#i feel like a shaken bottle of champagne again

[ourbastardofsorrows]

i am once again struggling with impulses and urges

[tinietaehyun]

Star Crossed Lovers Rivals ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥✧˚ · .

[Rival!Taehyun x Fem!Reader]

Pairing: Rival!Taehyun x fem!reader

Genre(s): Romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, hints of angst! (Also particularly academic rivals to lovers bc it is phenomenal to read), post-college au. 

Contains: Swearing/Profanity, mild mentions of explicit behaviour (more so tension lmao). (Wow! I’m not writing angst for once!) 

Summary: “Oh just a B? What happened? I thought you were on top of your game? Don’t tell me, you didn’t study?” Your world comes crashing down in shambles as you furiously glare daggers into the raven haired boy in front of you as he condescendingly smiles with his gleaming A+ paper in hand. He was so infuriating; you wanted to punch his handsome face so bad. 

Wait, handsome? God no, you’d rather be caught dead than ever think he was...wait what were you so pressed about again? 

Shit. 

His lips form an arrogant smile, “Cat got your tongue?” Your gaze darkens, “You’re so dead the moment the bell rings.” He brushes past you as he chuckles, “See you after class, sore loser.” 

Surely his heart must be racing just as much as yours does right? Right? 

How could you two ever fall for each other?

—————————••••••••••••••—————————

You miserably scan through your résumé. This had to be your third interview this week. A list of exquisite grades lines your sheet with your very accomplished credentials alongside the many efforts you put into extracurriculars when you attended college. 

Even the work experience you gathered during that time whilst balancing exams, holy fuck! What more could they possibly want from you? For what preposterous reason could you not get a job. You tried to craft the most perfect résumé and it still wasn’t enough. You knew the labour market was competitive but not this competitive. 

Frustration builds up inside you, like a shaken bottle of champagne you knew you were on the brink of exploding. Your crumbling student debt was one issue but the main issue was you had to pay rent very soon and your own savings were surely not going to hold up if you didn’t get a better paying job soon. At the moment you worked in retail (which in summary is terrifying dealing with a plethora of customers- mostly bad).

You let out a pitiful laugh peering back at your résumé. What was the point of working so hard back then? A year and a half ago, you were on the brink of exhaustion trying to reach number one all for a bunch of stupid grades. You competed so hard. Competed with...him. 

You wonder how he’s doing now? You’ve not spoken to him since you left college with a degree in business psychology. He’s probably doing way better than you were. That snobby little arrogant- 

You catch yourself smiling instinctually. Fuck. Your heart feels warm as though a woollen blanket encompasses it. You often realise how much of your college life you spent with him. Not that you’d ever admit it to anyone, you actually missed your senseless and petty bickering. You missed his cocky grin and you missed his glare when you beat him in an exam. 

You let out a sigh; well that time of your life is over. You maybe do regret not using college as an outlet to enjoy yourself and not constantly trying to compete and work hard. You wished you could have gotten to know your so called rival behind his vast array of A+ grades. 

Perhaps you wish he could have gotten to know you too behind your academic achievements.

“Miss Y/n. You may enter for the interview.”

You perk up in your seat shakily clasping at your file. “Ah, yes thank you.” Well, here goes. You tightly grip at your file. You were sure, if you didn’t make it through this interview. You’d keep trying again and again.

You were no quitter.

—-

Your hands tremble as your eyes scan the email. At first when the notification popped up your heart plummeted. You just knew that it was going to be bad news. You tried procrastinating in an attempt to not read it however curiosity got the better of you. Perhaps a tiny fraction of you had an ounce of hope that you’d maybe gotten the job.

You click the email open and begin scanning through the array of typed words:

[Congratulations! We are delighted to inform you of your acceptance at our company. We’ll be glad to see you on our amazing team!]

No way! You blink astounded. You got the job! You’ve finally got a decently paying job! Something you could work with and in a few years time maybe even think about getting promoted to a managerial position. You scan the rest of the email’s details feeling all sorts of jittery excitement.

You’d be starting next Monday. You couldn’t believe it, maybe you had a stroke of luck after all. You started preparing yourself for your new job filled to the brim with gratitude and thrill.

Soon enough the very Monday you had anticipated arrived. Though you weren’t quite as excited as before; now your mind more filled with anxiety and fear at how your first day would go instead. What could possibly go wrong? It’s the marketing department, there’s nothing to be afraid of right?

Your eyes glance up hearing footsteps coming down the sleek modern hallway. You wipe your clammy hands and attempt to look somewhat confident. You had been told one of the employees would be tasked with guiding you around and showing you the general gist of your duties as an employee here. You definitely had to make a strong first impression!

Your gaze meets the tall, ebony-haired figure only for your heart to almost come up to your throat. No fucking way? That surely isn’t who you think it is?

“Holy shit,” the figure comes to a pause a few metres in front of you.

You find yourself standing up; your knees almost buckle. Fate was indeed fucking around with you like a ball of yarn between a kitten’s paws.

The male’s lips curl into the same disgustingly attractive smirk you’d seen thousands of times. “Well, I heard the new employee was over qualified. I didn’t think I’d see you here though. I knew they exaggerated a bit.”

You grit your teeth in annoyance. There it was the ever so condescending tone of voice accompanied with that signature head tilt to the right. You smile overly sweetly, “When I heard someone was going to guide me, I thought it would be with someone more experience.”

He scoffs, “What happened? Didn’t you say you were gonna work for some big company? Become the executive manager.” He’s taunting you.

You lean forward, file in hand with a condescending smirk of your own, “What about you Kang Taehyun? Didn’t you say you were going to become a marketing executive at THE biggest company in the country? This company is big but not the biggest.”

Taehyun’s gaze darkens and his jaw tightens. “Piss off.” You hum delighted, “See not so funny when the tables turn is it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Can’t believe I have to babysit you for two days.” You mutter, “Believe me I’m just as enthusiastic as you are.” A snort escapes his lips. “Yeah, yeah, follow me then.”

He begins the tour of the office. Numerous curious eyes are set on you both as the burden of ‘newest addition to the department’ now dwells on your shoulders.

Your eyes absorb what he’s wearing. A sleek white shirt with a loosened blue tie. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows showcasing his strong arms. It appears he still hasn’t stopped working out since college. How unfortunate for you.

Your cheeks begin to warm. You hated to admit it but since college he’d definitely changed. He’d unfortunately gotten more attractive than he already was. He must be fighting off dates left, right and center. Not that you’d relate. You’d only dated one guy in college (you shudder) you agreed to never think about that memory again. Big yikes.

His dark hair sleekly hung in strands over his forehead with his sharp eyes peering through. Taehyun always had somewhat of an intimidating expression; whether it was unintentional or not you didn’t know. You wondered if through your years together if you ever genuinely saw him smile…

“I’d like you to repeat what I just said.” He sharply shatters your internal conversation. You splutter awkwardly. Well fuck. “Uh…”

Taehyun deadpans at you, “Yeah, fuckin’ thought so. How did you graduate again?”

You sneer. “Oh? You’re asking me that? 2nd rank?”

By the end of your degree after endlessly fighting, when the finals rankings of grades came out he turned out to be second place in your batch whilst you were thrillingly first (by a four point difference but that’s not important).

He sneers, “Mind your tone, newbie.” You snort, “So cringe.” Taehyun mutters, “I was beginning to forget how fucking insufferable you were back then.” You cooe all doe-eyed, “Aw, what a shame. Glad I arrived just in time to refresh your memory.”

He grates his teeth and runs his fingers through his locks. His lips twitch slightly before he spins back around, “Anyway, I’ll teach you how to use the printer and scanner and then I’ll take you to your desk.”

You found yourself smiling. It was odd, all he was doing was insulting you and making sarcastic remarks (you doing the same back,) however it made you feel giddy. It reminded you of the same rivalry you had back then. That rivalry was what gave you motivation to work as hard as you did.

“So that’s about it. If you have any other doubts-“

You interrupt, “Yeah, ask you. Got it.” He scoffs, “No, I was gonna say don’t ask me. Annoy someone else. Or suffer.” You pout, “God, you’re even sweeter than I remember.”

He rolls his eyes and is about to walk back over before you murmur, “Wait.” He raises a brow, “Hm?”

“Uh, actually nothing.” You find yourself slouching into your seat. He gives you an exasperated stare before walking off. A heavy feeling sinks into your heart; he didn’t truly hate you right? What if your attitude was making it worse?

Maybe you should stop retaliating for a bit. You’re coworkers now, not in college. You had to remain professional. Yeah… that’s it.

Another day passes by uneventfully with you asking other people for help pitifully whenever the printer got jammed. It’s not your fault the printer is so shit. (It was an expensive one and it was clearly your fault.)

You groan, “Every fucking time.” Your newest dilemma was trying to adjust to the company software and trying to correctly input in the numbers and formulas in Excel. You were damn good in fact, except for today.

Your numbers didn’t seem to be creating the correct chart. You had gone wrong somewhere with the inputting but no matter how ever many times you tried editing and reading through it, you couldn’t see the problem.

You hear a snicker behind you and you spin your chair around to see the infamous man you wished to avoid. You groan. “Not happy to see me?,” He pouts.

You wave your hand nonchalantly, “Leave me alone. I don’t need your condescending tone behind me.”

Taehyun murmurs with a cocky smile, “Yeah but those charts look shit.” You glare at him, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

He places a hand on the back of your chair as he steps closer. The scent of his cologne climbs up your nostrils overwhelmingly. Shit, he smelled good. Hints of warm wood, bergamot and mint maybe. Whatever concoction it was, it made you almost feel dizzy.

“What’s the issue? Chart formatting or inputting? Let’s check the formulas you’ve put in.”

You huff, “I don’t need your help.” He arches a brow, “Oh really? It’s not like you’ve been sitting for twenty minutes staring at the screen with a look of despair or anything.”

“You-!” You bark. He leans over placing his hand on the mouse almost scaring the shit out of you when his hand brushes against yours. You place your hands on your lap awkwardly. Taehyun was insanely close; leant over your right side using the back of your chair as a support.

You didn’t need help…right? His brows furrow intensely as his maroon irises scan and dart across the screen with incredible speed. He appears to murmur to himself. The intense look of concentration seemed to make your heart palpitate. His cologne enveloped you like a blanket.

“Mm, I think the problem is here. See this, we’ll replace it with another formula, I think it’s easier with this one. Can I shift some of this?” You find yourself nodding along with whatever he says paying attention to him working. He’s clearly gone through the exact same problem as you.

Soon enough the charts start looking much, much better. The way you wanted them to appear. You find yourself feeling defeated. He’s probably thinking of how stupid you are. You peer down at your lap at you mumble out, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t move from beside you and you hear him pleasantly hum, “Couldn’t hear you? Mind saying it again?” You scoff to yourself. What a nuisance! “Thanks, Tae…hyun…” You find yourself stuttering as your peer up to angrily say thanks. You forgot how close his face was to yours.

Taehyun stumbles back up to standing. The more seconds pass and you realise his cheeks are blossoming into hue of red. He clears his throat, “Anyway, good. Be grateful.” You roll your eyes, “Oh my saviour.”

He smirks, “Don’t beat yourself up over this by the way. I know what you’re like. I made the same mistake on my first week here. Obviously not ever again. But yeah, another coworker helped me.”

Was this his way of trying to cheer you up? He knew what you felt? Of course he did. He wanted academic validation and was just as much of a perfectionist as you were. He even saw you at your most vulnerable. It was as though you were two sides of the same sheet of paper.

You find yourself smiling a little too hard. He appears to be staring at you too.

There’s a silence between you two. You expected him to leave. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t let the words leave his lips.

So you do something that you’d never thought you’d do. “Hey Taehyun…do you wanna grab coffee together?”

His eyes that you usually saw as very sharp and murky, for the first time glistened in intrigue. His lips curl into a mischievous smile, “I suppose you do owe me. I can put the coffee on your tab.”

You groan as you stand up after saving your work. “I never said that.” He hums, “You implied it.”

“I didn’t imply shit.”

With that, you find yourself walking beside Taehyun to the company café. He orders a Caramel Macchiato accompanied with a freshly baked flaky croissant (all unfortunately on your tab).

“This reminds me of the time I bought you lunch after you were sobbing because you got your first C grade.” Taehyun grins taking a massive bite out of his croissant. You both sit down and you snap, “Fuck you. First and last C grade by the way. You know how hard I studied for that test! The teacher didn’t like me, I swear!”

He murmurs with a smirk, “Sounds like an excuse to me. I still remember you sniffling and your puffed up cheeks. I think that was the first time I saw you cry, actually.” You whine, “You’re so mean, you know that?” He snorts, “Oh? So you’re not?”

You knew passing was all your parents asked for. It was a hard exam, so getting a C was amazing. You were grateful but…you felt for your own personal standards, it wasn’t good enough. You know better now, of course. You put a lot of pressure on yourself back then. You knew Taehyun did too. How did he handle it?

“You know, it was stupid how hard we competed against each other back then. It was fun, but stupid. We both had huge sky high aspirations but here we are working at a regular company.” Taehyun murmurs swirling his coffee.

You softly murmur, “It’s okay.” He inhales deeply, “Yeah, it’s okay.” He hums putting back on his blunt facade, “Anyway, at least I wasn’t the only one brought down. Here you are.” Taehyun grins, “Think about it, that C grade you got made no difference?”

You glare, “Very funny.” Your mind flickers back to the memory.

“Here.”

You attempt to hurriedly wipe your tear-stained face. You didn’t want him of all people seeing you this pathetic.

“No use in trying to hide that you’re crying.” He sits beside you on the the grass under the tree. “If you’re here to rub it in, kindly piss off,” you sniffle out. “On a normal day, maybe. But…hey. Look at me.” You shake your head. “Oh come on, y/n.”

“You’re not a failure. This is not the end of the world, y/n. You did well okay. Even I didn’t get an A. Our lecturer didn’t teach shit. It’s not our fault.” He huffs out. “Everyone got hit hard.”

His voice cracks slightly, “I get it. I get what your feeling.” You peer up at him with glossy eyes. He holds a sadness in his eyes. At that moment you knew he was also experiencing the same pain as you. It maybe insignificant or stupid to others but to him, he knew.

“As I said, here.” He holds out a paper bag. The smell of food wafts from it making your stomach rumble. Oh yeah, you hadn’t eaten lunch. You peer inside, there was a burger, fries and an ice cream cup. He ordered you food.

“You didn’t have to-“ you splutter. “Too bad, I noticed you didn’t leave the campus to get lunch today like usual. A-Anyway, don’t get used to this treatment.” Taehyun mutters. He brings out his own bag with his own order. He gets himself comfortable beside you as he starts taking his food out of the takeaway bag. “Well what are you waiting for? Go on, eat.”

Your heart races. He was eating with you. Your academic rival, your so called enemy was eating lunch with you. lunch that he bought. Taehyun chews as he says, “Just you wait, I’ll beat your ass next week though. We have a seminar in Mrs Webbs’ class that we’re getting graded for.”

“Yeah keep talking out of your ass. My Powerpoints and presentation skills far supersede yours.” He snarks, “You talk big for someone who still types on Microsoft Word 2010 version.”

“Shut the fuck up, my dad will upgrade my laptop soon I swear.”

You’re brought out of your reverie with Taehyun accidentally slamming his knee against the metal table support. You murmur, “Deserved.”

He yelps, “For what!? I did fucking nothing!” You smirk to yourself, “Yeah I know. Still deserved.” “You act like you’re a twelve year old commenting on Tiktok.” He scoffs rubbing his knee.

“We should do this more often.” You find yourself murmuring. “What slandering each other? Wasn’t college enough for you?” He smirks playfully.

“I mean you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy our bickering?” You mumble sipping your own drink. He leans his head back exaggeratedly as if deep in thought. “Well…I suppose I happen to enjoy it ever so slightly.” You don’t know why but your heart happens to jump around in your chest at the admittance.

“See!” You call out. He rolls his eyes biting his croissant again. “Maybe you’re just a masochist,” he replies with a snark. You gawk at him, “Well you’re the one being mean ninety percent of the time, so maybe you’re a sadist.”

The table goes silent with other members of the nearby tables giving you both awkward stares.

“This out of context sounds really bad you know.” Taehyun clears his throat appearing to find the ground more interesting all of a sudden.

Your cheeks heat up and you scoff, “You and these people around us are just dirty minded.” His eyes narrow and be coyly smiles, “I wasn’t the one who insinuated that they liked being bickered at and insulted. You were. Like being degr-“

You sharply stand up with your half bitten pastry in hand, “Well, seeing that you are being immature, Taehyun. I’m going to have to cut this coffee break short.” He promptly follows behind you. You hear a sound that you’d thought you’d never hear.

It was odd. You’ve never imagined what it was like to hear him genuinely laugh. Yet here you were. You turn around; your arm clasping the strap of your bag. His eyes glimmer as they widen. The sound of laughter that escapes him is so…it’s definitely unique. You liked it. His wide smile as he rushes after you cackling at your embarrassment.

Taehyun’s dark hair bounces as he jogs to catch up to where you stand. “Oh come now, you didn’t have to leave me like that, I wasn’t serious.” You mutter, “Yeah, yeah.”

He looks beautiful when he genuinely smiles. You clear your throat flustered as he catches you staring at him and you start walking off again. “Ugh, wait!”

So it carried on like this, your occasional talks from across your desks became daily bickering. Even both your fellow colleagues were amused by the bickering and other witty comebacks that you both hit each other with. Your once in awhile coffee breaks became eating lunch together everyday.

Of course neither of you would admit that you in fact enjoyed each other’s company a little too much.

“You know he definitely likes you.” You roll your eyes at your colleague Momo. You didn’t want to build up unnecessary hope. He probably thought of you as a friend, a friendly rival that he liked to be witty with. So you shouldn’t raise your expectations either.

You two were rivals to the bittersweet end.

“How can you both be so fucking stupidly smart? Are all nerds like this?” You deadpan at her. “What I meant was, your feelings are very obvious towards each other.”

“Don’t you think it was fate to meet him again?” She was a hopeless romantic; something that you were not. She gushes, “I can see the way he peers at you over the top of his monitor. Whenever he passed by your desk the smile on his lips…ah!”

You freeze, “Be for real right now.” She smiles teasingly, “Why don’t you test out my findings yourself?” You glare, “Must be nice to spectate from the side huh?” She shrugs innocently, “What can I say? You’re the main character here, not me.” You release a drained sigh.

Feelings from the past were mixing into a worrying concoction of hope and romance. Did he truly see you that way? Or were you setting yourself up for failure?

So just like Momo said, you sat yourself at your desk and began to work, typing away. You feel your heart pound in your chest. Your eyes briefly move up across the desk divider and you almost feel the world slowing down to a halt. Just like she said, there he was peering over his computer monitor like a cat peeking over a kitchen counter with its paws.

His immediately peers down at his desk clearly embarrassed he got caught. You can’t help but breathlessly laugh. Your heart flutters uncontrollably. That was the cutest thing you’d seen from him. It wouldn’t hurt to tease him a little right?

Maybe he’d tell you his reason if you just gave him a little playful nudge.

You find him near the filing cabinets a bit later and decide to approach him with a mischievous smile lining your lips. “Hey.” He peers up folder in hand, “Oh hey.”

“Just here to grab some files, the manager asked for February’s reports,” Taehyun hums. He notes your teasing expression and he tilts his head, “What’s got you so high and mighty?”

“The fact I caught you staring at me two to three times over your monitor.” You dramatically sigh, “It’s truly a burden to be so stunning. Even you my mortal enemy, can’t resist.”

“Now what makes you think I’d look at my public enemy number one with heart eyes?” He scoffs closing the file. You hum, “Oh? So, I’m your number one?”

“You have very selective hearing. Might want to get that checked.” He snorts. “You have tunnel vision, because you only seem to be looking at me,” you huff.

His gaze shifts and he tosses the file to side on one of the emptier shelves. Taehyun begins to walk forward speedily catching you off guard. You find yourself stumbling back into another one of the metallic cabinets with an awful bang. Thank goodness it was just you two in here.

You let out a squeak as he suddenly leans over you blocking your attempt to escape. His gaze swirls in a mix of emotions but yet that cocky smile is triumphant on his face as always.

“You know since college, I have to give it to you. I never seen someone with such sharp wit. It’s actually very annoying.” He hums. You’re more preoccupied that he’s got you trapped between him and cabinet.

“Worried someone is gonna walk in? Oh, if they do. You’re gonna have to explain this one. Not me.” He hums. His eyes scan every crevice of your face making you shiver. “You’re the one who got us in this predicament. Now if you would just kindly move your arm-!”

He leans in even closer. You might faint you think. His cologne overwhelms your senses and you hate how attractive he is this close up. “You damn well could have just walked around me; I only have one arm up. Yet you’re choosing to stay.”

Shit, he got you good. You peer away, “Whatever Taehyun.”

“Just admit you like me.” He shamelessly hums into your ear. You scoff, “you first.”

“Oh come on, you were making heart eyes from the first day.” He cooes. You snap back, “No, I was not!”

(Yes, you in fact were.)

“We’re getting nowhere.” He huffs. You glare, “Just say it.” You peer down noticing how close his lips are. He does the same mannerism.

“I have an idea, if that’s okay with you.” He whispers leaning in. You close your eyes, “Yeah. That’s okay.” No more words were exchanged except for a sweet kiss, a passionate wordless exchange of how you and him felt.

After all, you two were too stubborn to be the first to admit it. So what better way then to showcase it than this?

You both walk out of the cabinet files in hand flushed. “So.” You mumble.

“So…” He responds back. “Are we like…? You know? Or was it just an in the moment kind of thing? Because that’s not what I’m looking for.” You spill out all at once.

Taehyun stops walking and starts laughing making you whine, “Oh don’t be like that. Answer the question! It’s vital information!”

“Well my precious rival, it was not an in the moment thing. I was hoping you could in fact be my one and only rival.”

You smile at him, “Rival? Only yours?” He nods, “Only mine.“

“You do know I’m asking you out hypothetically, yes?” He raises a brow. You smack his arm, “Yeah, I’m hypothetically saying yes. Yes. We got that. Are we both clear?”

Taehyun hums pleased, “Then. Then yeah, be prepared. You’re gonna get a date so phenomenal you’ll never find a better man.”

You roll your eyes, “How romantic of you. You sound like a loser.” He scoffs, “That’s not how you should be talking to someone who’s gonna take you out on a date.”

You groan trying to contain your smile, walking beside him, “You’re insufferable.”

He hums with a pretty smile, “I know. You are too.”

———————••••••••••—————

[birlwrites]

scrapbook snippet: in which evan does homework?? 😱

this is a snippet i just wrote for lachrimae and it amuses me so here you go!

necessary context: regulus has just dreamed about death eaters attacking a muggle street on halloween, but the snippet itself is much more focused on regulus and evan. ~500 words

-

Regulus jolts awake in a cold sweat.

"About time, you've been out for a while," Evan says lightly—they're still sitting on Evan's bed, Regulus is leaning on Evan's shoulder, he must have fallen asleep like that— "Barty's still not back from detention, if you can believe it. His professor must be pissed—are you alright?"

Regulus takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he's seen worse. His neck hurts, and Evan's robes have probably left creases on his face, and he fell asleep, and...

Halloween is coming.

Dream interpretation is not Regulus's favorite technique, not by a long shot, but... that wasn't an ordinary dream. And it couldn't have been a nightmare—it made too much sense.

But it's not something he can tell Evan about. "Yes. I just... had an unpleasant dream. How long was I asleep?"

"An hour or so. Here." Evan hands him a piece of parchment with a flourish—Regulus's problem set isn't balanced on his lap anymore, his quill and ink have been set aside—the parchment is Evan's problem set, for some reason, complete and dry, even the large splotches where he scribbled things out.

"Why am I holding this?" Regulus says.

"So you can copy it!" He flips his arithmancy textbook to the answer keys at the back and nudges it over. "It's all correct, I checked, so just do what I did and then go back to sleep."

When Regulus can't figure out what to do with that information, Evan huffs a sigh. "It's one problem set. And you fell asleep sitting up at eight PM. Copy mine and be done with it."

What is he supposed to do?

Evan did homework because of him—Regulus fell asleep and Evan continued doing homework, and then handed it over for Regulus to copy like it isn't always the other way around, and Regulus wants to clutch Evan's arm and never let go, but he hasn't actually... he's never copied someone else. Other people always copy him. Regulus doesn't need to. He does his work, and he turns it in, and it's that simple.

"Regulus," Evan says. "I can hear you thinking."

"It's not due until Friday."

"Irrelevant." He moves closer and slips an arm around Regulus's waist, and Regulus forgets how to breathe. Their sides are pressed together—Evan's arm is warm against Regulus's back—Evan let Regulus sleep on his shoulder for an hour, and now his hand settles on Regulus's waist and Regulus can't move because if he moves then Evan might move too and sometimes in the past Evan has thrown his arm around Regulus's shoulders or leaned on him but that was different. That made Regulus want to laugh nervously or lean closer or just let it happen—now he feels like a corked bottle of champagne, shaken until the only thing stopping it from fizzing over is—what, though? What would that even mean? Regulus can't hold his hand like this—he could lean his head on Evan's shoulder again—he could turn towards him, wrap his arms around his shoulders and hold on—if he just turned his face, and so did Evan—

"I miss you," Evan murmurs. "Please copy my homework?"

Regulus folds.

[adviserbylove]

Why I love Toma

A few days ago, my Toma novel came in the mail. I'm currently trying to do translations scans, but...it's my first time + my app sucks ass. However...I need to come clean. Rather, I want to start from the beginning. I've always been a Toma lover. He was the first LI I picked when I first played Amnesia Memories back when I was 18. While I was a little edglordy teenage girl back then, who was barely an adult, I thought "Ooooooo, so hot. I love a yandere that is so obsessed with me 🥵". Now, I'm in my mid twenties. A cage meme (idk, apparently it was 'cage day' a while back :P) brought me back to my Toma simping era. He was forgotten after 2 years-ish, and until I saw that one meme, I got nostalgic and watched a play through of his route again. I don't own a switch, so I also watched a play through of his Later x Crowd route, along with the Drama CD's....

Oh man....

A little about me to understand this. I grew up with an abusive older brother. I won't go into detail about what happened between us since it'll get dark really fast. He was never there for me nor my younger brothers. I was the second oldest after him, so I was considered a 'big sister' throughout my whole life. I have a special someones among my tumblr circle here that calls me "Big sis/Mama Sadie". The big sister label never left me, and even though I enjoy making my loved ones feel special and taking care of them, I look back to my dysfunctional older brother + shitty parents. And I just wish someone would've taken care of me in return

Being an older sibling is fucking draining at times. I absolutely adore my younger brothers irl + the people here that call me big sister. Sometimes, I feel like cracking cause it gets too much. I absolutely hate being comforted in return. I hate talking about my feelings if they go down a negative light. Eventually, I snap and it's not pretty. A side of me is seen that I do not others to see. You never just bottle up all your feelings like a bottle of champagne, and everyday it's being shaken? And when something forcefully pops open that cork, everything just sprays out? That's me

I initially thought Toma had a cool jacket, so I picked him first, lol. I started to get obsessed with how possessive he was over the MC and how 'wanted' I felt. It doesn't make it any easier seeing how he was so sweet to her, but that was swept aside by my horny 18 year old ass. Replaying his route, I started to see his caring nature shine more. He was so sweet, too sweet. And yet...I felt myself getting sucked in. He got me, I admit. Taking her shopping, buying her a new phone, letting her have his bed....it was so wonderful (at first). When he lied about being the MC's boyfriend, I was starting to think it was obvious that he lied. Saying he 'only saw her as a younger sister' and 'you should say this to another man' was off putting, especially considering he said we are a couple. So it was obvious he was a liar. And, while I was skeptical, I still went along because I thought he was very complex and was intrigued by his motives

The slow descent into madness is what sold me. Seeing him snap was looking into a mirror. Looking at another me lose their mind every time they fail to keep their loved ones blissfully unaware of the danger around them and failing to protect them from it. Seeing Toma looking through the cage bars at a locked up MC was almost seeing an extreme version of the worst of me. But yet...I felt so much security with Toma. No, I'm not saying I want to be locked in a cage. But seeing the lengths he went to to make sure her safety was first, how he was pushed into a stressful mindset, which caused him to lose himself...he was so real into his madness. It's understandable it was bone chilling, but I was more afraid of not having a happy ending with him. He pushed himself to the bone, seeing MC go outside alone when three attempts were made to kill her. I have yet to translate the novel, but I do know it beautifully displays his own anxiety + paranoia. How the build up to the cage happened and how Toma ate away at himself in the making. Ukyo even said he rarely sees Toma get happy endings. He never got to be selfish all his life when he was practically raising Shin and MC since birth basically. I almost felt bad for him ya know...if he didn't freaking lock me in a cage and not bother to even give me the damn tv remote

Another Amnesia Memories blog made a post about how they saw themselves in Toma when they were going through a hard time in their life. When I was 18, things got rocky for me since I just moved away from a toxic family life. Seeing Toma and how he was never left me. Because I understood his fall into madness. I wanted to reach out through the cage bars screen and just reassure him that it's okay. He'd most likely just say "I don't deserve hopes + dreams" like he did in that one CG, but I would just break into tears if I had to hear that again. Most people will disagree...but I want him to be happy. It's why his Amnesia Crowd end scene makes me so happy, I'm close to overwhelmed tears. He's finally happy....he's not pushed to the brink of insanity where his anxiety takes over and he fears even himself...he can relax while still being the naturally protective older brother he was meant to be....he can have his happy ending with his beloved heroine

It doesn't make what he did right, but seeing him crack and fall into desperate times was sickening to me. It was disgusting to see someone so caring and kind towards the MC struggle all by himself. Shin is right...don't carry this burden alone, Toma....I, oh so, desperately wanted to be there for him. Ik I was the one getting harassed in your route, but still. I absolutely adored how you tried, and even when it lead to some very questionable methods...you still cared. Beneath all the insanity...you still cared. You still loved the MC, and you loved her to the point where you couldn't see clearly. I never want to see him break pass the point of losing himself, that he loses control. Someone being madly obsessed with keeping me safe is both comforting and unsettling. I adore Toma, but....was this my inner most thoughts? Wanting to be relied on that I would break like this? Wanting to be the one doted on for once? Of course I don't lock ppl in cages + drug them, but I resonate with wanting to be relied on + keeping loved ones safe, sometimes to a scary degree if something drastic happens to them. And sometimes...I wish someone would just take care of me too. Seeing this laid out in front of me was scary, but not because Toma's route is more seen as horror than an actually romantic route. More so that I related to him. The villain the both Shin's and his own story

While Toma should be in jail irl, in fiction, I can handle the consequences he faces in the sequels. Having Shin beat him up + MC locking him in the cage and handcuffing him (canon masochistic!Toma???/j). He knows he did a terrible thing and wanted to repent for him. He loves the MC to such, his head hurts and he loses all sense of control. There isn't anything he won't for her, but he learns that he cannot do anything against her will ever again like that. He's resentful and hates himself for it, and that speaks volumes to me

No wonder after years of forgetting Toma, I never actually....'forgot' him, you know? I want to spend the rest of my life seeing him happy, being happy with him. He means so much to me, I honestly forget what my life was like before I played his route. I mean, I would honestly love to forget everything that happened before 18 in my life, but still. Even if I didn't notice after that 'Toma hiatus', he always had a special place in my heart. Heck, he was always on my kin list for the last 5 years! I didn't know what selfshipping was until I was around 23-24(?). Toma was a f/o before I even knew what a f/o was

I don't think you'll ever find even a Toma fan admitting Toma is a good person. Amnesia Memories is not about creating 'prince charming' like green flags (in fact, you'll see fans admitting all of these guys are red flags :P). But Toma is still someone that was there for me...that actually felt went through a lot with me. He looked after me when I was trying to get my life back together when I was living away from family. It was a foreign feeling, but I welcomed it despite the glaring warning signs that his route put up. I never hated Toma, even before the sequels shed more light on him

Later x Crowd is honestly just a fluffy bonus for my selfship with him. I'll continue to be happy with Toma, because I want to see this bastard be happy. I don't think I can ever go back to how my life was before I met him. I'm thanking a very old friend of mine that has drifted apart from me. Because if she never recommended Amnesia to me, I would have never met Toma. Thank you, Laura. And thank you, Toma. For being my comfort character...for being there for me....for seeing at my worst and still loving me....for accepting me...

[smallishbabes]

I’m working on a long post and I’m sitting here typing it out thinking, “Man how do these transcript writers do it? This shit is so hard”. Like I thought I knew what shit people said b/c I’ve watched the vids I’m referencing like four times at least but apparently not. And I’m also doing this at like 12 am when I should be up in like 5 hours, so you can see my priorities lol.

Oh well I’m gonna take a break for now. Night 👋

[emotionallydrainedtrash]

Can I request a fluffy Joe Mazzello x fem. reader onshot where Joe surprises reader with a trip to the beach and while there, Joe has another surprise for reader? He proposes in a sweet and romantic way! ❤️

A/N Omg yes! Once again, I’m so sorry about the wait😭. I have the attention span of a goldfish istg. Here we go!

Love Of My Life

Masterlist

Joe Mazzello x fem! reader.

Warnings: FLUFFF. Marriage proposal.

"I'm not complaining in any way but what gave you the idea to wake me up at 6'oclock in the morning to take me down to the beach?"

You stared at your boyfriend as he focused on the road. You'd been driving for 2 hours and it was coming up 8:30am. Joe had gently shaken you awake three hours before your alarm would've and told you to get ready for a road trip.

You'd sat up with bleary eyes to ask him where you were going and nearly pounced him when he replied with, "the beach." You loved the beach and he knew it, this knowledge allowing him to be able to pack your bags for you while you slept. After showering together, you'd eaten breakfast and then loaded your luggage into the car before taking off.

You currently sat shotgun with Master of Puppets blaring from the radio as you speed down the highway, awaiting the answer to your question. Joe shrugged before replying.

"I know you've been stressed out with work lately and we haven't been able to spend a whole lot of time together cause I've been away filming so I thought it might be nice for us to have a little getaway."

You were very satisfied with that answer and proceeded to play air guitar to yourself while Joe was inwardly much more panicked. While that was true, there was one crucial part he'd left out. A velvet ring box was currently tucked away in a hidden pocket and burning a hole through the bottom of his suitcase. As you continued to dance in your seat, oblivious to your boyfriend's internal crisis, you were also unaware of a certain Malek's car trailing a couple behind your own.

You laughed and pulled Joe yelling down onto the sand with you. He braced his arms by your head to stop himself before he fell on top of you. His big, brown eyes zeroed in adoringly on yours and all you could see in them was endless, genuine love and... a hint of nervousness? You sat up and cradled his face in your hands.

"Joe, baby, you look worried. Is everything okay?"

He stood up and held out a hand for you. You followed him as he moved the two of you to a picnic blanket covered in rose petals and a bottle of champagne in the corner. The sun was beginning to set, shrouding the world in a pink and gold haze. Joe stared into the distance off to the side of your head. He nodded, seemingly to himself and turned his attention back to you.

"I'm okay babe."

He took a deep breath and held your hands in his.

"Y/n. I have known you for 20 incredible years but it feels like I've known you my whole life. You're my other half, my best friend, my soulmate, although you'll have to fight Rami and Ben for those titles."

You giggled, eyes shining with anticipation. Joe continued.

"The day I met you would turn out to be the greatest day of my life, until the day I finally asked you to be mine. But now I'm hoping today will become the new greatest day of my life when I ask you to be mine forever. You make my life worth living and I don't want to live it without you. So, Y/n M/n L/n."

He got down on one knee and you gasped as he pulled the ring box out of his pocket and opened it to reveal the most beautiful ring you'd seen in your life.

"My beautiful, darling girl, will you do me the greatest honor of my life, and marry me?"

You nodded fiercely, too overwhelmed with love and emotion to speak.

"Yes? Really?"

"Yes! A million time over, yes! Yes I will marry you Joseph Francis Mazzello III."

Joe slid the ring on your finger and spun you around, laughing at the use of his full name and crying tears of pure, unadulterated joy. Through your tears you had failed to notice the slight flashing of a camera to your far left. Rami was crouched in the bushes with a Nikon and had been taking pictures the whole time.

What you thought had been a distracted gaze and self-assuring nod from your fiancé was actually a signal to his best friend to channel his inner paparazzi. You grinned at Rami and gave him a wave, still crying but the happiest you'd ever been. You would be marrying the love of your life soon. He kissed you once again and whispered his I love you's over and over like a mantra in your ear.

Best beach trip ever.

- Sarah💛

[gffa]

I swore for about ten entire minutes that I wasn’t going to do a set of recs for THE OLD GUARD, I was just going to watch the movie, indulge in a bit of fanart, and then I would be done. But then I was like HOW ABOUT I HAVE SOME FEELINGS INSTEAD? and here we are. So HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND REASONABLY ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND BABY IMMORTALS.  COME YELL ABOUT FEELINGS WITH ME, FANDOM. THE OLD GUARD RECS: ✦ An Unrecorded History by xpityx, joe/nicky, 1.1k    Joe closed the book and dropped it none too carefully on the table. He would have liked to have thrown it away—to prevent anyone else from reading it—but it was far too easy to make copies of books in these times, so he knew it would be no use. He also could not quite bring himself to discard something as precious as a book, no matter how poorly written it was. ✦ keep yourself alive for me by retts, joe/nicky, NSFW, 1.7k    Nicky grabbed Joe’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, not that there was any resistance from Joe. ‘If I remember correctly, this one has two bathrooms, doesn’t it?’ ✦ let’s give them something to talk about by lacecat, joe/nicky & andy/nile, nsfw, 4.8k    In which Nicky and Joe take liberties with recounting history, because it’s fun. ✦ Family Dinner by dadvans, joe/nicky & nile, 2.4k    The only time Nile ever sleeps a full night and feels remotely part of herself is when she stays with Nicky and Joe, who shampoo brains out of each other’s hair in the shower and clean their guns on the couch watching Chopped reruns. ✦ one burning candle, one wind-whipped flame by Dialux, joe/nicky & andy, 5.1k    Yusuf dies, and dies, and dies, and lives, as well, for a thousand years. Nicolo’s by his side for all of them, and it’s not quite the love story of eternity, but it’s theirs: and that’s enough for them both ✦ Future Days by maroon, joe/nicky & andy/noriko, 2.1k    “Then why untie me?” The man grins, terribly amused, and awfully affectionate. Andromache wants to look away, but for some reason, can’t. Maybe because the look in his eye reminds her of herself, a lifetime ago. “Because my beloved is soft, and kind, and will flay me alive if he’d known I tied up a woman.” ✦ Islands of Hours by RC_McLachlan, joe/nicky, 1.5k    There eventually comes a lull, and so they go to Malta. ✦ take out by j_gabrielle, joe/nicky & nile, ~1k    It probably should bother her when Joe kicks the door to the flat open and promptly marches in to deposit their takeout on the living room table. All while he is tracking half-dried blood and mud on the shiny tile floors. “You, ah,” Nile says even as she hurries to pick through the night’s offerings. “They let you on the subway like that?” ✦ all a smooth plain, and the soil deep by inlovewithnight, andy & nile & joe & nicky, 2.1k    After London, they all need to rest. ✦ we are golden by retts, joe/nicky, ~1k    Joe lowers his gaze to the open page on his lap. The sketch is of a man on a charging horse, hair and beard whipping in the wind, sword in one hand and a shield in the other. The eyes in the drawing are the same eyes watching him now. His Nicolo. 'You were a hard fucker to kill back then, Nicky.’ ✦ An eagle’s old age, a sparrow’s youth by BakedAppleSauce, joe/nicky, 2.2k    Joe comes shuffling back into the room, heavy footsteps that mean he’s either tired, or not really trying, or both. Familiar as breathing. Nicky’d recognize him anywhere, walking among a million of strangers. In which some people are laying low for a while, in more ways than one. ✦ A Most Forgetful Death by RC_McLachlan, joe/nicky, 1.2k    “You’re an incurable romantic,” Nicky says, and though his expression doesn’t so much as twitch, Joe can hear the laughter languishing between the words, can feel it on his tongue and rubbing up against his teeth when Nicky meets him halfway to smear a kiss against his mouth. ✦ Luce e ombre by sheafrotherdon, andy & nile, 1.2k    The discomfort is so new that it startles her, and she searches her memory to remember a time before she was immortal: a time when a cut, a scrape, a bruise hurt for longer than a moment, long enough to interrupt sleep. The memories don’t come ✦ When I Am with You by takethisnight_wrapitaroundme, joe/nicky, NSFW, 5.4k    “You… would like to waste a thousand euros’ worth of champagne by pouring it all over me?” Nicky has to repeat it aloud to make sure he’s heard right. While spending some quality time together on vacation in France, Nicky has a surprise for Joe. And Joe, as it turns out, has a surprise for Nicky. ✦ the common tongue of your loving me by spokenitalics, joe/nicky, NSFW, 1.4k    “It’s just— Do you ever wonder how much we’ve forgotten?” Nicky asks, eventually. “How many names and faces and places have just… faded away from our memory?” ✦ i have loved you for a thousand years by owilde, ~1k    It’s him. Again. Yusuf shields his eyes from the blinding desert sunlight, staring into the near distance where a man is stood, alone, a harsh silhouette cut against the bright blue sky and peach-coloured sand. ✦ this is why by retts, joe/nicky, 1.2k    Small as it was, they had their own room in the London safe house, which was a good thing because Joe was prying open Nicky’s mouth with his fingers. Not with his tongue, much as Nicky would prefer it, but with three calloused fingers sneaking inside his lips as if Nicky wouldn’t wake up from the intrusion. He was on his back, Joe pressed closer to him than his own shadow. The slant of moonlight from the window illuminated Joe’s dark eyes as he bent over Nicky. Joe sucked in the corner of his mouth, a tell that he’d never shaken off all these long centuries. ✦ I Found Peace in Your Violence by j_gabrielle, joe/nicky, 1.5k    5 Times Joe and Nicky kill each other + 1 (of many) times they killed someone together ✦ life is very long by kaydeefalls, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker & quynh & copley, 7.1k    Andromache tells him: “The Greeks used to have seven different words for love. Well. More, probably. But I remember seven.” She shrugs. “There are many ways to love one another, and life is long. We’ve time enough for them all. It’s the only thing that makes it worthwhile.” Nicky and his immortal family, over the centuries. ✦ take a breath by BeStillMySlashyHeart, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 1k    Once they are safe, Nicky and Joe take a moment together. ✦ Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (saellys), andy & nile & joe & nicky, 2.5k    “To the Art Institute of Chicago,” Andy echoes, “so that my breasts may be culturally appreciated in perpetuity.” She tips the bottle and lets out three drops. As they fall to the stone floor, Joe and Nicky rap their knuckles on the nearest pieces of metal: the other lantern for Nicky, the oxidized helmet for Joe. One rap for each drop. In another time, they might have struck their swords on shields. ✦ how we live by retts, joe/nicky, ~1k    Life, though, brings pain. Goddamn pain. Bullets that struck his cranium and pelvis – the big bones in the body – are forced out. The rest went through him, carrying organ tissue and muscle with them. Those lost bits have to be regrown. Bones realign and the ribs in his lungs retract so they can breathe again. So Nicky can breathe again. And when he breathes, he thinks, Yusuf. ✦ Paradeisos by Enneara, joe/nicky, 2.9k    Traveling through Greece with Yusuf after fleeing the Holy Land, Nicolò suffers a crisis of faith. ✦ The Language of Love by 1derspark, joe/nicky & andy/quynh & booker & nile, 4.5k    Or five times Nicky hears Joe speak his language and one time Nicky returns the favor. ✦ Le Vite by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 8k    Nicky breathes out. “What did I miss?” he asks, staring out at the hills. “Why didn’t I see this coming?” After everything, after finding Nile and losing Booker and Andy’s new mortality, Joe is pissed off. Nicky is just tired. ✦ The god of my idolatry by Petra, andy/nile, NSFW, 3.4k    “You said you were worshipped as a god.” “I was.” Nile steels herself and asks, “Would you like to do it again?” Andy laughs and throws back the contents of her glass. “They don’t teach you pick-up lines in the Marines, do they.” ✦ love is not over by retts, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 1.3k    'Babe, do you know what this reminds me of?’ asked Nicky. Joe licked his lips and tilted his head to the side, gaze intent on the mole on Nicky’s cheek. 'What?’ 'The first time you drew me.’ ✦ Case Analysis by skeeno, joe/nicky & andy & booker & copley, 3.4k    It’s not totally out of the ordinary for the people Copley meets in his line of work to be extraordinary. But he’s intrigued by these four. ✦ compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R, joe/nicky & andy & quynh, 11.9k    ‘You are a shame to your countrymen and the lowest of the low,’ Yusuf said, ‘and your mother copulated with a dog.’ ✦ Everything in moderation (even moderation) by BakedAppleSauce, joe/nicky, NSFW, 6.1k    The novelty has worn off, of course, but it’s not the novelty that keeps anybody coming back, anyway. Novelty never sustains anything. ✦ What the Water Takes by xpityx, andy & nile & quynh, 1k    Here is a secret she will never write down. ✦ Stracciatella by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 4.8k    “None of us have any evidence of the ways we have died,” Nicky continues. “But you remember the fall, don’t you? You remember the first time you died, the way your blood spilled out as your throat was slashed. I remember the first time I died, when the love of my life drew his sword across my neck as I drove mine into his chest and we both fell to the sand.”

[duskholland]

For you soft!mob!tom Monday, what about getting ready for bed and cuddling after a work dinner/party you both went to

Like you’re both tired for the night, slipping into PJs, taking off your makeup, and talking about what went down and eventually it leads to cuddling to sleep

be still my beating heart. contains brief gun and alcohol mentions, but otherwise this is v soft v gentle.

—soft!mob!tom monday—

“I’m so tired, darling.”

“Me too,” you agree, stifling a yawn. You’re leaning up against the tall post at the end of your bed, a weary smile flickering out across your lips when your boyfriend glances your way.

You watch as Tom stretches, his suit jacket riding up just enough to expose the holster strapped to his side. When he sees you looking, he flashes you a lazy smile, reaching down to remove the gun. The weapon goes onto the dresser, then your boyfriend sheds his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the chair.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up, love,” he calls out, fiddling with the silver cufflinks weighing down the sleeves of his dress shirt. Tom glances up at you, his fatigued expression softening when he meets your eyes. “Come here, let me help you.”

After kicking off your heels, you pad over the carpet to him, sighing contentedly as Tom pulls you in for a gentle hug. You press your cheek to his shoulder, savouring the feeling of his strong arms holding you close.

“It was a good dinner tonight,” you murmur. You press a soft kiss to his neck before pulling back, yawning again. “Went a lot better than I’d thought- oh, can you get my zipper, actually?”

Tom hums, his hands moving up to your neck. You turn around and stand very still, enjoying the feeling of his warm hands moving over your back. 

“Went very well, yeah,” Tom agrees, voice focused. After a moment, you hear the sound of the zipper as he releases it. “I like going to events with you. Makes them easier.”

You walk across to the wardrobe, looking back over your shoulder to shoot him a warm smile. “Me too,” you agree. “I love spending time with you, Tom.”

For a while, you both attend to yourselves in separate corners of the room, but you keep up a continuous dialogue about the events of the evening. Tom had taken you to a dinner held across town, nestled right within enemy territory. Luckily for you, the night had been successful - champagne downed, hands shaken, deals made. Now all that’s left is to get ready for bed and climb in next to Tom.

Once you’ve swapped out your elegant dress for a pair of comfortable pyjamas, you take Tom’s outstretched hand and let him lead you into the bathroom, where he promptly pushes you up to sit on the countertop.

“What are you doing?” You ask, giggling as you watch him paw through one of the cabinets. A moment later, Tom procures a stack of cotton pads and two bottles of makeup remover. “Do you know what you’re doing?” You ask, grinning widely. 

Tom nods proudly, placing his stash down on the counter before settling between your legs. “‘Course I do. I do this all the time when you’re drunk.”

“But does that mean you can live up to my standards whilst I’m sober?” Tom quirks an eyebrow, picking up your hand to kiss over your knuckles gently. “Is that a challenge, love?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. “Because you know I always take excellent care of you.”

You hum softly. “Very true.”

Tom picks up a bottle of micellar water, giving it a quick shake before opening it and generously dousing a cotton pad in the liquid. You close your eyes as he gently drags it over your face, picking up the heavy dredges of makeup that have sunk into your pores over the course of the evening. As the cool water runs over your face, you find your nose screwing up.

“How am I doing?” Tom asks, voice concerned.

“Fine,” you murmur, trying not to let anything fall into your mouth. “You- You used a lot, usually it’s not so wet.”

Tom follows up the pad with a dry one, catching the water from your face. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Just want to do it right.”

You blink your eyes open, smiling at him. “You’re cute,” you say. “Do you want to do my eyelashes?”

Tom shudders. “No way,” he exclaims. “You can do that. Fucking freaky.”

You chuckle, remembering this part of the conversation from the countless times Tom has looked after you in your inebriated state. You turn around, looking at the mirror as you gently and carefully pull off your false eyelashes, laughing as Tom makes various sounds of disgruntlement. He meets your eyes in the reflection, and you roll your eyes, causing him to groan.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he complains. When you turn around to face him, he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m...sensitive.”

You snort. “Sensitive,” you repeat. You close your eyes when Tom comes towards you with a second cotton pad, this time soaked in eye makeup remover. “You run the London mob, Tom. You’re hardly a sensitive soul.”

“Yes, but you melt my heart of ice,” he laments.

“You’re so dramatic,” you say. If you didn’t have them closed, you’d roll your eyes again. “Should’ve been an actor.”

Tom only laughs. “Maybe in another world.”

He helps you down from the counter, and you peck his cheek in thanks. Next, you take turns using the sink, alternating between washing your faces and brushing your teeth. You try to stay close to him, sleepy and craving the soft touch of your boyfriend. He’s exactly the same - wrapping his arms around you and holding you from the back as you brush your teeth, his lips coming down lightly over your neck with soft, gentle kisses.

When you finally make it to the bed, you’re almost dead on your feet. Tom walks behind you, turning off the lights before joining you beneath the sheets a moment later. You roll over, curling into his side, your legs tangling together as you rest a hand on his chest, his bare skin warm to touch. Tom’s hand sits on the back of your head, the other resting on your side. His fingers draw small circles to your skin.

“I love you,” he mumbles, voice rumbling through the darkness. You feel him shift, then his mouth, tender against your forehead. “Thank you for always being my rock.”

You hum, inhaling the weak scent of his leftover cologne.

“I love you too,” you reply. You snuggle closer, feeling the tension drain from your body as he holds you tightly. “You’re so warm,” you add, almost moaning. You can feel your consciousness slipping away already as the deep throes of sleep try to drag you down.

“So are you.” Tom kisses your forehead a final time. “Get some sleep, darling,” he urges. “You deserve it.”

“You too, Tom,” you whisper. “Sweet dreams.”

[missjaystone]

Old Faces

Summary: The love of his life, the one that got away, finally comes back into Sam’s life and he loves the life they build together, but something... is off... Word Count: 2,490 Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader Warnings: Angst, panic attack, anxiety attack, implied smut

(Hate to do this to my man Sam, I love him to death and he deserves the entire universe. Part one of two. (Find Part 2 here))

Sam could never forget the first time he met you; Riley brought him home after their first tour together since Sam didn't have a family to come home to. Not that Riley had one either, he only had one person; his goddaughter, you. Sam had a pretty good idea of who you were since, according to him, Riley never shut up about you. He was so proud of you; you got into Quantico at 21, two years younger than their typical admission age of 23! You picked them up at the airport in late November, almost a week before Thanksgiving and you wore jeans with a dark blue hoodie, the words 'FBI Quantico' written in white on the front. You were vibrant, full of life and excitement. By the time Thanksgiving was over and he was going to his own place, he was head over heels in love with you. The only guilt he had was that you were only 23 at the time, more than 15 years his junior. By the time he'd worked up the nerve to ask Riley for permission, they were already due for their second tour; it'd have to wait until they got back. But, they never came back, Riley never came back. The same Sam Wilson that left was not the man who returned.

Five feet was all that was between him and the love of his life. Five feet between him and the one that got away, the one he never thought he'd see again. You just waltzed right into the VA, out of all the Veterans Affairs offices in the entire city of New York and you just walked right into the one he worked at in his free time, when he wasn't busy being an Avenger. He hadn't seen you in at least five, maybe seven years and he could see how you'd changed just in the way that you moved and conversed with the receptionist. You'd gained some muscle mass, that much was obvious even with your jacket on. You must've injured your left shoulder too, he could tell moving it too much or too quickly was painful, or at the very least uncomfortable. You wore a tired expression on your face, but not tired like you hadn't gotten enough sleep, tired like you'd just gotten out after fighting an unwinnable battle for too long. He knew exactly how that tired felt. Something about the moment seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. He couldn't place it so he ignored it.

So he approached you hesitantly, giving a small wave to get your attention; he'd learned his lesson about startling soldiers when Bucky nearly choked him for entering the living room and sitting on the couch too quietly. He watched you look over him for a brief second before recognition his and you nearly tackled him in a hug. He heard you groan quietly at the sudden movement but just tried to avoid adding pressure to your shoulder when he returned the tight hug "you're a sight for sore eyes, (y/n)." "So are you Sam, is this where you've been hiding?" You asked him with a teasing smile. "Sam Wilson never hides, what about you? Where the hell have you been?" He countered with a wide grin. "All over the place; DC, New Orleans, and now with any luck, New York permanently," you answered him, the two of you walking slowly as you conversed. "What do you do these days? And what brings you here?" He was curious as to where you'd been all these years. He hoped to god you weren't already married.

"Hm, I wonder what could possibly bring me to the Department of Veterans Affairs, I can't quite place my finger on it," you sarcastically thought out loud, making him roll his eyes. He was still smiling "very funny, I meant New York." "Work. I've been going around to different colleges teaching things like military history, strategic intelligence, and general polemology, and I just landed a more permanent position at Columbia," you answered with a casual shrug. He started to ask where you served but Steve calling him stopped that "Sam, we're needed at the tower!" He sighed quietly and sent you an apologetic smile "give me your number and we'll-" He paused, looking at you in shock when he saw his phone in your hand. You gave it back after a couple of seconds and smiled "old habits die hard, we'll get together later." "You need to stop pickpocketing people," he said as he smirked at you before jogging over to his friend.

Sam finally got back to you a week and a half later and you two caught up over coffee. He was repeatedly left awestruck when you told him about what you'd been up to. Gradually, your get-togethers turned from getting coffee two or three times a week to grabbing dinner and just getting together to talk and reconnect. It took a while and a lot of prodding from Bucky and Steve before he finally asked you on a proper date. He actually asked you out on Riley's birthday, you both had a laugh at that. Your dates were frequent, mainly whenever his Avenger schedule allowed it. He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone, he watched as you easily blended in with and meshed with everyone. It was perfect. You were perfect. Still, something seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. Yet, he still couldn't place it so he ignored it.

A year together flew by before either of you knew it. He'd already been contemplating when the perfect moment would happen but now, watching you look over the entire city from the Empire State Building Observation Deck with the sun setting behind you, he knew there'd never be a better time. He'd commit this moment to his memory for the rest of time. He got down on one knee while you were looking through one of the telescopes and took the little velvet box out of his pocket. He could see a few people stopping to watch out of his peripheral vision. When you finally did let go of the telescope and looked at him, you were visibly shocked "Sam? Are you-" You couldn't even finish the question as your eyes started to water when he nodded. His smiling face looked up at you as he, and all of the onlookers gathered around, desperately waited for a response. He watched as you nodded quickly, letting the happy tears fall "yes, hell yes!" He and the group that congregated around you cheered as he picked you up and spun you happily. He pointed over to where Redwing had been perched on a pole "Steve's been manning him so I could have this on video for us." You just laughed and pulled him into a kiss, feeling like you were both on cloud nine. This would be one of the greatest moments of his life. Still, something still felt off. He continued ignoring it. It must've been a little paranoia, so he brushed it off.

Both the wedding and the reception were small and intimate. Tony offered the compound for the tower for the venue and with much help from Pepper, he turned it into the most beautiful place you'd ever seen. Wanda, Pepper, and Natasha helped you pick out a wedding dress. While the three of them were eager to help you and Sam pick and plan, Steve and Bucky stepped back since they didn't have a clue. They helped Sam get the perfect suit; navy blue suit and jacket, white dress shirt, and a dark maroon tie. Planning started in January, a month after he proposed and you wed in May. He nearly cried when he saw you walking down the aisle, clearly holding himself back. You, however, didn't hold any tears back when you two exchanged vows, having to stop yourself at least eight times when you recited your own. Somehow, Vision got ordained, but nobody asked questions. The kiss you two shared was perfect, this was without a doubt, the absolute greatest moment of his life. Except, it felt off. But Sam was far too happy to pay any mind to the feeling he'd grown so used to ignoring.

Despite you and Sam both insisting a weekend away would be a good honeymoon, everyone wanted to send you off to somewhere nice for a couple of weeks. After collective brainstorming, they decided on and booked you two a 14-day all-inclusive honeymoon in Santorini, Greece. You were both pushed onto the Quinjet before you could object at all. Someone had already packed bags for both of you and loaded them on. The ride wasn't as long as you thought it would be and Clint bid you both goodbye and good luck. The hotel room was opulent; it was decorated beautifully with paintings and native flora and fauna, rose petals on the bed, a chilled bottle of champagne sat on the table; it honestly felt like a dream. "Well, Mrs. Wilson, shall we?" Sam asked but when you tried to step into the room, he picked you up bridal style and carried you inside. He set you down on the bed gently but quickly positioned himself over you, his forearm holding him up with his free hand stroked your cheek, looking into your eyes with such love and adoration it almost made you cry again. "I love you so much, and I always will," he whispered softly as he trailed kisses from your lips down along your jawline and to your neck. "I love you too, Sammy, more than anything," your voice was quiet, your mind too focused on the way he was kissing and paying special attention to that one sweet spot on your neck.

For the first three days, you and Sam spent the entire time in your hotel room, intertwined with each other in an intimate dance. Exploring the island was incredible, Sam loved watching you admire everything and really take in the culture. He never missed an opportunity to take new pictures of you. You were sending plenty of pictures to the team, thanking them a million times over for this gift. Sam particularly enjoyed watching you in the crystal clear turquoise waters. Watching you was like being ensnared by a siren's song, and it was a song he never wanted to end. Reality felt off but he'd long ago accepted it was just his subconscious waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Sam, wake up," your voice said as Sam was lightly shaken. Except, it wasn't exactly your voice, it sounded... off. He turned over and went to toss his arm around your waist and pull you close but was met with nothing. He furrowed his brows and looked around the room for you. Nothing. "(Y/n)?" Sam called as he got out of bed, pulling on whatever was closest to him. No answer. You weren't in the room or the bathroom, you weren't on the patio. He knows you would've left a note if you had gone somewhere. He starts to worry, he grabs his phone and scrolls through his contacts for your number but it's not there, neither are your text messages to each other; your pictures together are gone too. Even as Sam starts to full-on panic, he sees things around him starting to fade away; when he tries to grab something for stability, his hand goes through it. Soon, with everything gone, he's left in a white space with nothing around him. "Sam?" A distorted voice calls out, it's too masculine to be yours.

It sounds familiar, almost like Steve but not quite. "Sam, we need you to wake up right now," another equally distorted voice says and he swears he feels like someone lightly slapped his face. "Somebody go get Bruce!" a third voice calls, more of an order than a request; it was feminine but not yours, it sounded a bit like Natasha but not quite. "His vitals are spiking quite rapidly, he could be in danger very soon if we don't wake him up immediately," a digitalized voice said. Was it Vision, maybe?

Before Sam knew what was happening, he jolted up to a sitting position, gasping for breath. He was in his room at the Tower, everyone around him. He was soaking wet now and Bucky was holding an empty bucket behind his back. His eyes darted around the room anxiously as he questioned rapidly "where is she? What happened? How'd I just get here?" "Whoa, whoa, Sam, where's who?" Steve asked calmly as he gave his friend a towel. "What do you mean 'who'? My wife! My soulmate! Where's (y/n)?" He questioned, his anxious state making it come out harsher than he intended. Everyone still in the room shared a curious look before Steve cleared his throat "you aren't married Sam. You said you weren't feeling well last night so you went to bed early; you've been asleep for almost a whole 24 hours. We all rushed in when we started hearing things, then we heard screaming." Steve explained with a small frown. "We've been trying to wake you up for half an hour, whatever you were dreaming about must've been nuts," Bucky said, earning a look from Steve.

"His vitals are returning to normal, FRIDAY will keep a close eye though," Vision stated. Sam now sat in his bed in deep contemplative silence. "Do you need anything?" Steve asked, setting a hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly. Sam shook his head after a long minute "no, I think I just need to be alone for a bit to process." Steve nodded and headed for the door, Bucky following with Wanda and Clint in tow. Natasha sent him a small smile and stopped on her way out "call any one of us if you need something, anything at all." He nodded, watching her close the door behind her. He felt a lump in his throat; the best year of his life was a dream. The love of his life, his soulmate, coming back into his life was a dream. He wanted to yell, punch something, cry, rip his hair out, do something/anything to get rid of the pit he felt in his heart now. He wasn't going on without you anymore, he'd done his best to forget and suppress so you could find someone who didn't have nearly two decades on you but he couldn't anymore. He knew you were his soulmate when he first met you but he suppressed it, assuming it was misplaced affection. He knew when he and Riley shipped out for the second time that you were his soulmate because now, he wasn't fighting for the country out of respect or loyalty, he was fighting so you specifically could have a good be safe in this country. Now, he absolutely knew you and him were meant to be together, and he was going to find you. He couldn't bear the pain of knowing who his soulmate was and not having you.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by   tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange​

Note to reader:  This chapter mentions abortion and involuntary childlessness. If these topics trigger negative thoughts or the like in you, please skip it.

Chapter 10: Meeting the 'enemy' (3)

           When Claire and Geillis returned to the living room, the two men were standing in front of the fireplace. To Claire's surprise, Jamie extended his right arm to her and when she came within his reach, he immediately pulled her to him. He smiled and kissed her gently on her left temple.

“Champagne glasses” by  Myriams-Fotos

           "It's nice to have some 'guy-on-guy' time, but without our 'better halves' we're missing something, aren't we Dave?"

           Dave, who had also pulled Geillis close and welcomed her back with a kiss, nodded to Jamie. Geillis whispered something in Dave's ear, to which Dave smiled and let out a loud

           "Oh!"

           Jamie looked at him questioningly.

           "Is there any news I don't know about yet?"

           Dave cleared his throat, still smiling.

           "Well, since Claire already found out, we shouldn't keep it a secret from you."

           "I'm listening," Jamie said, turning his questioning gaze now to Claire.

           To Claire's, Jamie's, and probably Geillis' surprise, they heard Dave say:

           "Geillis and I are expecting our first child!"

           A moment of surprised silence fell. Jamie was the first to recover his voice:

           "Dave! Geillis! Congratulations!"

           Fraser walked up to the couple and enclosed them in a light embrace.

           "Claire! We've got a wonderful reason to celebrate!" he exclaimed as he broke away from the couple a moment later.

           Without waiting for a reaction from his 'fiancée', he then said:

           "Come, sit down. I'll get us a bottle of champagne. This calls for a celebration! Claire, why don't you take four champagne bowls from the cupboard?"

           Then he was gone through the door to the dining room. While Dave and Geillis took their seats on one of the sofas again, Claire went to the cupboard and got the desired glasses.

           Shortly after, Jamie returned with a champagne bucket filled with ice and a bottle of "Moet & Chandon" sticking out of it. He pulled the bottle out of the ice and opened it with a loud pop. Then he poured for everyone. He then raised his glass and said:

           "To a strong and healthy child! And to the happy parents!"

           They toasted each other and drank. Then they all sat down again and a conversation developed about children in general, then about siblings (to this part of the conversation Jamie and Dave contributed quite a few very funny anecdotes from their childhood), and of course Dave and Geillis asked about Fergus.

“Paris bridge” by  pierre9x6            When Jamie told about how he found his now foster son in Paris and the effort it had taken him to bring the child to Germany, his face literally blossomed. From the very first day at the Fraser house, Claire had been aware of how much Jamie loved the boy and it was quite obvious that he had always wanted children. Then she heard Jamie say:

           "But it's only since Claire has been looking after him that Fergus has been developing better and better. It's a joy to watch him grow up. You're so limited in time when you're a single father who has to run an international business. I am so grateful for Claire's support. She has the ability to nurture his creativity, to channel his thirst for knowledge - it's just a joy to watch him grow up. But none of this would be possible without her."

           Claire, who had already been sitting next to him the whole time and around whose shoulders he had put his right arm, as if it were the most natural gesture in the world, felt him pull her even closer. She looked at him and then saw him smiling all over her face.

           Just before midnight, Dave and Geillis set off. The chauffeur appeared and together with Jamie he lifted the 'Vase No. 4' along with the Protea flowers into a prepared wooden box, which he then - a small double-ended cart - took to the elevator and from there to the garage to the car in. Jamie and Claire escorted the guests into the hall and, after Geillis and Dave had put on their coats, to the front door. After giving each other another hug, the friends walked to the car, which had already pulled up in front of the house. Jamie and Claire stopped on the top step of the small staircase that led to the front entrance and waved at them. When the car had disappeared from their sight, they returned to the hall together.

“Protea” by  nagra76

           "Excuse me a moment, I'll just go ...," Jamie said, pointing to door of the guest bathroom.

           Claire nodded and went back to the living room. There she cleared the glasses and the champagne bucket from the table and brought everything back to the kitchen. When she returned, Claire took the flat jewelry box from the closet and sat down on one of the sofas. While she was taking the jewelry off and putting it back in the box, she had to pause for a moment. She noticed how the strength with which she had held herself upright since the conversation with Geillis was drying up more and more. And then she just couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

           Just at that moment Jamie also returned to the living room and he immediately noticed that Claire was not well. But he had already had this impression since the two women had returned to the living room. When he had reached out his arm and pulled Claire to him, she had put one of her arms around his back and the other over his stomach. This could have been seen as a gesture to make it clear that he was hers. But Fraser had rather had the impression that Claire felt an urgent need to hold on to him.

           With a few sweeping steps, he hurried to her.

           "Claire, what is it? Are you not feeling well? Has ... Has this evening overwhelmed you? Did I do something wrong?"

           Without even consciously realizing it, he knelt in front of her and grabbed her hands, which were folded in her lap.

           Claire disengaged her right hand from his, placed it on Fraser's right, and squeezed it:

           "No, Jamie, you didn't do anything wrong. It … has nothing at all … to do with you … or Fergus … or with us."

           Then she burst into heavy sobs and slapped both hands to her face. Jamie put both arms around her and pulled her close. They stayed like that for a while, until Claire calmed down a bit.

           She reached for the handkerchief Jamie held out to her, wiped her tears and blew her nose. Then she said:

           "I already had the impression that Geillis was pregnant when I greeted her in the hall. As soon as I saw her dress. Then when were at my apartment …. I voiced my suspicions and she confirmed it."

           "But why does that make you so ... sad. It's a great thing that they will have a child, isn't it?" asked Fraser in wonder.

           Claire looked at him, wondering if she should really tell him. But then she decided to:

           "It's … not a wanted child, Jamie. It … wasn't planned and ... Geillis ..."

           "Does she want to a ..."

           "No! No! They're going to have the baby. You saw how excited Dave is and how proud he is to finally be a father."

           Claire paused for a moment. Then she continued:

           "Geillis ... Geillis is afraid that she can't love the child because she actually envisioned her life without children. She's afraid it's all going to have a negative impact on her relationship with Dave."

           "And that makes you so sad. I understand."

           Jamie's expression darkened. He looked down at the floor and nodded.

           "No," Claire objected, "I ... it's perfectly normal for her to be so upset right now. A lot of women feel that way in a situation like this. But it doesn't have to stop there. As a nurse, I've many women where that feeling changed over time and they're really good, loving mothers to this day. And of course, I will try to help her. I would like to meet with her later this week and talk to her. Then we'll go from there."

“Taschentuch” by  bloomingnakanishi

           Fraser looked at her in wonder. He paused for a moment. It was clear to him that the question he was about to ask would probably cause Claire pain, but he needed to know what was bothering her.

           "But, if this can change, if you can help her, Claire ... why are you so sad?"

           And, as he had guessed, Claire's pain immediately erupted:

           "Because it's so terribly unfair! It's so unfair Jamie!"

           From Claire's suddenly wide-open red eyes, sheer desperation looked at him. He felt her hands clench under his and she trembled with inner rage and despair. It took only a few seconds, then another flood of tears streamed down Claire's cheeks and again she was shaken by deep sobs. Jamie put his arms around her and pulled her close. A foreboding formed in his mind, but he didn't dare speak it. When Claire had calmed down a bit and dried her tears again, she said:

           "It's so unfair, Jamie. Why do women who don't want children have children, and why do women who would love nothing more than to be a mother have to resign themselves to never having children?"

           Fraser was silent. What could he have said? But he would have had little opportunity to speak either, for Claire continued immediately:

           "Every year in this country alone, more than 130,000 children are aborted. 130,000, that's the number of inhabitants of a city like Heidelberg. Can you imagine that? And no! Before we misunderstand each other, I am not passing judgment on these women. I don't know the individual fates, I don't know what moves them, what they go through and I don't take the right to judge them. But, in this country, there are many institutions that advocate for them and that care about them. And that's a good thing, because no woman should be alone in a situation like this. There has been support for them for many years. But involuntarily childless people hardly have a lobby! And yet every tenth couple between the ages of 25 and 59 in this country is involuntarily childless! One in ten couples, Jamie! And what are these people advised to do? Well, if you can't have children of your own, then adopt! That's what childless couples are told. But you don't need me to tell you how hard that is. Not only as a single man like you! Even as a married couple! Even if the man has an extremely well-paid, prestigious job at a world renown university and the woman is willing to stay at home! Even if the couple has their own house with a garden and a good reputation! Even then it can take years! Why do so many married couples go to the former Eastern Bloc countries and adopt a child from a Russian or Ukrainian orphanage? And then, when you are a couple and decide to ... for this terrible, ... this infinitely exhausting ....  fertility treatment, then you also only get some financial support for it since 2012! Only since 2012!"

           Again, Claire's eyes welled up with tears, which she wiped away with the large men's handkerchief. Jamie, meanwhile, was silent, inwardly praying for the right words.

           "I never told you, but.... my late husband, Frank, and I, we wanted children. Very much so. For Frank, it was especially important. But also, me ... It was already decided before we got married. The house we bought when we moved to Berlin had two children's rooms. We always called them that, too.  For many years we tried again and again, by all means. We both wanted it, but ... In the end, it tore our marriage apart. Frank... he... turned to other women until... until he found one with whom he wanted to start a family. I didn't find out the details until after he had passed away. It was one of his colleagues and ... well ... it had been going on for several years. Shortly before he died, he had made the decision to leave me. Frank had already set everything in motion. Only death prevented him from putting it into action. He wanted to divorce me so that he could marry her. Frank never said it, but I knew him well enough. It was clear that he wanted to marry this woman because he hoped to finally have the children with her. Children! The children I couldn't give him."

           Again, Claire was silent for a moment, then it burst out of her again:

           "In this country you are nothing if you remain childless - as a woman. If you are a single man - or even a married one - and have countless affaires, you are looked at as a Don Juan, a Casanova, a womanizer, a lady-killer! In the old boys' clubs and at the young boys' parties, such a man is celebrated. But if you are a married childless woman …  Without knowing the reason for your childlessness, judgment is passed on you. You are seen as selfish, egoistic, irresponsible, less helpful, less mature and less happy. And you feel yourself to be so ... unnatural, inferior, deviating from the norm, as if you are not a real woman at all. The social pressure is enormous … My parents had died early and Frank's parents were already dead. So, there were no grandparents who kept asking us about grandchildren. But in our circles of colleagues, the question naturally came up again and again. 'Don't you want children?' - 'How long are you going to wait?' - as if that was the question!"

“Leere Krippe” by congerdesign

           A distinct bitterness was visible on Claire's face.

           "My Uncle Lambert would never have asked such questions. But on his face, I saw it again and again. How he would have loved to have had 'grandchildren.' How he would have liked to see something of him, of the Beauchamp's, live on … Frank and I, of course, tried the medical methods. You read about it again and again in magazines and ... The fertility clinics also do a lot of advertising. But nobody talked about the possible risks, the side effects of the high hormone doses for a woman, or the very low success rate of getting pregnant at all, let alone the probability of giving birth to a child. Nor did we tell anyone in our circle of friends or colleagues about the artificial procreation attempts. Not even Geillis knows. Who wants to explain this complicated and embarrassing procedure to friends or colleagues and then have to answer questions all the time? When will the baby finally come? Two of these attempts and two more within the following two years failed. We finally had to realize that we could never become parents. Frank then converted the children's rooms into a guest room and into a ... storage room ... a ... storage room. However, ... we hardly got any guests after .... He was more and more absent in his spare time ... well, later I found out where he was."

           Claire blew her nose and Jamie saw her eyes fill with tears.

           "It's so unfair! It's so unfair!"

           Claire's voice had gone hoarse, yet the words continued to flow out of her.

           "Imagine that in your neighborhood, in your circle of colleagues, women get pregnant who don't even want to be, and you, you remain childless. And this happens not once or twice, but many times.  And then you are left by your husband because of that. Left behind like a ... broken, useless object of utility! ... Nobody thinks much about what women like me go through. Nobody! We have no lobby. Do you hear me? Absolutely no lobby! Do you hear me, Jamie?!"

           Jamie pulled her close and gently pressed her head against his left shoulder. As Claire's sobs slowly subsided, he felt her tears soaking his shirt. Then he said softly, but clearly:

           "I hear you, Claire. I hear you, I really do. And I know how it feels. Believe me."

           Claire lifted her head and looked at him uncomprehendingly.

           "I've always wanted a family, too. But I never found the right woman. And then I found Fergus, and it was ... like a sign. He ... he's a gift. A wonderful gift. A precious gift. I will do everything for him ..."

           "Yes, he is a wonderful child. A rascal, but a beloved rascal," she said, still sobbing.

           "And he loves you, Claire. He really loves you. I haven't even had a chance to tell you yet, but do you know what he asked me one of the nights I put him to bed alone?"

           Claire shook her head.

           "I read to him from the book I bought him at the museum village. You remember, 'A Year in the Middle Ages: Eating and Celebrating, Traveling and Fighting, Ruling and Punishing, Believing and Loving.' Under the theme of 'Loving', it is of course about how people got married in the Middle Ages. It is said that people married much earlier than they do now, and Fergus asked me how old you had to be to get married today. I told him that usually you could get married from the age of 18. He looked at me and I could almost see the little wheels turning in his head. So, I told him that he would soon be seven years old and that it would only be eleven years until he was eighteen. He said nothing, but suddenly looked at me very grumpily. When I asked what made him so angry, he replied, 'Then it will be forever before I can marry Claire!'"

           "Oh, no!"

           "Yes, Claire!"

           Now even Claire had to smile a little.

           "He loves you, he'd marry you on the spot. If he could."

           Again, tears rolled down Claire's cheeks.

           "I love him very much, too, Jamie. I'm ... so glad you took him in."

           She wiped the tears from her face and Jamie, slowly rising from his knees, sat down beside her.

           "Claire, I heard you, really heard you, and I know what it means to feel this way, too. Now I'm asking you to listen to me carefully."

           She nodded.

           "Fergus loves you, he really does. And I, I am deeply grateful for everything you do for us and .... We're both very fond of you. You're not an employee to us, you're ... our best friend. And you matter to us … very much. I want you to know that... whatever happens after these three years, whatever you decide, you will always have a place in our hearts, Claire. And you will always have a home with us. Always."

           "Thank you. Thank you so much. That's ..."

           "Perfectly natural," Fraser finished the sentence. Then he rose and held out his hand to her:

           "Come on, I'll take you up to your apartment."

           Claire grabbed his hand and carefully let herself be pulled up by it.

[mieohmy]

𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖬𝗒 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 | 𝖪𝗂𝗆 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝗐𝗈𝗈

PAIRING: kim sunwoo x fem reader

GENRE: fluff, humor, angst, hotel del luna! au, head manager! sunwoo, hotel owner! reader

WC: 1.9k

NOTES: mentions of ghosts, murders, heavily hotel del luna inspired

↳ "What if my greatest pain was not being able to stay by your side?"

update: part two !

✵

You slump back in your chair, drained. You spent the whole day filing taxes and guest requests. Looking outside, you realize it was still bright out, the sun filtering through the window. You didn't particularly care for it. Craving for a drink, you requested a staff member. They bow before politely asking, “What is it, Boss y/l/n?” You tap your freshly painted nails on your chin before ordering a bottle of champagne and a shrimp cocktail. That would put you in a good mood. 

Imagining the taste of the bubbly concoction, you let out a content sigh before looking at the next case file. -A loose spirit, but this one was tricky. Liked to scare victims with their greatest fear or loss. You make a note in your head to warn the manager. 

You’re interrupted by one of the maids wheeling in your order. Squealing in delight, you dismiss her with a wave. You easily pop open the bottle of luxurious champagne, indulging in the sound of the fizz. Pouring a glass, you hear a familiar voice echoing, getting closer. Your face automatically darkens. 

“Miss y/l/n, what are you doing?” You scowl, raising the glass to your ruby lips. After taking a sip, you let out a satisfied exhale. Slowly turning to face the person who was the bane of your existence, you let out a small tch! “I was enjoying myself before you interrupted, Kim Sunwoo.” He automatically frowns in disapproval. “It’s Manager Kim, you know. You’re the one who hired me for the job. Actually, more like forced me.” You roll your eyes, muttering, “against my will...” 

Sunwoo claps his hands. “So, what kind of ghost are we seeing today?” You gulp the rest of the drink down. “Wandering spirit. But I warn you, this one’s a little feisty.” 

He looks at you curiously, “What is it this time? Revenge, lost lover?” You sigh again, standing up and stopping in front of Sunwoo. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear, “They'll show you what causes you your greatest pain. I’ll tell you now, I'd be careful. It would be the fastest record for a new manager if you don’t watch out... ” Stepping back, you notice him shiver. You walk to the doors, grabbing your latest purse that you bought behind his back. "Don't forget the keys to my new Ferrari, I want to take it for a test drive!"

  ✵ 

Once you arrive at the abandoned church, you shut the car door close, lowering your thirty-five thousand dollar sunglasses to get a better look at the place. Sunwoo stands next to you, taking it all in. He turns to you. “Should I go first? Or?” His face seems relaxed, but you know him well enough to tell that he’s scared. “No,” you reply, curt. “I’ll go.” 

You push the doors open with a bang, eyes scanning over the old place. It was dusty, cold, dark. Sunwoo follows in after you, voice echoing, “What kind of place was this?” You examine a rotten bench, dust floating in the air as you hum softly. “Old church. Used to be very popular until the rumors of a ghost spread and it was abandoned.” 

Sunwoo walks down the path before turning around to you so his back was facing the altar. “Do you think-“ but you don’t pay attention to the rest of his sentence as you zero in on who’s behind him. Specifically, what. It was the spirit you were looking for. To anyone else, it would be a horrifying, monstrous demon girl, but to you, it’s just an annoyance. She stares at Sunwoo’s back, a chilling smirk appearing on her face. You glance back at him as you see her change into a horrifying picture in the corner of your eyes. 

Sunwoo’s staring at you, confused at what you’re looking at and beginning to turn his head. You immediately call out his name, desperate. He can’t look at the image behind him. You effectively get his attention, his attention moving back to you again. He’s saying something, but you ignore it and rush forward. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you place a hand behind his head, keeping it from turning. His arms instinctively hover above your waist. “Y/n- what-“ but you tighten your grip on him. “Whatever you do, do not turn around,” you softly murmur into his ear. 

Your eyes are still focused on the spirit, the monstrous image. You think it's Sunwoo’s parents. Murdered, brutally. Their bodies floating midair and the look of pure terror present on their faces. You had no idea if this was what actually happened or not, but you keep your grip on him tight. 

You remember the words said years ago. Sunwoo’s parents were gone from a young age. That’s what your former manager and Sunwoo’s grandfather told you. It was only him and his grandparents from a young age. You would never admit it, but you always held a soft spot in your locked away heart (if you even still had one) for the former Manager Kim. So when he asked, no-begged, for you to take his grandson as your next manager when he was old enough, you had to accept. You warned him about the repercussions, but he only let out a small smile and assured you Sunwoo was strong and especially stubborn enough. 

✵

"That boy will take care of you well." You scoff, twirling a piece of your hair. "And how old did you say he was?" Manager Kim only smiles. "Of no matter, the age. After all, it is just a number. You would know that best, wouldn't you, Miss y/l/n?" You turn your head aside, suddenly staring at a painting of interest. He continues. "I think you two will get along quite fine." Your eyes flick back to him. "But he has a soft heart, so I beg you to be a little less harsh on him. He's already lost so much from a young age.."

✵

The words echo in your head. That’s why you couldn’t let Sunwoo turn around. You didn’t know the details -it was a sensitive topic- but you were sure this might break him. You feel him shaking. “Is it the spirit?” he asks quietly. “Yes,” you reply, “Don’t you dare look.” You feel him bury his face in your neck as you focus your attention on the spirit, mouthing commands and chants. 

She hisses a horrible screeching sound before you’re finally able to control her, and the image collapses, something dropping on the ground. You carefully loosen your grip, leaning back to look at Sunwoo. 

You don’t know what it is, maybe the vulnerable expression on his face that makes you want to protect him forever or the way his dark eyes bore into yours, but you slowly lean in, softly placing your lips on his forehead between his styled hair. Sunwoo blinks, staring at you with a dazed expression. You're not sure how long you look at him until you come to your senses. It's a moment before you step back, walking over to pick up the tiny keychain that fell. 

When you turn around to Sunwoo, he clears his throat. “Well.. I guess we’re done here,” Your eyes follow him walking to the exit, knowing he’s slightly shaken.  

  It’s in the car, when he asks, “Can I know, what it was?” “Nope,” you reply as you examine the keychain. He frowns, turning on the engine. “But-“ “Unless you want to be sent to a mental hospital and never work for me again, then no. But that would’ve actually been pretty nice for me..” you say, pouting slightly.  

Sunwoo looks at you, annoyed. “Hey! But, how come the spirit didn’t show you your greatest fear or anything ?” You scoff. “Cause you’re just a weak human who has emotions, and I’m a dead person who doesn’t feel things, idiot.” He turns to look at you, indignant. “What do you mean you don't feel things? Doesn't this make you feel something?” He suddenly leans in, face less than an inch away from yours. You freeze. You catch his eyes glancing down at your lips. Why does it suddenly feel so hot?

You immediately snap out of it, smacking his chest. "Ah, idiot! Just drive, just drive!" you yell angrily, trying to hide the fact that you were flustered. He immediately laughs, a grin appearing on his face as he turns the car on.  The two of you continue to bicker as Sunwoo drives on. 

✵

You two were in your office later that night, organizing a giant stack of papers you neglected. You told Sunwoo to go home and get sleep since he was still a human and needed the rest, but he firmly insisted on helping you, stating, “I know you’re gonna just give up after five minutes and leave it messier than before.” 

It’s silent. The only thing heard was the sound of papers shuffling. You’re examining a document, Was this really 50 years ago? when Sunwoo calls your name. 

You look up. “What?” you demand.  He puts some papers down, before sitting on your plush, fancy couch, and looking at you. You can't read the expression on his face. “What’ll happen when I die? Or even, you move on to the afterlife?” 

You stare at him. Why was he suddenly asking if he already knew the answer? Clearing your throat, you move to sit beside him. “Well, I’ll have to get a new manager. Life continues. And... if I leave, you’ll return back to your normal life, like all other humans.” Sunwoo fiddles with his tie, and you notice. He never liked wearing ties, but you forced him to for the job. “That’s it?” he says, “you’ll just get a new manager?” 

You frown. What’s going on with him? Sunwoo was mischievous, witty, stubborn. So why was he acting so fidgety and shy? “Yeah, why? That’s how it is.” You pause, adding, “Unless I go first. But who knows when fate will relieve me of my duty.” 

Sunwoo mumbles something you can’t hear. You move closer to him. “Hmm??” He clears his throat before saying softly, “So you won’t ever think of me when I’m gone? Remember me?” Your eyes widen. Huh? His ears are red, and he isn't looking you in the eye. “I-I mean, I know one day I’ll be gone, you’ll be gone..." You interrupt him, turning his body so he's facing you. "Sunwoo, what's going on? Why are you suddenly saying this? Was it because of what happened earlier?" You look deep into his eyes as if you'll find an answer in there.  

He swallows, looking down at your feet. Hesitating, he finally speaks. "What if my greatest pain was not being able to stay by your side?" 

Your body stills, heart skipping a beat. Slowly turning to face him, you realize how close the two of you are. “You.. you shouldn't worry about losing me. But if I ever make you feel that way, find the moon.” Sunwoo furrows his eyebrows, speaking softly. “Why the moon?” 

You look out the window, staring at the moon outside which was partly covered by clouds. His eyes follow yours to the sky. “Even if my moon is in a different world from yours, even if my moon is a thousand years away from yours, it’s always there.” You turn to him once more.

 “Just like how I'll always be there too.”

[peggyrose19]

Midnight Kisses

HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVELIES!! I’M MANIFESTING A HAPPY 2021 DAMMIT!! SO ENJOY MY PAINFULLY FLUFFY MIDNIGHT KISS FICS FOR THE SW SHIPS. THESE ARE SHIT CAUSE I STARTED THEM AT 9PM BUT IT’S FINE.

I’ll stop yelling now. I really wanna explain all of these but I’m not going to because there’s honestly no need, I just tend to over-explain things. So enjoy all the fluff and love in these little one-shots. Characters from the amazingly talented @lumosinlove. I wish you all the most boring, uneventful 2021 <333

Coops

“Look, baby,” Remus whispered, pointing up at the sky, although the fireworks were hard to miss. 

“They’re beautiful,” Sirius murmured. He wasn’t looking at the fireworks exploding in the night sky, but the man in his arms. Remus glanced down at him, catching his eye.

“What?”

Sirius shook his head. “Nothing. Just… happy. I love you.” 

Remus smiled, seeming to understand what he meant. He remembered the late night, exactly a year earlier, when he had swallowed those words down, all dim light and flushed cheeks in the back of a car, hiding from the world. Not that it had mattered. 

“I love you too,” he said back, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ cheek, and then his lips. It wasn’t yet midnight, wouldn’t be for a few hours, but Remus didn’t care. He could kiss Sirius, his fiancé, in wide open now without fear. It was a privilege he was never taking for granted. 

When midnight did come, and fireworks were set off once more, Remus kissed him again, surrounded by their friends and family as they all rung in the new year. Sirius was sweet and pliant beneath his hands, arms wrapped tightly around him, never letting go. 

It was the perfect start to a new year. 

O’Knutzy

“Happy New Year, baby!” Logan shouted, arm wrapped around Finn’s neck. 

“Lo, that was the oven,” Leo sighed from the kitchen. “It’s 11:32. Honestly, we should not have let him drink so much.”

Finn just shrugged, accepting the wet kisses Logan was now planting to his cheek and neck. 

Leo fought a smile as he watched them. So maybe drunk Logan was kind of endearing. 

“Here.” He held out one of the pigs-in-blankets from the batch cooling on the counter, and Logan took it happily in his mouth.

“Yum,” he managed around it, grinning at Leo. Finn accepted one too, still caught by Logan’s arms around him. Leo ate one too, then walked around the island to their side, wrapping his arms around them both. He kissed Logan’s cheek. 

“I’m glad I get to spend the new year with the two of you,” he murmured. 

“We’re glad too, baby,” Finn replied, twisting to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Fish.”

“I love you Knutty!” Logan yelled, and they both jumped. 

“Oh, Tremzy,” Finn sighed. “What are we gonna do with you.” 

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Kiss me?”

Leo gave him a quick kiss and pulled away. “At midnight,” he promised when Logan pouted at the loss of contact. 

“Well, midnight needs to hurry up and get here then,” he grumbled. Finn just laughed and tugged him towards the couch.

“C’mon, let’s wait for the ball to drop.”

Logan let himself be pulled, collapsing nearly on top of Finn and making no move to adjust his position. Finn flipped the television on and pulled a blanket over them, leaving room for Leo once he was done in the kitchen. 

A moment later, Leo joined them in watching the commercials currently playing, snuggling into Logan’s side, smiling happily. They watched quietly, enjoying each other’s silent company, until it was nearly time. 

At five minutes to, Leo pulled the champagne from the cabinet. Logan was nearly bouncing up and down. Leo wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to give him more alcohol. 

As the countdown began, Finn took the bottle from Leo. When they hit one, he popped it open, and all three of them cheered. With wide grins, Finn and Leo kissed Logan’s cheeks, and then each other, and then Logan one by one.

They drank their champagne and kissed again, sloppy and sticky and in love. 

When they fell back onto the couch, tangled together in a pile of limbs and blankets, it was to the sound of fireworks outside and the pounding of their own hearts, the taste of champagne on their lips, and the overwhelming feeling of the happiness that was to come.

Thoelle

Thomas still couldn’t quite believe his luck. He couldn’t believe it when he woke in the morning to Noelle asleep at his side, or the days she would pick him up at the rink, or the kiss she gave him each night before bed.

He certainly didn’t believe it was two minutes to midnight and she was by his side, arm around his waist as they waited impatiently for the ball to drop and the hour hand to fall to the 12. 

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked him, dark hair falling in a curtain over her shoulder. He ran a hand through it, in love with the silkiness and the way always she melted under his touch. 

“You,” he replied softly.

“What a charmer you are,” she murmured, but her cheeks were flushed. 

“Still can’t believe it.” 

“Believe what?” She had turned more towards him now.

“That I have you. Still feels like a dream sometimes.” 

She smiled, ducking her head. Noelle wasn't usually one to shy away from attention, but sometimes he could still get her. Thomas leaned down and lightly kissed her nose, making her laugh and look back up at him.

“You wanna know something?” she asked.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Thomas replied almost instantly, on instinct. Noelle laughed a little, eyes wide. 

“You do?”

“Of course.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud shout, the countdown beginning around them. Instead she just grinned up at him.

“You ready for a new year?”

“With you by my side? Hell, yeah.”

Together, they shouted the last few numbers, “Four...three...two...one!” 

As cheers erupted around them, Thomas leaned down and kissed Noelle softly.

“I love you, Noelle Tremblay,” he murmured against her lips. She pulled away and laughed, giddy and free, wrapped in his arms and warmth. 

She kissed him again, whispering back, “I love you too, Thomas Walker.” 

O’Darwin

Kasey’s constant was back, at least for a little while. 

It had been a surprise, to see Alex standing on their doorstep three days before New Years, a suitcase in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Natalie had jumped on him instantly, taking the bottle from him and kissing him, tugging him into the apartment by the collar of his jacket.

“Alex O’Hara,” she had scolded him, “How dare you show up here unannounced?” Alex had just grinned.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Kasey had shaken his head, kissing Alex softly and settling by his side on the couch. He was glad Alex was home, even if it was just for a few days. He had missed him.

Now it was nearly midnight on New Year’s Eve. All three of them were drunk, happily sequestered in the apartment. Natalie and Alex were dancing to bad pop music, leftover lights from Christmas sending rainbows dancing across their faces as they moved, with glitter in their hair and champagne on their lips. They had meant to save it for midnight, truly. 

“Kase, come dance with us!” Natalie laughed, grabbing his hand and tugging him off the sofa. He let her, smiling softly at the two of them.

He looked up as the clock on the mantle began chiming, and fireworks began outside.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured to them and Natalie and Alex both cheered. They kissed each other, and then him, and Kasey smiled at the taste. 

Beginning the new year with his two favorite people wasn’t so bad after all. 

Nuny

The phone woke Jackson from his nap. He answered it groggily, not bothering to read the caller name.

“Hello?” he asked grumpily. 

“Nado?” a familiar voice asked and suddenly he was wide awake.

“Zhenya. Hey. How are you?”

“I’m good. It is uh… how you say? Midnight here.”

“Oh!” Jackson squinted at his watch, quickly doing the math on the time difference. “I guess it is. Well, happy new year.”

“Thank you.” Evgeni fell silent for a long moment. “I’m wish you were here,” he said finally, breaking the silence. 

Jackson sighed. “Me too. I miss you.” 

“Miss you. I see you soon, da?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, Kuns, soon.”

“I’m kiss you then.” 

That made Jackson laugh quietly. “Yeah, you kiss me then.” He bit his lip. “Go to sleep, Zhenya. I’ll call you again in the morning.” 

“Okay. I’m call later.”

“Good, okay. Happy New Year, Kuns.”

“Happy New Year.”

Jily

Harry was getting big. It felt like just a week ago he had been a tiny newborn, fitting in the palm of James’ hand with room to spare. Lily didn’t mind. Usually. He was nearly a year old now, able to crawl all around the house and make endless babbling noises, talking to his stuffed animals and the bugs in the garden. 

He was crawling around the living room now, dressed in a new onesie that wouldn’t fit him in another two weeks, picking at the carpet and up way past his bedtime. 

Lily and James had missed the actual countdown, preoccupied with chasing their little gremlin around the house and failing to put him to bed. Even little Harry seemed to sense the excitement in the air.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time Harry finally fell asleep, stuffed lion clutched in his tiny fingers. The two exhausted parents collapsed onto the couch, leaning into each other as their eyes slipped shut.

“I can’t believe he stayed up… for six extra hours,” Lily mumbled without opening her eyes. James just grumbled. “We missed the countdown, too.” 

“‘S okay,” he answered sleepily, “We can do it next year.” 

“Yeah.” They fell silent. Eventually, Lily said, “We should get to bed.” 

They stumbled to their feet and upstairs to their bedroom, too tired to even bother with brushing their teeth. They just fell into bed, curled up together exhausted and happy.

“Happy New Year, Lily,” James whispered into the darkness.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered back, and kissed him sweetly. She snuggled closer, laying her head on his chest, and the two fell instantly asleep to the distant sound of leftover fireworks. 

[littlemisslipbalm]

“You Get Me” Pt. 3 (famous!y/n x harry)

Aka “Kissy” 🥺

honestly its really just domestic harry bahaha and I added that they have a slight age gap ?but seriously I hope y’all enjoy the third and final installment of my first ever writings -  a little miniseries if you will. I loved writing this part sm, probably my favorite part yet. I linked a spotify playlist that was some inspo (I literally listened to your summer dream on repeat for one part that I wrote, that song is so beautiful) anyways - not really proofread and I tried to break it up more so it was less big chunks to read formatting wise

here’s part 3! read: part 1 | part 2

word count: 4.0k  | warnings: makeout sesh, shirtless harry!, nothing graphic tho (I think!)

tag list : @marauderswhisperer, @morgannope, @daddystevee, @kthemarsian, @bi-andready-tocry

playlist for the inspo✨

-

One Week Later

“Hey, Har...change of plans!” you exclaimed as you peaked through a door in Harry’s house.

You’d hung out together at your apartment once since your phone retrieval visit and the two of you had been texting constantly. You loved Harry’s company and Harry couldn’t get enough of you. Harry had called you late last night, ‘Want t’take you out tomorrow, love.’ his voice was groggy as if he was about to fall asleep. You’d instantly agreed and drove over to his house the next day. He was leaving back to London on Saturday, so it was your last day to see him for awhile.

Inside the door you had just opened, a beautiful vintage convertible sat. You had found the garage. “You are so driving this,” you turned to see the man who held your entire heart in his hands walking up beside you. Harry reluctantly agreed and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Ready?” he questioned, holding up the soft blanket he had retrieved for your coastal picnic. You nodded, proudly displaying the little picnic basket you had packed full with food. Simultaneously the two of you reach for each other’s free hands, clasping them together and walking out to the car.

“I’m on aux, you can focus on the road,” you told Harry when both of you went for the cassette device that functioned to allow you to play music from your phone despite the age of the car. Harry loved how assertive you were even if it meant he didn’t always get his way. That was one of the reasons he liked you so much, your strength, your ability to hold your own in any situation, even with him, opposite of how a lot of people treated him in the industry in bids to get in his good graces. You were his match, so similar, yet so unique.  

The pair of you started out on the road. Harry wore a white t-shirt with a blue bee slogan,  purple trousers, and some clean white vans. His rings and pearl necklace wrapped up the look. His tattooed arms starkly contrasting the crisp white of his shirt. His eyes on the road were covered by large sunglasses, but his hair flew out behind him as the wind rushed over the car. You had chosen high waisted mom jean style denim shorts and a lavender femme top with a mesh white floral overlay, it had ties on the shoulders and it complimented your skin color perfect, tanned in from your life in the golden state. You too had your rings on and a silver necklace with your first initial hidden in the pendant. Even your clothes complemented each other.  

The first song to play through the speakers was Joni Mitchell’s “California.” You looked over to see Harry smile and you two began to sing along. You didn’t talk much on the ride, staying silent other than singing along when you pleased, but you always made sure not to overpower the actual song, you didn’t like to do that if the music was there for ambiance. Harry would speak up a little when passing various things, just simply pointing them out. Then, after the first notes of “California Dreamin’” came on Harry couldn’t help buy say, “Y/N, seriously?  S’not like I don’t love these songs, but please tell me you didn’t just search up ‘California’ and are playing tha’?” All you did was shush him and tell him this was one of your favorite songs before singing along.

Then, as the Mamas and the Papas voices began to fade out, Harry started again, “This next song’s title better not be fuckin’ California or somethin’ with-” but he stopped as the light quick notes of “Golden” came through the speakers, followed by his own voice. You grinned and gave his shoulder a little push. You had just gotten on the PCH and you remembered his mention of it being the quintessential coastal drive song a couple years ago so you had queued just in time.

A grin spreads onto his features that had been in slight exasperation at your antics previously and shakes his head at you, does a little finger shake vaguely in your direction, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.”

You both burst out in song, practically yelling the first chorus, Harry taking little harmony parts that most wouldn’t even notice, but he notices them, he made them. You dance in your seat to the song, taking control of the background ‘da da da’s. Harry is in awe of how well your voice sounds with the track, when you sing along to the second verse, much more seriously than the first one you had screamed together. He glanced over at your moving figure that began to sway at the slowing of the song. You weren’t wearing sun glasses and you had your eyes closed, basking in the shining sun. You looked at peace, yet completely fulfilled and overjoyed. In that moment, Harry knew he wanted to keep making you feel the way you did right now every time you were together. The song ended and your playlist continued, random songs regarding California and the feeling you get with someone you care about - makes you feel sunkissed.

-

“You’re literally so corny,” Harry laughs to you when ‘California Girls’ by the Beach Boys came on. You throw side eyes at him, “What can I say, Brian Wilson knew, California girls are where it’s at,” you roll your lips into your mouth and then bite your bottom lip.

-

The drive continued with you giving a rousing rendition of ‘California Gurls’ with Harry as Katy Perry and you as Snoop Dogg as you had insisted. Harry even busted out some minimal dance moves while driving the car, honking the horn at the appropriate moment. You made Harry feel like he was 19 again.

Then, straight into ‘Canyon Moon,’ Harry really was in disbelief of the woman next to him. You got so into the “I’m goin’ home” part of the song. Harry said, “Really like tha’ one, I gather,” after it finished. It was your turn to look at him in disbelief, “It’s my favorite, Har, I remember listening to Fine Line the first time and loving it immediately. Still loved it even after everyone else barely talked about it. Deserved so much more, s’amazing.” You finished with a half smile slipping onto your face. Harry gave a quiet ‘thanks’ and returned the smile.

-

Harry was finally satisfied with where you had landed along the coast. There had been no set destination, just a plan to drive to a lookout for the picnic. Finding a small parking area, you two gathered your items and set out for the perfect spot. The California coast really is beautiful. You’d lived there your whole life, just further up north, moving down to Los Angeles when you started your music career. You ran ahead of Harry to seek out a little bluff you’d seen in the distance. “Oi!” Harry called, but didn’t run to catch up, he had taken the picnic basket and it had drinks that wouldn’t be great if they were all shaken up.

You were right, it was the perfect spot, a little ways up from the set path there was a flat surface on the edge of a cliff, it was safe, with wildflowers and tall grass around a more bare area. You layed out the large blanket, then stood and watched as Harry made his way to you. His hair was every which way due to the wind whipping through it during the car ride, you subconsciously ran your hands through your hair for that reason. He looks gorgeous, you thought.

When he arrived at your little patch, he sat down the basket and you threw your arms around his neck. You pulled yourself into him and basked in his glow, his warmth and scent. He held you and ran a hand through your hair. The pair of you could have silly fun, but you could also be extremely intimate. In these quiet moments you wished you could stop time and live here forever. To live in his arms would be a wonderful thing. “So happy right now, darling,” Harry whispered, the soft swish of grass and the distant crash of waves the only sounds he had to speak above. You said nothing, but pushed yourself even further into his body, a response in and of itself. In this moment, there was no one else, just you, Harry, and the beautiful nature you stood in. This moment was everything. And you didn’t want to set it free.

Eventually, the two of you parted and relaxed into the blanket. For once, neither of you played music, you talked and ate and listened to the ambient sounds of nature. The melodic waves carried the conversation, when neither of you felt the need to say words. After eating, you let Harry pop the bottle of champagne he had brought along, unbeknownst to you, nevertheless when you saw it you wanted to be the one to uncork it. Still, your protests fell on deaf ears. “Y’seem to be getting very used to getting everythin’ you want, huh? Already a spoiled princess after a couple months of fame,” Harry teased as he worked to open the bottle. You huffed at his teasing and your failed attempt to get the bottle from him, which had caused him to move off the blanket and have his shirt be stretched from you grabbing at the bottle and only getting fabric.

“Whatever, don’t act like you’re not a total diva sometimes, Styles.” You couldn’t deny that him calling you a ‘spoiled princess’ made you feel things, unholy things. Of course you found Harry unbelievably attractive, but this was your fourth time being with Harry and the two of you hadn’t done anything besides heavy makeout sessions. You loved the way he said your name, but you also loved his nicknames for you, but this was a new one that seemed to hold some meaning within it.

Harry liked to see you all worked up, but knew he could get the exact same way, upset when things don’t turn out the way you want them. Frustrating. Finally, he popped the cork and you both cheered for the golden bubbly liquid. You had spent almost about an hour on the road and an hour or two already on the cliff, so the sun was starting to make its farewells to this side of the earth. The sky was beginning to light up with pinks, oranges, and lavenders. You both sat back down on the blanket, this time with you sat up inside of Harry’s spread legs, reclining back onto his chest.

You continued to talk, about the view before you for a little, but then each other. Whenever you were together, the two of you gravitated to the topic of enjoying the other so much. Today was apparently Harry’s turn to share. “When we were in tha car, earlier,” he started as you twiddled your fingers on his thigh, drawing shapes. You looked up into his eyes to encourage him to continue. “Haven’t had tha’ much fun in awhile. You…” he hesitated again and averted his eyes from your stare. You whispered a little ‘yeah’. You really cared about Harry feeling comfortable with you and making him happy, so you knew encouragement was helpful when he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Y’make me feel young...tha’ sounds so dumb, but y’really do,” he finally got out as put his hand over your moving one on his thigh. The two of you didn’t talk about the fact that Harry was a bit older than you. He was famous when you were a puberty-stricken teenager. The age gap wasn’t really an issue, you were both adults, but his statement reminded you that he would be 30 soon and you were still in your early 20s.

You twisted around to sit on your knees and face Harry. You placed both of your hands on his face, cradling his jaw and cheeks on each side of his face. This forced him to look you right in the eyes. You appreciated the beauty of his piercing green eyes for a moment and then went to kiss his crows feet on the sides of his eyes, his forehead lines, his hairline, his five o’clock shadow, and his smile lines, that had cropped up as he giggled at you. You were making exaggerated kiss noises as you loved on his face. “First of all, you are young,” you finally said in audible words. You waited a beat, then you kissed his soft lips that were smiling up at you. He was still smiling when you kissed him so your lips hit a bit of a tooth and you both giggled. But, you stood strong, not pulling away to laugh. Harry kissed you back. He shifted and brought his hands up from the ground where they had been holding him up to cradle your body instead. The kiss stayed chaste, despite Harry’s protests when you pulled back.

“And second, you make me feel alive.” “Alive…” Harry echoed you slowly, “Tha’s a better way to put it. I am young,” He smirked and then winked at you. You moved your hands to sit on his upper chest and could feel his heart beating soft, but strong beneath his skin. You grabbed his arm and moved it from around you. Harry quirked a brow at you. Then you placed his hand above your left breast and below your collarbone. Now he could feel your heartbeat, too. Yours, you thought, was beating a bit faster than his, but you didn’t care. Touching like this, made you feel close to him. Like you could see inside each other.  

-

You finished off the bottle of champagne because Harry had to stop drinking to be able to drive the two of you home safely. You felt very warm from it, despite the sun setting a while ago and your bare arms and legs. Luckily, besides the slight buzz you had, it was summer in California, and the nights stayed relatively warm. You skipped to the car and bent over the convertible to put the picnic basket in the backseat. Harry was right behind you and gave your bum a light pat, you pulled yourself up and flipped around, giggling. You tugged Harry in by his shirt and demanded, “Kissy.” Harry snorted and obliged, but with an open mouthed kiss where his tongue basically slobbered over your lips, mouth, and a bit of your nose. You whined, “You’re fucking disgusting, Har.” “Ya’ love it,” he responded with a faux posh voice before giving you a quick peck to your lips and rounded the car, telling you to get in and buckle up.

The whole ride home, Harry had his hand on your thigh. With it there, you occupied yourself with twisting his rings and and dancing your hand around his fingertips. The champagne had made you quiet, but smiley. The music you played was softer on the ride back home, you knew Harry needed to focus with the dark road and you didn’t want the music to distract him.

One song that was of note was “Lavendar (Take 4)” by the Beach Boys. The recording is somewhat unpleasant, but the song is beautiful. It had reminded you of the clothes you and Harry had worn on your date, the wildflowers that had just surrounded you, and the color of the sky when the sun had set on the scene of you and Harry tenderly kissing each other. The Beach Boys are known for their California, Surf pop sounds, but this sound is soft and filled with lushious harmonies, an ode to lavender, maybe a girl named lavender, but nonetheless it was for lavender. Harry harmonized along with their voices, returning to his original state. It ended and went straight into Simon & Garfunkel’s “America.” Paul Simon’s voice passed through the speakers and whispered to us sweetly. Harry again hummed in appreciation for the song choice.

-

When you arrived at the house, you helped Harry clean up the dishes and trash in the picnic basket. Then you sat on the couch, it was around ten o’clock and Harry had offered to make a pot of tea. You looked over the back of the couch as he moved around his kitchen. He padded around, putting the kettle on, opening cupboards for mugs and tea choices. When the water was ready, he got the tea ready, choosing a loose-leaf blend he’d found at a fancy restaurant in Amsterdam. “No cream tonight,” you called, still watching him work his way around his home.

Admiration shown in your eyes as he nodded and finished up the tea, bringing it over to you at the couch. He chose your mug tonight. Different from the previous two, his and yours were a matching set with dark blue interiors with tiny cartoon sailboats. You loved his collection of fun mugs, it fit him so well. After handing it to you, he snuggled in beside you and you took a sip, then rested your head on top of his strong shoulder. You turned your head to give a light kiss to his shoulder, and then moved back to staring ahead of you.  

“Wanna stay?” Harry asked, his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Can just drive ‘ome in the mornin’,” he continued. “That’d be really nice,” you sighed. This was so comfortable, how was in possible to be like this with someone you’d known for a little over a week? It didn’t matter to either of you how quick it had happened. But it happened, and it felt right, so you went with it. This, what you and Harry had, made you happy so there couldn’t really be anything wrong with that.

-

You two chatted a bit more - about your week of tour preparations, Harry’s flight time tomorrow, various random thoughts, - and you drank your tea. At about midnight, Harry suggested that you and he get ready for bed and then watch something on his laptop. You agreed and ventured into an unknown part of his home. You’d started to snoop earlier today when you had found the garage, but had only gotten that far because you got distracted by Harry’s car.

His house was beautiful and perfectly him. It was big, but his decor and things made it specifically Harry, even if he didn’t live here full time anymore. You reached the master bedroom, located in the back of his house, with french doors, identical to those in the sitting room, opening out to the grass in his backyard. His bed. His bed. It was a California King with tasteful bedding and a beautiful wooden headboard and frame.

You ran and jumped onto it, the bed sinking beneath you and the bedding fluffing around you. You snuggled and rolled around in the sheets, “This is so much nicer than my bed in the apartment, it’s only a full…” you trailed off. Harry leaned against the doorway of the room, smiling to himself as he watched you make yourself at home among this life. “You’ll be gettin’ a new place, soon, I reckon?” Harry asked and went to grab you both some clothes to sleep in from his closet. “Yeah, maybe!” you called out to him in the little room connected to the master that housed his clothes.

When Harry returned, he was only in boxers, but was holding two large t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants, and another pair of boxers. “D’ya mind if I sleep like this? I can put more clothes on if that makes you more comfortable?”

You couldn’t keep your jaw from dropping. You’d seen Harry shirtless before, everyone had, but to see him right in front of you, that was something else.

He noticed you staring at his body and smirked, but then threw a shirt and the pair of boxers your way, “Stop bein’ such a perv, love,” he teased. “Rude,” you muttered, “Was simply admiring...but if you don’t want me to look, you can sleep fully clothed,” you scratched your nose and then shrugged your shoulders.

As you worked to slide off the big bed, Harry crossed the room and trapped you on the edge, leaning over you with both his hands landing on either side of you on the bed. You scrunch your eyes and nose up as he tries to make eye contact with you. He goes to kiss you, but you turn your head and your cheek receives a kiss. He stays against your cheek, drags out your name and groans, “s’teasin’ you.” “I know, baby,” you respond and kiss his cheek now. You duck under his arm and run into his en suite bathroom, shutting the door to change. When you re-emerge, Harry’s in the bed, with the sheets pulled back, and his computer in his lap.

Harry calls out to you without looking up from his screen, “S’was thinkin’, y’know, since you’re always saying your apartment is tiny, y’could house sit ‘ere while I’m away?” You tilt you head as you approach the bed as you ponder the idea. “I mean, I guess ‘why not’? It would be a longer commute into the studio, but this place is gorgeous, and I’m gonna start traveling a lot anyway so I won’t need my apartment for much longer…” You continue to think on it as you climb back onto Harry’s bed and snuggle yourself into his body. Harry looks slightly down at you by his side, he’s put on his glasses, “Think you should, I’d also like knowin’ someone was ‘ere, keepin’ things running while I’m away.”

You nodded and move slightly to rest your head on Harry’s naked chest. His sunkissed tattooed body is mesmerizing, you reach your hand up and start tracing the various designs and running your hand along his collarbones and veins as well. Then you flattened a palm and smoothed it over his right pectoral. Harry hummed and pushed himself further down the bed. “Can we not watch anything actually, m’kinda tired,” you whisper up to Harry, your voice the only sound in the house besides the light clicking of a clock in a different room. Harry responds by closing the laptop and readjusting your position in the bed. You and Harry are a tangle of legs and bodies pressed against one another. Everything is calm and Harry says one word, “Kissy.” And you smile and let yourself pull slightly away from Harry to lean up and kiss him one more time before the two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms. It’s soft and chaste, completely closed mouths, but you linger in the kiss, feeling his warm nose brushing besides yours. A hand moves up to his hair and gives it one good run through and then you pull away, “Kissy,” you finalize. The two of you giggle and snuggle even further together.

Your bodies fit so well together and again you were struck with the feeling that you never wanted this to end, even if tomorrow he was flying away, to somewhere halfway across the world. The distance didn’t matter. You knew the two of you had what it took to be there for each other, even if you couldn’t touch or feel the other. Even if laughter over the phone had to suffice for awhile. What the two of you had was greater than all of those obstacles of space and proximity. It was powerful because you were both powerful. Powerful in the way you loved, in the way you worked, in the way you simply were. You fell asleep in Harry’s arms that night filled with contentment. Harry fell asleep with you in his arms that night filled with joy that he’d found someone to share everything with. Someone who was willing to give him all of themselves. Someone who was finally able to get all of him.

-

love y’all sm 🤍🤍 hope you enjoyed and have a nice day

[there-must-be-a-lock]

wings & the way down - part 3

Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan 

Word Count: 2190 this chapter

Warnings: None, really!

A/N: This fills the “jealousy” square on my @cmbingo​ card! 

Series masterlist is here. 

Sunday, January 5 - Spencer

Spencer doesn’t want to stay inside a minute longer than he has to. He can’t stay. He feels like his skin is a few sizes too small, and he’s itching with the discomfort of existing in his own body, and everything that’s rattling around inside his head is fizzing dangerously like bubbles in a shaken bottle of champagne. 

So he walks. 

This is what he’s done for over a decade now. In the last decade, Spencer has walked every street in this neighborhood more times than he wants to count. 

Spencer used to make up stories as he walked. When he was young, they were about the families who lived inside, the snatches of other people’s lives he saw as he passed. Later, he used to picture himself in those houses. He tried to imagine being someone else; who would he be, if he’d grown up in a different home, with a different family? Who would he be, if he was normal? 

He tries not to think about that any more. There’s no point being jealous of someone who doesn’t exist. 

He turns onto Lake Road, and then he almost turns around. 

This is creepy. Isn’t it? It’s creepy as hell. More importantly, why should he care whether Derek wants to see him? For all he knows, Derek didn’t show up at the park either. They’re never going to see each other again. There’s no reason for Spencer to care. 

He does care, though. 

The flip side of it is: they’re never going to see each other again. What does he have to lose? 

There’s something liberating about that thought. Derek doesn’t know him, and better yet, he never saw Spencer get shut in a locker. Derek wasn’t there when Charlie Hankel stole all Spencer’s clothes while he showered after gym class. Derek doesn’t remember any of the things Spencer would like to forget. 

Aside from Emily, everyone in Spencer’s class has known him for almost four years now. They all know him a little too well. 

Still, his heart is pounding uncomfortably as he passes #8 (big, sturdy mailbox, "the Hotchners”) and #10 (cheerful yellow mailbox, no name) and finally stops at #12 (small, tidy dark green mailbox, with “MORGAN” on the front). He almost turns around there, and then again (three more times) as he walks up the concrete path to the front door. 

This feels reckless. Spencer’s not sure what got into him today; he’s never reckless. 

He rings the doorbell and bounces on the balls of his feet. It’s one of those doorbells that actually chimes out a little tune, and he can hear it, muffled, inside the house. 

Nobody’s home, and that’s fine. It’s fine. Spencer’s just gonna go — well, he’s not going home, but he’s leaving. It’s fine. 

But he hears footsteps, and someone is shouting, “Coming, sorry, I thought you said two!”

Then the door is flung open, and Derek is standing there, and his smile drops when he sees who it is. Spencer’s stomach feels like he’s falling from the top of a very tall building. 

“Um. Hi?” His voice cracks. He raises one hand in an awkward wave, cheeks burning, and realizes he has no idea what to say. “I just — I figured — um. I wanted to say sorry? Assuming… you even showed up on Friday, which, for all I know you didn’t, but. Believe me, I really really wanted to show up on Friday. And… I don’t know what to say.” His voice trails off and then he admits, “I didn’t plan this far ahead.” 

“Yeah, I showed up on Friday,” Derek says quietly. He looks… unsteady, almost. Not sure what he feels. 

Spencer looks down at his ratty Chucks and repeats, “I’m sorry.” There’s a long pause, and he can’t bring himself to look up again. “I’ll just— I’ll just go, sorry, this was—”

He’s already turning around when Derek laughs and asks, “Really? You gonna ditch me again?” 

“Oh.” Spencer’s so startled he almost loses his balance pivoting to face him again. 

Derek’s smiling. It’s a different smile than the one he had on when he answered the door, and it’s tugging at his mouth slowly like he’s not sure why it’s there, but he’s smiling. “You wanna come in?”

“Oh.” Spencer blinks. “Sure.” 

There’s music playing from upstairs, hip-hop with a heavy bass beat, and Derek tells him, “Hang on, let me grab that.” He takes the stairs two at a time, and Spencer looks around bemusedly. 

The house is so… normal. It’s clean without being overwhelmingly so, and it’s full of light, and all the furniture looks like it was bought new, from a catalog. It’s so painfully normal that Spencer’s stomach twists up in knots. This is exactly the sort of life he used to imagine for himself. 

What is he doing here? 

“Hey, you okay?” Derek asks, as he comes back down the stairs. 

Spencer forces a smile. “Fine, just — having a weird day.” 

“My auntie and uncle are at church, so I figured I’d crank up the volume while I could,” Derek says sheepishly, holding a little Bluetooth speaker that was — presumably — the source of the music. “What sort of stuff do you like?” 

Spencer shrugs. Most of the music he knows comes from his mom, and he can’t really think about her right now without that cold clenching feeling around his ribcage. 

Maybe Derek can see how out of place Spencer feels here, because he leads the way out the back door, over to a big rope hammock strung up between two slim trees in the back of the neat lawn, and he falls back on it almost carelessly, sprawling out while still scrolling through something on the phone. 

“What were you listening to before?” Spencer asks. 

“Nas. You know him?” He grins up at Spencer, that bright-white dazzling grin, and Spencer perches next to him on the hammock. 

“Not at all, but… we can listen to that, if you want.” 

Derek sets the speaker on the ground, loud enough to hear but not too loud to talk over, and Spencer listens curiously as he lays back, hands folded on his stomach, looking up at the clear blue sky through the leaves. 

“When I stand somebody up, I don’t usually come to their house after to apologize,” Derek says tentatively. “Which… makes me think you might actually have a good excuse.”  

Spencer turns his head, and Derek is mirroring his position, looking right back at him. Their arms are just a couple inches apart, and Spencer feels acutely aware of his body. 

“I sorta had a… family crisis,” Spencer tells him. “My mom — we had to go out of town, and we didn’t get back until this morning.” 

He braces himself for questions, but Derek just half-smiles and nods slightly, looking back up at the sky. “Listen to this bit right here.” He kicks his foot idly, and the hammock rocks back and forth, lazy and gentle. 

“That’s a remarkably complex internal rhyme,” Spencer says, and Derek laughs out loud. 

“A+ literary analysis.” 

Spencer blushes. He’s dealt with a lot of teasing in his life, but this is so, so different. Derek’s elbow nudges against his, and when Spencer turns his head, he sees a broad smile that gives him butterflies. 

“I like it,” he says shyly. 

They’re quiet for a moment, listening. All that strange restlessness has faded, and Spencer likes it here; he likes the fence that surrounds most of the yard, hiding them from view, and he likes the pressure of the rope digging into his back, and he likes the way Derek looks at him. 

They listen in silence until the end of the song, and then Derek asks, “What’s your favorite book?” 

“I don’t know if I can choose a favorite. What’s yours?” 

He says it almost sheepishly: “Mother Night. Vonnegut.” 

“That’s an interesting choice,” Spencer says, thinking it over. 

“How do you mean?” 

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be,” Spencer quotes. 

Derek makes a face and looks up at the sky. “What, you gonna psychoanalyze me now?” 

“Why? What do you think it says about you?” Spencer counters, before he can think better of it. 

Derek laughs and says, begrudgingly, “That maybe I can identify with that. Pretending for the sake of self-preservation.” 

“I don’t know you all that well, but you don’t seem — I don’t know. You don’t seem like the kind of person who would need to pretend.” He wonders if it’s too much, if he’s being presumptuous. Derek looks self-conscious now. 

“But doesn’t everybody do that, to some extent? I mean… trying to fit in. Everybody pretends a little bit.”  

“I don’t, really,” Spencer tells him. “I wish I could, but… I don’t really know how to be anybody else.” There’s a note of bitterness in it that he can’t quite hide. 

“Is it weird that I’m jealous?”  

“You really shouldn’t be,” Spencer tells him. He mulls that over for a second and adds, “I do pretend when it comes to… how I feel. I don’t like showing when I’m upset. It doesn’t work the same way, though, because pretending I’m fine really doesn’t ever make me fine.” 

Derek snorts. “Yeah, I feel you.” 

“I imagine who I could be. I imagine what my life could be like somewhere else, or as someone else,” Spencer admits, which isn’t something he’d usually just say like that, but talking to Derek doesn’t seem to have the same rules as talking to most people. “It’s not the same as pretending, but... “ 

“Huh.” 

Spencer feels strange — oddly vulnerable and raw — and maybe Derek does too, because he’s got a soft, wistful expression on his face when he turns his head. They look at each other for a moment. Spencer knows he must be blushing. 

Then Derek’s phone rings, loud and startling through the speaker, and Derek seems to shake himself before fumbling with the buttons. 

“Hey,” he says, and pauses. “Oh — no, that’s fine. Cool. See you soon.” 

Which sounds like Spencer’s cue to go. He doesn’t really want to. 

He sits up, tucking his hair behind his ears. “I should —” 

“My friend,” Derek says, and he actually sounds disappointed. “A friend is coming over, sorry, I didn’t — you could stay, if you want?” 

Derek’s been here for how long now? And he already has more friends in the area than Spencer’s made in years? 

“Nah, it’s fine, I should get back to  —” To my life. Because this isn’t mine, as much as I’d like it to be. “— home.” 

“Can we hang out again sometime?” Derek asks. The hammock is sagging in the middle, where their weight is pulling it down, and when Derek sits up they slide closer, the sides of their legs press together, warm and distracting. 

“You’re staying here?” Spencer asks, more breathless than he’d like. 

Derek smiles. “Yeah, for a while.” 

Before Spencer can ask questions, Derek’s passing him the phone, and he taps his number in carefully. 

“That’s me.” He clears his throat. 

“I’ll text you,” Derek says, typing, and a second later, Spencer feels his own phone vibrate in his pocket. 

Maybe it’s all the talk about pretending — maybe if Spencer pretends to be confident, he will be, someday — maybe it’s the recklessness that brought him here in the first place — something possesses Spencer, and in a moment of courage (or stupidity) he leans over and kisses Derek, lips brushing the corner of his mouth, right where his smile curves up. 

Spencer’s so shocked at his own daring that he can’t really take it in; he gets the briefest impression of soft, and then he’s pulling back, ice-cold with the adrenaline rush. 

They both freeze for a second, blinking at each other. Just as Derek shifts, opening his mouth to say something, Spencer jumps to his feet. 

“Bye,” he chokes out, and turns, fighting the urge to run. 

“See you soon, pretty boy,” Derek calls after him. 

Spencer’s hands are shaking as he walks quickly around the side of the house. He stares intently down at his shoes, because he’s not going to do something like a little Snoopy dance of joy until he’s sure he’s on the next block and fully out of view. 

He almost collides with someone on the sidewalk; he gets an impression of blonde hair and pink shoes as she squeaks with alarm and jumps out of his way. 

“Sorry,” Spencer says breathlessly, without stopping. 

She chirps out a cheerful, “No biggie!” 

When Spencer looks back, she’s ringing the Morgans’ doorbell, and there’s this awful bitter thing in the back of his throat as he realizes that that’s Derek’s “friend.”

It makes perfect sense, though. What did he expect? 

Spencer swallows his envy and keeps walking. 

.

.

.

[quirkfics]

Maybe past lives w Shinsou? Loving the soulmate aus!!

The first time you start talking about them, Hitoshi chokes on his coffee. 

“Stop,” he insists, pupils blown with fear, hands tense, clutched tightly around his mug. You stop, feeling your eyebrows raise at the panicked look on his face.

“Hitoshi, is something-”

“You remember- you remember all of them?” He asks, breathless, his knuckles pale, they’re clenching so tightly. 

“..I don’t know?” You offer, completely intending to bypass this strange little conversation in favor of getting back to your story, and yet... “Hitoshi. If, if something bad happened in one of them, one that I don’t remember - we’re different people. You realize that, don’t you? Parts of us will always be connected, and I want that, but it doesn’t mean-”

He doesn’t cut you off again, but you’re starting to think that you should have pushed for information, because the knowledge has been putting pressure on Hitoshi like a shaken champagne bottle. And any day now, he’s going to pop.

[darkanima2345]

A continuation. It gets quite dark at the end, you've been warned. I thought I posted this on Tumblr ages ago, clearly I was wrong! Enjoy!

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

They spent the rest of the day outside, eating, drinking, recounting tales from the previous world, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you remember the first time Sazh tried to mount a chocobo on Pulse? He jumped up onto its back head first, slid straight off the other side and right into a mound of behemoth droppings!” Lightning, currently doubled over in laughter, remembered it well. She had learned several dozen new expletives that day from Sazh, and distinctly remembered Vanille laughing so hard that she had to hold herself up on Fang, who was herself laughing so hard that she was using her staff to keep herself upright. Snow was on his knees, mouth open in silent laughter, and Hope was beet red, getting redder at the ever lengthening string of expletives coming out of Sazh’s dropping covered mouth.

Lightning and Hope spent a good 5 minutes laughing at that particular memory. Just when one of them was starting to calm down, they would look at the other and burst into laughter all over again.

Wiping his eyes, Hope finally managed to calm down. “Would you like another drink Light?” he said, getting up and stretching. Lightning looked over to the formally full, now empty, bottle of champagne sat on the table.

“Just a glass of water please.” Hope nodded, taking the tray that had contained their snacks back into the kitchen. Lightning looked out to the mountains; twilight has descended and Hope was correct, the view was even more magnificent at sunset.

“Here you are Light.” A glass appeared in front of her, brimming with water and a slice of lemon on its rim.

“Thank you.” She gave him one of his exclusive smiles. They spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, watching the sun fall over the horizon.

Lightning shivered. Hope’s jacket appeared over her shoulders without her even noticing him moving.

“If you’re cold Light, let’s go inside. Your not near immortal anymore” He offered her a hand, one which she took and he pulled her up with remarkable strength and into his arms.

“When did you get so strong?”

“When I got my adult body back,” he said sticking his tongue out at her. She smiled at him, blushing ever so slightly. You’ve smiled more today than the past year combined. I woooonder what’s different!? Lightning really needed to find a way to shut Lumina out.

They made there way inside; Hope lit a fire while Lightning made hot chocolate.

They continued talking well into the night about their lives in the new world; Hope being a Professor of Physics and Lightning being a doctor.

“A doctor!? No offense Light, but I don’t really see you being a doctor.”

“None taken. I’d always wanted to be a doctor, even in the old world. But when my parents passed, I had to look after Serah. The guardian corps was good money and I was the right age. I couldn’t afford to study medicine.” Hope had his brow furrowed and was deep in thought.

“I suppose that would explain why you specialized as a medic when we first became l'cie. I always found that odd.” Lightning raised a brow.

“What’s so odd about it?”

“Well when I first met you, I would have thought that the sabatour role would have been your thing. But your passion for healing must have been reflected in your affinity for the medic role.”

“Hmm maybe. Anyway, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Well a farmers market is on every week. It’s about a mile down the road and it’s a very pleasant walk. Fancy it?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“We can also pick up some steak. Because as I recall, a certain someone promised me a home cooked meal, even if that meal is grilled steak.”

“Oh yeah. I did promise you that didn’t I?” Hope nodded.

“And I am very much looking forward to it. Its getting quite late,” he said glancing at his wrist watch. “I’m going to head to bed Light. If you want to stay up there’s a collection of books over there that you ma-"

“I’m tired myself Hope. I’ll be heading to bed too.” He nodded, holding his arm out in invitation for her to take the lead.

They arrived at the guest room, with Hope’s room being further down the corridor. Lightning opened the door and turned to face Hope.

“Thank you for letting me stay here Hope.”

“No problem Light.” He pulled her into a hug, which Lightning reciprocated. When Hope broke the hug and went to his room, Lightning felt a profound sense of lost.

Getting into bed, Lightning sank into the memory foam mattress and feather down pillows. She could feel sleep washing over her. She let sleep take her while she stared at the box containing Odin’s crystal.

Lightning found herself in a familiar place; chaos swirled round the throne of the goddess upon which sat Lumina head resting on her palm.

“Well hello there Miss Savior.”

“I’m not the Savior anymore Lumina.”

“Oh yeah, right. Shall I call you Mrs Estheim them?” Lumina wiggled her eyebrows.

“Wha- No I- What do you mean!?”

“Oh come on! You sooooo have the hots for him!”

“I think you are the one with the ‘hots' for Hope.”

“Yes, but I’m part of you. So therefore you have the hots for Hope.” Lightning growled in annoyance. It was like arguing with a little kid.

“What are you doing here Lumina? I thought we merged.”

“We have done. Yet I’m still around. Your mind hasn’t accepted me yet I think. You are still clinging hard onto the ‘Lightning' persona. You need to truly become Claire.”

“So if I accept you then you’ll disappear and leave me alone?”

“Yes, but that is easier said than do-. Hmm?” Lumina tilted her head, as if trying to listen for something. “I think it’s time for you to wake up, woman-who-was-going-to-be-a-goddess-but-changed-her-mind.”

“No. We haven’t finished talking.”

“You’re right, we haven’t. But Hope needs you.” For the first time that Lightning could remember, Lumina sounded serious. Chaos condensed around the throne, obscuring all from Lightning's vision.

Lightning eyes flew open when she heard a man screaming. She jumped out of bed and opened her door, heading to the source of the screaming: Hope’s room.

Lightning barged into the room, Hope’s screams echoing throughout the cottage. She ran up to the thrashing man, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him as hard as she could.

“Hope! Hope! Wake up!”

Hope’s eyes flew open, and for a split second, Lightning saw piercing green eyes in place of Hope's calming green. He blinked twice and his soft green eyes returned, filled with tears.

“Hope are you okay?” He was trembling, shaking in her grasp.

“So- So- Sorry Light. Just a really bad nightmare that’s all. I- I- I’m alright.” He smiled but it did not reach his eyes. Lightning saw so many emotions in his eyes; longing, fear, hate, pain, love, and anger. She wouldn’t leave him like this.

“Tell me about it,” she said climbing into his bed next to him, reaching for his head and moving it to her shoulder.

“What?”

“The dream, Hope. Tell me about it .” She ran her thumb over his knuckles.

“It was Bhunivelze.” Lightning’s breath hitched. Images came flooding into her mind; a boy held by strings of light, a huge finger snapping the boys neck, and his body being crushed into dust. Lightning shook her head in an attempt to dispel the images.

“What was he doing?”

“He tried to take me Light. He tried to make me his,” his voice was very close to breaking. Lightning could feel her chest constricting; she hated seeing Hope in so much pain. But how can she help? Hope is a scientist! Use that! Use logic! Lightning silently thanked Lumina for her advice.

“Hope, I’m going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them.” She moved her hand from his knuckles and began to stroke his hair. He swallowed, trying to hide a sob.

“Okay.”

“Where is Bhunivelze right now? Where did we leave him?”

“In the new unseen realm. He was trapped in crystal.” Lightning nodded.

“Indeed he was. Who else is in the unseen realm?”

“The Yeuls. They became the new goddess of death in your place.” Lightning was sure she heard a ‘thank goodness’ whispered at the end of that sentence.

“Yes they did. Who is the guardian of the Yeuls?”

“Caius.”

“He is. Who does Caius have to call on, as I did when I was the guardian for Etro? Think about what you saw in the Oracle Drives.”

“The eidolans.”

“Correct. So Bhunivelze has to break out of crystal, get through the new goddesses of death, their guardian, and all of the eidolans. That is not happening.” Lightning felt Hope relax against her. “And even if he does manage all that, he would still have one more thing to get through.” Hope sat up and looked at her.

“What’s that Light?”

“Me. I make you this promise Mr Hope Estheim. As long as I draw breath, Bhunivelze will not take you, nor get anywhere near you. You’re safe as long as I am around.” A tear escaped Hope’s eye.

“Thank you Light.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Lightning smiled and went to get up. A hand grasped her arm with substantial force.

“Please Light. Stay here. Just until I fall asleep.” Lightning looked at Hope; his eyes were down and he was clearly still shaken from his nightmare.

“Of course.” She lay down. Hope lay down next to her and she wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

“I’m so glad to have met you Light.” Nightmares did not trouble Hope Estheim for the rest of the night.

Lightning woke up in Hope’s bed, alone. The smell of bacon and pancakes was in the air. Smiling to herself, she went back to her room, showered and changed. Spending a moment to admire Odin’s crystal, she moved into the main room of the cottage. Sat at the dining table was Hope with a cup of steaming coffee and two plates stacked with bacon and pancakes. Lightning sat across from him. Hope picked up the cup of coffee and passed it to her.

“White, one sugar.”

“How did you know?”

“Serah. There was a small note slipped into the back of the frame of the drawing of Alexander. She also said that your favourite breakfast was bacon and pancakes. Please help yourself.” Lightning’s eyes flashed.

“I’ll kill her. I’ll absolutely kill her.” Hope just chuckled.

“I’m sure her intentions were good. She probably just wanted you to be comfortable.”

“I could have told you all this myself.”

“Its a nice surprise at least.”

“True.” Lightning took a plate and helped herself to bacon and pancakes.

“So anything else in that note I should know about?”

“No. Nothing you should know about.” Lightning did not like the way Hope was smiling.

Lightning and Hope enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, give and taking banter, and after all the food had been devoured they found themselves at the kitchen sink washing up.

“Light, about last night...”

“Don’t worry about it. Just remember my promise okay?” Hope gave her a brilliant smile.

“Thanks Light. The market will be opening soon,” Hope said as he put the last of the washing up away. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah sure.”

Hope was correct when he said the walk to the market was a pleasant one. Fields of flowers stretched in all directions filling the air with aromas Lightning had never smelled before. The sun beat down on them while they talked about Hope’s research in space-time. Lightning struggled to keep up with some of the technical jargon but she saw the fire in Hope’s eyes when he talked about it. That was a fire she hadn’t seen in him since he was determined to kill Snow after the death of his mother.

Arriving at the farmers market, Lightning was amazed at the number of stalls there where all selling unique items. Flowers, different cuts of meat, ornaments, plants, cakes, and all sorts of desserts. They explored all the stalls eventually arriving at what Hope said was the best butcher at the market. Lightning froze when she saw who was behind the counter; one Alyssa Zaidelle. Lumina screamed. Lightning grabbed Hope and dragged him away from the stall.

“What the hell Hope? You do know who that is right!?” she said jabbing her finger in Hope’s chest.

“Yes. Alyssa. Once my assistant and potential assassin. She doesn’t remember our old life, she doesn’t know who I am or what I did, other than a customer.” Hope met Lightning’s eyes and was shocked to see them welling with tears.

“Do you know what powers Vallhalla gave me Hope?” she said, her voice unsteady. “It allowed me to see all of the timelines, whether they were paradoxes or not. I saw her kill you, so so many times. I saw the light leave your eyes. I saw you take your last breath and there was nothing I could do about it! I couldn’t be there with you!” She punched him in the chest, causing an oomph! to escape his lips. “Please Hope. Please. Don’t have anything to do with her. I can’t see you hurt again. I can’t watch you die again.” To her surprise, Hope pulled her into a hug, gently stroking her hair.

“I’m so sorry Light. I didn’t think. All I have are my own experiences. She failed in the attempt on my life, and that’s the last I ever saw of her. I didn’t realise you saw all those failed timelines. All my- All those other deaths. We will go somewhere else.” Hope released Lightning from the hug, grabbed her hand and guided her to another stall. They picked out two sirloin steaks, accepted the packs, paid the butcher and moved on.

They stopped for lunch at a van for pulled pork sandwiches, which Lightning thoroughly enjoyed. One of the last stalls they visited was a dessert stall. Hope saw Lightning’s eyes sparkle at all of the cakes and puddings. Hope picked out two pieces of succulent chocolate cake to which Lightning nodded in approval. Lightning grabbed the box they were in a little bit too quickly, but Hope just chuckled.

The walk back to Hope’s cottage was mostly silence, each individual lost in their own thoughts. Arriving back at the cottage, they moved through to the kitchen. Hope gave a pan to Lightning, who placed oil in it and rubbed around the base. She placed the pan on the stove and turned it to high. She placed the steaks in and enjoyed the sizzle they made when they came in contact with the metal. Hope passed her a glass of white wine with a smile.

Lightning was crushing garlic when she spoke, “I’m so sorry Hope.”

“For what?” He took a sip from his own glass.

“For what I said at the market. A lot of emotion rushed at once, I couldn’t control it. I don’t know what happened.” For the second time that day, Hope pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair.

“Okay, let me tell you two things. Firstly, you cannot believe how flattered I am that you took time to check on me when you were trapped in Valhalla. You were watching the rear the entire time, and I had my eyes front. Thank you for that, and I’m sorry you had to do it alone. Secondly, if I had to watch you die over and over and over again, I’d have a far worse reaction. You made your promise to me last night so allow me to make you; the same one I made in Palompolom all those years ago. I’ll do my best to look after you.” He released her from the hug and picked up his wine glass . “We are partners after all.”

Hope cut into his garlic encrusted steak. “I doubt Seedy's food was as good as this. I’m glad refused that takeout this is amazing Light.” Lightning blushed.

“Thank you. I think I overcooked the steaks though.”

“Nah its absolutely perfect. As I always knew it would be.” They spent the evening talking and joking and sharing stories about their jobs.

Night eventually fell. Several more glasses of wine accompanied by the chocolate cake went down far to easily. Eventually, after several bouts of yawning they both retreated to their respective rooms.

Lightning climbed into bed and her eyes gradually closed; her last thoughts were a prayer to any deity that was listening that Hope had a peaceful nights sleep...

“Submit to me.”

“No! No I won’t!”

Two familiar voices echoed around the crushing darkness Lightning found herself in. She spun round, trying to find the source of the voices.

“Submit to me.”

“NO! NO I WON’T!”

“If you continue to refuse, then...” Lightning suddenly became aware that she was suspended above the floor, and that she had her eyes shut, “she will pay the price.”

“No. Not her. Please.” Lightning opened her eyes. She was 10 foot in the air , suspended above a kneeling Hope. Looking around, Lightning saw she was being held by strings made of pure light, all of which lead up to a hand belonging to... No! It cant be him. He’s gone, trapped. He cant be back! Bhunivelze can’t be here!

“Submit to me. Or she will suffer. I will do to her what I did to you over those long 169 years.” Lightning tried to speak, but found she had no voice. Lightning tried to struggle, but the strings of light cut into her and spilled her blood.

“No! Please! Please don’t hurt her!”

“I will not hurt her anymore if you submit.”

“No! No! Don't hurt her!”

“I won’t if you SUBMIT!” Lightning was powerless, held in the air like a puppet unable to speak or move. Please Hope, don’t worry about me! Please look after yourself! Please, don’t let him take you again! I’ll be fine!

“I- I-...” Hope looked up, his calm green eyes looking across Lightning’s body where the strings had cut and tore and blood dripped from her. Hope prostrated himself. “Forgive me Light. I’m not strong enough... I can’t see you hurt.” Hope stood up, looking past Lightning towards Bhunivelze. “I submit. Just please let her go. Please allow her to find her happiness. Please let her be happy.” Humourless laughter echoed. A single tear fell from Lightning’s eyes. She fell like a doll, just as the hand of God rose and crushed her in its grasp.

Lightning Farron woke with a start, heart pounding, tears streaming from her eyes. Her clothes and the bed spread were drenched in her sweat and blood, cuts stinging where they stuck to her clothes. She jumped out of bed and flung the door open knocking the vase of roses to the floor, shattering it. Running down the corridor she skidded to a halt when she reached the front door. She turned and saw a familiar figure.

“Truly a beautiful view.” The man stood looking out of the giant window, head cocked to one side. Rain was lashing against the window.

Lightning smiled, Hope was here, he was safe. He was still here, with her. “Although the river should have gone through the mountains, instead of below them, creating a waterfall. That would have been much more pleasing.”

Lightning stepped closer to him heart still pounding, “Hope? Are you okay?” He turned. Piercing green met calming blue. Lightning gasped.

“Bhunivelze...” she whispered. He smiled.

“Hello savior.”

 She had broken her promise.