#instead of sending blanket anons to everyone you come across

[faithinlouisfuture]

.

[sailorshadzter]

Spring finally arrives and along with it, forgiveness and warmth. Home. He is finally home. A time in which Jon finally forgives himself and the weight in his heart that once banned him from going home was lifted (the only ban that every existed because everyone knows he was always a hero)

hi anon!

thanks for the (VERY VERY OLD) request. i really wish (or maybe i dont lol) tumblr dated these.

i hope you see this!!!!!!!!! and you like it if you do!!!!

send me prompts

He wakes to the sound of the birds singing. 

What a strange concept, he thinks, rolling over onto his side, opening his eyes so he might observe the morning rays of light peeking in through his curtains. Pushing back the furs, all while making a mental note to ask for some lighter blankets, he sits up and swings his legs over the edge of his bed. 

It’s been something like six weeks since his return to Winterfell and somehow in that time, spring had made itself known. 

Almost as if it had been waiting for his return. 

A sigh escapes him and he stands up, stretching, before he makes his way across the room, reaching for the white shirt he’d draped over the back of a chair before going to bed the night before. It was a new shirt, one which was stitched by the hands of the very queen he’d come to serve. Queen or not, Sansa still thoroughly enjoyed sewing and she’d provided him with many new clothes upon his return to Winterfell. 

When he’s fully dressed, he slips away from his rooms, heading down the hall, pausing only a moment at the door that belongs to her. But, from within he hears the voices of the maids, telling him she’s already left for the morning. So he continues on, taking a flight of stairs down and taking a left down another hall. There on his right he stops at another door, raising his hand to knock- three quick knocks, one she would know anywhere.

And then he steps inside. 

She stands at the window, the morning sun framing her in the most beautiful of ways. 

To his surprise (and delight) she’s done away with her heavy winter gowns, replacing it with instead a sage green damask, its sweeping sleeves trimmed with elaborate gold thread, the hemline mimicking the very same pattern. She turns at the door, her rosy lips curving with a smile at the sight of him there, head tilting just enough to send her hair cascading across a shoulder. “Good morning,” his queen greets, sending his heart fluttering. 

It was not always this easy, he thinks, for it was not that long ago that he lived in a dark world. One full of regrets and fear, one where he worried he was not enough for her, one where he worried his presence would tarnish her good name. Hundreds of letters from her went unanswered, though they were all kept, even now tucked into the corner of his trunk. He had murdered one of his own- for the greater good, of course, and truth be told killing Daenerys was the least of his issues. But the war… The fighting… If only he’d done things differently. If he’d handled the situation differently, perhaps thousands of innocent lives would not have been stolen. 

The grief of that had nearly taken all of him, left him bereft, left him lost to drink, the only way he could ever feel any relief. It had taken time, over a year of it in fact, to come to realize that missing her was far worse than any of the other pain he felt. And so he’d sent her a letter back, thinking the worst that could happen would be her not bothering to answer him at all. Instead, she wrote him back, summoning him with her queenly demand. 

So he listened, coming to his queen’s call. 

“You are a spring queen,” he says with a grin of his own, approaching her where she stands, watching as she blushes pink. “I can’t remember when I last saw you in such a color.” For the last two years or more she’s worn nothing but gray and black, a sign of her mourning, a sign of her place as Ned Stark’s daughter. There wasn’t a single man in Winterfell that could recall their old lord ever wearing anything but black and gray. But she was not Ned Stark, she was his daughter, and she was their queen. “It suits you.” The soft green is a lovely contrast to her ivory skin, to her vibrant red hair. 

“Thank you,” she says, still blushing. 

They make small talk for a while, she seated there in the window seat, he atop the desk. He had forgotten how easy it was to talk to her like this- then he had to laugh, because until now, they never had anything but war and grief to speak of. “You know…” She’s saying now, drawing him back out of his own thoughts. “I have heard that the first seedlings have sprouted in the gardens, I thought I might take a walk through them to see for myself. Won’t you join me?” She looks his way, blue eyes bright and shining, a beauty unlike anything he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing. 

“Of course,” he replies, rising up so he might offer her his arms, which she takes when she stands up. 

Together they make their way down the hall and down the flight of stairs to the main hall, out the double doors and into the bright spring sunlight. 

Jon smiles, wondering how he ever could have stayed away. 

After all this time, he was home.

[anchoeritic]

okay so not entirely sure if ur ok writing this, if ur not that is 100% ok 🫶

if you are ok with writing it, what abt like stepdad!jake coincidentally taking you out on a like few days/week long hunting trip, just the two of you, a few days before ur first heat hits?? 🤭

and nobody else suspects anything cause it’s ur first heat so they don’t even know it’s gonna happen but he knows because he’s been picking up on the little tells that show ur getting close to it that others don’t even notice

then one night it finally hits while ur asleep & he’s like tending to the fire or smth n you just wake up all groggy n whiney cause it hurts and you need his help so bad

oh also idk if it’s taken but could i possibly be ur 🦝 anon??

eheehhehdhdhdhdhhdjdhdhdhd stepdad!jake telling mama that he’s just gonna take you on a lil daddy daughter trip and he has something planned for you knowing damn well you’re going to be experiencing your first heat? genius.

imagine the morning of your first heat: trying to find a way to relieve your sexual distress, the ache between your thighs becoming so unbearable that you start shedding tears. you go from jumping against the mossy floors to other kinds of nature, probably hoping eywa wasn’t looking down at you right now. but instead of eywa, it’d be jake staring at you, waiting to pounce. he could smell your arousal from miles away, the smallest drop in your panties would send him in a fucking frenzy.

it’d be a shame if you had to turn to the one and only person around; your stepdad. but that’s exactly what you did. “a-argh, jake..” you call for him painfully, “p-please, help..” it wasn’t exactly the traditional way to tend to your needs. he was not your mate, how could he pleasure you? his resistance could only last so long when you’re laid across the grass naked, begging for him to take care of you. he wants to though. of course, he does. he’s the one that pulled you away from everyone, dragging you to a secluded area.

“i can’t, sweetheart,” he mumbles, wiping away the sweat from your forehead. you couldn’t take no for an answer, not when he was the only one around to help you through your heat. “jake, please,” your voice comes out like a whine, “i want you. i need you. fuck, please help me.”

“it hurts, daddy.” it doesn’t make it better when you’re laying across one of his blankets from home, his scent triggering you even more. “you’re not mine, sweetheart. i can’t touch you.” the tears in your eyes were hard to ignore, immediate sniffles followed shortly after. the guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach exploding. “i’m all yours. take care of me, please…”

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

[renjuseyo]

if ur requests are open can i pls request Jaehyun x male reader where the reader is so drunk that he forgot that his boyfriend(jaehyun) is his boyfriend. then he asks a member if he is taken and they said yes and that will make reader to silently be sad in the corner and jaehyun asks if readers ready to go home......... andddddddd ill leaveee the rest to u hehehehe (iloveurwriting so much)

tipsy ; jaehyun

group: nct

pairing: jung yoonoh / reader (male)

synopsis: both you and jaehyun knew how much of a lightweight you were, but when has that ever stopped you?

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: implied sexual content, explicit language

i lost inspiration for this, so i hope this mess of a fic is okay anon! as always, feedback is appreciated!!

when you peek through the peephole, you expect to see the delivery man holding the package you had ordered online. instead, you’re pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the other side of the door, wrapped in a hoodie, mask, and tinted sunglasses. his disguise is pretty unnecessary given how your neighbors are mainly made up of old people who have never heard of nct, but it gets the job done.

once you’ve unhooked the chain bolt, you unlock the door and swing it open. he slightly jumps at the noise, but visibly softens when he sees you. “hey (name),” he greets, slipping off his mask and sunglasses.

“hey yourself. what are you doing here?” you ask. with how hectic his schedule has been after promotions with the nct 2020 project and working as an mc on inkigayo, you two hadn’t seen each other in weeks. though you missed him, you sympathized with the tireless hours he spent working as an idol. at least you preoccupied yourself with netflix.

he slips off his sneakers and enters your home, taking off the rest of his disguise. you close and lock the door behind you, trailing behind him. “i managed to squeak in some free time today, so i came to visit you,” he explains. he faces you with a smile, pulling you close. you subconsciously lean your head onto his shoulder, humming as he sways your bodies.

“i missed you,” you tell him, fingers ghosting his waist. he makes a noise of agreement, resting his chin on your head.

you eventually pull away, eliciting a grumble from jaehyun. contrary to popular belief, he was the clingy one of you two, always using the excuse of “you’re just the perfect size for cuddling.” “stop grumbling, jae. you’ve come so far, so it’s only fair i make you something to eat,” you tell him, making your way towards the kitchen.

he follows suit, hand grabbing at the hood of your hoodie. you stop in front of the refrigerator and open it, canvassing the food you have in there. as you debate what to make for lunch, he rests his chin on your shoulder and snakes both arms around your waist. you roll your eyes, though you don’t make any movements to pry his arms off. “i can always eat something else,” he smirks.

you realize too late the implications of his comment, absentmindedly sorting through the bags of vegetables in your fridge. “do you want takeout instead then? mrs. moon from two doors down said that there’s this really good pho house near here.”

he nuzzles into your shoulder. “i’d really like to eat you,” he says as nonchalantly as one can, considering his implications. you nearly drop a bag of spinach, spluttering incoherent words as you spin around to swat his shoulder. he laughs, loud and proud, a stark contrast from the quiet, polite laugh he’s practiced.

“you’re the worst,” you hiss, reluctantly closing the fridge. he pecks your cheek, eliciting a disgusted screech from you. he leans back with a laugh before attacking your face with kisses. you shut your eyes as you try to wiggle out of his grasp. but jaehyun’s been working out, evident from his arms, and he’s always had an intense grip. when he leans away, satisfied, you flick his forehead. with how clingy jaehyun’s being, making lunch isn’t an option anymore. “i hate you.”

jaehyun eventually relinquishes his attacks, threading his fingers with yours. “you’re usually not this clingy, jae. actually, now that i think about it, you don’t flirt all too much either, much less suggest sexual innuendos. what’s the occasion?” you ask as he walks you two to your living room. he doesn’t immediately respond, flopping down onto the couch and dragging you along with him. you land on his chest with an oomph, your cheek squished against his chest.

he combs his fingers through your hair, smiling as you make a noise of approval. “well, i wasn’t going to say anything before the news outlet, but...” his smile only widens when he sees you look up at him with curious eyes; he nearly coos at how innocent you look. “a certain idol you know might make his acting debut soon~”

your eyes widen, and you quickly prop yourself up with your elbows. “what! no way!” you exclaim, jaw hanging open. jaehyun laughs at your shell-shocked reaction, though it’s a given; when you were in a mood to vent, he would always take your hand and pepper your knuckles with butterfly kisses as you ranted about how he deserved better and shouldn’t only be seen as a visual, whining about how sm failed to show his talents as a singer and an actor. well, those days are over now, he supposes.

“yes way, love. are you excited?” he isn’t sure why he asked that question, considering how shell-shocked you already look. plus, the squeal that leaves your throat and the way you throw yourself onto him is answer enough already.

“do you even have to ask? you used to send me videos of you acting out different roles because you wanted to try acting, and you always did them so well! i’m really proud of you, jae. you deserve it.”

“i’m really glad you think so, (name). do you want to hear-”

“no!” you interrupt, slapping both of your palms on his mouth. he tilts his head in confusion, surprised by your sudden outburst. “knowing you, you’re going to accidentally tell me everything, and then i’m going to know the whole story line before the show even airs!”

he’s about to refute your claims, but he can’t really considering how you’ve layered both of your palms on his mouth. plus, judging by the look you give him, he’s certain he’s going to be eating his own words sooner or later. with a sigh, he peels your palms off. "you’re no fun. can i not even tell you the name and the basic plot?”

“i’m sorry for wanting to give you ratings,” you snort. “and no. then i’ll be waiting in anticipation and will force you to tell me everything, even if you tell me you can’t because i told you before not to say anything. you can’t even give me a drop of information.” well, jaehyun supposes that is true. you’ve always been enticed by television shows; he’s personally seen you react to cliffhangers a show gives before it ultimately gets cancelled. needless to say, it isn’t a pretty sight. “this calls for celebration! we can invite the boys too... do you want it to be extravagant, or are we keeping it low key?” you ask, sitting up and reaching for your phone.

“what happened to just you and me?” jaehyun asks, batting his eyelashes with feigned innocence. “i can think of a lot more fun things we can do.”

you don’t even bat an eye; unlike earlier, you were prepared for this kind of comment. “shoving my foot up your ass sounds really fun, but unfortunately that won’t get me any food. the boys probably already knew before i did, so you’ve probably already celebrated with them... i guess we can keep it simple.”

“i’d take your foot any day,” he fires back with a heavily exaggerated moan, to which you respond with a slap on the arm.

“i’m telling johnny to bring over beer.” you’re texting a group chat with you and the other 127 members. you’re only dating jaehyun, yet sometimes it feels like you’re dating all of them with how close you are. plus, gossiping with jungwoo about your boyfriend is always fun. with him being his roommate, you both often share similar struggles.

he rolls his eyes, stretching over to wrap his arms around your waist. he peers over your shoulder to look at your screen. “please, (name). you’re the lightest lightweight i’ve ever met. who are you telling to bring over drinks? you’re like a baby.”

“fuck you.”

“i think it’s the other way around, but i’d gladly let you order me around~” he flirts.

you shove a pillow in his face as you fire off a text.

after ordering pizza, tteokbokki, and fried chicken, your dinner is nearly complete. the boys were coming over soon, with johnny being in charge of drinks, jungwoo in charge of takeout, and donghyuck in charge of entertainment. you had a nintendo switch jaehyun had gifted you two years ago, and you intended on making full use of it tonight.

(plus, you have yet to beat yuta at super smash bros. today is going to be that day.)

you had finished clearing the table for the food before you notice jaehyun’s sleeping frame on the couch. you’re about to walk over and reprimand him for being unproductive, but seeing how tired and peaceful he looks stops you. instead, you grab a blanket from your room and drape it over him.

you’re about to walk away and grab water bottles for everyone when you feel something tugging your hand. craning your neck, you smile at jaehyun’s hooded eyes laced with sleep. “c’mere,” he murmurs.

water bottles can wait, then. you pat jaehyun’s side, and he scoots over to allow room for you. as you slot yourself in his arm, spreading a leg across his, he makes a noise of satisfaction, eyes fluttering close. “someone’s tired,” you observe, pushing the mop of black bangs obscuring his eyes. “did practice run late?”

he avoids your gaze. “no, i spent the night playing uno with johnny, ten, and mark,” he admits.

you laugh. “must have been intense. i bet you were so burnt out from uno,” you sympathize with sarcasm. “but in general, don’t overexert yourself, okay? i know you’ve been busy, but you need to remember to take care of yourself.”

jaehyun nods, but a yawn rips out of his chest. you give him a knowing look, one that reads what did i say? which causes him to laugh. “yes sir,” he lazily responds.

“as tired as you may be, don’t go falling asleep on me now. the others are going to be here soon. what would they think, the guest of honor asleep at his own party?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on his forehead.

he beams at the gesture. “give me more kisses and i’ll think about it,” he coaxes.

usually you don’t give in to his bratty demands, but seeing how tired he is reminds you of the accomplishments he’s achieved in the past year. a kiss is the least you could down. you lean down, breath fanning his lips, and he closes his eyes in contentment.

a few seconds pass, but the kiss never comes. when jaehyun opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see you’re no longer by his side, instead standing by the door. “that’s one way of telling a guy to come and get it,” he sighs, sitting up. he wearily rubs his eyes, blurry eyes watching you.

“sorry jae, taeil-hyung just texted saying they’re here,” you apologize. he sighs, eventually standing up after a few moments of stretching.

just as you had said, knocks resonate throughout your home, signalling their arrival. you peek through the peephole to verify their identities and sure enough, all nine other members stand outside, arms loaded. you undo the chain lock and swing the door open, greeting everyone.

“thanks for having us,” taeyong smiles, stepping into your home. everyone else echoes his message, but it comes out mumbled, like they hadn’t thought of saying anything until taeyong. the power a leader has, you suppose.

“no problem. here, let me grab some of the food.” you scurry over to jungwoo and mark, whose arms were loaded with the takeout you ordered.

as you grab a box of pizza from mark, johnny slaps you on the back. you nearly lurch forward and drop the pizza; if you had, johnny would be first on your hit list. “so jaehyun finally told you?” he asks with a grin.

“thank god. he spent days talking about ways to tell you, knowing how excited you’d be,” sicheng snorts, slipping off his shoes.

you laugh, especially when you see jaehyun spluttering in embarrassment. “you could’ve fooled me. all he did was waltz in and drop the news after he nearly fell asleep. made me feel like a proud parent and everything.”

“you may feel like one now, but wait until you watch him act. just going to be lots of cringing and teasing,” doyoung sneers, elbowing his shoulder.

yuta rolls his eyes. “like you’re one to talk, mr. lead actor.”

your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “lead actor?!” doyoung laughs, answering your question. “good for you, hyung!”

jaehyun narrows his eyes. “why do you look more amazed at his news than mine?!”

i’m not a lightweight, you told yourself. i can handle whatever yuta throws at me, you told yourself.

you were sorely mistaken.

jaehyun notices this too, seeing you sway in your seat. he chuckles at the sight; you were never able to hold your liquor, and when you got drunk, you were quite the spontaneous drinker to deal with. one time you had drank so much that you cried over cute things, like when sicheng showed you a picture of his dogs. or the one time you were a man on a mission, flirting with all of the members. needless to say, that led to a very interested jaemin and a very pouty jaehyun.

you had initially planned on just sticking to soda, but yuta had wanted to make things more interesting and challenged you to a game of super smash bros. each time the loser lost, they would have to down a can of beer. despite your inability to hold your liquor, it activated your competitive nature. but of course, yuta is crazy good at any games he suggests, completely demolishing you with lucina. no matter which character you chose, you were just no match against him.

after several fruitless attempts, you’re seated between taeil and sicheng, who seem way too interested in the tteokbokki to notice your behavior. everyone else seems occupied, too; johnny, yuta, jungwoo, and donghyuck are playing mario kart 8, taeyong and mark are immersed in yet another one of their deep, contemplative conversations, and doyoung’s watching the whole scene unfold, supervising everyone (probably to ensure nothing ends up in flames). on the other hand, jaehyun’s sitting on your sofa, alternating between watching the four men in front of your television screaming and you in your tipsy state. he decides to stick with the latter.

eventually you lift your eyes up and make eye contact with jaehyun, who responds with a wink. seeing you flush and look away has his chest swelling with giddiness; you’re just too cute sometimes. the table isn’t far from the sofa, so he can hear any conversation that goes on there. he watches as you take another sip of your can, eyes shifting back and forth from the television and to him. you stare at him for a bit longer, eyes canvassing his face, his posture, his thoughts.

it seems sicheng notices your staring, sitting back down and nudging your shoulder. “what’s so interesting that it’s gotten your attention?” he asks, purposefully raising his voice so jaehyun can hear.

you flush at how loud he is, lazily putting a finger to your lips. “shhh, i’m staring at the pretty boy there.” you point your chin towards jaehyun, who pretends to not see. you’ve never been subtle when you were drunk, but telling you that would just lead to you loudly slurring your arguments. “do you know if he’s dating anyone?”

jaehyun nearly spits out his beer. of all the times you’ve gotten drunk, you’ve never once forgotten that you were his boyfriend - if anything, you were all too eager to prove just how much you belonged to him. he’s not sure whether to feel startled or amused.

sicheng chooses the latter, a smirk forming. “yeah, he has a boyfriend,” he tells you. jaehyun hopes you’ll realize that you’re the boyfriend in question, but seeing how you deflate like a balloon, he guesses not. he questions how much you’ve had to drink.

you slide off of your chair, pouting. “of course a guy as attractive as him has a boyfriend. i’m not surprised,” you grumble, crossing your arms. jaehyun can’t help the amused smirk that makes its way on his face. watching you envy yourself for being his boyfriend is very amusing.

sicheng must feel the same, stifling his laughter. “don’t look so bitter, (name). his boyfriend’s a good guy.”

you pout, crossing your arms. “well, i bet i can treat him ten times better! pretty boy there doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” you boast, standing up.

sicheng can only watch in amusement as you stagger towards the kitchen. if only you knew how strange that statement was. “if you’re so confident about that, then what are you doing? planning on hiding in the kitchen to wallow on your sorrows?” he teases.

“i’m not!” you protest. “i’m just going to get some water because i’m dizzy as fuck and possibly cry about how single i am.” you mumble the last part, though because sicheng has uncanny hearing, he probably heard, if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

jaehyun decides it’s time to intercept, because as amusing as things were, he hoped you weren’t actually going to cry about being single, especially since you had no reason to. he stops by the dining table where taeil and sicheng are. “so i heard you and (name) were talking about me.”

sicheng snorts, rolling his eyes. “just because we said pretty boys doesn’t mean we were talking about you.”

though unaware of the topic, taeil leans in, chewing on a mouthful of pizza. “yeah, for all we know, he could be talking about me!” he chirps. he’s met with an annoyed glare from sicheng (though both of them can see him stifling his laughter), which he responds with an air kiss. typical taeil.

“well, i’m going to check up on him. i’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now,” he teases. taeil looks a little too happy at the joke, whereas sicheng threatens to stab him with a fork. it’s amusing watching their reactions, considering how everyone around them already knows that they’re dating. those two just haven’t admitted anything yet.

he follows you into the kitchen, though you don’t seem to notice, too busy pouring yourself a glass of cold water.  “(name),” he greets.

you jump in surprise, nearly spilling water on yourself. when you turn to face jaehyun, your confident nature immediately disappears, quickly replaced with one of bashfulness. “you know me?” you ask, in awe of how said pretty boy could possibly recognize you.

if only you knew just how well he knew you, he thinks to himself. instead, he decides to play along; you’re obviously too drunk to realize how silly this seems. “i do,” he hums, patting your shoulder. he isn’t sure if your red cheeks are from the alcohol or him, though he hopes for the latter. he never gets less prideful when you get all shy because of him.

hoping to maintain the confident facade you had earlier, you quickly clear your throat, looking away. “how can i help you?” you ask, taking a sip of your water.

“well, i was hoping if we could talk in a more... private area?” he asks.

you nearly spit out your water, eyes the size of saucers. he has to stop himself from laughing, afraid the drunk you would get the wrong impression. “just to talk, that’s all. it’s kind of loud here, don’t you think?”

the screams from the living room (which are mainly from johnny and donghyuck and the occasional ones of distress from taeyong) and the volume of the television are evidence enough, so you nod in agreement. “yeah, sure.”

“perfect. let’s go then~” jaehyun laces your fingers together before you can say anything, and your ears are practically fuming with smoke. you’re too distracted by his touch to question how he knows where your bedroom is. when you both enter your room, he flops down on your bed, patting the empty spot beside him. at this, you gasp, scandalized and very flustered. he chuckles at how shy you’ve gotten, shaking his head. “my my (name), get your head out of the gutter. we’re not going to do anything... unless you want to,” he flirts.

jaehyun never tries to take advantage of you, especially when you’re not sober. but when the sober you would throw pillows (or anything that wouldn’t actually hurt him) at him for flirting with you, the drunk you would always fire back with equally flirty remarks, or the shy you would just splutter in embarrassment. he can’t help it, spewing sweet nothings to you - you’re just too fun to mess with for him to not to, especially when you’re drunk.

reluctantly you place your water on your bedside table and lower yourself beside him, heart thumping erratically. he chuckles at how timid you are, a stark contrast from the snarky (name) that he knows so well. he turns to face you, both of your faces only centimetres apart. the smell of alcohol lingers on both of you, though it isn’t as prominent on him as it is on you. he makes a mental note to ask yuta how much you’ve had.

you squeak at how close you two are, hands flying to cover your face. “you have a boyfriend,” you whisper. you’re undeniably flustered, but you would rather die than be known as a homewrecker!

his laugh startles you, even more so when he presses a hand to the small of your back. you look like you’ve committed a heinous crime, potentially causing an attractive man like jaehyun to cheat on his boyfriend. the statement is so abusrd though, considering how you’re the boyfriend in question. “i do, you are right. he won’t be mad at me, though,” he hums, leaning in so close your noses would touch if it weren’t for the makeshift barrier you’ve made from your hands. you flush red in embarrassment, hiding your eyes behind your hands. if you make eye contact with him, you’re sure you’re going to melt into a puddle.

“even if he didn’t mind, i don’t think we should be doing this. i know i wouldn’t be happy if my boyfriend did this,” you whisper.

jaehyun sure is having a field day with this. you’re too flustered and worried to notice the pure look of adoration he’s giving you. “call it a hunch,” he says. “i promise you, he won’t be mad at this.”

“why?”

“you’ll find out tomorrow.” he pauses as a yawn rips out of his chest. “i’m really tired, so i’m going to sleep. the boys probably won’t quiet down on my account, anyways. you can always go back to them if you want, though,” he offers. a small part of him hopes for you to stay and cuddle with him, but judging how you’re so sure he has a boyfriend who would be absolutely devastated for literally sleeping with another man and how you have no knowledge of where you stand, he wouldn’t be surprised if you left.

what does surprise him, though, is when you stay rooted in your spot on the bed. “i’m tired, too,” you say.

jaehyun smiles so sweetly, the one that has his eyes dripping with honey, that your hands fly up to cover your face again. his boyfriend must be lucky to see that sight all of the time, you bitterly think to yourself. still, even if you’re not sure why he’s flirting with you or where you stand, you decide to savor every moment that you get to spend with him. even if you don’t really know who pretty boy is, he’s sweet and kind. plus, only a fool would cover their eyes when someone as beautiful as him lays before you.

he moves an arm to pat your thigh when he freezes in midair, remembering how he’s supposed to have a boyfriend to stay loyal to (even though he’s right in front of him). he retracts his arm and instead pulls your blanket to cover your lower bodies. “goodnight, (name),” he hums, shutting his eyes.

before jaehyun can begin the long process of trying to fall asleep, he feels you tug at his t-shirt. cracking an eye open, he sees you laying before him, staring at him with curious eyes and red cheeks. oh no, now he’s really tempted to kiss you. you’re impossibly adorable, seeing how vulnerable and curious you are. “yes?” he hums, trying to stay awake. the effects from last night’s uno matches have really begin to take a toll on him.

“i don’t think i’ve gotten the chance to ask, but may i know your name?” you ask.

jaehyun chuckles. he’s flirted with you and is even sleeping in the same bed as you, yet he’s forgotten the basic courtesy that is introductions. he didn’t think he would’ve needed it, considering how you’re his boyfriend. but then again, you’ve forgotten that you are his boyfriend. “my name’s yoonoh, but you can call me jaehyun or jae.”

no one actually calls him jae except for you. it’s a short and simple nickname that you have for him, nothing endearing. but because it’s something that only you call him, even though there isn’t a meaning to it, he’s grown fond of the way it sounds leaving your lips. which is why hearing it from anyone that isn’t you only leaves a weird taste on his tongue.

you’re so drunk you don’t even remember jaehyun, nor who he is to you, so it isn’t surprising that you stick with jaehyun instead. he doesn’t mind though, because he knows when you’re sober again he’ll hear you calling him jae and cuddling into him and doing all of the coupley things he wasn’t able to do tonight.

wow, jaehyun really is a lovesick fool. it’s only been one night of not being able to cuddle or kiss you, but he feels like he’s missed a whole eternity of them. he really isn’t sure how he’s lived before you came into his life.

for an hour, you pester jaehyun on how you two became acquainted and who you were to him. he indulged you, of course, purposefully skipping over the part of you becoming boyfriends and doing things that friends definitely didn’t do. his stories seem to be an effective way of getting you to sleep, because in the middle of a story of how a pair of swapped backpacks led to your relationship, you’re lulled to sleep, tired hands clutching onto his t-shirt.

he can only chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on your nose. you’ll sure be in for a storm when you sober up tomorrow morning.

your jaw drops as you stare at the video on doyoung’s phone. it’s of you and sicheng, and right now you can only watch in horror as you pester him for information on the pretty boy you were so interested in last night. you have no recollection of last night’s events, though watching the video makes you glad you don’t. the problem is, the boys were there to witness them, even recording evidence of it on their phones. you’ve already seen pictures that johnny and taeyong have taken from when you and jaehyun were cuddling in your bed.

“please tell me that isn’t me,” you whisper, utterly mortified.

mark pats your shoulder in sympathy. “that’s you, all right.”

at his confirmation, you groan, burying your face in your hands. doyoung and donghyuck are cackling at your demise, with sicheng reciting your complaints word from word to a very amused johnny and yuta.

“...and then he was like well, i bet i can treat him ten times better! pretty boy there doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” sicheng mimics, purposefully raising his voice an octave higher as he mocks you. out of embarrassment, you reach for a pillow on your couch and fling it at him. unlike jaehyun, he’s very good at dodging, proven when he ducks. instead, the pillow smacks yuta square in the face. he throws it back at you with even more force.

you duck, the pillow smacking an unsuspecting jaehyun. he really is horrible at dodging things - how shameful. “what the hell was that for?” he splutters, picking it up from the floor.

you turn to face him, eyebrows furrowed with annoyance. “you watched me make an utter fool out of myself, and you didn’t once try to do anything about it?” you hiss.

jaehyun frowns in confusion until doyoung dangles his phone in front of his face. when he watches the video, his face eventually contorts to one of amusement. “oh, that.”

your face is red with embarrassment. “yeah, that! like seriously? where is your loyalty? do you not care about my well being? you know how vicious these monsters can be!” you whine, gesturing at the said nine monsters behind you.

he nonchalantly shrugs, though you can see the corners of his lips threatening to curl into a smirk. “i do, but you were just too cute, seeing you all flustered. what about my own well being, huh? seeing you like that isn’t good for my heart,” he coos.

your heart leaps, but you mask it by smothering his face with a pillow. “you’re the worst,” you grumble.

“you act like you don’t like it, but i know you do~” he retaliates, albeit muffled from the pillow.

behind you two stands nine other boys, obviously unimpressed. watching you two engage in petty banter is always amusing, but not when it makes you flustered and encourages jaehyun to flirt with you like the cheesy, lovesick fool he is. “they’re so gross,” donghyuck gags.

johnny nods in agreement. “let’s get out of here before they start fucking on the counter.”

at johnny’s comment, you turn away from jaehyun so fast you swear you hear your neck crack. “do you have no filter?!” you shriek, exasperated.

with your guard down, jaehyun takes this as a chance to wrap his arms around your waist. a noise of surprise leaves your throat as he places his chin on your shoulder. “you’re so mean, (name). i liked the shy you a lot better~” he hums.

the other boys don’t even blink. “we’re going to leave now before things get bloody. good luck, (name),” taeyong says, saluting you.

jaehyun’s already tugging at the hem of your shirt and peppering your neck with kisses by the time the boys leave.

[sandmanbigbang]

Heya, I saw that you're planning to run this next year and just went through your rules and faq's. I've stumbled quite a bit over your content restrictions in regards to fics and art - especially considering the source material, but also in general, as a fandom fest aiming to be as big (ha) as a big bang, it feels harsh to exclude that much content / writers, especially as I (and probably others) would not participate in a fest with such rules even if it isn't content I'd want to create myself. I understand that not all mods would be comfortable with modding such content of course, but perhaps the solution would be rather to find people willing to help instead of rules that read very... censorship/anti leaning. I'm by no means meaning to start any drama, but I'd politely ask you to perhaps reconsider your stance in regards to your rules, especially considering the fest format?

Anon asked: hi! thank you for your work in putting this together! Are the content rules in the FAQ set in stone? wrt not allowing x reader fics, porn without plot, or for that matter anything else listed as long as it’s properly labeled?

i am sure as mods you’ve put a lot of thought into them - so i would understand if they’re finalized, but i would be curious to know what the impetus is for these restrictions.

I am new to fandom and big bangs (and they seem rad!) so I’m hoping for context beyond it being standard practice. thank you again!

Hi, thanks for sending these questions in!

We've decided to combine these two asks, since they're similar in nature, and the second asker was on anon.

We understand your concerns and would like to try and address them here.

1) x reader and oc fics, and porn without plot fics: This rule is set based on years of fan event moderation experience, across multiple fandoms. These fics are difficult to fill as far as artists and betas go. And we want everyone to feel like they're included, and it can be difficult to see other people's fics fill up when yours isn't.

With porn without plot fics, additionally, it can be difficult to meet word count, and it limits what artists can create for it.

It's not about our personal opinions on the content of the fic, but the fact that some tropes are hard to appeal to in such a large event, like a big bang.

2) Not allowing certain content: We are not blanket banning dark or NSFW content. We understand that merely depicting them does not reflect the morals of the depicter, and that it's a complicated and nuanced discussion. We are more saying that we are not allowing the outright glorification of those things. - Additionally, the rules are not a 1:1 comparison of the mods' opinions. These rules do not reflect the mods' personal opinions.

We would like to reiterate that these rules come from an ever-evolving document that has been used in multiple fan events across multiple fandoms, including fandoms within the DC multiverse. You are free to write smut, or include OCs, among other things, but we strongly recommend you populate your fic with additional material as, from what we've seen in past events, this will help you during claiming.

The rules are there to make the event more accessible to everyone. And accessibility doesn't just mean banning glorified depictions of common triggers (e.g., rape, abuse, and so on), as the existence of fics with that content could be extremely upsetting to survivors in an enclosed space such as a big bang event, but also ensuring writers, artists, and betas are not disappointed by what's available. For writers that means ensuring they are more likely to get a team. For artists and betas, this means they will more likely have something they may choose from.

We want to, and hope we have, reached an equilibirum between what will make everyone who decides to participate as comfortable as possible while also leaving enough room to let your creativity bloom.

However, we understand that some may not feel comfortable participating in an event with heavier restrictions, as ours is. Whether you decide to participate is absolutely your prerogative. We hope that you'll stick around to see what the participants create!

If you'd like to participate but are unsure if your idea meets our rules, we are happy to discuss it with you through DMs. Cai (bisexualoftheblade) is open to DM.

We hope this answers your questions and concerns. But please feel free to send another ask, if you have more questions or concerns.

-Mod Team

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|sixteen.

chapter sixteen: coneflowers

↳ flower meanings: justice

chapter summary: fragile box, please handle with care. 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angst but not for tom and y/n :) , mentions of sex, timmy, cherry, fluff. 

word count: 11.6K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER: none

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

I know it took me forever to write this, I’ve been having a hard time, my dog passed and I have been grieving, however, somehow I found the strenght to write. 

I know, it’s long. I know, I’m too descriptive.idc :) I liked it. it’s my writing and i’m sharing it with you, hope you enjoy it. 

thanks to @erodasghosts​ for being a real one and helping me out. 

btw stop sending anon hate it’s getting tiring 

tags aren’t working, please leave feedback asdakd listen to taylor swift 

Someone once said, to never fall in love, everything that falls, breaks. Y/n knew she was fragile but she’d broken enough to know she couldn’t break again. She was but pieces now. However, she could mend it with love. 

There is always that inexplicable feeling of joy when you get to wake up being held by one’s love, it is believed to be one of the most pleasurable moments, or at least it was for y/n to ever think of. If not the most pleasurable one. You can always long to go to bed with someone, but to wish for someone’s mornings, when they have a new day, talks about the most intimate act of all. 

She was usually the one to wake up earlier than him, usually watching as the sun would creep in from the window to warm his cheekbones. So peacefully as he was far away, dreaming. Golden streaking under his lips. 

Y/n always wondered if he ever dreamed of her. Often dreams are senseless, and fun, however dreams can turn into nightmares. 

Nightmares which would disappear whenever she was close to him. 

As usual, she had opened her eyes before him. How could anyone doubt them? She inquired to herself, her fingers delicately traced his skin, as he was away in his own world. 

There was no feeling of storms approaching and if it did, she knew she’d be able to dance with him. And they would bloom again. Though they were not right now, they would eventually. 

 “Y/N?” He said sheepishly, an eye half open. 

Y/n jumped, slightly startled. 

She smiled, “good morning.” 

And it was a good one. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” He asked, chuckling as his arm tried to bring her close. 

She blushed, and placed a kiss on his nose, “I—I got lost….in… your eyes?” 

He scoffed, “my closed eyes?” He laughed, trying still to open one eye completely. 

“I—was thinking and your face happened to be the view I had,” she said. 

“The only view you need,” he smirked, nuzzling into her hair. 

She rolled her  eyes, placing soft small kisses around his jaw. 

It is never easy to understand why the heart chooses what it chooses. If someone dared to ask she wouldn’t have the answer. Maybe she did. 

She could tell them about the fact that she was herself, and how she wanted to see how his eyelashes shined against the moonlight. How his silences spoke to her more than words. Or how her body was tattooed by his kiss. How after everything, they wanted to fight for their love. 

“Go back to sleep, love,” he said. “We don’t have to be awake.” 

She rolled her eyes, “no,” she stated before gluing her lips to his neck, kissing her way across it. 

“Oh,” he chuckled and she felt the vibrations through his neck. “Or you can… do that.” He lifted his head slightly, allowing her to get her lips on the sweet spot he loved. 

She giggled as she continued. 

“I think I can get used to this,” his eyes fluttered open. 

Love is not something that has a formula, there is no reason as to why someone loves someone. But looking at him, maybe she could think of some reasons. 

To the world, and the world being the people in the house, they were the enemies who had turned into lovers. Y/N knew better, they were lovers who had tried so hard to fool the world into believing they were enemies that they ended up believing it. 

“Hm, you must,” she warned him, now moving her lips up to the corner of his, he blushed and finally watched her. 

“Oh, will it be like this?” He smirked and finally managed to open his eyes, he tried stretching out but his hands were too eager to hold her again. 

“Maybe,” she chuckled. 

Had they not had those moments alone all their life? A certain calmness they shared whenever no one was around, and even when they would mock and bicker, it would be a strange familiarity. Was he not able to make her laugh? And cry? And feel every emotion. Every single one of them, and one who is powerful enough to know how to break you but chooses to love you instead and heal you is incredible. Someone who tried to mend the delicate parts. 

Being enemies had only shown them they could love each other even on their worst sides. And it had built them up, in a good way. They would have fun, competition. Even after all their battles, she found peace in him. Besides they both knew they didn’t need each other but they chose each other. They were not meant to be but damn, did they fight for each other. 

She finally caught his lips in hers, as he managed to turn her around and deepen the kiss, his arms embracing her as close as he could. She knew no one understood how they could be so in love after everything. 

Y/N guessed no one would understand, how after everything her eyes still shined when he smiled at her. How she wanted sunrises and sunsets, and the fun that might come in between. And to write a new story, one that the world didn’t have to know. 

“Every morning?” He asked her, after pulling away from the kiss. “Is that a promise?” 

She bit her lip, “Not every morning.” 

He frowned. 

“Some other mornings I might not kiss your neck, maybe your forehead,” she giggled. 

He chuckled, as he blushed, “Oh, I like that idea.” 

“Hm, you do?” She grinned. “How about…. Your ear?” 

He smiled, “I like that, too.” 

“Uh… your jaw.” 

“Yes,” Tom confirmed again. 

She kept watching him with mischief, “uh… how about your chest?” 

“Yes?” 

“Hm…your shoulder?” 

“Y/N, let’s just agree that I like your lips on any part of me,” he laughed before getting his own lips caressed on her neck. “Though I like them better on mine.” 

Maybe that had been her mistake, to try and get everyone to know a story that only them seemed to understand. Though they were always trying and running and hiding. As if they were merely prays trying to be hunted and they were scared of the very next roadblock, the next needle that would pop them.

“Hm, good, and I like yours,” she agreed. He served as a great blanket,she thought before pulling him to a deeper kiss. 

And yet they’d have each other at the end of the day, and a kiss to look up to as if it was the first time.  There were no other two people so different and so impossible for everyone else but that worked together so well. They saw their truth in each other, and though it was stupid, it was real. 

Y/N loved Tom because she didn’t need a reason for it. And she wouldn’t feel guilty every time he told her he loved her, she did not have to. And she had not given up because she knew Tom turned everything bright, that was his goddam gift and curse, he turned everything golden. Midas touch that sometimes turned things into gold when they were not worth turning into. 

Even them, who were so broken, he managed to make it perfect. 

Because they were them. No one else had to understand and though she knew they had been waiting for explanations the night before she did not have to give them any because she did not want their point of view. She only wanted Tom’s. And his, it was looking so bright. 

She pulled away this time, “hm are we supposed to tell them?” 

“Hm,” he kissed his way down to her neck and then to the valley between the slight cleavage that could show a bit of her breasts. “Probably.” 

“I guess they will ask for an explanation,” she said, as her hands landed on his hair, twirling her fingers around it. “I mean, James saw me on the verge of killing you yesterday and today you are—“

Tom chuckled as he looked up. “Right, they looked very confused yesterday.” 

Y/N grinned, “wouldn’t you be, idiot?” 

“Not with us, no,” he admitted as he rolled off, now resting his head on his hand, watching her. 

“Why not?” Y/N frowned. 

He laughed, as if it was rather obvious. “We’ve been doing this since we were kids, idiot,” he remarked the nickname. “Fight to death, then be friends for five minutes,” he chuckled as his hands traced up her body. “Except this isn’t—friendship, or not the PG-13 version of it—“

“This is definitely not the PG-13 version,” she agreed. “But this isn’t friendship.” 

“No, and it won’t last five minutes,” he smirked as his eyes turned with lust at her. “Forty-five maybe?” His eyes were burning with lust as he kept kissing his way down.

“No,” she rolled her eyes, giggling. “Not right now, Thomas.” 

“Why not?” He looked up with mischief.

She chuckled, “what would they say if they heard us?” 

“Do we still have to be alone for us to work out?” He questioned. “Didn’t we agree on not—being secretive?” 

She bit her lip, “No, but… I am not exactly fond of the idea of them listening to us have sex.” 

Tom had made a point. And it was the point that they both knew it, it’s always been that way, Rome, New York, now his room. What a magical place it was when they were alone. Getting away to be happy because nobody wanted to see them tumble down. 

He laughed, “Oh, I—well, we don’t have to be—uh, I thought we could-“

“Easy, Tom,” she said then, rolling her eyes. “I think I also told you I want to slow things down.” 

He paused, “right—But you—“

“I know,” she gulped. “I know I can’t stop myself but we both get to put boundaries, and— I need to sort things out.” 

“Yeah, right, right—“

“But—that doesn’t mean,” she coughed. “That I don’t love waking up to you.” 

He watched her with a smile. “I know, I know,” he kissed the corner of her lips, more sweetly now and rolled off. “So, are we going to tell them?” 

“I believe we—“she chuckled. “Maybe they’ll assume we are—in a good place.” 

“Yeah, I mean—“ 

“I just—“ she sat up, Tom watched her, still laying down. “I need you to—understand something, I’m—Please just bear with me?” She asked him. “I don’t want to lose this, so—“

He was calm, even smiling as he watched her, his hand reached to her hair, slowly stroking it. So different, neither of them waiting to attack.

“I—“ she didn’t know how to put it in words. 

“No, no, I get it, calmer, I know you need time to figure out your thoughts but I’m here—“he said. “We need to figure it out, slowly, and talk to people. Cherry, Tim.” 

“Yeah,” she sighed. 

“Yes I know, ease your thoughts. You always have something in your mind but we agreed on figuring out how to soothe your mind.”

“Yours too.”

“But we have each other, don’t we?” He asked, a calm soothing smile. “We are figuring it out, together.” 

She beamed. “Yeah.” 

“I like this new us,” he pointed out. 

“What? The talking ones?” Y/N laughed.

“Yes,” he smirked. 

“Thought you’d be more fond of the ones that ignore everything and make out,” she sassed. 

“We can talk about it and then make out and other stuff, darling, they don’t cancel each other out, I like talking.” 

“I hate it, I barely know how to speak my thoughts.”

He chuckled, “that’s not true, idiot.” 

“No, but it was easier painting each other as villains,” she pointed out. “And we could’ve left it all behind and make out... and yet.”

“And yet, we spent all night talking.” 

They had. Figuring out why they worked, and it made sense. The flowers had never dried, not theirs, at least. Y/N had finally accepted it to herself, mostly. That they would work out not because they wouldn’t have any battles but because they would win them, if they were together. 

They didn’t blame each other, but they both assumed they’d hurt each other and they wouldn’t forget it. To leave it behind would let the wounds open, to acknowledge them would let the scars heal. 

But they both knew they weren’t going to now. That was the difference. Both of them would excel on trying to be the best for them. 

However, both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, and that’s why their decision was so strong. 

“How are you feeling now?” He asked. 

Not empty anymore, she thought. “Confused,” she admitted. 

She had the right to be confused. Her heart had been juggling with different emotions over the last 72 hours, a rollercoaster of emotions that didn’t quite mix. She still had her own words circling in her mind, about past wounds. About the kiss she’d seen. Though she knew it hadn’t been Tom. 

That was a difference, and yes, it hurt. But Tom had not been the one to kiss cherry. Tom had not kissed Cherry to hurt y/n. 

The kiss had been a mistake. And y/n knew she could forgive mistakes. 

That was the one difference between after Rome and this. This hadnt been a thought out plan. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He questioned, holding her hand. 

She looked at him, not really. But now at least she didn’t question whether he loved her or not. She knew he did. 

The thing is. She hadn’t seen the kiss coming, and that’s what had shocked her the most, and now she was starting to come back from her thoughts. 

“No, I just need to rest,” she said. “I think my emotions just need a break.” 

“We can have a break today,” he said. “I thought we said we would have it.” 

But she couldn’t have it, not yet. 

The decision they’d taken wasn’t permanent, just for now, at least.  Filming and then they’ll figure it out back in London, though she was slightly scared because he would be away to film, again, and she’d be left alone. But not lonely now, that would be a huge difference and she’d be looking forward to seeing him again. And she wouldn’t have to worry about the heartbreak now. 

“I guess,” she plopped back on next to him. 

“This week has been so stressful,” he pointed out. “I’m exhausted.” 

They were exhausted, both of them, from being adorable to the heartbreak, to the fight to making up and then fighting again and then talking, and talking. 

“We made the right choice, right?” She asked. Because she was sure they had but maybe it was just both of them being exhausted of feeling. 

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asked. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” 

“No, I do,” she said. “I think it’ll also be easier to talk to each other.” 

“Yes,” he smiled slightly. “In the quiet and peace of this very room.” 

She looked around. “It needs stuff,” she smiled. 

“Stuff?” He grinned. 

“Yeah, it’s too—plain.” 

“I’m sure we will take care of that,” he pulled her close. “I’m sure the Polaroids you’ll take will be the perfect decor. But—Look, see over there? Vinyls.” 

She laughed, “having them on the floor isn’t exactly decor.” 

“It’s art, darling, it turns you on,” he mocked. 

She laughed, “ah, right, it does.”

“But you’re right it’s plain,” 

She nuzzled close to him, “yeah.” 

“So more vinyls, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“And the Polaroids…?” 

She grinned, “yes.” 

“I actually,” he coughed. “Have some.” 

She glanced up with curiosity, “the ones I gave back with the box?” 

He chuckled, “yeah,” he glanced over. “Dude you really said let’s wreck this man’s emotions didn’t you?” 

She pursed her lips and cupped his face, “why?” 

“You literally—made a dvd,” he reminded her. “With videos of us?” He chuckled. “Like—you really said: ah yeah, fuck him, let’s remind him that we’ve done this before and that we transformed it into a relationship, and then you—Fucking saved the beer cap from that one time we—“ he cleared his throat. 

“Yeah when we first hooked up. And that controller from the first kiss—“

“I’m surprised,” he admitted. “Are you a kleptomaniac?” He laughed. 

“Maybe? I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s just—“

“They remind you of moments, right?” He questioned, 

“Yeah,” she sighed.

He looked at her, “why did you give them to me?” 

“Because—“she paused, “I know what I said in the script, and I know it was awful but I also—wanted to show you that I had written another story, you know? That that story was the one that made us and built us up and that I’ve been—Though it’s stupid, trrasuring it?” 

He stayed quiet. 

“I—Did I give you the letter, too?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah—I just—-you don’t know how many times I drowned going back through the memories, trying to figure out the puzzle. When—back in Rome it was my way of bottling up, as if keeping it in a box meant keeping my broken heart in a drawer?” 

He nodded. 

“But I—After we—I don’t know when we were with that whole enemies with benefits things and we kind of—Broke up? Can we call it that way?” 

“Uh… When was this?”  

“When—“she chuckled. “I—Well I was scared because all of sudden you were getting all coupley—I mean you bloody made me have breakfast with your parents and made me hold your hand the entire time.” 

He smirked, “Yes.” 

“Well, after that—You learned Tim had kissed me, which by the way, he did—I wasn’t—“ 

Tom rolled his eyes, “Yeah, seems—believable, but—Why did you—-Why did you suddenly just say no? Like—I was the one to kind of suggest—a relationship?”

“That was not suggesting a relationship,” she laughed. “Tommy I love you but your way of—“

He scoffed, “I—Okay, but what about that day?” 

“I was so confused because I—I finally opened up that box and it was like—as if—As if I—“

Tom seemed confused. “As if you opened your heart?” He said dramatically. He seemed amused. 

She rolled her eyes, “yes, Tom, and you should start getting used to that, all my metaphors.” 

“Sorry, I forget we are dating and that now I can’t mock you,” he confessed. 

“No, you can mock me but….” 

“Right but then I have to kiss you?” He grinned, leaning over.

She pushed his face away, earning a glare. “Ew, no.” 

He laughed, “What?” 

Y/n nudged him. “No, but like—I did it as if it was—I don’t know—But like that box?” She said. “I wouldn’t mind having that dress hanging around until… It hurt, like, all of my—Like I only boxed them when it hurt.” 

He remained quiet. 

“And then… It just… I couldn’t keep boxing it away, you know?” 

“And why did you give it to me?” 

“Because when—after the engagement party,” she started, “I guess it was—“

“Did you want me to see the heartbreak?” He asked. 

“No,” she shook her head. “I realized I boxed it because everything boxed is a good thing. None of it were—sad memories. I didn’t box the yellow flowers you gave me—I mean I didn’t have them but, I boxed the one you brought after prom, what I mean is that I only stayed with the good things? If that makes sense?” 

“Yeah, no I guess it’s—“

“And I gave them to you I guess as a lame excuse of trying to—Be like—Hey we have a lot of good things because we often try and forget that.” 

“Right,” he coughed. 

“And I think we shouldn’t, you know?” she said. “Like yes, we’ve been talking about the bad parts, but we also have a lot of good ones, you know?” 

He smiled.

 “What—what did you do with it?” She asked.

“It’s back home,” he said and then smiled. “Which could be your home when we come back, too…” 

She rolled her eyes, “So good for taking things slow.” 

He peppered her with soft kisses across her face.

“Tommy,” she giggled. 

 “We will talk about it, you know, eventually….” He reminded her,

“Yeah, I know,” she grinned. “No—but, yeah, that box, I have—“she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought you would burn it.” 

He chuckled, “I—honestly I did think about it, like when you did, burning the flowers right in my face.” 

“I was broken-hearted and petty,” she said. 

He chuckled, “it was aesthetic.”

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Am I wrong? Don’t you do everything for it?” He teased. 

“Oh, yes, I cried for months just because it would be aesthetically pleasing,” she snapped, pushing herself far from him. 

“I’m joking, hey, I’m joking,” he pulled her back to him. “Can we go back to decorating matters?”

“No.”  

“Ah, please, I know you’re dying to change this stupid room with your polaroids, and… maybe flowers?” He smirked. 

Y/n rolled her eyes, “you’re so stupid, yes,” she grinned before kissing him sweetly. “There’s—also, do you have some clear space for my clothes—?” 

“Yeah, I think,” he gave it a thought. “Yes there’s plenty of space, your clothes will be safe.” 

This was what she needed. Those little conversations about being normal, not about their past or not about how much her heart was breaking. 

“Hopefully they’ll stay there all the time,” he added. 

She raised her brows in confusion. 

“Oh please darling, it'll be better if we wear no clothes at all,” he suggested so smoothly, y/n thought she would melt. 

“You’re an idiot,” she blushed, giggling softly. 

“You love me,” he stated smugly. 

She grinned, “yeah, I do.” 

It was time for him to blush, and kiss her, gently. Leaving soft tray of kisses across her face. 

She smiled, “So, how about I— tell your brothers and you tell mine,” she suggested. 

Tom laughed, pulling away nervously , “are you trying to get rid of me?” 

“What? No!” She was clearly confused. 

“Look, y/n, love, darling, princess, angel—“ 

She rolled her eyes with a knowing smile, “what?”

“I love you but I don’t think I have the balls to tell your brother you are moving in,” he said. 

She laughed, “why not?” 

“You’re really asking?” He cackled. “Didn’t you hear him last night?” 

Ah, she had. James said: I swear to god, if they have make up sex I’ll kill him. 

“I mean,” she laughed, “he wasn’t wrong, he did say that we had make up sex—. That’s kind of—“

“No, no it’s not what happened,” Tom cleared his throat. “I mean, yes a little, but it wasn’t that, like, we talked, a lot and we got to many conclusions.” 

“Yes but we still—“

“So what? He said he would kill me!” He laughed. “The fact that it did happen—I mean he doesn’t know it happened but—“

She giggled, “but what?”

“I am not risking being killed by your brother.” 

“You are not going to tell him that, you’re going to tell him I am moving in,” she reminded him. “Not the… sex part.”

“Please, but telling him you are moving in is basically telling him we are going to have sex on a daily basis.” 

She raised her brows, “we are not—“

“You can’t keep your hands off me, dumbass, he will know.”

“I am not, but—That’s beside the point, I am not moving in because of that, did you really think—?”

“I know you—I know it’s not because of that but this is James we are talking about—He will assume.” 

It was only partly why she was moving in. No, not the sex but to be with him. They’d work it out together and being together more time would help. Besides, she knew that she had to get rid of Tim. Not because of Tom’s jealousy, no, but because Tim had too much power in her mind and she did not know if she was strong enough to stop him. It wasn’t that Tim still had her feelings, no, but she had to know who she was without Tim, and who she was with Tom. She liked the version she was with Tom, the kind of person who was willing to see the best and try and show the best. Y/n liked who she was around Tom now. This version, the one that was willing to make her most complicated thoughts less complicated. The one that smiled when waking up, the one that smiled after a kiss. 

Y/N didn’t need Tom, technically. She knew that she could be fine in an apartment on her own, but she wanted him. And her wishes had become so strong they’d turn into a necessity. Her body was tattooed with him, her heart had his name carved. 

Her time away from him had been only a proof that she’d come back to him. Maybe he was an addiction. Maybe she was young and stupid, but she knew him too well to know that it was better to keep him around than to be away from him. 

Tom was a part of her, and trying to deny it would only bring her down. So she’d said yes to his proposal to move in. Because she knew it wasn’t a proposal that came from fear, it had been a proposal that had come from passion. 

The sky was clear. After the storms. They didn’t have to dance under the rain because she’d finally punched the hole through the roof. They’d come back to each other. 

Though they could assume that she’d take revenge over his mistake, and he could take his own, neither of them would, because why would they ever break what they love.

And she wouldn’t because they’d be chasing shadows and she didn’t need that. 

Maybe they had to drown together, or understand they’d both drowned.

But the water, though still slightly altered, was swimmable, because she had him. And that’s all she needed right now, he was the only answer to the many of her questions. 

“Well, if he assumes it,” she chuckled, “it’s on him. Besides, if he assumes it that’s gross, why does he assume his little sister is having sex?” That made him laugh, “besides, I don’t care. It’s our decision, they don’t know about us.” 

There was something about them that they managed to see each other. 

“They do know us,” he pointed out. 

“Yes, separately, they don’t see this,” she pointed out. “I think they don’t fully understand us, and honestly, I don’t need them to.” 

Tom tilted his head. 

“Eventually they’ll see it, but I think they do, already, they just have this version of us, and we do, too, but I think we—“

“We are more than that, yes,” Tom agreed. 

“They don’t know about the things we do, they don’t know about the I love you’s.” 

He closed his eyes, “did you just fucking quote One Direction?” 

“They don’t know about the up all nights—“ she sang. 

“Stop. You’re ruining this.” 

“They don’t know—“

“Shut up, I love you but you should stop,” Tom laughed. “No—I hate you.” 

“I hate you, too,” she grinned, leaning down to kiss him. How marvelous, her enemies to lovers story had turned out. 

“Are… we avoiding going out and facing them?” He asked in between kisses. 

“Hm. I think so,” she admitted. 

They would have to face them, and so they, though they’d rather stay savoring each others’ words, they went to the kitchen, where they would be received with their spectators. 

Sam, James and Clark. There was no sight of Harry, y/n noticed. 

They froze when they saw them. As if with a word they could destroy each other. Y/N didn’t like to think of them so fragile but she understood where they came from. 

“Hello,” Tom was the one to break the silence. 

They didn’t answer. 

“Good morning,” y/n was next. 

Clark smiled, “good morning!” He greeted them. “How did you guys sleep?” He had a mischievous and knowing look on his face. 

“Fantastic,” Tom said. 

Y/N smiled, “Good, how about you guys?” 

“Ah, slept next to an idiot, but it was lovely,” he said. 

James glared at his fiancé. 

“Ah, me too,” y/n grinned. “It comes as a surprise, does it not? How incredibly soothing it is to sleep next to an idiot.” 

Tom chuckled and eyed their breakfast, as if trying to decide what he would have for him. Sam watched them with irony. 

“Surprising indeed,” Clark answered. 

“What?” James asked. 

“You wouldn’t know James, you are the idiot in the relationship. “Where’s Harry?” Y/n asked with curiosity. 

Sam smirked. “Not here.” 

Tom stole a piece of bacon from Sam’s plate earning a glare from his younger brother. 

“Not—?”Y/n frowned, very unaware of the situation. “Alright—uh, what can I have for breakfa—“

“Alright that’s enough,” James interrupted. “You guys are going to act as if nothing happened?” 

Tom took a deep breath, “good morning, James.” 

“Good morning?” James mocked. “Good morning? That’s all you have to say?” 

Tom chuckled, “sorry, how did you sleep, James?” 

James was losing it. 

“Are you kidding us?” James asked. “You—y/n almost murdered him yesterday—“

Y/N chuckled, “so? You pretended to be straight for fourteen years. And now you’re here engaged to a man, we all pretend to be things we’re not.” 

Clark bursted out laughing. 

“What the fuck,” was all James could say. 

Clark placed a hand on his shoulders, immediately James calmed down. “Jamie, love we talked about this—“ 

“I’m—You guys just—“ James couldn’t even speak.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes, “it’s none of your business, James, but if you must know, I made out with him for 10 hours straight and forgot about it.” 

Tom was the one to freak out now, “no, no no—We didn’t—No, we—we talked okay?” 

Y/N laughed, “yeah—Fine.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, “I think what James here means is that we are tired of not knowing how the hell to act around this and we need an update.” 

“Yeah. So about that,” y/n said. “First, I need you to understand that this is between Tom and me,” she cleared up. “Whatever we are going through, we don’t need you to meddle in, and we don’t want you to take sides or whatever, because there is no sides here, this is not y/n versus Tom, this is not a prank war, this is not—“

Tom cleared his throat. 

Y/N closed her eyes, “we came into a realization that we—no, we’ve always known who we are when we are together. We know each other, and we love you guys but this is our thing.” 

Clark smiled and then turned to James as if telling him: ‘I told you so’. 

“We—“Tom was the one to speak now. “I think what she’s trying to say is that we don’t want you guys to be worried about it.” 

 “Yes,” she said. “And...You guys all know us, we know, I know, James, I know you know me and want to protect me, however you guys barely know who we are together,” Y/N continued. 

James watched them, “We only want what’s best.” 

“Yes but how do you know what’s best for us?” Y/N asked. “And it’s… Look, I’ve never meddled in your relationship with Clark, I barely even knew about it and look at you guys.” 

“Yes but you guys-” James tried to intrude again. 

“We know,” Tom said. “We know, though it’s not perfect, it’s our relationship, and…” Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, you’ve been witnesses to the bad parts, and only the bad parts, but… we… We also have some very good ones, like back in New York, Rome or just this morning, and maybe that’s on us, because we’ve always feared about it and… We’ve always been so…” 

“Yeah, what we thought was that we… We are so scared of the outcome that we’ve always shielded ourselves by being alone, and we don’t have to,” y/n finished his sentence. 

“And yes, it’s not perfect, but it is the best that has happened to us and though it’s hard to believe we've brought the best of each other..” Tom cleared his throat. “We have.” 

“Yes, I know it’s hard to believe but I love the y/n I am when this idiot is around,” she admitted. 

James was listening now, Clark couldn’t help but smile and Sam was, honestly, just confused. 

“We’ve overcome the worst heartbreaks and we both know each other’s worst and we are willing to bring the best,” Tom said. “We are willing to work it out and step out of the idea we have of each other because we also know we are trying to become our best versions.” 

Sam nodded, “Cool, now, can we just please be aware of your relationship status? Though we won’t meddle I think we’re very involved in this and might as well—you know, be aware.” 

Y/N and Tom looked at each other, it was weird why they felt so insecure about it yet there was no reason to. 

“She’s moving in,” Tom announced, firmly but regretted it instantly. “Uh—Just—“

The room was incredibly quiet. Of course they had expected this, they had been on the verge of breaking up right now and this outcome was nothing of what they had expected. 

Y/N nodded, that’s all she could do. She walked closer to Tom. 

James took a deep breath, Clark held his hand, knowing that James was probably about to lose his shit. He didn’t. 

James didn’t look at Tom, he looked at his sister, who only reached out for her lover’s hand, now uneasy and kind of sweaty. 

Sam wanted to roll his eyes, and not because he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t sure why. 

Y/n thought  she knew what they were thinking, that they were completely crazy. That they wouldn’t last. That it was just another stupid idea. Like back when they were children and they had decided to play at the tree house together and five minutes in y/n had climbed down crying because Tom had said something mean. Or that one time when they had gone to the movies when they were younger and said they would share the popcorn and Tom had ended up with the bucket on his head. 

Like the old times when they always said they would be fine and then five minutes later they’d be at each other’s throat or on top of each other trying to hit the other. 

Y/n thought they were thinking that. And they probably were. 

The difference was that she didn’t care this time, because she knew that this time probably, yes, she’d be on his throat, but with her lips tracing its way and if someone was on top of each other, well, she would… really like that. 

“Alright,” James said, finally breaking the silence. 

That was new.

And everybody was confused. 

“Just know, that this is my sister, Thomas,” he added. “Please just stay five feet apart at all times. Separate bedrooms.” 

Tom chuckled nervously, he was sweating. He would actually take that in mind, he tried to walk away. He wasn’t sure why he was scared of James, it’s not like James would hurt him. Maybe it was a matter of trying not to disappoint him. 

“No, thanks for the suggestion,” y/n smiled. “But I’m good. He’s a good pillow.” 

James wanted to ask a million questions, and he only was squeezing Clark’s hand. Clark thought he would end up losing it. 

“So—breakfast?” Y/n said with a smug smirk.

Sam kept watching them with curiosity.

“Just—Just—“James was startled, y/n could tell, “I—“He was warned with a glare by Clark. “I need—I need to know, please, I just—how the hell—How did you guys even go—from—?” 

“From what? Enemies to this?” Y/N questioned. 

“That I can answer, she flirted once for 20 seconds and  I became obsessed with her,” Tom said and then laughed. “No, I’m joking, well, no—Not really, but she kissed me once and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.” 

Y/n smiled. “Yeah, he smiled at me once and that was it for me, also, I’m attracted to stupid. And he happens to be—“

“No—“James tried to say something but y/n interrupted him again. 

“Ah okay, well we flirted at some bar once and we—“y/n started. 

“Danced! Yeah, to that song from Risky Business!” Tom didn’t let her finish knowing damn well that hadn’t happened but he would not let her say they had flirted and hooked up and ended up with this. 

“Ah, yeah, but that didn’t happen until after—“

“I flirted with you on set,” Tom reminded her. 

She grinned,”that was flirting? Well, okay yes—“

“No, I didn’t mean—,” James tried speaking again.

“Ah sorry,James,” y/n laughed. “Right so—In his car—“

“We got pancakes at midnight,” Tom interrupted yet again. Did she want him dead? 

“And then I held hands with her having breakfast once and I realized I wanted to wake up every morning to her,” Tom said. 

Y/n glared, “that’s—“

“Yes, and we danced to that song from Dirty Dancing and she ended up madly in love with me.” 

“Yes and then on the plane—“y/n continued with a smirk, she was mocking him. She clearly knew what she was doing. This was Tom and Y/n in their splendor. She was teasing. 

“Yes we had a date,” Tom glared, interrupting again. “And then we danced in the middle of the street in New York..” 

“Why the hell is there so much dancing,” Sam asked.

Y/n laughed, “yeah, dancing.” 

James rolled his eyes, “I don’t care about whatever happened—“

“That’s the thing, James,” y/n said. “I know you’re asking how the hell did I turn from almost murdering him to now moving in with him, and that’s exactly the explanation I’m giving you. All those little details in our relationship? That’s what led us here.” 

James took a deep breath. Clark brushed his back trying to soothe him. Y/N knew they weren’t exactly happy with this, but this was it. 

Even last time she was nervous about it. How would they react, and how they feared they would respond. But why did it matter? 

Though she knew that they would be supportive, no matter what. They would be supportive. It was not then that mattered. 

She knew her mind could easily be manipulated by someone else. Someone who was not at that house. 

Y/N and Tom both expected James to say his infamous words ‘I’m happy you’re happy.’ Which would mean he didn’t agree. 

He didn’t, instead he said, “Dont’ fuck it up, please, I love you both too much and I really want you both to be happy, and if you guys make each other happy then don’t be fucking stupid.” 

They had his approval, not that it mattered. 

Sam had been quiet. Dangerously quiet.

Y/N knew not to push him. 

They had breakfast, and it had been calm. Clark had been kind enough to change the subject of conversation and brought the subject of the wedding though James had been reluctant. They did talk about it, and Tom had tried to make some points on it by recalling that he’d been the one to introduce Tom and Clark. 

“Introducing me to the love of my life won’t redeem you from even holding my sister’s hand, Thomas.” 

But though the sky was clear, y/n knew they had to drive to the storm, the difference this time, they’d go together. 

Y/N had given it a thought, she was not sure how she would talk to Cherry. She was going to...eventually. 

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Sam had asked as y/n and Tom were splashing water at each other while doing the dishes. 

Tom glanced at his brother. 

“Alone?” Sam remarked. 

Y/N chuckled, “Yeah, sure.” 

And she left with him. Tom didn’t know what that was about. Though he knew he didn’t have to worry, one because Sam would get y/n against him, not that he had to, and besides y/n had made sure to make Tom know that she wouldn’t let their relationship tumble down over little doubts and fears. 

Sam wouldn’t give her any. But he knew that there was something bothering Sam, he wondered what. But if it was a problem with Tom, he would’ve talked it with him. 

Tom never really understood Sam and y/n’s relationship, it was very peculiar and fun, he knew. He knew y/n trusted Sam with her life. And Sam trusted her with his. 

It took him a while, he’d seen them talking far away. 

“What’s--up with them?” Tom asked James and Clark who were on their way to go out, Clark explained they’d go tourist. 

“Dunno, maybe he’s trying to bring some reason to y/n and try and convince her not to date you,” James joked with a smug smirk. 

Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes, “You’re really hating this, huh?” 

Clark nudged James, “No, he doesn’t, he’s just being a bitter asshole, like the big brother he was to be.” 

“Yeah,” James confirmed. “I hate any guy who dates her, she may be a pain in the ass but no one deserves her.” 

Tom was slightly hurt by that, though he agreed, he knew James had never been this reluctant as when she was dating Tim. Tom faked a laugh anyway.

Clark glared at James. “You’re doing exactly what I fucking told you not to.” 

“Please,” James grinned. “Tom perfectly knows I’m joking, they’re so bloody meant to be it’s making me sick, but I still forbid you to even fucking hold her hand,” he said as he put on a jacket. 

Tom was slightly calmed by that statement. “‘Lright.” 

“But no, I wouldn’t worry about Sam, Sam is probably talking about a theory he came up about something, he was watching Sherlock last night, I think so… You know how he is.” 

Tom chuckled, “right.” 

“And they haven’t seen each other in so long so he just probably took the chance.” 

“Right,” Tom said, and it did make sense. 

Clark and James left, eventually after telling Tom their plans. Tom was still slightly nervous. 

When y/n came back, her eyes were distraught and distracted. 

“Everything okay?” Tom asked, quickly. 

She licked her lips, “Yeah, yeah, we…” 

“You don’t seem alright,” Tom pointed out. 

“Yeah, I… No,  don’t worry, Sam just…” She nodded to herself, as if she was figuring out her thoughts on her own. 

“You sure?” Tom pushed. 

Y/N only nodded before walking away

Sam was walking by too, “Don’t worry, let her… sit in her thoughts.” 

“What did you say to her?” Tom asked. 

“Nothing that prejudices you, don’t worry,” Sam said. 

Y/N needed some clothes and to start packing. y/n was quiet for another moments, and then asked to go to her flat, she wasn’t distraught anymore. Tom and her talked again, he didn’t push the Sam subject, but they talked, apparently it was something they were doing now. While in the car, just like they had in the morning, talking, calmly. With a few jokes in between. 

Y/n didn’t know how, probably Tom either but he was teasing, like old times. Both of them making fun of each other, remembering. 

“You sure you want to do this?” He asked as they were climbing the outside stairs to y/n’s apartment, he reached for her hand to stop her. 

She looked back, she wondered how their silhouettes looked, very Romeo and Juliet probably. Romantic. 

“Do what?” She asked, “go upstairs?” 

“No, dumbass,” he chuckled, as he took a step forward but she was still ahead. “Move in?” 

Honestly, she did have some doubts, that had nothing to do with Tom, and nothing to do with her apartment. Y/N had doubts on herself, not with Tom, but she—still was unsure on how she would feel when they would have to leave, eventually. Back to London. She was doubting the process of going back to London. And moving in with Tom meant she’d eventually have to. Or—what if she had to stay? How would she find another apartment—or would she have to move in back with Emma and Tim? Would Emma even stay in LA? And would Tim? 

No worries with Emma but—Tim. 

She’d worry about it later. 

“Yes,” she smiled as she pulled his hand, he climbed to the same step. “I’m sure, besides, it’s not like I’m moving in today, I’m just—getting some clothes,” she reminded him. 

“Right?” 

“Are you sure?” She asked. Maybe he hadn’t asked because of her but because of him. Maybe Tom was second guessing the proposal that had come in so abruptly. 

Y/N had not initially answered when he had asked, after all, he had blurted it out in a very compromising position.

“What?” she had asked. 

“That—was stupid wasn’t it?” It had been. But, really, y/n was used to his stupidity. 

And they had remained quiet on the ride. Tom had been so embarrassed for even daring to think of it, let alone asking it. 

Tom had tried to cut the silence. “I—“

“I just—“she laughed as she interrupted. “So—I was—you know, on top of you and you thought—Yes, I want to move in with her, that was what was going through your mind?” 

Tom turned red, “I—no—“

“Your mind was elsewhere while we—was it that boring—?”

“No!” He coughed. “I—No, nothing like that—No, I just—It was on my mind before it happened and—“

“It was on your mind?” 

“Yes. You mentioned how you had to move out and I couldn’t help but think that—I—forget it, it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not.” 

“What?” 

She had paused. “How crazy would it be? Like—Even in New York we had to get rid of the other room because—“

“Yes but—This is months—“

She paused, “right.” 

“I mean—I would love to,” he admitted. “We could—I dunno, waking up to you every morning sounds like a dream come true.” 

She only smiled shyly. 

“But no, it’s stupid right? Uh—should we go for something to eat?” 

“Yeah—“

“I—no—I actually did mean it,” he confessed. “I do mean it, it wasn’t the heat of the moment or whatever.” 

“You’re asking me to move in with you?” She questioned. As if trying to make him realize what he was really offering. 

“Yes, I am,” he had said firmly. “I—just think about the perks we would have.” 

“Oh, no, I know about those—“she sassed, chuckling slightly. 

“Like—we could drive together to set all the time and you could—Uh, there’s this room that you could use to write? Yes—and uh, we don’t even have to be on the same room, when James leaves you can take the room he was sleeping in.” 

She was amused, and watched him with a smirk, “so, roommates? Is that where we are standing now?” 

“No—But if you think it’s soon—“

“It is soon,” she pointed out. “But when have we ever—been good with any timing in our relationship?” 

He chuckled nervously, “true—But I mean—if it’s too soon then we don’t have to sleep on the same bed.”

She only watched him. 

They did go to a drive thru, and stayed quiet again. Tom had been so nervous about it. And he knew y/n didn’t believe him that he actually was offering it to her. 

“So, want to be my roommate?” He offered as he’d drove home, they had stayed at the car, sitting on the trunk, probably because neither of them wanted to face everyone in the house yet. 

“I—have been thinking about it,” she admitted. “But—being honest.” 

“Yes?” 

“I don’t think we could stay in separate rooms,” she recalled. “I—I mean—“

“Why—not?” 

“Tom.” 

“I—I—it’s cause, I know it’s soon but that way you don’t have to find another place, and—“

“No, no—I—like the idea but—“

“Yes?” 

“But… Are you seriously offering being… roommates?” 

He coughed, “Roommates who kiss occasionally.” 

She rolled her eyes, “Uh-huh.” 

“Look I… I don’t know, I… Ideally, you could move in and we’d be sharing a room,” he hesitated. 

“So coupley,” she joked. 

“I thought we… were that?” He questioned. 

She gave him a smile, “Well, yes, that’s why I figured we can’t be in separate rooms, and honestly even if we were I know I’d crawl my way to you.” 

He watched her with curiosity, as if he couldn’t quite understand why she was asking if he was sure. He was, and it didn’t matter if they moved in or not, she was his home, as cliché as it may sound. And it was exciting, though a bit scary, he was sure of it. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” he grinned. “Why-wouldn’t I be?” 

The sun had posed on her lashes as she dedicated him a very shy smile. Tom wasn’t scared anymore. Though they’d started in a very cheerful spring and ended in New York for a very nice summer, the autumn was now their very best. A breeze made her hair fly, and they kept their way, Tom could only smile at the way the sun made its way through her face, as if it was made to shine on her. 

Tom knew they had to still mend each other’s hearts, delicately. But they had each other for so, and the future looked bright. Just like the sun in her face.

Y/N opened the door to the apartment, and Tom feared just a little, that their incredible drea would tumble down if Tim was there. He… wasn’t. 

Was it selfish to think that he somehow knew y/n would eventually come back to him? Was it that selfish to have that feeling so strong? He had thought about it, all night. A love so stubborn that they’d find a way to each other, even pretend to hate just to have a reason to talk to each other. Maybe they were young and knew nothing about love and it was stupid, but they knew everything about each other. 

He knew they’d be able to talk about the rain, they’d danced enough under it to know they would see it bittersweet. Maybe it wasn’t selfish to think she’d come back, because he knew he would, too. 

Y/N walked in and stared at the couch, curiously. There were a few clothes here and there. 

“What?” Tom asked. 

“I didn’t see the car,” she pointed out. She headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge, getting out two beers, handing him one, “I guess they’re not here… the place is…” She shook her head as she frowned. “Nothing.” 

He knew it meant something, but if she didn’t want to share it then it meant she didn’t want him to know. He didn’t push it. 

He followed after her into her room, he sat on the bed and looked around. Her room was so… her. She always managed to make things hers, as if she had this mystical touch to transform everything into beautiful things. He always wondered how she did it, how she managed to turn the not so nice apartment into something liveable. 

Maybe that’s why she hadn’t broken up with him, because she’d even turn her heartbreak into something beautiful.

There was something beautiful in them, fragile things often tend to be the most expensive and the things you care for the most. He looked at the flowers, dried out now but decorative. Pretty. 

Her camera, some writings, polaroids. She was looking through her clothes, and Tom only remembered when she was packing back for New York. But she had boxes now. 

He beamed as he then walked through her room, he could still smell the perfume from the flowers hanging. All of them were yellow, or some tone near yellow. She had maps, also, with some places circled. He saw her notebook that she took to set, the script with scribbles and his name circled. Flowers sketched around it, he smiled. 

But there was a noise heard outside, a laugh? 

Both Tom and y/n frowned and tried to peek through the door, and then a view they had not expected. Emma’s laughter echoed through the apartment as she made her way to the kitchen, topless or her bare back gave away that impression, with Harry following right behind wearing only a pair of boxers, harmonizing his laughter with his, as he ran to her and hugged her from behind, kissing her bare neck. 

Both y/n and Tom widened their eyes as they turned to each other, with surprise. Tom quickly rushed to close the door, Y/N did the same as they quietly closed her bedroom door. And as soon as they had, they both tried not to laugh. 

“Oh my god,” both of them whispered, red from embarrassment, still trying to contain their laughter. 

“What the fuck?” Tom asked, happy for his brother, but also very uncomfortable. 

She snorted, “I don’t know,” she answered quietly. “Oh my god?” 

“Do you think they fucked?” Tom asked. 

“That’s your brother!” She playfully smacked his arm, giggling. “But… Oh my god, they totally did.” 

“Oh for fucking sure they did.” 

“That’s why Harry wasn’t—oh my god?”

“I… oh my god,” Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I saw her boobs,” Y/N laughed, a bit too loud and Tom quickly covered her mouth. 

“Shut up, idiot,” He said. “They’re like fucking deers, they’ll be startled!” 

Y/N couldn’t stop giggling so instead she buried into his chest, expecting the shirt to cover the sound. 

“I… Okay, but…” Tom smirked. “Do you think they pulled a ‘Tom and y/n’ and just…?” 

“I mean,” she chuckled. “It’s an effective method. 

Tom chuckled. “He fucking judged us yesterday—?”

“Yes but I guess he saw us and went: huh that worked for them?” 

Tom cackled. “I can’t believe Emma would give in—“

“Oh, so you—“she frowned. “Emma wouldn’t but I would?” 

Tom knew he had fucked up, as he often does, cause he’s a man and an idiot. “Shit—No—I didn’t.” 

“Am I that easy to persuade?” She asked. 

“No—I don’t mean it, like that, I just mean that—“

“That Emma wouldn’t be up for makeup sex but I would?” 

“You have—been up for—,” he stated. “Look—I didn’t—“

She chuckled, “so you think you are in control of it?” She pointed out. 

“Psh, I know you can’t resist me, darling.”

She smirked, “Tommy, please.” 

He gulped, “I—okay, no I’m not but I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Fine, you can do whatever you want to me, I give in.” 

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Harry!” And a giggle was heard from outside. 

Tom closed his eyes. “Wait—Please—please tell me they’re not going to—Go for it, again.” 

Y/N looked up. “I—I—Hope not?” She was scared. 

 “Are we trapped?” Tom asked. 

Y/n chuckled, “seems like we are.” 

“Great,” Tom sighed as he plopped on the bed. “Do you think she—forgave him?” 

“Shut up, you’re an idiot,” they heard Emma yell.  

Y/N listened and nodded before sitting beside him, handing him his beer “Dunno, but did you hear? Poor thing she’s bloody in love with him.” 

“She called him an idiot,” Tom pointed out, confused..

Y/N chuckled to herself, watching him comically, she smirked before drinking from her beer, “I know, dumbass.” 

Tom frowned, “So, she is mad right?” 

“Oh my god,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m—Oh.” 

He was an idiot. 

Tom, even if he would not dare to say it out loud was slightly jealous of his brother. In a weird way. In a way that Tom aspired to be the most adorable couple and Harry and Emma had always been 1st on that place. 

Tom knew Harry and Emma specialized on being adorable, hence why Harry would not stand Tom and y/n. 

They were such different couples. But there were a lot of similarities, Harry and y/n were very alike, very reserved. Tom and Emma were also very alike, so open and so cheerful. 

But Harry and Emma had more in common, they were very different in the way they approached things, which often came as a blessing and more often than not, it was not a blessing. They were so stubborn. 

Which was the difference with y/n and Tom who were so different, y/n was so into her world, calmly escaping in films, music, clothing, pretty things. While Tom escaped with the gym, golf and parties. 

Y/N loved quiet, Tom loved loud and yet. 

They were there, locked in y/n’s room and though there probably were a million other things to do, they both laid down with their feet resting against the wall. Trying to ignore Harry and Emma who god knows what they were doing. Talking about everything and nothing at all. 

Hands playing with each other’s hands. 

“No, but like—Mr. Darcy is just—“y/n sighed, dramatically. “He is a dream come true.”

Tom chuckled, “He’s emotionally unavailable.” 

“Yes, he is an idiot,” y/n pointed out, “which—of course , it makes sense I’d fall in love with him.” 

“I don’t understand why—Like, okay, the actor is handsome but—“

“Oh my god Thomas, no,” she interrupted. “I mean yes but it’s the story.”

Tom laughed. “The story?”

“It’s enemies to lovers,” she said as if it was obvious enough already. 

It’s fair to point out now, Tom was very dumb. “What?” He proved it with that. 

“I—“She chuckled. “Tommy, okay—So it’s—enemies to lovers who love each other but they don’t give in because of their misconceptions of each other.” 

“Yeah, it’s in the title—pride and prejudice,” he remarked. “So what? Why do you love it so much?”

Y/N looked at him as if she was reconsidering every life choice she’d ever made. “I—It’s ironic, even, Thomas.” 

“What is?” 

“What were we before we dated?” 

“Sad?” 

“I—“she chuckled. “No—I mean.” 

“What?”

“We were enemies, Thomas.” 

Tom then realized how stupid he was. He closed his eyes as he finally made the realization. “Oh.” 

“Yes—Oh, dumbass.” 

“But—Okay, I thought we would be more like Mr Bingley and Jane” 

She laughed, softly. “Please, you’re not nearly as adorable and you were just as emotionally unavailable to me half your life.”

“I was—Okay but like—I—I thought.”

“No, those two out there? They’re Bingley and Jane.” 

“Oh, makes sense...so, you and I are Mr. Darcy and Lizzie?”

“No, we are idiots.” 

Tom nudged her. “Yes, idiot but I meant—“

“Hm are we?”she questioned. 

“You’re just as stubborn as she is so,” Tom smirked. “I love you most ardently.” 

“You have bewitched me body and soul,” she proclaimed. 

“I think we are like them, even better,” he grinned. 

“No, I love you but no, we are not,” she smiled.“However, I do wonder how Jane and Bingley are doing.” 

Tom laughed. “I am pretty sure we are good to go out, are you ready to go? Packed enough for some days at least?” 

“Yeah, almost,” y/n said as she stood up after kissing his cheek. 

Tom watched her, “what did you and Sam talk about?” 

Y/N paused, “Stuff.” 

So she didn’t want to tell him, why? Tom coughed, “Uh, but are you okay?” 

“He… just made the type of questions Sam usually makes, you know, the one that… makes you think” y/n said and then took a deep breath. 

“Oh, those are… dangerous,” Tom pointed out. 

She turned to him,“I know-We agreed on talking, but let me just figure this one out and then I can tell you.” 

“Should I be worried?” he asked.

“No, not you,” she said. 

“Someone should?” 

She chuckled, “I… No, but… It’s just…” 

Tom only watched, still nervously and anxiously sitting on her bed. 

She smiled at him and dropped what she was doing, she walked over to him and wrapped her hands around him, “trust me, you don’t have to worry,” and she kissed the top of his head. 

Y/N picked up some of her stuff, as she’d walked out, she made sure neither Harry or Emma were around, they did not have to know they were there. Tom followed after helping her with some more stuff. But just as they were making their way, two doors opened, Emma’s and the front door. 

And then the flat was too crowded. 

Too crowded. 

Tim had walked in with Cherry following behind, stopping abruptly as they’d seen the other two couples. Emma was probably debating whether to watch the couple who had been already inside or the one just coming in. 

Emma felt this one familiar feeling, like she could hear sirens and she could see the red fire burning all the flat, like when she’d seen her own engagement party tumble down. Her skin scorched as the flames grew stronger. 

Harry felt it, too. Glass shattered for him, and now if he walked any further, he would shatter. Both of them were tired of this. Harry didn’t want to feel this fragile but he couldn't help it. 

Everyone remained frozen, as if they knew they were in a minefield and any further movement would break them all apart. Tom’s only instinct was to reach for y/n’s arm, as if he was protecting her. He only looked at her, trying to figure out what exactly was going through her mind. 

Y/N’s expression was very hard to read, but she gripped on tight to the box she was holding. Her skin was blazing, too, Tom could tell. Was she angry? Disappointed? Had her heartbreak come back? 

Was she mad at him or Tim? Or Cherry? Her sight was focused on those last two. Her breathing was fractured. 

Everyone remained completely still. 

Waiting for someone to shatter the utter and raging silence still lingered in the room.

Tom was the most scared one. But Tom only glared at Tim, whichever his intentions with Cherry were, were probably not good. And he was angry not only for y/n, but for Cherry. Tom was well aware of the power Tim held with vulnerable people and Tom could tell Cherry would be vulnerable right now. 

Tim opened his mouth but nothing could come out, he glared back at Tom. Tom tried to fight the urge to punch Tim in the face. Because probably Tim was judging y/n and Tim would probably try and persuade y/n into thinking this was a bad idea. 

Tim eyed the box up and down, then looked at y/n. 

“Please, for the love of god, do it somewhere else, whatever the fuck you’re doing, don’t do it here, don’t ruin my day,” Emma finally spoke, out loud. It’s fair to point out, they were dressed now. Fully dressed. Tom assumed they would go out. 

Harry only glanced at Tom, as if warning him to listen to Emma. 

Tom sighed. 

Tim glared at Emma. 

The next movement was made by y/n. She only walked past Tim and Cherry, ignoring them. 

Tom was… surprised. 

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Cherry’s voice had barely come out of her mouth, as if each word had physically pained her. 

Y/N stopped, glared at Tim and then turned to Cherry. “Sure.” 

No one had expected that from her. Especially Tim, he thought y/n would have only ignored her and just escaped. Tim didn’t know this, but y/n didn’t blame Cherry.

“Not fucking with this,” Emma dragged Harry out the apartment, they didn’t fucking need this drama. And they wouldn’t deal with it. She snatched the car keys from Timmy and kept dragging Harry. “Good luck,” she warned to y/n. 

“Bye,” Harry whispered led to them. 

Y/N watched them, Tom swore he saw her smile a little, but it was quickly erased as she turned to cherry. “So?” 

Cherry blinked, also baffled by y/n’s positive answer. 

“Right now?” Y/N asked. 

Tom only watched them. 

Cherry gulped, “Yeah, yeah--” 

“Here?” Y/N questioned. 

“I... Don’t know,” Cherry said, but she was speaking carefully. Terrified of y/n. Not that her cousin would be harsh on her, but y/n’s blank expression was enough to scare her off. 

“Your mum’s cafe is only a few blocks away, we could walk there,” Y/N suggested and then walked back to the flat, leaving the box on the counter. She gave a reassuring nod to Tom. 

Tom wasn’t scared of Cherry, it’s only fair to note. Tom was actually calm;  they could talk, but he wondered what Tim’s twisted mind had planned this time. Why the hell had Tim brought her here? 

Tim coughed, “are you guys sure?” 

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be sure, Timothée?” Y/N questioned. “It’s my cousin, I should speak to her. None of your fucking business.” 

Tim frowned, she’d never spoken to him like that. 

Tom smirked, just lightly. 

“Of course,” Tim hissed. “But—“

“But what?” Y/N snapped. “You’re good to go, Cherry?” Cherry watched between everyone, she then directed a single glance to Tom. She was hurt, and Tom recognized that face. Not from Cherry, Cherry had the same face y/n had when he’d shown up at her house to give her the yellow flowers. The same damn face, so hurt. 

“Do you—“Tim pushed. 

“Oh my god, fucking leave her alone,” Tom interrupted again. “Can’t you for once fucking leave her alone?” 

Tim scoffed, “you’re one to talk?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I—I’m not even going to—“ she left, Cherry carefully followed behind. 

Tim seemed stressed. 

Tom was angry, he was about to go back into y/n’s room, when Tim spoke again, “Why the fuck does she get back to you when you’re always the shittiest to her?” 

“I’m not going to fucking argue this with you,” Tom snapped. “I don’t even want to bloody ask why the fuck you brought Cherry here?” 

“How the fuck was I supposed to know—?”

 “No, fucking no, I dont bloody care and you know what? Also fucking leave Cherry alone I know your thing is going after vulnerable girls or whatever the fuck but—“

“I’m not—“

“Fucking stay away from them, both,” Tom warned. “Cherry doesn’t need a manipulative fucker like you.” 

Tim watched him with repulsion, “You do realize you hurt them both by doing exactly the fucking same? You were a piece of shit—“

“And are you fucking taking advantage of that? Are you going to bloody antagonize me again?” Tom barked. 

“You bloody antagonize yourself!” Tim yelled at him. “Like are you fucking serious? You really just fuck everything up, it’s so incredibly stupid. I am really just impressed by it.” 

“I know I fuck up, but I own it! You have no business in my relationship with y/n—“

“No, I know that—“

“And I don’t want you to fucking come close to her, You never bloody admit what you fucking do, you just fucking paint yourself as the hero when you know damn well you are manipulating them, and you are doing the same thing with Cherry?” Tom blurted, he knew that if y/n was gullible and vulnerable she didn’t even come near to Cherry. And Tom did care for Cherry, in his own way, and Tom did not want to see it again, Tim being painted as the hero. 

“Doing what?” Tim had his posture hard enough, arms crossed with his eyes burning with rage. He did not stand him. 

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t even see it?”

“What I see is you slept with y/n’s cousin and fucking tricked her again, both of them,” Tim snarked. “You were not here. You always come back when she’s doing better—You we’re not here when she was crying, she was so destroyed, yet again.” 

“Ah, yes I was living rainbows and butterflies,” Tom rolled his eyes. 

Tim could not believe Tom dared to be sarcastic. “You made a fucking mess yourself, the script wasn’t even that bad for starters and you were the one to ruin Emma’s engagement, only because you fucking assumed y/n loved Harry. Which is the one most stupid thing you’ve ever done in your life,” Tim continued. 

Tom only clenched his jaw. 

“You decided to make everything big as you always fucking do and not talk, because you—“

“How many words did she not get from you? Did you not bloody tell her I am her—what was it—perfidy?” 

Tim stayed quiet. 

“I’m not saying I wasn’t shit but you painted me as a—monster, yes that’s the word she used. I admit I broke her heart, but you don’t bloody know a thing about me and y/n—“Tom was fuming.

“I didn’t have to.” But Tim seemed cold now, and he was hearing it, 

“Why don’t you bloody realize it? Yes I’ve hurt y/n, but you’ve hurt her too much, too. She feels so guilty, you’ve managed to make her feel guilty for not loving you—That's why she does all of this—I—I can’t deal with this, there’s no bloody point. And I meant it, stay away from Cherry.” 

And Tim wasn’t in love, but he did fall, and until then he finally broke. Had he been breaking y/n all this time? 

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[commaclear]

You have no clue how happy Wilbur’s executive dysfunction makes me. And not because I’m pointing and laughing. Because I’m not. I’m just happy that it’s written in the way that Wilbur knows it’s bad but also doesn’t want to or know how to fix it.

People tend to jump to conclusions when they see rooms where flat surfaces are covered in trash and trinkets and it’s a miracle if the floor is able to be walked across without a bit of practice.

And you don’t notice it’s a thing when you’re little. You don’t notice that maybe you live in a self made shit hole because you cannot function until your friends all get their act together and you don’t.

The way he says “I’m aware I’m living like a high schooler” because that’s what everyone has told him.

It’s so much easier to ridicule someone for the fact that it is nearly impossible for them to take a dish to the sink or fold laundry. It’s so much easier to poke fun at how they are able to focus on things that are stupid but can’t even commit to making the bed in the morning.

I love when that kind of shit gets painted in a non negative light. It’s not necessarily positive. It’s hard to make it positive when someone lives like that. But it’s not written in a mocking manner.

There’s something so embarrassing about inviting someone over and forgetting that you’re home looks the way it does only to get that “damnnnn bitch you live like this?” Reaction. I’m not joking when I say I’ve had people send pictures of my hellish tornado of a room to our group chat because to them it’s shocking.

Living in a room like that doesn’t bother someone who has the issue. Because when you live like that you would rather work around the issue instead of fixing it. Clothes and books and blankets that aren’t tucked in make up the bed. Every single flat surface isn’t safe from cups and dishes and miscellaneous things that no one needs. The floor is covered in shoes with no match and crumpled clothing and whatever else gets left down there. When you live with all of that you don’t notice it. You do know that it’s not good and bad and probably really irresponsible. But you don’t even know where to start to fix it. If you try to fix it you get so lost and usually end up leaving it to rot because it feels futile.

Idk. It’s just nice. That little bit of him makes me feel like maybe I’m not just someone who can’t grow up but with a fancy term slapped on it. Most people never portray it in the understanding way. It’s always in a way that makes it look gross and disgusting and pathetic. And I mean yeah it feels pathetic when you live like that. It’s just different when everyone else sees it that way too. Idk. Honestly ig just Ty fkr how you write that stuff

Not to get too personal on you anon, but for me the most genuine writing comes from a place of personal pain. Like that's my take on the whole "write what you know" shtick, if something has hurt you, it left a mark. Even if it's years later, you still have the scar and maybe there's even some bits of shrapnel still causing you pain, and I think writing about your own pain is the most authentic thing you can do

[fandom-puff]

Involved

Pairing: no pairing  Requested by:  anon Prompts: // Summary: Being the littlest sister is often the best thing in the world. But sometimes, YN Shelby wants nothing more than to be involved with her older siblings... AN: Okay, so this is only my second shelby sister fic, so it might not be brilliant. If you’re looking for amazing shelby sis fics, I’d definitely recommend @theshelbyclan​ <3 Also, Finn is about 13/14 in this, and the reader is about 7/8. as usual, gif creds to owner Warnings: swearing, violence 

Being the baby of the family was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, your brothers and sister doted on you, often slipping you sweets and lollies when Pol said you couldn’t have them. They were fiercely protective of you, and no one could make Tommy, Arthur and John smile and laugh like you could. You loved when Arthur would let you sit on his shoulders (especially good when they took you to fairs, as you were too short to see over the crowds), when Tommy sat and read to you, when John played chase. 

But lately, all they spoke about was business and men with strange names like Solomons and Sabini. Even Finn, who was closest to you in age, was starting to spend more time with the older brothers and less time with you. 

“Tommy?” you asked across the table as you munched on your toast. Tommy didn’t look up from his stack of paperwork. You frowned. “Tommy?” you said a little louder. 

“What, YN?” he said, a sharp edge in his voice that he never used with you (even when you had accidentally used a very important document to draw on). Your lower lip wobbled slightly and you ran off, your chair toppling over. Tommy rolled his eyes. He really had no time for your tantrums, not today at least. 

You carried on running until you reached John’s house. You knocked on the door. “YN, what’s up, love?” John asked, although he seemed very distracted. 

“Please can I play with Katie, John?” you asked. John smiled sadly and ruffled your hair. 

“Afraid not, YNN,” he said gently. “She wasn’t feeling very well last night. She’s stuck in bed today. I thought Tom was looking after you,” 

“He was. But he’s doing business. I got bored and was gonna ask if I could go and play, but he snapped at me before I could ask so I just thought I would leave him alone while he’s busy, ‘cos I don’t want him to be cross with me,” you looked at your feet. Although Tommy snapping and doing business was nothing new, John could see that it had upset you. 

“Go home, YN,” he said softly, squatting down until you were eye level. “Katie will be better in a day or two, I’ll send her down to play when she is, alright? In the meantime, Finn will be back soon. Maybe you could convince him and Isaiah to get up to mischief, eh?” 

Feeling a little better, you nodded, throwing your arms around John’s neck briefly. “Okay! See you in a bit, John. Tell Katie I said to get better quick!” you tore off into a sprint back home, excited by the prospect of hanging around with Finn and Isaiah. John shook his head fondly and went back inside. 

You burst through the front door, calling for Finn. He poked his head round the kitchen door and grinned at you. “C’mon, YN,” he grinned, dragging Isaiah behind him. “Let’s go somewhere fun, away from that grump in there,” he murmured the last bit so Tommy wouldn’t hear him. 

You were more than happy to follow along, eager to not be on the receiving end of tommy’s temper. You chattered happily to the boys (and learned a new swear word from them which you had to promise not to repeat in front of aunt pol) as you sauntered to the old warehouse which had been converted to a boxing ring. You hung away from the door, shuffling your feet slightly. “Tommy says I’m not allowed to go boxing,” you told them. 

“Tommy ain’t here though, YN,” Isaiah said, nudging your shoulder. 

“Yeah. I’m in charge of you, and I say it’s okay,” Finn said, puffing his chest out importantly. You giggled and nodded. 

“Alright then,” you said, grinning. 

You let them take you in. A few people murmured about the presence of a little girl in this predominantly male run backstreet boxing ring, but soon shut up when they saw that you were a Shelby. You sat at the edge of the ring as Finn and Isaiah began boxing with eachother. They let you play as the referee, purposefully making cheap shots to get told off, trying not to burst out laughing at the sound of your firm, yet higher pitched voice as you tried to do your best Aunt Polly impression. 

There was a sudden commotion at the other side of the warehouse, and everyone froze. 

“He’s lost it again!” you heard someone shout out, and you frowned, looking between Finn and Isaiah as they exchanged worried looks. 

“Arthur, pack it in! Arthur! Get off him!” 

you gasped, knowing in your gut that they were talking about your big brother. While you didn’t really understand what your brothers did for a living, you often saw the end results, asking questions about the black eyes and cuts they had on their faces. 

“Get her home, Shelby. She don’t need to see this,” one man said to Finn and he nodded. 

“Er... come on, YN... we’ll stop by the bakery on the way back,” Finn said, though you noticed the wobble in his voice. As you were walked away, you turned to see Arthur, his trembling hands stained red, a glazed look in his eyes as the boy’s body was dragged away. 

***

“Tommy, Arthur’s lost it again, down the warehouse!” Finn called as you slipped into the house. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Tommy groaned. “I swear to god, Finn, if I find out you’ve taken YN to that fucking boxing ring again, I’ll skin you,” 

The door slammed shut and your lip wobbled. “What’s this about YN going to the boxing ring?” came the sharp voice of Polly. You tucked your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them. “Finn Shelby, if you’ve let your little sister box with you lot-” you wrapped your arms around Polly’s waist, hiding your face. She soon felt tears soaking through her blouse and sighed softly, stroking your hair. “What’s happened, love?” she said soothingly. “Aunt Pol’s listening,” 

You looked up at her and bit your lip slightly. “I-I wanted to go and play with Katie so Tommy wouldn’t be cross at me while he was working, but John said she wasn’t well, so I came home, and- and Finn and isaiah said we could go to the boxing ring ‘cos Finn was in charge not Tommy, and I just wanted to play referees with them b-but...” a fresh load of tears rolled down your cheeks. “But... but then everyone started shouting, saying Arthur had lost it again, a-and when we were leaving, I saw him... but he didn’t look like arthur, Aunt Pol,” You shook your head as if trying to shake away the memory. “His eyes were weird and... and he was all bloody,” 

Polly said nothing, instead drawing you into her chest and letting you cry, stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Once you had calmed down, she held you at arms length. “Sometimes, YN, the boys get very upset, and very angry about what happened to them in France. They can’t help it. It creeps up on them when they least expect it. But you mustn’t be frightened of it, alright? They are still your brothers and they all love you very dearly, d’you understand me?” 

You nodded quickly. “I’m not scared, Aunt Pol. Not even of Tommy when he’s cross with me. Not even of Arthur when he’s cross with himself,” you said. Polly smiled slightly and kissed you on the forehead. 

“Good girl, c’mon, put your cardigan on. You can come to the market with me while the boys sort themselves out,” 

*** 

That night, when everyone had gone to sleep, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. You should’ve been asleep ages ago, but you didn’t care. Silent as a mouse, you crept out of the room that you used to share with Ada before she went to London, careful not to tread on the squeaky floorboards. You stopped outside your oldest brother’s bedroom and eased the door open so it didn’t creak and startle him. 

Arthur wasn’t asleep either. his back was to you, but you could see his shoulders shaking slightly as he cried, his fist shoved in his mouth to keep quiet. “Arthur?” you whispered. He turned around, shoving the tears off his face. 

“YN, what’re you doing out of bed, eh? It’s a bit late,” he said. You walked over to him and clambered into his bed despite him saying he was okay. “You’re not frightened of me, YN? You... you saw what happened today, love, didn’t you? Why aren’t you scared?” 

you snuggled into his side and squeezed his hand. “’Cos you’re my big brother, Arthur, that’s why,” you whispered, though your voice had a no-nonsense tone to it. “You’re my big brother and I love you and even if you really tried, not even you or Tommy could scare me, not ever,” you insisted and Arthur’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, hugging you. 

“You’re a stubborn girl, our YN,” he said fondly. “You’re gonna give us all a run for our money when you’re older,” 

You smiled, glad you had made him feel better. “C’mon. You need to go to sleep, otherwise Aunt Polly will tell us off. She’s the only one who can scare me, Arthur, but only when I’m in trouble,” 

Arthur laughed and you shushed him, settling down to sleep (and totally hogging most of the blankets. perks of being the little sister). “Alright, alright, I’ll go to sleep before aunt pol shouts at a grown man that it’s past his bedtime,” 

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[cosmiclatte28]

Can you please write something about Baekhyun enlistment and reader is really broken about it like it’s their last night before he leaves and she’s trying to remain strong for him and he promise to marry her and start a family as soon as he returns? Please I’ve been depressed all day long and I don’t even know how to feel 😞

Hi anon! I got two of this from you, but here it is! Sorry if I kinda rush post it (I couldn't wait to the real date too). I hope this is good and please don't be depressed. Remember if the wait is enjoyable, it's love

A/n : enlistment, crying, hard breathing (no detail explanation)

Here we go, Baekhyun is off to military in three... two..

You have to let him go eventually. Want it or not, like it or not Baekhyun has to go. You were aware of this, of the long lonely nights, of the carefully written letters, and of the bittersweet greeting about the weather.

You know that at some point, your man has to do his honors and serve for the country. You used to joke about it with him, about how silly he will look in his bald head. How he will cry when he has to sleep without you, and how you tease that he finally needs to do his own laundry.

Those days that were full of laughs, finally is coming to be reality. You will be sending Baekhyun to the military camp in less than a day. His bag is packed, his hair is shaved. Not that bad to be honest, you don’t laugh like you imagined you would back then. No, something in your heart tugs at you when you see Baekhyun comes home with his shaved head under his cap. You did not greet him with laugh but with a fascinated look as you run your fingers through the no longer fluffy hair.

His bag is settled, his uniform is already hung behind the closet. The alarm clock is ready and as you take a look at the city lights under the dark sky from your window, the toilet door opens and some thin steam comes out of the door along with your boyfriend in his oversized cotton tee and comfortable baggy jogger.

“What are you looking at, love?” He asks as he takes steps to the bed and sit beside you. His hair is semi dry, with the short hair it doesn’t take that much time for it to dry.

You break your eye contact with the night sky and quickly blink before looking at Baekhyun for the last time.

You smile and pull the blanket closer to you. He sits beside you under the cover and you scoot closer.

“I can’t believe… this is it.” You whisper as your eyes stare into the wall across the bed. A wall dedicated for warm fairy lights hanging around pictures and memories spent together with Baekhyun.

Baekhyun hums and gently places his arm around your shoulder. He slowly caresses your arm and turns his head to face you.

“I've delayed this for a while. I guess now is the perfect time. For a change and for a break.” He exhales and copies what you’re doing. Staring into the printed pictures that are smiling to both of you.

“I didn’t expect it to be this …” you shrug “sad? Quiet?” you scoff

Baekhyun giggles “What do you have in mind?”

You force a smile “I thought we would be laughing tonight and tomorrow i'll be sending you with tears like any other girls… but turns out..” you pause and choke on your tears. You can’t hold it back anymore as you let lose your wall for tonight.

Baekhyun pulls you into his hug and rubs your back “Turns out you're crying for me from tonight.” He smiles and sucks his own tears back.

You nod and ball your fist on his cotton teeshirt “I am sorry. I promised you I won’t cry tonight…” you sob “but here I am brawling.”

Baekhyun smiles secretly and rubs your back. He knew it when you said you'd be laughing the night before he leaves for finally getting freedom, he knew you'd be lying.

“I lied okay. I am sad. Super sad.” You and suddenly mumble out incoherent words as you let lose your tears tonight

Baekhyun just keeps quiet and listens to you. You try to stop, but the tears fall faster when you see his eyes still staring at you with love.

“It’s so long Baekhyun. What will I do without you?” you play with your fingers on his tee shirt as you watch him from your blurry vision.

Baekhyun takes the tissue box next to the bed and gives you a piece. His thumbs come up to wipe your tears and you try to calm yourself down.

Your chest rises faster and Baekhyun knows better that you need to stop sobbing now before you have harder times breathing.

“Easy love,” he gently holds your hand and instructs you how to breathe

“thank you" you mumble after blowing your nose and taking deeper breath.

“Done with the crying?” he carefully asks you when you're calming down.

You grin and nod shyly “Sorry. It’s our last night together why am I crying… we should be making the most out of it.” You give yourself a smack in the head and Baekhyun winces instead.

“Stop that. Later when I am away who will rub your head if you hit it too hard?” he scolds you like a mother while rubbing the red part with his soft hand.

“What will I do without you? I am so sad Baek.” You finally let go your real emotions. For long you were denying it. Saying to yourself that you'll be okay. Time would fly and Baekhyun would be in your hands once again, but come to think of it… his enlistment is not over in a short time!

Baekhyun pulls you to rest your head on his chest and his hand secures yours. “Love, you will be waiting for me and you won’t realize I'll be back suddenly! You’re going to be doing what you're doing right now. Your life will go on, you wake up, go to work , come home and enjoy some time then sleep.”

You pout “And none of that has you In it.”

Baekhyun hums “I will send you mails, when we get to use a call-"

“Call your parents first! They will miss you too!” you cut him off and Baekhyun giggles “Okay okay, I will call mom and dad.. and then you.”

You nod “Yes, you should still be a nice son Baekhyun. Write to your members too!” your nagging side is already back

“Every night I will be here with you, in your dreams!” he taps your forehead and you can’t hold back a smile.

“If you miss me, whisper my name to the night and the stars and moon will deliver it to me!” he pushes a strand of hair away from you and his thumb wipes a tear that escapes your eyes.

Your lips tremble and your eyes go wet again but Baekhyun quickly stops that by pulling you into a deep kiss.

When it is too hard to use words, sometimes a kiss can explain it better than anything else. Like right now, you can melt into his lips as he pulls you tighter in his embrace. His soft plush lips drive you crazy and after a while, your fingers tap his neck and he pulls back.

With heaving chest and red lips both of you stare into each other's eyes and exchange a deep voiceless conversation. Those moment where a deep eye contact can speak everything.

“I love you Baek,” you whisper and Baekhyun takes your palm up to his lips and presses a soft kiss on your knuckles “I love you too (y/n). Please wait for me, I'll come back safe and I'll bring you a ring.”

Your eyes sparkle and you clasp your mouth “You'll propose to me?”

You were already acting as if he already pulls out the ring when he hasn’t.

Baekhyun nods surely “I don’t have a ring right now, but can you please trust me and wait for me? I will come back to you, love with a ring! We will get married and you'll be the sweet pretty caring mrs byun that everyone is jealous of!” his body turns to face the ceiling and you copy him.

His hand makes big gestures as he rambles on moving into a house for only both of you, having a big garden, a baby room and ooh! He wants a brave son and a kind daughter.

Your eyes tear with proud and emotion once again. “We will start our own Byun family! A mini (y/n) and a small Baekhyun! Together we'll be the perfect dream family. We will make the other members jealous.”

You scoff at his competitiveness and nod along “Okay okay, just remember this okay! I will hold on to your promise.” You shake your intertwined pinky and Baekhyun quickly grabs the polaroid he has ready on the drawer.

He quickly brings your intertwined pinky promise and with the fairy lights and the memory wall as a background, Baekhyun snaps the new promise.

The print comes out and he shakes the frame to develop. You're still surprised at his sudden action and when the frame is developed, he hands it to you.

“Here, put it on the wall. It’s my promise on the last night before my enlistment. That I will come back to you and we will get married and start our own family.” He kisses you quick and you look at the picture with love.

“And I will wait for you Baekhyun.” You put the picture aside and turn the lights off.

With only the fairy lights illuminating the room, you cuddle closer to Baekhyun and place your leg on his leg.

“So, for the last night… do you want to do something we can remember too?” you wink and Baekhyun has you under him the next second.

--

It was a great way to end the night. Both of you sleep well and with Baekhyun holding you tight, you did not realize he has to go when the alarm wakes you up early.

“Oh you're ready.” You stretch on your bed and see Baekhyun already leaving the hot shower with his bath robe on.

You quickly get up and prepare him breakfast. He sits on the stool while watching you prepare his favorite breakfast for the last time and Baekhyun snaps a picture of you and secretly keeps the printed frame in his pocket.

“Ooh my favorite breakfast!” he whistles when you put the plate in front of him and take a seat across him.

“You should get whatever you love!” you pour him his coffee and both of you start eating breakfast.

“What time will manager hyung pick you up?” you ask him after both of you clean the plates and move it to the dish washer.

Baekhyun glances to his watch “An hour?”

You nod “I'll shower and you do your last check. Make sure you don’t miss anything.” You kiss his cheek before disappearing to get ready.

Yes you will send him off til the camp.

The next thing you know, Baekhyun already stands in the room in his uniform. He looks manly and mature. You wipe a tear and put on the beaming proud smile of seeing your man going to be a real man after this.

You'll be sending him to the military. The man coming back later, won’t be the same. He won’t be the same Baekhyun before the camp. Whatever man he is, you know he'll be a better version of himself and you'll love him more.

“One… two… three..” you snap the picture of Baekhyun posing In his uniform and you place it next to the picture where he poses with you.

“We should keep all of this and show this to our children one day!” Baekhyun comments on the pictures you took with the polaroid and you nod.

“Okay solider, let's go!” you open the door for him and walk together with him to the black van.

With manager hyung's careful drive and tinted window, both of you get to spend the last time together. There were not many words exchange. Just Baekhyun holding on to your hand for the whole ride. His thumb has been caressing your hand and you know he's nervous but trying not to be.

So, you pick up the camera and for the last time ask Baekhyun to see the lense and take one last pic with him

You let it develop and when it's done, you smack your red lips on the frame and test if it smudges.

“Woah! Neat!” he smirks when you hand him the nice kissed frame of the fresh polaroid.

You put it on his chest pocket “Keep it there! I'll be with you too!”

Baekhyun chuckles and kisses your forehead “I'll miss you and I love you! Stay safe love.”

You nod “I'll wait for you..miss you and love you even more every day! You too take care.” You press his cheek one last time and Baekhyun smiles.

“Just like Suho hyung said, if the wait is enjoyable, it's love.” Baekhyun reminds you that as he kisses your knuckle one more time

You nod “I will! Let's prove the world we can get through this. Take care love.” You kiss him one more time and finally wave yourself goodbye as Baekhyun exits from the van and greets the cameras that are all pointed at him.

He takes a quick turn to face you and still wave to you one more time with a flying kiss and heart and with that you wave back send him a heart and kiss and the door closes and your van has to leave.

You watch your man from the window one last time and take a deep breath as the car drives away and you know you'll have to take a good care of yourself so when the time ends, the wait will be worth it.

End

Aeris please take care of yourself! Remember if we enjoy the wait, it's love!

Soldier Baekhyun, please serve well and come back safe!

[inkformyblood]

would you love me the same

Commander Cody Week Day 06: AU [Combination Role Swap AU and Fix-It: post-War; no Order-66] @commandercodyweek Inspired by @new-anon art of Jedi! Cody and Clone Commander Obi-Wan which is a thing of pure beauty and everyone needs to see it Pairing: Codywan

Summary: The war is over, and still Cody and Obi-Wan haven’t addressed the tangled net of emotions that had grown between them. Cody felt the tremor of falling rain reverberate through the Force like a struck bell, and turned his face to the sky reflexively. It would be a long time before he could feel the cold drumbeat of rain against his skin without being transported back to the clinging mud of yet another battlefield, tasting his own blood in his mouth as he tried desperately to keep just one more of his men alive.

His guilt twisted through his chest like a crawling vine, locking around his heart with a grip like ice, and Cody let it. The feeling washed over him, and, for a moment, he was drowning in it. His hands were stained with the blood of the men he had led to their deaths, just as surely as if he cut them down himself. 

Cody felt the first drop of rain hit his face as he let the emotion flow through him, releasing it into the Force. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours when he returned to himself, feeling hollowed out but steady. He began to walk once more, aimless and heading nowhere in particular — the light fabric of his robes growing heavier as the rain continued to fall.

“Sir!”

Cody paused, turning to glance over his shoulder as a small smile unfurled across his face. He should have known that Obi-Wan would be able to find him wherever he went, a look of such open concern splashed across his features that it made Cody’s heart ache. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t sense the other man in the Force; he could always feel Obi-Wan’s presence, warm and full of such sweet worry that it settled across Cody’s shoulders like a blanket regardless of how far apart they were. 

Cody could admit that he loved Obi-Wan, loved him with every part of his soul, but he had never found the right words. In the early dark of the mornings during the war — when they both mere shadows of themselves held together by frantic worry and sheer force of will — their hands would brush together, their eyes would meet, and they both knew the unspoken words that lay between them. 

The war was over now, and still neither had mentioned it.

“Obi-Wan.” Cody turned, letting Obi-Wan slip into the space at his side. The clone was still wearing his armour, his hair starting to curl around his ears and highlight the slight slip of skin at the nape of his neck. It was normally covered by his helmet, a tantalising glimpse that haunted Cody’s dreams, and now the Jedi felt his cheeks burn at the openness of it all. “I thought you would be enjoying your free time.”

“I could ask the same of you, sir.” Obi-Wan’s grin was a sly thing that was masked in perfect, unquestionable innocence right until the end. “General Rex mentioned that he was looking forward to meeting you for drinks tonight.”

Cody huffed out a laugh, shaking his head and sending the droplets that had gathered in his curls flying. “Rex is excited to see everyone again. It’s been a long time since we were all able to see each other.”

He had known his brothers were safe, could feel their presence in the Force as clearly as if they were the stars compared to the glow of the sun that was Obi-Wan, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them with his own eyes. It was good timing on the Council’s part — helped along by Cody’s vote, despite the fact that the seat still felt too big for him, made for a dead man — that the meeting had been cancelled the next morning.

“Sir?” 

Cody thought he knew every cadence of Obi-Wan’s voice, could categorise their sensation against his skin through the Force like a study of great artworks, but this was new. He had heard Obi-Wan in defiance, the sound ringing through the universe like a struck gong. He had heard Obi-Wan in panic, notably when a piece of debris had sliced Cody’s face open, leaving Obi-Wan to press desperate hands to his skin and come away drenched in blood. Then, Obi-Wan had felt like a black hole, threatening to consume everything in his anguish.

But this was something else.

“Is everything okay?” Cody stopped walking, his brow furrowed in concern, and reached up to cup Obi-Wan’s face, thumb smoothing over the curve of his cheekbone. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were impossibly blue, the dark of his pupil threatening to encompass everything as he stared, a blush filtering into his cheeks, the skin warming beneath Cody’s palm. Wordlessly, he held up a familiar wrapped object. “I saw that you had left without it, and I was worried.”

His words rang true and earnest; his blush only deepening to a brilliant pink of a sunset over Coruscant. It threw the clusters of small freckles that were tucked beneath his eyes like constellations into sharp relief. “I didn’t unwrap it. I remembered that you said your sabre was like your soul.”

Cody fell helplessly in love with the man all over again in that moment, as he moved his hand to take his lightsaber from Obi-Wan, loosening the wrappings to attach it onto the empty space at his belt. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

They were so close together that the chill of the rain no longer reminded Cody of the battlefield, instead sending him swaying closer to Obi-Wan as lightning cracked overhead, a rolling boom of thunder following on its heels. 

“It was a memorable occasion,” Obi-Wan laughed, but the noise stuttered in his throat as his eyes lingered on Cody’s mouth — curved into a gentle smile — and caught his gaze. 

Cody remembered the fight well: the immediate gut-wrenching loss as his lightsaber was ripped away from him; the shriek of metal as the world tipped the other way, but he still managed to land a blow on Grievous, his fist sinking into the weaker metal plate. Obi-Wan had caught him as they both slid, his grip hard enough to bruise, and had reached out for Cody’s lightsaber when the cry broke free from his chest, childlike in his sudden instinctive terror. 

The flinch, pressing Obi-Wan closer to him in reflexive protection, had been an instinctual move, reaching out with the Force to hook the blade closer. Obi-Wan’s hand had been warm in his, his glove torn away and his palm slick with sweat as the Force sang in comfort. 

Cody stepped impossibly closer, rain running over his face like a benediction, catching Obi-Wan’s hands in his. The other man had forgone his gloves, and Cody’s fingers pressed against the familiar callouses, so similar and yet so different to his own. 

“If anyone would hold my soul,” Cody murmured, his gaze never leaving Obi-Wan’s, “then I would want it to be you.”

Obi-Wan leant down slowly, giving Cody every chance to move away, despite the lack of space between them. It felt as if the Universe was holding its breath, the ceaseless spinning slowly as Obi-Wan pressed his forehead to Cody’s in a Keldabe kiss, their noses bumping together slightly as they both breathed shakily, eyes fluttering, torn between the desire to close and to keep watching the other.

It was a moment that could have lasted a lifetime, but Obi-Wan straightened slightly, his eyes searching Cody’s face intently before he moved to kiss him properly. His hands were a burning brand on Cody’s hips, his lips soft even as the faint stubble scratched against his cheeks.

“Cyar’ika,” Obi-Wan murmured against Cody’s mouth, barely moving away an inch before surging back to kiss the other man again and again and again.

“Kar’ta,” Cody countered, drawing Obi-Wan back into Keldabe as they caught their breath, swaying helplessly together as the sky opened up around them, soaking them to the bone as they laughed, unburdened and deliriously happy.

[cherryplasmids]

☆ the lives you’ve left behind ☆

pairing: donny donowitz x reader

fandom: inglourious basterds—post-movie sequence

anon request: hi girl! i love your writing and i was wondering if you still write for donny donowitz? if you do i was wondering if you could do an angsty one? that's all i ask, you could take that and run with it however :)

notes: the reader has a kid  — aldo is referred to the reader’s child as ‘uncle’ but that doesn’t mean they are actually related. also, aldo is married to a girl name jenny

— the child is a boy named Alex for filler purposes

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"That's your daddy," You whisper, pulling the tiny bundle of joy closer to your chest. 

The infant, swaddled in a pale yellow blanket decorated with small brown bears, yawns but does not take notice of your words. Instead, Alex twists, stretches his arms out and settles back onto your chest. Without a care in the world, he just relaxes in the warmth that you've given him. An inkling of envy flashes through you—you would do anything to be that carefree again. But the war ruined everything, including your unbridled youthful attitude. 

"Handsome, isn't he?" You question as if the little one will respond. You'd be more scared than anything if he does. You wave the 4x6 photo forward to entice your baby to look. "The most handsome man I've ever seen. Everyone thinks so too, even your uncle Aldo but he won't admit to that.

"But don't worry, baby. You'll be just as handsome and charming as your old man was." 

As if he understands, the boy babbles happily, spit freely spilling over his lips and onto his cheeks. Grabbing a Kleenex from the bedside table, you wipe his face. It doesn't deter him. He continues to express his enjoyment through spit bubbles and random giggling. Your heart swells at the sight—his happiness contagious enough to erase your woes for the night. 

When the sun rises, you'll tell Aldo all about the affection your newborn has been showing. He'll run down the street to coddle his nephew. 

You don't continue until your baby boy calms down enough to the point where spit no longer seeps out of his mouth. By then, sleepiness is taking hold of him. He gives out a deep yawn. One of his tiny hands grips your right thumb while the other curls into a fist and rubs his eyes. A smile quirks at your lips. You take that as a sign to turn in. 

“I’ll tell you about your daddy’s love for baseball tomorrow okay? I’ll even show you his prized baseball cards. but you can’t tell him or he’ll have my head.”

He’s knocked out by the time you lay him down. You pray he’ll sleep through the night, allowing you to earn to some much-needed shut-eye he’s deprived you of for months. After tucking him in, you tuck the photo of Donny under his pillow. You press a gentle kiss on his forehead, whisper a few sweet words to him, and then glide out of the room, leaving the door ajar in case he wails for your attention. You make do with this system until Jenny, Aldo's wife, takes you shopping for a baby monitor. She knows a lot more about baby care than you do.

Sleepiness is taking you hostage too with a yawn escaping your lips every 1-2 minutes but you had housework to complete before the morning arrives. Mostly just clearing out boxes of gifts the Donowitz family had sent from Boston. Some of them were open, others weren’t. Gifts like a microwave or other kitchenware were left in their respective box. You’ll deal with those on a later date. 

There’s one box, though, that remains sealed. You inspect the plain cardboard container and see a word written across one side in neat cursive. But it isn’t the penmanship that has you gasping and dropping the box in shock.

No, it’s the word 'Donny' labeled across the surface that does.

It takes a moment or two for you to shake off the shock and another to get down to the ground. Sitting cross-legged, you stare at the box as if something will pop out and yell “surprise”—a harmful prank that will send you wailing for something you no longer had.

The knife seamlessly glides across the tape and you wonder when you reached for a knife in the first place. Your body is moving on its own accord without a thought concerning your mental wellbeing. While your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage, your hands steadily tear open the cardboard overlaps. 

Taking a deep breath, you open the flaps and find a single sheet of paper covering the rest of the objects. It reads “for my darling daughter, with much love.” It’s signed “Mama Donowitz”.

Underneath the letter reveals a boatload of miscellaneous items from Donny's youth that he's shown to you with pride. His prized Lefty Grove signed baseball, favorite Wrigley's chewing gum, and his worn and torn favorite baseball glove stood out the most. Little things like that made you grin to the point where your cheeks reached your eyes. Anecdotes of Donny's childhood run through your mind—his voice echoing pure excitement. You take your time admiring each item, trying to permanently engrave them into your memory just like you had with his stories. 

Then you find Donny's baby socks, embroidered with his name in red string.  All resolve you bottled up for months disappeared instantly. You completely crumble.

You press the little socks to your chest as tears freely stream down your face and onto your neck, coating the bare skin with liquid. A wail bubbles up within you, crawling up your throat at a steady pace. But when you open your mouth to scream, nothing comes out. It dies in your throat. The only effort you can commit to is to rock back in forth, allowing sobs to shake your body. If someone saw you, they might have thought you were convulsing. They might have even called the ambulance. 

The sobs don’t stop until hours later. By the time your heart calms down from its burning thrum, exhaustion envelops you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

           Aldo kicks some dirt on the side of the road while lighting up a Chesterfield. It doesn't take long for him to reach your house since it's down the road. He checks his wristwatch before knocking on the front door. He has about 45 minutes to meet Jenny at the factory. He'll spend 15 minutes here for coffee before leaving. You always made better coffee than his wife. 

After some knocking and no response, Aldo takes it upon himself to check through the windows. Most of them are covered by curtains but the window facing the breakfast table isn't. He peers through, searching for you and his nephew wrapped in your arms. 

Instead, he finds you on the floor with no baby in sight. 

Aldo runs to the back door and searches for the hidden key. Besides the backdoor, he digs under the false rock where he remembered he put. It’s gone. The Chesterfield falls into the hole. He crushes it out and fixes the dirt on top. As an act of impulse, he stands up, goes to the backdoor, and punches out the small window panels on the door. The glass breaks easily and shards pierce his hand just as smoothly. Just glancing at it, he can tell his flesh is free from any lingering shards. A clean slice on his wrist bleeds moderately. 

He reaches on the opposite side of the door and tugs at the locks. Not a second later, the door slams open, and you shoot up in an upright position. 

Immediately, a fury of questions spews out of Aldo's lips, blending together and becoming unintelligible to your groggy brain. 

"Is it morning already? I swear I took a five-minute na—" You see Aldo's bleeding hand and gasp, reaching out to inspect his wound. Your current position on the floor completely escaping you for a moment. Aldo lets you worry for right now. 

You drag him up to the sink and run his hand over the open water. "Will I be alright, doc?" His odd accent leaves a few letters out. It reminds you of someone you try not to think about. "Ain't seen such a wound since the war."

Briefly glancing at him, he throws a wink and you gratefully smile. "You're the bane of my existence." You take his hand out of the water to wrap it in a big Band-Aid. It has crude miniature drawings of Mickey Mouse that make Aldo question them. "Just in case either your kids or mine get hurt, they'll immediately cheer up at seeing Mickey. Band-Aid should really invest in designing their product. Who knows how much money they could make?"

Aldo agrees as you finish. "You'll see another day, lieutenant"

He crookedly grins at you and thanks you for your service. You offer him some coffee which he enthusiastically agrees too. He checks his watch as he sits down at the breakfast table. Jenny will have his head if he's late. But he doesn't worry too much about that. She'll understand once he explains what happened. 

"Mind tellin’ me why I caught a heart attack on this fine Thursday mornin’? Findin’ you sprawled out like freshly ran over roadkill?"

"Disgusting, Aldo." You say while passing him his mug of coffee. You turn around to fix yourself a toasted bagel with cream cheese. "I guess I was so tired last night that I fell asleep sorting out the gifts." You lazily wave your hand at the unsorted boxes on the floor. 

Aldo walks over to the opened box in the middle of the kitchen and grabs the socks you dropped hours ago. He looks them over and notices a letter embroidered on the top. 'D' in red thread. 

"Those are Donny's." You confirm. Aldo meets your glazed gaze. 

Aldo sucks in a quick breath. It finally clicks in his head. Jenny will understand. 

“Darlin—" You look up at him with such a depressed expression that immediately shuts him up. All he does is gather you in his arms and rests his chin on your head.

 He hears you mumble something about how small Donny's feet were before you silently cry into his chest. 

After a few seconds, Aldo's cheeks become wet with his own tears as he mourns over not only his friend but the lives he left behind. 

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,661 published: august 21, 2020  edited: n/a

[ickle-ronniekins]

protection

request from anon: Hey, can I have some protective Freddie please? I could really use some in my life right about now 💕

request from anon: Hi! This is my first time requesting! I absolutely love your writing it’s so cute 🥺 and makes me blush 🥺 could you possibly write a protective!fred x reader? I loved the one you wrote. Maybe where Draco tries flirting and is quite persistent with the reader or sum. Doesn’t have to be Draco but he was the first character that came to mind. Please 👉👈🥺 Ty! Have a lovely day

request from anon: Hey! Your stories are amazing! Any chance I could request some Freddie fluff at bill and fleurs wedding please?! And maybe some protective Freddie when it gets to the death eaters bit…

word count: 2k

A/N: okay so we’ve got a lot going on here—we’ve got protective fred, jealous fred, wants-to-get-his-fiancé-alone-asap fred, we’re a mess of emotions here pals lol. i have so. many. requests. and i had a bunch asking for protective!fred plus also some fluff at the wedding. i did make the persistent male someone @ the wedding instead of draco but i hope you guys still love it!

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added, loves!

“Think we could just.. skip the wedding, perhaps.. stay up here for the evening, run away tomorrow morning, find a little cottage somewhere and grow old together?”

You laugh softly and push playfully on his chest. “Freddie—”

“Doubt mum would even notice,” he replies, gently running his thumb across your cheek and down your neck, across your shoulder blades, over the goosebumps rising on your arms, “she’ll be crying the entire time, anyway. C’mon—” he jokes, pulling you closer to him, “we won’t be missing much, will we?”

“Don’t let your future sister-in-law hear you,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Promise we’ll have some alone time later. You’ve to help the guests when they arrive. Also—you, sir, promised me a few dances, don’t you remember?”

Fred pauses and considers this for a moment. “You sure you want me to embarrass you like that? In front of all these people, no less?”

You laugh again, letting him twirl you on the spot in the middle of Ginny’s bedroom. He tightens his grip around your waist and begins to slowly lean from side to side, careful not to step on your feet. He stifles a bit of a giggle when he notices you watching. “Yes, my love, I want you to embarrass me—for the rest of our lives.”

— -

George, Bill, and Charlie are a few drinks for the worse at this point. The summer heat is dying down, the sun has completely set behind the hills in front of the Burrow. Fred, dancing horrendously next to his twin in the middle of the dance floor but doing his best to pace himself, holds out his hand to you and pulls you into him.

“I love dancing with you,” he says against your ear.

You hum appreciatively as he squeezes your hips and spins you on the spot, and you both glance at Mrs. Weasley in the corner grinning emotionally at all of her sons and their dates on the dance floor. You turn back to Fred and shake your empty drink at him. “In need of a refill, are we?” He grins lazily at you and you say after placing a hand softly to his cheek, “Be back in a jiff, darling.”

You feel a body appear next to you as you approach the table. You turn; a strapping young man in dark colored robes grins at you and sticks out his hand to introduce himself. It’s firm; his smile brightens more when you take his hand in yours and tell him your name.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you reply, turning back to pour yourself another drink.

He takes you by surprise and asks, “Care to dance?”

“Oh, I’m flattered—” you’re nearly tripping over your words now, a bit stunned at how forward he is. You nod to Fred in the middle of the crowd again, “I’ve actually, erm, got to get back to my fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” he asks with wide eyes, but still—there’s something rather flirtatious in the way he’s eyeing you; it doesn’t seem as though he cares at all that you’re engaged. He inches a bit closer. “Young girl like you, already tied up? Shame, really.”

It’s as if this comment alone calls out to Fred like a signal of some sorts, because before you know it, you feel a hand snake itself around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Fred is there; his eyes have darkened slightly, something you’ve noticed happens in bouts of jealousy. His lips form a thin line; it’s always odd to you when Fred becomes irritable, jealous, angry, when normally, he’s the one who’s always having a laugh.

“Can I help you?” he asks, squaring up the man across from him. You can feel his fingers tighten around your hips and it’s hard for you not to laugh at the tickle it’s causing. You clear your throat in an attempt to suppress your laughter.

“You must be the fiancé.”

“Right I am,” Fred says proudly, taking a swig of his drink. He nods in the direction of a few tables on the other end of the tent, “believe there are a few veela looking for a bloke to have a dance with if that’s what you’re interested in; but this beautiful woman,” he turns to you and grins, “is taken. Or have you chosen to ignore the ring, mate?” You peer down quickly at the sparkling ring on your left hand, and back up at the men in front of you.

“You speak for her?”

You place yourself in between the two of them, now both looking like they’re ready to duel, or worse—kill one another; you squeeze Fred’s hand and say to the other, “No, he doesn’t. Once again, I’m flattered, but I really think it’s time you leave. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of the bride and groom,” you say through gritted teeth, “right?”

A bit embarrassed, but mostly a little on edge, he backs away and heads toward the other end of the tent, sipping rather moodily on his drink. You suck in a deep breath and turn back to Fred, whose eyes are still dark.

“I don’t like him.”

You smile cheekily at him. “You don’t say. Ever met him before?”

“N-no,” Fred replies, taken aback by your teasing, “but it doesn’t matter. Did you hear him? ‘You speak for her?’ What a complete git.”

You pull him close to you and whisper against his neck, “You jealous, love?”

“I’m not jealous,” he replies tersely. He swallows thickly when your grin grows larger before continuing, “I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, “like how?”

“Like he’ll fall in love.” Fred replies, moving your hair gently out of your face.

“Yeah, well, he can fall in love all he wants,” you tell Fred now, pulling gently on his tie, “but he’s not the one who gets to take me home, is he?”

You know you’ve said the right thing; Fred’s lips curl into a sensual smile and he bites down on his bottom lip, probably to keep himself from jumping on you right then and there. He hums appreciatively before nipping at your neck, “Oh no he isn’t.”

— -

You’re both gently gliding along the dance floor, the soft sounds of harps and piano floating through the air between the guests. Then suddenly, there are a few audible gasps coming from outside the tent where the aurors are standing guard; Fred is tightening his hold around you, a bluish white ball of light shoots through the tent, landing right in the middle of the crowd, only to take the form of a lynx.

And Fred is grabbing your hand tightly, pulling you toward his brothers, and aurors are shouting directions at everyone, and Lupin is rushing the tent when suddenly, black hooded figures enter unannounced and uninvited, the screams of guests and the quick whipping sounds of others Disapparating are filling your ears.

You grab your wand from the pocket of your dress, watching as Harry, Ron, and Hermione Disapparate as Lupin shouts, Bill rushing to protect Fleur at all costs, Fred and George back to back as they shield you and Ginny from any spells or curses headed your direction.

Someone’s shouting angrily about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, Mrs. Weasley is yelling in horror, Lupin is firing spells left and right. Ginny hoists herself on top of a table, Mr. Weasley is dragging her down, George grabs your arm and screams “no!�� as Fred closely misses a stunning spell by mere centimeters. Fred pulls you and Ginny together and moves you in the direction of a table. “Under here!” he screams, the force of his weight bearing down on you both.

“No!” Ginny yells, tears streaking her face as, undoubtedly, thinks of the safety of her loved ones. This time, it’s Charlie who’s pushing her down, attempting to shield her yet again, from any spells or curses aimed for you both.

“Let me out!” you scream and push passed Charlie and into the arms of Fred, whose eyes are darker than usual, concern plastered across his face.

“It’s too dangerous!” he yells before wrapping his arms around you and forcing you behind him, only to hit another Death Eater with a stunning spell. It’s as if his words alone are enough to sober him up. “You need to get back—now! Where’s Ginny?”

“No!” you yell over the screams of the guests, “I’m not leaving you!”

Your words are drowned out by the sounds of cries, mock laughter, explosive balls of light, and the crumbling of debris around you as a spell hits you and sends you flying backward, slamming into chairs and tables and nearly knocking you out cold.

And in a half conscious, half awake, barely breathing, horrendous state, you catch glimpses of George shielding his sister, Death Eaters being knocked back by the others, Fred’s tear soaked face as he slings an arm around you and pulls you up from the floor, until before you know it, you’re Apparating Merlin only knows where.

— -

You’re watching from the entrance of Shell Cottage as the sun begins to rise, Fred next to you, asleep on your shoulder, the sound of his breathing like a soothing balm to your soul. Suddenly you feel a blanket wrap around your shoulders and peer up at George, who smiles softly and places a gentle kiss to your forehead before retreating back into the house. “Breakfast should be ready soon.”

“Thanks, Georgie,” you say. Your voice is hoarse in your ears; it sounds strange. Like it’s not even yours. Fred stirs for a moment before fully waking, his eyes bloodshot and tired and weak, only having slept for maybe twenty or so minutes.

There’s silence hanging in the air between you both. You swallow a few times—your throat is extremely dry, it feels like you haven’t eaten or had anything to drink in days. It’s scary that it’s only been a few long hours since the wedding.

“It’s really happening now, isn’t it?” you ask suddenly. The words sound foreign in your mouth. Fred lifts his head in surprise, peers at you solemnly for a moment before squeezing your hand.

He watches a few tears escape your eyes. “Yes,” he replies, and still, it seems so strange to see him in such a serious, stoic state. It makes you feel off balance. You don’t like it. You shudder for a moment and wiggle your way closer to him under the blanket. “But I promise to do everything I can to protect you.”

You wonder, selfishly now, if maybe you should take up Fred’s offer from the day before. Run away, find a small house somewhere far away, grow old together. You wipe a few tears away with your sleeves before turning to face him. You can see tears welling up in his eyes, to. But it’s not long before he’s making you smile and you’re letting laughs escape your lips with no effort. “But we’ve just got to finish this, haven’t we? Reckon those slimy Death Eaters don’t stand a chance—”

And yes, he’s making you laugh, and he’s grinning broadly at you, but the memory of last evening’s events, and the thoughts of events to come, hover over the both of you like a storm cloud ready to release the rain. His voice is a bit shaky when he tells you softly, “We’ll be okay, you know.”

“I hope so.” you reply.

“Besides,” he continues, taking your hand in his and examining the still sparkling ring, “I promised to embarrass you for the rest of our lives, right? Our wedding being the prime spot for it!”

“You’re ridiculous, you are.”

“Yeah,” he replies, kissing your forehead, “but you still agreed to be my wife, anyway.”

And soon, Bill is calling the both of you for breakfast, Ginny is bringing you both steaming cups of morning tea, marking the start of a new, stranger beginning as you both peer in front of you, once more, at the blending of sea and sky.

[heartate-aa]

first of all. let me start by saying this.

there is no place for hatred of any kind in this community, or any community for that matter. no racism, no transphobia, no homophobia, nothing.

i think it’s important to recognize that there’s a time and place for everything, be it certain discussions amongst certain people or whatever. i think it’s extremely important to recognize that for a good majority of the time, it’s not our job to police the language that someone chooses to use when speaking about themselves. that being said, that doesn’t take away from the fact that the language in use can still be distasteful and harmful, and that’s an important sentiment to express. it is also so important to recognize that just because you are ok with using that language, even if you’re not using that language as a blanket statement to necessarily everyone, it doesn’t make it any less offensive. but again, if it’s not our place or right to police their personal use of it, it’s not something that should be squashed with harsh language, and instead i think it warrants better conversation to discuss the harm rather than be harsher about it. but i do agree that like ... usage of certain offensive languages just ... maybe shouldn’t be done publicly because not everyone will take kindly to it and of course people will be upset. there’s no getting around that. but there’s no room for anon hate or adding fuel to the fire, especially publicly and making a big mockery of things, you know? it doesn’t solve anything.

i don’t agree with any kind of witch hunt and callout culture in general. it’s so important to callout people who are genuinely vile and abusive and toxic, and sometimes it’s such a hard line to define when it comes down to whether or not you should bring something out publicly or resolve it quietly. i see both sides of this and i sympathize with everyone’s sentiments. i feel so anxious and nervous because . . . i just want to write quietly and vibe with everyone and i adore everyone who’s “opposite” to this situation and i would like to remain on good terms with everyone. i don’t feel as if it should be an issue because i’m not going to go out of my way to force everyone to cross paths and interact with people they don’t want to interact with.

i don’t like being made to feel as if i’m under obligation to choose a side when it’s not my personal involvement, and that doesn’t make me complicit or enabling in anyone’s behavior. it isn’t my business and i will not stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. that being said, if i was witness to friends being shady or doing something gross, i will absolutely check them on it.

i’ve been so quiet because i really really really hate the sentiment that comes across as a huge guilt trip of “if you don’t rb this you’re part of the problem” when i am not involved, and i’m sure this is something many others feel too. it’s guilt trippy and extremely anxiety inducing and it feels really awful and makes me feel so guilty when i shouldn’t, because i’m not, and others are not, burying their heads in the sand. we’re not ignoring the issue. i feel for everyone involved so deeply and i’m so sorry that this is something that you guys are enduring and have endured for so long, and i feel especially for those who have been dragged into this despite being uninvolved and i hope that you find a way to relax and take time to yourself because you deserve it. but truly. the guilt tripping statements like “if you don’t rb this you’re enabling this” is NOT the move. because i think i can say this for a lot of us that we would check our friends if they said or did something that was fucked up and that we’d stand up to toxicity. please, when you’re trying to call anyone to action for any reason, please do not use language like this. it’s guilt trippy. it’s anxiety inducing. i know that there’s no ill intent behind it, but the way it comes across isn’t great and i think there’s other ways to express the need to share things that are important.

i think i can speak for most of us when i say that the majority of us here do not agree with grossness like transphobia and bullying and witch hunts and abuse and general toxicity. just because we don’t necessarily involve ourselves, doesn’t mean that we don’t see it or that we agree with the nastiness that’s occurring. i will never stand for abuse or bullying and any kind of gross toxicity. and if i run into someone who’s nasty, or if i’ve been warned about someone and i use my discretion to tread with caution, it’s not because i’m ignoring the warnings or enabling them, i’m trying to make my own decisions and if it turns out that yikes, jeez, they’re a bad apple after all, i’ll have learned my lesson you know.

it’s ok to block people. the point of the internet is to curate your own personal experience and make it comfortable and best suited to your needs. you should not feel guilty for blocking anyone. you should not feel guilty for standing up for yourself and your friends and creating the best environment for all of you, and most especially yourself. in a world as crazy as the one that we live in, it’s so important to take care of ourselves and find our happiness, and for a lot of us, that’s tumblr rp and weaving together beautiful stories with one another. this community has been really beautiful, but it also has its occasional bouts where it just ... doesn’t feel as great. i think a lot of the issues people have can be solved with conversations, perhaps mediated by neutral and unbiased parties if that makes it easier, but i digress.

i just. really hate to see people hurt and see people upset and fighting one another, especially when it’s amongst friends or people who were friends. disagreements happen. we can’t all get along. and no we shouldn’t enable toxicity or gross language or anything nasty. we should absolutely take initiative to act on that and check the people around us, because hey, maybe some people don’t really realize how insensitive something is until it’s expressed to them. i think people are capable of learning and changing and growing.

i want to get along with everyone. i don’t want to feel like i’m being forced to choose between my friends or mutuals that i adore. i just want to enjoy myself here with everyone. i don’t want to be made to feel bad just because i talk to someone who doesn’t like someone else, you know?

anyway. i’m sorry this is so long. i doubt anyone has read this far because i really wrote a fucking book here i just. had so many feelings that i’ve been sitting on all day and it just. got out of hand. adhd rambling and all. i’ll delete this whenever.

please be kind to one another. there is no room for hatred here. i don’t care if you dislike someone or don’t get along with someone. i hate that tumblr preaches about positivity and being kind and then we don’t take our own advice. we never know what someone has going on, and even if you disagree with someone, there’s no place for hateful language or sending anons or whatever. be kind. we can’t all get along and be friends and i know it’s hard to just. ignore people. and we shouldn’t have to be in a place where we even need discussions like this because most of us are adults and we should know how to act and talk to and treat people.

to everyone, be kind to yourselves most of all. i love everyone here, i really do. i feel for everyone deeply and i’m here if you need someone to talk to or game with or chat about plots with, or whatever. take a breather if you need it. please take care of your health! i don’t want anyone to be hurt more than they already are in this time, and the world is difficult enough as it is, and we don’t need our hobbies to become burdens.

[marvelousstevetony]

Can you do 35. Why did you hide this from me? Maybe sick Tony? Loving all the content 😊

Thank you for this prompt, anon! This got a little more angsty and sappy than I originally planned, but sometimes Tony just needs to be assured that he’s cared for, especially when he’s sick. Luckily, Steve doesn’t mind reminding him :)

Hope you’ll like this small snippet of sick, insecure Tony and Steve who loves his boyfriend very much <3

Tony can hear Steve coming down the stairs, can hear him knocking on the glass door to the workshop, even over the music Tony has playing as background noise while he works. It’s at a much lower volume, Tony has to admit, because although he loves Back in Black, it doesn’t cure he throbbing in his head, and when he asked JARVIS to turn down the amplification, he had silently apologized to AC/DC.

Tony decides to act as if he simply hadn’t heard Steve, ignoring the way he kept knocking and calling his name. He really had to finish the new upgrade to the armour, and even before they started dating, Tony had discovered that he was involuntarily incapable of gravitating towards Steve if he was within arms reach. He is simply distracted whenever Steve is near, and right now he doesn’t have time to be distracted.

Add to it that he feels like shit, head pounding, nose running, eyes threatening to fall shut every few minutes. He and Steve haven’t been together for very long, and Tony definitely doesn’t want Steve fussing over him or looking at him like he’s this small, fragile thing that needs saving.

So Tony pretends to be unbothered and continues fidgeting with a small piece of metal, but it’s difficult, nearly impossible, to work when he’s hands are shaking like leaves and his vision is beginning to blur.

Steve stops knocking on the door, and Tony thinks it’s because he decided to give up and go back to bed. Tony doesn’t know what time it is, but he knows it’s late, and probably even quite a bit later than Steve’s usual bedtime. When he hears the sound of the door to the workshop sliding open though and a hushed thank you, Jarvis, Tony really should’ve figured. Steve never gives up, and he must’ve used the override code he was given in case of emergencies.

Tony frowns to himself. Nothing really seems emergency-esque.

“That’s for emergencies, you know,” Tony says, not looking at Steve, eyes focusing on the armour. “There an Earth-threatening alien invasion or something?”

“No aliens,” Steve clarifies. He’s closer now, Tony can tell. His voice is nearer, and sometimes, somehow, Tony thinks he’s developed a way to feel when Steve’s close to him. As a large, comforting hand rests on his shoulder, Tony resists every urge to lean into the contact, the warmth and electricity he feels run through his body when they touch. “But my boyfriend hasn’t been answering his phone all day, hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and when I come to check on him, he ignores me,” Steve explains, and though his voice is soft, he sounds a little upset as well. “And that made me worried. So, to me, this is an emergency,” he finishes.

“I’ve been busy,” Tony says dismissively. “Suit upgrades.” He gestures vaguely at the metal scraps and various tools that are sprawled all across the worktable.

“It’s late, Tony. Come to bed,” Steve murmurs and hugs Tony from behind, laying his cheek on Tony’s shoulder. “Upgrades can wait.”

Tony huffs a laugh. “If it’s so late then why aren’t you in bed, huh?” Tony teases and smiles to himself. He’s already diverted from his work, confirming the theory that he can’t be close to Steve without losing every inch of concentration from his body.

“Can’t sleep without you,” Steve whispers and presses a kiss to Tony’s neck. He makes a surprised noise when his lips graze Tony’s skin and draws back, bringing a hand to Tony’s cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Steve announces worriedly. “Hey, look at me.”

And Tony can’t hold off the inevitable any longer. He spins his chair around, facing Steve with as much energy as he can muster. Which… isn’t a lot. His eyes are droopy and watery, and his nose looks as if it had been assaulted with scratchy tissues all day. It probably had.

Steve’s face drops immediately when he surveys Tony. His eyebrows draw together, mouth twisting in a way it only does when he’s worried.

“You’re sick,” he states blankly.

Tony shakes his head, but a cough decides to rattle through his chest at that very moment. “I’m okay,” he rasps, knowing he can’t fool Steve and instead tries to brush if off.

“Tony…” he breathes, and Tony hates how defeated, how concerned he sounds. “Why did you hide this from me?” He asks quietly, and Tony can almost hear how Steve’s brain is overthinking, contemplating every scenario that could have caused Tony to keep this secret from him; didn’t Tony trust him? Had he done anything wrong? Had he not paid enough attention to notice how sick his boyfriend is?

Tony needs to set things straight, to assure Steve that whatever senseless and foolish thoughts running through that mind of his are definitely not true. “I didn’t… I’m not,” Tony sighs, unable to complete an adequate sentence. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I didn’t want you to worry,” Tony confesses. “I’m a grown man, I can’t take care of myself.”

“Tony,” he says again. God, Tony wishes Steve would stop saying his name so gently, with so much love in his voice that it makes Tony’s eyes misty. The fever is undoubtedly making him more emotional. That’s what he tells himself, anyways.

“I don’t need you to babysit me, Steve.” It comes out harsher than Tony had intended it to, and he immediately wants to retract it when he sees the wounded look on Steve’s face. He sighs again. “I’m sorry, I just— I don’t want you to look at me like I’m this helpless, broken thing that needs fixing. I’m the one who’s supposed to fix things.”

The words tumble out of Tony’s mouth before he has a chance to filter them. But they’re true, Tony realizes. They’re true, and Tony’s so honest right in that moment. He wonders if it’s because Steve’s there, and Steve has this weird effect on him that makes him incapable of hiding how he feels. It’s the same thing that made Tony confess his feelings for him — he simply couldn’t keep them in any longer, and suddenly they just bursted out of him with no warning.

And now, without thinking about it, Tony admits this to himself as much as he does to Steve: he doesn’t want to be fixed, to be cared for in this way. He doesn’t deserve to be cared for. He’s the mechanic, he fixes things, he mends them, he makes good. Ever since he shut down the weapons manufacture that has been his goal. To help. And now, in this state of exhaustion and vulnerability, he can’ do that.

Tony suddenly feels like he can’t breathe.

“Hey…” Steve cups Tony’s face and strokes a thumb over his cheekbone. “I know you think you’re… unworthy of being cared for in this way, which kills me, because you deserve every ounce of love I possess, and it will forever be my goal to make this known to you… but you are the most generous person I’ve ever met. You help everyone you can and destroy yourself over those you can’t. I just wish you’d let me help you sometimes…”

The tears are now trailing down Tony’s cheek, running over Steve’s hand. It’s definitely because he’s tired and sick and not because Steve has just dejected every insecurity Tony hadn’t said out loud but had unconsciously carried on his shoulders.

At some point between Steve entering the workshop and now, the music had been turned off and for a moment, there’s silence. Tony isn’t looking at Steve, but he can feel Steve’s eyes on him, can picture how earnest and sincere and blue they are.

“Come to bed,” Steve says and Tony just nods and lets himself be enveloped in Steve’s arms.

Steve carries Tony to their bedroom, the genius clinging to the soldier like his life depended on it. Laying him down on the bed with care, Steve draws back and smooths a hand over Tony’s head.

The brunette looks up at him with a bleary expression on his face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. His voice is even raspier now that he actually lets himself resign to being sick, succumbing to the symptoms.

“Shh. Don’t be,” he murmurs and smiles softly. “Get comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Tony nods and shreds his clothes, stripping down to his boxers and a white t-shirt, then shuffles under the blankets and closes his eyes. He probably would’ve fallen asleep right then, had a tickle in his nose not started growing stronger and stronger. He pushes his nose up against his wrist, but it doesn’t stop the tickle from wanting out. After a few useless nose rubs, his nose gives a tell-tale twitch, and he presses his face into his shoulder.

“h’ngxxtt! HNgx!” Stifling the sneezes makes his sinuses twinge and sends a throb through his skull, so when the tickle returns, he lets himself give into a stronger, fuller uhhETCH’oo! that gives him more relief. For the moment, at least.

“Bless you!” Steve calls, and a few seconds later he pads into the bedroom with a tray stacked with what Tony can identify as Kleenex, tea, fever-reducers, decongestants, and a glass of water. “Here,” he says as he places the tray on the nightstand, pulling out few tissues from the box and hands them to Tony.

Tony nods and folds them over his nose, leaning into another two forceful sneezes.

“uhhCHUSh’oo! snffSNFF! huh— uh! uh’CHUSH!”

“God bless you, sweetheart,” Steve winces. “How did you get so sick, hm?”

Tony is still snuffling into the tissues and doesn’t give any reply other than ducking his head shyly and looking over the edge of the tissue with fond eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve decides and smiles sweetly. “I’ll get you feeling better.”

[buckleysjareau]

when i’m walking in my sleep

anonymous asked:

Hii, i love your writing, just finished your new buddie fic. Loved it! If you have inspiration for a storyline like the following i would be so happy to read: Eddie taking care of Buck after the screw removing surgery.

I deleted the original post due to it not showing up in the tags, so sorry if you didn’t see it, anon! But here it is again :) 

trigger warnings for this: use of painkillers even though taken as prescribed, mention of an unspecified nightmare, and to be safe emetophobia as it’s mentioned

Eddie has always had the innate need to care for the ones he loves and the ones who need it. When he was five, he tried his hardest alongside his sisters to save an injured squirrel that ended up at their doorstep. He’d take care of his parents when either one of them was sick as he grew up. The need to help everyone never simmered, only grew when he joined the Army, boiled over when Christopher was born. Firefighting was the perfect job for Eddie, he got to feed his desire to help those in need and find the camaraderie within his team that he’d been missing since his Army days. 

Helping people helps him, so he really can’t stop himself from jumping at the opportunity to take Buck home after he gets his screws out when everyone else’s schedules are too busy. He cares about Buck a lot -- maybe too much and not in the way someone cares about their best friend -- so making sure he’s okay and comfortable after a surgery he knows Buck was scared shitless for, it’s not a big deal for Eddie. 

He finds that maybe he’s a little in over his head when Buck greets him with a loopy smile. He’s just a tiny bit in love with Evan Buckley, and having dealt with post-surgery Buck before, Eddie is sure his heart might burst with every zany grin and stage-whispered expression of appreciation.

Buck’s surgeon, who Eddie has met more times than one should have, strolls into the dimly lit recovery room with an amused smile. “Good to see you awake.”

Buck snickers. “You say that every time, Doc. Soon you’re going to have to stop acting surprised that I’m invincible.”

Eddie can’t tell if what Buck just said makes sense, a twenty-four hour shift with very little sleep does things to your common sense, but his doctor seems like he’s heard it before.

His doctor shakes his head, albeit fondly, as if it’s something he expects but can’t believe he’s hearing. “How many times am I going to have to warn you that you’re not invincible before you stop ending up in my OR?” Eddie suspects every time. “Hopefully, there won’t be a next surgery for you Mr. Buckley. The screws are out, everything should be smooth sailing after that, unless you decide to test that invincibility theory.” 

Eddie can’t hold back the laugh as Buck’s face displays his disbelief. “I may be stupid, doc, but I’m no idiot.”

His doctor turns to face Eddie as he facepalms. “I wish you all the luck and patience in the world taking care of this one.” He jests.

“You know I’m always gonna need it, Doc.” Eddie grins. “There anything I should watch out for or steer clear of with him?”

“You know, the usual; don’t let him walk without his crutches, make sure he eats before he takes his next dose of pain medicine we’re sending home with him, and keep him off the leg as much as possible. Elevate it, ice it if the pain gets too much, spare some time for your own sanity.”

Buck grumbles. “I’m not that bad, right? Tell him, Eds.”

“My mom taught me to always tell the truth.” Eddie teases but relents when the pout Buck gives goes straight to his heart. “Fine. You’re a joy to be around, Evan Buckley.”

“You heard him, Doc! I’m a joy to be around!” 

“Never said you weren’t, Buck, just saying your joy is here more than either of us would like.” He smirks. “Alright, alright, I’m sure Eddie wants to get out of here as much as you do so you’re free to go. Everything looks fine post-surgery and as long as you take correct care, it’ll stay fine. You know to call me if there’s an infection or it takes longer to heal than it should, you know the drill. I will see you in six weeks, Buck. Please not a second sooner?”

Buck sends him a sloppy thumbs up and thanks him, says he can’t promise anything but he’ll try his best and Eddie doesn’t want to think about waiting through another one of his surgeries. He’s fine with the aftercare, but waiting to see if Buck came out of each surgery alive is something similar to hell, he’s sure.

When the doctor leaves, Buck looks Eddie’s way. “Eddddieeeeee, my man, a little help?”

Eddie shakes his head and grabs the bag of Buck’s clothes before going to help Buck sit up on the side of the stretcher he was on.

Buck giggles. “My hospital gown is open in the back so don’t look. My ass isn’t really my best feature.”

Well that’s a straight up lie.

“Aw, Eds, thank you. Your butt’s pretty great too.” Buck grins like the compliment means the world to him. The implied compliment that Eddie definitely did not mean to say aloud.

The only thing that keeps him from hiding himself in embarrassment is that Buck is as high as a kite on his painkillers and most likely won’t remember even leaving the hospital. 

He prays the blush doesn’t show on his face as he helps Buck into his basketball shorts. He couldn’t tell you why he gets flustered every time he had to help Buck this way. They were adults, it wasn’t anything domestic, really, just… intimate. He’d help whenever and whatever way Buck needed, because if Eddie Diaz was anything, he wasn’t shy. He was never uncomfortable. Just flustered beyond belief. 

Buck falls back onto the stretcher dramatically after he’s got his shorts on, taking Eddie down with him. He’s laughing hysterically as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s body in a side hug.

“Hey, Eddie?” He looks up at him. “You’re strong. Can you carry me to your truck?”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh. “I don’t think so, buddy. I can ask for a wheelchair?”

Buck snorts. “Being wheeled out is just embarrassing, man,”

“And being carried out isn’t?”

He responds with a whine. “You don’t have to be smart all the time, you know? My bones feel like they’ve been replaced by jelly, you won’t even try?”

Eddie fondly rolls his eyes. “You can lean on me, okay? I don’t have to carry you to not let you fall, Buck, I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me?”

“Yeah, I’ve got you. Now, up you go.” 

By the time Buck is settled in Eddie’s living room, foot elevated under a pillow on the coffee table and more blankets than Buck could ever need by his side, they’re both exhausted. Eddie plops down next to Buck on the couch and doesn’t question it when he leans his head on Eddie’s chest. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow when Buck moans. “You alright?”

“I don’t wanna throw up.” He whines. “Make it go away.”

“You’re nauseous?” Eddie asks, already standing to get the trashcan from his bathroom for him but is stopped by Buck. “I’ll be right back, just gonna get you the trashcan just in case.”

Eddie has always hated pain medicine. He hates not having any sense of control of what he’s saying if he’s going to remember it the next day, he hates the nausea that comes with, and he hates that every time, without fail, it makes Buck cry.

His lip is quivering as he looks up at Eddie, and it’s just then that Eddie realizes how actually gone he was for Evan Buckley. 

“Don’t leave me.” Eddie probably would have teased him if Buck had been whining but he wasn’t. There was real fear in his voice, like Eddie would leave out the bathroom window or something. 

“So you’re not nauseous anymore?” He goes with instead, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. He remembers Buck calling it the dad stance, but if it gets Buck to let go of his shirt so he can grab something to stop him from vomiting on his floor, he’ll use it.

Buck shakes his head, stopping abruptly as he pales.

Eddie snorts. “Don’t lie to me ever again.” He reaches for Buck’s face, cupping his jaw in his hand and rubbing his thumb across his cheek. “Let me at least get you a bowl. You’ll be able to see me better in the kitchen.”

Buck finally lets go of the grip on Eddie’s shirt and turns to watch Eddie walk away. Eddie hates himself for the way he subconsciously walks to maybe impress Buck. Thanks to the painkillers, he knows that Buck thinks his ass is nice, he can feel Buck’s eyes watching the back of him, and Eddie prays that Buck is at least the slightest bit interested in him. 

What is he thinking? There’s no way Buck could be interested. They’re best friends, that’s all they are, it doesn’t matter how stupidly and pathetically in love Eddie is. 

Buck is half asleep by the time Eddie is back with a bowl that shouldn’t be missed. 

The second Eddie sits down next to him and hands Buck the bowl, he holds it to his chest and goddamnit why is this so adorable? 

“I doubt you’ll make it through the first minutes of it, let alone an episode, but you down to watch Avatar?”

Buck smiles tiredly, eyes refusing to open. “As long as you’re talking about The Last Airbender and not the creepy movie.”

Eddie chuckles. “You think Avatar is creepy?”

“You don’t?” Buck raises an eyebrow, still not opening his eyes, and gives Eddie a look that says he’s shocked no one else feels the same. “I read somewhere there’s a new one coming out in 2021, like, why?”

Eddie snickers. “I can kind of understand your fear of Child’s Play because it’s supposed to be horror, but c’mon, Avatar? I cried, if I remember correctly.”

Buck gasps. “Child’s Play is horror, thank you very much, and terrifying. End of discussion. Put on The Last Airbender so I can stop thinking about that thing.” 

“That thing has a name, Buck. Chucky. He’s your friend ‘til the end.” Eddie teases but opens Netflix on his TV, quickly selecting from his Keep Watching list. 

Buck doesn’t say anything after that and Eddie assumes he’s asleep, until Buck mumbles something. 

“What was that?”

“Would you stop being my friend if you knew I was in love with you?” Eddie hears him loud and clear this time but he’s stunned at what comes from his best friend, disbelief that he even heard him correctly. 

“Come again?” 

When Eddie doesn’t get a response, he turns and finds that Buck fell asleep right after he gives him a heart attack. 

Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. Though he thinks he heard Buck loud and clear, it can’t be right. He dreamed of Buck reciprocating his feelings many times before, but that’s all Eddie could ever believe it was. Dreams. He hadn’t even known Buck was interested in men, let alone interested in him. 

Eddie doesn’t know how long he’s in his head for, but when he notices the sweat glistening on Buck’s forehead, none of it matters. He places the back of his hand on Buck’s forehead, fearing a fever due to an infection or flu, but he doesn’t have a fever.

Then Buck jolts and suddenly Eddie knows what’s going on. It’s not the first time he’s seen Buck in the middle of a nightmare, it’s not his first time dealing with nightmares, either, so he knows what to do.

He distances himself from Buck as far as he can and still is able to shake him. He knows from personal experience to never stay close when waking someone from a nightmare, the black eye he’d accidentally given Buck one night being proof. 

“Hey, Buck, you gotta wake up, buddy.” He shakes his shoulder lightly. “It’s just a nightmare, you’re not there.”

When Buck doesn’t wake up after a third try, Eddie tries a different tactic and scoots a little closer, grabbing Buck’s shoulder and shaking heavier than before. “Evan, Evan, wake up!”

Buck jolts awake, Bobby’s name on the tip of his tongue, swallowed by a scream. He can’t catch his breath, Eddie can tell he hasn’t fully grasped that wherever he just was in his nightmare was long gone and that he’s safe so he does everything he can to clear that fog. 

He takes Buck’s shaking hand in his own and squeezes. “Hey, Evan, you’re at my place, on my couch, nowhere near any danger. You’re safe, okay?”

He can practically see the fog clear from his mind, taking in his surroundings and squeezes Eddie’s hand in his. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, man, I’m here. Feeling calmer?”

Before Buck can respond, he winces and muffles a scream of pain by biting on his lip. Eddie jumps into action as Buck grabs onto the bottom of his cast tightly, as to squeeze out the agony he was feeling. 

Eddie checks the time. “You’re due for your next dose of your painkiller at least.”

But Buck isn’t listening to him. He’s too focused on the pain that Eddie can only now vaguely remember after getting the bullet removed from his shoulder. Before long, Eddie realizes Buck is mumbling something in between choked sobs and muffled screams of agony.

“Evan,” He tries to use his name again in hopes it’ll get him to focus on Eddie and not the pain. 

Buck’s face is twisted in pain when he finally looks at Eddie and not for the time, he wishes he could take Buck’s pain away. 

“I hate Freddie Costas. I hate him so much.” He sobs freely, still holding his bad leg like it’s a matter of life or death. “Fuck, it hurts.”

Eddie stands. “I’m gonna get your pain pills and an ice pack.”

Buck gulps the pill down with no water and Eddie has to stop himself from finding that oddly one of the most attractive things he’s seen Buck do. He also holds back a cringe, never one for taking pills in any way. 

As Eddie unwraps the beginnings of Buck’s cast, Buck starts to calm, his tears slow, his body relaxes against Eddie’s side. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispers. 

“Don’t be. Trust me when I say I get it.” He looks Buck directly in the eyes. “Never feel sorry about feeling things.” 

He doesn’t ask if he wants to talk about it. He knows Buck will talk about it if or when he wanted so it ends up being a useless question. 

It’s quiet again after that. The only sounds that could be heard around Eddie’s was their breathing and the air conditioner running. Avatar is paused on the TV and Eddie doesn’t make any move to unpause it. 

Then Eddie is in his head again.

If he heard right, why would Buck be into him? He wants more than anything for it to be true, but he couldn’t see how it would be true. But he knows he heard what Buck asked, knows he should be thrilled Buck loves him back, but the doubts eat him up. What if he was just asking in general, not personally? What if he thought he was talking to someone else? Maybe he’s exaggerating his gratefulness for taking care of him and he means it platonically?

It’s killing him not knowing.

Eddie clears his throat. “Hey, uh- earlier you asked- before you fell asleep, do you-”

He’s a stuttering mess, hasn’t stumbled over his words this much since he asked Shannon out in their senior year. 

Buck cuts in, putting him out of his misery. “If you’re asking if I remember asking you if you’d still stay my friend if you found out I was in love with you, then yes, I do remember and I’m so sorry.”

Sorry for what? I’m sorry I was just loopy, it was just a question, I’m not actually in love with you? 

Buck swallows hard. “Do you hate me?”

Eddie’s eyes widened completely at the question. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I’m in love with you and continued to be your friend without telling you as such?” 

His heart is racing a mile a minute because Evan Buckley loved him back and he’d had no idea the entire time. He shakes his head with a smile and unshed tears burning his eyes. “I would be the biggest hypocrite if I hated you for that.”

It looks as though Buck hadn’t heard right as he shook his head, but he hopes he understands. 

“Come again?” Eddie can’t help but snort at how similar Buck and him are sometimes. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry!”

“I’m crying because I love you and I just found out it’s reciprocated, okay? Give me a second here.” He lets out a mix between a laugh and a cry. “Holy shit, you love me!”

Eddie’s mind is reeling. The more the shock wears off, the more joy and excitement he starts to feel. 

“You love me!” Buck grins and leans forward, stopping to look Eddie in the eye and ask for permission -- which he eagerly grants -- and soon, what Eddie dreamed of since the Grenade Incident is happening. Their lips touch and Eddie Diaz tries not to be a cliche, but it’s a whole show of fireworks, kissing Buck. More than he could have ever imagined. 

It’s an hour later, and they’re laying in Eddie’s bed, bodies pressed up against the other. Eddie hasn’t felt so secure in years, can’t even remember a time when things felt right until then. Lying next to Buck, things feel light for the first time since he doesn’t know how long, and the feeling of security is what lulls Eddie to sleep. 

Until Buck starts to sniffle and then Eddie is wide awake again.   

“You okay, Buck?”

Buck shakes his head rapidly with a pout. “No, I have to pee.” 

He tries to keep in his laughter, he really does, but the shock and amusement outweighs his ability not to laugh at things that aren’t funny to other people. 

Buck sniffles once more. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re adorable and I love you.” Eddie’s lips quirk into a soft smile. “Now, c’mon, up you go.” 

Buck grumbles. “Love you too.”

When he’s done, Eddie turns back to get his crutches and gets the surprise of a lifetime when Buck reaches out to slap his ass.

“Hey!” 

“What? I did tell you you had a nice ass.”

“Oh my God.”