#ill always support them ill just be pining forever

[followdelight]

I can't stop thinking about how if Yuto stops promoting with them too that'll be both my biases gone ... :(

[softpine]

can i just word vomit for a min...

there was a point in late 2023 where i felt like i overstayed my welcome on simblr and i planned on just wrapping frozen pines up as quickly as possible and moving on. continuing to write when it's clear that the audience for it is dwindling felt so embarrassing that i almost didn't even want to put effort into it anymore, because i was afraid it just looked pathetic (obligatory disclaimer: no one made me feel this way, you're all so lovely, it's just the nature of seeing a community change over 7 years). writing already feels very personal to me and it's becoming increasingly harder for me to put my work out there (again, for reasons unrelated to simblr and entirely related to mental illness 🤙🏻). i know my story is so long that it deters new readers, and so sporadic that it makes old readers drop off with time. this has really been bothering me lately because i don't know what i can do to fix it. i don't think there IS anything i can do.

but. okay. don't make fun of me for saying this. dan and phil returning to youtube kinda changed my mindset? they may be pulling a fraction of the views they got in their peak, but they're happier than they've ever been and they're working on things they actually want to do, not things they think will be particularly popular. seeing that has made me realize that it is possible to keep finding joy in a community that has largely moved on without you. obviously my little blog is nowhere near the same scale, so this feels kind of silly, but i've been thinking about all the things i used to do on simblr that were never fun for me, i mainly did them because i knew they would get notes or because i felt like i had to do it. making cc, lookbooks, sim requests, reshade help (oh my god the reshade help), lot downloads, etc. they DID get notes, but i can't imagine spending my time doing any of that stuff ever again tbh.

on top of that, it makes me sad to scroll through my dash and realize that i don't recognize most of the people i see anymore. i still talk to some wonderful people here who i consider friends and that's invaluable to me (💖), but the broader community aspect is something i no longer feel a part of. and believe me, i know i'm at fault here because it's not like i'm going out of my way to talk to new people or participate in trends like i used to. i don't blame anyone except the passage of time!!

frozen pines, and simblr by extension, played such a gigantic part in my life when i needed it the most. and that's not to say that i don't still care about it, because i absolutely do, but it's a different kind of feeling. i've always promised that i would give frozen pines a satisfying conclusion rather than silently abandoning it someday, and though i do intend to keep that promise, i know it's possible that i might never get there. but i don't want to let my own insecurities get in the way of something i really enjoy doing. writing is an intrinsic piece of me that i'll never quit doing, but sharing my writing on tumblr is something that can't (and shouldn't) last forever. i know that. but i'm going to enjoy it to the fullest while we're all still here together 💞

to anyone who's still reading my silly story after all these years (especially those of you who still check in on my blog even though you're not on simblr anymore): thank you thank you thank you THANK YOUUU. you don't have to change a single thing about what you're doing. this is not me fishing for compliments or putting down an ultimatum, this is just me trying to make sense of my feelings.

but with all this being said, i've decided to quit simblr and start my own exclusive streaming service for $60 a year, i hope you'll all support me as i increase my production value 😌

(just kidding. ily. okay that's all)

[jj-5656]

First and Last With; James Potter

A/N: Hello again! I finally finished that wonderful request, so sorry it took forever. Football (NFL playoffs) and school preparations have kept me preoccupied. Winter break is over and I’m absolutely devastated. For anyone in college, I wish you luck for this Spring Semester. But with that being said, school starting back up means I likely won’t upload as much. So I apologize in advance. Regardless, I hope this makes up for the wait on this request. To the lovely anon and all others, enjoy!

Summary: The one where the Marauders vacation to the Potter’s beach house, and a revealing drinking game ensues...

TW: Descriptions of panic attacks, Sirius is an ass as usual, a lot of mutual pining.

   “Marlene, you have packed half of your house and more, it’s just a week’s vacation.”

“Anything could happen, Sirius. Better to be over prepared than under prepared.”

“I’m just happy James is filthy rich.” Dorcas deadpans, straightening when you and Lilly shoot her a disapproving look. “And so, very generous at the same time.”

“I’m not filthy rich.” James laughs, taking your bags from your grasp and loading them into the trunk for you. Amongst all of your friends belongings, piled high enough to reach the top of the van you’ve rented for the adventure. “We’re just...Comfortable.”

“That’s what all rich people say.” You and Remus look to each other, stunned at your simultaneous blunt confessions. 

“Shush, the lot of you.” Lilly chides, never sparing commonalities. 

“Remind me why we couldn’t just use floo powder? I’m already sweating, and my complexion does not do well in heat.” Sirius fans himself dramatically. James allows you to lift yourself over the mountains of bags with his arm for support in order to reply. 

“When have any of you experienced the adventure of a road trip?” You’re beaming at the thought, James takes your distraction as an opportunity to admire your unusually giddy attitude. Though the real reason you’re so eager to be away from home pulls at his mind, his grin faltering. He pokes your side, grabbing your attention. 

“Miss sunshine gets shotgun, I’ve called it.”

“Prongs, I thought you’d have wanted me to be your passenger princess?”

“Absolutely not, though I’ll miss those luscious locks of yours. I’m driving, so I select my navigator.”

“You’ve been there a million times.” You note, crossing your arms incredulously. James smirks, placing his burgundy and gold quidditch cap atop your head. 

“I’d much rather you keep me company.” He says so only you can hear, unknowing of your flushing when he turns back to Sirius. “Pads, Moons is gonna need a pretty view, it’s fortunate he’ll have you in the middle seat.”

“I’m reading! Reading this entire time, very busy.” Remus teases, pleased with the raven-haired boy’s mock offense. 

You round the corner of the van after checking the trunk for the fourth time, positive you haven’t forgotten any supplies for the trip. James is at the passenger side, holding the door open for you. He’s got a pair of prescription sunglasses on, and looks very different. No less handsome, if anything, the shades accentuate the bravado you’ve always envied. His arms are especially toned after another quidditch season, tanned from the summer sun you’ve missed so dearly. You’re staring. 

“Systems ready, co-pilot?” He beams down at you, pulling his cap over your eyes in teasing. You stick a tongue out at him, pulling his arms away so you can  adjust it right again. 

“I feel silly in this.”

“Nonsense, you look adorable. My clothes suit you.” He defends, so casual you don’t let the words resonate until after he’s shut your door and rounded to the drivers side. 

“Enjoy the passenger seat, princess.” Sirius sneers, pouting despite not holding any true ill-will. 

“Gladly.” 

************

“Are we there yet?” 

“No, Dorcas. Just like we weren’t there ten minutes ago.” James glances at the girl through the rearview, slightly amused with her childish complaints. 

“You know, we could just pull over and-”

“No floo powder!” You and Lilly shout to Sirius, hoping not to have awoken a sleeping Marlene and Remus. Sirius covers their ears, both of them having dropped their heads on each one of his shoulders some time throughout their slumber. You finish fiddling with the radio when a good song comes on, taking a moment to look at the lot of your friends all corralled in the van. 

“Where’s the camera, James?” 

“On my side door here, I’ll pull over if you want it.” 

“Oh, so you’ll pull over for her.”

“Shut it, Pads.” 

“No need, I can reach it.” You lean over the seat, careful not to block his view of the road as you quickly grab it. James swallows, clears his throat to act natural whilst all of his insides begin to burn. 

“Hot?” Is all you ask, studying his discomposure.

“What?” He starts, voice shaky and strained. Sirius falls into a fit of muffled laughter from the back, leaving you confused. “J-Just a little warm, yeah.” Potter recovers, now well aware you were inquiring about temperature. You turn up the AC, taking the cover off the lens and pointing the camera toward the back. Sirius smiles wide for the camera, handsome features lighted by the early afternoon sun. Marlene and Remus drool along on his shoulders as Lilly beams brightly from the back. Looking positively radiant, as always. Dorcas smiles, but holds up her favorite finger to the lens. You grin,full of adoration for the entire lot of them as you snap a couple photos, ensuring they’re all in the frame. 

James admires in increments from the rearview, blowing a raspberry to the camera when you point it at him. 

“Eyes on the road, Potter.” He shakes his head, running a hand over the steering wheel in a mindless habit as he hears the camera snap. Looking over quickly to smile at the lens. Effortlessly handsome, as usual. 

“We have to take as many pictures as possible this week.” You demand, getting excited all over again for the much needed vacation, spent with all your best friends, no less. 

You roll down your window even more, sticking your head to enjoy the warm, salty air. It smells of the beach, grass, all things green and beautiful. You’re so happy your head spins, giggling to yourself as you catch Lilly doing the same behind you. Meeting her eyes in the side mirror and scrunching your nose when she blows a kiss, an embellished hand pretending to capture it in the air and holding it to your heart. 

James does a double take from his view of the road and then you. Trying to stay focused and not find any distraction in your adorably delighted mood. His brows furrow when you shuffle forward, aiming to get even more of your body out of window the feel the entirety of what this beautiful view has to offer.

“Absolutely not.” He chastises, a finger hooking onto your belt loop and tightening. His eyes are on the road, one hand on the wheel as he tugs you back inside. 

“Lame!” You whine, hitting his arm in distaste. 

“I prefer my friends with their pretty heads in tact, thank you.” 

You settle in your seat, still full of delight but a little more contemplative as you think about what got you here.

“Summer vacation!” Sirius throws himself between you and Remus during lunch. Gathering an assortment of food on his own plate. You’ve barely eaten, stomach turning at the thought of being home for two months. You’re nudged from under the table, meeting James’ gaze, whose eyes avert to your abandoned plate. A subtle request for you to eat. You offer a weak smile, shrugging before your friends go on. 

“Two whole months without exams.” Marlene adds, absolutely pleased with not having to spend another second with her nose in a book. 

“We’ll be seventh years, I can hardly believe it.” You’ve considered Lilly’s words the entirety of this last month of classes, absolutely dreading going home. Hogwarts is more home than your house would ever be, and your friends are the only real family you have. You lose your breath at this, biting at the nail of your thumb and wincing when it draws blood. 

“I’m gonna head to the library,” You announce, blinking hard to fight the room from blurring. “Forgot to turn in my potions textbook.” It’s believable enough for the group to nod along, chorusing their farewells as you head out of the great hall. Heart racing and hands trembling. James takes only a moment, eyes following you the entire time. It’s not his business, but he knows that demeanor. He’s seen all of this before, in the boy he calls his best friend. Sirius Black, who leans forward and shoots James a look. Instantly, the chaser is on his feet, mumbling a feeble excuse and heading out of the hall in search for you. 

“I think he left the curling iron on.”

James searches the corridor wildly, all of the students being in the Great Hall makes the search easy, he can follow the sound of your fleeting footsteps with ease in this sea of silence. He follows your distant frame up a set of stairs, cursing to himself when they shift before he can follow your path. He’s searching for a new route, not wanting to shout to you and scare you even more.

There’s a lot of running, a couple instances of tripping over his own feet, but eventually Potter catches up to you. 

You’re sat in a windowsill beneath an overhang of a hallway above, curled in on yourself. James approaches carefully, trying to control his panting breaths. 

“Fuck, James!” You startle each other, studying the other instantly.

“You’re” the athlete coughs, winded, “so fast.” You smile, but it does little to calm you down, because as he gets closer, the view around him blurs, and everything sounds cloudy, distant. 

“I’m,” you try to form words, too loud because you can’t hear yourself properly. “F-fine.” You try to move, try escaping to prevent embarrassing yourself further. Clutching your chest and swiping at the flood of tears that can’t be ceased. 

“You’re not. You’re having a panic attack.” 

“Happened b-before,” you wheeze, staring at your hands to make sure they’re real “I’m good.” 

“And I’m a humble introvert that loves Slytherin, sit down.” You begin to wheeze, rubbing your hands over your legs to stop them from sweating, ground yourself maybe. “I’m gonna hug you, tight. Is that alright?” You nod, because you’re not entirely sure what he’s just said and it’s easier to comply. 

He encloses you in an embrace, loosening for only a second when you fight it. He’s squeezing again, but it’s not unpleasant. You’re shaking, and your breaths are still rapid. James swallows, terrified and unsure. Because all of this usually helps Sirius but he’s still kind of freaking the fuck out.

“Let’s talk about something.” He suggests, wincing when you hiccup for air in reply. “I know you’ll love this. What’s something about me that annoys you?” You’re aware he’s trying to distract you, and you feel like you’re dying, so you give it a go in the off chance it’ll help.

“You’re im-immature.”

“Good. But you’ve done better than that, love.” 

“You’re reckless. You play quidditch like,” you lick your lips, trying to control your trembling. “Like you’re indestructible.” 

“Attagirl, something else?”

“You’re picky, and...And you’re too stubborn to try new things.” James hums, recalling a time you’d forced him to drink pumpkin juice an he hurled in the lavatory minutes later. He rests his chin on your head, pleased when the added pressure slows your breathing. 

“You’d do anything for your friends, no matter the personal expense. It’s self destructive, p-probably exhausting.”

“Ouch. You really know how to flatter a man, love.” 

“I don’t want to go home.” You whisper, so quiet he’d miss it had he not been surveying your every move. The confession shocks even you, and James, for likely the first time in his life, is devastated to be right about something. 

“I’m not gonna let you. We’re going to figure this out. I’m gonna figure this out, I promise.” 

“You’re doing that thing again.” You note, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your robe. Further comforted in the feel of his chest vibrating against you from laughing.

“And you’re forming full sentences.” He loosens, giving you space to decide whether or not you want to separate.  You don’t, not right away, not when you can feel the strong, stable beating of his heart. 

“What am I gonna do? I can’t stay here over break. Even if Dumbledore allowed it, my family would-” You falter, unable to finish. James holds tight again, nauseated. 

“I promised. And I intend on keeping it, love.”

**********

“Land! Sweet, sweet land.” Sirius cries, throwing himself onto the freshly cut grass. 

“James, it’s stunning.” Lilly shades her eyes to admire the shore house. Standing taller than the others around it. 

“It’s home. Away from home, that is.” James shrugs, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. There’s a faint, deep-rooted envy for the blessings your friends hold. Sirius rolls onto his back to look at you, the only one noticing your hunched shoulders amongst the rest of the group beginning to unload the van. 

“Shall we go inside, lovely? Get dibs on the best rooms while these common folk collect our luggage. He extends his arm for you to take, adjusting the sunglasses adorning his face and ignoring the displeased looks of your friends. Stealing a kiss to your temple as he leads you inside. 

“Moony, sweetheart, do be careful with my things. I’ll show you what bed to place them on.”

“Fuck off, Pads.”

“That’s Sir Padfoot, to you.” 

You and Sirius falter, shocked to see an older woman placing the finishings of a homemade meal on the large kitchen table. The inside is even more impressive than the out, but you don’t have much time to appreciate the decorum. Considering you’re engulfed in an oddly familiar embrace. 

“Welcome, welcome!” She beams, holding Sirius’ face and kissing his cheeks with small pinches. 

“How’s my Siri?”

“Alright, mum. Thanks. James didn’t mention you’d be here. Though it’s a very happy surprise.” He looks at the wrinkled, stunning woman that smells of lavender and tea like she’s hung every star in the sky. It’s then you make the obvious connection this is Mrs. Potter. 

“Oh, he doesn’t know either. I’m only here to make sure you’re all settled in and then I’ll be on my way. We haven’t visited here in a while, I wanted to be sure it looked alright for you all.”

“Hard to imagine it ever looks less than gorgeous,” you say without thinking, “thank you for having us. This is lovely.” 

“And so are you, dear. Sirius, tell me this beautiful young girl is with you?” She strokes your hair, and it’s the most comforting touch you’ve likely ever felt. 

“Only in my dreams, unfortunately. Unless dear y/n would like to make a wish come true?” You laugh, swatting away his puckered lips. 

“Y/n? Oh, I’ve been waiting to meet you! Sweetheart, Jamie talks about you so much in his letters!”

“Let’s get waste-Mum!” James drops the bag in hand, yours. Pulling the handle of liquor behind his back in pure shock. “What are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’d have a warm meal waiting for you kids. You must be starving after that drive. Though I’m so happy you did as opposed to powdering here. Shows some responsibility. And Jamie gets so sick sometimes with the powder and all-”

“Mum!” The taller boy repeats, setting the array of luggage in hand down and hiding the bottle behind it. 

“I’m doting, aren’t I? Remmy!”  She stops herself, rushing over to envelop the taller boy in her arms. He, just as Sirius, is absolutely pleased to see her. She goes down the line of girls, putting faces to names and genuinely loving every second of it. James sighs, no genuine distaste in his nature as he observes.

Sirius throws an arm over your shoulder, cheeky as ever. “Mum was just telling us about your letters home.” 

“You’re just as pretty as he said you were. All you girls are so beautiful!” She goes on, blissfully unaware of her beet-red son. 

“She exaggerates.” James scratches his neck, skin burning with embarrassment. 

“Does she?” Siris pulls you closer, basking in your shared humiliation. 

“This food looks wonderful Mrs. Potter. Thank you so much for thinking of us.” Lilly clasps her hands together, rolling her eyes fondly at James’ indebted glance. 

“Call me Euphemia, please. And yes, you all must be starving. Come, fill those bellies with something warm.” You’re in a state of shock as you sit, unaccustomed to such hospitality and genuine kindness. It’s evident where James gets his big heart, undying selflessness. 

The food is amazing, you all go for seconds with a chorus of shared appreciation and compliments. Euphemia beams as she collects her things, pleased to meet the lot of friends her son cares for so deeply. 

“All the beds have fresh sheets, and there’s extra throw blankets in the linen closet. Jamie, your father says go easy on the fire whisky. He’d ask for no drinking, but we all know that’s a long shot. Don’t break anything, and Remmy, keep everyone in check.” The taller boy nods swiftly, no doubt having heard the orders before. James gets up from his seat, kissing his mothers cheek and enveloping her in a hug. 

“Thank you mum, seriously.” She fixes his hair, wiping invisible smudges from his face in a fit of doting. 

“No problem, I’m glad you were all able to make it here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. All of you.” Theres a quick moment where she meets both you and Sirius’ eyes, the two of you nodding with feigned smiles. Quickly, she kisses both Moony and Padfoot’s heads, stopping for only a moment to caress your cheek with her thumb, a faint sadness in her gaze. Everyone else is enveloped in conversation, passing servings across the table as they would at the Great Hall. 

“You’ll keep an eye on my Jamie, won’t you?” She whispers, touch soothing you with an unknown ease. 

“Of course, though I’m not sure he needs it.” You hold her wrist, somehow not minding the affection whatsoever. 

“So he likes to think. He does, really, speak so fondly of you in his letters. You’re even more lovely than he described.” You want to cry, so overwhelmed with her generosity and love, a maternal energy so strong it’s wiped your mind of any anxieties. 

“Alright, mum. Let the poor girl eat.” James guides her toward the fireplace, while his mother pats his arm and says something to him you don’t quite catch. James’ ears burn bright red, and he nudges her gently so she’ll stop looking over at you. The rest of the group turns toward the fireplace, echoing their farewells and gratuity as she waves. Floo powder enveloping the space around her and sending her off. 

“Does that turn your stomach just looking at it, Jamie?” Marlene mocks, the rest of your laughing through bites of food as he flips her off. 

“Fuck off, the lot of you.” 

“We should start cleaning up.” You suggest, taking your own plate and bringing it to the sink. “This way we can unpack before the sun sets.” Lilly follows, taking her and Dorcas’ plate to you as you begin washing. Sirius groans, grabbing a dish towel from one of the drawers and drying the dishes you hand him. 

“Can’t we just charm the sponges to clean these?”

“Dad had them countered so they can’t be charmed. Said it was supposed to teach me some ‘household responsibility.’” Sirius howls, thoroughly amused.

“I’m just curious about these detailed letters back home.” Remus mutters as he carries his plate past James, dodging his swings and rushing toward the group at the sink for safety. 

*****************

After everyone’s settled in, and you’ve all recovered from the ‘who called what room first’ arguments, there’s an obligatory round of shots. A bin begins to pile high with cans, and you’re all sat around a bonfire atop the Potter’s outdoor furniture. Even the furniture for the backyard looks expensive, so you clutch your drink in hopes not to make any spills. 

You’re buzzed now, skin tingling with an uncommon ease as you lean against the arm of the couch. Sea breeze easing the warm air as the fire pops in front of you. 

“Alright, none of you are drunk enough.” Sirius chastises, shifting in his seat and tossing Lilly another beer. “Never have I ever,” you all groan in half-assed annoyance as the name of the game sounds, “been snitched on by Peeves.” 

You and the rest of the girls take slow, ashamed, sips. The boys all looking over in amazement. 

“We snuck out one time! All I wanted was a bloody butter beer.” Marlene confesses, flushed. James stretches as he approaches, still sore from driving. He passes you his cup, grinning when you cringe at whatever concoction he’s come up with. You move your legs so he can sit beside you, the rest of the couches having been taken. 

“It was a terrible craving, but nonetheless worth the loss of points for Gryffindor.” 

“Is that why we were tied with Ravenclaw mid semester?” Remus laughs over his cup. 

“We still won the cup!” You and Lilly defend, James taking hold of your legs to place them on top of his. He isn’t even thinking about it, too enthralled with the teasing conversation before him as he slides a hand under the cuff of your jeans. Warm hands calloused from quidditch running over your shin. You’ve always found affection with him comes easier than with others, and the touch comforts you, electricity lingering on your skin. 

“Never have I ever, had my first kiss.” Because Dorcas also aims to have the rest of you drinking more, she says what she thinks is the most common proposition. Your stomach turns, and you debate on taking a sip just because it’ll spare you the embarrassment. You must consider it too long, because Sirius’ brows shoot up in shock. 

“Merlin, how?” Is all Sirius manages, the girls’ jaws dropping because you’ve never told them. 

“I volunteer!” Marlene shoots a hand up while you curl into the cushions, wishing you’d just had the drink. 

“It’s not that there haven’t been opportunities.” You struggle through the explanation, tugging on the sleeves of your shirt to fight the cold. “I just, I guess, want the first one to matter. If it’s been this long I may as well make it special.” They all coo in mocking, laughing when you flip them off. 

“I get it.” James pats your leg, taking generous sips of his own drink. 

“You don’t.” Theres an amusement in your tone, no real meanness to any of it. 

“Well what about that Hufflepuff third semester, he was totally into you.” Dorcas inquires. 

“Are we seriously this interested in my love life, or lack thereof?” You roll your eyes when they all agree, giddy from the topic and the alcohol. “I thought he was into me, but I don’t know. We stopped talking after a while.”

“Wait,” Remus narrows his brows, too contemplative to see James’ signals. “That curly haired guy, beater for Huffle?” You nod, giggling because he’s not usually this slow to understanding, clearly inebriated. 

“Wasn’t that the kid that came up to us at Hogsmeade, Prongs?” Potter vehemently shakes his head, chugging his drink again. 

“Nope, I don’t think so.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure it was. You two didn’t get on that well, I think.” Sirius covers his mouth to muffle his laughing, basking in Moony’s drunken confession. 

“You sabotaged me!” You frown, James grabbing your leg so you can’t kick his side. 

“Listen, I overheard him boasting in the locker room. He’s not the type you should be around. Trust me.” He’s sincere, enough to make you relax. 

“He was a bit of an ass, sweetheart. Prongs isn’t entirely wrong.”

“You two are still snog-blocks.” Dorcas is quick at your defense, crossing her arms in solidarity.

“If I wasn’t banished to solitude, I’d kiss you, Dorcas.” 

“Time and place, lovely.” You clutch your heart, feigning a blush in your antics.

*********

“Alright, I need my beauty rest. Someone needs to remain the prettiest of the friend group.” Sirius stretches, tapping a dazed Remus on the cheek to get him up. His actions initiate the turning in of the rest of the group. To which you and James groan. 

“It’s only 2, you’re all lame!” Potter sneers, looking to you for consolation. You nod along, displeased with their departure. 

“You night owls can stay up as long as you want, but we have all week to be sleep deprived.” Marlene ruffles James’ hair and kisses your temple as she stupors inside, giggling all the way with the other girls. 

“And then there were two.” You stretch, moving over when James shifts, moving into a laying position. In order to fit comfortably, you still have to keep your legs over his. “You know, now theres three other open couches.”

“I like it here.” He decides, enclosing his hands over his chest and settling in. You chuckle, letting him tangle his legs in yours. 

It’s confusing, because he chooses you as his passenger, his seat-mate, scares other guys away. Fuck, he planned an entire trip just because you and Sirius have such shitty home lives. Guilt twinges in your chest, and the alcohol allows you to finally say what you’ve been holding in since you first got in the car. “James?” He hums, hazel eyes looking up at the array of stars in the night sky. “Why did you do all this?” Potter sits up, looking over to you in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you like it here?”

“Like it? It’s a shore house filled with all of my closest friends and alcohol. I love it here.” He laughs, nudging your legs with his own in teasing. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he starts, answering your question with one of his own. “Would you be willing to spend the whole summer here?” 

This time, you sit up, brows raised in shock. “Sorry?” 

“Instead of having to go home, you could stay here.” 

“James, I couldn’t possibly intrude like that-”

“It wouldn’t just be us two.” He unnecessarily reassures. “I’ve already spoke with Pads, and he’s staying. My mum doesn’t want him going home either.”

“You already talked to your parents about it?” 

“In the chance either of you said yes. They both are more than happy to have us stay here. There’s internship positions at my dad’s company, and he said if we looked after the house and helped him out, we’d be more than welcome to stay.” 

“Are you starting a shelter for the broken homes club or something?” You jest, not in poor taste, but because it’s the only defense mechanism you know. James frowns anyway, upset at the thought.

“I care about the both of you. And...I’d never want either of you going home to- Well, anything other than a place you feel safe. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. Knowing I could have stopped it. Understand?”

You nod, warm tears brimming in your eyes. Because in a world full of people that don’t, James Potter cares. You tackle him in a hug, overcome with the foreign feeling of being cared about, protected. He falters, wrapping an arm around your waist with a small laugh. 

“That’s a yes, then?” You nod, smile pulling at your lips when he uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. 

“James?”

“Yeah?” He’s soft-spoken now, eyes studying yours as you press your hands to his chest. 

“Is there...Any other reason you told that guy to stay away from me?” He swallows, licking his lips with an unusual anxiety to him. He meets your eyes again, pleading for another hint.

“Would you want there to be?”

“I’d like to have my first kiss.” You play with a pull in his sweater, fighting a smile at his nervous demeanor. “Would you want it to be you?” He nods, slow, and honestly unsure if you’re fucking with him. Considering how embarrassed he’d be if this is some joke, or a dream, maybe. “James?” You move closer, and he snaps out of his daze.

“I would.” He averts his eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again to ensure you’re sincere. “Like to kiss you, I mean.” 

You remove the space between you, putting your lips to his and hoping it comes natural like everyone says. It must, because he’s pulling you into his lap, a hint of a whine escaping his throat. You grin, flushing at his eagerness. He squeezes your sides harder, a warning. 

“Stop it.”  He continues past your jaw, down your neck, hearts thrumming with excitement and uncertainty. He tilts your head with his thumb, grinning when he nips at your skin and you gasp. Pulling back, he surveys his work, kissing you two more times before letting you breath. 

Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” You pant, energy coursing through you and accentuating your buzz tenfold.

“Up to expectations?”

“Exceeded, I’m pretty sure.” You blink hard, taking hold of his wrists and moving them so they can slide under the hem of your shirt. You hold them at your waist, a silent sign to keep them there. Though you’re sure he would have anyway. He kisses you again, more intense this time, finally allowing all the pent up tension between the two of you release. 

James, against every fiber of being in his body, pulls you away from him. Both breathing hard to collect yourselves. “While I’d really, really like to keep this up.” He starts, trying not to reconsider when your perfume envelopes his senses. “I’d like to take you out for dinner first. If you’ll let me.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Potter?” You whisper, teasing him as if it’s the hottest gossip to reach Hogwarts. 

“Are you gonna say yes, pretty girl? Or leave me hanging?” You nod, and James throws his head back against the cushions, absolutely relieved. 

*************

You blink awake, fire still burning brightly after being charmed by Lilly earlier in the evening. In the midst of you and James conversation, filled with recalling old times, plans for the rest of the summer, and a lot more alcohol, you both fell asleep. James’ jumper covers your frame, while the boy lays on the other side with only a sweater to keep warm. 

“Prongs.” You nudge him, wincing when he groans. “It’s too cold, let’s go in.”

“Too tired,” he croaks, voice riddled with sleep, “too drunk. Come over on this side.” He rolls on his back, groaning again when the world spins with him. 

“What, like...Next to you?”

“No, curled up on the floor like a cat.” Your brows furrow at his sassiness, fighting a smile as you crawl over. Muttering a half-assed apology when you nearly knee his groin. 

Hesitantly, you place a head on his chest, letting him grab you under one knee and pulling it up so you leg rests over his abdomen. Immediately, he releases a deep breath, fully relaxed. Your body, though, tingles with that same electricity from before, keeping you awake. 

“Sleep.” He orders, nudging the back of your head with his shoulder, eyes closed but somehow aware.

“Can’t.”

“Is this alright?” He blinks awake, afraid he’s made you uncomfortable. 

“Good, this is good.” You reassure, pulling on his jumper so it covers both of you. He pushes your arm away, tugging on the fabric and covering only you again, stern in his actions. 

“Close your eyes. I need us both to sleep this alcohol off so I can kiss you again.”

“Who says I’ll let you, Potter?”

“I may have been your first kiss, but I’m also aiming to be your last. So please, Dove, shut up and sleep” You’re speechless, he’s stunned you with his confession and simultaneous attitude. 

“I hate you.”

“I seriously doubt that.” There’s a smile on his face, you can hear it in his grumbling voice. Wordlessly, he moves the arm that’s under you so he can stroke your cheek, eyebrows, and jaw with the hook of his finger. Knowing the gentle touch will send you off to sleep. And it does, because you don’t wake again until morning. 

********

“Rise and shine, love birds. If you want to hoot with the owls, you’ve got to fly with the eagles.” Sirius chimes, a click of a camera sounding out after he speaks.

“Any louder, Pads, and I’ll break your jaw.” James covers your ears, shielding you from your friends shrill laughter with an intense glare. His head pounds something awful, and he’s pretty sure he’s never been this hungover in his entire life. He remembers every second, though, memories of last night bringing a dopey smile to his face. Despite the alcohols consequences. 

“Hey.” He nudges your arm, ignoring the gawking of his friends through the glass sliding door as he wakes you. You yawn, stretching atop him and regaining sense of your surroundings. 

“Are we supposed to be spinning?” James rolls his eyes, much too fond of you for his own good. 

“We have to get up, theres breakfast.”

“I can’t eat a single thing right now.”

“Yes you can,” he pushes you again, sighing in feigned annoyance when you rub your face into his shirt. Shielding the morning light from your eyes. In one swift movement, he sits you both up and hurls you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirms of protest with an obnoxious yawn. He sets you down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, grumbling a hello to your astonished group of friends. You’re too hungover to feel embarrassed, smiling a thank you to Remus when he slides his glass of orange juice toward you, Sirius’ sunglasses over his eyes. 

“Gimme those,” you plead, extending an arm that’s quickly swatted away.

“Get your own,” he whines, “I let you have my juice.” You accept this, nursing the glass as though it’ll save your life. 

“Late night?” Lilly teases, putting a plate of food in front of you and James. You both groan, but offer your gratitude for breakfast anyway. 

“Figured you would have at least made it inside.” Marlene chastises, amused with your zombie-like states. You frown when James finishes what’s left in your glass, watching as he leans across the counter to grab the carton and refills it. Sirius places a steaming cup of tea in front of you and Potter, avoiding your distrusting gaze as he clears his throat to speak. 

He’s awfully cheeky all the sudden, hoisting himself onto the counter with his signature mischievous grin. “Never have I ever…Had my first kiss?” His voice tilts in questioning at the end, and you’re momentarily displeased with the realization you’ll be spending the rest of the summer with the shit-starting bastard you consider a friend. 

You’re absolutely flushed, curling in on yourself when a chorus of cheers erupts after taking a swift sip from your mug.

[sinkableruby]

hey talk about Monogatari ships

YAHOO <- said like mario

although i do want to say that i dont really do many ships either so my ideas may not be sparkling... nevertheless it is a fun ask and i want to do it

i will try to keep big spoilers out of it for once!

ill mostly leave aside canon i think

ships i like:

sodachi/tsubasa: this ones a shout out to you. but also. it is very good... i always think of that idea of them bonding over cooking. not only would they be good for each other with each able to provide the kind of support they'd both need, but i think they'd understand each other too. its good 😌

hitagi/ougi: i dont think i would like this one seriously but its just really funny to imagine. araragi crying in the background, ougi being so confused... its so fucking funny

hitagi/tsubasa: i know this one doesnt work bc like the whole point is that its unrequited and all... but i still think its cute. two best friends and they're gay for each other? that's wonderful. i love it.

koyomi/shinobu: weirdly i do like it. wouldnt say i necessarily like it more than the canon koyomi/hitagi but theres something i can appreciate about how theyre stuck immutably together, bonded forever... once koyomi gets older we dont know how his lifespans gonna work, so theres something there about being lonely and solitary in the world except for just one person who you'll always be with whether you like it or not. it's not exactly a sweet or romantic type thing but its more like a 'you're all i have' melancholy sort of thing.... and thats interesting to me

tsukihi/nadeko: the classic i love this one yeah. i dont even think it'd be a super healthy relationship given how tsukihi is.... tsukihi. but thinking about how nadeko has been pining over her for so long i think itd be interesting, especially considering tsukihi would definitely not be as infatuated with nadeko as nadeko would be with her. and nadeko would have to put up with so much for it... they'd probably break up like every other week because of tsukihi's fickleness, or like have whole periods where they dont talk and nadeko thinks theyve broken up or are fighting and tsukihis just being tsukihi. 'the things nadeko does for love' is basically how i think of it. maybe she'd be better off just moving on... poor nadeko. not very good luck when it comes to love...

suruga/higasa: ok i said i wouldnt talk about spoilers so i wont talk about this one much. but i think they'd be cute together. i like how higasa sees through suruga. i think itd be super cute if she was teasing her out of like a crush. they should kiss

also any like specialist/specialist stuff i'd probably like, just bc we get so little of those guys that its cool to play around with their dynamics. maybe like yozuru/tadatsuru for like a kinda rarepair rivalry dynamic... i could see them as a divorced couple maybe. but really just. any of them. hell maybe theyre even a polycule who knows.

and also rouka/suruga is good but i dont really have any thoughts on it per se, i just like it a lot. its complex... its bittersweet... ya feel

ships i dont like:

koyomi/tsubasa: yeah p much everyone's talked about why this would never work. i might almost like it for like, the angst it would bring but i think it doesnt quite reach there either so its just meh.

koyomi/ougi: m..m... dont like it.. dont like it. i think their relationship is so much more interesting the way it already is so i dont really feel the need to see them in a romantic one yk. i dont think it would be good for either of them either... they will just stagnate if they stick around each other. and also this is like maybe not so applicable bc anything is possible in the ship world but. these two just would never. they dont see each other like that yk. if im looking from an analysis lens here, the camera which is mostly under koyomi's perspective that licks and slobbers over all the girls never does that for ougi. despite him thinking shes like "bewitching" (appearance wise but also probably in the other sense too lol) or w/e. i could write more about this and the harm i think it would do but it'd get spoilery and become a dissertation so ill leave it at this. ummm... dont like it. :p

deishuu/hitagi: ok i see people talking about this one a lot so i just have to put my foot down.. i think its meh. i think its whatever. i think kaiki is not and was not interested in her, and just saw her as a brat who was infatuated with him. and while i do think its possible or maybe even probable that hitagi was infatuated with him while he was scamming her bc she saw him as a savior... i dont think the infatuation would have been that strong. maybe just a little crush, but nothing serious. i wouldnt go so far as to call it love yk, if those feelings were there... and on the idea of that 'if,' i also think its way more interesting if kaiki only THINKS hitagi was infatuated with him when really she never was because it shows the flaw in his perception. like thats the kinda perspective cool thing i like in the monogatari series... thats why i like how its so vague in canon too. the ambiguity makes this dynamic interesting imo

suruga/karen: kind of dont have strong feelings about this one but i cant really see it. i dont think they'd be the right dynamic for each other and it'd become awkward...

ok thats all i can think of for now thanks for sending the ask >:3

[buckyismybicycle]

CHAPTER 12 [AO3 Link]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Body Image Issues, References to Depression/Anxiety/Eating Disorders/Alcohol Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Powers/Hockey, Team Bonding, Slow Burn, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Top Bucky Barnes, Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunications, Requited Unrequited Love, Slight Jealousy

<< Previous Chapter | Series Masterpost | Overall Masterpost

December 2013

Steve

After Bucky had opened up a bit about his holidays, Steve knew right away that he was determined to make Bucky smile this Christmas.

He’s never held back any stories about his own upbringing, sharing memories of his mom pretty freely. There will always be a dull ache, a hole in his heart, that never goes away, but she had been terminally ill for a while. Together, they made the most of their time, and she never wavered once. He’d gotten the tattoo for her, just before she passed, as if to show her that he’d always carry her with him. It’s the only tattoo he has. The only one he wanted.

But for Steve, it had only ever been just him and his mother. His heart breaks for Bucky, losing his whole family in one fell swoop, thinking how cruel that truly was.

Bucky, who is so lively and wears such a devastating smile everyday, when something like that would break most people.

When Bucky makes no move to pull away, Steve presses a kiss to his temple, his thumb idly stroking across Bucky’s shoulder.

“That’s them,” Bucky says in a voice so small that Steve’s not sure he even hears it right, the words completely random to him.

Bucky shifts then, so he can get his right arm out from between them, and brings his hand up to where Steve’s is, at his left shoulder. Bucky runs his forefinger over one of the clusters of stars across his shoulder – four lines from a trapezoidal shape. “This is my mom. Virgo.”

Oh.

The realization hits Steve like a freight train. The four constellations on Bucky’s shoulder – the family he’s lost: his mom, his dad, his sister…

“My dad,” Bucky continues, clearing his throat a bit as his finger moves to the long, slim tattoo next. “Taurus.”

“Becs. Such a Capricorn,” Bucky huffs with a bit of a sad laugh as he traces the closed tattoo, in a near triangular-heart shape. “I never really believed all that horoscope stuff, you know? But I wanted to have them with me, and my artist had suggested looking into some symbolism… just – I went down a rabbit hole.”

“They’re really beautiful, Buck,” he assures. And they are. The constellations may be simple in design, but the artist had done a beautiful job of incorporating colours that reminded Steve of space. “S’like you got a whole galaxy here.”

He keeps running his thumb along Bucky’s shoulder where the tattoos sit. Bucky had purposely skipped over the fourth one, but if Steve had to guess, it would be for whatever astrological sign Bucky is.

“Yeah, I’m happy with how it turned out,” Bucky gushed, a little light returning to his voice. “And when I read about ‘em, they were all pretty spot on, which made me kinda laugh and it just… seemed right.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, hoping Bucky doesn’t shut down on him again. “How so?”

“The one I’m gonna remember forever is the one for Becs. Capricorns are ambitious, determined, strong… Loyal and supportive of their loved ones. Pragmatic. Relentless.” Bucky snorts at the last word, his lips twitching in a smile. “That was Becs to a T. But they all made sense. Or, I don’t know, maybe I wanted to fall for something. Believe in something.”

Steve hums softly, turning Bucky’s words over in his mind as his fingers trace along the last constellation.

“They’re all Earth signs,” Bucky continues, as if focusing his attention on astrology will help keep his emotions in line. “Means they all get along with each other. I’m the only Water sign.”

There’s an unspoken sadness to the line, as if Bucky thinks of himself as an outsider in his own family, and it makes Steve wrap around him that much tighter.

“Which sign are you?” Steve asks, in an attempt to keep Bucky talking.

“...Pisces,” Bucky answers, lacking the enthusiasm he had for the other signs. “Most days I just feel like a fish outta water.”

—

December starts off with a new teammate, an overtime loss, a win, another overtime loss and a giant snow storm.

Valeri Nichushkin, who had been selected by the Stars in the first round that year, had been struggling with injury during camp and had only just been taken off the injury list to join them. They’d joked that he sure had some timing, coming out with the snow.

It was then that Steve found out Bucky knew how to speak Russian. Nichushkin lights up at this fact, almost as brightly as Steve. Almost.

Bucky was a bit shy about it, stumbling a few times, but Nichushkin appreciated it nonetheless, that much was obvious.

“Does he wish he waited ‘til it was warmer to travel with us?” Morita jokes as they step off the plane in Canada.

Bucky and Nichushkin go back and forth a bit before Bucky laughs. “He says it’s colder in Russia, you wimp!”

The guys laugh around him, and Steve tugs his jacket across himself tighter.

Toronto was cold. It had been 2°C/35.6°F that day, calling for beanies and scarves atop their game day suits. Bucky had looked adorable with his nose a little red from the winds, and Steve had to nearly bite his tongue off to stop himself from saying anything.

They didn’t win, but Nichushkin gets his first point in the form of an assist. He’s still proud of them – they couldn’t have done anything differently. Sometimes, you give it your all and play a near perfect game but you get outplayed.

Between the force of Nazem Kadri, the skill of Phil Kessel and the annoying relentlessness of James Van Riemsdyk in front of the net, it was hard fought. Still, at least they picked up one out of the possible two points for just bringing it into overtime.

After the loss, the team was tired, but Fury and Coulson had announced that instead of staying for the night like they’d originally planned, they would be trying to head home instead.

“Because of the major storm moving in, we expect travel to be delayed, so best to try and get ahead of it now. We know you’re tired, but it’s gonna beat sleeping at the airport tomorrow, trust me,” Coulson announces, in his no-nonsense voice.

Steve tries not to groan at the thought, watching his team struggle to do the same.

“Now hit the showers, and we’ll see you back on the bus.” With a nod, Coulson leaves the dressing room and then the groaning starts.

Steve hears Ward from across the room. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I ain’t sleepin’ in an airport,” Clint announces, popping up from the bench to snag a shower first.

Steve listens as Bucky speaks with Nichushkin, explaining their predicament.

“No fun,” Nichushkin says in heavily accented English. Bucky huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s right, pal. No fun at all.” Bucky proceeds to speak a few more words in Russian, and Nichushkin nods, stripping down for a shower as well.

Steve sees in that moment, a crystal clear image of Bucky being an older brother – watching over his sister, guiding her, joking with her, and his heart aches.

Bucky

His muscles were protesting every step after that game. The idea of flying instead of taking an ice bath and then face planting into a bed was absolutely horrific, but he always does his best to stay positive for Steve. Team morale is nearly always at the top of Steve’s priority list and if there’s one less person for him to worry about, Bucky figures it helps. So he sucks it up, slaps a smile on his face and pretends like he doesn’t want to collapse on the floor right then and there.

They pile onto the bus, and the airport seems a million miles away. Half the team already looks asleep (or dead, it’s hard to tell right now). Steve takes the lead, since he usually takes the window seat, and Bucky just shuffles along behind him.

There’s jokes made about how Valeri has imprinted on him like a dukling, but the truth is that Bucky… enjoys it. He likes being able to support someone, even if it’s been ages since he’s conversed in Russian. It makes him miss his mom, and he could swear the tattoo on his shoulder tingles, like a reminder of what he’s lost.

Valeri takes a seat across the aisle, beside Dugan who’s already passed out against the window.

Bucky tries to stretch while he still can, wiggling in his seat until it’s bearable, and before he even leans back, Steve is out like a light. Bucky saves Steve’s phone, precariously balanced in his semi-opened hand, placing it on the seat between Steve’s legs instead. He folds up his own sweater to tuck between Steve’s head and the window.

When Steve rouses, he simply makes a soft shushing noise, and Steve rests his head like he was meant to. Something in Bucky’s heart twists with the realization that Steve’s letting Bucky take care of him.

Bucky just never realized how much he wanted to.

—

Coulson had been right, of course. Even as they landed, they could see the storm moving in with the skies sheet-white and wind howling.

“Is it as cold as Russia yet?!” Morita hollers as he tucks his chin down, blinking in the winds.

Bucky can’t even manage a laugh, the air cold enough to dry out his mouth in a second. He’s not new to bad winters, and even though there’s ice and sleet, it’s not the worst he’s been in. Shouldering his bag, he twitches his nose and walks with Steve, trying not to think about how adorable a hulking man like Steve can be as the pompom of his beanie bobs with each step.

“Aren’t you from Boston?” Bucky teases with a soft elbow bump.

“I ain’t ever been good with the cold,” Steve replies with a shiver. “Here I thought Dallas was supposed to be sunshine and rainbows.”

Bucky smirks as Steve tries his remote car starter the moment they’re in the parking lot. When they’re in the pre-warmed vehicle, Steve takes his hat off, shaking the loose snow off of it, flicking his hair of the built up condensation.Bucky does the same, his hair having gathered significantly more snow in it.

Steve chuckles at him, and Bucky just smiles back.

“It’s good to be home,” Steve says, pulling out of the lot.

Home.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees easily.

–

Practice gets cancelled the next morning as the conditions worsened overnight, and Bucky finds himself a little lost, if he’s honest.

He stays in bed for a while, stretching out. His body carries that pleasant ache from last game, but also the stiffness of travelling right after. Eventually, he drags himself out of bed only because his stomach rumbles, and he has his late start to the day.

He texts Steve, just to bother him and ask what he’s going to do now that his routine is broken, and then makes himself a cup of coffee and an omelet.

There’s no text back from Steve after he’s done breakfast, which leaves Bucky having to resist the urge to just bang on Steve’s door and demand attention.

They’re not –

They’re not anything. They’re friends, good friends at that, who… just occasionally get each other off. Yeah.

Steve already has to deal with him every single day, surely Bucky can entertain himself for just one day without him.

As if the universe had heard his turmoil, he gets a text from Valeri asking him a bit more about the city. Bucky looks out the window. The blanket of sleet and flurries falling down aren’t exactly inviting. He tells Valeri this, after talking a bit more about his favourite places so far. He tells him about the best times to go shopping and the most random coffee shops to go into where it’s quieter.

“Coffee close?”

“Yeah – you wanna go? I can show you.”

“If you not scare of cold like team.”

Bucky smiles at the text, and tells Valeri that he’ll be at his place soon. The nice thing was that Valeri, like most of the team, lived nearby, so it only takes a few moments for him to shower, dress and hop in his car to go pick up his teammate.

It feels weird to be the one driving, and he realizes how much he wants to be to Valeri what Steve was for him when he first arrived. The city had felt so much warmer when Steve had offered all these things – offered to stay by Bucky’s side – and made him feel less alone.

Valeri is already waiting outside his building when Bucky pulls up, and despite the snow along his tuque and shoulders, he’s smiling widely, waving as Bucky stops.

It’s easy with Valeri. There’s an understanding of being new to the team, new to the city, and for Valeri, new to the language. Bucky explains that his mother had been Russian, and had been adamant on teaching him since he was in the womb, but he hasn’t had anyone to practice with in some time. Valeri either doesn’t notice the past tense, or doesn’t want to pry, but Bucky is grateful either way.

They reach an unspoken sort of compromise, where Bucky will speak in Russian if he wants to, and Valeri responds only in English. He tries not to give that feeling of longing the spotlight right now, trying to associate this only with the fond memories he has of his family.

Valeri talks about his time in the KHL, about moving from Chelyabinsk to Moscow, and about how he nearly missed his chance at the NHL. Thankfully, the two-year contract he signed with Dynamo Moscow had been terminated conditionally, giving him the chance to play in the League, or return to Dynamo if he failed to make the NHL team.

Bucky watches Valeri’s face light up when he talks about how the Stars took a chance on him, how blown away he was to be selected in the first round, even if it was tenth overall. Even though Bucky’s only three years older, he sees the kid in Valeri – that childlike excitement from “making it in the big leagues”.

He’d almost had that. If it hadn’t followed so closely after his family’s death, he’s sure he would have felt that way too. Listening to Valeri’s story though, almost feels like sharing that moment with him, reliving it himself.

“But pick you second! And you win Cup!” Valeri says, in that excited tone that Bucky wants to surround himself with. It’s infectious, and it makes Bucky smile in return.

“Yeah, and we’re gonna do it again,” Bucky replies with a grin.

“Yes, we win,” Valeri agrees.

After loitering in the coffee shop for a good amount of time, he thinks of something. Checking on his phone, he smiles when he finds what he wants. ‘Wanna get outta the cold for real?”

Steve

He’d slept in way past what he had intended. Groaning as he stretches, he checks his phone and takes a minute to respond to Bucky before doing anything else.

He’s not really sure what he’ll do with the day. The first thought he’d had was to, of course, see if Bucky wanted to do something, but thankfully his brain is just awake enough for him to reign in the urge. The last thing he wants is to suffocate Bucky and the delicate balance they have.

He tries not to look at the empty space around him in bed, tries not to think about how Bucky belongs here and how good he’d look wrapped around Steve in the morning.

Stop.

Bucky doesn’t reply, and Steve thinks nothing of it, until he’s just clicking around on Instagram. He hadn’t quite connected that nicha43 was Valeri, but it all falls into place when he sees the caption, the location, the verified symbol.

[Image: An instagram photo posted by username nicha34, tagged Russian Banya with he caption: Bucky “Best Guy” Barnes]

He has no idea where they even are, but searches it out of curiosity.

A Russian banya (ба́ня) has a special room, where a large amount of hot steam is created with the help of water and hot air. A classic Russian banya is heated with firewood, but modern versions might use electric heat as well. Inside the banya, which is usually built of wood, there are wide wooden benches along the walls. They are built up one above the other like steps. You can sit or lay on the benches. The higher up the bench the hotter the air is. Once someone has warmed up well enough, he or she leaves the steam room (it is called the парна́я in Russian) and dips into a pool of cold water. You can also pour water over yourself from a tub (уша́т), while in Siberia it's common to walk right out of the steam room and jump into the snow.

A sauna. Steve is well aware that saunas are popular amongst them, the steam helping relax their overworked muscles, so it seems like nothing.

Except the fact that Bucky is sitting somewhere in the city, with nothing but a towel, skin glistening with sweat, and it’s with Valeri Nichushkin.

Steve definitely hadn’t thought of being jealous, but now he supposes that Valeri and Bucky had gotten along right off the bat. There was an obvious connection the moment the first word of Russian left Bucky’s mouth.

His mind wanders off, thinking a little too hard about how well they go together. Valeri, a little taller and Bucky, a little wider, both with lopsided smirks when they feel playful.

After who knows how long, he looks back to his phone, forgetting what he’d been doing.

Friends go to the banya with a special purpose in mind. It’s considered that the banya atmosphere brings people closer together, allowing them to communicate and interact on a more common level. Russians don't spend all their time in the parnaya (парна́я is a room with hot wet steam). During a break they walk out to another room which is called predbannik (предба́нник is a room before the steam room). Usually, that room has a large long table and a few benches. In the predbannik, people take a break from the hot temperature and relax, drink aroma tea or special herbal tea, have conversations about life and share their ideas or beliefs to each other.

Steve closes the page, swipes all of his app closed, and forgets to like Valeri’s picture like he probably should’ve.

[blush-and-books]

i’m sorry, but i fell in love tonight

short fic based off of this gifset by @juliesmolinas and the song is there somewhere by halsey. in fact it is mandatory that you listen to the song/read the lyrics/both before/during reading this. yes i said mandatory.

angst with a sappy ending, julie goes through a lifetime of emotions in less than 3k, was originally gonna write when i was in a more emotionally raw state but writing this made me emotionally raw so... enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Julie made the promise at some point -- she just doesn’t know exactly when.

It may have been when he appeared at her school, all shy smiles and soft glances, professing that she made him a better writer. Or, more definitively, it could have been when she forlornly pulled him into her arms a moment before she was positive that she was to lose him forever. 

All that she knew was her time with Luke was fleeting. So she swore that her butterfly-wing crush was not allowed to fill her chest or dizzy her thoughts; that his lyrics would mean nothing more next to hers than words on a page and his touches would bring her little to no comfort.

Luke Patterson could not complete her. 

The universe wouldn’t allow it -- and neither would Julie Molina. 

But -- either Luke was blissfully unaware of their impending doom or he genuinely didn’t care -- he forced himself through every barrier she attempted to erect. And it was driving her nearly insane, because she made a promise to protect herself. 

Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to do it. Or maybe the universe, despite refusing to give Julie Luke in his entirety, did not want her to be protected. 

It was all in the little things-

When she stayed up with him in the garage, playing him all of the songs he’s missed in 25 years, and he danced around on the slippery floor in his socks and grinned at her with wide green eyes. The neon emerald in the dim light was reminiscent of driving on the highway and passing sign after sign leading to the exits she could have taken, but couldn’t bring herself to.

How New Years Eve arrived and the Molina family gathered in the driveway to light sparklers; Luke’s hand brushing hers as he passed off one of the two in his hands. 

In his head lulling onto her shoulder while she was trying to finish some homework with his help on the torn couch and his lips moving against her bare skin  as he mumbled that she needed to take a break before driving herself insane; followed by her braiding her hair to get it out of her face.

She already had driven herself insane -- but not over her homework. 

(His mouth on her shoulder was the answer to a prayer she never dared to murmur aloud.)

Luke never failed to be present when he was needed. If she was sick or stressed or depressed, he knew when to fuse to her side and when to offer some space. Through careful observation rather than conversation, he knew which of her many sweatshirts were reserved for illness or emotional support. 

In most of those situations, she needed him, too. Her fingernails would curl into his biceps through a cramp or wave of tears and he would wrap her in his embrace and swarm her with warm words that dried her eyes.

She hated it.

When they wrote music, it felt as though they were already reading each other's minds before either of them had spoken a word about their plans. Their journals contained inky black waterfalls spilled from an intimacy that Julie did not want to dissect. 

Again, she hated it. She loved it more than anything and hated that she loved it all -- because it could never be real. 

She would always play second fiddle to death. 

Julie made the promise to herself to not let Luke complete her because, while she had him for now, the night of the Orpheum was a reminder that the universe would not hesitate to snap it’s fingers and eliminate him from existence. 

The universe, being the confusing, stubborn bitch it is, just didn’t get the memo on that promise. 

Because Luke filled every crack and restored every gap in her being, and he shouldn’t.

The hopeless, pining romantic in her that constantly argued with her realist side said they were meant to meet. Even if it was brief and heartbreaking and had the power to hurt her in a way she didn’t understand, it had to happen. If it wasn’t supposed to happen, then how and why did he cross space and time only to fall at her feet?

(Soulmates, a taunting voice whispered. Soulmates.)

((The voice was locked in a closet as punishment.))

She didn’t want to entertain the word. It had too much of a forlorn, wistfully romantic sound to it that Julie didn’t need to associate with Luke when she spent most moments with him at this point convincing herself that she wasn’t in love.

Until tonight.

It is past midnight, which is when anyone’s mental state starts to alter. Things that would be labelled as bad ideas in the daylight could very possibly become fair game when shrouded in a darkness that made everything private. The two of them, Luke and Julie, Julie and Luke, are nestled together on the piano bench as her fingers tiredly press each cut of ivory in a working melody.

“I have an idea,” Luke says, gently shifting his left hand to cover hers on the keys. “Why don’t we press pause on this song for a minute?”

Then, she finally looks up at him. Her eyes probably have crescents like the dark side of the moon crossing her skin, and her hair is all over the place, but he’s staring at her in one of the rare ways that she hates.

She hates it because the look convinces her that she completes him.

This time, however, there’s a hope. A hope, and a hesitance, and she’s simultaneously extremely nervous and beyond curious as to what his plans are. 

“Did- Didn’t you want to finish this tonight?” 

Regret strikes across his face, but he recovers. The softness is back. “Yeah, I just think we need a change of pace.” Right hand on the back of his neck: A telltale sign of a confession of some kind. She’s seen it more times than is healthy. “There was another song I wanted to show you, actually.”

“Oh.” She blinks, he waits. “Yeah, uh, I mean, yeah. Show me. What do you have so far?” He clears his throat as he thrums through the pages to find his target. “The whole thing.”

Julie doesn’t have time to react -- although she’s already in a panic -- before the leather-bound book is being awkwardly shoved into her hands, and the first thing she sees at the top is Luke’s nearly illegible scribble of Dark Room (song for Julie).

“Luke-”

“Just read it.” His voice is significantly raspier than it was a minute ago. “Please.”

She can’t. If he feels the same way and the confession is undeniably in front of her, then what is she supposed to do? Would she rather break Luke’s heart now to save them both down the line, or delay the misery a little longer?

It’s not that she doesn’t want it -- she does. But she doesn’t know if she’s emotionally equipped for any of the options that are offered to her. The destination of any path she chooses leads to a world of heartache.

So, she does the only thing she can think in the moment: She reads the song.

Instantly, the lyrics are blurred from the tears in her eyes because she sees the words “love” and “together” and her greatest fears and grandest wishes are coming true. The sonnet proclaims that she’s his light that illuminated his once-dark forever, and that he was hers when they didn’t even know each other, and that he will be hers wherever he ends up next.

He just wanted her to know that he would have waited another lifetime in the blank, limitless limbo he was in for 25 years if he knew she would be there when he was set free.

And, in the moment, Julie allows herself to acknowledge that her promise is broken.

She’s fallen in love. 

And, apparently, he has too.

(Maybe they can claim just one night. The universe owes them that much, doesn’t it?)

“Julie?” God, he sounds so worried. A shaking finger trails up her jaw to catch falling tears, and his contact makes her gasp. He pulls away and shoves his hands together to fidget in his lap. “Julie, are you- Fuck, I’m sorry, I just fucked this up, didn’t I? I fucked it all up. Fuck, I-”

When she chances a look up at him for the first time in the couple of minutes that she’s been staring, hopelessly, at the song in her lap -- he’s got his face covered by his hands pressing roughly into his eyes, and he’s turned to face the piano instead of her.

He takes a deep breath, and it sounds… 

Stuffy. 

Three more tears leak from Julie’s eyes. More build up every minute as her right hand runs along his shoulder, “Luke…”

“No, Julie, please just drop it.”

“Luke.”

“I clearly misread a lot of stuff, and I’m tired, so maybe you can just go to bed and forget-”

Her hand wraps tightly around his upper arm like it’s done so many times when she has been in distress. “Luke.”

There’s a crack in her voice from sheer desperation. She needs him to look at her, so that she can wipe his tears and smile through the sobs and tell him he didn’t misread a single thing. She would wait a lifetime for him to come out of the dark room, she loves him too, and she’s going to forget all about it. 

And ask him to do the same.

At least the scratch of his name catches his attention long enough, because he angles back towards her, and swallows thickly before meeting her eyes. Salty teardrops linger against his eyelids and eyelashes; the red rimming illuminating the oceanic green to look like a gemstone. Her grip relaxes.

“Yeah, Julie?”

She attempts a smile. “The song is beautiful, Luke. I love it.”

I love you.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful, and you love it, but you don’t… I’m not in your dreambox, huh?”

He clearly hasn’t dug through it in awhile. He’s everywhere. Discarded guitar picks and notes he’s left in her school journals and plenty, plenty of songs.

It’s funny, because she told him her dreambox was for things that didn’t make her sad. Luke was a double-edged sword -- making her happy every day in a new way, and making her cry into her pillow at night.

How does she explain this? There’s a whirlwind of responses running through her brain and she can barely coherently comprehend any of them. 

“No,” she finds herself sighing as she raises her hand to his cheek, followed by her other hand so that he can’t try and turn away. “No, Luke, no… You’re wrong.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m wrong?’”

Her bottom lip starts to shake. “You think I don’t love you back.”  Both of them feel their breath catch at her use of the word out loud. It feels like a secret that shouldn’t be repeated. “And you’re wrong.”

“... I’m wrong.”

“Of course you’re wrong! You really think I don’t love you back?”

“Why are you crying if you love me?”

“Because we can’t do this!”

He scoffs, and Julie’s heart is racing in her chest as he pushes himself off of the piano bench and her hands fall from his face. What has she done?

“That’s bull, Julie.” His fingertips tug at his hair. “You don’t need to make a big dramatic show to convince me it’s wrong just to let me down easy. You aren’t going to talk me out of this.” Dead-on, he stops pacing back and forth, and looks her in the eye. “I love you.”

Listening to him say it, the way his mouth moves and his voice ticks with conviction at each syllable, is what makes her break. 

“And I love you too.” 

He reels back. He probably wasn’t expecting her voice to raise from their odd, in-between whisper and normal volume.

“But don’t you get it? Luke, we aren't in some magical place where we can meet each other in the middle. A place like that doesn’t exist. You’re dead, and I’m alive, and any future here ends with both of us losing each other.” 

“Julie-”

“You said you would wait another lifetime, right?” Using his own lyrics against him. She watches his hands twitch before nodding; the movements of his head barely visible. “Then wait. Another lifetime, another two -- the fucking universe clearly didn’t want us to have this one, so we’re stuck waiting for the next one.”

Even through his clear and fighting need to argue, to talk with her about this, he stiffly nods his head. It’s obvious that she has thought way too much about this from the way she’s barely choking out each word before crumbling into tears before his eyes -- but then again, he’s thought about it too. 

Callused hands are running along her neck to tilt her face up out of the blue. She was too busy crying to notice that he had crossed the distance between them to stand right in front of her and assure that she was meeting his eyes.

“Luke-”

“No, Julie, it’s my turn. Please.”

She won’t argue with him. So, with a tender swipe of his thumbs under her eyes, he proceeds.

“Look, I get it. You think I don’t get it? I fucking hate being dead, for so many reasons, Julie. But if I never died, I never would have met you.” Her lips part, and maybe he thinks she’s going to protest because he smoothly lifts a finger in front of her lips that barely makes contact. 

(Julie almost presses her lips into it.)

“And you’re right. I wish there was somewhere that we could meet in the middle, but we don’t have that. I wish so many things, Julie. But none of them involve a life where I don’t have you.”

She whimpers, because listening to the man that normally chains his emotions in a cage bare his soul to her at nearly one in the morning is a seriously more out-of-body experience than she expected. She knew, deep down, that she loved him. But she never allowed herself to feel the all-encompassing warmth that she feels now.

“But hey, Julie, look at me,” he coaxes her with a tone that drips with affection. The pads of his fingers are nearly kneading into the back of her neck. “Like you said: The universe didn’t want to give us this lifetime. They couldn’t let us have all the fun, right?” Both of them let out a watery chuckle. “But they still brought me to you, didn’t they? They let me know you in this lifetime, even if we couldn’t have forever. I said I would be yours wherever I am. So even if this,” he gestures to his ghostly form, “isn’t forever, even if we don’t have this lifetime… You know I’ll love you forever, right?”

It was a monologue straight from one of her dreams that left her waking up with a manic smile and tears running down her face. 

Unable to form any other response besides an unaware nod, Julie waits for him to continue.

“And maybe, the universe will give us the next lifetime, or a whole new universe, or… Just somewhere where we can get forever.” 

Abruptly, his hands slide from her neck and grasp her hands like he needs to hold on firmly enough to believe that she’s still real in front of him. Julie is still speechless and teary, and in the most sentimental gesture, Luke kisses the back of both of her hands. 

“We’ll get forever, Julie.” His warm breath puffs against her skin. “I promise you.”

And, well, if he promises forever in the next life -- then why can’t she take what she can get in this one?

--

tags: @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @lydias--stiles @moreflowersthanweeds @pink-flame 

[berena-cpr]

Unfinished Masterpieces - Fic Rec List

Remember the WIP on ao3 you can’t let go? The one that resonated with you? The one that you’d give anything to know how it ends?

While the Berena Creative Project Resuscitation event is all about starting to work again on projects sitting in our draft folders, life can get in the way of finishing a project for a hundred reasons.

These works, posted, but still a few chapters short of ending, are loved though and with this list we’d like to share the love for the unfinished masterpieces one can find in the Berena tag on ao3.

Given the high response we had when we asked to tell us about your favourite WIPs, you’ll find the list under the cut:

Anything Else to Declare? - LittleMissO

“I've personally had sleeping issues since I read LittleMissO's Anything Else to Declare because yeah, I'm still there, breath held and heart pounding like crazy after the most delicious slow burn, and pining, and that outrageously flirtatious conversation over a whiskey.”

that line between your heart and mine - ktlsyrtis

“it is just plain hot but also I love the idea of them writing letters to each other and I also love the exploration of what their relationship might be like with Bernie still being in the RAMC.”

you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) - bonnissance

“A wonderful, emotional angst filled fic, looking at how Bernie’s life might still have progressed after Serena left. I loved how it showed her testing her own boundaries to see if it was possible to find another relationship with someone else and when she found that wasn’t something she could do, she accepted it and found other ways to be happy without Serena. I reread it fairly often because although unfinished it doesn’t ever seem incomplete. But the last word “Serena” always leaves me full of a hope that I would dearly love to have fulfilled.”

Secrets in the Dark - Wonko

“I’d love to see this continued!”

For a Good Time Call - Regency

“Young Serena using that pure sex voice of hers to make a little extra as a phone sex operative, and young nervous Bernie taking the first tentative steps in exploring her sexuality. Who better than Serena to help her figure things out? The premise of the fic is ingenious, the writing amazing, the dialogue just outstanding. Hot, sexy, soft and full of compassion and feels. I would sell a kidney to read the next chapter to this – Bernie and Serena meeting years later and recognising each other’s voices.”

you're the only one I never looked for - gutsandglitter

“Never expected I'd enjoy a Baby Boom AU, but I love this fic. Serena hanging out in the country feeling extremely overwhelmed and constantly running into this weird tall, awkward woman named Bernie is a mood. I will forever hold out hope for an update so that I can someday read about them having lots of sex (after an appropriate amount of angst, miscommunication, and unexpected grocery store encounters, of course).”

Things Kayryn doesn't write - Kayryn

“So they’re not exactly unfinished, because they are complete, beautifully crafted, amazingly inventive, head canons, but they’re not completed fic’s so I’m counting them. I actually think that’s one of the lovely things about them, there’s a full story in there but enough space in them to bring your own imagination to the details. The fact that every head canon is spot on and you can completely image it happening is the icing on the cake, and the perfect characterisation is the cherry on top. Canon could have taken lessons from from Kayryn”

I Want to be Your Fantasy (Maybe You Could Be Mine) - Regency

“I just love the concept and the first chapter just pulled me in and I so very much want to know what happens next.”

Notting Hill - Bat_and_Breakfast

“All the “Rom Com idiots in love but they don’t know it miscommunication capers” re-envisaged for Berena you say? Sign me up! I love the way the plot of Notting Hill is absolutely recognisable, but never at the expense of Bernie and Serena’s characters. Everything they do, their responses, the dialogue, is so them. And the cleverly cast Holby regulars as supporting stars - genius. It’s an absolute triumph of transformative work. It’s wonderfully and engagingly written. If you’ve ever got sucked into watching “just a bit” of rom com and found you’ve just lost a couple of hours of your life - this fic does the same thing.”

Follow Me There - troiing

“Full disclosure: I’ve never watched Sanctuary and I know nothing about the characters. But this crossover fic is so good, that it doesn’t even matter.”

hold me closer (tiny dancer) - serenacampbell

“I don’t know why I’m so attached to that fic, but I am. I love the premise of a slow burn fic where the characters still get to do sexy things during the awkward slow burn oblivious period. It’s like the best of both worlds.”

Machu Pechinku - Jrnsaxa

“Forget France and Nepal, what if Serena spent her sabbatical in Peru? The setting in this is beautifully vivid, as is the the delicate ways in which Serena and Bernie start to reconnect after Elinor.”

Hello, Major - lesbianquill

“This is a near perfect Serena being fixated on Bernie in fatigues fic. The first chapter is very insightful, helping us to understand why Bernie might not be happy to accede to Serena’s small kink/obsession. That of course doesn’t last for too long because Bernie loves Serena and she loves having sex with Serena. It was offered as a smutty one shot, but then they rewarded us with an even smuttier second chapter and teased us with the news that a third chapter would be forthcoming. It never happened. Main reason for wishing it could be continued? I enjoy well-written smut.”

In the Spirit of Three Stars - alwayssomethingelse

“Bernie and Serena as Federation officers on Deep Space Nine. Oh, the potential!”

Anatomically Correct - phantomunmasked

“Bernie severely overcompensating for any possible awkwardness in their first time by ordering a mountain of sex toys is a premise that will always delight me. Every time I go back to this one, I ponder what their weekend away would bring with a big grin.”

The Clinic - RexWolfe

“Maybe it’s all the Bramwell we’ve been watching, but this one’s been on my mind lately. Can’t go wrong with a Victorian AU.”

a life in pictures - Regency

"I soooo want to see Serena maybe modelling for Bernie (or at least just how the date goes)”

working up a storm inside my head - sevtacular

“While this isn’t actually an unfinished fic in the sense of chapters missing, the prompt fic collection of Sev can always be added to as far as I’m concerned. Love what has been written so far, hope there will be new chapters with time.”

Body and Soul - ChalkHillBlue

“Possibly the weirdest AU idea ever, this body swap AU makes my brain go crazy with the possibilities every time I read it.”

When We Need One Another The Most - Whispersmummy

“I know this isn’t strictly Berena but it wouldn’t have been written if not for the Berena fandom who love most every conceivable way these two dorks might get together. Very well written (imo) and cleverly constructed fic. Lots and lots of angst and who doesn’t love angst? Only thing missing is a small amount of smut. (Yes I’m back there).”

Ring In The New - fiveroundsrapid

“Fics where Bernie comes to Holby before/during Adrienne’s illness are my kryptonite, and this one is so good!”

Holby One: A Star Wars AAU Story - elitryalittle

“Holby One is my favorite unfinished fic. It’s not just because I came to Berena via Star Wars (a bit of an unusual way, but here I am), but also because I can totally see Serena as a healer and Bernie as a Jedi knight. Kudos for their excellent knowledge of the SWU and this great idea of a crossover fic. I’d give them a limited edition “Looking for Leia” patch and a sticker if they’d finish it.”

to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh) - bonnissance

“The photographer/model AU you never knew you needed in your life, but you really, really do.”

Heroic Endeavor - Nicolaruth27

“I never would’ve thought I’d be down for a Greek god AU, but this fic has permanent residence in a corner of my brain. Bernie as Athena in mortal form is inspired, and the way the fic is interwoven with canon is a delight.”

what a lovely way to burn - ktlsyrtis

“I just love anything that's weaved into canon but with them being happy and dating and communicating."

Love, Unexpected - Igerna

“Bernie is still married to Marcus when she meets Serena during a conference. They immediately bond and keep in contact, sharing both professional advice and thoughts on their private lives. Love, for them, happens rather unexpectedly. I do love conference fics and slow burns - and this is a good one.”

a little less war torn - kitnkabootle

“The setup for this - in which Serena is the one who goes to help when Bernie is brought to Holby, instead of Raf - is one of my favorite ‘what ifs’ to ponder, and the writing is outstanding.”

[ateezaligned]

How OnlyOneOf portrayed queer relationships and dynamics in libidO, w a hint of good ol’ yearning

(disclaimer: this strictly about the mv and in no way I’m implying these dynamics are translated to real life and their friendships if u suggest that ill kick you, don’t ship real ppl romantically pls)

The storyline of Instinct pt. 1 tell us this album is focused on self-discovery and how young people repress their “urges”, but the way all three subplots play with this concept is super fascinating!

The KB/Yoojung situation (which is my favorite subplot!!): From my point of view, Yoojung and KB show a relationship that is just blossoming. The song starts with tying up Yoojung’s hands, he is being contained, and his lyrics are literally “I’m attracted for no reason”, now I looked up other translations besides the original and it also has to do with being ‘pulled’, like Yoojung is being pulled into this relationship for ‘no reason’, he thinks he needs one to fall in love with another man. Rationalizing your feelings is a way to separate yourself from them. Therefore, Yoojung plays the more hesitant part, he overthinks, his super ego policing strongly what he feels.

On the other hand, KB is seen initiating most of the physical contact between them, and he does it in a way that makes it easy for Yoojung to pull back if he doesn’t want it. KB is also always at least an arm away, inside a comfortable space for Yoojung to reach for him if he wants to. In their first scene of close contact, Yoojung is the one laying his head on KB’s shoulder, and he keeps control of their closeness throughout the whole video, despite KB breaking it with the soft touches we see, such as fixing Yoojung’s hair or putting his hand on his shoulder in the beach scene. And all this gentle-ness contrasts so well, bc we also see KB’s character initiating contact with others! He pulls Junji for a hug when both of them are shirtless and he does it so nonchalantly! It’s obvious he is okay with /more/, but he respects Yoojung’s boundaries and never pushes.

The scooter scene is great, bc we can see Yoojung hugging and pressing their thighs and putting his hands in the air, he feels more carefree, he was able to get past his own inhibitions and it’s so great to see.

So Yoojung and KB's is like a first relationship: you are stepping on eggshells, you don’t know what you’re doing or looking for. A lot of queer people start dating into adulthood, and even with previous ‘straight’ dating experience, everything is so incredibly new! And it’s great but also anxiety inducing and frustrating.

Then, there’s Rie and Junji. A thing I found incredibly interesting is that in every scene of them (except two) they’re already in contact. In the car they’re holding hands, and when they’re hugging and eating lollipops, and back to back in the basketball court, we don’t know who started it, but it doesn’t matter because Junji and Rie are equals and stand on the same ground of mutual love, respect and experience, they’re having fun and smiling at one another, even when they’re playing basketball face to face, their eyes are on each other and its playful and great. Rie has one of the best lyrics in the song that is “I trust youand I accept it”. Junji and Rie don’t need to fight their instincts, really, because they know everything is reciprocated and their libido (not as in sexual drive but as in life energy) is matched in the other, they have trust over everything else, and this can also be shown in the only scene where Rie lays his head on Junji’s back, he’s supporting himself on his partner and Junji accepts it because relationships aren’t only fun but also healing and giving someone a place to rest. And Junji does his part and bandages Rie’s wounds, which @henlex pointed out as a Achilles and Patroclus reference, being these basically the top tier of gay love and companionship, when Patroclus died (represented by Rie), Achilles dies avenging him, asking for their ashes to be mixed so they could be forever one. So yeah, let’s yearn for something like this gays.

Finally, the trio. They’re the first ones to have their solo scenes, and you can see Love in the bathtub, he is naked and exposed, playing with some rosemary leaves (yeah I went to someone and asked them if they recognised the plant leave me alone). Rosemary used to be given to Aphrodite bc it was used as an aphrodisiac. It also represents fidelity. Yeah. So Love is playing with fidelity, basically. Many thoughts were thought.

Then, Nine and Mill are a continuous contrast throughout the mv. While Nine is inside and laying on the floor, cozy and reading, Mill stands outside in the garden looking at the window. I’ve said it before but I think it’s really important the way Mill’s character portrays one of the harsher parts of queerness that is that “other-ness”. You’re just an observant, and you want in and to be yourself with your friends and participate in those rituals, but something inside you doesn’t allow you to. In here, though, is not just ‘I want to identify with my straight friends’ but ‘I want to be free like these other gays, why can’t I do it?’.

Nine and Love’s relationship doesn’t really show a lot of romantic moments, in fact, I can’t really think about something between them that was, intimate and sensual? yes, but not romantic. Which is completely okay. Sex is not something bad, and gay sex is constantly demonized. Casual sex is okay and sex with friends and whatever, as long as everyone involved is a consenting adult, sex is okay. So to me, Love and Nine are friends, the arm around the neck seemed casual and natural, they’re comfortable with each other, and they’re also comfortable with mill, as shown in the creek scene. They didn’t mind the audience (yeah this sounds kinky ik), both nine and love are pushing the boundaries, unlike kb. But pushing isn’t always wrong, per se.

Nine starts with the lyrics “leave it, libido, we’re like roots (…) mixing together with no rules”, while Love sings “don’t suppress it just accept it”. Both nine and love are clear with their intentions and instincts, their subconscious is not their enemy in any way, since both of them accept the relationship they have.

Meanwhile, Mill battles with his libido, but it’s not like Yoojung who has a partner that actually loves him, if Mill takes the chance and jumps, he doesn’t know where he is going to land. In the whole video, not even once Mill touches someone else, even if he desperately wants to (Yongsoo did a great acting work I’m still so amazed!!). The yearning and pining over Love, who pulls him in and gazes at him, is such a good concept, because even if Love is giving him all the signals that there is (he is with another boy openly, allows close contact and shows himself in front of mill), Mill will still doubt himself and what he is doing. Hesitation and all, he takes a leap of faith in that one scene where he approaches Nine and Love, and keeps eye contact.

Now here is where the controversial crotch grabbing scene comes, and both Love and Nine sing. They say they’re walking over shallow water, so it’s not risky, they’re not gonna drown, and there’s no one around and they just “keep walking”. They do their thing with no care of what others may think. But also, Nine asks “what you need?” And “why can’t you see the light over there?” now, maybe after the whole no compromises he did catch feelings for Love, but Love, playing with fidelity as previously stated, answers “I’m gonna go where I feel like going”.

And then we have Mill’s rap. He talks about how this ‘experience’ can’t be compared to anything else but it’s an experiment. Now I know a thing or two about downplaying queer experiences, it isn’t unusual for gay ppl to look at things our younger selves did and think ‘how did I even passed as straight?’. Mill, even after saying it was just this experiment, says “you’re already putting a period, that doesn’t end things”. So, my guess, since after that we don’t see them directly interacting unlike the other couples, is that it all fell apart. Love, having the upper hand in the whole dynamic, didn’t have actual romantic feelings for any of the other boys, and he left them hanging.

While a bit heartbreaking, I think it’s important to point out that queer relationships are just like straight ones, and sometimes they end up in ruins, and it’s okay and its part of growing and discovering oneself!

So yeah, that’s my interpretation. This is like 1500 words. A whole essay. Hyperfixation is a bitch. I need a girlfriend.

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

Once in a Blue Moon

Written for @tropetember day one: Friends to Lovers Fandom: 911 Pairing: Eddie x Buck Rating: Teen  Warnings: Alive Shannon, background Shannon/Taylor Word Count: 1,471 Summary: Love like the one between Eddie and Buck was rare and only came around once in a blue moon. You can also read it on AO3

It was inevitable that the two of them would end up like this. From the moment Evan "Buck" Buckley had laid eyes on Eddie Diaz he knew he was in trouble. The man was handsome and just Buck's type and Buck 1.0 would have been flirting with him in an instance but he was still in love with Abby, she had played a role in changing him into the man he was now, who wanted something more than a fling and one night stand and it scared him that this new man at the 118 could cause such a reaction in him so he fell back on his asshole behaviour and tried to keep Eddie at a distance but that didn't work because Eddie was determined in making friends with him.

Eddie is like a thunderstorm that comes out of nowhere bringing him gusting winds, flashes of lightning that lit up the sky and cool rain that is welcome on a warm day. He also brings with him the son in the form of his son Christopher.

The moment Buck met Christopher he fell in love with the little boy that was pure sunshine and he met dad Eddie and if he wasn't gone on Eddie already watching him be the best dad for his son he whatever fight that was left in him was gone. He was crushing on his best friend and he didn't know what to do about that.

Eddie and Christopher became what Buck had been looking for a family and Buck was so afraid that he might lose him that they would leave him behind. So as his love grew for Eddie his fear of losing them had him staying quiet, he was just happy to be a part of their lives.

+******+

"You are an idiot."

A sigh escaped Eddie at his ex-wife's helpful comment. "Yes, you have told me this several times." He reminded her as he turned to face her.

A sigh escaped Shannon as she crossed her arms over her chest, "Eddie, Buck is in love with you just as you are in love with him, don't you think it is about time that you two did something about it. Hell Christopher is days away from starting to plan your wedding and Athena has agreed to help him."

Eddie could only stare at her in shock, "Athena?" Athena Grant is without a doubt one of the scariest women he has ever met and he knew that she wasn't playing around.

"Yes, Athena who is Buck's mom has decided that she is tired of watching you two pine and mope around one another. Not to mention the rest of us. Christopher wants Buck to be his papa, his second father. He knows that you love his Bucky and that Buck loves you and he can't understand why the two of you are taking forever in getting together. We both know that it is you who is going to have to take the first step because Buck is afraid of losing you and Christopher and he won't tell you how he feels he will put on a smile and pretend that he is happy with the way things are, just like he did when you tried to date Ana."

Eddie winced at the reminder of his ill-fated and thankfully short romance with Chris' former teacher. She was pretty and smart but she saw Christopher's limits and didn't want him to find his own way to do things and she had a deep dislike of Buck, which Eddie couldn't understand Buck is a puppy in human form and he had been nothing but welcoming to Ana, even when Ana started crashing their movie nights and inviting herself on their outings with Christopher.

It had been Christopher who spoke up and said enough was enough, he wanted time with his Buck and his dad not his Buck, his dad and Ana. When Ana had suggested that Buck needed to take a step back and let Christopher get used to her being in Buck's place Eddie had been horrified he couldn't do that, he couldn't picture his life without Buck and he knew that their relationship was going nowhere, that Ana didn't fit with them.

Eddie couldn't deny that he felt happier with Ana gone and he could see that Christopher was and even though he wouldn't say it out loud so was Buck.

"Eddie, you deserve to be happy and so does Buck. Think about it." Shannon told her ex. She had found her second chance of happiness with Taylor Kelly of all people now it was time for Eddie to find his happiness. Love like the one between Eddie and Buck was rare and only came around once in a blue moon she hated for them to miss out on it.

+*****+

The thing is Eddie couldn't remember what it was like not to love Buck. The younger man came into his life when he was struggling to stay afloat being in a new city, starting a new job and being a single father to the world's greatest kid he was drowning and then along came this ray of sunshine who offered him a life raft, who had supported him since, who told him what an amazing dad he was every time he began to doubt himself, who introduced him to Carla and who loves his son as much as Eddie does.

Buck was everything to Eddie and Christopher. The three of them had made themselves into a family and even his parents approved of Buck, they love and adore him and his dad kept dropping hints of when Buck would become a part of their family.  

Eddie will also admit that he is a possessive and jealous man when it comes to Buck. He felt that jealous the first time Buck talked about Abby, he could see how loyal he was to her even though she had left him behind and when she came back with a fiancé after ghosting Buck for so long and used Buck's former feelings for her as a way to guilt him into making him promise to save Sam Eddie had been jealous that Abby still had such a hold on Buck and angry on Buck's behalf because once again Buck had been left behind by someone he loved.

Then there was Ali and she had been sweet and even though it burned him up to see Buck moving on with someone other than him he kept quiet as he was dealing with Shannon being back and them divorcing and figuring out how to be co-parents to their amazing son and making sure that Christopher knew that while they were no longer married they will always love him.

Then the bombing and Buck's leg being crushed and Eddie could see nothing else but Buck in pain and him unable to help him. Eddie remembers holding Buck's hand as the truck was lifted off of him, he remembers wanting to take the pain away from Buck.

He remembers Buck calling him and telling him that Ali had broken up with him because she couldn't handle it. Eddie had hated her for hurting her friend, in some ways Ana reminded him of Ali they both wanted the hot fireman boyfriend, the hero they could brag about but had no understanding about the danger they went into every day.

"Eds? What has gotten you thinking so hard?" Buck was looking at him, they were on truck cleaning duty and the sun was hitting Buck just right that made him glow and Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, Buck was like his own personal sunshine.

"I'm in love with you." Eddie couldn't control the words that escaped him.

Buck blinked at him as if he was taking in the words before a shy smile appeared on his face, "I'm in love with you too."

"Great now kiss." Hen shouted from above where she, Bobby and Chimney were watching and listening with interest.

"Come on Eddie we know you want to," Chimney added, a grin on his face.

"I will allow it this one time," Bobby added.

"Well, how can we say no to that?" Having Bobby's permission Eddie moved and pulled Buck into his arms, the other man melted into him as if he was made to fit in Eddie's arms. The kiss was soft and sweet but full of emotions.

"Later when we are alone I will give you kisses that will make your toes curl," Eddie whispered in Buck's ears as their teammates cheered above them.

Buck's smile was soft and sweet, "Does that mean I should tell Athena and Maddie to hold off planning our wedding?"

A teasing grin appeared on Eddie's face, "At least for a few more months."

[secret-rendezvous1d]

what about spencer having the BIGGEST crush on you but he has never said anything abt it so he just wants to be near you all the time. one day he overhears a conversation between u and penelope talking about a guy so immediately he thinks its a guy that you’re talking to (when it’s not) and things go on from there

Oh, stop-

YN gets to a point where she can’t take it any longer; she needs to tell someone the goings on in her mind.

She’s been at the unit for less then three months and everyone had welcomed her so politely and so warmly and they invited her in like she had been there for years, sharing inside jokes with certain members of the team and holding a spot in the team that no one could fill if she wasn’t there due to illness or holiday. It was a hole that was massive to fill, shoes too big, a void that hung heavy when she wasn’t around. She had her moments with each member of the team, she had already made personal memories that she would cherish forever and she had bonds stronger to some than others... or to one other person, if she had to tell the honest truth.

Spencer.

From the very first day on the job and as soon as she stepped foot off the jet for the first time for her first case as an agent, she was plunged into an order with Spencer. He made it his priority to show her the ropes; what they did when they were travelling to a scene, what to expect when they arrived at a crime scene, what they spoke about with the victim’s families and how the dealt the grief that they felt when a case was taken to heart and he made sure to tell her that if she needed to take a break then it was more than okay to hide away and shed a few tears before coming back with a clearer mind. She remembered that so clearly and so vividly; it was their first conversation, apart from their brief exchanges of ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’ when they arrived at the unit and saw one another before the day began, and and it was a conversation that started off and helped blossom their friendship. From then, they were almost inseparable at the office and they worked best when they were put on an order together... the ‘dream team’ was the name they were given by the unit and it stuck so perfectly that it ended up becoming personal and meaningful.

YN just never expects to gain feelings from it... 

So what was she supposed to do when she was three months into a job, three months into a friendship she felt so grateful for and three months into a chapter in her life which was something so incredible to her that she feared losing it over something as minor as falling for a colleague? A friend? What did she do?

Garcia seemed to be her only option. 

A sisterly figure who always seemed to be so chipper, so bright and spritely, so sweet and kind and caring and YN felt like she could share anything and almost everything with her without worrying she was going to spread it around the office as cheap gossip that she thought should be shared. A figure she adored from the moment she met, from the moment they shared their hobbies and from the moment she offered YN a pen holder that was eccentrically designed with paper clips and pom-poms and pipe-cleaners that were glittery and brightly coloured.

With an extra coffee in the cardboard holder and a warmed croissant in a paper bag that had Garcia’s name written in scrawny handwriting, she knocks on the door and enters at the permission she was given.

“Good morning, sugar plum. How may I assist you today?”

YN grins as she leans against the table beside Penelope and passes a coffee to her, which she gratefully accepts and takes a rather heart sip and lets the warm liquid trickle down her throat, a groan of pleasure filling the room.

“You know me all too well,” she smiles and squeezes YN’s hand, “what’s the matter though? You don’t normally bring me coffee or a croissant so what can I help you with?”

“I need your help, Garcia.”

“With what? Come on, fill me in.”

YN shyly giggles and looks at her feet, the support of the table holding her securely enough that she could lean on the heels of her shoes, her thumbs picking at her nails nervously. The tingling in her stomach made her feel sick; was she really about to admit a secret she had been dreading to say aloud? For some reason, she felt like if she said it aloud then everything became real and having it become real was something she hadn’t necessarily thought about.

“So, I, uh-” she coughs nervously and takes a glance at Garcia, “I think I’ve developed some feelings for someone I just met and, and I guess I’m little nervous about it because this is the first guy I’ve actually really liked but there are things holding us back and I think it’s against the rules to even go on a date with him.”

“Against the rules? Have you never read Romeo and Juliet?”

“It’s not so easy,” YN sighs, “I don’t think he likes me anyway so it’s not really a Romeo and Juliet love story. I’m pining after someone who doesn’t like me back in that way.”

Garcia reaches over and squeezes her hand.

What neither of them notice is the movement of Spencer appearing in the doorway of the office, feeling a little intrusive as he hid himself around the corner yet still at a distance where he could hear when the conversation came to its end. A conversation he didn’t really want to listen to because it tore him to bits on the inside. His heart almost torn to shreds because the girl he liked... the only girl he had ever felt close to, who he felt a connection with, only saw him as a friend and a friend only when he saw her as something so much more than that. A reason to wake up and get to work early, a reason to find the best result in a case, a reason to smile and laugh and joke because life was for living and he felt like he hadn’t done much of that in his solo reign. 

“Garcia, he’s driving me mad. Like, the good kind of mad. It’s the kind of mad where I’m thinking about him constantly, I’m imagining what it’s like to be with him in certain situations like when I’m cooking breakfast or making dinner or watching some television,” she sighs and even though her shoulders dip down, she feels a huge weight lifted from her shoulders, “heck, I even think about them when I’m you know what-ing, Garcia. That’s not healthy, is it?”

“I’m no profiler, sweet-cheeks, but I think you’re in a little too deep for this guy. He’s lucky. You should go for it with him, don’t hold back on what you feel on the inside,” she softly pokes a fingertip into YN’s chest, “your heart tells you a lot and if thats how you’re feeling towards him then ask him out. Be that big and bold girl I know you are.”

“You think so?”

Spencer desperately wants to hear Garcia deny everything that she had said before; don’t encourage her to date some idiot who didn’t know about a neat thing called respect when she could have someone who treated her perfectly, he thought to himself, someone who was standing under her nose and praying she saw him like he saw her.

“Absolutely, YN. And you have to bring him to meet me and the rest of the team as soon as possible, okay? I want to know all about the guy who stole your heart and turned you all soft and happy,” Garcia smiles.

If only she knew that she’d already met him, YN thought. xx

[aitarose]

SAKURASOU (T.OIKAWA) pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

synopsis: oikawa’s life has never been void of love and affection, that of his fans and admirers—but never has he known love from the one he truly wants. 

word count: 1.0k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, one-sided pining, angst

warnings: blood, terminal illness, mentions of death

notes: this was an impulse write and i don’t know why i did it bc i have like fifty other things to write first asjdkl. anyways pls enjoy, this is my application for haikyuu tumblr

↳ DIRECTORY

Ethereal. 

Y/N simply was. She was absolutely, breathtakingly, the physical embodiment of perfection in Oikawa’s mind. There was truly no other like her, no single person that could possibly touch the ground she walked upon.

There was something about her, something that kept his attention. An unknown variable that surprised him every day, forcing him to attach himself at her hip, the pain in his chest raging on for another storm.

He’d been diagnosed with Hanahaki at a young age, that being twelve. The same age in which he’d met Y/N. A much simpler time, one of soft smiles and sprints through the empty streets of Miyagi.

It was a time where he was happy, completely and unequivocally happy.

Where he hadn’t had to worry about the small, dainty petals stemming from his heart. The petals that had grown over the years, callusing the inner skin of his throat, escaping his body through coughing fits and blood.

They’d started off as morsels, leaves barely the size of the tip of his pinky. At first, it hadn’t been a bother—it was well known that the disease was very real, it being the cause of literal heartbreak.

But as the years went on, the flowers became more serious. Larger. Rougher. Light grunts became gasps for air, desperate inhales for a taste of oxygen through the thick stems and leaves.

And though he was in immense pain, Oikawa couldn’t imagine leaving behind his love for Y/N. She was his rock, the person who gave him stability and comfort—she supported him as if she, herself, were his legs.

There were two passions in his life. Two things that dictated his moves, the direction his compass was led. Two entities that could make or break his soul—Y/N and his own pride.

His own pride that had hidden his feelings for five years. The characteristic that had huddled him into his own corner, berated him, abused him, criticized him when all he had to do was speak his confession into existence.

The confession that he’d finally chosen to say now, at his absolute wits end.

“I love you.” He breathed out, the blood rushing from his lips, dripping down his chin, leaving droplets on his white sneakers. Red encased his vision, though Oikawa wasn’t sure if it was the shade of love or pain.

His body collapsed against the wall, the pounding of his heart beating louder and louder. He couldn’t tell the sound was drowning out his cries, or Y/N’s hysterical sobs.

She was across from him, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes in her palms. Tears ran like rivers flowing down the canals of her cheekbones, not overshadowing her beauty, but making it sorrowful rather than enlightened.

The aura of the room was dark, a deafening break from their usual playful banter.

And it wasn’t Oikawa’s fault. It couldn’t possibly be. How was he supposed to know that she herself suffered from Hanahaki? How was he supposed to react to the news that she felt the same unrequited love he did?

How was he supposed to feel when she retaliated his confession with a confession of her own? That being of her buried feelings for his best friend, the best friend that failed to return Y/N’s perfect love.

He was a fool. 

How had he failed to notice the stolen glances, the hidden smiles, the bitter laughs she’d let out whenever Iwa would have a new girlfriend, new lover, new fling. 

Oikawa was a master of observation, yet he hadn’t been able to see the most obvious matter of all. He hadn’t been able to deduce that Y/N, his heart, was in love with the man he’d always wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, Tooru.” She sobbed, specks of scarlet splattering onto her white sweater, blossoms of primroses covering the hardwood floor. “I want to love you, I do! But I just can’t.”

“And I don’t think I ever will.”

The fits grew louder, cries and coughs forcing them into their own isolation. The two single lovers never having felt so alone in their entire lives, although there were merely three feet between them.

One step, one second was all it would take for Oikawa to reach her. Touch her, hold her as she broke down. It was his nature to want to help her, guide her to reach her goal and cheer her on when she’d present it in her hands.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t help her find her own happiness if it meant that his would die forever. Love was meant to be shared, not selected through selfishness and greed.

So instead of sitting by her side, instead of doing the very thing that he’d promised he’d do for every second of their lives—Oikawa held back. He refused to mediate the situation, help her ease her pain.

His eyes dropped to the floor, the sight of his bloody shoes bringing him disgust and distaste. Red soaked into the soles of his feet, seeping into his skin, feeding the disease he’d been cursed with—the disease of love.

In the west, a primrose would denote an everlasting bond, that of warmth and unconditional feelings that would undoubtedly end in a diamond ring—but here, in his lonesome bedroom, the sakuraso didn’t mean any of that.

A happily ever after wasn’t in their future. The pages in their book had come to an end, the final chapter was upon them—and yet, Oikawa didn’t want to turn the page. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

Perhaps he’d love her forever. Perhaps he’d endure the pain for the entirety of his life, just so he’d have a memory of Y/N, a memory of the joy she’d once brought him.

Y/N was his unknown variable, the unexpected thing that he couldn’t predict—but the sakuraso? That was his constant, the blossom that he’d live with forever as his stubbornness was imminent. 

He’d choose the blood, the anguish, the familiar white petals every day if it meant that she was still there. No matter how she felt, who she loved, Oikawa would choose her. 

—after all, she was worth it right?

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Next part of the weird Thorin-story that comes to me while I swim

Dear friends…Here I am again with another part of a story I had not planned to write and that has taken on a life of its own…

I love you, don’t hate me…

(Warning: this is less formal and a lot more…ridiculous than the last parts)

(It is “in-universe”, but barely, because I have no idea of the universe per se…)

She took the bowls to the river to rinse them in the cold waters that glittered and glimmered in the dimming light; the way the last sun of the day reflected in the ever-changing blue hues reminded her of the man she was travelling with.

It came as a very small surprise to her that her old nan had been mostly right about the dwarves, and she was more inclined to believe her post-mortem, now that she had seen a dwarf lord, no a future king, with her own eyes.

She harboured not the inkling of a doubt in her mind that he would indeed be king one day; there was something so noble in his demeanour and deportment that she found it easy enough to have faith in him. He was clearly born to lead, just as she had been born to serve.

A pang of pain washed over her heart like the cold water submerged her numb hands; she wished she could tell her grandmother about the magical creature she had come upon in the woods. How nan would have loved to hear about a man whose eyes held all the mystery of endless tunnels and the deep longing of the open sea at the same time; she would have laughed and nodded her fragile, little head, saying that kneeling was easy to those who will stand up for you as a protector rather than as an executioner.

“You shall find your master one day.” Old nan used to exclaim every time her young granddaughter had been particularly wilful or disobedient, running wild in the forest or toying around with the ingredients the old woman had collected during long hours.

She had loved her nan, but she had not believed that anyone would ever manage to curb her spirit and bind it to their will. “There are things between heaven and earth, child, that you cannot even fathom. Creatures of great strength, beings of profound wisdom, and lives full of beauty and suffering; one day, you’ll find your place in the grand design and you shall bow to its magnitude.”

At this moment, her nan’s words revealed their true and full meaning. She had believed that walking to the chapel every day would be her life’s work, but she had been wrong. All her life, she had but been waiting for the quest to begin. A quest for truth and for freedom.

His cloak was still around her shoulders and she regretted having to take it off to slip back into her own, sinfully rumpled, clothes. Checking if he was looking at her, she lifted his garment to her face and inhaled.

It smelled of woodsmoke, pine needles and of something darker that she could not identify, for she had not known any man before. Not like that. She had not smelled their skin and thought about pressing her lips against theirs; she had spent her youth with an old woman and her adulthood alone.

“Woman, there are hills in the distance. Can we reach them before night falls?” He called out to her and she dropped the garment, feeling caught and embarrassed.

“No, but we should reach them soon after. Why?” She responded, returning to where he stood, both feet firmly planted on a rocky outcrop cutting through the grass like a blade.

“We could spend the night in one of the caves in the rocks.” He cocked one eyebrow as if that had been a very obvious thing to consider.

Approaching the point where he stood, already holding on to her cart, she hesitated.

“We cannot.” Her feet stopped moving entirely as they bumped against the edge of the rock.

“I have never gone beyond this point. This is where the wilderness starts.” She whispered, pulling a small, needle-like dagger from her pocket and planting it forcefully in her forearm. While her blood dripped onto the grass, she said a quiet prayer.

“What are you doing?” He asked, interested and slightly alarmed to see her bleed onto the floor.

“My blood is bound to this earth, Master Dwarf, I want the ground to remember me and to bring me home if ever I lose my way.” She sighed before adding with a tremor in her voice: “Many have not come back after stepping past this stone. This is where the world of fire and mystery starts.”

He looked at her with calm interest. “We are getting ever closer to where my kin lives.” He declared, an unspoken question in his eyes. “Aye.” She nodded, forcing herself to smile.

“Are you afeared?” – “Aye.” She repeated, but with a heaving sigh, she lifted her foot onto the ledge. His hand closed around her elbow as he pulled her up and took his cloak from her cold, trembling hands. “You may turn back now; I won’t resent you.”

She laughed in a low, rumbling voice. “I cannot turn back, Master Thorin, I have pledged my service to you. Your story is part of my blood now, inscribed forever in this earth you might never tread upon again. Maybe, it always has. Maybe, old nan knew what would happen long before I was born.”

He had to admire her blind faith. She seemed so brave in her belief that all that happened was meant to be. Closing his hand around the shells buried in his pocket, he decided to believe her.

“Why can we not take refuge in the caves?” He then asked as they made their way through the rougher terrain. Sometimes, he had to steady her as she tottered and stumbled because she could not see the small boulders jutting out of the ground like gravestones; she never complained or pulled away from him and the smile she wore in the semi-penumbra was full of faith and affection.

“You cannot breach the integrity of the rock and delve into it without being given permission. It is rude and bad manners lead to bad accidents.” She shrugged.

“Another teaching of old nan?” He commented without irony or ill-will. “Everything beyond that rock”, she pointed to the ledge they had just passed, “is alive. We are now in the realm of the old souls where the trees have voices and the stones are stubborn. Listen, Master Dwarf.” She murmured and he was surprised, again, at the simplicity with which she accepted these things.

Indeed, he could feel the rock underneath the thin layer of greenery thrum with anticipation; it had been a long time since last someone had come this way.

“The stone bears you no ill will, woman.” He heard himself say in a low, gentle voice. Her tread was so light that it felt like a caress to the neglected ground; or, maybe, it was the inherent reverence she seemed to hold for everything around her that swayed the unmoving to support her insecure, flailing steps as well as they could.

“I give thanks to its gracious acceptance then.” She smiled, kneeling on the ground immediately and pressing both her hands to it in silent prayer.

This, he thought, was why she had survived. She had believed herself out of the reach of what she called “magic wilderness”, but he was almost certain that every element surrounding her had conspired to keep her safe.

“I have a sister.” Why did he tell her those things? “Oh, really? Is she beautiful?” She looked up.

“No, she’s a terrible…yes, she’s…She’s my sister. I guess she’s alright. Others find her beautiful.” He laughed and her smile broadened while the ground hummed in agreement with the joy they were spreading.

“She has those two terrible boys. I wonder…Would you teach them?” He was not usually this open, protecting his family and their secrets with fierce jealousy, but a part of him wanted her warm light of affection and respect to shine on his kin as much as on himself.

“Teach them what? What could a simple maiden like me teach princes?” She scoffed.

Maiden? Had she really told him that? She could have died of embarrassment.

Thankfully, he did not pick up on it, instead pinching the bridge of his impressive nose and groaning: “Respect…and how to swim.”

“Love shines brighter than respect, Master Thorin, but it doesn’t cancel it out. I’ve respected nan a great deal, but I loved her more. You are their uncle first and their king second, I’m afraid.” She smiled and he was struck by the truth in her words. It had been a silly remark, only half-serious, but her earnest tone chased away all teasing in his voice as he agreed with her.

“Keep that gorgeous head over the waterline and you’ll be fine.” She then picked up on the second part of his sentence seamlessly with a cheeky wink. “That much, I had figured out.”

They neared the looming rock now, pocked with caves and alcoves, and her steps slowed.

“Trust me, we are quite welcome.” He reassured her when he saw her hesitate; her hand slid very willingly into his own as he led her up a narrow ledge, leaving the cart at the foot of the small rise.

“I’ve told you so much about my sorry, lonesome life. Tell me more about yours if you please.” She asked as they entered a spacious cave. “We are on our way to rejoin my kin in Ered Luin.” He started, his face growing hard and unforgiving for a second in the light of the small fire he was coaxing to life. “One day, I shall reclaim Erebor though.”

She gasped. Another childhood story seemed to bleed from her befuddled mind into the real world surrounding her. “The lonely mountain…is real?” She asked, her breath bated.

“Of course it is real. What do you mean? What do you know about it?” He looked up sharply.

She had poured over every map in the small library of her town, she had even asked for express permission to enter the one in the richer, more sophisticated neighbouring town and she had questioned every travelling merchant she had encountered, but nobody had ever seen that fabled mountain. Many had even scoffed and laughed at her, shooing her away like an unruly child with too many questions and not enough common sense.

“Oh no, you were telling me a story, Master Dwarf.” She shook her head, undecided if she should tell him about a family secret; after all, since she had met him, many things she had imagined being mere fiction and a dash of conjecture had turned out to be completely true. Maybe, he would know more about those things and old mysteries would finally be resolved.

“As I said, I shall reclaim Erebor and lead my people home…after the bane is dead.”

“Which bane?” She cradled her head in her hands, elbows resting on her drawn-up knees and listened to him talk. He had a deep and melodic voice, the voice of century-old pride and eternity-spanning strength, and she liked the way it soothed the gnawing fear inside of her guts.

The sound of his voice was a presence in itself, reassuring and as solid as the creature it spilled forth from; it conveyed confidence and inspired trust. It was the voice of a king, booming in alarm and lulling in peaceful narration.

“The dragon, Smaug.” He uttered with disdain and barely held-back anger. “A dragon? Really?” She shook her head, dazed beyond words; dragons were even less likely to exist than dwarves.

“Yes, really. What other creatures do you not believe in?” He seemed partially impatient and partially amused; when his face split into a dazzling grin though, she realised that he was mostly entertained by her apparent naïveté.

“Are there really creatures made of pure light who can talk to trees and float over the ground?”

“His name is Thranduil and he’s a pain in the ass. Excuse the language, he’s a treacherous, disloyal coward, but yes, he is fair. As in…he shines with a cold, hard light. He rides an elk and some say that his soul can travel in the form of a white cow…or deer…or something stupid like that.” Thorin grumbled, heat flushing his face upon thinking of that distasteful creature he was describing. She laughed, she threw her head back and laughed heartily, her laughter echoing deep within the lonely stones encasing them. “Amazing!” She wheezed, clapping her hands and, had he hated Thranduil just a smidgen less, he would have been tempted to take her to the dark woods that cursed king lived in just to see her marvel at him.

That leaf-muncher riding other grass-eating dumb beasts did not deserve her starry-eyed wonder, even though, Thorin didn’t doubt that for one instant, the king of dark trees would have loved that.

She would also enjoy the forest, at least the way it had once been; she would love the different berries and herbs one could find galore in the shade of the trees that did indeed whisper of their dark secrets.

“Oh, I hope you won’t be disheartened by the long walk. There’s so many people I want you to meet: my darned nephews, my fiery sister…Ori, he sure loves a good story. If you start telling him your stories, he’ll follow you around like a puppy.” Thorin rumbled and she was struck by the love in his voice. These people sounded interesting and she couldn’t wait to meet them.

He inspected the fading burns and muttered: “Óin will want the recipe for this salve. If you manage to charm the old boy, and I’m sure you will, he might trade some of his own tinctures and potions with you.”

“Oh, I’d love to share my recipes with him. I’m sure there’s a dire need for it…with furnaces and dragons and such things.” She exclaimed, completely disregarding the gravity of the subject.

“Do you think they’d want to meet me though? I am just a human and far from the best of them.” Suddenly, she was overcome by a sense of dread and insecurity. She had never left her valley and the surrounding area; she would strike them as a silly girl who knew nothing of the world they had been born and raised in.

“You’re charming and you bring skills and knowledge we’d greatly profit from…but yes, we’re a private people and there will be dwarves who will not take to you kindly. I shall do my best to protect you.” He would not lie to her and she was thankful for his candid words.

“I have been poor and outcast all my life, I am not afraid of being shunned. I am used to a life in the shadows surrounding the bright lights.” She gave him a warm smile that was meant to be reassuring; she did not want him to trouble himself on her behalf.

“There will be none of that under my rule.” He sounded definitive, clearly, the last word was spoken on the matter and she dared not contradict him.

“Will you tell me of your prophecy?” His voice was soft now, enchanting, coaxing, seductive.

“Will you tell me of your mountain?” She shot back in the same melting tone.

“Tell me what you know of it first.” He challenged her and she blew up her cheeks in an effort to remember the exact words, handed down from generation to generation in her family. From daughter to daughter, words spoken in kitchens over steaming cups of herbal brew and at bedsides when the fire burned low.

“When my nan’s mother was but a babe in arms, or was it her grandmother, I don’t recall…either way, a traveller came to them.” She rolled her eyes, adding in a narrator-tone “Travellers coming seems to be a theme in our family history”.

“So, a traveller came and told them a great treasure had been received in the Lonely Mountain.”

“The Arkenstone.” Thorin exploded, shocked and outraged, apparently, she had touched upon another one of his well-guarded and jealously kept secrets.

“No, it didn’t sound like it was a stone. It was said that – after desolation and ruin, after being lost and found, upon returning home through the fire to lead his people – he, whoever he is, will be the “spring”.”

She paused, rubbing her index along her lower lip slowly to focus her mind.

“Go on…” He encouraged her. “I do not know if “spring” is meant in the sense of the season of rebirth or of the source of something good…or even as the coil that will catapult the world into the future, but he shall be the “spring”.”

She shrugged. “It’s been, oh so many years, and no doubt, the story has been tweaked beyond recognition or sense, but there it is. We’ve only ever heard of that place once: as the crib of a miracle.”

She shivered in the flickering light of the dying embers and when he took her hand, it was icy cold. “It’s a real place…I was born there, but we had to leave when the dragon came. It has vast halls, once filled with laughter and light, and…a treasure.” He tried to hold up his end of the bargain.

“You said that twice.” She teased. “What?” He frowned.

“You said that you have lived there and then you said there was a treasure. I understood you the first time.” She grinned when a treacherous blush stole into his cheeks. He was a warrior and a leader, he was not used to shameless flattery from females and he did not know how to react.

“I meant an actual treasure. Gold and gems.” He stammered, lost for words.

“I meant an actual treasure too, silver and marble.” She smiled, waving aside his embarrassment.

“Did you believe in that prophecy?” He then asked, to change the subject.

“Oh, Master Dwarf, human lives are short, but we believe in cycles. We are born, we live, we die, but everything and everyone comes back somehow. What has been lost, will be found. What has left, might well return. Nan used to say when one is at a loss, one should go back to where it ended, because chances are, that’s exactly where it will start again.”

Giving his hand a slight squeeze, she whispered: “You will face your dragon again, you will see your home again, you will have the chance to walk the same path backwards and find new solutions to old problems. This is not the end, it is but another beginning.”

She looked like an old, wise woman herself now, despite the youth of her face and the softness of her body, for her eyes seemed timeless. How many cycles had those eyes and the knowledge within them seen?

“Where is old nan now?” He asked. “Buried under the chapel where you found me. Where I found you.” Her smile was unfathomable and deep, as if the world held no secrets for her anymore, and he was in awe of her once again.

“You are cold.” He said in a hushed voice when she shivered again. He remembered how she had plunged into the cold water for his dinner and suspected that she had never really dried.

“I am fine.” She crept a little closer to the dying fire. “I don’t want to leave you here to fetch more wood.” He murmured as if to himself and she was quick to promise that she was completely comfortable the way she was. She had known cold and darkness before and she was not afraid of it.

“Will you teach my nephews to swim then?” He prompted her again, just to see her warm smile. She thought them children, but to her, they would look like full-grown men already.

“I could not bear to see such beautiful hair turned into this.” She pointed at the matted, tangled mass of her own hair hanging in a wild nest from her head.

“Their hair is pitiful either way. You might want to brush, should I give you privacy?” He offered, turning around and handing her a comb.

She wondered where he had taken it from, but she suspected that he brushed his own luscious locks obsessively every time her head was turned away, because there was no way his hair looked like this on its own.

He could hear the comb dragging through her hair and the sweet smell of fresh water filled the air, a note of citrus and wild flowers dancing on the waves the scent conjured up, and he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from turning around.

“You know you can watch me brush my hair? I don’t make a secret out of it.” She laughed after a moment and he did not need more coaxing or inviting than that; he spun around immediately, his eyes riveted on her slow movements.

She felt slightly awkward with him staring at her as if she was about to undress in a slow, salacious way; more than ever, she was convinced that he brushed his hair in secret in a kind of semi-erotic ritual. His hair was of course also something that was quite bewitching.

She didn’t question the fact that she seemingly found everything about him enchanting, literally from the top of his head down to the sturdy boots he was pulling off now.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get cold feet.” She warned, mainly because her own felt frozen stiff by now, but he just gave a rumbling chuckle that seemed to be echoed by the walls.

“I am…not.” He laughed, rubbing his thumb over her cold, frail hand slowly to show her that he was much better than her at keeping his body temperature stable.

“So…have you always been a herb witch?” He asked, not letting go of her hand. For some reason, he just couldn’t bear when she fell into silence. He was so full of questions; old nan had never told her that dwarves were such nosy creatures.

“What? I am not. I am a potter by trade. I started making the vessels for my nan’s tinctures, but when…after the plague, there was no need for vases and plates and so I made money how I could.” I needed to eat, she thought, and my nan’s knowledge of the world around her saved my life.

“A potter?” He sounded taken aback. “Yes, Master Thorin, I make fragile things to be used just like you make durable, strong things to be used. We are what we make, it seems.”

He cocked one eyebrow: “You don’t strike me as particularly fragile.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter anyway, we learn a trade and we work in it, but ultimately, we must come back to our blood and the responsibility we have towards it, don’t we?”

He nodded slowly. One of her hands felt warm now, encased as it was in his huge paw, while the other one was still numb with cold.

For one moment, she debated if this was the moment to be prideful, but then she just extracted her hand from his, shoving it into the gap between her tunic and her skin.

He looked positively hurt by her action.

“I am sorry.” He mumbled. “Why? For what?” She asked as she extended her other hand to him; he just stared at it in confusion. “Could you warm this one up as well, please, Master Dwarf?”

It was mortifying having to ask, but he seemed puzzled. “Oh, I thought I had crossed a line by holding your hand for so long…I…you snatched it away to tuck it away in a safe place…kind of…wiping it…I don’t know.” He confessed.

She didn’t know if she should laugh or frown at that kind of stupidity. “You are very warm.” She simply said, sighing with relief when he took her other hand and rubbed it slowly.

“You are clearly not.” He replied, his strong hands closing around hers up to the wrist. She felt like crawling into him and staying there.

Had nan known about this as well? Had she known that a dwarf lord was like a furnace, radiating light and heat in to the confined space she was huddled up in? The almost dead fire before her seemed a ridiculous, puny thing compared to him.

The hand in her tunic was growing cold again and she proceeded to another sneaky switch, which made him chuckle under his breath. “Scoot in closer?” He offered.

It was inappropriate. He was a king-to-be, he was a creature she had not believed existed in the first place, he was wholly too virile and intimidating, but when he extended his arm she pressed against his ribs with fervent eagerness.

“You’re frozen…and your clothes are wet. How are they wet?” He exclaimed as his arm settled around her shoulders. She had thrown them too carelessly onto the bank and they had soaked up some water, she thought, but she would not tell him about her own stupidity for fear of making him worry more than she was worthy of.

“Enough is enough. I’ll go get some new wood and fetch some dry clothes from the cart. You get out of these rags.” He rumbled, but when he tried to get up, she slung her arm around his waist in a fit of childish petulance.

“I’ll be back soon.” He draped his own cloak around her. “No, you’ll be cold. Take it.” She cried out, extending his garment to him. “Stone and metal hold heat better than mud.” He smiled gently and exited the cavern.

His sudden absence turned the cave into a grave and she scrambled out of her wet clothes with frantic urgency, spreading them on the rocks at the back of the grotto.

“Oh stone, let me hear those heavy footfalls so I know I’m not alone.” She begged, lying down on the floor, his cloak underneath her skin and half-draped across her shivering body.

He found nothing but his own clothes and, in his haste to get back to her, he grabbed a tunic of his and hurried up to the cave again.

She was lying on the floor and for a second, he thought that she might have fainted or worse, but when she sat up, a smile of welcome blossomed on her face that made his heart wince.

His cloak had slipped and he realised that she was back in her chemise, her naked body clearly fathomable under the thin layer of fabric. “I could only find my own tunic, I am, again, so sorry.” He mumbled, walking over to her slowly. She did not flinch or move back; her whole body seemed to lean towards his approaching silhouette instead.

While he threw some twigs onto the fire, begging it to flare into life again for her sake, he couldn’t help observing the way her breasts lifted and sank as she shrugged into his tunic, sighing in an expression of pleasure that was cruelly uncalled-for in her present state of hypothermia.

“Tell me more about your kin, Master Dwarf. Tell me about the people I shall meet so I shall know them when I see them.” She begged, extending her arms to make him sit down by her side.

“Are you still cold?” He asked, alarmed, as he settled next to her. She slipped back under his arm like a child, feeling frail and shivering, but sighing contentedly.

“I shall be warm in a minute. Look at the fire, Master Dwarf, what beautiful things we could fashion if we had the tools and the time.” She murmured, fatigue making her voice grow slow and melting, like honey dripping onto his senses.

He was aware of her slowly heating up flesh and her tiny hand resting innocently on his thigh as she was snuggled against him the way his nephews had when they had been but tiny little things. Only, he had never felt the fire pass from the hearth in front of him into his bloodstream when his nephews had sought solace or protection under his wing. He had not wondered about the way he might feel or smell when they had been this close to his body.

“I think that you’ll like Balin. I really do. He’s kind and smart; he’ll love the stories about your nan. Ah, you’ll get to meet Dwalin as well, he’s…probably my best friend. He’s solid, but he’s…there’s a reason he’s my best friend. We’re…less courteous than we should be.” Thorin started to honour her wish. “You’re lovely, stop it.” She mumbled hazily.

He thought about her words and about the mussel shells he still kept in his pocket. She was right, if he had the tools and the time, he would make something beautiful for her; she deserved something frivolous and gorgeous for all the help and devoted service she had offered him.

His eyes fell on her feet that were extended away from him and he was aghast to see them take a blueish hue. She was not falling asleep; she was succumbing to the surrounding cold still.

“Close in, oh stone, protect her.” He whispered, but the rock around him seemed to mock his words. “Close in, oh son of stone, son of ore, protect her.” Voices thrummed through the unmoving walls, and so he did.

Gathering her up like a bundle of empty clothes, he pulled her into his lap, leaning back against the stone wall and held her there.

Looking down, he saw the naked expanse of her legs which made him feel like an idiot for not having thought of that before. With one hand, he bent her legs at the knee and tucked them safely into the hollow he had created by spreading his own.

She lay flush against him now, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own and, when he pulled his cloak over her gently, his hand brushed the smooth skin of her unclothed thigh.

Just a hand-breadth higher he would have brushed against other parts, secret parts, that were much like his dinner: firmly closed now, but if heated just right, revealing a glittering pearl.

This was a very inopportune thought to have, he berated himself, as his body heated up against his will, making her press against him with ever more fervour.

A maiden, she had used that word, and despite being clearly of age, he wondered if she had meant that in the most allusive and perversely seductive of senses.

When had that plague ravaged her village? When had old nan died? How long had she been alone?

It didn’t matter. She would not consider sacrificing that most precious of prizes to one such as him…She had not denied him anything this far, he remembered, not her time, not her care, not her boundless courage.

Not this though, he curbed his own fanciful imagination, never this. He would not ask anything of her, not before he could show himself worthy of all the things she had given up for his benefit this far.

Her hand snaked up and came to rest just above his heart. “Lovely.” She repeated in a low, mumbling voice.

And, as she was warm and clearly asleep now, he permitted himself the tiny, tortureous indulgence of pressing his lips for one brief moment against her head, resting against his shoulder as if it belonged there. Maybe…it did.

[fellhellion]

can you make a rec list of your favorite fe3h fics? if that's alright?

OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE TO <3 always happy to give my fave works a shoutout <33333

Though mind u this is going to be a LOT so ill pop them under a cut

from the heart in exile

TLDR: platonic hubert edelgard fic that haunts me. It’s extremely good with really well written character voices and focuses on these two characters trying to find out who they are beyond the war with their friends refusing to leave them behind

Summary: 

You can’t speak just yet to whether time—and age? experience? not that war or rulership have given you much of the latter, at least in the area of gardening—has made your thumbs any less brown, but the house in the Oghma Mountains is surrounded by so many growing things it hardly seems to matter. It sits at the edge of a forest, on the gentle lower slopes, and the people in the nearest town had all smiled to speak of it when they pointed the way for Hubert, the day you arrived. A number of them were old enough to remember what it had been like, years ago, in the warm and golden before, and to insist that it had not changed in the ways that mattered. It was still full of light. The air still smelled green.

In which Edelgard keeps a garden, Hubert learns to fly, and those they leave behind refuse to be left behind.

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Watchtower

TLDR: platonic fic and amazing sylvain character study. Like genuinely one of the best i’ve ever read. If you’re someone who really wanted a deeper exploration of Sylvain’s feelings about Dimitri this fic is for u. 

Summary: 

When Sylvain is six and a half and climbs to the top of a tower with no one’s hand in his, he realizes that each and every one of the people he loves has been born as a gift to something else. Dimitri was born for Faerghus, and Felix was born for Dimitri. Glenn was born for the royal family, and Ingrid was born for Galatea and for Glenn. He realizes, too, that what they’re for decides their future. Dimitri will lead them into a better world. Felix will guide his path, and Glenn will protect his life, and Ingrid will bind her future to theirs.

And Sylvain, who was born for the border, will stand in a watchtower. He will see the enemy before it comes, and he will keep Dimitri and Felix and Ingrid and Glenn safe.

Dimitri reappears after five years. Sylvain knows it's his role to fix the mess they're in, but he doesn't know how.

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little light

TLDR: really good exploration of flayn and seteth’s relationship (+ with his wife and flayn’s mother) pre canon (also post canon if i remember right) just a really good if heartbreaking family fic 

Summary: 

"She is beautiful, and she is perfect. It is foolish to say so, because the goddess herself says perfect beings cannot exist - but Cichol knows now she must have been wrong, because his daughter is perfect. They name her Cethleann. In the old tongue, it means 'light.'"

Cichol, Cethleann, what they lost, and who they became.

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conjure the wind, ease my mind

TLDR: this author in general writes FANTASTIC work so pls check out their whole repertoire. a platonic fic between holst and claude w an exploration of claude’s past that’s just so good....found brotherhood i am WEEPING 

Summary: 

“I’d like to know what’s wrong. I’d like to help if I can.”

Calculating green eyes lock onto Holst’s own, but this time they’re laced with something a little bit like resignation

Many people call Duke Riegan a liar, but Holst feels like he knows the young man a bit better than that. To call him a liar is wrong, you see, because all Claude has ever really done is master the art of giving up as little of the truth as possible. He keeps truth close, treats it like a valuable commodity.

“I have three brothers,” he says. “Half-brothers.”

***

Claude won’t spar with Holst and Holst wants to know why.

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my fellow passerine

TLDR: same author as before and just...god this fic is so good. a platonic exploration of the relationship between Claude and Cyril. This fic has it all: found brotherhood, worldbuilding about Almyra, Claude character study, CYRIL character study. it’s just fantastic 

Summary:

Then the Alliance delegation shows up, and their offering strolls through the gates of the monastery like he already owns the place.

A reminder, for those who need it: Cyril is not an idiot. He has good eyes and he uses them.

An observation, for those who want it: The Golden Deer house leader is Almyran.

~

Cyril knows a lot more than he lets on, Claude is far less covert than he thinks he is, and messing with the guy your parents told you was a possibly-unkillable demon-prince isn’t usually supposed to earn you a lasting friendship but hey… life is already pretty damn weird.

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Autotomy

TLDR: god this ferdibert fic just fucking...destroys me. i cannot get through it without crying at least twice and usually more. it’s basically a CF canon divergence with a heavy HEAVY exploration of ferdinand and hubert’s perspectives towards usefulness and how abelist thinking affects that in their efforts to find Shambala after Ferdinand loses his sight from one of Hubert’s experimental spells. All while falling in love. this fic is VERY fucking heavy, please mind the tags, it’s amazing but it’s subject matter is something you need to be very aware of. Also i would highly reccomend reading the prequel to this fic as it provides some critical context to Hubert’s actions that you don’t get through Ferdinand’s flawed pov. Basically this author is a master of character perspective.

Summary: 

Ferdinand von Aegir's war record ends in 1182. The war does not.

Or, blind man's bluff.

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Coming of Age

TLDR: same author as before and god...just my FAVOURITE ferdinand character study. Takes place within the period Byleth is away. I don’t want to spoil anything but it’s incredible. Mines the fantastic character drama hook between Edelgard and Ferdinand that canon DIDNT rip

Summary: 

Ferdinand was a general. In theory. Edelgard had promised him continued command of his battalion, and a general needed a certain measure of wealth to supply his horses, his servants, his armor and rations and lodgings and, she’d promised.

But his father sat rotting in a cell, or worse, and it could be nothing more than a fable they thought him simple enough to believe. What did promises matter?

When the house of Aegir collapses around him, Ferdinand struggles to forge a path forward. He quickly discovers he can't manage it alone -- and neither, perhaps, can Edelgard.

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Another Life

TLDR: same author AGAIN (can u tell theyre my favourite fjsdhfk). Ferdibert fic, a man loving his partner and trying to figure out the best way to support them as they silently wrestle with questions about their gender identity is something that can be so PERSONAL and make u CRY god. also dark flier hubert my beloved. 

Summary: 

Ferdinand notices things. He cannot say what he notices, precisely, because he has no one to ask, and if he were to ask Hubert it would damn well result in every questioned moment up and vanishing forever behind a new wall of prickly austerity. Ferdinand cannot risk that. The things that he notices stick in his chest, and he thinks only, but.

Hubert wrestles with unasked questions; Ferdinand wrestles with a pegasus.

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Beneath the Sheets of Paper Lies My Truth

TLDR: Dimilix fic in my FAVOURITE fucking format of secondary in game historical sources exploring their relationship in retrospective.

Summary:

It was said that Duke Fraldarius’s grief at King Dimitri’s death was more potent than even the queen’s—but said by whom, and how, and why?

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A Fair Day’s Work

TLDR: Post CF Canon ferdibert where Hubert and Ferdinand’s overworked aides desperately try to get them together so they’ll be too busy being uhhhh AMOUROUS to give them so much work. Very much a romantic comedy with very fun OCs as our protags. 

Summary:

“I may have some coffee in the place for you,” said Prime Minister Aegir. “Let me show you how much better I have become at brewing it to your taste.”

“If you insist,” said Minister Vestra but he sounded pleased. To Delarivier, who had literally made it her profession to attune herself to his tone (usually ranging from sort-of-murder-y to extremely-murder-y), Minister Vestra sounded very pleased indeed.

--

Ferdinand and Hubert's long-suffering aides figure out a way to work fewer hours.

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Roost

TLDR: Dimilix post AM Canon with some pre canon moments. Basically an exploration of the complexity of their relationship with bird symbolism and extra Holy Kingdom lore. Gifting ur lover a vulture is something that can be so personal fksdhfsjkd

Summary:

Dimitri makes an affirmative noise. Then he takes a breath, voice leveling out into what Felix had long ago dubbed his 'future king voice', all steady explanation: “Long ago, the saying fledged right along with the nobles' and royal family's love of hawking, and it has remained a common phrase from one generation to the next. As adviser to the king, the duke is meant to be regal and strong, even deadly when required, from his place at the king's side. To always act as the most piercing, watchful eyes over the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and her sovereign."

He looks over to Felix as soon as his mouth snaps shut on the final word, as always seeking approval on his recitations.

Felix tilts his head, trying to look unimpressed. “I like eagles.”

A hand automatically comes up to cover the lower half of Dimitri's face, muffling the inarticulate sound of a snort of amusement. “That is good, since you are to be mine.”

***

They say an eagle watches over Fhirdiad.

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A faint and faraway sound

TLDR: Ferdibert with an excellent Hubert centric character study....just so good...makes me warm and fuzzy...the mutual pining and ROMANCE of it all

Summary: 

Hubert learns to be a person, with a lot of help and complication along the way.

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In golden light

TLDR: A really REALLY good ferdibert fic with ferdinand centric pov that focuses on him reflecting on his life as he prepares the Aegir house to become a boarding school. Ferdinand sibling exploration is ABOUND here and it’s great

Summary: 

When his family's summer home at Lake Aegir is set to be converted to a boarding academy, Ferdinand pays it one last visit and contemplates his complicated relationship with family, love, and legacy.

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one three four three four zero

TLDR: the fic that actually got me into dimilix. VERY heavy character study and you NEED to mind both the general fic tags and the content warnings the author lists for each chapter but it’s incredible. Takes a very familiar trope and just. slams you in the face with over 60k words of amazing character study. 

Summary: 

“How are you going to get the One-Eyed Demon of Garreg Mach, the Boar Prince of Faerghus, smuggled past Dukedom soldiers? What plan could you possibly have to get a creature that incapable of even pretending it isn’t a bloodthirsty beast into Dominic without getting caught?”

The Professor gives him one of their steady, unreadable stares. They definitely do not and could not possibly have answered him, “You’re going to pretend to be married to him.”

or, How to Pretend to be Married When One of You Can't Stop Hallucinating and the Other One Uses Hostility to Cope

[erosofthepen]

Hi hun! This is for the Matchup Request thing!!

🗡️ 18yo GNC Woman // Bisexual // Autistic and Chronically Ill. I'm fine being shipped with any gender, but I tend to like Men more since I make friends with them more easily than with girls

🗡️ Idk if this has any relevance, but I'm an Aquarius, INFJ, 4w5 Hufflepuff. That means I'm very unique and philosophical, idealistic but scientific in my approach to things. I have a soft but strong presence.

🗡️ I really love/relate to characters who are sad, scruffy men who pine romantically after someone and have pretty hair. Aragorn, Caleb Widogast, Jonathan Sims, Hozier, I see myself in these people and really love them a lot.

🗡️ I am INCREDIBLY existential, and I love Indie, Folk and Rock & Roll Music. I also play a lot of Dungeons and Dragons, and when I get comfortable enough to joke with someone (which may take awhile) I can be very raunchy and witty. I'm Hyperempathetic so I really hate seeing people upset, and I have a pretty bad anxiety disorder too.

🗡️ I love horses, folk art, armor and anything that has "Moomins Vibes" and is really folklore or nature-oriented. I write for a living, and I dream of becoming a craftsman who makes Lotr and Mythology-themed Jewelry, Weapons and maybe even Armor or Motorcyles one day. I also love Mythology, especially the deities, and actually worship a few of them too

🗡️ I am very short, only 4' 11" tall (149.86 cm) with a messy mane of brown hair, light blue eyes, crooked glasses, and pale skin that's littered with scabs, moles and bruises. My hair used to be blonde when I was younger, so it looks honey-colored in sunlight, and I never learned how to braid so I usually just put it in a ponytail or leave it loose and messy.

🗡️ I’m basically like a tiny, less-impressive Aragorn. I love travelling on foot, getting messy outside, I’m kind of a Horse Girl ngl, I’ve always wanted to be a knight or king of some sort, chances are that I haven’t bathed in awhile, and I too would pine for a hot elf girl for literal years on end.

Sorry that description is so long, I hope you don't mind!! Thanks so much in advance hun!!

I ship you with Bofur. I cannot imagine you with anyone better. Like. Bruh. You guys would be so frikin sweet together!!!

Okay, he would love you so much. Your desire to become a craftsman and make jewelry? He’d love that, and would 100% give you pointers and tips, and guide you towards his cousins if you want to work on more advanced techniques. He’d be honored to don any jewelry you make for him, and would treasure it forever. When you get comfortable enough around him and let out your witty side? He’d be surprised at first, but would soon be joking right along with you! Like, Mahal, he never knew that you were this funny!

He’d always be there to help you on your bad days. Whether your chronic illness is bothering you, your anxiety is becoming too much, or you’re on a sensory overload and have a meltdown, he’s always supporting you. He’d take you in his arms and cuddle you pressing kisses all over your face. He’d try and make you laugh once the worst of it has passed, and it makes him feel a bit better if he can get you to smile. Or,  he’d leave you alone, if that’s what you need. But he’d never be far, so that he can be there if you do need him.

He’d love learning about mythology from you, and finds it really fascinating that you’re able to communicate with them through your practice (though, he’d get very jealous of Þor when he hears that Þor flirts with you, so be prepared to deal with that lol). But this dwarf would also have a few dwarrow myths and history of his own to share with you, so you’d spend plenty of time bonding and talking about that as well!

Bofur loves your hair so much, and thinks it’s almost like magic how it changes to golden-honey in the sunlight. When he learns you don’t know how to braid, he’s insistent upon braiding it for you (even if you’re not courting yet and it’s platonic). If you wanted too, he’d also teach you some styles, so you could do your own hair (and also his). He might get a bit upset at how many bruises appear on your skin, “Lass, you’ve got to be gentle with yerself! I hate to see you hurt!”, but it never bothers him too much. He has plenty of bruises and scrapes himself, after all. You both get pretty messy, with him being a minor and you being a fun size aragorn, but every so often you both bathe and get cleaned up. It’s all for naught, since you both immediately get dirty again the next day, but at least you both get cleaned up once in a while.

All in all, you and Bofur are the most precious and cheery couple in Middle Earth.

[venusofthehardsells]

No Rest for the Wicked [Dea ex Machina part one]

John ConstantinexAngel!Reader Summary: You travel to a remote island to put a murderous spirit to rest, but things get complicated when you run into one John Constantine. Warnings: swearing, mentions of mental illness, blood, smoking, ghosts, pining, is slowburn a warning? A/N: My first Constantine fic on tumblr, yay! This was originally written for a challenge aaages ago, but it got away from me and I couldn’t meet the deadline. I had so much fun with this though, Constantine is a great character to write for! There will definitely be more stories about him and this particular angelic reader in the future ♥

I’ve mixed elements from both the Vertigo comics and the NBC TV series, as well as from the general DC Universe, so don’t expect accuracy when it comes to canon. A special thanks to @nellblazer​​ for support and linguistic aid, you’re the best! ♥ Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged ~

Contrary to common belief, there had never actually been any ravens on Raven’s Rock. The tiny, windswept fleck of land in the North Sea had been named a few hundred years ago by a fool of a sailor, who hadn’t been able to tell a raven from a severely lost and consequently very confused Scandinavian pigeon. Said sailor had regrettably also been of some importance in his homeland at the time, meaning no one had bothered to correct the unfortunate mistake for fear of losing a head. Even though everyone who since came upon the island only ever managed to find gulls and puffins and various other seabirds, it had still kept its misleading English name.

The Celts, who by rights had been on the island long before the British, had chosen to play it safe and completely forego the bird names (although it had been suggested several times in later centuries to change it to the Gaelic word for seagull, or even pigeon, as a taunt). Instead, they had most likely looked to the ancient ruins that specked the island, jutting up from the rocks like broken teeth and, all things considered, had endured well beyond memory and history and legend. Or perhaps they had still been reeling from the mad determination that had brought them and their wooden ships so far from home. Whichever the case, they had called the stubborn, little rock Innis Seasmhach, “the steadfast island”.

That was its official name to this day, though most people, especially those who didn’t speak Gaelic (which in all fairness are not very many), still referred to it as Raven’s Rock.

The locals shrugged and simply called it “the island”.

There was only one village on the entire island, whose population on a good day might reach a hundred and thirty people. That usually only happened a few times during summer when the ferries from Stavanger and Aberdeen docked at the same time. The tourists came to see the ruins, buy a souvenir fridge magnet of a raven or a puffin, complain about the frightfully bleak weather and leave again on one of the ferries that departed before evenfall, secretly happy they didn’t have to spend any more time on the island.

On the day you arrived, the population on the isle of Raven’s Rock, was an astounding one hundred and forty four, which was quite unheard of in the middle of October.

What was even more unheard of, however, was the reason for all these untimely appearances.

A night ago, a pair of fishermen had discovered the body of a man in a small, secluded cove on the north side of the island. The body was placed so that it could only be seen from sea, unless one were to venture down a rocky and extremely narrow trail into the cove itself. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone slipping and ending up on the stony beach below. That kind of unfortunate death was of course tragic, but it hardly warranted the wide array of policemen and journalists the death had attracted. No, the reason for the sudden interest was the gruesome way the body had been displayed.

The dead man had been stripped bare and splayed out on the rocks like a cross with his arms stretched away from his torso. His skin was almost completely covered in symbols and writing no one could make sense of, though one expert, when consulted by the mystified and slightly desperate police, vaguely suggested it was possibly a rare pre-Arthurian dialect.

The more macabre specifics had so far been kept out of the press.

One was that the writings on the body had been done in blood, the corpse’s own, and another was that it came from where the head had been crudely severed from the rest of the flesh and spiked close by on a piece of driftwood.

Even hypnotised, the young sergeant who had told you, had looked slightly green when he related the information. You had padded him sympathetically on the shoulder before moving on. He wouldn’t remember revealing the details to you, but the information itself was seared into his mind forever.

His, along with the rest of the islanders’, you mused as you continued from the harbour and on into the village.

The locals called it “town”, but in truth it wasn’t really big enough to warrant that title.

It had one store that sold a little bit of everything depending on the weather, a church, a pub, a repair shop (it wasn’t specified what exactly you could get repaired there) and a public building, functioning as city hall, police station, post office, library and school in one. All the police reinforcements from Aberdeen had been moved into the city hall, seeing as the only two policemen permanently stationed on the island had never handled a murder case before. Meanwhile, the reporters and TV crews covering the case were taking up the pub’s five tiny bedrooms, both B&Bs and every single rental cottage Raven’s Rock could boast (nine in total if you counted the back room in the garage of the repair shop). Because you had left for the airport in a hurry and jumped onto the first plane to Norway, you hadn’t had time to secure a place to sleep on the island. You had pondered it on the ferry, but when it came down to it, you didn’t want to stick around longer than a day. If you worked fast, you could probably be on your way back to the mainland in the morning and wouldn’t need to worry about finding a bed. You had spotted a bench down by the harbour; it would have to do.

Besides, you didn’t have any time to waste as long as the murder case was unsolved. You could still hear Madame Xanadu’s words in your head like some annoying ominous echo.

A restless darkness will carry its evil across the water to be unleashed upon the twice-named rocks. The steadfast land will drink the blood of the laughing magician.

Fate was a menace when you had to deal with it like this, grounded and fumbling through the world with nothing but scraps to guide you. Not like in the old days when you had all of Heaven at your disposal… Being a proper angel had really had its advantages. You scoffed and walked faster. At least this prophecy had been pretty straightforward, which was far from what you were usually given to work with, you thought sourly, folding your arms around yourself against the wind.

A malevolent spirit that should have passed on, but hadn’t was easy enough to figure out; it happened all the time and you could deal with that. The location of the spirit had also been a walk in the park with so many hints to go on.

What really worried you was the second part of Madame Xanadu’s little mystic insight.

The steadfast land will drink the blood of the laughing magician.

Blood drinking was never a good omen in prophecies. It hardly ever meant vampires, usually just death. And the laughing magician, well, that one was always the same. The reason Madame Xanadu had called upon you to restore the balance in this place.

John Constantine.

Whenever one of her foresights indicated that the blonde warlock was walking into something he couldn’t handle himself, she sent you after him or, in this case, ahead to clear his path for him. Most times, he didn’t even know you had been there and you preferred it that way.

Like now.

The last you had heard of John was that he was in the States. Sufficiently far away, you thought. Even if someone had alerted him to the murder on Raven’s Rock, it would be at least another day before he could reach the windswept little island and by then you hoped to be long gone. It was best if you two didn’t meet at all.

You chewed on your lip as you thought of him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him, it was just… easier if you didn’t. The things you did, the jobs you took were simply too dangerous if your focus wasn’t a hundred per cent on the task in front of you. And with John around, your newly mortal heart had a tendency to make your better judgement evaporate.

You passed a phonebox on the main (and only) street that looked as though it had seen better days and a small tourist information office/part time bakery with its doors and windows shut for the night, before you reached the seemingly only building in town with light and, admittedly subdued, noise streaming out of it: the pub. Apart from the city hall, you reckoned it must be the oldest building around, but also by far the one in best repair. The wooden sign above the heavy green door was, unsurprisingly, in the shape of a very sinister looking gull and it swayed in the wind with an ominous creak that made a shiver run down your spine, as if trying to dissuade you from entering.

Well, it wasn’t very likely that you would get any information elsewhere. With determination in your steps, you walked the last few cobbled steps to the door and went inside.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room, the patrons, the energies... and you froze on the threshold.

On a stool by the bar sat the very man you had hoped to avoid. He had taken off his signature trench coat and his back was towards you, but it didn't matter; you would recognise him blindfolded. He was so thoroughly cloaked and shrouded in magical protections of all sorts that the space he occupied was practically a vacuum. It was damn near impossible to locate him by magic, you knew. If one weren't looking directly at him, like you were now, no sixth sense or intricate spell would reveal his whereabouts. But his was a vacuum you had come to know very well. So well in fact, that by now you could pin him down by his apparent lack of magic, rather than by his well-hidden magical signature, and yet, there he was, sitting only half a room away from you with a drink in one hand and one of his ghastly Silk Cuts resting between the fingers of the other. And you hadn't noticed. You hadn't even done a quick scan to see if there were other magical presences on the island when you arrived. Worse, you hadn't cloaked yourself as thoroughly as you normally would have done and your own signature reached him before you could even think to try and prevent it.

From the way he straightened his back and immediately snuffed out the cigarette in an ashtray as if someone had shouted at him to show some care, you could tell he knew you were there. He shifted ever so slightly as if making room for you and you sighed. There was no getting out of this one.

Getting rid of your raincoat, you went over and crawled onto the empty stool next to him.

You were met with that wicked smirk of his that made your heart stutter and stumble in your chest.

"Now, there's a pleasant surprise to brighten this hellhole," he greeted, raising his glass at you. "Must confess, I never guessed I'd be running into you on this godforsaken rock, luv."

"Hello John." You did with a nod, trying to keep your voice even. "Can't say I expected this to be your sort of retreat either."

The warm light in the pub shone in John Constantine's dark eyes and his smirk grew into a grin.

"It's good to see you, luv. I've missed that disapproving pout o' yours. The fact that I never know when I'll see it again makes it so much sweeter."

You rolled your eyes at him, but didn't attempt to hide your burning cheeks. The bastard couldn’t possibly know exactly how brightly your torch for him was burning, but he always acted accordingly.

"So, what are you doing here then? Odd place for playing tourist, innit?"

He leaned on the counter, his hand moving closer to where yours was resting and there was that little, dark gleam of hope in his eyes that always appeared when he looked at you. As if there was somehow some other reasonable purpose you could have to be in a place like this, at a time like this.

You shrugged, biting down a smile.

"I find the climate rather agreeable."

John threw his head back and laughed at that. Even the barkeep, who had overheard your words, snorted. You caught his gaze before he turned back around and ordered a sparkling water.

"Right. And I just happened by to see the sights, eh?"

"Well, what do you think of them then?"

You raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip of the fizzy water the barkeep placed in front of you. John grinned and gave you an obvious once-over. Your dirty boots and high-neck jumper didn't seem to put him off.

"Much improved since this morning. At this rate, I can't wait to see how they'll look in the night."

"Oh, I ought to slap that smirk off your smug face, wizard," you sighed, feeling how your stomach was practically fluttering at his suggestive tone.

"Is that a promise, luv?"

"You're insufferable."

"Aye, that I am, luv, but you keep coming back for more. Must be doing something right, eh?"

You bit your lip and looked down; he suddenly felt too close. And the general level of noise inside the pub from people chattering wasn't as high as you had hoped. It would be easy for others to overhear anything you said. Given the island-wide unrest over the murder, you were sure ears were perked more than usual and you didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, or John. You would have to gather more information some other way.

"I missed you, too," you confessed, staring at the bottles lining the wall behind the bar as if they were all of a sudden exceedingly interesting. "But I... I thought you were helping out a certain green vigilante overseas these days."

John visibly tensed up.

"Who told you that?"

You shrugged, still not looking directly at him. The truth was that he couldn't really hide from you, not even in your current state. If he found out though, you didn't doubt for a second that his heated flirting would be switched for a literal knife in the back before you could even think the word "portal". Well, perhaps not literal, but you had no doubt the outcome would be fatal for you anyway.

"Who told you to come here?," you countered, raising an eyebrow and John scoffed.

"If you must know, I got a call from an old friend. Looks like she's been scrying on her own and this little spit of land kept drawing all her energy. Didn't seem like something I could ignore."

"You should've," you mumbled, taking a large slurp of your water and doing your best to ignore the persistent little spark of envy starting to gnaw away at you at his choice of words. What old friend? It had to be someone he had slept with, it always was with him. Why couldn't you just not care? "Take my advice, John, leave. Go home and lay low. I'll handle this island."

"Is that concern for old Johnny I hear, luv?," he asked with mock-surprise.

"Maybe. Don't let it get to your head, your ego won't be able to fit into that coat of yours."

He chuckled, but the tension was still there and you didn't know how to break it without giving him the truth, or at least something close.

"Your turn, pretty bird. I don't believe in coincidences like this, so tell me. How'd you know to come here?"

Lying to John Constantine was out of the question. As was being honest with him.

You chewed on your lip a bit, weighing your options. It wasn't like him to accept any kind of help unless he was downright desperate and that was still a long way off. If you challenged him though, he was most likely to flee, that much you knew. But you didn't want to get on his bad side unless you had absolutely no other choice.

"Leave," you repeated. "This one's out of your league, John. Let me take care of it, please."

The way your eyes were pleading with him made him frown and you realised you might have shown too much of your hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, luv." His hand was on top of yours on the bar before you could move it. To anyone looking, it seemed like an affectionate gesture, but he was effectively pinning you in place. "Not until you give me a bloody good reason not to give you the same treatment as whatever beast it is we're dealing with on this island."

"Let go of me."

Your voice wasn't very loud, but you knew he could hear you. He answered by pressing down harder on your hand and you winced.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe I just want to keep you safe?," you all but hissed at him, emptying your drink with a sour expression.

"Oh, I trust you just about as far as I can throw you, luv. Every time I see your pretty little face it means there's trouble brewing just around the corner."

"I saved your life in Tennessee. And in Derry," you tried, but his hold didn't loosen. If anything, John was now gripping your hand so hard no blood could possibly flow to your fingers. "I am trying to do your stubborn Scouse arse a bloody favour, why can't you just for once in your damn life listen to me?"

"Tell me your name then and maybe I will."

Fuck. Somehow it always came down to that.

"Xanadu," you snapped through gritted teeth, eyeing John with what you hoped was an appropriate amount of ire. "Xanadu contacted me and told me about this place. Happy? Obviously, she wasn't going to tell you now, was she?"

John withdrew his hand from you as though you'd burned him. It felt about as pleasant as a punch to the teeth, but you tried not to let it show on your face.

"I suppose you're right...," he admitted. "What did she tell you then? Her usual cryptic nonsense I reckon?"

"For someone in your line of work, you're not at all keen on prophecy reading, are you?," you sighed, forcing a bit of humour into your words.

There was no love lost between John Constantine and Madame Xanadu, that much had been clear to you from the beginning. But even though she couldn't stand the sight of him, she believed John was instrumental in keeping the world safe and had begrudgingly agreed to help you protect him when she could.

"Not really my style. I prefer things more tangible, to the point. Besides, I don't need to worry about divination when I have you."

"You rarely do."

"Not by my choice, luv."

Your eyes flickered back to the empty glass in front of you and you had to take a very slow breath to try and steady yourself. His effect on you was too strong for you to be safe around him. Your job required a clear head - for both your sakes.

"A restless darkness will carry its evil across the water to be unleashed upon the twice-named rocks," you recited, steeling your voice as you averted his unspoken question the way you always did. "It wasn't that cryptic at all for once."

He didn't need to hear the other part. You could feel his eyes roaming your face, trying to figure you out, looking for something without fully knowing what. It was at times like these you missed your wings. Keeping secrets in a human body full of emotions and urges and reactions beyond your immediate control was frustrating at best. It was another reason you were better off keeping your distance.

After a while of searching your features, John sighed and gave up.

"Alright. So it's probably some kind of malevolent spirit then, wreaking havoc. Don't see why you're so worried luv, sounds like any other Tuesday to me."

The barkeep was close enough for you to signal for a refill to you both. He grunted something unintelligible, obviously not too keen on all the Brits suddenly hanging out in his pub. You made sure to send him a grateful smile as he filled your glasses, yours with sparkling water, John's with whisky.

"My weeks are all Mondays," you said and raised the glass to your lips; just as you had hoped, John did the same. "Did you get here in time to see the body?"

"Only after they moved it. Wasn't pretty..." He took another swig while staring at the wall with a distant glaze clouding his eyes that told you he wasn't seeing the wall at all. "Pathologist told me the man had been alive when 'is head was severed. The, er... the inscriptions..." John looked just as sickly green as the constable had done and very gently you put your hand on his shoulder. A small gesture of reassurance. "I'm tired," he whispered suddenly. He turned his head to look at you and your heart ached when you realised how glassy his eyes had become. "I am just so bloody tired. Demons, vampires, curses, spirits, the lot. No matter where I go, there're always more and people die, it never stops. Innocent people, good people... I just want a fucking break, but if I don't stop the darkness from spreading, who will?"

His voice was thin and on the verge of breaking entirely. You wanted nothing more than to lean forwards on the stool and put your arms around him, somehow make him know he wasn't alone, but the risk was too great. You were in too deep already.

"Sometimes I wonder whether it's all worth it..."

"Of course it's worth it, John," you said quietly, clenching his shoulder. "We do what we have to so they...," you gestured discreetly towards the patrons, ”they can go on living their lives and not... not know and see the things we do..."

"I know, luv, I know. I just... I want..." The gloom that was always lurking just below the surface of his existence was spilling into his eyes. He was weary to the bone, deep into his very soul. For a moment, you thought he was going to let the tears burst. "I risk my life every day and it's never bloody enough, is it? A man got his head carved off by some wretched spirit who should have been resting in peace. Fuckin’ Hell..."

He rubbed his eyes hard and you decided then what to do. You didn't like it one bit, but seeing John this worn down, well, you liked that even less. It meant you had been sleeping on the job.

As subtly as you could, you put your hand in your pocket and found the tiny zip-bag with a pinch of purple powder in it. It wasn't something you used often and it had never been meant for John, but you couldn't in good conscience let him go after a rogue spirit in his current state. While he emptied his glass again, you drizzled the powder into your hand and braced yourself.

"John, look at me. It's going to be alright. You are John Constantine and without you this world would have ended twelve times in the last decade, maybe more. And right now you are going to save this island, because that is what you do. So get off your sulking arse and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We have a job here. You're going to find that spirit and put it out of its misery before it hurts someone else, got it?"

He huffed, but even so raised his head and managed a small grateful smile at the reprimand.

"Yes. You're right. Thank you, luv. You always know what to say..." His eyes darted to your lips and for half a heartbeat, you did nothing, just sat there and waited for him to lean in the rest of the way and kiss you. It was far from the first time it had happened, but you still felt at war with yourself. There wasn't a single atom left in you anymore that didn't crave his affection. He was drunk and emotional and between the way he looked at you and the way there suddenly seemed to be less and less space separating your bodies, there was no doubt about his intention. It would be so easy just to finally give in and let it happen.

"Don't thank me."

Before he could lean back or ask you what you meant, you blew the purple powder straight into his face.

His eyes widened in shock, but his body immediately began to turn relaxed and pliant.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me...," he mumbled, but his gaze was already unfocused.

"I'm so sorry, John," you whispered, gently guiding his torso onto the bar.

He tried to say something more, but his words were slurred and within a few seconds, he was gone.

You had gotten the sleeping powder from a dealer in New Orleans, who had told you the effects would last at least four hours. They always oversold their stuff, but hopefully John would be out long enough for you to deal with the entire affair if you hurried up and took a few shortcuts. It was a messy solution, but then again, you hadn't planned on him being here. Desperate times and all that.

"He gonna be lying there all night?," the barkeep grumbled with a raised eyebrow at John when you hopped down from your stool. You put on the best smile you could manage under the circumstances and slid 50 quid across the counter.

"He'll come ‘round soon enough. If not, I'll be back for him in a few."

You practically fled the pub before he could ask you any more questions.

The road outside was deserted and you hoped no one was watching as you marched to the lonely phone box you had spotted earlier. It didn't look like anyone had used it in several years, but when you picked up the receiver the dial tone was there alright.

You took out a stained, battered playing card from the depths of one of your pockets (the seven of diamonds) and slid it into the credit card slot. You didn't own a mobile phone and neither did most of your acquaintances, but still you had memorised the few numbers you occasionally needed.

"Hey Chas, it's me," you said when the answering machine finally picked up. "I'm at the island with John and I haven't got much time. I don’t want to get John involved in this so I need to work fast. There's no need to worry, really, I've got it under control, but... just in case something unforeseen happens, uhm... if I don't call back in let's say ten hours, will you let John know where to find my body? He can't track me in his usual ways, so he'll need your help."

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What you were about to do was risky, maybe even reckless.

"I'm going to the beach where they found the dead man and work my way from there. If... if I don't succeed..." It was as if your throat was suddenly full of gravel. "Chas, please, just make sure John isn't the one to take on that spirit. He is not ready for that." Too late, you held the receiver away from your face while you tried to suppress a sniffle. So much for convincing Chas Chandler that you had things under control. Forcing your voice to even out, you continued. "I have to go. Just help him if I can’t, okay? And don’t worry too much. I’ll probably see you in a couple of days.”

Before you could say anything even more stupid, you hung up and slid your helpful seven of diamonds back into your coat. Handy little thing to have on you.

You left the phone box in the last light of day and made your way down to the beach. It took you twenty minutes to reach the cove and less than one to sneak under the police tape unseen. There were just two constables standing guard at the scene and they only looked when you wanted them to. For an active crime scene, the site was unusually quiet, but you attributed your luck to the dusk that made searching for clues almost impossible.

Of course, that went for you as well, you thought sourly as you carefully stepped around the little plastic numbers the police forensics had put up all over the little stretch of beach. You could make out the bloody piece of driftwood and the large dark spatter running down the stones where the corpse had lain, but nothing smaller than those. Even if the place was rather secluded, you didn’t dare light a torch with the uniforms standing idly guard so close by.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and concentrated.

The place was tingling with dark energy and it became clearer the more you felt around, using your own magic.

A spirit, just like you had anticipated. A lost soul preying on the living for… revenge? Yes, the bloody traces sang with the mad desire for vengeance that so often kept the dead from their rest. 

Bloodshed, the thirst temporarily quenched. Then what?

The movements of the spirit became blurry after that no matter how hard you tried to focus. The leftover energy had been disturbed and mixed with the signatures of all the people who had been to the crime scene since the discovery of the body and it was impossible to make out without assistance, even for someone as experienced as you.

If you couldn’t locate the soul, you couldn’t send it packing. 

Luring it via séance required more people and it was too risky for everyone involved anyway. Without its name, summoning it was out of the question as well.

You groaned when you realised what you had to do.

Making sure for the last time you couldn’t be seen from the line of police tape above you, you took off your backpack and dark raincoat and shoved both of them under the nearest rock. Next, you loosened your boots and sat them next to the backpack, then your thick scarf and woollen jumper. With short, angry movements, you rolled your trousers down and folded them hastily, ripped off your socks and wriggled out of your top.

“You’re so bloody lucky I love you, John,” you mumbled through clenched teeth that were starting to rattle in your skull. With fingers already numb from the cold, you unclasped your bra and slid down your underwear before you could change your mind, and with a deep breath, you stepped into the waves.

Even before you went into the sea, your body had been covered in goosebumps from the chilly October air, but the surfs rising around your legs now made you heave for breath with every step forward. The rocks under your feet were dull compared to the sharpness of the water. When it reached you mid-thigh you had to stop and wait for the pain to subside enough so that you could get further out. You were too close to the beach and the water was still too shallow for your purpose.

A tangle of seaweed drifted past your ankle, or at least you hoped it was just seaweed. It was hard to tell for sure in the dark.

Your submerged muscles were screaming as you forced yourself out until the water reached your ribs. If only that wretched spirit hadn’t chosen the middle of the bleeding autumn to throw its tantrum.

“Sacred Nanuet, your humble servant speaks to you,” you intoned through gritted teeth and held out your hands on either side of you so the gentle waves touched the palms of your hands. “She beseeches you; allow her the honour of sharing in your wisdom. Blessed goddess, lend her your sight and expand her understanding, your humble servant begs of you, great Nanuet…”

The ancient language you muttered your request in felt strange on your tongue as always, but your flattery worked. You could feel the magic start to sing under your hands and so you took a deep breath and lowered yourself completely into the sea.

The stranglehold of the freezing water somehow got pushed into the background of your conscience and within a beat of your heart your mind was alight with images. Through the water, you could see most of the world, but you focused on Raven’s Rock and the little beach behind you. The water had seen it all. From the depths of the ocean, it rolled onto the sand and sneaked its way under the island’s rocks, seeped into the soil and was drunk by the hungry roots of The Green, stretching into the light above ground…

It wasn’t long before you managed to zero in on the exact event you needed. The Sight of Nanuet allowed your mind to access the memory of the watery abyss, which included as good as all water on Earth and not a lot of people mastered navigating it anymore. You had been forced to use a lot of wordly magic since you lost your wings and so had learned to find what you needed relatively easy.

Through the Sight, you saw the murder of the man on the beach, how the spirit severed his head and lapped at the blood before turning away from the scene. It lost some of its shape then, but through the dewy grass above the cove and the moist air, you managed to follow it away from the beach and across the land.

The spirit held its physical form, or at least the overall contours of it, and it made it easier to trail. From what you could tell, it definitely had been human when it had been alive. Poor thing. If only it hadn’t gone and murdered someone, maybe you could have sent it to rest. 

But would you even be there if it hadn’t?

When the spirit finally settled, you had followed it to an old, abandoned stone house with no windows and a door rotting away on the hinges. The place must have been a farm. There were several small outhouses scattered around the main building and indents in the earth marking former animal pens. The roof had been a thatched one, but now it was more moss than straw and what still remained beneath the heavy green patches had long since turned mouldy and dark. A few shards of glass jutted from some of the window frames like crude, predatory teeth waiting to chew up whoever was unfortunate or foolish enough to get close.

You went after the spirit through the remnants of the front door.

A voice in the back of your head told you it was enough, you should get out of the house and the Sight and the water. You had what you needed for now.

But the way the spirit slumped through the dark rooms and up a ramshackle staircase, as if it had done it a hundred times before, as if it belonged there in that house, intrigued you. It didn't match your original theory, the reason you didn't want John involved.

Curiosity piqued, you followed the lonely ghost up the stairs, where it turned left and went into a room with what had been two alcoves in the wall but were now mostly caved in. The room didn't have any windows and it was hard to make out the details, but the flimsy shape of the spirit trudged towards one of the beds and with motions as if the bedding had still been intact, it lay down and pulled the memory of a blanket over itself.

You slowly got closer, unsure of what to do. The visible shape of the ghost was gone now that it was no longer in motion and the general gloom of the empty house made it near impossible for you to see anything clearly. But the person the ghost had been once seemed so at home here. You couldn't feel any hostility from it at all, not even a trace. Only peace, comfort. Quiet.

This had been its home once when it had lived, you were almost certain of it.

But the desolate little stone house, out of the way even for the island's standard, must have stood abandoned for several decades, maybe even a century or two. If the ghost had lived here it was much older than you had initially thought.

Which meant you might have knocked John out for nothing.

Fuck.

You had to find out more and fast, but it was unlikely the memory of the house before your closed eyes would yield anything further. Even if it was dark and late in the evening, you would have to go there physically. The chances of finding something would be higher, and besides, you couldn't stay in the water forever. You were almost human, after all.

The thought had barely crossed your mind before the reflex to breathe kicked in and you could feel the freezing seawater rush down your throat. One inhale was all it took for your lungs to feel heavy as a pair of burning bricks. A fleeting realisation, that drowning was one of the most unpleasant sensations you’d had the misfortune of experiencing since losing your wings, faintly made it to the front of your perception before the back of your head hit the sand on the ocean floor. Then the only thing you could focus on was the pressure of the water and the way your body grew ever more numb…

The room still flickered before your eyes, slowly losing definition as you lost consciousness. Strange, you mused with your last bit of coherence, that an angel from Heaven should die looking up at it from so far below, in the cold embrace of the sea. It wasn't even painful anymore, the water, but oddly comforting, lulling you to rest, holding you tight.

The only regret you had was leaving John…

The last thing you saw before your eyes fell shut was his face above yours and a faint smile moved your lips. How very considerate of your mind to conjure up his image as the last thing you would ever see.

You could feel his arms around you even, fingers digging into your skin, his body pressed down against your own…

“Bloody fucking Hell, let her go!” The words didn’t make sense to you and they sounded so awfully far away. “She isn’t yours, you stupid paegan relic, let go of her! Let go!”

But you were, you were letting go, there was nothing more you could do.

“Christ, luv, which heathen tosspot did you enlist to drown you?! Yam, Ægir? Tiamat? Nanuet? Nanuet, isn’t it?” At the invocation of her name, you could feel the ancient goddess slacken her hold on you, as if in surprise, and you vaguely realised that the embrace you felt didn’t belong to her or the water, but to John. “Oh, you always were a fickle tart. Let go of this servant or so help me God, I, John Constantine, will destroy you and every last shrine still bearing your blasted name! Let her go!”

With a cry you weren’t sure was even coming from you, your face broke the surface of the waves. You violently coughed up seawater and if it weren’t for John’s arms, you would have fallen right back down into the deep. Your head was spinning. The numbness gave way to a cold so freezing you might as well have been rolling in needles. Everything hurt. Your legs felt unsteady, no, your entire body felt as if someone had replaced your bones with straw and your muscles with jelly.

“J-John…,” you coughed, but he shushed you, keeping you close to him in the water.

“I know, luv, it’s a bloody miracle you aren’t dead, you’re welcome for that. Now let’s get you out of the water, yeah?”

He was really there, drenched in the North Sea in the middle of October at what might as well have been the edge of the Earth, just to save you from drowning. His white shirt and black trousers clung to his frame like film and from what you could make out in the light from the moon, he was shuddering from the cold, too. You had never wanted to kiss him so badly before.

“I c-can’t m-m-move,” you got out through teeth rattling painfully in your skull, suddenly all too aware of your proximity and your own state of undress. As much as you wanted to cling to him for warmth, for closeness, the logical part of your muddled brain was screaming at you to keep your distance. That was what you did, wasn’t it?

“‘Course you can’t. How long were you under for, anyway? Completely off your rocker summoning a paegan goddess alone at night in the middle of the bloody ocean! What were you thinking?”

“I-I saw the g-ghost,” you weakly tried stammering through your clattering teeth. “Saw h-how it killed-ungh!”

You let out a groan as John swiftly picked you up and started carrying you towards shore. Your severely tested heart felt as though it might give out entirely. Never had you been reckless enough to let him touch you like this before, to let him hold you, as if you were a lover who would readily indulge in such intimacy. If it weren’t for the fact that you were very likely about to freeze to death, your cheeks would have been on fire. Every inch of your skin would have been scorching.

As it were, you were too cold and too exhausted for your body to produce that kind of heat. Surrendering to the fatigue in your bones, you allowed your head to rest against him and closed your eyes. He could carry you to shore or to Hell on his hands. You weren’t going to argue. For the first time in all your human life, you completely let your guard down.

[oikawaplssteponme]

𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖: part 5

“It’s always been you. Has it always been me?”

✨part 1

✨part 2

✨part 3

✨part 4

pairing: Tobio Kageyama x fem!reader

rating/warnings: [a few swear words but that should be it]

synopsis: You liked him. He liked you. Easy right? Well, maybe not as easy as you thought.

a/n: hiii 💓 sorry i didn’t post this part sooner, ive been busy with other such things :) this is chapters 9&10 and things will be getting interesting the next few parts after this 🤭 just a reminder that my requests/asks are open all the time and so is this taglist. just ask and ill add you :)) okay enjoy xx

•

Nine: all that matters

You felt as though someone had taken your heart, stepped on, and gave it back to you. You couldn’t think of any plausible reason why Koi would say that to you. This wasn’t the same Koi that always supported you. You knew that if you were in her place, you wouldn’t have said those things, even if you truly believed them.

“Don’t give me that face Y/N, it's just my opinion. See this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d freak out,” Koi huffed.

“Well I’m obviously not gonna like hearing that you think that the guy I like doesn’t actually like me.”

“Hey now I never said that. All I said was that I think that I’m more his type than you. That's no reason to get pissy with me Y/N. The truth can hurt.” Koi crossed her arms and looked you dead in the eyes. You couldn’t tell whether you wanted to cry or scream.

“Hey ladies, get into first formation,” your coach interrupted. You took a deep breath and got into your spot.

Your practice felt like it lasted forever. You wanted nothing more than to just get as far away from Koi as possible. She acted as if nothing was wrong, continuing to joke with you all practice. You played along.

“See you tomorrow Y/N!” called Koi as she turned to walk home. You waved goodbye and began your trip home.

“Hey wait up!” you heard a voice say behind you. You turned to see a sweaty Kageyama running towards you. Your face instantly lit up. Once he got up to you, he gave you a tight hug.

“Oh my gosh you stink,” you joked. Kageyama released you from the hug.

“Oh sorry,” he blushed.

“It's okay,” you smiled at him, taking his hand as you walked home.

“How was practice?” you asked.

“It was good. We have a practice match tomorrow, you should come watch,” he said. You turned to him with the biggest smile.

“You want me to come watch you?”

“Yeah why wouldn’t I?” Kageyama squeezed your hand. You felt butterflies enter your stomach.

~

“Do you want to come inside to study?” you asked, pointing to your house.

“Yeah sure,” smiled Kageyama.

You walked up to your front door and went inside. Once again, your family wasn’t home yet. You led Kageyama up to your room and you set down your bags. He sat down on your bed and you made your way to your closet.

You were still in your sweaty practice clothes so you decided to change. You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. Not thinking twice about Kageyama, you simply got changed. After you were dressed, you turned around to see a red faced Kageyama.

“What?” you asked. He caught his breath.

“Uh, nothing,” he said as he snapped back into reality. You chuckled and grabbed your school bag and went to sit next to him. He grabbed his bag as well. You pulled out your homework and began to complete it. Kageyama grumbled as he struggled through his english homework.

“Do you want help?” you asked. Kageyama looked at you and shook his head. He knew you had one of the best grades in class but he wanted to try to do it himself.

“Nope, I’m good,” he replied. You nodded and went back to your work.

~

You finished your homework in less than an hour. You repacked your school bag and set it on the floor. You moved to rest your head on Kageyama’s shoulder.

“Are you finished yet?” you pouted. He smiled.

“I can finish it later,” he said, putting away his things.

He wrapped his arm around you as you two laid back on your bed. Your head rested on his chest. You couldn’t help but feel so at peace whenever you were with him. Well, that peace was short lived when Koi’s words began to run through your mind again. You felt your gut clench.

“Kags?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a type?” Kageyama gave you a funny look.

“What do you mean?” he asked. You sighed and sat up to face him.

“I guess what I’m asking is, am I your type?” You worried that Koi might be right. Kageyama tilted his head.

“Why does it matter? I like you,” He said taking your hand. He could tell something was wrong. You still felt uneasy.

“I don’t know. Someone said some stuff to me and it got me thinking. Well, overthinking actually,” you frowned. Kageyama pulled you towards him.

“I promise that whatever they told you isn’t true. You’re all that matters,” he said. Kageyama placed his hand on your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth. You smiled pulling him into a tight hug.

“I promise Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. His soft words sent a chill down your spine. You released him from the hug but pulled him into a kiss. He kissed you back sweetly, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck while he held onto your hips.

“Hey Kags,” you stopped kissing him for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Please make sure your phone is on silent.”

~

“I should go,” yawned Kageyama. You pouted as you checked the time. 10:23pm. No part of you wanted him to leave.

“I think you shouldn’t,” you smiled, gripping onto his arm. He laughed.

“Trust me I don’t want to but I was supposed to be home 20 minutes ago,” he replied. You sighed, letting go of his arm and sitting up.

“Is your practice match right after school?” you asked.

“Yeah. It's in the normal gym,” he said. You nodded. Kageyama grabbed his school bag and his other things. You two walked downstairs before reaching your front door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he smiled.

You knew you would but there was just something about seeing Kageyama leave that broke your heart. You didn’t think saying a simple goodbye would be so hard but it was. You became so attached to him and you weren’t even dating; technically at least.

“Okay,” you whispered. Your eyes felt glossy but you didn't know why. It just felt like each goodbye wouldn’t be followed with another hello.

“Hey I’m just a couple houses away, and I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning. Don’t be sad Y/N,” Kageyama set down his bag to pull you into a hug. You gripped onto his shirt.

“Okay,” you said faintly. You physically couldn’t say anymore because if you did you would just tell him to stay. Kageyama moved his hands to hold your face. He noticed the water forming in your eyes. You just smiled, shrugging your shoulders like it was no big deal. He kissed the top of your head before releasing his hands from your warm face. He picked up his things and opened the door.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He gave you one last kiss on the head.

“Goodnight Kags.”

•

Ten: girlfriend

You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn’t. You felt incomplete. You felt silly about how strong your feelings had gotten for Kageyama. How attached you had become to the short-tempered setter. Everytime you were with him, it just felt as if the world had stopped and it was only the two of you. You always worried about people leaving you. You knew that if Kageyama did, you would never recover. After what Koi had to say about him, you were doubtful over yourself. Thoughts like those are what kept you up at night.

When morning arose, you were more than excited to get your day started. You immediately got yourself cleaned up and changed in your uniform. Your coach had cancelled your practice today due to being sick so it was perfect that you could make it to Kageyama’s practice match. You even packed a bag of clothes to change into after school for the game. You grabbed your bags and went downstairs. You put on your coat and hat after grabbing something to eat. You put on your school bag and went outside.

He wasn’t there. You waited for about 5 minutes for Kageyama but he wasn’t there. You felt your heart sink. Was there a chance that he forgot? He wouldn’t forget, he promised. You knew that if you waited any longer you would be late, so you decided to start walking. You walked by yourself for some time, looking back every so often to hopefully see Kageyama. You had been walking for almost 5 minutes before hearing fast footsteps behind you.

“Y/N!” You turned to see a sprinting Kageyama. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you forgot about me,” you said once he finally caught up to you. He tried to catch his breath.

“No, no I would never. I left my volleyball bag at my house so I had to go back and get it. Then I noticed that the lights in your house were all turned off so I assumed you had already left,” Kageyama explained, “I’m sorry if I scared you.” You turned to him and kissed his cheek.

“No worries Kags.” He took your hand and you walked the rest of the way to school.

~

The school day was long. You were so eager to watch Kageyama’s game that time seemed to never pass. You would check the clock constantly but of course nothing would change.

Finally when the bell rang signaling the end of the day, you sprung up from your seat rushing to your locker to grab your change of clothes.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called. Your heart sang seeing it was none other than Kageyama.

“ Hi Kags,” you smiled.

“Put this on.” He handed you a black hoodie. Your eyes grew. You took the hoodie with joy. Before you could say anything, he was running to the gym.

“I’ll see you at the game!” his voice trailed off as he continued to run off. Your face was hot and tense from how hard you were smiling. You grabbed your bag and headed to the locker room.

You happily changed into a pair of leggings, a strappy tank top, and Kageyama’s hoodie. The hoodie was soft and it smelled like a mix of pine and vanilla, just how Kageyama often did. You were just about to leave the locker room when someone walked in.

“Oh hi Y/N, what are you doing?” asked Koi.

“I’m gonna go watch the boys volleyball practice game,” you said, without even thinking twice about it.

“Oh that sounds fun! Mind if I join?” Koi asked. You tensed up. You couldn’t say no without sounding mean but you also were still mad at Koi for those things she said the other day.

“Are you sure? It's just a practice match, it's probably gonna be really boring,” you said, trying to come up with anything that could convince her not to come.

“Yeah, we can cheer on Kags together,” smiled Koi. Your heart stopped. Did she just call him…

“Uh sure, then let's go,” you said.

~

The pit in your stomach only grew as you walked closer to the gym with Koi. Once you got inside, Kageyama spotted you right away. He ran towards you and wrapped his arm around you, not even acknowledging Koi.

“You look cute. Where is that hoodie from?” joked Kageyama. You smiled, giving him a nudge.

“Very funny. Uh Kags, you know Koi?” you gestured towards your friend who seemed to be annoyed by the lack of attention she was getting.

“Uh yeah I think so,” he said, looking at Koi. Koi gave him a big smile.

“Hi Kags. Good luck today,” smiled Koi. Did she just say it again?

“Oh uh thank you,” Kageyama turned to look at you, “I’ll see you after the game okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Good luck,” you replied. He gave you a hug before running back to his team.

You and Koi sat on the floor of the upper level of the gym. You dangled your feet over the edge and rested your arms on the railing that kept you from falling.

“So you and Kags huh?” said Koi suddenly. You turned to face her.

“Uh yeah, what about us?”

“Oh nothing,” she said, “just thinking out loud.”

“Right,” you sighed. You didn’t have the energy to ask her about it more. Whatever she had to say you knew it wouldn’t be good.

The practice game was against Nekoma High School. You had heard of them before due to their reputation around Karasuno. They seemed to be a very well rounded team.

The first set was tight but Nekoma took it. Kageyama seemed flustered with himself. He was off today and couldn’t understand why.

“Shake it off, get this next set,” you cheered. Kageyama didn’t look at you as he normally did when you cheered. You couldn’t blame him though, you knew how seriously he took volleyball, practice game or not.

“What’s with Tobio?” Koi asked. You shook your head.

“I’m not sure,” you replied.

“Maybe something is making him nervous,” she said. You turned to look at her, seeing the sly smile appear on her face as she looked down at Kageyama. You looked at Koi, then at Kageyama, and back at Koi. I know damn well she doesn’t actually think she is making Kageyama nervous. He never gets nervous.

“Maybe,” you sighed.

~

“Get this point Kageyama!” yelled Daichi. It was the second set and Nekoma was at set point. Kageyama was up to serve. You watched intently as he spun the ball in his hands.

“Let’s go Kags!” shouted Koi. You rolled your eyes without even thinking. Kageyama jumped and looked up to the two of you. He didn’t really make a face, he just looked at Koi, then at you, and back down to the ball.

The whistle blew and Kageyama tossed the ball up for his jump serve. The toss was off, causing him to hit the ball straight rather than with a downward spin.

“Oh god…” you mumbled to yourself as you watched the ball travel much farther than suitable.

“Out!” yelled the Nekoma libero. He let the ball drop. From where you were seated, you couldn’t really see whether or not the ball was in. The whistle blew and you looked to the ref, seeing him give the point to Nekoma.

“Well that was a shit game,” said Koi as she got up from the floor.

“They tried their best.”

~

The two of you went downstairs and waited outside the gym as the boys had their meeting. You sat on the ground and Koi sat on the bench. You watched as the boys slowly started to trail out of the gym one by one. Kageyama was the last one out. His head hung low but he made his way over to you.

“Hey,” he said softly. You got up to face him.

“Hey you played well, okay?” You gently moved some of his hair from his face to see his sweet eyes.

“You’ll get them next time Kags,” chimed in Koi. Kageyama brought his head up.

“It’s Kageyama, please.” He said plainly. Koi’s eyes widened and so did yours.

“Oh yeah sorry.” She said. You looked at Kageyama.

“Did you want to head over to my house? We can grab some boba on the way,” You asked. He nodded, taking your hand.

“Great let’s go, I’m starving.” said Koi, moving to stand next to Kageyama.

“Oh uh Koi I think-“ you began.

“Koi, I was hoping to spend some time with my girlfriend...alone. If that’s okay with you,” interrupted Kageyama. Your heart stopped. Girlfriend? Koi huffed.

“Yup totally fine. I’ll see you two later.” Koi rolled her eyes and left without saying another word. You looked at Kageyama with wide eyes.

“Girlfriend?” His face turned a bright red.

“Oh uh yeah I’ve been meaning to ask you. Sorry, I just said it without thinking.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. You smiled.

“I was starting to think you were never gonna ask,” you said with a smile. Kageyama smiled back at you and you started to head to your house.

~

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @lilnuances @jennasquishy8 @ladybird-00 @moonlightsof @maii-thirsts @tamaguchi (the tags were acting funny so I hope I got the right usernames, if not and you wouldn’t like to be part of the taglist lmk!)]