#fun fact this rocking chair is older than I am

[tj-crochets]

For potential art trade reasons, I took a photo of some of my quilts folded up on a chair and I love how it turned out!

[blizzposts]

me but its an email to my english teacher that reads:

"hey sorry i didn't do the reading response, five sets of workshop comments, seven daily warm-ups that could be a whole assignment on their own, and essay based on extremely vague prompts that convey nothing about what they actually expect from you (a traumadump in MLA format) that i have to read aloud to eight classmates i've genuinely never spoken to before-----

i'm too busy thinking about every step i take while getting on and off the bus so i don't collapse and faceplant into the concrete, remembering to take my adderall in the middle of a busy school day, hauling keyboards that when in their cases are legit taller than me and possibly as heavy as me, taking 2 makeup tests for gov, practicing for 2 hours a day as required by audition prep, learning how to work a needle and syringe on myself, making sure my hands aren't doing The Thing because they started tingling randomly for the third time since lunch, continuing to put away benches for jazz band despite being fully aware that all the color has drained from my face and i look and feel like i'm actually going to drop dead on the tile floor, trying not to make a face when the orchestra teacher plays one of them real high notes badly just for funzies, noticing that my teeth have moved, ignoring the random flea-bites feeling every 2-5 minutes (there are no fleas, i always check), concentrating on doing my best Normal Guy smile every time i accidentally make eye contact with someone, trying to remember anything that happened last night, trying to remember anything that happened this morning, trying to remember my interests and the events of my own life, attempting to meet the deadlines (next week) for a drawing and a painting, thinking about my sister, trying not to think about my father, figuring out how to tell all my friends i started testosterone, putting words together like legos to attempt to convey the infinitely complex thoughts in my head, saying a bunch of complex words about the kindergarten level thoughts in my head, figuring out what to do for my gov midterm, reminding myself to ask my stand partner what order the songs are in for the 2 upcoming concerts, figuring out why my music maker ipad app won't let me use certain sound packs without wifi, checking if i actually turned my headphones off or if i just thought about it, hauling my ass to bed on time, trying not to just start actually rocking back and forth in my chair in english class (source: nervous, autism), deciding if my fun fact is cool or if it will freak people out, finding out if someone actually called my name from down the hallway or i just hallucinated it, remembering that whipping out the pocket knife to cut my fingernails because they were hitting the keys when i was playing piano is Weirdo Freak behavior, apologizing to my mom for making us late to the bus stop in the morning and not changing the behavior because the behavior is called having ADHD and chronic fatigue syndrome, hauling ass out of bed every morning, trying to minimize the loud obnoxious squeaking of the (broken) wheels of my backpack shitty target suitcase, finding out which teachers know about which diagnoses, finding out which teachers give a shit, reminding the sophomores in my painting class that i am in fact several years older than them, constantly apologizing for the possibility of sounding mean because i genuinely do not know how my words and actions are interpreted by other people, holding back tears like an idiot while apologizing seven consecutive times to my mom who got mad at me for "my really mean tone" that i genuinely was not aware of, being suddenly constantly aware of my tone of voice when i'm speaking (but still having no idea if it's the Right One), and trying to remember all the dwindling reasons why The World Really Is A Good Place.

all with a brain designed to see image and make a silly noise.

tragic apologies,

-marco"

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Vampy come down for family dinner and help clean up like he wasn’t just defiling their daughter 10 minutes ago

Harry would rail the fuck out of her in her closet with one hand over her mouth and another around her throat, grunting absolute filth into her ear as she spills over him with muffled whines and sobbed pleas. He’d lick her clean, pull her panties and leggings back up her quaking thighs, and proceed to buckle his slacks casually while she props herself against the wall, trembling and panting.

He just leans forward and presses a chaste kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin sticky against his lips as he murmurs smugly. “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up the kitchen with your mum. Come back down after you’ve sorted yourself out, and don’t forget to wipe your makeup off. It’s smeared down your face.”

Y/N does as he says, wiping the watery steaks of mascara off her cheeks and fixing her wild hair, making sure to leave no evidence of their little escapade, lest Harry end up sleeping outside on the yard. When she finally gets back down to her living room (she takes the stairs extra carefully, her belly throbbing with each step), the vampire is sitting in the rocking chair next to her mother’s, swaying lightly as they chat away nonchalantly.

They’re laughing and gossiping, their hands occupied with all types of yarn and needles, and she always forgets that Harry had learned how to knit when he was younger. It’s so baffling to see him engaging innocently with her mom, his nimble fingers expertly working on a multicolored scarf as he does so, not sparing the piece the slightest glance due to how confident he is in his skills. The reason it’s especially startling is because those fingers had been inside her not even five minutes ago.

“So we were running around this lake near my house,” Harry explains candidly, clearly in the middle of telling a story from his past as his digits weave in and out amidst red and purple yarn, “and we were playing in the snow near the banks, which was our first mistake. My mother had told me that the snow around the shores tended to be really slushy, so if we weren’t careful, we’d end up slipping really easily. We didn’t listen, of course— what ten year old does? We were playing tag with the neighbors, and as I was chasing after Gemma, I accidentally shoved her a bit too hard and she slipped and fell right into a pile of muddy snow. Completely stained everything she was wearing.”

Her mom releases a disappointed hiss, giving him a sympathetic glance over the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Poor thing.”

Harry nods in agreement, looping yarn over his needles as he extends the scarf over his lap for more space, continuing his labor. “My mum grounded me for a week, and I spent that entire time learning to knit so I could remake Gemma’s mittens, since I was the one that ruined them. It was a fair punishment, honestly, and I ended up liking it more than I thought. Plus, the mittens I made were way better than the original pair. You just can’t buy this type of talent anywhere.”

The older woman laughs boisterously at his self-absorbed joke, which results in Harry smiling to himself proudly, giggling along.

Y/N clears her throat softly, leaning against the archway that leads into the room and crossing her arms over her chest in a relaxed manner, quirking an eyebrow at both of them as she makes her presence known. “Having fun?”

Harry glimpses over at her, his eyes raking down her body to where she’s clasping her thighs tightly, irises gleaming with knowing condescension. “Loads.”

“Harry was just telling me about when he learned to knit!” Y/N’s mother chirps, sending a warm smile towards the boy sitting across from her, unaware of the fact that he’d been defiling her daughter not too long ago. “It’s not often that you find a young man with this type of interest. He’s a keeper, sweetheart.”

“Hear that?” The immortal gloats teasingly, wagging his brows playfully as he holds up his unfinished accessory. “I’m a keeper.”

“Mm.” His girlfriend hums sarcastically, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling to avoid giving him any satisfaction. “I bet you’re just loving all this praise, aren’t you?”

Harry whistles lowly, tutting in a chastising fashion. “Someone’s jealous.”

Y/N rectifies her posture, an appalled expression cracking over her features. “Am not!”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.” Harry insists doggedly, looking over at the older woman for support. “Isn’t she?”

Her mom studies her for a moment, clicking her tongue scoldingly. “I think maybe you are, honey. Just a bit.”

Harry cranes his head back towards Y/N, sticking his tongue out mockingly behind the woman’s back and scrunching up his face comically, flaunting his childish point.

“Plus, Harry was sweet enough to make you that scarf he’s working on. You should be more grateful.”

Harry softens his eyes dramatically, sugaring his voice into a honeyed drawl that only she can read through. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m going out of my way to make you this nice gift, and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Dickhead.” The girl grumbles pettily, shifting on her feet as she glowers at him.

Her mother glares at her accusingly. “Language! I taught you better than that!”

“Mm. You should be more careful with what you say; words hurt more than you know.” Harry tacks on with a snide grin, shrugging his brows daringly as he slips an innuendo into his next line. “Mouthing off like that could get you into a whole lot of trouble.”

The pit of her tummy throbs at his curtained challenge, her eyes narrowing as she bites back the urge to curse him out again. “Thanks for the moral advice, Aristotle, but I’m grown enough to face the consequences of my own actions.”

Harry slowly puts down his knitting needles onto the small table beside him, picking up the scarf laying across his thighs and rolling it out in its entirety. It’s now that she realizes the item is much too thin width-wise to be scarf— it looks more like a belt, similar to the strap used to tie off a robe. The vampire flickers his gaze over to Y/N’s mom to make sure she’s not watching, and once he sees the lady is once again preoccupied with her knitting, he trains his attention back onto his partner.

He lifts the long colorful band up to his neck, tying one end around his throat loosely and wrapping the excess length around his knuckles, giving the article a symbolic tug. Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the crude reenactment, suddenly coming to terms with what he’s actually created under the guise of a harmless statement piece: it’s a makeshift collar.

Harry watches her avidly, a sinister smirk carving his dimples into place once he sees she’d understood his implication. He yanks the leash from around his neck swiftly before he gets caught, rolling the material back up neatly to disguise it. He cocks his head to the side conceitedly, his accent slathered with the same amount of arrogance as his gesture. “You never know, dove. Sometimes the consequences might be too much for you to handle.”

[kerie-prince]

clumsy

Hermione Granger x fem Slytherin!reader (fluff)

requested: (@chokemepansy) im terrible at requesting because i blank on ideas BUT anything for hermione please <3 take your time ily 💓

warnings: a single curse word, but mainly just soft hours

summary: Hermione has her very first date with you at Hogsmeade (song inspo from Fergie's Clumsy) (pardon my lame ass summary)

a/n: ty for requesting, luv 🥺 hope you like it! i made the reader slytherin just bc of you <3 and yes, i put in an outfit inspo but it's not like the cringy ones from wattpad

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You came to love the smell of parchment and books. The sound of pages being turned, the feeling of a new book in your hands. You loved them because it made you think of Hermione.

Merlin, you were infatuated with everything about her. The excitement in her voice when she talked about her favorite books, the small paper cuts on her fingers from turning the pages – she didn't mind them as it was normal for her – and the look on her face when she received praise from professors.

She was all you thought about and you wanted to go to the top of the Astronomy Tower and yell out "I LOVE HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER" for the whole school to hear. And you were positive she felt the same. Hermione would refuse to let go of your hands when you walked together from class and on some occasions, you'd catch her staring at you during study sessions. Just like she was doing now.

"Miss Granger, for the last time, I am asking you what are the contents of polyjuice potion?" Snape was hovered over her desk. Hermione jumped in her seat and turned to face the brooding professor. Your Slytherin housemates who sat at the back of class laughed at her startled state as she named the contents. You looked back and glared at them all. When Snape left your table and continued his lecture, you leaned closer to Hermione and whispered as low as you could, “Are you okay? You seem kind of distracted,” you noticed.

“Y-yes, I'm fine,” Hermione stuttered. Snape excused the class and Hermione waited for you to be done packing your things just so she could hold your hand to the Great Hall. “Are we still going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?” you asked.

“Harry’s got detention with McGonagall for ‘ accidentally’ turning Crabbe into a water goblet in class,” Hermione used her free hand to make air quotations, “and Ron’s busy with Lavender that day.” She had a sad look on her face, thinking that they wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade after all. You picked up on it and had an idea. “So, just the two of us then?”

Hermione’s chest became warm, “Okay. It's a date.” Your eyes slightly bulged out and to Hermione, you had an indistinguishable smile, “I mean, not like a date date, but a girls date.” You weren't sure if she meant it like that, but you laughed at her stumbling her words. The always composed girl becoming a cute, blubbering mess for you. Not that you knew for sure it was because for you but you’d given it a lot of thought.

She never held Harry’s hand like she did yours unless he was upset about something and she was comforting him. And she certainly never held Ron’s hand. Nor does she ever hug him knowing Lavender would go ballistic. Not that she’d ever want to. He was her best friend, yeah but she had never gotten used to it. They both had an unspoken thing to not hug.

“Sounds fun,” you chirped, “can’t wait for it.” You gave her a lingering hug before going to your table. You sat in between your best friends Pansy and Daphne. Pansy had a smirk on her lips once you were in her line of sight, “Did you finally tell Granger?” You knew what she was talking about and nudged her arm with your elbow, “Shut it.” The two girls chuckled and gave each other knowing looks. “I might tell her on Saturday,” you disclosed.

They had matching shocked faces; for nearly a year, they’ve watched you pace around their shared dorm debate with yourself whether or not to tell her about how you feel. You’d have a sparkle in your eyes every time you talked about her and nearly spent every day with her. They weren't upset about it. In fact, they couldn't wait to see you two together. But you were unexpectedly insecure by thinking of the worst case scenario in which she’d reject you.

“That’s great, Y/N/N. I’m so happy for you. I know everything will turn out well,” Daphne supported. Pansy nodded and pointed to Daphne as to say ‘Me too’. You grabbed the hands of both girls and held them tightly, “Thanks, girls. I love you guys.” You wrapped an arm around both of them and brought them in for a hug. Daphne returned it while Pansy made a fake coughing sound. “I can’t b-breathe,” she exaggerates. You held on for a couple seconds more before letting go and started eating. “Okay, so how is this happening?” Pansy asked.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade together on Saturday,” you inquired. “So the whole lot is going as well?” Pansy was talking about Harry and Ron of course.

“No, just the two of us alone,” you replied, taking a bite of the chicken on your plate.

“You mean, this is a date?” Daphne exclaimed. “We’re going to help pick an outfit, no questions asked.” She had a stern look that dared you to talk back. As sweet as Daphne is, once her mind is set to something, she doesn't budge. You accepted it and was met with her usual warm smile. Inside, you were ecstatic and couldn't wait for Saturday. Your crush has gone on for too long, and you were tired of waiting.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

Your dorm mates got you up at the crack of dawn. And by crack of dawn, it was actually 10 am at most. They made you change into every outfit they picked out which totaled in 8. You appreciated everything they were doing, but some of the outfits were too much for a day in Hogsmeade. Daphne picked out tennis skirts with cropped argyle sweaters. Pansy picked short dresses that stopped at your mid-thigh and black wool turtlenecks to go over them. They had completely different aesthetics which is what probably made them perfect friends.

You settled on something casual; a thick striped long sleeve polo with light blue jeans and white trainers. It was going to be a nice spring day and you didn't want to wear something that would be too short and you get cold later. Daphne did your hair in two French plaits and Pansy did your makeup modestly. Once you were done, it was noon and you rushed to meet Hermione for your ‘girl date’.

She took the air straight from your lungs. She looked more breathtaking than the night of the Yule Ball. You distinctly remember being incredibly jealous of Viktor Krum and beat yourself up for not asking her before he did. But now, if he was here, you were sure that the famous Quidditch athlete would be jealous of you.

Hermione’s usually wild hair was tamed into smooth wavy curls that framed her delicate face. She wore a floral print button up that was definitely new as you’ve never seen it before. Or did she save it just for you? Her navy jeans hugged her ankles and she donned light pink flats. And probably for the first time since the Yule Ball, she had mascara and lipgloss on. Casual, but perfect.

Your face was flushed, and you weren't sure if she was also blushing or if maybe she was just wearing blush. “Shall we?” You reached out to grab her hands – her soft hands – and waited for her response. She didn't say anything when she laced her fingers with yours and started walking on the path to Hogsmeade. Hermione was about to say that you looked pretty when she tripped over a small rock on the pathway. “Are you okay?” you expressed concern. She was still holding onto your hand as she steadied herself up, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

You snorted and had to hold the butterbeer in your mouth, “Ron did what?” Hermione laughed as she told you how Lavender exploded on Ron for forgetting their anniversary and when he tried to make it up by giving her chocolates that he got from his older brothers, Lavender instantly grew a huge chin that drooped over her neck. Ron had gotten so mad at them and in unison, they told him ‘Why’d you think we’d ever give you real ones?’

“So that’s why no one has seen her for a couple days!” you noted. She was nodding as she laughed. You could only imagine what it was like to see it in person. Poor Lav. You went back and forth talking about whatever went on since the last time you were together.

Hermione went on talking about a new book she read about over the winter holiday. The way she expressed her emotions and passion for it made you fall for the Gryffindor girl more. When you hadn't said anything, she stopped and lowered her head, “I’m boring you, aren't I?”

You sat straight in your chair and fumbled your words before reaching out to grab her hand from across the table, “No, no, no, of course not. I could never be bored of you, I love you.” Your eyes widened. You didn't exactly expect to let it slip out like that, but you studied her reaction to see if you could leave it at that or otherwise. She sat still with a poker face. “Y-you’re my best friend, Mione–”

“I love you, too,” she confessed. “Huh?” Please, please, please tell me I heard her right. You didn't get to fully process what she said because after a few seconds, she gathered all her courage and reached over the table to give you a quick peck on your lips. It would've been a sweet moment hadn't she accidentally knocked her glass over in the process. Everyone in the Three Broomsticks had their eyes on you, Hermione’s face beet red and lowered out of embarrassment. You tried cleaning the mess and out of nowhere, Hermione ran out. Fuck this you thought as you ran after her.

“Mione, wait!” She hadn't gone far and luckily for you, she listened. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes averted from yours. “Where are you going? Aren’t we on a date?” Confidence had finally kicked in when you asked her. Hermione’s breath hitched. She couldn't see anything in your face that showed you were joking. Because you weren't. “Yes,” she grabbed your hands and started walking towards the other shops in the small village. Until once again, she nearly fell back when she nearly slipped over another rock on the ground. You supported her back up and giggled, “You’re so clumsy.”

—

requests open!

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 8)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut... a minor injury... a motorcycle... a teeny tiny bit of angst?? honestly it's just pretty normal aside from the smut

You actually fell asleep without anything too untoward happening, just kissing and cuddling and whispers that didn't make much sense to each other but still made your heart flutter each time.

Waking up, though, was another story entirely.

"Arăți frumos în timp ce dormi," he mumbled into the crook of your neck, pulling your hips back so you could feel his hard cock against your ass. You hummed and snuggled up closer to him, bathing in his warmth as much as possible.

“I swear I’ve never slept so well in my life,” you mumbled as you reached back to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you in my bed all the time so I can finally get some rest.”

He smiled against your skin, sucking on that spot just behind your ear that made your eyes roll back in your head. “Il vrei?” he asked huskily, and you didn’t even care what he was asking; when he said it like that, the answer was always ‘yes.’ You nodded happily, biting your lip, as he started to push your panties down and helped you arch your back so he could guide his cock to your entrance.

You still gasped and clutched at the sheets beneath you, you couldn’t help it even if it wasn’t your first time discovering how thick he was. It was just barely painful for one fleeting moment before it faded into that delightful fullness, his strokes long and slow as he sighed against your ear. “Seba,” you whimpered under your breath.

“Sunt mai bun decât el, nu-i așa? Nu te-a futut niciodată atât de bine,” he growled a little, holding you tighter. “Sper că știe. Sper că știe că am făcut dragoste cu tine și că sunt îndrăgostit de tine.”

You couldn’t be sure if it was his words in your ear or his arms so tight around your chest that made it a little hard to breathe, but something was so different about the way he was speaking now than you’d ever heard him before. It was difficult to describe— not quite angry, but so passionate it could almost seem that way. You could feel it in the way he moved inside you, too; he was clearly holding back, like there was a storm beneath his calm surface.

You wanted all of it. Turning back, you kissed him and pulled his hair a little, hoping it would get the point across. It seemed to, considering how he gasped and sped up, fucking you harder and deeper as you moaned a little louder than you meant to.

“C��nd a fost aici, am vrut să te sărut,” he continued in a low voice, speaking right against your parted lips. “Am vrut ca soțul tău să vadă. Am vrut să te arunc în patul ăsta și să te fac să țipi, pentru ca toată lumea să te audă. Am vrut să știe că sunt eu.”

“Yours,” you said before you could stop yourself, and thankfully you didn’t have to worry too much about the implications of it because he couldn’t understand what you meant. He grabbed your face anyways, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he stared into your eyes.

“A mea,” he purred, fucking you faster until you started to whine and arch your back harder.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered, but he nodded before you could finish, encouraging you with whispered words and a hand slipping down between your legs to rub your swollen clit. You cried out, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm, but he held fast and kept up the pace, sending you tumbling over the edge before you had really prepared yourself for it. Unintentionally, you held your breath for a few moments as it washed over you, the tension releasing finally with a long sigh.

The very moment you began the denouement from your peak, he pulled out and rolled you onto your back, slipping right back in as he slotted his body between your legs. You whimpered and gripped his shoulders, and he got right back to his pace— but this time your body couldn’t take as much of the force and so it began to rock the bed, his headboard slamming into the wall. At first neither of you cared until he glanced up and hissed, “rahat.”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and craning your head around to see he’d clearly damaged the wallpaper there. “Oops,” you giggled, “guess we should take a break and fix that—”

He pushed you back down onto the bed as you yelped, capturing you in a hungry kiss; one arm slipped under your shoulders, holding you tight, while the other reached up so his hand could grip the headboard and hold it still as he started to pound into you again. You moaned weakly and relaxed in his embrace, feeling the bed still rock slightly under you but much more interested in the feeling of his cock slamming right into the most sensitive and overstimulated spots inside your channel.

“Oh god,” you sighed as you couldn’t stop your head from falling back into the pillow, closing your eyes to dodge the way he stared down at you with an intensity that bordered on fury. He moved in to bite at your neck instead, and if you were any more in touch with reality you would’ve complained that you didn’t bring many clothes that would cover his bite marks, but you were much too lost in the sensation he was bringing you for that.

“Atât de bine, atât de bine,” he chanted with a growl, “voi veni… atât de aproape…”

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please, Seba— yes, right there, oh fuck!”

You came again, technically, but it was nothing like the first time— more shallow but less brief, like the pleasure was spread thinner and wider, until you worried your vision would go completely black. He grunted loudly as he filled you, still thrusting roughly with each pump of his release into you, but finally he slowed and sighed, his breaths coming hard and fast as he let go of the headboard and held you tightly.

He seemed exhausted, honestly, and you laughed breathlessly as he collapsed on top of you. “You can’t be so worn out this early in the morning,” you scolded as you kissed his shoulder.

“Nu voi mai părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he groaned.

“At least let me up so I can shower!” you protested, trying to push his limp weight off of you and failing pitifully as you laughed.

“Nu, nici tu nu vei părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he cooed, covering your face in kisses as you laughed harder. Only when you defensively pinched his arm did he pull back and pull out, letting you slip out from under him.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised as kissed him on the cheek, dashing to the bathroom and getting one last glance at him shaking out his sore hand before you shut the door.

Chapter 38 done… only five more to go, if your outline was to be trusted (which it most certainly should not). Still, you were finally reaching the real height of the tension, the climax of the story likely to hit as soon as the next chapter.

But it wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you thought you would write when you sat down here months ago and began with page 1. In fact, it was better.

You sighed a little, looking away from the typewriter for the first time in maybe an hour or more, glancing out the window where the sun was starting to set and painting the whole countryside in an orange glow; but it wasn’t the only thing making the leaves change colors— fall was undeniably on the way, enough so that poor Sebastian was raking leaves already. And, because evil is a real and powerful force in this world, he had started wearing a shirt while working outside.

Not that it wasn’t still buckets of fun to watch him go: you found yourself leaning against the window frame to drink in the sight of him, smiling widely to yourself as he sighed and wiped his brow.

All of a sudden, he turned and caught you ogling, making him grin and you laugh with embarrassment. He waved at you, and you waved back, resigning to getting back to work for just a few more pages…

The creaking of the stairs made you realize someone was coming, but with Sebastian just outside it could only be Mrs. Alberti. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you ran to the closet to rifle through your sweaters, hoping to find something with a high neck. Nothing looked long enough, making you groan in frustration.

She knocked on the door and you jumped slightly. “One moment!” you called out to her, digging up a random scarf and throwing it around your neck to hastily cover the bruises Sebastian had left on you. “Yes, come in,” you finally sighed with relief as you threw yourself back into the chair.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Alberti smiled sweetly as she peeked through the crack in the door, “I just wanted to offer to cook dinner here tonight. I’m making a big recipe so I figured I might as well, unless you had your own plans.”

“No, that would be lovely,” you nodded, “thank you.”

“Just come downstairs in about, oh, fifteen minutes and it’ll be ready,” she explained.

“You don’t want any help in the kitchen?”

She scoffed a little. “From you?”

You chuckled at her brutal honesty. “Okay, point taken.”

“Sorry, dear, it’s just that I wouldn’t want your… Western sensibilities to muck up the recipe,” she defended.

“I can’t blame you,” you smirked. “I’ll be down in a quarter hour.”

She nodded and shut the door again, leaving you to unwrap the itchy scarf from your neck and let out a slow breath.

Of course, with an imminent deadline you couldn’t actually get any good work done, so you just read back over some older chapters and made a couple simple edits. All too soon, you checked the clock and realized you should go ahead and make your way to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath as you stepped into the entryway where the smell of Mrs. Alberti’s cooking emanated through the rest of the house. It brought back memories of when you were here with Michael and she cooked for the both of you. Those memories were wonderful once, then soured, but now you were coming to appreciate them again. Although, it was easier to enjoy them when you imagined the black eye your soon-to-be-ex was likely sporting now.

You took a seat at the table and let her serve you, even though it made you feel a little guilty; you knew she would never let you serve yourself when she was cooking.

“How’s your novel coming along, dear?” she asked as she took her own seat and you began eating.

“Well,” you began with a little sigh, “stories have a mind of their own, Mrs. Alberti. All this time I thought I was writing a thriller— something scary, gritty, maybe even tragic. But I’m coming up on the end of it and I’m realizing that all this time, I’ve been writing a romance.”

She smiled, glancing behind you to the doorway. “Yes, things have a funny way of turning out differently than we expect.”

Wondering what she was looking at, you turned to find Sebastian leaning against the wood frame, wiping his hands on a towel. “Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Sit down, Sebastian, have some dinner,” she offered to him as she stood up to pour him a new portion of soup.

He nodded and sat at the table, “multumesc,” he mumbled when she put a bowl in front of him.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, everyone eating their meals quietly. It was nice to have a moment of normalcy— your new normal— after such an eventful day previous.

“So,” Mrs. Alberti broke the silence unexpectedly, “you two had sex?”

You instantly spat out your sip of soup, making Sebastian give you a concerned look; you waved dismissively as if to say you were fine, though you coughed a couple times. “I… uhm— how did you—?”

“He was whistling while he gardened today,” she explained, “and you look the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“To be fair, I think the first thing is because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you added with a little laugh.

“And the second thing?”

“...at least partially because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you admitted.

“Fair enough,” she chuckled, “but don’t think I don’t see the way your shoulders aren’t so tense and you’re smiling all the time. I know a woman in love when I see one.”

“L-love?” you questioned instantly, choking on the word.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed, almost a look of pity on her face, “did you not know? It’s all over your face.”

You took a slow breath and pondered your meal before taking another bite. “No… I knew,” you admitted, “I guess you just put it really bluntly.”

She smiled. “It’s how we do things in Hungary. You should be honest with him.”

“With what words?”

“Sounds like you don’t need them,” she smirked. “I’ll leave you two be, then. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

She bid Sebastian goodnight with a little wave, and he nodded back happily; with the back door shut as she headed to her own house, you two were alone again. He took a sip of his soup and you finally noticed the marks on his spoon-holding hand.

“Your hand…” you realized, pointing to it, remembering with burning cheeks how he got that injury.

“Ah,” he smiled, looking down at the purple knuckles and smiling as he rubbed them gently. “Un sacrificiu demn.”

After dinner, you picked up with some reading (so much more relaxing than writing, believe it or not) and Sebastian joined you for the same on the couch.

Just laying together like this— quiet, relaxed, and totally at peace— was igniting feelings inside you that you had gone without for so long that you’d forgotten they existed completely. Resting your head on his chest, between the unbuttoned halves of his shirt, you could hear his heartbeat and it was soothing yet invigorating somehow.

He held his book up over your head while you used one hand to hold yours open and read through the space between his chest and his arm. It wasn’t the most ergonomic position necessarily, and your arm was definitely getting tired, but it was worth it to be close to him in these little ways.

"Book?" he asked innocently after a long stint of silent reading, setting his own aside to look down at you.

You closed your book and looked back up at him, resting your chin on his chest. "The book I'm reading? It's good," you nodded (as much as you could without stabbing him in the sternum with your chin, that is).

"Nu, book ta," he clarified, poking your forehead, before making a motion like he was typing.

"My book!" you realized. "Yes, the book I'm writing, it's nearly done…"

Your heart started to sink inside your chest.

"And when it's done, I'll go back to London. Like I planned from the beginning. And it'll be published and I'll start from scratch at a new life… alone.”

You cleared your throat and looked away. “Ești în regulă?” he asked quietly, sounding concerned.

You shook yourself out of it, smiling back up at him. “Let’s go into the city tomorrow,” you decided. “I need some things, if I’m going to be staying longer…”

He seemed to appreciate that you were telling him something, but couldn’t determine what. “Nyíregyháza,” you explained, “let’s drive into the city.” You pantomimed a steering wheel to explain yourself better.

“Ah,” he nodded, “nu într-o mașină. Îmi luăm bicicleta.” He returned with the motion of steering a bike— and when he curled his fingers to rev the proverbial engine, you realized he meant a motorbike. “Motocicletă,” he smiled.

“You drive a motorcycle?” you realized with a little gasp.

“Da,” he grinned, a little more mischievous than before.

“Oh, you really are gonna be the death of me,” you laughed. “Let’s go see this bike of yours.”

He helped you up off the couch and escorted you to the shed across from the house, the last light of sunset just barely enough to illuminate the way. You knew he worked in here sometimes, but you never realized he was doing mechanic work— indeed there it was: a motorcycle, right by Mrs. Alberti’s car, clearly quite old but restored to decent condition. “Iată-o, fetița mea,” he announced as he raised his arms to present it to you.

“Wow, you’ve been working hard,” you realized as you looked around at all the parts and tools strewn about.

“Avea nevoie de un alternator nou și ceva de lucru în interiorul motorului, dar acum funcționează la fel de bine ca nou... dacă nu chiar mai bine,” he enumerated as he knelt down in front of it, grabbing a towel to rub a spot of dirt from the headlight. “Vrei să conduci acum?”

You tilted your head.

“Acum,” he repeated, standing up and pulling you closer, tilting his head back toward the bike. “Sa mergem acum.”

“You want to go for a drive now? It’s pretty late, I was about to go to bed,” you protested meekly.

“Haide,” he smiled, stepping back and pulling you with him. “Plimbare pe spate.”

He handed you a helmet that had been resting on one of the handlebars, and you dutifully put it on as he got on the bike and fiddled around with it for a moment, kicking out the kickstand and finding his balance before getting it to start with a roar that echoed around the shed. He beamed proudly, looking up at you. “Eh?” he prompted with a nod.

“Yeah, it sounds great,” you encouraged with a thumbs up.

“Ce mai face casca?” he asked, leaning forward to knock his fist on your helmet lightly, making you laugh.

“Yeah, it’s good,” you nodded.

“Atunci alătură-te mie,” he instructed as he patted the seat behind him. You took a quick breath and got on, wrapping your arms around him. “Mai strâns,” he mumbled, pulling your arms in to hold him tighter. You smiled and rested your head on his back, yelping slightly when the bike lurched forward and he steered you out of the shed and into the grass outside. He was very slow at first until he steered to the gravel road, at which point he instantly picked up speed until the wind whipped at your face. His unbuttoned shirt was flying in every direction, leaving him totally unprotected from the night air, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding fast as he took you down the road, hugging the turns letting the headlight illuminate only as much as he needed to see.

When you looked up, you could see the stars more clearly than ever. You sighed and hugged him tighter, amazed at how they didn’t move at all while the world on the ground flew by. It made sense, obviously, with them being millions of miles away, but it was jarring how different the speed of the world could look from different perspectives. And as exhilarating as it was to see the countryside roll by in a blur, you preferred the steady night sky; you didn’t want to think about this moment flying by, about the fleeting nature of all of this. You wanted to believe this would always be here, just like the stars. You wanted to focus on the things that would never leave you, the moments that would become lifelong memories, and not on the reality of how beautiful things are not usually permanent things.

“I love you,” you whispered against his ear, quiet enough for your words to be blown away into the night. A small tear left a hot trail on your chilled skin, blown back over your temple instantly by Sebastian’s acceleration.

In silence, you drove into the unknown with him, letting yourself forget about the rest of the world for just a little while longer. You deserved that.

[diavolosthots]

I adore your work and I am so happy I caught you open request it's my first time! May I please request something with Diavolo handling his human exchange student being a kid who is like 6 who is convinced that Diavolo os their dad and clings to him crying when someone tries to take them away because they don't want to loose their dad scared of being alone again? 100000% platonic obvs. It just sounds cute and sad because Dia could probably relate to the poor kid and I'm a sucker for soft dia and found family stuff. As per your rules that I hope I'm getting right with mc being a kid being okay I want you to know this is not and oc just a basic sad little kid with family issues. Just don't want you to think it is when I swear ots not because of how detailed I felt I was giving. Sorry for rambling I really admire you and your skill and just am so nervous making a request.

Your rambling got cuter and cuter and I couldn't help myself from smiling. Yes this is okay and yes you've read the rules right :)

You're Not Not My Dad (DIAVOLO X GN!PLATONIC!CHILD!READER)

For a task he trusted the eldest with, he certainly didn’t think Lucifer would decide to let a literal child enter the Devildom. “Lord Diavolo, I swear I had no clue! On the paper it said 26, not 6!” Sure enough; a quick glance at the paper and it indeed said ‘age: 26’ and yet here they are, which a barely functioning human in a world they can’t even comprehend. “We can’t keep them here, under any circumstance.” Another quick glance at the child in front of him and then the pure fear they had in their eyes when they saw the rest of the demons in the room put Diavolo in a tough spot. “I will take them home immediately.” But the minute Lucifer tried to reach out for you, you jumped up and ran to Diavolo, clinging onto his pant leg and hiding behind him, “don’t let him take me, daddy!” Diavolo’s whole body stiffened at the name, “Daddy? I’m not your father.” But you would have none of it, still clinging to him and actually screaming out when Barbatos tried to pry you off. “It’s okay Barbatos, I’ll just take them.” He mainly said that because your screaming was unbearable but when he leaned down to pick you up so he could take you back, you had tears streaming down your cheeks and he hates admitting that it actually broke his heart, “why are you crying little one?” “Because the bad men want to take me away from you, daddy.” You snuggled into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him for dear life, and for once in his own life, Diavolo wasn’t quite sure on what to do. 

That was a couple months ago. No matter how many times he tried to take you back home, you’d find a way to cling to him, kicking and screaming for him to not leave you too, so he decided to keep you, at least for a little while. He made sure to remind you every day that he was certainly not your father, but you never believed him so he gave up at some point and decided to just have a serious talk with you when you’re older and more willing to listen and comprehend. “Daddy!” Sadly, having you around also meant that he barely had time to get enough things done and Barbatos was constantly running after you and not getting things done, either. Speaking of Barbatos, he’s still salty about the time you decided to bite his tail and has made it a point to never be in his demon form around you. “My Lord, I’m so sorry, I can’t seem to keep (Y/N) occupied.”

In all honesty, Diavolo’s eye was twitching because this is the third meeting you decided to interrupt, not this week, but today alone. “(Y/N). Please listen to Barbatos.” You climbed up in his chair, sitting proudly and taking random papers from his desk, pretending to read them, “vetoed! Trashed! Wait… this one looks cool, it has a seal on it!” Diavolo snatched that one from you so fast, you could’ve thought it was just your imagination, “(Y/N), are you listening to me? I said you ha--!” “Daddy look, if you take two pens and hold it up, it looks like Barbatos has horns!” Barbatos was also getting mildly irritated but he was trying so hard to keep his calm. “(Y/N), why don’t you listen to Lord Diavolo? I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to play with you at the en--!” “Look Daddy, I’m wearing your coat!” You seemed so happy, so full of life and as much as it inconvenienced him right now, Diavolo couldn’t bring himself to get stern with you, and he didn’t have to. “(Y/N)! Listen to what people are telling you!” Because it was Barbatos who lost his cool, and apparently also his manners. 

The loud sound of his voice along with the fact that his smile dropped to a glare had the whole room silent. Even Lucifer who was part of the meeting, managed to stand at attention. No one remembers the last time Barbatos lost his patience and all of them wondered if he ever lost his patience before this, but that’s not the issue now. Your lip was quivering, tears threatening to spill over as small sobs escaped your mouth, “no…” Diavolo knew what would be next and he doesn’t have the heart or the time for it. “Ssh.. It’s okay, come here. Daddy’s got you.” He quickly picks you up, holding you against his chest and stroking through your hair lovingly, trying to keep you from screaming out. A crying you was a very loud you and he’s trying to save everyone’s ears from that spiel. “Barbatos, take Lucifer and leave, please.” The butler, as much as he wanted to just yank the kid back to human realm, could do nothing but nod, his usual smile returning to his face as he bowed, “of course, My Lord.” He waited until Lucifer went ahead of him, following suit and then closing the door behind him. 

Diavolo let out a long sigh, seating himself back in his chair and then propping you up in his lap. He pulled you back far enough to look at you, golden eyes soft while one of his hands continued to stroke through your hair, “he didn’t mean it, but he does have a point. You can’t keep interrupting me all the time, (Y/N).” You brought one of your hands up to wipe some of the tears before leaning back against him, burying your chest in his face, “b-but…. I just want to spend time with you, Daddy…” Another sigh escaped Diavolo as his mind raced to find solutions, turning left to right in his chair kind of in a rocking motion as he did so. “I know that, but I have things I need to get done before I can have fun time with you.” Diavolo rested his cheek against your head, staring at the paperwork on his desk and then at the sealed piece of paper that he took from you earlier.

“What if… when I don’t have a meeting, what if I set up a small desk for you right here, right beside mine, and we can work together, hm? How does that sound?” Your head immediately lifted off of his shoulder, a wide smile evident on your lips and Diavolo felt his heart settle with content at the sight, “yes! I want that, Daddy! And then you and I can rule together!” Diavolo laughed softly, shaking his head, “hm… we’ll see about that. You have to promise me you’ll listen to Barbatos though AND you have to leave when I have meetings, okay?” You nodded, holding up your tiny pinky, “pinky promise!” which Diavolo gladly wrapped around his before kissing it softly, turning you back around in his lap so you can watch him go through some paperwork. Part of him just hopes you’ll find this boring and leave, but a tiny, other part of him hopes you’ll stick around for a little while longer.

You may not be his child, but you’ve grown on him, and at this point, he’d do anything for you so as long as it didn’t put the Devildom in danger. He loves you, as if you were his own.

[busycryin]

Disinhibition

Pairing: Benjamin ‘Benny’ Miller x Reader 

Word Count: 2k 

Warnings: Injury, bad words, mentions of sex. 

Summary: Benny gets injured and loses his filter.  (Not that he had much of one to begin with)

Note: This is self indulgent fluff. I regret nothing. I am in love with all of these men. 

It was never your idea of a fun Friday night - watching Benny get the ever living shit beaten out of him. 

Until six months ago you’d never have even set foot in an event such as this, but here you were, beer in hand watching the brother of your best friend take an uppercut to the face in a fight you think he was winning. 

To you Benny was the gentle giant; a sweet guy who topped up the window wiper fluid in your car when it got low or the guy that gave you the last hot dog at the barbeque because he knew you secretly hated Frankie’s burgers. In this ring he was one hundred percent the warrior you’d heard stories of as a mask of icy calculation had descended across his features. 

The outside world was shut out; it was just him and his opponent in the ring.

His opponent just so happened to be a gorilla - there was no other way to describe the mans body as his arms were thick chords of muscles covering bone - somehow managing to make Benny look lithe. 

You were still new to this but you weren’t quite sure how he was even in the same weight class.

Christ, this was bad for your blood pressure.

You couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering around your stomach despite the fact that for every hit Benny took he landed two. The two were locked into a hold on the ground, you didn’t quite understand what was happening, but Ben had somehow got the upper hand. It was as he held the man down that the bell finally rang and you released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding; the round was over. 

Santiago, another friend of Will’s who was standing beside you and Frankie, blew out a heavy breath. 

“This is a fuckin’ close one.”

“Guys fuckin’ huge.” Frankie echoed your thoughts whilst taking a sip of his beer. 

Will was bent over Benny talking into his ear as the younger of the duo desperately chugged his water bottle. He looked absolutely exhausted, your heart was beating madly in your chest; you decided to remain silent. 

All too soon the break was over and the mouth guard was back in place protecting those pearly whites that were often directed at you in a half-smirk/half-grin concoction that always signalled he was up to no good. 

“Don’t worry, Guapa! Ben’s got this, he’s one tough sonovabitch.” Frankie patted your back reassuringly. Somehow you weren’t convinced but you smiled at both of the men, nodding enthusiastically and draining your half full beverage. 

You knelt to place your cup under your seat, rising finally as the bell rang, signalling the beginning of a new round of torture. Your hands interlocked nervously in front of your mouth flinching at every hit the other man landed on Benny. 

You felt Santiago pat your shoulder and shoot you a smile whilst he cheered for the younger Miller. “He’s got this, Y/N.” He spoke, repeating Frankie’s earlier reassurances.

Benny did not have this. 

As was made evidently clear a couple of minutes later when the two were grappling on the ground, his opponent had got the upper hand and was above him trying to get him to submit. But Benny being Benny wouldn’t give in, despite being banged to rights. 193 pounds didn’t seem so heavy right now as his opponent twisted his arm to the ground, his thick legs wrapped around Ben’s torso. 

Your heart dropped as you could’ve swore you heard the crack of bone over the crowd. Finally Benny tapped. 

The fight was over, he’d lost. 

Santiago had thrown his hat off raking his fingers through his hair in disappointment “Mierda! I thought he had it!”

“That guy was fucking massive, I hope he’s okay.” You mumbled when you realised Ben was still sitting on the padded ground. 

“Let’s go see, eh?” Frank gestured towards the ring where a medic had now entered, tailed closely by Will. You had to stop yourself from racing to his side as sat injured in the ring.

You see, you and Benny had a complicated relationship.

Well it wasn’t that difficult, simply put Ben was a bit of a slut, now you didn’t judge him. Live and let live, you say, but casual sex just wasn’t your thing. Especially not with the brother of your best friend. You’d come to rely on your easy friendship with the older Miller brother so you��avoided your relationship with Ben going beyond flirting - your friendship wasn’t something you wanted to fuck with on a whim. 

So, a strange friendship in limbo was where you and Benjamin Miller firmly remained. 

Benny was pulled up into standing, his face was pale as the MMA medic inspected his arm. The man shook his head at Will as they walked, both supporting the injured man. 

“-dislocated, he’s gonna have to go to the ER.” The three of you caught the end of the conversation as you followed the trio. 

“He okay?” Frankie questioned first “Going to the hospital?”

“Yeah, the idiot pushed himself too far. Popped his shoulder out of the socket instead of submitting.”

“Shit, Ben! Are you okay?” You asked, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine Y/N.” He grunted ever the hard headed soldier, his face was laced with pain even as he tried to be impassive in his agony. 

You backed off at his clear dismissal, not wanting to push him whilst he was in such pain.

“We’ll meet you there, yeah?” Santiago questioned.

In the end, you and ‘Pope’ sat in the hospital chairs for an hour or two waiting. Frankie had waited for an hour before he had to get back to his family, the two of you had insisted he get back. It wasn’t fair on Mama Morales to have to look after the baby on her own. 

Santiago was the friend of Will’s you knew the least. He was always kind but he simply was never around. He came and went as he pleased much like an outdoor cat, but in the short time you’d been around him you knew he was a nice guy. Two, going on three hours alone talking about nonsense had pretty much cemented that as you now sat in the waiting room playing go fish, waiting desperately to hear some news about your - What exactly was Benny to you?

Your crush? No. You weren’t in Kindergarten.

Your friend? No. Not enough.

The guy you had incredibly strong feelings for - the kind that made that tingle in your stomach when he laughed at your jokes but you can’t tell him because he’s a man whore who can’t commit to one woman? No. Abit long, not to mention a complete overshare. 

Your person.

You were waiting desperately to hear some news about your person when finally Will rounded the corner. You stood before you realised what you were doing.

“He okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Asking about you Y/N, come and see him?”

“Of course.” You reply picking up your purse. 

Both you and Santi follow Will through the winding hospital halls. You hear Benjamin before you see him.

“I wanna rock and roll all night and party everyday! ” His usually melodious voice is hoarse and slurred, he sounded somewhat drunk as he butchered the rock song from his favourite band.

“I love you too, man.” Will says with a small smile on his face as he sits on one of the chairs beside the bed. 

“He’s had some anesthesia. He’s pretty high right now, so brace yourselves.” He’s sitting up in the bed arm wrapped in a sling, staring up at the ceiling as he sings (shouts) when you round the corner.

“Will, you’re back!” He lights up as he sees his brother “I love you.”

However Will is forgotten instantly as soon as Benny catches sight of you. “Will! This is her, Christ, its the angel I fuckin’ told you about!”

“Calm down, Ben.” Will still has the smile on his face but he tilts his head to the other patient behind the curtain being subjected to his younger brother's lack of an indoor voice.

“How are you doing, Brother?” Santi questions, sitting on the chair to the other side of him. 

He looks at Santiago. “Pope! Have you seen her? She’s so gorgeous, man. She’s here.”

You chuckle as you walk to stand beside him on the bed. He instantly takes your hand in his good one and pats the bed beside him. You can’t help but acquiesce despite the cloudy look in his eyes. It’s like the lights are all on but nobody's really home.

You hop up, facing him sideways on. You’re not about to cuddle the man in front of Will and Santiago, no matter how desperately you’d like to.

“How you feeling, Soldier?”

“Better now you’re here, Angel.” You can’t help the snort that comes out at his words. 

“I’m glad I can help.”

“You could help me in another way y’know Y/N.” He smirks in a way that is so completely Benny you almost forget he’s delirious. 

“I think you might regret this when you have a filter, lovely.”

“You hear that Will?” Benny’s whisper isn’t quite as stealthy as he believes as his voice is barely quieter than a shout. “She fuckin’ called me lovely, I’m fuckin in there man!”

“...No way...” Will replies simultaneously trying and failing to keep a straight face.  “Y’know Ben you might want to calm down, you might be making Y/N uncomfortable.”

“Y/N… Oh god Y/N. She's gorgeous man, inside and out and her tits -Man her tits are-” He makes a growling noise. 

“Ben!” Will admonishes whilst Santiago is looking on, his hand covering his mouth desperately trying to contain his chortles. “I think you should get some rest buddy.”

“I’ma do that. I’ma put my arms down, my head back and get some rest.” Benny tells his brother resolutely all whilst nodding his head and in his defense he does just that… for a grand total of ten seconds before his blue eyes reopen and fix on you. 

“Y/N?” Benny ‘whispers’ whilst tugging on your hand that is still firmly locked with his good one. 

“Mmh?”

“I think we should have a baby.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. We can have like 6 babies and I’ma’ fuck you so good every single night for the rest of our lives and we can have our own barbecues and I’ll cook you up the hamburgers special.” You can’t help it as your eyes widen exposing the whites in their entirety. You’re trapped somewhere between laughing and mortification as you know there’s no way in hell Will and Santi didn’t hear that.

“I’m not a baby machine dude, six kids is alot for my body to handle.”

“You’ll think about it?” He asks his eyes heavy as they lock on yours.

“Moron,” You chuckle whilst raising the hand which is not currently his prisoner and push the strand of dirty blonde hair from his eyes “You get some rest and I’ll give you all the babies you can handle, big guy.” 

“If I go to sleep am I going to die?”

“No, Ben. You won’t die.” You can’t help a final giggle at his expense, apparently Benjamin Miller without a filter is quite the character. Finally he closed his eyes, his strong much larger hand still wrapped around your own as he drifted off.

A few moments passed and nobody seemed to know what to say. Every suspicion they’d had, had been confirmed. You hoped to god they weren’t going to tease him about it.

“Don’t make fun of him too badly when he wakes up, fellas.” You mumble awkwardly, your eyes not leaving his face. 

“That’s my line.” Will pipes up from his seat when you finally meet his eyes. “My brothers a stubborn guy, he’ll see this as a screwing things up with you Y/N/N.”

“He never said anything. The guy’s impossible to read.” 

“Nah, you’re just too close to it, is all.” Will supplied - ever the guiding light in your world recently.

“Well. We’ll see, won't we?” The guys start discussing the fight, about where Ben went wrong - something you didn’t really want to think about for a long time - or in the very least until his shoulder was healed. 

Finally during the lull of conversation as they’re both checking their phones you go to ask Will when they’re releasing the giant moron when Santiago finally speaks up. “So, Y/N. You and Ben mind naming one of the kids after me? I figure with 6 of em’ you can spare at least one for the namesake.”

Tag List:

All - @benakenalove

[foxyslide]

✨️ If you get this, answer with ten random facts about yourself, and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications. Anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog ✨️

(sorry it’s late thank you @chubbyybunnie for tagging me! 💜 )

I can speak French, English, and a little Sinhalese

I love plants I have many. They help remind me of what’s important, what my values are, and they are the main reason I haven’t tried to kms again.

i am a bibliophile, or WAS, since my mental health plummeted I’ve neglected many hobbies

i am a baby green witch, actually lost my shadow book after moving fucking sucks, haven’t been practicing but have a spell I want to do tm

i love drawing but again haven’t been doing much of that recently, another hobby I want to pick up again

i have some Dutch roots from my father’s side

my mother is Buddhist and my father Christian, so at my altar I have the Buddha and the mother and child (representation of Mary and Jesus but since the mother and child are older than Christianity I just see them as that)

I am a Capricorn

i am agnostic I believe in everything, makes life more fun

I got a new rocking chair and I fucking love it

🌸

[that-was-anticlimactic]

Sokka with Tourette’s Headacanons Part Two

that no one asked for but here they are because I wanted to write more

Part One here and links to all of my other TS headcanons and such at the end!

*rubs hands together*

let’s start with premonitory urge and Sokka’s experience with it!

for those who don’t know, premonitory urges are essentially sensory tics. It’s when you feel a sensation or a discomfort in your body where you want to-- no, need to do something for touch something. For example, it can be as simple as this feeling in my body and head that I need to rub my phone screen a certain way. If I don’t rub it, the uncomfortable feeling will linger and make me anxious or extra fidgety. They can also increase tics.

Now, in Sokka’s life with TS, he has had... some problems with premonitory urge. When he was younger and training to be a warrior, there were multiple occasions where he almost sliced his fingers off because he kept getting this physical feeling that he had to touch the swords or spears etc... a certain way.

When he gets older, he finds that they start to bother him during council meetings in the Fire Nation, especially when Zuko is doing important stuff so he has to sit far away.

They’ll be in the middle of an important meeting when Sokka looks up from his doodling to glance at Zuko and this tingling, gravitational feeling suddenly moves through his body and he can’t stop staring at the edge of Zuko’s chair and he knows that he needs to rub it.

Obviously, he can’t just get up in the middle of the meeting, walk over to the Fire Lord, and rub his chair (even though they are dating and Zuko would definitely let him)

I have had experiences like this during class where I would mentally shut down or have to calm myself down from an anxiety attack because I need to rub the white board my teacher is writing on or the teacher’s desk but we are literally in the middle of class so I can’t do that (doesn’t always end like that, but that’s worse case scenario). And it sucks. So much. So, Sokka is miserable.

One time Sokka was so focused on not having an anxiety attack because his body was telling him that he needed to rub the surface of a Fire Nation elder’s desk-thingy that’s in front of his chair (because sometimes his body hates him and it happens to people he doesn’t know that well’s stuff) that he mentally shut down. He ended up squatting in his chair, rocking back and forth for ten minutes after the meeting ended without realizing it because all he could think was don’t interrupt the meeting, don’t be weird, don’t embarrass Zuko

Zuko, being the fantastic boyfriend he is, noticed that Sokka didn’t leave the meeting and thought it looked like an anxiety attack. He kind of just sat with him. He didn’t touch him because he knew Sokka wouldn’t want it and wouldn’t be able to coherently answer if he asked to touch him. Zuko just started talking about random things to try to get his mind off of the feeling.

Once he got back into the moment (with help from Zuko’s dulcet voice), he ran to the desk-thingy and rubbed it. Like, almost dramatically ran his hand across the desk and kind of just let his hand take over and rub whatever part he needed to.

Zuko was confused because this had never happened before (well, it had, but not to this extreme in front of him and Sokka never said anything) so Zuko never knew).

Sokka was kind of embarrassed, but he told Zuko about it and together they came up with a signal for when it got really bad so Zuko could either call a five minute break or make an excuse to switch seats so he could sit next to his boyfriend.

This is another reason that Zuko keeps random things on him at all times so if it gets bad, Sokka will have more to do with his hands than draw, write sentences over and over again, take notes, and tap.

Actually, lowkey stealing this particular headcanon from @tikmasjiens and their story For When He’s Being a Dumb*ss (which I highly suggest reading-- it’s fantastic!): Katara and Zuko (for the purposes of later in life when they’re dating because of course imma make it Zukka) carry little fidget kits / bags around for Sokka because he is forgetful and is sometimes so focused on one particular thing that he starts to run late for a meeting or lunch or hang out that he forgets his own personal fidget things.

The amazing Katara and Zuko have random things: brushes, atla equivalent at paper clips (aka metal things he can bend) (yes, yes, we’ve been hiding this from the world, but people with Tourette’s are actually paper clip benders lol), dice, Pai Sho tiles, and other little trinkets.

One time when Sokka was walking around an Earth Kingdom market out of boredom (and this is after the war because I just want him to not be on edge during this), he sees this young girl making noises and movements similar to him and he sees these two other kids mocking her and laughing at her and Sokka just sees red.

He actually goes over and scolds the kids (who don’t care enough to stay and listen ugh but that’s not the main focus of Sokka’s concern so it’s whatever for now) and this young girl sees him (at around age 17-18) making noises and moving ‘weirdly’ too and she’s just like “I’ve never seen anyone else do that stuff before”

and Sokka kind of just sits down with her and talks to her about his own experience and it’s not anything to be ashamed of, even though it can feel like that sometimes.

he rummages through his pockets and pulls out some of his fidget stuff and gives it to her. He, Zuko, and Katara have plenty of fidget stuff for him. Losing a few won’t matter.

Eventually, her parents return and they part ways. They never see each other again, but they never forgot each other either. It was both of their first time seeing someone else like them.

(and personal anecdote, but one time I was faculty at a camp for the weekend, and one of the kids in my group had just gotten diagnosed with Tourette’s and that was one of the most meaningful experiences I have ever had. I got to talk to him and his mom about my experience and it was... I’ll never forget that)

Sokka may be the protective older brother, but Katara is also the terrifying ‘you hurt my brother I will ruin you’ younger sister. One time, someone mocked Sokka’s tics and Katara’s protective instincts kicked in and she lectured them so hard. and very loudly. so everyone heard.

again, y’all, I know this is about Sokka with TS but WOW I love Katara too, what a queen. Let’s take a moment and appreciate the queen that she is.

Ty Lee and Sokka do yoga together at least twice a week. They both find it relaxing and fun and nice, but it also helps Sokka begin the day with less stress in his body. It doesn’t cure his TS, because there is no cure and he needs no cure, but it definitely helps sometimes.

Something that absolutely kills Sokka is that he wants to cuddle with Zuko at night so badly, but sometimes he genuinely just can’t. Zuko’s arms around him will make him feel too trapped and restrained, his arms around Zuko make him paranoid that if he moves too much, he’ll make Zuko uncomfortable and just stressed himself out by only being able to think about “am I moving too much?” “can Zuko feel me move?” “stay still stay still stay still” and it’s just not fun and he gets tense

But sometimes, he can cuddle and he loves it! Because as much as he hates being held, he desperately longs to be held. As self-conscious as he gets when he holds Zuko, he wants to be able to hold Zuko.

So when he feels like he can cuddle with Zuko, he gets so excited!

Zuko swears up and down that the lack of cuddling on occasion does not bother him, but Sokka still has trouble believing him (not that he doesn’t trust him, but he can’t understand how someone would be okay with it)

One time, Sokka was so distressed about whether or not Zuko was upset with him or pretending not to be upset to spare his feelings that Zuko invited Toph over so she could inform Sokka that he was, in fact, telling the truth about it being okay that they can’t always cuddle and be physically affectionate.

Sokka’s verbal tics both annoy him and don’t annoy him. He’s so used to hearing them that they don’t bother him anymore, but sometimes they make it hard for him to talk and he can feel them and that’s what bothers him.

He’s also self-conscious that everyone hates his verbal tics and are annoyed by them.

On a really bad head day for Sokka, the gaang was going to see a theatrical show per Zuko’s request and it was the first time in months they had all been able to hang out together and Sokka wasn’t having a good tic day and was so genuinely afraid to go to the show because he was going to tic and make noises and what if he distracted everyone? what if the strangers in the audience got mad at him? what if the ushers forced him to leave? how embarrassing would that be?

so he pretended to be sick and didn’t go

but Toph saw through his crap and stayed behind as well because “you’ve heard a play once, you’ve heard it a thousand times” and when everyone leaves, she calls Sokka out and asks him what was up

and he knew he couldn’t get away with lying to Toph, so he told her the truth and she just kind of laughed and went “they don’t bother any of us, seriously”

and Sokka was just “how do you know? It’s not like how much my tics don’t annoy you come up naturally in conversation”

and Toph goes “I don’t need to talk to them about it to know that no one’s bothered by them. Besides, they care about you more than they care about what sounds you make” then punched his arm

(and if Sokka silently cried, no one needed to know)

so, overtime, he gets the nerve to ask everyone individually (because there’s no way he could do everyone at once) just to make sure he wasn’t bothering them. He doesn’t get to ask everyone because some of them kind of get a feeling that he’s anxious about it (and if Zuko maybe mentioned it to some people so they approached him and causally mentioned they weren’t bothered, no one needs to know oops) (don’t worry, Zuko didn’t say anything super personal. Just like “tell Sokka his tics don’t bother you because he thinks they do”. Not like the details and stuff Sokka told him in private)

Katara didn’t answer, just asked if she could hug him and said that she loved him no matter what (and ten minutes later asked him if anyone told him that because if someone in the gaang said it, then she wouldn’t be afraid to spill blood)

Zuko, ever the dramatic and romantic one, knelt in front of Sokka (who was sitting) and went “I love you. I love every single part of you.” *kisses his hands* “I love you for your finger clenching and fist pumping.” *kisses his shoulders* “I love you for your shoulder rolling...” *kisses his neck* “your neck twitches...” *kisses his nose* “your nose scrunching...” *gently kisses each eye* “your blinking...” *kisses his lips* “and for every verbal and motor tic you’ve ever had and ever will have”

(look, I’m just... I’m so soft for that moment and I think about it constantly)

Suki gives him this hard and serious look and says “you are not annoying. You never have been and you never will be” and from just her stare and tone of voice, he knows she’s telling the truth.

Aang immediately just starts rambling and is like “I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way but you as so far from annoying! Honestly, sometimes I forget they’re even there I’m just so used to them-- not that they’re forgetful or anything, but they’re just so normal to me that I don’t notice-- why are you crying? Did I say that wrong? I’m sorry--”

and Sokka just grabs him and hugs him and says “No. I love you. Thank you.”

Mai is bad at emoting but she tells him “I don’t mind them. They’re comforting. Sometimes. Better than the sound of an empty house or screaming.”

Ty Lee immediately goes into “who told you you were annoying? I have some new moved I’d like to try. Give me names and they’re test subjects number one” and even Sokka feels fear at the look on her face even though the anger isn’t directed towards him

Azula is kind of snarky at first (because she’s trying not to, but it’s hard and it’s not her fault). She just gives him this seriously? look and kind of goes “you really think they’re significant enough to bother me?” and Sokka knows that’s Azula’s healing way of saying “no, they don’t bother me”

okay but let’s also talk about Hakoda and Piandao and Iroh because I want to and I love them

Hakoda kind of does what Katara does and asks if he can hug him and just tells him how proud he is of Sokka for the man that he’s become and that his TS is a part of who he is and it’s a part of his identity and there’s nothing his TS could ever do to make him any less proud

Piandao actually talked to Sokka about it during Sokka’s Master because it was holding him back of bit. Sokka was kind of embarrassed and was getting frustrated with it. Piandao sat him down and told him that perceived weaknesses are actually one of our greatest strengths. Being a nonbender looks like a weakness to many benders who rely solely on their bending, but it takes a certain kind of person to be a nonbender and that’s something to be proud of. The things that make you different are sometimes the things that teach you how special you are.

Piandao just sees so much potential and good in Sokka and Sokka looks up to him so much.

Iroh always lends Sokka extra or old Pai Sho tiles to fidget with. He also has this relaxing tea that helps his mind feel calm. Again, not with the intent to “fix” or “cure” him, but it helps his anxiety levels go down, in turn helping his tics relax.

Iroh tells Sokka that his tics are nothing to be ashamed of and that true friends would stick with him, tics or no tics.

hey? hey? guess what? Bumi ll didn’t just inherent the nonbending from Sokka, he also got the Tourette’s genes:)

imagine the Uncle / Nephew bonding between them

like, Bumi ll asks him why Kya and Tenzin don’t do weird things but he does? and Sokka just smiles sadly because he knows the feeling and talks to him about Tourette’s.

Bumi ll also got lucky because Katara saw the signs instantly and got him tested as soon as she could.

Let’s just say, aside from the gaang, the Kataang family is the most supportive family of his TS:) (it doesn’t hurt that his aunts and uncles will hung down anyone who ever makes him feel like trash and lecture them or their parents oops)

this is something I have mentioned before, but Sokka struggles to sit through meetings. Having TS and ADHD make it so hard for him.

sometimes he just feels so out of place because in this room full of people, he’s the only one rocking back and forth in his chair and changing his position every three seconds and jerking his head. He just feels... so wrong when he sees how still everyone else is sitting. Yeah, occasionally he’ll see some people tapping their foot or tapping the table in front of them with their fingers, but it’s not the same.

BUT on a happy note and not to make this all depressing (because TS sucks sometimes, but there’s nothing wrong with it or us and it’s a part of who we are) Sokka 100% has a top ten list of his favorite and least favorite tics of all time (I don’t know if people keep track of their favorites or if that’s just something I like to do, but I would imagine that a decent amount of people with TS know their favorites and least favorites)

I won’t bore y’all with an actual list, but his favorite tic is rocking back and forth. The motion is so soothing and comforting to him. Like, it feels right to be rocking. Yeah, sometimes he gets self-conscious about it, especially if he’s the only one in the room moving, but it feels so nice and right.

Sokka: *tics a couple times in a row* ughhhh that was not fun

Toph: *jokingly* wow, I mean, can’t you just, I don’t know, stop? Just, not do it?

Sokka: *jokingly* great idea, Toph! Why didn’t I think of that? All I needed to do all along was just not want to tic!

Toph is the only one ever allowed to do this bit with him. Sokka thinks it’s the funniest thing and it never fails to make laugh

Toph said that out of sarcastic instinct one time and almost choked on her drink because she felt so bad but Sokka was stifling a laugh and replied super sarcastically and then just laughed.

Toph still felt really bad and apologized (Sokka told her it was fine and he wasn’t upset, but she’s also been on the other side of jokes like that and it’s not fun).

Now, though, it’s kind of their thing. They do it every once in awhile and it flows like any other banter. It just happens and they don’t even blink.

(if anyone else did that to Sokka, though, Toph would probably rob them or like soak their clothes in cactus juice so they’re all sticky idk, she just wouldn’t stand for it)

Sokka actually takes a leave of absence from being an ambassador to travel around the four nations and visit schools with Toph and Zuko (who also take breaks). The three of them go to educate schools on disabilities (their own and others).

Sokka also personally makes it his mission to sit in one class at every school and see if there’s anything that he can give advice on. Sometimes, he talks to principals and teachers about how to help accommodate students with learning or “disruptive” disabilities so that they can get the best education that they can while still feeling comfortable and safe.

Now, the three don’t get this all done at once, it takes a year or two, but they do it and all three are just... really proud of it.

Sokka really struggles with Locus of Control (LOC). For those who don’t know, LOC is “ a psychological concept that refers to how strongly people believe they have control over the situations and experiences that affect their lives” (Ed.glossary.org).

Sokka, as many headcanon, likes having control over situations or likes having things ordered and scheduled. He doesn’t like changes to his schedule, he likes having schedules... his tics, on the other hand, are not something he can control or schedule

Giving up that control is hard for him. It wasn’t too bad as a child in a super small village, but once he left the SWT with Aang and Katara, he realized how different having tics was (although he was the only one back at home with tics, he often worked with restless children)

He went through a period of time where he thought that he could control his tics, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. Thus, the loss of control he feels.

He actually went through a ‘phase’ once where he thought that maybe he was making his tics up and doing them on purpose for attention or to be different or something. Katara quickly shut him down and told him that he wasn’t doing that.

I once saw someone say that Sokka has imposter syndrome and I think it correlates a bit with LOC in this context (I should actually do some research about that...).

Learning to understand that he won’t always have control is hard for him. Like. Really hard. He tried so desperately to control his tics and it just increased his anxiety and wore him out. Trying to control tics freaking hurts.

Aang is actually the one to help him with that. He’s had a lot of experience of not being able to control his own life, and although their situations are different, he has methods he uses to attempt to prevent himself from overthinking too much and letting his anxiety take control.

After that, Sokka doesn’t struggle with LOC as badly as he did before. It still sneaks in time after time, but it’s never too prominent and Aang is always there with some advice and distractions:)

(I just also love Aang so much and he deserves the world)

Although Sokka is “weird” with touch, there is one type of touch he is almost always on board with: massages. Massages. I’ll say it one more time: massages. They feel so nice. He carries so much stress in his back and shoulders because of how much he moves them due to his tics.

Zuko can tell when Sokka’s shoulders and back start to hurt really badly and will just sit behind him, heat his hands up (not too much), and give him the absolute best massages.

No. Seriously. Zuko gives the best massages (Sokka once wanted to return the favour and uhhh.... Zuko was not a fan. Although Friends isn’t the best show to take examples from, but uhh Sokka gives massages like Monica Gellar. That is all. Zuko gets his massages from Ty Lee).

Suki gives the second best massages.

Katara third.

So, there’s this one Kyoshi Warrior that works with Suki on guard that Sokka just can’t crack. She has an RBF and rolls her eyes and stuff a lot and she uhhh is kind of rather facially expressive but like, RBF style, so one time when Sokka is having a bad tic day, she makes a face.

It wasn’t aimed towards him, it was about something else, but his heart just breaks because this girl he had been trying to get to open up a bit to him and let loose and not be so freaking serious all of the time hates him.

and later she approached him and just “Sorry. I don’t... I don’t get annoyed by your tics or you or anything. I find them soothing and, I don’t know, nice. Like a reminder that the Fire Lord’s boyfriend is still safe. And they sound nice. I don’t hate them. Or. You.” (look, feelings are hard for her)

and Sokka just :D

alrighty, this is longer than I intended... so we’ll end with me mentioning something I mentioned last time: Yue! (I love her). She never once brings up Sokka’s tics. She never makes faces or asks him why he makes sounds. She’s studied a lot, and while there isn’t too much out there about TS, it’s the NWT, they have lots of books. She could see the signs and assumed.

Never once in the amount of time that they knew each other did she mention it. Sokka appreciated not having to explain himself. He felt safe and welcome there with Yue.

Thank you for reading, anyone who made it to the bottom! I enjoy talking about TS as well as my own experience with it. I love writing about Sokka with TS in particular. There isn’t a lot of TS rep out there, really only the one episode of South Park (don’t watch the show, but I watched the clips about Tourette’s education that the Tourette’s Association of America approved of. It was really heartfelt and lovely to watch and is also a good representation of coprolalia!) and the movie Front of the Class.

My ask box is always available for questions about TS, Sokka with TS, Jay (Ninjago) with TS, anyone’s personal TS headcanons or experience, or any underrepresented neurological disorder that you want to share!

List of TS Stuff Already Written: Part One here , Deeper Than Words (a oneshot I wrote on ao3 of Sokka with TS), a lovely Sokka with TS oneshot written by @tikmasjiens (sorry for tagging you twice ahhh)​ here , Stuck (a Sokka with TS excerpt from a fic I’m writing), NInjago Jay!TS Oneshot

[trulymadlysydney]

1/ ok long anon :) back longer than ever ! because was there one time Harry was seen at like a western bar? or a bar that had a mechanical bull and he rode it ?? Then left with a girl? did that actually happen am I making that up? Anyways Harry’s in the middle of his American tour and has a 3 day break before his next show on Friday. And let’s pretend he’s somewhere around Nashville, or down further south near Dallas or Houston, or maybe west near Phoenix, or could be up in Boston, anyways point is, it’s Tuesday night and Harry just wants to find a place to have a beer at an actual bar with his band and some of the crew, and hopefully not be center of attention for a moment. And the bar he manages to make his way into isn’t packed whatsoever, but still has a nice crowd of what seems to be older locals, there for open mic night/karaoke. He and the band manage to make their way in to go sit at a booth tucked away and if any of the patrons do spare a look at him, it’s not really at him, but more so at his funky multicolored cardigan. And Harry’s having a great time just being able to be out drinking and having a good time with his friends, just laughing over stories told, pausing to listen to whoever is up at the mic if they catch his ear. Harry suggests another round of drinks, and he walks up to where you’re behind bar in a pair of Levi’s shorts, head turned away as you’re filling up a glass from the tap, and as if you could sense someone there behind you, you’re already saying “I’ll be with you in a second” without even turning around. And when you hear a “take your time” in an accent that’s definitely not from one of your usual crowd, you quickly look over your shoulder and just as quickly turn back to the tap because holy shit…it’s actually Harry Styles at this bar of all places. And as you turn to take the drink you poured to the patron at the corner of the bar, Harry gets an actual look at you and thinks to himself oh wow…she’s pretty. Really, really pretty even in this low lighting. And as you slide your way back over to him, you ask “what can I get you?” in the most calm cool collected way you can manage. And maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s because he’s naturally a menace, but Harry says “your name” with a slight grin. And you won’t lie, hearing that from Harry Styles did make your heart start pumping faster, and a smirk starts to make its way to your mouth that Harry catches, but is shaken away as you roll your eyes because men really are the same no matter who they are and you respond “it’s y/n. Now seriously, what can I get you? They don’t look it, but this crowd can get rowdy if they don’t get their drinks in time even if I tell them that it was a young big shot rock star decided to hold up the line” And there it is. The little weight that settled on your shoulders for a second lifted because you know that he knows and he knows that you know who he is. But you also can’t help but notice the little bit of hurt that crossed Harry’s face when you responded. And Harry, he’s a little taken back by your sharp response, mouth dropped, but not so much shocked that you know who he is (he’s not conceited just knows how relevant/big he is). And he doesn’t know what it is whether it’s the fact that you’re so pretty, or the fact you tried to play it cool (the shocked-knowing glance you made at him when you thought he didn’t notice turns out was noticed) the alcohol, or the slight bite in your response, but he turns to look back at the booth with his friends and notices that they’re so deep into conversations and laughs and (some even dancing with some of the older patrons) honestly, haven’t noticed that Harry’s been gone for a moment. He looks back to you and says “Y/N” (that rolls nice off his lips), “I’m sorry, I’ll have one of whatever is on tap.” And you nod as you turn to pour his drink while Harry decides to settle in and take a seat at the bar. And when you place his drink on the table, he goes “Seriously, I’m sorry if I offended you or made you uncomfortable in anyway.”

2/ And you notice how genuine he sounds right now, and you were neither offended or uncomfortable, just more shocked that Harry Styles is asking for your name. You tell him “it’s fine, really, just wasn’t expecting /that/ from you. Anyways, what managed to bring you all the way over here?” And that’s how you two started talking about everything really even as you excused yourself to fill orders, the conversation was easily jumped back into. Harry told you of how he’s been on tour and just needed to feel like a person and you told him about yourself. How you took up bartending because you’re starting grad school in the fall and little stories about the old timey crowd that like to inhabit this place. Like how behind the dingy curtain on the little stage, there’s actually a mechanical bull that is hardly ever used now because too many drunk old people nearly breaking a hip trying to live out their Wild Wild West fantasy. And you both don’t really notice, but as the conversation has gone on, he’s leaned more across the bar as you’ve leaned closer to him as well. Harry’s noticing how your eyes crinkle when you laugh and the mole on your forearm as you stretch to hand people their drinks. And your beautiful doesn’t go missed by the kind elderly guests who he can hear make comments on how “you get prettier every time I see you y/n” And you’re really smart. When you told him what you’re going to grad school for, and what you’re researching, Harry was reminded how he stopped going to school at 16. And you’re noticing how easy he is to talk to. Surprisingly easy and despite being a huge celebrity, he’s really down to earth, still cocky but charming. He’s also so handsome, strikingly so, especially this close. Anyways, the night has gone on, more of the crowd turning in for the night, and you’re now around the bar, sitting on the stool next to Harry, knees occasionally knocking against each other, still talking. At some point you’re both broken out of whatever trance you’re both under by each other by one of Harry’s friends coming over to tell him that they’re all leaving and you think sadly to yourself that this weird, unexpected, encounter has come to an end. But when you see that Harry hasn’t gotten up from his stool, and he tell them that’s going to stay back and he’ll get a ride back later, something lights up in your belly. As they all wave back at him you send a wave off as well and Harry turns back to you and says “Is that okay with you? I’m honestly having a really great time talking with you.” And you swear steam could come out of your ears and your face is probably beet red right now as a high pitch “no, that’s fine, I’m really having a great time too. But I am going to have to start closing up now, so if you do want to leave…” and Harry is all “oh….well is it okay if I stay as you close up, give you some extra company? I promise I’ll stay out of your way, or I could help, you know?” And he adds with a smile, “Whatever I can do that’ll make you want me to stay, lovely” And that last part makes you smitten really as you nod okay to him. So the bar is now closed, and you’ve been going through your usual closing routine (it’s just you that night since it was Tuesday) and you just can’t believe Harry Styles is here helping you sweep and flip chairs onto tables (“I can help some. I used to be a baker you know?”) And you’ve plugged your phone into the speaker to play your Spotify as you clean and when you hear the opening of Canyon Moon, a shock runs up your spine as you pause mid tabletop wipe down and your eyes move to meet Harry who has looked up mid sweep. And you’re blushing again and stammering an apology of “I am so sorry let me change it” as you rush to your phone to change it as Harry who has gone back to sweeping says “no I like this one” with a grin and looks back to you. And you’re a little relieved but still embarrassed biting your lip as you tell him “yeah i do too” with a returned grin.

3/ And you both go back to cleaning and talking, you’ve both ended up in one of the booths, Your feet brushing against each other under the table as you finish up looking over inventory sheets between asking Harry about his tattoos (his sleeves rolled up,holding his arm out on the table as you admire and you didn’t miss the flex of his hand when you brushed against the one of the holy Bible asking if the placement of the bookmark means anything particular). And at some point Harry looks towards the stage at one point and asks “is there really a bull behind there?” And you told him “yeah and that bull has a name, and it’s Stella by the way named after an actual cow the owner had on a farm as a kid” and now you’re pulling the curtain to reveal, the very intimidating mechanical bull that takes up most of the tiny stage. And Harry’s all “can I ride it?” And you’re all “are you sure? I mean it hasn’t been used in awhile besides my coworkers when we’re fucking around after closing sometimes.” And Harry’s like “yeah it looks like fun.” And that’s how he ended up, on top of the bull, shoes discarded and socked feet, holding on with one hand as the bull bucked and you laughed at first because of how ridiculous he looked, and he’s laughing along with you having the time of his life too, but oh…the way he’s practically grinding against the seat is making you have some really impure thoughts. And you shake your head a little as he’s finally lost his bearings and has fallen off onto the protective padding below laughing his head off. And jokingly you say “23 seconds. And here id thought you’d last longer.”

4/ And Harry catches your shot at his ego as he gains his composure, rising up to where you are at the controls to say “heyyy now. Bet you can’t do better.” And you’re a little insulted at his assumption because you mentioned earlier to him that you and the rest of the workers here will occasionally ride the bull after work for fun and you’d managed stay on the longest several times thanks to your highly strategized technique you’ve developed, as you scoff “oh please I know how to ride” and your eyes widen because you didn’t mean for your response to be that saucy, but Harry is already looking at you with that smirk and says “well, show me how you ride then” and you swallow and agree and after giving harry a rundown on the easy to use controls, you’re perched on the bull. With the bull facing the away, your starting with your back towards Harry, and he can’t help but to notice your ass in your shorts again as it’s slightly arched on the bull with your hand in the air. Once he actually starts up the bull, he realizes how right you were about knowing how to ride. And he didn’t think this was possible but you’ve managed to make this whole activity seem graceful? In the way that you’re going with the motions of the bull. Harry also can’t help but notice how sexy you look up on it too, he can’t help but let his himself imagine you riding him like how you are on the bull right now. You rocking rhythmically back and forth on the saddle. Harry’s glad that he’s behind the controls right now as he reaches to his pants to discreetly adjust himself because he’s getting hard. And your gleeful laughter snaps him out of his dirty thoughts as you make eye contact with him, and it’s a split second but oh did you just see him? adjust himself? Oh… and it breaks you from your concentration as you’re flung from the bull a little harsher than expected onto the padding below. And Harry has exclaimed your name as he has stepped his way into the padding of the bull pen rushing to you as you’re rolled onto your side catching your breath laughing a little because this is, just so crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy that Harry Styles has not only showed up to your bar, but he /likes/ talking to you, he called you lovely and now, he’s hard over you. And Harry is leaned over you, rolling you onto your back, concern on his face, and asking “are you okay?” And you’re still trying to catch your breath as breathless laughs escape you as you tell him “yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

5/ And now you’re close, really close and really looking at each other as Harry goes to sweep some of your hair off your face. And you reach your hand up to softly brush against the bare skin of his tattooless arm. And you’re looking at Harry’s lips as he’s paused his ministrations in your hair looking down at you and smirks “you were right about knowing how to ride.” And a smile spreads across your face, and your eyes are doing that crinkled thing that Harry likes as you reply “oh, you think?” and your hand moves to tug on his collar, to bring him down to your face as you kiss him.

Anndddddd that’s all I’ve got lol.

---------

BESTIE....... BESTIE OH MY GOD HELLO??? IM SPEECHLESS IM... OMFG HIM BEING A LITTLE NERVOUS? YOU BOTH BEING SO EXCITED TO HANG OUT AFTER HOURS, AND THE REALIZATION THAT LIKE... OH FUCK HE’S ACTUALLY KIND OF INTO YOU... OH MY GOD

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Five: Like Real People Do

a/n: hellooo and welcome to the next part of ybmh!! i am sooooo excited about this next chapter (and upcoming chapters😏 ). Thank you again for all of your kind words and wonderful feedback! It's always so much fun to hear from you all, so as always, feel free to come chat in my inbox once you've finished this next part. I have a feeling there will be much to discuss👀 Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content, mentions of drowning

Word Count: 5.6k

read parts one, two, three, and four

“I’m not going,” Alani says finally, discarding the outfit in her hands onto a pile on her bed. The clock reads 7:55 pm, only five minutes before she was supposed to be at the studio. She still hadn’t selected an outfit, but her hair and makeup were still relatively intact from her shift at the café.

“You have to!” Pua whines. “You told him you would!”

“Then I’ll tell him I’m sick or something—food poisoning. Period cramps, maybe,”

She begins placing the clothes on hangers to put back in her closet, but her sister reaches for her wrists to stop her.

“You’re just nervous,” Pua says calmly, getting eye level with her older sister. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go,”

“Go where?” a woman’s voice calls from the door frame. Their mother, Estrella, peeks her head through the cracked door.

“To a party with a cute boy,” Pua explains.

Alani shoots an icy glare at her sister before turning back to her mom. “It’s not a party. I’m working on a piece about a local musician and he’s recording some music tonight and said I could go. You know, to write about it,”

Estrella nods, not convinced. “So why don’t you wanna to go?”

“Because they almost kissed—”

“Pua!”

“Hey, hey,” Estrella cuts in. “Mija, you’re twenty-two years old, I don’t expect you to stay single forever. If you want to go out and see a cute boy, you don’t need to lie about it,”

“But I’m not lying,” Alani defends. “It’s just… complicated, and I’m trying to be professional about it.”

Estrella steps away from the doorframe and envelops her daughter in a hug. “Sometimes, you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best,”

Alani is grateful for the piece of wisdom from her mother, feeling a small weight lifted off her shoulders.

“But if I were you,” her mom continues. “I would wear the black strappy dress with those wedges.”

********

8:10. Harry checks his phone for the third time in one minute, growing more disappointed each time the same three numbers stare back at him, almost mocking. He doesn’t feel any better when the time reads 8:11.

“Can I interest you in a piña colada?” Mitch pipes up, sauntering over with a glass in each hand.

The choice of drink seemed perfect when Harry had suggested it earlier in the day, but he deeply regrets it now. Despite the tightening at the back of his throat, Harry accepts the drink and chooses to nurse it in a different corner of the room. A part of him feels guilty for being such a buzzkill around his friends these days, and he wishes more than anything that he could just enjoy living in this moment with them. Being away from Alani had produced a strange feeling in him similar to the sickness experienced when leaving home on a long vacation; Harry didn’t know exactly how to cure it, but he hoped that lots of alcohol would do the trick.

When the clock reads 8:20, he accepts that she isn’t coming and decides to make the best of a shitty situation. He drains another piña colada and joins his friends who are huddled around various instruments and sound equipment. A few more of Harry’s writer and producer friends had joined the trip temporarily, and he’s grateful, now more than ever, for their presence—it distracts him from the overwhelming emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Jeff hands Harry a microphone and some headphones while Mitch plugs a white electric guitar into the amp. The guitarist begins with some chords that the crew has been messing around with for the past couple of days: an upbeat riff reminiscent of some of Harry’s favorite 70s rock pieces. His head is spinning mildly, but he uses the feeling as inspiration. He pinches his eyes shut and tries to let the lyrics flow, but the only words coming out are “she’s driving me crazy”, so he starts with that. The group also runs with it, adding a few yells and lyrics of their own. The song isn’t coherent in the slightest, filled mostly with laughter and choppy melodies, but it’s the best Harry has felt all night. He traded the piña coladas for a glass of tequila fit snugly in the palm of his hand, and true to Mitch’s word, the giggles emerge. At one point, he shouts the words “I’m havin’ your baby”, which makes zero sense to anyone in the room, including him, but they decide that it sounds cool and keep it going.

“It’s none of your business!” Mitch calls back, voice raised in his best soprano to mimic that of a woman. The shoddy attempt makes Harry laugh even harder and his hand clutches his stomach.

They continue on for what feels like hours, but in reality has only been forty-five minutes. At 9:05, Jeff Azoff heads outside to catch his breath and cool down. As he takes a seat on the steps, a yellow Ford Bronco pulls into the lot and Alani steps out once it's parked. She emerges in a black dress that falls mid thigh and a baby pink leather jacket, making her way nervously up the steps.

“Alani,” Jeff greets warmly with cheeks flushed. “Welcome. Party’s inside.”

She shoots him a grateful smile and reaches for the studio door, slipping inside cautiously. The music had been audible a mile down the road, but it’s even more overwhelming inside. Standing on a small coffee table in the center of the room is Harry with an arm draped around a shorter man wearing a black and white Adidas shirt. His dimples are on full display and his warbled words carry over the speakers to attack her from all sides. She recognizes Mitch hunched over a guitar and Jeff Bhasker spinning in an office chair, but she can’t put names to the other faces lingering around Harry. Alani feels extremely out of place, not knowing where she belongs in all of the chaos—it all seems to her like a living Jackson Pollock painting that she can’t look away from. In the middle of his off-key rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Harry’s eyes land on Alani and his smile grows ten times wider. He puts one foot in front of the other, completely disregarding the small size of the table, but he catches himself just as Alani lunges forward to help him. This results in their two bodies pressed flush against one another, the coolness of her leather jacket versus the warmth of his intoxication.

“You made it,” he slurs.

Alani takes a small step back and clears her throat. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late,”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Harry shrugs, his eyes lighting up when he remembers something. “There’s piña coladas! In the kitchen,”

The fact that he remembered such a detail from their previous conversations and made an effort to incorporate it into this night makes her cheeks warm.

“Okay, cool. Thanks,”

Harry scans her appearance and his stomach flutters.

“Y’look really pretty,” he offers. Alani can tell that it takes every ounce of effort to do so.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice small.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them slip out through a side door and into the backyard, stopping just before the pier. Alani doesn’t know how much of these next moments Harry will remember in the morning, which makes her feel a little more confident to share what she’s truly thinking.

“Harry, I—”

“God, you’re so pretty,” he interrupts, running a hand through his hair.

Her cheeks heat up, but she pushes past the feeling. “And you’re drunk,”

“Yeah, true. But you’re still pretty. Always think so,”

Alani searches his eyes, which are sleepy and bloodshot, but there isn’t a trace of insincerity. In this moment, she also feels the overwhelming urge to be honest—about the butterflies in her stomach that only set flight when he’s around, and the way she constantly wonders what his lips would feel like against hers. But there’s an intensity behind Harry’s gaze, despite his intoxicate state, that stops her.

“You’re making this so hard,” Alani laughs lightly, more to herself than him.

“‘M sorry,” he offers. “Don’t mean to,”

She smiles at Harry’s completely innocent reply, not knowing what to do with all of the pent up affection she has for him. A part of her simply wants to scream in his face to stop being so goddamn endearing. Instead, Alani turns on her heel to put some space between them, but stops when she feels a warm hand tug at her fingers.

“Why d’you always do that?” Harry asks, his expression a little more sober.

Alani takes a deep breath. “Do what?”

“Pull away when I get close. Did it in the car that one time. And the other time at the beach,”

There’s a beat of silence where Alani isn’t sure how to respond, but before she does, Harry releases her fingers and takes a step back.

“Wait, that was stupid. ‘M sorry if I did anything—”

“No,” Alani interrupts, taking a step closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong,”

“So why?”

She releases a breath and swallows. “I don’t know,”

It isn’t the answer Harry is looking for, but he accepts it with a slow nod. Suddenly feeling the need to flee, he takes a step onto the railing of the pier and Alani’s heart rate speeds up.

“What’re you doing?”

“S’hard to tell,” he shrugs before letting himself fall into the water below.

“Harry!” she screams, heaving over the edge of the railing to find him. The drop, unbeknownst to her, is only six feet and he’s done it many times before.

After a few seconds, Alani sees him reemerge at the surface, shaking his wet hair out. There’s a small strip of sand along the shore below, so she bolts down the stairs to meet him at the bottom.

“What the fuck?!” She cries, panic welling in the brim of her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he deadpans.

“You could’ve hurt yourself,” Alani croaks, her limbs shaking. “You—you could’ve—”

Harry reaches out to comfort her but she steps back.

“I gotta go,”

“Alani,” he says gently, but she doesn’t respond. “Alani, wait!”

She walks briskly back to the front lot, Harry close behind.

“Alani, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t follow me.” she orders.

Her words are like a dagger through his chest, but he respects her wishes and stops dead in his tracks. Harry stands soaking wet under the moonlight, feeling helpless as he watches Alani disappear into the darkness.

********

She wakes the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, still wearing the same black dress from the night before. The warm water of a morning bath eases some of the tension in her muscles, but she knows it will take a lot more to soothe the tightness in her chest.

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

Pull away.

Their conversation from the night before lingers like a nasty bruise in Alani’s mind, but she senses a bit of harsh truth in Harry’s words. She did have a bad habit of walking away when things got hard, especially concerning matters of the heart. Her instincts were all flight and no fight, so even if Alani had stayed, she isn’t sure how she would’ve explained her reasons for panicking. How do I gently pepper in the whole almost dying thing? she wonders, a lump forming at the back of her throat. Alani was only eight years-old when she nearly drowned, and though almost fourteen years had passed since then, she still vividly remembers the helplessness of sinking further under the strong tide. On nights after a particularly stressful day, Alani’s sleep is often disturbed by the sensation of her lungs slowly filling with water only to wake up drenched in sweat and clutching the sheets. She had worked hard for several years after the incident to overcome her fear of the ocean, but a part of her still couldn’t shed the debilitating need for caution. After all, it was easier to avoid the water altogether than to wade in blindly and get sucked under. Watching Harry sink into the unknown stirred the same sense of panic that Alani had felt all those years ago and threatened to undo her progress, but she quickly realized that it was the idea of losing him that had sent her into flight mode. She imagines the hollowness she would feel at the sight of waterfalls and the scent of vanilla; piña coladas—the drink and the song—tainted in her memory forever. The thought of Harry's absence was all too much to bear, but it’s how she knew that his presence must mean something. He meant something, and she couldn’t let him go.She ends her bath quickly and sifts through the first pair of clothes she can find. Suddenly none of it mattered: what she wore, how she looked, Rolling Stone—nothing but him. Alani thinks back to her mother’s words: sometimes you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best. All she needed to do was see him and the words would find themselves. The sky is overcast when she steps outside, so she quickly puts the top on Stevie and pulls out into the road, deciding to make one quick pit-stop before setting off to find him.

********

Harry’s head pounds and he feels as if the sun has been set to maximum brightness. His clothes reek of saltwater, his skin feels like sandpaper, and his mouth is the Sahara desert. None of this compares, however, to the sense of impending doom that settles in when the memories of the night before, particularly those of Alani, resurface. I’m so fucked, he groans. Harry doesn’t quite remember every detail, but he remembers enough; he remembers how pretty she looked, and reminding her of it. He feels the temporary warmth of her fingers and the coolness of her jacket pressed against his chest. There’s a bit of fuzziness between the Spice Girls and piña coladas, but then Harry remembers crashing through water and his memory gets clearer. He fucked up. He had upset Alani in some way and although he doesn’t quite know how, he knows that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Harry sits up suddenly and the whole room spins, but he makes an effort to stand anyway. Need to see Alani, he thinks with determination, I just need to see Alani.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Mitch comments from the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“What time is it?” Harry croaks.

Mitch takes a sip of coffee and checks his phone. “10:30,”

“And last night was…”

“The party?” Mitch fills in the gaps. “Yeah,”

Harry rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and takes a seat at the table. “Did...did you see Alani?”

“No. I don’t think anyone did, actually. Did you?”

“Yeah,”

“So… I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

Harry’s throat tightens and he hopes that she at least got home safely. He can’t bear to think about anything bad happening to her on his watch.

“No,” he confirms with a sigh. “No it didn’t,”

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” Mitch prods.

“Dunno if I should. She was pretty pissed,”

Mitch thinks for a second, taking another sip of coffee. “What would Noah Calhoun do?”

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be very amused by his friend’s reference to The Notebook, but right now he’s too focused on making things right with Alani. He devises a plan of action and stands.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he starts. “How shitty do I look?”

Mitch scans his best friend over, head tilting from side to side as he considers the question. “About a 7.5.”

“Good enough.”

Harry swipes the keys to the Cadillac off the counter and slips his feet into a pair of beat up vans before heading out the door.

********

The restaurant is fairly empty, as far as Alani can tell from the back. The kitchen staff are gathered in the break room for the time being, which allows her to tiptoe around unnoticed as she grabs the necessary ingredients for her peace offering to Harry. She hurries out through the employee entrance as soon as it’s complete and the key is already turning in her car’s lock when she hears a voice over her shoulder, calling her name.

“David?” she responds, turning to face the brawny man leaning against the car that is parked beside hers.

“Hey,” he starts, offering a flash of pearly white teeth. “I know I’m not supposed to be back here, but I just wanted to talk to you,”

Alani swallows, the icy chill of the drink in her hands reminding her of what needs to be done.

“You know, now’s not really a gr—”

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” David interrupts, taking a step closer. “Since the other day when you stopped by. I mean, I think about you all the time but…” he trails off and Alani waits awkwardly for him to finish his ill-timed confession. David takes another step towards her and rests his forearm against the hood of her car, practically boxing her in with no escape route.

“We were really great together, don’t you think?” he asks, scanning her face with his prying eyes. “I don’t even remember why we broke things off,”

Alani’s brow furrows, her mind failing to come up with a logical explanation for this very sudden and uncomfortable conversation. She hadn’t lied when she told Harry that David wasn’t her ex, but she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. They had started hooking up during her senior year of high school—mostly because he was the star swimmer on their team that all the other girls fawned over, and despite all the attention, he had wanted her. It made her feel momentarily special, though she knew he wasn’t the boyfriend type. “Just a bit of fun” is what they called it, and the arrangement worked out well until Alani’s freshman year of college when she realized that there was an entire world of opportunities waiting beyond the confines of high school. A world that had brought her Harry, who was probably going to leave just as soon as he’d arrived if she didn’t make amends quickly.

“No,” Alani says decisively, nudging his arm away. “We weren’t ‘great’ together, we weren’t even good for each other,”

“Alani-”

“We were really young,” she continues. “And we did what we did, but that’s all in the past-”

“If you would just give me a chance-”

“I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself back then, let alone what I wanted out of a partner. But I do now,”

She doesn’t have to say Harry’s name, but they’re both thinking it. David steps back, arms crossed, and though he had always been somewhat intimidating, he looks small standing before her now.

“It’s because of that British guy, isn’t it?” he asks, despite the feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alani lets out a light laugh but she doesn’t confirm his suspicions. “We have nothing in common, David. We want different things out of life, you’ll see,”

“And he,” David continues, an accusatory tone on the word “he”. “Wants everything you do?”

She thinks for a moment, her heart pounding as she considers what Harry’s response will be to her confession. “I hope so.”

********

Harry had considered going to Alani’s house first, but he wasn’t sure who else would be home and didn’t particularly want his first interaction with her parents to occur whilst hungover. Sitting parked on the back road behind the café, however, he wishes that he had stopped there first to save him the painful sight ahead. Harry recognizes the other man from the restaurant he had taken Alani to the first time they had hung out, a name that started with the letter “D," though probably not the one flashing angrily in his mind. His arm is draped comfortably along the roof of her car, their bodies inches apart in what appears to be a very intimate moment. While he still can’t remember the exact details of his actions that had upset Alani so much, he fits this piece into the puzzle and it becomes much more clear. She has a boyfriend, and no amount of apologies could reconcile this fact, however tempted Harry may be to try. The word “boyfriend” sits uncomfortably in his mind, but it suddenly puts everything else into perspective. It explains why she fled his car so quickly when his wandering eyes had hinted their desire for her kiss—both times. He could have sworn that it would have happened had her phone not interrupted them the second time, but perhaps it had all been a trick of the rose-colored light. The sudden realization makes Harry feel sick, and a bit foolish, so he speeds off before he can be spotted.

He drives aimlessly for a while, mind still racing with the image of the other man’s depraved hands on Alani’s soft skin. The uneasiness boiling in the pit of his stomach is pathetic—he’s well aware—but he can’t stop himself from wondering why not me? It’s a selfish thought, but it eats at him, nonetheless. It should have been me. But the reality is that it wasn’t him, and it never would be. Despite any feelings he’d had that Alani was the one for him, he was not the one for her, and it’s a fact he must learn to live with. If this thought were a rock, he’d turn it over in his fingers until they bled.

********

Alani pulls up to the studio hesitantly and waits a beat before making her way up the stairs. She knocks twice, but there’s no answer, so she presses her ear to the door in search of any sound. Silence. There’s no trace of the cars Harry usually drives when she wanders to the back lot, either, so she figures that he must not be here. Alani racks her brain for other possible locations, but it’s a dead end. She doesn’t know what hotel or house he could be staying at, and her heart begins to race at the idea that he might not even be in Hawaii anymore. For all she knows, he could be on a return flight to L.A. or London, gone forever with the same instructions she had left him: don’t follow me. Alani lifts her phone with trembling fingers and searches Harry’s name, pressing the phone to her ear and praying like she had never prayed before. It rings three times before she’s sent to voicemail. The sound of his voice on the recording brings temporary relief, but it’s gone as soon as the message ends and she is prompted to respond. She clears her throat gently and speaks as if he is at the other end waiting to hear the right words and pick up.

“Hi, it’s Alani,” she starts slowly. “I, uh…. I’m at the studio. I don’t think you’re here though,”

She walks in small circles around the backyard and lets her eyes roam to the pier where it all went wrong. It sends a pang of guilt through her spine, but it fuels her next words.

“Listen, I really wanna talk—about last night. I shouldn’t have left, I know that now. It wasn’t you, it was me, and I know that sounds cliché but it’s true,”

Alani swallows down the emotion bubbling at the back of her throat and wishes that she could just see him, face to face, one last time. There’s so much more she needs to say, but it’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with his answering machine.

“Please just call me when you get this. I wanna explain everything if you’ll let me.”

She hangs up and nearly throws her phone into the ocean. Though her trauma response wasn’t completely in her control and it isn’t something she should feel guilty about, she wishes she had been able to explain. Alani hadn’t always been comfortable sharing that part of her life, but there was a security in Harry’s presence that made her feel okay to do so. She wanted to share everything with him, the good and the bad, but she needed to find him first.

Only twenty minutes had elapsed at the studio when Alani decides to head out; there was still no word from Harry and she needed to be anywhere else beside the site of their potential last meeting. She drives with no particular place in mind, the windows rolled down to let in the chilly, overcast air. It isn’t until she’s halfway in the opposite direction that she gets the urge to visit one other location. There’s an extremely small chance that Harry will be there, but she goes less in search of him and more for her own personal wallowing.

When Alani pulls up to the lookout where the two of them had spotted the rainbow, there is another car already parked: a pink Cadillac. The sight makes her entire body freeze.

“Harry?” a small voice calls behind him. He almost thinks that he had hallucinated it until he reluctantly turns his head and sees a timid Alani emerging from her car. A million emotions run through his mind at once, starting with confusion and elation and ultimately ending in grief.

“Hey,” he responds, weakly, still leaning against the hood of the Cadillac.

Alani slowly makes her way over, not entirely sure that he’s actually there. Once she gets closer, however, she can smell the faint scent of vanilla and her chest swells.

“I left you a voicemail,” is all she can say.

Harry’s brow furrows as he tries to remember any phone calls, but he suddenly figures that in all of his rush to see her, he had forgotten to grab it from his bed.

“Left my phone at the house,” he offers.

There’s a brief silence where the two of them size each other up, weighing their own motives against what they assume to be the other person’s. Harry speaks first.

“Alani, ‘m really sorry,” he says gently, stepping away from the car and towards her. “I know I fucked up—”

“Harry—”

“But I understand now,” he continues. “I know why you were upset,”

Confusion settles into Alani’s body and she wonders how he could possibly know about her accident. Or if he didn’t know, what else he could be referring to. She doesn’t have to guess for long because Harry continues despite her silence.

“I saw you with him—your boyfriend, I mean. Derek?” he explains. “But not in a creepy way I just.. wanted to talk. Bad timing,”

“Wait,” Alani cuts in, her brain finally sorting out the pieces. “You saw me and David..today?”

Harry feels as if the knife in his chest has been twisted further at the mention of the other man’s name, but he nods. An uncontrollable bubble of laughter finds its way up Alani’s throat, and the sound would typically bring butterflies to his stomach, but it only exacerbates the heartache.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alani clarifies. “He’s delusional. And a huge pain in the ass, but I think he finally got the hint when I turned him down earlier,”

Harry’s ears perk up at the news, but he’s still wary.

“But you two were—”

“Ancient history,” Alani reassures him, taking another step closer. “He might as well be Socrates,”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he feels a wave of relief wash over his body. The news is music to his ears, but he still wants to know what he had done to make her walk away that night.

“So you weren’t upset because you have a boyfriend and I tried to make a move?”

Alani takes a deep breath, knowing that she has avoided saying her piece long enough. Before she can start, though, a rumble of thunder interrupts her thoughts.

“Can we talk in Stevie? I don’t feel like standing in wet socks again,” she asks, which Harry obliges.

The two climb into the truck and settle in, the atmosphere quickly becoming more intimate than Alani had planned. His vanilla cologne has also become more perceptible in the confined space, and there’s a whiff of spearmint, most likely his gum, that briefly draws her attention to his mouth. She snaps her mind back to the conversation at hand and clears her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, reading his eyes carefully. There’s a faint reassurance behind the emerald surface, so she continues. “For everything that happened last night. You did nothing wrong, please know that,”

Harry wishes he could reach out and comfort her, but he gets the feeling that whatever she’s about to say is important so he doesn’t want to dismiss it.

“It’s hard for me, sometimes, to be around the water,” Alani continues despite the prickling feeling in her eyes. “Because when I was eight years old, I almost drowned,”

The revelation hits Harry like a ton of bricks and all at once he understands. He hadn’t even thought twice about jumping into the water that night, so it didn’t occur to him to rule that out as a possible offense. He understands now that he couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“And I know that has nothing to do with you,” Alani explains, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Except that it terrified me to think about, you know… if you hadn’t been so lucky,”

Her composure quickly cracks, a single tear spilling down her cheek before she wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater. This time, Harry does reach a hand out and Alani accepts it gratefully; the warmth of his fingers are a welcome contrast to her icy appendages.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he murmurs as his thumb rubs small circles over the back of her hand.

“But I do,” she sniffles. “Because—”

Alani pauses, unsure of how to finish her thought. Just do what feels right and hope for the best.

“Because I care about you,” she says finally, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobs at her words.

Harry's jaw tightens at her confession and every muscle in his body longs to bring her close, leaving no inch of space between them, but he lets her lead despite his instincts.

"But it’s also because I care about you that I can’t let this go any further,”

Alani’s words surprise herself just as much as they terrify Harry, but she knows that it’s the right thing to do as soon as it’s done.

“Alani—” Harry starts, all of his worst fears crashing down on him.

“Please, don’t make this harder—”

“Don’t I get a say?” he questions, tightening his grip on her hand, though she still manages to slip away.

Alani runs the free hand through her still damp waves and lets another tear roll down her cheek. “What is there left to say?”

“How about ‘I care about you, too’? How about ‘I want to be with you’?”

“It’s too messy—”

“Everyone has baggage,” Harry defends. “God knows I do, and I would never ask you to carry all of that,”

Alani lets her eyes meet his again; they’re bloodshot and glossy, which sends a pang of guilt and sorrow through her entire body.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she reasons, this time thinking not only about her own issues, but about everything—the lies she had told and the ambitions she was still nurturing. She hadn’t given up on her dreams and unless Rolling Stone had suddenly changed their mind about the Joni Mitchell piece, there was only one way she was going to achieve them. Alani hadn’t yet reconciled the fact that she would have to put aside her own feelings for Harry to get what she wanted, but she knew that time would heal the wounds.

“All I want,” he continues. “Is a chance. And I know nothing I do will ever change the past, but two hands make the load lighter. So, please, let me carry some of that with you. Give me a chance,”

As she studies the pleading in his eyes, something stirs deeply inside Alani’s chest. She had started the day thinking only of him, but with selfish intentions. Now, she was trying to do right by him, having realized that she couldn’t have both him and the story that would launch her career. Something would have to give, and Harry deserved more than that. He deserved more than her. Despite all of this awareness, there is something else nagging in the back of her mind that she can’t ignore. Don’t walk away, it screams. If Alani ignored her true feelings for Harry and refused his plea, she would be walking away from someone who believed in her, someone who cared deeply for, and wanted to understand, her. Perhaps the universe truly had brought Harry for a story, but to be a part of hers instead of the one she had been so eager to publish. There would be other chances, just like Dr. Hudson had said, but there would never be anyone else like Harry. So with this in mind, Alani decides to stop walking away and stand still, right in this very moment, with the boy who shined brighter than the sun itself and who had only asked for a chance to make her happy.

“Okay,” she breathes and it’s like the weight of the universe has been lifted from her shoulders.

Harry leans in, their foreheads pressed together gently, and cups her cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Alani nods and nudges the tip of his nose with her own. “Please.”

Their lips meet like electrically charged magnets, with a force so natural and strong it sends bolts of electrons through their entire bodies. Harry’s mouth is warm and gentle against hers, and the coolness of his mint gum soothes the searing touch of his kiss. Alani’s fingers glide up his chest and along the sides of his neck, pulling him closer as if he’s the anchor keeping her from floating away into the dark clouds above them. Over and over again, their lips collide fervently, breaths mixing and filling each other’s lungs. Their hands eagerly explore the curves of each other’s faces, the softness of hair, and the occasional heat of exposed skin. Harry is the first to break the kiss, panting lightly as he pulls back to search Alani’s face.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Never been better.”

next chapter

[anotheronechicagobog]

Rangers, Lead The Way - Chapter 2 - Jay and Hana

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, cannon typical violence, jealousy, abandonment

When Jay had gotten a call from Kenny at three-thirty in the morning he didn't exactly know what to expect. Sure, he could have called because someone died, but he could've also called because he wanted to debate the pronunciation of 'avocado' (something he'd already done twice). So when Kenny's name flashed across his phone screen he just took a deep breath and went to the hallway, leaving a sleeping Hailey alone in bed. "Halstead."

"Hana got shot."

"What? Hana? Your Hana?"

"Yeah- it was a fugitive. She- she's fine. Shot in the foot. She was on leave for a bit, stayed with her parents, but now she's on desk duty. She was going to be with us, but apparently, she was helping the cyber division track some hackers, and they're connected to an organized crime group in Chicago. And she's going to be working with the unit that's been conducting the investigation into that organization. Your unit."

"Yeah, we were told that an FBI cyber analyst was coming down to work with us but they didn't tell us who. Okay, well, she'll be perfectly safe. Our tech room is in the basement with secure entrances, and I'll see if I can get either myself or Hailey assigned to work with her."

"Thanks man, you have no idea how much this means to me."

"Actually I do, remember?"

"Yeah, any advice on how to get through it?"

"I'm not gonna lie, it's gonna be hell, but you'll just have to hang in there and trust me."

"Okay."

"... So I'll finally get to meet Hana..."

"Yeah, I'm hanging up now. Bye."

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

"Everyone, meet special agent Hana Gibson from the FBI. She's the tech specialist here to help us out with the Anderson family. Play nice." After his... Enthusiastic introduction, Voight walked back into his office and shut the door. "Hi, I'm detective Jay Halstead and this is my partner Detective Hailey Upton, it's nice to meet you. I can show you where you'll be working if you want?"

"That would be great." Jay moved to the desk by the stairs. "Okay, this desk is just like ours, older than our boss and with a PC on it. The tech room is downstairs, this is mostly for basic searches and so that the tech expert can be with the group when we debrief and work the board and the like. The stairs over here take you down to the garage which is where the tech room is. The stairs are old so they creak a lot but don't worry, they're perfectly safe."

"Sorry to interrupt, but is that a cage?"

"Yes, but don't worry, we don't use it. It's from the old guard, you know, when cops were assaulting people for no reason and no one would say anything. At least now people are talking about it."

"I sense a 'but'."

"But... I wish that cops who were still like that actually got arrested, or never made it out of the academy."

"You and me both."

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

"Okay, so the Anderson family has been selling legit products online but then stealing and selling the credit card info, they've been covering their tracks pretty well up until now. That means that something changed. What that is could be key to catching all, and I mean all, of them. Work your CI's, talk to victims, flip some people. Figure out what it is." The team nodded and turned to their partners to figure out their next move.

"Should we head out to Cook County? There's an inmate there connected to the Anderson's, right? Maybe they could give us something."

"Actually, I was thinking maybe I could head out there with Ruzek and you could stay with Gibson because you found their online pattern and figured out which products and websites were theirs. Maybe you two could find more together."

"Sure, that sounds okay but, we're good, right?"

"Of course we are, we'll always be good. I just think this will be best for the case, plus you have the most experience working with the FBI, and her being here has put Voight on edge which has put everyone else on edge."

"Good point, I'll see you later." His eyes followed her until he couldn't see her anymore and he let out a breath, it was different this time. Last time, when Hailey hadn't been here, OA had kept an eye on her but his partner wasn't there so that made it a bit easier, but Hailey was here and now so was Hana. It would take some finessing to have both of their backs but he figured if they were in the same place it would be a little easier. "Halstead? You ready to head out?"

"Yeah, let's go."

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

Cook County was as unpleasant as always. Angry convicts yelling at them through their cells that they wanted to slit his throat. Lovely. But that wasn't what got to him. Leonard Mitchell, the man they were there to see, wouldn't say anything helpful. He wasn't even threatening them or insulting them, he was just asking "where the smoking blonde from last time was". It was taking an enormous amount of restraint to keep him from jumping across the table and tackling the guy. "You're here for hacking the Chicago Municipal Courts website and unsealing confidential information. You're in the high-security ward and have more restricted access to places in the prison than most inmates. You don't have much going for you, maybe if you give us some information we can help you out."

"That's a joke, I'm not saying anything to either of you. Now that blonde, get her to show up for a conjugal visit, then maybe I'll consider it."

"Okay! So, we're done talking, we're going to search your cell and work station now, and you know what, because you have been so unpleasant to deal with today, we're also going to search the cells and workstations near you. Have fun explaining to your neighbours why their contraband got carted off by Chicago PD." Jay marched out of the interrogation room before he lost his cool even more than he already had. He gestured for the warden to get some guards together to start the search. He took a deep breath to try and calm down. "Hey Halstead, are you okay? I mean, what he said about Upton..."

"I'm fine. I don't like hearing anyone talk about my partner that way, but I'm fine."

"Really? Cause the stuff he said was pretty..."

"She's back at the station with Gibson in probably the most secure room there, far, far away from that perv. And if she's okay, I'm okay."

"You should ask her out. I mean, I know it might be weird considering I'm her ex, but you're so far gone on her it's ridiculous and I think that you'd make a cute couple. Think about it, man"

"Uh, yeah. I'll think about it, come on, let's go see if the warden's ready for the searches." Jay's heart was pounding and he felt like he'd just jumped out of the way of a moving train. Nobody knew about them yet, but they were all criminal investigators surely they'd picked up that at least something was different.

They searched Mitchell's room and found a burner phone... Behind his toilet. "Man, I am so glad I don't have to touch that thing. That's Upton and Gibson's job."

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

"So I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is, we found a cell phone. The bad news is, it was behind his toilet."

"How lovely."

"Well, you can thank Leonard Mitchell for that. Hey, how's it been working with Gibson?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem really interested in her, that's all. Do I need to be worried?"

"No, I just want to make sure that she feels welcome and won't give us a bad review to the FBI."

"I know what you look like when you're lying, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"Just... Go back upstairs, Jay."

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

"How's everything going?"

"Other than the fact that I'm in the doghouse, good."

"What'd you do?"

"I was a little too protective of Hana, I guess. Hailey picked up on it and I couldn't exactly explain without blowing our cover."

"That sucks, man. I'm sorry but honestly, it sounds like you were gonna end up sleeping on the couch either way."

"Yeah, how are you? You holding up alright with Hana gone?"

"No. You were right, this is hell. I keep looking around to make sure she's covered or to offer to get her that terrible coffee she likes and then she's not there and it feels like whiplash." Jay could practically feel himself sharing the weight on Kenny's shoulders. "It doesn't get any easier, it actually gets a lot harder, but she won't be here forever. She'll be home soon and you'll be able to breathe again."

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

Hailey was still giving him the cold shoulder when he went around to take lunch orders. She was curt "my usual" before turning back to her computer screen and completely ignoring him. He did what he could to not let the pang in his chest play out on his face but from the way Hana looked at him it was obvious, he'd failed. "What about you Gibson? Do you need a copy of their menu?"

"No, that's okay, I looked it up. I'll get the spicy shrimp pad thai."

"You got it." He was about to leave when Hana gestured for him to lean down close to her. "Just apologize for whatever you did, it'll go a long way. She's been off since you dropped off the cell phone." He wanted to say something, explain that he was just caught between a rock and a hard place, but the words were trapped in his throat. Hana sent him a I-know-what-I'm-talking-about-if-you-don't-listen-to-me-you're-probably-going-to-regret-it look and all he could do was allow his shoulders to slump and nod.

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

The intense silence of the bullpen was interrupted by Hailey entering behind Hana, who looked incredibly confident on her crutches. "We got something off of the phone." Hailey moved to the board with some papers as Hana plopped down into the office chair at her temporary desk. "It took a while to crack some of the files but I got it. They're transactions between an off-shore account and a shell company based out of Arkansas. While the account was set up there, it's been used mostly in New York, Washington DC, and Chicago. The most recent transaction was for 85K."

"Hana and I also found some emails with photos of military-grade weapons. Guns, missiles, and grenades. Mitchell isn't the buyer or the seller, it looks like he's mediating between the two. We don't have an ID on the buyer yet, but we have one on the seller. Lori Anderson, member of the Anderson crime family. Got no idea what they're planning, but the Anderson's were particularly interested in armour-piercing weapons and rocket launchers. And two days ago she asked Mitchell if he could put her in contact with an explosives supplier. We need to talk to organized crime, both from CPD and FBI, this looks bad. There are still files and emails that we have to go through, and his calendar makes no sense it's all in code. It's probably pretty important because he was in prison and couldn't actually go anywhere. We're also still combing through the contraband from the other cells just to make sure none of his neighbours were also involved."

"Alright. Upton, Gibson, good work. Keep at the phone. Atwater and Burgess you two talk to organized crime, see what you can dig up and alert them of our discoveries. Ruzek and Halstead, flip any CIs you've got. We need to get ahead of whatever they're planning."

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

They were supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be safe. They were in the precinct, they were surrounded by on-duty cops, there was another detective unit across from Intelligence, Platt was at the front desk, Hank-don't-you-even fucking-dare-Voight was in his office. They were supposed to be safe. But they weren't.

They'd just left one of Adam's CIs twitching in excitement down the street as he counted his money when they got the call over the radio.

"10-1! 10-1! Shots fired at police at 21st district! We're pinned down!" They had a moment of stunned silence together before they hauled ass to Jay's truck and high-tailed it back to the district, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Jay's body was moving on autopilot, which probably wasn't good considering he was speeding in a large vehicle down busy roads, the only thing that was going to calm him down, that would quell and panic and rage bubbling up in was seeing Hailey alive. He would move heaven and earth to make that a reality.

Pulling up at the district he vaguely remembered he had to look out for Hana too, but lord help him, and whoever stood in his way, if he didn't see blonde hair and blue eyes attached to the fiery woman who held his heart.

The lobby reminded Jay of Kandahar, there were bullet holes lining every vertical surface. Blood pooled under the bodies of the injured. He did a quick sweep of the room, finding nothing but injured cops and civilians, none of whom were Hailey or Hana, or the attackers. The door to intelligence hung open, barely attached at the hinges. "They went up to intelligence! Move your asses!" Platt didn't spare them a second glance as she went back to ordering the remaining able-bodied patrol officers around.

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

"Kim!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

"We're okay too, just so you know."

"Where did they go, Kev? What happened?"

"They went down to the garage-" Jay didn't have it in him to finish listening, he just ran, gun raised. "Hailey! Hana!" It was bad enough that he might lose Hailey, the woman he loved more than anything, but losing Hana too? He wouldn't be able to look Kenny in the eye ever again.

"We're over here!"

"We're okay!"

And then he could breathe again. Oh thank god, she's safe, Hailey's safe. She's mad at me but she's safe... Does my heart always pound this fast when I'm not with her and I'm just noticing now? No, it's probably adrenaline because... I almost lost her. But I didn't. They were tucked into separate corners of the tech office, Hailey, covered in blood that she immediately indicated wasn't hers, was armed with her Glock and Hana armed with her crutches. There were five men in black tactical gear with ski masks lying in various positions on the floor. Four had obvious non-lethal bullet wounds, a courtesy from Hailey, and the fifth was still moving and being hit repeatedly by Hana with one of her crutches. "Stop. Moving. Already. You. Ass!" Jay would've been more impressed if he wasn't still coming down from the adrenaline. "Thank god. You're both okay? Hailey?"

"We're fine."

"Hails-"

"We're fine, just help guide the ambos here, please?"

"...Okay." God, he could feel his heart start to splinter. Less than a minute ago he'd thought that his world had been savagely destroyed, but now... All he wanted was to hold her and it only made him ache more when she pushed him away. He just walked over to the garage door to allow the paramedics easier access, only his footsteps and groans of pain coming from the goons kept the room from being dismally silent.

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

"She's completely fine, so before you freak out just know that she's in the exact same shape she arrived here in."

"That is a terrible way to start a phone call Halstead! Was that supposed to calm me down or help in some way? What even happened?"

"The Genna's hired some local weapons enthusiasts the bust into our precinct and steal what we knew about them. They trashed our bulletin board and tried to get to the computers in the tech room but Hailey and Hana whooped their asses. When I got there Hana was actually beating one with one of her crutches. Hana's a badass."

"Damn right she is... But she's okay?"

"She's pissed off, but there's not a scratch on her."

"Good... That's really good."

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

"Hailey?" Jay knocked again, using every last thread of hope he had that she'd answer. It didn't matter that she was still upset with him, he just wanted to see her face. She and Hana had been whisked away by the FBI and IA right after the ambulances picked up the hired help. He just wanted to see her for more than thirty seconds, reassure himself that she was okay and that she still loved him. That he could fix everything, that he would at least get to hold her one last time. "Hailey, please open the door." He was only met with soul-crushing silence. "Please."

The relief he felt when the lock turned and the door opened could not be described. "Hana is inside if you want to talk to her."

"I'm here for you, Hails. Please, just... Talk to me. I love you, I love you more than I ever thought possible to love someone and today I found you hunched over, covered in blood. It doesn't matter that the blood didn't end up being yours. I was- I still am- terrified. I could have lost you today and I don't know how to face that. Can I just have a hug, at least, please? I just- I can't-" And then she was wrapping her arms around his waist, her tired gravity pulling him to her. He honestly considered being able to wrap his arms around her in return, and burying his face into her hair a gift from the gods. "I was so glad that you weren't there, because it means you weren't getting shot at, I've had to deal with you getting shot more than enough times, I couldn't deal with it again, Jay. I... I love you too." Jay didn't know how much longer they stayed like that, enveloping each other, but he cherished every second of it. And when they finally parted it was like coming down from an adrenaline high. "Do you want to come in? We were about to order from Bartoli's."

"I would love that."

"Good, cause we've left Hana waiting for a while."

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

"So, now I get to have the legendary deep-dish pizza, huh?"

"Yep. Best damn pizza in the world."

"Damn straight."

"You know, I think you two are a little biased."

"You sound like the partner I had while I was in the FBI, OA Zidan, he was always riding me about my opinion on pizza." Jay froze. He could feel himself freeze up. He could feel Hailey and Hana eyeing him in confusion. Shit. "What is it, Jay?"

"Sorry, I just don't like remembering that my partner was away from me for so long, and had another partner in that time period."

"Really, Halstead? You don't need to get all territorial, Hailey clearly doesn't want to be anywhere but with you. Seriously, you should have seen her when the FBI and IA showed up-"

"Hana!"

"What? He's the one who got all stiff when you brought up the FBI"

Phew, they didn't know, thank heavens.

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

Everyone was back the next day, ready to keep moving, to catch the people who organized the break-in of their precinct which injured twenty-three and killed four. It was bad enough that they'd tried to bust into Intelligence in the first place, but to hurt innocent people in the process? That was just plain wicked.

Hailey and Hana were working side by side, delving into the cyber goings on of the Genna family, Kim and Kevin were working with the crime lab to analyse the precinct, and Jay and Adam were back to flipping CIs. Jay felt better about where things stood with Hailey, but he was still grumpy that he couldn't be in the temporary bullpen with her today. He knew that she was capable and that she didn't need him to hover, but that didn't make being away from her after she was almost killed any less difficult. They were supposed to be in the most secure place in the precinct, how were any of them supposed to feel safe working in a place that had been breached by mercenaries in only a few minutes? He tried to shake off the worry and fear, but he just couldn't. And it was made worse by the fact that it wasn't only Hailey who had been in danger- Hana was too. And Kenny had already lost so many people that he really didn't know how he would've handled that situation. Having to tell one of his best friends that the woman he was in love with was dead while dealing with the exact same senario.

The second last CI on their list had been dodging them all day, and Jay's sanity was already hanging on by a thread- he did not have the strength or patience to deal with this. So instead of trying to track him down again, he just put out a BOLO and waited until patrol brought him in, kicking and screaming. When he entered the interrogation room Marcus went on a tirade, "what the FUCK, man!", "we had a deal!", "are these handcuffs really necessary?". Jay just stared at him. He didn't have the energy to try and get the guy to shut the fuck up, so he just sat silently across from him, trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible. "... Are you okay, man?"

"No, not really, Marcus. See, I've been calling you all day. I've called up other CIs and they were all okay to meet. But not you. No, you ghosted me and I had to get patrol to drag your ass in here. You still have robbery charges I could lay on you. This is about to get a whole lot worse because I have exactly no patience to deal with any BS right now, but yours especially. So. The Genna family. Tell me everything you know."

And he did. He sang like a damn canary, which Jay attributed to luck, and Adam attributed to Jay looking like he was going to tear the poor bastard limb from limb. Seriously. Adam made a mental note not to piss off Jay, which he subconsciously realizes means that as long as he didn't hurt Hailey he'd be fine. But he didn't have time to dwell on that as Jay exited the interrogation room looking like the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow. "I've gotta get this to the girls, you're not gonna believe what this bastard knew."

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

An apartment, down in Canaryville, was occupied by Daniel Anderson's mistress. And she wasn't just his mistress... She was his accountant. She didn't just file his taxes, she managed his money, she knew everything that it was used for and how they got it in the first place. Jay ran to the temporary tech room ready to drop a bomb, only for his fiery girlfriend to beat him to it. "We found out where they got the weapons and ammo! The navy didn't put out a report until they'd finished their investigation, but it's their stuff. It all came from Norfolk, but they were shipping it to Kandahar when they were robbed by a twelve-person team, well-skilled and heavily armed. But look at this surveillance video, where part of the leader's sleeve got torn off."

"That's... That's Daniel Anderson. He's got that tattoo. We can get a warrant with that, but what about this- Daniel has a mistress in an apartment in Canaryville. She's his accountant, she knows everything. And if we can get a warrant with what you found, we can search that apartment too because it's in his name." Hailey smiled that vindicated smile that just lit up her whole face and made her eyes shine with pride. Jay could feel himself mirroring her and he just couldn't look away, finally feeling like they got their groove back, their relationship back. "Hey guys? I'm glad you made up but can you either get to work or get a room? I don't need  a front seat to this."

"Oh, admit it Gibson, we're your OTP."

"I admit to nothing, Halstead."

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

Honestly, the raid of all of Daniel Anderson's properties, and consequently the collapse of the Anderson crime family, was dismally anti-climactic. They found boat-loads of evidence, Daniel's wife, mistress, and right-hand man all turned on him, and the FBI and NCIS were currently fighting over jurisdiction even though the case was already solved... By the CPD. Truthfully no one minded, because it meant that once they submitted their case notes and raid reports, they were done and might not even have to go to trial, the feds could handle that. While the majority of Intelligence decided to go to the regular watering hole, Hailey and Hana had made other plans and were dragging Jay along for the ride. And it was all going well, until they started talking about roommates. "I like Zadie, but she's gotten annoying now that she's dating my partner. So has he honestly. I mean, who thought that Kenny Crosby, an ex-army ranger would be acting like a thirteen-year-old that was in his first relationship? 'Is that text from Zadie? Is it about me? Were you guys talking about me while you were in the kitchen together this morning?' He was It's... A little exhausting. All he can talk about, is her. And whenever we hang out it always involves her somehow. He won't say it but I know he was a little disappointed when I came back and interrupted their 'love nest." All that Jay was able to gain from that other than the echo of sadness from behind her eyes, was that Crosby was dating someone who was not Hana. Which would be weird if he talked about her constantly on the phone, which he does, have an intimately trusting relationship with her, which he does, and ask one of his old army buddies to keep an eye on her while he can't because he cares about her so much and can't bear to lose her, which he did. So in conclusion; the fact that Kenny is dating someone who is not Hana is weird and will require further investigation.

"So he's constantly asking you about his girlfriend?"

"Well, she is too. But it's more annoying with him because he's my partner, we work together."

"But you live with her."

"It's... It's just different." Jay could see that she was mentally grasping at threads while trying to keep herself from falling into a black hole, this clearly meant much more to her than she was letting on so he decided to drop it. It was good timing too, because Hailey returned to the table with their food. Hair up, with a cute little Greece-themed apron on, ignoring her older brother's teasing from the kitchen. "Σκασε ηλιθιε!" (shut up idiot!)

"Μην μου πεις να σταματήσω, αυτό είναι το εστιατόριο μου!" (Don't tell me to shut up, this is my restaurant!) Jay found himself chucking at the Upton sibling banter. They interacted a lot less than he and Will did, though he supposed part of that was because he and his brother ran into each other through their work fairly often, and it was nice to see them... Happy with one another. Hailey usually looked like a constipated pigeon whenever she talked about her family so it was nice that she had reconciled with at least one sibling. After they were all able to move out, their relationships with each other got much more contentious. Theodore was the middle child and believed that they should quietly encourage their mother to leave their abusive father and just silently support her, Declan was the oldest and quite firmly just didn't care about their parents anymore and wanted nothing to with either of them because one was the abuser and the other was the enabler, while Hailey was the youngest and wanted to drag her father to prison by his ear herself. "Your brother seems like quite the joker."

"Oh, he is. He's always been the comedian in the family, a bit of a cross between SpongeBob and Chandler Bing. When I was seven, Theo put these gummy spiders in random places all over the house. It scared the crap out of my dad when he opened the- a top kitchen cupboard and about twelve of these spiders fell out, scared him even more when Theo grabbed one off the floor and bit into it, I think he ate three in total, one was completely whole, talking about how 'tasty' they were before my dad needed to sit down. It took him longer than he will ever admit to realize that they were just candy."

"Oh, that is good. I used to use some of those YouTube jump scare videos on my parents. I thought it was the funniest thing ever, especially because I used Elmo jump scares. So they'd be freaking out, and I'd just ask them why they were so afraid of a red puppet. My mom still doesn't trust me to show her videos."

"Well, it sounds like you and my brother would get along like fire, you should meet him later. He said he'd join us for dessert." Wait... What? Oh no... I know that look, she's trying to set Hana up with her brother! As much as I'd like Hana to be my sister-in-law, that would preferably be through a different brother.

."That sounds great, I really like Theo. What was that thing we had last time we ate with him and... Her name was Kate, right? Do you know how they're doing? I feel like I haven't heard about her in a long time." Hailey gave him a look. A I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that look. "No, they're not dating anymore. I thought I mentioned that."

"Oops, seriously though, what was that dessert we had with them?"

"That was revani, we can ask if that's what my brother has here today."

"Uh- what is revani, if I may ask, as the only non-Greek and non-Greek-dating person at this table?"

"Ha, of course you can ask Hana. It's a semolina cake, flavoured with lemon and orange zest. It's really good."

"That sounds great, but do you think I'd also be able to order some takeout for tomorrow? I just have a long day of travelling via bus tomorrow and I don't know when I'll get the chance to eat, so I figure having a big breakfast might help with that."

"That sounds like a cool idea. Hailey, why don't we all order some food to go and eat it tomorrow morning together?"

"You mean as like a big Greek breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"I wasn't thinking that initially but I'm glad Jay did, it sounds great."

"Alright, yeah, let's do it. I'll go talk to Theo and order somethings that reheat well." Hailey left them with a smile to go bother her brother in the kitchen, their discussion in Greek filling the restaurant with jokes and quips only a few present were able to understand, forging smiles on the faces of strangers as they listened to the voices in the kitchen. Hana looked apprehensive, and he doubted it was about the long bus inter-state bus ride. "Hana, I'm sure that your partner missed you, maybe he didn't say it, maybe he needed a distraction, but he missed you."

"How do you know? You don't even know him." If only you knew.

"Trust me on this."

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

"You fucking idiot." Jay was trying to keep his voice down so that he didn't wake Hailey, who was asleep in her bed (where he wanted to be), or Hana who was asleep in the guest bedroom. As much as he loved her with his entire being, Jay had to admit that Hailey was a fucking demon if you woke her up without 'just cause'.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me Crosby!"

"What the hell Halstead?!"

"You called me at three-thirty in the morning, worried out of your mind about Hana, asking me to keep an eye on her, to protect her, all while you're dating someone who isn't her!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm dating her roommate-"

"Zadie. I know. Why do you think I called you to yell at you at two in the morning?"

"Hey, back up man. I don't know what you think you're talking about, but just because I'm dating Zadie doesn't mean that I don't care about Hana. There is very little I wouldn't do to keep her safe... If I could even do it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I... I was right there. I should have been able to help her. So, so why couldn't I help her? Huh? She is so important to me, okay? I don't even know how to describe it."

"Try."

"She... My mom told me that to make a woman fall in love with me I had to make her laugh, but every time she laughs I'm the one who falls more and more in love. She is astonishingly intelligent and I have never been more glad to feel like a complete and utter fool just by standing in someone's presence. If I had to crawl to hell and be tortured by the devil himself to keep her safe, I'd do it. I have never felt as wholly accepted by anyone else in my life, she has found ways to motivate me to climb out of my own grave on my darkest days. Every time a look at her, I see a glowing, deliriously happy future that I know I don't deserve." Heavy silence bore on both sides of the phone, dragging Kenny deeper into the dark crack in his chest, and delivering Jay an epiphany.

"... Have you ever thought that maybe it's about what she deserves?"

"Hm?"

"Listen, man, not everything is about you. This is about her. You just said you would let the devil tear you apart to keep her safe, and yeah maybe you don't deserve her, but she deserves you. She deserves someone who would do whatever it takes to make her laugh and keep her safe at whatever the cost all in the same day, and it sounds like that's you."

"Jay..."

"Just think about it man. And while you're at it, stop neglecting Hana, okay?"

"What?"

"You constantly talk about Zadie, you always involve her somehow when you're hanging out with Hana, and Hana's been getting the vibe that you're upset she came home and disrupted the little bubble you had going on with Zadie."  

"She told you that?"

"Me and Hailey, when we were all out at dinner. Just listen, pay a bit more attention to her, stop treating her like the middle man between you and your girlfriend, and work on your self-worth, man. You're a good person and an even greater friend, don't sell yourself short."

"Thanks, Halstead."

"No problem, Crosby."

"So what exactly makes me a 'great friend', Jay?"

"Uggggghhhhhhh."

"Hey! You said it, can't take it back!"

"... This is why we can't have nice things Kenny, goodnight."

"Wait you didn't tell me-"

[samwrights]

Team Karasuno as dads [hc]

For a married woman that doesn’t want kids, I sure do fantasize about my boys being dads a lot.

Asahi;

He definitely cried when he found out you were pregnant.

When your daughter was born, he couldn’t even be in the room because he was so overwhelmed with you being in pain and the fact he was about to bE A DAD

He doesn’t even remember how you started dating because he was so blown away by your beauty or so he claims but the fact that y’all were married?? And having a kid?? When did he get so bold??

Eventually he got over it cause he felt bad that he wasn’t in the room holding your hand while you literally pushed a whole ass human out ya cooch.

He fainted

The first time he held his daughter was the first time he had felt complete, more complete than when he rejoined the volleyball team in his third year. It felt amazingly right. He tries to deny the fact and say your wedding was just as wholesome but you can tell. Fatherhood is something entirely different for him

“She takes after momma’s beauty.” A simp through and through.

Asahi is a parental HOG. Which is kinda nice cause he loves doting on your child but also HI I AM MOM AND WOULD LIKE TO HOLD MY BABY???

He tells YOU how to hold her and feed her and little ticks about her personality like you aren’t on maternity leave and are with the baby ALL DAY (although he is REALLY pushing for you to just be a stay-at-home mom)

Because he is soooo doting, it’s very rare that you wake in the middle of the night to feed or change her—Asahi is ALL over it. But he is human and there are days he’s too tired to wake up from dead sleep. It’s ok, he’s your human. Daddy deserves rest too.

Asahi would totally be a co-sleeper, or at least nap with the baby as much as he possibly could.

Definitely bought her multiple onesies that say “daddy’s little princess”.

She gonna be a spoiled brat when she’s older 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Daichi Dadchi;

I mean he’s a literal running joke in the fandom

After being elected as the unofficial dad of the VBC in his high school days, it was no wonder that he was such a natural with your three munchkins.

Having three slightly older boys of varying ages, you relied heavily on Daichi to get through to them when you couldn’t.

He’s definitely the strict parent; your sons all try to take advantage of you 💀 demons

Your boys saw you as a pushover most of the time because you were just so tired.

“Just keep trying for a girl, they said. There’s a 50/50 chance, they said.” Was something Daichi would find you chanting to yourself often while you cooked dinner and the boys were playing soccer in the house and breaking something.

Even though Daichi is strict, he really tries to emphasize to the boys to treat you with kindness to make it a bit easier on you.

“Guys, please don’t make your mother rip her hair out.”

“We’re just playin’!” They would sing in flawed harmony

“One day, you guys are going to be all grown up with your own special person with your own kids, and you’re gonna love them so much that you’ll understand why I’m telling you to calm down and listen to your mom.” Asjdfkhlek.

“Ewwww, daddy loves mommy.”

“I sure do.”

Sugawara;

On god, Suga would be the most patient parent. He treats your toddlers like mini adults and not your insane nine year old girl or six year old boy.

He listens thoroughly when they are upset about something, cautiously listening to the deeper truths about why they’re upset and takes great care in making sure his children feel validated.

Super dad 🥰

But it’s not a random event; after being married to you for the last decade, he had so much practice with conflict resolution and genuinely listening to you that it was a natural tendency at this point.

For the most part, your children are incredibly well behaved. Sure, there’s an occasional incident because, well they’re kids. Your daughter, being the older of the two and nearly finished with primary school, was entering her phase of discovering boys and constantly writing in her diary.

Suga may be super dad, but he is not perfect, and for some reason I totally see him reading her diary.

“Koushi, put it back. Now.” He was just going to pretend that you using your mom voice on him didn’t turn him on and prepare him to fill you with another baby.

While he may be an expert on conflict resolution, you enforced respecting their privacy; quite a dynamic between the two of you in terms of validating your children as individuals.

“But honey, our daughter is starting to like boys.”

“At least one of the females in this house does.” 💀💀💀 with angels for children, someone had to be the clown of the Sugawara family and it was certainly you.

Tanaka;

You and Tanaka had your first baby in your guys’ third year of high school, which you would be lying if you said it wasn’t hell.

Tanaka fought tooth and nail to try to do everything from makin dinner, working, making sure you were getting rest, and of course still playing volleyball. Everything except actually trying to graduate.

“I don’t have time to study babe, I have practice and then we gotta put this squirt to bed.”

There was a constant argument about Tanaka continuing with volleyball that nearly forced you two to split. While you knew how important it was to him, there was no way he was going to graduate from Karasuno while he was trying to care for you, a child, work, and play volleyball.

“Ryuu, please. I know you don’t wanna quit but if you can’t pass your classes, you won’t be able to participate anyway.” He did not take well to that.

It took him time to come to his senses and in that time, you had kept you and your son away from him to allow him his space.

Apparently that was also a wrong move on your part.

He was so angry and frustrated being away from his mini me that he had easily conceded to retiring from volleyball if it meant being able to watch his little nugget learn how to sit up and crawl.

Yes, he goes HAM on the nicknames. Squirt, nugget, mini me, beanie baby, tyke, and all of the above. He pretty much calls your son everything but his actual name.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn.” He says one night while you help him study for his finals, your sleeping son swaddled in your arms.

“I’m sorry for making you give up something you love.”

“Nah, I got you and the munchkin. That’s all I need.”

Noya;

I love Noya 🥺 but at first, he is a chaotic parent. Granted y’all had your first child when you were still in college and he hadn’t the faintest clue on how to be a dad.

To be perfectly honest, you weren’t quite sure how to parent either.

Neither of you knew how to change diapers

Noya definitely got peed on more times than he wishes to admit

When your son was still a newborn, just around finals time, neither of you could figure out for the life of you why your baby was crying in the middle of the night. Which inherently made you cry because you had an 8am final and you had finished studying 5 hours prior 🙃

“Try to get some sleep, babe. I’ll take care of him.” Nishinoya’s voice was thick with exhaustion, but he knew how little you’d been sleeping since giving birth.

When you went to leave for your final, Noya was asleep in your living room rocking chair, baby safely in his arms with the both of them just snoozing away.

It was a struggle but the two of you faced the challenge together, one step at a time with your energetic four-year-old son as you graduated university. By the time you had all settled into a larger apartment together as a family, Noya had yet to pop the question. He was too busy having fun with his little man.

Sometimes it scared you how in sync he was with his child probably because he was still a child himself but it was sweet and endearing.

“Hey babe?” He asks softly after the two of you tucked away your boy for the evening. You raised in eyebrow at him, silently goading for him to continue. “Do you want to have another?” Needless to say, he sure as shit impregnated you that night asjckglpwm

Hinata;

With Hinata being an older brother, I actually see him being a wonderful dad. However, homie’s got a one-track mind and with him playing professionally, you’re usually left to do the parenting.

Your kids definitely like you more than Shoyo, not that anyone blamed anyone; they just never see daddy :(

BUT when he is in dad mode and home, you suddenly remember why you were eager as shit to have more kids with him 🥴 which explains ya you’ve got your third on the way

When he does come home, he automatically greets his older, 8 year old son with noogies and a brief wrestling session. For some reason, Hinata felt the need to compete with his own child 💀

Headass.

But when he sees his daughter, his world stops because he has favorites and EVERYONE in the Hinata house knows it

Always asking your 6 year old girl how her day was, asking how she was doing ruling over her imaginary kingdom and if she found her Prince Charming yet.

“Pffft I don’t need Prince Charming, daddy, he’s icky!!! Mommy says I don’t need a man!”

Where is the lie

“Your mom is absolutely right and you should totally listen to her, she’s the best queen in the whole world.”

Because of his one-track mind, he is engaged fully with your kids when he is actually home. Your son had naturally gotten into volleyball which, even after a long day’s practice, Shoyo spends hours training him.

“Do you think this one’s finally gonna like me more than you?” He asks one night while he’s doing the dishes after dinner, while you’re right beside him drying them off.

“Sho, our kids love you. But mom is home with them allllll day and has been since birth.”

“Can we keep trying until one of them finally likes me more?” 💀💀💀 “or until we have enough to make our own volleyball team?”

Kageyama;

How this socially inept clown got ANYONE pregnant was unthinkable. Of course, to anyone but you. After being with him all throughout high school, it was more of a wonder how you didn’t get pregnant sooner

This dude dirty. His one track mind, if not on volleyball, was entirely on you. Nearly every night was date night which ALWAYS ended with bow chicka wow wow 😏 you horny mfers yalll moved in together as soon as you graduated from Karasuno.

Clothing at home was nonexistent.

With the two of you in your second year of college, living in your apartment, and being 8 months pregnant, the air had dramatically shifted.

Kageyama’s once still high sex drive had been channeled into school work, working, and of course, volleyball. You were planning on at least completing your semester before taking time off to care for the baby. It seemed one of you would have to really step up, and from what it seems, it wasn’t going to be Tobio.

When he was home, which was very few and far between with how much he had going on, he had tried to dote on you as much as he could physically muster. Kisses here and there, bathing together, and lots of snuggles.

Kageyama is in charge of the nursery and there’s no room for argument on this. With him not being as present at home, he sets up the nursery as a way to communicate with his child that he’s never going to see because of volleyball

I love Kags, but he is nowhere near ready to even think about parenting 💀 which you tried to be patient with, but with the due date approaching very rapidly, you kinda needed him to step it up.

“I’ve helped.” He tries using the nursery as an argument and he had gone to every doctors appointment but homeboy still doesn’t know how to make a bottle or change a diaper

Was he prepared to have to clean up baby shit and vomit? Absolutely not. Was he going to anyway? Lmao, absolutely not. This boy only wants to be daddy, not dad.

Tsukishima;

It shook everyone and their mother when people found out that Kei not only had a girlfriend that he met in college, but that his girlfriend was a milf according to Kuroo and Bokuto

When you and Kei had first started dating, your daughter was already five. And while you obviously didn’t bring her to classes with you, she was always with the two of you for date nights. Oddly enough, he really didn’t mind.

His patience for kids, now that’s he’s older and kids are actually kids and NOT his peers, rivals that of Sugawara’s.

“Hey Tsukki,” your spawn asks at dinner one day. “When are you and mommy gonna get married? People keep making fun of me cause I call my parents mommy and Tsukki.”

“Making fun of people isn’t cool, it’s so lame. They’re just jealous cause they don’t get to call their parents mommy and Tsukki.”

👁—

That same night, Kei offers to read your daughter to sleep as if to reinforce the notion that mommy and Tsukki was cooler than mommy and daddy. Of course, he was pushing for this to hide that he was upset that children were making fun of her.

After that Tsukishima really gets into his dad role—walking your daughter to school with you or without you everyday, picking her up and giving her grandiose hugs. He made sure to lock eyes with every spectator, his height towering over many at the kindergarten. Silently telling them all “do not fuck with her, or you answer to me.”

He’s sosososo protective, I can’t. He ain’t scared to fight a toddler.

Even well after you and Tsukishima introduce a child of your own, your daughter still insists on calling him Tsukki and adamantly tries to teach her sister to say Tsukki instead of dada.

“You’re okay with the kids not calling you ‘Daddy’, Kei?”

“The only one I want calling me daddy is you.”

Yamaguchi;

This poor bean 💀 not only was he not prepared for fatherhood in the slightest, but twins?!

You both swore up and down they were evil. If one was hungry, the other one would refuse to eat until the other finished their meal. This applied to using their diapers as well.

Imagine the energy of Hinata and Nishinoya as baby twin boys, and lo and behold, yours and Tadashi’s kids.

While you had slightly more patience with them, knowing they were going to grow up eventually and become their own independent humans. Tadashi was not handling this well at all.

Low key, he felt like he was doing a horrible job as a parent and, after the boys had finally gone to sleep for the night, you’d spent a lot of time consoling Tadashi.

“Why can’t I be like—“

“Baby, you’ve got to stop comparing yourself to all of your friends. None of them have twin boys that are less than a year old.”

“Yeah but Hinata has three of them, so does Daichi—“

“Honey, you aren’t them. You’re you, so please, just be you.”

He’s ambitious when it comes to parenting—he wants to be the best dad ever, and he only gets better with practice.

That doesn’t make him wanna tear out his hair any less, but as the boys get older, it does get easier. We pretend their toddler years didn’t exist, it was a nightmare that Tadashi does NOT want to relive

[shadeswift99]

hey shade!

im not having the best time rn

can i have some vague void writings if you can/want?

As usual, I just sort of started and didn't stop, and I have no time to edit so: here! And thank you. Writing this helped me, too. Sometimes you don't know you need to calm down until you have.

I hope you enjoy my ramble, and I hope your time gets better. 💙

I have thought and talked a lot about the experience of the Void to a player, both the player in the world and the player sitting in the chair holding the controls...but I was building a farm in the End recently, so today I am thinking about the Void through the eyes of an Enderman.

The Void is nothingness. Pure nothingness. A question with no answer, destruction with no resolution, a fall and a breath and a loss and a nothing you can do, no way of saving yourself without wings and no way to recall lost items or lost experience. That, for a player, a being made for creation, who hasn't experienced true nothingness since the day they spawned, is one of the most anxiety-inducing things the Universe has to offer. The pull of the Void is terror, the thought of oblivion repellent, even with the knowledge of respawn. As nature abhors a vacuum, the player simply can't reconcile the idea of pure nothingness in a setting so reliant on freedom and the power to shape your surroundings.

An Enderman, though?

An Enderman is not a player.

An Enderman knows nothingness each time it teleports. It was born from nothingness, spawned with no explanation and no purpose to its existence - and it doesn't need one. Its existence is its own explanation. It lives, and that is enough. It wanders, it collects blocks, it guards the End, and it is content, knowing that if it should ever fail to do those things, a hundred or a thousand more of its friends would carry the load. It does not fear nothingness, because the idea of void is a haven, a thing to return to in danger, skipping away from an arrow or a raindrop or whatever might come to harm it. It dissolves into nothingness and reforms itself on instinct. For an Enderman, the Void is simply like the air.

No pull. No fear. Simple normalcy. An endless pool of a thing so much a part of themselves that they barely feel a separation between it and the base fabric of reality.

So, when an Enderman falls, it does not teleport away. The Void will take it, yes, but the Void is not death to them. The nothing will condense around its limbs as it falls, gently stripping layers of code from its body, laying each line bare with a tenderness a player could never hope to feel past the fear. It will unspool the threads of that Enderman's reality, just the same as when the being teleports, and it will not hurt. It will not hurt. It will just Be. And the last thing that Enderman will know, as it begins to know Nothing, is the expanse of a space devoid of water, devoid of eyes, the embrace of a thing that loves it as the Universe loves the player, a place where the Nothing is so pure that wherever it looks and wherever it moves there will be not even a whisper of a player's blade or a raindrop or any of the things it knows to fear. There is simply Is, the thing it will soon not be, and Isn't, the thing it is surrounded by. And that Enderman will cease, surrounded by love and cold.

And it will Be.

It will Be again after a minute, after five, after an age. The Void will recycle its code, piece it back together like building blocks, set it gently down on a yellow rock plane or an obsidian obelisk or a stoney platform to be felled by a player in a farm and set back down anew. And that Enderman will continue. The Nothing it knew was simply a hibernation, sleeping peacefully in the realm of unmaking, the worst nightmare of a player with so much to lose, and the comfort of a creature whose existence is loss, and gain, and continuing regardless.

No, the Void does not scare the Endermen. The Void is them, and they are it.

They are far older than the player. They know that everything is temporary, just as they know that nothing is ever really lost. Their code is as old as the rock they stand on, and its individual arrangement as new as the last breath.

And the Void loves them. Just as it loves the player. Just as it could love anything, if the thing it loved chose to know it. Because there is no love in the Void, not really. There is no love, or hate, or fear in the Void. There is no...in the Void. It is simply an echo. A reflection of what it is given. A question that answers itself. The thoughts and feelings of whatever observes it returned as a ghost in the eye of the beholder.

Here is your fun fact for the day, one which you probably already know, but one that feels important right now, somehow. An Enderman sees in reverse of a player. Where a player sees darkness, it sees light. Where a player sees light, it sees darkness.

To an Enderman, the Void is a glowing hearth, the home-fire of their world.

To an Enderman, each of their friends shine like moonlight.

I love you. The Universe loves you. I hope that change will be your friend.

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.2

This is the second chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3.9k words

previous chapter

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella Swan is introduced to a possible new friend and receives a gift. The doctors new family may not be as well adjusted to small town life as Charlie would like.

Chapter Two

The next morning I wake up to a growl of thunder beating against the inside of my skull. I had a night of thankfully restful sleep for once, only waking up to get a glass of water. My hands are clasped against my chest, fingers knotted in annoyance as I hold back what likely will be a spill of expletives. Why must there always be noise? Why can I not sleep soundly and awake soundly, just once?

I open one eye experimentally, hoping the sun has already arisen and I won’t be missing out on any leftover sleep. My room is shrouded in darkness. The expletives, swear words crude enough to make a priest gag, spill out in a muttered breath and my hands squeeze against each other once more before reaching for my alarm clock. The red numbers blink back at me and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light before I read the time. Nine in the morning. I look back to the window where my blinds are drawn closed, but still no light, even filtered through the canopy of clouds, peaks at the edges. 

The thunder, which had gone quiet after waking me up initially, rolls again for a moment before silencing itself. Only, was it thunder? It sounded heavy, like machinery but with a deeper growl. Was there construction nearby? I didn’t recall any on my few trips up and down the street, and I question why there would need to be any construction anyways. It’s not as if this is a booming neighbourhood with a subdivision being built. 

Charlie knocks against my door, quieter than yesterday. “Bella, it’s time to get up.” You’d imagine that with my age being nearly twenty and my status as a legal adult I’d be allowed to choose my own time to wake up. My annoyance dies down quickly when my thoughts bounce back to Phoenix, waking up early each morning to drive Mom into her early morning classes. Nine in the morning really isn’t that early, in fact, it allows me time to get some chores done before class. “Someone has dropped by.”

My lips contort into an annoyed pucker. Who would have stopped by? Mom had warned me before the move that nothing but rumours and nasty mold comes from Forks. Apparently her quick marriage to Charlie, and even quicker pregnancy with me, was enough gossip to fuel conversations for years. I remember a trip to Forks at eight years old, a woman had stopped my mother in the grocery store and asked her over for coffee. “They just want the inside scoop,” Renee had told me afterwards, “Give them anything and they’ll find a way to make it ugly.”

My bare feet brush the ground and a flash of cold spreads up my shins. Apparently, even in spring, the weather is dangerously cold. I tell Charlie I’ll be downstairs in a moment, pulling on a pair of jeans and thermal socks. I was hoping for a relaxing day alone, just me, my sweatpants, and the laptop. I compromise on the socks, regardless of who is downstairs, my toes will not be cold today.

I pull the blinds open, the lawn stretching out beside the house is bathed in shadowy darkness despite the morning hour. The forest that lines our property, secluding us from the neighbours, is eerie and mysterious. The green tones that I initially found alien and too bright are now gone and replaced with navy. I wait a moment, staring into the trees, my thoughts rambling into fairytale imaginations. 

My brain conjures an image of a man, tall and insidious, stepping out of the tree line, long claws attached to his fingers and a nasty grin revealing pointed teeth. His shirt is ripped in the front, a long tear reaching from throat to navel and from inside the shirt tufts of hair stick out. No, not hair, fur. He growls menacingly. 

I close the blinds quickly and blink against the pictures my brain throws at me. 

The landline rings downstairs and startles me, a jolt of anxious adrenaline surging through my cold feet and up into my heart. Maybe one of the reasons I enjoyed Phoenix’s barren, plain landscape was that I would not be subjected to such terrible thoughts. I remember being twelve and watching Scream with my mother, she was on a horror movie kick and had rented a whole stack of DVDs for us to watch. That night when I was tired but my eyes refused to close as I didn’t want to imagine what could be lurking outside my bedroom window. Crawling into my mother’s bed, she ran her warm palm against my forehead and hummed a song until I calmed down. 

“Bella,” she had said quietly, the nurturing lilt of her voice expanding my heart, “We live in a desert. You can see for miles and miles and miles, if some bad man was coming we’d see him from forty minutes away.” I giggled quietly into the comforter, our bodies pressed against each other in near sleep and my mother’s hands maneuvering through my hair with expertise. 

Now, I look out at the grassy lawn from a crack between the blinds. It resembles the set of a slasher movie, the forest borders it with every possibility my imagination can muster. I can see a man from four seconds away, not forty minutes.

There's a chorus of male laughter from below and I sigh, assuming this is my cue to go downstairs and meet with whoever has stopped in.

Charlie is sitting in the living room, facing me and his back to the television which is decidedly blank. On the couch is a head of glossy, black hair. Beside him is a wheelchair with an older man sitting in it, a mug clasped between dark hands. I curse whatever forces brought these strangers into the house so early, I am not in the mood for interaction. I was hoping for a bowl of oatmeal and a quiet morning. 

“Hey!” Charlie braces his hands on his knees and pushes out of the armchair. His face is split in half with a grin. I can’t recall him smiling this large in the past week of my stay. The two men turn, facing me with warm smiles.

One of them is older, perhaps Charlie's age, his mouth creased with smile lines and his eyes wrinkled with sun damage. His skin is a warm russet brown, his eyes deep-set behind pronounced brows and a large smile. Bright white teeth stare back at me as my brain picks over his features, how do I know this man? I know almost immediately that he’s Quileute, from the Reservation to the west of town. I vaguely remember trips to the beach with Charlie and eating hotdogs over fires with some of the children from the area. 

“Do you remember me, Bella?” He asks in a deep, commanding tone. His voice transports me back to the beach, collecting colourful rocks with the other kids and being called to dinner. Billy Black. He lives in a small, red house with a large kitchen perfect for gatherings. He’s older than I remember, but my last time being here for any substantial time was nearly four years ago. 

“Dad, c’mon,” the boy says with a sarcastic eye roll. He stands from the couch, his height towering mine by a few inches and his broad shoulders slumped forward happily. I wonder how tall he’d be if he stood to his full height. His voice is deep, not as deep as his father’s, but still an indicator of the family resemblance. Where his father is strong and sure, this boy is aloof and casual. Jacob Black. “She hasn’t been back in ages, she probably blocked your nasty attitude out of her memory.” 

I bite back a smile, but Billy laughs and shoots Charlie a look that says, kids, am I right? I step forward and extend my hand to Jacob, who takes it gratefully in his own and gives a soft shake. His hand covers mine and is most definitely a few degrees warmer than I am. “Jacob Black, we used to make mud pies together.”

“Best in town,” Charlie adds in from the back of the room. I smile. 

“No, no, I remember you guys,” I tell the Blacks. “It just took me a moment.” Charlies sits back down in his chair and motions for me to take a seat. 

“Billy and Jake just stopped by,” my father explains. I sit beside Jacob on the couch, a cushion between us. But, even with the provided space and the lack of physical contact, I feel heat come off of him in waves like a radiator. I wonder if he’s sick. “Jake here is a mechanic.” A furious blush settles under the boy's brown skin as his mechanical skills are brought up, this is my first time hearing of his expertise. I remember his sisters being twins, both tall and beautiful with matching smiles. They were almost two years older than me, Jacob had followed closely behind and was only born in the same six months as me. Of course, now that I try to remember, the date falls short in my memory. It’s possible he has a career as a mechanic somewhere on the Reservation, but he mustn’t work in Forks. I hadn’t seen a single mechanics garage in town. 

“No, no,” he looks between me and my father with an apologetic smile, “it’s just a hobby. Something for fun.” Billy tsks at his son, shaking his head in a way that makes me believe this conversation has occurred before. 

“Hobbies can bring in money, hobbies can turn into jobs,” the older man says with a scolding tone. Jacob just shakes his head crookedly, not responding. Charlie takes this as his cue to interrupt the trajectory of the conversation, and I’m grateful. I haven’t spoken to these men in nearly four years, that last place I want to be is in the middle of a family feud. 

“Well, now, there was a reason I brought up Jake’s skills,” Charlie interjects with a wave at the large boy next to me. “Bells, go take a look outside.” My fingers twitch anxiously in my lap at being thrust into the center of the conversation. I was hoping I could slide under the radar here, not end up in the middle of it. 

It takes great restraint for me to get up from the couch and not stumble over my ankles in the act, my clumsiness reaches new heights when I’m being watched by a room of people. Even if there are only three people in the room. The window at the end of the room is open, the curtains pulled to the side, and when I reach it my gaze falls on a group of kids biking down the street with a rainbow of helmets. Apparently, the dark sky doesn’t scare them the way it does me. 

They pedal quickly, little screams of delight just barely audible through the thick glass of the living room window. They pass the porch and disappear behind a large red truck parked out front of the house. I blink. It’s still there, rounded fenders and shiny door handles, long bed, ancient grill adorning the hood. It’s beautiful. “Is that your truck, Billy?” There’s a chorus of laughter behind me, the men’s baritones mixing and producing a flaming blush starting at my neck and creeping up into my face. I turn to look at them, my stomach clenching as I turn away from the beautiful vehicle. “What?” 

“It’s yours, Bella,” Charlie tells me. The breath I was holding leaves my lungs through my gaping mouth, I struggle to close it and take an experimental inhale. “Bella?” I turn and look back out the window, the glorious truck still sits there staring at me from across the dark lawn. I can only imagine how beautiful it is in the sunlight.

“I- it’s mine?” I ask. Another series of laughs echo through and then footsteps come up beside me, Jacob stands looking out the window. “You made it?” I question, looking up at him. 

His shoulders shake silently and his lips press together as he tries to compose himself, I’m not sure why he finds my comment so funny but it reignites my blush. “I fixed it up, yeah. But, don’t get too excited. The thing runs at sixty miles max, push her further than that and you’ll be walking home.” 

We all go outside quickly, me leading the pack with an excited skip in my step. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall on my face or stumble over my words as I spoke my thoughts aloud. “It’s so pretty, I love it! Jake, I have no idea how you could make it look so perfect.” The truck sits against the curb, its red paint flaking in places around the tires, but even more perfect than I could have imagined. 

The sky is a disturbing shade of grey, a fact that irritates me more outside than it did in the house. Why does the weather have to ruin such a perfectly good moment? But I spend the majority of my time on the vehicle, petting its sides carefully like I might damage it. Finally, seemingly having had enough of me quietly admiring the vehicle, Billy tells me to hop in and check it out on the inside. 

Jacob produces a set of keys, no automatic locking mechanism, and twists it in the truck's door handle. He holds the door open for me, producing a hand to help me in. I take it gratefully, stepping up into the driver’s seat and letting myself sink into the seat. Jacob closes the door on me, but my thoughts are lost and focused only on how much I love this truck. 

“So,” he says after opening the passenger door and climbing up next to me, “You ever driven a truck before?” I shake my head, fingers curving experimentally around the thin steering wheel. I can see myself now: driving down the empty highway, the sun blinding against the dry pavement, window down and hair blowing, radio blaring. It’s exactly what I needed, a way for me to get around without needing to borrow the cruiser (which, yes, is illegal) or have Charlie drive me around. 

“I can give you lessons,” Jake offers, fingers clasped in his lap, drumming a tune against the opposite knuckles. “If not that’s cool, but she drives a little funny.” “She?” I ask, eyes leaving the steering wheel momentarily to watch his face. He notices, the serene expression dropping from his face and replaced with a quick upturn of his lips. 

“Uh, yeah.” He palms the back of his neck roughly and seems almost apologetic. “I have a thing for cars, y’know, so naming them is kinda part of the deal.” I can barely make out a faint red tinge over his cheeks. “Wait, hold on,” I can’t contain the giggle that slips out but firmly press my lips together before trying again. I can only imagine the toothy smile I’m giving him, a girl all too excited over some old truck. Only, this is the perfect old truck. “What’s her name?”

“Betty,” he responds sheepishly, his hand still massaging the back of his neck. “But if you tell anybody that I’ll have to kill you.” 

“That’s okay, Betty is our secret.” 

And, just like that, I now have a secret with someone. Does this make us friends? Regardless of whatever it makes us, my heart sings happily from within my chest, excited to think that maybe Forks won’t be as lonesome as it’s been this past week. Maybe Jacob and I will become friends and bond over Betty and I won’t only have Charlie and school and books. 

“Well, before you accept her turn the keys,” Jacob instructs. I oblige, setting the keys in the ignition and giving them a gentle twist. A roar of mechanical thunder envelopes us. I nearly leap out of my seat in surprise, the loud rumbling of the engine settling in my ears and blocking out all other noises. Jake says something but I can barely hear him from over the thunderous growl of Betty. I turn the keys back and the truck dies down with one last rumble. “She’s loud,” he says obviously. 

“She’s perfect.” 

Jacob hands me a spare set of keys after we get out, telling me that he’ll be back the day after tomorrow to give me my first driving lesson in the truck. Charlie was all too excited with that idea, even though I already have my license and know how to drive. In fact, other than illegally borrowing the cruiser with Charlie’s permission, I have never committed an illegal act involving a vehicle. If memory serves me correctly, Charlie has two speeding tickets from his youth. 

But, I don’t argue against Jake's offer. In fact, I thank him profusely and promise to pay him for the lessons. “Bella,” he says in an exasperated way, as if we’ve known each other for years and I always say such supposedly outlandish things. “Why would you pay me for something I’m offering to you?” 

We’ve stopped in front of the Blacks vehicle, a large brown and beige truck which seems to only be a decade newer than the red one. This isn’t saying much for the brown vehicle as the red one could be from the fifties. Billy is wheeling his way down the driveway with Charlie walking beside him, laughing emphatically at something his friend had said. 

“That’s crazy,” I respond with a shake of my head. “That’s like me not paying you for the truck.”

“Yeah, I know.” I take pause at this, the words welling up inside my brain and the meaning lost to me for only a moment. Then, like finally finding the missing puzzle piece under the table, I understand what this means and the picture is clear. 

“You- I- This truck isn’t free.” The words stutter out of me, the first two the beginnings of messages I abandoned immediately after starting them. This truck, though old, is not cheap, and neither is Jakes’s skill. I should pay him for labour if nothing else, but I know he doesn’t want to include that in the bill. He doesn't want to send me a bill. 

“It’s a gift,” he states simply with a shrug of his wide shoulders. Billy pulls up beside me, slapping away Charlie's hand as he tries to adjust his chair for him.

“Careful, Swan,” the older Black warns with hostility. “I have more muscle in these arms than you do in your entire body. Touch the chair and you’ll get what’s coming to you.” 

Jacob helps Billy into the passenger seat, folding up the wheelchair and securing it into the truck bed with quick hands. Charlie stands beside me, shooting fiery threats back and forth with his friend until Jacob climbs behind the wheel. “Storm coming through,” Jacob says with a wave towards the dark sky. “If you need any help with anything, tying stuff down or moving let me know.” Charlie thanks him for the offer and I lean in to thank him again for the truck and the lessons. I also assure him that the argument over billing is far from over and that he’ll get an earful the next time we meet. 

The rest of the day is spent restlessly. I log into my online classes but my attention is continuously claimed by my truck in front of the house. The sun never shows itself, content with hiding behind the cloud coverage. I’m sitting in the living room when Charlie gets home for dinner, my book discarded on the couch somewhere beside me. I reach for it once I see his cruiser pull into the driveway, deciding it would be better to look busy than to look like I’m obsessing over my new means of transportation.

“Bella?” He calls, the door shutting behind him with a creak. At some point I’ll have to oil all the hinges in the house. It’s that or I go clinically insane from the constant noise. 

“Yeah, just in here.” 

He comes in bearing a brown bag with the Forks Diner logo written on the side. “I brought dinner, it’ll be on the stove.” I nod and thank him, telling him that we can eat together once he’s down and out of uniform. “Well, actually, I won’t be eating until a bit later.” His moustache twitches irritably and he disappears into the kitchen to drop the food off. 

“Are you meeting with Billy?” I ask, knowing this isn’t the case. It must be an issue with work causing him to feel stressed. And when he comes back into the living room from the kitchen I’m able to see the tension holding his shoulders in place. “Did something happen at work?” “It’s nothing to worry about,” he assures me, but his words do anything but. So much for police chief being a boring job. “Just those new kids in town, the doctors children,” he waves a hand in the air as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Kicking up trouble in their first week here, something about racing.” 

“Oh.” I pull my knees under me and turn to face him fully, my arms hanging over the back of the couch like a child. 

“Anyways, no big deal I’m sure they’re just used to city life or something.” But, my fathers tone indicates that he most definitely does not believe his own words. In Charlie's books a bad apple is always a bad apple, and he’s probably dreading all the other trouble these kids will kick up. “I’ve just gotta go check-in with them, make sure it doesn’t happen again.” His hand moves towards my arm, as if to pat me goodbye but it stutters midair, falling back to his side awkwardly. 

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, biting on it as he mutters a goodbye and leaves through the front door without looking at me again. I wonder when this will get any easier. 

Renee left Charlie a year into their young marriage, taking me away to live with her in Arizona. She had given me partial reasons over the years for her leaving, talking of them being too young, the weather too wet, how she wanted a life where she could be free from responsibilities. I’m not sure whether it dawned on her that a child constitutes a responsibility, but she took me to every yoga class and rarely left me with a babysitter. 

My mother was never too keen on Forks, not that I fault her for it, the weather leaves much to be desired and there’s virtually nothing to do. But, because of her disliking I rarely visited my father, my first extended visit being when I was twelve and stayed the entire summer as Renee travelled with her then-boyfriend. I came back to a scrapbook of kissy photos and pressed leaves from her travels, all I had to show for my trip was a runny nose and a strong distaste for hamburgers. One can only eat so many burgers before the novelty wears off.

taglist: @musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos​

[labelleofbelfastcity]

fig and gorgug’s excellent adventure

word count: 1.7k

read on ao3 here!

“Bill, my most esteemed colleague…”

Fig looks over at a quietly snoring Gorgug, his face softly lit by the shadows of Bill and Ted on her crystal. Even after a year of knowing each other, a few months of which were spent in a cramped cell together, she hadn’t known he snores. It had never been quiet enough, she had never been quiet enough, to notice that about him.

If Fig focuses, she can feel the rumble of the tour bus against her back, and, if she leans her head against the metal wall by her shoulder, the vibrations of tires over asphalt rattle around in her skull. They’ve only been on the road for a week, with just two concerts under their belts, and Fig is already kind of exhausted.

It’s a lot. The managers and the calls home and the makeup assignments for missed schoolwork. She probably wouldn’t even be doing the latter, but Gorgug spends his allotted midmorning time sitting at their extremely tiny table, with papers of Barbarian Theory and Engineering 1 scattered around him, and she’d feel like an asshole to just watch.

Fig hasn’t been sleeping well, either. The little bunk seems to press in around her, shoving her into an even smaller version of herself. Which feels stupid to complain about, because Gorgug is over a foot taller than her, since his growth spurt over the summer, and he’s sleeping just fine.

As if to prove her point, Gorgug shifts in his sleep, curling closer into Fig’s side. It’s just past one in the morning, and they have a gig tomorrow so Fig should really be sleeping too, but she’d felt like crying, for some reason, alone in her bunk. She’d crawled into Gorgug’s, instead, and pulled up Bill and Ted while he blinked blearily at her. It didn’t take him much longer to fall back asleep—now with his arm tucked around Fig’s shoulders—and Fig continues to hide from her emotions by watching Ted philosophize.

“Hey, Gorgug,” Fig hisses, burrowing her head into his chest in a way she knows will stick him with her horns. “Gorgug.”

“Hrmgh,” he grumbles, shifting more so that Fig can’t really poke him anymore. “Go to sleep.”

“No. Gorgug, hey. Come on, dude, I have an idea.” She doesn’t, really, more the idea of an idea, just like how Bill and Ted only operate on negative brian power and a pretty homoerotic bromance.

Homoerotic. She must’ve texted Kristen too much yesterday.

“Sleep is my idea,” Gorgug says, but it’s more of a sigh and a yawn wrapped up together and stretched like a yawning cat.

Fig’s brain unhelpfully supplies an image of sleepy Riz—ears cocked all funny and pupils absolutely giant. She shoves it back into the little chest lovingly marked “Bad Kids” that she’d constructed the second they drove away from Elmville because Fig is great at compartmentalizing and hiding her feelings. Totally.

“I’m bored, I want to do my idea.”

“You’re watching Bill and Ted.”

“No, I’m not. I’m talking to you.”

“Then stop talking to me and go to sleep.”

Fig huffs, about to say something just into the realm of mean, but then she feels Gorgug smile against the top of her head, and she relaxes a little.

“What’s your idea?” He asks, still sleepy, but also endearing in that goofy and sweet Gorgug way.

There’s a pause, while Fig tries to come up with her idea. The bus trundles along and Bill and Ted continue to kidnap historical figures. Finally, she says, much quieter than is warranted, like it’s some big secret she’s been holding close to her heart, “I’m gonna find a chronomancer so we can go back in time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug yawns again.

“Absolutely not, Augefort doesn’t have Rufus energy.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Maybe not a chronomancer, then, but like, someone who’s fucked with time, ya know. It would be cool to hang out with someone who’s fucked with time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug says, before amending, “No. Wait. Rufus.”

“Yeah, Rufus,” Fig agrees. “Except if Rufus were hot, I think it would be more fun if our Rufus was hot.”

“Rufus is already hot. He’s got… sunglasses.”

Fig giggles and Gorgug snorts too. “You need your eyes checked, dude.”

“We watched the,” he yawns, “the Matrix last month. That’s what you said about Neo.”

“Uh. Neo is Keanu Reeves so just, automatically hot. Which. Speaking of. Bill and Ted are right there, dude.”

Gorgug laughs, quietly, voice still gummy with sleep, as he pokes her gently in the side, “I thought you liked older men.”

Fig makes a face that is very scandalized and very affronted. “That doesn’t mean I like Rufus.”

Gorgug shrugs, as best he can while in cuddle-mode. “I don’t know…”

Fig huffs and whacks him on the arm. “Maybe we should go to sleep.”

“Works for me,” he says, and settles back down.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t go back to bed, Gorgug. I’m still talking.”

He grumbles and turns his head even further into hers, trying to shield his eyes from the crystal’s light. “Watch your movie.”

“This is our movie, Gorgug. It’s ours.”

“It’s too late for it to be ‘our’ anything.”

“You’re no fun, you know that? No fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Gorgug says, way too sincerely for her to continue down that line of teasing.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. You’re tired, I should let you rest.”

Gorgug’s hand moves where it’s on her shoulder, rubbing over her sleep shirt, and then pausing, “Hey, is this mine?”

“Um,” Fig says, because it is, in fact, his. He’d left one of his Owlbears t-shirts on a chair, right after they unpacked all their stuff onto the tour bus, and she’d thought about it for approximately three seconds before snatching it and chucking it at her pile of clothes.

That first night, neither her nor Gorgug had gotten any sleep, sitting on the floor of the bus between their bunks, anxiously going over lyric and style choices for the next night’s show. So the shirt had waited until after their first concert, when both of them had been too tired to do much more than change out of sweaty, smoke-filled clothes and fall into their respective beds. It had smelled comfortingly of the Thistlesprings’ homemade fabric softener, but Fig’s varying states of cleanliness have not helped the smell stick around.

Now, though, cuddled up against Gorgug’s chest, she doesn’t miss the shirt’s smell. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“It’s okay if you took it,” Gorgug says, cracking a small smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Since when do you have an eye for fashion, Mr. Hoodies-In-Summer?”

He reaches around and pokes her on the cheek, “Hey, my hoodies are a catch for women ages thirteen to twenty-eight.”

“We did sell, like, a literal ton last night,” Fig says, snorting.

There’s a lull in the conversation. Bill and Ted shred some sick air guitar.

“...It’s a little weird,” Gorgug says, eventually, in that introspective tone of his that promises paternal questioning.

“What is?”

“That we’re sophomores in high school and have so many people, like, caring about us. Or, I mean, watching us. Like, I guess we’re famous, or something? That’s weird.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.” Fig’s been too caught up in the whole being famous thing to think about what it means for her, a fifteen year old, to be famous. She isn’t a fan of thinking about it, actually, and decides to put it off even further. This is why Gorgug’s the thoughtful, considerate one.

“That’s probably why you’re better at songwriting than I am,” Gorgug muses. “You just do what feels right.”

Fig shifts a little, so she can look at him better, his features cast in the shifting colors of the crystal. “Dude, that’s like all drumming is. Like, just playing your emotions and not overthinking it. And you’re literally the world’s best drummer.”

“Oh,” Gorgug laughs, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“You are. What other teenager gets to go on a tour while they’re still in high school?”

“Um. The Jonas Brothers?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if you compare our music to the Jonas Brothers again I will stab you with my horns.”

“I really don't think they’re poky enough to do that—”

“Stab, Gorgug. With force. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

“Wo-ah,” Ted says, on the crystal.

“Wicked,” Bill chimes in.

“What if we talked like them at our next concert?” Fig asks, “Just come out with full Bill and Ted voices and keep them up the whole show.”

“That sounds… hard.”

“No, it would be fun! Like, um,” Fig switches into the voice, drawing out her vowels and smiling dumbly, “we’ll totally get babes like this, dude.”

“You can get princess babes,” Gorgug says. “I’ve got Zelda. That’s basically the same thing.”

“Oh my god, you’re too cute,” Fig burrows closer to him, back in her usual voice.

She can tell Gorgug’s blushing by the bashful tone of his silence. “Um, thanks. I should probably call her tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if I join too? I really like her, she’s nice. And sick as hell.”

“Yeah, that would be fun! We can show her our set, maybe.”

“Totally! If school wasn’t on right now we could’ve brought her along.”

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that, like, Beatles us?”

“Did you seriously just mention another boy band? Also, beyond that, did you use the Beatles as a verb?”

“Er.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how you ever made it into the punk-rock scene. And then I remember that I invited you.”

“Thanks for doing that,” Gorgug says, wrapping his other arm around Fig’s shoulders. “I never really said it before, but, thank you. This has, um, it’s meant a lot to me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, dude.”

“It’s, like, kind of everything right now, Fig.”

“Oh.”

“So, I guess, um, thank you. For inviting me to join a band with you and taking me on tour.”

“I, uh… Of course. Thanks for being my drummer, Gorgug. I’ll always take you on my adventures.”

“And I’ll always go with you.”

Bill says, “Excellent,” on the crystal screen, smiling at Ted with big eyes.

Yeah, Fig thinks, as Gorgug sighs and smiles into the top of her head. Excellent.