#but my brain is just. itchy at the idea of skipping another day

[izzy-b-hands]

I told myself I was gonna get one of today's prompts done but

i am staring at my word doc wrapped in a blanket thinking about showering and going to sleep instead (even tho I know my brain won't let me actually fall asleep until fuck knows when, which makes that feel like just. wasted time.)

[impetusofadream]

If you dont wanna read about psoriasis or other skin related issues/things: skip this post

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There are days, like right now, where i just want to shave my head so i can FINALLY scratch all the stupid itchy scales off my head.

And honestly, my psoriasis isn't even that bad relatively speaking, but I am compelled by my stupid dumb brain to pick and itch and scratch at anything that feels like an aberation on my skin. (Side note: omg i am so lucky i only had/have mild acne or my face would have so many scars from trying to get rid of the bumps asap.)

Thanks to that, I am constantly like ugh... it itchs and i can FEEL the build up but im trying SO HARD to not make another scab on my scalp that takes like a month to heal cause my stupid brain's "skin must be smooth in all directions" (like a shark 😉) means scabs go on the list of things it tells me that need to go too. Its super fun when The Brain forgets where my moles are and tries to convince me one is actually a blackhead or or something.

Point being I wanna be able to sctrach my head scales without my hair being in the way SO BAD right now. Even though i know its a bad idea

[bitingironics]

Claire felt like she was on cloud nine in the middle of the street in Williamsburg, the beat of an old 80s song playing in the background from the nearby diner. The ground felt as though it was pulsing, teaming with life beneath her feet. She was dressed casually - a far cry from the tailored suits she wore to work or the designer she wore on college days. Rather, the soft faded jeans spoke of a different time, and the NYU hoodie she wore was faded as well; a replica of well-worn days at home, it's logo having faded with time and a thousand tumbles in a washing machine. She normally did not come out like this; it was soft, unassuming. But today, she'd awoken with the startling sense of needing comfort of aching for it. She didn't dwell on why, put it off to just another one of “those” days and moved on, or tried to at least. She had been convinced to come out with Ryatt to brave the cold and just walk around for date night until both of them had decided what to do. She always came home earlier on these days - date nights - to spend time doing whatever it was Ryatt wanted to do. Claire wasn't surprised when the weed was waved temptingly in front of her face and only felt a moment of real hesitation before partaking herself. She hadn't been high in years, but watching Ryatt's long fingers wrap around the joint, watching her inhale had lit a dangerous fire in her belly; she'd said yes without really considering the consequences.

Consequence one being; everything was much brighter when Claire was high. The very lights from Starlight diner seemed to zing through her, making her breath quicken in excitement for what was to come through the night. Her contacts had grown itchy in her eyes earlier, and she'd stopped walking to take them out, glasses slipping into place on the bridge of her nose. They weren't as great as her lenses, but the brightened effect of the weed had Claire grateful that she had them on hand always. She could feel the tips of her fingers stretching and searching, and it seemed an infinite amount of time just yearning until finally - cloth. Soft cloth, then something firmer, the vision of an arm under that cloth, before her greedy fingers were wrapping around Ryatt's arm, gaze slipping from the busy street to Ryatt's eyes. Electric. A pulse of an old beat she would recognize instantly searing through her as their eyes met. The world all at once seemed to be in balance.

“I can think of a few better.” And the words lilted on her tongue, a smoldering flame there before her eyes glanced up and down, one quick but lingering look, on Ryatt's form before she dragged them up again. And the idea to skip the entire night, to do something else at home, was teetering on the edge of her tongue. Especially when she met Ryatt’s eyes once more.

But then her libido cooled, only slightly, when Ryatt had said something else. There was a shadow of that want still reflected in her eyes as her hands curled further into Ryatt's clothing, the impression of her fingers now latching onto the firmness of Ryatt's forearm before she carried downwards, catching her wife's hand in her own, intertwining their fingers. A skeptical look echoed in her eyes at the words, and she lingered, trying to figure out a piece of puzzle that seemed hazy in her slowed brain. “You're gonna have to help me out with this one; your brain and my brain aren't on the same wavelength when I'm high, apparently.”

Location: Outside Starlight @ 12am

Status: CLOSED ( @bitingironics )

"See? I told you it was a great way to warm up." Ryatt smirked as she brought the nearly-finished blunt to her lips. After filling her lungs for the last puff, she allowed the smoke to fill the air around the two. There was something otherworldly in Claire's eyes due to the smoke, or maybe because she was as high as a kite - either way, it made Ryatt's heart skip a beat.

Throwing the blunt to the ground, the brunette squashed it with the ball of her boots. Her mind was wandering in a peaceful way; Floating on a cloud in some far-off galaxy. The only proof she was alive was the way the cold air went up her nose to violate her lungs.

"You know what sounds so good right now?"

[haminhell]

♧ ``Heather Baby`` ♤

[TMR] The Scorch Trials +

[TMR] The Death Cure

pairing; brenda x reader x teresa

summary; when you first saw teresa and brenda, there was just an immediate flick of attraction towards them. You always felt like a shank for liking both of them at the same time. those worries faded quickly when you found the two arguing over you when..

warning(s); so very very fluffy, awkward flirting??? very very badass Brenda

Happy pride month my friends! Requests are open, so feel free to drop them on me. :>

~~~

Ever since the day when Teresa came up in the box and gasped out both yours and Thomas names, you couldn't help but fall in love. You never seemed to find any attraction towards any of the men in the Glade, even if they were sweethearts and nice to be around. So why was it whenever you were around Teresa that your chest would get all fuzzy, your palms would get itchy and sweaty, and your blood would rush to your face?

It confused you. You felt conflicted with yourself and just wanted to shoo all of what was happening to you away. Whenever you saw Teresa with Thomas, you felt your heart drop and like you were falling a thousand feet in the air.

Newt had noticed that something was going on with you, while everyone else stayed oblivious to your struggles. That's why, one day, he confronted you.

He was your best friend and hated to see you so uncomfortable all the time. Everytime you would crack a joke, your smile would never seem to reach your eyes like they used to ever since.. Teresa.

"Alright, ya bloody shank. What's going on with you?" He huffed, sitting down next to you at the cafeteria. You guys had recently escaped the maze and were brought to the base of your guys so called, "saviours". Honestly? You didnt have too good of a feeling about this place. Even if things were far better than the maze, you hated the terrible feeling you had being here.

'Snap'. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking at Newt. "This is what I'm talking about. You're always zoning out from reality whenever you—" That's when he caught you and Thomas looking outside of the window as people walk away with Teresa. You and Thomas had one thing in common, that's for sure. You two always had such curious eyes.

"You're totally whipped for Teresa." The blonde muttered, making you stare at him. Your entire face went red and you looked around, hoping no one heard him. A small sigh of relief left your lips when you realized no one had heard the dorky boy. A smirk crept onto his face and he laughed.

"What—? What are you laughing at, you shank?!" You clasped your hands over his mouth and scrunched up your nose, pouting. In all honesty, you looked adorable.

"So you are whipped." He said, being muffled because of your hands. The table turned to you two with questioning looks, not hearing what Newt had said. You, however, had heard him very clearly.

"Well, I—" That's when Thomas stood up and stormed off towards the glass to follow Teresa.

"Teresa—! Hey, Teres"—...

~~~

[you can skip this part if you'd like. It's just a quick recap of the events in the movie.]

That was, at least, like, a week ago now? God knows how long, but it felt like forever. You all had a rough journey.

First, you had escaped that 'last hope of humanity' milking factory. You all had saved Teresa, of course. Zapped a few stupid W.C.K.E.D. chumps with their own weapons! And it was "so shanking badass" As told by Minho. <3

Then, you all went into some broken down mall? You had absolutely no idea what a 'mall' was, but it seemed fitting for whatever place that was. It was decent, at first. You got warm clothes and a totally cool bat with barbed wires and dried blue stuff on it? It was nice, until Minho turned on the power and we got chased down by some Cranks! That wasn't so nice. Winston got badly hurt..

After that, you guys hid under some debris and broken concrete. You all continued your walk from there in search for the right arm.

On the way, you all had lost Winston to the virus. That had almost completely broken your hopes to finding the Right Arm. If only it weren't for Teresa, you probably would've lost it right then and there. Besides, Winston was your closest friend, second to Newt.

Now, here you were. Sitting in the sand and staring up at the grey clouds with glazed over eyes. You were hungry, dehydrated, and overall exhausted.

"Lights," you heard next to you. You turned your head to Thomas and then followed his line of sight. Were those..is that a building?

"Light.. lights!! Everyone! Get up!" You croaked out, your throat raspy and dry. You stumbled to your feet, giving Frypan a hand to help him up.

~~~

"You crazy shank" Minho breathed out.

Your eyes finally adjusted to the five people surrounding you and blinked. What the—?

"What happened..?" You muttered, a baffled look on your face.

"You got hit by lightning saving this bloody shank" Newt said, elbowing Minho next to him.

"Huh." You turned to Teresa, seeing she was blinking away tears in her eyes. "You okay Teresa?"

"Just.. I just didn't want to lose another one of us." Of course..

You all stood up(you having to be helped by Minho and Frypan) and looked around.

Your brain took a while to process what was happened for a second, but what was in front of you finally clicked in your mind. Cranks.

"Holy—!" You stumbled backwards, having to be caught by Frypan. You and that mans are always having to catch each other.

That's when a really really cute girl came walking through the crowd of cranks. They were just a fingernail away from getting to the girl.

"Woah.." you subconsciously breathe out through your lips. Everyone looked at you, making you clear your throat in embarrassment. "I—I said.. wow—lightning, yanno? Fried my brain—" you lightly knocked at your head, mentally face-palming and cursing at your clumsiness.

Newt just smirked at you(supportive besfren check). The mysterious girl just chuckled and looked at us all with a playful smile on her face.

"Well? Are you coming? Or do you want to stay here with all of these cranks? Come on."

What a woman.

[comfortwriting]

Ashtray - D.M part 1

Masterlist, Posting Schedule, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Draco Malfoy x Fem Gryffindor Smoker Reader

Part 2 , Part 3

About: After years of bullying the reader, Draco catches her smoking, at first he doesn’t care and doesn’t think much of it. Draco suddenly finds himself crushing on the reader, realising how bad smoking is and freaks out.

Warnings: mention of cancer, heart disease, lung disease, the word mudblood.

“He’s staring at you again” Harry muttered.

You, Ron and Harry were standing in the court yard, Hermione with her head stuck in a book. You looked across to see the platinum blonde haired boy that hated your guts, sitting in a tree, Crabbe and Goyle making him laugh. 

“Just ignore it Harry” you said softly, “you’ve got enough on your plate this year”

Harry didn’t answer and continued to stare down Draco, squinting at him through his glasses.

Sighing you turned around and checked sneakily in your bag for your cigarette packet, unfortunately you had left it behind the in dorm room. Your fingers were itching for a smoke, you hated not being able to sneak off for one between classes, especially on sunny days like these when everyone was outside.

“It’s a bit odd that he has it in for you” Ron spoke up, shoving a jelly slug in his mouth “I mean - you haven’t given him a reason to.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, pulling herself out of her book “it’s because she’s with us, you idiot”

“no” you replied “even before I joined you lot, Draco’s been unpleasant.” 

Speaking of the devil, Draco and his two stocky sheep strutted over to you, each of them smirking and laughing at you. 

Your heart pained for a moment, Draco had to be the most gorgeous lad you ever laid eyes on during your time at Hogwarts, but unfortunately he was also the rudest and most arrogant of the lot. 

You couldn’t explain why you were so into him, you only know the bad parts of him - yet baffling enough, you wanted to see the good parts of him more than anything and funnily enough, Draco only knew the good parts of you, yet he yearned for the bad in you. 

“Look what we’ve found here boys” Draco smirked, stopping in his tracks “a peasant, a mud blood, an orphan and..” he paused, his eyes searching you. 

“a tosspot?” you answered for him, smirking back “you’ve got to do better than that, Malfoy.”

Draco’s face dropped and the same old frustrated look splashed across his face.

This was the first time he couldn’t think of something on his feet, you had caught him out in front of both his friends and yours, you would relish making him look stupid for the rest of the school year. 

Draco stepped out in front of you, Crabbe and Goyle waiting behind him. You stepped out from your shield of friends and stared the blonde down, Ron could barely contain himself.  

Draco didn’t know why he hated you, well, part of him did - you’re a Gryffindor, you’re best-friends with the people he hates most and worst of all, you could outsmart him. But the other part of him didn’t feel that hate or maliciousness towards you, he didn’t like you or dislike you - he was only forcing himself to hate you. 

He had to think of something, the longer he stayed silent the more stupid he looked. 

“You’re ugly and you smell like a filthy ashtray” he spat at you, turning around  he walked away with Crabbe and Goyle pretending to laugh to make him feel better. 

You burst out laughing and flipped him off. 

“Ugly, wow.” you breathed.

Ron couldn’t help but laugh “it’s alright for you isn't it? ashtray - some insult that, you sure you don’t fancy him or something?.”

You slapped his shoulder playfully “don’t talk crap, Ron.”

‘He isn’t entirely wrong though’

 You glanced at Harry and Hermione “Are you two okay?” you asked, feeling bad about what Draco said and for not defending them. 

The two of them looked at one another and back at you, nodding. 

“We’ve got an important exam to prepare for, you coming with?” Hermione asked.

You shook your head, your fingers now unbearably itchy and your head desperately pleading for a smoke.

“nah, I’ve got some homework to do, see you later?” 

Waving and walking away, you went to your dorm, your head filling with thoughts of the blonde. 

“so stupid” Draco cursed under his breath, pacing around the empty Slytherin common room. 

No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t rid the pictures of you flashing in his head: the sound of your laugh, your voice answering questions in potions, the scent of your hair, your smile, the way you walked across the Quidditch pitch - Draco found himself drowning in a sea of confusion. 

‘I can’t fancy her, father will see rage’

He shook his head and pushed his soft blonde hair back, he couldn’t be developing feelings for you, no way - you must have put a spell on him, hexed him even. 

Finally lighting your cigarette, you inhaled, pulling it away from between your lips, holding it between your index and middle finger, the inside of your mouth warming up. Looking out at the great lake, you admired the beautiful reflection of the sky and beaming sun waving in the water. 

Draco left the common room and searched the entire school grounds for you, he finally approached the great lake and felt satisfied when he saw you. 

Getting ready to scold you and disarm you, he stopped in his tracks, your beauty stunning him. Although you were smoking, this didn’t bother Draco, it made sense for the nickname he gave you, but even when breathing in toxic chemicals, nothing could stop his heart from racing.

He wanted to pull you into him for a long and loving embrace, to share an intense kiss flowing with the pent up feelings the two of you were hiding, he wanted to make you his - he wanted to protect you. 

Managing to pull himself out of his trance, he continued to approach you. 

Exhaling, you heard a familiar sharp voice pop out from behind you. 

“Tell me what you’ve done, ashtray!” 

Turning around, Draco stormed over to you like he did earlier on, his hair and robes blowing in the wind. 

Noticing the cigarette resting between your fingers, you started to choke on the smoke out of panic, instantly dropping your cigarette onto the floor and stamping on it in a hurry - but he had already caught you. 

“Done what?” you breathed out, coughing even more into your fist.

“You know exactly what you’ve done, trying to mess with my head!” he hissed. 

You stared at him like he had two heads.

 “Malfoy, sort yourself out, will you? I’ve got no bloody idea what you’re talking about. Get lost off if you’ve got nothing better to do!”

Draco scoffed and pointed at you “if you don’t give me an explanation by tonight I’ll do you in for smoking.” 

the sun beams outlined Draco as if he were an angel, he turned around and strutted off, you watched him leave and searched your packet for another cigarette, cursing yourself for putting a full one out without needing to.

Feeding your bad habit, you pondered around trying to figure out what Draco was talking about.

‘Messing with his head?’

“Where have you been?” Pansy asked, relieved to see Draco entering the  common room.

Draco stared at Pansy for a moment, Crabbe and Goyle sitting down.

He couldn’t allow them to figure him out, his undying crush on you, he had to keep this act up, he needed to protect himself. 

“If that ashtray doesn’t confess by tonight, she’ll be out of this school.”

Pansy grunted “let her continue to smoke, Draco. She’s killing herself by doing so.”

Draco got a sinking feeling in his stomach, he didn’t really want you gone from Hogwarts and he sure as hell didn’t want you dead.

Draco pondered whether or not it would be worth addressing and accepting his feelings so he can confess and move forward, he hated keeping the truth to himself and lying about it.

“What?” He stared at Pansy.

Pansy yawned “cancer, heart disease, lung disease, let her put herself at risk to all that.”

Draco didn’t know much about cigarettes, they never appealed to him but he now hated them within seconds. The beautiful images of you were replaced with sickly ones, the sound of your laughter replaced with your wheezing and croaky voice.

The platinum blonde haired boy couldn’t sleep that night, he tossed and turned, his head screaming at him to approach you, to stop you from damaging yourself, even if nothing happened between the two of you.

Creeping around the school in your pyjamas, you silently tip toed past the great hall, praying to get outside for your last smoke of the night.

Feeling a hand grab you, you clamped your hand over you mouth, silencing your screams.

The taller person who had taken hold of you had his finger against his lips, his eyes burning into you with not hate.. but love and a slight hint of concern.

Your hand fell beside you “What are you doing?” You hissed lowly at him.

Draco noticed the cigarette packet in your other hand, he snatched them from you and stuffed them into his pockets.

“Draco, I didn’t do anything I for Merlins sake!—“

Draco couldn’t take his brain screaming anymore, his heart pining, he couldn’t ignore the images of you, the sound of your laughter - he wanted you, he wanted it all.

You didn’t call him Malfoy.

Smashing his lips against yours, he silenced you with a long, meaningful kiss.

Draco felt relieved, the heaviness coming from the bricks sitting on his shoulders had tumbled off, his thoughts finally silenced, his heart finally lighter and the best thing of all - he got reassurance; you were kissing back.

The taste of green apples filled your mouth, instantly making you nervous if all he got in return was more ashtray. 

Your heart skipped beats, the butterflies in your stomach flapping their wings and taking flight, fireworks exploded between your lips. 

Draco pulled away and his soft expression turned hard, you stared at him trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“You’re stopping smoking” Draco ordered quietly.

Looking around for Mr Filch and Mrs Norris, you turned your attention back on Draco.

“Why do you care? I’ve given you an answer and you’re going to do me in anyway—“

Draco sighed, his words coming up like vomit.

“Wait, why did you kiss me?” you asked, your fingers running over your lips.

“I don’t want you to put your health at stake, Y/N!” Draco took your hands in his.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this, I don’t know why I’m so attracted to you but for as long as I do have feelings for you - you’re not doing this to yourself.”

You looked into his beautiful gleaming ice grey eyes, chewing on your lip nervously “You have feelings for me?” you began to smirk. 

Draco put his head in his hands “I just kissed you didn’t I?” 

You nodded and pursed your lips, this whole encounter going from awkward to cringe, yet so sweet and innocent. 

“Well I kissed back”

Draco gave you the ‘no shit sherlock’ look “I had no idea, ashtray mouth” 

You slapped him playfully like you did Ron this morning, the two of you starting to laugh quietly, your heart fluttering at his smile, his perfectly pearly white teeth. 

“I have feelings for you too, Draco”

“No..” Ron squealed under the invisibility cloak.

Trying to step out and batter Draco, Harry grabbed Ron by the back of his jumper, holding him back. 

“shut it, will you!” Harry hissed. 

Ron gave him a look “she’s sleeping with the enemy!”

Harry wanted to slap his best friend around the head “they’ve just kissed, look I’m not happy about it either—“

“I thought Hermione was bad enough with Krum-” Ron whined.

[on-maars]

Home It Is, Then

Alright, I gifted this fic for @evanbucxley because that help my life (be worth your while) series was a rollercoaster of emotions and I absolutely loved it. I wanted to contribute to the Religious Guilt Eddie Diaz idea and here’s my work :)

It’s not that angsty, quite soft at times even, if you want to take your mind off things before that finale. 

Hope you’ll like it!

READ ON AO3

When he was a little kid, Eddie used to go to Church every Sunday.

Along the years, it became a ritual. A ritual Eddie didn’t really dare to cast doubt on. This was just it. It was just the way he was raised and so Eddie continued going without objecting, without asking questions. And boys did he have some.

At first, it was simple questions. Simple questions with easy answers. Answers Eddie was taking for granted.

What does God look like? Why did He create people? Why can’t we see Him? Did He have any friends? Does He ever get lonely up there? Were there dinosaurs in the Ark?

And for a while, Eddie was happy. He was satisfied with the answers. They made sense. They were logical, and if his parents and the different priests said so, then they also had to be true, right? But then Eddie grew older, and as he grew older, the questions became more complex, more intricate, filled with confusion, wonder and doubt.

How can I trust what the bible says is true? If there is a God, then why is there so much suffering? Isn’t the chaos of the world a sign of God’s absence?

His brain was filled with them. His brain was filled with questions and hesitations and Eddie didn’t know how to make sense of them. It didn’t help that the answers were not that easy anymore. They were vague and confusing and Eddie needed clearness, he needed stability and he needed control.

And Eddie’s not so prejudiced as to think that every Christian believer out there is deemed to be narrow-minded and intolerant but that was just another aspect he could have added to the list of things that used to make him uncomfortable about the religion, how some of the most faithful members of his Church used to act, used to judge other people for being the way they were.

It wasn’t rare for Eddie to hear some disturbing comments here and there. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t insistent. But it was there. It was weird allusions in sermons, hurtful insults in the school playground, remarks flowing in high-school hallways. Eddie couldn’t get them out of his head, and it just brought about a new series of question.

How can a loving God send anyone in Hell? How can someone be seen as ‘less than’ just because of the way they love?

Eddie didn’t like these questions. He didn’t like these questions and he liked the answers even less. And so he did the only thing that appeared to be the most sensible at that time. He started distancing himself from the religion, started skipping a few masses, a few Sundays, until his absence from his church became something more permanent, more constant.

Eddie left without looking back, practiced his faith privately, buried these questions somewhere far, far, in the back of his mind, and never really thought anything of it again.

That until he settled in Los Angeles. Until he met Buck.

And then the questions came back. They came back slowly, and then all at once.

1.

The first time it happens, it’s small. So small Eddie barely notices it.

They’re in the car. They both finished a 24 hours shift and Eddie is so tired it’s a chore just keeping his eyes open. His head rests gently on the window and his mouth slowly turns up at the edges when he realizes Buck’s been driving very gently and avoiding the holes on the road to make sure he can sleep on the way home.

He’s not sleeping though. He can’t. There are so many things he still needs to do, doing the laundry, helping Christopher with his homework, tidying the living-room that is slowly becoming a battlefield filled with Legos bricks, books about space (Christopher’s new obsession) and cars. He needs to take care of everything. He needs to take care of everything before his parents come and visit this week-end.

This was supposed to be a surprise visit – they said. We want to see our grandson . And Eddie understands. He understands his parents’ need to see his son. He understands their obsession in trying to help him. He knows it comes from a place of kindness and generosity but he can barely keep it together on a good day, he doesn’t even want to know how he would have reacted if his parents had decided to show up unannounced.

And that’s why he can’t sleep. That’s why he can’t sleep and needs to be sure that everything is taken care of before his parents show up. The last thing he wants is to give them more reasons to complain about his lifestyle and continue to think that Christopher will be better off without him.

Eddie sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, glancing towards Buck. His eyes fall on his best-friend’s arms and that’s when it happens. Just like that. There’s no warning, no sign, and it hits him like a tons of bricks.

He wants to hold his hand.

He wants to hold Buck’s hand.

He wants to intertwine their fingers together and rest them on his thigh.

He wants to hold it so bad it makes his own hand itchy.

But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. Because that would be weird, right? That would be crossing a line. We’re just friends – he thinks. And just friends don’t do that. Sure, they hug each other, sometimes. They hug each other, they laugh together and they’re here when the other needs it but they don’t hold hands. They don’t hold hands.

“You doing okay, Eds?” Buck says and his voice is so soft Eddie almost hates him for it. Because his chest suddenly fills with warmth and Eddie doesn’t understand where it comes from. He doesn’t understand where it comes from and that scares him. And so he doesn’t mention it and pretends it never happened.

“Yeah.” He says, but his face betrays him. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just lots of stuff to think about. With-”

“With your parents.” Buck finishes with a knowing smile and Eddie can’t stop himself from smiling back at him. Because it’s his best-friend, right there. His best-friend who always knows what’s going on inside his head, his best-friend who sometimes even understands him better than he understands himself.

Eddie nods and suddenly Buck parks his car next to his house. He wants to move but his body feels like cement. Every single one of his muscles is as heavy as lead and he barely has time to register they’ve made it home that Buck is already opening the passenger’s door, unfastening his seat-belt and guiding him towards the house.

It’s quiet. Christopher is not home yet. He’s still at school and Carla is taking him home today. Eddie takes off his shoes and throws them away, sighing at the mess around him. He’s about to lean down to start picking toys but then he can feel Buck’s hand on his waist and his whole body freezes. And he doesn’t know if it’s something that Buck always does, he doesn’t know if it’s something that is completely normal in their relationship and that he’s only freaking out since his weird awakening in the car, but the thing is that he still freezes. His entire body tenses.

Not because he doesn’t like it. Quite the contrary. The only thing he really wants is to lean in on the touch and feel his best-friend’s strong arms around his back.

“Hey, none of that.” Buck says gently. “Go to bed. Take a nap. I’ll tidy everything, do the laundry and prepare something to eat for you guys.”

“Buck, you’re tired too, I can’t ask you to do that.” Eddie disagrees but his body is already swaying. Fortunately for him, Buck is here to catch him and one second later, Eddie’s chin is resting on his shoulder, unable to stop himself from breathing in the scent of what he guesses is smoke and Buck’s aftershave.

“You’re not asking.” Buck answers. “I offered. I’ll be gone when you wake up.”

“You can stay.” Eddie remarks. “Christopher’ll be thrilled.”

“Is he the only one who’ll be thrilled?” Buck asks, and Eddie can hear the hesitation in his voice. “If I stay, I mean.”

“I’m always happy when you stay.” Eddie admits, too tired to even register the words coming out of his mouth.

“Alright. Then I'll stay.”

2.

The second time it happens, Eddie’s in denial.

He’s sitting on the couch, Buck by his side. It’s been a long, hard shift and they’re all trying to make the best of the few restful minutes they have. The alarm hasn’t rung out again yet and Eddie is silently praying that it won’t until he can get home to Christopher.

Eddie tries to hold back a yawn as he sweeps the room with his eyes. Chimney is slumped on the sofa, his phone in his right hand and a small smile on his face. There’s only one person who can make him smile that way. Maddie.

Hen is also seated, but at the table. There is a book placed in front of her but from the way her eyes keep checking at her watch, Eddie knows he’s not the only one hoping for a calm, uneventful end of shift. Bobby is nowhere to be seen but the door to his office is ajar, meaning he’s most certainly inside and taking care of the boring, administrative part of the job.

And then, there’s Buck. Buck, strangely focused on a book about space Christopher recommended to him a week before. His arm is wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie would be lying if he said the way Buck’s fingers absentmindedly trace small patterns on his chest isn’t comforting. It is, and Eddie almost wishes he’d never stop.

I don’t want him to stop – he thinks. And here it is again. That feeling. That weird, gut-wrenching sensation. He doesn’t understand it. And he’s not sure he even wants to.

Because he knows, deep down. He knows that the reason why he always feels so safe and comfortable whenever Buck is around isn’t so far-fetched and out of reach. It’s a pretty obvious reason, really. It’s simple. Easy. But Eddie’s not quite sure he’s ready to face all the consequences and the intimate and personal soul-searching questions that come along with it.

And so he stays silent and says nothing, still hoping that if he denies it for a considerable amount of time then that feeling will just go away on its own.

But then, Buck slowly extricates himself from his embrace and Eddie straight-up whines at the loss of physical contact and suddenly there’s nothing more he wants but for the ground to swallow him whole.

But Buck doesn’t judge him, oh no. And that may be the worst part. The way his best-friend always seems to be gentle, cautious, soft when it comes to Eddie. This time isn’t any different. A small smile slowly creeps on his face and Buck turns his head around, presses a small kiss on his hair, his right hand on his chest.

“Be right back, Eds.” He says, and takes a few steps towards the stairs.

Eddie sighs and only realizes his eyes are closed when he hears the small snort coming from Chimney. He opens them again and finds his friend watching him with a knowing expression on his face.

“So have you told him, yet?” Chimney asks. His tone is teasing and Eddie frowns.

“Told him what?” Eddie inquiries, his voice fragile. He doesn’t want to go there. Not yet. Not here.

“You do know he’s only waiting for you to acknowledge what’s already there, right?” His co-worker asks and that’s all it takes for Eddie’s breathing to become ragged, erratic.

Suddenly, the room is smaller. The room is smaller and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s going to suffocate if he stays here any longer.

“Hey, wah Eddie I was- I was kidding. I just thought that with the way you were acting, maybe you’d-”

“Chim.” Hen warns him and takes a few careful steps towards Eddie.

“Eddie-”

“I can’t do this.” Eddie cuts in. “I can’t do this, right now. I’m sorry.” He says, and goes down the stairs as fast as he can.

Once outside, he starts crying.

3.

The third time it happens, it’s more earth-shattering for Eddie.

He’s in the locker-room. He just came out of the shower and he's slowly getting dressed, satisfied when the comforting fabric of his civilian clothes touch his skin. It’s always been therapeutic for him, slipping on his clothes after a long day at work. There’s nothing quite like it. It feels like coming back home. He can finally let go of all the things he’s seen during his shift and focus on the other parts of his life. His son. His friends. His hobbies.

He loves his job, wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. But god only knows how much he needs the breaks sometimes.

He’s putting on his jumper and is about to do the same with his shoes but that’s when he sees him. Buck. His friend seemingly only got out from the shower and he’s walking towards him with only a towel covering his waist.

And Eddie should be fine. He should be fine. He’s seen his friend naked a thousand times before and it’s no news to him that Buck is good-looking but this time is different. This time, Eddie’s all hot and bothered and finds himself daydreaming about pining his best-friend to the locker and kissing straight on the mouth.

“Enjoying the view?” Buck teases him, and Eddie wants to huff out a laugh. He wants to tease him back like he always does but he’s incapable of pronouncing the slightest words. How can he? How can he while the part of himself he’s been trying so hard to conceal all those years threaten to burst out of him and expose his heart to the rest of the world? He can’t.

“I need to go.” He says. Because right now, the easy way out is to flee. Again.

“Eds, I was only kid-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Buck.” He cuts in, rushing to put on his shoes and take his bag. He slams the door of his locker and locks himself in his car, driving until he’s back home, safe.

4.

The fourth time it happens, it’s during a conversation Eddie has with Hen.

It was supposed to be a simple conversation. They were both seated at Bobby and Athena’s table, exchanging small talks and jokes in-between.

The 118 all decided to gather together to celebrate Chimney’s birthday and everything was going great. Everything was going great. Hen was telling him all about Denny’s experience in eighth grade and how this one was thrilled at the idea of seeing Christopher again tonight. Everything was going great, that’s why Eddie doesn’t understand why he finds himself blurting out these next few words.

“When did you realize you were into girls?” Eddie asks, and instantly regrets saying them. But it’s too late, now. They’re out in the open and he can’t take them back. And from the way Hen looks at him with a soft expression, she’s just happy he’s finally brave enough to open up.

“I’ve never really had a grand awakening like you can see in movies or series.” Hen says. “I guess it was just – always there. In a way. When I grew up, I could see that while all my friends were talking about boys, my attention was just more focused on girls.” She adds, keeping her voice low. She knows how important and new that talk is to Eddie, and she wants to create a safe space, a safe place where Eddie is free to voice all his fears, all his worries.

And Eddie’s grateful. He’s just not so sure if he’s ready to move forward with that conversation, nor if Bobby and Athena’s house is the most suited place to do that.

“Why do you ask?” She eventually asks, giving him the choice to retract or to dig in a bit deeper.

“I just-” Eddie starts but the words get stuck in his throat once again. “I-” He tries again, and fails a second time. He bites his lower lip and closes his eyes fiercely for a few seconds, trying to muster enough courage. In vain.

In the end, he realizes he doesn’t need to say anything. His eyes do it for him. They fall on Buck who’s seated on the ground with Christopher and Denny, seemingly very engrossed in whatever game they’re playing. It’s sweet – Eddie decides. His best-friend has always been so good and comfortable around kids and Eddie still remembers him saying that he probably would have ended up being a teacher if it wasn’t for his vocation as a firefighter.

Buck seems to feel his gaze on him because the next second, this one looks up and offers him one of these smiles. One of these soft smiles that makes Eddie feel all warm and at peace. He wishes it could stop. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t and against his better judgment Eddie finds himself smiling when his best-friend mouths “ you okay? ” in his direction. He nods, and lowers his eyes down.

“Eddie.” Hen starts, her tone carefully controlled. “I’m pretty sure he’d be ready to wait a lifetime if you’d ask him to.”

And it’s supposed to be comforting words, Eddie knows that, but it only fills him with even more unease and anxiety.

How much time does he still need? How much time until he realizes there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way?

Having the possibility to ask him such a huge thing doesn’t mean he should.

5.

The fifth time it happens, it’s Eddie’s fault.

They’re in his kitchen. Christopher is away having a sleepover at one of his friend’s and they have the house to themselves.

Eddie is slowly stirring his Abuela’s chicken soup while Buck is seated on the counter, teasing him and guiding him through the recipe with that bossy tone of his.

And Eddie? Well Eddie is done for.

“Are you planning on helping me or not?” Eddie asks, rolling his eyes at his friend when Buck leans over to make sure Eddie is following the recipe to the letter.

“Nop.” He smiles. “I quite like seeing you all flustered.” He adds, and there’s an implicit meaning behind his words that makes Eddie’s heart flutter. And he doesn’t understand what pushes him to say what he answers next. Maybe it’s the way Buck looks at him. Maybe it’s the accumulated unresolved tension that seems to linger in the atmosphere whenever they’re together. Maybe it’s just another one of his boosts of confidence.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie dares saying after a few seconds, raising his eyebrows in a suggested manner. Buck seems surprised. He opens his eyes wide but then a soft smile stretches his lips and his face softens. Eddie knows what it all means. He’s been friends with him for three years and he has quickly become an expert when it comes to Buck’s silent communication.

It’s an invitation. An invitation to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room and to take their relationship to the next level. And Eddie’s not sure if he’s ready. He’s not sure if he’s ready but then Buck spreads his legs a bit more apart than they were a few seconds ago and Eddie’s common sense goes up in smoke. He surges forward and slips in-between Buck’s legs to crash their lips together.

It’s not gentle. It’s heated and it’s desperate and it’s filled with a sense of urgency. And Buck doesn’t waste any second to kiss him back with just as much vigor. He cups Eddie’s cheeks with his hands and brings him closer, biting his lower lip to demand access to his mouth, which the other man just accepts. Their tongues fight for dominance for a while, a battle that each of them are more than happy to participate in. Buck hums slightly against his mouth and Eddie is pretty sure it’s just another one of his very vivid dreams.

Except that it’s not. It’s very real and Eddie’s hands are everywhere. On Buck’s shoulders, on his neck, on his hair, on his waist. It’s everywhere and Eddie suddenly struggles to breathe. He’s breathless and panting and the next thing he knows, tears are rolling down his cheeks. They’re still kissing but it doesn’t take Buck more than a minute to realize he’s crying. He cradles his chin gently and breaks the kiss, wiping his tears with his thumbs.

“Hey.” He says.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie starts. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“I know.” Buck only answers, and it’s like his eyes are piercing through his very soul. “I know.” He repeats, sealing their lips in another kiss. This time, it’s gentler, softer, and if Eddie’s right hand slips underneath Buck’s shirt and wraps itself around his waist, well then nobody needs to know about it, only Buck. Only Buck, who smiles and just throws his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor.

Buck is still seated on the kitchen counter and when their lips connect again, Eddie places his hands on Buck’s thighs, moaning against his lips when his friend runs his hands through his hair, pulling down at his locks.

And this would have been fine. This would have been fine if Buck hadn’t moved his arms from his hair to his waist, bringing them closer until their crotches touch. Because then Eddie is suddenly hit with the realization of what they’re currently doing. He’s kissing his best-friend. He’s making out with his best-friend and he’s obviously undeniably turned on. His body jumps with surprise and as if electrocuted by his touch, Buck’s hands suddenly disappear from his body, giving him space.

Eddie takes a step back as if struck by lightning, watching his best-friend with his mouth agape. Buck is staring at him, too. His hair disheveled, his cheeks red and his lips swollen. Eddie doubts he’s in a much better state and the panic is suddenly boiling in his chest. It’s not a light stressed feeling he often has when he’s on a call, oh no. It’s a full blown panic attack that makes his heart’s beat go faster until it’s the only thing he can feel, a deep and earth-shattering anxiety that makes him feel dizzy.

“I need to go.” He blurts out.

“Eddie, wait.” Buck says, catching his wrist with his hand. “You don’t need to go. We can talk about it. Whatever you need.”

“I-” Eddie starts but his eyes start watering again. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I need to go.” He repeats, rushing outside.

There, he walks. He walks, ignoring the way Buck is still calling out his name from the porch. He walks and walks and walks, and ignores how the rain pounds harsh against him, soaking him to the bones. He walks until his steps lead him to Bobby’s house. It’s quiet. The house is silent but there’s still a light on in the living-room and that’s what pushes Eddie to knock on the door a few times. His gestures are slow and weak and for a moment, Eddie wonders if someone heard him but then the door is being pushed open and Bobby’s there, watching him, his eyes filled with confusion, and worry.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” He asks. “Everything okay?”

+1

“I- I kissed Buck.” He blurts out.

A flash of understanding crosses his Captain’s eyes and he moves to the side to invite him in. Eddie takes a few steps inside and ignores the way Athena looks at him with compassion before disappearing in their bedroom. Because he doesn’t want compassion. He doesn’t want pity. He wants to understand. He wants to understand what’s going on inside his own head.

“Does he know you’re here?” Bobby asks. “Buck. Does he know you’re here?”

Eddie shakes his head, watching Bobby sighs as he takes his cellphone from his back pocket, most likely to send a quick text to Buck and puts an end to his endless anxious thoughts.

Athena comes back from the room with a fresh towel and a pair of sweatpants and an old jumper, probably belonging to Bobby. Eddie thanks her silently and locks himself in the bathroom, discarding his clothes in the laundry basket. He sighs and dries his body as much as he can before getting dressed with his captain’s clothes. He comes back in the living-room and rubs his wet hair with the towel.

“Sit down.” Bobby tells him, pointing at the chair. Eddie complies and looks down at his hands, his fingers twitching. He closes his eyes and bites his lower lip to hold back the sobs that threaten to rack his body any second.

“I kissed him, Cap.” He repeats, his voice weak, his eyes staring at Bobby, almost pleadingly. Pleading for what, he doesn’t know, but pleading all the same. “I kissed him, and then I- I freaked out. I freaked out and I left him there all alone and I just fled.”

“Why did you freak out?” Bobby asks, his eyes filled with understanding.

“I don’t know!” Eddie exclaims, huffing out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know, I-”

“Is it something he did that made you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Eddie instantly answers. “No, he was- it’s Buck, Bobby, he just- as soon as he saw I was starting to freak out, he just stopped. And I started it. I kissed him. Hell I wanted to kiss him.”

“Were you scared?” Athena intervenes. “Because it’s okay if you were, Eddie." She adds, and then speaks again, more carefully: "This is- This is new to you, right?”

“No. I mean yes.” He says, closing his eyes fiercely for a few seconds. “It was just… I’m not new to the kissing game obviously, even if it was only with… Only with girls. Why would a guy be any different, though?” He asks, mostly to himself. “I don’t understand why I’m so- Am I being homophobic?” He opens his eyes wide, panic clearly shown on his face. “Oh my god, I am, aren’t I? But I don’t-”

“Eddie.” Bobby cuts in. “You’re not being homophobic. Or maybe you are. But not in the sense you’re thinking of.”

“How many senses are there in being homophobic, Bobby? Either you are or you’re not, this is ridiculous.” Eddie snaps. Bobby marks a pause, looks at Athena for a few seconds and speaks again when she nods.

“Eddie, have you ever felt any different around Hen?” He asks, and Eddie shakes his head. “Did you ever view her any differently just because she’s attracted to girls or because she’s married to a woman?”

“No, of course not.” Eddie instantly answers.

“And what about you?” Athena asks.

“What about me?” Eddie repeats, confused.

“Have you ever viewed yourself differently because you’re attracted to Buck? Because you’re attracted to a man?” Athena adds, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat.

For a few seconds, a deep silence settles in the room. “I- I guess.” He admits. “Yes.” He adds, more confidently. “I just- The way I was raised, it- it was very traditional. It’s always been that way and it- it doesn’t let you much of a choice.” He explains. “My parents, they- they weren’t homophobic. I mean, I don’t think they were. Not outwardly, at least. Not on purpose. But- there just never was any option for me. I was- I was just supposed to be straight. Everything else, it- it didn’t matter. It didn’t exist. Not really.”

“Eddie, you probably internalized a lot of homophobia throughout the years. Even without knowing.” Bobby says carefully. “It only makes sense that it’s so hard for you to accept the fact that you like another man. That you like Buck.”

“I don’t like him.” Eddie shakes his head. “I- I'm pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

Athena smiles. “This boy makes it hard not to fall in love with him.” She adds, and Eddie huffs out a laugh, wiping the tears with the sleeve of his jumper. Bobby’s jumper.

“Right?” Eddie nods knowingly. “He’s bloody annoying, though. And stubborn as hell. And god, sometimes he really can be a pain in the ass but it’s-”

“It’s Buck.” Bobby finishes for him, smiling.

“Yeah.” Eddie nods. “It’s Buck.” He adds. “God, I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

“Nah.” His Captain only says. “I think you’re okay. I mean from the…” He says, taking his cellphone in his hands. “15? No. 16 messages I just received from him, I’m pretty confident in saying that you’re already forgiven. He just worries about you.”

“Of course he does.” Eddie complains, lowering his eyes. “As I said. Bloody annoying.” He repeats, quieter, and this earns him a few laughter from Athena and Bobby.

“You want to be with him, right?” Athena asks, and Eddie’s pretty sure that’s the easiest question he’s been asked in his entire life.

“Yeah.” He answers. “Yeah, of course I want to be with him.” He admits. “I’m just scared. Anxious. Embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?”

“I’m a grown man, Athena. I’m a grown ass man and I- I'm pretty sure I’ve always known, deep down, that I was- that I was gay. Or at least I think that I knew. I was just trying to convince myself that I wasn’t. And I- God I almost did it. I almost did it. And I- Besides that, I’m just bad at- I’m bad at this relationship thing, man. I’m not sure- I’m not sure it’s for me. Maybe it isn’t. And Buck, he- he just loves so freely, you know? So freely and so… So openly. How can I compete with that? He’s going to get sick of me. It’s just a matter of time.” Eddie goes on and whirls his head around when he hears Bobby snort.

“Eds, Buck’s like my kid and trust me when I say that he would never get sick of you even if you tried.” Bobby says. “Eddie, he loves you and Chris to the moon and back and nothing’s going to change that. You’re it for him.”

“The amount of times we had to sit through his rants about you guys.” Athena rolls her eyes. “It’s actually quite sickening. How much he holds the both of you dear to his heart.”

Eddie runs one of his hands through his hair. There’s only one thing left to do. He stands up and is about to reach for his cellphone when he realizes he’s left it on the kitchen table. He bites his lower lip and sighs at the idea of Buck pacing back and forth in his living-room, worried sick about him.

“I should probably go back there, right?” Eddie asks, and there’s a few knocks on the door at the same time.

“Pretty sure he beat you to it.” Bobby remarks and he doesn’t need to walk towards the front door that this one is already wide open and Buck comes rushing in the living-room, his eyes wide, until he catches Eddie’s gaze and only then his entire face softens.

His eyes shuttle back and forth as if performing an internal scan of Eddie’s face, making sure he’s not hurt, making sure he’s safe. Eddie smiles softly at him and he nods.

“I’m okay.” He says.

“Thank god.” Buck breathes, crossing the few feet separating them with a quick step to engulf him into a bone crushing hug. He lets his hand run through his hair a few times and Eddie closes his eyes, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Sorry I ran away from you like that, I- I freaked out.” He admits and only smiles when Buck presses his lips against his hair.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” He says, his teasing mode switched to standby mode. And that’s another thing Eddie loves about him. Buck always knows perfectly well how to act around him, when to push him, when to tease him and more importantly when to stop. This is one of those moments and Buck is aware of it. There’s not the slightest tease in his tone, not the slightest hint of amusement, only comfort.

Bobby and Athena are both gone and Eddie is grateful for the privacy they both decided to give them.

“So you’re good, yeah?” Buck asks.

“Yeah.” Eddie answers. “Yeah. All good.” He adds, smiling when Buck’s hands cup his cheeks once again, pecking him on the lips.

“What’s going on then? How can I help?” Buck instantly asks, his brows furrowed with concern.

“Well as stupid as it sounds, I just freaked out because- because of the ‘guy’ thing.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m your gay awakening?” Buck says, and his teasing mode is back on, which only makes Eddie laugh, rolling his eyes at him.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.” Eddie smiles.

“Well, it’s not stupid.” Buck adds softly. “Far from it.” He insists. “If you need time to figure it out, I’m more than happy to give it to you. Otherwise, we can just go as slow or as fast as you want. You pick the pace. I’ll be right next to you, either way. Okay?” Buck asks.

“Okay.” Eddie answers, tracing Buck’s birthmark with his thumb.

“What do you wanna do, right now?”

“Home.” Eddie instantly says. “I wanna go back home.”

“Alright, then.” Buck smiles. “Home it is, then."

Home it is, then.

[kc-ri]

Restless nights (Bakudeku-Part 1)

When would you say 'this is too much'?

When would you reach out for help?

When would you stop silently screaming at night and crying yourself to sleep?

Why do you keep all bottle up in your head?

Izuku Midoriya didn't even know what a healthy schedule was. Since being a kid, he always was the last person that went to bed but one of the first on waking up. Four or five hours per night was enough for him.

In Elementary School and Middle School his sleeping schedule never was a problem for him. Even that first year of UA was the same. It worked for him.

Until it didn't anymore.

After the war and his little time in a coma, Izuku was restless. Stop studying, training and working on stuff was harder everyday. Going to bed was something worthless for him, even when his eyes where dry and itchy. And if he forced himself to sleep, his brain wouldn't shut up anyway.

That's why he was currently running on almost fifty-three hours without sleep.

But he was fine, really! Even if his skin was a little pale or if he was feeling something funny in his stomach, he was sure that nothing was wrong.

And, in his defense, he did try to catch on some sleep last night. He was tired and his eyes were hurting but after closing them for more than half an hour without results, Izuku gave up. Maybe start reviewing for his finals a little early wasn't a bad idea after all.

So, that friday morning he went to class ignoring his new and strong headache. And everything was fine, really.

'Till lunch, at least.

He was feeling a little dizzy and out of it while attempting to eat. His friends looked at him with concern.

"You really ok there, Deku?", Uraraka said.

He lifted his gaze to the girl sitting in front of him, maybe a couple of seconds too late. Iida was looking at him with a heavy frown and Todoroki stoped eating his cold soba.

"I'm fine, really. Just a little sleepy I think"

Izuku new that he would have to actually sleep that night, at least to stop worrying his friends.

Todoroki kept looking at his friend, not really buying his answer, and then shifted his eyes to the table next to them. Unsurprisingly, a pair of red irises were already on him.

A silent question.

Shouto just shrugged, not having a proper answer.

Izuku barely survived the school day. And he sucked at hero training, he knew it. Aizawa knew it, his classmates too.

Hell, even Kacchan glared at him the rest of the day.

It was exhausting.

After such a crappy day, and week, Izuku decided to skip dinner and go straight to bed after a short shower. He was sure that he would lose consciousness at the first touch of his pillow.

But, fourty-five minutes later, he was still awake. It was ridiculous. He really was tired and sleepy, something that his brain dismissed completely before start showing him memories, ideas, images, regrets, scenarios that could've been very different if only he was stronger, smarter, more capable.

Izuku let scape a little sob while his eyes filled with tears. He really wanted to sleep, god. Why his brain was been such a bully to him?

A knock at the door caught his attention. It was pretty soft. His friends knew hi was going to bed. For a moment, Izuku thought about ignoring it but then a voice came.

"Nerd? You up?"

Kacchan.

Izuku couldn't ignore him even if he tried. He could never do that.

"Hey, Kacchan. Do yo need something?", Izuku said while opening the door. His voice rough and his hair a mess.

Katsuki just looked at him for two seconds before heavily sighing.

"Can I come in?", Kacchan asked almost whispering.

This whole situation was already surreal. Kacchan never acted soft like that, at least not with him. What was happening? Maybe he was already allucinating for lack of sleep.

Without a word, Izuku moved to let Katsuki enter his room and then closed the door. Kacchan sat at his desk and he on the bed. His friend's eyes were on him all the time. If it were another situation, Izuku would've been beyond nervous.

"Is something wrong, Kacchan?"

A couple of seconds past in silence.

"That's my line. What the hell is wrong with you these days, ah?"

[writers-blogck]

A Pity Party for One ( Sugawara Koushi x Reader )

Warning(s): This includes a lot of cursing and alcohol use. Characters are assumed to be aged up to past the legal drinking age. Did I get the inspiration to write this after listening to Michael in the Bathroom for the tenth time in a row? The world may never know.

Title: A Pity Party for One Pairing: Sugawara Koushi x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count: 1,798

       Mascara? A mess.

       Drink? Empty.

       Mental State? Terrible.

       Hotel? Trivago.

       You tossed your red solo cup against the tiled wall of the bathtub that you had claimed as your current residency. Whose house was this anyway? You think the guy had a man bun but you could have been wrong. Everything was a blur other than the image of your boyfriend feeling up another girl. How could he just throw three years away, three goddamn years?! A choked sob slipped past your lips as you pulled your knees closer to your chest.

       How had you gotten yourself in this situation? Here you were, in a stranger's empty tub having a mental breakdown. Converse sneakers and pastel pink dress bunched at your waist. Even without looking in the mirror, you knew that your makeup was a mess. It would only make sense with how much you had cried. You had no plan for what you should do. Everything just hurt and you were wishing you were home under your covers instead of this porcelain bed. All your tears had been shed and you were left with small whimpers and clenched fists.

       "Oh...I didn't know that anyone was in here. The door was unlocked and I was just planning on washing up a bit and-" A boy with light brown hair that seemed to be tinted with silver when it hit the light right walked in your hiding place. It wasn't like you had locked the door, you probably should have. You had simply slammed the door behind you and that had been enough notice for the people around you. How long had you been in here? Your phone had died an hour ago when you arrived at the party. You were just on life's shitlist today!

       "It is utter bullshit!" You huffed out, not seeming to care that this guy you had never met before just walked in the bathroom where you were hiding. It wasn't like you were using the restroom but you knew that you looked like a hot mess right now. Damn, you might not even look hot and instead just look like a mess. How was that fair? Groaning, you leaned your head back and hit it against the cold wall.

       "Whoa...You look like you have had better nights." The guy slowly walked in, shutting the door behind him. If you weren't drunk out of your mind and hurting like you never had before, then you might have been scared about being in this room with this guy alone. He could lock the door and then who knows what could happen. Still, that was the last thing on your mind.  

       The boy was wearing a dusty blue shirt with what looked to be khaki pants. Average, normal, safe. He didn't have any immediate red flags that you seemed to attract. Did you just give off the vibe of someone who could be walked over? God, maybe you were. How had you been so stupid for three years...This wasn't the first time. You had a suspicion but you didn't want it to be true. You had been with this boy since high school and the idea of having to live without him was terrifying. You had become dependent on him. God, what were you going to do? How were you going to get home?!

       Red sneakers moved closer and soon the boy who looked to be around your age was squatting next to the tub. His arms rested on the cool porcelain, something that had felt wonderful against your hot skin when you first got in. You couldn't help it, you got hot when you drank too much. Normally you would just sip on whatever you were having that night but once you saw your world crumbling in front of you, you decided it was time to just down the entire thing as fast as possible. The faster it got in you, the faster the hurt would go away. You hoped anyway...

       "I just want to go home!" You whimpered, hands gripping at the itchy fabric of your dress. He had been the one to suggest you wear it, he said that he liked how it 'hugged your curves'. So, being a nice girlfriend, you decided to wear it and what does he go and do?! Feel up some girl that you had never even seen before! Had you not been enough? How long had he been cheating on you? Was this the only girl or did he have multiple women he went to so he could get his rocks off? Your head was spinning with the alcohol affecting your system. You were drunk.

       "Okay," His voice was soft, like he was approaching an injured animal and didn't want to scare it off, "How did you get here? Can I go get someone for you or is there someone I can call?"

       Watery eyes met his warm ones and it was the first time you had made eye contact with this stranger. You wouldn't lie, he was very attractive. In that soft but strong way. The kind of soft where he wouldn't let anyone walk over him. You had thought that was you but you had three years of experience to prove otherwise. You must have been a pitiful sight to see if his expression was anything to go off of. Why did he care? It wasn't like either of you knew each other. You weren't used to people being nice just to be nice. Was he an angel? He sure looked like he could be one. You wondered what he looked like under his shirt with how it accentuated his muscles...Oh, God! Your cheeks only reddened even more at your thoughts. What kind of drunk were you?! You never would think that way...At least, you would never tell anyone you thought those things. Luckily you still had enough control of your lips to keep yourself from saying anything too embarrassing, for now.

       "My ride is out there with his hand under some other girl's shirt. Fuck, I have to go home with him. I live with him and I just saw him...." You buried your head in your knees, in a mix of wanting to hide your misery filled face and wanting the bright lights to just tone down for a bit. They seemed brighter than normal bathroom lights...What were you even talking about? It wasn't like every bathroom had the same lights. Even with your brain trying to distract you with these unusual thoughts, you couldn't get the image of your boyfriend out of your head. The two of you had even been talking about marriage recently. His mother seemed so happy with the two of you...What would she think if she knew what her son was really like?

       "Three years and this is how he treats me...I think I am just cursed with bad luck or something. God doesn't want me to have a good relationship. I've wasted three years with this guy and...."

       "Don't talk like that. Sometimes we have to go through tough times to get out on the other side. You know, you have to have rain to have a rainbow." The boy brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear and you were convinced that he was your guardian angel. Why else would he be this nice and so helpful to a drunk girl he didn't know, crying in the bathroom for who knows how long.

       Sugawara bit his bottom lip gently in thought, unsure of what he should do in this situation? He knew he was good at helping people (according to the team anyway), but he had never dealt with something like this before. He was glad he decided not to drink tonight or else he would be having a harder time with this. All he had to do was think clearly and he surely would come up with some plan, right?

       "Well...I can always drive you home or we could go find the people throwing the party. Asahi and Tanaka might be able to think of something. More likely Asahi since Tanaka might be a bottle in already..." He mumbled the last part mainly to himself but your ears perked up at the familiar name.

       "....Tanaka?" Your voice was quiet as you glanced up at the handsome boy, causing his heart to skip a beat. Why did people's eyes always look so pretty after they had cried? That wasn't fair. He wished he could help more but he simply nodded at your strange question.

       "I know him," You rubbed the back of your hand against your eyes, not even thinking about the black smudges that were only getting worse on your skin. You were disheveled with makeup smudged more than an abstract painting and a dress with a recent stain that Sugawara would assume was whatever you had in your plastic cup before it was empty. Yet, he couldn't help himself and thought you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. If he saw your ex.....He pushed those thoughts to the side. He could think of that in the future.

       "He is our friend...I mean, my friend...He is in some of the same classes as me."

       "Great!" Relief washed over the young boy as he realized that he wouldn't be left in the dark on what to do with the situation at hand. "How about we go and get you some water and then we go look for Tanaka? I'm sure we can find him, he lives here after all. We can get you feeling a bit better and then we can figure out what to do from there, okay?"

       "That sounds nice...I don't drink normally, I don't like it."

       "Don't worry. Once we get you some water and ibuprofen, then you will start feeling better. Who knows, I'm sure he has something to eat here. Nishinoya and Tanaka tend to keep the place stocked to the brim when it comes to parties. I bet they keep the pantry that filled even when they weren't planning a party. Those guys could eat an entire banquet themselves and still be ready for seconds."

       Sugawara smiled as he heard the soft sounds of your laugh echo in the small bathroom. He hoped he would be able to hear it more, even if only for a little bit. He may only know you for this day but he still wanted to see you smile. Tears and a frown didn't suit your beautiful face.

       As the man offered his hand, you had no idea that it would be the hand that you would be holding for years to come. It would be the hand that gave you what you always dreamed of - a wedding ring.

[lvanter]

description: minho couldn’t find out why on earth are you acting the way you were

note: kind of based of ‘when you love someone’ by james tw because it’s a good song and i love he….. this took forever but she’s here and she could’ve been better ngl there are a lot of time skips i hope it’s not too confusing asghdj also i have kinda proof read it but also not ?? so if you see a grammar mistake either ignore it or tell me your choice sdshshf

warnings: violence, mention of violence, blood, swearing, mention of death and dead parents (yeah we cliche and??)

wc: 5.4k

big brother ; lee minho 

the chair you sat down was itchy.

“stupid, red, uncomfortable chair,“ you cursed under your breath, swinging your legs up onto the chair next to the one you were sat on. your eyes fell on the clock hanging above the door to the principal’s office. it was almost three, meaning they had been talking for almost forty minutes. you groaned quietly, moving your legs back down on the floor, sitting normally.

you ran your fingers over your bruised and (dried) bloody knuckles, finally taking the disinfection wipe the school nurse had given you, and began cleaning them the best you could. “ouch,” you hissed in pain.

you continued to clean your knuckles (as good as you could with your non-dominant hand), until minho, the mother of the student you punched, and the principal walked out the office. minho stopped in front of you and made a motion for you to stand up, to which you hesitantly obeyed.

“(name),” the principal began, putting her hand on the mother's shoulder, “why did you punch sunwon?”

you pressed your lips together, looking straight into sunwon’s mother’s eyes, “he was being a dick,”

the woman seemed to be taken aback at your straightforwardness, seeing as she took a small step back.

“(name), we don’t use that kind of language,” your principal scolded.

“it’s the truth,” you shrugged, turning to the mother again, “your son's piece of shit. no offense.”

“(name),” minho scolded in his stern older brother voice, before throwing a apologetic look to the mother, “i am so sorry for that. i’m sure your son is lovely,”

you discreetly rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue, “he’s really not,”

minho smacked the back of your head, earning a small ‘ow’ from you.

the principal glared at you harshly, “i expected better from you, (name).”

“that’s not my problem,” you said under your breath. only minho heard you, and you knew he did because of the way he pinched some skin on you arm.

your principal ignored—or she just didn’t notice—minho’s pinch, “three weeks of detention for you.”

as much as you wanted to defend yourself and your actions, you didn’t. you bit your tongue to keep a comment in. you only nodded, and watched as the principal and sunwon’s mother left to get sunwon from the nurses.

“yikes, am i right?” you forced a laugh, to which minho shot you a deadpan look.

“get your stuff and meet me in the car.” he said, leaving you to get your stuff.

you sighed tiredly as the door closed.

“why’d you punch him?” the principal’s secretary, aka mrs. moon, asked from her chair behind a very big desk.

“like i said, he was being a dick,” you picked up your bag.

“yeah, but how?”

you glanced at her, “he pulled up chaeyeon’s skirt in the middle of the cafeteria, and is just all around a perverted asshole.”

a frown found its way onto mrs. moon’s face, “why don’t you tell them?” she asked carefully.

you scoffed, “like any of them would listen to me. and besides didn’t sunwon’s dad give the school a fuck ton of money?”

“that he did….”

“i’m gonna go now, mrs. moon, have a nice day,”

“goodbye, (name),” she smiled, “have a safe trip home,”

the walk to the parking lot felt longer than it usually did. you walked past the nurses office, and gave sunwon and sarcastic smile, to which he glared harshly at you, holding an ice pack to his throbbing nose.

when you got outside and saw minho's car you stopped for a moment and just stared at it. it was black, he said it would make him look cool. it had some scratches, nothing major. you began walking to the car, after sighing and telling yourself to pull it together. you sat down and buckled your seatbelt before closing the door.

“what the fuck?” was the first thing minho said, after you closed the door, “why the fuck did you punch somebody?”

you didn’t answer, knowing he wasn't actually looking for an answer right now.

“(name), come on, i didn’t raise you like this. i had to leave early, and couldn’t help jeongin get the choreography down because of you.” he continued to rant as he drove a little above the speed limit, but you zoned out pretty quickly and didn’t hear half of it.

this was the first time in two weeks you had seen him for more than ten minutes...and he was yelling at you. okay, maybe not yelling, just talking loudly.

“are you even listening to me?” minho made a sharper turn than needed.

“not really.” you said bluntly. you heard minho intake a sharp breath, you knew he was trying to control his temper. minho's temper wasn’t bad. he was actually a pretty calm person, but the way you had been acting lately made him angry.

“(name),” he said sternly, keeping his eyes on the road, “you cannot punch people. okay?”

you mumbled a small “okay” in response, and said nothing else for the rest of the ride. when you—finally—got to the apartment building you lived in, you got out of the car slowly. you shuffled after minho with heavy steps.

after getting your jacket and shoes off you went straight to your room, slamming the door behind you, knowing minho would probably yell at you again if you stayed with him.

minho sat defeated down on the worn out couch. he laid down and put his arm over his eyes, with a sigh. he didn’t like scolding, but you had been acting out lately and he didn’t know what to do.

his phone rang, getting a groan from him; he really didn’t want to get up. he forced himself up with another groan.

“what do you want, hwang?” minho answered the phone, laying down again in the same position he was in before.

“what’s up with you?” hyunjin laughed over the phone.

“(name) got sent to the principal's office again,”

hyunjin laughed again, “why? and again?”

“apparently (name) punched some other kid in the face,” minho sat up, running a hand through his hair, “and yes, again. it’s the seventh time in the last two months,”

“yikes,“

minho chuckled at his friends words, “yeah, yikes,“

the two talked for a while about everything and nothing, until minho realized what the time was. “i have to go now, jinnie,“

hyunjin whined, “why?“

“it’s almost five. i have to find out what we’re gonna have for dinner,“

“fine. just i have one last question,“

minho raised an eyebrow, “what?“

“was it a good punch (name) landed?”

“hyunjin, no.”

“it’s an honest question,”

“hyunjin, no.”

“just answer the question, lee,“

“what? need your big brother to fight for you?” sunwon taunted, a mocking pout on his pale lips.

you clenched your fist. you knew he wanted to get a reaction from you, and you should just walk away, but damn his face was so punchable. you slowly stood up from you chair and kicked it back to make more space. the sound the chair made as it slid across the floor, caught the attention of your classmates, “didn’t my last punch get you some brain cells?” you vaguely pointed at his nose, which by now was only slightly red and blue.

he didn’t say anything, only scoffed. next thing you knew sunwon had pushed you to the floor, making you hit your head on your chair on your way to the floor. you raised yourself up on your elbows. you reached up to where it hurt the most and let out a groan of disgust when you felt something wet. you looked at your hand to see it was red with blood. you felt dizzy as you stood up, but you ignored it.

“a shove? really? not even a punch?” you taunted sunwon. taunting him wasn’t a good idea, and it definitely wouldn’t end well, but you didn’t care at the moment.

“do you want a punch?” he was getting aggressive, taking a couple of steps towards you to appear more threatening.

it didn’t work.

he didn’t scare you. he never has. even back in third grade when he was two heads taller than you, he never scared you.

however, he could hurt you. and he did. he threw a punch right at the lower part of your face, resulting in your lower lip splitting open. your entire face hurt. a lot. 

you took a deep breath. you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder; it was junho. you didn’t even have to look to know it was him.

“(name), you’re bleeding a lot,” he said softly, making sure your attention was on him and not sunwon. “we should go to the nurses,”

you could feel all eyes on you at the moment. all your classmates was looking at you and sunwon (and now junho too), and honestly it was very awkward and stressful.

you calmly removed junho’s hand from your shoulder, and walked closer to sunwon, “good punch,” it hurt to speak, “but if you really want it to hurt.. you do this….” and with that your fist came in contact with his face, making him fall dramatically to the floor with loud groan of pain.

“(name), let’s go,” junho took your hand and ran out of the classroom and to the nurse, who really just looked unimpressed.

the rest of the day went by slow. you did end up in the principal’s office for assaulting another student. you did tell them that sunwon assaulted you first. you knew they saw where you were bleeding. junho backed you up saying everything was true, but of course, they weren’t listening to you—they were too busy making sure sunwon knew he wasn’t in trouble and all that bullshit.

you weren’t the first student sunwon had assaulted. all the other students have complained about him and his behavior. but the principal and the teachers were ass kissing clowns, who never did anything about it.

the look on minho's face when he came to pick you up almost made you feel bad. almost.

the drive home was silent, the only sound that could be heard was minho’s heavy breathing. you knew he was mad, so you didn’t say anything. he dropped you off at home and told you to order takeout for dinner since he wouldn’t be home.

you stood with your back leaning against the door, after closing it. the house was quiet, uncomfortably quiet. you bit your lip, pushing yourself from the door and made your way to your room, where you stayed for the rest of the day.

minho let out a sigh of content, sinking into the comfortable cafe chair. he could feel his muscles begin to relax as he sunk deeper into the chair.

“you comfortable, dude?” chan chuckled, placing his smoothie and minho’s milkshake on the table that was in between two chairs.

“hmmm,” he hummed telling chan that yes, he was very comfortable. he forced himself up.

minho groaned, resting his head in his hands. “i just..i don’t know what to do?”

chan glanced at his younger friend, “with (name)?”

“yeah,” he rubbed his eyes with the root of his palm, “i just…. i don’t know… eight times in the principal's office in two months!? it’s a lot,”

“eight?!” chan's eyes widened in surprise, “in two months?!”

minho nodded, and stole a sip of chan’s banana and strawberry smoothie, gulping it down as the older boy thought about his words. minho carefully placed chan’s smoothie on the table again, hoping he wouldn’t notice he had taken some.

“damn,” chan muttered, taking a sip of his smoothie, “that’s rough,”

“yeah,”

“have they ever acted like this? like in the past?”

“nope,” minho said, popping on the ‘p’. “(name) started getting in trouble in the beginning of the year, and i just….” he threw his hands around in the air in frustration.

“wait… in the beginning of the year? around the time you got super busy?”

minho took a sip of his vanilla milkshake, “yeah, why?”

chan looked gently at his friend, like he was looking for something, before shaking his head softly, “nothing,”

the chair was still itchy, and god was it driving you crazy. “sunwon’s dad donated like a million; can’t you afford chairs that aren’t itchy?” you complained to mrs. moon.

she chuckled, typing on her computer, “if they’re uncomfortable to sit in, maybe don’t get a reason to sit in them,”

you groaned, and faked a glare her way. she was the only adult in this school who didn’t treat you like shit, and hating her just seemed unrealistic.

“is minho coming to pick you up?” she asked.

“i think so, if he can take the time out of his oh so busy day…” you mumbled the last part, which she thankfully didn’t hear.

the door to the office opened and a familiar face stepped in.

“chan?”

“hi,” chan smiled gently at you, before directing his attention to the middle aged woman behind the computer, “i’m here to pick (name) up, minho should said he would call and say it was okay,”

mrs. moon eyed him carefully, “i’ll be right back,” she stood up from her chair and went to another secretary’s a office down the hall.

you cleared your throat, “i thought minho was coming,”

“he was supposed to, but there was he had to attend to,” chan sat down in the chair next to the one you were sitting on, “oh, wow, these chairs are itchy,”

you let out a single laugh, “of course there was.” you scoffed.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you waited for mrs. moon. chan was minho’s best friend and had been to your apartment many times, so you knew him pretty well.

“listen, (name),” chan started, “are you getting int-“

he got interrupted by mrs. moon entering the room, “you can leave now, just remember to have minho sign this,” she handed you a piece of paper.

you nodded, crumbling the piece of paper and putting it in your jacket pocket, “will do, mrs. moon,”

you followed chan to his car in silence. when he parked in front of yours and minho’s house he looked at you in wonder. “what?”

“are you getting into trouble on purpose?”

“what?”

chan sighed, “look, (name), you’re not a bad kid. you have never acted like this before,”

“okay, and?” you shrugged.

“is this about minho?” he watched you attentively. you didn’t look nervous, just slightly uncomfortable.

“no…” you lied in a whisper.

chan made sure to ask carefully in a non-accusing tone, “(name)....are you getting into trouble because you want his attention?”

you didn’t say anything, you just looked out the window avoiding eye contact.

you not answering gave him his answer, “why don’t you tell him?”

your head snapped towards the older male, “when am i supposed to tell him anything?! i never see him! and when i do he’s yelling at me!”

chan didn’t say anything; he didn’t know what to say.

you spoke again, voice much smaller, “please don’t tell him…”

chan looked hesitant, “(name)......”

“thanks for the ride,” you said curtly, stepping out of chan’s car.

“(name),” he called after you, to no avail; you were already at the door, unlocking it. he waved back when you waved at him before shutting the door. with a sigh he drove off, silently curing minho for neglecting you to the point where you willingly got into trouble. “damn it, lee.”

minho closed the door behind him with a frown on his face. he lazily hung his jacket up and took his shoes off, before dumping himself on the couch. it was almost midnight and he was tired as one could be. he slowly got his phone out of his pocket, and frowned when he remembered why he had been so angry earlier.

he forced himself up from the couch and walked down the hall to your room. he could hear some soft music playing; you were awake. he knocked on the door, frustration returning to his body.

“just a second,” you said, finishing putting the hoodie you were gonna sleep in on, before opening the door, “what?” you stepped away from the door and walked back into your room, turning the music off.

minho took some steps into your room. it had been a while since he had been in here. “you skipped school today?” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“yeah.” you stood in front of him, your arms hanging down, “what’s it to you?”

minho was stunned, “wha-what do you mean ‘what’s it to you’? i’m your brother! i’m your guardian!”

you shrugged meekly, “so?”

“(name), this is the third time this week! it’s happening way too often! it’s gonna affect your education!”

“like you care,” you didn’t sound mad, just tired.

minho was speechless.

you began shaking your leg, “can you leave? i wanna go to bed,”

minho closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, “goodnight.” he closed the door when he left the room.

you licked your lips, sitting down on your bed, your careless façade faltered. before you could stop them, the tears began running slowly down your cheeks. “stop crying,” you whispered angrily to yourself, wiping them away. you crawled under the covers (having done your night routine before minho came home), and fell asleep pretty quick; your mind and body tired.

minho shut his door and leaned against it, his heart was pounding and he was breathing heavy. he took a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down, until his breathing returned to normal. he ran his hands over his face with a tired groan.

“like you care,” he mocked, ruffling his hair, messing it up. he let out a deep breath, walking over to his bed and sat down. his eyes ran around his room—it had been a while since he had looked around. he stood up and walked over to his dresser, standing in the corner of his room.

he ran his fingers gently over the picture frame leaning against the wall. picking up the photo, he sat back down on his bed again, holding the picture frame carefully. he gently let his pointy and middle finger trace the outline of the people in the picture.

the picture was the last one taken while your parents were alive. it had been taken two days before the worst day in minho's life. he, unfortunately, remembered the day like it was yesterday.

his fingers ran slowly over his mother’s kind face, “i just…” he licked his lips and swallowed hard, tears running oh so slowly down his cheeks, as he spoke to the image of your parents, “i...don't know what to….” he let the tears fall down onto the glass, “please help me, mom...i need your help….”

he glanced over at the closed door, towards your room. he let out a sigh, laying back on his back, looking up at the ceiling. he placed the picture on his chest, picture down, “i really need your help, mom…..(name) won’t listen to me…they ever only listened to you….” he let out a small, breathy laugh at the memories of you only listening to your mother.

minho looked at the picture again, sighing heavily, “i miss you...the both of you, don’t worry, dad,” he rolled over and placed the picture on his nightstand. he quickly prepared himself for bed. he dumped himself onto his bed, and let out a noise of satisfaction when his head hit the pillow.

the only noise minho could hear was faint music playing from down the street, other than that, it was completely quiet. and honestly, minho didn’t like it. he had always been able to hear the tv in the living room when your parents were alive—your dad would always stay up to watching tv and then fall asleep on the couch. back then minho thought the sound was annoying, but now he missed it.

he turned onto his side, facing his room and looked at the picture again, “i love you,” he whispered, finally closing his eyes and let sleep take over.

the next day he drove you to school, which was not exactly unusual but also not a regular occurrence. he parked the car, and looked at you unbuckling your seatbelt. “you’re not skipping today.” his voice was firm.

“okay,” you nodded nonchalantly, putting your phone in your bag, and getting ready to leave the car.

“i’m serious, (name).” his eyes looking straight into yours, “you’re not skipping.” 

“i just said okay,” you left the car and walked away without looking at back.

minho sighed, leaning back in his seat, when you disappeared from his point of view. he didn’t like talking to you in that tone, but if it made you listen he had to. he softly clicked his tongue as he watched you walk into the school; the same school he had attended before he graduated. he shook his head softly, before driving off.

you leaned against the wall, watching him drive off. he couldn’t see you from where you were standing, but you could see him.

“you gonna skip again?” junho came up beside you, giving you a heart attack.

“junho!” you punched his arm softly, “don’t do that! you scared me!” you put your hand over your heart, taking breaths to calm yourself down.

“sorry,” he chuckled, “but are you skipping again?”

“do we have math today?” you gave him a toothless smile, walking to your locker with small steps.

“mhmm,” he confirmed.

“then yes. i’m only skipping math though,”

junho let out a laugh, walking after you, “did minho get mad?” junho caught up with you easily, your steps falling in sync.

“yup. but i’ve seen him angrier,”

“why don’t you tell him?”

junho knew why you began to act out. in the beginning he tried to stop you, not knowing why you suddenly were getting into trouble, but then you explained everything, and honestly...he held a small grudge against your older brother.

“when do i do that? i never see him for more than five minutes and he spends them yelling at me,” you tried to open your worn down locker, but it didn’t budge, “i hate this locker.”

“don’t you just need to punch it?” junho asked looking at his phone.

“yeah, but,” you hit the top of the locker, making it spring open, “it’s so unhandy,”

junho put his phone in his back pocket, “let’s get to chemistry,”

“(name), what is going on with you?” the principal folded her hands neatly on the table, after throwing the papers onto the table, “this is the fourth test you have failed within the last month.”

“stuffs hard,” you simply replied, “i don’t know the answers,” 

she sighed exhausted, “(name), this is a standard test. you’ve taken these hundreds of times before, and not failed them.” 

you pressed your lips together and shrugged, “i’m not sure what you want me to say,” 

she looked pissed—her eyebrows were furrowed together and her eyes were sharp. she closed her eyes for a second and stared at you. she stood up and walked over to a straw casket sitting on a shelf in the corner. she took your phone out of it, and handed it to you, “you can call minho this time.” 

oh yeah, your phone had been confiscated earlier because you used it in math class…..to calculate something. 

you hesitated to take your phone from her hand, ���why? isn’t mrs. moon supposed to do that?” 

“mrs. moon isn’t here today.” 

“so get another secretary to do it,” 

“(name),” she said sternly, “call your brother, and tell him you failed again.” 

you slowly opened your phone and found your brothers contact. your finger hovered over the call button.

“call him.” your principal gave you a stern look, “i’ll be right back,” she left her office, leaving you in the open space.

with a deep breath you clicked the call button. the phone rang once. twice. thrice. f-

“hello? (name)?” your brothers voice filled your ears. 

“minho, how are you, big brother? i hope you’re doing fantastic,”

“i swear to god, (name), if i need to come pick you up again.” 

“no need, big brother,” you said in a cheery tone, “i’m calling to inform you that i have failed yet another test, and you need to come and sign some papers,” 

“(name), what the fuck?” he swore, running a hand through his hair, sitting down on the floor in the dance practice room, “now?” 

minho's words caught chan’s attention. chan’s shoulders went slack, and he sat down next to the boy on the phone. 

“(name),” minho groaned, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

chan could faintly voice, but not what you were saying. he let out a small sigh at how tired and annoyed minho sounded. chan didn’t have a chance to tell him it was because of him you were acting the way you were (he also promised you he wouldn’t), and minho of course had no idea.

“okay...i guess i’ll come...again,” 

chan cringed at how angry minho sounded. an angry minho was never fun to deal with, chan knew that. he had only seen minho angry once, but damn was he scary. 

minho hung up the phone before you could say another word. he leaned his head back against the wall with a sharp breath, “i don’t know what to do, chan, i have no idea what i’m supposed to do,” 

chan comfortingly ran a hand up and down on minho's arm, “hey, it’s not easy to take care of somebody else, especially not when it’s a teenager and you’re only a young adult,” 

“but i just….” a sound of defeat left minho's throat, “it’s hopeless,” 

chan let out a hesitant sigh. 

“what?” minho raised his head from his hands.

“....(name)..is acting out because…..” 

“because…..?” 

“(name) told me not to tell you….”

“chan, tell me.” minho demanded.

“(name) wants your attention,” chan hurriedly said.

“what?” minho felt confused.

“(name) wants your attention,” chan repeated, slower this time.

“w-what? what do you mean?” 

the room seemed much bigger than it usually did. chan didn’t look at his friend, his eyes running around the seemingly bigger room. “since the beginning of the year you have been extremely busy…...and not paying attention, practically ignoring (name) unless they got into trouble,” 

“why not just tell me?” minho was lost; he didn’t think he had been that busy. sure, he had been busier than last year, but he still didn’t think he had been ignoring you.

“minho,” chan sighed, “it’s hard to ask for attention, plus….you haven’t been around (name) much, so, really they didn’t have a chance to tell you,” 

minho licked his lip; he didn’t know what to say, “so…..you’re telling me that i’m the reason (name) has been getting into trouble? because i’ve been ignoring them?”

“yeah. but listen, min, it’s not your fault, okay? (name) could’ve definitely handled this better,”

“but it’s because of me!” minho's voice got loud with each word he spoke, “it’s because i’ve- because i haven’t been a good brother!” 

chan moved so he sat in front of minho. he put both his hands on each shoulder, “minho, listen to me! you didn’t mean to! it could’ve happened to all of us,” 

“but it didn’t,” minho swallowed, his eyes getting glossy.

“min,” chan licked his lips, and helped the younger one stand up, “you have to get to the school, then go home and have a long talk about everything,” 

minho nodded.

“and i mean everything.” chan pointed a finger at him, “let (name) talk.” 

“i will, don’t worry,” 

minho drove under the speed limit on his way to the school. he parked his car and got out, taking his time doing so. he walked down the long halls of the school, passing countless classrooms and lockers. he opened the door to the office calmly, and walked in, seeing you sit on one of the uncomfortable chairs, your legs resting on the chair next to the one you were sitting on.

“(name),” he said in a gentle tone, getting your attention.

“that took a long time,” you muttered, standing up and walking over the mrs. moons table. you a pen, and handed it to him, along with your failed test, and some other papers.

minho’s eyes scanned your test, his eyebrows furrowed, “(name), this is a standard test? you’ve passed these countless of times?” 

“it’s hard,” you shrugged, giving him the same responds you gave your principal, “just sign so i can get bac-“

“no, i’m signing you out for the rest of the day.” 

you stared at him confused, “what? why?” 

“we,” he began signing your test and the other papers, “have a lot to talk about,” he put the pen back in its place and the papers on the desk. 

you watched as he went over to another secretary and talked to him. minho came back  two minutes later and picked up your bag, making you furrow your eyebrows. “why’d you take my bag?” 

“i’m holding it for you,” he smiled, walking out.

“yeah, but why?” 

“can’t i do something nice for you?” 

you didn’t say anything in response, opting to quietly follow him to his car. the drive home was weird for you, to say the least; minho was humming softly along with the songs on the radio, tapping on the wheel to the rhythm. he seemed relaxed, it was almost creepy. you couldn’t remember the last time he looked this relaxed.

“uh, minho?” 

“yes?” 

“are..you okay?” 

“yeah! why wouldn’t i be?” he glanced at you with a smile.

“you just….” you trailed off, looking at him confused. “had to leave work…?” 

normally—or what had become normally—he would be mad at you for having him leave work, so to say you were confused was an understatement. 

he didn’t answer you, only kept driving. when he pulled up to your shared—and old family—home, and locked the doors to prevent you from leaving the car. 

“why’d you lock the doors?” you asked, confusion written all over your face. 

“we need to talk.” he stated.

“so let’s do it inside?” 

“no, (name),” he licked his lip, his hands still on the steering wheel. “let’s just do it here,” 

“okay, fine,” you gave in, “but can you unlock the doors? locking them is kinda creepy,” 

minho unlocked the doors with a chuckle. his chuckled died down and his eyes became serious, “are you doing this because of me?” he asked quickly and quietly, his hands back on the steering wheel—a habit, you suppose.

you laughed nervously, “doing what?” 

“are you getting into trouble, failing tests, skipping classes, because of me?” 

he looked like he was gonna cry, and it made you feel like a asshole. you didn’t answer him, only but your lip and looked out the window. 

“(name), please….” he was tired—tired of not knowing what was going on. 

“yes.” you whispered meekly, looking down at your hands, embarrassment taking over you. “you….you weren’t paying any attention to me….and i figured getting into trouble would make you….” your vision started getting blurry, tears filling up your eyes but not falling.

minho looked at you with pity, sorry, and guilt. his heart breaking more and more with each word you spoke.

“....it worked.” you let the tears roll down your face.

you didn’t notice the tears falling slowing down minho's face. his hand laying on your shoulder by now. he barely even registered you had opened the car door and walked stepped. he hurriedly followed you and walked over to where you stood frozen. he wrapped his arms around you tightly, “i’m sorry,” his voice was barely a whisper.

“me too,” you wrapped your arms around him as well.

the two of stood there for god knows how long, sobbing in each other’s arms, until the cold fall weather got too much.

“we should go inside,” minho pulled away slowly, “then we can talk some more,” he wiped the remaining tears away from your face. 

“i really am sorry, min,” 

“i know, peanut,” 

“i’m not sorry for punching sunwon though. he’s a dick,”

minho hit you on the arm, making you giggle, “that’s not nice,” 

“he’s not nice,” you shrugged, a real smile on your lips for the first time in a forever.

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Daffodils.

Chapter 14: The letter.

It was a very normal dinner when they had an epiphany about Death’s request, well... actually Padfoot had it but it still counted.

“It could be the Hallows, I mean we have one of them-“ His godfather started to say and his dad sighed with exasperation.

“Not this again.”

“What?” Draco asked curious took a sip from his glass.

“It’s nothing, Sirius always had this stupid idea that the invisibility cloak is the invisibility cloak-“

“The one from the Tale of the Three Brothers?” Ron asked excitedly, his face matching Malfoy’s. And, once again, Hermione and Harry didn’t have the slightest clue about what the rest of them were talking about. Being muggle-raised sucked.

“Where have I read that before...?” Hermione asked, a frown on her face.

“Dumbledore left you a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It’s from that book.” Draco answered calmly.

Oh, great, so Harry was the only one who didn’t have a clue about what was going on.

“It totally makes sense! Harry, your cloak, the charm never fades... even the best ones get old and don’t work as well as they did when they were bought. Since when has the cloak been in your family, Mr. Potter?” His dad squinted his eyes, trying to calculate.

“That I know of... I guess that my great- grandfather had it and passed it on.”

Draco widened his eyes, an amused smile appearing on his face. Harry loved to see him like this, so in his element. So focused to achieve his goals and so happy when he discovered something useful. Sometimes he had to think about something else in the meetings, because if he paid attention to Malfoy... He started to get this itchy feeling on his lips, wanting to snog the hell out of the boy right in front of everyone.

“Okay, so let’s assume we have the cloak... What else do we have? She said it was two things.” Draco said as he stood up and leaned against the table. He never could be still when he was figuring out something, he always was moving, walking, jumping in his place, his feet’s were always alert, ready to do whatever it was needed at the time. It was one of the things that Harry liked best about the boy.

“If the hallows exist, I want the Elder wand. Imagine having that, we would win for sure.” Ron said, a wishful tiñe in his voice.

“I’m not on board with being murdered for power, thanks. Been there, done that.” Replies his dad, making Sirius’ and Draco’s laughter echoed in the kitchen.

“I think I would want the stone... Jamie is here with me, but Regulus isn’t... It would be nice to tell him that I destroyed the horcrux he stole.”

Okay, Harry was really not understanding anything. He turned to look at Hermione and her face of confusion told him that she didn’t had a clue either. Maybe the name of the tale was familiar but if Hermione Jean Granger wasn’t participating in a conversation, then she most definitely didn’t understand what they were talking about.

Then, Draco widened his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand in astonishment.

“What...?” Harry dared to ask.

“The stone... We don’t have the wand, no one tried to look for it so we don’t have it, but the stone.”

“I think we would know if we had the resurrection stone, little cousin.”

“Would we?” The blond boy had the smug smile that he loved so much and Harry wanted to slam his own face against the nearest surface just to try to get his brain to work properly again. “What did Dumbledore left you three?”

They all answered, a little tired of going over again the same thing that had been buggering them since August: trying to understand what the fuck did Professor Dumbledore wanted with his will. They only figured out the sword so far.

“Why would he leave you his personal copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard if it didn’t mean anything. Why the snitch?”

“I don’t know, Malfoy. That’s kind of the point. Scrimgeour said that the snitch would open when I’d hold it because it remembers their first touch, but I grabbed it and nothing happened...”

And Draco literally started to laugh saying that they have been so stupid all this fucking time. At this point, Everyone was watching him like he lost his mind (which was possible, Malfoy had been through enough, he wouldn’t blame him for losing it).

“Potter, work with me a little. Think about your first match.”

Harry frowned. He remembered loving every second of it... Except when Quirrel started to curse his broom. He could recall being so obstinate, making every single thing to catch the snitch, even as a first year, even if it was his first match. He remembered reaching out, so close to touching it with his fingers when... Holy shit. He widened his eyes and looked at Malfoy who was grinning like a mad man.

“I didn’t catch the snitch with my hand...” I said, realizing what he meant this whole time.

“You nearly swallowed the thing. I wanted to punch you in the face for that one.” He replied happily and Harry couldn’t help to look at him fondly.

Did Draco think back then that he was cute too? After their fight he had confessed that he found Harry the most attractive bloke in school and, when he heard it, his heart almost came out of his chest.

Take that Nott, he notices me and he likes me the most... At least physically.

What was a little disappointing, was the fact that what Draco thought about how he looked like had nothing to do with his feelings. Harry was glad that the boy found him attractive but, at the end of the day, he wanted for the blond boy to choose him first in every sense... which was not happening.

On Valentine’s Day, he tried to ask Malfoy out on a date. Not that they could go anywhere but his father said that him and Padfoot were having a romantic dinner, so the four of them needed to find another thing to do. Call him naive if you want, but Harry supposed that Ron would want to spend it with Mione alone, that left him and Draco to have a nice time for themselves in his room... And he started to plan it all: which album of Queen they were going to dance to, what would they eat in his room, at what point he was going to kiss him, and just imagining the smell of the daffodils filling his room was enough to put a goofy smile on his face. When Harry suggested to cook some pizza and take it upstairs, he was not pleasantly surprised to find out that Draco had actually planned an evening that included the four of them. At least they got to spend the night together, that was something, right?

“Potter.” Draco said, snapping his fingers in front of his eyes. He blinked repeatedly, as he came back from his thoughts. “Go fetch that Snitch.” He commanded and the green-eyed boy complied.

It turned out that a message appeared if Harry put the snitch in his mouth ‘I open at the close’ Nobody seemed to understand it, Ron only said that he was getting quite tired with Dumbledore’s Riddles. He couldn’t blame him, really.

“So you think that the stone is there, Kid?”

“Yes. Although we can’t do anything until it opens...But at least we know what’s going on... kind of.”

And after they started to assume that the Hallows were real, that one vision that he had about Voldemort torturing Gregorovitch for a wand that he could not find... It was finally starting to make sense. At least, now, Draco and Mione couldn’t be mad at him for letting him into his mind, because they had advantage, they knew what to expect when they would come across him again... Maybe he would carry the Elder Wand with him.

—————————

He was kissing Draco lazily that morning, he loved to do that. He loved to feel like the mornings were an extension from his dreams, this reality where he got to wake up with the blond boy’s arms around him. For a few minutes, he could pretend that this was permanent, that this was the way that he was going to wake up for the rest of his life.

The thing was that Harry had started to have hope, for a multitude of reasons. One being the smile that Draco offered him on these very same mornings, so truthful and warm. Another one being that confession about him being the highest rated boy in the list (yes, he was pretty proud of that). And, on top of everything, they were acting a lot like a couple lately... they would hug more, or kiss more, or hold hands a lot... Ron always had this annoyed expression on his face whenever he saw them together. Harry was aware that he was doing something wrong with Malfoy, he could live without the redhead wearing a scowl constantly on his face.

Draco separated their lips a little bit, just enough so he could talk.

“We should get up, training starts in like half-hour and we haven’t eaten yet.” Harry groaned and kissed him again, biting his bottom lip playfully.

“Or... We could stay here and skip breakfast.” Because, really, he could live without it and this was a much more entertaining thing.

“You can’t skip meals, Potter. We talked about this.”

This was another reason why he was getting hope, Draco was dying he had his own problems, and still, he found time to take care of Harry... To talk about the importance of a good nutrition and to come and spend the night with him whenever he realized that it was almost midnight and Harry wasn’t even attempting to get into his bed. Sleeping was overrated if you asked him, he spent six years of his life sleeping four hours each night and he was doing pretty well. Malfoy didn’t agree with him, though.

“You are such a killjoy.”

“Yes, now get up.”

The day passed by pretty smoothly. There wasn’t anything weird about it, no drama, no tantrums, no Ron and Hermione arguing about stupid stuff, and the more important thing ever: no coughs. None. Not even a small one. Harry seemed to be on Felix felicis again given the fact that he was smiling and skipping around the house from the happiness alone.

That was why it felt like such a punch to the gut to find the parchment on Malfoy’s desk.

They rarely spent time in Draco’s and Ron’s room. Probably because it was difficult to be alone in a room that was shared. The blond boy was in the shower, Ron was downstairs with Mione (he couldn’t go and interrupt them) and he was bored. He actually went into Draco’s room because he couldn’t find one of the vinyls, and since the blond boy tended to hoard as much of them as he could... He guessed that he could go and have a look around.

Now, Harry was regretting to ever had entered the room. His eyes were fixed on the parchment, Malfoy’s beautiful letter displayed on it. He didn’t even read the letter, he couldn’t. It was wrong wasn’t it? But...

Dear Theo:

There was this little voice in his head telling him to read it. That he could keep the secret. He was already biting his tongue to not tell Draco how he felt, and that was hard enough, he could keep this to himself too, couldn’t he?

‘No, Harry. This is awful. It’s private, you can’t. Just turn around and go.’

The boy was starting to hate the high morals that Gryffindor had instilled in him through the years... But to be fair, he never seemed to apply those morals whenever Malfoy was involved. With trembling hands he took the letter and began to read it.

Dear Theo:

I want to tell you so much that I don’t know where to begin. Let’s star with the most important thing, shall we?

The Deathly Hollows are real. Remember when we wanted to become the Masters of Death back when we were like five? I can’t believe that it is something actually possible, my prat of a father always made fun of our ‘childish dreams’ but who laughs now, huh? I have a connection to the other side, I can do the old rituals and I have a quest that has been a petition from Death herself.

I can’t help but to wish that you could be here.

His heart started to hurt. It felt like someone was strangling it. He was so naive wasn’t he?

Harry took a deep breath and resumed his reading, forcing himself to read that same line again.

I can’t help but to wish that you could be here. I know that you would love this, the mystery, the riddles... Even in this very obscure context is unbelievingly fun to try to solve this.

I miss you dearly. We haven’t got to spend any time together this year and I fear that we are not going to... Things are too messed up right now and I don’t have much time left. Potter says that he is going to finish this before June but, honestly, I don’t think that it’s going to happen.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The tears started to escape from his eyes, he moved away the letter, trying to avoid staining it with his tears.

Please tell me that you are being safe...That you are being as cunning and ambitious as ever (well, tell me in a metaphoric sense of the term because this letter in not going anywhere and you can’t respond to it). When the time comes, I hope that you fight with our side. I really really want you to. I don’t know if that still means something to you but I wanted to tell you.

I had a dream last night, about us.

Harry’s heart stopped working for what it seemed to be ages. Last night? Like... The night previous to this beautiful morning where Draco kissed him for almost an hour? Oh... No coughs... at all. Fuck. How fucking naive he was, thinking that maybe he was the cause of Draco being healthy... It was because of Nott, of course. He let out a sob before continuing reading.

We were together at the beach (it looked like the one from Bill’s and Fleur’s cottage because I don’t know any other beach, clearly), you looked at me and smiled, and when I asked you if you were okay, you answered: ‘Yes... I haven’t been for a while...but I guess that I’m okay now.’ Were you really there? I can’t help but wonder if we really met in that dream... It felt so real, I don’t know how to explain it.

Harry couldn’t stop crying. Wishing that they haven’t met there at all. Even if it was a cruel thing to wish... He didn’t want to think that Draco and Nott met in their dreams because they missed each other so much. Not when the blond boy hugged him in his sleep and not when he woke him up with a kiss.

If it really was you, I’m glad that we got to see each other. At least like this.

Be safe... and try to laugh. It truly was a vision to see you showing off that beautiful smile of yours. You deserve to be happy.

Draco

He heard the water in the bathroom stop running. Harry left the letter where it was and abandoned the bedroom as fast as he could. He couldn’t go back to his room, Malfoy was probably going to look for him after he got changed. And he was crying his heart out. So bloody pathetic.

He changed his direction and started to walk down the hallway to knock on the door of the main bedroom. He heard a ‘come in’ so he opened the door and close it behind him once he was inside. He raised his eyes. Padfoot had a book in his hand and his father was resting his head on the man’s lap, both of them looked at him and froze.

“Harry...?” His dad asked with fear in his eyes.

“Can-“ Another sob escaped his mouth. “Can I stay here? I- I just-“

And he was being pulled into a hug. The nicotine smell was invading his nostrils.

“Muffliato. Please.” He begged, because the idea of Malfoy finding him crying like a little boy in his parent’s arms was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need for it to actually happen. His father complied and gestured for him to sit on the bed with them.

He wanted to scream from the pain. It was so fucking unfair. The tears kept coursing down his cheeks, he had to take off his glasses because it was impossible to see with them anymore, all tarnished from his crying.

“What happened?” Padfoot asked calmly, Harry only shook his head. He didn’t want to tell them. “It’s Draco, isn’t it?” And that only made Harry cry even harder which, he supposed that it confirmed Sirius’ suggestion.

His father tried to ask what was it that Draco had done but his godfather cut him shortly, saying that Harry would talk if he wanted and when he wanted.

After a while, he started to get this painful feeling in his chest. The anguish that got settle inside of him was starting to feel like an overwhelming wave that was crushing every single bone in his body. He needed to speak, he needed to talk to someone.

“He writes to him.” He whispered, his voice weak and thin. “I know I shouldn’t have read it, but I did. He thinks that they met in dreams-“ He said chocking as he let out a sobbing sound. “ Draco spent the night with me and he met in dreams with him. Isn’t that so fucking romantic?”

“Oh, Harry... Hou don’t know what that means for them-“

“He says that he misses him dearly. That he doesn’t believe that I’m going to finish this before June, even though I’m fucking trying” He cleaned his eyes with the back on his hand. “I know it’s really shitty of me but sometimes I wish that he would choose me. And I know that it’s wrong because it’s going to kill him. I fucking know it, but I want it. I want him to write letters to me, I want him to be with me, I want for him to sleep beside me and not think about someone else. I want him for myself and I can’t have that so I take whatever it is that he can give me.”

“I know, Prongslet. I totally get it.” Sirius said as he played his his hair, soothing him. His dad was rubbing his back... It felt so good to have them near. He couldn’t imagine what it would be of him going through all of this without them...

“You know...” His father started to say. “It’s possible to be in love with two people at once.” Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Oh, yeah? Was that what happened to you?” He spat out his response. He knew that it wasn’t fair, much less to his dad and with Padfoot right beside him... But he was just so fucking angry and sad.

“Yes...” His father answered with honesty, Harry could feel the hand of Sirius tense for a second before resuming to run his fingers through his hair. “After school, I kept dating Lily and eventually fell in love. When she got pregnant I asked her to marry me, and then you arrived... There wasn’t a single day where I didn’t love Sirius, though.”

“That’s just sad.” He replied stubbornly.

“Is it? It gave me you... with your beautiful green eyes and your mother’s sass.” He heard Sirius chuckling so he relaxed. Maybe they really talked about this... Maybe it was okay now. “What I mean is that love is a million different things, you always love people differently, even when you are in love. Maybe it’s not going to happen tomorrow but... what if you turn out to be the one who spends the rest of his life with him? Would it really matter if he had Hanahaki for someone else?” Harry groaned.

“You don’t get it. You just don’t. I want for him to love me like he loves him. I know it’s fucking cruel, alright? But I want for him to love me so desperately that he would get the same squeezing feeling around his heart that I have everytime that I imagine them together. At this point, I’m bloody surprised that I’m not the one with the Hanahaki.”

“Okay... Prongslet?” Harry looked up. “How about you tell him how you feel?” He was about to respond but Padfoot cut him short. “I know what you are going to say: he doesn’t love me back and yada yada yada, BUT there is this very” And the man child coughs trying to hide the word ‘huge’.

“Sirius” His dad said in a reprimanding tone.

“What? I was just coughing. Anyway there is this possibility where you are.. you know... wrong.”

“About what? Maybe he has some feelings for me, which I doubt: I was barely mentioned in the letter-“

“Maybe he has THE feelings for you, you bullheaded oblivious very-son-of-your-father Potter.”

“SIRIUS.”

“What, James? They are worse than us! That’s saying something”

Harry started to get up, cleaning the rest of the tears with his sleeve and putting his glasses on.

“Hey, where are you going?” His father asked as soon as he started to walk to the door.

“Away from you. I don’t need you to give me hope when I know that I’m going to end up heartbroken.”

And he was closing the door behind him when he heard Padfoot yell.

“You know who said the very same thing at Grimmauld??” But whatever he was about to say was interrupted by him slamming the door.

———————-

Later that night, Harry found himself alone in his room and looking at the ceiling. His head was filled with images of Malfoy and Nott together at the beach, smiling to each other...

‘Potter says that he is going to finish this before June but, honestly, I don’t think that it’s going to happen.’

The thing was that he really wished to have a shot at being with Draco. That could only happen if they finished this on time and after they destroyed the locket, they were pretty stuck. The only clue that they had was Bellatrix...

They needed her wand to get to inside of the vault. What could they do? Steal it? They needed to be near her for that... Malfoy Manor was the place were the Death Eaters meeting were being held, he knew that because Draco told him, maybe if they infiltrated that Manor, they could get the wand... Or even her hair, with how much polyjuice Malfoy and Mione had brew in the last months they could do whatever they wanted.

But if they went inside of the Manor, Draco wasn’t coming with them. Not in a million years. Harry feared how his family would react if they saw him. Sirius and dad weren’t an option either, much to his dismay, someone needed to stay here with the blond boy and take care of him... And even if everything went wrong and he wouldn’t get to come back from this one, they would take care of him and Draco could be with Nott without Harry being in the middle of it all. He could actually let them be happy...

He needed to talk to Hermione and Ron about this. He just hoped that they would agree with him.

Sometimes being the good and selfless Chosen One sucked.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 9)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8

Part 10: here

Arthur steps out of the office building’s foyer and is immediately accosted by the uncomfortably bright sunlight. He winces, shading his eyes, taking a moment to adjust and shake off the usual full-body jitters skittering along his limbs and torso. The air is hot, dry, and itchy. After being blasted with the cold air-conditioning for almost three hours, it's especially jarring. He takes a breath and lets the tension go, feeling a whole lot lighter now the hard part of the trip is done and dusted. All it took was a few hours of anxious waiting,-pretty standard considering he had rocked up without an appointment,-and he now has his new prescription and a referral to the specialist he actually wants to see. It had taken him a ridiculously long time to find this woman the first time around, what with having to cycle through an extensive line-up of medical professionals, and he’s glad he can skip the drama this time. Though, he’s not sure how he’s going to manage appointments when he’s road tripping across the country with Vivi and Lewis.

Arthur frowns down at the referral paper, continuing down the steps to the footpath running adjacent to the building. There’s no way he is letting Lewis and Vivi go on a supernatural road trip without him. Not with them being entirely in the dark about how dangerous the whole thing could be. Sure, they had Mystery, but he is beginning to suspect that Mystery didn’t care much for anyone who wasn’t Vivi (and he's not even sure he can trust that anymore). He would just have to manage alone until they returned. If they returned. Arthur forcefully shoves the paper down into the front pocket of his shoulder bag, trying not to think too hard on a topic bound to bring his mood lower than it already was.

As he turns to head back to his van, his gaze travels automatically across the plaza filled with shoppers, past the line of dinners and restaurants, to land on the looming grey, brick, cube-like structure of St Peter’s Medical and Emergency Centre. It’s the largest building in the block aside from the few office buildings behind it, and even those weren’t very high, causing it to lean almost threateningly over the shorter boutiquey outlets in the street just before it. Dry wind ruffles his hair pulling him its direction, and his steps falter. He stares at the structure wearily. Funnily, in this life, he’s never actually stepped foot in the Emergency Centre.

So entranced is he by the odd sense of dislocation that he walks straight into a thin woman pushing an overladen trolley.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” She snaps, pausing to glare, while he’s busy ricocheting backward and stumbling in his attempt to keep his feet.

“Ah,” Arthur yanks his attention away from the hospital and tries for an apologetic tone, “Sorry?”  It’s not like the woman’s been affected by his mishap. Arthur is the one with sore shins. The lady huffs and continues on, a cloud of irritation following her down the path.

The small commotion has drawn the attention of several strangers who have all turned to give him a brief glance before getting on with their day. Now feeling overexposed and increasingly off balance, Arthur power walks around the building to the parking lot and the safety of his van. The back of his neck is prickling uncomfortably, and there is a disconcerting, foreboding taint, hanging about his shoulders right up until he slams and locks his van door. He takes a deep breath and rests his head against the steering wheel. Then runs a hand through his hair, twisting a strand between two fingers.

Now that’s over with he should focus on the more enjoyable parts of his trip. Mainly, finding equipment and collecting some components to mess around with during those long hours spent alone in his room avoiding people. It’s a good thing he knows exactly where to go. Future knowledge: great for saving friends from certain disaster and navigating unfamiliar towns. He turns the key and pulls out.

A brief wave of melancholic nostalgia has him taking an additional turn around the block, passing several familiar shops. Tomb Tome, a frequent haunt of his high school years and Future Vivi’s old place of employment. He slows so he can stare at the shopfront, which is plastered with familiar colourful posters, pamphlets and info on local gaming and comic events, obscuring most of the shop’s windows. Vivi probably would have enjoyed it there a lot more if not for the circumstanced of their temporary move. It’s weird to think that she might never work there in this timeline. Not if his plans to change the future are successful. He speeds up, facing forward, massaging his right thumb into the steering wheel. The second-hand tech shop is a few streets down, and he pushes forwards, banishing the odd sense of disappointment.

Headphones and some slow music wash out the world until it’s just him and shelves of old computers, spare parts, and various mechanical and technical equipment. Slowly, the last few days of stress and anxiety drain away. He buys a whole lot more than he means to, which, on top of the doctor’s visit, takes a significant bite out of his personal saving. It doesn't bother him as much as it might.

It's towards the end of his shopping trip, or as Lewis would call it his ‘retail therapy,’ that the nagging feeling of apprehension, which he’d been trying to ignore since the running into the woman outside the doctor’s office, comes to bite him on the ass.

He’s back at his van, shuffling around with his overstuffed shopping bags when a shout, loud enough to penetrate through his music, catches his attention.

“Hey!”

Arthur pulls the buds from his ears, glancing over his shoulder to watch a heavy-set man, with an impressive beard and a leather vest, stomp towards him. There is something familiar and disconcerting about him.

“Hey, you! Kid!” The strange man yells again in a gravely southern accent. Arthur glances around, but he’s the only person out in the street. He watches the stranger approach, trepidation beginning to coil in his gut.

“You’re the kid from the diner, the one that made the suggestion about my bike’s engine.”

Oh. It clicks. This is the famed Leather Guy. It’s been almost two years, but Arthur still recognises the perpetually scowly face of a man never more than a few wrong words away from a fist fight.

“Err, yeah?” He answers slowly, hesitating.  

“Name’s Micky,” Newly named Micky introduces, coming to a stop a few paces from Arthur.

“Sorry about taking a swing at you kid. Had a rough day. Went in to apologise but only saw your big purple friend,”

Arthur begins sorting through his key ring as subtly as possible, answering, “No problem. I could probably have been a bit more polite when pointing it out,”

He knows not to judge people based on appearance alone, but this guy’s looking awfully intimidating. His heart rate is increasing, and he can already feel the subtle flush of adrenalin, wiring him up in case he needs to move fast.  

“Hey now, no need to be modest, kid. Not when you know your stuff. It’s good I ran into because I’ve been needing a second opinion on my bike.”

Micky shoves a hand into his jacket pocket and takes another step forward. A step too many in Arthur’s opinion.

“The mechanic I took it too was as clueless as a dim bulb if you catch my meaning.”

“Hehe, where’d you go? Donald and Son’s Repairs?” He laughs half-heartedly. Donald and Son’s is only other mechanic within several miles of the Pepper’s diner. Though, he’s sure there’s a few around this town as well.

“Yeah, actually, went there and they did a piss-poor job. If you could take a look at it, I’d feel a load better. Have a long trip coming, you see. Can’t have my baby breaking down in the middle of nothing now.”

Why does he get the feeling that Micky has never been to Donald and Son’s and that his bike is fine? Arthur, trying to keep his body language as light as possible, locates his key. He’d learnt from many a bad experience to trust his instincts. Right now they’re telling him to get out of dodge.

“Actually, I’m kind of in a rush at the moment,”

It’s not even a lie. He needs to start heading home soon if he wants to beat Lewis and Vivi who would be coming over after Vivi’s shift ended at five.

“But I work at Kingsman Mechanics …you can bring your bike there if you want it fixed,” he suggests, inserting his key into the door, preparing to make a break for it.

Something clicks, and it’s not the sound of his van being unlocked.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, kid. How about you step back from the van,”

Between looking down at the door and his key, Micky has pulled a gun, pointing it in his direction. Arthur freezes. Micky’s holding it casually so, to anyone looking, it wouldn’t be immediately apparent.

“Come on, then. Promise this’ll only be for a few seconds,” Micky says gruffly, seemingly irritated that Arthur hadn’t just followed him to straight into a back alley like a chump.

“Ah,” Arthur’s replies intelligently while his brain spins its wheels, attempting process this sudden change in circumstance.

He stares at the gun then up at Micky.

“Okay?” He offers when nothing better comes to mind.

It’s not the first time he’s had a gun pointed at him. When he had been road tripping with Lewis and Vivi he always seemed to be the one getting held up and chased by the wackos behind whatever ‘haunting’ they investigated. Remain calm. Don’t panic. Don’t antagonise. It’s the same sort of process.

Surprisingly, it’s not nearly as panic-inducing as those previous times. Instead of the fear completely wiping out logical thought like a bulldozer it’s just keeping him nicely tense and ready. How is that fair? Point a gun in his face and he’s not even flinching, but put him in a room with Lewis and he can barely function without throwing up the contents of his stomach. Just add it to the list of failures.

Note: Sorry about the two-week delay between parts, I was off battling the education system. I’m hoping to have a part 10 done in the next 2-3 days so you don’t have to sit on the cliff-hanger for too long. Hope people enjoy the slight shift in pace/tone.  

[upthenorthmountain]

Something Just Like This - Chapter 5

2617 words, which is unlike me, but here we go! Some more of this

Previous Chapters

Chapter Five

“I don’t know, Anna. Are you sure you’re ready for a new relationship?”

“It’s not a relationship! It’s, it’s a support group. He got divorced, earlier this year.”

“Have you slept with him?”

“No!”

Elsa said nothing. Anna hated that, how Elsa would let the silence sit until Anna tried to fill it. She hated more that she always would try and fill it.

“Look, I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere,” she said. “But he’s easy to talk to, and he likes me, and he’s a good kisser -” Oops.

“Anna! You said you hadn’t slept with him!”

“Oh, for - I know it’s not your area of expertise, but there is a world of difference between kissing someone occasionally and having actual sexual intercourse with them.” The fact that, if trees had the ability to magically turn into double beds behind locking doors, she absolutely would have slept with him, was an entirely different point. She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad one that Arundel Print didn't hold their events at hotels like normal companies.

Another pause, but Anna held her tongue during this one, until her sister continued.

“I suppose. Are you sure you’ll be alright this weekend? I’ll come over if you need me.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

-----

The Sunday morning of the team-building weekend wasn't nearly as bad as Anna feared when she woke up in her sleeping bag, hungover and blushing bright red at the memory of how Kristoff had kissed her (in public by the campfire, and in semi-private - well). But aside from a few odd comments, no one said very much. They really do think we’re already doing it, Anna realised.

No one was very chatty at breakfast, anyway, and cleaning up the campsite didn't take long. Kristoff himself was the same as always, a little subdued but then everyone was. When she saw him Anna tried not to remember the night before, the way he had pressed his body against hers; soon, she just thought, and that kept her warm all the drive home.

-----

Of course she didn’t want to be getting married today. He was a cheater and a liar and she was well rid of him, she knew that. But there was the little part of her brain that still lived in the fantasy, where Matt was a good man and they loved each other and right now she’d be having her hair done, and putting on her dress; right now she’d be walking down the aisle. Now he’d be making a speech, all about how lucky he was to have her. By now she’d be someone’s wife.

It was that late-afternoon slump, just gone 4pm, when it was too late to really go anywhere but too early to think about dinner. Anna lay on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. There was nothing she wanted to do but she didn’t want to stay here, either. Her whole body felt itchy. Why would today not just end.

The doorbell rang. Anna turned her head to it and, for the first time in her life, gave serious thought to not answering it. It rang again. Ugh, fine.

It was a florist. Anna walked back through to her living room with the bunch of flowers, fumbling for the card. She was sure they were from her sister until she read it - Just remember, someone in IT thinks you’re pretty.

Tears pricked her eyes. Sweet. He was so sweet. She found a vase in the kitchen and put the flowers in water. Could she call him? He was probably busy. But she should thank him. A text, then.

thank you for the flowers

they helped on a hard day x

you’re welcome, I’m glad you liked them

is it the kind of hard day where you want company

or to be left alone

I don’t know

yes maybe

yes to which part

company

come over in a bit? If you’re free

of course

well need to finish up some things here

seven ish? And we’ll do something to take your mind off it

OK

thanks x

-----

At quarter to seven Anna realised she was still in her pyjamas. At least she’d showered, but she hadn’t brushed her hair. What did seven-ish mean? A bit before or a bit after? She was still scrambling into jeans and a clean top when the doorbell rang. Quick drag of the brush through her hair, no time for make-up, oh well. This was her face and if he didn’t like it -

Kristoff was wearing a shirt, and his nice jacket, and proper shoes. He’d been planning to take her out somewhere, clearly. Why was she such a disaster? The nice man had sent her flowers and wanted to take her out for dinner and she’d barely bothered to get dressed.

“Hi,” she said, then “sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

He followed her through to the living room.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you meant….I thought you meant we could hang out here.”

“We can do that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just...not really with it today.”

“It’s fine, Anna.” He sat down on the sofa. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.” She paused. “I had breakfast.”

“Not lunch?”

“No. I’m hungry.” She sat down next to him and took out her phone. “What do you want? Pizza, Indian - ooh, Chinese.”

“Chinese sounds good. How do you just skip lunch without noticing?”

Anna tapped on her phone and then handed it to him. “Choose what you want, my treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, away with your - chivalry. And I slept quite long. Just to pass the time. So maybe I had lunch but not breakfast rather than the other way round.”

She took her phone back from him and completed the order. “Thirty minutes and someone will bring me food. I love living in the future. Speaking of which,” she picked up the remote, “Netflix. I get to choose because I’m sad today.”

“I - do not know how to argue with that.”

“Good. Best thing about this flat,” Anna said, scrolling down the menu, “Is that it’s cabled so the broadband is excellent. Where I lived before it was rubbish. It’s pretty much the only thing I like about this place.”

“What’s wrong with your flat? It’s fine.”

Anna pulled a face.

“Well,” Kristoff continued, “Do you not like where it is? The location?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Good, because that’s the only thing you can’t change.”

“It’s just all - beige.”

“You can change the colour of the walls, you know.”

“I know. I don’t know how.”

“Then pay someone else to do it. Or find a friend who does know how. Look -” He sat forward and looked round the room. “OK. Find a wallpaper you like - something colourful. Maybe flowers, yellow and green - do the wall behind the sofa. Pick a colour out from it, maybe yellow, and paint the other walls.”

“It’ll clash with the sofa. Which I did not choose, a friend was throwing it out.”

“You can get new covers for sofas, or just put something over it, a blanket or whatever. Get some cushions that go with the wallpaper. You know, things girls like.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s in all those boxes?”

“Books, mainly. Ornaments.”

“Couple of bookcases over there, then. Go to Ikea.”

“I can’t do flatpacks, it’s a disaster.”

“Jesus. Get some ready-made ones from somewhere else, then. Put some more pictures up.” He was looking round the room, and it was a moment before he glanced back at her and realised she was crying.

“Anna? Fuck.” He put his arm round her and pulled her towards him. “I’m sorry, just tell me to shut up.”

“S’not that - you’re right - I just -”

With his free arm Kristoff reached the tissue box on the coffee table and handed it to her. Anna pulled out a handful and rubbed at her face. “It’s just - I have to do everything. I’ve never lived alone before. I’m in my mid-thirties and I’ve never lived alone before. There’s so much, so many things, and I can’t…”

He rubbed her arm. “It’ll get easier.”

“What if it doesn’t.”

“Anna…” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think in a year or two you’re going to look back and think, wow. I mean - not just the wedding thing. You moved to a new town, and a new job, you put basically the maximum amount of disruption into your life all at once. It’ll work out but of course this is super-stressful. You’re right in the middle of probably the most stressful period of your life.”

“My parents both died when I was seventeen.”

“Really? Fuck. Second-most, then. But still. It will get better. It will, you just need to keep going.”

Anna blew her nose, loudly. “It’s shit,” she said, with feeling.

“Yeah, I know. But it was always going to be. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

“I save it for when I need it. And you’re the one who just got divorced.”

“Yeah, but I still have the same house, the same job, the same friends. And my family around. And we’d been separated for a while.”

Anna rested her cheek on his chest and he kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to end up decorating this living room, aren’t I,” Kristoff said. “I’ve had a sudden premonition.”

“That’s a very kind offer, thank you.”

“Oi. You’re going to help.”

“If you tell me what to do.”

“Of course.”

-----

The food was reasonable, and old sitcoms as reliable a source of mild entertainment as always. Normally this would be a perfectly fine way to spend an evening, especially with a nice warm man to snuggle up against. But Anna still felt out of sorts.

Well, she had an idea about how to cheer herself up. When the episode finished, she pulled Kristoff’s face round to hers and kissed him. When he started to turn back away she kissed him again, and tangled her fingers in his hair, and then he understood and pulled her into his arms.

He wasn't as forceful as the previous weekend, but that was okay. When Anna turned a little in her seat and lay back against the sofa cushions, it didn’t take much encouragement to pull him along with her, to settle his weight above her, warm and safe. Anna wiggled her legs round until she could hook a foot behind his knee.

This was nice, very nice. Anna kissed him and tried to remember if she’d made her bed (no), and if she had any condoms (yes, but she couldn’t remember which drawer in her bedroom they were in) and what underwear she was wearing (cotton with a print of dancing owls, better get that off as quickly as possible).

She moved her lips from his to kiss her way along his jaw and onto his neck; when she reached his ear she whispered “Shall we take this to the bedroom?” in the sexiest voice she could manage.

Kristoff pulled back a bit, breathing hard. He pushed himself up on his hands and she waited, thinking he was just catching his breath. Then he kissed her gently on the lips, just once, and said “I think - I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.”

He sat up. Suddenly cold, Anna swung her legs round to sit next to him. “Oh,” she said, looking at her hands.

“It’s not you,” he said quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just -”

“It’s okay. I mean, of course it’s okay.” Anna swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.”

“They why -”

“It just - means more to me. It’s not, casual. For me.”

Anna nodded, sniffed, and scrubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“Hey,” Kristoff said. “Stop that. Don’t start crying again over some old fart who’s so boring he only has sex with people he’s in a serious relationship with.”

Anna sniffed. “What do you mean, again.”

“You were definitely crying earlier. When I suggested you decorate your living room.”

She laughed but it turned into a sob. “I’ll stop, I’m sorry…”

He put an arm round her shoulder. “Would you like me to stay tonight?” he said quietly.

“But you just said…”

“I mean, just stay. Sleep here. So you're not by yourself.”

“I don't have a spare bed. And I don’t think you’ll fit on the sofa. So we’d have to - share.”

“That's fine.”

“You're sure? I'd like you to stay. If you're sure.”

“I suggested it, remember?”

“Okay, then. Thank you.”

-----

Kristoff left to fetch his pyjamas and toothbrush (which had made Anna smile when he said it; like a sleepover. Which she supposed it was. Had half the reason she wanted to sleep with him been because she didn’t want to sleep alone tonight? Let’s not think about that too hard, Anna).

She brushed her own teeth, and put on clean pyjamas, and made her bed and tidied up her room a bit. What if he changed his mind once he got home? Then you’ll be fine. Go to sleep, tomorrow is another day. Another day on which she should have been flying to Mauritius. Ugh.

The door buzzed, and it was Kristoff, with a rucksack slung over his back.

“Let’s do this, then,” he said.

-----

“Goodnight,” Anna said, and turned out the light. She kept her back to him, then thought, was that rude? But they were just here to sleep. She half-turned; Kristoff was lying on his back, and he turned his face to her when she moved.

“This is a bit weird,” she said, feeling awkward. “I mean, isn’t it? I’ll try not to - molest you in my sleep, or anything.”

“Believe me,” he said. “It's quite possible to share a bed with someone night after night and never touch at all.”

He didn't sound bitter as he said it, just sad, and Anna thought about how lonely that must have been.

“I'm sorry,” she said, rolling onto her back next to him. “I'm so wrapped up in myself today.”

“I think you're allowed to be, today.”

“What was she like?”

Kristoff hesitated. Then he said, “I don't know, about five foot six? Dark hair, blue eyes.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. What happened? I mean, if you want to tell me,” she added hurriedly.

Kristoff was silent for a while, and Anna worried she’d over-stepped. Then he said, “Lots of things. Lots of little things. But the one big thing was that before we got married we both said we wanted to have children one day, one day soon, then afterwards she changed her mind.”

“Oh.”

“Well, it wasn’t as clear-cut as that - there was always some reason to wait. For her. And...I don’t know. We started arguing about it a lot. And there were other things, too, but maybe we could have got through them.”

Anna put out her hand and found his.

“Last year,” he continued, “It was bad. But I remember, one evening - we’d had dinner and we were clearing up, and it was - calm - but I just remember knowing, so clearly, that it was going to end. That it was inevitable. And it was really...” He ran his free hand over his face. “It was really fucking sad.”

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezed her hand. “And here we are,” he said. “I survived. So will you.”

“Just about. But what now?”

“Now you go to sleep.” He squeezed her hand again and let it go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Go to sleep.”

[saibh29]

Thief (Part 6)

Pairing: Bellamy / Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Light Smut (PG13)

AN: We’re getting to the end of my plotted out map for this story, so I hope you all enjoy this part. Also, my editing seems to have gone to shit so if anyone knows anyone who would be willing to do some Beta work with me please let me know? I’m happy to work with people as well on a back and forth basis. 

If you want to read the previous parts of this story find them here:::: Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four , Part Five 

Please feel free to add yourself to my taglist list over here.... TAGLIST 

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Fuck it all to hell, you had told Finn, told him so many times that you’d felt like a parrot. It was only to be him and Clarke at this meeting with Anya. Just like Anya would only bring you and her second. Of course you’d been naïve to think either of them would keep their word. Clarke had definitely brought more than just Finn and Anya had brought a whole horde of warriors.

It had been inevitable at that point that someone was going to get an itchy finger and fire without meaning to. Unfortunately, that person had been on Clarke and Finn’s side. Bullets had rained down on your people and you had all retreated back with untrusting eyes falling on you. Why had you let Finn talk you into this? You were going to pay for how badly this had all turned out.

Tris had been hit with one of those bullets and from the sickly pale colour of Anya’s second you doubted she would be recovering anytime soon. No one within your own tribe had the medical skills to heal bullet wounds. Poison and arrow’s yes, but bullets? There was a reason why you had been sent to steal the vast majority of their ammunition.

“Y/N?”

You jerked at Anya’s voice coming from behind you, turning to look into your leaders face. She looked tired and more than a little bit concerned for Tris.

“I need you to do something for me”

“What is it?”

“Scouts brought in Clarke and Finn earlier on this morning, I need you to go to the sky people’s camp. Keep that boy in the walls”

“That boy?” you asked curiously then continuing “you haven’t hurt them Anya?”

“I haven’t and I won’t as long as the girl succeeds in healing Tris” folding her arms across her chest she levelled her gaze on you, tiredness banished “You are to keep Bellamy Blake within the walls of that camp Y/N. I don’t care how you do it, but he needs to stay away”

“You don’t care how I do it?” Anya had a tone to her voice that you didn’t like, it implied something about your relationship with Bellamy that you hadn’t even admitted to yourself yet. “You sound like you have some idea about what needs doing Anya”

“Don’t try and cover up your feelings for them Y/N” her face pinched into a look of distaste. “It’s impossible to miss how you talk about them all of a sudden, your becoming more like Lincoln day after day”

“I am nothing like him��

Anya simply shrugged her shoulders “at this moment in time I don’t care what you believe, in fact your fondness for them is helping my immediate goals. Go, keep Bellamy occupied enough to leave Finn and Clarke here”

You wanted to keep pressing, to try and get some sort of guarantee out of Anya that she wouldn’t hurt Finn or Clarke. However, you knew Anya to well to think that you were going to succeed in that respect instead you would take what she had given already. “When do you want me to go?”

“Now” Anya held out your coat, the dark green one that allowed you to blend so well into the back drop of the forest. “As long as you can Y/N”

“As long as I can” you slipped into the coat flicking the hood up over your hair and doing up the buttons.

You knew that when Anya said now she meant now you didn’t bother looking back to try and get any sort of glimpse at Finn or Clarke instead simply taking off for the borders of the forest. Stealing wasn’t your only skill nor was slipping ropes. You could also move almost inhumanely fast through the forest; it was a talent you hadn’t been able to teach to anyone else. The way you jumped over the undergrowth and missed hazards around you. All of it added up to the fact that reaching the sky peoples camp would have taken others hours but took you only one.

Movement was frantic around the camp and you could see hordes of kids running around seemingly unsure of what they should do. Who you couldn’t see was Bellamy though, the one person who you were supposed to be distracting.

Distracting, that was the interesting word. What exactly was distracting Bellamy going to take and just how far were you willing to go to uphold Anya’s orders.

You stayed in the trees for a moment scouting out time in the guard’s rotation to slip through the tunnel and into the camp. From the edge of the tunnel it was easy enough to skirt around the edges of the camp and tents to towards the one you knew was Bellamy’s. You were taking a guess that that was where he might be, planning what to do next. From the outside you couldn’t hear any voices so taking the risk that he was going to be on his own you slipped inside.

Your luck apparently was holding because sure enough Bellamy was sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands staring down at the floor. “I’m not in the mood for another lecture Clarke”

He didn’t know that Clarke had gone yet, that was good. “Then it’s a good job I’m not Clarke”

He jerked, jumping up from his bed to spin around staring over at you. “Y/N”

“In the flesh” you pushed your hood down revealing your face to him, smiling softly at his visible surprise. “Sorry for skipping out on you again, but I did promise to be back”

“What are you doing here?”

Slowly you undid the buttons of your coat dropping it to the floor as you came over to a still tense Bellamy. “You tried to kill Anya, you nearly did kill Tris”

“Tris?”

“Anya’s second. She isn’t happy”

“Do you really think that bothers me?” he snapped out anger filtering over his features as he stared down at you.

“I think it should” you took the final step towards him so your bodies were only inches apart. “I think if it honestly doesn’t than your more stupid than I thought and that’s just…disappointing”

Bellamy reached up grabbing your arms and squeezed to such an extent that it was almost painful. “I’m only going to ask you once more Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“Can I not want to see you?” his nostrils flared at that, he wanted it to be true you could see it on his face. He wanted to believe that you wanted to see him. It was interesting, it seemed that Bellamy was fighting just as hard as you were to deny that there was anything but hostility between the two of you. That the chemical pull you felt towards him didn’t actually exist. You slowly raised your hand up to rest your hand against his chest, you could feel his heart beat accelerating under your touch. “I did want to see you again Blake”

“But?”

“But that’s not the whole reason”

You’d reached a crossroads, right now in this moment your life could go one of two directions. You could do as you had been raised to protect Anya and not tell him that is was likely that Clarke and Finn were both going to die at the hands of your people. Or you could tell him the truth, you could betray your people and you could take the final step towards living a life like Lincoln lived.

“I need to know something from you before I tell you”

“Need to know what?” Bellamy’s grip loosened on your arms but he didn’t completely let go of you, almost like he was scared that you were going to vanish once more.

“Would you have killed Lincoln? If I hadn’t gotten him out of this camp. Would you have killed my friend?”

He went silent, eyes flicking down from your face to instead stare down at the floor. “No” he whispered out. “Is that what you want to hear? That your enemies are weak. That I wouldn’t have been able to kill him when it came down to the end”

“I don’t think your weak” you moved your hand up from his chest, tracing his collar bone and up his neck to lift his chin so you could stare into his eyes once more. “I don’t think mercy is weakness Bellamy. On the contrary I think it takes more courage to show forgiveness” lifting yourself up onto your toes you pressed your lips against Bellamy’s.

Unlike the first time you had kissed him Bellamy didn’t stay motionless for long. His hands went to your hips pulling your body up to his own, then wrapped around your waist. One large hand splayed out on the base of your back and the other moved up to tunnel into your hair.

Your body lit up like it was one fire, Bellamy’s touch sending shivers over your skin and made your brain vacate the premises. You barely managed to wrench yourself back under control breaking away from his lips.

“Wait Bellamy, I’m a distraction” you gasped out gripping onto his shirt. “I’m a distraction”

“A distraction?” his own eyes were still unfocused with lust as he kept you wrapped in his arms.

“Anya, she has Clarke and Finn. If Clarke can’t save her second, she’ll kill them. I’m the distraction”

Bellamy tensed but surprising you he still didn’t let go of you or try and restrain you. “Why are you telling me this?”

You bit your lip staring up at him. “Because sometimes mercy is most courageous thing you can do”

[janeykath318]

5 Times Chris Denied His Feelings, And One Time He admitted Them

1.The first time it happened, was the morning after he’d challenged her to do better. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but when Jamie Kirk nonchalantly pulled up to the shipyard on what was undoubtedly a very nice motorcycle and practically swaggered to the shuttle, he felt like he’d been bowled over. She walked like she owned the place and her sleek short hair was now tamed and gleaming in the sun. “Four years? I’ll do it in three,” she said, bloodshot blue eyes briefly boring into his as she brushed past him to the shuttle. Dang. Was he developing an irregular heartbeat? He’d better see Phil about that skipping a beat phenomenon before it got serious.

2.Chris couldn’t count the times Kirk made him regret his life choices over her three years in the academy. Sure, she was a certified genius (had to be to make through the command track classes in three years), but she was frequently a thorn in the side of Authority. She’d tested out of all the classes he taught, but he heard plenty from her profs, who were alternately awed and aggravated by her unconventional thinking. As her academic advisor, he’d spent enough time with her to know that was just how she was. When she was a Captain, that would be a great trait, but for now, it caused a lot of raised eyebrows and debates. One day, he filled in for the advanced hand to hand instructor and got to see her in action sparring with her classmates. It was clear from a minute’s watching how far she’d come from the wild bar brawl to quickly and efficiently bringing down her opponent, even the tall Andorian who had about two feet on her. Jamie tended to keep her expression schooled and determined, being a polite combatant, but after a tough bout with Cadet Mitchell, he caught a flash of wild fierceness in her face that threw him for a loop. Swallowing hard, he went on with the instruction, but the image stayed in his head for some time afterwards. 3.Chris was good at denial, very good. By Jamie’s third year, he’d convinced himself that his interest was all just an interest in her well-being and growth as a future Starfleet officer. He’d told himself this so much, he’d thoroughly convinced himself the happiness he felt in her presence was simply the product of being glad to see her thriving. Perhaps this delusion would have continued for sometime, but then the Academy Formal happened and threw him out of his carefully built up shell of denial. Crammed into the tight, itchy dress uniform, he was pacing the large reception room and wondering how long he could last before losing his mind. Chris hated these kinds of shindigs–he was forced to kiss ass and play Chaperone for lustful cadets who didn’t seem to grasp that Terra had actual decency laws and no one needed to see them sucking face and pawing at each other. He’d just told a very amorous couple to either get a room or tone it down, when Jamie Kirk suddenly appeared and he forgot about everything else. She strode in on the arm of a very disgruntled looking Leonard McCoy, looking downright stunning. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her in a dress before and the light blue number she was wearing was absolutely perfect on her. One ruffled strap crossed over her right shoulder and the calf length hem was adorned with more ruffles. At sight of him, she beamed and guided McCoy in his direction. “Well, Captain, you clean up nicely!” Jamie said admiringly. Chris was starting to sweat from both the uniform and her proximity. When she leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek, he felt his face flame.  What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be having such thoughts about her or all people. “So do you, Kirk,” he managed to get out without sounding like a smitten teenager. “I see you even managed to get McCoy out socializing.” “I promised to protect him from the ravaging hordes,” Jamie explained. “Women, men, and non binary cadets all fall all over themselves to get a piece of his fine self. It makes him uncomfortable, so I’m running interference.” Chris looked at McCoy, who was scowling and flushing, suddenly feeling a deep sympathy with the man. He was in good hands, though, with Jamie as guardian. “Better get going then, because I see a horde coming right towards you,” he warned. Jamie nodded and pulled on McCoy’s arm. “Let’s go dance, Bones. That’ll keep them away for a little bit. Don’t go too far, Chris,” she called over her shoulder. I have every intention of saving a dance for you.“ Chris didn’t register that he was staring after her stupidly until he heard Phil chuckle beside him. "My golly! You ARE gone on her, pal!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dr. Boyce,” Chris replied in his cool formal Captain tone, striding toward a group of colleagues to avoid talking about it. Phil shrugged and let him go, but muttered “denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Chris” under his breath. 4.Graduation was a somber affair in the aftermath of Nero’s attacks. It hurt to see so many empty seats in the auditorium where Cadets should have been. The scale of the tragedy haunted Chris everyday even as he struggled to accept the loss of his ship and his limited mobility. Jamie was the talk of the planet with her role in saving it, but she spent as much time as possible visiting Chris in the hospital and having heart to heart talks about captaincy. She didn’t want to get her promotion this soon or this way, and told him so frequently. He had no idea what to say beyond the advice gleaned from his own years of experience. Jamie’s circumstance was unprecedented and came with plenty of criticism and pressure. “I’m convinced you’re going to prove everyone of those skeptics wrong,” he told her after the ceremony. “They know you’re one of the brightest cadets in history and it’s clear you’re destined for command.” “I’m glad someone thinks so,” she sighed. “Much as I’m loving the Enterprise already, I spend half the time cussing out Nero for what he did–killing My dad, the genocide, killing my classmates, and hurting you. I was so terrified you were already dead when I found you.” “At that point, I thought I wasn’t far from it,” he admitted, remembering the pain and hopelessness he’d felt after Nero had got the codes out of him. “But then you came charging in and saved the day.” “You’re not allowed to die, Admiral,” she said seriously, wagging her finger at him, “Not on MY watch. I want you around for as long as possible.” Oh, flip. There went his heart palpitation again. If this kept up, he’d have to just admit he was in trouble of losing more than a ship. 5.Chris hated the fact he’d had to take the Enterprise from her after only a year, but Jamie clearly had some lessons still to learn about rule breaking and it’s  consequences. Spock had been assigned to the Bradbury and Uhura had gone with him, leaving a big void on the bridge. He knew Jamie was mad about that, but she didn’t dare speak openly, given how lucky she was to not be shipped back to the academy. It had taken his most persuasive reasoning to get Marcus to agree to her being his first officer instead. For the first few weeks of their mission, she was almost painfully polite and formal, struggling to adjust to the new position, and Chris wasn’t sure how to regain the easy connection they’d once shared. It was a very different Jamie now, as if one wrong move would end her career. Oh, she was a fantastic first officer, and helped get them out of plenty of sticky situations with her genius brain, but she’d withdrawn and spent much of her down time with McCoy or in Engineering. He let her be for awhile, then went to have a talk with McCoy. “I’m at a loss here, McCoy,” he explained. “She seems to be avoiding me and I don’t know what’s going on.” McCoy nodded knowingly. “She’s dealing with some stuff. It’s a little awkward going back to first officer after being used to command.” Chris wasn’t convinced. “There’s got to be more to it then that. It’s been two months and she just now started avoiding me so blatantly.” The doctor shrugged. “I’ve got my suspicions, but she’d kill me if I told. I’d suggest you try to confront her one of these days and find out what’s going on. If you keep letting her go, she’ll just drift farther away.” Chris pondered this for some time and finally decided McCoy was right. The hands off approach was not working with Jamie T. Kirk. He’d follow her to engineering if that’s what it took to have a conversation. +1. Unfortunately for Chris, the planned conversation didn’t take place for another two weeks due to the Enterprise being involved in some very delicate peace treaty negotiating between two warring peoples that took up all his time, then he and Kirk ended up being captured and held hostage by the group that opposed the treaty and they had nothing else to do but sit there and wait to be rescued. Geniuses as they were, the aliens had made it next to impossible to escape and certainly didn’t tie them back to back. On the third evening, they were abruptly informed they were going to be executed the next morning and left to ponder their fate. “Sulu had better get a move on,” Jamie remarked. “He’s cutting it awfully close this time.” “Well, maybe the threat of imminent death will coax you to finally tell me what’s been bothering you,” Chris stated simply. He was done with getting the run around. This time, she couldn’t go anywhere. Jamie squirmed in her bonds and looked down. “Why do you think that?” She asked with feigned ignorance. “Oh, maybe the part where you suddenly prefer Scotty’s company and completely  avoid me off duty. It’s pretty obvious something’s wrong. If I’ve done something, I’d much rather you tell me so I can make it right. I miss having you around, Kirk.” Jamie smiled weakly and sighed, still not looking at him. “I hate to be cliche, but it’s not you, it’s me. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m just trying to deal with stuff.” “Can I help?” He asked gently. “I don’t know,” she said miserably. He could see the sadness in her eyes as well as a touch of fear and decided that he needed to go first. “Jamie, forgive me if I’m misreading things, but I don’t think this has anything to do with the change in position. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve been pretty insufferable without you around.” “Doesn’t sound too unusual, Sir,” She said, with a hint of the old sass. “True,” he admitted with a nod. “But this time the insufferableness was exacerbated due to my realizing just how much I need you: not just as a first officer, but a person.” Her head shot up and she squinted at him intensely. He couldn’t tell whether the dark circles under her eyes were bruises from the guards knocking her around or just exhaustion, but her eyes were clear and vivid, trained on him. Good grief, they were beautiful. SHE was beautiful. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” She asked cautiously, but hopefully. “If you’re thinking that I’m more than a little………in love with you, you’d be right,” he blurted. Jamie’s eyes got huge. “Really? Me, the nonstop pain-in-the-rear with no regard for rules?” “Yes, You.” He confirmed. “And your brilliant brain and very lovable self.” Jamie was struck speechless for some time. “I would never have guessed it, you’re so good at hiding what you’re feeling,” she said at last. “I’ve been avoiding you because I couldn’t hide my own longing anymore and didn’t want you to find out and pity me or worse, transfer me.” “Transfer the best first officer in the fleet? Hardly,” he scoffed. “I admit I’ve been living in denial since you were a cadet.” “That long, Huh?” Jamie said, smirking. “When did you fall prey to my endless charm?” “Pretty quickly after I met you,” he admitted. “But I finally quite trying to pretend I wasn’t completely gone on you a few months ago. Of course, the whole Nibiru mess happened, so it would have been the wrong time to start up anything and I didn’t think it would be received well.” He glowered down at his restraints, wishing he could show her just how much he meant it. “Sorry I can’t do anything about it right now,” he apologized, looking at her with a frustrated smirk. “Yeah, it’s Pretty frustrating,” she agreed, “Maybe they’ll let us have one little kiss before they execute us. I can be pretty persuasive.” He snorted. “I don’t think it will come to that. I’m not going out like that and neither are you.” In the end, Chris was right and Sulu brought in the rescue team and had them free in the middle of the night, well before any execution could take place. Chris and Jamie proceeded to thoroughly scandalize the away team by grabbing each other as soon as they were untied and expressing their newly admitted feelings in a not-so-little kiss. “Dang it,” muttered Hikaru, trying not to smile, even as he pretended to cover his eyes. “Now I owe Uhura Fifty credits.”

[fahye]

CP bachelor AU: part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

"If I tell Jokaste she's going home, on camera, you can't stop me."

There's nobody else in the production tent. Laurent has finally released the rest of the crew to craft services, where they're probably cramming down pasta and cold sausage rolls, after eleven hours straight of shooting. The suitors are in their rooms, grabbing the nine hours of sleep that their contracts allow them. Damen is meant to be in his room, the one with the white quilted bedspread.

Damen is not in his room.

Laurent looks over his shoulder at Damen for a while, wondering if he misheard. The words were stubborn enough. But Laurent has been around this industry for long enough to recognise the opening volley in a bargaining match when he hears one.

"That's true," he says. He doesn't move. Damen weaves between tables and shoved-back folding chairs, and comes to look down at Laurent where Laurent is sitting in front of the editing screens. The screens are empty, a blank and famished grey-black, showing only a dull reflection of Laurent's hair.

"But you'll find some way to make my life miserable," Damen says. "And--not just me, either."

"So there are some brains in there, alongside all the protein shakes," Laurent says.

"You saw what Jokaste did this morning."

Laurent shifts his chair so that he's facing Damen directly. He rests his arms on the thin metal arms of the chair, crosses one leg over the other, and leans back. "And?"

"I want you to keep her away from Erasmus. I don't know if it was her idea, or if one of your people put her up to it, but… don't make him go through something like that again. It wasn't even the first time, apparently. Ancel tried to get him drunk at the cocktail party. Told him I'd definitely notice him if he threw himself at me."

Ancel, Laurent recalls, is Redhead One. He was one of those snickering the loudest at Erasmus's dance, but was smart enough not to make himself visible in the aftermath.

"I can't control what the suitors do," Laurent says.

Damen gives him a flat look. Bull-fucking-shit, this look says; Laurent is, absurdly, pleased.

Laurent says, "And in return?"

Damen's hands clench into brief fists at his sides. Then ease. Laurent watches the effortful straightening of Damen's broad fingers and feels something that is either triumph or arousal, or perhaps the broad watercolour space where those two things bleed into one another.

"You get me," Damen says shortly. "I'll do what you want. Whatever ridiculous outfits or humiliating activities you have planned, I'll do them. No more arguments. And I'll let Jokaste stay, at least for a while. That's the deal."

Laurent leans his cheek on one hand and lets the silence stretch, tight, and then even tighter. He enjoys the way Damen's fingers twitch.

"You haven't seen some of these outfits," he says.

Damen says, low and annoyed, "Laurent," and a wild sensation takes hold of Laurent's spine. It's definitely not triumph, this time.

"Get some sleep," he says, and flaps his hand in dismissal. "Yes. To the deal. Now go away."

Damen leaves, and Laurent stands, suddenly needing to be moving. He picks up a whiteboard marker and taps it against his chin, letting his mind skip ahead.

So: Erasmus is the front-runner. Laurent had assumed, going in, that the last male suitor standing--possibly even the winner--would most likely be Kallias. Kallias exudes a photogenic kind of flirtation, sexy without being obvious, and as a freshly graduated law student he's also prime power-couple material for a corporate scion like Damen.

Erasmus was one of the last picks, despite being absurdly pretty and also a paediatric nurse, of all the ludicrous things, because his screen tests were hesitant bordering on colourless. Laurent didn't have much hope of him plucking up enough personality to interact with the bachelor at all.

But there it is. Circumstances change. Laurent can adapt.

In fact, he can already see the narrative unfolding: the sweet young man versus the stunning, vindictive woman. The bachelor himself seemingly blind to Jokaste's two-faced nature. The audience baying for her blood by the finale, and cheering when Damen chooses Erasmus in the end.

And a nice little victory for gay rights, or whatever the fuck it is that Damen wants.

"Wow," Nicaise says, from behind him.

Laurent steps back from the whiteboard where he's rapidly storyboarded the entire season, from where they are all the way to the end.

"It's a start."

"Shut up. It's good," Nicaise says.

It is. And it's going to be even better because the audience will think that it's happening organically. That life serves up happiness, spontaneous and uncomplicated, to those who deserve it. That it's real.

"They don't want it to be real," Laurent says. He touches lightly, with his fingertips, where he's written LOVE WINS. "They want us to sell them a fantasy, and they want just enough reality that they can pretend it might happen to them, one day."

Nicaise gives a parched-dry laugh. When Laurent turns around, Nicaise is sitting on the edge of a table, running a hand through his dark curls, the end of his laugh having been swallowed by a yawn. He meets Laurent's eyes for a mocking moment and then looks back at the board.

Nicaise says, "You think you can pull it off?"

"Of course," Laurent says.

He ignores the itchy disappointment lining his ribcage. It's--it's no more than irritating, the idea that demure, wide-eyed, transparently adoring Erasmus is apparently what Damen wants in a partner. That Damen will be happy to slide a ring onto Erasmus's finger as they share the romantic sunset kiss of the finale.

It's a good visual; a good story. Laurent's job is to sell it. That's all.

[sunaddicted]

One Of A Kind 1/2 (00q, Omega!Bond)

One Of A Kind 1/2 Q wasn't a morning person, no matter that he was woken up at the weirdest hours more often than not because of the job, but still his mind seemed to have tuned his biological watch to naturally restart his body around 6:00 am if a preset alarm hadn't done that already. Though, he had to admit that waking up surrounded by James' scent and warmth was nicer and did a lot to tone down his grumpiness. Sleepily, Q rubbed his cheek over the omega's chest, covering himself in his scent: it had grown slightly sweeter in the past few days and, with only a month left to James' heat, it wasn't the only subtle change Q had noticed happening to the other man's body: if he let his hand wander to caress the underside of James' abs, he could feel a softness that usually wasn't there and that made his protective streak ramp up almost absurdly; his chest had grown more sensitive to caresses and kisses, something Q unashamedly exploited in the bedroom to bring his lover to a higher plane of pleasure; James' body produced slick almost without any stimulation and Q knew that it happened also when he wasn't aroused, which made James grumble about having to go around with spare pants to quickly change. Q too had gone off of his suppressants, since they had decided to bond after a year of dating and finally moving in together, but he didn't dare to even mention the itchy feeling that came from the hormones finally rushing freely through his bloodstream - he didn't fancy having his head bitten off by his cranky omega. And he honestly acknowledged that his symptoms weren't that bad, if compared to what James was going through as his body slowly prepared for the heat. Warm fingers slipped in his messy curls, carefully petting them away from his face and Q let his lips curl in a soft smile even as he kept his eyes closed and didn't utter a word, enjoying the quiet and sweet moment. James too wasn't a morning person and he was not-so-secretly glad that he and Q were compatible in that way: in fact, even if Q's mind wouldn't let him rest as much as he would have liked, he understood how deeply he disliked waking up early and let him sleep the mornings away if he had no work to do - which was almost every day during downtime in between missions. That morning, Q had accidentally woken him up with rubbing his stubbly cheek against his chest which was growing annoyingly sensitive; he wasn't particularly upset about that, since Q wasn't the kind of person who started chattering as soon as his brain turned on and that meant he'd be able to fall back asleep. Though, the cats that had been slumbering at the bottom of the mattress, immediately perked up at the barest hint of conscious movement and purred loudly as they climbed up to butt their heads against them in a clear plea for breakfast. To be honest, James had never particularly been fond of cats - what with having spent his childhood in Skyfall around hunting dogs and their puppies - especially since their inborn evil streak led them to shed their hair on his suits; but Q and the cats came together as a package deal and James had welcomed them all in his flat, which no more was depressingly bare. Q sleepily pushed the cats away, hand awkwardly flying through the air, and the little beasts relented - for the moment. James had had enough time to study their behavioural patterns to know that they'd come back soon, louder and more indignant than before - Turing, a ginger beast that weighted far more than it should have, in particular. James gently brushed the pad of his thumb over Q's forehead, as if trying to smoothen a crease that wasn't there "They're like the plague, they always come back" he murmured, voice twisted with light humour. Q swatted James' stomach half-heartedly, too tired to gather the strength to hit him properly "Don't compare my babies to the plague" he mumbled, voice rough with sleep and an endearing pout blossoming on his lips. James couldn't help chuckling a little at the sight, his thumb swiping down Q's cheek before going to absentmindedly rub over his lower lip that, sometime during the previous day, Q had gnawed upon almost to the bleeding point; it didn't happen often, but it was a sign that a stressful day had taken its toll on the usually cool Quartermaster - it also explained the.. vigour Q had displayed the night before. Not that James minded, not at all: the closer he got to his heat, the more appreciated fast and hard sex was - his patience for long teasing momentarily cut really short. Q puckered his lips, sleepily kissing the pad of James' thumb before giving it a little nip - just like his cats would do to get rid of the cuddles once they had enough of them. He just wanted to trick his brain into sleeping some more, since he was expected at work only in the early afternoon - even lightly dozing half-curled over James' warm body would be enough. Then, both of their mobiles went off. *** "For how long has he been screeching like that?" Bill inquired, a wince on his face: not even the heavy wooden door of M's office was enough to completely muffle the shouting coming from inside the room "He's got a pair of lungs on him that I wasn't aware about" Bill added, shrugging at his own useless observation. James just offered a grimace in answer: Q had been in a foul mood since they had received a text about an upcoming mission for which they had been both required. Normally, Q was more collected than that; in fact, even if he didn't like the idea of sending his lover in the most dangerous situations often armed with just a gun, he didn't act like an alpha might when his omega risked being harmed - that was what James loved about Q the most: he didn't coddle him, nor was he annoyingly overprotective and possessive. "I'm close to my heat" the agent added in the end, leaning against the wall. Bill frowned: it certainly wasn't the first time that James was off of his suppressants to give his body a rest from the chemicals before being called for a mission "You can take suppressants" he pointed out, not really seeing the problem. "Q requested bonding leave for the next month" "Oh" Bill's mind took a couple of seconds to realise what the words meant "You were going to bond, I see. Well, that and Q being off of suppressants too explains a lot about... That" he waved towards M's door. James hummed in agreement, not particularly keen on discussing his private life so out in the open. Plus, he was feeling a little guilty: he wasn't as enraged as Q was about the possibility of skipping the heat and having to wait for his body to stabilise again before bonding; he liked the idea of having more time to be completely sure that he was ready for bonding - even if he definitely wanted to bond with Q, James wouldn't mind having a couple of months more to let the idea fully settle in his brain. "I'm sorry" James frowned at his colleague "What for?" "For your bonding" Bill was sorry that, once again, the agent had to give up on a little piece of normal life because of the job. Q's rage was completely understandable and Bill would have tried to find another solution, if only the mission didn't require the experience of a seasoned agent such as James. "We can do it when I come back" James answered, dismissing the unnecessary apology: that was the nature of his work, unpredictable - and Q knew it as much as he did "He's making this into a bigger deal only because he's a little high on hormones" As soon as the words left James' throat, the door opened with a loud bang and Q stormed out of the office, body wired with nervous energy and his scent so strong and menacing that, had James been a typical omega, it would have reduced him to whiny mess on the floor. "007, come and pick up your equipment" Q snarled, barely even looking at his lover and Tanner as he angrily strode to his branch. Shame and anger were curdling in his veins: he wasn't used to his alpha nature taking the wheel and Q knew that he had probably offended James too with his little scene - it wasn't as if Q had any say in whether James wanted to accept a mission or not and, certainly, an approaching heat wouldn't have been a reason for the omega to turn down a job. Sighing and breathing deeply in an attempt at calming himself down, Q entered his branch and valiantly tried to ignore the minions who stared at him because of the rumors already circulating and the aggressive scent hanging around him like a poisonous mist. He could smell James following closely behind so, Q ducked in his office in order to have a little privacy. While Q darkened the glass walls of his office, James closed the door behind his back and sat down on the battered couch the Quartermaster slept on quite often. Q sighed, going behind his desk to rifle in his drawers and cabinets to find everything he needed to put together the agent's kit "I'm sorry" James was honestly getting tired already to hear those words; his stomach twisted a little when they came from Q, though: what if it wasn't an apology but only the start for a break up? Maybe the alpha, usually so understanding and patient, had gotten fed up with his being so.. atypical "It's okay" "No, it's not" Q slipped a radio and a earwig in the usual case, gently putting it in the foam "I know that this is the nature of our jobs - I shouldn't have lost it like that" he apologised, looking down at his fingers fiddling nervously with the equipment before he slipped a hand in his pocket and put on his desk a bottle of suppressants that he had grabbed from home when they had been called into MI6; he had known that James was going to accept the mission and, for no reason in the world, Q would let his omega go to Medical when there was no real necessity. James walked up to the alpha, arms going around Q to hold him close to his chest "I know it's frustrating" he murmured against his temple, lips brushing the soft skin. Q smiled "Not worse than having me falling asleep on any available surface, I suppose" he turned his head slightly to the side, tilting it up to kiss James' cheek "Let's get to work"