#i do have a baby face! i AM soft spoken and quiet and a great listener and fucking kind!!! now please. please do tell

[muslim-flint]

two thousand and twenty three years since jesus son of mary has blessed the earth with his miraculous birth. and people still search AND FIND!!!! the time and patience to set every single one of my fucking nerves on electrical fire

[pantheresssy]

CONQUERING.

—┊⋆ summary: you were a little bit older, who was looking for it? if you have a daughter too, who would care? paige didn’t until she was face to face with a overprotective 7-years-old little you.

—┊⋆ cw: r is on 30s and paige 22s, you also have a daughter, no smut this time only fluff, p is so sweet and i brought this here with ur baby, her name’s kayla btw just thought about it after reading a kk fic.

this is something im experiencing to see if anyone would like and want more of this dynamic.

IF SOMEONE told Paige that she would be sitting on a couch nervously cleaning her hands on her pants, all because of a 7-years-old child, she would laugh. It seemed weird, someone with her height, a basketball player, be afraid of someone so little that could cause no harm — but she was your daughter, a little you. That should frighten the toughest of the fighters.

On court, she was relaxed as if she was on her bed, but there, she was sweating while looking at the stairs you went up. You told her that your daughter’s opinion had so many value for you, and that was one of the — many — things that frightened her. If she didn’t like Paige, everything could go down. And that was the last thing she wanted to happen.

“Mommy,” she heard and swallowed. Little footsteps came along with yours, and the pink boots was the first thing she saw. Up close, she was more you than yourself was. From the hair to the nose, it was like a printer had made that child, even her voice was like yours, soft spoken, but in a more infant way.

Paige’s eyes followed up the girl’s extended arm, her hand being held by yours. She found your gaze and you raised your eyebrows, a sign for her to calm down. The words she was saying stopped when you bent down by her side, your cheek against your daughter’s. “Kayla, that’s Paige. The friend I told you about.”

The blonde smiled, nervously. Kayla looked at her up and down, as if she was a grown adult, and that was the most cutest, yet the most scary, ㅤׁthing. “Hi,” she said after analyzing Paige meticulously.

“Hey.” You brought her closer and sat by Paige’s side, the girl on your lap. With her nervousness, you were sure she would pass out in the middle of your couch. “I’m Paige.”

Your daughter shocked her head, humming. “I know. Mommy told me you were a basketball player.”

“I am.”

Kayla made a pout, lowering her eyes to your hands joined in her belly, taking one of your fingers to play with it. “I like volleyball more.”

You ran your hand through her hair and bit your lip to hold your laugh. You knew she was only doing that to know how Paige would react, to know if she could really like her. It was an old trick she used to know if someone was cool enough. “Yeah. K loves volleyball.” it was an attempt to help, but it fell into deaf ears.

Paige sat on her side, facing you. Her blue eyes passed to you, then back to Kayla. “It’s great.” she cleared her throat and kept looking for words. “Will you want to play one day?”

Your daughter made a face, shaking her head no. “I want to make movies.” she took your nail and started to remove removing your nail polish with hers. “Like mommy.”

Paige frowned her eyebrows. “She found a thing that I did when I was a teen and thought that it was a movie.” you kissed her ear, making her laugh. “But it was just a silly video.”

Her eyebrows were raised in surprise, but you dismissed it shrugging. “Why do you play basketball?” Kayla asked.

“I like it since I was younger than you.” Kayla’s eyes shone and she blinked, trying to pretend she wasn’t interested. “I started to play when I was five.”

Your daughter frowned her eyebrows, and Paige almost laughed of how much she was like you doing that. “Your mom let you do it?”

“My dad did.”

You could see that she was getting more excited to know everything and started to make more questions, in which Paige responded happily. You were sitting quiet, only observing while she talked about how she always can get the basket right.

When you first told Kayla that you had a famous friend and that she wanted to meet her, she quickly went to your phone and searched for Paige’s name — with some wrong letters of her non writing hands. She saw pictures, videos, anything that pops up when you put ‘Paige Bueckers’ on google. You knew that her interested was bigger than she showed, but she wanted that Paige conquered her to know if she was cool enough to be your friend. It wasn’t a common thing, but you were just letting it happen this time.

The talk kept going and you saw the blonde relaxing little by little, Kayla getting more open to talk and leaving aside her play pretend.

Her being just like you was a blessing and a curse. As a child, you were always asking so many questions, and she was doing too. But she had something you didn’t had when you were younger: a better perspective. So when, in the middle of the talk about basketball, she raised her head on your chest, looking at you from below, you imagined that she would say anything but what you tried not to make so obvious.

“Mommy is she your girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened and your breath cached on your throat. Paige was getting whiter — she was going sick right in front of your eyes and in seconds. Kayla was still looking at you waiting for answers while you sent looks of concern to the woman by your side. “Baby …” you started. “We are-“

But then it died before you could finish. She took your words as a yes before you could actually say it. “She is!?” her feet shook and she jumped on your legs, her head hitting your chin, your teeth making a bad noise when the ones below met the top ones hard. You moaned and put your tongue on your gums, trying to find any injury. “I’m sorry.”

Kayla’s eyes quickly filled with tears and she hugged your neck, burring her face there. You rubbed her back comforting her when hiccups shook her small body. “It’s ok, baby.”

Paige swallowed hard and checked if you were okay, still stunned, and you reassured her that you were. Her hand copied yours on Kayla. With a shared look, you told her she could say it. “Your mother and I like each other very much, K.” she said. “Would you let me be her girlfriend?”

The little girl sniffed and said, stuffing: “You should ask mom, not me.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head even though Kayla couldn’t see it. “I already did and she said yes, but we wanted you to agree. What you think is important.”

“Yes.”

Her sadness vanished just like that and she quickly went back to talking, asking Paige how she started — and if things kept that way, she quickly would stop wanting do movies. When both got more excited, Kayla made Paige held her in her arms, making an improvised basket with a bucket she hung on the wall, raising her to hit there with the ball. After getting it right, she would celebrate loud, saying that she was better than the blonde. And Paige never dared to disagree.

Later, when Kayla fall sleep after talking so much and with a sigh of relief from you, Paige and you sat on the couch, your back against her front and your fingers crossed with hers. “She liked you. A lot.”

She kissed your head and smelled your hair. ‘I’m happy she does. I almost shit on my pants.”

You laughed loud, closing your mouth when you remembered Kayla. She didn’t wake up so easily, specially not after spend so much energy, but you rather not risk it. “She’s 7, Paige Bueckers.”

She shrugged. “It’s your daughter, she has a lot of you in her … I’d like to not risk anything.”

You turned around and kissed her, sighing as she put more pressure on you. “You won’t. You conquered her just like you did to me.” you held her cheeks on your hand.

“I know.”

[elliesflower]

what's love? [ellie williams]

pairing; ellie x gn!reader

cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(

an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!

no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!

Three little words. 

One big problem. 

What is it?

“Is this the end?” 

No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it. 

“This can’t be the end…” 

Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void. 

“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window. 

“It’s not…?”

Oh. Right. 

Movie. 

Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap. 

“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words. 

Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.

“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”

Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure. 

“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.” 

Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it. 

Why is hate so much easier to express?

“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head. 

She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.

And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry. 

“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?

“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way. 

“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining. 

“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost. 

“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you. 

Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie. 

And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too. 

“I love you…” 

But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.

[astranva]

Stand Still Like the Hummingbird | Euphoria actress!Y/N

Word Count: 4k

Category: Fluff, angst

Warning: Euphoria s02xe05 spoilers, swear language, Euphoria's usual TW

Summary: Actress!Y/N is Zendaya’s older sister in Euphoria. Harry watches his girlfriend’s performance in episode 5 and he gets emotional.

..

When Sam Levinson reached out with the role years ago, you were skeptical.

The plot was heavy. It was a show about high school kids, but none of the topics discussed were anywhere near being light.

You weren’t reluctant over your determination to do your role justice, but you had quite the reputation of getting into the character so much that it affected your own life.

It was a show about drugs, death, depression, teenage angst, and so many heavy topics, so it was safe to say it was loaded.

“Only if you want to,” Harry had said so gently one night when you told him you were considering it, “It’s your choice. I’ll support you no matter what you choose to do.”

Bea Bennet was Rue and Gia’s oldest sister. In the show, you were 4 years older than Zendaya’s character, Rue. A sister who ached for her family, a friend whom the entire town of East Highland trusted and confided in. You were like an older sister for the teenagers in the show, being one they called for advice and help.

Harry had known that the fifth episode in the second season was one that had drained you in more ways than one; mentally and physically.

He could remember you coming home from set at 6 am after an entire day of shooting. You were quiet, face looking tired, hair disheveled, and after you had showered, you had quietly got into bed.

Harry had always been an early bird, so he woke up at 5 am that day and impatiently waited for you to come home, and when you did, he was cautious as he looked at you. He knew straight away that it wasn’t an easy day, and was proven right when he got into bed with you, no words spoken as he started to softly play with your hair.

It took you a few minutes to talk and when you did, he didn’t know how to feel:

“Can you hold me till I fall asleep?” You had asked, so delicately, and he did.

Harry held you. He kissed your forehead and continued to play with your hair, fully aware of the stress you go through and the effort you put into your performance.

Of course he anticipated that episode. That episode that seemed to take a toll on you like that, and as you sat beside him on the couch of your living room, he could tell it was no easy one.

Your nerves were all over the place that you couldn’t cuddle him like you usually did as you watched the show, and instead, you sat beside him, leaning into him with your knees up to your chest as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

“We don’t have to watch it,” Harry said, looking at you with nothing but care and love, his eyes gazing over your face before settling on your eyes, one hand reaching up to graze your cheek, “If you don’t want to watch it, if it’s too much–baby, we don’t have to watch it.”

You shook your head, “No, no,” you said, “It’s a great episode, H. I’m proud of it,” you began, “It’s just,” you sucked in a breath, “So fucking intense. And Zee–God,” you shook your head, “It felt too real.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face, “You know I’m proud of you, yeah?”

You smiled, nodding, “Yeah,” you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, “Yeah, I know.”

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” you replied, smiling to yourself before his lips captured yours in a soft kiss.

“I want you to know that I’m not angry with you,” Nika who played Leslie, your mom, said as the episode began.

“Angry?”

“Yes, I’m not angry with you,” Leslie said, “I love you.”

“What are you talking about?” Zendaya, Rue, asked.

“I know you’re doin’ drugs again.”

“What? Did Gia say something about this?!” Rue screamed before footsteps were heard, the camera still on Storm, Gia, as she put on her earphones. Rue stormed inside Gia’s room, “Really?! You're gonna rat me out to fuckin’ mom over smokin' a little bit of fuckin' weed?!”

You, Bea, followed behind Rue, an angry frown on your face, “Don’t talk to her like that,” you warned.

“What are you talking about?” Gia asked, “I didn’t rat you out!”

“Oh shit,” Harry muttered, his hand going to your knee, his eyes barely blinking.

“Gia, you knew about this?” You asked, pointing at Rue.

“It’s not like that,” Gia replied.

“Okay, you know what? If you wanna fucking consider smoking some weed to help with my fucking panic attacks doing drugs then, yeah, sure, whatever. I was doin' fuckin’ drugs!” Rue said, getting out of the room, “Gimme a fucking break.”

You followed after her, “Don’t go around trying to fucking manipulate us by mentioning your panic attacks, Rue,” you warned again as Rue got inside her room, slamming the door on you. “Don’t slam the fucking door on me!”

“Don’t slam my door!” Leslie said in unison, approaching you before she opened the door to Rue’s room.

“Can you guys chill the fuck out? It's just weed,” Rue said, sitting on her bed.

“I'm not talkin' about weed, Rue. I'm talkin' about pills,” Leslie said.

Your eyes widened, glancing at your “mom” before looking back at Rue, “What?”

“I'm talking about opiates,” Leslie continued.

“You’re such a poor family,” Harry said, “Like-Like, you need serious help, my heart goes out to you. Or,” he shook his head, “You need a break. Bea goes through so much shit and she’s only, what? 21?” He sighed.

You tried to stifle your smile.

Harry’s commentary during the episodes was something you genuinely enjoyed to no end. It was like he completely forgot that you were sitting beside him, the very person who played that character he was ranting about, and it was why you trusted his judgement.

Rue stood in front of you, the both of you staring at one another, your jaw clenching as you tried to control your breathing and not cry despite your tearful eyes.

“You’re not a good person, Rue,” Leslie said from beside you, making Rue look at her with a small smile, “You’re smiling? Really? You’re proud of that?”

“You know what's a shame, mom?” Rue began, “My dad's dead. Kinda keeps you from admitting what a shit fuckin’ mother you are.”

“You’re out of fucking control,” you shook your head, turning around as she continued to talk.

“You hear that, Gia?!” Rue shouted, walking behind you inside Gia’s room, “I don't wanna put too much pressure on you, but you're probably gonna have to be a fuckin’ neurosurgeon, or maybe an astronaut,” she said, “Or maybe the perfect fuckin’ daughter like Bea here,” she pointed at you, “Has her life figured out. Isn’t a fuckin’ drug addict-”

“Alright, you little shit, I’m done,” you pushed her back, trying to push her out of Gia’s room, who was now crying.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Rue screamed, trying to push your hands away, only you gripped her.

“I will not let you traumatize our baby sister more than you already did,” you said, angry tears rolling down your cheeks, “You want to fuck up your life?” You pushed her out, her back against the wall as you neared her in the hallways, “You want to get fucked up? Get high? Overdose on some shit? You want that, don’t you?” You said, eerily quietly, and for the first time in that scene, Rue looked uncomfortable, “You’re a selfish little shit, Rue. Your dad died?” You pointed at her, your face nearing hers, “So did mine. So did Gia’s, and guess what? Mom lost her fucking husband, too, and he was an amazing fucking husband,” you shook your head, “Dad dying wasn’t as traumatic as the shit you put us through, Rue,” you said.

Rue reluctantly shook her head, looking away from you.

You hand moved, grabbing her face as you forced her to look at you, “Look at me,” you said, “Not so fucking loud now, huh? Are you not high enough for the confrontation?”

“Get the fuck off of me!” She pushed you back, making you stumble before she went up to your mom, “You wanna hit me? Do it. Hit me!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Gia screamed, going for Rue as she tried to get her away from Leslie, only for Rue to push her back.

Your feet were quick, and so was your hand as it collided with Rue’s cheek, “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

Leslie’s hand went to her mouth, watching as you grabbed Rue.

“Get out!” You shouted, pushing her out of the room again, “Get the fuck out of here!” You pushed her out against the wall, quickly locking the door behind her.

“Oh my God,” Harry whispered, sniffling, one hand reaching to rub his forehead.

It was a little ironic, but you wrapped your arms around him, and Harry seemed to need it because right as you did, his muscles seemed to relax under you, resting his head on your clavicle.

“Where are my fucking pills?!” Rue screamed as she kicked the door, your hands against the door despite the lock.

You looked at Gia’s bed, eyes falling on Leslie holding her in her arms as they both cried.

“You wanna tell me to stop doin’ drugs?!” She screamed before kicking the door again, letting it finally crack and fall before she stormed inside, you stepping back.

“Rue, please!” Leslie cried, hugging Gia tighter.

“Get the fuck out!” You shouted at Rue, “You’re fucking scaring them!”

“You don’t recognize me?!” Rue screamed at you.

You shook your head, “Stop it, Rue,” you muttered, your hands going up to tug at your hair as you turned away from her, shutting your eyes as she paced behind you before getting out.

“You wish I was different?! So do I! You fucking hate me! So do I!” Rue screamed.

You walked to Gia, cupping her face in your hands as you wiped her tears before leaning, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “It’s going to be okay, yeah?” You nodded, Gia shaking her head as she cried, you nodded again, hushing softly, “Go to my room. Can you do that, baby?” You spoke softly, “Can you, baby? Please, Gia,” you cried, “Please go to my room.”

“She’s going to do something stupid,” Gia cried, “Bea, I’m scared.”

“Me, too, baby,” you said, gulping before you visibly attempted to look tougher, “But she has us. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll help her, you know I will.”

“Bea…”

You hushed her softly again, “I don’t want you seeing that shit, Gia,” you shook your head, “Please, you’ve–you’ve seen enough,” you sniffled, “And I’m sorry. So come on, let me–let me take you to my room. You can,” you let out a small but dry chuckle, keeping a front for your baby sister, “You can go through my expensive nail polish collection.”

At this, Gia’s lips twitched to a small smile, not at her going through your collection, but because she knew you were trying to lighten it up for her. She nodded.

“Go, mom,” you stepped back before placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder and kissing her forehead, “Go to my room with Gia.”

“Baby-”

“Please,” you enunciated.

“I lost one daughter, I’m not losing you, too,” Leslie said, although sternly, but with tears down her cheeks.

You took a breath, eyes set on your mom, “You didn’t lose anyone, and you’re losing no one,” you pointed at her, Rue’s screaming as she looked for her pills being heard over her throwing stuff on the floor, “I need you to stay with Gia, mom. Please. She-” you gulped down the tears, “Fuck, just go, mom.”

Harry was full-on crying at that point.

His sniffles were heard, sure, but his shoulders shook twice or three times and it had you kissing his head, brushing back his hair.

“She’s only 21,” he shook his head, “Fuck,” he exhaled, “It’s the shit older sisters go through. Like, there’s no dad, and now everything–Like, everything is on Bea’s shoulders,” he pointed at the TV, “She’s an incredible daughter, but,” he sniffled, “She doesn’t have to be. Like, that’s the point. You think she’s an incredible daughter because she seems so responsible and deals with everyone’s shit but she’s only–she’s only fucking 21, she shouldn’t be doing that.”

“I get, baby,” you said quietly.

“God, you weren’t joking when you said it was intense, and we’re only, like 10 minutes into the episode,” Harry chuckled, sitting up and glancing at you, “You okay?”

You nodded, “Are you?”

“Fuck no,” he chuckled, eyes going to the TV again before his arm went around you, bringing you closer to his chest, “You’re incredible.”

You only smiled and snuggled closer to him.

Rue was sitting on the floor against the wall, crying in the hallway, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried, looking up as Leslie and Gia moved out of the room and into yours, with you behind them to make sure they did as you said before you closed the door behind them and turned to look at Rue, “I’m sorry, Bea, I’m sorry,” she shuddered, “I didn’t mean to scream at you. I didn’t–I didn’t mean to,” she cried.

You leaned your back against the wall before your head fell on it, closing your eyes.

“I’m sorry but I need you to tell me where they are. I need you to tell me where the pills are, Bea. I need you to tell me where the suitcase is,” Rue said, nodding a little as she looked up at you, “Bea?”

You shook your head to yourself, your eyes still closed as you took deep breaths.

“Tell me where they are, Bea,” Rue tried again, “Fuck!” She stood with a groan, zooming past you and into Leslie’s room, “Where did you fuckin; put them?! I know they're fuckin’ in here, Mom! I know they're in here! What did you do with them?! What did you do?! Where the fuck are they? What did you do with them?” She paced in the room before going back to look at you.

“We flushed them down the toilet,” Jules’s voice was heard.

You opened your eyes, looking at Rue before standing up straight.

Rue’s head turned towards the source of the sound before she eyed you, her figure tensing and her face falling.

“You look embarrassed, Rue,” you said, “You embarrassed because Jules heard all the shit you said?” Your head motioned towards the living room, looking at Rue as her eyes got more tearful, trying to stifle her cries. You shook your head, “Don’t cry,” you said, stepping closer to her, “Don’t cry, Rue. Own that shit,” you enunciated, “Own the shit you said.”

“Fuck you,” Rue pointed at you, speaking quietly before she walked to the living room.

“A tough sister,” Harry said, “Bea’s a tough sister.”

“Isn’t she?” You smiled slightly, “That’s my girl.”

“Who needs a break.”

“Who needs a break,” you repeated with a nod, “Who really needs a break,” you chuckled.

“Yeah?” He whispered, brushing your hair before shifting so he could look at you, “I’ll give you the best break.”

“I already took a break when I finished filming,” you smiled up at him, “You took me to Italy, remember?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “And I’ll take you there again and again. I didn’t know–” he sighed, “I didn’t know it was that intense. I know you put your heart into all your roles, and this entire show has been so fucking stressful on you, but,” he shook his head, “Watching that–Watching you right now–You just, you really need a break. Big one.”

You hummed, getting comfortable back in his hold, “I think I just want to be around you, H. For as much as I can before you go back on tour.”

“I’m all yours,” Harry said, tightening his arms around you before pressing a kiss to your temple, “We’ll do whatever you want.”

“If you wanna help me, uh, you can honestly, you can just stay out of my fuckin’ life,” Rue told Jules, “Forever,” she chuckled, “That would be great because, honestly, looking at you makes me physically ill!” And with that, Rue stormed away.

Silently, you approached Jules, patting her shoulder, “Thank you for telling us, Jules.”

Jules nodded as she cried.

“I have mixed feelings towards Jules,” Harry said.

“Honestly same,” you said, “But like Rue said, you know? Jules loves being loved.”

Harry nodded, “She’s a little selfish.”

“Bit manipulative, too,” you added.

“Such a complex character,” he said.

“Rue,” you kneeled in front of her as she cried in the hallway, “I’m gonna take you to the ER, okay?”

Rue cried, nodding, “Okay.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “They can help y-”

“I’m sorry,” Rue cried.

“I know, baby,” you sniffled, wrapping your arms around her as she cried, “They can help you detox, okay?”

“Bea, I’m sorry for what I said,” she cried in your arms, “I am. Please forgive me.”

“You’re my baby sister,” your voice shook as tears fell down your cheeks, resting your head against hers, “I don’t care about that. I don’t care about any of it. Just you, Rue.”

“I’m sorry,” Rue repeated, “I just miss Dad.”

“Me, too,” you closed your eyes, trying not to sob, “I miss him, too. So much.”

“I miss him a lot,” she cried out.

“I know,” you stroked her hair, “Listen to me, Rue,” you pulled back, your hands going to her cheeks, “Can I take you to the hospital?” You asked gently, Rue nodding, “Yeah?” You wiped her cheeks from the tears.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Okay,” you breathed out, nodding, “Thank you,” you sniffled.

The episode followed as you, Leslie, and Gia got inside the car with Rue, all the way to when she opened the door and ran away.

“Rue! Get back in the car!” Your mom shouted.

“Bea! Bea, follow her!” Gia screamed.

“Fuck’s sake!” You screamed, holding onto the steering wheel as you tried to pinpoint where Rue ran off to.

“I’m betting Bea will beg them to disown her after this episode,” Harry said, making you laugh out for the first time since the episode began and at the sound, Harry’s eyes shifted from the TV to you, a smile instantly on his face, “What? You know I’m right.”

“Wow, do you read the leaks?” You jokingly asked mid-laughter.

“I think I just have an artistic vision,” Harry replied with a smug shrug.

Bea, your character, was knocking on Fez’s door, panting after having had left your mom and Gia in the car in the middle of a red light to run to every place you thought Rue would be at after she broke hell at Suze’s place between Maddy and Cassie. “Open the fucking door, Fez!”

The door opened, Fez on the other side, “Yo, Bea.”

“Is Rue in here?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “She came by though.”

You tensed, staying quiet for a beat before you tilted your head slightly, raising a finger at him, “Fezco,”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Fezco, did you give her anything? Because I swear if you did, I will fuck you up,” you chuckled bitterly, shaking your head at him, “Did you give her anything?”

“Shit, no, Bea,” he frowned, “Why you thinkin’ of me like that, bro?”

“I don’t know,” you replied sarcastically, “Maybe because you’re my baby sister’s fucking drug dealer?”

“Yo, Bea,” he sighed, his hand going over his buzzhead.

You shook your head, “You promised me, Fez. You promised me when she–” you paused, your breath getting caught in your throat as you heaved out a cry, “When she almost fucking died. You promised you would help her.”

“She was finna get some other mixed up shit, bro,” he spoke louder, stepping closer to you, “From other dealers.”

You stayed quiet, sobbing before you were on the ground, your head in your hands, “I’m losing her,” you sobbed, “I’m losing my fucking baby sister.”

“Shit,” Fez looked at you for a moment before he was beside you, hugging you, “You a fuckin’ G, Bea,” he said, “Rue’s lucky. She doesn’t know how lucky she is to have you.”

You sniffled, looking at him, “It’s not like it matters. Nothing matters with her. Just the fucking drugs,” you sniffled again, “Getting high. Going to all these fucked parties and getting so high that I can never recognize her, and–God,” you chuckled, “You know what’s fucking sad? She wasn’t clean. When she got of rehab,” you said, looking at him, “She relapsed as soon as she got out,” you said.

The way Fez avoided your eye contact told you enough. Your character had known Fez for years–enough to know when he was keeping something from you.

“You knew,” you whispered, “You knew,” you gasped out before pushing against his chest and quickly standing up, “You knew about Rue relapsing and you didn’t–You didn’t fucking say anything! You didn’t fucking tell me!”

“I’m sorry!” He said, standing up, “I couldn’t rat out on her, Bea. She’s family.”

“And I’m not?!” You pointed at yourself, “And she’s not my fucking family?! I fucking trusted you!” You pushed his chest, “Fuck you, Fezco,” you pointed at him, walking backwards, “And fuck your fucked up principles.”

“Is this the end of the Bea and Fezco friendship?” Harry asked, looking at you with wide eyes, “It was the most confusing relationship, and most complicated. Is it the end?”

You gave him a shrug.

“Aw, come on,” he groaned, “People don’t believe me when I tell them you don’t give me exclusive details.”

You laughed, “I will not give you spoilers, you know that.”

“But-”

“No,” you cut him off.

Harry watched the entire episode, giving audible reactions; sighing, sniffling, crying, gasping, cursing, and commenting. It was an understatement to say that he was engaged with it, and to say that he was proud? That was the understatement of the century, because he was sure he was beyond that.

The moment the episode came to an end, he remained still, eyes still on the TV.

You wearily stared at him, trying to read him. It took you a few moments to talk, “So…?”

Harry took a deep breath in, and that seemed to do it for him because as soon as he exhaled, his eyes were tearful. He reached up, pinching his nose as he let out a low chuckle before fully turning to face you and reaching out to bring you into him in an embrace.

His face was nuzzled into your neck, arms tight around you as he silently cried into your shoulder.

You soothingly rubbed his back, eyes tearful as you did.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he said quietly, one hand going to the back of your head, “You’re phenomenal.”

You let out a teary laugh, hugging him tighter.

Harry pulled away, sniffling, “All that crying, the screaming, the running,” his eyebrows were raised up, “That–That range,” he shook his head, “I don’t know how you do it but you do it so well. Like,” he sighed, “God, Y/N,” he rubbed his eyes, “You know you bagged an Emmy with that episode, right?”

“Stop,” you shook your head with a smile.

“I’m not kidding,” his eyes widened a little as he looked at you, “I’m not kidding,” he repeated, “You and Zendaya. There’s no way your names aren’t being written and chosen for Emmy’s right now–right now, as we speak.”

“Harry,” you said quietly.

“And like, I know you don’t care that much about awards. I know you’re confident in your work,” he said, “But there’s no way you didn’t blow everyone’s fucking minds away with that episode–With your entire appearance in that show, fuck,” he chuckled, “I’m proud of you. I’m,” his hands were placed on your cheeks, “You were so good, baby. You were so good.”

At that point, you were crying as you looked at him, closing your eyes as he peppered kisses on your face, giggling at the ticklish sensation.

“I love you,” he muttered, “I love you, Y/N. Bea Bennett, Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, “I’ll take them all.”

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[parkersroses]

stupid boy. | harry styles.

summary: Harry comes to his senses and realises it's been you all this time. a continuation of stupid girl.

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): minor angst and some fluff!

a/n: (disclaimer: gif belongs to @oneandonlycheshirecat​) ahhh i hope you guys like this as much as the first part! do lmk what you think of it, reblog (!!) & comment, let's talk about it! here's my ko-fi if you consider donating and supporting me more. all my love to you all <3

Harry finds himself staring down at his black coffee, watching it swirl as he stirs his spoon around. The spoon makes clinking sounds as it moves against the rim of the cup and he hears it scraping against the bottom of it.

It’s generally calm in the coffee shop he’s in. The baristas are bustling around behind the counter and sounds of the coffee machines being used are elicited. He hears the sound of the register as the customers pay and the cashier thanking them, proceeding to greet the next customer. People are sat in their own spaces, minding their own things like gossip or struggling to finish up an assignment.

Harry sat in a booth next to the glass window of the shop. He finds himself not paying that much attention to the world around him, instead just staring out through the window he sits next to. His mind is a blur and he sort of forgets why he was out in the first place.

He gently sips on his hot black coffee. The warm bitter taste sitting on his taste buds. You once told him what a monster he was when he told you it’s the only way to drink coffee. You disagree because you couldn’t handle the taste, opting for steamed milk in your coffee. He smiles at the memory of the little things you both would disagree on.

He hasn’t seen you or spoken to you in a while. In fact, he doesn’t know if he should. He doesn’t know if you would want to see him or talk to him. He wonders what are you doing at the moment.

He’s been thinking about everything that has happened between the two of you since that night. How he believes it may have been his fault that the friendship is possibly ruined.

What is he supposed to say anyway? What should he say? He’s never realised how his own best friend was in love with him. He realises now of how stupid and selfish he was to not even consider her feelings when he first suggested they would start fake dating.

He convinces himself that he is still hopelessly in love with Amber. Well, at least he thinks he is. He’s not even sure of his own feelings anymore.

At first, he was so sure about his feelings for Amber. He thought of the plan going so well, convincing everyone including her that you both are in love, that maybe some jealousy might spark from her and tell him ‘Hey, I still love you too.’ Then, that night happened and everything about winning Amber back went out of the window.

He thinks about you a lot and sometimes wonders if you do the same. And he misses you. He really misses you.

He misses the way you tease him for even the smallest things. He misses talking to you about writing music because you are usually his confidant who always motivated him to write what he likes. He misses your laughter and how you throw your head back like a little kid, how you’d even apologise for having an ugly laugh when he always thought it was adorable.

Yeah, he misses you a lot. He asks himself whether she feels the same. Whether she too is somehow feeling alone, not knowing if the other wants anything to do with you or even speak to you at all. He hopes that you don’t think it’s all your fault.

After all, he was the selfish, blind and stupid one.

“Harry,” a soft-spoken voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks up and smiles at the person he’s been meaning to talk to. Maybe she could somehow help him figure out his feelings.

“Amber, hi.” He stands from his seat, giving her a small hug. He gestures to her the seat in front of him and she gladly sits. It doesn’t seem as awkward as he expected.

“Quite surprised you wanted to meet, actually,” she confesses to him, chuckling a bit. He rubs the back of his head in a nervous manner. A waiter comes by to take her order and she politely asks for a latte.

Funny, you like lattes. No wonder you got along with her, he guesses.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for calling you out of the blue like this,” he apologises. She waves her hand in front of him, telling him it’s all good. “It’s fine. It’s great seeing you again,” she tells him.

“So, how’ve you been since I last saw you?” He enquires.

“Oh, I’ve been alright. Work has been good. Nothing major goes on, unlike you, superstar,” she jokes and they both laugh at this. “That’s great to hear. I’m really happy for you.” She smiles to thank him and the waiter comes back again with her drink.

He is itching to ask her this and hopes it doesn’t come out as too forward or invasive. “Um, what about your friend? The one you brought with you the other week we met?” He asks, his head is slightly tilted down as if he’s scared to make eye contact with her after that question.

“Oh, yeah! He’s great! He really enjoyed meeting you guys, by the way!” Her face lights up when she talks about him and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. “Never asked this then, but how did you guys meet?” He curiously asks.

Her face blushes at this. “Um, we met at work actually. Met him on my first day and taught me some things here and there about the place. We have become quite close since then.” She tells him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “We, uh, have been on a couple dates. So yeah, that’s something that’s been going on.”

Naturally, Harry would ultimately feel jealous that the girl he still loves has her eye and heart on another man. But it doesn’t feel that way. He didn’t feel jealousy running through his veins at this. He didn’t feel sadness at the fact that she’s probably moved on.

“That’s great, Am. M’happy for you,” he tells her. And he genuinely means it now.

She thanks him and sips on her drink. “What about you and Y/N? How’s the love life going on with you two?” She teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him. He lets out a sad laugh at this. “Yeah, um. Not that great at the moment.”

“Oh?” She frowns at this.

“We, um, I guess we sort of broke up.” He says unsurely.

“You guess?”

He sighs. “We had an argument over something. We both got upset. Haven’t seen or even talked to her for a while now.”

His gaze is averted down at the table where his black coffee is at. It seems that even talking about brings feelings of guilt filling up his body.

“I’m sorry about that, Harry.” Amber looks at him, seeing how small and sad he looks. It’s clear for her to see how he regrets the argument.

“I just don’t know what to say to make things better. Feel like I might say something wrong again.” He sighs, feeling frustrated with himself.

Amber thinks for a moment on how to help him. “Well, what do you feel right now?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow for a second. “I’m upset. Upset that I haven’t spoken to her. Upset that I don’t know what she’s feeling right now or how she's doing. Upset that everything is my fault. I don’t know how to help or fix us.” He breathes out.

“And you haven’t reached out to her yet?”

He shakes his head, almost feeling ashamed that he hasn’t. “No. Don’t know what I’d say if she would listen to me.”

Frustration is building up and his emotions are going haywire. He’s mad at how he’s ruined things with his best friend and how his own selfishness was the root of it.

Amber is quiet for a moment. She feels sad for him that he’s feeling this way. She thinks of how much he really cares for you, loves you even. And that he’ll do anything to fix whatever that’s left between you two. But one thing she knows about Harry is that he doesn’t give up easily on the people he really loves.

“Well, do you love her?” She asks. Harry lifts his head up so fast at the question.

“What?”

“Harry, do you love her?”

Harry has to pause and think. Of course, he loves you. You’re his best friend, his confidant for nearly everything he does.

He loves you even though you drink your tea with milk sometimes. He loves you even when you buy books despite not yet finishing the ones you have on your shelf. He loves you even when you sometimes put him before you for everything.

He loves your laughter. He loves holding your hand because of how warm and comforting it is. He loves holding you because you tend to hold him tighter, especially when he’s had a bad day and confided in you when he and Amber broke up. He loves calling you cute pet names because he enjoys seeing your cheeks heat up in embarrassment but he does it anyway as it just seems so natural to do it. And you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. 

He thinks about the way you are and how you’ve always been the one person that always supported him. He loves you in many ways he could possibly think of. And it’s just like that, he realises he was never still in love with Amber. Even during the times where he’d want her to look at you two when you fake-dated. Even after that night, he always thought of you and never once tried to plan to pursue Amber. He never cared about that anymore. All he thought about is you. You. You. You.

He always wanted to see you, smiling and laughing. He always so naturally called you ‘baby’ and ‘love’.

He had you all this time.

He’s in love with you.

He gasps as he realises this. Amber is still staring at him, waiting for his answer. “I do,” he finally speaks. And she smiles at his answer.

“I do love her.” He says it confidently and surely.

She nods, and it’s written all over his face that he’s in love with her. “Then, you should tell her that. Swallow up your pride. Apologise. Chase after her.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat. She grabs his hand from across the table. He used to think that sparks would fly when he’s with her. But he doesn’t feel like that with her anymore. He just wants you and only you. That is, if you’ll have him.

“Harry,” she starts. “I know she loves you too. She’ll forgive you if you talk it out.” And he believes it.

Without a moment to waste, he gets up from his table. He apologises profusely but thanks her and tells her he’ll pay for the drinks, in which she tells him not to worry so much.

As he rushes out the door, Amber watches him and smiles to herself. She hopes for the best for the two of you. Even from the look on his face, she knew.

It’s always been you.

—

Knocks on your door pull you out from your thoughts. The last couple of days had your emotions going on a rollercoaster ride. You figured it was easier to just sit and journal anything and everything your mind has to say.

To your knowledge, you weren’t really expecting anyone. Unless, it’s a package of something you might have impulsively purchased the other day to cope with your loneliness and sadness.

You often wonder whether you have ruined your friendship with Harry. You miss him, you always do. You still love him even though he can be clueless at times. But you guess that’s what makes Harry, Harry.

You wonder whether he feels the same.

You’ve been plucking up the courage to call him and ask how he's been doing, failing miserably at the thought that he might not want to talk about it. God, you really need to come through if he’s not going to, you think.

You wait for a moment to see if the knocks would continue, and they don't at first. You shrug at yourself and focus back on the journal entry you’re writing on before a couple more knocks come in.

You sigh, throwing your head back as your moment of peace is ruined. You stand and make your way to the door, not bothering to clean yourself up, though you thought you look pretty decent. Dark sweatpants and a slightly oversized graphic tee.

Yeah, not bad for someone who’s been moping about her best friend who she’s in love with and possibly ruined it.

The person is still knocking on your door and you’re getting slightly irritated. You unlock the door and open it, ready to tell the person off when you stop before the words could come out.

“Harry?”

He stands there, dressed in a vintage tee and a pair of jeans. The shirt looks a bit small on him which makes it hug his chest and biceps. His tattoos are on display as they’re scattered all over his skin. You still think he looks good and attractive. Why the hell are you so whipped for this man?

He has a bag in his hands and you notice it’s food from the Mexican restaurant you love going to together. He even has a small bouquet of your favourite flowers. His face has a small yet nervous smile etched on it. If you weren’t having such a tough exterior put up, you think you might’ve cried. Not yet, though.

“Hi,” he says. And you realise how much you miss hearing his voice in person.

“Hey.” You stare at him for a moment before realising he was probably waiting to come in.

“Please! Come in!” You politely usher him in as you open your door wider for him. He thanks you as he walks in, not forgetting to talk off his shoes by the door, arranging them neatly next to your shoes like he always does.

He looks around your place, fidgeting on his feet like it’s the first time he’s been in here. You clear your throat to catch his attention. “Um, I brought food.” He lifts the bag in front of you and you chuckle. “I can see that,” you tell him as you take the bag from his hands. Harry follows behind you as you go to set the bag on your kitchen counter.

You turn around to look around to look at him, your eyes falling on the flowers he has. “Oh, uh, for you.” He thrusts them into your hand and you smile at the gesture. “Thanks,” you say softly as you breathe in the floral scent. You turn to your kitchen to find an empty vase to put the flowers in.

He scratches the back of his head in a nervous manner. “Um, I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I just wanted to see you. And I thought we could have some lunch together so I brought food too.”

You nod at his words. He’s still fidgeting in his place, looking nervous and almost shaking. “Harry, just relax. It’s just me,” you comfort him as you lay a hand on his arm gently. He nods and lets out a breath. “Sorry, um, I was nervous that you might not want to see me again.”

You frown at this. “Harry, I’ll always want to see you,” you tell him. “Yeah, I just thought, after that night, I might’ve ruined things between us,” he breathes out.

The corner of your lips lift up slightly at the man in front of you. Your eyes avert to the floor beneath. “If it’s anything, I thought I might’ve ruined things between us.” He frowns at this.

“Hey.” He’s itching to grab your hand, wanting to feel the warmth of your touch, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. “You definitely didn’t do anything other than being honest. I promise.”

You sigh at him. “Harry, we don’t have to talk about it. We can just pretend everything is fine.”

“No!”

His sudden tone takes you by surprise and you raise an eyebrow. He almost cowers back after realising this. “I’m sorry. Shouldn't have yelled like that.” He takes in a breath. “I just feel like I should say something. I mean, I've been thinking a lot about what I was going to say when I came over, so,” he trails off, looking at you still. He takes a moment to realise how pretty and beautiful you are. He doesn’t know why it took him so long to realise how in love he is with her.

“Okay.” You tell him and you almost get deja vu from the time you agree to fake-date him.

He lets out a big breath. “Okay, uh,” he exhales. “I just want to say I’m sorry first. For not really considering how you might feel when we did what we did. I should’ve made sure you were actually okay with it. I wish I knew how you actually felt about it.”

“Harry, you couldn’t have known how I felt because I never told you anything,” you tell him. “And, it’s fine. Really. I agreed to it, anyway.”

Harry nods, but his lips are in a straight line. He expects you to tell him how upset you were, but you don’t. You’re selfless enough to put his own feelings before yours when you agree to his plan. He kicks himself internally because of it.

You sense that he’s having a battle in his mind over this, so you take his hand in yours in hopes to somewhat ease what he’s feeling. He’s shocked to say the least when you do this but he instantly tightens his grip. And God, he misses holding your hand.

You clear your throat a bit. “Um, that was the first thing you wanted to say. What is the second?” You softly question him.

“Um,” he pauses. He’s looking at you and he can’t stop looking at you. He thinks carefully on his next words, not wanting to lose you if he says what he wants to.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally blurts out. He feels a slight relief in his chest after saying that.

But it’s almost like the world froze and it has become eerily quiet as he waits for your reaction. He’s starting to think that he broke you because you're staring at him in shock. He’s starting to sweat a bit because you haven't said a word.

He opens his mouth to say something, but your free hand goes up to touch his face.

“Wha-,” He’s confused as you pat around his face, concern and slight shock still etched on your face. “I’m making sure you’re not sick or burning up,” you say to him.

“What? I’m not sick!” He grabs her hand, making her pause her actions.

“Well, you’re sweating!”

“Because I’m nervous around you and you haven’t said anything!”

“You just said you’re in love with me! Sorry if I am shocked that the man I’m in love with just confessed his love to me and that I think he’s joking!” you whine at your defense.

Harry pauses for a moment before chuckling at her. He doesn’t realise how much he misses the playful banter you both have. “You silly, stupid girl,” he says, holding both of your hands. “I’m not joking. I am really, truly, stupidly, in love with you, lovie.”

There he goes, calling you pet names that might make you melt.

“You are?” You ask softly, almost not believing the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“I am.”

“You’re not just saying this, right? I’m serious, you’re playing around with me, I will-”

“I’m serious!” He throws his hand up in defense. “I promise. I, uh, thought long and hard about it. Realised how much I missed you and how I hated being away from you. Realised how much I love and care about you more than I should and I wish I realised what I felt sooner. Every day and night since the last time we saw each other, all I could think about is you and how you were feeling. Been thinking about what I wanted to say or how I wanted to apologise. And there was never a second where you weren’t constantly on my mind."

You smile at his long confession and stifle a small laugh. “You really are something else, Styles.” You tell him. “Hated being away from you too. I felt the same way, wondering how or where you’ve been. Wondering if I still had my best friend and if he still wanted me around.”

“You know I’ll always want you around.” He tells you.

“Well, I hate you for taking so long to tell me that.” You grin at him sarcastically.

“No, you don’t. You love me,” he teases you. You groan at him.

“Don’t push it.”

You both giggle at each other, feeling as though the air is clearing between you. His smile falters a bit as he studies your face. “I’m sorry for taking so long.” He holds your hand and loves the familiar warmth it gives him.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” You look at your joint hands together, loving how right it feels.

“I love you,” he tells you, gazing at you lovingly. You bring a hand up to his face and caress his cheek. He sighs at the feeling, leaning into your touch as his eyes close. “I love you, too.”

You notice his eyes averting back and forth between your eyes and lips. “Are you gonna kiss me?” You say playfully. He smirks at this. “Yeah, I am. If you’ll let me.”

“Harry, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll-,” You’re immediately cut off as Harry grabs your face in his large hands, pressing his lips onto yours. And it feels like, finally. You sigh into the kiss, tasting the sweetness of his lips on yours. His lips feel soft like you’ve always (embarrassingly) imagined it’d be. You let out a tiny whimper as you feel his tongue enter your mouth. You gasp at this and grip on his shirt, as if telling him to not move away from you.

He moans as he pulls away, lifting your chin up. He looks at you so in awe and in love, it sends my heart bursting with so many emotions. He leans in again to kiss you, making it longer like he’s memorising the way your lips taste.

You both pull away again to catch your breath. Harry sneaks in another peck which makes you giggle and smile. You gaze on him, eyes lingering on his swollen and extra pink lips after your kiss and it makes your heart fill with pride knowing it’s because of you. His green eyes seem to sparkle more now that you think about it.

Harry lets out a chuckle, leaning his forehead on yours. You are both smiling like idiots in love. You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you in by your waist. You both sway a bit in your place, the feeling of love and adoration for each other lingering on.

A rumbling noise pulls you both out of the moment. He pulls away and laughs. “Was that you?” You whine in embarrassment as you bury your head in his chest. “I’m hungry and you brought food here. I’m sorry,” you mumble onto his shirt.

“Mmm, guess we should eat then, right lovie?” He says, looking down at your figure. You hum in reply as you look up at him. “Will you stay the night?”

He grins and his heart melts at the small request. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll want me to, baby.”

“I’ll always want you,” you feel your face warm up as you say this but it’s true. He kisses your forehead and your eyes close at the feeling of his lips on yours.

You both grin stupidly at each other before he leans in again to kiss you. You’re quick to react as you pull him closer. Harry takes you by surprise as he suddenly lifts you off your feet, spinning you around as you kiss. You squeal and laugh at this, it makes Harry smile as he sees you throw your head laughing. He trails his lips down to your jaw and neck, kissing lightly on it.

There’s nothing he’d ever exchange this moment for. Your laughter and the kisses you share whilst being so madly and stupidly in love.

And it just finally feels right with you and him.

[scuttle-buttle]

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

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[alexaplaysgames]

Can you do Felix and Mc getting into a fight

My angst brain need some

You got it bb <3 Idk if this is really that much of a fight, but I couldn't make the MC too mean to Felix. Also, I’m aware this paints baby in a bad light. I had to make them fight about something okay :’( I don’t think he’d do this in canon.

Title: A bit Bitter

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2564

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

“Tell me the truth, Felix.”

His gray eyes dart upwards from his textbooks as I storm into the room. When he sees what I hold clutched in my hands, he swallows, the bob of his throat visible even from the doorway.

I continue in a voice that is simultaneously weak and as strong as I can manage. “Is this really how you feel?”

“W-why do you have that, love?”

I frown. His nervousness sends guilt shooting through me, but I stamp it out. I’ve bent over backwards for months in an attempt to make him comfortable, and did so gladly. But this? I can only withstand so much.

I set the notebook down on the edge of his desk with a heavy thud. Felix winces.

“The things you wrote in here, about me…” I shake my head, then look away. I can feel my eyes sting, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. “Felix-“

“That’s private! You don’t have the right to go snooping through my possessions.”

I sigh. Yeah, I’m nosy and read his journal, and normally I would be ashamed. I shouldn’t have done it, but… “I don’t think that’s important right now.”

“Of course it’s important!” Felix gasps, standing out of his desk chair to snatch up the journal. He meets my eyes with a fragile sort of vulnerability, then pulls the journal defensively to his chest. “I’m not privy to every thought you have. You can’t judge me for mine.”

“I would never think these things of you!” My voice raises until it edges on a shout, and I frantically rush to reign it in. “I would never.”

“That’s not-“ Felix whispers with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair.”

“No. What’s not fair is this.” I reach forward and pull the leather journal from his hands, flipping forward a few weathered pages until I find what I’m looking for.

“‘Not nearly comparable to Rime’s beauty, nor do they possess his talent with magic. They’re candlelight to his radiant sun. I’ve quelled whatever feeling has stirred in my chest and decided that I won’t settle for them. Not while my love is still hurting. And I do miss him so.”

Felix is biting at his lip as I lower the book once more, his eyes watery, wide circles. “That’s old,” he chokes out. “I swear. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”

He looks like he wants to touch me, so I step away. I shake my head. “But you did feel that way.”

“I- why does it matter? That’s private. How- how much else have you read to convince yourself my feelings for you are disingenuous? You were never meant to see any of it.” He’s wrapped arms around his thin frame, now, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wishes this all would simply go away.

“I’ve read enough.”

Felix’s eyes go wide, then dart to the journal in my hand. “Why?” I ask. “Worried there’s something worse left for me to uncover?”

“N-no.” He runs his hand over his face. “Why couldn’t you stay out of my things? That was personal! It was none of your business!” Felix hisses the last words, as close to angry as I’ve ever seen him with me. His eyes are filled with tears, but his expression if one of a rage I’ve never been in the receiving end of.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, watching him hiccup as if the words were a physical blow. “You’re a liar, Felix.” Then I simply can’t help myself but to add, “Maybe you do deserve to be alone.”

I know as soon as I say it that I’ve gone too far, and the look on his face- fuck. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the broken, hurt expression that flashes across his features out of my head. Yes, the words he’d written in that journal had stung, but I don’t feel any satisfaction from hurting him just as badly. If anything, it makes me feel worse.

All I feel is lost. My psyche weighs heavy with guilt, as well as hatred for myself for letting my patience slip. Before it can all come crumbling down on me, I turn on my heel and rush out the door, slamming it behind me with an echo that rings much to hollow to make me feel any better.

✦✧✦✧

I had frantically stuffed my few belongings into a bag and rushed to the nearest inn, flopping onto a rickety bed and crying myself to exhaustion. That had been two days ago, now, and I haven’t spoken to Felix since.

On the bright side, sending drunk texts is much more difficult to do when one doesn’t possess a cellphone.

Each night my dreams are filled with memories of his face, his smile. I can feel him in my arms, see the distinct colour of his blush each time I call him “baby” or “my sweet”. I wonder if I was over-dramatic in my reaction, but then remember the words in that journal. To think, the passage I had read aloud had only been one of many.

No. I was right to be upset.

I keep wondering if maybe the things he wrote in there were true. Yet, it’s so confusing- Felix has always had the upmost respect for me. And he’s not exactly great at hiding his emotions.

I’ve met with Anisa and Sage, both of whom seemed relatively stunned at the news. Anisa had offered exercise as a way to take my mind off it, and Sage had offered… another form of physical activity altogether, which didn’t really surprise me.

“A fight? Really? You two have always seemed like such a sappy married couple…”

I sigh. “Thanks, Sage. Really. It wasn’t even a fight, to be honest.”

“Married couples do fight, Sage.” Anisa pats my hand. “Felix is just dramatic. It will be fine! Whatever he did, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He just gets a little… jumbled up sometimes. But his intentions are pure. At least, I believe so. You can never tell with Felix.” She smiles. “Give him some time to mope and he’ll apologize.”

“If it helps,” Sage interjects, “he fought all the time with deer boy, and they were apparently a thing. I’m sure he’s used to it.”

I refrain from telling Sage that his oh-so-helpful comment is far from helpful; in fact, it highlights exactly what I’m worried about.

Tonight, thunder strikes outside in heavy, booming claps. The room I’ve rented is lowly lit by a single candle, but the flashes of lightning outside the window often light up the entire space. Rain pelts the roof and the wind howls mournfully, as if in empathy of my crushed spirit.

I’m just in the middle of pretending I’m in a sad music video when I hear an unsteady knock at the door. At first, I think it might be a tree branch outside, being as it’s so soft, but then I hear the sound again.

I fling the wool blankets over my head with a huff and shuffle towards the door, then unceremoniously fling it open.

I should have expected it would be my necromancer boyfriend looking like a drenched cat.

Felix is sopping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes so soaked I can see his tanned skin underneath. As soon as the door opens, his eyes go wide, and he immediately looks as if he’s attempting to say something, but he can’t seem to spit it out. His teeth are chattering so forcefully he can’t speak, and the wind has whipped the wet strands of hair into his mouth.

He is so stupid. I immediately can’t help but think that I love him. I am definitely morosexual.

I blink dazedly at him for a moment, before grabbing his elbows and hastily pulling him inside.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs as I grab a blanket off the bed and hastily wrap it around his shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s shaking from crying or the cold, can’t tell if the wetness on his face is from his tears or the rain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Felix, it’s fine. Come here, you’re going to get hypothermia.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and begin using it to dry his hair. He shakes his head as he pushes it away, sending droplets of water flying. “No! Listen, please, I am sorry, I am. I wish to explain myself. You deserve that much, at least.”

I sigh, then stand back and nod. I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress groans, as do I. “Fine.”

Felix pauses as if he didn’t expect that answer.

Then he picks at the frayed strings of the blanket around him. He shivers as he tugs it tighter around his shoulders. He licks his lips. “I wasn’t in a good place when we met.”

I nod. It was obvious then, and it’s even more so now. “I know.”

“It wasn’t healthy. I know that it wasn’t, but-” he cuts off as the thunder outside rumbles, lightning illuminating the haunted look in his eyes. “I loved Rime. More than that, I obsessed over him.”

That much I had guessed, but the confirmation does still twist my stomach.

“I was still in love with him when we met. Desperately so. I clung to the very idea of him for years. Rime adored how I idolized him, he encouraged it-“ he looks out the window as if lost in thought, then sighs. “It wasn’t you. I would’ve compared anyone to him. I did.”

Felix sniffs, then delicately kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t truly think those things, my dear. I just felt so guilty, every time I felt anything for you. I had made myself think that he was perfect, that I could enforce my love for him through some strange sort of self-discipline.” He cringes, as if he knows how awful that sounds. “It seemed reasonable. I owed him my life.”

Apparently having said what he needed, Felix goes quiet. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath, as if he’s been crying instead of sleeping ever since I left him.

“You are so incredibly lovely,” he whispers, choking. “I could see it even then. I was scared of what it would do to me to admit it.”

I swallow. I’m honestly not sure whether to believe him, but the look in his eyes is so earnest. Felix is many things, but he’s not one to hide his feelings, nor is he a good actor. I know deep down that he’s not faking his love for me, despite how my heart convinced me otherwise.

“If- If you’re still angry with me, I understand,” Felix stammers, though the tears in his eyes make it seem like that isn’t true. “M-maybe I should leave-“

The rain pounds harder against the windows. The wind whistles through the surrounding cracks. I grab his wrist.

“Come here, my sweet.”

Felix’s eyes widen at my use of my pet name for him, a timid look of disbelief in his eyes as he takes my hand and allows me to pull him onto the bed. I lie down on my back and guide to lay against my chest.

“I forgive you.” I almost can’t believe the words myself, but I know that it’s the only option I could ever consider. I love him. It’s a simple as it is complex.

“You needn’t-“

“I do. It wasn’t right of you to say those things, but it was also unfair of me to get so angry with you over something you wrote a long time ago. I know your old relationship really took a toll on you. Besides, I said some awful things to you too, Felix,” I continue, reaching up to brush his bangs back from his forehead. He trembles, leaning slightly into my touch. “You don’t deserve to be alone. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me, and I shouldn’t have. Okay?” I wait until he finally nods to continue. “And I’m sorry for going through your things. I betrayed your trust, and you were right to be upset.”

Felix goes a little slack-jawed before he finally breathes out, “O-of course I forgive you.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I could live without you.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before he lurches forward and kisses me, desperate and wanting, full to the brim with both apology and forgiveness. It tastes if the salt of his tears and the cold rainwater that runs over his cheeks. He’s shaking the whole time, and I tug him tighter to my chest. I can feel his heart racing through the fabric of our clothes.

“I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too,” Felix hiccups, “so much.”

We spend a bit longer like that, tangled up in the bedsheets with Felix soaking through both our clothes. Eventually, I pull back.

“Did you really wait until it was storming to show up and apologize?”

A sheepish laugh as he flushes. “I had t-thought it would be romantic. Like in my novels. I didn’t realize it was pouring quite so hard.”

His cheeks are a flaming red and he looks away like he expects me to be upset. I sigh to hide my fond smile. All I can do is kiss him again.

“I’ve brought you something,” Felix murmurs, his lips so close to mine that they brush, his eyelashes wet against my cheeks. He reaches back and takes the leather notebook, the stupid source of all our fighting, out of his coat pocket. It’s surprisingly dry.

I can’t help but want to smack that stupid book out of his hand. “Felix, why would you do that?”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and stands off to the side of the bed. The room lights up green as his entire hand, the journal with it, are suddenly engulfed in flames, until nothing but ashes sift through his fingertips, drifting down to settle against the wooden floor.

“You’re my future.”

He’s so dramatic. I love him to pieces.

I grab his waist and all but tackle him back onto the bed, delighting in his surprised squeak.

“Stop!” Felix yelps as he falls back against the mattress, only to be assaulted by my cuddles, “I’m positively soaked; I’ll drench the sheets.”

I can’t really say that I care. We have a lot of making up to do; I’m not spending a second without him by my side for the rest of the night. Felix grumbles a final complaint and then sighs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek into my chest, and I can’t help but think he feels the same.

“I didn’t enjoy that,” he mumbles, turning his face into me to hide his expression. “Being apart from you, it- hurt. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” I’m just realizing how much. His scent and the feel of his hair against my skin, his voice. He’s invaded my senses once more, and it feels like coming back to life.

He turns to look up at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair mussed, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and temples. God, he’s so adorable- I don’t know how I could ever stand to be angry with him. “I don’t want to be at odds with you anymore. I love you too much.”

I boop his perfect nose. “Deal.”

[arvinsescape]

Nightmares

A/N: I love mob Tom! Probably gonna start writing more.

Summary: Reader is plagued with nightmares of an attack and Tom can’t let it go.

Warnings: Couple of swear words, one mention of guns.

W/C: 1.9K

You jolted awake, sweat covering your forehead and tears covering your cheeks. This was the third time this week. The same haunting nightmare that had started last week. Being with someone like Tom had always come with risks, but you’d not felt those risks until last week. You’d been attending some event or other when everything went south. You swear you could still hear the gunshots as clear as day. Although you and Tom had managed to get out completely unscathed, it didn’t stop the nightmares.

Every single one was the same. You seemingly weren’t going to make it out. You knew this was a slim possibility for you, Tom was extraordinarily protective of you and he’d give his life before he let anything happen to you. They felt so real though. Tom had been there most nights to coax you out of your sleeping state and comfort you until you fell asleep again, but he hadn’t found his way to bed yet.

You looked at the time on the bedside clock; 1.17am. You sighed as you rubbed your tear stained face. You didn’t normally bother Tom when he was working, you knew how hard he worked and only really entered his office when he asked you to. He always told you it was ridiculous, that his office was just as much yours as it was his but you’d decided you’d only bother him if he asked or if it was important.

You found it hard to free your mind of the images and you couldn’t rid yourself of the horrible feeling that would always follow a nightmare. You pulled the covers back and made your way down the corridor. He had men all over the place now, he was still shook up about the position he said he’d put you in and upped the amount of his men that guarded your home. You slightly pulled down your sleep shorts, feeling self-conscious under their stares.

You were stood outside his office now as you raised your fist to knock. He was in there with other people, you could hear them talking and you suddenly felt nervous but by this point your knuckles had already connected with the wood.

“Come in.” Came a gruff and annoyed response. Shit, had you disturbed something important?

You swallowed down your nerves and opened the door hesitantly. Tom hadn’t looked up from the paper he was currently writing on.

“What?” He asked in that same tone. It was a tone you were unfamiliar with being used your way. He was much softer spoken when it came to you.

“Hey Y/N/N.” Harrison said as he gave you a small wave which you returned. You looked at the two men that were with him and your panic died down. Harrison and Harry. Tom’s eyes shot up in your direction and a small smile took over his features.

“Hi darling.” He said, tone much softer, almost the opposite of moments prior. He took in your appearance and furrowed his brows. He knew that look; he’d seen it often over the last two weeks. “Another one?” He spoke quietly and you nodded in response. “Come here.” He spoke as he moved himself back from the desk.

You made your way over as he opened his arms and you placed yourself on his lap. Feeling his warmth and smelling his scent brought a great comfort to you and you wanted to be closer. You moved yourself so you were straddling him and buried your face into his shoulder as his arms tightened around your back.

“I just need to finish up here and then I’m all yours. That okay?” He murmured into your ear, placing a small kiss there.

“Yeah, can I stay here?” You asked hesitantly.

“Of course you can my love.” He said as he kissed your temple. He went back to talking with the two men and you tuned out what they were saying getting lost in his scent. Your arms were around his shoulders and you played with his hair, bringing comfort to yourself as his large hands rubbed your back.

“Do you want to pick this back up tomorrow?” Harry asked as you slowly tuned back in.

“Yeah mate it’s late and I’m sure having a sleep on it will make it easier to think.” Harrison added.

“Fair point. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Tom said and you pulled your head from his shoulder to say goodbye to them. They left and it was just you and Tom left. Your face had found its way back into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” You said into the quiet air.

“Darling you could never. I’ve told you a million times that you make meetings far less boring.” He said as he coaxed your head from his shoulder so he could look at you.

“Yeah but I don’t like appearing unannounced.” You said as he cupped your cheek with one hand, slowly rubbing his thumb over your cheek as you melted into his touch.

“I do.” He said as you leant your forehead against his. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay, you’re here now.” You said as you kissed his cheek. He grinned at you and it was such a boyish grin you almost forgot that he was the big scary mob boss.

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you don’t you?” He said returning the kiss to your own cheek.

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you.” He said as he kissed your lips softly. You buried your face into his neck and you suddenly grew more tired. He placed kisses on your shoulder as he continued to rub your back.

“Tired?” He mumbled and you slowly nodded against his shoulder.

“Okay, give me a minute.” He said as he leant forward slightly presumably to finish something up on his desk. You moved again as you twisted round in his lap, face now looking at his desk. He continued to place kisses to your shoulder as he straightened out his papers. You took a glance at one of them on his desk. You recognised the last name on there.

You couldn’t help yourself as you picked up the paper, Tom went to grab it from you but you were stood now. You stood at the other side of the desk. “Darling, it’s not nice to pry.” He said carefully as he stood.

“I thought we didn’t have secrets.” You mumbled as you continued to scan the paper.

“We don’t but-“ He said as you interrupted. Brows furrowed in confusion.

“This is what you’ve been working on all week?” You asked, tone unreadable.

“Give it back.” He said as he leant over the desk trying to pry the paper from your hands. You pulled back, eyes still scanning the page and he huffed. He moved around the desk but you moved to the other side, effectively switching places.

“You can’t do this Tom. It’s dangerous.” You said as you threw the paper at him after finishing reading it.

“I can and I will.” He stated firmly.

“Tom! It’s dangerous.” You said again.

“Nearly everything I do is dangerous.” He reasoned, arms crossing over his chest.

“Yeah but this isn’t necessary. You seriously want to plan an attack on him?” You almost shouted at him.

“He planned one on me. Or have you forgotten? Wait no, I’ll answer that. You haven’t.” He snapped at you. He wasn’t a fan of people challenging his plans and although he liked the challenging streak you held with him at times, this wasn’t one of them.

“Tom, the nightmares will stop.” You tried.

“You shouldn’t be having them in the first place.”

“We’ve been together for four years Tom, something like this was bound to happen.” You shouted at him desperately.

“Doesn’t mean I’m okay with it. I promised I’d protect you and I meant it. Him and his men will never be a threat to you again when I’m done with him.” He was being firm; he wasn’t going to back down.

“So you’re going to put yourself in the firing line? I get what you do! But Tom, nothing happened to me, I’m okay and I’m here. It’s not like you to plan revenge like this. You’re not thinking straight.” You were shouting now.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Just because you’re okay physically doesn’t mean you are mentally. I’m doing this and there’s nothing you can say that will stop me. Of course I’m being led by emotion on this one. You could have died! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” He raised his voice at you.

“Strangely enough Tom, I do. Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Because I can’t!” He was shouting now. “I will do anything and everything to keep you safe. He could’ve killed you. I put you in danger.” His voice cracked at the end and you saw the tears gathering. He wasn’t one for crying, this must have shaken him up more than you originally thought.

“Tom, I knew what I was getting myself into.” You said carefully as you made your way around the desk to stand in front of him. “You made sure I was safe, you made sure I was the first to get to safety. Tom I’m safe as long as you’re there.” You said as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“What if one day I’m not there?” He asked quietly as he wrapped his arms around your frame and buried his face in your hair.

“You always make sure I’m safe when you’re not.” He did. He didn’t let you go out alone without someone he deeply trusted if he couldn’t escort you personally.

“It scared me Y/N/N. I could’ve lost you that night and listening to what it’s done to you breaks my heart. You have to understand that I can’t let him get away with it.”

“I’m not going to talk you out of this am I?” You sighed.

“No baby you’re not. I promise I’ll be safe but he can’t get away with it. I won’t allow it.” He was firm but soft. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you through the corridors and back to your room.

He placed you back in bed and stripped down to his boxers. He joined you in bed and pulled you into his chest before kissing your head. “I know you don’t like it baby, but I have to do it. For you, I hate what that night has done to you and I need to make it right in my own way. I love you so much.” He mumbled into your hair.

You didn’t say anything, you just nuzzled further into his chest as you let sleep take over. He’d always promised to protect you and you realised you had to let him do it in his own way, whether you agreed with that or not.

[yeojaa]

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of:  titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever.  wc.  2.1k.  author note.  i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous.  Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun.  He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people.  (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours.  Well, maybe not so old.  A recent fling, a friend of sorts.  Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time. 

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job.  In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips.  He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy.  Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction.  Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth.  You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye.  Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.  

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function.  One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches.  (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)  

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle.  Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle.  Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable.  There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands.  He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley.  Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.  

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much.  He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.”  Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.  

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover.  “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape.  “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand.  “Where’s your friend?”  He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette.  You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting).  Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy.  Hopelessly in love.  You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.  

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard.  All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,”  she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back.  It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall.  You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin.  It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips.  Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless. 

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone.  He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change.  A nod here, a smile there.  Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)  

“You think so?”  You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up.  Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.  

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors.  A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath.  “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.” 

You nod, satisfied.  Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over.  “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”  

“Great choices,”  she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy.  Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger.  You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend.  “Don’t you agree?” 

“Yep.”  He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.  

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall.  “Jungkookie?”  You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique.  You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine.  I don’t have to worry about them.”  There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin.  “No other man is going to love you better than me.  But women?”  A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back.  “Women are scary.”  (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past.  In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder.  He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away.  It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.  

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier.  Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,”  he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm.  When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh.  “She was flirting with you.”  

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need.  “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush.  “That’s what you think but she was.”  The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.  

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him.  It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth. 

“She wants to be the one doing this,”  he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue.  He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver.  Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button.  Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth.  “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,”  you coax, reprimand almost.  Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least).  It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life. 

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”  Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them.  The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing.  “Not for her.  Not for anyone.”  

“I won’t leave you,”  you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together.  “Not for her - not for anyone.”

[kyberconfessions]

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. Part 2

Here it is everyone! Part 2! You all make me so happy, it’s been so long since I wrote something and so much longer since I shared it. All your reblogs and likes have made me so happy.

As always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and will deal with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory)

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 2: Utterly Alone

     You couldn't believe Hondo. Making you come to him for that information. It was just like him to hold out on you right when he was getting to the good stuff. Of course he wanted you to meet these ‘clients’ of his before he would offer up whatever he had. Honestly, if he weren’t Hondo Ohnaka, you probably would have killed him long ago, which is why he knew he could pull these stunts.  You shook your head and finished putting on your gear: black pants with pockets and clips, a black shirt covered in darkly painted duriplast armor, twin blasters on your hip and thighs, a large vibroblade on your belt, a few droid poppers in a pouch, thermal detonators in another, and various other tools of your trade. 

A far cry from your sand colored robes and saber hilt on your hip. What would your Master say if he saw you now? He would probably be ashamed. No, that's not true. Obi-Wan Kenobi would never have felt shame when it came to you, he would have been so proud of you for surviving. 

You shook your head free of those thoughts and went to stand in front of the closet next to your bunk. Your hand slowly grazed the lockpad, letting the door whoosh open. 

Your life's work was in that closet.

Half of everything that was ever important to you was in there. You looked up, gazing at the old and scratched armor, the golden paint fading from it. It had taken you nearly 16 years, but you had almost every piece of Cody's armor. You had killed for some pieces, you had purchased others, and the rest you had found scattered across the stars. It was the only thing you had left of him. The only thing you had left of your home. All you were missing was his helmet. 

One day you hoped to find that as well. If you couldn't hold him in your arms again, you would honor his memory this way.

The closet across from Cody's hurt more, though. That closet you had set aside for Rex. But search high and low, you never found anything of his. Not a whisper, not a glove, not even a mention of his name. It was like he was wiped off the galaxy after Mandalore. 

You had gone back there, scoured the planet for any sign. All you had found was ash and bone. A dead, rotting planet, filled to the brim with ghosts and monsters. You heaved a sigh and touched Cody's glove, holding it up to your cheek.

"I wish you were both with me right now. You'd know what to do. You always did."

You sighed and closed your eyes, thinking of their faces.

"I miss you both so much. I'm not sleeping well anymore. But, I always did sleep better sandwiched between you two. Kriff. I know Hondo is going to worry, he always does. Nosey nerf herder. I just....I keep seeing your faces. And I keep hearing your voices and I just can't... I can't do this anymore without you. If you're out there, if you're watching over me, please know I am so sorry. I'm just so sorry."

Your tears cut you off while you choked on a breath.

You looked up to the headless suit, touching his cuirass and gently letting go of the glove. Your hands left the armor and rubbed your eyes free of tears. You had to steel yourself, who knows what kind of people Hondo would want you to meet with. 

You stepped back and closed the door, hiding away your most prized possession. Only Hondo knew about what you had. He had helped you find every piece of your prized armor. He tracked every lead, every serial number, every black market arms dealer selling Clone Era tech. As cunning and double crossing as he was, he cared for you. He cared for Kenobi more, but your connection to the Jedi Master was what compelled him to watch over you. He's who saved you and gave you shelter in the beginning, anyways.

You were curled up in a ball on the bench across from him, head resting on the transparisteel, watching as hyperspace went by. Your face was colorless, your eyes were red, and your lower lip was swollen from where you kept chewing on it. You hadn't spoken a word since Padmé died. It seemed the last 24 hours had taken its toll on you and he knew it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan Kenobi looked at you as Luke whimpered in his arms. 

Gently he reached out to you through the Force, caressing your signature with his. You turned to him, fresh tears falling from your eyes.

"My sweet Padawan, please, talk to me. I can feel your emotions, even without the Force." He shifted the newborn in his arms and stood to sit next to you.

With one free arm, he gently wrapped it around you. It took you less than a second before you felt all your walls crumble and the metaphorical dam break. Obi-Wan would always have that power over you. You covered your mouth with your hand as a sobbed wracked your body, trying to keep quiet for the sleeping baby. He pulled you closer, shifting to hold you against him. You pushed your face into his neck, tears quickly dampening his robes.

"Shhh, little one. It's alright. Let it out. I'm here. You're here. We are alive. I know it seems like nothing will ever be the same, but we must trust in the Force."

He let his Force signature envelop you, warming you. After a few moments, when you felt as if you couldn't cry anymore, you lifted your head from his shoulder.

"Do...do you think they're dead, Master?"

He looked at you with a question on his face, but he waited for you to elaborate.

"Do...do you think they made it? Ahsoka and...and Jesse....and...." You swallowed thickly, trying to force his name from your lips.

"And Rex. Do you think they killed her? Do...do you think she killed him?"

Obi-Wan was no fool. He knew how you, his young Padawan, felt for the Clone Captain of the 501st. He also knew how you felt for the brave Marshall Commander Cody. He knew it because he felt the same about another. He knew what it was like to hold a love so deep in your heart, you felt them in your entire being.

"He shot at us, Master. Cody....shot at us. He tried to kill us. He tried to kill me..." your breath stuttered and you hiccuped a few times.

He placed his hand on your head and stroked your hair lovingly, trying to calm you down.

"I know, little one. I don't know what happened or why they turned."

"What if..this was their plan all along?! What if they never were our men?! What if," you stopped as new tears fell at your revelation, "what if Cody and Rex never...never loved me?", you whimpered out in a soft whisper.

He shushed you, gently pushing his forehead against yours, and whispered your name to get your attention. "No, dear one, no. Cody loved you. Rex as well. I have seen that look in a man's eye before. That utter devotion to someone. Devotion much stronger than that of a commanding officer."

More tears fell from your eyes as you realized your Master knew your deepest kept secret.

"You knew?"

"I knew."

"Then why? Why not say anything? Why not report us? You...you are a sitting member of the High Council? I have shamed you! I broke our code!" You rambled. 

He hesitated for a few moments, looking around at the dim area of Organa's ship. They would be arriving to Tatooine soon. And then after he knew not. He knew he had to make his words comfort his Padawan, because this would be his last lesson.

"Sometimes when you find something so profound in a dark time like this, you have to hold onto it. If there is something worth moving on for, if there is something to keep fighting for, you must let it guide you. The Force has always worked in ways we can not explain. 

"I saw how they looked at you, how they would have done anything for you. How you would have done anything for them. I saw because I know those same feelings. I too know what it was like to love someone so desperately. To want to give them the world. I know what it's like to want to leave the Order if they only asked."

He took a moment for his words to sink in and grabbed a hold of your hand to caress the flesh of your knuckles.

"My dear Padawan, I am so proud of you. I have watched you grow from far off in the temple. I have heard the reports of you from your old Master. And I have seen your strength and kindness with my own eyes. You will be not just a great Jedi, but a great person. I only have one last lesson to teach you."

He let go of your hand and moved to hold your cheek, making you look him in the eye.

"This will be the most important thing I will ever impart on you. Live. Live on. Do not let the events of today control you. Do not let the guilt you have in your heart guide you. Live and be strong. Survive. Find whatever makes you happy and hold onto it with all your strength. Be mindful of the Living Force and what it has to teach you. It will guide you."

You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his, letting your Force signatures mingle. 

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that he was everything you ever wanted to be. That all you ever wanted was to honor the memory of your former Master and to honor him. You wanted to throw your arms around him and hold tight. You wanted to tell him that when you thought of a father, you saw him.

But, before you could say anything C-3PO walked up.

"Master Kenobi, Commander, we have arrived at Tatooine."

You both bid your farewells to Senator Organa and the two droids and left. You had never been to Tatooine and you hoped you never would have to return again. You hoped that you and Obi-Wan would make your way through the Galaxy, Master and Padawan, father and daughter, saving those left behind.

But, that wasn't to be.

It was a short ride on a speeder bike to the Lars farm. A young man and who you guessed was his wife stood waiting, as if they knew you were coming. 

Obi-Wan motioned for you to stay back, which you did, not having the strength to be around people. 

  Your hood was up, protecting your hair and face from the harsh winds whipping up sand.

  It was strange, almost cathartic, watching your Master hand the small baby to the young man. It was almost as if you knew this wasn't the end. But, at the same time, you knew this chapter of your life had closed.

  The two men you had ever loved were gone, dead probably. Your family was shattered. And you were about to say goodbye to the only other person who ever truly saw you.

Obi-Wan walked back to you, fingers grabbing at his mustache and beard, his old habit for when he was deep in thought.

"Master?"

     You rode for a few hours to a small town, Mos Eisley, the terrain passing you by quickly, but you paid no attention. You just held onto your Master as tightly as you could; the last time you held onto him like this, Cody made the order to shoot you down.

He looked to you, his lips set in a firm line, and nodded away, motioning for you to follow him.

You did, without question. You would always follow Obi-Wan Kenobi.

You shook your head of those thoughts against his back, a move not lost on your Master.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, MY PADAWAN?"

He yelled to you, trying to be heard over the sound of wind whipping by.

"YES MASTER!"

He nodded and let it go, him just as tired as you.

When you finally arrived at the small Smugglers town, you went to secure the bike while Obi-Wan went into a Cantina to make a call.

You didn't know to whom or what for, but you were too exhausted to care. Everything was crashing down on you and all you wanted was just to sleep. But you knew you had to keep going.

After a while, Obi-Wan stepped back outside and motioned for you to follow him in. The twin suns were beginning to set and you had just started feeling the cool air on your face.

Oh well.

Without a word you entered the noisy cantina, the sounds of people and creatures a harsh register to your ears.  There was music coming from somewhere, but you didn't bother to look, too focused on Obi-Wan's back.

It wasn't until he sat you at a table did you bother to look around. Everyone was carrying on, as if the war wasn't over. As if the Clones didn't betray their commanders and friends. As if the temple on Coruscant wasn't burning.. As if the Jedi weren't being systematically hunted down and killed.

Cody would have been disappointed in you.

You had ignored every possible exit, had failed to count the blasters you could see, and had failed to get the seat closest to the wall so you could face the door. But you couldn't be too angry at that one, Obi-Wan was locked on, watching every single person coming in and out.

But above all, you had failed to make a contingency plan to kill every person in the room. 

"Always plan, Mesh'la. Be polite, be courteous, never start a fight, show professionalism. But always have a plan to kill everyone in the room. Always plan to protect you and your own. Smile, but know how you will take everyone out if need be."

At the time you had called him cynical to think that way, but you understood now. You understood all of his lessons were to prepare you for moments like this.

After a while a server brought two bowls of bone broth and two cups of some sort of liquid; you didn't question. 

You waited for Obi-Wan to start eating, before tentatively spooning from the bowl. You ate in silence, neither of you in the mood for conversation. 

   When you were done, you waited for him to move to leave, but he just sat there, staring at the table.

   "Master?" 

   He looked at you then, his eyes were bloodshot and the bags under them made him look older than he was. Or perhaps they showed his true age, his normal boyish charm and good looks fallen away for a moment.

You quickly grabbed his hand in your own and squeezed it, before pulling away and tucking your hand back into your sleeve.   

"We will wait here for a few more hours. Then we will head to the outskirts to meet an acquaintance of mine. From there we will make our next move."

You nodded, sighed, and sat deeper into the rock bench.

A few hours later you were once again wrapped around Obi-Wan's waist, riding out into the desert. It was pitch black, the only light coming from the dim bulb on the front of the speeder. This time, at least, you were smart enough to tear away your robe and use the fabric to make a makeshift wrap for your face and his. This time, you didn't have to have your face pressed against his back. But, it didn't stop you from doing it a few times, hugging him tightly. You both knew that these would be the last moments you spent together. No one said it out right, but you could feel it all the same.

After a while you came upon a ridge, a small ship having landed in the canyon below. You didn't recognize it, but Obi-Wan made for it, which settled the anxiety growing in your chest.

It was larger up close, once you pulled up next to it.

Obi-Wan dismounted and helped you off, your legs slightly jelly from the long ride.

You both stood there, next to the bike, staring up into the hull. You shifted from foot to foot, your anxiety getting the better if you.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and a gentle squeeze before he went to hold your hand.

Even after everything, he still put you first. You were going to miss him so much.

The ramp opened up and a lone figure emerged, wearing a rather strange outfit.

"Master Kenobi! I was so worried. I had heard...rumors"

A strange Weequay man addressed your Master as he joined you on the ground.

"Hondo, it is good to see you, old friend." 

They grasped forearms in greeting before standing apart.

"Is it true, Master Jedi? Are they...."

Obi-Wan heaved a deep, bone weary sigh and nodded solemnly.

"Forgive me, my friend. I did not know. A thorn in my side, your Order may be, but I would never wish this on anyone."

It was then he noticed you, standing next to Obi-Wan just as tired and broken.

"Is this who you contacted me about?"

Your eyebrow raised as you turned to look at your Master, confused.

"Yes. Hondo, meet my Padawan Learner. LIttle one, meet Hondo Ohnaka."

You stepped forward and bowed slightly before returning back to your spot behind Obi-Wan.

"Hello there, Pretty Lady. I am Hondo, Pirate King and best friend to one Obi-Wan Kenobi."

He bowed with a flourish which caused Obi-Wan to roll his eyes.

You giggled though, and that sound had Obi-Wan smile slightly.

"It's nice to meet you, Hondo. Master? What does he mean?" You glanced over to Obi-Wan. You knew, in your heart, that this was it, but it still hurt, still clenched your chest. 

"Ahh, I will be...on the ship. Yes. Don't mind me, just going to do some routine maintenance before take off, have very important business to do...on the ship…" Hondo excused himself in a very Hondo way and walked back up the ramp, before disappearing into the hull.

Obi-wan turned to you and cleared his throat. You could see the anxiety welling up in his eyes, the fear that if he left you and you died, it would be his fault. Just like how Anikan was his fault. And Padme. He couldn't bear the thought of you dying when he could protect you, but, he had to stay. He knew he did. He had to watch over Luke and protect him. It was his new path in the Force.

Before he could speak, you cut him off trying to save him from his guilt. 

"So, this is it. This is where we part ways."

Obi-Wan released the deep sigh he didn't know he was holding and nodded.

"I have to stay. I have to watch over Luke. I can not let…"

"I know, Master." You gave him a tight lipped smile, eyes glassy with fat tears. You could feel your heart breaking, but you weren't sad. 

"Master, I need to tell you something. I don't want this to go unsaid between us," You paused, trying to collect your thoughts. How were you going to say what was on your heart? How were you going to reassure him of everything while being so scared yourself?

Obi-Wan waited patiently, only moving to once again hold your hands in his. There was so much he wanted to say as well, but he was just so tired. He was so very tired and everything pulled down on him more.

You took another deep breath, it was now or never…

"Master? I love you. You are the father I never had. When I think of family, I see you. And Ashoka. And," you choked, "Anakin." Your voice was small, almost lost in the howling winds of the canyon. But still you spoke, letting everything out. 

"All I have ever wanted was to make you proud. I wanted to be the best, not because I should strive to be a better Jedi, but because I wanted to honor you. When I lost my Master, I thought I was going to be forgotten, put aside until after the war, but then you came. You sat there in your chair in the Council Chamber and you saw me. You saw me. Being your Padawan was the greatest honor I could ever have had. I was being swallowed by this darkness in my heart, I was so lost and scared and confused. I lost myself when I lost my Master, but then you were there. You were this light that reached out for me. You pulled me out of that darkness. You anchored me in the present and the Light Side of the Force. Please don't think you've failed me. You haven't. You could never fail me. Obi-Wan Kenobi, you saved me. Everything I will ever strive to be is because of you. You are my father, Obi-Wan. And I love you."

You could feel the tightening in your chest, that anxious squeeze pulling at your insides as you waited for his response. Tears were falling down your face, making muddy tracks on your skin. Obi-Wan, for all his charm and quick wit, was speechless. He just stared at you with big, glazed, blue eyes. You were about to apologize for everything you said, hoping you didn't ruin the last moments with him you had, but then he pulled you to him.

He held you tight, crushing a bit of air out of your lungs. You felt him kiss the crown of your head before you wrapped your arms around him as well. 

You both stood there, holding on for dear life.  You could feel his tears in your hair, from where his cheek was pressed against your head. You could feel his heartbeat against your ear, where your face was against his chest. And you could feel his Force Signature mixed with yours, wrapping tightly around the both of you.

"Wherever you go in this world, whatever you decide to do, please know that I will always be with you. You are so strong, dear one. Don't ever think that I have never been proud of you. Look for me in the Force and you will find me. I will never abandon you."

You squeezed him harder and he held you tighter. You wanted to remember everything about him at this moment. His smell, like ozone and linen, the warmth of his chest, the scratch of his beard on your head, every little tactile sense you had was busy cataloging this exact moment, never to be forgotten. 

You didn't know, but he was doing the exact same thing.

"I will always love you, my brave Padawan."

"I will always love you, Master."

Slowly you both let go of each other, standing still.

There was a noise behind you, someone clearing their throat.

Hondo.

"I hate to break up this beautiful display of fatherly devotion, but, I am sorry, Master Jedi, if I am to take her with me, we must leave now. There is chatter on the com-waves."

Obi-Wan looked over your head at the man above you and nodded once.

"Yes, of course. Thank you Hondo. For everything."

"It is my honor, Master Jedi."

He looked back at you and reached out to squeeze your shoulders, before pulling you into one last hug. 

"May the Force be with you." 

"May the Force be with you, Master."

Slowly he let you go, heartbreak in his eyes. You turned and walked up the ramp, meeting Hondo at the hull opening. 

"We will leave soon, Pretty Lady. Please don't worry, I will keep you safe. I promise."

He nodded at you as you turned to look back at Obi-Wan. Your heart was in your throat and you didn't care that you were sobbing hard and deep. You were leaving everything you knew behind. Everything you are. Everything you have ever been was down there with him. But you knew, if you stayed, they would know. He would know. And you couldn't put Luke in that danger.

The ship started to move, gaining altitude, but still you stayed, watching him on the ground. You wanted to jump, to stay with him, to stay with the last bit of familiar comfort you had, but you didn't. You stayed glued to the side, watching him get smaller and smaller. 

He raised his hand in farewell as you began to shut the door. The air was beginning to thin and you would be in open space in a few moments.

But still you stayed. You stayed, looking at the grey durasteel side of the ship. You stayed, watching nothing as the ship left orbit. You stayed, trying to find purchase on anything as your heart was ripped from you. Cody, Rex, Obi-Wan, Jesse, Gregor, Ashoka, Kix, Fives, Wolffe, Plo, Padmé, Anakin. Everyone you had ever cared for, every single soul you considered family and friends and lovers were gone. Your entire family, your entire order, every single person, was dead. 

You were alone. You were utterly alone. And there was nothing you could do to change it.

[thrndlngs]

@the-fandoms-georgie

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷     A CURSE, natasha romanoff.

pairing: natasha romanoff x gn!asgardian!reader. genre: drabble with HELLA ANGST. warnings: character death + endgame spoilers. a/n: set in endgame. this made me cry lol. hopefully you guys enjoy it. i took a different approach to this so, hopefully it’s still enjoyable! also, reader is the asgardian god/dess of war :p  inspo: poem + another love (slowed down) by tom odell.

                         12 HOURS PRIOR.

     "SO YOU’RE GOING BACK TO ASGARD, HUH?” natasha asked as she approached you, offering a peanut butter sandwich as she straddles your lap while taking a bite of her own peanut butter sandwich. you decline it, which only makes her shrug her shoulders and continue to take a bite out of both before snaking her arms around your neck.

   “you’re doing the thing again.” 

   “i’m not doing the thing again.”

   “yes you are! you’re doing the ‘i’m a big bad asgardian whose forming a strategic plan on how to conquer a planet’ face.” she teases, mimicking said facial expression as you roll your eyes (almost) half tempted to throw her onto the couch you were sitting on. you know, for dramatics. 

   “just worried that someone will spot us. you know, with thor and i’s status and the talking, uh,” you trail off, canting your head a bit as natasha corrects you with an infectious laugh. “a raccoon.”

   “yeah, a raccoon. i could only hope that everything goes according to plan and that we manage to retrieve the Aether.”

   “you’re a horrible liar.” 

   “gods do not lie.” 

   “there’s a first time for everything honey.” 

   it’s your turn to laugh now, hands resting at the small of her back as you take in a breath. leave it to natasha to see right through you. “it will be hard going back.” you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence and natasha doesn’t force you. she only brings her hands to your face to trace soothing circles against your cheeks, offering that reassuring smile that had pulled you from some of your darkest times.

   “ — i know. i could only imagine what it would feel like going back home.” 

   you scoff, lips pursed as you look over her features, mirroring her smile. “you are.” 

   and she doesn’t understand it - not at first. you loved asgard. it was your home. in another lifetime though. you’ve grown to learn that asgard isn’t a place - asgard is it’s people, traditions - the will and strength to continue on in dire stances (kind of like now). but natasha, natasha was your home now. even if she wasn’t a place. she loved you inside and out. she didn’t see the god(dess) of war or the commander. she saw you, for you. the raw product of fighting battles that weren’t yours to begin with. 

   natasha saw you as someone who was forced a blade and told to fight. so maybe, the two of you are one in the same - just weapons to a cause. maybe that’s why she loved you. maybe that’s what attracted her to begin with, the ‘shared life experience’. she doesn’t know what it’s like being someone of your status - but she does know what it’s like to have your childhood stolen.

   and it hits her. you were referring to her. “i’m nothing compared to asgard.” her tone is a bit more serious now. 

   “you’re the liar now.” you tease, quickly stealing a kiss as natasha rolls her eyes. 

   “i’m serious. the way you talk about it—”

   “someone once told me that home is not a place. it’s where you feel safe and loved - it’s something you feel in here,” you poke at the place where her heart is, a childlike grin on your face as natasha rolls her eyes. again. if only the others could see how corny you truly were.

   and now it’s her turn to remain quiet, fingers trailing your tired features as the two of you sat there in silence. it isn’t until you pull at the ends of her hair that she finally says something to you (but it’s not directed at you, she’s just rambling at this point).

   “i’m not - i’m flattered but i can’t.. i just —”

   “baby,” you cut her off, taking your free hand and using it to turn her attention to you, offering her a soft smile as you laughed at her sudden ‘flustered’ expression. it’s amusing the effect you have on her - even after all these years. “you are my home. i feel safe when i’m with you. i am at my happiest when we are together. home is wherever i am with you. i love thor. i loved the king and queen. i loved asgard and my people, but it was never my home. asgard took everything from me and you, natasha, are the one who helped me see that i am more than what odin forced me to be.” 

                        4 HOURS PRIOR.

    “DON’T BE A HERO TWINKLETOES,” you warned, pointing an accusing finger in her direction as she holds up her hands in her defense as the two of you walked up to the platform. you let out a very audible sigh as natasha takes ahold of your hands and starts to make a very hushed sly comment on how the suit doesn’t do your hands justice. it makes you blush which prompts another comment on how natasha has more bragging points because she’s made the actual god(dess) of war blush.

   “love.”

   “lips are sealed honey,” natasha even ‘zips’ her lips and hands you the imaginary key, giving you a small wink.

   “try not to miss me too much, yeah?” you teased, brows raised as you tried to lighten the mood.

   “tell me about asgard when you get back?” natasha asked, taking a quick step to close the distance in between the two of you as you take a quick glance at thor and the ‘talking racoon’. you wonder if thor could handle it - in his current state, you think he might cry more than you would going back. 

   “natasha,” you begin, taking in a breath as you try to calm your emotions. do you tell her? do you not tell her? do you wait until all of this is over? do you do it now? your mind is working at the speed of light - it’s almost amusing how someone like you seems to get tongue twisted in a situation like this. you’re older now. much more wiser than you were in your last relationship. you’re a commander. a god(ddes) even. yet you couldn’t do something so simple as getting down on your knee? why hadn’t you done it before when it was the two of you? make it more.. intimate?

   “the suspense is killing me.” 

   “i love you,” it’s rushed and you’re laughing to mask the fear in your voice. “in this lifetime and the next.” 

   “don’t get all soft on me now,” she jokes, leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. 

   “don’t take to long, remember, we have to check out the house in the mountains.” you remind her as she leans in for a kiss. 

   “until the sun grows cold, [yourname].” 

   “—and the stars grow old,” you finished, taking your place between her and steve, eyeing the both of them before turning your attention to the center of the room.

   “i’ll see you in a minute baby.”

                       2 HOURS PRIOR.

     “I WANTED TO GIVE HER the ring my mother put in basket, before she passed.” you tell your queen, a sigh leaving your parted lips as you hear both frigga and thor laugh at your sudden confession. you’re almost tempted to kick the back of her son’s knee, but, you settle for a small grunt instead, pursing your lips into a thin line.

   you loved natasha. and she loved you. not because you were some commander who’s led asgard into battle or worked as a council to odin. not because you’ve led asgard into victories or because men and women alike still pray to you before they go off into battle - 

   she loved you. the version of you that would walk the shorelines and keep a small jar of shells on your nightstand. the you that would tell her stories of all the universes you have traveled or of the stars you’ve slept under. the you that would take your time to braid her the way frigga would braid yours.

   “so why haven’t you?”

   “—you know why.” you answered. there’s a flicker of emotion in your eyes that frigga knows all too well, a gentle hand is placed against your cheek as you have to fight to not lean into. frigga wasn’t your mother - not biologically at least. but she’s watched you grow up. she’s watched you fight and tended to your wounds. she’s watched you fall apart and put yourself back together the day you lost a piece of yourself and went off again into battle. 

   you’ve spent your entire life fighting wars that weren’t yours. devoting lifetimes to a cause that you cared little for. you couldn’t remember the last time you had done something for yourself (the only reason you had came to earth to begin with, was to back up thor and retrieve loki). would it be wrong to do something for yourself for once? to live a life that wasn’t paved for you? to move on and let go of your previous lives?

   “you deserve more than what you’ve been given [your name]. please do not let your past keep you from spending the rest of your life they way you have chosen.”

   before you can respond - thor gives you a thumbs up, a way to tell you that he agrees with you. the two of you, were all that was left of your old home (besides valkyrie but, she hadn’t experienced what you and thor had) and you felt like you owed it to both frigga and odin to protect the only son they had left - 

   “the two of you will do great things. and i’m sure you have stories to tell me, but you are here to fix your future. not mine.” she tells you and thor, bringing the two of you in for one last embrace as you bury your face into her shoulder one last time. it’s bittersweet - she might not have been your mother by birthright but she was the closest thing you had to one. and it was painful to bid her goodbye again.

   “take care of each other. i love you. the both of you.”

                      2 HOURS AFTER.

     YOU’RE ENTIRE BODY IS NUMB. you’ve listened to thor’s plan on getting her back. you’ve listened to their cries and complaints - not once, not once had you spoken. you didn’t need to ask clint anything. you knew. you felt it. it felt like your heart had stopped beating - even if it was for just a few seconds. you knew. and there was no way you could bring her back. the guilt ridden archer had tried to approach you (as everyone else did) and you said nothing. your hands remained in your pockets as you looked out over the waters.

   asgard had fallen. half of the universe. loki. heimdall. frigga and odin. hela. and now natasha. you don’t think you’d ever love again - not the way you loved natasha. 

   “[your name],” he approaches with caution, hands held up in his defense as he tries to get a feel of what your current mood was. which is why he keeps his distance at first (and honestly he thinks you might conjure up a weapon and throw it at him) but you say nothing. you can’t find the right words to express the pain in your chest - 

   “whatever we need to do to get her back. we will do it. together. you have my word.” he tells you, taking a few more steps until he’s only a few centimeters in front of you now. and still, you say nothing. 

   “it’s different,” you managed to say, biting at the inside of your cheek as you avoid the blonde’s gaze. “it feels like - it feels like, a part of me is missing. almost as if i am no longer whole.” 

   and he knows better than to interrupt you, if this is your moment to release your grief - he’d be here. whether it be your punching bag, your shoulder to cry on or ear to listen. he would be there - just like you had been there for him all the times before.

   “i told her not to be the hero. i told her not to be the hero and she did it anyways - that’s my job. i’m the one who’s capable of healing. not her. she sacrificed herself knowing - knowing she wouldn’t come back.” you felt she was being selfish but deep down inside, you knew the reason why she had done it. and you would eventually come to terms with it but today was not that day. 

                    16 HOURS AFTER.

     “NATASHA WANTED ME TO GIVE—she wanted me to give this to you,” he chokes in the middle of his sentence, a closed fist is placed in your direction as wanda gives you a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder. you can’t manage to find the words not yet. you had spent the past day in a half trying to pick up whatever pieces of yourself remained. you knew you would outlive natasha - it’s a conversation that was very prominent in the relationship but never did you think it would be this soon.

   when the cool metal reaches your calloused palms, you could feel your heart being ripped from your chest. you laugh. not because the funeral or the situation is funny but because it’s ironic. ironic how the two of you had the same idea yet neither of you would get to  biting at the inside of you cheek as you reached in your pocket to take out the ring you were meant to give her. it’s ironic how the two of you both had the same idea - 

   “she said something. ‘with a love that shall not die—’”

   “’till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old,” you’re shaking your head now, raising the ring into the light to reveal the words: until the next, engraved in it. it’s a real tear-jerker - you aren’t sure what’s keeping you from doubling over and screaming to whatever listened that you needed to have her back. it wasn’t fair. why is it that the universe had to be so cruel to you once more? was the loss of your home? your people? your first love? had that not been enough? had you not suffered enough?

   but you couldn’t. you couldn’t bring yourself to cry. not anymore. “i guess this is my curse. maybe gods do not get happy endings.”

                    3 DAYS LATER.

     “WILL YOU BE JOINING ME?” asked thor as the two of you overlooked new asgard. thor, who had his arms behind his back, turns to you to take in your new look. his eyes trail to the necklace (wanda had gifted you a small chain to wear both of the rings you and natasha were meant to gift to each other). you keep your arms folded across your chest, taking in the view one last time before turning to the god, a sad smile evident on your tired face.

   “not this time i’m afraid your grace.” you replied, clearing your throat as you tried to find the right words to explain to him what lied ahead of you. “there’s a woman i must find. i sent my crows to aid the search but until then.. natasha and i were looking at a home, in the mountains, you know? we were going to get a dog and all that.” 

   “oh.” 

   “but i’m never too far. you know that.” 

   “i know. but it’s time we start forging our own fates isn’t it?” 

   you chuckle, leaning in to press a kiss against his forehead, a gesture that was very common in between the two of you. one that’s quickly followed by a bone crushing hug - 

   “be kind to yourself [your name]. i will be fine.”

   “and you to yourself as well. the crows will always watch over you thor.” 

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ⋆☾

TAG LIST,

@willowtree42095   ♡  @the-fandoms-georgie

[writer-ish]

If you're still taking asks, 47 48 for Ethan x MC please!!

cliche tropes + prompts list #47. “I’ve been in love with you for years.” #48.  I called you at 2am because I need you

"Hello?”

His familiar voice, groggy as it was, never failed to send a sharp pang straight to her heart.

She fell quiet, unable to respond right away, her throat closing tightly in protest.

It had been so long since she’d last heard him - weeks that felt like decades and days all at once - but she’d been a fool to think she was over him. 

All it took was one sleepy “hello” to bring all the old feelings rushing back; a tsunami of poignant nostalgia that felt like a scar being re-opened. 

“Hi,” she said eventually, the return greeting taking so long she’d half expected him to have hung up or fallen back asleep. 

Instead, he sighed.

Of course he’d known it was her. He’d probably known from the second his phone rang. 

Who else would call him, sadly, desperately, in the middle of the night? No real purpose other than loneliness and a longing for a past that no longer existed. That had, likely, never existed.   

She heard rustling and imagined him sitting up in his bed, turning on the lamp on the left side of the bed - her side - before settling back into the pillows. 

“Is everything okay?” His voice broke through her reverie and the vision she’d been having of him in his bed, shirtless, the soft yellow light from the lamp illuminating the hard planes of his body, the rumpled sheets tucked at his hips, dissolved into her white ceiling. 

She had been lying there unable to sleep for what felt like the hundredth night in a row. 

It was too quiet. 

No roommates shuffling around at all hours, going to the bathroom, getting in from a night out, waking up for a shift. 

No Ethan lying next to her, holding her close, his breath rustling the back of her hair as they slept. 

The move had felt like the right thing at the time. She’d gone over it and over it again and again. It was truly the opportunity of a lifetime - handpicked to work at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, best in the country, as the leading diagnostician on their world-renowned team. Her friends had encouraged the hell out of her. Her parents had been so proud. And Ethan—

Ethan had said she should do it.

She had always wondered if, when push came to shove, Ethan would adopt the role of her partner or of her mentor. Whether he would encourage her to stay wherever he was, work on their relationship, grow and develop as a couple — or whether he would push her to better herself professionally, to be the best doctor she could be. 

When she had been a young medical student, carrying around her well-worn copy of Diagnostic Principles with stars in her eyes and hope in her heart, a job at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester complete with a recommendation from Dr. Ethan Ramsey would have been the culmination of everything she had ever dreamed of, coming to fruition in a spectacular and mindblowing display of professional success.

Now, lying in her one-bedroom apartment in Essex Park, all her friends and everything familiar and dear to her over 1300 miles away, it just felt hollow. 

“Brooke?” 

She blinked. Right. He had asked her if everything was okay. What was she supposed to say?

No, actually, I called you at two in the morning because I need you.

I’ve been in love with you for years, probably even before I knew you, and yet the first opportunity that came up for me to leave, you told me to take it. 

How come you never loved me the way I loved you?

No. Brooke knew she was Call-him-at-2:00 AM-just-to-breathe-creepily-into-the-receiver pathetic, but she wasn’t that pathetic. 

“Fine, no yeah, everything is fine,” she said finally, clearing her throat. “Just got off shift—” Liar. “—and thought maybe you’d be up. It’s been awhile since we’ve spoken so I wanted to say hi. I figured if you were sleeping you wouldn’t answer,” she finished off with an awkward laugh. 

“I’ll always answer.” It was his turn to clear his throat. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound...” His voice trailed off. 

“I’m great!” Maybe he wouldn’t notice the way her voice cracked. “Everyone is really friendly, the patients are incredible, I feel like I’m learning so much—” She tried desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, knew that she was doing an abysmal job hiding the waver in her voice. “It’s really, really good. Best decision I ever made.” Her voice cracked pitifully again, right at the end of her proclamation. She prayed he wouldn’t say anything, to spare her dignity.

“Sweetheart…” 

Ethan never used terms of endearment. They weren’t that sort of couple, with the “honeys” and “babys” and “sweethearts” falling off their tongues in casual conversation. In fact, Brooke could count the number of times he’d called her sweetheart on one hand. 

So, hearing him say it now, in that raw, heartbreaking, helpless way, was the final catalyst for her loneliness. Shutting her eyes tightly, she felt the tears streaking down her cheeks and she sniffled slightly before she could help herself. 

“It’s okay,” she said, voice still quavering. “Honestly, I’m fine. It’s just a little—it’s just a little lonely. I’m not used to—” Bracing breath. “—being on my own. Not very adult of me, I know.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. Humourlessly.

“It’s normal to feel that way,” he said pragmatically, doctor-tone adopted. “It’s a big adjustment.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed softly, nodding even though he couldn’t see her. “Big adjustment.”

How come you didn’t fight for me? 

How come you didn’t ask me to stay?

It was the argument they’d never had. The words she had waited for, but knew would never come. He was too invested in her future, her career as a doctor, that he couldn’t fathom holding her back in any capacity. 

Couldn’t see a better future for her as something other than an amazing doctor. 

A great wife, for example. 

An incredible mom. 

But no. Ethan Ramsey’s mind didn’t work that way. 

Him encouraging her to leave, to go to Rochester, that was the way he showed love in its ultimate capacity. 

Even knowing how much it would - and had - hurt them both. 

She heard him shift slightly, heard the rustle of the bedsheets. He probably needed to be up for work in another hour or two. She was being selfish keeping him on the line. 

“I’ll let you go,” she said quietly. “I’m sure we both have long, busy days tomorrow.” 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t mind,” he said eventually. “If you want to talk.” 

“It’s okay.” She sniffled again, wiping her face with the back of her hand, scrubbing roughly at her eyes. “I’ll be okay.” 

“I’m really proud of you Brooke.” He cleared his throat roughly. "I hope you know that.”

“I love you.” She didn’t know why that was her response. Hadn’t even realized she was going to say it until it was already out there. 

Too late now to take it back.

There was a pause. Then a sigh. She held her breath.

“I love you, too.” Another rough clearing of his throat. “Always.”

“Yeah,” she whispered back. “Always.”

Then she hung up.

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|fourteen.

chapter fourteen: snapdragons & sunflowers (Vol. 2)

↳ flower meaning: snapdragons: deception. sunflowers: unconditional love.

chapter summary: to use words. 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of sex, remember if there’s smut it’d be under the *, flashbacks in italics

word count: 11.6K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles  

thriteen: the aftermath

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perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

So, please help me out I think tags aren’t working. So yes, hope you enjoy this :) I’m sorry I haven’t been updating as much so here’s a long chapter to enjoy, please tell me what you think. 

Thank you to @friends-world for this moodboard

and thanks to @readheadwriter for this one! 

The sun was peeking through the window but they’d just noticed it, seemed like the entire day had been gray, maybe it would turn gray again. But right now it felt like the warm afternoon had finally washed over them. Such tranquility. Quiet.

They knew they were their very best when they were together and quiet. Or not quiet, but alone. With no one interrupting their thoughts. 

Y/N at that time could only wish she could stay like that forever, with nothing to worry, ignoring the dreadful problems and only… with him. Breathing and heart beats synchronized, as if they had connected on such a deep level, body and soul in their one way they knew how to. 

Y/N was often amazed by how precise he was, movements and caresses, the way he knew how to kiss her where she needed to be kissed, or the way his fingers would be soft enough to wash her with delight. 

How easily he could ease her sorrow, transport her to a different place. Though she was often wondering how she had wasted her life pretending not to love him. What else was she supposed to do if not love him? 

This wasn’t supposed to happen, or it hadn’t been what either Tom or y/n had in mind. Probably nobody. Not this way. 

Everyone guessed their fighting was probably still happening, and though James was probably the one to not want to know what had actually gone down, he probably was the only one aware that it would happen. 

There they were, her chest on his stomach, his hand in her hair, wondering what they were supposed to do, sun washing them.  Staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Tom had this particular way of staring at her that made her blush, shiver even. Under the sheets as his eyes travelled from her eyes to her lips. Still sweaty, and that familiar glow y/n had learned to know and love Tom had after each time as of it had been the first. 

So mesmerized she was by the sight of him. When had his eyes so full of hatred turned into such likeness? 

There was clearly no right answer to the problem, to the situation. Yet there was only one truth. 

They were in love. And everybody knew that. 

Y/N had never been one to read romance novels, she loved romantic movies that is, when love finds a way but she always criticized the way the feelings were portrayed. 

Ironic since she loved the magic and intensity and ridiculousness in 80’s movies. 

But she wished her life as a romantic comedy right now. Everything would be stupidly simpler. Not this mess which went beyond what her heart was able to feel. 

But laying on top of him in that warm room only gave her the answer that she wanted to be with him. But her mind kept going back to Cherry. She’d seen she’d gotten some texts from her cousin, and from other people which y/n had inadvertently ignored. That was a lie. 

She’d ignored them wholeheartedly. 

What did Tom feel? That was the only question. Regret. Most likely. 

“I shouldn’t have left,” y/n started knowing damn well that had been their initial downfall. How easily she had tried to escape her fear and pain believing that when she was away it wouldn’t be felt. She had been wrong, but we already knew that. 

Maybe Tom understood by then what she was actually apologizing for, it wasn’t her leaving it was her leaving to live with Tim. 

Though it shouldn’t have been a problem, there are a lot of things that were in necessity to be unraveled. 

The big drama that had been unfolded for a script.

“I should’ve chased after you,” he commented matter of factly. “Seems like my realization came late enough.” 

“Chase after  me?” She mocked. “As if it were—“

“I’m rather sure you did expect me to show up, I happen to know you very well, y/n,” he reminded her. “And I know you probably expected me to show up at your door when it’s raining and do something very 80’s movies like, you’d want a moment like that.” 

She looked away. “I—Well.” She did. But it was stupid to think he would. 

“Am I wrong?” He pushed. “Did you not wait for me to show up with yellow flowers?”

She shrugged, embarrassed as she brushed her lips against his skin as if trying to embarrass him just as much as he was embarrassing her. “My expectations for you rely only on merely having any.” 

“You’re saying you didn’t have any expectations for me?” He was perplexed, hurt even. 

“I’m saying you could’ve only shown up and I would’ve been pleased, I don’t need you to do anything else, honestly,” she admitted. “Because I know that you showing up would’ve meant we’ve swallowed all our pride.” 

“And did I not show up?” He questioned. 

Not how she had pictured it. 

“You did, but in the worst way you could’ve,” she reminded him. She sighed. “Besides you didn’t show up but only after my heart was broken for yet another time.” 

He gulped and brought his hand to cup her cheeks. “We did kiss under the rain, though.” 

“We’ve had some pretty dramatic kissing, huh,” she stated. 

“Pretty dramatic relationship,” he said with a grin. 

“However,” she sighed, “and going back to my initial statement.” 

“Initial statement,” he mocked. 

“I shouldn’t have left so—unpromptedly,” she said with a bit more formality. “I—broke your heart and I should’ve faced my consequences.” 

“But you left because of the script, and please, leave out all the formalities, y/n.” 

She sighed. “Yes, I did but I should’ve—I don’t know I was scared, I didn’t know how to deal with it. I wanted to let you heal, I wanted to—heal myself because I knew that my baggage would eventually bring us down and—Well.” 

“It’s not your baggage though, it’s ours,” he said. “We are trying to deal with that, you know? Work it out. We are in love, we are a couple and this is just a—well, an obstacle.” 

“Yes of course but—I—don’t you think it’s a sign?” She questioned. 

“A sign?” 

“Dunno, feels like we both tried to sabotage the relationship, as if—“ 

Tom furrowed his brows. “If anything, y/n, you’re laying on top of me after we had sex and—“

“I know, idiot,” she interrupted.

“I think that’s a pretty clear sign that we are deeply in love with each other.” 

“That’s only because I have no self control when it comes to you,” she stated. “And you know that and use that to your own advantage, you perfectly know you’re my weakness.”

“Am I?” He smirked. 

“Yes and you use it against me,” she stated as she blushed. 

“I do not, I—literally have no free-will when you’re around,” he said, his hands back on her back drawing circles with his fingers, “I’m hopelessly and stupidly in love with you and willing to give everything for you.” 

She smiled, genuinely, “we are doomed, then,” she stated as she stretched out to kiss him, deeply and passionately, but shortly.

Y/N knew it, he’d always linger like a scar you can never get rid off. His glance would keep her heart going. 

“What shall we do, then?�� He asked. 

“Dunno.” 

He kissed her chin, “we could do that again, you know?” He offered mischievously, his hands traveling up her skin. 

She rolled her eyes, “Tom, we can’t keep avoiding it.” 

He sighed dramatically, “hm no, but we could postpone it,” he offered as his lips brushed hers before finally kissing her again, in his own very way that had her oh, so mesmerized. 

She tried to pull away but her lips kept glued to him as if her mind and reason were not in sync with her heart, or body for that matter.  She felt him smile and chuckle even against her lips before he pulled away. 

“No, baby, please,” she pleaded as his eyes were defeated. 

“Fine.” 

She took a deep breath, trying to avoid his gaze so she’d be able to say it, “I dunno, I’m still hurt, though I know my feelings, I’m still hurt and I assume you are, too.” 

Tom bit his bottom lip, “yeah.” 

There was a slight difference, and y/n didn’t know if it was due the fact she could feel his heartbeat or if his fingers threaded down her skin, or maybe due to the tattoos his kissing had left but she knew that they could work it out. They had to. 

“So what do you suggest?” Tom asked. 

“Talking,” she said. 

“Hm, we’ve never been great at that,” he sighed. “But if we shall.” 

She watched him. “What did you do to make her fall in love with you?” She asked. “I—“ she sighed. “I well—I want to know.”

“We’re-starting then,”Tom took a deep breath and turned to her. “I guess the same I did with you.” 

“You couldn’t possibly,” she stated. “What you did with me—“

“You’re right, I don’t know how I made you fall for me,” he confessed. “What—did by the way?” 

She didn’t have an exact reason but love by itself. Did he need to know one?” 

“I shall keep that a secret,” she answered. Which was true, for the record, since it was a secret for herself as well. “But with her?” 

“Well, I—honestly, don’t know. I didn’t plan it,” he admitted. “I only searched for her.” 

“And why did you?” 

He looked away. “Loneliness blinds.” 

She clenched her jaw and finally rolled off of him, though her skin still longed to be close to him. But this wasn’t a conversation to have in any kind of romantic position. 

“I—for a moment, brief—but long enough to mess up my mind, I thought you leaving was for the best,” he said. “I thought you’d eventually realize you have feelings for Harry—“

“I don’t.” 

“No, but he kissed you,” Tom said. 

The one big thing they hadn’t spoken about, of course, the whole thing Tim was an issue, but Harry. 

“And you did write that you wished it had been him,” Tom continued. 

Y/N then sat up covering herself with the blankets, this was a conversation they’d pushed long enough. 

“For a moment,” she took a deep breath. “I did,” she admitted. “Because I didn’t—I well, you’d broken my heart and I was so overwhelmed and so confused, I did wonder, you know?” She confessed. “Why did I love the guy who’s been an asshole instead of the prince in shining armor.” 

Tom didn’t say a thing. 

“I did have feelings for Harry,” she continued. “At some point, but they were barely there,” she added. “It was… I mean, before—It was,” she took a deep breath. “Well I had finally gotten over you, yet again,” she forced a chuckle. 

He only gave her a sad smile. 

“I—Few years after that—kiss on that after party, after prom” she reminded him. 

“Oh,” he blushed. “Yeah.” 

“I was—Well, being the fool I was I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she continued. 

He laughed. “Fuck, how must you be after what we just did,” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes and let out a dry chuckle. “But you were an idiot as usual, yet it took me a while to get over you, and I—Dunno, I was spending more time with Harry, and as usual he was a gentleman, and l—“she sighed, “I guess I started wondering why—Why don't I love the man standing right in front of me—and at that point I knew his feelings for me, he wasn’t subtle,” she added. 

“And you didn’t—“

“I knew you hated me for that, I could see the way you were disgusted by how I just simply decided to ignore his feelings—“

“And I did everything because he liked you—I—I know it sounds stupid but I couldn’t—“ Tom sat up as well. “I felt guilty for loving you and I knew you—liked me, and I felt guilty and so I did everything to push you away.” 

Y/N nodded. “Did a great job on that,” she pointed out. 

“But you did have feelings?” Questioned Tom. 

“I’m not sure if I had them or if it was merely a whim I tried to calm,” she admitted. “Because I was—I think I forced myself to it, you know? The whole—y/n why don’t you love him instead, and yes, I did wish I had—liked him instead at some point, but not because of you—Maybe a bit, at that point, we weren’t exactly as—“she cleared her throat. “As close as we are now.” 

He hummed a chuckle, “close.”

“Well, yeah, so yes I did ask myself why I loved the guy who treated me like trash instead of the guy who— you know, so maybe I didn’t like him and it was only—No, that’s a lie. I did like him, I—started seeing him with different eyes but I was scared because—No feelings towards anybody have ever been as strong as those I have for you.” 

He only reached for her hand, and brought it to his lips. 

“I’m sorry for the things I said on the script,” she continued. “I—however I don’t regret all of them.” 

“I should’ve read it—“

“Yeah, I was—too harsh on the first few pages.” 

“But then—“

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat, “but no, I didn’t have—I don’t have feelings for Harry, I do—love him and I’ve missed him too much now that we’ve been apart—don’t get me wrong but when we—broke up I just needed Harry, I needed a best friend and he wasn’t there and—“

“Yeah, I get it,” Tom sighed. 

“Harry is my best friend and he’s the only one—I can actually open up to, last night he just listened for the sake of listening,” she nodded. “And even if he had feelings for me he never—pushed them, you know? He knew I had feelings for you even if I never truly dared to admit it out loud and Harry always listened for the sake of being my friend. He never tried to make me fall for him when I was sad or—He was only a friend. And I—missed—I still miss him, and I hope, I—I can get rid of Tim if you ask me to but please never ask me to get rid of Harry.” 

Tom watched her, listening closely. “I wouldn’t. Not—not even Tim.” 

“But I assume it wasn’t easy for you either,” she pointed out as she then reached to the floor, searching for clothes, she reached for the one sweatshirt tom had used, not the one she’d borrowed. “When I left, I just—I guess it would’ve been easier if I had Harry, yes I had Emma and Emma had become a very good friend but—I don’t know, I needed Harry but I guess it was even more difficult for you, you were the broken hearted now.” 

“I was the bad guy,” Tom started. “Ruined my brother’s engagement, humiliated my girlfriend and made a drama. And—my girlfriend had written about my brother and my brother had kissed you. I—yeah, I wasn’t doing okay.” 

She sighed as she put on the clothes, Tom reached for the remaining ones. 

“Plus, when I realized I didn’t care about the script you were gone already, and to add to my misfortune, you were gone with Tim.” 

She looked down. “I didn’t leave with him, he just happened to be leaving as well.”

“I know, but given your history with him, given our history, too, I thought we were through, and after yelling at each other on the phone, I only—I sank into this—dark place, besides you’d left me some—daffodils?” 

“Oh, yeah, I had forgotten about those—“

“I didn’t, I watered them every day and took care of them, I am even having my mother sit them while I’m gone,” Tom admitted. 

Y/N felt her heart warm and glow, he’d taken care of them. 

“Daffodils,” Tom repeated. 

“Perennial flowers,” y:n said, “they—bloom again every now and then and they mean—“

“New beginnings yeah, Cherry told me,” he admitted. 

She grimaced. “Yeah, guess she misunderstood the message,” y/n said, with the least poison she could. 

Tom gulped, “I—yeah, but I assumed you meant you’d have a new beginning, one without me—“

“I meant we had a new one,” she cleared up. “And I mean—“

“Well—I get that now, but I didn’t back then and I thought it was ironic, it was—-I wasn’t doing okay, I was just—and then, it got worse…. how I was diagnosed with a heartbreak just—“

“What?” 

Tom shrugged, “it hurt and I wasn’t feeling myself and—“

Y/N then regretted writing the script again, remembering the sole reason she had initially started it with all honesty, to make him feel the heartbreak, to make him go through that pain she’d gone through. How ever could she wish for the love of her life such a pain? 

It was her turn to hold his hand. Such a weird conversation they were having. Just listening to each other, no complaining, no interrupting, just listening to what the other feels. 

“You were diagnosed?” She questioned. Had he felt as bad as her? 

“I went to the doctor and they said my body—had gotten used to being—around you, we exchanged chemicals or whatever that—Well, made me happy and then—it was gone” he cleared his throat. “I was going through withdrawal of love or so the doctor said, and it’s apparently normal to have a physical reaction because of stress and levels—“

“Of cortisol yeah,”y/n knew what he meant as she approached him, he hesitated but then held her close.. “I’m sorry—I’m—sorry you had to go through that.” 

“You’ve been there too, huh?” He asked. “That’s why Valerie—“

“Yeah,” she let him go just slightly, still close enough to feel him breathing, and looked up at him. It made sense though she still couldn’t quite find the piece to forgive him for being with her bloody cousin, she—understood. 

“I know it sounds like an excuse, and I know it shouldn’t—“he cleared his throat, “but I didn’t mean it to be with your cousin—I guess I was just trying to find back something that made me happy—someone that could get me out of it, you know? To relieve some stress, I guess.” 

She understood. 

“Yeah, which is—“She bit her lip. “What kind of happened with Tim, the first time.” 

Tom grimaced then. 

“Maybe that’s why I was so broken-hearted,” she stated. “Seeing you and Cherry, I mean. Thought Cherry would be your Tim.” 

Tom nodded. “Is that why you slept with him?” 

It was far more complicated than that, honestly. 

“Do you love him?” Tom added. 

She took a deep breath. “I did love Tim,” she stated and then took a deep breath. “Still do, not going to lie but—not in the way that—I love him as an old friend, it doesn’t come close to what I feel for you,” she bit her lip, “I guess I’m grateful for him, for taking me out of dark place, I’ve told you about it before—I—I’ve always known he loves me and after a while of listening to everyone say we were meant to be I guess I bought into the idea and—not anymore,” she nodded. “I think what’s different this time is that I know that I love you and only you and—I slept with him.  But you said it loneliness blinds and I was in desperate need to be loved and—he offers that—to love me unconditionally—“

“Don’t I love you unconditionally?” Tom questioned. 

Did he? She stared at his eyes. She didn’t want to go there, though she wanted to believe he did. “You see Tom, I felt worthless and replaceable and the one person who was never made me feel...replaceable is Tim.” 

“Have I?” He asked.

“Yes, twice—or even more, like that one time at the club or now with Cherry,” she said. “It hurt, Tom—“

“I mean—I—well, what about when you broke up? He brought another girl to Harry’s and Sam’s party.” 

“This isn’t about—“she sighed. “This isn’t about Tim.” 

“What is it then?” 

“I think we both try to ignore our biggest baggage,” she stated. 

“Rome—“

“Not quite.” 

“What?”

She plopped on the bed. “We hated each other our whole lives and sometimes we pretend as if we didn’t.” 

Tom bit his lip. “I didn’t,” he intertwined his hand with hers before laying down to place a soft kiss on her cheek. 

“No, Tom—I mean,” she cleared her throat as his lips kept brushing against her cheek towards her neck, “I know we are all—well this way—“

He grinned before kissing her neck. “This way?” He asked before looking up at her. 

She rolled her eyes, “Yes—this way.”

“Which way?” He asked again, before kissing her sweetly, and deeply. 

“Tom.” 

“This one?” He kissed behind her ears as his hands landed on her waist. “Or… this one?” He was kissing his way across her face. 

“Tommy—“she said softly. “No,” she shook her head. “No, yes, yes I mean that way,” she said blushing, “but we weren’t always like this,” she stated as she kept being peppered with kisses. “even if we try to pretend we were—“

“I’m not pretending.” 

“Tom, I mean how many pictures did you have to search to get the one for my birthday?”

He licked his lips, “uh—“

“Like all of our pictures— we hated  each other, and I mean—“she closed her eyes since his lips had found its way back to her skin, threading through her neck. “Tom.” 

“I’m listening, darling” he mumbled in between kisses. 

“Tommy,” she pleaded again. “You’re not listening.” 

“I am, you’re saying we hated each other and I know that did but I am just trying to prove to you that we are in a very different position right now.” 

And they were, literally and metaphorically speaking as he kept kissing her neck. 

She decided to enjoy it then, “Now, we are—“she took a deep breath. “but—but, but, but, but  our whole lives we were enemies and we never truly had a transition from it.” 

He hummed a chuckle, “I think we had a very clear transition.” He had smirked as he looked up back at her, sight digging to her. 

“Please,” she scoffed. “even the first time we had sex we pretended to hate each other.” 

He raised his brows. “Huh we did. We’ve had sex on the weirdest of situations.” 

“Yes and we kept being rude after that—“

“And then we slept together again and again and—“

“Yes I know, I know!” She interrupted him as he laughed, making her giggle.  “but—it’s weird though—it’s—Tom,” she couldn’t stop her laugh. “Tom it’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I think that’s why we avoid fighting,” she stated.

“We don’t—“

“We are avoiding it right now,” she pointed out, “because we spent our whole lives fighting—“

“And we were very good at it,” Tom acknowledged.

“Yes and we probably avoid it because—“

“We might end up hurting each other,” Tom finished her sentence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Old habits never wear out.” 

Tom finally rolled off of her and took a deep breath. They stayed quiet, for a bit, as if they had to listen now to their own very thoughts. To make room for their own feelings. For most of their lives they’d been enemies and then this and—how y/n always flaked on feelings and how complicated she was. It was weird, she’d always pushed every single guy away because she had feelings with Tom and now she was pushing Tom away, and she didn’t know why. But she didn’t want to push him away. 

His hands above his head, her hands above her heart.

Did they need to be rational? Or did they have to follow their feelings?

“What do we have to do?” He asked after a while. 

She sat up and hugged her knees. “I—don’t know, “ she sighed. “Are we being rational?”

“If we are, then do we—“

“What would rational people do?” She scoffed. 

Tom gulped. “Break up?”

She looked back at him, with fear. She knew those words were coming but she had avoided them. Did they have to?

“I don’t want to break up,” he stated quickly. 

She felt a relief, “I don’t either.” 

He sat up. “But—do we have to?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it would be the rational thing to do—“she pursed her lips. “Yet, I don’t want to lose you, because though—we’ve been through hell, losing you would be the one heartbreak I would never be able to heal from.” 

That made Tom smile as he pulled her close to him. Y/N knew that their love story wasn’t one girls would wish for, it wasn’t a picture perfect, magazine like love story. It was full of hatred and reckless feelings. And looking back at it, y/n would always get a pain in her chest, not sure why. Was it torture? It couldn’t be. Why was she so invested in him? Why did she love him so much if she’d been warned with signs all over again? Was he worth the pain? 

There was that feeling that the flashing lights were blinding her again, that there was a clear sign to get away from him and rush and escape, but she’d find her way back to him. Because it was thrilling, and exciting. But they were lost, very lost. And they could pretend they could last forever, and they would if they tried to but right now there was no clear path, though it was simple and though they were in love, it just… hurt. Being apart from him seemed like the worst kind of torture she could think of. 

It was scary to stay, too. Because what if they lost their minds, too? Things hadn’t changed, not much. Not really. Y/N was still so in love with him, but she was exactly in the same position she was when she’d let him. 

What if they escaped? 

But they still had to talk about a lot of things. Because escaping was following their hearts, and they probably had to be rational, for once. 

Harry was, on the other hand, tired of being rational. For once he wanted to follow his heart. He didn’t. He instead was going through the most recent events which he couldn’t quite map yet. He knew about Tom and y/n…. 

Harry didn’t know anything about them. He didn’t care. 

That’s a lie. He did care. Just not right now. Harry had a lot in his head. And it seemed like the roles had been reversed, him and Emma were not talking or anything. And probably Tom and y/n were. 

Or were they? 

Y/N had not answered and this was typical of y/n. She did this thing of running away, that's what she did the best, he knew that. But she usually ran to him. 

And she had, last night. 

He felt wrong. And Harry wasn’t sure if he was prepared to deal with y/n and Tom breaking up. Not because he didn’t want to be a friend with y/n but because he’d barely had anyone to deal with it. His own breakup, because of course the room had been on Tom. Usually, it was. Harry never minded but right now he needed some help for himself. 

And he knew that probably if Tom and y/n broke up it would be intense. 

Not because of y/n. Y/N didn’t make her breakups intense. 

Tom did. 

But not y/n, Harry knew that. Except when it came to Tom. Like when after Rome, y/n pushed everyone away. 

But after Louis all y/n needed was a night watching The Breakfast Club and pizza. 

Even after Tim, well, that had been harder. 

They’d broken up on New Years Eve. Harry still remembered it happened at that one party, right outside it. While everyone was having fun, getting their asses drunk and dancing to the music, y/n had walked back into the room, boyfriend less and with her mascara run across her face. Just slightly, as she’d run to the bathroom. 

He remembered how Tim had also walked in and rushed to Emma. Emma had spent a certain amount of time listening to Timmy, but eventually came back to Harry, and kissed him at midnight. Harry knew by then. 

Emma was the love of his life, undeniably flawed but perfect for him. Not the one couple you’d think that would end up together but the one that after seeing it, made sense. 

Emma had stayed to help him clean up, and he remembered staying up all night, seeing the sun coming out. Talking nonsense. 

Emma told him y/n and Tim had broken up. 

Harry didn’t know why they had broken up by then, but he had guessed it right after they hadn’t kissed at midnight that something was wrong. The very next day y/n had shown up to Tom’s place looking for Harry, she had avoided Tom and ran up straight to Harry and even Emma. Emma had gone to her best friend. Knowing Tim needed her. 

Y/n had explained to him how it had gone as they kept cleaning up. 

“I fucked up,” she had said, “I may have lost the love of my life for some stupid whim of mine.” 

“What happened?” 

“We are on a break,” she explained. “He said he can’t be second to my heart and I don’t blame him.” 

“And is he?” 

She had stopped, staring at a bottle. Harry remembered Tom had shown up to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing here, y/n? Gathering your breakfast? Didn’t know you had to scatter for trash here, thought you had Tim for that.” 

Y/N ignored him, knowing damn well that ignoring Tom was her greatest weapon. Probably the reason why she had left this last time. Not giving Tom any attention was what he hated the most. 

And she ignored him that time. 

“You’re not welcome here, y/n, may I remind you.” 

Harry turned to him. “Not now, Thomas.” 

“Unless she helps us clean, at least be useful for once y/n,” Tom continued as he approached them. “Why the long face, y/n, it’s a new year, you know how they—new year, new you, maybe you’ll get a new chance to dump Tim or he might dump you.” 

“Thanks, Tom, glad to know though it’s a new year you’re still the same piece of shit,” y/n had snaked. 

Tom had left, eventually. 

“Then?” Harry asked. “Why did you break up?” 

“It was a boring breakup,” that had been one of the first times y/n had lied to Harry. Or rather, purposefully lied to him. “I—“and she had opened up. Crying, slowly. Quietly. “I don’t know—I mean I knew it was coming, everything went down after the proposal and I’m—“

“But if you didn’t want to marry him—“

“But maybe I should, I—I can’t keep holding to a whim that makes absolutely no sense.” 

“What whim, y/n?” Though Harry thought he knew the answer. 

“Dunno, he said we should—meet other people, he told me to get—my feelings sorted out.” 

“Did you give him the ring back?”

“He asked me not to, and maybe I won’t—maybe I’ll end up wearing it one day.” 

 And y/n had been different after that breakup. She had been quiet but she hadn’t made a big deal out of it, quietly swallowing her thoughts, she’d be around more, though. 

She would want to hang out more and propose crazy schemes and ideas. With y/n it was more movie nights, and giving a shoulder if she needed to cry. 

So, Harry wasn’t fearful of that. He knew how to deal with y/n’s breakups which only involves hanging out more.

However he had never seen her break up with Tom. And it is fair to say that most of the breakups y/n had had were because she had feelings for Tom. So of course, last night Harry had finally seen y/n in her truest form, y/n crying because she loved Tom. 

It seemed like a paradox, really. How most breakups had been because of Tom and now she was most likely to break up with him. 

But Harry could deal with it. 

With Tom, though. Harry knew he’d have to deal with Tom’s anger or sadness or whatever. And he’d have to listen and watch and… 

he didn’t need that. He loved his brother but Tom made everything big, and Harry, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud, was on y/n’s side, even after everything, because Harry had been on the first row to Tom’s awful way to treat y/n. Harry wasn’t a fan of it. 

Because, Harry was well aware that though Tom and y/n had fucked up recently, he knew that their main trouble was their past haunting them, both of them knowing exactly how to hurt each other. Y/N, in Harry’s mind, had run away after the script incident exactly because she knew that would get Tom. Even if she didn’t do it purposefully, in her mind, she probably wanted Tom to feel her absence because if there was something Tom hated was to not be given attention. 

And Tom knew how much y/n hated being replaced, so that’s probably why he had searched for Cherry. 

Because even if Tom and y/n liked to ignore it, Harry knew they were still the same kids who knew how to hurt the other, and that was their biggest problem. If they kept ignoring that they’d learned their whole lives how to make the other cry, they wouldn’t understand why they’re crying right now. 

So, complicated. 

Harry wanted a break on his own, and he wanted to sleep, take a shower, get his mind off of everything. However no one had warned him. There was still that feeling of slight guilt, how he wasn’t being true to himself. There were a lot of things that Harry regretted, kissing y/n wasn’t one of them, because he needed to know how he felt, and though he’d known it for a while, that Emma was supposed to be his endgame, he needed to know how it felt. And Harry did go back to the kiss every now and then, and how it hadn’t felt like he had expected it to go. 

It had been sad, but beautiful, honestly. Y/N had kissed him back, as if she herself had been exploring her own feelings, too. 

She’d been late to her own feelings. And Harry did wonder from time how things would’ve gone had one slight thing been different. But they wouldn’t have worked out, Harry knew. 

Because y/n was meant to be with Tom, and Harry was meant to be with Emma. 

And it would’ve been a tragedy, Harry knew, those that felt like dreams, with the sun setting with a bittersweet melody. Had they been together, Harry knew, their love affair wouldn’t have lasted and it would have been sad, and Harry didn’t know why. He knew they’d be picture perfect, one of those reminiscent loves one likes to go back to, because they seem like only a memory. It would’ve been a good one, though, but very short. Tasteful dates, probably, but then Harry would’ve had that guilt, knowing that y/n loved Tom and knowing Tom loved y/n. 

It was more than that, he knew that he wouldn’t have worked it out. Not like with Emma, a marvelous love that could fit in that pendant that Emma still owned.  

Harry loved Emma. But someone should’ve warned him. No one had warned him that he’d be walking home to a fight. 

Though he wasn’t sure what he’d heard. 

“Friends? We both have feelings, you’re wearing my clothes and we just-- and you’re suggesting being friends?” Harry could hear Tom, as Harry rolled his eyes exhausted. 

“Yes,” y/n had answered. 

“Friends don’t have sex,” Tom had pushed. Harry wondered if Tom thought his relationship with y/n was merely sex, and if it was, then Harry understood a lot about them. 

“Well, you see, we wouldn’t have sex and you know, even if we...you were friends with my cousin and you had sex with her just fine,” y/n had said. Harry blinked. They were still having that conversation. 

“We are back to that,” Tom sounded angry. 

Harry didn’t know if he had to leave. 

“Yes Tom we are back to that,” y/n sounded tired. “Oh, so you thought that by just kissing me I would forget it-” 

“I mean I didn’t but I didn’t think we would have had sex if you weren’t going to consider accepting my apology, and we were doing fine, y/n,”  Tom sounded angry. 

“Yeah I— breakup sex never heard of it?” Y/N had this terrible flaw of calming down and the bursting out with anger again. 

“Is that what it is?” Tom snapped. 

And Tom had the fatal one of being too stubborn and proud to try and solve things. 

“I guess it’s what it’s supposed to be, Tom!” Y/n answered. Harry groaned. “You slept with my cousin, she kissed you last night—I slept with my ex, I don’t even know why we are trying to solve it.” 

“Because we love each other, I love you-” At least Tom sounded a bit more calmed now. 

“Yeah well maybe we shouldn’t and we haven’t realized that,” Y/N said. “No I… I didn’t mean that, alright? I know it, I love you, so, so, so much but this… Tom.” 

Harry also knew that y/n was one to always be conflicted with what she was supposed to do, or feel, hence why she dated Tim and hence why she had tried having feelings for Harry. 

“No y/n we—I thought we’d gone past that,” Tom was one to never know what to say. 

“Well we haven’t, clearly,” y/n’s voice was quiet. 

“Y/N, please.” 

“I don’t know, okay?” And Harry knew that y/n probably really didn’t know. “I love you,” she did. “But I’m—hurt and I’m—angry and I know that wasn’t—Well it wasn’t very smart of me but I’m—This is why I need a break but we can’t really take a break because I can’t be away from you because of the script our friends—” 

This was y/n fearing the surrounding. 

Harry felt guilty listening to them but he also needed to know what he’d be dealing with. 

“Yes the script,” Tom said. 

“Which you shouldn’t have accepted to direct in the first place—Why would you want to direct the thing that broke us apart?” Y/N had raised her voice. 

“It wasn’t the script that broke us apart and you know it,” Tom snapped. 

“Didn’t it?” Y/N snapped. 

This sounded more like the Tom and y/n Harry knew, fighting and challenging each other. But he knew they didn’t mean it. 

“It’s so much more than that.” 

“Then there you have your answer Tom, we don’t—We would end up here anyway so let’s just stay friends while we—While we film.” 

Tom groaned. “Why can’t we keep being a couple?” 

“Because you slept with my cousin, I slept with my ex, a normal couple would break up.” 

But they weren’t a normal couple. 

“I don’t want to break up,” Tom said. “We were working it out, y/n, what happened? You checked your phone-” 

“Yes and Cherry texted me, and Cherry says she has her version, and I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to hear how she fell in love with you, and how you broke her heart or whatever, and I got angry again, and she can--” 

“We were doing fine-” 

“No, we weren’t, or...we were avoiding it,” she said. “Like we’ve done before because this, this is our nature, fighting.” 

“It’s not.” 

It was. 

“It is.” 

“Y/N, I love you, with all my heart, and I can’t be away from you,” Harry heard Tom say. 

“I know Tom and I feel the same way, but--”

“We could try, y/n we just… We were okay, we just had sex it must mean something.” 

Had they really had sex? Harry couldn’t believe them. 

“So you agree?” she asked. “you’re saying sex does mean something. It’s your words. Did it mean anything with her?” 

“Not with her but… when it comes to us it does.” 

“Why did you have sex with her?” She asked, perplexed as if trying to understand it herself. Harry assumed she’d asked that question a million times before. 

“Because I missed you.” 

“So what?” She snapped. “Because we share dna you thought your dick—”

“We already went over this,” Tom reminded her. 

There was a moment of silence. Harry really felt bad for  peaking their conversation. 

“Did you kiss her back, last night?” Y/N asked. 

“I didn’t and you know that, why would I?” Tom answered.

“I dunno … I’m… I’m sorry I just… thought.” 

“What?” 

“I thought maybe being friends would be the answer.” 

Harry approached them, they were in the kitchen.

“You said that after we just had sex,” Tom pointed out. 

“Oh my god you had sex?” Harry asked, perplexed just as he had walked into the kitchen, not because he really wanted to question that, though he did but to make them realize he was there. Thankfully they were fully clothed. 

“Harry!” Y/N said. 

Tom only closed his eyes with stress. 

“You guys had sex?” Harry asked again, now because he meant it. Had they had sex instead of talking? 

Both y/n and Tom looked away, embarrassedly. Y/N was sitting on the counter, her arms folded above her chest and Tom right beside her. 

Harry looked around at the kitchen. “Please tell me you didn’t have sex here.” 

“No,” Tom snapped. “Harry we’re in the middle of a conversation.” 

Yeah, he knew, he’d heard half of it. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Harry said. Because honestly he didn’t. “Especially you,” he said, glancing at y/n. “You tend to… run away and not face your problems so I didn’t know.” 

y/n cleared her throat. “I want to fix things.” 

“You didn’t think we’d be here?” Tom asked. 

Harry shrugged. “I thought you’d be searching for her, and she’d be hiding,” Harry admitted. “I’m sorry, I’m going to leave you guys.” 

“You really didn’t-?”Tom questioned again. 

Harry wasn’t sure why. 

“No,” Harry said. “I figured you’d be fighting somewhere, not home having sex oh my god that’s gross.” 

Tom and y/n both groaned. 

“Look, our relationship is complicated,” Y/N said. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know, so I’ll leave you to it, I’m gonna go take a shower and not bother you but please if you’re gonna - at least wait until I....leave, please.” 

“We’re not-” Y/n tried to say. 

Tom scoffed. “Look, you don’t--” 

“No, I don’t, I’m sorry, you guys keep-” Harry gulped and turned around.. 

“Wait, Harry,” Y/N said. 

Harry took a deep breath and turned back to them. 

“What would you do?” Y/N asked. 

Tom frowned. “What?” 

“Please, he’s the only person who is rational here,” y/n said. 

“I thought this was between us,” Tom whispered. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” she sighed. 

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, but what would you do, Harry?” ” 

“I don’t know. Talk. Be sincere with the other I’m—Look I’m sorry but—” Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to be involved.” 

He wanted to say ‘Y/N last night you were devastated and now you’re telling me you had sex with this man?’ How last night y/n regretted falling for Tom.

Harry knew she probably didn’t mean it, and the way she ws 

What did Tom do to make her so vulnerable? And what did she do for Tom to be so little when it came to her. 

He didn’t. He didn’t listen to what they said after that. Harry was tired, and they were bickering, something along the lines of not being able to move forward with their talking, and something along the lines of not wanting to break up, and also being supposed to do it. They were loud, as if both of them were trying to give their excuses to Harry but that they wanted to stay together, or whatever mess they were saying. Something about Cherry, something about Tim, and then the script. He even heard Harrison’s, Clark’s name. 

They were bombarding Harry with information he didn’t care for, with excuses and warning signs and trying to solve their problems. How they were okay for a bit, and how Tom was stressed about how she had turned angry again out of the blue and y/n saying that they hadn’t truly talked about it, how they kept avoiding it, and how y/n had offered to be friends with Tom while filming because dating was too complicated because Tim was around, and how when they would go back. How she didn’t want to ruin the script and how Tom didn’t want to either. There was a constant, ‘but I love him’ ‘but I love her’ they’d tell Harry, ‘but I love you’, they’d say to each other. How it was better to break up but neither of them wanted to. 

“Everything was easier when you both hated each other,” Harry blurted without even knowing he had. Maybe because it had been what he had been wanting to say since he’d found out they were dating, back from when they were in New York. He didn’t mean it. 

Both Tom and y/n backed away. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said with regret. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry … I didn’t.” 

Tom coughed, “no, but it was.” 

Because Tom agreed. And not in a way that he wished they were back on that, no, but it seemed like things were easier. At least he didn’t have to care about what he did, or… No, he just didn’t want to be in this mess. And he was angry now, why had y/n suggested being friends? They could be everything but friends. 

Going back to enemies was easier, even. Easier than being friends at least. He needed a drink to talk it with her, go back to the calm afternoon they had been sharing. And Tom was feeling lonely. Because y/n wasn’t listening to him, she was just trying to get into her world and she didn’t know what she… No, that was the problem, she knew what she was supposed to do and she always listened to what she was supposed to do. A breakup was the thing that made sense, for both but neither of them wanted to break up. 

But Tom felt like she suddenly changed, as if she didn’t even know him. As if he was standing in front of her and she didn’t recognize her. He needed time, patience and time to talk with her. Because he loved her and he didn’t care if he looked vulnerable while doing it. And she wasn’t listening. She hadn’t truly listened to him all this afternoon while Tom tried to prove to her that it was her and only her whom he loved. That they weren’t enemies anymore. That though it had been them, that didn’t define them now. 

Why couldn’t he say it? Why was it so difficult saying what he meant? Tom was never good with words, he just didn’t know how to phrase it without screwing it up. It didn’t help that y/n was good with words when she wanted to, sometimes it seemed like though she was building up what she was saying as she went by, it was as if she’d thought her words for an hour at least. Yet her decision making process was always blurry. 

Harry gulped, “I’m sorry, no, I’m happy you guys are- Well no I’m not happy I-I mean.” 

“I think we should take another break y/n,” Tom said. 

“What? No, don’t break up-” Harry gulped. “Or I mean you can…” 

“No, I mean, we need a… water break,” Tom said, knowing that y/n would understand what he meant. “Maybe go for a drive, I don’t know.” 

Harry felt guilty, Tom could tell. 

“Yeah, no, fine,” y/n agreed. “I’ll go get another jacket, I’m cold, again.” 

Tom watched her leave and breathed heavily. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say-” Harry started. 

“No, I-I know you didn’t but I get it,” Tom sighed. “It’s not easy, I’m-” 

“How--how is it going?” 

“We were okay… and then we started fighting again because we got back to it, and we went in circles and I dunno, I think… I… we can work it out but, then she suggested being friends and,” Tom rubbed his face. “I don’t know. I just can’t be friends with her, and… I know she meant it for the best because we have to be around but I can’t just…” 

Harry watched him. “She was really heartbroken last night,” Harry warned. 

“Yeah, I know, I can’t blame her,” Tom said, stressed. 

“No, really, Tom, she was… devastated, so her coming to you and wanting to work it out, just… give time to each other,”  Harry said. “She really, really loves you,Tom,” Harry continued. “But really, just… talk, alright?” 

“What would you really do?” Tom asked. “You know her, what does she-” 

“You know her, too,” Harry pointed out. “Just use it for good, this time.” 

Tom didn’t know what to do with what Harry had said, and there in the car, with y/n. Both of them quietly, with the windows up and the radio off. 

“Where… do you want to go?” Tom asked. 

She shrugged, she was wearing his jacket around her shoulders. “Let’s go to New York,” she joked. “We worked fine there.” 

Tom smiled, slightly. “No, really.” 

“I… I don’t know,” she sighed. “There’s… Um, there’s this very cheesy place.” 

“Cheesy place? You know a cheesy place?” Tom chuckled. “Who would’ve thought?” 

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s this place, near a beach, you can see the ocean and there are flowers and there are rocks and it’s quiet and nice.” 

“Near the beach,” Tom seemed thrilled. “But… rocks? Are you trying to murder me?” 

“Maybe,” she chuckled. “No, I mean, it’s nice, we can go elsewhere if you’d like, to that diner or-” 

“No, the beach sounds nice,” he nodded. 

Then quiet again, then at least, Tom had turned on to okay some music and he’d rolled the windows down for the rest of the ride. Tom was still processing the multiple conversations they’ve had, and how he did understand where they were coming from. Every single one of them. But he couldn’t help but look at y/n’s flying hair. 

And, alas, they still had some hope. Or Tom liked to think that. Now that the sun was on the way to set, and as they were on that spot, near a beach, wtih an incredible view, and flowers, just like y/n had said. But she hadn’t given the place the fairness she should have. 

It was quiet, and in any other circumstance it would’ve probably been romantic. The sun merely setting, the perfect day, but this wasn’t what romance felt like. Or maybe it was, in the very Tom and y/n way. 

"Harry isn’t right, it wasn’t easy when we were enemies, not for us at least, it hurt more ” Y/n had said,  as she was leaning against the car, arms crossed. 

“Yeah, we’ve been in worse states than this,” Tom said, right beside her. 

“I’m sorry I asked Harry,” she said. “And-” 

“No, I get it,” Tom said. “We were going in circles and maybe it was good he walked in before we continued the loop.” 

She took a deep breath. “I.. sorry I just exploded with Cherry’s texts.” 

Tom nodded. “No, I get it, I would’ve gotten worse had I received a text by Tim.” 

“We can’t make any promises now, can we?” She asked. 

Tom took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” 

“I… look, the being friends thing isn’t….” she gulped. “I thought it was the safest way to keep seeing each other, and not being this mess, but I…” 

“Yeah, but being friends means we break up,” Tom said. “And I can’t… break up with you, I love you, y/n,” he said to her and she gulped, “am I allowed to say that?” 

“I—yes—why wouldn’t you?” 

Tom watched her, he knew she loved him, and looking into her eyes were just the answer he needed. “Dunno, seems like it hurts you every time  I say it or try to prove it to you like it’s the worst thing you could possibly hear.” 

She blinked watching him, “I—no, that’s not true.” 

“Then why else are you—rejecting me—“

“I’m not rejecting you Tom, I’m—“she reached for his hand. “This is a very complicated situation, Tom.”

“What’s complicated about it?” His hand pushed her chin up to face him, as his other hand landed on her waist. “I love you and I want to date you and I want to—“

She sighed as she looked away. 

“See, this is what I mean,” Tom sighed as he backed away

“I’m not trying to reject you, Tom, I need you to listen to me, and I need you to talk,” she said. “And it’s what I mean too, Tom, we can’t pretend we are not angry or hurt, I—but…”she reached out to him and cupped his face. “I’m so incredibly in love with you too so I’m just not sure what I need to do. And I know you want to—“

“Yes let’s stay together.” 

“But—I feel like we can’t, and I don’t know why.” 

Tom pursed his lips, riveting her with his arms, “why not?” 

“I—dunno, it makes no sense. But—I love you.” She let him go and then leaned back against the car, staring at the beautiful view she was offered, the sea plummeting the rocks nearby as the sun was setting far from them, painting the sky a perfect pink and lilac paradise. One very much beautiful sunset that y/n would probably treasure. 

It was odd, the flowers surrounding them were all yellow, as if y/n had planned to be surrounded by yellow flowers or it was probably a coincidence playing them fair and square. There was barely any space for a beach, for the shore was covered with big boulders. 

The sea splashing against them was the only sound they could hear for a bit, for they went quiet. 

“It is a cheesy place,” Tom pointed out after a while as he had paced around to take in the view. “Suits you.” 

She scoffed and nodded. “The flowers add to it all.”she looked at him “Was it too soon?” She asked. “We just.. Went for it, you know, we should’ve talked about it first and then start the relationship or whatever we were doing.” 

Tom looked at her and reached for her hand, “I don’t think it was—No, maybe, yeah, a bit soon, but—“

“Why—how Can you be so calm?” She asked him. 

He looked her in the eye, “I guess I have to be.” 

“Right.” 

“I don’t hold any grudges against you, y/n, I thought we’d grown past the needs of any,” he pointed out. 

Y/N breathed in heavily, “I—would like to say I don’t have any grudges, but I wouldn’t call them that way, I’m just—I built in so many walls Tom and guess I haven’t been able to tumble down some. But—I am willing to work this out so—“

“Will you now? Or are we going to back away again?” 

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Not of you, of me and how—I can’t seem to handle my heartache but, if anything Harry made a point today.” 

“He did?” 

“I usually run away from you and I tend to avoid solving things,” she confessed. “Except today.” 

“I thought you had walked in to murder me,” Tom said, only half joking. 

“No, I just burst in, with the fear of the past, which isn’t a grudge but my heart finally showed what I fear with you, that it’s all some elaborate prank that—“

“It’s not.” 

“I know, I know, I know you love me and I know I love you but last night I—felt that way again, alright? That’s—that’s why we need to understand,  I felt like watching the same old scene we’d gone through before, and I—for once wanted to change the ending.” 

Tom understood, she’d seen her so devastated in the morning, so broken, so not her. Or maybe the truest form when it came to her heartache with Tom. 

“I don’t—No, I won’t hurt you,” Tom stated. 

“I know, that’s why I brought you here.” 

“How did you discover it?” 

“I would like to say I discovered them on an adventure while trying to find myself but I actually—discovered this place with—“

Tom squinted, was it with Tim? “Please don’t say Tim.” 

“With my aunt,” she finished. “She showed it to me.”

Tom sucked in his inner cheeks, embarrassed he’d assumed Tim. 

“Tim is an issue isn’t it,” y:n pointed out, not an answer needed. 

“Yeah,” Tom confessed, “but I am willing to compromise avd peor your friendship with him if that means you and I stay together.” 

“I can’t keep being friends with him,” she said. And those were the words Tom had been waiting to hear for  a long, long time. 

“Oh.” 

“No, not when he expects me to love him back,” she said. “And not when it bothers you, and—“

Tom watched her with curiosity, trying to understand if it came from his jealousy or if she genuinely didn’t want to be friends with him. 

“Besides, I don’t know, I don’t want someone who is my friend only to see if they’re getting somewhere,” she continued. “I know he tried sabotaging us and he was probably relying on you sabotaging yourself, at—at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he told Cherry something along the lines to make her believe you loved her back.” 

“Did she—?”

“Oh of course she did, Tom, I saw it, that’s my big issue, that she was—She—She was like me after Rome, such a fool believing that from you, now she was the victim.” 

“But you were—“

“I don’t blame her, Tom, her only sin was falling for you and it’s not difficult to,” y/n explained. “Though I may have always said you’re not easy to love, it comes to my attention how actually I’m wrong, how I keep proving myself wrong and you do too, for god’s sake it only takes you a smile to get me all stupid.” 

Tom gulped with guilt. 

“I will—“she bit her bottom lip, “I will listen to her version. And I—not as to find proof to leave you, because if I was looking for any I would’ve left by now.” 

Tom was hurt by that statement. 

“But I don’t want to leave you because though you’d given me dozens of reasons not to love you, I’m afraid you’ve also given me a thousand reasons to keep loving you,” she sentenced but Tom listens to the way she was saying it, as if it hurt her to say it. 

“Y/N—“

“I want you to apologize to her,” y/n stated. “Explain to her, kindly but please nothing that could open a window for her, but—“y/n squinted, “I just don’t—want you to be the bad guy, okay? I’ll also clear it out to her.” 

Tom didn’t know where that had come from. 

“And—I will—find a new place,” she nodded. “I can’t keep being roommates with Tim if I want to work this out with you, besides it can be a small place, I mean I’m only here until we finish filming and—Well then when I go back to London I’m afraid I will have Cherry as my roommate but—that’s a future problem right now—I will look for a place.” 

Tom nodded. 

Y/n licked her lips. “Now, come here,” she said. 

Tom watched her with surprise, and walked over as he was received by her open arms, he smiled slightly before she pressed her lips against his, a warm kiss, soft enough as her hands travelled to his hair and his fingers pressed into her waist. 

“Don’t you ever dare to say that I don’t like hearing you say you love me,” she stated making him smile. Y/N always thought his smile was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen. 

“I-” 

Her hands travelled down to his chest and then to the hem of his pants, she toyed with them as she pulled him closer, pulling him by the edge of his boxers now. He blushed. 

“Oh?” He chuckled as her hands went up his stomach, her cold fingers threading lightly, tracing each and every muscle he had. 

Tom took a deep breath, shivering slightly as she carefully advanced her way through his body. She was decisive, for once. 

“Y/N?” Tom asked, slightly hesitant. 

“Sh,” she ordered before kissing him again, in the very way she knew he loved, making both of their heartbeats go faster, nervously as he felt his skin was creeping each time her hands were tracing the perfectly declined v-line that lead to where y/n’s secrets where hiding. Then to his back and far down his ass, squeezing it to make him giggle. 

Tom weakened to her touch as he tried to push his body as close to her, probably trying to merge into one, pushing her. against the car. 

“No,” she said as she pulled away, pushing him away as she turned him and pushed him against the car instead, so casually kissing him, not losing her own control. And then, we had Tom who was melting each time her fingers touched any part of his body, nothing too sensual, but it felt so intimate. It was her kissing him, not like before, it was her kissing him, his face, his neck, on that sweet spot she’d discovered he liked. 

Y/N was perfectly aware Tom and her had different love languages, and Tom’s was...mostly physical, though y/n’s was in words, she’d finally understood that Tom was angry because she was saying it but not doing it, and she was terrified that he’d end up walking away, so she decided to talk to him in his language. 

He’d memorized her body so she could only do the same for him, as she watched him just like she always wanted to watch him, like he was her favorite movie, or he was the words she always longed to write. 

“I love you,” she said to him. “My mind is just a very complicated space.” 

He nodded as he looked into her eyes. She intertwined her fingers with his and led the way to the backseat of the car, he chuckled nervously. 

“Y/N, see this is why we can’t be friends,” he pointed out as he was interrupted by y/n’s kiss again as she dragged him into the car. “Hm—y/n—y/n,” he chuckled as he was pushed into the sit, y/n on top of him, carefully peppering with kisses all across his face. 

*

She shushed him again as she finally sat on his lap, legs opened and wrapped around him, still kissing him deeply and softly as she brushed her lips across his jawline

“Y/N—I’m pretty sure this is illegal, darling,” he said half complaining as he threw his head back, letting himself enjoy her lips as her hands were still teasing him on the edge of his muscles, her fingers threading lightly still to the muscles that connected his legs to his torso. 

She chuckled as she whispered against his ear, “that’s never stopped us before, darling.” She used his word. 

He immediately went red and turned even warmer, he knew he usually was in control of the situation so y/n being the one to be sucking on his neck as his hands went up to cup her breasts felt slightly different. 

He felt a smirk against his neck as y/n felt a hard bulge growing against her heat. Before he did anything about it, y/n’s hand finally travelled down to wrap her hand around it. 

“Fuck, y/n, fuck,” he said as he brought his hands to his head as he threw it back, defenseless. 

Y/N smirked, “what do you want, baby?” She asked as she slowly stroked his length, very slowly. 

Tom couldn’t put words to his mouth as she kept watching him with mischief. “I—“

“Tommy, use your words, darling,” she said as he was twitching. Y/N didn’t know where she’d gotten her attitude from, but she enjoyed watching him pleased as her hand kept slowly going up and down, very, very slowly, hearing as his breath was halting, chest going up and down. 

“Fuck me,” he pleaded, desperately. 

She pulled her hand off and continued the path from before, but her fingers were viciously touching his skin. “Care to be more specific?” She asked, with the wittiest of smirks she’d ever shown him as she slowly grinded against him, Tom was pretty sure she was spelling his name with each movement. Honestly, she didn’t know what she was doing, but seeing him so small as she rocked her hips against him gave her power. 

“Y/N,” he pleaded again. 

She wrapped her arms around him, “you’re so pretty,” she stated watching him. 

“Fucking ride me, already, y/n,” he said defeatedly. 

She laughed, blushing slightly, “okay, Tommy.” The attitude was gone. 

He laughed along, “did-” He couldn’t stop laughing now, throwing his head now back from laughter. “I love you were really into being dominant and then you just-” 

She giggled,” shut up, I’m-not, I--shut up,” she was embarrassed now. “I tried- but-shut up, you’ll ruin it, I was going to-fucking ride you.” 

He laughed. “Oh, yeah, you were.”  

She buried her face against his neck, still not able to put herself together. 

He grinned and pulled her face  up to kiss her, “I’m still turned on, darling, no worries,” he admitted as she reached into his pocket for his wallet. He was slightly amused by the fact she knew where the condoms were as she took one out and struggled to open it.

She couldn’t stop giggling, though ,and he watched her the very own way y/n loved to be watched by him, as if though she was the most stupid girl in the world, he couldn’t love anyone else. 

“God, I love you,” Tom admitted as she had finally calmed her snickering and opened the condom,  with the widest smile he could give her, and y/n only looked up to him and peppered his face with kisses. 

“I love you too,” she admitted, as she kept deepening their kiss. And she wasn’t even embarrassed because she knew that he loved her even when she was silly. Y/N knew she didn’t want to let him go, and in no way was she going to break up with him, and he was right, they couldn't be friends. Friends don’t touch each other like that. 

Actually, she thought, nobody touches each other that way, so intimate and delicately, posing and tracing each other’s bodies and hearts in sync. 

No one could ever kiss her like that, not when the sun was going down, disappearing in the ocean, as the moon had already made its way up, covered by some clouds and surrounded by the pink sky. 

They both pushed their pants and underwear down and sloppily y/n wrapped the condom around him. There were still some giggles in between their lazy kissing, before y/n finally positioned herself on top of him, letting him fill her up. 

She had to catch her breath, and Tom threw his head back but wandered his hands under the sweatshirt he had once been wearing that day. He was thankful enough y/n had decided not to use a bra as his fingers traced their way through her breasts, as y/n’s owns hands were digging against his shoulders, steadily finding her rhythm as she jumped up, and down with pleasure, as soft pants came from each of their mouths, Tom brushed his nose under her neck and down to her still covered chest, as his hands travelled down to her ass to help her rock against him. Quiet moans leaving their lips as they threw their heads back with pleasure.

Over, and over again, y/n going up and down and circling her hips to get her some friction, he got the hint and with a hand caressed her core as she jumped in and out.

“Use your words, darling,” Tom said cockily as y/n still washed with pleasure laughed. 

“Shut up, I’m--close,” was all she could say as she grinded against him, and she could tell by his face he was close too. 

Her own high washed her first but she, tiredly continued to rock against him until she felt him twitch, as he let out a moan, coming undone as he tried to catch his breath. Y/N didn’t pull out, but continued to pepper his flushed face with soft small kisses. 

“I love you,” she repeated before each single kiss. 

*

Then Tom, without even thinking about it, and knowing deep down it probably was a very stupid idea, offered the following, “what if you move in with me?” 

next chapter

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[hello-everyfandom]

“I’m doing this for you!”

Warnings: Mentions of death and war

Pairing: Sirius Black x PotterSister!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Summary: James forbids his reader from going on an undercover mission for his sister

(More angst for you all!)

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s not up to you, James,” you argued.

“Like hell it is! You’re my little sister, and I forbid it.”

“James, perhaps if you’ve for once decided not to speak out of your arsehole, then we could continue. But I must insist, that this decision was not, and is not yours to make, entirely so.”

From where you sat, your older brother leaned against the kitchen counter. His arm crossed against his body and the other against his chin in frustration. The walls of his hidden away home were quiet as the Potter twins separated into the kitchen to speak amongst themselves as siblings. 

He squinted his eyes, cleaning his glasses on the bottom of his cotton shirt before replying.“And if not mine, then whose decision?”

“It’s my own. It’s my decision.”

“You cannot! It’s... it’s not even debatable.”

“James,” you said sternly, “this is happening.” 

James looked at his sister, only younger by several minutes, and yet still saw you as a child.“Don’t you understand it is dangerous? More dangerous than you could ever understand?” he wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you vigorously.

“As if I were even slightly unaware of the dangers of this,” you said sarcastically. 

“And yet you are still stupid enough to agree to it?” James slipped his glasses back on with shaky fingers.

“Stupid? You’ve always been overprotective, but now this is just bordering abusive.” you lightly joked, hoping to see a smile reach across his face to mirror yours. Your smile dropped when you noticed his grave expression, pale to the skin. 

“James-”

“I’m delighted you can joke about it, the idea of dying a grizzly, cruel death.

”You groaned at his overdramatic stature, “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I? Y/N, you seem to be underreacting. This, this mission, this undercover assignment is mental, it’s practically a death wish.”

“I’m a skilled witch, I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not arguing you’re not phenomenal at duels, but this is much different then Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Y/N.”

You thought back to your conversation with Dumbledore. He had admitted to a close group of the Order that they were in dire need of Death Eater intel. Most of the people he had told refused considering the danger it’d put themselves and their family, however, he turned to you, the youngest Potter to take up the responsibility of joining the inside ranks of Lord Voldemort. You agreed quickly, understanding the current losing position of the Order. It was telling James that was more difficult than ever.

“Do you not understand?” James asked sharply.

“Of course I do, James. But, it’s my responsibility.”

“It’s selfish, is what it is.”

“What!?” you exclaimed.

“You’re willing to risk your life, for what? What about us? Your family?”

“I’m doing this for you!” you shouted angrily. The door creaked open slightly, showing Lily’s figure holding tiny baby Harry in her arms. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I’m putting Harry to bed and thought he would want to say goodnight to his favorite aunt.” You stood to meet her, gathering your nephew in your arms. “Is everything alright?” she looked worriedly to her husband and to her sister in law.

“Yes.”

“No.” the two of you said at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Prune, your father seems to be more of a prick today than usual,” you cooed to Harry who seemed to grow every day. You gave your nephew the nickname Prune after his birth when you noticed how wrinkled he was, like a dried prune fruit.You held Harry close, reminding yourself why this mission was of extreme importance. You were doing it to create a world for Harry to live in, a world that was safe from prejudice and violence. James whispered a soft goodnight and kissed his forehead, handing Harry back to his mother. She glanced between the Potter twins.

“Sirius and I will be in the living room,” you nodded in response as the kitchen door shut behind her.

“James, please.”

“I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you would agree to this?”

“That’s the problem without a key or an answer. You wouldn’t understand, even if you were me, James, you’d never understand.”

James bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, “Explain it to me then, because it is rather unfathomable to understand why you’d go through such great lengths to ensure your own death in the unfortunate and probable circumstance that anyone finds out you’re a spy.”

“Fine then. For Harry.”

“Harry?” he asked confused, “What do you mean?”

“I’m doing this for Harry. You wouldn’t understand because he is your son, it is your job to stay here, in your home with your wife and protect your family here. It is my job to go out and protect your family from out here.” You said after taking a deep breath, “And, if I die, then at least I die trying to protect my own blood, my nephew. And that’s as good as any reason there is.”

“Y/N...”

“Don’t you see? It is not up to me, or you, it is about Harry. It is about winning the war. It’s about ensuring his safety, you know what the prophecy says about his birth! Sacrifices come in all shapes and forms, James. The entirety of this secret home is a sacrifice in itself. I just wish you could understand.”

“Right, well. What about us?” James asked firmly, “What about us? What happens if you die? What about us? Me? Harry? Sirius?”

“I expect you’ll understand the reasoning behind my death, then.” 

“But I won’t! All I’ll even comprehend is the fact that my baby sister is dead and it’d be her own fault!”

“It’s not confirmed I actually will die, have you already picked out my casket then?” you said sarcastically once again making James roll his eyes in complete frustration.

“Yes, well, it may as well be in writing.”

You looked to the ceiling as if searching for guidance in this conversation. “If the roles were reversed if I had just had a child with Sirius, would you stay behind closed doors during this mission? Or would you go?”

“Yes, but that’s different-”

“How?!”

“Because I can’t lose you too!” James snapped making your heart drop. Just barely a year ago, your parents had passed away due to nasty Dragon Pox. Though it seemed to hit you harder, losing your parents, but James? He always placed himself as the protector, the brother, and he had never fully expressed his sadness but rather tended to your broken cries. He’d much rather focus on his friends and his growing son than the ache of losing his parents, but the idea of losing his sister? He could barely process the idea without being in utter agony.

“James...”“

Y/N, Dumbledore can find someone else to take your place. Stay here, we can set up the living room for you. I can’t lose my sister too.”

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and encouraged your tears to burrow back in your eyes in “I can’t do that. I leave tomorrow morning before dawn.”

“Y/N...” James nearly cried. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You can’t do that, James. Not with Harry and Lily. Not with the target on your back. You know that.”

“But what if you fail?”

“What if I succeed?”

James swallowed and hurried to wipe his tears of worry, “You’ll come back?”

“I’ll try my hardest to.” 

“I mean it, Y/N. You come back or I swear I’ll put dung bombs in your bed again.”

You sent him a sad smile, “I’ll try, James.”

James pushed himself off of the counter and entrapped you in a brotherly hug. He placed his chin on the top of your head, already missing his twin more than anything.

“Did you remember to pack panties?” he joked in a high pitched voice making you snort. That was something your mother used to ask before every family trip they took in the summer up to northern England. It was nice to hear it once again, maybe for the last time.

“I love you,” you said seriously.

“I love you too, now. Well. Go kick ass and make the Potters proud.”

You sent James a grateful smile before exiting to the living room. You passed Lily who gave you a knowing look and entered the kitchen, likely to convene with her husband. Sirius sat facing away from you, looking deep into the embers of the fireplace.

“Sirius?”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“Not you too!” you laughed, 

“‘ve just convinced James now ‘ve got to convince you? Seems like you lot have already planned my funeral and everything.” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t say funeral. You’re not going to die.”

“I hope not.” you sat on the arm rest where Sirius sat. Playing with the hair on the back of his neck, he shuddered under your touch.

“As much as I hate to disagree with James, I do understand.” Sirius huffed lightly.

“It’s a duty that we signed up for when joining the Order. And now, with Lord Voldemort and the whispers of a traitor in our ranks?”

“I know.” Sirius turned, holding your soft hand in his and placing his other on your thigh. “Will you at least promise me one thing?” 

“Anything.”  

“Will you marry me when you come back?”

You beamed through wet tears, breathing deeply, “I will marry you if I come back.”

“No,” you stopped, Sirius looked at you with a firm look, “When you come back, you will marry me.”

“When I come back, I will marry you.” You repeated before placing a loving kiss on Sirius’ lips. He brushed your tears away and kissed your cheeks and then your lips. He whispered words of love and courage to you. 

That night was spent in front of the fire in the Potter home. There was a comfortable silence that settled into the bones and veins of each and every one of you, neither words were spoken but only small murmurs. And when the morning arose, you placed a confident smile on your lips and hugged your loved ones goodbye, giving Harry a gentle squeeze on his fat newborn arm. As you apparated away, James and Sirius both let out a heavy sigh.

“She’ll be alright,” Lily assured, rubbing James’ back.“I think so,” Sirius clenched his jaw, already missing you immensely. 

As days, weeks, and months passed, you were barely able to send letters to Dumbledore nevertheless to Sirius. But, when they did receive letters, they were short and written in a hurry.

“All okay, don’t worry. Love you.”

“Easier said than done, missing you.”

“Awful people. Awful acceptance.”

“Dark mark. Love you always.”

It was only until Dumbledore told the Order that you had successfully infiltrated the Death Eaters in London. You had received classified information and had relayed it to Dumbledore meaning your homecoming would be within the next few weeks. James felt rejoiced in the idea of his sister coming home and nearly bounced across the walls. Lily noticed her husband was nearly going pale with worry each and every day you were gone, but the minute he heard of your future return, and excited redness returned and she sighed in relief. Sirius, with James’ help, purchased a ring they thought you’d rather enjoy cementing the engagement beyond just words. Sirius was nervous but mostly excited to be able to safely hold you in his arms without his horrifying imagination placing you in a dungeon being tortured somewhere. The day of your arrival, Sirius and James rocked back on their heels anxiously, constantly looking towards the fireplace for a floo.

“How about I put the kettle on, yeah? I’m sure she won’t be arriving till later this afternoon,” Lily bit back the nervousness and frightened feeling she had felt. Past five in the evening, nearly time for supper, James was already writing a letter to Dumbledore asking for sister’s return. He moved to the kitchen to open the window and place the letter in his owl’s mouth. His ears perked up at the noise of the floo explosion going off and raced to the living room.

“Blimey, thought you’d never get here!” He looked around the room to see his wife with her hand on her mouth in shock and his best friend on his knees on the floor. He shifted to look at Dumbledore who had just floo’d in. 

“What’s going on? Where’s my sister?”He cleared his throat and sighed with a heavy frown. Upon hearing the news, James thought he’d nearly pass out. Maybe he did. Because he couldn’t remember sitting down on the living room couch. Sirius shook vigorously, the feeling of sudden grief and sorrowful stricken emotions that took over. Dumbledore repeated himself again. You were coming home, nearly two blocks away from the Order headquarters and more than a few blocks from the Potter home, when you were ambushed. Sirius found himself needing to throw up, but swallowed his bile. Death Eaters, who were earlier informed by a traitor that you were working for the Order, took you, tortured you, and killed you. Nothing was left but the broken and beaten body that was dropped off at the steps of headquarters. You were so close, you were so close to being home, to being safe.