing to every sense they could possibly pick up. It took too long, just staring into each other’s eyes in such darkness when you weren’t supposed to see anything at all, when your lips met.

The softness. The crashing waves. The sweet, serenity of silk. And the blow of the strongest gust of wind. It was all that at once.

.

Tim:

This was everything his dreams have come to remember and continue to remind him every time he allows himself to sleep. Her lips, her soft, perfect lips. None of what he said was a lie. None of it was worth losing this. Losing her.

Everything, the whole room, the ceiling, the sky outside his window, the floor under the bedframe, the winds even with the still air. Everything. Everything moved. Everything was spinning. Everything was revolving around them. Everything moved but time, the only one that wasn’t frantic enough to keep moving, perhaps even move faster. He could hear the seconds tick away but none of that even made it past his ear drums.

Finally. Finally.

One hand on her face, the other on her waist, Tim pulled her even closer so he’d feel her heart beat, the only thing he wanted to listen to from then on. Everything was spinning but he couldn’t care less if it was a quake in the fault lines. He was there. She was there.

Their lips moved like two petals of a single flower, moving to the wind’s blow and so delicately touching, not enough to hurt but enough to show the sheer amount of want that had long been held off.

Like everything, the whole world, no matter how much his mistakes had sought out to destroy it, to destroy everything he’s ever wanted, it was all kind enough to forgive him, to forgive both of them. Even with a world so seemingly irreparable, they were back in each other’s arms, in a hold tighter than ever before. And he wasn’t about to let go for as long he was strong enough to keep holding on.

He gently pulled away, just to look at her in the eye.

Because maybe, this was all just for the moment. Maybe this was just the world’s way of letting him know what he’ll ultimately lose and miss out on. Maybe, all this was just to last for the night, and nothing more.

But that look in her eye was unmistakable. So was the way she tugged on his hair. I love you. I want you. I’m yours. That’s what she was telling him. And it was everything he ever wanted to hear.  

He kissed her again and rolled her to her back, lips pressing harder, fingers digging deeper.

This. He had her. She’d chosen him. Always and always and always. She chose him.

That spinning went on, everything around them, until the world was a blur not one of them could care less about. Everything his eyes set out to see that wasn’t her body, he ignored. The sound of her breathing and whispering against his ear, the feel of her hands roaming all over his chest. Nothing else but her and her alone. He pulled his shirt off, just as her teeth dug deep into his collarbone. Her. Her. Her.

All her clothes were on the floor. Her breathing turned to moans, which turned to screams when his hand reached down between her legs and drew the sounds out of her. Then it was his own sounds, sounds he never even heard out of himself until right then, at the sharp pain just as he was inside her. It was all too slow, rolling his hips in this pace he wanted to go faster and faster but even then, he took his time.

.

You:

In every way was it the most beautiful thing to have. To be one with him. You were one. You were beautiful. You were this infinite, untouchable being.

His teeth on your neck, biting down just to hold himself up from his own thrusts. Euphoric. Lights that flickered like strings and series. Then you tried to repress all that by kissing him. It only did so much.

You were lost, so deep into corners of rooms and halls not even the sharpest eye could find you in. This galaxy you could swim into, without a tie to confine you or a cage to hold you back. Your deepest, most carnal desires all bundled into this moment of want and eventual, satisfying end, which could only be such an end if you wanted it to be. And you didn’t want it to end. Even as you screamed his name like nothing could ever hear you. Everything in you tightened. Everything letting go of what so long was held back. All the while, your arms were around him, lips against his. He let go as well. Inside you.

Until the sun came to greet you, that night went on like it was otherwise endless. That night didn’t end the moment it was day. It ended when you say it ended.

A beginning and an ending, and only good things, as you hoped, would come after it.

And in between those wonderful sessions of love, you asked him to be yours. Forever. And a promise to no longer let go.

Lucky for you, he said yes.

.

Epilogue

Tim:

“Yeah. We can get rid of the couch. No one sits there anyway. Yes, everything goes on that side of the room.”

There were three men handling the couch. The other two were busy cleaning what used to be a cement wall and was now a glass sliding door that parted two rooms. The new tiles had just been set up, and all that was needed was furniture. Which wasn’t even much.

It was hard enough trying to ward her off with the dumbest excuses he could think of, but it wouldn’t have lasted longer than a week. Today, she comes over, with it being barely presentable. But he was too excited to hold it off even longer.

Y/N stepped into his office and almost broke the knob off after seeing the unfinished construction site of what used to be just his office.

‘What’s going on?’ She mouthed at him. He waved her to come over, and after carefully making her way across the dusty tiles, she kissed the corner of his mouth.

“You’re looking good,” he smiled.

“What’s all this?”

“Something that was supposed to be all done by today, but with the wiring problem, this is all the surprise will have to suffice.”

“Surprise?”

“Come on.”

Hand on her back, he led her to the glass door and stepped into the newly renovated room, one so bare and so empty, without a desk or a love seat in sight, she marveled all the way up to the ceiling.

“This,” he said. “Is your new studio.”

He should have pulled out his phone at the way her jaw dropped.

“My what?”

“I know what I said about working over at your place.” He held her waist, pulled her close enough so she wouldn’t shake. “But I wanted to do something for you. We can go both ways. Some days we work here and some, we go over to your house.”

“Tim, this is twice the size of my apartment.”

She probably hadn’t listened to a word he said, with her still stuck up on how high the ceiling was.

“Check out the best part.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small remote.

What was just a wall, which led to the outside, parted into two, separate doors, and it opened into a window looking down from so immensely high up the city, with the cars below the size of matchboxes and people of ants.

“I think I just pissed myself.”

Tim laughed, again, then pulled her waist once more so she could only look at his eyes.

“I just want to be around you. Every day. I’m not letting you out of my sight anymore.”

“You’re sexy when you show off how rich you are.”

“If you said that any sooner, I’d have bought you a whole island.”

Arms encasing him close, she kissed him so perfectly like those very same petals that would have wilted without their eternal companion.

“Now come on,” she pulled away too soon and he mewled. “You promised me a ride.”

All the way to the elevator, and even within, she never loosened her hold on his hand. And she led him up the rooftop like it was her who owned the place. And that smile was palpable, the one that beamed when he watched her pull him to wherever she wanted to take him. As they opened the doors up the rooftop, already the helicopter’s propellers were whirring. She’d call them before she arrived, of course. She was too excited to waste any more time.

To reach such a high, if it were in any way something he could touch, it was her many kisses, her soft touches, her smiles and her laughs and the little details he’d never miss.

Then they soared, to such heights unexplainable.

-----

MASTERLIST |  3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | BLUE

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[hermannsthumb]

established relationship prompt: "Newton, darling, would you be a dear and eat my arse?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMANN!!! obvious maybe but not sfw below the cut lmaoooo. WHEW I managed to finish by midnight!

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

Birthdays have never really been the sort of thing Hermann has cared much about. Growing up, they were largely uneventful and unexciting, mostly ignored (if not outright forgotten) by his family, and in adulthood mostly ignored and forgotten by Hermann himself. After all, it’s become rather difficult to look forward to the passing of another year when the odds are growing exponentially higher humanity won’t live to see another, and equally difficult to celebrate the extension of one’s life when so many others have been lost. The very notion makes Hermann feel guilty. For those reasons Hermann has never marked his birthday down on a calendar in his time at the Shatterdome in any capacity, nor has he verbally acknowledged it to anyone. Certainly not to Newton.

It makes the hand-drawn card and small cake he finds on his desk the morning of June 9th all the more surprising. He does not need to read the card to know who the gifts are from. Newton’s distinctive handwriting and little crayon-doodled kaijus aside, Newton is quite obviously watching Hermann over his workbench for his reactions as Hermann inspects the cake. “How did you know?” Hermann finally says.

Newton feigns looking up at him in surprise. “Know what?” he says.

Hermann waves the card. “That it’s my,” he pauses, then continues, his mouth curling down with distaste at the word, “birthday?”

“Lucky guess,” Newton says. Hermann taps his finger impatiently on his cane, and Newton begins to tug off his work gloves with an eye roll. “Okay, I maaaaybe snooped through some of your employee records a little while back. But it was for totally valid reasons, dude. Relationship status, number one, birthday number two. How else was I gonna know all the important shit about you?”

“You could’ve asked,” Hermann says. He supposes this must’ve occurred right before Newton approached him in the laboratory a few months ago and asked him if he’d like to have sex. Hermann didn’t regret saying no at the time, and he still doesn’t, really, but he should’ve known Newton would be the…sentimental sort. Too affection-starved to let their convenient arrangement remain just that. At least he hasn’t thrown Hermann a party. “Besides. Did it ever occur to you I was keeping such things private for a reason?”

“You keep everything private,” Newton says. “I don’t even know your favorite color.”

“Most people don’t,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, but, you’re not—” Newton shakes his head, and lowers his voice, “—sleeping with most people. I mean, maybe you are, I don’t know, do whatever you want, man. I just mean—I want to know shit about you. Like your birthday. Since we’re—yeah.”

“I see.” Hermann sniffs. “Well. How terribly considerate of you.”

The sarcasm is unfortunately lost on Newton; he merely preens, and grins at Hermann, happy even to accept the smallest inkling of a compliment. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, what do you want to do tonight?”

Hermann expects he will do what he always does tonight, which is work late, eat dinner (usually cold by the time he clocks out) late, shower (also cold by the time he clocks out), and then go to bed. Though he supposes he’ll have to figure out what to do with the absurd little cake by then, as he doesn’t have a refrigerator in his bunk in which to store it. “Nothing much, I imagine,” he says.

“Really?” Newton says. “I was thinking we could wrap up early and head out somewhere fun for dinner. I was Googling cool places nearby that haven’t been, like, destroyed by kaiju yet. Or we could just get drinks. Or I also have drinks back in my room, and we could order pizza or something, so we don’t have to go out at all.”

“We?” Hermann says. Of course, Hermann ought to have known that sentimentality would also dictate he and Newton spend Hermann’s birthday together. All on account of a few, er, stress-relieving and completely emotionless liaisons every now and then. None of Hermann’s previous sexual partners (a rare handful, but existent nonetheless) have ever insisted on spending his birthday with him, and they’ve certainly never bought Hermann a card or cake, either. It would feel far too—well—intimate. What Hermann would only expect from a long-term partner. It’s really rather presumptuous of Newton to assume Hermann has any interest in celebrating with him. “Newton, really, it’s not—”

“Or we don’t have to have dinner at all,” Newton says quickly. “You could come over, and we can just…”

Do what they typically do when Hermann goes to Newton’s bunk, he expects. Hermann clears his throat. “You really have done quite enough for me already today,” he says. "I don't think—well—" He fidgets, scraping his cane across the floor, glancing back down at the cake and card. Newton has clearly handmade the cake as well: the frosting is colored a rather eye-searing shade of blue, layered on messily, and the Happy Birthday Hermann! written in yellow across it is cramped at the end, as if Newton did a poor job of space management. It is rather sweet of him. Hermann finds his heart softening just a bit towards his odd lab partner. "Oh, alright," he says, and Newton perks up happily. "But I'd rather not do anything too, er, fancy for dinner."

"Ha!" Newton says. "Awesome! Come over at six?"

Six means that Hermann will have to leave the laboratory no later than fifty-thirty if he wishes to shower and prepare himself for any sort of activity that may arise between them while they sit alone in Newton's bunk. Five-fifteen, if Hermann is being realistic, as he knows he will spend at least twenty minutes fussing over his appearance (wondering if he ought to shave away the few almost-clear pieces of stubble on his chin, smoothing back his hair, critically eyeing up his bony chest) as he always does upon the evenings when Newton invites him over. Hermann would like to protest and remind Newton that he does need to get some work done, but he really can't find it in himself, especially not when he knows Newton will put up a fuss and try to argue Hermann out of it anyway. "Six," Hermann agrees. He supposes he could use an early night in. Besides, it might be nice to treat his birthday as something special this year.

-------

Hermann arrives at Newton's bunk promptly at six. In lieu of dinner, which Hermann did not really expect they would be having, Newton (stripped down to a faded pair of boxer shorts and a white undershirt) leads Hermann over to his bed, sets his cane aside, lays him on his back, and begins to kiss him before either of them exchange a single word. It's rather more gently than Hermann is used to from Newton. Their liaisons are typically of the fast and rough sort, spurned on by fierce arguments and a need to outdo each other in everything, even sex. He can't say gentle doesn't feel nice. "What do you want to do?" Newton mumbles against his mouth.

"Do?" Hermann says. Are they not already doing something?

As Newton begins to kiss and stroke his fingers across Hermann's neck, Hermann finds his gaze wandering to the cinderblock ceiling of Newton's bunk. Everything feels rather nice and hazy. Newton's skin is warm and still slightly damp from a shower of his own, and each time Hermann inhales, he is nearly overwhelmed by the strong scent of Newton's body wash, unique, as far as Hermann knows, to only him on the Shatterdome base. Newton scorns the standard PPDC-issued kind, claiming that it irritates his skin, and so orders his own online once every few months. A funny little habit of his. Hermann is far less picky. "You're the birthday boy," Newton says. He flicks open Hermann's top button and nips at his collarbone. "Do you want to fuck me tonight? Or I could fuck you?" He speaks in short bursts, sentences stolen between pecks to Hermann's lips and punctuated by further nips to Hermann's throat. "I know we've only done it those ways a few times. But it's, like, a special occasion. And we have lots of time. I got new lube. Just in case. It got good reviews online?"

Hermann shivers pleasantly each time Newton says fuck. Newton's voice is far from sensual, Hermann must admit, but he is bold in voicing those sorts of desires in a way Hermann could never hope to be, and so it affects him as if Newton had purred the words. He secretly loves how crass Newton can be in bed—begging Hermann to fuck him harder, telling Hermann how much he loves fucking him, gripping at Hermann's hair and whining fuck, fuck, fuck while Hermann works his mouth over Newton as best he can. Hermann is not sure what he wants, and he's not sure what he wants from Newton tonight, either. "I don't know," he confesses. Newton kisses his mouth again, pressing his tongue in clumsily, and Hermann's eyelids flutter, the ceiling growing hazy. "Newton," he groans.

Newton's breaths are coming out in short, excited pants, and his fingers fumble over the next button on Hermann's shirt. Hermann suddenly feels foolish for changing into a fresh shirt and pair of slacks after his shower and not just his pajamas as Newton has. Foolish, and impatient with himself. It'll take Newton longer to strip him down to his bare skin.

"If you don't want to do all that I could just jerk us off a little," Newton says. He inches his hand down to the front of Hermann's slacks, rubbing against Hermann's zipper as clumsily as he'd kissed him. It's far too rough and graceless to be truly arousing, but it's Newton doing it to him, so Hermann pushes into his palm anyway. He feels Newton smile against his skin. "Or anything. Seriously. I wanna, like, make you feel good."

At once Hermann knows what he wants, and the need for it seizes him so tightly that he flushes brilliantly and bites down on his lip to keep from blurting it out and making a fool of himself. (It would hardly be healthy for Newton's already inflated ego if he knew just how badly Hermann wants him.) Newton has done it for him only two or three—well, three or four—times before, and each time has left Hermann an incoherent, trembling wreck upon the sheets. And no one does it to him the way Newton does; their arrangement is not technically monogamous, as that would require an admission of deeper feelings which neither of them are willing to make (and which are entirely nonexistent on Hermann's part), but Hermann has long since stopped seeking sex from anyone but Newton after a disappointing experience with a handsome j-tech who simply had no idea how to use his mouth effectively. Hermann likes to think Newton's is more skilled for the sheer fact that he never stops running it. "Newton," he says, falsely calm, stammering only slightly when Newton gropes at the length of his prick through his layers. "Newton, would you—would you be a dear, and eat my arse? Of course," he adds in a rush, "if it's too much trouble, don't—"

"Dude, of course," Newton says, smiling down so sweetly at Hermann that Hermann's heart twists in his chest. "No problem. I have the extra pillows in my closet, lemme get them." He slips to his feet, but hesitates. "Do you want to me finish—I mean, like, your shirt, and your pants, and—"

"I can do it," Hermann says.

Newton nods, and stumbles over to his closet to dig around for the spare pillows while Hermann makes fast work of his clothing. He finds himself strangely unwilling to part with his undershirt tonight. Not out of any lack of desire for Newton to see him naked, but rather out of a strange bashfulness at the idea of being fully on display for him. Which is really quite silly of Hermann. Newton has seen him naked countless times, both in his own bed and in the laboratory decontamination shower after some (Newton-induced) accident or another. It is only when Newton returns with the pillows that Hermann finally tosses the undershirt to the floor with the rest of his clothing. He's embarrassed to see his pink flush spreading down his bare chest, and hopes Newton does not notice it. What on Earth is wrong with him tonight? "You look hot," Newton says, sweeping his eyes up and down Hermann's body. He's still wearing his glasses. "Um. Pillows?"

"Yes," Hermann says.

Newton arranges the pillows in the way he and Hermann typically do when they engage in this particular activity, with enough support beneath Hermann's lower back, left hip, and left knee that he won't strain himself. As he parts Hermann's thighs and kneels between them, Hermann suddenly wishes that he was laying on his stomach instead. He does not want to watch Newton, nor does he want Newton to be able to watch him, for he feels twice as aroused and twice as overwhelmed tonight and he's sure neither will help that; the idea of falling apart under Newton's gaze is so tremendously mortifying that he almost asks Newton to turn him over. But then Newton is pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, and dragging his marvelous tongue across the sensitive skin there, behind Hermann's prick... "Oh, Newton," Hermann gasps, and Newton gently tucks Hermann's right leg over his shoulder, "oh, yes, Newton—"

He hides his whimpers behind his left hand as Newton licks and mouths at him hungrily, and fists his right hand in Newton's hair when Newton curls the tip of his tongue and begins to tease at him. "More," Hermann begs, breathless, pressing himself down on Newton's tongue to feel as much of it as he possibly can. His prick is stiff against his stomach. Newton laughs, and Hermann feels it vibrate within him. "Ah—more, please—"

"Uh-huh," Newton says. His glasses are fogging and crooked on his nose, and when he nods they slip down a centimeter. His tongue prods more insistently at Hermann, almost (but not quite) hard enough to breach into him, and Hermann bites down on his knuckles to contain another whimper. Newton hasn't even put a single bloody finger in him yet, and Hermann needs to calm himself down if he wishes to last until he does.

Then Newton sucks at him, moaning, and (his back arching, his eyelids fluttering) Hermann finds himself unable to hold off any longer. He squeezes his thighs on either side of Newton's head and cries out, "Newton—"

Newton swoops up to catch his release in his waiting mouth and swallows it all down. He presses a kiss to Hermann's inner thigh as Hermann trembles and shakes, and Hermann feels rather than hears him mumble something into his skin he can't quite make out. He follows it with another kiss, sweeter than the last, before crawling back up and dropping next to Hermann on the mattress. He watches Hermann catch his breath with soft eyes. "Please," Hermann says when he finds himself able. His voice is terrifically hoarse. "Let me—for you—" He gestures vaguely at the front of Newton's boxers and hopes Newton understands what he means.

But Newton shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it. I know how lazy you get after you finish."

Hermann feels as if he ought to be affronted, but Newton says it with such obvious affection, and strokes his fingers through Hermann's sweat-damp hair so soothingly Hermann can do nothing but lean in to his touch happily. And Newton is not wrong, really. Hermann's eyelids are already beginning to droop. He imagines he'll be dozing any minute now. Newton winds an arm around his shoulders and draws him closer, and Hermann nearly shivers from the warmth his body exudes. "Thank you," Hermann murmurs. He's about to lay his head on Newton's shoulder and allow himself to doze when he realizes he ought to ask for permission first. Newton may still wish to go out to the mess hall and eat dinner, after all, and he may not want Hermann hanging around here. "Er—I don't suppose you would consider letting me sleep here? Only for tonight."

"Of course, dude," Newton says. "Not just tonight, any time you want. Seriously. I'm kinda—well, nevermind." He presses a kiss to Hermann's temple, and Hermann does not find out what he kind of is. "Happy birthday."

"Mm," Hermann says, shutting his eyes.

Newton strokes his hair until he falls asleep.

[unokins]

No Truth Left - part 3

CW: Violence, body malformation

Link to Archive

Not even a second of deliberation and Chie ran for the caves. The collapsing house was a certain dead end. At least she could hope for safety in the twisting tunnels. Her lungs burned and legs ached as she stumbled past the cave's mouth.

A jutting rock caught her foot. Chie fell with a hard thud, hands scraping on the black stone. The squelching pattering and inhuman grunting grew louder. 

The ground in front of her dropped away to a steep, almost vertical slope. Darkness veiled the descent. If she jumped and broke her leg- or worse, her back- Chie glanced behind her, and a thick shadow stretched across the ground outside. 

"Oh God, oh God." Chie pulled herself behind a box, drawing her knees up. She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears, as if that would protect her.

It's following your footprints. The masculine derision rang in her ears and Chie's eyes snapped open. Who kept talking!?

No one else hid nearby, but the mud from her shoes stamped the ground, advertising her position like a giant, pointing arrow. The stench of rotting fish rolled off the figure as it approached. 

Even if you ran deeper into the caves, it'll follow. It knows your smell.

"Please, help me," Chie tried to say but the words stuck in her throat. All that escaped was a feeble whimper. Tears stung her eyes. She was going to die.

If we want to survive, you need to act. See that bottle? To your left?

Chie's head twitched, eyes alighting on an empty beer bottle. Its bottom had broken off in jagged pieces. Slowly, she nodded.

Pick it up by the neck. And get ready.

"I- I can't." Fear gripped Chie with icy fingers, nails digging into her muscles and freezing her to the spot. Her arm twitched uselessly.

Foreign frustration hit her like a sucker punch. Chie squirmed against it. If you don't fight back, the best you can hope for is a quick death. The voice growled animalistically, words reverberating in Chie's head. And I'm not letting your ineptitude kill me. Now pick up the fucking bottle. And get. Ready.

The shock of the rage, of feeling it like a writhing parasite from within, jolted Chie into grabbing the bottle and lifting it up, holding it awkwardly like a club. The alien emotion faded, leaving Chie with her own fear.

There you go, it purred sardonically. When I say go, jump up and attack it.

"How? What do I-" A foot slapped down in front of Chie.

It didn't look like something out of a horror movie. The horror movies she watched with her roommate didn't come close to capturing the grotesque- had never elicited such a visceral fear response from her. 

The foot was bloated like a corpse's, mottled blue and green scales bulging at irregular intervals. The skin under was a ghastly gray, dark purple veins threading across it. Instead of nails, chipped, black claws adorned the webbed foot and scraped the ground. As the thing shifted its weight, water oozed from between the cloudy scales like puss.

Go!

She forgot how to breathe, couldn’t pull her eyes from the horrific foot. Even as it loomed over her. Closer. A long, webbed hand reached for her.

Damn you, girl!

Chie's legs reacted without her. Her knees snapped straight, rocketing her up. Gripping the bottle tight, she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed as she swung it. Shattering glass filled her ears, echoing through the cave, and the creature screeched in pain. A crack, a thump. Chie stood there, arm raised, entire body shaking. She gripped the broken bottle like a drowning woman held a piece of driftwood. Something wet dripped down her arm.

You need to open your eyes.

"Just-" hoarse, caught in her throat. Chie coughed. "Just tell me what happened."

I can't if your eyes are closed.

That made no sense. Chie didn't move.

Open your eyes now. Whoever was talking was losing their patience. And try not to faint.

Chie opened one eye a fraction of an inch and immediately turned her back to the creature, head spinning. "Oh my god, oh my god." Her body shook uncontrollably. "What is that? What- what's-"

A nice hit. Think you got it across the jaw.

Staggering to the crate, Chie placed the broken bottle on top and sank to the ground, back to the monster. She gripped her arms, trying to stop the shaking. Black stone. Mundane. Normal. She stared at it blankly, ignoring the purple blood that stained her hand. Breathe. Breathe. Calm down.

What are you doing? Move.

"I-" Chie clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. "I don't know- I mean." She took another breath. "Who are you? And where are you? I-"

One thing at a time. The voice stopped yelling, at least. I only remember two things about myself. My name is Maverick Hunter, and I'm being chased.

"By who? Or... what?"

I just told you. That perpetual annoyance seeped into the words. That's all I know. Can't tell you who or why.

“Sure.” Calmer now, Chie stood and turned to search the cavern, purposefully avoiding the fish-like thing lying on the ground. "So where are you?"

I'm in your head.

"Excuse me." That was ridiculous. Telepathy, seriously? Was this an elaborate prank? Was some LARPer wearing a super realistic fish costume? Chie scoured the cave for hidden cameras. 

I was attacked by whoever is chasing me. When I came to, I was looking out from your body and your eyes.

"This is insane," Chie said, hand to her forehead. "I'm going- I've had a breakdown. That's it." She didn't think she had a family history of Schizoaffective disorder, but work had been super busy lately and combined with the memory loss, maybe she just needed a good psychiatrist and some medical leave.

You're not crazy. You can't explain what's lying on the ground with crazy.

Chie's weak excuses soured in her stomach. 

"I'm leaving," she said, shaking her head as if to clear the voice from her. "It was not nice meeting you, Maverick."

Chie took one step forward and froze. The feeling in her legs vanished and she was numb from the waist down. Her legs shook, muscles expending extraneous effort. But try as she might, Chie could not move forward.

Now you listen to me, you stupid little bitch. Maverick's voice was low, straining, and hinted towards boiling anger. I have come too far for you to turn back now. I may not have the energy to control you fully right now, but I sure as fuck can stop you.

Chie strained her back, forcing herself to move. Her shoulders twisted and her arms reached forward, but her legs remained petrified. "Why can't I move?!"

Because I'm here! Stuck inside your weak little body, and it's time you accept that. Now do as I say, or I'm going to hold you here until that thing wakes up. And whatever horror you're subjected to? I will happily watch. 

"How are you- Why are you-?!" Chie cried. This was impossible. This was impossible! 

Because I need to know why I'm like this, why I'm being pursued. And as long as we're stuck together? They're after you by association. Your friends. Your family.

Chie flinched. Who were these people to do this? She- this couldn't be real. She couldn't-

The monster on the floor gurgled. Chie's resolve faltered.

Maverick was gentler when he spoke next. We can't afford to turn back. There are answers here we need to find. Okay?

Chie nodded numbly. "Okay. Okay- I- I can. I can do this." Like a rubber band snapping, Chie's legs jolted. She fell forward, twisting to regain her balance. The thought of falling on that thing was horrendous. 

Maverick sighed, energy spent. Go through the crates over there. 

Why, Chie wondered, did a disembodied voice need to sigh? Thoughts whirled together incoherently but Maverick was right: unexplainable things were happening to her. They needed answers.

She removed the crate's lid and dug around inside. Flashlight, rope, beer, snacks, pocket knife, a small backpack, more beer. What kind of person had bagged cookies and peanuts but no water?

Oh, that's perfect! Maverick's glee when Chie picked up a large army knife was worrisome. She set it aside as she filled the backpack with food and supplies. Once done, she slid it free from the sheath, and held it up for Maverick.

Okay, take that knife and kill the fish monster.

"Excuse me?!"

It's the only one that knows we're here. Killing it will buy us time until the others-

"There are more?!"

-find its body. If it's alive- Maverick's voice grew low again, and Chie could almost feel hands on her shoulders as if he held her still. -it won't be long before it warns the others and the Devil's Reef is swarming with them. I won't tell you again. Kill it.

Chie couldn't bring herself to look at it. And Maverick expected her to kill it? She had sobbed when she accidentally ran over a squirrel last year. To deliberately kill a living thing? One that was unconscious? Even if it had attacked her-

Chie. Maverick said sharply. 

>Kill it >Spare it

[moonyandsaturn]

this love

What if Sirius escaped from Azkaban sooner... you can also read this oneshot here

Remus could remember it clearly. It wasn’t all that long ago. A year or 2, maybe? It’s hard to keep track.

James and Lily died and Sirius went to Azkaban. Peter was dead too, but he could care less.

It had been darkening skies for what seemed like eternity. Not just for himself, Remus was sure of it, everyone could feel it. The war was just simmering down, but could that really be the end of it? Trust was a fickle thing. You can’t bet your life on it, or anyone else's. Truth was in the same boat. Lies were a swirl of black and white with no signals to guide you.

But the truth, the truest of truths, was that the feeling never dimmed. And it was as heartbreaking as it was fulfilling. Did he believe that Sirius killed them? No, but everyone else did. And Remus would be just as doomed to express that.

--

“Moony, look,” Sirius had nudged him slightly. The two were splayed on the grass, under the shade of a kindred oak tree. The Summer holidays were coming up and Spring was livid.

“Hm?” He bent his next up sleepily to see what it was. A little butterfly was perched upon Sirius’ knee where he sat. Remus smiled. “I think it likes you.”

It was his turn to smile now. Sirius hummed in agreement. “Did you know,” he started and Remus sat up next to him. “That butterflies represent hope?”

“No, where’d you get that?” He aimlessly picked at the grass in front of him as Sirius continued.

“A book?”

“A book?”

“Yes, I’m sure you know what that is, Moony.” He smirked.

“Ha, Ha,” he deadpanned. “What a load of useless knowledge you are.” Remus leaned to the side so that he was leaning on Sirius’ side with his shoulder to rest his own head on.

“Useless! I’ll have you know this might come in handy!”

“And when could that be?” He laughed.

“I don't know,” Sirius admitted. “Sometime.”

“Sometime?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t very convincing.” Remus teased.

“Sirius grinned. “You still love me though.”

He pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Yeah, but that didn’t take any convincing.”

“No hope either?”

He laughed. “Unless you’re talking about my mum then no, I don't think so, love.”

“Maybe some other time then.” Sirius leaned his head on top of his.

“If you say so,” Remus smiled. He looked back ahead and the butterfly was gone.

--

Remus tried to convince Dumbledore into letting him take care of Harry. It didn’t work, obviously. His condition wasn’t suitable for raising a child. He couldn’t disagree. But, Harry was now stuck with some of Lily’s muggle relatives. The Dursleys if he remembered right. Not that Remus had anything against muggles. His mum was one so how could he? But for Harry to grow up without knowing anything about James and Lily? Well, that was the problem. Dumbledore seemed not to care. Perhaps he had other things to do rather than taking care of the next generation of wizards.

He visited them once, the Dursleys. Petunia was a thin little woman with pouty lips. There weren’t many similarities to Lily in her, but Remus could recognize one: her eyes. They were the very same as Lilys, and the very same as Harry’s. She wouldn’t let him in to see Harry. He didn’t even see a peek into the house to look at any other people living there. Petunia claimed to know him from “The Pictures”.

It was well known that Lily loved to take photos. She had an old polaroid camera, the muggle kind. It would print out photos right as you’re taking them. James, Peter and Sirius were obviously very fascinated. She took it everywhere. It hung from a strap around her neck. Remus could recall a few of the photos she took.

There was one of all of them sleeping on the Common Room couch after falling asleep while trying to study. Another Lily charmed to move like the painting they had in the castle. It was one of James and Lily dancing. James had just proposed as Lily, of course, said yes. Remus, Sirius, and Peter were hidden by a nearby tree to watch the outcome. Lily loved dancing. It was quite honestly, the perfect moment. Remus never figured out where that photograph went.

He had the teary-eyed job of cleaning their home after the Potter’s death. But he could never figure out where the specific photo disappeared to.

--

“Wait, wait hold on!” Remus could see Lily grinning as she released herself from James’ embrace. They didn’t know him, Peter, and Sirius were standing behind three separate trees watching them. James finally got the courage to ask Lily to marry him. He bought the ring 3 months prior but was much too nervous. In these times, he wanted to make sure to keep time precious. Who knew how long they had left? So, he decided he wanted to spend however long they had left with Lily. And they were destined to be together anyway, it didn’t even feel rushed.

“What are you doing?” James let go and watched her. Lily took her camera from the strap around her neck and placed it on top of the dull brick wall to their right. It was this small alcove area near Hogwarts. James thought it to be sentimental to propose where they met so many years ago. Remus thought it was sweet.

She scrambled to get her wand out of her back pocket and casted a quick charm on the top of the camera. They couldn't hear the murmur that escaped her lips as she did it. She walked back toward James with a smile on her face.

“So, what was that?” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

“When I press the button to snap a photo on that,” she pointed to the camera. “It should come out like one of those live photos they have in Hogwarts. Even though it’s muggle made.”

James laughed. Like, really laughed.

“What?” She hit him lightly with her wand.

“I just proposed to you but It looks like I’m marrying you and you’re captured memories.” He smiled softly down at her.

Lily reached up and adjusted his glasses to sit right on his nose. “You certainly are.”

They started swinging in tune to an imaginary song together and the wind hummed the melody. James spun her around, under his arm before continuing the dance. Lily quickly reached her hand out to press record.

The two danced and held each other softly.

Remus turned his head when he heard a sigh. He looked to his right to see Sirius looking at him.

“I forgot the cloak, how do we get out of her without them seeing?” He whispered.

Remus shrugged. “Run for it?” He moved his head back to see Peter two trees away and he nodded in agreement.

Sirius made a look that said ‘if you say so’ and motioned for Remus to come over quickly.

“What if we just waited for them to leave? James is gonna freak when he sees us here after telling us not to follow him.” Peter said, closer to the two of them now.

“Um, I don't think waiting here with them slobbering over each other is going to be very fun for us.”

All three of them looked over at the couple. Who was now simply talking to each other.

“Ew, heteros,” Sirius grimaced. Remus laughed quietly.

“Okay,”Peter started. “Count of three we go east, toward the lake, and then, hope James doesn't catch us.”

Sounded like a good plan.

“Right then, One, two, and three!”

Sirius, being as forgetful as he is, might have mixed up easts and wests. Luckily there were more trees scattered to hide where he was. Unfortunately, there was not enough sound to cover Peter’s yells.

“YOUR OTHER EAST, PADS!” He yelled at him, hands cupping his lips.

“Peter, shut up! They’re gonna hear us.” Remus scolded.

“We already did!” Lily replied coolly and out of vision. Peter and himself poked their head out from behind the tree.

“OH FUCK, YOU SAID EAST NOT WEST DIDN’T YOU?” Another yell came from a few yards away.

Remus held in a muffled laugh but relaxed when he heard James and Lily.

They walked over.

“You know I literally saw you all follow me, right?” James said, leaning against the wall.

“Obviously not,” Remus replied.

“Oooo, group picture!” Lily grinned and turned around to prop up that stupid camera once again.

The last thing Remus could remember laughing at was when Sirius came running back saing, “GET MY GOOD SIDE!”

--

Remus got in bed late into the night. He stumbled around the nearly pitch-black room and crawled into the warmth of countless quilts and pillows. The dreams he silently screamed in the night were the most comforting that he’s felt in a while. It was still hard to sleep alone. Or with anyone else for that matter, but that didn’t happen often.

He once dreamt that these past few years had just been a sinking ship. Some people caught in a rainstorm. A curse planted by thieves. He woke up thinking that it had all been imaginary. That it was in his head. Remus could basically hear Sirius' voice in his ear. “Don't worry, Moony. It’ll turn out alright. We’ve swam together and we’ll sink together, right?” What a surprise it was when he was wrong.

Most people would be wishing for it to all be a joke. For everything to go back to normal. Remus was much too realistic to think that way. He had to keep in mind his condition. Maybe it was for the best. He knew he’d be the first to die if it were by natural causes. The moons weaken his body month by month. It’s a wonder he hadn’t passed already. And for someone to be bitten at such a young age? Unthinkable that they’d live past 30. He was to be 24 in March, time drew faster than he could keep up with.

He’s been able to stay in his and Sirius’ old muggle flat. Sirius paid it off before going to Azkaban and it was similar to staying there. Not that he wanted to. Every corner had some sort of sentiment tied to it. Yet Remus could never bear to take anything down. For the past 2 years the same photos have been getting dusty, the magnets on the fridge have been losing grip, the couch had some new found stains, and the coffee table had prints of mugs scattered like freckles.

It was the ground floor which was unfortunate. The upstairs neighbor didn’t enjoy being quiet. Plus, it felt more invading. All the people on the street could simply just look through the window or put their ear against the wall and hear whatever was going on. Not much, usually. Remus didn’t have a lot of people over. Just himself. He didn’t want to go back to any wizarding towns. No, that was too disgraceful.

There were always two responses when people saw him. It’s one or the other, neither being very pleasant to hear. The first was sympathy: “Oh, you were the one whose friends died. I’m so sorry, dear. Oh and one was sent to Azkaban for the murder of them! My, how horrible. I’m very sorry for your loss.” The second was worse: “So where were you when the Potter’s died? Did you not try to protect them? What about that other one, who gave up his inheritance for a sinful life? Oh, he’s gone to Azkaban. Hmm, I’m glad you were the one who got away…Somehow… ”

And so he gave up going out to places with people he knew. Loneliness was better than being ridiculed.

Sleep was a tedious project that crept up when unwanted and hid itself when needed. Remus pulled the covers tighter and over his ears.

A warm light flickered outside. A fire?

Muggles normally didn’t use candles or anything while walking down a street. That's what the sidewalk lamps were for.

The light burned and flickered.

He saw someone walking on the sidewalk. Young, he thought, maybe in use of a good washing, though.

Remus thought nothing of it.

When morning came a note could be found on his doorstep, not even in his mailbox. Which was weird because there was a code to get into the apartment building.

Harry’s alright, I hope you are too.

At the bottom of the torn letter was a familiar paw print of a love he once knew.

[imbeccable-writes]

So I know we all want Yakko to go unhinged on Salazar, but how do you think he (and maybe Wakko too) would react if he found out Dot’s matrons weren’t so nice to her while she was in their care? :}

this got a little long lmao, so I'm gonna put it under a read more.

So here's the thing. with the way I'm writing dot, she probably wouldn't say anything about where she'd stayed. Like, she'd say it was in Burbank and maybe she'd joke about the food being horrid or something, but she wouldn't go into the details about just how horribly she was abused. She learned early on that if she was in any way an "inconvenience", then everyone she ever loved would abandon her and hate her, and even though she has evidence to the contrary (Marin being the prime example, but also the other kids), it's hard to unlearn internalized worthlessness.

And the thing is, Dot doesn't actually know if Yakko and Wakko love her. Of course WE know, being the writer and readers, but she hasn't seen them in years. She tells herself they love her because that's the only thing that's keeping her going, but there's a difference between saying and believing. Deep down, for a good part of her life, Dot wasn't sure they cared about her at all. And even once they're together again, she isn't sure if they love HER or the IDEA of her. And she's terrified of what would happen if the the latter were true.

All this to say, that it would take a lot to get it out of Dot anything that happened to her at the orphanage. Yakko and Wakko would be worried about her, because it seemed like she's sort of walking on eggshells (metaphorically) around them, but it's hard for them to bring stuff up either, because none of them really know how to interact with one another. It's been so long, and only one of them really remembers the Before Times, and even then it's still blurry. Maybe she's just like this. Maybe it's just nerves. Maybe it'll pass.

It doesn't, of course, because for those first few months to a year, she's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm not quite sure what the catalyst would be when Dot finally tells them about what happened, but I do know Yakko would be filled with rage and Wakko would be genuinely surprised (bc in his experience all matrons are so nice and welcoming) and also angry (bc how dare they hurt his darling little sister so? he's gonna throw hands). And they'd probably both immediately start making plans to find and drive Leslie and Deb bat shit insane, and Dot would just be so... confused.

Because like, despite her better judgement, she finally let herself vent and cry about her horrible childhood, half of her tears due to the abuse and half of her tears due to the total and utter conviction that she was going to lose the last of her family after this because she couldn't keep herself happy enough, couldn't keep in the hurt and pain and tears... and then it just didn't happen. Yakko and Wakko had listened patiently, and had indeed grown more and more visibly angry and emotional the more she talked, but it wasn't directed at her. on the contrary, it was at the people who hurt her. They wanted to track those people down, wanted to make them pay for hurting her, and as much as she wanted that, she didn't understand.

Yakko would probably notice her flabbergasted expression and ask about it, and she'd tentatively ask, "You're not... mad?"

and he's like, "Uhhhhh, sister sib, I think you'll find I'm pretty darn pissed"

and she's like, "No I meant- I meant at me."

And Yakko would be stunned silent for a moment or two, having not expected that, before he'd blurt, "Of course not, no! Why would we be?"

"Because!" and she gestures in the space between the three of them like it held all the answers to her problems. "Because I broke! Because I- I let you know I was hurting, I let you see me crying. Why arent- Why aren't you mad at me?" And she's genuinely confused and it's making her tear up again - everything makes her tear up lately, she's just so sensitive, what's wrong with her -

"Dot," Wakko said suddenly, and she looked to him. "We aren't- it's not your fault that that happened to you."

Dot's breath caught in her throat.

"Yeah, it-" Yakko cut in, "It's all your guardians' fault. They were supposed to take care of you and they did a pretty horrible job of it." Dot couldn't stop trembling. "We're not mad at you. You did the one thing we wanted you to do, and that was to trust us with the stuff that hurts. We're here for you, always. We- We love you."

"So much," Wakko added, and it was the last straw.

Dot burst into tears again and launched herself at her brothers. They caught her and held her tightly between them, making sure she knew that they weren't going anywhere.

And as for Dot, well... she hurt, so so much, but for once her tears didn't feel horrible and painful. She cried and cried and cried, but it was in relief, in gratitude, because a weight had just lifted off of her shoulders, because they loved her. Her brothers loved her and herself alone, not some picturesque sister they barely remembered, but just her. They didn't pull away when her tears hit their fur - on the contrary, they seemed to hold her impossibly closer the more her tears fell.

And she couldn't seem to stop, either. Now that she knew it was okay, it seemed all the tears she'd held back over the years had come flooding back, pouring from the never ending stream of her eyes. But that was okay too. Yakko and Wakko weren't going anywhere, and for once, she let herself believe that.

They both let themselves cry a little too, over the horrible thing that'd been done to their sister. They listened to her cries and sobs, and wished with all their might that this hug could just... take it all away. All the hurt, all the pain... But of course that wasn't realistic.

There was something they could do, however.

Yakko and Wakko met eyes over Dot's head and saw a similar fire of fury and grief swimming in the other's. They were going to track down Dot's old guardians if it killed them, and would definitely change the rating of the main fic once they did.

Such violence should be kept to an Explicit rating.

-

OOP I ENDED UP WRITING A DRABBLE LMAO. my bad.

thanks for the ask though, gabby! I had fun with this

[tsuumu]

good intentions.

kuroo x reader

your long-term boyfriend is perfect. i mean perfect. he excels at basically everything he does. well, except one thing. at least he has good intentions, right?

based off of a request found here.

word count:

tags/tw: y/n & kuroo are uni students, lots of playful insulting, kuroo is perfect, well not really, y/n is a mess, y/n is me doing any kind of work, domestic x1000, kuroo cooking is so cute.

You know those people who just seem to have it all?

No, not literally, but it’s so sickeningly easy for them that they might as well be arms reach of anything they want.

Usually we tend to dislike people like that, mainly because... well, we’re not them (much to our abysmal dismay, too). They end up taking a spotlight of jealousy in our lives and we find ourselves constantly thinking: Man, i’d love to kick their asses, but would alternatively jump at the oppertunity to switch lives with them ‘Freaky Friday’ style.

These people are the embodiment of admiration.

Young. Good looking. Fit. Successful. Socially conscious. Killer smiles. Can always hold a drink. Never seem to embarrass themselves even a little, but on the off chance they do, everyone adores them more and sees it as a cute little incident or quirk of theirs.

Just thinking about it makes you want to build yourself a bunker, deep underground, just to sulk in for a decade or so, lamenting angrily at the dusty walls.

Yes. You know the truth is that there will always be someone better than you at simply existing, but that doesn’t stop that simmering of content from rising within. Realistically speaking, you’d avoid these people like your life depended on it because they’re so... detestable.

So who would have known that you —of all people— would end up falling in love with one?

Well, you did. As much as they repel you, you find that they weirdly attract you too.

That’s right.

The man who stole that pretty little heart of yours, who’d caught your attention indefinitely with his cut-throat prowess and charisma. He’d approached you one fine evening at some bar you’d never been to before, ordered you your favorite drink because he’d seen you order it twofold previously (vodka cranberry, heavy on the juice) and chatted you up the way you’d always wished a guy would.

The appalling epitome of cliche.

The whole encounter practically ran like he’d planned it before-hand. It’s almost infuriating, how easily he swept you off of those tipsy feet of yours.

Something bumps lightly over your head as a shadowy figure passes by. You groan lightly in response.

“Hey, cut it out!”

Somehow, you’ve found yourself on the floor, crossed-legged, pen in your mouth and both your hands. One is furiously scrawling something down, the other flicking the cap off to highlight. It’s an understatement to note that you look like a bit of a mess, brows scruched up in an untidy pile in the middle of your forehead, dead-focused on the first draft of your thesis that was due weeks ago.

Yeah, you were one of those people.

A mocking string of apologetic noises come from the figure in front of you as he chucks his keys onto the kitchen counter.

Kuroo Tetsurou. That’s your A-list Boyfriend.

A-list of what? Of life, for god’s sake.

If it were him that’d been assigned a task with this ridiculous deadline, he’d probably have handed it before it was fucking given to him in the first place! Not only is he academically adept to the point of pure indignancy (on your part, of course, you’re too prone to jealousy for your own good), but his organisation is nothing short of freakishly unnatural.

He says he’s minimalistic, you say he’s an alien.

If someone had told you that the man you loved was actually some kind of secret government- made equipment to survey you, you wouldn’t bat an eyelid. He’s that good.

He chuckles at his own jeers, slipping a hand through the fridge handle. It unlatches with ease and he takes a cold can of beer out, pulling the tab back and allowing it to hiss open satisfyingly. Your eyes flicker upwards, gnawing at your knuckle, you’re not only stressed out, but unbelievably embarrassed that you’re at it again. He’s seen you like this countless times, after promising to clean up your act and follow in his footsteps.

Following in his footsteps. Well, that’s how he described it. You were close to socking his arm.

“Shut up.”

Tetsurou tilts his head back, drinking to his heart’s content before catching your eye. You’re correct. He has seen this before, so he knows not to take your off-handed comments to heart. Instead, he’s rather bemused.

“Your scruched up nose.” He begins, setting the can down to the side, crossing one leg over the other. “That’s your classic concentrating face.”

You’re not even listening if you’re honest. You’re trying to understand what this section of the task even means after re-reading it for the fifteeth time. The responses you give are made absently.

“Hm.”

“You look like a cat that’s been forced to wait to eat. That little glare. It’s cute, kitty.”

Your head jerks up questioningly. Did he call you cute?

His head tilts.

“Oh, you’ve relaxed your face now. It’s gone back to being ugly.”

You scowl and throw the highlighting pen at him.

“Go away! I’m almost done!”

Your fingers move to your lower back, pressing on your spine in hopes it’ll crack and relieve some of the tension in your body. Kuroo retrieves the pen, sweeping the can up with his spare hand. He plods over, craning his neck down to study whatever it is that you have on your lap.

“It’s too dark in here to see that properly.”

“I’m fine!”

“Well—“ He leans back to switch the overhead lights on. “—now you’re finer.”

You turn to him, pausing for a moment.

“Oh, thanks.”

It’s like you fall into this crazed state when you’re overworked. Frantic. Snappy. Cowering in the dark like some sort of parody Dracula— that is, if Dracula were three weeks late on his university assignment worth a disgustingly high percentage of his final grading. If Kuroo came too close, or said something a little too sly, you’d probably bite him. He knows this too, opting to keep quiet from now on. Instead, he sits leisurely on the floor, just behind you, placing his hands against your propped up body and gently pressing his thumbs into the blades of your back.

“Drop it a sec, yeah?”

Your body’s stiff, but you can tell he’s shocked at just how stiff it is. For a moment, you’re caught off guard, before rolling your shoulders back forcefully.

“Can’t... gotta finish—“ and you gesture wildly at everything around you. That answer was to be expected. You weren’t as academically driven, sure, but you weren’t one to give in easily. Or fail, for that matter.

Tetsurou plants a gentle kiss onto the nape of your neck, mumbling into the ridge of your spine.

“That—“ he copies your movements. “Can wait. I know you think it can’t, but it can. And you’re going to stop now.”

Your eyes lower a little, vision blurring.

“But—“

“Nope.”

You twist yourself to look at him, giving him another sour look.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.” It rolls off the tongue so easily for him. He’s utterly calm. But then again, he’s not the one that needs to be on bloody ‘X-Games’ mode.

He’s never the one. Damn it.

You lift yourself up a little by placing your palms under you, wincing at the twinges of pain it induces. You’d made friends with the floor for a little too long, butt totally numb.

“Fine.” You resign, suddenly falling back onto him. “I’ll email my professor for the tenth time this week and wait as he rips me apart. Shall I?” Kuroo tuts, snaking an arm around your upper-body, the other brushing at your baby-hairs so he’s able to see your face a little clearer.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh— yes he would. Would you like front row seats to my untimely demise?”

“You’re so dramatic.”

For the first time through that entire day, you smile, even if it’s just a little. And to him, he’s managed to fish you out of that downward spiral you’ve been plunging into. Job well done on his part. He softly runs a his palm down your side.

“Your professor covers mine when she’s busy.” He states matter-of-factly. “Let me email him. It’s not ludicrous to say that i’m your boyfriend and you’re a little troubled at the moment.”

You’re slumped over, at the moment, chin buried into your chest.

“Troubled sounds like i’ve lost my mind.”

“Well not like that—“ The eager boy begins sifting out your laptop from under the seemingly endless piles of paper. “Let’s think of a better excuse.” Your body doesn’t move an inch, fiddling with the cap of the pen lid. You throw it by accident and it bounces too far to reach comfortably. Shit.

“Mmm.” He buries his nose into the crown of your head. “Shall I tell him you got into a car accident?”

“What? Tetsu, that’s stupidly unbelievable. I don’t even drive.”

“I guess... maybe not a car.” His fingers teasingly splay over your stomach, body bent intrusively over yours. They move against the softness of your flesh, dipping down slightly.

You suck in a breath.

“I’m sure I can do something for you that’ll keep you from walking for quite some time.” Tetsurou hums deeply, and it feels like he’s talking directly into your brain.

Your fingers fumble for the pen he just gave back, before hitting him square on the forehead with it. It ricochets back perfectly onto your chest with a loud snap.

“Ow!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Geez.”

“I don’t need excuses. I’ll just come back to it later.”

“Oh— yeah. That too.”

With a heave, you sit up, rubbing the side of your head as the blood rushes back.

“I’m kinda hungry.” You’d been so distracted with this work that even simple, human needs took a backseat.

This is why Kuroo doesn’t like it. At times like this, you’d barely eat, sleep, breathe. Seriously. Sometimes you’d hold your breath for absurdly long periods of time whilst reading, only to hack and gasp and apologise because you were so into it.

That’s... extreme. And he does not approve in the slightest.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm...” Your eyes sparkle hopefully. “Did you get me something to eat?”

Tetsurou scratches his neck timidly.

“Well, not exactly.”

Immediately, your face drops and he protests wildly.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

Well— well— you couldn’t help but be disappointed! You were starving and tired and ready to email your professor a string of rather unpleasant curse words instead of another half-assed excuse. Your fingernails had been worn down considerably from all the abrasive biting you’d done, aching and red.

Being a full-time student was covert self-destruction. You heavily relied on your boyfriend to bring in food because you didn’t have the time to do so yourself. This had been discussed and agreed upon prior though, since along with Tetsu’s many formidable talents, a balanced work to school life was yet another.

He ambles back to the kitchen area, gesturing to the island smack bang in the middle.

“That doesn’t mean I came empty-handed.”

Oh. You hadn’t noticed it before, but he’d come home with groceries. Um. Groceries?

“What’s that?”

“Stuff I picked up on the way back.”

“Like, ingredients?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

The both of you are quiet for a moment, and you’re eyeing the bag like it’s appeared out of nowhere with something potentially life-threatening inside it. Yes, that sounds stupid. But the truth is... you guys never really got groceries. Not actual groceries with actual ingredients. Because that is a strong indicator that they’d have to be cooked.

And god, neither of you knew how to do that.

You’re a student who’s barely stepped into adulthood, not Gordan Ramsay.

Okay. You sound ridiculous. Cooking isn’t that complex. It’s actually quite simple if your heart’s in it.

“I figured i’d be able to do something with these.” Kuroo pats the bags and they crinkle a tad.

Of fucking course he’d ‘be able to do something’ with them.

He’s Kuroo-Genius-Tetsurou!

CEO of doing things with other things and it actually working out. Building cabinates, lock-picking, gardening, guitar, skateboarding, poker. Since you’ve been together, these are a few of the varation of things he’s naturally picked up.

You? You’re a more do-it-once-it-fails-and-never-do-it-again type.

In your mind there’s literally no doubt he’d ace cooking and list it under the other fifty(billion) things he’s also capable of, just so he can mention it off-handedly to other people at parties or something.

If there’s something to criticise about your boyfriend, he’s awful at shutting up about himself. He’ll go on forever, as if he’s showcasing his entire life to strangers in some desperate attempt to sell them his excessive excellence.

Is he arrogant? Maybe. But is he able to do it in a manner that’s utterly bewitching? Absolutely. He’s not gloating, you see, he’s ‘modestly sharing’. And you find yourself wanting to praise him, you want to hear about how much better he is than you.

Let’s be honest. Kuroo and modesty were not made to be placed in the same sentence, any humble talk of his is utter bullshit.

But everyone loves it all the same.

That’s what you mean about perfect people. They spark something in others. It’s almost hypnotic. And when you snap out of it, it’s like it’s been confirmed that you’re undoubtedly inferior. Post-Kuroo-Encounter depression. PKE. You having a devastating case of it.

Maybe you have a bit of a complex about this. Ugh.

He’s lucky he’s so damn loveable.

And that you’re so damn hungry.

“Okay.” You state.

Plus, you are a little curious to see what exactly will unfold with his newfound persuit in the culinary arts.

You haul ass to get up, audibly cursing, hopping around from foot to foot to get your blood-flow back in action. Eventually, you’ve nestled yourself onto a stool, hands propping your chin up, observing expectantly.

“What are you making, chef?”

“Uhh..” He’s rolling his sleeves up, eyes glued to the screen of his phone that’s placed facing upwards. “Chicken Alfredo.” Tetsu sounds a little uncertain but you’re staring into his head and you can almost hear the cogs turning. Really, it’s only a matter of time until the bastard works his Area 51-esque magic and concocts the dish.

He takes a little more time to familiarise himself with the recipe, before looking up, giving you a wicked grin.

“I’ve got this.”

You’re sure he does, smiling back.

Whilst he’s preparing god knows what, you peek into the grocery bag to see if there’s anything you can nibble on. You recieve another gentle smack to your head. Tetsu’s holding a packet of dry pasta.

He’s hit you with pasta.

“Nu-uh. I didn’t bring any kitty treats for you, be patient.”

“Stop hitting me like i’m a fly, or a cat!”

“Don’t be silly. I’d never hit a cat! They’re precious, adorable, i’d protect one with my life. And you—“ He hits you again. “—well, you’re you, baby.”

You snatch the packet forcefully and lob it at him again.

“You have a death wish, Kuroo-san.”

“Eesh. The formalities! I’m kidding!”

You cradle your cheek in your palm, sighing tiredly. The two of you usually ordered in, or got something you’d be able to set up pretty easily. Neither of you were particularly passionate about cooking, hence its absence in your routines. Yes, it’s excessively healthier than your current lifestyle, but you weren’t suffering. And even now, watching Tetsurou fill a pan with water, muscles firm against the shy of his shirt. You know he isn’t either.

Now that you’re looking, and looking some more, it’s pretty hot, seeing a guy cook.

“You know, you should make breakfast shirtless so I can tell my friends my hot boyfriend cooks me breakfast shirtless.”

He laughs.

“You’d enjoy that too much.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes. I can’t keep indulging you.”

He means that your desire for immediate gratification is your biggest weak-point. Kuroo’s recently been trying to teach you the art of patience. Abstinence. You don’t get it. Apparently perfect people believe in ‘self-control’ crap.

“Also, oil.” He adds.

“Oh, I suppose it’d hurt, right?”

“Mhm.”

Your boyfriend alternates from his phone to the actual practice in short cycles. To you, he looks like he’s on track, though you’re not quite sure what to be looking for in the first place. These things usually came ready and steaming on plates in restaurants. Even now, having to wait, it’s so difficult. But you’re enjoying the light conversation it brings, so it’s whatever.

Though, that lasting etch of confusion and concern on the boy’s face leaves you wondering if actually, this is proving slightly difficult for him.

“Is everything okay?” You pipe up.

He doesn’t answer at first.

“Think so.”

“Oh— i’ve never heard that from you before.” It’s usually straight confidence from this man.

“Shut up.”

From the stool, you slip, dragging your hand over the counter as you walk around to see it up close. You don’t really know what you’re expecting, but... it’s not this.

“Tetsu, that’s boiling a little violently, don’t you think?”

“...No?”

“Yeah. It is. That’s not a good sign.”

He bats you away.

“We can’t both stand here!”

“Why not?”

“Spaaace.” He whines. “And if we both stay crowded around it’ll—“

And it happens, exactly what you’d predicted.

You, of all people, had made an assumption your boyfriend hadn’t. Ain’t that crazy? The water rises up too high, boiling over and spilling absolutely everywhere. The gas flame heightens all of a sudden, curling up next to the fabric of a dish towel next to it. In a panic, you pull him back.

“What the fuck—“

There’s no time for you to think, your hands fumbling to close the stove, you hadn’t realised the water had seeped over it, causing you to cry out in pain in the process, hand burnt silly.

But you do it. Quickly too. And Kuroo’s utterly dazed, like he hadn’t even thought to react. Your immediate response post-injury is to suck on the wound, trying to suppress the pain with the soothing movements of your tongue. That doesn’t do much, so you flap it about like a mad man, that only instigates more irritation.

Tetsu snaps out of it when he hears your hissing, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you to the sink forcefully, apologising profusely as he does.

Cold water hits you. It’s instant relief.

“God— i’m so sorry, (y/n)—“ He stumbles, still panicking, he seems to be experiencing everything five minutes too late. “I don’t know why that happened, I swear to God i’ve done that before but it just—“

You let out a giggle, and it shuts him up.

Another one slips. It gets louder and louder, harder to suppress until you’re full on belly laughing, hunched over. He stares at you, wordlessly surprised.

“T-Tetsu— you burnt water—“ You try and stifle your laugh but it only shakes your body more. His deep shame morphs into relief when he sees you’re okay. Tearfully making fun of him, but okay. He pulls you into a tight embrace, ignoring your remarks and still feeling unbelievably guilty.

It’s okay. You’re still chortling, holding him just as tight.

“Here, let me— let me bandage this.” In a cupboard somewhere, he pulls out a small wrap of fabric, proceeding to do just that. You watch happily enough, before turning to the boiled water that had completely stilled.

“Thanks. Let me do this.”

With considerable time and effort, you’re able to clean up the haphazard mess and start afresh, filling his place. Yeah, Kuroo is pretty humiliated, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the time than anything else. Seeing you unwavered was enough to make him feel like things were good.

It’s a miracle really, that you do end up filling two plates with delicious smelling pasta.

That lingering look of sorrow is still plastered all over the poor boy’s features, watching you with wide eyes.

“How did you manage that?”

You just shrug, licking a smidge of sauce off of your thumb.

“Dunno. Guess I have potential.” Your gaze moves up to his, pinching his cheek and blubbering jokingly. “Baby. What’s with the long face?”

“Feel bad.” Tetsu looks so glum. It’s adorable.

“Hm.”

The scrape of the plate against the counter is clear as bells as you urge him to eat.

“I should thank you, dumbass.” Admiring the bandage work, a grin settls upon you. This ordeal helps you to see that, actually, Tetsu wasn’t good at everything. In fact, for once, you were better.

And God. That’s— that’s different. You don’t want to be as cocky as him, but it feels nice for a change. He admires you.

“Got an excuse for that late assignment now.” You muse.

“Oh my god.”

You’re always going to be a handful.

“Ugh. Tetsu. Something good always come out of your actions. It’s sickening!”

“I hurt you, silly!”

“I’m feelin’ pretty good about it, regardless. Plus—“ You jump up, leaning over the counter to flick his forehead. “—i’m going to tell everybody this pretty little golden boy set our kitchen on fire because he tried to boil water.”

“Cruel. You’re cruel.”

“The cruelest.”

[littlespaceporgs]

i have a need for more soft plo my dear 💕 how abt “i wanted to say ‘i love you’ for the first time without stuttering, but that failed” with everyone’s fave kel dor? also i love you to the moon and back and am super proud of you

A/N: Yeah that’s right, I’m back mostly fully now and yes I am writing the requests I have! JJ - I hope you like this! I LOVE U TOO! It’s funny to start off with and then goes angsty and then goes super fluffy and is an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish. I was aiming for a little 500 word blurb... it stands at 1.7ish i think 💀

So if you haven’t been reading my Clone Wars Reacts series, you probably aren’t aware that I am a massive simp for Plo Koon (and others characters 🤦‍♀️)and if this is you deciding to read them here’s the link to my masterlist, which has all the parts posted already.   

Glimpse

Word Count: 1.7k Pairing: Plo Koon x Jedi!Reader Summary: Anakin running late, an awful sense of foreboding, and one thing that you were yet to say, mixed with a glimpse of a future you couldn’t have. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags for my loves: @peacelandbread @clonewarslover55 @libradusk @catsnkooks @mcu-padawan

The reasons why you agreed to go on a mission on Skywalker seemed to escape you at the moment. His plans, though working occasionally, had the reputation of heavy damage and being absurdly reckless. You did however, enjoy working with Ahsoka, though she could be just as bull-headed as Anakin on occasion. Maybe it was for her sake that you joined the mission?

The plan had originally been for you to lead a small troop of men in quietly, retrieve the data you needed, and then Skywalker would swoop in and distract them so that you could escape. The entry went well, and collecting the data happened without a hitch, but you were spotted on the way out and Skywalker was late. Again. And to make things worse, your comms stopped working a very long time ago.

“If you concentrated on getting out instead of what you’re thinking, we might just survive.”

Ah, that’s why you came on this blasted trip.

“Well maybe if you focused on this, instead of your sarcasm, we may live past the next 10 minutes, Plo.”

You’d known the Kel-dor for many years, almost as long as you’d been a Jedi, but the feelings you had for him were only a few years old, and started shortly after you began going on regular missions with him. He always had put the wellbeing of others ahead of his own, which was frustrating to no end, but endearing all the same. He knew that you had a way of overthinking every situation and very quickly becoming a ‘stress head’, so he always simplified the instructions and looked for the tell-tale signs of you steadily becoming unstuck. Always waiting for the clones to get on board an escape pod, making sure there were enough supplies, somehow always having all the answers and a witty response. It was the little things at any rate.

Like now for example, as you both knelt behind a box, trying to catch your breath, and he was trying to use humour as a way of distracting you from the very real possibility of dying by the hands of a droid.

You stretched up from your crouch and turned to look over the box. Oh shit, there’s an entire battalion of droids just a few meters – oh, and that one’s pointing- oh.

With a sharp tug, Plo pulled you back down, the blaster bolt whizzing past where your eyes had been only half a second ago. Despite not being able to see his eyes and mouth, he still gave you an exasperated expression.

“Be more-”

“I was fine! I saw it coming and I was going to move!” The Kel-dor ran a hand across his forehead, although, at this point he should be used to this type of behaviour from you.

Despite the joking and poking fun, your stomach was sinking further by the minute. As you just realised, if you stepped out, you would surely be shot instantly. A vast majority of the clone troopers had long since been torn apart. Swallowing, you closed your eyes, and leaned back resting your head on the box. There is no way either of you are going to surrender and get captured, but you both were aware of the fact that you likely weren’t making it out of this either.

Your shoulder was burning, and your ribs and abdomen ached, and there was a blaster burn on your leg. Another hand wrapped around your own, and squeezed it tight. Trying to stop shaking, you spoke.

“I – we’re not getting out of this one…” You turned your head and opened your eyes, finding his face. His eyes were turned down at the edges, and his shoulders were slumped the smallest bit. “Are we?”

Plo turned and took a similar position to you, not letting go of your hand.

“We must not think like-”

“Be realistic we-”

“It’s going to be-”

“Don’t- don’t you dare say it’ll be fine-”

“Skywalker-”

“isn’t coming! Or- or if he is, he’ll be too late!” you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking now, stuttering more with every word that came out.  Plo’s head hung and you could see the weight of your words hanging on him.

“At um – at least we’ll go out as we are, teasing the s-shit out of each other, you old man.” He let a laugh drift out of the mask.

“Don’t call me old, youngling.” You laughed back, smirking all the while. If you’re going to die here – if technically you wouldn’t be jedi – your heart raced at the thought. The code was – well if you’re dead you can’t very well follow the code, now can you?

“I- I um I love you.” As soon as it was out, you felt lighter and heavier all at once. His back straightened so fast the back of his head nearly whacked the crate. When he finally turned to you, his brows were sitting much further up on his face than what they had been before, so you traced every corner on his face with your eyes, just in case. His hand squeezed yours tighter.

“I- well I wanted to say it without stuttering, and preferably when we weren’t a few minutes from death, but well- I guess there’s really no time like the present?” He still hadn’t moved, frozen and staring at you. Oh, no. You waved your free hand in front of his face, trying to break his stupor.

“Plo? Are you-”

“I love you too.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand moving to his face instead, moving your thumb across his cheekbone. Idly, you noticed that he hadn’t let go of your other hand yet. His hand moved the hair from your face, smudging the ash and dirt also. With a hand on the back of your head, he gently pulled so your foreheads pressed together. Your eyes slid shut, and you concentrated on the feeling of warmth and light that this brought. If this was the last thing you remembered before death, then you would die happily. For now, you savoured the few seconds you had sitting there. You sighed, and opened your eyes.

“I – just-”

“I know.” You pulled away, and despite the happiness of a few seconds before, a sense of foreboding sat heavily in your chest. You swallowed harder, and moved to grab your lightsaber. You grasped it tight, and ignited the glowing blade. Next to you, you heard his blade reveal itself. Your muscles in your legs tensed, and you braced your shoulders. One more time. When you turned to him, he was still looking at you, with a sad expression that rivalled your own. You shuffled so you were instead in a crouch, ready to fight. Might as well go out swinging.

You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. For a second before you stood, you couldn’t hear anything. When you thought back and remembered it, there was the sound of droid’s legs and chatter, of occasional blaster fire of those who were left, and your lightsaber humming in your ear. At the time, there was nothing. You just kept staring at Plo, hoping that somehow, you’d get more of this, more than 5 seconds.

Faster than a blink, you got a glimpse of a future that could have been. Cold nights on Coruscant, wrapped up in blankets, watching the night sky past by. Daybreak, curled up in each other’s arms, feeling the glow of sun come in. On missions with small troops of trusted clones, being able to be open with your relationship. Sneaking around before council meetings, trying to savour what moments you could before missions. Feeling like young padawan’s again, running around quietly. Visions of you leaving the order, years from now, quoting being unable to stick to the code, Plo following shortly after. Of you building a home, your stomach steadily growing outwards.

And just like that it was over, and you were stuck with a reality of death.

Your throat burned and your vision blurred. Now.

And then Plo’s hand desperately grabbing yours and pulling you down again, a shrill beeping coming from his wrist. Your heart pulsed in your ears and you looked to the sky. Of course.

“Sorry, we were busy dealing with Ventress! How are you holding up?” A scathing laugh burst out of your throat. The droids were falling back, away from your position at the sight of the sheer number of Republic soldiers. You laid back on the dirt, feeling the sun on your skin, soaking up whatever light you could. It was only now that you felt the weight lift, where the light feeling of relief took its place. Plo begun to answer Anakin. You cut him off with a venomous tone.

“We’re a-”

“We’re alive, you’re late, and I am going to kill you, Skywalker.” There was an audible sigh that sounded suspiciously amused from Plo as he made to stand.

“I wasn’t that la-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Plo’s hand reached down and hovered near your face, though you ignored it and shot up on your own, winding your arms around his neck. He softly grunted as you laughed and the realisations began to sink in. Maker, we nearly died. We were very nearly dead. You nearly had to watch the man you fell in love with die.

Whilst your mind rambled, he pulled apart, and was still brushing the hair from your forehead again. You hadn’t noticed, but he was taking in every freckle, wrinkle and scar you had, like you had been doing to him not too long ago.

You nearly died. Plo nearly died. You almost didn’t get to say – oh, no. You told him. You thought you were going to die and you told him. But now you’re not going to die. And he said it back.

He said your name and whisked you from the spiral. His leathery forehead leant down and pressed against yours.

“I love you.”

Maker, he said it again. You grinned, and pulled him closer. You wanted to say it one thousand times at the top of your lungs, and suddenly the glimpse didn’t seem as far out of reach as it had a few minutes ago.

“I love you too.”

[kingdomtual]

Okay I just finished watching Imitation and I’m gonna give a review, idk why but I have a lot of feelings LOL gonna write this without giving away big plot points so no spoilers for you if you wanna know if you want to watch it or not (probably everyone already has but whatever I’m usually late to the show)

Things I liked about it:

- Imitation was a really interesting drama because it didn’t focus on all the fun stuff of the idol world like a lot of idol dramas do. It’s main focus ends up being more on the struggles idols have to deal with, mainly pertaining to the dating issue but instead of putting it fully on the labels for keeping their artists from dating it also focused on how sasaengs think, talk, and react about their idols dating which I thought was a nice touch because that SURE IS REAL LIFE. (unfortunately they kinda drop that plot point as it goes on, but whatever) 

- It also had plot points pertaining to mistreatment of idols by the industry and their labels, which was another thing that I liked about it. It’s a tough world, and it should be more mainstream that we know about and find ways to help idols as they’re dealing with all of this. Idk it’s just something that should be talked about more, so I’m glad they did. 

- The cast was beyond fantastic. I think that’s honestly what made the show for me. Obviously the casting director knew the draw would be having actual idols in their show, but even those who were just actors were absolutely fantastic and did a great job in each of their roles. Dojin and Hyuk were obviously my favorites, but I think they’re everyone’s favorites LOL their acting chemistry was spot on and it really felt like they had been bffs for years.

- LA RI MA. Queen, icon. Absolutely in love with her tbh. What I really loved about her is that she started off being a rival for Ryeok to Ma Ha, and I thought to myself, ‘Great. She’s gonna end up being a flat character.’ but I think she ended up having the most character growth in the entire story, besides maybe Ryeok. The way she is so confident, knows her worth, and takes care of those around her makes her such an enjoyable character to watch. Every scene she’s in she totally steals, I love her LOL 

- The last two episodes definitely make the entire show worth watching. They’re really full of heart, you get so excited, and watching them perform is really cool. I won’t give away any of the ending, but it is worth it!

Things I didn’t like:

There are a few things that made me feel ‘meh’ about the show. It kinda felt like there were a lot of plot points that dragged on a bit too much for me. This is totally a personal opinion so like obviously you might feel different! Cool.

- So, the idea that the story starts out with a love triangle didn’t appeal to me at all LOL I hate that trope, but even after that ends it starts going through the whole ‘we’re idols that have to date in secret’ and all that angst that comes with that and I have to admit there were a few mid series episodes that had me so bored because it felt like I’d already seen this to some degree before. I ended up mostly enjoying whatever subplots were going on instead of the main plot. It’s not that I didn’t like their romance, but sometimes it was just SO uncomfortable because they were uncomfortable LOL idk, romance plots are not usually my jam, but there are enough other elements to make the show enjoyable for me.

- Struggles would come up and then immediately not be an issue by the next episode. I know this is only a 12 episode drama (which I think is a shame, I think if it had been 16-20 episodes then it actually would have fared so much better but alas) but I feel like...I mean if a massive contract issue comes up and can be resolved with a quick call or an article being written, then it wasn’t an issue...and yet the fact that two idols are having angst over dating can be drawn out over the course of 4 episodes just didn’t make sense to me LOL like you’d think the dating issue would have been resolved faster than a contract issue? idk maybe it’s just me. 

- Eunjo’s plot, which is essentially a subplot until the end of the show, is far more interesting than most of what goes on LOL I almost would have liked to have that mystery be woven more thoroughly through the show instead of it being sprinkled in occasionally and then BOOM at the end it all comes together. I just think it might have had more impact.

- GROUP DYNAMICS. Bruh! This is what I really wanted okay? LOL I mean obviously the focus is mostly on Ryeok and Ma Ha but god I would have loved having more scenes with group dynamics and seeing how they actually all get along instead of making the other members all side characters until the very end when we see that they actually all care about each other. I didn’t even know Jaewoo was the leader of SHAX until the end of the show, man LOL like it would have been nice to see more from him, and all of the others, especially since Jaewoo was essentially a snitch to the their label owner for so long and ending up having so much guilt over it, but we never saw that until the last episode. 

I also think I would have preferred to have seen more of the past SHAX with Eunjo, because Ryeok was apparently his bff and yet we don’t really get to see any of that, you know? We just hear about it. This show does a lot of telling instead of showing and I do think that’s because of the episode limit, but it’s just a shame. I think the ending would have been more impactful if we’d gotten to see them altogether more at the beginning.

- If you’ve decided to watch Imitation solely for Seonghwa and San, I’d advise against it LOL they have like two lines per episode they’re in (which isn’t all of them, Sparkling is barely in the show aside from Yoojin(Yunho)) and basically they don’t get to say or do much of anything until the end LOL I get that Sparkling is a secondary character group, basically, but it would have been nice to have seen more dynamics from them, too. I think Seonghwa and San could have honestly been like Dojin and Hyuk, the comedy duo of SHAX, but they just didn’t have the time or whatever, I suppose. Like I don’t even know Seonghwa’s character’s name LOL the only reason I know San’s character’s name is Minsu is because they said it once at the second to the last episode. LOL so, just a warning. But you atinys will be fed by seeing much Yunho and Jongho, I promise.

 I also would have loved to have seen more group dynamics from Sparkling, as I said, because until the 11th episode, I think, I don’t even see them really being like, “guys! I love you all, let’s stick together until the end!” which really confused me bc my dude Hyun Oh was literally causing property damage and giving them a problematic image but apparently they were good with that LOL idk idk

- The whole sasaeng issue gets dropped right before the ending and I thought that was rather strange since up until that point sasaengs had been one of the main roadblocks for the romance plot and they had been rather vile and annoying LOL unfortunately the show often had to skip over or completely drop or quickly resolve a lot of the large ongoing issues in order to come to a conclusive end and I thought that was a bit sad but I do understand why. Can only do so much with 12 episodes.

Overall opinion:

I really enjoyed it. I know I have some critically things to say, but as a writer I just kept seeing plot holes and had to talk about them briefly LOL (or not briefly because idk how to be brief) I think that the tone of the story was good, and that what they were trying to convey through this story was also good. I think it does give an idealistic image of idols freeing themselves from the oppressive evil labels and living the way they want, because unfortunately that’s not always a viable option, however it did remind me of Hyuna and Dawn’s story in a way and that warmed my heart! Love conquers all, my dude, we love to see it.

I would honestly love to watch more idol dramas like Imitation that star idols and therefore we get some sick performances and awesome music and it tells an interesting and somewhat realistic story! I think it’s something anyone can enjoy, even if for me it did get a little long in the middle with all the romance stuff LOL the ending was totally worth it for me, I think it’ll be worth it for you!