#early morning star before the anxiety hits

[counterfeit-cryptid]

A bit later on, early mornings

Live Pike reaction:

[austinswife]

there’s a video where Tom Holland and Zendaya are at a premier and Zendayas dress strap slips or something similar happens, and Tom instinctively steps in front of her to block photos. I though this would be a nice thing to see from Austin and reader in a confirmed relationship

OOPS WARDROBE MALFUNTION — Austin Butler

SYNOPSIS — In the glittering world of Hollywood, walking the red carpet is nothing new. But tonight’s premiere is different—this time, you're not just stepping out as an actress promoting her movie; you're stepping out alongside Austin Butler as an official couple. As the night unfolds and the cameras flash, a minor wardrobe malfunction turns into a moment that solidifies your bond in the public eye, with Austin stepping in to protect you both physically and emotionally. The world may see two stars, but what you and Austin share goes deeper than the glamour.

WARNING(S) — Fluff , public attention, slight wardrobe malfunction, protective boyfriend behavior, slow burn, a little anxiety.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

The car’s engine hummed softly beneath your feet as the black town car cruised through the LA streets, its tinted windows offering you and Austin a brief moment of privacy before stepping into the storm of flashing cameras and prying eyes. The street outside the theater was packed with eager fans, reporters, and photographers. You knew the routine well, but there was no shaking the nerves fluttering in your chest.

Austin’s fingers were warm as they interlaced with yours. He could feel your tension before you even said a word. Glancing over, his piercing blue eyes met yours. His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, grounding you.

"You look like you're a million miles away," Austin’s voice was soft, yet it easily cut through the hum of the car’s engine and the bustling energy outside.

You smiled, the curve of your lips not fully hiding the anxious knot twisting in your stomach.

“Just thinking about everything,” you admitted quietly, shifting slightly in your seat as you glanced down at your dress. It was a breathtaking creation—black lace, bold, and daring, yet elegant. The way the fabric hugged your curves and the intricately sheer panels gave it an edge, but there was always that little voice of self-doubt that crept in during these moments.

Austin’s gaze followed yours, and a small smile tugged at his lips as he admired the gown. “You’re going to blow them away tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet certainty. His hand left yours for a brief moment, only to gently lift your chin with his fingertips, coaxing your eyes to meet his again. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you.”

There was something about the way he said it, the way he always managed to quiet your inner storm with just a few words. Austin had always been that way with you—steady, reassuring, a constant in a world that often felt like it was spinning out of control. It was one of the reasons you’d fallen for him so deeply.

“I know,” you whispered, a genuine smile tugging at your lips this time. His calm confidence worked like magic, settling your nerves, at least for the moment.

The car rolled to a slow stop as you reached the red carpet entrance. The crowd outside surged forward, camera flashes beginning even before the car door opened. The sound of excited fans calling out your names filled the air. Despite your usual composure, the reality of being in the public eye as a couple for the first time hit you like a wave.

The door opened, and Austin was the first to step out. His tall frame emerged from the car, instantly commanding attention. Dressed in a sharp black tuxedo with a hint of daring beneath—a sheer black shirt that revealed just enough of his skin to make headlines—he looked like every bit the Hollywood heartthrob he was.

And yet, to you, he was still just Austin—your Austin. The one who left sweet notes on your pillow before he left for early morning shoots, the one who made coffee for you every morning just the way you liked it, the one who always knew when you needed a quiet night in instead of a glamorous evening out.

He extended his hand to you, his fingers gently grasping yours as you stepped out of the car and into the frenzy of the red carpet. The moment your feet hit the ground, the energy of the crowd surged, a cacophony of shouts and camera clicks echoing around you. You straightened your gown with a subtle motion, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on your shoulders.

Austin’s hand remained steadfast in yours as you began your walk down the carpet together. The two of you moved like you were made for this—he with his effortless grace, and you with your practiced elegance. You could feel the eyes of everyone around you, the cameras capturing each shared glance, each soft smile. The world had been waiting for this moment—your first official appearance as a couple—and they were devouring it.

The lights from the cameras were blinding, but you had grown used to that over the years. What you weren’t used to, however, was the pressure of being in the spotlight *together* with Austin. The public had speculated about your relationship for months, but this was the moment that confirmed everything. This was the moment where you both acknowledged the world was watching.

And while the thought made you anxious, it also made you feel a surge of pride. Pride that you were with Austin, that you had someone so supportive by your side on one of the biggest nights of your career.

As you posed together, turning slightly for the cameras, your arm slipped naturally around Austin’s waist. The photographers shouted your names, urging you to turn in different directions, their voices blending into a chaotic hum. You followed their instructions, the two of you moving in perfect sync, your connection palpable even in the midst of the madness.

But then, just as you turned to face the cameras head-on, you felt it—a shift in the fabric at your shoulder. In an instant, you knew something was wrong. The delicate strap of your gown had loosened, the intricate lace slipping off your shoulder and threatening to expose more than it should.

Your heart skipped a beat, panic rising in your chest. In front of you, the cameras continued to flash, oblivious to your distress. Time seemed to slow as you hesitated, unsure of what to do without drawing attention to the malfunction.

Before you could even move, Austin was already there, his body instinctively moving to shield you. With a smooth, effortless motion, he stepped directly in front of you, his tall frame blocking you from the view of the cameras. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close as if the two of you were simply sharing an intimate moment in front of the cameras.

But you knew better. You could feel the tension in his body, the protective instinct that kicked in the moment he saw your discomfort. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

His voice was low, calm, and full of reassurance. The panic that had gripped your chest began to loosen its hold as you took a deep breath, grateful for Austin’s quick thinking. You managed to subtly adjust the strap of your gown, fixing it before the situation could escalate.

To the outside world, it looked like nothing more than a tender moment between two people deeply in love. The cameras continued to click, capturing Austin’s protective stance, the way his arm wrapped securely around you, the soft smile on his lips as he whispered something in your ear.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. “Thank you,” you breathed, the words barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Austin smiled down at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Always,” he said, the single word carrying a weight of promises.

Once you were sure your dress was secure, Austin slowly stepped back, his hand still resting lightly on your lower back as you both turned to face the cameras again. The moment had passed, but the intimacy of it lingered between you. You could feel the curious eyes of the reporters and photographers, their attention now more focused than ever on the two of you. They sensed that something had happened, but they didn’t know exactly what. And that was the beauty of it—the moment belonged to just you and Austin.

As you continued down the red carpet, posing for more photos, you couldn’t help but glance over at Austin, the love you felt for him nearly overwhelming. He had always been your protector, your rock in a world that often felt chaotic and unpredictable. Tonight had been no different.

As the two of you reached the end of the carpet, you paused just before entering the theater. The lights from the cameras still flashed behind you, but in that moment, it was just you and him.

Austin turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “You alright?” he asked softly, concern flickering in his gaze.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I am now.”

He chuckled, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You handled that like a pro,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

“Well, I had you looking out for me,” you replied, your voice soft with affection.

Austin’s smile widened, and for a brief moment, the world outside faded away. It didn’t matter that the cameras had captured every second of the night, that the headlines tomorrow would be filled with your pictures and stories speculating about your relationship. What mattered was the bond you shared—the trust, the love, the quiet moments in between the chaos.

Leaning down, Austin pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go steal the show, shall we?”

You grinned up at him, your heart full. “Together,” you said softly, the word carrying a promise of its own.

And with that, the two of you stepped inside, hand in hand, ready to face the night—and whatever came next—side by side.

[http-paprika]

There Was Something Here Once but a new day hides that haze

alternative universe / call of duty x female reader / taglist open / wc 2623 / warnings light swearing / no use of y/n / ship not yet decided / no beta, my grammarly hates me

a word from the author- i started classes in August, so I'm not on top of my writing but I started this the other day and wanting to share it with ya'll because it's too good. And for the pairing, I'm between two characters so you'll just have to see how it goes.

Dew clings to the windshield, a heavy fog leaving the morning hazy and gray. Autumn would soon have a firm hold on the small, quiet town of Aberdeen, making the weather impossible to bear if one did not have a good flannel or coat. Which was a new addition to her wardrobe when she made plans to leave the city and hide away. The one postcard sent from her college friend, the one responsible for getting her this new job, boasted a quaint downtown, heavy snows, and an eerie ambiance she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. It was Twin Peaks personified, just lacking David Duchovny and a young Kyle MacLachlan. 

The engine of her Ford Bronco sputters and creaks. The old vehicle had spent the whole drive up protesting the hills and winding roads that left her constantly breaking. Now, it seemed her ancient car, that she had served her faithfully through college and early adult years, had decided to kick her in the ass. 

“No, no, no.” She groans, hitting her head against the hard steering wheel and instantly regretting it. There’d be a bruise later in the day with her luck. “Not today, baby. I’ve only been at this job a week, I can’t be late already.” 

It would be just her bad luck that the car would give out, her luck that the cell service was questionable so she couldn’t even call. But what wouldn’t be her normal bout of unfortunate events was the man who lived just down the road that she’d seen tinkering with an old sports car. She pops up her head, remembering his existence and hurries out into the morning chill. 

With her fingers crossed together that the stranger would not be a creep, she walks in a fast pace down the cracked asphalt to the little arts and crafts home that sat at the bottom of the hill. There was a blooming garden out front, despite the change in seasons, vegetable, herbs and a few flowers bursting to life and ready for harvest. The two rocking chairs on the front porch made her a little less nervous. Whoever the home belonged to, they seem charming enough in their landscape and aesthetic. 

Hands trembling, she knocks against the screen door, wondering if she should open it and knock directly on the faded blue front door. But after a few knocks, the sound of muffled footsteps reached her ears and soon enough the door was unlocked and opened. Except, the man standing in the doorway was not who she’d seen tinkering with the car, instead, he struck her as a cowboy. Someone who would’ve starred in the western movies her father watched when she was a kid. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, a dull but still visible southern twang visible in his voice. Maybe he was a cowboy, his checkered shirt and worn down boots said as much. 

“Oh, um–” She pauses, trying to collect herself so as to not sound like a fool. The anxiety of being late and belittled by her unruly coworkers was pressing deep into her skin. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so early in the morning. But I just moved into the house up the road last week and my car doesn't want to run today and I’m going to be late for work. I had noticed in passing before that there’s someone in this household who works on cars and was wondering if he’d be willing to take a look at the engine for me? I’m helpless with mechanics.” 

The man nods, understanding her plea for help. “That’s right, John spends all his free time on that hunk of shit.” 

“Are you talking bad about my car again, Phillip?” A booming voice asked from inside the house, it caused her to stand at attention being vividly alert. Suddenly, the man she’d seen while driving by is standing over Phillip’s shoulder, hands resting on Phillip’s hips and a tilt to his head. “Hello there, not often we get new people in these parts.” 

“She just moved into the Riley’s house, her car is acting up, John.” Phillip tells the newcomer in the conversation. Together, the men made quite a fitting pair, rugged and worn at the edges, with various lengths of facial hair and two sets of blue eyes. Without them having to say it out loud, she could feel the warmth of their shared intimacy, a love she could only envy and never grasp. 

“Really? Never thought anyone would be willing to buy it— Ow!” John grumbles, rubbing his side where Phillip had jutted his elbow. “Right, your car. Let me get my things.” 

She frowns at the statement the man had begun but been unable to finish. What had John meant by that? Sure, the house wasn't the nicest, there were cobwebs in corners, cracks on some of the window panes, and a musty smell from sitting empty for a while, but it was a nice enough house. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a cozy kitchen that looked out into the woods. It was a quaint cottage that was a dream come true compared to the studio apartment she’d left behind. 

John disappears back into the house, leaving her with an awkward look on her face as Phillip stands there. She wants to ask what John meant by it, the curiosity or rather fear of the truth taps insistently against her skull. But she imagined her neighbor would just shut her down like he’d done with his partner. 

“If it can be fixed, John can fix it, ma’am. He owns and runs the little auto shop in town, you’ve probably seen it. It’s the only one in this hellhole.” Phillip tells her, breaking up the static silence that had overcome them. 

“You don’t like it here?” She raises a brow, surprised to hear it. The few coworkers she had at her new job only sang the praises of Abedreen, telling her it was the greatest little town to live in. But it was clear in Phillip’s tone that he didn’t share the sentiment. 

“I like John, that’s enough to take me anywhere.” 

There was a faithfulness in his voice she didn’t think she’d ever heard outside of television and novels. Her parents were divorced when she was a girl, all her friends in college seemed to have constant relationship problems and doubts, but there wasn’t a doubt in his words. 

“Alright, lead the way.” John reappears behind his partner with a fat toolbox in hand, seemingly unaware of what Phillip had said. But she had a suspicion he knew, because as subtle as it was, she noticed John loop his finger quickly through the belt loop of Phillip’s jeans and tug slightly. And as she turned away to walk off the porch, the smile on Phillip’s face was as visible as the mist that hung in front of her. 

The crunching of John’s boots on top of the gravel kept her company as they walked back to the road. There was a clear impression that the man was the less talkative of the couple, using few words to get his point across. Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but his big hulking figure following her like a shadow kept her nervous. While Phillip had reminded her of the movies her father used to watch, John reminded her of her father. Broad shoulders, dark hair covering his jaw, lack of conversation, and intimidating stature. She couldn’t even remember where her father had been born. Somewhere out west, or so she thought. 

“So how come you moved to Aberdeen?” He finally speaks up once they’re on the road, headed back up the hill to her new home. “Got family in the area?”

“No.”

“Okay. You don’t exactly strike me as the logging or mining type–” 

“An old college friend was from here, and I happened to come across a job position at the library and remember her telling me about the town.” She shrugs, not knowing what else to say without spiraling into the life events that left her desperate enough to start anew in the middle of nowhere, in a town no one seemed to know about. 

“Ah.” John responds. She turned to look quickly down at the asphalt, his thoughtful gaze told her more than enough. He knew there was more to the story, and either he didn’t care or he was polite enough not to ask. “Who’s the friend?”

“What?”

“Your old college friend from here? Who are they? I’d probably know them, lived my entire life in the area.” He says, coming to a slow pace as they reached the top of the hill, her Bronco sitting and waiting to be inspected. She could only pray he could tell her it was fixable. 

“Um, Beau Ridley. Well, now Beau Mayfield since she’s married.” She rambles off, stopping quickly in fear that she’s being too much. A habit she’d developed quickly in college. 

“Yeah, I know Beau– pop the hood for me?” John sets down his tool box and she scurries to follow his orders like a kid finding the right wrench for their dad. Despite owning the car for ages, she struggles to remember where she had to look to open the boot. Finally, the boot clicked open and her view out the windshield was obscured with the metal. From this view, she could see just how badly the paint had begun to fade, and that there was dried bird poop that hadn’t been there the night before. 

“Sorry.” She apologizes as she climbs back out of her car, fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt.

“What for?” He doesn’t even bother looking up from the engine of the car as he pokes around. Blinking at him, she realizes he doesn’t care that it took her a bit too long to pop the trunk or that she disturbed his morning. Realizing that makes her shift from one foot to another and drop her gaze down to the dirt of her driveway. 

“Do me a favor and try to turn on the engine, would ya?” John asks and she quickly hurries to fulfill that task too. She hated meeting new people and new beginnings simply because it meant she had to work hard to make a good impression, the people here weren’t disappointed in her and expected failure like those she knew before. It was a feeling she hated, seeking approval. Yet she did it anyway. 

Propping herself up in the driver’s seat, she fumbles with her keys– the cat keychain she had kept getting in the way– before finally turning the key in the ignition. The rough sound of her car sputtering and struggling, failing to do it’s most basic task of running, causes her to wince. And when she pokes her head out to see John’s expression as she continues to try to make it turn on, she realizes her car is screwed. 

“So?”

“Need to get in the shop,” He informs her. John takes his time explaining what he believed to be the problem and it went all over her head, so she simply nodded. She knew how to change a tire, replace the blinker fluid, and even knew where to refill the car’s coolant, but anything more was outside her realm of knowledge. “You didn’t understand a thing I said, did ya?” 

“No sir.” 

John nods his head in sympathy, probably used to clueless customers in his auto shop. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, John pulls out his cracked phone and types up a number. “I’ll call my tow-guy to come up and take it down to the shop, free of charge.”

“How am I going to get to work?” She suddenly responds, remembering why she’d even gone to John’s house in the first place. There’d always been a struggle for her to focus on what comes after something, stuck in the present unable to look forward to the future. Even if the future is only an hour away. 

“Where do you work?” He asks her, putting the phone up to his ear to make the call. 

“At the library.” She responds quickly, John registers her words with a nod before turning away to speak to his tow-driver. He barks at the unfortunate driver, seemingly annoyed by his antics until the call finally ends and he turns on his boot heel to look back at her. 

“Johnny’s gonna be here in about twenty minutes, he’ll drop you off at the library. If that’s alright with you?” John says, making sure that she was comfortable with the situation. “Otherwise, I could drive you down later once I’m done with my breakfast and coffee.” 

“No, no, that’s more than enough.” Her mind keeps going back to his statement, free of charge. How many times had she gotten something in life free? Rarely, if she could remember correctly. “Thank you, John.” 

“You’re in Aberdeen. We take care of our neighbors here.” He turns to close his tool box, picking up the metal container with ease. “You fine with waiting on your own–”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine.” The thought of inconveniencing John further after he’d already taken time out of his day to help her was too much to ask. Even if she didn’t like the idea of waiting for a stranger to come get her car and take her to work, she’d handle it. 

“You sure?”

“Yes, thank you. Again.” John nods, turning to leave with a hum in his throat low in sound but enough for her to hear in the morning. The fog is beginning to dissipate, letting the autumn sun climb through the tall spindly pine trees, the crisp air clings to your lungs like swallowing ice water. Up here, she finds that she can take a moment to breathe. Away from the bustling traffic of the city, the bog that coated the air. The only noise here was birdsong and wind. A bliss that eclipsed her senses before her phone decides to ring– her manager’s number on the caller ID. 

Her manager forgives the lateness, and even tried to ask if they could do anything to help her but she declines. Sitting on the front step of her house, the hum of a truck overtakes the sounds of nature. And when the tow truck slows to a stop in front of the cottage, she finds herself biting the inside of her cheek. The sudden realization that there’s a stranger here to get her car and take her to work makes her queasy. If she were still in the city, she would’ve considered taking the spotty public transport over this. But it was too far and difficult of a trek to make with her heavy work tote slung over her shoulders and her loafers sinking into the mud from last night’s rain. She wouldn’t make it walking. 

The door of the tow truck opens and the driver climbs out, his back stays turned to her as he reaches back in to grab something. The navy coveralls compliment his tanned arms well, and when he turns to look at her, she realizes they match his eyes as well. Even with his odd mohawk-like hair she finds herself coughing on nothing at the sight of his face. 

“You alright, ma’am?” He asks, knitting his brows together in his concern. There’s a golden look in his face, 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re Johnny?” She wheezes, struggling to clear her throat. 

“That’s right. I’ll have your car hooked up and you to work in no time.” He promises her with a grin, and she fully believes it. Maybe Aberdeen wasn’t the worst little town to exist?

Chapter II

[ronearoundblindly]

Hit By Fate

a Steve Rogers x Reader life lesson

[This is my own entry for my 1-1-1 Challenge, but also is a very belated gift fic for @itickledthesleepingdragon. May we all remember that we are worth care and consideration!💜] WC 2365

Recommended links: Habibi Through The Years--The Old Guard fandom, Joe/Nicky (Ao3) Invaluable--Star Wars fandom, dad!Obi-Wan

Summary: It's just an accident, and you're totally fine. One handsome man, however, does not agree.

It’s not their fault; it’s just bad luck.

You should have texted to confirm this morning, but since Syd told you she’d text you if anything changed, you didn’t want to pry. Your friends make enough fun of you already for never coming out. You didn’t want to give them one more story in their long list of times you bailed. They already think you’re allergic to fun, so tonight you were going to show them.

You’d rushed to the restaurant after work. You even woke up early to do your hair before work so that you’d still look nice. You brought a purse to transfer your wallet and keys and makeup into so as not to carry your much larger work bag around. You even drank less water the entire afternoon so you wouldn’t be rushing to the restroom and slowing down your cross-city commute.

But then you arrived and there was no reservation.

Not under anyone’s name.

The hostess seemed outstandingly indifferent to your situation. You stepped aside for other patrons, sneaking peeks through the wonky glass dividers to catch a glimpse of your friends at a table maybe, and you texted one.

>>Hey.

<<Whaddup? Tiff replies.

>>You guys here yet?

<<Where?

You give the name of the restaurant and feel your guts crash to the polished wood floor.

<<We were there earlier. Yeah. Why?

Your hands start to shake with anxiety and a touch of rage.

>>I thought we were meeting at 7

The dots show up and disappear. The hostess huffs, staring at you while striking through a line on her paper. You’re blocking one of four total doors to enter the building, but apparently, that’s still taking up too much space.

<<Syd and Karol got off at 4 so we just had drinks early

<<TGIF

<<On a pub crawl now

They know you still work tomorrow. They know you likely would barely drink at dinner. You know exactly why no one would bother asking you if you could get out of work early, and you know they would not try any spontaneous fun for your first time out in months. They didn’t ask because they knew you’d say ‘no,’ or even worse, they knew you’d say ‘yes’ but be uncomfortable the entire time.

You try to call Syd, a last-ditch effort to get a lock on just how drunk or how far away they are. You tell yourself that if they are close and seem relatively coherent (and if the bar serves some small plates of something because you are hungry) then you’ll go. You will absolutely go.

Syd doesn’t pick up. You try Karol. No dice.

Fine. You turn to ask the hostess if there is space at the bar to eat, but she looks at you with such annoyance and a raised finger while she handles a couple who clearly out-rank you in some way.

Defeated, you leave instead.

This whole thing has taken so little time that you’d have to wait another ten minutes for the next bus back. You just walk, staring down at your phone, willing one of them to talk to the other, willing one of them to realize they’ve left you behind.

Do they even care that they’ve done it? Are they even your friends anymore?

The sad part is that you don’t go out much, but these are the friends you go out with the most. It just so happens that’s a few times a year, and that is you trying. This is you pushing yourself.

It’s not good enough.

Just as the WALK sign lights up at the street corner, the dots show back up under Syd’s message, and you shove it closer to your face.

You don’t see it coming.

A cab’s bumper smacks your left leg and bats you sideways. The solid hit feels like a tumble on the ice rink. It spins you, your phone flying out of your hands, and you’re scrambling not to fall. Your muscles tense every which way that’s not natural, probably looking klutzy.

You shoot back up too fast and look around, wondering if people are staring at you now, but the few other people crossing simply walk on by.

The cabbie only rolls down his window.

“You okay?”

Not actively concerned. Not getting out of the car. Not even apologizing.

But if you’d kept walking, you’d be across already. If you weren’t just standing there, the cab would be able to turn and so would the several others behind him.

One honks.

“Fine,” you say quietly, waving him on for emphasis and stepping back to find your phone.

All the effort of the day, all the preparation mentally and physically, and you are stranded on the wrong side of the road, exactly where you started, metaphorically and near-actually run over.

You have to crouch down by the curb and pray your phone didn’t slide into the gutter, wincing at a particular angle that shoots pain up your left thigh. Maybe you aren’t fine.

“Miss?” a tentative, low voice calls above a classic pair of Converses on the sidewalk. “Think this is yours.”

A man in glasses and a ball cap hands your phone back, the screen mercifully intact.

It’s such a tiny blessing in this string of unfortunate events.

The breath you take turns into a whimper and ends in a sniffle. Tears sting your eyes as you start to think about what happened—what really happened—in the past minute.

“Thank you,” you choke out, snatching the device. The gesture seems aggressive after the fact. “Sorry. Thank you,” you try again.

“You okay?” How the same two words can sound so different from two people, you’ll never know, but the difference floors you harder than the car’s impact.

With the utmost care, the stranger’s hands lightly touch your shoulders and guide you out of the road.

“I’m fine.” You’re an automated recording, retreating to a quiet and lonelier space in your mind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You got hit by a car,” he says bluntly.

“No, just a—“ you look up into the man’s face, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his height “—graze.”

“Yeah, you got grazed by four thousand pounds.”

“You’re…” All you can do is point at Captain America’s chest and blink.

He frowns and whispers. “You recognize me?”

Somehow that’s the strange part?

“Shoot. The glasses usually work. Don’t…please don’t make a big deal, but I…I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of the way.”

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket.

“You wanted to help me?” you croak.

He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind.

“Why?”

You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently.

“I can take you to the hospital,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify.

“That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Steve seems to catch himself and sighs.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is let’s find you some water and somewhere to sit, okay? I’ll check you out then.”

You nod immediately. He’s only half-turned when Steve spins back around.

“Not check you out check you out,” he mumbles, “just like a once over. No, not…” he sighs harder. “I am going to make sure you are alright.” Every word is strategically emphasized.

He leads you to the nearest bench. His head stays down the entire way to a newspaper stand to buy you a bottle of water.

You can tell by the way Steve monitors every move of the bottle to your lips that he fights doing it for you. From his overly attentive posture, you’re surprised he waits a whole minute to ask how you feel yet again.

Still stunned, honestly, but it’s not just your left leg that aches, it’s your whole body. That seems too pathetic to admit aloud, but if you say the ‘fine’-word one more time, he’ll surely carry you to the dang ER. He has that look.

Instead, you admit, “I’m hungry.”

A smile blossoms over his features. “I can help with that.”

The boyish glee with which Steve Rogers walks you (gingerly) to a nearby, hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor is endearing. You’re not a patient for those minutes, and when he orders for you both (there are three lines on the board and that’s the menu) while you claim a teeny tiny booth, you’re not a victim of your day.

When he tells you how he found this place originally, how it’s almost like the pizza he remembers from long ago but better, you’re not alone anymore.

“Were you going to get food when…” Steve trails off.

Maybe it’s the shock wearing too thin to mask the rest. Maybe it’s the hot cheese warming your insides and melting your anger. You spend the next ten minutes blabbing about what happened with your friends and explaining what you were doing when the cab hit you.

“So you weren’t even okay before the car?”

His words throw you for a loop.

“No, I mean, it was just a misunder—“

“You’re doing it again,” he cuts in. “You’re diminishing you in the picture.”

You take a long swig of your soda while staring blankly at him. You watch Steve realize you aren’t even going to impose on him for an explanation. He drops his slice on the plate and holds out his huge hands as props.

“The whole picture of your day, right?” His arms are wide, then he points at things on the table. “You told me about Syd and why it’s ‘fine’ that she changed plans for her own convenience. About Tiffany and Carly—“

“Karol,” you sputter mid-sip.

“Carol, right, sorry. Everyone has a -y in their names now. I just assumed.”

“Karol with a -k,” you add.

Steve…ponders whether that’s some sort of joke before waving his hands to regroup. “You told me how your other friends—using that term loosely—rationalize leaving you to eat or even navigate the city alone—“

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Debatable,” he chuckles. “And then you tell me about how the cab driver probably didn’t need the hassle of dealing with some minor injury he inflicted on—and I quote—‘someone.’”

His eyebrow pops up over the rim of his glasses as if that will drive his point home, but you’ve got nothing.

“Where are you in the picture?” he finally blurts. “It’s your time and your effort and your body and your safety, and you just told me everyone else is more important. They all deserve consideration before you in your own life. Including some driver who could have killed you!”

He’s getting visibly agitated the more he talks, and you shrink in the seat, not out of fear but out of guilt for taking an evening of Captain America’s time to yourself. If your friends couldn’t even stand to spend a meal with you, it makes sense that Steve would be annoyed with your company.

“Wait, there,” he points directly at your face, “what was that thought? What did you just think?”

“I—I’m sorry I—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Steve asks bluntly.

He must see your eyes glisten with more unshed tears because his whole body visibly softens.

“You showed up at the place you all agreed on—“ he counts on his fingers “—at the time you were told, and walked across a street with right of way.” He does what you are beginning to think of as his signature sigh. “Am I missing something?”

All you can do is chew on your bottom lip.

It takes you what feels like an eternity to notice. “I could have really been hurt,” you mumble finally. “That’s not okay.”

Steve stretches his long arm across the tiny table, opening his palm to await yours.

“I hate to tell you this. You don’t have to be torn open to be ‘really hurt,’ sweetheart.” This time he says the nickname with firm intention. He squeezes your hand. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to the infirmary with me and get some industrial-grade salve on what’s sure to be a nasty bruise.”

You smile sadly, still pushing away errant thoughts that you’re imposing on the Captain.

“And by the time that’s over…it’ll be time for a late-night dessert before I take you home.”

In the fluorescent light, you can see him blush fiercely.

“As an escort—escort you,” he corrects, “to your door, I mean. For safety.”

He shrugs uncomfortably to adjust his layers of disguise, hanging his head, this time to hide his face from you.

“If you ever wondered why I’d go out to pizza alone,” Steve whispers, “wonder no longer.”

He scoots across his side of the booth to stand.

You think for a long moment.

This is important. This is one of the most important men in the country—nay, the world—begging you to be the protagonist in your own life. He wants you to want that.

You deposit the last grease-crumpled napkin onto the stacked plates and clear your throat. “I like this picture,” you say first, but it’s not enough. It’s not loud enough. It doesn’t hold weight or take up its due space.

You try again.

“I like being in this picture.”

He’s tall and his gleaming white teeth are perfect and his bright blue eyes are framed by long lashes and he’s staring right at you. How could you not shoot your shot?

“I’d—“ you fight the urge to look away “—consider seeing a sequel, too.”

Steve pushes up his fake glasses and nods, still pink in the cheeks. His hesitation reads as shy, not polite, not dutiful.

He juts out an average, hoodie-covered elbow for you to balance on.

“S’pose that means I should know your name, miss, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge Details

A/N: In case you were wondering, the life lesson I wrote Steve Rogers teaching us is one that I constantly struggle with, too. This is an everyday, uphill battle to recognize our own worth and know that taking care of ourselves is not selfish. I hope this serves as a wee reminder!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Ch. 23: Together

The members have been excited about Yoongi’s return since they heard the news. They’ve been eager to see him and how well he’s doing. Taehyung suggested a welcome home party but the rest of the guys agreed that Yoongi probably wouldn’t want them to make his return a big deal. Still they wanted to do something, so with help from Hyeri, they planned to bring dinner to their place to keep things low key.

Yoongi and Hyeri hit the road early in the morning and made it home by mid-afternoon. When he took his first step inside it was like he stepped into a dream. He’d only been gone 2 months, but he feels like it’s been much longer. The first breath he took filled him with the comfort that can only come from being home. He’s missed his home and the safety his heart feels when he’s there.

Before leaving, Hyeri made sure the entire place was perfect. No dish in the kitchen was out of place, no cushion on the couch unfluffed, not even a speck of dust on the tv. The place looks straight out of a catalog, except the random box sitting on Yoongi’s dresser in the bedroom.

“What’s this?” Yoongi asks approaching the unfamiliar rectangular black box. It looks big enough to hold a bottle of something and he’s trying very hard to remember if this is another hidden drink he had forgotten about.

“Yours,” Hyeri says gesturing for him to open the box.

“Mine?” He questions inspecting the box closer. The last thing he wants upon returning home is to find that Hyeri found another bottle of liquor that he didn’t remember he had.

The box is closed with a latch as if it were a treasure chest. Yoongi flips the latch and slowly opens the box hoping he doesn’t need to drive himself 5 hours back to the cabin because he got triggered 5 minutes after getting home.

However, instead of revealing a bottle of alcohol, the box contains a microphone. A black microphone that shines as if it were covered in diamonds, but isn’t. There’s an intricate holographic design of deep green vines with thorns that spirals up and around the entire microphone and shimmers when held under the light just right. At the bottom is a small heart drawn in the same color and holographic material as the vines.

The heart is very unique to Yoongi. It’s the way Hyeri draws her hearts when she writes to him. Usually in cards and handwritten letters she gives him on special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s different from the simple heart she uses in her autograph, it’s a heart with one side rounded like a normal heart, but the other side pointed like a triangle. The first time she wrote him something he asked why one half of the heart was rounded and the other pointed. She told him it represented them, Yoongi being the bold and brash pointed side, and Hyeri being the soft and more timid rounded side. Like the yin and yang that is the two of them.

“What is this?” He asks already making plans to never use another microphone again.

“A microphone,” she says shyly. “For you. I had it custom made for you.”

“What?” He asks as if he weren’t staring at the obviously custom piece of equipment in front of him.

“I had it custom made for you. The thorns are like…I don’t know, it’s stupid,” she says getting suddenly embarrassed by her thoughtful gift.

“No it’s not,” he objects. “It’s beautiful.”

“You think so?” She asks unsure. “I just thought a lot about everything we’ve been through. I love you so much, but you’ve caused me so much pain, so…the thorns are kind of like the pain. At the end of it is you, like you’re a rose. The most wonderful thing to me…but you hurt so much. I mean, at the time I thought of the idea that’s what I was feeling. Well I still feel it, but not as much as that time you know?” She’s babbling out of nervousness and she isn’t even sure why.

She came up with the idea one night as she had been thinking about all of the hurt she’d been going through. At the time she was only getting daily text updates from Yoongi but she wasn’t responding to them. He sent his usual text telling her about his day and how his session with Minho went. He told her that the conversation they had made him feel like he needed to apologize to her again for everything he’s put her through. He never stopped apologizing from the start, but this day he mentioned Minho talking to him about how his actions need to match his words and feelings and he got to feeling sorry. He told her he never wanted to hurt her, but he realizes that his actions tell a different story and that he would fully understand if she doesn’t believe him because he hasn’t given her a reason to trust his word anyway.

That was one of the moments Hyeri felt he was making good progress, but it still wasn’t healing her wounds. He was right that his actions didn’t seem like those of someone who truly loves and cares for her, but at the same time her heart can always feel the sincerity in his words. His message gave her the bittersweet feeling that manifested into this microphone design. He’s her beautiful, wonderfully sweet, caring rose who’s hurt her greatly the more she held on to him.

It didn’t take long for Hyeri to turn her idea into a design and find someone that could turn it into a reality. When it was completed she held on to it afraid she had made a mistake and wasted time, money, and energy on this when she still wasn’t sure she would be able to continue their relationship. Her anxiety grew more and more up until she saw him yesterday morning looking like the Yoongi her heart had been longing for. She felt better after their talk, but as they drove the 5 hours back home today she began feeling anxious again. She was worried if he would even like it or understand the meaning or even care. Up until this very moment she had been anxious about how he would react. That all finally melted away when he smiled at her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“I love it,” he says squeezing her tight and kissing the top of her head. “I love it so much.”

“You do?” She asks into his chest seeking an extra layer of reassurance.

“Of course, baby.” He pulls her back and looks down at her big brown eyes. “It’s gorgeous and I’ll never use another mic for the rest of my life,” he chuckles. “Thank you. For this and everything you’ve done. Sometimes I feel like you’re the glue that’s keeping me, us, together. You’re so strong and beautiful and thoughtful.”

“Don’t make me cry, Yoong-ya,” she jokes.

“I mean it.” He gives her a soft kiss against her lips. “You’re the best and I’ll make sure you know it every single day. This is the most beautiful gift I’ve ever gotten. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she smiles. Their lips meet for another kiss and the anxiety Hyeri had been carrying about this small surprise finally washes away.

For Yoongi this is one of the most thoughtful gifts he’s ever received. Even if she had only given him a drawing on a napkin with the same meaning it still would have been the best for him because it’s not so much about the object as it is about the meaning. It means the world to him and gives him the greatest boost in motivation. He wants to be the best person for her, it’s what a kind, caring soul like her deserves.

The rest of the members have been ecstatic for Yoongi’s return. They’ve planned a great meal with plenty of his favorite cuts of meat, his most loved side dishes, and his favorite dessert: a large embarrassingly decorated cake. They agreed to keep this low key with the at home dinner, but after some discussion the guys found it was almost impossible to greet Yoongi without doing something a little mischievous and extra. It just wouldn’t feel right to them if they didn’t.

Jimin was all too eager to take charge of finding the perfect cake. Not wanting to get a cake that was too obvious and could possibly tip off a baker with a much too suspicious request, he ordered a large cat cake similar to one Yoongi had gotten before for his birthday, but it’s about 3 times larger and is sitting on a larger piece of sheet cake with plenty of room for all 6 members to decorate however they want.

Jimin picked up the cake and the members all met up at his place to give it their special Bangtan touch. Equipped with various cake decorating materials provided by Jin and Jungkook, the 6 of them get to work. Jungkook used purple icing to write “I love you, hyung” on the cake. When Taehyung saw he got a great idea that they should all write “I love you” on the cake. He knows that would be the most embarrassing for Yoongi, though he’d never admit it to them. So that’s what they all did. In the end the cake was covered in expressions of love, many colorful Hobi drawn hearts, other poorly drawn figures by each member, sprinkles, strawberries, and a single tangerine from Jimin’s fridge used to cover up a spot where the icing pen chose to be uncooperative with Namjoon and unleash an explosion of blue icing on a corner of the cake. It’s the perfect amount of chaos to make Yoongi feel at home. They decided they would keep the cake a surprise until the end of the night. When dinner time came, Jimin kept the cake secure in his car while they all carried all of the food for dinner up to Yoongi and Hyeri’s apartment.

Hyeri told Yoongi the guys were coming for dinner so their arrival was no surprise to him. He’d been excited all day wanting to see his brothers. Just like with Hyeri, he’d missed them a lot during his time away, but unlike Hyeri his contact with them was much less frequent. Being openly and enthusiastically affectionate with them isn’t typical for Yoongi, but he almost wanted to run and jump into their arms when he heard the 6 of them come barreling through the door with their arms full of food.

“Hyung!!” Taehyung shouts being the first one inside. He puts the food he was carrying down on the kitchen counter and runs to Yoongi with his big boxy smile painted across his face.

“Taehyung-ah!” Yoongi smiles as he’s pulled tightly into Taehyung’s arms. Before he can say anything else or pull away, Jimin runs up and wraps his arms around Yoongi too.

“I missed you, hyung,” Jimin says.

“I missed you too!” Jungkook shouts adding himself to the group hug.

“Yoongiiiiii!” Hobi shouts wrapping his arms around wherever he can in the mass of 4 bodies.

“Ya!!” Yoongi shouts starting to turn red from embarrassment.

“Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon squeaks as he barrels into the group hug.

“Wait,” Yoongi laughs trying to maintain his footing.

“Yoongi my bro!” Jin shouts. “Did you miss us?” He asks adding himself as the final piece to the big Bangtan hug.

“Yes,” Yoongi responds still laughing his way through this embarrassing show of affection though deep down he loves the comfort his heart feels at the warmth of his family. “You’re going to crush me.”

“Good,” Jungkook laughs.

“We’re going to crush you with our love,” Taehyung teases.

“Yaaaa!” Yoongi protests again.

They all laugh and finally show mercy and release Yoongi from his embarrassment. There’s more planned for later anyway.

They all help getting the food set up on the table while Hyeri gathers drinks for everyone. They all agreed they wouldn’t have alcohol around Yoongi, so Hyeri stocked the fridge with sodas, juices, and teas for everyone before she left to get Yoongi the day before.

It looks like a holiday feast laid out on the table. Everyone digs in and instantly begins catching up on everything going on with them. Talks of solo projects, song features, and variety show appearances makes Yoongi feel like he’s missed a lot in a seemingly short time, but he’s happy to hear that everyone has been accomplishing great things. He’s even more happy once they start discussing group work. All 7 of them are eager to start their next era of music and touring and for the first time they feel like they can truly look forward to it without worries.

Everyone is happy and excited and once they finish their meal Jimin and Taehyung slip away to get the cake out of Jimin’s car. Yoongi noticed them sneak off, but Hyeri and the rest of the guys kept him distracted before he could question anything. When the pair return they carry the cake in singing “Happy health” to the tune of happy birthday.

“What…?” Yoongi asks as everyone else joins in and sings along. He notices the cake Jimin and Tae are carrying in and his cheeks immediately flush red.

“Our beloved Yoongi, happy health to you!” Everyone sings crowding around the table to see his reaction to their heavily decorated masterpiece.

“Why did you bring a cake?” Yoongi asks in embarrassment. “You didn’t have to bring a cake,” he smiles reading the words of love written all around the cat cake. “Guys…”

“Of course we had to,” Hobi laughs.

“What else did you expect from us?” Jimin giggles.

“Guys,” Yoongi repeats. He’s suddenly hit with a wave of emotions as a montage of his memories with the members flashes before his eyes. Each sloppily drawn “I love you” on the cake brings more tears to his eyes. “Isn’t this too much?” He chuckles trying to mask a sniffle.

“No,” Jimin smiles. “I don’t think it’s enough.”

“Stop,” Yoongi says trying to fight the tears.

“We love you, hyung,” Namjoon says.

Namjoon’s soft and rare show of affection finally breaks Yoongi. He buries his head in his hands and begins sobbing. The overwhelming amount of love he’s received from the 7 people he knows he hurt the most is just too much to fathom. He feels they should have given up on him a long time ago, but here they are celebrating his new beginning and showing him so much love. His shoulders bounce as he sobs even harder.

“I love you guys,” Yoongi sobs. “I’m so happy to have you all in my life. I’m…fuck why do you always do this to me?” He jokes.

“Because we love you,” Jungkook smiles wiping his own tears with his shirt sleeve.

“Stop it,” Yoongi laughs through the knot in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says breaking his smile briefly then quickly lightening his tone. “You guys mean so much to me, I just…”

“It’s ok,” Taehyung says. “We’re family. We’ll always be here for you through the good and bad.”

Taehyung’s words draws tears from all of them, whether they were already crying or not. Yoongi feels so unworthy of the amount of love they give him, but each member can think of numerous times where Yoongi was there for them when they thought no one else was. It’s a touching moment that has all of them crying tears. Not tears of sadness and not even tears of joy. They’re all crying tears of love. Pure unfiltered love.

[xbalayage]

if you’re inspired, silvio + insomnia ily

7.  INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am.

It was late in the night, and definitely not planned for. Time had escaped him during a scheduled inventory sweep of a recent shipment; due to an injury caused by a worker of his, failing to follow safety protocols, the anticipated time ended up taking longer. Luckily, instead of it escalating any further than needed, Silvio was able to talk the guy into his silence and sent for a physician to check on his injuries which ended up not being life-threatening. He heaved a big sigh, brushing his hands together at a job well done, everything accounted for and a bullet dodged all in one night — all he wanted more than anything now, was just to lay up with the woman he loved and hadn't seen since early morning.

As the days grow by of finally accepting his feelings, you filtered through his mind more often than before, always wanting to spend every waking minute with you and as much as he love nothing more than that, he had responsibilities that needed tending to that he trusted no one else to perform than himself. Giving the dazzling sea of stars a glance over, he strode back towards an already called upon carriage to head back to his home of a palace. A home he shared with you.

Once arriving back, you've made him hyper aware of how his steps carry through the halls and the sounds of his jewelry echo with each step, so in times he comes home late like this, he tries to be sufficient at lessening those sounds; partially because surprising you was a fun endeavor as well, getting to see the sudden smile breach your features made his long day worthwhile.

Some nights, it was hard to really give a certain time of when he'd be back home, so you'd often stay up, awaiting for him to enter the doors to your shared room, curled up warm by the candlelight with a new book in hand and the moon's caress shining from the windows onto your body. He could already picture the beauty of the sight now— his ethereal, bookworm looking goddess. The sight was even more pleasing when you didn't hear him coming.

So when he approached the doors, he went to open them quietly. However, to his surprise, the butterfly feeling in his stomach twisted to a gut wrenching one when he didn't see you in bed, in the bathroom, or on the balcony. Anxiety and panic suddenly flooded his rational thinking, leading his thoughts into multiple directions: did you finally get tired of him, were you hurt somewhere alone or had a kidnapper come to use you for ransom? He had to shake his head and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Stop being pathetic and think. She wouldn't just vanish on ya even if she was tired of you. She'd give me a piece of her mind before that. There's no way in hell she's hurt, I have the best people to watch over and treat her in a worst case scenario. And if someone had the brain the size of Glumskull's, they'd leave a ransom note at least and I don't see shit anywhere. Think; where else could she be this late at night?

And that's when it hit him.

He didn't leave any more time to think and acted, making quick work leaving the room and heading down the hall with a mission in mind, not paying any mind to his footsteps and the jingle of his necklaces. He just hoped he learned you enough and his intuition was correct.

Once pushing the door open, he hadn't realized his heart had been racing as the minutes passed but it finally relaxed and fell to a soft rhythm again once his eyes reached your form in the corner of the library, curled up by a single light of a candle with your nose in a book. It must be a good read because you didn't even notice him enter the room, your eyes probably adapted to only the area around you. It was a little chilly tonight, why weren't you wearing anything more to warm yourself?

He mentally clicked his tongue, immediately moving to undo his cloak as he approached you, wrapping it around your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden presence of another person, finally relinquishing your gaze from your novel to look up at the man you'd been awaiting for his return. He could tell from the look in your eye that sleep was teetering at the seems and you had been trying hard to fight it back.

"Why didn't ya bring a blanket? Are you tryin' to get sick? How come you came to the library? The bed's more comfortable and warm than this cold room."

You rubbed at your eye and allowed a yawn to escape your lips. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable you were being.

"The bed was lonely without you. I was just trying to pass the time until you came home, I didn't want to go to sleep without you."

Ah, damn it. A blush crept to his cheeks upon hearing your honest words. It was crazy how bad you were for his heart. Without a second more, he scoops you from the ground and into his arms which you gladly allow him to do, finding yourself comfortable in his embrace. You breathed in a deep whiff of his scent before adjusting deeper into his arms. "Mmm.. I missed you."

How can you still say such embarrassing things? You say them even more when you're on the verge of sleep too. He hopes you know that one day, you were going to be the death of him. He couldn't help his smile. You were like a vulnerable child in his arms; so honest and innocent. He leaned in, leaving a loving kiss to your forehead that lingered a few seconds long before speaking once more.

"Ha, I missed you too, silly. C'mon, sweetheart, let's go to bed."

[spooky-all-year-round]

Battle Confession

The prompts: "I thought I'd never see you again" and "You said... 'I love you'."

SFW G/n Reader x Ominis. This takes place post-game, I left it open for what the situation could be but if the triwizard tournament happens their 6th year then this would be in their 7th. Cause Hogwarts can never have one peaceful year. =)

Trigger warnings: hints of violence, anxiety, sad ominis, but it's happy I promise!

You were running flat out, students were being ushered out of the castle in droves. You were forcing your way past and between them. You had to get to the fight. You rounded the corner and spotted blonde slicked back hair and a robe lined with green. Slamming to a stop you shouted his name, grabbing his left hand with your right and placed your left hand on his right arm to stop him fully. "Ominis i need to tell you something." You were desperate, he had to know.

"What? Tell me later, we need to leave! The teachers said we all need to get off of school grounds! Its not-" he started.

"Ominis I dont know how this will all end. But I need you to know that I love you!" You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before taking off again. His shouts were quickly drowned out between the distance and the sounds of everyone leaving. All you knew is that you needed to save everyone. You needed to save him. Even if it meant you couldn't stay by his side.

You awoke a week later in the hospital wing early in the morning. Matron Blainey filled you in on your injuries and what she has done to heal them and on all the gifts that were left and visiors that had come by. Most notably one Mr.Gaunt, who came daily and for as long as he could. After all was said and done she stated she wanted to keep you overnight for observation and gave you a potion to help you sleep some more.

When you woke up this time it must have only been a few hours later. You could feel drops hit your hand and just as you wondered how there was even possibly a leak in this castle, you began to notice things. That hand was warm, clasped between two of someone else's. And there was a soft hitch in breath before more quiet shuddering breaths came. "Please, you have to come back. You cant leave me." A stiffled sob. "I cant lose you. I wish I had stopped you. Dragged you out of the school myself. I cant believe I froze. That I let you run off into danger again."

You're heart ached he couldnt possibly blame himself. You body was sore and so tired but you had to push through. You had to let him know it wasnt his fault. Sweet Ominis, sitting here crying, blaming himself for your reckless heroics. Had this been what he has been doing every day he visited?

You started trying to push yourself up but only managing a few shifts thanks to the sleeping potion weighing your body down. But it was enough to catch his attention. Because he let out a small gasp and a whisper of your name as if he couldnt believe you were awake. You slowly blinked your eyes open squinting at the sun coming from the other side of the room. His face was one of shock, his beautiful icy blue eyes looking in your direction, even from this angle you could see the beautiful star burst pattern in them. He stood up while reaching for his wand, ready to grab Matron Blainey. He stopped short when he felt your hand tighten around his as you begged, "No please, let me be with you for a moment. I spoke with her earlier." He sat back down obligingly, you could now see his puffy eyes and the hint of red on his nose and cheeks from crying. Slowly you reached up with your other hand to gently hold his face. Another tear started to roll down his cheek. "Ominis my dear, please dont blame yourself. I had to do it. I had to save the school, I had to save you."

He shook his head. "To hell with the school. The teachers could have handled it. You've saved it before so why must you again? I should have stopped you. I should have begged you. Anything to get you to come to safety!" His words were cut off by another sob and you took the chance to stop his spiralling.

"They needed me, they needed my powers. They're strong but they needed my magic to put a stop to it. I'm sorry I didn't explain more but I had to go. The longer i took the worse the aftermath wouldve been." Your voice was almost a haze as you did your best to keep yourself from crying.

"You said ...'I love you'." His voice trailed off with that statement. It hung in the air like a question, a plea to know what you meant.

"I thought I'd never see you again. I wanted you to know for a while now. We became so close so quickly and I fell so hard. I couldn't ever get the courage to tell you, I didn't want to lose you over it. But knowing there was a good chance I'd never see you again... I had to tell you." The words just came spilling out. You were anxious to explain, not wanting him to cut in.

He was silent for far too long, his tears had stopped at some point, but your's were welling up. The panic set in, your heart going both too fast and too hard. It hurt so bad, like your heart might break your ribs. He didnt return your feelings. Here you were, ruining one of the few friendships you had because you just had to spill your heart out. Your whole body was trembling and now your tears were streaming non-stop down your face.

He chuckled before bringing your hand to kiss the back of it. "You couldn't find the courage? Well I don't feel like such a coward hearing that. My darling, I have been infatuated with you for so long. I don't know when it turned to love, but it has been that way for a while. You are the warmth of the sun wrapped up as a person. The sweet melody that gets caught and stuck in my head. A cold drink on a hot day. A comforting story after a terrible nightmare. I have bent to your whims when I was solid as stone to others. I would find a way to give you the universe if you so much as hinted that you wanted it. I would do anything if it made you happy, regardless of how it made me feel. I dont know why but something in you pulls me harder then any accio that could ever be performed. I have heard of soulmates and it would be the only explanation I could give right now. I never wish to lose you and it killed me to think I almost did. You feel like safety and comfort to me... I love you so much."

His declaration knocked the wind out of you. How could you respond to that? So you did the only thing you could think of within your physical abilities. You pulled his hands back towards you and kissed both of them. "How could i go anywhere when the one place i want to be is with you?"

[vawilcox]

*Authors note* As requested, Shoto Angst!

Now with a happy ending!

Married life with shoto was a dream. Until it was only a dream.

Your hot hubby was so cute when he shyly accepted your feelings. Adorable when he blushed and handed you your favorite flowers with a ring wrapped around the stem of the largest one in the middle... dreamy and steamy in the bedroom for the first week of married life... but then you came back to the real world. One of the top heroes, he barely had time to eat a meal once or twice a day, he almost never came home, his sleep was always in a vehicle while on the way to another crime scene. He never answered your calls and replied to your texts only once every few days. You thought he was just busy, until one day when you were out shopping you saw him fly by in an emergency hover craft overhead.

At first it made you happy to see the love of your life. And he was smiling, that smile that was only yours. Then the smile died on your face. He wasnt smiling at you, but at a female hero that was riding with him in the hover craft. It was designed to get heroes to and fro quickly, She must have been working with him this whole time! What else was she doing with him while he ignored your calls and only gave you perfunctory replies to your texts!?

Immediately calling him up, he didn't answer. Your heart broke, realizing you were replaced.

With a heart full of anxiety and pain, you finished your shopping early. Mascara streaming down your tear streaked face. You couldn't think. Numbly walking out into the road from a crosswalk with a mind full of the image of your super shy and reserved husband smiling at a woman you never saw before. A truck screeches to a halt, narrowly missing you. Dead inside, you numbly curse inside that it didn't hit you. Then it strikes you. Why should YOU be the one in pain!? HE'S the cheater. HE SHOULD HURT.

When you get home, you take all the special things you've made for him, the first picture you took together, he had framed and put on his nightstand. The nightstand that he's not used in over a month.

You smashed it to pieces and tossed it into the pile of broken sentiment. A mug he bought you on your first date, the shirt you wore on your third night out with him he said he loved seeing you wear. Everything smashed, ripped or shredded.

It was cathartic. After nearly an hour of fury, you finally started to recover. Slowly converting the immense love you had for him into hate.

You were brought out of your little vengeful world by the sound of the door opening followed quickly by the sound of shattering glass.

Shoto stood in the doorway with a frozen look on his face. His quirk clearly starting to go out of control as he cried.

Steam on one side from evaporating tears and frozen teardrops falling to the floor on the other.

His gaze fixed on the horrorific sight of the destroyed heap of his most precious things destroyed and the woman he loved most in this world looking at him with hate filled eyes.

At shotos feet lay a shattered crystal vase with your favorite flowers tumbled out in disarray. His hands still clutching a movie case in one hand and a box of your favorite chocolates in the other.

"Placating me with flowers, chocolates, and a movie!? YOU CHEATING SCUM BAG!" You roar. Grabbing up the shattered picture frame and hurling it at him.

You're normal really bad at throwing so you didn't think much about it as you spun away to run to your room, slamming the door behind you and locking it.

You didn't notice that the frame spun like a throwing star straight for his face. Nor did you see him stunned too much to even dodge it.

The frame cutting deep into the scar next to his eye. He didn't even react for several more minutes. Too dazed and hurt to even move. A steady stream of blood leaking down his face as he stood in shock in the doorway.

The next morning, when you woke, you looked down at your pillow, noticing the tears and makeup staining it. You had buried your face in as you cried yourself to sleep the previous night.

You thought back on how shoto was the one who bought this pillow for you. It was a very expensive pillow but it was perfect for you. You had hurt your neck sleeping on the previous one you had.

The thought instantly made you angry again. You lifted it to throw it against the wall but hesitated. The pillow didn't do anything wrong.

Clutching it to your chest, you start to cry again. Pretending the scent of shoto's cologne that you had spritzed onto it a few days prior didn't give you comfort.

When you finally left the bedroom, you noticed shoto asleep on the living room floor. He didn't even have a pillow or blanket.

*serves him right* you thought.

He had something clutched in his arms, but you just didn't care about the cheating scum bag.

Too depressed to do anything, but the minimum, you quickly used the bathroom and realized you hadn't eaten since the previous morning, you were just too miserable to eat since you caught him cheating.

You quietly made your way to the kitchen to make some toast and noticed shotos home phone had a missed call. He had placed this so he could keep track of things when he came home since he never had the time to keep track of phone calls and voice mails while working. Plus he said he kept breaking the phones in his fights.

Suspicion rose in your chest. Hoping by some chance you'd be able to catch some proof of his cheating you listen to the recorded message.

Your heart froze. The recording was from a womans voice you'd never heard before. The hussy actually had the gall to call him at his home the day after their last adulterous encounter!

*Hey hero! It's me! Black Adder! I hope I didn't interrupt anything. I waited until morning to call since I know how much you were looking forward to 'spending time' with your wife. I know you said something about wanting to watch a movie with her she was wanting to see but I'm not dumb. I know what you REALLY wanted to do with her. Did you get ANY sleep? I hope you don't miss the cruise because of your late night activities! Anyways, I just wanted to call really quick before you take your month long vacation and tell you one last time that you can leave everything to me! I'll keep the area safe! Promise! Thanks again for showing me the ropes yesterday! It really helped! Considering you couldn't wipe that stupid grin off your face and couldn't stop talking about your wife, I know that it was hard to work that last day, thanks again for your sacrifice.

Enjoy your wife for the next month and don't even think about work. I have things covered.

Cya round you wife obsessed hero!*

With that, the click of the recording ended and your heart stopped. It was all a misunderstanding!

A pain even deeper than what you felt earlier gripped your heart as you looked over your shoulder at the man you loved sleeping on the floor all night after every terrible thing you did to him yesterday.

Your eyes widened as you noticed a dark bloodstain on the carpet beneath his head. You rushed over to him, fearing the worst.

Both relief and further agony tear into you as you realize he's still breathing. You noticed the deep cut on his forehead and can see from its shape its obvious how he got it.

In his arms he clutched the picture frame, blood still on the corner of it. His face streaked with old tears as he slept miserably on the floor.

You cursed yourself for jumping to conclusions. You hated yourself for your own jealousy. With a fanatical determination, you went about making it right.

First, you rushed to get the first aide kit, quickly bringing it to his side. Using your quirk you put him in a deep sleep and gently start to clean the injury. Your heart aching every second you look at the wound you inflicted on your deepest love. 

After a few minutes, his wound was cleaned, disinfected and bandaged. You had previous medical experience before retiring to be a house wife to one of the top heroes. 

Feeling miserable, you find your hubby's phone and call Black Adder. Heart aching from guilt. You never even met this woman. But she could tell from the tone of your voice something was wrong, and you ended up crying your eyes out to her as if she was your big sister. 

Just like a sister, Black Adder listened with understanding and patience. "Oh, sweetie, I am so sorry I put you through that." Black Adder gently apologized. "Look here, honey, gimme your address and I'll come over and help you. I have an idea that will make things right. Your man is totally in love with you. There's no way he won't understand."

With that, you quickly gave her your address and within a few minutes you hear a familiar sound outside. Black Adder was outside of your balcony window, once again inside of that emergency hover craft from the other day! 

She got out along with two sidekicks and ran up to you. Giving you a huge hug and telling you she was the cause of the misunderstanding and that she would make it right! 

You had already told her that you used your quirk to help him sleep while you cleaned up the cut on his head, and she told you with a mischievous tone to keep him sleeping. 

The side kicks put him on a gurney and strapped him in like they would any unconscious patient. Black Adder grabbed your hand and pulled you up to the vehicle, hovering right outside of your balcony. The side kicks brought your hubby on board. With that, they closed the sliding door to the craft and Adder sat you down next to her and revealed her plan. Inside your chest a glimmer of hope started to burn. 

The next few hours were chaotic. Black Adder was very resourceful. She was also very stubborn and determined. But you could tell towards the people she liked, she was the sweetest and most loving person in the whole world. 

It was nighttime. Yet she managed to make a stylist, a tailor and a spa open up their doors for you. They doted on you, giving you the treatment of a Goddess, all while Black Adder was sitting by your side, telling you of all the stories of her working with your husband, the people he had saved,  and all the things he said about you, which you found out was almost all the time. It made you blush.

You realized he was still madly in love, just over worked.  And she said more than once that she felt she already knew you because of how much she had heard about you. She loved you like a sister and didn't want to mess anything up. 

Several hours later you were back on the craft. Adder had her sidekicks pack your bags along with Shoto's. She had a hero with a healing quirk come over and see to Shoto's head, a repairman with a repairing quirk repaired the vase, and she also had one sidekick replace the frame for the picture.

Everything was prepared. Adder flew you to a cruise ship Shoto had planned on surprising you with. You were already going to be in one of the best rooms on their. But Adder managed to get you guys upgraded to the presidential suite. 

After getting you both settled in, Shoto still sleeping from your quirk, Adder gave you a giant hug and told you she'd be just a phone call away if there was anything else you needed. She and her sidekicks left. 

Taking a deep breath, you arranged the vase, the frame, new chocolates and the movie at the foot of the bed. And deactivated your quirk. He woke almost instantly. Sitting up suddenly due to the unfamiliar bed under him. He saw you standing there, at the foot of the bed, as soon as your eyes meet, you started crying. And he started crying too. 

"I'm so sorry, Sho..." You start. But you can't continue as you break down, huge wracking sobs of grief overwhelm you. He takes in the repaired vase and picture frame and realizes you were trying to apologize. He quickly rushes over to you and takes you into his arms. 

He drags you to the bed and holds you silently until you're ready to talk. You fall asleep in his arms. Shoto notices a text he got from Adder while you sleep. She explains everything. What you thought, how she figured out the truth and how desperate you were to make it right. 

After he tells her you're in his arms asleep, Adder grins on the other end of the phone, and begins to suggest to Shoto her next part of her plan to fix things, so you wouldn't hurt anymore either. 

[makesometime]

fic thought prompt for Diina and Star: has he ever braided her hair for her? with or without the flavor of "elves take hair braiding extremely seriously romantically and/or like a marriage proposal", your choice :3

I’ve already told you this BUT I am terribly weak for hair-braiding proposals. Like. Utterly beholden to them. So this prompt made my entire day.

(G-rated, ~1200 words, named female drow Tav, hair braiding)

#

So little of him has changed, over the years. Regardless of his ability to see his reflection, he knows this much is true. His hair has never grown longer, his skin never able to tan. Each hurt heals outside of his scars, and he remains as he was the day he crawled back out of his grave.

It surprises him, then, to recognise that Diina is not as immune to time’s effects.

The first time he watches her tut and tie a leather strip around her hair to pull it up into a ponytail, fanning the back of her hair with a little scowl, it hits him all at once. 

Her hair has grown.

It looks lovely on her, softening some of her sharp edges in a way that makes his heart feel uncommonly full. He watches her ponytail sway as she walks off into the garden and has to shake himself out of his own head, only noticing that one of the cats is busy trying to climb his leg once her distracting form is out of sight.

The thought of it compels him over the weeks to come, as her hair passes the line of her shoulders and she starts to style it in new ways. He feels a familiar itching in his fingers, a desire to touch, and can’t quite make sense of it. 

One morning - one of their mornings, at least - Diina sits at her little vanity, combing her hair with tender attention. Astarion walks up behind her, watching her content little smile widen as he slides his hands over her shoulders, invisible as ever in the reflection.

“It’s a good thing I know the patterns of your movement, my love.” She hums, turning her head to kiss his fingers. “Or else I think you might send me to an early grave with your ability to sneak up on me.”

Astarion smiles, pulling up a chair and sitting himself down behind but a little to the side of her, so that she can still see him if she turns her attention. He watches as she puts her brush down, then smoothes the strands of hair that hang down beside her face. 

“May I…” He starts, before he can think better of it, the itch back in his hands as he flexes them against his thighs. “Darling, might I braid your hair?”

Diina looks deep into the mirror, precisely where his eyes are. She just knows somehow, senses what she needs to do to look him in the eye like this. “You know how?”

“I think I remember.” He smiles, reaching out to tug gently on a stray curl. “From a life long passed.”

There’s not even the barest hint of hesitation in the way she responds.

“I’d love that, Astarion. Please.” She says. “I was just thinking how tired I am of it this long and that it might be time for a cut, but—,”

“No!” He interjects, too quick, too obvious. “I-I mean… I think it’s lovely, darling.”

Diina’s laughter washes over him, lulls him into a quiet satisfaction and effortlessly eases away his anxiety. “But. If you’re going to offer to braid it for me more often… I could be convinced to keep it this way for now.”

Astarion narrows his eyes. She might not be able to see it but he knows from the way she chuckles that she’s entirely aware of his reaction.

“Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves, pet.” He says. “I haven’t even started yet.”

It shouldn’t surprise him that there appears to be some sort of muscle memory involved, as Astarion combs his fingers through her silky hair and starts to section it out, deciding to work on something intricate along the side of her head. A challenge, for the wispy memories that are trying to work their way to the surface.

Diina’s breathing slows as he works, a peaceful contentedness settling over them.

“Where did you learn to do this?” She asks, tipping her head a little when he pushes encouragingly just above her ear. 

Astarion shrugs, concentrating on getting the braid to curve as he wants it to, sighing in frustration when he has to undo some of his work. “I don’t really know.”

It’s not a lie, but there’s certainly a hearty omission there - he didn’t learn braiding from Cazador, after all. So it must have come from… 

“I think my mother must have taught me.” He says, grateful that she can’t see whatever that admission does to his expression. He doesn’t want to know either. “Perhaps I watched my father. It’s a tradition, you see. At least as far as I remember.”

Diina’s reflection wears a soft, pleased smile. “So I’ve heard. For drow, it’s rather more… functional. Entirely lacking in tradition. I prefer the sentimentality. I never expected to allow someone else to do this for me.”

Astarion nods, stroking his fingers over the plaited strands of her hair and nodding in satisfaction. He stands, moving his chair behind her and pulling the rest of her hair into his hands. There’s a comfort in less intricate work, his fingers moving easily to build a thick, wide braid down the back of her head. 

He gathers the strands at the end of the braid and looks up, only to find Diina’s already holding up a leather strip for him to take.

“Much obliged.” He smiles, wrapping it around her hair a few times and then tying it off tight enough that it won’t move all day.

Diina admires herself once he’s done, turning her head to the side and tracing her fingers over his work just as he had. “Is there a meaning to this?”

Astarion shrugs, squeezing her shoulders and standing up. “I don’t think so. Not that I remember, anyway.”

“Well, it’s beautiful my darling. Thank you so much.” 

Astarion kisses her cheek, smiling at the soft feel of her fingers stroking his cheek as he pulls back. He leaves her to the rest of her morning routine and finds his way to his office once he’s fed the cats, settling down to a few pieces of business.

But her question lingers. He can’t shift the thought that he should know the answer, that it’s buried somewhere beneath centuries of trauma if he only puts the effort into digging it out. It’s not long before he’s thinking far more about that than everything else he wants to get done, and he shoves his chair back from his desk with a screech of wood on wood.

He makes his way over to the bookcases that take up an entire wall of the room, scanning the spines. There must be something. He has quite the collection built up now.

Eventually, he lights upon a tome on elvish tradition, snatching it up and skimming through in case there are any illustrations. When he spots something relevant he stops, spreading his hand over the picture and smiling at the proper implementation of what he’d attempted to do with Diina’s hair.

He scans up the page to look for further details… and nearly drops the book at the sight of the section’s title.

Betrothal braids for your beloved

“Ah.” Astarion says. “... Shit.”

[swaqcenix]

༻The unloveable | Wanda Maximoff ༺

Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Summary: Being loved wasn't what you were used to. You have a past as much as anyone, but it's affecting you too much. You're too unlovable and you know it.

Warnings: angst with no happy ending, severe trauma, panic attack, depression and anxiety, implied suicidal thoughts and attempts, self- harm, implied and mentions of past abuse, read at your own risk!

Pairings: Wanda x reader

Word count: 810

AN: Unfortunately I needed an outlet to write about my thoughts and my past, but that's all it is now! Remember to read at your own discretion as it is a heavy one, but stay hydrated and remember I love you <3

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

You weren't sure what enhanced you to do it. Perhaps it was the burning taste of the liquor running down your throat. Perhaps it was your mind screaming at you for everything and anything.

All you knew was you felt like utter shit. You looked like a truck had come and hit you straight on. Your body paced back and forth as you worried intensely. The phone call came in the early hours of the morning. Your sister was in the hospital, having being in an accident just a mere minute before.

Wanda was broken, she wasn't sure what to do and frankly you didn't blame her. Pushing her away seemed like the most honest thing to do. You weren't capable of love or being loved. You'd forgotten how it felt, how to feel safe and secure every since your ex Katie didn't show it.

Punch after punch, cut after cut. You'd gotten so used to the feeling of blood trickling down your face you forgotten the feeling of love. So when Wanda came into your life it was so different. Every morning waking up in fear, before eventually relaxing. She was your muse.

But, nothing good ever lasts forever, at least not for you. The alcohol didn't help. You knew that, but the way you blamed yourself for your sister. If you hadn't been drinking, perhaps you could have rang her. Maybe she'd be safe.

It wouldn't be your fault then. But it wasn't the case now and it didn't stop the pounding pain of anger and disgust in your head. Disgust of the outcome, disgust of you.

You texted her in the early hours of the morning.

"This isn't good. Me and you..."

Why you thought that was a good idea god knows. You didn't say you'd die together though. You adored her, admired Wanda. Yet here you were pushing her away.

You kept telling yourself over and over. Fucking unlovable. It's what was engraved on your mind. Ever since Katie you'd forgotten what it felt like. Safety, the feeling of being content.

You loved Wanda as Icarus loved the sun- too close and too much. But you didn't care as she loved you the same. The feeling of being touched by her was igniting. She was igniting and most of all she was the moon that lit you up.

You felt less scared around her, less disgust. Of course you didn't tell her this, you did what you learnt to do. Bury your feelings. Wanda knew though, she always knew.

When you received the response of good luck, the way she knew it was coming you shattered. You we're turning into Katie, into the way she hit your stomach. The way she made you feel. You were becoming the storm.

"Wanda I love you," you tried to make her understand, but in doing that you'd need to tell her the cause.

You couldn't tell her what caused the internal pain. The fire that only she could put out. Wanda was the light that allowed you to see. You wouldn't tell her that, as you didn't want her to think she had to stay. Instead you pushed her away. She was too bright, too precious for you.

Wanda was far too above you, for you to ever deserve her. You'd always love her, how couldn't you? Look at Wanda Maximoff. She was the sun, the moon the stars. She was everything.

But you couldn't be hers as you didn't deserve her. She had spent her time convincing you otherwise. It was when she left herself as it wasn't fair. You were too flawed, too broken. You were too far gone for her to stay and most of all, you were too unloveable. You'd learnt that so long ago. Part of you missed the blood that trickled down your cheek, it allowed you to understand how loveless you were.

As she grabbed her bags and left your mind screamed. It begged you to tell her, to let her understand. She would always be loved by you. But you were too flawed. As the blade slid down your skin and the familiar feeling of hatred came back. You remembered the feeling of being unloved. How could anyone possibly love you?

Wanda did, but you knew deep down. You were the unloveable. The trickle of blood allowed the feeling of understanding come back. The hatred.

"I love you," the words spilled as she left.

You found the walls collapsed in on you as she left. She loved you. But you could not love you.

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

ibiza night fever | chapter 01

pablo gavi x original female character [+18]

synopsis: to celebrate her recent freedom, sofie’s best friends invited her to spend the summer in ibiza. after four years, a tattoo and countless fights – sofie was single. she was dumped on her 22nd birthday; now all she asks for is a calm and relaxing vacation with her girlfriends – no boys allowed. warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, smut, angst; minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chapter 01 | Baila Conmigo

“Bebé, no sé si habla' mucho español

Si entiende' cuando digo "Mi amor"

(...)

Bésame, solo una vez

Así tengo un motivo pa' volverte a ver”

“There’s no better cure for a broken heart than Gin Tonic and Spanish men.” Rebecca was wearing three different sunhats and every single beach robe she could find. They were sitting crossed legged in Sofie’s bedroom floor, packing for their upcoming trip. It was Rebecca’s idea, of course. She has spent every summer in Ibiza since she was old enough to get on a plane by herself, and has begged her best friend to come with her every year since. But Sofie had Thomas and they spent all the summers with his family in his hometown. 

“I do like Gin Tonic.” Sofie giggled. “But no men on this trip. All I want from Ibiza is a suntan and a light hungover.”

“You should still pack some lingerie, just in case.”

They were leaving the next morning, with Chiara and Luisa meeting them at the airport. Out of their gigantic group of friends, they were the only ones single, so it was natural for the girls to feel responsible for Sofie. She had a lot to learn, they said. She got added to their private group chat, ‘single girls club’, the day after the breakup. Even now, a couple weeks later, she hadn’t felt lonely, not even for a minute.

“And you need new sunglasses.”

**

The anxiety only hit her when they landed. The realization of what she was doing. She was a free woman now, whatever that means. It started to feel like a big weight to carry, the sole responsibility of making herself happy. It was so easy to give that up before, in the name of love. Now she doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Let’s get mimosas, like, immediately!” Luisa was the most outgoing one in their little group, and not up for debate she was also the prettiest. Long wavy blonde hair, bambi blue eyes, greek goddess-like body. She was a natural leader. Her confidence made it easy to follow her, and that’s what Sofie decided to do.

“Yes, please!”

“The fact that I’m not wearing a bikini already is a crime.” Chiara was the youngest but still a lot more experienced in those adventures than Sofie. Chiara’s mother was a successful supermodel in the early 90’s and she inherited her mother’s best features. Straight brown hair, light tan skin. She was the fashionista of the group.

Rebecca was the more centered, mature, mother-like personality of the four. She had the best taste in music and always had a great new book recommendation. It seemed like she was always worried about something more important than everybody else. She was the smart one.

Sofie was the new girl, and had yet to discover her place in the entourage.

The girls rented a luxurious and isolated villa in Sant Josep. Four spacious bedrooms, an infinity pool and cozy patio were privileges their parents credit cards were able to pay. They all came from rich families, their friendship was as written in the stars as carefully planned by their mothers. They met on play dates when they were little kids. They had ballet and foreign language classes together. As teenages they learned how to lie to their parents together. They went to college together. Now, as brand new adults, they were learning how to be women together.

“Okay, what about this one?”

They were in the villa living room, after a few mimosas, choosing which pictures to post. That was an important part of the single’s business. It was crucial for your thirst traps to look as hot as possible yet tasteful and lady-like. According to Luisa, you want to look like a duchess and a slut.

“Yes, post it.”

Chiara then turned to Sofie. “Okay, so, our itinerary only starts tomorrow, but you want to let people know you’re in town.” They had plans for the next day, party with people Sofie never met and concerts of artists she never heard of. She tried not to show how uncultured and naive that made her feel. “You should post this one. And tag the village.” It was a pic of Sofie in a bikini, she was posing in front of the infinity pool. It was a milestone, really. Her first insta post as a single woman.

**

In the afternoon Rebecca decided to take Sofie on a walk. 

“Let’s take it slow on the first day, maybe do some shopping.” 

At that point everything sounded like a good idea. Sofie could feel her cheeks burning red with excitement. Ibiza was as beautiful and as interesting as expected. The streets were cloaked in flowers and vines. The sound of birds humming and the clashing waves in the distance made just walking around the island a magical and spiritual experience. They entered a number of small stores, smelling, touching and taking pictures of everything they saw. It’s always a good feeling to be a tourist in a beautiful place.

“This place looks nice.” 

It was a bar, semi-open with a pitched bamboo roof, located right in front of the beach. The stone walls and greenery created a peaceful and inviting view. That, and the orange from the sunset on the horizon. Becca seemed to agree and without another word the girls entered the bar. They ordered local craft beers and tapas and sat down in silence for a few minutes to simply rest and enjoy the view. With the moonrise, the glow of fairy lights started to illuminate the bar.

“How devoted are you to that ‘no men’ rule?” 

The girls were sitting facing each other on the table closest to the sea and Rebecca leaned over, almost whispering her question. Jazz music playing in the background and a bottle of beer in hand, Sofie frowned.

“We literally just got here. I would say pretty devoted.”

“Okay, well, look, it’s just those guys are totally checking us out.”

Sofie looked in the direction her friend’s eyes were aimed. Two boys, to be more precise. A brunette and a blonde, if Sofie had to describe.

“They’re cute…” They really were cute.

“Pick one!”

“What?”

“Pick one! I’ll take the other.” Rebecca winked.

“What did we just talk about?”

“Sorry, got distracted. They’re super cute. Sorry.”

“Also, the brunette.” Sofie giggled. The brunette looked older and charming, deep brown eyes– he was just her type.

“Oh my god, they’re coming over.”

It became obvious very quickly that the boys also took their pick, and it didn’t match theirs. The charming brunette looked head over heels for Rebecca, while the blonde one stared awkwardly at Sofie. Pedro and Pablo, they introduced themselves. Chip ‘n Dale, Sofie thought to herself. After only a few minutes Pedro and Rebecca’a chemistry was flooding the table. Their giggling and flirty stares started to become uncomfortable for the other two.

“Do you want to take a walk?” It was clear they got abandoned by their friends, so Sofie did the polite thing and offered Pablo a way out of that conversation. The boy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He had beautiful eyes and Sofie blushed with the thought. The boy nodded in agreement.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asked, partially worried she was being a bad friend and partially hopeful. Sofie almost rolled her eyes.

“Yes, pretty sure.”

**

“You’re a professional football player?”

“Yes.” Pablo laughed at the sound of shock in her voice. Sofie then stopped herself to stare at him for a second, examining his features. They were making small talk– how old are you; where are you from; what do you work with. His answer caught her off guard.

“I used to love football.” She said softly, smiling at herself. “When I was a kid my dad would take me to every single Benfica home game.”

“What happened?” Pablo frowned. “You don’t like it anymore?”

“My dad passed away.”

“Oh. Shit.” There was an awkward silence. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, really.” Sofie giggled at the boy’s scared look, she seemed it before and was already used to it. “It has been a while. It’s just, football was our thing, you know?”

“Do you miss it? Nevermind, that’s a stupid question!”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She had a hand on his shoulder. They have been walking for a few minutes and even though they were in an isolated part of the beach, they could hear distant edm music; very different from the sound of birds during the day. The moon was high in the sky at that point. “I do miss it. A lot. But it’s been a long time, and with every passing season there’s more to learn about the game. I don’t know how to go back into the loop.” She didn’t even know who he was, that’s how ‘out of the loop’ she was.

“I guess you just do. If you wanted. I guess you just come back.”

He was right. She heard that before, from her therapist. Going back to doing the things she loved. Instead she decided to quit therapy and keep herself in the denial phase of grief. But Pablo was right. And he looked beautiful under the moonlight. His hair waving with the ocean breeze, his eyes shining brighter than the paper lanterns around them. She wanted to hold his hand. Her whole day felt like a fairytale after weeks of nightmares and she didn’t want to talk about her father or football anymore. She wanted to kiss him and end her day on a win. Later she would blame her overly confident behavior on the mimosas.

“Do you wanna go back to the villa with me?”

[fentitrbl]

Tell Me You Love Me

"I don't regret telling you how much I loved you."

Word Count: 2,132

Chapter Four

Jasmine

July 20th, 2018

8:00am

It's been a few days since I last saw Harry at my job for his little incident and within those few days, I haven't mustered up the courage to text his number that was now saved in my phone. I have been nervous to send a text but I want to. I've even updated Lily on what happened at work and she thinks I should message him and ask when he's free for lunch. I think I will but what if he doesn't answer, what if he gave me a fake number, what if he's some super secret star that gave me a number so we couldn't meet in a public setting. Though I highly doubt it, it is still a possibility right or maybe I am just thinking too much hence the reason I'm up at 8am writing in this dingy journal.

I closed my journal and slid it back onto my dresser along with a few books I had taken from home for decoration. I had been sipping on a cup of tea from the moment I rolled out of bed this morning to try to soothe my anxiety about this whole situation. It is all I have been thinking about since the day he left the office.

I plopped out of my bed and into my kitchen to clean my mug. As I finish drying the mug, I set it aside and head into the living room. I fixed myself onto my couch where I then turned on the TV.

I picked up my phone and texted Lily. I knew she'd be up since our schedules at work typically start early in the morning.

"I think I want to text him."

a minute or two went by before I got a notification came up

Lily(imessage)

"if you are thinking about it this much, maybe you should;)"

I looked at her message and immediately went to Harry's contact, hesitantly pressing the message icon. Without replying to Lily, out of impulse I started typing.

"Hey how bout that lunch today?" I looked at my message then erased it. I thought to myself that is a little too straightforward. I tried again, "Hey how is your ankle doing." I then scratched my head and said to myself that this could work but it is also dodging his offer to lunch in a way by changing the subject to his ankle.

I then decided to slap some sense into myself and stop thinking too hard about texting him because I know for a fact that Lily would be disappointed by how much I am freaking out about this. Instead of putting too much thought into it i went all in.

"Hi." I hit send and then immediately closed the window in fear that he would either text right away or not at all.

I texted Lily back instead, "EYE TEXTED HIM???."

She immediately texted back

Lily(imessage)

"FINALLY??, I don't know what you were waiting on. LET ME KNOW ASAP WHAT HE SAYS."

I laughed slightly before putting my phone down and proceeding to get up to put my hair up and start the shower. Typically, I start my mornings very early even on my off days to avoid having to get ready later in the morning. I left my phone in the living room since I expected to go back there once I finished up.

45 minutes later

I waltz out of my room with a casual outfit on and hair slightly curled at the ends. I decided to go with a lace black long-sleeved top and some black denim jeans to match and light makeup for the day. Approaching the living room, I picked up my phone and to my ultimate surprise there was nothing from Harry. I wasn't too disappointed since the made-up scenarios in my head were starting to not sound delusional after all.

I sighed, as I grabbed my blanket on the couch and tuned into a comedy movie marathon that had been playing since the early morning. As time went on I started to get a little sleepy so I didn’t fight it and nodded off.

10:00am

As I opened my eyes, I looked out to my balcony next to my couch and saw the sun was out much brighter then earlier causing me to groan. I wasn’t a fan of the sun since I was so used to the sun back home. I slowly let my eyes adjust to my surroundings and sat up letting the blanket fall to my lap. I then saw my phone light up and immediately reached for it as I saw Harry’s name flash across the screen.

Harry (iMessage)

“Hey, I was still sleeping when you texted.”

I immediately became embarrassed because now that I think about it, 8am is way too early to text anyone other then Lily.

I debated on if I should text back right away or wait some time but knowing myself I texted back.

“Hi, sorry. I tend to get up early because of work! it’s a habit of mine.” I texted back eagerly

To my own surprise he texted back right away

Harry(iMessage)

“It’s okay! hey I was thinking how about we meet up at Rachel’s for lunch at 12:00?? I just got up but I’m starving, my belly is screaming at me.”

I wish I could say I was surprised by how straightforward he is being but I’m not all that surprised since he flat out asked me out at my job.

“Yes definitely I’m hungry too all I had was some tea this morning :( I will see you there?”

a few minutes went by before my own stomach started growling at me. I hopped up and went to my pantry where I pulled out some club crackers to snack on to keep my hunger at bay. Just as I went to grab another I got a text from Harry.

Harry(iMessage)

“trust me I’ll definitely be there. :)”

12:00pm

Right at 12, I’m briskly walking up to Rachel’s where it seems to be very quiet for a lunch hour. There isn’t too many people parked outside the restaurant which is surprising because Rachel’s is a very popular place to eat lunch and brunch in London.

I greet the hostess at the stand as I look around for Harry but, I didn’t seem to see him anywhere.

She led me to a table for two tucked away in a corner of the restaurant that was some distance away from other guests that were there. I sat quietly as I observed the restaurant more in hopes that Harry would pop up but, as I looked at my phone 5 minutes went by.

I started to think about all of the possibilities of what could’ve happened. Did he stand me up? Is he just a few minutes late? Was this a set up? Slowly, the questions started to diminish as I calmed myself down and chose the optimistic approach. Maybe he’s just late I thought to myself.

I looked over my menu the hostess gave me and right as I focused on the details of an asparagus salad, I felt a warm presence approaching the table. I looked up from browsing and there he was.

He was wearing a flannel with the buttons undone and a beanie to cover his messy curls. He smiled at me as he came to the table to sit across from me.

“Sorry, had to run to the restroom.” He said quietly.

As I admired him, and hyperfocused on his tattoos that were on his arms and peaking out his shirt on his chest, he then reached for his phone and silenced it.

I was struck by how polite he was, most guys I’ve dated either were glued to their phones or texted throughout the date. Harry on the other hand slid his phone into his back pocket and stared right at me as if he was waiting for something.

say something jasmine, I thought to myself.

“No, it’s okay I wasn’t waiting long, I just got here right at 12, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long for me.” I said, shyly.

he then quickly answered, “It doesn’t matter, I’d wait for you regardless.” Before he could reply I chimed in.

“How’s that ankle doing? I see you aren’t hobbling around like you were a few days ago.” I said, slightly chuckling.

He then shot me a look from looking at his menu and said, “my ankle is pristine, thanks to you.”

We were quickly interrupted by our server who asked us if we were ready to order in which we were. Seems like Harry already knew what he was getting since he didn’t look at the menu long. While I picked a salad and fries to share for the table, he ordered a grilled filet fish with vegetables.

“So, is there a reason you picked a table in the corner of the restaurant?” I asked, pointing out how now one was sat in our section except us.

He then looked around at what I was jestering at and then quietly muttered, “I asked them not to do that.”

This stood out to me compared to the normal conversation we were having throughout lunch. “What did you say?” I said with my eyebrows slightly raised.

“Oh I meant, I picked it to give us some privacy, it is our first date you know. Wouldn’t want anyone to suffer from second hand awkwardness.” He joked while sitting up

He was dodging my question, I thought to myself. That was weird.

He then went on, “I know if I was a bystander I’d feel weird being sat next to a first date.”

I then joked along with him, “Who said this was a date?” as I sipped my white wine he ordered for us.

He then came closer into the center of the table making direct eye contact.

With the biggest smirk on his face he spoke

“I did.”

Instead of backing away from him I stayed in my spot and looked him in his eyes for a short amount of time before our food came and interrupted us yet again.

As we ate, I decided to ask him some questions to see if he’d crack and open up to me.

“Are you originally from here Harry?” I spoke quietly.

He looked up slightly at me as he stuck his fork in his mouth. He paused before answering, “Actually I’m from a a smaller town around London, I used to work in the bakery where I’m from.” he said as he covered his mouth chewing

“Bakery boy Harry?” I said with a grin, “who would’ve known you’d be a bakery boy.” I laughed

He then put his fork down and turned his full attention to the conversation.

“Believe it or not, I was the best cashier in our town, I had women swooning over me.” he said, confidently.

I wiped my fingers with the tablecloth and then said, “yeah I’m sure you had all the old ladies swooning over you.”

“Hey!” he warned warmly.

Right as we were picking up our conversation and finishing our food, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, someone staring from across the restaurant.

It looked to me like a group of girls who were giggly and smiley as they gawked at Harry.

At first I thought nothing of it, but as time went on, I noticed one of them getting up and walking straight towards us.

I got quiet as she walked to our table.

“Harry?” she said politely.

He looked up at her with a slight look of uncomfortableness.

“Uhm Hi.” He replied looking away from her eye contact.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch but is there any way I could get a picture with you.”

My eyebrows immediately raised and my eyes widened.

“A picture?” I questioned while looking at Harry

He then looked from me to her and spoke quietly, “If you don’t mind, I don’t think now is a good time I’m sorry.”

She nodded her head and apologized while walking back to her table.

I looked him dead in his face while he tried to avoid eye contact with me.

“Harry..” I said.

“What was that about are you some celebrity or something.” I said as I joked around. Though he didn’t laugh along with me. It was silent.

Our server walked up to our table and took our plates, then he spoke “Check please?”

I looked at him in confusion as he spoke again

“I’ll explain but not here.”

let me tell youuuu writing this out was a struggle but I was waiting for the results for the poll. Jasmine being a simp per usual and Harry being sus at the end?? like what are you hiding?? and the fact that he didn’t laugh.. the silence was so loud. Also, do you guys like that I’m portraying him in a different light other then sweet, unproblematic Harry?? because if we are honest I kind of want him to be problematic.. idk yet? Since I want drama but maybe not? The indecisiveness is killing me. I hope you like it. 🫶🏾

LIKE/SHARE 💕

[fandomsnstuff]

Day 1: Refuge

It’s @blupjeansweek 2023! How does 3.6k sound to kick it off? 

Read it on AO3

Summary: Barry gets caught in the rain and takes refuge in the first house he comes across. 

The midnight sky is pitch black in the countryside. Even the moon and stars are missing, covered by dark storm clouds. Barry trudges along on the muddy road created by the downpour. He has his arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to keep warm, but it’s futile. He was soaked to the bone within minutes of the heavens opening up. Even now, in the early days of summer, the rain chills him to the core. His feet and knees and back ache. He longs for nothing more than to stop for the night, but he wildly underestimated the amount of civilization out here. When he set out from the last town this morning, he thought he’d at least come across a barn he could crash in, but it’s been nothing but empty fields for hours. 

Except. 

In the distance, he can see a glimmer of hope. He can’t make out much through the dark and the rain, but he can see windows with lights on. He keeps his eyes fixed on that warm glow and imagines a fire and a soft bed and maybe even a good meal. 

After an immeasurable amount of time, Barry stands at the end of the path that branches off the main road. He can see the home a little better now. It’s a stunning mansion, clearly old and just the right amount of gothic. If he’s honest, it’s a little creepy how it seems to loom over him from the slight incline between him and the front door. The lights are still on, and he can see silhouettes in the windows. It occurs to him that it’s strange that these people are living out in the middle of nowhere, with the next closest person being hours away. 

Barry’s anxieties start to take over, and he’s trying to rationalise how sleeping in a storm wouldn’t actually be that bad, when a flash of lighting illuminates the black sky in a vicious mockery of daylight. Thunder cracks so loudly it may as well be right on top of him. It propels him to walk up the muddied drive. Under the protection of the front porch, rain clatters loudly above him, and he can truly feel how soaked through and cold he is. His clothes stick to him uncomfortably, water drips off his hair into eyes, and his glasses are dotted with water, blurring his vision. Thunder cracks above him again, and he knocks quickly before he can lose his nerve. After a few agonising moments of silence, the door swings open to reveal the most beautiful woman Barry’s ever seen in his life. She has piercing eyes that stare him down, tan skin and blonde hair, she’s tall and lithe and wears a blood red dress with a slit so high some might call it dangerous. 

He clears his throat. “Hi, uh, sorry, I- I’m sorry. I don’t want to intrude, but- it’s raining pretty bad out here, I was just wondering if-” 

“Of course,” she says smoothly. “You poor thing, come inside. We’ll get you warmed up.” She steps out onto the porch and takes his elbow, guiding him inside. He sighs as the warmth of the house hits him. The entryway is just as opulent as the mansion’s exterior. “Taako,” the woman says, “we have a guest.”

Leaning against the railing at the base of the grand staircase is a man, clearly very closely related to his hostess with the same tan skin and blonde hair. He’s wearing layers of robes that seem to shift in colour every time he moves. He glares at Barry as he’s guided past him and up the stairs. “I want him gone by morning,” he says. The woman waves him off and they continue on down the hallway.

“Don’t mind my brother,” she says, “he’s not a fan of strangers.” 

“And… you are?”

“Sure, especially when they’re handsome.” She winks at him and Barry almost chokes. Him? Handsome? The sad, wet, sorry excuse for a man that knocked on her door in the middle of the night? The one that’s got mud on his jeans nearly up to his knees and hasn’t taken a proper shower in a few too many days? 

"Guess I'm getting murdered tonight," he thinks. There can't be any other explanation for the immediate welcome and flattery.

Realising he’s been quiet for a little too long, he spits out, “Barry.” She looks at him curiously. “I’m- my name, it’s Barry.” 

She smiles, “Lup.” 

“Lup,” he repeats. It’s a strange one, but yet it fits her perfectly. 

She takes him into a massive room. It’s got a king size bed on one wall, and a few plush chairs with a small table in front of a fireplace on another. There’s a large window with heavy velvet curtains pulled shut, and an attached bathroom. “Take a hot shower,” Lup says, “I’ll start a fire for you and see if I can find you some dry clothes.” 

“Thank you, this is… this is incredible.”

She squeezes his arm again and lets go to lightly shove him towards the bathroom. It’s fancier than any bathroom he’s seen before. It has two sinks, a claw foot bathtub and a separate shower. He puts the shower temperature as high as it’ll go and peels off his waterlogged clothing, draping it over the edge of the tub to dry out. He revels in the hot water, letting it thaw him from his stint in the rain. When he comes out, steam billows into the room. A fire crackles pleasantly in the hearth, and there’s a folded set of clothes on the bed. He’s expecting something out of a movie, like silk pyjamas with a crest embroidered on it, but instead he finds typical plaid pyjama pants and a plain grey t-shirt. He’s a little worried, at first, about if they’ll even fit, considering the siblings hosting him are both taller and thinner than he is, but he finds that they’re actually just a little big on him. They smell like fresh cut wood. 

Barry lowers himself into one of the chairs by the fire with a groan, thankful to take the pressure off his poor aching feet. There’s still a slight chill deep in his core, but he’s just glad to be able to sit down. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, just listening to the fire. If he's going to get serial killed here, at least he'll die in luxury. 

He’s unsure how much time has passed when there’s a knock on the door. It opens and Lup comes in with a tray. She sets it down on the small table between the two chairs and sits across from him. “Dinner,” she says. 

He doesn’t expect her to stay, but she sits and watches him eat.  

The tray has a plate with meat and vegetables and potatoes and sauce and it smells divine. “I think it’s a little late for dinner,” he jokes, picking up the utensils and digging in.

Lup laughs, “a midnight snack, then.”

“So what brought you all the way out here?” She asks, linking her fingers together and resting her chin on them.

Barry stills. Oh, you know, just running as far away as I can get because I have nothing left. “Just trying to… see the world, I guess.”

He can feel her looking at him. She hums. “That might be good for you, you don’t seem very travelled.” 

“That obvious?” 

“Did you even have an umbrella? Or any way to make a camp?” 

His face flushes with embarrassment. “No. It was… I was a little spontaneous when I was leaving. I didn’t think it through much, so I didn’t leave with a lot of stuff. I’m usually more for planning.” 

Lup cocks her head, evaluating him. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” His blush deepens and she smiles, silently laughing at him. She stands and says, “finish your food and go to bed. I’ll get you set up with some proper travelling gear before you leave in the morning.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks. Thank you.” 

Then he’s on his own again. He eats, douses the fire, and climbs into the bed, letting the covers engulf him. It’s much more comfortable than cheap inns or bales of hay. Even with his brain's valiant attempts to come up with every worst case scenario that could happen in this house, he falls asleep to the ambient sound of rain and thunder. 

When he wakes the next morning, he feels like he got run over. His body aches all over, and he feels like he’s on fire. Then he sits up and almost coughs a lung out. He must’ve caught something after his hours-long trek in the storm. Or the dinner he was served was poisoned, he could go either way. But he can’t overstay his welcome, so he reluctantly drags himself out of bed. He’s about to trudge his way to the bathroom when he notices that the tray from last night is gone, and in its place is another folded set of clothes. He checks, and they’re his clothes from last night, perfectly dry. He blushes, embarrassed to think that Lup snuck in here to dry these for him. He changes as quickly as his aching body will allow, pauses to cough up another lung, makes the bed, and leaves the borrowed pyjamas folded on top. 

He heads back to the main entryway. It’s dimly lit, the front windows that had acted as Barry’s beacon last night are now covered with heavy curtains identical to the ones in the guest room. He makes for the front door to slip out and make his escape, when his name gets called and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns, and Lup’s walking up to him. She’s dressed more casually this morning in a simple soft shirt and pants. “I made breakfast,” she says, “come and eat.” 

“Thank you, but I should really get going.” 

She tuts. “You haven’t overstayed anything, you need to eat if you’re going to have enough strength to make it to the next town over.” 

“Really, I’m fine, I-” he’s cut off as he starts to cough up a secret third lung he had hidden in his back pocket. 

Before Barry can process what’s happening, Lup’s hand is pressed against his forehead. It’s pleasantly cool, and the relief it provides makes him sigh quietly. 

“You’re burning up,” she says, frowning. 

“Probably just a cold, I was out in the rain for hours last night. I’ll be okay.” 

“Nope. I’m not sending you out there like this.” She grabs his elbow, more forceful than she was last night, and starts dragging him further into the house, “you’re eating breakfast then going back to rest.” 

“Wh- what about your brother? He said I needed to be gone by morning.” 

“He’ll get over it.”

She takes him to a dining room with a large table in the centre. There has to be at least 12 chairs around it, but there's only one setting at one of the corners. Lup shoves him down into the chair and points at the array of toast, fruit, and waffles, and says, "eat." 

Not wanting to incur a wrath that Barry can only imagine burns with a fury, he eats. Lup sits in the chair at the head of the table, adjacent to him, but he keeps his eyes down on the plate. 

"You don't have to look so nervous," she says. He finally looks up at her and she grins, "I don't bite." 

Barry swallows. "I'm- I'm sure you don't. It's just a little odd, finding people who live so far away from anything else." 

She shrugs. "It's nice out here. We like the quiet and don't get bothered by anyone." 

"Except old guys like me who get caught in the rain." 

She laughs, but before she can respond, the kitchen door swings open and her brother walks in. "Hey Lulu, have you seen my-" he cuts himself off when he sees Barry, and his face sinks into a frown. "Lup." 

"Excuse me," she says sweetly, pushing herself up from the table and following her brother out of the room. 

Now, Barry doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the twins don't seem to be aware of how well sound carries in this old house. 

"What the fuck is he still doing here?!"

"Oh, my bad, god forbid we let a guy eat breakfast." 

"Fine. So he's leaving as soon as he's done." 

"..." 

"Lup!"

"He's sick, Taako! I can't let him go back on the road like that!" 

"He didn't look sick to me." 

"Well he is, and he needs to rest and heal before he can go back out." 

"He can't be here." 

"So you get to keep one and I don't?" 

"That was a completely different situation and you know it." 

"I'll keep him out of your way and as soon as he's well enough to go, I'll let him go." 

There's a few agonising beats of silence. Barry tries not to hold his breath. 

"...fine." 

Barry exhales deeply. Now that he's really thinking about it, he doesn't think he'd last on the road in this condition. He longs to go back to bed. He's only picked at the breakfast laid out for him, but he's not sure his stomach can handle much more. 

Lup comes back out alone, and notices he hasn't eaten much. "Do you not like it? I can make you something else-" 

"No," he says, "it's delicious, but… you were right, I'm not in great shape." 

She smiles softly and links their arms together. "Let's get you back in bed." 

He sleeps late into the day. When he wakes, Lup brings him soup. Then she shows him to their massive library and lets him wander and choose any books that grab him. He pretends not to notice her subtly guiding him away from a section in the back corner. She even takes him on a walk around the grounds. The sun's gone down already, but the storm has passed, so the gardens are illuminated by the silvery light of the full moon. 

"It's amazing how much food you guys grow here," he says. 

"We have to be pretty self-sufficient out here." A wolf howls far off in the distance. Lup smiles. "The woods are good for hunting, too. And foraging, if we're feeling up to it." 

"You hunt?" 

She leans in close and says, "you have no idea what I'm capable of." 

It's like she has him in a trance, and he can't find any words to say. Lup holds him there for a few long moments then steps back and says, "let's go back, you'll get a chill." 

The days go on like this. He sleeps in their house and eats their food and reads their books. He goes on walks around the halls and the grounds with Lup. She's wonderful company, they talk about novels and science and the world for hours on end. If they run out of things to say, they sit in amiable silence. Her laugh is like music to his ears, and he wants to hear it as often as he can. Her hands are a comfort whenever he starts hacking up one of his spare lungs. He loves the way his name sounds in her voice. 

Problem is, as the days go on, he only seems to get weaker. Their walks get shorter, he sleeps longer, the coughing fits become longer and more frequent, and he's having a harder time catching his breath, he has to sleep sitting up. His fever hasn't broken either, and Lup's cool hands barely offer any solace whenever she checks his temperature. 

But she still keeps him company. She sits on the bed with him and talks or reads to him. So when the door opens one night and Taako walks in holding a tray, his face falls a little. 

"Well don't look so disappointed," Taako says, kicking the door shut behind him. 

"Where's Lup?" 

"Out. She'll be back by tomorrow. She asked me to make sure you don't die before then." 

"Thank you for letting me stay."

"I'm not letting you do anything. Lup decided you were staying, so you were going to stay, and there was nothing me or you could've done about it." Taako sets the tray down on the table by the fireplace and turns to face him. "Are you able to get over here? Because I'm not doing that lovey-dovey feeding you shit that Lup does." 

Barry coughs and pretends his face is flushed from the fever. "Uh, yeah, for sure." 

It takes some effort, but he manages to move from the bed to the chair. Taako sits in the other one and watches as he slowly eats the fresh soup. Once he's finished, Taako takes the tray and stands, "I'll come back later to make sure you're still breathing," and he sweeps out of the room. 

As promised, Lup's back the next day, and the routine continues. But Barry continues to deteriorate. 

He loses track of time eventually. He doesn't know if it's been hours or days. He can't catch what Lup's saying, but the cadence of her voice is a comfort. Even taking a breath is a struggle. 

One day- or maybe it was night, he can never tell with those curtains drawn- her normally soothing tone changes. She sounds scared, and she's shouting. She sounds a little far away. Is she in trouble? He wants to get up to help her, but he can't really move. It's also really hard to breathe, he should open a window. 

He feels the bed dip and her voice is closer again. 

"-e's turning blue!" 

"I think he's dying, Lulu." 

Who's dying? 

"I know, so help me! Do something!"

Oh. Him. He's dying. He wants to look at Lup and tell her that it'll be okay, but he can't seem to move his eyes. Are they closed? He's not sure. His ears are ringing but the twins voices come through clear as a bell. 

"Like what?! Health shit is Merle's thing." 

"Well Merle's not here right now, dickhead. It's just us, and I can't let him die." 

He doesn't know who that is. He honestly didn't think the twins knew anyone else. 

"Humans only live so long, you weren't going to be able to keep him here forever." 

Barry doesn't have the faculties left to question Taako referring to humans as if he isn't one.

"...I could." 

"Lup-" 

"But I could, Taako. I can stop this and he can stay here." 

"You've only known him a few weeks." 

"Please." 

Silence stretches, and Barry thinks maybe he's died already. 

Taako sighs, "I'm not going to stop you." 

Barry feels Lup's hands on his face and his head is turned. Evidently his eyes are open, because her face comes into view. There are tear tracks down her cheeks, and he just wants to reach up and wipe them away. "I can stop this, Bear," she says, "I can help you and you can stay here with me- with us, forever." 

He doesn't know what she's talking about, and he tries to answer her, but all that comes out is the strained breath of a dying man. 

"If you're going to do it, I suggest you do it now," Taako says. 

Lup leans down towards him, and he almost thinks she's going to kiss him until she seems to veer off to the side. His entire body alights with pain, like every nerve ending is on fire. He can hear someone screaming, and he realises it's him a second before the world goes dark. 

When he wakes up, it's cold and dark, and there's something on top of him that falls into his mouth. He starts clawing through it, trying to get to fresh air. It feels like it goes on forever, but he breaks the surface into the cool night air. He's welcomed by the sweet stench of blood, and his vision zeroes in on a raccoon laying several feet ahead of him. Unthinking, he crawls over and tears into it. 

He comes back to himself once the raccoon's blood runs dry. His eyes widen, realising what he's done, and he drops what's left of it and shuffles back away from it, breathing heavily. 

"Barry." 

His head snaps over to the voice, and he sees Lup standing some distance away. "Lup?" 

"Hey, Bear." 

"Wh- what-" 

"You were dying," she approaches him slowly and kneels in the grass, still a few feet away, "I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't just let you go." 

He runs his tongue along his teeth and feels two that are sharper than he remembers. 

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, but there's more than just me and Taako. We have more family that lives here, they get back in a week. We can help you adjust, and then you can head off to wherever you were going." 

Slowly, Barry gets to his feet. He brushes the dirt and grass off his jeans, and steps to stand over Lup. He holds out a hand to help her up and she takes it. Once she's standing, he wraps her up in a hug and holds tight. 

"Thanks for not letting me die," he murmurs. 

Lup laughs, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling in further, "technically you still died. But this way you aren't gone." They stand in the embrace for a while, then Lup asks, softly, "will you stay?" 

Barry feels her breathing against him, feels how perfectly she slots into his arms, and he says, "yeah, I think I will." 

[hiswordsarekisses]

Blessed is the fact that Christians can rejoice even in the deepest distress; although trouble may surround them, they still sing; and like many birds, they sing best in their cages. The waves may roll over them, but their souls soon rise to the surface and see the light of God’s countenance; they have a buoyancy about them that keeps their head always above the water and helps them to sing amid the tempest, “God is with me still.”

…Trouble does not necessarily bring consolation with it to the believer, but the presence of the Son of God with him in the fiery furnace fills his heart with joy. He is sick and suffering, but Jesus visits him and makes his bed for him. He is dying, and the cold, chilly waters of Jordan are gathering about him up to the neck, but Jesus puts His arms around him and cries, “Fear not, beloved; to die is to be blessed; the waters of death have their fountainhead in heaven; they are not bitter-they are sweet as honey, for they flow from the throne of God.”

Jesus says, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”2 Thus strengthened and consoled, the believer is not afraid to die; no, he is even willing to depart, for since he has seen Jesus as the morning star, he longs to gaze upon Him as the sun in his strength. Truly, the presence of Jesus is all the heaven we desire.

(Charles Spurgeon)

I have not always understood His ways - but I do know this for sure: He is good.

He is trustworthy. He knows what He is doing. And when something tragic (to my heart) happens, I absolutely know that it was the right thing somehow, and that some how He was protecting them by taking them early. (Isaiah 57:1) He would not have allowed it unless it was part of His loving and strategic plan.

Our joy is not about this earth, or affected by circumstances, and this is why we have hope even in loss.

We are here, so VERY temporarily, but we are on our way home for forever. The people we lose who love Him are not in our past - they are in our future.

Everything He does is perfectly and beautifully arranged and no matter how bad or horrible it may look - I promise I know that it is not.

Here on earth we see as if through a glass ~ darkly. This means that it is like looking into a foggy mirror. Our perception is distorted and incomplete. God sees the complete picture, and we don’t. But we can trust His eyes as much as we can trust His heart.

Our understanding on this side of heaven is limited, and what we do see isn’t always an accurate reflection. We have to remind ourselves often.

But we do not have to stumble in dark anxiety. Instead we have to fix our eyes on the unseen things, and on God’s Word, and God Himself. This is how we begin to focus in such a way that we have an eternal perspective.

Cause sometimes life gets crazy.

A year ago my husband was laid off from his job. Although he received a nice severance check, it was unexpected and heavy.

At that same time we lost my dad’s wife to Breast cancer. While that was happening I was diagnosed with breast cancer, myself.

Then a few months after she died, her brother died completely unexpectedly.

My dad, at 81 years of age, and grieving, came down with Covid, and that took him months to get over. Then he went into depression because of both of their deaths.

I ended up having to have a double mastectomy and a little over a month of radiation treatments.

Then on this past Memorial Day we lost my brother - also very unexpectedly. I think we are all still in shock over it all.

My brother had escaped death more times than I can count during his lifetime and 3 times he did actually die and was brought back.

The night before he died he had hit rock bottom and was very distraught. He expressed to my mom how tired he was of this world and his struggles, and he told my mom he wanted Jesus to come and get us.

In the wee hours of the morning Jesus took my brother, quietly, as he fell asleep sitting in a chair on the porch, and he went home.

One month later, this past weekend, my cousin unexpectedly passed away of a massive heart attack in her sleep, and she went peacefully home as well.

In my walk with Jesus all these years I have been through a lot, but this past year has been unbelievable. But God has always been faithful through it all.

God is at work behind the scenes, in spite of how things appear. Through the hard things our hearts are softened and we are transformed into His image.

May God give us eyes to see beyond what is in front of us.

[yaminerua]

I'm thinking for much of the rest of smegtober I'll have to switch to drawings because the writing part of my brain is getting fatigued lol but I managed to churn this last one out tonight ahead of the other one I have ready for tomorrow;;

As always, prompts are by @a-literal-toaster-wtf

Today's prompt was Test, which of course immediately calls forth images of Rimmer and his many examination attempts;;

Words: 4137

****

Rimmer had done it again. He had smegging gone and done it again.

Somehow, despite all the meticulous planning and obsessive timetabling, despite having carefully mapped out every hour of every day for the last few months to optimise his revision and maximise his chances of success, here he was again on the last night before the exam feeling no better prepared than he had been before he’d even started.

It always ended up like this. Every time exam season came around he would work tirelessly, relentlessly, trying to find a study pattern that worked, subdividing his free time evenly into rest periods and study periods, allocating every subject and topic its own slot to prioritise information retention. It should have been a flawless method, workshopped to the nth degree, sharpened and improved to perfection after so many attempts and yet even after all this effort, after all this time, the result was always the same; complete and utter humiliating failure.

Of course, the fact that much of this revision time was usually eaten up by preparing the timetables themselves in the first place was an important part of why he always found himself in this situation but he was loathe to do anything to change the habit, somehow convincing himself that it had only failed because he hadn’t found the perfect routine yet and that once he figured that out and constructed the timetable to end all timetables he would be golden and he could finally kiss the lowly rank of Second Technician goodbye.

The definition of madness, as they say, is trying the same thing over and over expecting a different result.

Huffing out a distressed, agitated breath, Rimmer dug the heels of his palms roughly into his eyes, rubbing vigorously until he saw stars. He had no idea what time it was anymore. The concept of time itself seemed to have faded into the background of his mind, locked away in a box he didn’t want to have to open because at this point knowing just how long he had left was likely to do nothing more than send him tipping fully over the edge of anxiety and into a full-blown panic attack and he knew from past experience that if he let that happen his shot at success would be over then and there.

He was virtually running on fumes at this point, the last few nights a desperate haze of stressed, sleep-deprived revising – if staring manically at an open textbook and taking absolutely none of it in for hours could really be called revising – and his eyes were positively burning with the effort it was taking just to keep them open.

His head ached. It was as though his very brain itself had swollen up in his skull, pressing up against the insides and throbbing profusely from the exertion of trying to cram multiple textbooks’ worth of knowledge into it in the space of a few hours. The pressure alone made him thankful for the relative silence of the bunkroom.

Lister was out. Some time ago he had disappeared off with the rest of his brainless gang of hooligan friends to drink himself to unconsciousness and dance until the early hours of the morning with whoever could stand to be around him. With any luck he might hit it off with some desperate tart who would take him off to her quarters and spare Rimmer the trouble of having to put up with a drunken Lister staggering his way back and breaking his concentration.

It was the only silver lining this whole situation had at the moment. With Lister out and suitably occupied for the night Rimmer didn’t have to battle against his textbooks while enduring the torture of listening to Lister utterly murder a halfway decent song with his toneless singing or his even more unbearable guitar playing.

Aside from the background hum of Red Dwarf all around, there wasn’t a single other disruptive sound to complain about – which also meant there wasn’t an adequate distraction to blame his imminent failure on if it came down to it later.

Removing his hands from his face, he blinked the room slowly back into focus and hunched forwards over his textbook again, feeling the tension in his neck and the ache between his shoulder blades from too long spent in this exact position.

He felt as though he had been stuck trying to read the same sentence for hours, as though his brain had stalled and he couldn’t move past it until it started up again. Oh sure, his eyes would skim the letters and recognise the shapes and the words were certainly words he knew individually but as far as the meaning of the sentence as a whole and the information it held were concerned, Rimmer had absolutely no idea what he was reading.

It was as though the part of his brain that registered new information had gone on strike. Nothing was getting through and all that he seemed to be achieving by continuing to try to force it to was making his head and eyes hurt even more.

He needed to rest but there was no time for rest anymore. Frankly he was terrified that if he even so much as allowed himself the briefest moment to nap then he would sleep right through the exam and have to go through this whole nightmare all over again. He wasn’t prepared for that. Revision was key right now and sleep could wait. He would have plenty of time (not to mention peace of mind) to be able to catch up on the rest he’d missed once the exam was over and he’d passed the stupid smegging thing.

Frowning down at the page he blinked furiously, finding it more and more difficult to keep the lettering clear and sharp in his vision. Everything was starting to smudge at the edges, to bleed into the space around it as though there was something in his eye that wasn’t budging no matter how much he tried to blink or rub it away.

He shook his head, leaning further forwards towards the textbook, squinting to see if maybe that would help sharpen things by narrowing his field of view but it was no use.

The harder he stared at it, the more desperately he attempted to take in so much as a single solitary sentence, the more the words on the page swam dizzyingly just to spite him, rippling and distorting before his very eyes until they better resembled a particularly unappetising-looking kind of alphabet soup than anything comprehensible.

He dropped his forehead down to rest between the pages of the textbook, eyelids scrunching shut as he groaned plaintively into the quiet of the room. Why was his brain conspiring against him at this hour? He only had hours left and it was betraying him. Why was he wasting time wrestling with himself like this when he only had a limited window of opportunity to make some good, solid progress before Lister came back and crashed unceremoniously through his focus with all the grace of a hippo let loose on an ice rink? He didn’t have time for this!

Just to drive home exactly how much the universe had it in for Arnold J. Rimmer, the moment that desperate thought had so much as flitted miserably across his mind his ears picked up the tell-tale distant hollers of giddy, raucous laughter emanating from somewhere outside, growing steadily louder with every drunken, staggered step.

Pass by, don’t come in. Pass by, don’t come in… Rimmer thought fervently, repeating it over and over, beseechingly, in his head like some sort of desperate mantra, praying to whatever god might exist out there to take pity on him for just once in his smegging life but as had been well-established by now, if there was a god they certainly didn’t have a heart.

The door to the sleeping quarters slid open with a harsh, piercing hiss and in staggered one extremely wasted David Lister, an open can of Leopard Lager in his hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

With great difficulty he co-ordinated a clumsy wave to the retreating backs of Petersen and the others before he finally turned his attention to Rimmer, who had by this point straightened up stiffly at his desk and was doing his level best to try to pretend that he wasn’t secretly weighing up the pros and cons of throwing Lister out an airlock and blaming it on his own drink-addled mind. Unfortunately he didn’t think the ship’s CCTV would be on his side there so he begrudgingly had to shelf that idea.

As Lister stumbled his way towards him and leaned in far too close over his shoulder, the stench of beery breath and tobacco met his nostrils and he grimaced. “Lister, go away,” he hissed through tightly gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tightly clenched to resist the urge to swat at him and push him back. “I’m trying to revise.”

“Smeg, Rimmer, you’re such a bore!” Lister said, entirely too loud and entirely too close to his ear, his words slurring pathetically together. “You need to live more!”

Rimmer sniffed indignantly and finally deigned to press the back of his hand to Lister’s front and push him firmly away. “I’ll have plenty of time to do that once I’m an officer,” he said matter-of-factly, ignoring how hollow he felt inside as he said it. “For now my priorities lie elsewhere.”

Lister snorted and he took a long swig of his can of lager. “Yeah, bein’ a bore,” he muttered, staggering back over toward his bunk, humming tuneless snippets of Lunar City Seven as he went.

Rimmer could throttle him, honestly, but he bit back the impulse, however inviting it may have been. Instead he remained as he was, staring bitterly, contemptuously down at the infuriating textbook in front of him, taking nothing in while he listened to the rustling and shuffling of Lister moving about behind him, hopefully getting ready for bed.

He heard the discordant squeak of the ladder as Lister clambered his way up it and the tell-tale creak of the top bunk as it took the full weight of Lister’s body on it and he heaved a premature sigh of relief at this inconvenient interruption hopefully being only a brief one.

Before long, just like he hoped, the movement behind him stilled and Lister grew silent – or as silent as he could be given his tendency to snore – and Rimmer finally allowed himself to release some of the tension he had been holding. Maybe the brief distraction might have helped in a way, might have cleared his head enough for him to return his attention back to what was actually important.

He was mindful, agonisingly so, about how very little time he had left now. Since Lister had come back that meant that time had progressed considerably while he hadn’t been paying attention to it and he surely only had a measly handful of hours left at the most to fill his head with enough knowledge to pass. He flexed his fingers nervously, hyper-aware of the sweat beading on his brow as he considered opting for the last resort. It was the only hope he had left.

Glancing shiftily at the door and warily back over his shoulder, he watched Lister’s sleeping form for a good long moment, trying to ascertain for sure whether he was absolutely asleep and unaware of his surroundings. The last thing he needed was Lister of all people waking up and potentially ratting him out. That would be a fate worse than death.

Seeing that, for now, the coast was clear, he swallowed thickly and reached slowly, shakily, into the right hand pocket of his trousers, procuring from it a small, nondescript packet of little white pellets. Learning pills were strictly not allowed on board Red Dwarf. Rimmer knew that well. He had on numerous occasions in the past reprimanded countless other crewmates who he had spotted with the offending little things, scoffing obnoxiously at their pathetic need to rely on something illegal to help them succeed, all the while holding onto them himself instead of turning them in in case of a rainy day. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

He opened the cap quietly and, with a trembling hand, tipped two pills out onto his palm before hurriedly stowing the container away again. He stared down at them apprehensively, heart hammering in his chest and stomach churning at the sickening, depressing realisation that it really had come to this. If he wanted any chance of passing they were his only hope.

With one last quick, anxious glance back at Lister, he popped them in his mouth before he could change his mind and washed them down hastily with what was left of his almost-forgotten glass of water.

He waited a few moments for the panicked surge of nerves to subside, giving the drugs some time to hit his stomach and begin to make their way into his system. He wasn’t entirely sure quite how good an idea it had been to take them on an empty stomach when he was as sleep-deprived and physically exhausted as he was but he had done it now and his fate rested with them.

Lowering his gaze down to the Astro-Navigation textbook again, he sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, trying to channel what little mental energy he was still clinging onto into focusing on the words in front of him, praying that the learning pills would aid him in retaining the information. Even if all they managed to do was hold the knowledge in his head long enough for him to regurgitate it all out during the exam and then forget all of it immediately afterwards that would be fine. He just needed it to last for a few hours.

Evidently he had left resorting to this final option a little too late. They ought to have invented pills that helped him focus as well.

Maybe it was the tiredness, maybe it was the stress, maybe it was a combination of both but it didn’t matter how hard he tried, how much he squinted and strained his eyes to try to make sense of any of the words in front of him. His mind had clearly shuttered itself off and was simply not allowing anything more in. He could stare at this page and all of the words written on it for the rest of the day and it would simply never make it through. He was doomed.

Raking his hands raggedly through his hair, Rimmer let out a low, tortured groan, dropping his head onto the table and clenching his eyes tight shut so he didn’t have to see the textbook anymore, didn’t have to look hopelessly down at the same stupid page he had spent most of the night so far stuck unable to get past. It was going to take a miracle to get anything of use to enter his brain now, even with the aid of learning pills.

He must have looked pathetic, sitting there slumped with his head on the desk and his hands in his hair. He had made an absolute mess of himself by now, his usually neat, severe side parting completely unravelling, the forcibly tamed curls freed from the submission they were usually brushed harshly into. He looked thoroughly dishevelled, as though he had been pulling his hair out all night. In many ways, that probably wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

Breathing out roughly, he let his head roll miserably to the side, sliding his eyes open to gaze dolefully, enviously, over at Lennon and McCartney, Lister’s stupid robotic goldfish that he’d brought back from his last shore leave trip. They were swimming slowly, mesmerisingly, around their bowl in repetitive, mindless little circles without a single care in the world, without a shred of responsibility or expectation or disappointment weighing down on them and as Rimmer watched them absently, dazedly, as though he were hypnotised, he felt something hollow and mournful settle unpleasantly behind his chest.

God, he wished he was a fish…

He remained like that, utterly entranced, his mind far away, for the next four hours and although he wasn’t exactly asleep, when the intercom finally sounded and Holly’s monotonous voice droned out the important morning announcements, it was as though he was dead to the world and he didn’t hear a word of it.

“Will all entrants for the Astro-Navigation exam please make their way to the teaching room. The exam will begin soon.”

On the top bunk, Lister stirred slightly, his face scrunching up as the loud chime of the intercom pierced through the deep veil of drunken sleep he had been nestled in and rudely stabbed his hung-over brain like an arrow.

Peeling a tired eye open, he squinted groggily over at the desk where Rimmer was still sat, hunched over and seemingly asleep. “Rimmer?” he called out, his throat hoarse after the night’s antics. “You awake?”

There came no response, which was an answer in and of itself. Lister groaned, rubbing his eyes vigorously before lifting his head with great difficulty up off the pillow. “Rimmer,” he said again, a little louder this time.

When Rimmer still failed to have any reaction at all, Lister rolled his eyes and with great effort, begrudgingly heaved his heavy aching body up into a sitting position, clutching his head momentarily as it swam dizzyingly from the change in posture. He didn’t want to have to be awake yet and would rather have slept off the rest of his night out until well into the afternoon but he knew that dealing with a hung-over headache from a premature wake-up call would be far more preferable to the absolute monster migraine Rimmer would give him for failing to wake him up in time for his exam.

Stumbling over towards him, Lister reached out to shake him by the shoulder and froze when he realised that Rimmer didn’t seem to be asleep after all. In any case he certainly had his eyes open though whether he was still conscious remained to be seen. For now he was staring unblinkingly over at the fish tank, his expression completely vacant like some kind of lifeless zombie. It was more than just a little bit disconcerting.

“Hey, Rimmer, man,” Lister said uncertainly, waving a hand tentatively in front of Rimmer’s face. “You okay?”

The reaction was almost instant. The moment Lister’s hands came into view, Rimmer’s expression crumpled like a tin can subjected to tremendous pressure, his eyes snapping shut as he brought a hand up to rub at his face. “Ugh,” he groaned, pulling himself stiffly back into an upright sitting position, his neck and shoulders aching.

Lister watched him warily, an eyebrow quirked with mild concern. He’d seen Rimmer work himself up into an exhausted wreck before but never quite like this. “You alright?” he asked again.

“Of course I’m alright, you gimboid!” Rimmer snapped irritably, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, wincing at the sound of his own voice in his ears. “What do you want?”

Lister’s face creased into a frown and he crossed his arms moodily over his chest. So much for a grateful morning greeting. “Just thought I’d wake you,” he said, glancing at the clock on the sink beside the bunks. “Since it’s exam o’clock now and all.”

Rimmer looked like he had just been force fed a particularly sour and putrid lemon.

“WHAT!?” he cried, horrified, leaping to his feet suddenly and nearly knocking the chair he had been sitting on over in the process. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I wasn’t awake!” Lister said, holding his hands up innocently. “I just woke up meself!”

Rimmer wasn’t paying any attention to him anymore. He was in an absolute panicked frenzy, scrambling for his comb and attempting to carve his forgotten side parting back into existence before gathering up the rest of his things.

Lister watched him, bemused, and had to stop him at one point when he spotted that Rimmer was about to squeeze foot cream onto his toothbrush. Handing him the correct tube, he fixed him with a dubious stare. “You sure you’re alright, man?” he asked. “You were starin’ at me fish all in a trance just there.”

“That was intentional, Lister!” Rimmer stated, but the projected confidence was an unconvincing façade. “I had finished revising everything and was simply taking a break to let the information settle in my brain!”

Lister wasn’t fooled in the slightest. “Uh huh,” he said flatly.

Rimmer clicked his tongue and curled his lip, fixing Lister’s reflection with a contemptuous, dark look. “You wouldn’t understand, Listy,” he sneered, straightening up his tie and giving his hair a final firm comb through. “You’ve never put the slightest bit of effort in in your entire life. As for me, the only way is up! Up, up—”

“Yeah, yeah, Rimmer,” Lister cut him off, waving a hand dismissively before transitioning it into a mocking impersonation of Rimmer’s usual elaborate salute. “Up, up the ziggurat lickety split.” He punctuated that last word with a sharp slap to his forehead. “I know.”

Rimmer shot him a look, cold and hard, and then turned back one last time to check his appearance over in the mirror. The intercom sound rang out hollow and daunting into the bunkroom again and Lister saw Rimmer’s entire body stiffen immediately.

“Last call for the Astro-Navigation exam. Will all entrants please make their way to the teaching room. The exam is about to begin.”

Rimmer swallowed thickly and flexed his fingers and for all the affected confidence and false bravado he put on, Lister could still see the petrified, haunted look behind his eyes that belied his true feelings on the matter.

“Listen, man,” he said gently, sincerely, feeling almost sympathetic towards the man all of a sudden, fighting the urge to reach out and give him an encouraging pat on the arm. “Good luck.”

Rimmer bristled and his expression creased into a forced, stretched smile. “Luck, Lister?” he echoed, rocking anxiously on the balls of his feet. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got everything I need to succeed right up” – he brought a hand up to tap a finger quickly to his temple – “here.”

“Yeah,” came Lister’s doubtful, sarcastic response. “Good luck.”

He raised his eyebrows, fixing Rimmer with a look that said “Trust me, you’re gonna need all the luck you can get.”

Rimmer seemed to pick up on it, the plastered smile on his face faltering slightly as his adam’s apple bobbed nervously in his throat. “Right,” he said stiffly, tensely, hands balled tightly into fists at his sides. “Well, then. Goodbye, Lister.”

There was a maddened look in his eyes, something wild and desperate and beseeching, as though he was almost begging Lister to do something to stop him from walking out there to his inevitable doom even if it meant he had to resort to knocking him unconscious.

He stood there awkwardly, frozen in fear for another uncomfortably long number of seconds, rocking back and forth on his feet before he finally accepted that no miraculous divine intervention was coming and he was going to have to just go for it.

Picking up his pens and popping them neatly in his pocket, he gave Lister one final, incredibly rigid nod of acknowledgement and strode swiftly, almost robotically out of the room with such a grave look of dread on his face he might as well have been on death row.

Lister watched him go with an almost pitying look of gentle compassion pulling on his face. He didn’t like Rimmer – no-one did – but he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit bad for the guy. He had been putting himself through these exams since long before Lister had ever even met him, driven by something he couldn’t relate to, a burning urge to make something of himself no matter how long it took even when it was probably pointless.

Maybe he didn’t deserve the power that advancement up the career ladder would give him, maybe it would turn him into even more of an insufferably unbearable smeghead, but if just so that Lister wouldn’t have to endure another night of Rimmer drowning his sorrows and cursing the universe for being out to get him, he hoped this time that something would go different.

Whatever he had been hoping, whatever he had been expecting, an exam paper scrawled with nothing but ‘I am a fish’ had absolutely not been it.

Oh well. There was always next time.

[artekai]

hokay

*rubs hands together*

kiss prompt. any pairing. whoever is calling you now. whoever you think of first for:

29. hushed conversation in-between kisses

Heheheh, great pick! *cracks knuckles* let's see what I can do! Thank you!!! :D

(I'm so sorry about the wait btw! ;-; I started writing this when you sent the ask, but then I had to go to sleep and after that shit irl hit the fan so I was creatively blocked. But it's here now!! I hope it's still enjoyable regardless haha!)

This ended up even longer than the last one, tumblr didn't even want to let me post it 😭

Kai's lack of consistency, and the uncertainty he was subjecting Fross to, were a stark, but surprisingly welcome, contrast to the safe and predictable monotony of life on the Odyssey and in the Sirius colony.

There were patterns, of course. Kai's morning routine, for one, was always the same — he woke up early in the morning, did a few stretches, served himself and Fross a full breakfast, and kissed him goodbye before he parted, with a spring on his step and a bow on his hand. But Fross could never be sure if Kai would come back at night to sleep here, if he would check in, leave him more food, and be on his way again, or if he would not come back that night at all. Fross had no idea what Kai was setting out to do until he came back and told him. Or didn't tell him, depending on whether he came back loving or hating Fross. To be honest, that was enough to keep him on his toes.

It was an insignificant source of delight, when compared to everything Far Zenith had given him — but he sure did delight in the feeling of domesticity, in the anticipation he felt as he glanced at the door throughout the day, and in the relief that washed over him when he finally saw Kai's pretty face again, always safe and sound. 

That last part was the most important of all. Fross only felt at ease because he knew that Kai was never gone for too long. Even at times when he hadn't yet arrived by the time the sun started to come up, he managed to arrive at the nick of time, just before the prickle of anxiety on the back of Fross's neck became painful and unbearable.

This was one of those times.

Fross was fighting sleep, waiting anxiously, since Kai had been gone for nearly two whole days with their nights, and he was getting very hungry. The wound on his abdomen hadn't healed enough to get up painlessly, and, even if he tried, he didn't even know where he was or how to find something safe to eat. He could always attempt to find some locals and steal their food, of course, but he was sure that kind of strain wouldn't be good for the healing process...

The silence was interrupted by the sound of rustling as Kai finally peered into the tent. Even in the dark, Fross could see a relieved smile of his own spread upon his face as the dim light of the stars fell on Fross's face.

"Hello, captive." He whispered, not wanting to disturb the peaceful night, though he had a playful look on his face. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course I did." Fross pouted. "How am I supposed to feel better without my fix of good night kisses?"

Kai made himself comfortable, letting down his spear and bow on the ground, dropping a large pouch. There were bandages around his arm, and he winced whenever he moved too abruptly, but, before Fross could express any concern about it, Kai was already on top of him, pressing his lips against Fross's.

"Wow, you're so needy." He muttered, keeping his eyes closed as he gave him another peck. "I guess it's like you Old Ones used to say. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, yeah?" 

"I don't think that applies to this situation." Fross whispered back, placing his hands behind Kai's head to pull him into another delicate kiss. "I don't want us to be enemies, Kai. Even if I did, I can't see what you could possibly be getting out of this, other than my heart."

"Info. I'm getting info." He traced Fross's jaw with two fingers, teasingly, kissing him again. "I'm tearing down your defenses for Zenith intel."

"Really?" Another kiss. "What kind?"

"Well, uh. I know all the Zeniths' names. That's more than Aloy can say for herself, right?"

Fross's smile widened. "God, you're so stupid. I love you."

He moved to pull Kai in for a deeper kiss, but he met resistance. He vaguely saw Kai frown in the darkness, as he distanced himself a bit, making a sound between a whimper and a protest.

"That's really mean." Kai said, voice small, not only because he was whispering. "I know we're enemies and stuff, but. You know."

There was a pause.

"Do you really think I'm stupid?"

"No, no, dear, you don't understand. I mean it in a good way." Fross said, moving his hands to Kai's cheeks to gently stroke his face with his thumbs. "Have you ever heard that one Old World saying? Ignorance is bliss?"

"No." Kai said, his tone switching from hurt to irritated in the blink of an eye. "It's a stupid saying. It sounds like something Ted Faro would've told himself to justify the things he did."

Something stirred inside of Fross's mind. His nose scrunched at the sensation.

"Ted Faro." He repeated. It sounded stilted, as if he were tasting the name on his tongue for the first time. "I haven't heard that name in centuries."

"Good." Kai leaned in again. "Do you remember who he was?"

Trying to gain more info, huh? Unluckily for Kai, Fross had no interest in unearthing those memories. The world that Fross had left behind a thousand years ago was long since gone and wasn't coming back. Keeping that shit alive would take more effort than it was worth. It was best to let the past die.

"No. It doesn't matter." Fross grasped the back of Kai's head, pushing himself up in desperation. "Kiss me."

This time, Kai granted his request, letting him deepen the kiss as he kept Kai's head in place with both hands. However, they were  interrupted when Fross's stomach growled way too loudly, making Kai pull back to laugh.

"Haha, okay, okay, I get it!" He grinned from ear to ear, his hand brushing against the bandages on Fross's belly. "Food first. And then... sleep. We'll pick this back up some other time, okay?"

Fross wanted to whine and demand more attention to make up for the long absence, but he couldn't bring himself to complain once Kai leaned down to give him one last peck on the lips. Who knew he'd end up being so weak to the intimacy of sharing a home with who should be a sworn enemy? Not him, that's for sure.