#my mum thought she did the piercing crooked

[tulipedkisses]

nOTE TO FUCKING SELF: just cause ur piercing is in crooked. it is not a good idea to try and move it to make it straight, fucking wait till its not the sAME DAY that you got it pierced to move it you dumbass. 

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.4) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART FOUR

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

----

"Miss Y/N, is daddy okay?" Hoisuke peers up at you from the backseat as you pull up to your apartment unit. You glance at him through the rearview mirror and smile, "don't worry, he's fine. He's just going to be slightly late."

Iwaizumi had called you earlier that day, sounding breathless and stressed out as he iterated how slow traffic was moving. On impulse, you'd proposed to bring Hoisuke over to your house to make things more comfortable and after a slight bout of hesitation, he'd agreed to pick his son up in the comfort of your home.

"This is the first time I come to your place, miss Y/N," Hoisuke's eyes are darting back and forth across the tiny kitchenette to your right to the small tv screen plugged to the wall on the left. Granted, your flat is merely anything special and far from ready for unexpected guests. But the sharp curiosity gleaming in your student's eyes holds no judgement and for that you apprrciate him all the more.

"You hungry?" You ask while settling him down at your tiny dinner table compact enough to fit snuggly up to your kitchen counter.

Hoisuke purses his lips in thought and you swear he's learnt this facial expression from observing his father, "hm yeah. A little bit," before throwing you a sheepish grin.

So you whip up something simple; omelette rice with your special Korean chilli sauce as a sudden downpour splatters through the cityscape, the rain dancing to its own rhythm as it splatters over your windowpane. The TV plays in the background, a random cartoon that gets interrupted with Hoisuke's giggles and that ignites an affectionate smile on your lips as you chide himto eat. And you're not really sure why your chest feels tight and filled to the brim with comfort, but you realise you don't actually mind having the small human around that much.

Teachers aren't supposed to have favourites. But you admit to yourself that teachers are only human. And if you are to choose, Hoisuke would be one of yours.

"Miss Y/N, do you have a boyfriend?" Hoisuke's voice pierces through your thoughts and as you blink down at him, you shake your head, "no, I'm single as a pringle."

"You are not married then."

"No I'm not."

"Great!" Hoisuke jumps up on his seat, eyes twinkling with mischief, "then do you want to marry daddy?"

"What?" You laugh out, "it doesn't work that way Hoisuke."

"But I like you miss Y/N," he replies with the seriousness of a child wanting his way, "You'd be a great mum. Can you be my mum?"

"Oh gosh kiddo," your hand reachea out to ruffle his hair, heart twisting at how easily he leans into your touch, "I'd love to be your mum, but--"

"Then marry my dad," Hoisuke's mumble is muffled against your side. He unconsciously snuggles up to you and you caress the top of his head down to his nape, "daddy likes you too. He really likes you. You make him happy. He laughs a lot when you're around, and he doesn't get sad like he usually does when Mama is here."

"But that would be unfair to your mum wouldn't it?" You say softly, "you can't have two mums. She'll be upset."

There's a slight pause where you can see the cogs turning in his brain, "yeah," he says eventually, "but I don't really like going to Mama's anyway--"

The sound of your doorbell jolts you both to attention. You give Hoisuke's head one more ruffle before getting up to unlock the door.

Only to come face to face with none other than Hoisuke's mother.

You blink. Once. Twice. Unconsciously taking a step back.

She's pretty. Prettier up close, with those feline cat eyes and that full mouth that renders any man crazy. Standing a few inches higher than you, there is no doubt as to why Iwaizumi had fallen for her charms in the first place. She looks like the kind of woman that would still be elegant even dressed in a mechanician's uniform.

"H-Hello," your eyes dart from hers to a blank spot on the wall opposite, "can I help?"

"Where's Hoisuke?" Her voice is smooth, yet hard enough to make you wince.

"I--" your mind races. Isn't Iwaizumi supposed to pick him up? And how the hell does she know where you live?

She seems to read your face as she says, "I saw you with my son leaving the school. You're his...teacher, aren't you? I was waiting to pick him up."

"I thought Iwaizumi-san--"

"I don't need a reason to see my son," she arches her brows at you in a way that makes you want to crawl under a carpet and hide.

"Mama?" Hoisuke's voice floats from behind you, a tentative waver of nervousness as you hear him pad up to the door.

"Does Iwaizumi-san know you're picking him up?" You hope your tone is diplomatic, but the way her body tenses proves you otherwise, "You can tell him Hoisuke's with his mother," she nods at her child, "now come on Hoisuke. Let's go home."

Maybe feeling the tension in the air, Hoisuke merely shrinks back, "but it's Daddy that picks me up."

"Yes well, Daddy's not here now is he?" She gestures aggressively towards him, "now come on."

"Maybe we should wait until Iwaizumi-san gets here," you try to smooth things over, "he's on his way--"

"Don't tell me what to do with my child," Mizune snaps and without warning, grabbing hold of Hoisuke's arm before pulling him out of the flat. He resists.

"Mama no, let's wait for Daddy--"

"Daddy isn't coming. Now stop being so difficult," she doesn't relent against the way her son twists and kicks at the ground while you stand there, mind blind with panic because you've never actually had to deal with such a situation before.

"Mama please!" Hoisuke cries out with a sob.

You want to move. You urge yourself to. But your feet won't budge. It's like you're rooted in place.

Hoisuke has started crying at this point and in an attempt to smoothen things out, you try again by saying, "I'm sure we can all calm down and talk this out. As a teacher, I cannot--"

"That's right," Mizune's feline pupils narrow down on you, making you flinch at the rage simmering through those dark orbs, "you're his teacher. And as a teacher, you should know how to keep your boundaries. You're not his mother and you never will be. So fucking stay out of my family's life."

The words burn as they etch themselves into memory and you can only watch, hand clutched to the door as Mizune drags her crying son away. His cries are loud enough that they bounce throughout the corridor and keeps resonating even when he's long gone, as you try to comb through the last fifteen minutes where everything has turned upside down.

Fucking stay out of my family's life.

Your brain reels. Your heart feels heavy. You don't know what to do, what to say.

And Mizune's words are as sharp as a knife.

Don't tell me what to do with my child.

A sob slowly catches the back of your throat, eyes slowly brimming with an onset of tears.

You're not his mother.

The truth hurts. You know that Hoisuke is not your child, know that all this time it's merely Iwaizumi and his son, and then you watching on the sidelines. But hearing the cold rejection thrust in your face hurts more than you'll admit.

You aren't quite sure how long you stand there gazing into the empty corridor as if if you will it hard enough, Hoisuke will come running back to you. It is only when a familiar alto reaches your ears that you snap back to attention:

"Y/N?"

Jerking at the sound and looking up to see none other than Iwaizumi, drenched and breathless, standing a few feet away from you, your breath hitches in warning.

He closes the distance between you, frowning upon noticing the tears at the corner or your eyes, "what's wrong? Where is Hoisuke--"

"I'm..." your eyes drop to the ground, "I'm sorry," your whimper is barely above a whisper and you feel him move closee, his hand gently grasping your arm.

"Y/N?" His voice is gentle, though ragged and breathy, "what happened?"

It's probably the gentlest he's ever been with you. Turning away to cup your mouth with your hand, your teeth clamp down onto your lower lip in hopes of keeping the emotion from spilling over.

"Mizune came," you murmur out, "she took Hoisuke home."

There's a sharp intake of breath on his part. A pause, "how did--"

"She followed us."

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh as he moves towards you and you stagger back to hide your tears, but it proves useless when his hand grasps your arm to pull your hand away.

Deep brown mocha meet yours. Your throat tightens.

"Sorry," you breathe out a forced chuckle but it's clear from Iwaizumi's face that he's spotted your tears, and that he just knows that there is something bothering you.

But he doesn't ask. Doesn't question your intent or your feelings.

Instead, he pulls you close, close enough you're stumbling into him, before his hand wounds around the back of your head and presses you against his shoulder.

It shocks you, the sudden intimacy of his touch. His citrus smell once again invades your space and you can't find it in yourself to keep on holding on before you break down.

Maybe it's because you had felt-- at this point in time -- that you were someone significant in Hoisuke and Iwaizumi's life that you're not crying into Iwaizumi's shoulder as if everything is going downhill in your life. But you're comforted by the casual way he holds you with his head turned away so that you can bury yourself in the crook of his collarbone.

"Sorry," you manage to mumble out after you've managed to calm down. He's moved you back into your flat and has sat you down onto your kitchen chair, having rummaged through your utensils to bring you a cup of water that you sip on gratefully, if only to act as a distraction from the way he's gazing at you.

Iwaizumi shakes his head silently, looks away and clears his throat, "I'm gonna call her. You good?"

You nod and after searching your face for a few more seconds, he slides out of his seat and walks away with the device already presses to his ear. Bowing your head and gulping down the rest of the water, you manage to block out his angry alto resonating through the compact space as you focus on regaining control of yourself. You rarely fall to pieces like that, rarely give in to the downward pull of your emotions because the nature of your job obliges you to.

"Y/N."

You jump involuntarily and look up to see the said man sporting a frown, "is Hoisuke okay?" You ask.

"He's fine," a sigh escapes his lips as he slides back into the chair as if there's a weight pressing down onto his shoulders, "I'll pick him up tomorrow after school."

You nod. Good, the last thing you need is for Hoisuke to be disrupted by problems that don't concern him.

When he speaks next though, his alto is hoarse and thick, "I'm sorry Y/N. You don't deserve to get in the middle of all this."

"It's okay."

His eyes pierce yours with burning hot intensity, causing your gaze to drop to your fists laying across the table, knuckles so tight they're turning white.

A bout of silence ensues, lest for the pounding in your heart while your thoughts take on a tumultous turn for the worse. What if Mizune is angry? What if she stops Hoisuke from coming to school altogether? What if she makes her child move just for the sake of keeping him away from his teacher who can't seem to keep her nose out of anyone's business? What if--

Warmth floods your hands so suddenly that it interrupts your train of thought. Head jerking up in surprise to see Iwaizumi's hands clasp yours, your blood suddenly pulses through your limbs upon feeling his thumb gently stroke over your knuckles.

Iwaizumi is not a man of words. That much you know, but this evening has been full of surprises for you both. So you force yourself to relax, almost enjoying the gentlest of his touches fluttering across your skin.

"How," your words are choked, "how angry is she?"

"That doesn't matter."

"But what if--"

"None of this is your fault, Y/N," he replies firmly, followed by a gentle squeeze, "whatever you have cooking in that head of yours, stop."

Nodding and sighing in defeat, you lapse into a more comfortable silence as the time dwindles on. It's different to have someone else occupying your flat, considering that you've gotten so used to living along after your horrible breakup. A good kind of different.

When you bid him goodbye that evening -- granted you shall wake up with dark circles and puffy eyes the next day -- he suprises you with another casual, one-armed hug which signifies so much more for the usually reserved man, Hoisuke's bag hanging loosely from the other. He holds you close, his grip strong and secure and making you wish you can melt in a puddle of warmth at his feet, while his cheek pillows atop your temple against the side of your head. You lean in, cozy and warm, while his heart beats underneath your ear like a gentle drum easing you of today's worries and you wish you have the willpower to keep yourself away, in vain.

He pulls away slightly, mutters a soft "night" before a ghost of a kiss imprints itself on your temple.

Your breath hitches but the moment is gone all too son. He's already swivelling around and making his way down the corridor, leaving you to stare after him with a wild, raging heart.

You know, without a doubt, that you're already a little too skin-deep.

----

Iwaizumi is furious. Filled to the brim with a rage that's threatening to bubble over his insides.

He'd gone round to fetch Hoisuke in the morning as promised, just managing to keep himself from knocking his ex-wife's double mahogany doors down only to be greeted by that stupid bastard who'd stolen his wife away.

Todoka had always roamed within the same circle of friends as Iwaizumi and Mixune, having met under the same dormitory roof and sharing common sports interests. So imagine how big of a slap it was to hear that he'd been the one stealing kisses and sharing soft subtle touches with his wife behind his back.

"I could've driven him if only you'd let me," Mizune had told him as they waited for Hoisuke to finish brushing his teeth. is ex-wife's familiar soprano made him tense. Her face was a cold mask of indifference that covered up her silent anger. She'd folded her arms, chin jutted out and lips pursed, "he's my son too, you know."

"Was he still your son when you went and fucked Todoka?"

She'd sighed. As if dealing with the tantrum of a child, "Why are you bringing this up again?"

"Because you never put him first. Not when he threw his tantrums, not when he cried for you. Not even when he was sick," Iwaizumi spat out, the words tasting bitter upon his tongue.

"I had issues Hajime, you know that--"

"Like what? Like we weren't good enough for you? Like I wasn't pulling myself apart while you were out for nights on end?" Iwaizumi would've continued with an onslaught of pent-up statements if his son hadn't spoken out:

"Daddy?"

"Hey bud," Iwaizumi's anger had deflated like a hot air balloon, "you ready to go?"

And so he packed his son up in the car, his ex-wife watching his every move, and just after he'd closed his vehicle door did Mizune mention something about you.

"Do you like her?"

He'd bristled, "none of your business."

"Hoisuke is my son," Mizune's eyes had hardened into steel, "I don't need anyone else filling up his head with stupid ideas, nor do I want him to get hurt--"

"Like you did?" The words were fire burning upon his tongue. His shoulders were squared as he faced her fully, "stop beating around the bush, Mizune. We both know you hate the fact that Hoisuke loves spending time with Y/N."

"That's not it, I--"

"Y/N has spent more time with Hoisuke in a week than you did in a month. She's wiped his tears more timesthat you've seen him cry," he swivels towards his car then, "are we done?"

"You're acting like a child."

"I'm not the one picking a fight because of some petty jealousy," Iwaizumi had snapped.

"I'm not jealous!" Mizune burst out, her patience finally wearing thin, "I'm trying to look out for him, for you! She's not right for you--"

"Don't. Talk about her like that,” Anger had flared at how dismissively she spoke of you, visible as his knuckles tightened and a vein throbbed in his forehead, "and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay the fuck out of my life."

He'd driven off without looking back, knowing full well he'd shocked her into silence and if he were to be honest with himself, that outburst had eased some of the knots in his stomach. Dealing with Hoisuke's anxiety after witnessing yet another argument though, that was something else.

"Daddy, I don't understand why you and Mama fight so much," Hoisuke finally finds his voice when they stop inside the school gtounds. His small chubby hand, fitting into Iwaizumi's large one, cling to him with more force than necessary as they make their way to his respective class.

"Your mama and I...have different opinions on things," Iwaizumi tries to explain, suddenly guilty that his son has to pick up all the broken pieces. Impulsively, he ruffles Hoisuke's locks, "don't worry."

And that's when his son stops in mid-walk, looks him dead in the eye, and tells him, "Mama doesn't like miss Y/N, does she?"

It's a different kind of slap, but he shouldn't have understimated the little five year old. Children know much more than they let on snd here's the proof of it.

Iwaizumi allows both his hands to clasp Hoisuke's shoulders and bends down until they are face to face, "hey," dark mocha meets lighter caramel tinged with a fear of a child desperate for a family that all his friends can take for granted, "that doesn't matter. Do you like miss Y/N?"

Hoisuke nods, eyes wet.

Iwaizumi's heart swells and he swears he doesn't ever want to see that expression on his son's face, not if he can help it.

"Then it doesn’t matter what your Mom tells you," he squeezes the child's shoulder for good measure, "no one can boss you around and tell you that you're not allowed to like who you like," he brushes a few hairs off Hoisuke's forehead, "not me, not even your mom. Got that?"

“Will we be able to invite miss Y/N again?” Hoisuke asks with a trembling bottom lip. 

“If you want to.” 

“Do you want to, daddy?” 

That question takes him by surprise, the familiar guilt lurching through his stomach as he tries to comb through an excuse to hide his growing feelings. 

Except, why does he have to hide in the first place? 

It takes a moment, before Iwaizumi nods, “yeah,” he murmurs gently with the softest of smiles, “I want to.” 

Hoisuke nods once more, which is shortly followed by lurching into Iwaizumi's arms as a sob echoes from his throat. His father holds him close, glad that the earlier tension from Hoisuke's has dissipated into relief for now.

What he doesn’t know though, is that you stand just a few feet away, body tucked into the corner of the wall and holding up your racing heart against your chest. 

------

The more you spend more time with the Iwaizumis, the more your heart gets invested in the coaxing warmth that makes up their family. You try to dismiss what you've overheard back in the school corridor but it's an itch you can't quite erase now that you've been exposed to Iwaizumi's feelings, which does nothing to stop the way your heart skips a beat whenever his gaze lingers upon yours for too long.

And you've taken notice. Or you think you do. Of how he sounds more gentle whenever he talks to you, how whenever you play hands they drift towards each other for a few extra seconds that causes your skin to tingle with warmth. How it is so goddamn easy to fall into this familiar routine of playing families with Hoisuke around like a human sunshine.

But there's still one thing nagging you. Which is why you corner him once you have tucked Hoisuke into bed on Saturday night, seeking him out on the small terrace tucked beside his kitchen that overlooks the glowing city lights.

"Can I ask you something?"

His gaze flits to yours. He nods.

Swallowing back the sudden knot of anxiety in your throat, your question comes out more like a soft proposition rather than a demand fot answers.

"I know it's none of my business, but-- I overheard you and Hoisuke a few days ago in the school corridor," your words are rushed and quick as you fold your arms over your chest, "did you and Mizune have a fight...about me?"

Iwaizumi shifts in your peripheral to face you, but your eyes adamantly find purchase onto the cement ledge splattered with dirt. For a split second, you wonder whether it wouldn't have been better to keep your mouth shut.

"What did you hear?" He asks quietly.

With a slow breath, you tell him what you've heard, underlining that this whole encounter was an accident.

"And from the way she acted when she saw me...well, it's not hard to put two and two together," you finish off in a mumble, then quickly adding, "look I--I don't want to come in-between you and your family. I just don't want Hoisuke to get hurt."

Surprise flits through his features. He regards you for a long moment, long enough that you feel like squirming underneath his gaze.

Then, taking you by surprise, he chuckles softly and shifts his elbows onto the edge of the terrace, "No wonder he likes you."

You blink at him. It suddenly feels a little too warm.

"None of this is your fault, Y/N," you wonder since when have the formalities dropped from Miss Y/N to just Y/N and decide that you like the way your name rolls off his tongue, "Mizune gets jealous over stupid shit and if she can't see someone else making her son happy then that's not our problem."

Your teeth unconsciously find purchase onto your lower lip, which he notices. That doesn't stop him from reaching over to press his thumb against your lower lip, "don't."

You freeze at the touch. His thumb is warm against your mouth, calloused and sending a series of tingles down your spine.

He must realize the intimacy of his touch, for he drops his hand away and mutters, "he's...livelier. when you're around. Happier, even. I've never seen him like that with his Mama."

"What about you?"

You feel like slapping yourself. The audacity coming out of your mouth surprises you and you swear your cheeks burst into flames.

Iwaizumi looks at you almost at the same time your pupils focus on his, causing your breath to hitch.

Why the hell can't you just keep your mouth shut?

Iwaizumi's voice is merely a murmur when he speaks next, deep and laced with a roughness.

"What about me?"

Your brain seems to turn to mush, "do you like having me around?" You hope you don't sound too pathetic.

Your heart almost stops at his next set of words.

"I do."

And there's that smile, barely there but enough that your own lips stretch to mirror his action. Until you realize you are smiling at him like a fool and quickly look away like you've just been burnt.

Something shifts in the air between you, spurred on by the way your eyes keep searching each other's with a growing tension that makes your skin rattle. Iwaizumi's frown is present, yet not unpleasant and you're not quite sure who moves, just that he's suddenly a little closer. Close enough you get a whiff of the citrus smell you've come to recognize as his own.

"Miss Y/N?"

Hoisuke's voice suddenly snaps you out of your daze. Quickly whipping around to see the said boy rubbing his eyes, a hand unconscioudly scratching his tummy, your entire countenance softens as he blinks up at you sleepily.

"I can't sleep," he mumbles out with sleep still in his eyes, "can you come back to bed with me?"

"Yeah sure," you're already on your way over to him, scooping the child up in your arms. He takes this chance to bury his face into the crook of your neck, sighing contently.

You turn back to his father, a dark silhouette against the bright landscape, "I'll be right back."

But Hoisuke surprises you by saying, "you too, Daddy."

Iwaizumi stills, "what?"

"Come to bed too, Daddy."

For one single moment, it's like time stops. You can't see Iwaizumi's face but a moment later he straightens and walks over, nodding at you when he's close enough. You don't realize your heart is besting like a hummingbird until you hear it throbbing through your chest as you try squeezing into Hoisuke's bed, you in the corner and his father barely hanging onto the edge, Hoisuke squished in-between.

It's like an instinct for the boy to latch onto your shirt. He turns to burrow himself into the curve you've made with your body, facing Iwaizumi who is half-sitting, half-lying down in an angle that surely isn't comfortable.

So you decide to point it out to him, patting the bed for good measure in hopes that he doesn't notice the warm flush of your neck.

"It's okay," your whisper tickles Hoisuke's hair, "it's only until he falls asleep."

He hesitates, before you see his head nod and he slides his body a little closer, chest curving into Hoisuke's back and close enough for you to get bathed in his warmth.

He smells good. He looks good. God. Why does he look so damn good?

Stop! You squeeze your eyes shut aa if that might help your racing thoughts, and you are so caught up in your own head that you almost miss the gentle brush of Iwaizumi's fingers against your shoulder.

You tense up right before realizing that his action is intentional. Your shoulders slowly relax, a shaky exhale escaping your lips as he takes the chance to linger over your arm a little longer, before falling away onto the mattress.

You fall asleep that night listening to not just Hoisuke's, but Iwaizumi's heartbeat. 

----

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve, @lilith412426, @elianetsantana, @schleepyflocci, @oohlalie , @kaashikoi , @tendo-sxtori , @iwaroses , @its-the-aerieljeane , @lalalemon101 , @lanaxians-2 , @dora-the-grownup , @sharin-gone , @nekomavsnohebi , @crayonwriting , @imafan , @random-fandom-girl-24 , @bucinhajime , @izumikunmy , @iwaoioioi​ , @evesmores​ , @meri-soni-meri-tamanna​ , @paintedstarres​ , @okadaxo , @michaki , @archiepudding​ , @ysatrap​ , @cringe-freak​ , @thatprettybunny​ 

[blacknailpolishonguitarstrings]

O Children

Minerva couldn’t sleep. Ever since the war had begun, she had become more and more restless in her sleep, increasingly worrying Poppy. Thus, she did not miss a single second of the sharp, rapid, loud knock on the door of their little cottage that sounded at 4 am on that cold November morning. Tightening the string of her checkered green plaid robe, she walked rapidly down the stairs, leaving the vapour of her cup of tea resting on the window sill to god up the window. The lower floor of the house was plunged deep in darkness, the only light coming from the porch lamp whose glow glittered through the door’s coloured glass panels. Gripping her wand tightly, she unlocked the door.

“Albus!�� She gasped. “What type of ice cream did I get at Florean’s in Diagon Alleys on August 22nd, 1975?”

Her wand was pointed right at the centre of his chest omnipresent reminder of the war.

“Raspberry sprinkled with rose petals and lavender-infused chocolate topped with almond brittle,” said the old man tiredly.

He looked weary the twinkle in his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles dim, long white hair and beard having lost their silvery shine, clothes dusty. It was almost as if more wrinkles had appeared on his face since the last time she had seen him, rendering his face even grimmer, a gloom look stretching across his features.

“What happened?” She asked tightly. “Who…who died?”

Her friend’s silence was unbearable, hanging heavy in the air, announcing in-pendent doom.

“I can’t remain long, I must go and take care of matters, but I assumed you would wish to be notified among the first…”

“Albus. Who. Died?” She repeated.

He sighed.

“Peter Pettigrew and…James and Lily Potter, all murdered by Sirius Black.”

An icy, unpleasant, terrifying wave of cold flooded her veins, disbelief painted on her face. It wasn’t possible.

“No,” she whispered. “There must have been an error. No. Sirius would never do such a thing to James and Lily. They were his best friends. You are wrong.”

The Headmaster watched her with compassion as she muttered “no” under her breath over and over again, refusing to acknowledge the hard and bitter truth. It felt as if the world was spinning at breakneck speed around her, dizzying her. Everything swam before her eyes, blurring and mixing, a kaleidoscopic slush of colours, and numerous seconds passed before Minerva realised that the thin watery veil clouding her gaze was burning hot, unspilt tears. Her grip on the door handle was so tight her knuckles had turned white.

“When? How?…Why?” She breathed raggedly.

“We don’t know exactly,” started Albus gently. “All we know is that Sirius Black was the Potter’s Secret Keeper, he allegedly betrayed them, which led us to believe he reconnected with his family and worked closely with Voldemort. Peter Pettigrew attempted to warn and save Lily and James, and in a fit of madness, Black blew up the street and killed Pettigrew along with thirteen muggles. He was found in a muggle neighbourhood nearby and has since then been arrested and sentenced to Azkaban for life. It was debated whether or not he should receive the Dementor’s kiss, but the judges decided upon a life sentence at Azkaban. I am still waiting for more information, and I will send you the full Order report as soon as it is ready. Members of the Order are of course working on the case along with the Ministry Aurors.”

She watched him tiredly, still refusing to believe him.

“Now, if you will excuse me, Minerva, I unfortunately still have urgent matters to attend to, I cannot remain any longer. I present you my sincerest condolences for your loss, I know that they were all very dear to you, and excellent students. I myself am still quite disbelieving at the situation.”

She looked at him stonily.

“No, you are not,” she thought, but she only asked:

“And Remus? And harry, James’ and Lily’s child?”

“Mr. Lupin hasn’t returned from his mission yet, as for young Harry…I’ve taken care of it

An uneasy feeling overcame her.

“Albus, what did you do?”

The elderly wizard failed to meet her eye.

“I have left him with his last living relatives, the Dursleys. Petunia Dursley was Lily Evans Potter’s sister—“

“I know that, “ snapped Minerva. “What I do not understand is why you thought this was a viable solution. I have met the Dursleys. They are close-minded, rude, and despicable people. They are not a good family or entourage for Harry to grow up in. Petunia Dursley could barely stomach her own sister, I shudder at the thought of how she will treat her nephew. Neither James nor Lily would have wanted this for their son, Albus, I can’t—“

“It does not matter, Minerva,” he cut her off. “While I appreciate your concerns, the matter is sealed and there is nothing to be done now. I have my reasons, and I hope you will trust me as you have done many times before. I wish you a pleasant evening, or well, rather morning I suppose.”

He turned around, his robes sweeping the floor as he walked away until he was nothing but a mere silhouette amongst the shadows, all semblants of warm, glowing light gone.

“Bastard,” seethed the witch after him, before slamming the door shut.

The shock of wood against wood resonated around her in the darkness. She did not know what to do now, what to say, what to think, what to feel. For the first time in years, Minerva was lost. She stood there, back pressed against the hard door, wand held tightly in her wrinkled hand, dark brown hair streaked with gray tumbling down her shoulders, and felt oddly empty, almost numb, as she looked curiously at the single ray of moonlight piercing through the back windows. The old stairs creaked in the far left corner of the living room, and a trembling golden glow filled the lower floor of the white brick cottage. Poppy appeared behind the sofa, gripping her wand whose tip was alight with a soft shine, wrapped in her midnight blue nightgown. She looked weary and pale in the dim light, almost ghost-like, her quivering lip betraying her inner turmoil. Minerva stared at her blankly, as she approached her.

“Minnie,” whispered her wife, kneeling in front of her, placing a soft hand on her wrinkled cheek.

“That’s what they used to call me, James and Sirius, Minnie, mum…they were the only ones who dared to,” she croaked.

“I know,” said Poppy softly, wrapping her arms around her frail shoulders, hugging her tightly. “They were wonderful children and—“

“He killed them,” interrupted Minerva hoarsely. “He killed them…”

She shivered, whether it was coldness or something else, much darker, buried inside of her, she did not know, but she began trembling violently.

“VOLDEMORT KILLED THEM!” She roared, eyes blazing, face red, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Minerva,” murmured Poppy, chocking on her name, as she held her crying wife in her arms, who shook violently, wracked by uncontrollable sobs.

“He killed them, he killed them, he killed them,” she muttered over and over again, face buried in the crook of Poppy’s neck.

Neither of them had any idea how long they stayed there, on the cold hard floor, leaving against the entrance door of their house. But, soon enough, the morning sun’s first golden rays began filtering through the windows. The sky was beautiful outside, a painted canvas of amber, orange and pink fading into a dark blue in one corner and a clear azure in the other. It was all awfully joyful and pretty, considered the grim circumstances. Exhausted, Poppy got up, and holding Minerva by the elbow, led her to the upholstered burgundy armchair overlooking the small fireplace where coals lay cold and dead amongst the ash. She settled weakly into it, covering herself with a large plaid blanket. She felt nothing, no pain, no sorrow, no joy, nothing. Her mind still hadn’t fully processed the loss, and the first shock of emotions having been evacuated by hours and hours of mourning the dead, she was now empty, hollow.

“Poppy,” she said quietly, taking the small green hand-painted ceramic mug her wife handed her, having come back from the kitchen. “Do you honestly believe, Sirius…”

She stopped, her voice cracking, a shy remnant of the power it used to be.

She took a deep breath in, before trying again.

“Do you think Sirius killed James, Lily, and Peter?” She asked in a small voice,

“Of course not, replied Poppy, taking a sip of her tea. “I don’t believe Sirius would be able to kill someone in the first place, let alone murder his best friends.”

Minerva nodded,

“I do not think so either, but…I don’t know, something is wrong…”

Silence settled in their home, as the birds chirped merrily outside, welcoming the new day with joy and excitement. Suddenly, a loud knock sounded at the kitchen window. Minerva stood up heavily, and leaving her empty teacup on the worktop, she opened it, letting the waiting owl in. Running her hand gently through its glossy tan plumage, she took the newspaper from its claws and slipped five Knuts into the small leather pouch tied at its leg. Big headlines printed in bold black letters glared back at her from the white paper, screaming victory:

“Dark Lord vanquished and gone, for good this time”

“Dark Lord dead: Wizarding Britain celebrates”

“Harry Potter, the young saviour of our world”

She skimmed briefly through the paragraphs, squinting at the fine print, shaking her head slowly.

“Fools,” she thought.

She opened the Daily Prophet to the second page and dropped it in shock when Sirius Black’s desperate face stared back at her from the black and white moving picture. An Auror was restraining him, holding him at wand point, as he desperately attempted to free himself from her iron grip. His face was a mask of pure anguish and misery, as tears ran down his face, his usually lustrous black hair sticking in mangy strands to his skin.

“I’m so sorry.”

He appeared to be mouthing the same three words over and over again.

Above the picture, the headline read:

“Sirius Orion Black: murderer, madman, and traitor”

Facing Poppy who was watching her worriedly, she whispered, voice breaking:

“I must find Remus, now.”

[greggorylee]

would love to hear about your recent wings of fire dream !! 🐉

oohh of course n.=.n we’ve been meaning to transcribe what we can remember! we’ll recount it best we can!

--

Fish lived with his father on the outskirts of the SkyWing Kingdom, in a cliffside cave beside the Five Tail River. His father did something important that he didn’t understand or remember--trading? gambling? his memory was horrible--but Fish knew it was much more important than him. Fish was used to this, as his mother was around even less. However, if you asked him, it was better that way. Both of Fish’s parents were cruel in their own horrible unique ways, and every second alone was a second he treasured.

It was hard to stay alone though, when your father runs something that every flight in Pyhrria seems to want to visit. This results in plenty of nosy dragons sticking their snout in your business. Fish had learned to spend his time in the woods or mountainside or best, underwater in the river to avoid endless uncomfortable questions.

“Why are you so scrawny? Don’t you eat?” “Where’s yer mum, kid? What flight is she? SkyWing?” “Why don’t you have a plan for when you grow up?” And so on, usually coupled with unintentional misgendering, as his father still refused to call Fish anything but “she”. It made his scales crawl at best, and at worse--well, he tried to avoid going to that place.

Fish’s best efforts never stopped his fellow dragonets, though. Usually this wasn’t too bad, if a little exhausting, as usually the parents would see him as a kind of free babysitting service while doing business with his father. However sometimes Fish encountered the unfortunate bully.

Today seemed to be one of those days. A little greenish MudWing and what looked like a SkyWing/IceWing hybrid had been chasing Fish around the river all morning. They weren’t exactly trying to be mean--more like willfully ignorant to the fact that Fish wasn’t interested in their game of tag.

Now he dangled from a thick vine hanging from a tree branch, curling himself upside down and hoping his rather pointy back fin wasn’t in reach. Fish could see the other dragonets laughing below him, circling around his head trying to tag each other. The MudWing blended into the brown-green earth beneath them, their scales soft gradients like river clay. The hybrid was a rich burnt red with a neat row of glimmering white spikes down their back, matching their sharp horns and claws.

Fish was wondering if he should get down and attempt to calm them down and perhaps befriend them when the two dragonets ran off toward the calls of their parents. Fish turned away, knowing already what he’d see. No need to sicken himself wishing for what he’d never have.

A twig snapped in the forest, and he looked up to see another pair of dragons approaching. The dappled sunlight lit up warm bluish-purplish-greenish black scales. NightWings. It was very rare to see any around--the whole flight had seemingly vanished a year or so before Fish was born.

But here were some NightWings--at least one looked full NightWing, with the green hued scales. They wore silver spectacles and a worried expression. The other dragon was mostly black like a NightWing, but with blue-white wings and horns and spines like an IceWing. They had startling sky color eyes and a crooked smile.

“Hi!” chirped the Ice/Night dragonet, dipping their head and wings in a friendly way as they got closer. Their companion nodded politely, but kept looking over their shoulder as if nervous of being followed.

“I’m Whiteout. This is my partner Thoughtful,” the stranger continued, flicking the other dragon with her tail affectionately. Fish saw the sparkly flash of IceWing spikes on the end. “We heard of a place where claws of every color may meet. Is that here?”

“Uh--” Fish paused, brain fumbling to decipher what they meant. “Like--lots of different flights? Uh, meeting?” The greenish NightWing nodded, and Fish added “That definitely happens here a lot.”

“Wonderous! Peacemaking. Scholarly,” Whiteout exclaimed with a flap of their snowy wings, which twinkled with black stars. Their partner gave them a gentle smile.

“Um, my father Leech is in charge here, if. If you want to talk to him?” Fish offered, though he had no plan on joining that conversation. “He’s up in that cave on the cliffside.”

“Thank you,” said the spectacled dragonet. Their voice was quiet and deep and sounded genuine. “What’s your name?”

Fish blinked, thrown off by the question. Not many had bothered, during their annoying questions, to ask for his name. He wasn’t complaining though, because he rather hated it. Yes he was part SeaWing, but it never felt right.

“M-my name is Fish,” he said nervously, feeling the bitter sting of the word on his tongue.

The strange dragon called Whiteout widened their eyes at him. Their piercing blue seemed to look right into his soul. “Are you sure? Shark sounds much cooler!”

Fish blinked in shock. “How–” he sputtered, but the other dragonet was already bounding toward the sheer cliff face where Fish had said his father resided. The NightWing accompanying them (Thinker or something? Fish was so bad with names) followed close behind.

He ran after them, worrying his thoughts like he did the tender skin around his claws. Fish hadn’t told Whiteout the name he’d been entertaining for himself–it was mostly just a silly fantasy, surely no one would take him seriously if he asked to be called Shark. He certainly hadn’t said anything aloud about it to anyone. Absolutely not one dragon knew, in fact.

So how did they?

[dreamieofu]

100 Reasons Why

pairing; classmate!haechan x reader - mention of other members  word count; 8.0k genre; strangers to lovers!au, classmates to lovers!au, angst, fluff, slice of life, slowburn(?) tw; alcohol consumption; (i’m not saying everyone was drinking, it’s just mentioned) pls let me know if there are others.! summary; you’ve been in love with haechan for the longest time, and when both your parents go on a business trip; you’re both left alone. 

a/n: hi, honestly i wrote this with no prior thoughts. mostly written blindly and i wrote so much of it, but i couldn’t just delete it... so i finished it lmao. i hope you enjoy it though, i kinda like it haha. please don’t hesitate to give me feedback >:( yeah... i have no clue. enjoy ♡♡♡

You had a 100 reasons why you shouldn’t be in love with Haechan. Biggest reason? He was your bestfriend’s crush. She fancied him for the longest time, dare say you did longer. But she was vocal about it first. And everyone knows the rules of dibs. You’d sulk around it forever, listening to her words about Haechan, knowing full well and agreeing with all the compliments she’d praise him with. 

You and Haechan are in the same class, have been for years. But the year of blooming cherry trees and spring flowers, you fell in love.

The way the sun peaked through the strands of his hair, the kiss of warmth on his skin and the glow that was shining from his eyes as laughter hugged his smile. You couldn’t help but stare, and you found yourself doing so, shamelessly on different days. His soothing voice echoing through the classroom as he joked around with friends. You and Haechan weren’t the closest pair of classmates, you only had your bestfriend for the most part. But that didn’t stop you from overanalysing every little thing Haechan did in relation to you. That one day he opened the door for you, or when he’d ask to borrow your pencil. Tiny interactions that were all stored in your heart, but… You never really did anything about it. A part of you gave up on the fact that Haechan would notice you anything different than from a classmate. You didn’t really stand out, you blended in the background. Never had top marks, or the lowest. You were average. Nothing in comparison to your bestfriend. Not only did she have the beauty, she also had personality. She was undoubtedly one of the most prettiest girls in your class. But she was a dear friend, someone you didn’t want to fight over with, because of a boy. 

“Did you see Haechan today? Wasn’t he so handsome? I think he did something different to his hair,” She grinned, lips wide and eyes sparkling. You smile meekly at her words, biting into your lunch. You noticed he did change something with his hair, but you didn’t want to speak up in case you were wrong. Lunches were usually filled with comments about Haechan, other than small talk about other news. Your days revolved around him though, regardless of anything. Especially with your bestfriend giggling with hearts all over her head thinking about Haechan. You were sat near the far back of the lunch hall, Haechan just a few tables away with his friends. Some weren’t from your class, again confirming how sociable he was. You always admired his way with people, regardless of his teasing and extroverted behaviour. He was really likeable to everyone he met. You watch as your bestfriend turned around, evidently catching eyes with Haechan as he sent over a slight smile in her direction. A bit of jealousy tapping at your heart as you diverted your attention from their little interaction, beginning to play with your food. From the corner of your eye, you were greeted by a pair of black converse, gaze following up the legs of the figure to meet eyes with none other than, Haechan. “Mind if I take a seat?” His voice like honey, and you’re all flustered that you don’t respond at all. Your bestfriend however, bravely reached out for his wrist and gently brought him towards her side of the table. “Yes.” 

“-Urm, weird to say but my friends told me to come over and say hello,” He confesses, looking back and gesturing at the boys who were laughing to themselves at the table. He turns back to look at your bestfriend, a sweet smile, as he proceeds “One of them has a crush on you.” Haechan’s words were direct, to the point and he looked so cool and unbothered, hand clasped in front of him. You again, couldn’t stop your staring. Eyeing the rings on some of his fingers. Then again, it made sense why he would say that, it wasn’t the first time someone tried to pursue your bestfriend. You look at her though, to find her a bit defeated that Haechan wasn’t the one with the crush. “Which one?” She asked curiously looking back at the boys, a small pout playing on her lips as Haechan looks at her. He coughs briefly into one of his fists, turning his body to look back with her, “You see the guy with the silver hair, that’s Jaemin -“ Haechan proceeds to explain about Jaemin, helping her distinguish which boy it was. She nods along with his words, “I see…” She speaks softly, she stays watching Jaemin for a few moments while Haechan has his attention back at the table. You catch his view, and he smiles at you. His hair was different, now that you’re looking at him closely. Honey locks, and the way it was styled all messy. It suited him, all too well. You return the smile back earnestly, giving him a small but awkward wave. His smile only grew bigger at your gesture. “Hey,” Haechan finally greets you, his gaze familiar. Your bestfriend turns back from hearing his words, “Did you do something to your hair?” She speaks up, breaking the moment between you two. His eyes leave you and falls back on her, a hand reaching to the back of his head to ruffle his hair a bit. “Yeah, did you notice?” You managed to catch a tinge of red at the top of his ears. His hand moves to pat his hair back in place but your bestfriend is twice as bold, doing it for him. She hums in response, “Yeah, I really like it. Don’t you Y/N?” You clench your jaw, to swallow the nerves. Haechan’s soft eyes returning to yours. Even with him looking at you, your eyes divert toward her hand at his neck. The way she grazes the small tip of her nails against the back of his head, with her wrist relaxed at the crook of this neck. “I like your hair,” your words simple, a reassuring nod at his way as he beams at your response. “Also…Tell Jaemin, I’m not really interested. I like someone else,” Your bestfriends words were suggestive to him, and honest as she scrunches her nose. Already grabbing his attention once more. By now she was used to rejecting boys, although she’s had her fair share of her tiny flings. Her eyes were always set to Haechan after each boy. It discouraged you because you never did get your chance with him, even platonically. She was always first to pick. With her hand still at his neck, Haechan peeled it off. Hands returning back to his sides, glancing down at you for a split-second. “Alright cool, I’ll be sure to tell him,” He uses his hands on the table to help push himself off the seat before he made his way back to his original table. Your heart following his walk, as you sigh to your bestfriend who too was watching him leave. “Do you think Haechan got the clue? That I’m into him?” She speaks mostly to herself, her hand blindly out for yours in seconds looking for comfort. You slowly look away after seeing Haechan, who is now sat back down continuing his talk with his friends. You notice Jaemin shrugging at Haechan’s words, continuing off. And they all laugh. “I mean, you were kinda obvious… It was hard to read him,” You tell her, this time squeezing her hand back reassuringly. She only nods at your response, before letting go and carrying on with her little ‘ I wonder if Haechan… etc.’ for the rest of the lunch break. Your mind not focusing, the only thing you were thinking about was his smile.  

That same day, you arrived home to be greeted with emptiness. Confused you make your way through the entry until you hear chatter in the living room. Your head popping through the doorway for you to squeak a small noise. What’s he doing at your house? From the small glance you gathered, your parents, Haechan and his… parents? It was quiet, probably due to your abrupt appearance. Your back against the wall next to the doorway, hands in your face. Your mind couldn’t really process it all, but you’re called back to reality when your parents call your name. Your head sprung up, and you drop your bag slowly trying to gain composure. You exhale a puff, hands flattening your clothes. You make your way back into the view of the doorway, small steps and eyes definitely avoiding everyone. The atmosphere was without a doubt awkward, close to unbearable especially since you felt everyone’s stare piercing though you as you walked further into the room. “Over here darling,” Your mum calls out for you softly as you waddle towards her voice. Her hand padding the extra seat next to her on the couch. You sat in between your parents, finally raising your head from the wooden flooring. Haechan and his parents offered you encouraging smiles, as you made yourself more comfortable. They’re sat across from you, another couch in your rather large living room. Open curtained windows behind them, as the sunset defined Haechan’s frame with a soft glow. You curse at yourself for not being more composed. You look back to your mum as her hand rubs your back briefly. “Y/N, this is the Lee family. We were just discussing plans about an upcoming business trip me and your father have to go on. You know, the one I spoke to you about yesterday,”. 

You scanned your mothers features, furrowing your eyebrows trying to remember what she told you. “Anyway, the Lee family will also be joining us. And we decided as a collective that it would be better if Haechan stayed with you whilst we were all gone,” She continued explaining through your silence, eyes diverting between the Lee family and you. Your mind slowly linking the information you were digesting. 

Another reason you couldn’t be in love Haechan. Both your parents worked in the same company. Although, there’s no real reasoning behind that. It felt weird how your parents would talk about how you were classmates. You’ve spent time with each other outside of school, on brief occassions, but you never really spoke to Haechan. The continuation of praise that beckoned Haechan was never ending, and you were all here for it. Lee Haechan was a piece of work. You always felt undeserving of him.Your whole world had echo’s of him, it was hard for you to distract your mind from him. Sometimes, it was confusing to figure out how your memories seemed like they were all connected with him in the background. It was strange, how frequent a boy would be mentioned and how much he was present around in your life, without the both of you being close friends. You never pushed friendship onto him either, partly because of the opposite personalities. But could it be that this was an oppoirtunity that could ignite something closer between the both of you? Your mind then drifted to your bestfriend, only imagining the kind of reaction she’d have once she hears Haechan would be staying with you for a couple of days. 

“Is that alright with you Y/N?” Your dad’s voice rings you away from your thoughts, and you find yourself looking at Haechan as he said his words. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been left alone whilst your parents had to go for a business trip. Maybe it was because this trip was a lot longer than other ones, they couldn’t leave you alone. A guess: Haechan would also be left alone. These thoughts weighted down, as you tried to find excuses for this arrangement. In all honesty, you didn’t know how you felt. Sure your house had the right amount of rooms, it would be fine for the most part. It was just a week or so. You could handle that. 

“If it’s okay with Haechan, it’s okay with me,” You nod. Your eyes never left each other, as Haechan gives you a warm smile. He felt reassuring, like this was completely normal. As if both your parents weren’t leaving a the both of you alone for a week. 

It was a Saturday when Haechan would be making his way over to your house. Your parents went over rules, about which numbers to call, what to do in a certain situation, never hesitate to call them for any extra money and most importantly, be nice to Haechan. You spent most the morning cleaning up the house, so it was well presented for the Lee family’s arrival. Today was the day your parent’s were going to leave. Nervous was an understatement for how you felt. It was around midday when you heard a ring at the main door. You were in your bedroom, listening in, as your parents invited them into the house. Everything was all set. “Y/N! Aren’t you coming down to say goodbye?” You mum calls out for you. You quickly pace down the stairs, with a genuine smile as you greet Haechan’s parents. A little small talk, and you notice Haechan wasn’t with them. You tried your best to give them all of your attention but, your mind couldn’t help but drift off to where he could be once you realised his absence. Wasn’t he meant to keep you company? Your thoughts were confirmed as your dad came jogging towards everyone, Haechan’s presence following behind. Fitted in a big white tee and black shorts. You would never get used to him with casual wear on. You start feeling a little flustered the moment he was steps away from you. His graceful smile now held by his cheeks, you even swear you saw a small tinkle in his eyes as they finally approach the group.

“Ready to go?” Your dad speaks, an arm reaching past you towards the luggage. You guess your dad was escorting Haechan to one of the guest rooms before he came down the stairs. There was a mumble of agreements, before you exchanged farewells and hugs with your parents. Haechan does the same. 

You both watch them leave into the car before the air between you got thicker. Your parents really left you with Lee Haechan. 

A lump is formed in your throat as silence swims between you and Haechan. He’s first to speak, “Hey, I know we never really spoke, or really had a choice about this. But thank you for welcoming me into your home.” His voice was assured and was lined with concern for you. His back leaning against the hallway wall, small strands of hair framing his forehead. His calm aura already making you nervous. Maybe because of the kind of energy you were giving off. You didn’t want to meet his eyes. This has been the first time you’ve ever been properly left alone with Haechan. “It’s nothing really,” speaking softly, “I see you around in school, we’re in the same class,” You try making conversation with him. Hearing his laugh makes you bring your head up towards him, “I know that,” He confirms with you, his hand forward harmlessly nudging the side of your arm. You laugh with him, feeling relaxed. He really knew how to lighten the mood. “Would you like to watch a movie?” You suggest, it felt like the best option. You didn’t need to talk with him, and it made time pass by. You weren’t really expecting anything much, but he chuckles at your suggestion. “Nah, we’re going to throw a small party,” a devilsh sly smirk grows on his expressions, as your eyes widen at his statement. “We’re young, our parents are literally out of town. This is the perfect opportunity!” He grins, already pulling out his phone tapping away. His back lifts up from the wall. 

“But- The house will be a mess… I haven’t got anything to prepare for it. How many people will come? I don’t think I can pull this off. Are you out of your mind? A party? I don’t know,” Your mind is running your mouth, you knew Haechan was popular. But a party? First night he comes over at yours? ‘I mean, it is a Saturday’ you thought to yourself. 

“Don’t worry so much, just a few friends. And I promise, I’ll do the cleaning,” His hand motions towards your face, bringing his small pinky out for you to link yours with, marking a promise. “Okay.” 

“I cannot believe. Lee. Haechan. Is staying at your house for a week.” You bestfriends words squeal near your ear, as she combs your hair. You called her earlier to tell her about Haechan’s plans, and to ask her a favour. You wanted to look pretty for this whole, ‘Party’. You wanted to show Haechan you were confident, that you could be pretty too. “Tell me about it,” your eyes scan yourself in your mirror. You put a little more effort in your looks, and even if Haechan didn’t see your efforts. You still felt beautiful nonetheless. “I’m so jealous though, all that free time you’ll have with him.” She trails on, but you actually felt really nervous. A week is sort of a long time, if he’s so spontaneous like this, you have no clue what tricks he had up his sleeve. He said he’d invite around 6 of his friends, to not worry you. A small bit of him urging you to also invite your bestfriend, exaggerating how Jaemin is still interested and then maybe he can meddle between and make them all ‘buddy buddy’ with each other. You’re wearing casual clothes, something that flattered your figure. Nothing too tight fitting or too revealing, but you thought this was a nice look on you. It seems your bestfriend also thought so, by the way she would gleam at you, as you stood up from your chair, away from the mirror. “I have no idea why you don’t try to look like this, always,” She teases you as your eyes roll. You wipe your slightly clammy hands against your denim jeans before pressing your lips together. You both hold hands as you walk out of the bedroom, skipping down the stairs. 

Haechan changed clothes, from his lounging shorts to some nice trousers and a fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but trail your eyes by his waistline, following the motion of his legs as he places a bowl of snacks on the table in the living room. You feel your pace get slower as your bestfriend squeezes your hand. A silent message most probably similar to the way you were feeling. Haechan’s hair framed his face just right, his gaze looking up from his eyelashes as he catches your presence at the foot of the staircase. His posture gracefully straightens, eyes never leaving yours as he does so. But what you don’t notice is the way he would look you up and down for a short moment, a small smile forms barely at the corner of his left lip. 

“So when is everyone making their way?” Your bestfriend perks up, letting go of your hand to leap on the couch, her hair flowing behind her. He glances at his watch, as you find a seat. “Alcohol…” You mutter, mostly to yourself. You’re not too familiar with alcohol, but you guess a party without alcohol wouldn’t be a party. “They should be arriving anytime now,” Haechan answers, he places himself next to your bestfriend though. Opposite you. Your heart slightly inflates watching how his arm reaches out to spread against the couch. His hand slightly grazing the back of your bestfriend as they look at each other. She moves her body, to be more faced towards him. They start small talk, and you feel kind of left out. Rolling your shoulders back, your hand absentmindedly grabs hold of the neck of the nearest alcohol bottle to you. You grab three cups, although they’re too busy to mind you, you still pour them a drink. Maybe swinging a little extra in your cup as you pour the mixers after. You make a small gesture to slide the drinks towards them. You gulp down a few sips, before the door rings. Figuring that they’re still immersed in their own company, you make way to the door holding onto your cup as you open it. 

You’re greeted by 6 other guys, all admittingly handsome. You’re familiar with their faces seeing as you attend the same school, they’re loud as they make their way through the door. Your gaze falls back watching them pile into the living room. You overhear Haechan’s excited voice as they all talk over each other. You look at your cup before deciding to just, drink it all. After doing so, you shut the front door. A small fuzz settling in your mind as you pave your way back to the now dimly lit living room. 

As the night played on, you got more comfortable and decided this wasn’t that bad. Even though you had small but reasonable amount of drinks in you. It fuelled you with that confidence, to speak up and actually enjoy yourself. You actually found yourself laughing along with them. You’d sometimes catch eyes with Haechan’s. But you chose to ignore it, to focus your energy on letting yourself really enjoy this moment. Besides your bestfriend seemed to be just as confident as you, but ten-fold as she clings onto his side most the night. “You know, Y/N, you’re actually kinda cute.” The boy Renjun speaks out as the laughter quieted down, taking a swing at his beer. This made you feel shy, everybody's eyes slowly falls onto you, putting you in the hotseat. “You don’t talk much in class do you?” Mark calls out after before you could say anything. Your nibble on the inside of your bottom lip, you weren’t sure how to respond. Somehow you look at Haechan, finding something to say, “I guess I don’t really talk often,” You trail on, giving Mark a small smile. Haechan notices a dimple on the left side of your cheek. Mark returns an even bigger smile, “You should, you’re really funny too,” Jisung sings, your bestfriend speaks in agreeement with him. All this sudden attention really started to make you nervous, so you just drank more of your drink. 

“I think we should hang out more often,” Jaemin resorts, his eyes now on your bestfriend whilst saying so. She giggles though, and agrees. You guess, maybe you’ve gained more than just confidence from this party. But more friends. Your bestfriend, flips her hair and claps once, gaining everyone’s attention. “And with that being said. Shouldn’t we get to know each other more?” She cocks up one of her eyebrows teasingly eyeing everyone.“Never have I ever…” She continues, a grin reaching her lips, “snuck out the house,”. The sentence she chose wasn’t as out there as you’d originally thought, but gingerly enough you take a small sip. Noticing a few other people doing so. The next few ‘never have I ever,’ questions felt innocent until… “Never have I ever been kissed,” Jeno smirks and everyone takes a gulp besides you. This doesn’t go unnoticed by others as you start to feel awkward under their stare. “No way? For real?” Jeno speaks after, his question moreorless directed towards you. You bite on your lower lip, feeling a little inexperienced from everyone else. But you nod at him, “I’ve never been in a relationship,” You confess with a shrug. Your bestfriend points a finger towards the boys her next words suggestive and intoxicated, “Maybe one of you can snatch her up,” She teases, giving you playful eyebrows. You laugh at her words, but hear near to nothing else from anyone else. The tension in the air shifted a little. You glance towards Haechan to find him already looking at you. Even with your eyes connected for those few moments you couldn’t really read what emotions he had behind them. You look at the other boys, feeling shy under Haechan’s gaze. “I hope you know she’s not being serious,” You attempt to make the atmosphere lighter, and back to playful. Chenle speaks first, “You never know…” taking a sip from his drink. It’s not that you didn’t want a relationship, you were just not given the opportunity. “Whatever,” you reply back. You all continue the game, but as the night continues Haechan can’t get his mind off the fact that you’ve never been kissed. 

The night was fun, but soon died out as the night got later. People made their way home. Your bestfriend kisses both your cheeks before blowing a last one to Haechan’s direction as she slips out the front door. You shut it behind her, leaning back on the door and sighing. Your eyes shut, tiredness holding them down as you stand there. You really had a lot of fun, a new memory as you playback some moments that happened tonight. “So I’m guessing you enjoyed yourself?” Haechan’s voice wakes you from a sleepless daze, as you open your eyes. He’s stood closer to you than you thought from the sound of his voice. Your eyes take in his features, realising the height difference a tad bit from the closeness. You nod slowly at his words, “I did… I had a lot more fun than I thought. I like your friends, they were really nice to me I think,” You speak your thoughts, looking at his shirt. “Well, you are a cute girl… Boy’s are always nice to cute girls,” Haechan interrupts with his voice clear and laced with no other intention but to edge you on. You narrow your eyes at his comment about to say something, but he turns his heel making his way to the guest room. “Goodnight, Y/N. And as promised I’ll clean it up tomorrow,” He waves one of his hands in the air, turning his head behind his shoulder to give you one of your favourite smiles unknowningly. You watch him leave, as your heartbeat becomes more prominent. His words highlighted as you repeat in your head: “He thinks I’m cute?”

You woke up the next morning to the sun behind your eyelids. Blindly searching for your phone, checking the time. It was 1pm, you slept in. You get out from the bed and brush out your hair, and clean your teeth. Your feet padding towards the guest room, to knock on this door to see if he was awake. When you get no answer, you find the living room clean. As promised. That brings a smile to your face knowing that Haechan really did stick to his words. Before you know it, you hear keys behind the front door. Haechan swings the door open with his foot keeping it placed open as he holds groceries most probably for breakfast and coffee with his other hands. You’re quick to meet him, a “Good Morning,” exchanged in whispers as you help him hold the things. He follows behind you into the kitchen, “I bought breakfast,” He states the obvious, taking a seat at the table, his hand reaching for an energy drink from one of the paper bags. 

“Thank you, but you didn’t have too. Also… thanks for cleaning up,” He grins at your words, taking a sip from the drink. His hand reaches out to ruffle your head a little too roughly. Taken aback, your hand shadows after his, fixing your hair. “It’s nothing really, it wasn’t even that messy. Don’t mention it,” You nod at his words, reaching for the eggs in the bag. You get up from the seat to grab a frying pan, “So how do you like your eggs?” You offer to make the breakfast as compensation from him doing all that cleaning and purchasing some things for breakfast. He gleams at your direction, his eyes curving as you turn on the cooker. “I’m good with any,”. 

Days went by really quickly, considering how you also had a week off school. You spent a lot of time with Haechan and his friends. Your bestfriend included, but it was during night, when the streets were empty, and where the street lamp would slightly cast over the living room whilst you had late night talks with Haechan. Mostly about random things. It was nice getting to know him, knowing more than how you’d perceive him in class. And each time, he’d confirm everything you thought you already knew about his personality. It was a nice feeling, getting to know each other, and laughing. You really begun to feel comfortable with him, and you thought there was a chance, maybe he felt the same. 

“You know, I have noticed you before. Hard not to… My parents talk about you sometimes at home,” He confessed into the night. 

It became silent, and you could feel your heatbeat against your temple as he fidget’s with the end of his sleeves. “Same,” You reply, noticing his small habits of nervousness. This Haechan was different from the upbeat one that he’d always portay himself as in front of his friends. You always thought he was the happiest and that he would always carry the mood of the group. But this Haechan who sat across from you, felt real. More real than you thought, in a weird sense. Like all the good things about him were undeniable, but in this moment he feels vulnverable. He feels down to earth. A comfortable silence surrounds you, and the lights from the street glazes his eyes, like he was gifted all the stars in the universe. He shines so brightly even under the moonlight. His lips slightly parted, as he watches his hands. It’s been a few days, and soon this little thing you have going on will come to an end. Although you have no clue what will happen, you feel grateful to the times you did spend together. He makes being around him feel easy, he was really understanding and took his time with you. “I’m really glad we got to know each other better,” You smile to yourself shamlessly, avoiding his eyes. You could hear him chuckle a small bit, and it makes you feel warm inside. “You’re not too bad yourself,” His fist gently nudges your shoulder playfully. You laugh with him, and suddenly meet eyes. 

There were a shift in his gaze, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He looks at you through his eyelashes, and you can’t help but scan his expression. The tiny moles that were on his face, the natural soft shaped heart of his lips. He really was beautiful. Haechan doesn’t look past this though, his eyes never leaving yours as your mind rolls, he watches the way your eyes flicker between his facial features. His heart tightening a bit as he shifts in his position, you’re watching him none the obvious but he still doesn’t speak out about how your staring makes him a bit shy. “I liked spending time with you. It was fun,” He continues, in attempt to make you stop your movements. You sink, shyness from his words making your frame appear smaller. Your eyes now averted. Suddenly hyperaware that you were staring, again. 

The atmosphere being a bit too much for your soft heart you blurt out, “You know, my bestfriend likes you.” It was random, and althought you didn’t mean to tell him the way she felt towards him. Having want to put yourself out there. Somehow, she came to mind in that moment. Furrowing your eyebrows your mind drifts; thinking about how you always felt that she was more deserving of Haechan, that they suited each other more. You don’t know what came over you, your mind scattered with thoughts of what if’s and questions. Haechan’s been kind to you during the whole time he was staying with you. A part of you felt as though, maybe that’s all there was to it. He was just a kind-hearted person. There’s no real way he was ever going gain such romantical intentions with you, within a span of a few days. For some reason your feelings for him, that have been living rent free in your mind, have blinded you and painted a picture you knew was far from your true reality. Maybe having this friendship, was enough for you. And you didn’t want to change that. “I know,” He says with a shrug, “She makes it kind of obvious,” Haechan’s soft laugh calms you down. Your inner mind agreeing, that it was okay if Haechan never reciprocated your feelings. Maybe you’d just have to move on from it, but there was no denying you did grow a whole lot closer and more comfortable with each other. Maybe more than you both could have imagined.  

Your heart felt confused. Ever since Haechan went back home, you felt as if things have changed. When you said goodbye to each other after your parents came back, you didn’t know it was going to be a real one. When you got back to school, it was like the whole time you spent together was a dream. He didn’t approach you, at all. 

And it hurt, because this whole time you thought it was a step forward to building something with him. Anything with him. But you’re proven wrong. You wanted to talk to him, ask him why he wouldn’t talk to you. But you didn’t feel like you were in the position to question his motives. It wasn’t like you could talk to anyone about how inwardly frustrated this made you feel. He was his own person, and nothing during that week together established that he needed to keep in contact with you at all. You were still hopeful though. So seeing him walk along the hallways with his friends, and have him walk past you. Made you feel empty. You wanted to understand him, figure it all out. His friends still kept in contact with you, but they rarely spoke about Haechan. Your mind just wondered why he didn’t keep in contact the same.  Scenarios of: Maybe If I was more obvious with my feelings, would he have spoken to me? Did I do something wrong? All those nights, where you’d catch him taking another energy drink from the fridge at midnight while he was playing his computer games, for him to stop and have long conversations with you, were all empty to him. You were just the main company he had around. You had no reason feeling this way, but yet you feel some sort of betrayal. Days went by where you’d go to sleep thinking about Haechan more often than not, trying to figure out a way to talk to him. Thinking about the way he’d tell you jokes in the morning to wake you up with smiles, as you ate breakfast together. How he sometimes would shout at his laptop as he games at one in the morning. Times where he’d feel lonely and want to play in the living room so you could watch and cheer him on. Others just, because it felt nice being in each others presence even when you weren’t doing anything. 

You really missed the sound of his voice. Maybe this was another reason to try stop this feeling you have toward Haechan. Even after all these years, you still couldn’t connect to him even if it felt almost effortless when you were alone in his presence. 

It’s been three weeks since Haechan left your house. You heard something about the Lee Family coming over for dinner tonight, a part of you wondered if Haechan would join. Feeling not so surprised that he didn’t show up. His parents gave the excuse he had other things going on, so he had to make a rain check. After the business trip, it seemed your family and his enjoyed each others company even more so than before. You thought it was nice that your parents also had friends they could invite home more regularly. But your mind still seemed to drift off about Haechan as you played with your food at the dinner table. You kind of just, expected things to follow this pattern after the first week of him not trying. So you tried your best to let it go, by finding other things to preoccupy your mind. It was working so far, but it was hard doing so when you were sharing a meal with his parents and he falls in as the subject of the conversation. Ending the meal, you helped clean up afterwards, before making your way to your room. Jogging up the stairs towards your room, you switch on the light in your bedroom to be welcomed with a notification. Your phone lighting up by your table dresser with a *ding* , you walk towards it and see several messages from your bestfriend. 

Missed call (1)

[8:09pm] bestie: pick up ur phone!! 

[8:09pm] bestie: you’ll never guess who asked to meet up !!!!! 

[8:10pm] bestie: hello..!!!! r u here?? 

[8:15pm] bestie: omg slowpoke.!! it was haechan 

[8:15pm] bestie: msg me when you get this x 

You literally feel weak, mindlessly walking backwards to sit at the edge of your unmade bed. Your thumbs barely touching the screen as you re-read the messages over again to ensure you weren’t hallucinating. Your bestfriend was the raincheck he needed to take to skip out on having dinner with you? You choke back on small tears, you feel stupid. You almost laugh at the fact that he was able to be in contact with her rather than you. It bothered you a lot more than it should considering how you’ve been left out in the dark. But still, it affected you just as much. The constant questions of ‘why?’ Being hung on a thin thread. It was so clear now, he didn’t like you or have intentions of doing so. Platonic or not. Your back falls onto your comforter, a dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you stare at your glow in the dark sticker stars on the ceiling. You decided you wanted the final answer to come from him. You couldn’t deal with the distant gazes you noticed that he’d give you in class sometimes, without him coming to talk to you. The way he would walk and smile around like you were nothing but a classmate. You were so foolish to actually find him as a friend, from all the moments you shared together during that week. Even before. Dumbfound you tap your head with your hand palm flat, groaning inwards. You were going to find him, and ask him. 

It takes you an hour of prep-talking to yourself about the pro’s and con’s about going to find him at this hour of the day. Not knowing where he is, what he’s doing. But the feeling was eating you alive, to the point where you couldn’t properly think. Your mind blank, as you swipe your phone unlocked. You search for his name in your contacts, eyes tight shut as you press the call button. Your hand on your heart trying to calm the nerves, while the other hand held the phone by your ear. You pace around your room, listening to the phone ring a few times. 

He actually answers. 

You then realise how much you really did miss the honey like tone of his voice as he speaks, “Hello?”. You stop your walking, taking the phone away from your ear to double check you’ve actually called him. “Hello…?” He calls again, whining a little impatiently. You cough up courage and say, “Hey.” You give yourself a questioning look, hearing nothing else on the other end of the phone, partly also because of your bluntness. “I wanted to call you, I think we need to talk,” You continue. You hear a small sigh, and shuffling. Sounding like he’s fixing his position. There’s silence in the call, a few moments before he replies you with, “I agree, can you meet me?” You feel shocked because his words were so quick to decide. “Okay,” you reply, looking around your room. “Now?” You question. He laughs lightly over the phone, hearing how frantic you sound. “Yeah, why not? I’ll pick you up in a few.” He confirms with you, before you could say anything else, he hangs up. You were in disbelief, you rush to put a cardigan on and grab your keys and phone. You decided it was easier for you to leave and wait outside, his parents were still downstairs. You jog down the stairs and shout. “I’ll be home in a bit!” Before anyone could reply, you slip out the door. 

The cold air meets you as you stand outside your house. You didn’t really know how you felt. It didn’t take as long as you thought before Haechan pulls up and climbs out the cab. There he was walking towards you, dreamy as ever. And all your pent up anger and questions disappeared with each step he took in your direction. The way he smiled upon seeing you reset everything, and you’re weak in the knees. Once he got close enough to you, you swore that being with him felt right. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” You suggest, quick at the balls of your feel to turn left towards the park. Street lights marking the way, as you felt him walk next to you. It was silent at the beginning of the walk. The sound of your footsteps and the cars driving by was all you could hear besides you heart. “Your parents are at my house,” You explain, hoping to break the ice. You hide your palms under your sleeves, as he laughs inwardly, “I know…” You furrow your eyebrows as he follows your steps. 

“Why didn’t you join?” A part of you knew already, thanks to your bestfriend telling you so, but another part wanted you to hear about it from him. You chew on your lip before looking up to him, he looked a bit sad. You didn’t notice until now, he felt a bit sluggish. Shoulders lower than usual and so you stopped walking. By now you’ve arrived the end of the street, you mindlessly reached out for his hands. You hold both your hands together shocking the both of you. He’s quick to look at you, obvious confusion at your actions, but grateful nonetheless. “Are you okay?” You speak softly, trying to coax him into telling you everything. He sighs at your words, “You’re really nice and gentle to me,” He confesses, and it takes you aback. “Thank you,” you whisper trying to understand.

“I wanna apologise for being a dick and not talking to you these past few weeks,” He genuinely feels sorry, and your heart softens at his confession. The glow the streetlight gave above him made him look sympathetic, his cheeks kinda rosy due to the cool air. His hands move from you holding his hands, to the other way around. Hands over yours, “I just wanted to understand my feelings,” You raise your eyebrows at him, “Feelings…?” repeating his words, mind spiralling out all of the possibilities behind his words. Maybe about your bestfriend, because he met her earlier. You let go of the grasp he had with your hands, easily letting it fall to your sides. His hands follow but you don’t notice as he looked even more distraught. “About you.” He finishes his sentence, you don’t believe him though. Your arms crossing over your chest, eyes narrowed at him. His lips are jutted out a little, eyes slightly closed wanting you to read his thoughts. But then again, he always struggled to get the right words across to you. He’s tried for years, but you never seemed to get a clue. You were always off gazing at clouds, and walking with your head down. His week spent with you, alone, solidified his feelings. They never left, he’s always been interested in you. And getting to know you really intensified it all, he was going crazy about you. But on the night he was going to confess to you, you brought up your bestfriend. “What about me?” You ask, not being able to understand him at all, or where it was all coming from. He doesn’t answer you though, his hand goes towards the side of your face to gently caress it. His hands were soft too, the way his fingertips traced your cheek made you flustered. “I like you,” He confesses enernestly. But you scoff at his words, moving your face away from his touch. But he just lets you figure it out yourself, and believe him. Watching the way your facial features would relax under his silence. “But my bestfriend?” You question, still having doubts. He just shakes his head, running one of his hands to push his hair back. It’s grown longer, his hair. And you don’t let it go unnoticed. “I did meet her today, but only because I wanted to ask about you,” His hair falls infront of his face again, eyes still casted over with truth, and you start to believe him. “I wanted to ask her how you were, and if you felt anything for me,” He speaks before knitting his brows together, “I know that was stupid, and I could have asked you but… I- I dont know, I couldn’t face you.” He went off rambling. He was true to his words, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his rambling.

 He finishes his sentences with, “I like you,” confessed again, but with more confidence. “And I know about your bestfriend, blah-blah I don’t really care. She told me she thinks you like me too,” Now that had your full attention, she knew all along. “She told me it takes a while for you to get out your shell… and I’m really going to try my best with you. I have it all figured out, I just need you to let me?” He asks, feelings unwavering as he smiles slightly at your expression, your eyes twinkling under the moonlight, and the streetlight making a soft glow on your face. He curses to himself about how cute you looked in your clothes. “I like you a lot, Haechan.” You smile back at him. He’s quick to wrap you in his arms to hold you close and spin you around once. You cling onto him, arms around his neck as he stops. Your faces inches away from each other. His hold on you softens, as you slide down his embrace, eyes locked. Your feet reaching the ground as you both hold that close proximity between you. His arms never leave your waist.

“I know you said, you’ve never been kissed,” He whispers, lips inches away from yours. And you roll your eyes at what he says, about to pull away from his embrace before he firmly holds you back, “Can I be your first?”. 

You nod slowly before watching him lower his head, lips just about grazing yours. You watch him flutter his eyes closed as you mirror him. Haechan really kisses you. A simple kiss, filled with much more love than you would have thought, the way it was so gentle. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, as butterflies lifted you to cloud nine. He pulls away, before recapturing your lips between his. With more intent and deeper, your hands finding purchase in his hair pulling him close. His lips were so soft, and he really kisses you like everything he said was true. And for once, you let yourself decide. Maybe you can be in love with Haechan, and he kisses you with 100 reasons why. 

[prettieparker86]

The Ghost of You is Close to Me

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Sadness? set pre-WWI

Note: I’ve been trying to find my writer’s voice again. It’s felt lost and so far away from me. I still don’t feel it’s back per say. My previous characters still feel foreign to me. But when I feel the urge to write now, I try to listen. Not quite sure what this is. Watched a WWI movie the other night and this sort of rushed out of me like a flood, so I let it pour. For this I really tried to imagine what Tommy was like before the war based on the little pieces we've gotten from the show. And I wanted to explore the idea that she sensed he'd never come back, which in a way he didn't. His body did, but not the Tommy from before.

I’m not super well versed in the Romani culture and what knowledge I gained in the past feels mostly lost, I apologize. I was trying to find the word for horse, Grast was the closest I could. As with cozonac. I’m not sure if it’s really a traditional food. My research said it was. I’m trying my best. My intention is not to offend. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks

Don’t know what I’m suppose to do, haunted by the ghost of you.

It only takes the sight of him to send you running. As fast as your horse can take you, holding tight to the notion that as long as you never stop running then he never leaves. You hide away to the place you would always run to as children. Back when Tommy's mum would drag the whole Shelby brood up into the hills, running away from her pitiful life in the city and Arthur Sr.

Its a grove of trees overlooking a deep fertile valley, the spot where you use to steal away as children. Long before you knew adults could run away from their grief as easily as little ones, and there was no mistaking it, you were running. You secure your horse to a tree branch where she can nibble away on the overgrown grass encircling the base of trunk, and settled atop a rock that's yours as much as it is the earth's. A rock that has only grown smaller over the years as you've grown bigger. Your family comes to this hills nearly every spring. As a child it never seemed different, now all you see is the changes.

Everything changes, this you know, but you swear if you just sit there long enough this change won't find you. It wont be so. Tommy wont leave. You're oldest companion. Your dearest friend. Gazing out at the valley blanketed in a tapestry of green hues, shadow and light, as the overcast sky moves above you - you tell yourself he isn't leaving. Even though the steady ache in your heart makes it feel like he's already gone. You miss him, before he's even left. You miss him... The words echo through you in shuddered vibrations that sting at your eyes, even worse at your heart, as a rogue tear manages to break free and make a run down your cheek before you briskly swipe at it.

You can't imagine him not being there. Being unreachable to you. You cant imagine not listening to Tommy's thoughts, his sparks of creativity, or the way he can make you laugh. You cant imagine him not being there. The hole he will leave, the one already opening up inside you feels unbearable, sickening, and you just want it to go away. Who will be there when you need someone most? Who will convince you things will turn out ok or you should keep fighting even when neither feel true? Who will know you? Who will see you? Really see you and genuinely care? You never felt you took his friendship for granted, never mistakenly felt there were others who could fill such big shoes, and yet now, as the chill of a breeze sweeps by you, sending goosebumps to prickle on the flesh of your arms, you wonder if you cherished that gift enough. You wonder if it meant the same to him and if he will miss you as deeply once you're gone.

You try not to think about it. You've been trying not to think about it since you received word Tommy had enlisted. You've kept yourself busy, both in mind and your hands. Filling the moments whenever he would start to creep in. But in the end its pointless. Because the more you try not to think of him, try not to miss him... The more you do. Its like trying to stop the rain by shaking your fist at the heavens. Futile and maddening. You see him when you're with the horses, whispering and enchanting them the way only his tongue and heart can do. You see him in the glow of a campfire where he'd often gets lost in his thoughts, scribbling them down or creating a loose sketch. You see him in the charming smirk of a young man, or a joke he once told you. He's everywhere. Inside you. A part of you. And denying that never made it less true.

And the thought of living without him feels terribly sad and lonely in a way your heart feels pathetic to admit and yet hopeless to reconcile. It isn't any place you want to be and yet you also have the sense to understand you have no say in that. You feel immersed in the overwhelming ache of your heart, the one that's been plaguing you for days now, when you suddenly hear the stir of your horse behind you. You glance back and watch as she pawns happily at the earth beneath her hoofs, snooting and pawing at the ground as Tommy appears nearby. She loves him. They all love him. You've often teased he's more horse than man and no one notices that more then the horses.

Tommy meets her joy with firm pats along her neck and gentles strokes to her mane and nose. "Hey girl" He greets.

Seeing him standing there both fills your heart with joy and deeper sorrow. Lean and strong, his hair tousled from his ride over, with those piercing sapphire eyes that cut you like a knife and see right through you at a glance. The sight of him like an old beloved quilt, comforting and well known, now tattered and tore as he rips from your life.

"Little bird", he says as your eyes meet. A name he gave you so long ago you cant even remember how it came to be.

"Grast", you answer back.

"How did you know I would be here?" You ask as you look away, not wanting him to see the turmoil brewing in your eyes the way you know he will.

Tommy shrugs easily, "Just knew." Just knew because he knows you, in a way most will never get to know you. Same way you trust in the way you know him and the ways he's shares himself with you.

When Tommy comes to sit beside you, it takes every ounce of willpower not to hug him desperately, beg him to change his mind, beg him not to go, but you don't, because you're sure it won't change anything.

"You heard," Tommy says, the grit of his breath stressing the weight of his words.

"You're a damn fool, Thomas Shelby. What did the crown ever do for us?"

He chuckles lightly to the fire on your breath, the bite in your words and you can see in his eyes he knows they only come from a place of love and concern for him.

"They need fighting men to win a war. " He tells you, as he pulls a cigarette from his breast pocket and strikes a match. Telling you things you both already know. As if it were that simple. As if the need for more men didn't come from the loss of the ones they have.

"Well then I oughta sign up. I can fight." You carry on as you snatch the cigarette hanging from his lip. Allowing yourself to feel the anger this situation ignites inside you, because anger feels far more powerful and safe than heartache and fear.

"ey, god help any man that stands between you and your cozonac." Tommy teases you, the crook of his mouth curling as he await your reprisal. Knowing your tales of blunder and greatest mishaps better then anyone. Your stories are his stories, your journeys connected.

You gasp in mock offense. "He would have eaten it all! Fistin’ it down like the whole roll was his!"

"A good stab of your fork put an end to that, didn' it?"

"He shouldn't have been so greedy." You feign defense and tug hotly at the cigarette, fighting back the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth to match Tommy's devilish grin. A battle you quickly lose as he elbows your side and snatches back his smoke before you jab him back. And just like that you aren't mad anymore. That's something only Tommy can do, make you laugh when you want to cry. Because he knows you... your dearest friend. The keeper of your secrets, biggest fears, and dreams. It's a gift to be known. An even bigger gift to be known and cherished for who you are. You never thought it wasn't, but you didn't realize how much you needed that gift until it was being taken away.

You both grow quiet against the steady decent of the sun at your backs. The low crinkle of burning paper fills and hovers in the space around you both as his cigarette burns down, subtle like the smoke dancing in swirls past his lips. Its the quiet moments that haunt you now. The hours and space he once filled in your life. The echoing loneliness that you know will only expand and grow in his absence. Those hours eat at you, devour you. Gnawing away until you feel raw and desperate to make them stop, because you swear you can't take another moment in that place. Only this time you know it wont stop. There will be no reprieve, no mercy, your best friend is leaving and you can't stop him. And when he's gone, this- This torturous way of existence, with its crawling of time, absence of joy, and echoing loneliness, it will fill the space his light once illuminated in your life. Like thick dark clouds rolling in over the backcountry hills to settle in around you and call you there home.

Tommy has his reasons, none more then Greta you suspect but you cant help but feel he's choosing the war over you, that he's abandoning you, as preposterous as you know that notion is. But there's nothing logical about missing someone. You can't reason it away with facts and rationality. And it doesn't care that it feels like it's killing some part of you. Nobody tells you missing someone is a physical sensation, a state of being above all else - like an empty or upset stomach, like a punch to the chest or falling off a horse that leaves you winded. It's not merely a thought and it's more than an emotion. You feel it in your bones, the tight hollows inside you, the vibrating ache of longing, the chill that settles in under your skin.

Sitting quietly side by side, you rest your head upon his shoulder. All the girls love Tommy, they always have. With his charming smile, deep set eyes that reach into the soul with a glance, and his devilish humor, its easy to see why so many would be drawn to him. And there was a time even you were too, but there was always too many things in the way and what you've built instead is deeper and more intimate because its not bound to the fickle confines of romance.

Closing your eyes, you can see it all so clearly in your mind. Replaying like a reel at the pictures... Wading in knee high murky pond water and reeds in search of frogs to catch. Covered in filth from head to toe as you battled on rain soaked mud hills with John to see who would be crowned king of the mountain. Sneaking off with mum's herbs and spices into the woods to craft witches brew and cast magic. Building campfires from dried old birch tree branches by the moonlight, to bathe in the scent of it, and tell old spine-chilling tales. Gazing up at the stars on warm summer night, seeing who could count the most. Lying awake late at night by candle light trying to read each other's mind. Hiding in the haystack to terrorize Arthur and any unlucky girl he tried to steal away with for a moment alone. Dragging you off to your first pub in Birmingham and knocking some bloke on his ass when he tried to get handsy. Trying to teach you to drive on slick muddy streets, as you swore at him like a sailor when he wouldn't stop laughing. The keeper of your deepest secrets as you are of his. The person who tried to offer you hope in your darkest moments and celebrated you greatest success. Who genuinely listened to you and sought out your thoughts on matters. The person you trusted most with the innerworkings of your heart and mind. The one you trusted would be there.

All of it feels like yesterday. The memories still fresh and vivid. The thought there wont be more to make constricts your windpipe, tightens your heart, as tears you couldn't possibly hold back any longer fill dangerously to the brim of your eyes... You don't know how to do this. You don't know how to live this. You don't know how to say goodbye to him. To let him go. Watch him disappear from your life. And the truth is... You don't wanna know. You don't want to say goodbye. And a part of you feels hurt this seems so easy for him, though you don't actually know it is. And the part of you that knows Tommy's heart, suspects it isn't so easy for him to say goodbye to you either.

The thought you might never speak to him again leaves a frantic feeling trying to rip free from your chest. How do you find peace when you long for someone still there but just beyond your reach, drifting further out to sea by the moment? How do you let them go when everything inside you screams to pull them back in? The tears feel warm as they fall down your chilled cheeks onto the shoulder of his jacket. He can't see your tears, but you swear he can feel them as he pats at your knee in an old comforting gesture you've grown to trust will be there. As Tommy pulls away, you fight with the urge to rapidly wipe away your tears and keep your pride. But as your eyes meet, you realize there's no room for pride here. Staring into his eyes you fear the silence that's already invading the space he holds.

But then he touches your face and you remember to breathe. Though his hands are rough from work, the pad of his thumb feels soft, full, and steady against your skin as he gently wipes away at the tears fallen on your face.

"I'm coming back." Tommy promises you, and you want to believe that more then you've ever wanted to believe in anything. That he will return to you. But you've heard the news of the war, the dyer news that continues to abound. And something deep and sharp within you whispers it isn't true. He isn't coming back, and that quiet piercing whisper radiates more loudly within you then the words on his lips.

"Let's make a fire," Tommy suggests as he gives your knee a final pat. You can see in his eyes he's trying to mend your heart, soften the blow. A solemn smile of acknowledgment creeping around the corners of his mouth, as if anything in the world can be solved by a stiff drink or roaring campfire.

You nod in agreement, there's nothing the dancing flames, glowing embers, crackling branches, and heady smoky aroma can't clear from your mind. Nothing like bathing in a campfire to wash your mind and soul clean.

You rise from the rock in slow unison. You gaze across the rich fertile valley below as it slowly descends into darkness all around you. Vibrant greens from early now turning to deeper winter tones as night begins to envelope all that you see. This place you know. This man you know. As you turn back to Tommy, watching as he moves past the horses.

Your eyes fall closed for a moment as you call to him. You pray he can hear you. The way he use to when you were children lying awake late at night, pretending there was magic between you. "Dearest friend... I love you and perhaps I always will. I see you're headed on a road, and I don't know where it leads, but you will take a part of me with you. It's been yours a long time. I hope you remember its there, I hope you protect it and treasure it. But I won't stand in your way, because that's what it means to love someone more then yourself." You whisper to him, not with your lips but from that place in your heart that already belongs to him. The one he gets to keep. You embrace the truth that your world will never feel the way it did before. You will never feel like you did before. That a part of you dies with him as he slips away. You acknowledge this new reality for what it is, whether you know how to live it or not, whether you even want to.

You take a deep breath and slowly open your eyes.

He's gone.

[keepmeinthedark]

To The Top || A Marauders Band AU

Chapter Two: You Gotta Not

Read here on A03

So Lily Evans brought a big asset to the band?

Only if you consider Remus Lupin to be a big asset, which I do.

Did Lily introduce them?

In time.

What happened in the meantime?

Before Remus joined the band there was just James, Sirius, and Frank. They lived together in this house called Maxwells house. It belonged to these twins Fabian and Gideon and they opened it up to anyone who needed a home. 

And what was Remus doing? What were you doing?

I was in Germany at the time, Remus was at university. But he had been friends with Lily since they were young and even though he was staying in a student accommodation he wasn't too far away for their friendship to change in any way.

//

Lily and Remus had spent New Year's Eve together. One of Remus' classmates held a party which they attended and stayed until the clock struck midnight. By the time they had made it back to his accommodation, it was three in the morning. They had both slept in Remus' bed without bothering to change their clothes or even take their make-up off, which then lead to one of the worst mornings in both of their lives.

It was eight in the morning when Remus's phone went off. He groaned when he saw his twin brother's name appear on the screen and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Re, where are you?"

"What do you mean?" he paused. "Am I supposed to be somewhere?"

He could practically feel Rom rolling his eyes. "You and Lily both promised Mum that you'd help with the fate. Remember? The fate? The one that Mum has been stressing over for weeks?"

Shit.

"Ohhh yeah, yeah I completely remember god who do you take me for? Yeah me and Lils are on our way now, well be like five minutes tops I promise." and with that, he quickly hung up.

Shit Shit Shit Shit.

"Lily come on, we have to go," Remus said quickly as he shook his best friend awake.

Lily only groaned as she lifted her head off the pillow, she watched Remus rush around the room to grab the makeup wipes and cleaned off the smudged eyeliner he still had on. 

Lily didn't wait for an explanation, she just got out of the bed and found her way towards the nearest hairbrush.  It wasn't until they were waiting for the bus that Lily had asked where they were going.

"My mum's thing, remember? We said we would help."

Lily didn't look like she remembered but she nodded anyway. 

 "How long do you think we'll be?" 

Remus shrugged, "No idea. Why? Got somewhere to be?"

Lily rolled her eyes, "Got a hangover to cure is more like it."

 They had gotten to the fate twenty minutes later and immediately regretted not faking a sickness to get out of it.

Hope Lupin was a powerhouse and an amazing mum, she was loving and caring, and gentle. But she was a single mum who had raised three boys and was in the middle of raising another, which made her incredibly scary when she was stressed.

"There you two are!" she exclaimed when she saw Remus and Lily making their way down the field where the fate was being held. "I was about to send Petunia off after you guys, honestly why are you so late?"

Remus panicked, "Headache," he said.

Hope placed her hands to her hips and raised an eyebrow, "Is headache code for a hangover?" 

They both nodded.

Hope sighed, "There's coke, bananas, and water in that tent over there. Go and tip half of the water out of a bottle, fill the rest with coke, drink that, and eat a banana. I don't have time for this." she told them, quickly adding, "Its a hangover remedy," after seeing their confused faces.

"Where was this remedy all the other times we've been hungover?" Lily asked, acting offended.

Hope shrugged, "You never asked." 

"Still could've been useful." 

"How am I supposed to know that you're hungover if you never tell me!?" Hope exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and turning her back on them in order to do other things.

"You're Mum!" Remus yelled back. "You know everything!"

"Two minutes! Get a move on!" was all that Hope yelled back.

 As Hope had promised the flat coke and bananas had helped their hangovers but unfortunately didn't make them any more prepared for the long day ahead of them. Remus' parents had divorced three years ago when Lyall had admitted that he had fallen for someone else. Remus doubts that his parents have ever been in love. They had his older brother, Lycus when they were in their twenties and before they were married. They did get married not long after he was born and three years after that they had Romulus and Remus, the twins also weren't planned. Neither was Macca, Remus' younger brother who was only 2 years old at the time of the divorce. 

His father's new girlfriend didn't last very long and got intimidated by the fact that he had four sons. Romulus has always said that he was certain that there was no girl, to begin with, they had never met her and their dad wasn't exactly someone who had luck when it came to romance. Romulus swears that he made her up to use as an excuse to get a divorce. Lycus believes him. Remus doesn't. 

Hope and Lyall still remained close friends and the boys are allowed to stay with either one of them as much as they like, but they spend the majority of their time with Hope, or at least Lycus, Romulus, and Remus do. Macca, who is now five, spends Monday to Thursday with Hope and Friday to Sunday with Lyall in hopes that he will grow up to have a close relationship with both parents.

Remus had nothing against his father, he was a good dad and never failed to make Remus feel loved. But he wasn't yet out to his dad yet and wasn't sure if it would go well if he did come out to him. He likes to think that his dad would try to be supportive but still doesn't want anything to change between them. Not only that but he preferred his mum's cooking.

Lyall worked as a teacher for a primary school near where he lived and Hope owned her own florist in town but would always pop into the other shops there to see if they needed any help when she had the time, which is what led to her helping out with the local coffee shops fate in order to help raise money for cancer research. This wasn't the first time Hope had dragged her children out of their usual routines to stand in a field in the middle of winter and most certainly won't be the last. But they always came, Remus would never admit it but he quite enjoyed these things. Hope had always wanted to help with certain school and church events and Remus was proud to have a mum who was so loved in the community, even if she was scary when she got into her boss mode.

By the time Remus had finished their drinks and properly woke up, there was already a crowd of people going around each stall, Remus had seen Romulus surrounded by little kids. He called them over when he saw them.

"Remus! Lily! You two are captains get over here!"

"Oh bloody hell," Remus said under his breath, noticing the football that he had in his hands.

  Sirius felt like his figures were going to fall off. It was January 1st, who set up an outdoor event on January 1st.

They had only just got there and he already wanted to desperately go home, he didn't dream his parents irrelevant and leave his whole family behind at the age of 22 just to play in the freezing cold, but James had insisted that this would be worth it and he seemed so excited for every gig Sirius could never say no.

It was during their first set that Sirius had seen her.

She had been all that James had talked about since their gig at the pub on Christmas eve, he could recite her description by memory.

Dark red hair that reached her chest.

Emerald green eyes.

Plus size

A smile that glows.

Exactly a head smaller than James.

Two piercings in her ear lobe and one in her cartilage.

A tattoo of a small tattoo of a wolf behind her ear.

And she was wearing white Doc Martens.

Yep, that was her. It had to be, she ticked every box (apart from the tattoo as she was too far away for Sirius to get a proper look. But she looked like a girl that would have one.)

Sirius' heart leaped. James was going to be so excited, all he could talk about throughout Christmas was how much he regretted not asking for her Instagram. He had to tell him.

He was going to tell him.

He had it all planned. He was going to give James that smile that only James got, the one that said "I know something you don't know," James always got so excited at good news. 

Then he was going to ask James once more how Lily Evans looked, and James would go on a ramble, giving out as much information about this girl that he could remember. Then he would spin James around and point her out and knowing James he would probably scream. Sirius couldn't wait, he was a hopeless romantic after all.

As they went through each song he couldn't take his eyes off her, he had to make sure that he knew where she was when he told James. And he was going to tell him, he was certain of it.

That is, he was certain of it until he saw him.

Now that's a sight that he will never be able to get out of his head.

Short blond curly hair.

Tall.

Thin, yet still had a bit of muscle.

Crooked nose. 

Amber eyes.

And a large scar going across his face, from his right eye down through his nose and ending just before his lips.

God his lips!

As they played on Sirius began to notice more and more about this mystery boy. He seemed to be friendly with Lily, they were playing football with a group of kids and it was obvious that he was pretending to not be good for their sake. There was another boy with them who had similar features. Must be a brother, Sirius thought.

The boy was dressed in a Queen t-shirt, a white one with a long-sleeved black shirt underneath, and his jeans were ripped. He wore eyeliner, his nails were painted black and he had multiple rings on his figures.

Sirius had never been more turned on until he saw him take a five-minute break to smoke a cigarette.

Sirius could never date a smoker. James was enough trouble, Sirius had lost count on how many times he had told him that he ought to quit but he never listens. Smoking kills everyone knows this so why did some people think that by some miracle they could be the exception.

Sirius was about to give it all up then and there, make his eyes go back to following Lily around, or maybe even have his brain focus on what he was actually supposed to be going. But once the boy had put out his cigarette and rejoined the group of kids one of them had fallen over and hurt their knee. The boy crouched down to their level and talked to the boy until he laughed while Lily got a wet paper towel and a plaster.

Damit, Sirius thought. Why do guys with kids always have to be so damn attractive?

 For the rest of their set, the only thing Sirius could see was him.

He had forgotten all about Lily Evans until they had finished. When they had gotten off the stage James had been bouncing up and down. His smile was the widest he had ever seen it. 

"It's her," he said quickly.

"Whos her?" Frank asked, looking at the crowd confused.

"Her, her. That girl I met a the pub last week. She's here."

"Go talk to her then." And while you're at it get me her mate's number?

James began to pale, "I can't just go up and talk to her," he told them shaking his head. "What if she hates me?"

Frank raised an eyebrow, "Why would she hate you, I thought you hit it off?"

"We did!"

"So go talk to her!"

James looked at Lily and then back at Sirius and Frank. He had now started picking at his figure nails, slowly picking one off and throwing it onto the ground.

"What do I say?" He asked, desperately. 

Frank seemed very confident. "Mate, you've just played for the entire day she surly noticed that it was you at one point. She's probably begging for you to go and talk to her."

James looked confused, "Then why hasn't she come up to me?" His eyes suddenly widened. "What if she really isn't interested? I mean I know I didn't ask for her Snapchat or anything but she didn't ask for mine either!" he said in one breath. Sirius was sure he may faint if he thought anymore.

Both James and Sirius looked at Frank who rolled his eyes. "She's the girl. You're supposed to be the one to ask her out and make the first move. Most girls are scared to ask out guys cause guys suck." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Just take a deep breath, channel your confidence, and swipe her off her feet. You've got this."

James took a breath and nodded before making his way towards Lily who was having a conversation with a much taller boy. He looked a bit like Sirius' mystery boy but older, taller, and with darker hair and no scar. Maybe another brother.

Sirius and Frank both watched James approached Lily in silence. They watched him ask to talk to her, Sirius didn't miss the smile that appeared across her face. Unfortunately said smile began to slowly disappear once James began talking and before anyone could realize that this was indeed a bad idea, Lily had slapped James across the face and had begun to walk in the other direction. 

James all but stomped back towards Sirius and Frank, his glasses had fallen to the tip of his nose and his face had gone nearly bright red, though Sirius couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. 

He mumbled a "Let's go" and grabbed all of his belongings before making his way towards the van. All Sirius and Frank could do was stare at each other in disbelief.

"This is why we don't leave him alone unsupervised," Sirius mumbled. 

[megalony]

Teacher’s Pet- Part 12

I hope you all like the next part in my dad! Ben Hardy series, thank you all for the amazing feedback so far and I have a lot planned for you all.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​ @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @im-an-adult-ish​ @gwilymleeisbae​​ @k-k0129​​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @glittrixvibe​​

Series masterlist

Summary: Gwilym sets Ben up on a date with (Y/n) who teaches at the school Ben’s kids go to. But Ben is hesitant in the relationship, desperate not to make the same mistakes and needing to put his kids first.

Enjoy.

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

"Will you pick me up in the morning?"

Ben tilted his head down with narrowed eyes and a small smile as he looked at James who was clinging to his legs like a baby monkey. Today was the first time in nearly three months that James was going to be staying overnight with his mum and it was the first time in two months he would actually be seeing her. But the way James spoke made it clear he seemed worried about something and that made Ben uneasy, he didn't like any of his boys being worried.

"I thought your mum was dropping you off sometime tomorrow? Don't you want to spend the way with her tomorrow too?" Leaning down, Ben hooked his hands under James' arms and picked him up so he could sit him on the kitchen counter in front of him.

"But we always play football on Sunday." The way James looked between his hands and Ben's eyes showed there was something on his mind and it wasn't just because of playing football. Ben turned his head to look at (Y/n) over his shoulder who put her drink down before making her way over to them. She leaned against Ben's side with her hand on his arm and she reached over to rub James' shoulder to try and calm him down when he looked slightly panicked.

"Honey, are you worried because you haven't seen your mum in a while?" (Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if James was getting anxious because he hadn't been around his mum in over two months now. He was in a routine with Ben and his mum was going to shake that up and she knew from experience that when children got used to living with one parent, being with the other made them feel unsettled.

Ellie might not know what James preferred to eat or what he liked to do, when he went to bed, what he liked to watch or where he liked to go. If she guessed with everything or did something that made James uneasy or something he didn't like it would make him desperate for Ben to take him home. Then he would be even less likely to want to go out with his mum. He was always desperate for her to make the effort and be in his life and actually want him around but the longer she left it, the less he actually wanted to go.

"Buddy, talk to us. Don't you want to go out to your mum today?"

"I... I don't like staying over at mums house. I like my room here at home and I like what you and (Y/n) cook and I want to go out with you tomorrow, not mum... a-and Carter calls you mum and I want to do that too but then my mum will be mad at me."

As James started talking faster tears started to fall from his eyes and he tried his best to hold back a sob. He didn't want to tell his mum that he didn't like staying with her because she made him feel awkward, nor did he want to tell her that he wanted to call (Y/n) his mum just like Carter did. He didn't want to hurt her feelings or upset her in case she got mad with him and decided not to come and visit him any more when she barely visited him as it was.

"Oh buddy, hey it's okay, it's alright." Ben wrapped his arms around James' waist and gently scooped James up and set him on his chest.

"James, honey, it's okay if you don't want to stay over with your mum, no one said you had to. If you want to stay home she'll understand she won't be mad at you for that and if you really do want to call me mum, then you can and just call me by my name if your mum is around so we don't upset her."

"She'll be mad at me."

James buried his face in the crook of Ben's neck and it made Ben shiver to feel his boy crying into his neck. He hated when any of the boys cried but knowing James was crying because of Ellie made Ben feel so much worse. He was used to Carter crying and screaming because he could no longer see Jamie, he was used to Finn having nightmares and being in fear of ever seeing Lucy again. But with James Ben had been praying that it would be different, he wanted James to be able to see his mum and have one of his boys with a good relationship with his mum.

But James barely got to see Ellie anymore and as much as he didn't think on it too much, when he did get to see her he overthought everything now because it was unsettling for him.

The only good thing about all of this was that (Y/n) was here and she was providing all the boys with a mother figure and a sense of stability and a routine that they all needed.

"She won't be mad at you buddy because when she comes to pick you up, I'm gonna tell her that she needs to bring you home tonight because we're going out early tomorrow so you need to come home. Your mum won't know you don't want to stay I promise, she won't be mad at you and you can sleep in your own bed tonight and come out with us tomorrow. It's all okay you don't have to be upset."

Ben knew Ellie well enough to know that she wouldn't be too disappointed if she couldn't have James stay with her tonight. It wasn't as if they had scheduled visits anyway, she came to pick James up whenever she had the time off or whenever she could be bothered. If she complained Ben could simply remind her she couldn't make the rules when she couldn't stick to looking after her son more than once every three months.

If James was too scared to ask to come home Ben would tell Ellie she had to bring him home and make out that it was Ben's idea and therefore his fault so James didn't get unsettled.

"No more tears honey, you'll be home for tea time and we don't want your mum to see any tears, do we?" (Y/n) brushed her finger over James' cheek to wipe away the tears when he lifted his head to look over at her. Ellie would be here in a few minutes to come and get James, they didn't need her wondering if he was okay and what was wrong.

(Y/n) handed James his cup of juice to try and help him calm down before all their heads turned in the direction of the hall when the doorbell sounded.

"Come on, let's go see her." Ben set James down to his feet and moved to follow him into the hall.

"You're gonna answer the door in your boxers?"

"Yeah, why? She won't be coming inside and it's not like none of you have seen me like this before." Ben looked down at his limited attire with a smile before he moved towards the door again as James sat on the stairs to put on his shoes. Ben was only wearing his boxers but it wasn't as if Ellie would be coming in the house, she never did she waited on the doorstep for James and she had seen him answer the door like this hundreds of times before. All the boys were used to Ben wandering the house like this.

When (Y/n) moved to try and go upstairs Ben hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her back, knowing why she was trying to run off.

"I'm in my pyjamas."

"Yeah, you look sexy. Don't try and sneak upstairs so she won't see you, James talks about you all the time you don't have to hide away or feel awkward. Your more his mum than she is, don't be ashamed of that."

Ben knew (Y/n) didn't want to be around right now because she had never met Ellie before and she didn't want to. From what (Y/n) had picked up on and what she had heard, Ellie wasn't going to win a mother's award anytime soon and that annoyed (Y/n). But she didn't want to be in an awkward situation if James did talk about her a lot and she made Ellie feel annoyed or threatened or Ellie became snarky or something like that.

(Y/n) wasn't actually James' mother and he was the only boy with his mum actually hanging around right now, (Y/n) didn't want to step on Ellie's toes and push her away when she was the only mother giving a shit in the boy's lives. James had a mother, (Y/n) couldn't wade in and be his substitute mother if he didn't need one like Carter and Finn did.

"Hi mummy."

(Y/n) didn't know what she was expecting when Ben opened the front door to reveal Ellie, but the person she was faced with wasn't exactly the person (Y/n) thought she had been expecting. Ben talked about Jamie when he tried to explain Carter's childhood and how Jamie had affected him by not being there, he didn't talk about Lucy at all. But when he talked about Ellie, the impression (Y/n) got was a business woman, someone who took pride in their job so much that the job came first before her only child.

She went away for conferences and meetings, she worked late, she didn't use her days off to see James and she barely called him because she was 'always busy.'

Ellie was the kind of mother who only became concerned and interested in her son's life when she thought that he might be in danger of being hurt such as with Lucy. Other than that, any achievements James made at school or anything he did socially wasn't of much concern to Ellie.

It made (Y/n) wonder why she even had James in the first place if the best she could do for her son was to give birth to him.

The image (Y/n) had in her mind was a tall woman in her late twenties or maybe early thirties with broad shoulders and long dark brown hair and piercing eyes. She thought of a woman who wore heels even though she was tall and who wore business suits (which Ben had said she did wear to conferences).

Ellie was nothing like (Y/n) had pictured her to be. She was a short woman, barely reaching five foot one at a push. She had very long natural blonde hair that swept down past her shoulders in long curls and she had pale blue eyes that weren't very captivating or shining. Her nose was small but curved at the end in a funny fashion, she had small shoulders an a generally small frame which made (Y/n) look at Ben for a moment. If Ellie and Ben were stood side by side they would look rather odd with how tall and broad framed Ben was and how petite and compact Ellie looked.

James took after Ben in almost every aspect, he had Ben's eyes, his hair and the shape of his face. He had Ben's height because he was already creeping up to match Ellie's height but he did have her slim shoulders but in every other way he was Ben's child and didn't look like he resembled Ellie at all.

Ellie wore very small converse that showed how small she was and how small her feet were. She had leggings on that were a bit too long for her short legs and she was wearing a white baggy t-shirt with red writing across the centre. (Y/n) had been expecting her to wear jeans or a jumpsuit or just something that showed she was a business woman but she was dressing rather casually and it didn't fit (Y/n)'s image of her at all.

"Hey champ, you ready to go?" Ellie's voice was loud and strong, contrasting to the petite image she gave off.

"Can you bring him back tonight please, we're off out early tomorrow so I need him home tonight." Ben rubbed his hand over James' back to try and keep him calm and show him that Ellie wouldn't be mad or upset with him for this.

"Oh, yeah sure I'll have him back by seven. How's Carter by the way?" Ben's words clearly confused and annoyed Ellie, her expression looked deflated and she held back a sigh at the change of plans but she wasn't going to complain. All three adults knew she was in no position to quarrel about this when she barely made an appearance in James' life so far.

"He's doing really good, he's asleep at the moment."

"Asleep? Wow, he is doing good if he's sleeping. I assume your (Y/n) who James keeps telling me about?"

A look of surprise flooded Ellie's face at the notion that it was eight in the morning and Carter wasn't bouncing around the house, he was actually asleep for once this late into the morning when he was usually up all night. When her eyes floated over to look at (Y/n) she smiled warmly which made (Y/n) hopeful that there would be no bad blood between them. After all, she had seen Ben get into another relationship and have another child with someone else so seeing him in a different relationship again wouldn't be anything for her to be angry about.

"I am, it's nice to meet you." Something inside (Y/n) told her that it wasn't that nice to meet Ellie because it had taken this long for them to meet and for Ellie to actually want James to come round. If she was more of a mother or a stable figure for James then (Y/n) would have been happier to meet her because James wouldn't be as panicked as he was earlier or desperate to call (Y/n) mum instead of Ellie.

"And you. Come on champ, we'd better head off." 

"See you tomorrow buddy." A soft smile formed on Ben's lips as he brushed his fingers through James' hair to ruffle it up causing James to shake his head with a giggle. He pulled away from Ben, briefly darting his eyes over to (Y/n) and he smiled brightly before he headed out the house knowing he was going to be back home later where he felt most safe.

"She doesn't even come up to your shoulder." (Y/n) commented quietly and slowly tilted her head to look at Ben whose brows shot up and he smothered a smile.

"Not even when she wears heels. Aren't you glad James takes after me?" It was a trivial thing to think about but Ben did think about James taking after him in his height and sometimes in his looks. If James took after Ellie then it meant Ben would be tall, Carter would be tall because he was Ben's double and Finn was undoubtedly going to be tall too since Lucy was Ben's height as well. If James was under five foot like Ellie it would be a bit weird with the boys growing up.

(Y/n) bit the corner of her lip to stop herself from smirking before she moved to head upstairs. It was still early but she wanted to get dressed and ready for the day.

A gasp left (Y/n)'s lips when she moved to head to the bedroom but got stopped by Ben's arm hooking around her waist and pulling her back to his chest. She froze for a moment, smiling despite the confusion of wondering what he was doing and she leaned her head back on his shoulder to look up at him. The soft smile on his lips and the certain look in his eyes both melted her heart and made her unsure what was going through his mind right now.

"What?"

"Let's do the test now."

"Now? W-why now?" (Y/n) couldn't hear her own voice but she could hear the deafening sound of her heart thumping erratically against her ribs to the point it felt like the organ was going to combust in her chest.

For this past week the subject of doing a pregnancy test had come and gone frequently but it never happened. (Y/n) herself was nervous to find out the results but she knew Ben was even more so. He didn't want to be in a bad or stressed mood and do the test in case it affected how he reacted because that wouldn't be fair on (Y/n).

Not knowing seemed easy at the moment because he could forget that it was a looming problem just for a while. But when it did play on his mind it never left. If they were having a baby Ben didn't want it to turn out like it had the last three times, he wanted just for once, to have a baby with someone he loved and have it work out. For them both to love their child and not have the relationship break down and shatter into fragments Ben could never piece back together again. He wanted it to work and to be right and have no issues whatsoever.

And he knew if they weren't having a baby the subject of kids in the future would be confusing and taboo because of how he had reacted at the mere thought of a possible pregnancy.

"Right now because each time I've sat through a pregnancy test I've been scared to shit. I knew Jamie wouldn't cope with a baby but she wanted to go ahead with it and that turned out bad, Ellie was always gonna put work before James and that frightened me. And Lucy seemed too good to be true and they all left me and the boys. But you... you love all of them like they're your sons and you're not unable to cope or scared or putting work first and there isn't a mean streak in you I don't know about. You're perfect to all us boys and I don't want to be scared this time."

Ben and Jamie had been eighteen when they had Carter and Jamie's mental health and always been fluctuating but she mistakenly thought having Carter would help. She could cope with Carter as a baby and toddler but when his needs and problems became apparent she couldn't cope and she left.

Ellie was determined and skilled and as much as she wanted James, he was a distraction that got in her determined path and she couldn't have that. Ben knew from square one that it would be complicated with Ellie and he knew for certain James was the only child she was ever going to have.

Something told Ben when he was with Lucy that she was too good to be true because she was great with James and she tried with Carter even when he was at a bad stage in his attitude and his outbursts. But he was still nervous when she got pregnant because experience told Ben that having a kid didn't work out for him and Finn got the brunt end of fate. None of those times had gone smoothly or been easy for Ben or his boys and he didn't want to repeat that yet again.

But with (Y/n) it was going to be different because she had a connection with the boys, she loved them all and treated them like they were her children. And there was no dark side to (Y/n) that Ben hadn't seen yet. If they were having a baby it would be loved and not hurt or broken or left to be cared for by Ben alone.

"Let's find out."

(Y/n) breathed through her words that made her feel lightheaded because she didn't think this moment was going to be a very happy one to remember.

She watched with fond eyes as Ben peeked into Carter's room to check he was still asleep before he followed her to the bathroom. Finn was still in bed since he was a late riser, Carter went to bed at five this morning so Ben was leaving him until at least twelve so he got some sleep. And now James had gone out so they had the time alone to do this and talk about it before the boys got up and demanded attention.

The waiting wasn't nice.

When (Y/n) used to think about her life and try to plan it all out, she always imagined going to the doctor or holding the test in her hands with her husband waiting to see if they were expecting a baby or not. She never thought about how nervous she would feel sitting on the toilet looking at Ben leaning against the sink as they waited until it was okay to check the results.

The moment Ben checked his watch and silently nodded his head, (Y/n) stayed tense and unmoving until Ben got the hint that she wanted him to do it instead. She was too nervous to look, she wanted to be told the news and she figured the last three times Ben didn't get to check the results first, he got to see after he had been told if they were expecting or not. This could be his moment.

For being anxious about this moment (Y/n) noticed that Ben looked oddly calm, he wasn't tapping his foot like usual or scratching at his neck or arms. He wasn't biting his lip or frowning or raising his brows in surprise and he wasn't letting the result show on his expression. Even when his eyes moved to lock with her own, he wasn't giving anything away.

"We're having a baby."

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

"Mum?"

(Y/n) turned her head to the left to look over at Carter and she smiled whilst pressing her finger to her lips, trying to be gentle when asking him to be quiet since he was usually rather loud when he spoke, especially when he was overexcited or angry. Her eyes darted to look over at Finn who was laid between the side of the sofa and Ben, fast asleep with a blanket draped over him. It was best not to wake him right now when it normally took a while to get him to sleep.

"What's up honey?" (Y/n) noticed the way Carter was darting his eyes around, unsure where to look meaning it wasn't anything exciting or something he was happy about. But his expression was placid and neutral so he wasn't unhappy either.

"James is crying, he spewed on the bathroom floor."

(Y/n)'s shoulders deflated and she pursed her lips before turning to look over at Ben with furrowed brows. James had been back home for just less than an hour and he seemed tired but he didn't look ill. And he hadn't eaten anything since being back that would make him sick, nor had Ellie said he had been ill during the day.

"Go back to your game buddy, we'll go see him." Ben slowly uncurled his arm from around Finn before he and (Y/n) hurried upstairs after Carter who wandered back to his room. It wasn't too surprising that Carter didn't react to this quite like he should, if he didn't know how to react or it wasn't something that really bothered him he just seemed like he was in neutral.

The pair of them barely got up the stairs before they saw James hobbling out of the bathroom with his arms around his stomach and his body doubled over like there was a crippling weight on his back. There was almost no colour to his cheeks either, he looked pale to the point of being see-through.

"I- I didn't m-make it to the toilet." It seemed like talking was hard for James who sounded like he was about to throw up again but was trying very hard not to.

"Don't worry about that baby, better out than in. Let's get you in bed and I'll go get you some medicine." (Y/n) reached her arms out for James but the moment she held onto him he shook his head before he slumped down to sit on the floor, curling his knees up to his stomach before a sob left his lips.

"I really think we should get you in bed with the sick bucket." Ben pressed the back of his hand against James' temple for a moment before he wrapped his arms around him to try and calm him down. He didn't have a temperature but he clearly wasn't well at all. When Carter was ill he got grumpy and angry but when James or Finn were sick or unwell they didn't know what to do and broke down in tears if it was bad.

If any of the boys were sick Ben settled them in bed and gave them a plastic bowl they used so the boys didn't have to stumble out to the bathroom if they were really ill. They could just lean over and throw up into the bucket, Ben found it saved a lot of washing and cleaning up the carpets or bathroom.

Ben was just about to wrap James up so he could carry him to bed but he stopped when James tensed and pressed his arms into his stomach that made a worrying gurgling noise.

"James, what have you eaten today?" Ben's words were cautious but his eyes were a darker shade than before and it made (Y/n) worried.

"Fishfingers for d-dinner... biscuits, a-and mum made a funny pie thing w-with a weird name, Ki... something. S-she got me a milkshake but you said I can't have them anymore."

Ben pulled his arms back a little when James groaned before he turned and flopped down so his head was pressed into Ben's legs and he was curled up against him like he wanted to disappear. He rubbed his hand over James' back for a few moments but the look on his face was outrage. When he locked eyes with (Y/n) it was clear that she was on the same page as he was and that made it even worse. (Y/n) remembered that James was lactose intolerant right now but Ellie either didn't remember or didn't care and Ben didn't know which was worse.

"Did she make a quiche?"

"Hmm." James nodded into Ben's legs, knowing the name of whatever he had eaten had been a funny one he couldn't say or remember.

"That's got cheese and a lot of milk in it buddy, you can't have dairy stuff like that it makes you sick. Come on, I'm gonna take you to bed and get you some Calpol." Ben's jaw clenched but he tried to stay calm as he picked James up because he didn't want James thinking he was mad at him because he wasn't.

James didn't know what quiche was, Ben had never made it or given it to him and when he found out James was lactose intolerant Ben cut out all dairy stuff from his diet. A little bit of milk now and then was okay but James had it bad and it really messed with his stomach. What made it worse was that there was no specific medication for this, Ben just had to give him Calpol for stomach ache and sometimes paracetamol if it was really bad. James just had to wait it out until it went away and that made Ben hurt.

But he had told Ellie time and time again that James couldn't have anything with dairy in, not even a small slice of quiche because it would still upset his stomach. James loved milkshakes but Ben had to say no because it was only going to make him sick.

The moment James was tucked up in bed and Ben left the room (Y/n) could see his face of thunder.

"I told her when I took him to the doctors that he couldn't have dairy and she didn't fucking listen and now he's crying." Ben knew it wasn't something as bad as an allergy or James having a medical condition but it was still something serious for him. It gave him horrible stomach cramps, it made him sick and it upset him to be hurting like this. That was pretty damn important to Ben that James didn't have to go through this and Ellie should have listened and took more notice of what Ben was saying.

"You did say that James wasn't her top priority..." (Y/n) didn't know what she was supposed to say to that because Ben was right and it wasn't okay to do this to James. It was bad enough he didn't feel okay around her but to make him ill like this was even worse.

"What if he was allergic to anything and she didn't listen? I'm calling her first thing tomorrow, if she wants to see him again she has to make a fucking effort and actually take care of him."

Ben ran his fingers through his hair but stopped tugging at his hair when (Y/n) curled her arms around his waist and looked up at him with a soft smile.

"I agree, but she isn't around that much anyway and he wants to be home with you because he knows you take care of him and you know what he needs and what he likes."

"But she's meant to be his mum-"

"It's a good job he sees me as a mother then, isn't it?"

[hrina]

Gone Cold

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N RATING: M for Maybe don’t read this if ur under 18 :-) WORD COUNT: 6.4k REQUESTED: nope, i was just inspired for once

hi everyone. this one-shot is angsty, smutty, and fluffy, and is loosely based on the following prompt from this list:

listen i know i can’t just show up at your apartment at six in the morning but i need coffee and no one makes it like you do

i worked really hard on this piece and i’m pretty happy with how it turned out. with that being said, sending in any feedback and/or reactions you have would mean the absolute world to me, and it provides significant motivation in terms of continuing to write. i know people usually skip over the little author’s note at the beginning, but if you’ve taken the time to read this, i really appreciate you. 

special thanks to @gucciwoodnymph for agreeing to beta and for being so supportive. i love you tans 💕💕

enjoy :-)

[masterlist] [let me know your thoughts]

~*~

Harry’s in the middle of a very exciting, albeit incongruous, dream. He’s in a car chase, hounded by a frighteningly large black SUV, and for some odd reason, he hasn’t been caught despite the measly little golf cart that he’s driving. He’s not quite sure why he’s being pursued, or why the sky is a shade of hot pink, or why he’s only wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else. He whips his head to the side when he feels a tap on his shoulder and comes face-to-face with his sister. She grins at him and opens her mouth to say something, but the only thing that escapes is a noise eerily similar to the ringing of a doorbell.

Harry furrows his brows, and Gemma mimics his expression, utterly confused. Her lips part as she tries to speak again, but that same sound blares out. Her eyes widen in terror and her hands fly to grip her throat. Her mouth opens in what Harry presumes to be a scream, but all he hears is a frantic ringing, the noises blurring together in a steady crescendo.

And then his eyes snap open, and—as though pulled by an invisible string—he sits upright in his bed. He places a palm over his heaving chest, his gaze flitting around his bedroom; there’s a faint grey light spilling in from the window, making it a bit easier to see. Harry chances a glance at the clock on his bedside table; it’s six in the morning.

The sound of the doorbell startles him, and for a moment, he’s afraid that he’s still trapped in that peculiar dream. But then he realizes that the noise is real, and there’s actually someone standing outside on his porch.

Who the fuck would need him at this time?

Rubbing his eyes, Harry stumbles out of bed. He doesn’t bother looking for a pair of pants, opting instead to pull on a plain white t-shirt and tug his briefs down so that they cover a bit more of his thighs. He curses when his shoulder bumps against the wall, not yet awake enough to maintain his balance.

He staggers down the hall, his feet carrying him in choppy, haphazard movements. His sleepy eyes wander to the side, and he stops in his tracks when they land on the door standing slightly ajar a few feet away. He must’ve forgotten to close it properly last night.

Harry approaches the room carefully, as though afraid that it’s haunted. He grips the doorknob with white knuckles, his throat suddenly extremely dry. His eyelids flutter as he tries his best to look everywhere except inside, but the effort proves to be fruitless. The pastel green of the walls draws his gaze almost automatically; from there, he’s a goner.

Through the small opening of the door, he studies the emptiness of the room. Soft, patterned curtains still hang from the window, speckled with a print of stars and teddy bears and crescent moons. A small dresser is shoved off to the side, half-assembled (or rather, disassembled—he’d been working on taking it apart last night). Pressed against the far wall stands a crib, still fully set up. A mobile hovers overtop, tiny stuffed elephants and giraffes and lions hanging from the clips.  Harry hasn’t yet found the strength to even touch it. He thinks that he’d rather set his house aflame.

Swallowing heavily, he closes the door. A beat of silence passes as he stares up at the ceiling, exhaling softly and blinking furiously against the threat of tears.

The doorbell rings again, twice in a row, and the moment is gone. Harry groans, raking his fingers through his hair.

“I’m comin’, for fuck’s sake!”

Once he reaches the front entrance, he grumbles as he undoes the lock and wraps his fist around the knob. He pulls the door open, squinting his eyes when the first dim rays of the sun pierce his face. The blood running through his veins suddenly goes cold.

“Hi.” You’re chewing nervously on your bottom lip and wringing your hands at your sides, like you’re not quite sure what to do with them. Your hair is pinned up in a professional-looking bun, though a single strand seems to have escaped the strict style and has fallen down along the side of your face.

You’re wearing a pair of black dress pants and a baby blue blouse tucked beneath a navy cardigan. The straps of your purse are nestled in the crook of your elbow, and a pair of matching sapphire flats adorn your feet.

And even though you aren’t pregnant anymore, you’re glowing.

Harry watches as your eyes fall from his face and scan over his body for a quick moment. You look away immediately when you register that he’s only in a t-shirt and underwear.

“Good morning,” he replies, the surprise evident in his voice. You shoot him an uneasy smile, trying to mask your anxiety.

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” you say, shaking your head. “I—I was going to head into work an hour ahead of schedule, but I couldn’t get my coffee to taste good, so I kind of just skipped out on it. And then I was about to fall asleep at the wheel because I didn’t have any caffeine in me, and your place was on the way, so I just…”

You’re flustered, Harry can tell. He looks at you with piercing eyes, watching the way you curl up into yourself as each word leaves your mouth. You’re regretting your decision now, it would appear.

“You…,” Harry begins, his brows knitting together. “You want me to make you a cup of coffee?”

You refuse to meet his eyes, and your shoulders vibrate with a weak shrug.

“Nobody makes it like you,” you say meekly, your lips warping into an embarrassed grimace. A warm feeling erupts in Harry’s chest, fanning out and saturating his body with more efficiency than that of the sunbeams peeking over the horizon. He clears his throat, trying to find his voice.

“Come on in.”

~*~

With you sat at the island in his kitchen, Harry bustles around the room, reaching for mugs and a pot and spoons. He’s awake now, anyway; he might as well make enough coffee for two.

He plugs in the machine and rips open a packet of coffee grounds, pouring the entirety of it into a simple white filter. Out of the corner of his eye, he chances a glance at you.

You’re sitting on one of the higher stools, your purse resting on the seat to your left. Your elbows are against the counter, forearms hidden by the cardigan that you’d refused to take off. You’re staring at your clasped hands, thumbs twiddling apprehensively as you fiddle with the rings circling around your fingers. Everything about your position is tense, from the tautness of your shoulders to the rigidity of your neck and the rigor of your spine.

It’s a massive difference from how you used to be when you’d sat in that exact same spot months ago. Then, your smile was infectious, and you would flop all over his kitchen without a care in the world. Harry’s eyes fall to the smooth surface of the counter; despite his best efforts, the memory of him fucking you over the marble emerges in screaming colour. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the image out of his mind.

“So,” Harry starts, his voice still painfully scratchy from sleep. “How’ve you been?”

You sit up straight. “Good. I, um…I ended up getting the promotion.”

“No way.” Harry looks at you as he finishes preparing the coffee; his grin is nothing but genuine. “That’s great. Congratulations.”

Your lips curl up into a small smile. “Thank you. How about you?”

“I’m alright,” he replies, shrugging. “Same shit, different day, right?”

“Right.”

The conversation tapers off into silence. Harry’s eyes are drawn to how you bite your bottom lip, and though he knows that he’s been staring for far too long, he can’t help it. He eventually tears his gaze away, focussing on the steady drip of coffee into the pot and clenching his jaw at the sight. Why the fuck is it still empty?

“My mum came by the other day,” he says suddenly. He’s fully aware that talking about his mother may not be the best tactic out there, but he can’t stand the awkward quiet hanging in the air. “She asked about you.”

You swallow heavily, trying to keep your voice level. “Oh…what did you say?”

“Said you were doing well,” Harry hums, playing idly with the spoons lying on the counter. The metal clangs when they bump against each other, ringing out loudly in the stillness of the room. “She misses you.”

Your smile is sad. “I miss her, too.”

“Think she likes you more than she likes me, to be honest.” Harry chuckles softly. “Always asks me how I was able to let you go.”

You don’t reply.

Harry peeks over at you, studying your pursed lips and hard eyes. He’s crossed a line, and he knows it. Your fingers begin to fidget again, and your expression gives nothing away. It’s the same countenance you’d worn when the two of you had agreed to end things. Tears had fallen and lips had been kissed. Hands had been grasped and shoulders had trembled with the ugliest sobs imaginable. But still—Harry had watched you walk out of his life, and you’d both turned away without witnessing how the other had looked back.

“Sorry,” Harry says quietly, itching at his nose with two fingers. “I shouldn’t’ve—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. He thinks that that’s the end of it, but then you sigh softly and push back from the counter. The legs of the stool creak faintly against the kitchen tiles. “I should go.”

“What?” he blurts, his eyes widening. He watches in bewilderment as you reach for your purse and shoulder it without a second thought. Your gaze is fixated on the floor as you begin to make your way to the front entrance, but Harry’s legs seem to move of their own accord, and then he’s suddenly in front of you, blocking your way.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, breathless. “I—I’m making coffee.”

You press your mouth into a line, but the way your chin wobbles doesn’t go unnoticed.

“H,” you murmur, unable to muster a stronger tone. “Let me go.”

The intimate nickname catches him by surprise. You’re the only one who’s ever called him that. He hasn’t been addressed in such a way for months, and hearing it spill from your lips now breaks something inside of him.

“No,” he tells you firmly. “I can’t do that. Not—not again.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, and the snarky bite of your voice has him taking his tongue between his teeth. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“How so?” he asks, his nostrils flaring.

“You…,” you begin, but then quickly trail off when you discover that you can’t find the right words. You glare at him and make a frustrated noise in the back of your throat, eyes ignited with a fire that he hasn’t been privy to in so long; he’s missed it.

“Don’t do this,” Harry pleads. He risks reaching out to you, half-expecting you to step away; his heart somersaults in his chest when you don’t. His fingers twirl around that one strand of hair that hangs in front of your face, and he tenderly tucks it behind your ear. You gulp when his knuckles brush against your cheek.

“Don’t leave,” he breathes, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Please.”

“What am I supposed to do?” you ask weakly, tears gathering in your eyes. “It hurts. Being around you hurts.”

“I know.” He nods, trying to keep his own emotions from overwhelming him. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

The two of you are in the cruellest of predicaments. How is it possible to be so utterly in love with someone, even though their mere existence serves as an aching reminder of pain? The two of you had been in shambles after the incident. You couldn’t walk through the aisle filled with packaged pregnancy tests at the pharmacy. Harry was unable to look at the section reserved for babies in every clothing outlet. The hurt had been fresh. It had ripped your relationship apart.

“I miss you,” you choke out. “I miss you, but it’s still—what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” Harry whispers sadly, shaking his head. “But, please. Let’s figure this out together, yeah? Don’t leave.”

He’s got your face cradled in his hands now, and you’re really, truly looking at him for the first time since he’d opened that damned door. Your fingers wrap around his wrists, and you give him a curt, nervous nod. Harry exhales in relief, his shoulders lowering as the tension melts away. His eyes flutter closed again, but then snap open suddenly when he feels you lean up and press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.

His brows shoot up, and his lips part slightly in shock. His skin is burning; the spot where you’d kissed him is practically aflame. Your eyes hold an array of emotions: fear, anxiety, regret, panic. You release his wrists from your grasp, stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly; the words blend together with how fast they exit your mouth. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to—”

Harry cuts you off as quickly as physically possible, closing the distance between the two of you in a single stride and clapping his palm against the back of your neck. A soft gasp escapes you, but the noise is swiftly silenced when he affixes your lips to his.

A watery sob resonates in the back of your throat as you drop your purse and hook your arms beneath his, your fingers scrabbling for purchase against his back. Harry groans quietly when you grip handfuls of his t-shirt in tight fists and press your bodies together. Your lips move frantically, kissing and sucking with the most obscene and frenzied sounds that he’s ever heard. He melts into you, one hand messing up your hair while the other circles around your waist to keep you close.

It proves difficult to pull back from you, but he knows that he has to when he feels your tears smearing onto his cheeks. He rests his forehead against yours, lowering his arm slightly so that he can wipe away the wet trails with his thumb.

“Are you okay?” he breathes, gazing at you with worried eyes.

“Yeah.” Your voice is thick. “Where…where do we go from here?”

You’re the one posing the question, yet as soon as you do, you’re attacking his lips again with short, hard kisses. Harry fights to inhale between each loud smack of your mouth to his, but he’s really not complaining.

“I don’t know,” he manages to get out between kisses. You seal your lips together and resume your previous ministrations. He grips your face with both of his hands, his palms large enough to cover the entirety of your jaw. When you break apart for air, he asks, “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

And with that, he kisses you again. You moan into his mouth when he guides you back against the counter, and you hop up onto the smooth surface when he moulds his fingers to fit around the curve of your thighs. Harry pushes the mugs and spoons out of the way, the action hurried yet careful to avoid any breakage. You giggle at his prudence; he smiles.

“What?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

He leans in and reattaches his lips to yours, his fingers finding the collar of your cardigan and slowly easing the fabric down your shoulders. You help him, flinging the material away once it’s been fully removed. Harry begins to toy with the buttons on your blouse, and you push your chest out in encouragement, nodding silently.

He begins kissing your neck as he undoes the first clasp, savouring the taste of your skin. It’s been so long since he’s touched you. He can feel your breasts heaving with every breath you take, and the thought of you wanting him just as badly as he wants you has his cock growing stiff in his briefs. You sigh happily when he latches onto a particularly sensitive spot beneath your ear, your fingers snaking up to tangle in his hair.

“Shit,” you mutter. Harry chuckles, assuming that you’d cursed at the sensation of his lips against your throat. But then you’re pushing him back slightly, placing one hand over your heart and reaching around with the other to tug your phone from your back pocket. You check the time and swear softly. Your eyes are apologetic when you look back up at him.

“I—I have to go to work.”

He shakes his head, ducking back down to nip at your collarbone. “Call in sick.”

“I can’t!” you moan, tilting your head back to allow him better access. But even as you protest, you’re unlocking the device and pulling up your assistant’s contact information. You pull away, placing a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder to keep him at a distance. He pouts, but when you fix him with a stern glare, his expression melts into a smug smirk.

“Give me a minute,” you tell him before dialling the number. You grunt as you spin yourself around on the counter, falling back so that your head dangles from one edge and your knees from the other.

Harry stares at you with wide, amused eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“If my head’s upside down, it’ll make my voice sound more nasally!” you hiss as the phone rings. “I need to sound like I’m fucking congested.”

His shoulders shake in silent laughter; he watches with adoring eyes as you clear your throat when your assistant answers the phone.

“Lena?” you ask, and Harry is shocked to find that you were right—you do sound significantly unwell. “Hey, good morning. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it in today. I woke up feeling really shitty…”

He’s ashamed to admit that he tunes out the rest of your sentence, his mind wandering to far more vulgar places. He studies the straining of your neck, the rapid rising and falling of your chest, the way your toes curl as you lie straight through your teeth. Your lips cling tightly to every word leaving your mouth. Knowing that it’s all just a trifling invention to stay where you are (and to keep doing what you’re doing) makes Harry’s stomach swoop dangerously low with lust.

You lift your head, observing him carefully as he rounds the corner of the counter and places his palms on your thighs. He can hear your assistant—Lena—babbling through the phone, her voice clamorous yet choppy on the other end of the line. Harry pays her no attention, opting instead to undo the few remaining buttons on your blouse and separate the offending material. He inhales deeply when the rest of your torso becomes exposed to the cool air of his kitchen.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, pulling the device away from your ear and throwing your hand over the microphone.

Harry cocks an eyebrow, offering up a shrug as his reply. Your stomach twitches when he splays his hands flat against your hips and then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your trousers. You shoot him a warning glare, but he just smirks.

“What? Oh, sorry,” you rush out and pretend to cough, bringing the phone back to your ear. “You were cutting out a bit; could you repeat that?”

Harry’s shoulders vibrate with a low chuckle. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs press together at the sound. His nimble fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he pops it open easily. You begin to squirm when he plays with your zipper, pulling it down and then back up before doing it all over again. He knows that he’s being a tease, but he can’t help it. He’d forgotten how amusing it is to watch you melt into a puddle.

Your free hand shoots down to grip his wrist when he begins tugging your trousers down your hips. He peers up at you through his eyelashes, trying to repress the arrogant smile that threatens to make itself known. Your eyes are wide, and you shake your head furiously. Harry abandons his attempt to conceal his glee, a wide grin splitting across his face as he yanks himself free from your grasp. Before you can pull away, he traps your arm against the counter, snickering at the change in dynamic.

You gulp when he leans up and drapes his body over yours. He plants a silent, chaste kiss to your lips before placing his mouth at the ear that isn’t currently pressed against the screen of your phone. His command is soft, but it makes you shiver, nonetheless.

“Don’t move.”

You have to flatten your lips together forcefully to contain the whimper that bubbles up in your throat. Harry’s laugh is completely silent, but his dark eyes tell you everything you need to know. He inches back down your torso, directing his gaze to where your pants sit lopsided on your lower-half.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, littering kisses over your stomach. You inhale sharply when he takes a patch of skin between his teeth and bites down gently.

In a matter of seconds, he’s got the fabric at your ankles. You’re still on the line with Lena, growing impatient with her incessant prattling.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you affirm. She says something else, and you nod reflexively. “Yeah, if I’m feeling better, I will. Thank you, take care.”

As soon as the call ends, you slap your phone down onto the counter with a bit more force than was probably intended. A loud groan leaves your lips, and you crane your neck so that you can glare daggers at the man standing between your legs.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you promise. Harry cackles.

“Why? I thought it was fun.”

He grins as you kick your trousers off completely, hearing them fall to the floor in an airy heap. He nudges them out of the way with his foot, one of his hands creeping up your body so that he can cup your left breast over your bra. You sigh when his palm gives a soft squeeze.

“I missed this,” Harry whispers, but the confession is weak. He’s not quite sure if he should have said it.

His worries are mollified, however, when you hum in agreement and reach out for him. His chest tightens significantly as you lace your fingers together, bringing your clasped hands up so that you can pamper his knuckles with dozens of kisses. A lump forms in his throat, but he pays it no attention. Instead, he pulls you up into a sitting position and fastens your lips to his.

“Mm…help me take this off,” you mumble against his mouth, angling your shoulders backward. Harry grips the collar of your blouse and tugs the thin fabric down your arms, balling it up and tossing it away without a second thought.

“Hey!” you laugh. Your teeth bump against his chin when you grin. “Don’t wrinkle it!”

“Chill out,” he tells you, amusement evident in his tone. “I can get you something of mine to wear.”

“D’you—oh,” you moan softly when he ducks down to pepper kisses along the column of your throat. “Do you still have that blue button-up? The one with the stars on it?”

“’Course.”

“I’ll take that one.”

Harry chuckles at your playful claim. “I see why you got that promotion,” he tells you, his hot breath fanning out onto the underside of your jaw. “Quite the bossy little thing, you are.”

“Shut up and get your shirt off,” you scoff, a crooked smile spreading over your lips.

He laughs quietly into your neck. “I rest my case.”

Despite the light ribbing, though, he does as you ask. It takes everything in him to suppress a smile when he watches you gaze at his bare body in awe. Your touch trails against the dozens of tattoos on his torso and arms. Your hands slide down his narrow hips, ghosting over the slight pudge of skin right above the waistband of his briefs. A shiver rockets down his spine when you delicately slip your fingertips beneath the elastic.

“Is this okay?” you inquire softly, glancing up at him from beneath your eyelashes. Harry nods frantically and gulps. His gaze falls to the thin lace trim that flanks the cups of your baby pink bra. He’s never seen this one before—it must be new.

“Did you just get this recently?” he asks, his thumbs running along the underwire.  He doubts that the question will ruin whatever mood has been built up; you’re standing—or rather, sitting—before him in your undergarments, with your hair spilling out of your bun and your fingers inches away from his cock. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been more turned on than he is right in this moment.

“A few weeks ago.” You nod, peering up at him shyly. “You like it?”

“Love it,” he corrects. “You know how I feel about this colour.”

Your smile is bashful when you tuck your chin against your chest. “Does that mean that you want me to leave it on?”

“Fuck, no.”

You laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

In an instant, he’s removed your bra and attached his lips to one of your nipples. You sigh gently, your head falling back as your fingers braid through his hair. You scratch your nails against his scalp delicately, and the sensation only spurs him on. He nibbles at your skin; a faint giggle tumbles off your tongue.

“What—oh, that feels nice,” you murmur. “What do you wanna do?”

Harry pulls off your chest with a wet smacking sound, licking his lips in anticipation. “What do you wanna do?” he replies, deliberately skirting around your inquiry.

“I asked you first.”

He snickers.

“’F we’re being honest here,” he starts, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I really just want to make you cum on my tongue.”

You balk at the vulgarity of his sentence. Harry beams haughtily, sweeping his palms down your hips. An obvious shudder wracks your body when he begins fiddling with the hem of your panties. His dimples pop when you gulp violently and give him a terse nod.

“Yeah. Okay,” is all you say, mainly because far more eloquent words have somehow managed to escape you.

“Brilliant.” Harry smirks and watches as you bristle beneath his gaze.

Less than a second later, his knees come into contact with the kitchen tiles. He groans weakly, reaching to his right and snatching up the mat that usually sits on the floor right next to the sink. You laugh when he arranges the fluffy rug beneath him, and once he’s satisfied with its positioning, he shoots you a cheeky smile.

“All good now,” he announces. You fix him with a tender smile as your fingers comb his hair away from his forehead.

“Lovely,” you whisper. Harry feels your muscles tense when he begins trailing kisses up the length of your thigh. His fingers hook into your underwear.

“Lift up for me, darling,” he says, his teeth catching ever-so-slightly against your skin. You exhale shakily and press your hands flat against the counter for leverage. When your bottom rises up from the marble, Harry works quickly to tug your panties down your legs. He flings them away without wavering.

“Christ,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. He sets his elbows onto the counter, helping you spread your thighs for him. Your scent floods his senses as you bare yourself to him entirely; growling lowly, he buries his face between your legs.

“Oh, God,” you squeak, both of your hands latching onto his hair. You tug on the curls as he flicks his tongue feverishly against your clit, remembering exactly how much he likes the dull, thrumming itch of pain. True to your recollection, Harry groans appreciatively against your cunt.

He shoves himself even further into you, and you know that once he’s done, his chin and nose will be just as shiny as his lips. He eats you out like you’re his last meal, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted this badly. Your toes curl when you feel his lips sponge hot, wet kisses down your slit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. “I forgot how good you were at this.”

Harry chuckles. The vibration shoots across your clit and sends electrical surges ricocheting through your veins. You moan softly, but he doesn’t respond, too engrossed in the taste spilling from the apex of your thighs.

He’s not sure how long the two of you stay like that, with his knees on the ground and his mouth on your heat and your fingers in his hair. Despite the fluffy mat below him, his legs begin to grow sore, but he blocks out the ache and commits himself to making you feel good. Your muscles keep twitching beneath his fingers and your stomach heaves gently; you’re close.

He wants you to cum.

“I’m gonna,” you breathe, and only then does Harry realize that he’d spoken the desire out loud. When your words sink in, he doubles his efforts, his lips sucking your clit into his mouth with a newfound sense of passion. A loud, lewd moan tumbles from your lips, and then you’re cumming, your thighs clenching against the sides of his head and your hips bucking up from the counter.

“Beautiful,” Harry mutters, pressing his lips to your stomach. “So fucking beautiful.”

You whimper.

He stands with a groan, his knees pricking with spindles of pain. They’ll probably bruise a bit later, but he really can’t find it in himself to care. His hand snakes down beneath the elastic of his briefs, and he sighs in relief when he makes a fist around his hard cock. You push yourself up onto your elbows, gazing at him with glassy, distant eyes.

“Cum on me,” you plead hoarsely.

“Fuck.” Harry’s head tips back in disbelief. “Yeah? You want that?”

“Please.”

You sit up, wrestling his underwear down his thighs. He hisses when you intentionally scrape your nails along his skin, and his dick twitches in his hand. He pumps himself quickly, his cheeks growing warm when he realizes that he’s not going to last long. There’s a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and the way you’re begging for him is sending him hurtling toward his release.

As though you can read his thoughts, you slip off of the counter and drop to your knees. Harry bites back a smirk at the reversal of roles. You peer up at him sultrily and knead your own breasts, tempting him as your thumbs skirt over your nipples.

“Cum on them,” you say quietly. “Please, H.”

The nickname—that fucking nickname—is what does him in.

“Bloody Christ.”

His groan is long, drawn-out, and guttural. A shaky exhale leaves his mouth as he watches ropes of his seed dribble down onto your chest. You press your breasts together while the speed of his hand slows. Harry’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when you dip a fingertip into the mess on your skin and tuck it into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he orders breathlessly.

His hands grip your elbows as he pulls you up. He doesn’t let you get a single word in before sealing his lips to yours. He licks into you, tasting himself on your tongue. Your hands sweep up his shoulders and neck, trembling profusely.

Disregarding the mess of clothing on the floor, the two of you stumble upstairs and into the shower. Harry tests the temperature of the water with one hand; the other stays locked firmly with yours, fingers intertwined. A small part of him is afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

Beneath the spray of the shower, he watches as you wash yourself. You take extra care around your face (removing your makeup) and your cleavage (rubbing off his cum). Harry stands against the far wall, the cool tiles of the stall pressing against his back. He’s staring at you intensely, trying to memorize every detail of your body. When you finally open your eyes and glance at him, a timid smile spreads across your lips.

“What?” you ask, curling into yourself.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “’M just…admiring you.”

Your throat bobs violently as you swallow. Reaching for his wrist, you tug him beneath the water and chuckle when his hair flattens against his head. The entire time, Harry’s gaze never strays from your face.

“I missed you,” you both say at the same time.

Your eyes widen, and then a shy laugh spills out of your mouth. Harry cups your face with both hands; you look up at him with twinkling eyes and push his wet hair from his forehead with gentle fingers.

“I missed you,” he repeats, staring at you earnestly. “So much.”

You nod in response. Somehow, the brief action is able to convey more than spoken dialogue ever could. Harry chews on his bottom lip, pondering whether he should utter the other three words on the tip of his tongue. After a few milliseconds, he decides against it. He’s not sure how you would react, and he doesn’t want to lose you—not again.

It’s not worth the risk.

The two of you eventually exit the shower, sporting wet eyelashes and pruned fingertips. Wordlessly, Harry wraps a towel around you, pecking your cheek lovingly. He’s about to step back, but then your fingers are on his jaw, guiding him in for a proper kiss. You sigh against his lips.

He wants nothing more than to stay in this moment for the rest of his life.

Back downstairs, he adjusts the towel around his hips and finally pours coffee into the pair of mugs that he’d pulled from the cupboard an hour ago. He prepares it the way you like before offering it to you. Your fingers wrap around the handle daintily, and you both take a sip at the same time.

“Sorry.” Harry grimaces after he swallows. “It’s gone a bit cold.”

“Mm.” You press your lips together and shake your head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” You pause before adding, “It’s kind of symbolic, no?”

His brows knit together. “What?” he asks, before it dawns on him. The creases on his forehead deepen. “Like…us?”

You nod, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your mug. Harry’s expression softens when he realizes that you’re only teasing. You lean over the counter, but the towel draped around your body comes loose, and you squeak in surprise when it slips down your chest. He grins.

“Can always just take it off, you know,” Harry informs you, shrugging. “It might be more convenient.”

“Care to test that theory?” you reply, cocking an eyebrow. He sets his mug down and raises his hands in surrender, stepping back before pulling at the material on his waist. It falls to the floor, and your gaze instinctively drops to his pelvis. You look away quickly, evidently flustered.

“Your turn.” Harry’s smile is insufferably cheeky, but he can’t help it.

“I’m alright, thanks,” you say, taking another sip of your coffee.

“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head, rounding the corner of the counter and reaching out for you.

“H!” you squeal, nearly tripping over yourself as you stumble backward. “Stop!”

He catches you easily, though, wrapping his arms around you and gripping fistfuls of your towel. With one quick flourish of his fingers, you’re completely naked. The coffee in your mug sloshes dangerously, nearly spilling onto the kitchen tiles.

“I hate you!” you say, laughter lacing your voice. Harry joins in, giggling to himself.

“No, you don’t,” he says, his palms finding your hips. He holds onto you cautiously, careful not to jostle the hand holding your cup. He leans in, and your eyes flutter shut in anticipation of a kiss. Your nose crinkles up in surprise when you feel his lips land on one of your eyelids, planting a silky, barely-there kiss. He switches over to the other side and does the same thing, his chest swelling with warmth when you release a wobbly breath.

“I don’t,” you agree gently. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Harry’s heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs. Though your words are quiet, the insinuation is painfully loud; he watches your face fall when it all sinks in.

“Me too,” he says quickly, squeezing your waist in reassurance. You stare up at him gratefully. The moment is charged with unspoken sentences and tacit feelings, but neither of you submit an explanation.

Harry offers up a small smile, hoping to drain some of the tension from the air.

“See?” he prompts, shrugging. “We haven’t gone cold. Not yet.”

“‘Not yet’?” you echo, smirking good-naturedly. “When do you suppose that’s gonna happen, then?”

“Maybe in a few decades.” He plays along and pretends to think over his answer. “When we’re old and grey and we can’t stop bickering.” He chuckles. “And we’re sitting on a porch swing and you’re knitting and I’m reading the paper and we’re waiting for our grandkids to pull into the driveway for tea.”

At the mention of grandchildren, your eyes well up with tears. Because grandchildren will have to come from children. And children will come from you—both of you.

“What d’you think?” Harry murmurs. Your gazes lock.

“I think—,” you swallow heavily, blinking rapidly to keep your emotions controlled. Harry watches you with sober eyes, trying to deduce your response from your expression alone. You shoot him a watery smile, reaching up and caressing his jaw with your free hand.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you say softly, stroking your thumb along his cheek. “A few decades—we can go cold, then.”

~*~

[masterlist] [come yell at me]

if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[highkey-holland]

Stranger Danger | Bucky Barnes Imagine

Pairing: Bucky x single mum!reader

Summary: Bucky becomes friends with a little girl who’s gotten separated from her mother at the park.

Warnings: motherhood, lost child, arguably too much fluff

Word Count: 2,144

The sun shone high in the sky as Bucky made his way down the smooth path, taking his time to admire the budding flowers on the sweet-smelling bushes lining it.

It’d been a long day, what with his insomnia striking particularly hard the previous night, rendering him unable to rest at all. His day had begun at 2:30am as a result, when he’d thrown on a pair of basketball shorts and headed to Stark’s unnecessarily large and luxurious gym. Three hours later he’d made his way back to his room, grateful that his footsteps were light enough not to wake anyone whose room he walked past. With high hopes that his tired body would pave the way for a tired mind, he was let down once again as he found himself laying on his back, staring at the beige ceiling with wide eyes.

Bucky was having what his psychologist liked to call a ‘flat’ day, where his mood wasn’t particularly low but also seemed incapable of reaching a significant high. He refused, however; he refused to fall into the all too familiar slump he could feel coming on. So he’d walked to his room with purpose. The first thing he noticed was his unmade bed, so he spent the next ten minutes or so tidying it up. He most certainly didn’t need ten minutes to complete the task, but he took extra care in ensuring there were no creases in the fitted sheet (he hated them but Pepper insisted they keep in the warmth, regardless of the fact that it’d always end up crumpled at the bottom of his bed by the time morning came) and even popping on a few of those decorative pillows that had made their home on the armchair in the corner of the room (Bucky didn’t understand their purpose, finding it a waste of time to have to pull them off the bed each night only to put them back the next morning, but Natasha maintained that the pop of forest green brightened up the room).

Next, he’d stepped into the en-suite bathroom. Ignoring the top drawer which was filled with expensive hairgels, lotions and cologne he’d barely looked at let alone used, Bucky pulled open the second drawer and removed his shaving equipment. A quick stroke of his cheek told him it’d been quite long since he’d last shaved. Too long. Lethargy and a lack of care for his appearance had negated the need. Thirty minutes later, another stroke of his cheek allowed his rough fingers to meet only a smooth and soft expanse of skin. Satisfied with the result, he decided he’d indulge in the wealth of Tony Stark just once and pulled the handle of the top drawer. The first pot he picked out was labelled “strawberry body butter”. It sounded more like a kitchen product to him, though he was slightly confused by the combination of the words “body” and “butter”. Following a quick whiff of the product, Bucky decided it suited his needs and proceeded to lather the pink cream over his baby smooth cheeks (the ones on his face, on course).

His eyes had scanned the room and landed on the shower next, causing his nose to scrunch up in disfavour. Instead, his attention was taken by the small window through which he could see the clear blue sky. Deciding some sunlight and fresh air would do him good, he changed into a set of clean clothes and made his way out to the nearest park with only a quick greeting to Steve on his way out.

Thus, he enjoyed the sun rays beating down on his from directly above as tall, overarching trees lay their shadows upon his figure. Stepping off the path, Bucky sidled up to a tree nearby and sat down, his back against the thick trunk. He watched as a young man, probably a college student, played with a dog, excitement evident on both of their expressions. He saw two women nearby having a chat as they supervised three young boys on the swings, sweet and innocent giggles piercing the air. He could hear the birds chirping in the trees directly above him, communicating with another bird picking up scraps from the bun nearby. He could also hear the quiet hum of a young girl coming somewhere close by. Very close, in fact. So close that a quick peek around the thick trunk Bucky was sat up against revealed a child who could’ve been no older that three years of age, staring down at her feet clad in purple, sparkly sandals as she hummed a familiar tune Bucky recognised from the radio.

He noticed the young girl was alone, no adult in sight. Worried that she might be lost, Bucky made his way around the tree and crouched in front of her, lifting his hand to lay on her shoulder but hesitating, the limb hovering midair before it fell. He cleared his throat and the young girl stilled, though still didn’t raise her head.

“Excuse me, little miss,” Bucky began softly, unsure whether it was his place to say anything at all. “Do you need help?”

The little girl continued to hum her tune, though her arms came up to cross against her chest in a defensive manner as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Miss?” Bucky tried once more, looking around again to see whether he could spot any adult figures ina flurry.

Her gaze still on her feet, the girl in front of him finally spoke up. “I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers. They can be bad,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Her words caused a smile to break out on Bucky’s face. At least kids were still being taught about stranger danger, even in a world of transparency and open doors.

Curiosity struck the girl had as she heard the man before her chuckle, so she tilted her head up slightly to take a peek at his face. She gasped, recognising the features instantly. She stood up straight, her arms uncrossing as her hands clasped together instead. It seemed as though the words were in a race to exit her mouth when she finally spewed out, “Mister Soldier, Mister Bucky, sir!”

He raised an eyebrow at the small figure, the gentle smile still gracing his lips. “You know who I am?” he questioned.

“Of course!” she answered with a frantic nod. “You’re a hero, Mister! You protect us all from the bad guys and you have the coolest arm. Mister America is your best friend and my Mummy always says-“

Her words stopped flowing abruptly as a small frown appeared on her lips and her eyebrows knitted in dejection.

So quietly that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hear her without his super soldier hearing, he heard her mumble, “I didn’t mean to! I was just following the pretty butterfly and when I looked up I couldn’t see Mummy anymore.” Her eyes began to glaze over with tears as her bottom lip trembled.

Bucky took a seat beside her, crossing his legs in front of him. He figured it best not to go looking for her mother but to stay put, knowing she’d come looking anyway. Only a couple seconds later, seemingly with minimal thought, he felt a weight plop down on his lap. The girl had made herself comfortable within the bubble of his own personal space. He couldn’t bring himself to mind, however, when he saw her lower lip stop trembling, though her eyes remained misty.

“Mister Bucky...” she began softly, tilted her head up so her large, innocent eyes met his soft blue ones. He raised his eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. “Could I please see you arm?” she requested shyly.

Bucky put forth his right arm with a teasing smile, pushing up the sleeve of his red Henley to reveal the flesh covering his muscular forearm. “This one?” he asked, emphasising the confusion in his expression. “Okay, but I don’t know why you want to see it, it’s the same and the ones you’ve got.”

The little girl broke out in giggles, scrunching her nose in the most adorable manner. “No, Mister Bucky, the other one!” she exclaimed.

He settled his left hand on his knee, the metallic plates catching rays from the sun and reflecting them off. He watched cautiously as her hands, significantly smaller than his, experimentally touched the limb as she mouthed the words, “so cool”.

Her eyes met his once again as she asked him, “does it hurt when I touch them?” with utmost concern. Bucky softened from his tense position, finding it almost laughable that the little girl in his lap thought she could harm him in any way. He shook his head in reply, and she once again focused on the vibranium plates with curiosity.

Bucky heard quick footsteps in the distance as they approach the pair, lifting his head to spot a woman making her way frantically towards them. “((Nickname))!” she yelled out, and three quick seconds later, the weight on his lap was gone and headed towards the woman who dropped to her knees as the girl barrelled into her arms. Bucky could see, even from a distance, as the woman squeezed the life out of her mini-me. Pulling back, the woman placed her arms on the girls shoulders as they conversed.

You looked over the shoulder of your little girl, spying the man whose lap she’d just been perched upon. You were distracted as your daughter proudly exclaimed, “I did what you told me, Mummy! I waited where I last saw you.”

“That you did, sweet pea. Good job,” you praised. “But what have I told you about strangers, hmm?” you questioned, single eyebrow raised in what everyone in your life recognised as the ‘mum look’.

Your daughter simply rolled her eyes. “He’s not a stranger, silly.” She turned around and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the mysterious stranger. As you analysed him along the way, you understood why your little girl had found comfort in the man’s broad shoulders and admittedly delectable arms. When you were both a couple of steps away, she plopped into his lap once again, this time also wrapping her little arms around his neck in as tight a hug as she could. He hugged her back, holding her in both arms protectively as he stood up to greet her mother.

“You’ve taught her well,” Bucky began, the corner of his lips lifting into a crooked smile. You preened at the comment. “She refused to talk to me until she saw who I am, something about not talking to strangers because they can be bad.”

You laughed at his words, and Bucky knew almost instantly where the little girl got her nose scrunch trait from.

“Thank you for looking after her. I’m sorry if we disturbed your day,” you replied gratefully, lifting your arms to take your daughter back. She untucked her head from the crook of Bucky’s neck as she felt another hand, your hand, on her back. Bucky shook his head quickly, saying without words that she wasn’t a burden at all.

“She’s delightful,” he complimented, causing the little girl to straighten her back in pride.

“Did you hear that, Mummy? I’m delightful,” she boasted, causing both adults to break out in laughter.

“Okay, Miss Delightful, it’s time to say bye to your new friend. I’m sure he has some important business to get to,” you encouraged, slightly embarrassed that she was still clutching onto the man with all of her strength.

The little one sighted with a pout, not ready to let her new friend go. She squeezed him tight before motioning to be put down. “Thank you, Mister Bucky! I hope I see you soon!”

With one more thankful smile shot his way, you took your daughter’s hand and turned to leave. Before you’d even taken three steps, Bucky heard the words, “would you like to get ice cream with me?” tumbling out of his mouth.

The girl was bouncing on the spot, excitement escaping her through the vibrations taking over her body as her eyes pleaded with her mother. “Please, Mummy? Can we please?” she practically begged.

You sighed jokingly, as you aimed a playful glare at Bucky. “See what you’ve done?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulder uncaringly. “What can I say?” he posed hypothetically. “She’s too cute to let go. I don’t even know her name yet.”

A smile broke out on your face and your daughter knew she’d won the battle, not that you had opposed in any way, shape or form. The cheers she let out had both adults in laughter once again, catching eyes and then quickly turning away shyly.

Bucky stepped forward, before extending his arm in the direction of the nearest ice cream parlour. “Shall we?”

Tagging some beauties who I think may enjoy: @madmadmilk @hollandroos @wxntersoldiers @starksparker

[peter-pan-on-neverland]

I’ll leave my widow open: Part 2

Summary: You visit Neverland in your dreams, will you leave everything behind and go with Pan or will you stay put?

Pairings: Pan x reader

Warnings: none

Well.... this is a blast from the past lmao, be sure to check out the first part!

The sweet smell of pancakes filled my nostrils as I sat up in my bed, stuck in a permanent state of silent confusion. Frantically, my eyes peered around my messy room, the window was wide open, curtains were delicately swaying side to side due to the genital draft which was now dancing around, causing my skin to erupt in thousands of tiny goosebumps. So many unanswered questions sprung to mind, I strived to know more like an alcoholic in need of a drink.

What was that?

Who were those people?

Why did that dream feel so real?

Was that even a dream?

Where even was I?

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at my door, making them all disappear in a cloud of smoke.

"Y/n, breakfast is ready." The muffled voice spoke.

"Coming." I said as sweetly as I could before throwing my covers off me and rushing down stair.

I got dressed and ate in a blur, before rushing out the door to a place I like to call hell, although others know it as school. The sound of music was all I could hear as I walked down the quite streets of my home town, completely absorbed in my thoughts.

Nothing much happened around here, no new faces, no drama, nothing. It pained me how boring it was, I wanted to go some where I could live an exciting life full of laughter and happiness, as cringy as that sounded, not somewhere that was dull all of the time.

I crossed the road, passing through the barred gates which lay outside the entrance of my school. I let out an audible sigh, the day hadn’t even started yet and I already felt like giving up. 

My body seemed to grow heavier and heavier with every passing second as I trekked further and further into the brick building. My attention was glued to my phone, too preoccupied with picking what song to listen to next I didn’t realize I was about to walk into someone before it was too late.

In one swift movement, mine and the strangers things were littering the hall way floor.  I swooped down, not even bothering to look at who I had just ran into as I tried to gather my things as quickly as I could.

My eyes flicked up, to look the stranger in the eyes and apologize before taking my leave, but my breath seemed to get caught in my throat.

Those piercing blue eyes, the scar running down his face, his shaggy blonde hair, I had seen it all before. My blood ran cold, It couldn’t be...there was no way.

“Hey.” A voice spoke, sounding like whoever was speaking was underwater.

This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening.

My head grew fuzzier and fuzzier every millisecond that ticked by, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. My breath hitched in my throat as panic took over my body. My lungs burned, gasping for air like I was running out of it quickly.

I blinked a few times, my sight getting spotty before that familiar face disappeared from my vision and as if a curse had been lifted everything suddenly stopped, returning to normal once more.

Although they were less frequent, my breaths grew shallower.

carefully, they placed a hand on my shoulder, "It's OK, it's OK." Their voice was deep and soothing like an ocean, making me feel safe.

“Are you OK?” They asked, clicking their fingers in front of my face in order to try and grasp my attention and snap me out of whatever spell I was under.

What was happening? I must be going crazy.

It was as if my voice box has suddenly been taken from me like in the littler mermaid because no matter how hard I tried to answer the boy I couldn't. I was forced to stare, he wore thick, black trimmed glasses that sat upon his slightly crooked nose. It was clear he was older than me, maybe a senior? His hair was a light caramel colour, his fringe swooped in front of his chocolate brown eye's ever so slightly, see nothing like the boy in my dream.

"Miss?" his voice made me returned to my senses.

“I’m fine, sorry” I said, before shooting up and walking away, my face was sure to be red from embarrassment. I could’ve sworn he looked exactly like.... But I had thought about my dream since this morning. Why would a random guy from my dream suddenly invade my thoughts?

I shrugged it off as I walked down the hall, I just wanted this day to be over as soon as possible.  

...

I was only half way through my day and I already feeling misrble, I had tried my hardest to push this mornings events out of my head, but of course the situation kept replaying in my brain as if it were stuck to repeat.

The lunch bell rang and eager, hungry teenagers stormed through the corridors in a hurry to be the first person in line for the canteen.  I, of course, took my time, partly because I wasn't too bothered weather or not I was the first in the queue, but mainly because I didn't want to run into that guy. The first time meeting him was already embarrassing enough, imagine the second time.

"Hey Y/n!" One of my few friends called out across the hall, quickening his pace so he could catch up with me.

His dark, brown hair bounced slightly as he made his way over, he looked as normal as ever, rocking some grey joggers and a plain black T-Shirt, he didn't make much of an effort when it came to his appearance but he didn't fail to make any girl swoon at the sight of him.

"Hi Cam." I spoke, looking directly into his green eyes.

"I didn't see you this morning, were you late again?"

I could feel my cheeks heat up, I needed to stop thinking about what happened this morning, yeah it was weird but everyone had probably forgotten it by now.

"Yeah, something like that." I said, in a low voice.

"Well you don't seem to happy, what's up?" he asked as we walked side by side into the lunch hall, Cameron could read me like a book which doesn't surprise me anymore. I had known him for what felt like an eternity, our mum's were friends so he came over quite a lot, his parents would even offer to babysit Adam and I when we were little. At this point he was more like a brother than he was a friend.

"Cam! Cam!" An obnoxious, high pitched voice squealed interrupting our conversation and causing everyone to turn and stare at her.

I could see the brown haired boy discreetly roll his eyes at the girl, I followed his line of sight which Lead me directly to a girl called Becky Timm's who was desperately trying to get his attention.

I tried my hardest to bite back a snigger.

"Don't." He shot we a warning glare, if looks could kill I would be dead on the floor right now.

"Really? Becky? That's your new mystery girl?" I chuckled, once upon a time I would feel sad whenever Cam got a new girlfriend, I had known him for so long and part of me thought he may have feelings for me the same way I had feelings for him, but of course I was wrong. Never the less I put those days behind me, it was for the best, I mean what if we did date them broke up? I would rather have Cam as a friend than not have him at all and so my feelings for him slowly but surly dissolved.

"She's hot." He said with a smirk on his face, shrugging his shoulders.  

"You," I chuckled, "Are unbelievable."

"Hey babe," She over excitedly spoke before she threw her arms over him, "Are you coming?"

"Um, actually I was gonna-" But she clearly didn't care about whatever he was about to say, her hand was already intertwined with his as she started dragging him away.

He looked at me from across the room with a look in his eyes which said he was sorry but also help me.

I chuckled to myself before sitting down and pulling out my phone, this is normally the part where people would text whoever was trying to get a hold of them back, but me, I only had one friend and he had just been kidnapped by a strangely cute blonde girl.

Once again I was in my own little world, trying to block out my surroundings and jam out to some music.

"Hey, Y/n right?" I voice sounded.

I fought the urge to scream, "Um yeah?" Looking up I saw who was now sat opposite me.

Oh shit, It's glasses guy.

"I just wanted to check if you were OK after what happened." He spoke slowly, as if he were making sure he wasn't making any wrong moves.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine now thanks." I couldn't be sure, but it felt as if my face was growing hotter and hotter by the minute.

"I'm John by the way, John Darling. I'm the new teacher." He said, sticking his hand out for me to shake, I was about to open my mouth to tell him my name but them I remembered he already knew it, wait how did he know it?

"Nice to meet you." I smiled, he probably just asked around.

Lunch ended as slowly as it had came around, it wasn't all that bad, I got to talk to John - Mr Darling, and know more about him. He told me he moved here not long ago and quickly applied for a teaching position, we talked about normal things like what interested us before we had to go back to class.

...

The bell rung out loud and clear for everyone to hear, telling us all that we were free from the prison they were currently holding us in.

I gathered the things faster than flash could run before dashing out of the building. The walk home was a long, dull, wet one, dark clouds hung miserably in the sky as rain left it’s mark on the streets in the form of a puddle. A shiver runs down my spine as a crash of thunder and flash of lightning dart across the black sky. My feet pick up their pace, desperately wanting to get home and fall into the safe, comfy haven of my bed.

Another loud crash of thunder sounds, seeming to shake the world around me as I jump out of my skin. I stand stock still for what felt like an eternity as I caught my breath, there’s nothing to be scared about, it’s only a little thunder and lightning. 

Hesitantly, I began to move my feet again as the wind pick up speed with great force. Whistling and howling into the stormy sky as if it were crying out in pain. Rain pelted down onto the pavements, soaking the ground and soil, drowning the plants and flooding animals homes. 

I had never seen a storm this bad before.

It was as if the wind was whispering incoherent words into my ear, cursing me and the ground I walked upon, cursing this town, but why? A shiver ran up and down my spine as nature seemingly placed a hex on me that I could never shake.

Leaves clung onto the branches of trees for dear life, hoping, praying, pleading that they wouldn’t be ripped from their homes in one fail swoop. But alas the voices were not heard over the screams of the sky, yelling and shouting over everything else as if it were trying to dominated the world itself. Auban and orange leaves feel victim to the wind, zipping and flying through the sky at the vicious hand of the overpowering gale.

I tried my hardest the plough through the strange, evil weather, my heart beat seemed to pick up but not because I was scared, I couldn’t quite place my finger on why. 

The sky seemed to grow darker and darker the angrier it got, thunder crashed as lightening cracks painted the sky, that’s when my e/c eyes fell upon something that would truly haunt me.

Yellow eye’s.

Glowing, yellow eye’s that stared at me through the twisted tree branches, curious to see what I would do next. Watching me every second as if I were chess piece ready to make my move.

My lips parted with shock as It’s black humanoid body flew through the sky. I was stuck in a trance, my eye’s glued to the incongruous being that wanted so desperately to escape into the clouds.

Another lightning strike flashed across the array of once fluffy white clouds, snapping me from my thoughts. I blinked a few times, making sure I wasn’t going crazy, was the ghost, demon, angle, spirit really there? And if so, why?

As if I had just woken up from a strange dream my instincts kicked in, I couldn’t stay out here any longer. My feet pounded against the road as I ran all the way back to my house, my legs and chest burnt, like there was a fire light inside them but I wouldn’t dare stop.

This was it, I was at the home stretch, the door to my house was in sight, so close I reached out, hooking my fingers around the door handle before bursting into my warm home. 

My hair was sopping wet, dripping on the floor making it’s own little puddle, my now ruined clothes clung uncomfortably to my body as I caught my breath.

“Y/n?” I heard Adam say, there was a hint of relief in his voice but also... panic?

His blue eyes searched mine out from across the room, it was only then I saw how puffy and red they were. Tear’s left a merciless trail from the corner of his eyes all the way down his cheeks, staining his face.

“Adam? What is it?” I asked, slowly shutting the door behind me.

“I just got a call from the hospital,” He chocked out, “It’s mum.”

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

I finally got something up! I'm back in the writing mood!! Whoop whoop!

I have a whole plot line figured out for this story but I kinda want your guys opinion on it because idk if you'll like it or not but at the same time I don't wanna spoil anything too major.

PLOT LINE BELOW:

So basically theres 2 ways to save Pan from dying the 1st is Henry's heart, the other is true loves kiss. The shadow know that you are Pans true love but he think love will make him weak so every time you visit in your dreams the shadow always finds a way to send you back. BUT Pan is considering letting you stay, you're the only girl so there must be a reason for that right 🤷‍♀️ and he wants to know what it is but he wont let you stay if you're anything like Wendy so you have to prove yourself to him. The shadow doesn't like this so he blackmails John into ;)seducing;) you so that you love him and not Pan. That's where its going with the whole John thing (kinda like a student x teacher because I've been watching to much PLL lately) but it doesn't work and you still get sent to Neverland. Eventually Pan decided to let you stay and the rest of the story will carry on from there (I don’t wanna spoil it hehe) but is that something you guys would wanna read? That's only gonna be the first couple of parts until we get to Neverland then the whole reader x pan x Felix shit starts and happy days ;) let me know!!! Xxxxxxxxxxx

[the-inconsolable-crybaby]

What to do? - 16 May 2021

Turns out life isn’t as exciting as little me thought it would be. 

Dreams of being an artist or even an astronaut have been crushed. At the moment its more or less looking like a medical student of sorts, which is not ideal. I want to experience this world not sit up cooped inside worrying about my next English exam or whether my crush likes me back or not. 

I want to live with no worries, live in a world with no wrong doings possible. Where I can wonder the streets without being on edge, or do bad things without being judged. 

Not terrible things, more tame things like dying my hair neon pink and having a few piercings. Not killing or doing drugs. 

As I am sat on a crooked dining chair, in my messy room I am still contemplating what I want from life. There is always the famous saying that ‘The world is your own oyster’ or something along those lines, and I ponder about it often.

I want to do as I wish but limitations are held against me and I know they shouldn’t have such a hold over my life but they do. For example, I want to do smoke cigarettes but oh boy do they cause a lot of trouble. Furthermore I want to... how can I put it, 

I don’t want to live. 

Life doesn’t appeal to me, I don’t want anything to do with it yet I can’t seem to take those pills. I can never gain the courage to finally just swallow them, I always choke over second thoughts. 

How pathetic. 

Those second thoughts are my limitations, and those second thoughts are my mum saying ‘I love you’, its my dog barking up at me wagging her tail, its my brother nagging me to wash the dishes piling up in my room, its my auntie inviting me over to go in her hot tub, its my friend wishing me a happy birthday and holding my hand when we walk home together. 

Its my family holding me back from doing what I want, I don’t want to leave my mum with my scar littered body crying out loud for me to come back when I’ve already gone.

Its leaving my family behind with my mess, burdening them with thoughts like ‘I should’ve seen the signs’ and ‘how did I not see how sad she was’. I don’t want them to be sad over me.

So here I am, sat alone in my room wondering what to do.

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - XI

A/N An early chapter for mothers day as our men receive some things from home...

T/W Descriptions of war violence, blood, physical trauma, and death

The sunrise was dim that morning, muted by the soft grey clouds that dotted the sky as if to protect the blue skies from the dark reality of the war-torn battlefields below. The order of ‘Stand Down’ has just been called, giving the men a moment to breathe, some finding a spot to rest at the camp and some situating themselves along the front-line trench.

Zach had gone to collect their mail, rushing back across the damp ground with a wide smile spread over his face, trying to keep his head down the best he could in his excitement as he clutched a small package to his chest. He collapsed down beside Daniel with a sigh, shuffling to sit cross legged on the dirt and handed Jack a letter and Daniel a letter before smiling down at his gift he received.

Corbyn was leaned back against the small dugout he was in with a cigarette in hand, watching Zach’s grin has he read the letter and tore open the brown paper around the gift.

“Oh neat! Mum sent me socks!” Zach cheered, right away starting to untie and pull off his boots. He tossed them haphazardly to the side before tugging off his worn socks, damp from spending days on end standing in mud.

“Point your nasty feet the other way.” Jack shoved his shoulder with a disgusted grimace.

Zach glared at him but obliged, carefully pulling his clean pair up to his ankles, smiling at the warm and dry wool.

“What did you get, Seavey?” Corbyn asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Mum just sent me a letter about how things are going at home. My sister has been working in a factory to make more uniforms and socks and supplies for us.” Daniel smiled with pride as he admired the letter in his hand. Elizabeth stopped herself from curling into him lovingly.

“Avery?” Corbyn turned to the man on his left.

“My daughter drew me a picture.” Jack whispered, staring down at the small piece of parchment in his hand.

The group watched him silently as his expressionless face melted into a sad smile and he tucked it in the inside breast pocket of his jacket alongside the letter from his wife.

“How old is she?” Elizabeth asked softly, trying to keep her voice low enough to lessen the suspicious from the Sergeant sitting with them.

“It’s her 1st birthday today.” Jack whispered, keep his eyes on the ground, his small smile faltering into a bit of a frown and he pushed his glasses higher with his knuckle before sighing and reaching for his tin of cigarettes.

“She’s going to be excited when you get back home.” Corbyn said, patting a hand to Jack’s shoulder.

“She’s never met me.” Jack breathed, his voice breaking a little at admitting that fact as he raised the lit cigarette to his lips, holding it in the air as he continued faintly, “I enlisted into the military before the war even really started and that night, I got home, and my wife told me she was pregnant. I was sent off to training two months later and haven’t been home since. I…I’ve never met my daughter. She doesn’t know who I am.”

A silence fell over their group, Zach, Daniel, Corbyn, and Elizabeth glancing at each other, no one quite knowing what to say. Jack took a quick drag of his cigarette and stood up, brushing the mud off his uniform in the process.

“I’m going to go and write back. I’ll see you.” Jack slung his rifle over his shoulder and trudged back down the trenches, his head low.

“I’ve never seen him like that.” Daniel sighed as they all watched him turn the corner out of sight, “So broken.” Daniel glanced over to Elizabeth who was already looking at him. They turned away quickly to avoid being caught staring.

“Bloody hell…mum couldn’t have made thinner socks?” Zach grumbled from Daniel’s other side as he was struggling to pull on his boot over the thick socks his mother had knitted herself, falling onto his back across the trench in the process.

“Watch it, boy.” someone snapped as he stepped over him on his way past.

Daniel pulled Zach back into a sitting position to help him get his first boot on.

“Never meeting your child.” Corbyn mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief, still clearly deep in thought about what Jack was going through. “I can’t imagine. My fiancé and I are holding off getting married until after the war so everything can happen without interruption…like enlistment. Christ. That poor man. That poor child.”

Daniel finished tying Zach’s boot and tapped the side to get him to switch, helping him to loosen the laces and fit into the second one.

The sudden gunshot made Zach almost kick Daniel in the face as they all startled. The trenches erupted into movement, soldiers running to their positions to protect from enemy fire, orders being shouted over the noise. A shell hit the dirt a few yards away, spewing soil into the trenches as the group stumbled to their feet.

“My boot isn’t on yet!” Zach shrieked, grabbing onto Daniel’s pant leg as he stood up.

“Dammit, Herron.” Daniel groaned, dropping back to his knees to finish tying up Zach’s boot. He tugged the sixteen-year-old to his feet by his arm when he finished and grabbed their rifles before rushing after Corbyn and Elizabeth down the front lines, keeping their heads low.

Their stations weren’t far down, and they all assembled together, loading their rifles and getting into position as quickly as they could.

“Bleeding Christ, they couldn’t have done this while we were on Stand To?” Jack grumbled loudly as he joined them again, cocking his gun and getting up onto the fire step between Daniel and Elizabeth.

German shells punctured the ground near them, spewing dark soil and black ash high into the air with each hit, the explosions ringing in their ears. The orders from their officers could barely be heard over the gunfire, the men firing at anything that moved past the curtain of barbed wire that separated their lines from the barren and destroyed nothingness of No Mans Land. The machine gun fire was almost the worst of it, the Germans not holding back from firing round after steady round against the British trenches, the steady heartbeat of the weaponry piercing through the thick air.

Daniel was back out of his mind again, ducking down to reload, his breathing heavy and hands shaking with adrenaline, but he wasn’t ready to give up the fight. Jack was on his right, shouting orders to those around him, always good at taking the lead when it was needed; especially since their Lieutenant was lost in the counterattack. Daniel glanced over at Elizabeth who had turned to reload too, and she sent him a wink and a crooked smile before popping back up into position. She had always been tougher than him, although he hated to really admit it.

“We need to go over!” Jack shouted.

“Like hell we do!” Corbyn yelled back as he ducked down to reload.

“How are we supposed to gain ground by hiding away like cowards?” Jack snapped. He looked behind him to farther down the line, not seeing any higher command near. “Fuckin’ bullshit.”

“You stay where you are, Lance Corporal.” Corbyn demanded.

The machine gun fire was deafening, a never-ending flow of shot after shot from both sides, the heavy clink of the empty cases falling to the ground as if counting each life they took. The German aim was impeccable, the gunner knocking off plenty of men from the British lines.

Daniel felt hopeless with a rifle up against a metal machine gun; what was one wimpy bullet going to do against a waterfall of incoming ones. A shell hit close by and exploded loudly into the air, throwing shards and clumps of soil at them.

“Christ!” Jack stumbled from the impact as he pulled the bolt on his rifle again, quickly regaining his stand and firing off a string of quick shots before ducking down to reload.

Daniel held their ground, keeping his head low behind the parapet firing into the mess of smoke and mud beyond them. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his breathing heavy against the wood of his rifle, and his mind completely blank. It was back to instinct: fire, reload, repeat; no time to think about who was standing on the other side of the mud soaked and detonated field. He couldn’t even think of Elizabeth or how she was doing only a meter away from him. It was only getting through the next five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes; however long until one side gave up first.

It was a lottery, really, no one knew who would be next to be hit, no real method behind the madness of either side’s aim.

Jack had just stood up to get back into position after reloading, his eyebrows furrowed tightly behind his glasses. He barely got his rife above the edge of the parapet before the German gunner got him through his left shoulder.

The impact and the shock of the hit had Jack falling onto his back against the ground of the trench, cursing loudly in pain. Daniel snapped back into reality, staring down at Jack with wide eyes, frozen stiff. The blood was quickly staining Jack’s uniform, seeping out and down his arm. Daniel couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move. He could barely comprehend Elizabeth crouching down below the edge of the parapet to grab Daniel’s hand and bring his attention to her.

“It’s alight, darling, look at me.” Elizabeth said softly and he raised his light eyes to hers, “We’re just going to help Jack and clean him up a little, okay? Can you help me?”

Daniel nodded and crouched down with her on either side of Jack who was making a huge fuss against the ground, heels digging into the mud as he screamed and swore in pain, almost louder than the gunfire still going on around them.

Elizabeth took out the medical cloths she had hidden in her uniform and pressed one to Jack’s shoulder over his uniform, the deep red easily seeping through the white fabric.

“Hold that there, Dani. Lots of pressure please.” she instructed. Daniel set his hand over the cloth and pressed down, staring down at Jack’s pale face that was twisted up in agony.

“Christ, Seavey, that hurts! You motherf-”

“Be a man now, Lance Corporal.” Elizabeth teased as she worked quickly to unbutton his uniform jacket. She and Daniel carefully got him out of it, tossing the torn and soiled jacket to the side. Daniel pressed the cloth against his wound again, the white now completely coated in dark red but he kept it pressed there as Elizabeth pulled out the silk string and needle from her small nurses’ kit. 

Zach tried not to look as he bent down to reload, keeping his own mind focussed blankly on the fight. He would tend to Jack afterwards when the Germans laid off, he told himself.

“You’re doing just fine, Jack.” Elizabeth spoke gently, leaning over him a little to look at the wounded area. The cloth Daniel was holding to his shoulder wasn’t doing anything as the blood trickled out from under it and seeped into the white material of Jack’s undershirt. Elizabeth glanced up at his face, a sickening pale, his brown eyes staring up at her desperately from the ground.

His breathing was shallow, panicked, and his hand grabbed the front of her uniform, “Don’t let me die, Fisher. Not like this.”

Elizabeth looked over at Daniel, his wide blue eyes searching her green ones for instruction on what to do next. Her straight-lined expression was the conclusion enough; he was loosing too much blood too fast.

“We’re going to wrap you up and you’re going to be fine.” Elizabeth spoke as strongly as she could, handing Daniel a fresh cloth as she put the needle and thread back in her kit.

“Tell me about your daughter.” Daniel finally spoke, his voice trembling, and he looked down at Jack. The older boy stared up at him with fear in his big brown eyes, an expression Daniel had never before seen on the Lance Corporal’s face. The fight was still going on around them, the gunfire loud and piercing, orders being shouted over the noise.

“I have to go home to see my little girl. My Lavender May.” Jack let out a soft sob before peering down at his shoulder where Daniel had the cloth pressed, his hand finding Daniel’s sleeve to cling to. “Christ.”

“Keep talking to him, Jack.” Elizabeth encouraged, shielding his face a foot or two away with her cap from the sudden spew of soil from another shell hit. “Tell us about her.”

“She has my eyes.” Jack breathed shakily, his head falling back tiredly against the ground and he winced a moment in pain. “And her mother’s smile. Dark hair. I’ve been told she smells like talcum powder and fresh flowers. My garden girl.”

Daniel stared down at him, Jack’s eyes opening and closing slowly, eyebrows furrowed as if he were deep in thought.

“I’m going to nap with her under the tree in our yard. Surrounded by flowers. Feel her soft breathing against my chest.” Jack whispered, his face scrunching up has he held back tears and tried to work through the pain. He whimpered lightly as Daniel released the pressure to exchange the soiled cloth for a fresh one from Elizabeth.  

“She’s lucky to have you.” Daniel said, flinching as another shell hit the soil a little way away.

“Jesus…can I get sent home after this? I’ve had enough.” Jack mumbled.

Daniel sighed, setting his hand over Jack’s that was resting over his stomach. Jack barely squeezed his hand in response, falling weaker and weaker, his breathing slow and shallow, eyes falling closed against his cheeks.

The gunfire faded quickly, the battle drawing to a close but the details as to how were hazy as Daniel was only focussed on Jack, keeping the cloth pressed to his shoulder and his hand tucked around his. Soldiers shuffled off to their duties and to clean up from their positions, taking the long way around to give Jack his space. Zach and Corbyn stood to the side, resting their rifles against the wall and took their caps off, holding them in front of them with their heads down, staring silently at Jack’s weak body and pale face.

“I’m so tired.” Jack mumbled breathlessly.

“I know.” Daniel whispered, glancing up at Elizabeth and then to Zach and Corbyn before looking back down to Jack who took a shuttering breath and Daniel ran his thumb over his friend’s hand, “Hear that? It’s quiet now. Just rest.”

Daniel stared down solemnly at the young man, the colour disappeared from his face and lips set in a gentle pout, his chest laying still. His hand that had been clinging onto Daniel’s sleeve dropped slowly down the rough material of his uniform before falling against the ground. Elizabeth reached over and pressed her fingers to his wrist to check for a pulse.

She sat back with a sigh and looked to Daniel who was simply staring down at his friend, unmoving himself. Zach let out a small sob from his spot a few feet away, turning to keep his tears to himself. Corbyn set a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They took a moment to mourn their friend as the noonday sun started to peek through the clouds, sending stripes of bright sunlight over the solemn scene. No one noticed, however, the green-yellow tinted gas cloud that was slowly making its way over the field towards them. 

[dr-daddy-cullen]

The Adoption

Bella decides that she doesn’t want to be a parent so asks Rosalie to adopt the baby. Set in Breaking Dawn. Based off of this post

I had been mulling it over in my head for some time. I knew it was the right decision, I just didn’t know if Edward would agree.

I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, every pair of honey-golden eyes turned on me silently questioning. They were worried about.

“Please,” I started quietly, “could Edward and I have a moment alone?” I hated to ask, hated the idea that I might be putting them out in some way, although I knew they would never mind anything I asked for. They all nodded and silently moved out of the room.

Edward was by my side in a moment.  His eyes scanning my face for any hint of trouble, his cold hands on mine.

"What is it, love?"

"Edward, I don't want this baby." Hope flashed through his eyes. Hope that I had changed my mind, that he could abort it before it had a chance to hurt me anymore. I carried on before that hope could swell.

“I don’t want to get rid of it.” There was confusion now. He didn’t understand what I was asking for.

“Bella, love, you don’t need to be brave. No one will think less of you for choice. This creature could hurt you, no one knows what harm it could do. I’ll get Carlisle. He’ll get it out of you. You’ll be safe, don’t be scared.” He reassured in his smooth velvet voice.

I moved my hand out for under his and shifted away from him silently. He needed to understand what I was asking and that I was being serious.

"No, Edward," I said, solemnly, "I won't kill him. I just don't want to be a mum. All my life I have been the parent. I looked after Renee and as soon as I could add up I was making sure the bills were paid, by the time I was 12 I was making sure we had groceries. When I came to Forks I cooked and cleaned and shopped for Charlie because if I didn't he would have just eaten at the diner. That isn't the life I want now. I'm done being the parent. I want my life, my immortal life, with you. Travelling, studying, doing whatever we want for eternity. But I won’t kill this baby.”

I saw the understanding in his eyes. I knew he understood my reasoning even if he still didn't quite understand what I wanted.

“Esme has you and your siblings,” I continued, “but Rosalie… Rosalie doesn’t and I know what she would want more than anything is this baby. Let Rose and Emmett have it. Let them be parents. I know they want to be and they could do a far better job because they would want it, and I.. don’t.” I paused at the end. It felt heartless to admit it but it was true. I didn’t want a baby, I never had. But Rosalie would kill, literally, for a baby if she could have her own. And I didn’t know what this baby I would have would be but I knew in my heart whatever it was she would love it far more than I was capable of.

“Bella, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” and I did. I didn’t want to kill him, or it or she, I just didn’t want to look after it myself. I could be a great aunt, but a parent? No.

There was a moment of silence between us, quite a contemplation. Finally, Edward raised his head and looked at me again. With his golden eyes boring into my soul he nodded his head.

"Ok, my love."

“Are you ok with that?” I asked suddenly unsure of myself.

“Of course I am, Bella. I may be over 100 years old but in my soul,” he flashed his crooked grin there, “I will always be 17. And I want whatever you want. Travelling together, just us, no deathly threats or hunting vampires after us..” he sighed in relief, “well that my love sounds like heaven.”

I smiled and he wrapped me in his cold, stone embrace. He breathed in deeply the scent of my hair and whispered his love for me.

“Call the others in,” I said as we met each other’s eyes again, feeling happier and lighter than we had since we had left the island.

The others slowly started to wander back in. I knew they had most likely heard what we had said but their faces didn’t show it.

"Rosalie, Emmett," I started, "I want you to have this baby. Be his parents, look after him love him. Honestly, I don't want to. But you can. You can be parents if you want to be."

Rosalie's entire face lit up. I saw her clutch hard at Emmett's hand and he grinned his childish, dimpled grin.

“Of course we will Bella, of course!” She grabbed my hands, her eyes pleading with mine.  “I will love and cherish and care for this baby forever Bella, I promise you.” She was in earnest, but I had never doubted she would be. I laughed and wrapped my arms around her.

Carlisle coughed, “I hate to interrupt ladies, but there is still the matter of delivering. The baby is strong and growing fast. There is the chance your heart will give up before you can deliver.” Rosalie’s face fell and Edward had that crumpled look on it. The reminder had pierced his chest at the thought of losing me and I knew that.

"I know, but I'll hold on as long as I can and if I can't hold on any longer deliver the baby and change me," I knew it might not be as simple as that and I knew by the look on Carlisle's face he knew it too. "I will make it. I will hang on," I reassured my family. I had to hold on as long as possible.

Rosalie came to sit by me on the plush couch. Taking my hand in hers she said, “are you sure about this Bella?” I nodded.

“The only thing I’ve ever been more certain of is Edward.”

“Then know this, you are giving me the greatest gift of all eternity.”

[silver-greedling]

Uncle Moody

George Weasley x Reader (this is a sad one, big sad, no joy left in the world with this one)

"Mad-Eye's dead," Bill stated bluntly, Fleur clinging to his arm with one hand and crying lightly into the other. The words hit me like a knife to my gut. "We saw it. It happened just after we broke out of the circle: Mad-Eye and Dung were close by us, they were heading north too. Voldemort - he can fly - went straight for them."

I placed a hand over my mouth, both to stop my tears and to keep myself from retching in front of everyone. Lupin and Harry placed a hand on my back each as Bill went on. "Dung panicked, I heard him cry out, Mad-Eye tried to stop him, but he Disapparated. Voldemort's curse hit Mad-Eye full in the face, he fell backward off his broom, and - there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail-"

Bill's voice broke, and he met my eyes with his own watery ones. Almost in sync, tears fell from both of us, and I turned away from everyone.

"I need a minute," I hardly managed, stepping away from the large crowd. No one dared try to stop me or talk to me as I made my way back into the house.

Mrs. Weasley met my eyes on the way to wherever I thought the most secluded area would be. "Are you alright, dear?" I saw George carefully sit up a bit from the couch, he and his twin glancing up at me. "What-"

"Uncle Moody is dead." I shuddered, hating the words more when I spoke them myself. "Mad-Eye is dead."

I stepped past her and struggled not to break down halfway up the staircase. A few more stairs, and I stepped into an old, seemingly unused office or storage room. Once the door was shut, I trudged over to a corner and placed myself within it, pulling my knees up to my face.

"You idiot," I whispered, tears starting to fall. "Of all the stupid wizards I've known in my life, you are, by far, the most dim-witted, small brained, arrogant, foolish one! You got yourself killed, you ass. You died!"

I threw my hands over my face, now sobbing into them. My jeans and sleeves were quickly becoming soaked in my own tears, but I couldn't stop them, even if I tried.

"You absolute idiot," I muttered. "Dead." I gripped my knees tightly. "Who's going to take care of me, now? Who's going to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, Uncle Moody? Who's-" I choked on my tears. "Who's going to scare the living shit out of my children for being nice to people?"

Not but a few moments later, I heard the door open. Although I didn't like the idea of someone finding me like this, I couldn't stop myself. All I could do was try to make my sobs quieter, but it didn't do much.

The door closed, and the tall figure took slow, even steps toward me. I recognized him when I looked up and wiped my eyes - George, with his head in a bandage wrap.

He sat next to me, not saying a word. His hand landed on my knee, then took my hand. Carefully, he chanced a look at my face, frowning at me.

I looked away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. His gaze was far too piercing, and I didn't want to see the pity in his eyes.

"I've never really had parents," I said softly, taking even breaths to try and regulate my breathing and heartbeat. My tears slowed a little as I spoke. "When I was born, it was to a Muggle couple." I smiled morbidly, no humor in my tone. "I was, maybe, two years old when I first used accidental magic."

My free hand rubbed my eyes dry as the tears finally stopped. George squeezed my other hand. "They were unforgiving. The moment they realized I wasn't...wasn't their idea of a normal child, they dropped me on anyone who could find me. I was found my a wizard who recognized my magic. He was a Death Eater, and I never knew the difference." His hand tightened even further in mine.

"Well, of course, before I could even turn four years old, he was convicted of...several murders." I took a shaky breath. "There was plenty of evidence suggesting he'd kill me, too, if I didn't accept the Dark Mark as a teen."

I took a moment to chew my cheek, taking a deep, slow, shaky breath. "He was caught and sent to Azkaban by Moody. When he saw me, a child, he couldn't just leave me."

"He never let me mistake him for being my dad, though," I sort of laughed. "From the minute he knew I would understand it, he told me he wasn't my father. All he said, for the first few years, was that I was adopted." George shifted closer, hand still wrapped around my own. "When I got older, and I started to question things, he told me the full truth - I had no parents." I sniffed, trying to clear out the remnants of snot in my nose, to get rid of all evidence I had been crying. "People who will throw their child out, no matter who they are, don't deserve to be called parents. Neither do those who planned to murder their child. Moody is the closest person I have to a parent." I cringed at my own words, eyes trailing down. "Had...closest person I had..."

Wordlessly, somehow able to sense I didn't want to talk anymore, George pulled me into a tight hug. His arms went to my waist as he pulled my head into the crook of his neck.

"Shove off," I muttered lightheartedly. "Don't make me start crying, again."

He scoffed, patting my back carefully. "I'm trying to be a good friend," he sighed, fake annoyance in his voice. "Forgive me of that, your highness."

I let myself bury my face in his chest. My arms dangled limply at my sides as his held me closer. Slowly, mine moved to wrap around his neck, bringing me closer as tears threatened once more.

Before I knew it, I'd started crying again. It wasn't as harsh, but I still felt bad for George's shirt.

"He'd be calling me stupid for crying," I stated quietly through tears. "He would tell me there's work to do, or that I've got no right crying over someone I don't understand."

"Do you want to lie down?" George asked quietly. "You can take my bed for the night, I'll tell Fred."

"Trying to get rid of me?" I tiredly teased as I moved back.

He blushed just a bit, sputtering for an answer. "No, I just - I mean - I figured you might be tired, after everything that happened."

His eyes met mine cautiously. "Sleep sounds great," I admitted, letting him bring me to stand. "Thank you - for letting me cry on you and everything." I glanced at his shoulder as he led me out of the room. "Sorry about your shirt."

Before he could respond, I met Mrs. Weasley's eyes. She had just reached the top of the stairs, apparently, likely to check on me and George. We kept our eyes locked for a moment, George glancing between us nervously, then Mrs. Weasley all but crushed me in a hug.

She didn't say anything, just pulled me tight and squeezed the breath out of me. Being huggers and good shoulder's to cry on seemed to be a Weasley trait.

Once Mrs. Weasley released me, George told her he'd be letting me steal his bed for the night.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he told his mum, who suddenly seemed torn between caring for her injured son and being hospitable to her guest. "I mean it, Mum." His voice was soft, so different from normal. Mrs. Weasley relented, headin back downstairs with only once glance back to us.

"You don't have to do that," I told him, feeling him tug my arm to take me to his room. "I'll take the couch. You're injured - you should take it."

"This isn't an argument," he stated. We reached the door, with the twins' names etched into the wood, and he opened it with no grandiose. "I'm sure you know, not only am I a Gryffindor, but I'm a stubborn Weasley, too."

I rolled my eyes as he carefully pushed me into the room. "I know for an absolute fact that you'd let me go if I asked you to."

"So, why aren't you asking?"

The question hovered between us, but, before either of us could touch on the subject, he removed his hands and stepped back toward the door.

"I'll go warn Fred about a girl invading our room," he stated, shoving a hand in his pocket as he closed the door behind him. "See you in the morning."

"See you," I muttered softly, although the door was already closed. Sighing, I looked between the two beds, pondering which one could be George's.

There was a loud sound - CRACK - and a familiar face appeared next to me.

"Left one," Fred stated, nudging my arm with a loose smile. "Don't get too comfortable, lovebird."

At my raised eyebrow, he chuckled and dropped it. I flopped down onto the bed just before he did the same in his own. "G'night, Fred," I muttered.

"Night."

It wasn't even two seconds before I heard snoring. Helga, this was going to be a long night.

***

But it wasn't as long as I expected. I had been so worn out from the worrying and crying, I managed to sleep even through the ruckus ten feet from me.

I woke up earlier then him. Quite early, in fact. When I padded out of the room, it seemed everyone else was still in bed. The clock - a real one, not Mrs. Weasley's - told me that it was hardly six in the morning.

"Hogwart's schedule on the brain," I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face as I trailed downstairs. "Been graduated for a month or so, already, and I still..."

I trailed off when I realized George had, tru to his word, fallen asleep on the couch. I let my voice die out, not wanting to wake him or anyone else that may have been in a nearby room.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," I greeted the woman in the kitchen, smiling. "Making breakfast?"

She looked over to me, nodding with her own smile. "Would you mind helping..."

Her eyes met something behind me, and I turned to find George standing in the doorway, half asleep. Unseen by me, Mrs. Weasley glanced between us, smiled a tad wider, and walked by me. "Never mind, I can handle it, dear."

She took a stack of dishes, along with a few other items I didn't see, and headed into another room as George took a couple steps closer to me.

It was silent for the longest time. When I glanced at the clock, I expected hours to have passed, but it appeared to only have been minutes.

"Sleep well?" he asked. He stepped past me, going for one of the cabinets behind me.

"Do you and Fred both snore so bloody loud?" I turned to catch him smiling, pulling something like a tin of coffee grinds out of the cabinet and meeting my eyes. "Took me damn near ages to fall asleep."

"As far as I know, it's all him," he stated, filling and heating a kettle of water with a flick of his wand. I turned to face some pictures on the wall, looking through a photographed history of the Weasley's. When I turned back, the kettle was half empty, and a mug of coffee was placed next to me.

Before I could even ask, George pointed above me. "Sugar's in there." He grinned mischeviously. "Allow me."

He stepped in front of me, my back to the counter as he reached above and around me to get in the cabinet. It was all done on purpose, I just knew it. He was already back to himself, playing these tricks.

I was ready for the tricks to end. Rolling my eyes, I gave him what he wanted. His lips were very warm, probably from the coffee, which I could taste when those lips parted against mine.

"First kiss and you immediately resort to snogging," I sighed as he pulled back, a grin on both our faces. "Typical."

"First," he repeated, arm dropping from the cabinet down to my waist. "Implying that there may be a second? Possibly a third, no?"

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes again, I out a hand on his neck and brought him down for more. My eyes closed instinctively as, once more, his lips parted. He managed to let his tongue slip into my mouth, and I saw no reason to stop him.

He pulled back first, giving me a smirk. "I lied. The sugar's in the other cabinet."

[sunsetscurving]

CHASING STARS

Ch. 17

ao3 link

In a world where reincarnation is common and expected, people stopped to care for a reason or how many times they already lived – they have no memory of their past life anymore.

But Lucas Lallemant can feel that this isn’t his first life, some shreds of his former life still present in his new one. He has this feeling that something from his past life tied him so much to it that he has to find it again in his new life.

Something. Or someone.

TW: anxiety, death

Days passed and Lucas could literally watch as Eliott’s wound fixed itself. It was unbelievable for him that a wound which would have killed every other man was fixing itself till only a fading scar was left. Eliott was feeling better although Lucas knew that he still had so much guilt inside of him. He was more protective over Lucas than usually from this day on and Lucas couldn’t blame him – he would do exactly the same if he was in Eliott’s place. And it would be a lie if Lucas would say that all of this didn’t scare him. But Lucas, as well as Eliott, tried to live his life as if nothing happened. Minute by minute.

“Eliott?”

“Hm…?

“Are you asleep?”

Lucas turned his head to Eliott who had his arms around the smaller boy. Lucas felt always so at peace and safe when he slept next to Eliott in his bed. They had been lying like this for an hour now, dozing and just holding the other one. Lucas spent more nights here than at home and his parents had already realized that, too.

“Half asleep.”

Eliott’s voice was raspy and it always kind of turned Lucas on when his boyfriend had a much deeper voice than usually. Lucas chuckled and kissed Eliott’s cheek before sitting halfway up, pushing himself up on his elbow to look at Eliott. His lashes were thick and his eyes closed and Lucas asked himself for the thousandth time in the last few months how he deserved a beautiful and perfect boyfriend like him. In this life and in his former life.

“What is it, choupi?”

Lucas smiled softly at this nickname and the excitement inside of him regarding the thing he would say now slowly faded away. Lucas took a deep breath.

“My parents want to meet you.”

Silence.

Eliott slowly opened his eyes and furrowed his brows at this, looking at Lucas and searching for any signs of mockery on the face of the other boy. But Lucas was serious. Absolutely serious.

“Do you think that this is a good idea?”, asked Eliott slowly but without any judgement at all.

“I told my parents about you”, said Lucas instead of answering to the question, “I couldn’t sneak out at night anymore without them realising that. And my mum was super excited and—” Lucas sighed deeply, “And they want to meet you. At our gala tomorrow.”

Eliott’s jaw literally dropped at this and Lucas had to hide a smile at this.

“Tomorrow?”

He knew that Eliott was totally anxious regarding meeting his parents, they already talked about this.

“Eliott, I want my parents to know who the man of my life is. I want them to know how happy you make me, how you complete me.”

Eliott’s expression softened at that and so Lucas kept going.

“I love you. Please… join me tomorrow.”

Eliott ran a hand through his hair. Lucas could see Eliott considering everything. He wanted to show Eliott to the whole world. Eliott belonged to him, more than anyone could ever understand. But his parents were also a really important part of Lucas’ life. And he wanted to share his happiness with them.

Some moments passed before Eliott groaned dramatically and Lucas started to grin, wrapping his arms around Eliott.

“I knew that you would say yes.”

“What I wouldn’t do for you, Lulu”, whispered Eliott while trying to hide the smile on his lips, “But do I have to wear a suit?”

“Oh, of course. You looked so super hot the last time”, said Lucas while smiling and laying his lips on Eliott’s neck. The other one sighed and Lucas knew that every protest died down now.

“And besides that… I would love to undress a fancy suit from you at the end of the night.”

Eliott grinned widely and turned them around so Lucas was laying under Eliott now.

“I’m taking this as a promise”, whispered Eliott close to Lucas’ lips and before Lucas could reply anything, they were already lost into the kisses of the other one.

.

Eliott would have to get used to wearing a suit now since he was together with the son of the most influential politician of France. But he definitely preferred his joggers and a sweatshirt while holding Lucas in his arms. Eliott waited for his boyfriend in front of his house, the hands lazily in the pockets of his trousers while leaning with one shoulder against the wall.

As Lucas was driving around the corner with his motorbike, he pushed himself off of the wall with a grin. But as Lucas stopped, climbing off the vehicle and taking off the helmet, running a hand through his hair, his jaw dropped.

Lucas had always been hot in his eyes.

But this was too much for Eliott to take.

Lucas was wearing a black suit and a very tight shirt underneath. The tie was coming loose and his hair was messy as usual, his eyes a piercing blue. Eliott really had to take every strength inside of him to not lift Lucas off his feet in this moment and do some things with him.

“Who’s this beautiful stranger?”, asked Lucas with a grin on his lips while walking towards Eliott. Eliott slowly came to his senses again, his blood still boiling inside of him. But he just smirked at Lucas with the crooked smile of his and tilted his head.

“I don’t know. Who are you?”

Lucas laughed and pulled Eliott to him, tiptoeing so that he could reach his lips and kiss him briefly.

“You’re a smooth motherfucker, Eliott Demaury.”

“So are you, Lucas Lallemant.”

Lucas laughed and pulled Eliott towards the motorbike.

“Are you ready to encounter my parents?”

“As ready as I can be. I’m glad I haven’t thrown up yet.”

“Don’t you dare to do this while you’re sitting behind me!”

Eliott laughed while putting his helmet on and took his place behind Lucas, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy.

“Regarding your driving style, I cannot promise anything.”

Lucas laughed and took off with a howling motor. And Eliott was sure that this would turn into a good day.

Little did he know.

.

“I didn’t know that there would be so many people.”

Eliott looked around, hands in his pockets again and for the first time in forever he felt kind of shy. There were so many people and Lucas surely knew all of them personally. And at the thought that he would meet Lucas’ parents in a few moments, his heart was beating still faster. Eliott wanted that Lucas’ parents liked him. Because Eliott loved him and he would do everything for Lucas – And Eliott hoped that his parents would accept that and see the strong love for their son in Eliott’s every action.

“If I would’ve told you, you wouldn’t be here now.”

“What an intelligent boyfriend I have”, said Eliott quietly with a smirk and Lucas took his hand, showing everyone that they belonged together. Some of them looked weirdly at them and Eliott was not sure if the photographers took photos of Lucas only or of the two of them together. He was already preparing himself to be on the cover of some stupid trash magazine where the headline would be: LUCAS LALLEMANT’S NEW FLAME.

Eliott nearly chuckled to himself.

The things he did for Lucas.

“Okay, Eliott. I told my parents about you coming tonight. And they are over there, waiting for us.”

Lucas inclined his head towards a man and a woman and Eliott knew immediately that they were Lucas’ parents. Lucas looked exactly like his mum: soft eyes, a lovely smile, brownish hazelnut coloured hair. And he had the serious look, which Lucas was sometimes wearing, from his father.

Eliott took a deep breath, looking at Lucas.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Lucas grinned widely and pulled Eliott towards his parents. Eliott tried to calm down, he was immortal, for gods sake, he has already survived many other, many more difficult situations.

“Mum? Dad?”

Eliott’s heartbeat seemed to went faster even more as the both of them turned around to look at him. He tried to smile sweetly but it ended up being a little shy.

“I want to introduce you to someone. This is Eliott Demaury. My boyfriend.”

Eliott smiled and stretched out his hand towards the both of them.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

As if he had waited for this moment to happen.

What he didn’t at all.

Lucas’ mum started to beam and instead of shaking his hand, she took Eliott in an embrace immediately, holding him tightly as if he was the lost son of their family. And Eliott’s smile deepened.

“It was about time that we finally met”, said his mum while pulling away, holding Eliott an armlength away from her to study him. “You are a tall, handsome young man and you seem to treat my baby well.”

“Mum”, said Lucas and his cheeks reddened. If Eliott hadn’t been in love already, he would be by now, looking at Lucas with this blissed out expression on his face.

“Welcome to our family, Eliott.”

“Thank you so much”, replied Eliott with a honest and bright smile on his lips. He didn’t know why he was afraid of meeting them – of course his parents would be nice, why did he thought about anything else?

“Eliott, huh?”

Eliott’s gaze flew from Lucas’ lovely mum to the his dad. Erik Lallemant, very influential politician, was staring him down, from top to bottom.

“Yes, sir”, answered Eliott and nearly saluted at the words from Lucas’ dad. He had some kind of charisma that made everyone around him feel respect towards him. Eliott was aware that Lucas watching them the whole time and one wrong step from him would surely anger Erik Lallemant now.

“You’re studying at the same college like Lucas?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re treating my son well?”

“Yes, sir. I would never harm him and I will forever protect him, if it’s in my power”, said Eliott with the most honest voice Lucas had ever heard from him. Eliott straightened even more, looking directly at Erik Lallemant while speaking his next words.

“I love your son. And I will always love him.”

Eliott could feel Lucas shifting closer, their hands intertwining on their own accord. Eliott took his eyes away from Erik Lallemant shortly to give Lucas a love-drunken smile. The deep rumble of Lucas’ dad laughing brought him back to reality and down from cloud nine.

“It really seems like you have honest intentions”, said Erik Lallemant with a little smile now.

“I do, sir.”

“Could you please stop asking the poor boy out? Let our kids have fun”, said Lucas’ mum now and Eliott felt his insides flooding with an unfamiliar warmth. It seems like he found not only Lucas, the love of his life, but also a family.

And this was more than anyone could ask for.

Erik Lallemant laughed quietly and laid an arm around his wife, kissing her temple. Lucas told Eliott that there wasn’t always this harmony between them. But Eliott was glad that he got introduced to them on a day where their mood seemed to be good.

“You’re right, darling. But I’m watching you, Eliott”, said his dad with some humour in his voice and Eliott couldn’t help himself as a bright smile broke out onto his face. This time, he really saluted and joined into the laugh of Lucas’ parents.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, Lucas pulled him away, a beaming smile on his face. When they were out of sight from Lucas’ parents, he wrapped his arms around Eliott and kissed him, long and deeply and Eliott felt nothing but pure love.

“Did I do everything right?”, asked Eliott quietly between one or two kisses. As an answer, Lucas kissed Eliott again, making the taller boy chuckle and only pulling Lucas closer to him.

“They love you”, said Lucas with his lips against Eliott’s, “Like I do, too.”

.

Lucas and Eliott danced through the whole night. And Lucas had never been happier. His parents accepted his boyfriend and they were now official the cutest pair on this whole gala. Lucas lived every minute fully and whenever Eliott smiled at him with that beautiful smile of his, his knees got weak and he felt like hugging the whole world.

But at some point, something was off.

Eliott started to glance around the room, looking at everyone and no one to the same time. Nearly every guest was dancing by now, the lights were dimmed and the music was good. But Eliott seemed to be nervous as if something was about to happen.

And Lucas got nervous through that, too.

“Eli, what’s wrong?”

“What?”

Eliott’s head whipped around from inspecting his surroundings, looking down at Lucas who he held tightly in his arms. And Lucas only raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t dumb and he could read in Eliott like he could read a book by now. Eliott let out a deep breath, snuggling his face into the mess which was Lucas’ hair.

“I don’t know… I feel –”

“Nervous?”

Eliott furrowed his eyebrows, stopping in his dancing moves to look at Lucas.

“Yeah… Nervous. How do you know?”

“Because your nervousness makes me nervous too.”

Eliott sighed and kissed Lucas’ forehead apologetically.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you nervous? Do you… have a bad feeling or…?”

Lucas was not sure how to approach this topic. He was not sure how to make Eliott understand that he also had some kind of bad feeling. That his eyes were also darting around the room. That he had the feeling of some kind of throwback happening soon to the time where someone randomly shot around their last party and Eliott saved his life.

“I cannot tell you what it is, Lucas… I just—”

And suddenly, someone grabbed Lucas’ arm, pulling him around violently. Lucas’ breath caught in his throat as he looked into the eyes of the man before him. Something cold pressed itself against Lucas’ rips. Exactly on the spot, where his heart was now beating way too fast.

This was not happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

His assassin found him again.

No.

Fuck, no.

“I killed you in your last life. And I will do it again.”

Lucas’ opened his mouth to scream, to say something, to do anything at all.

But suddenly, a shot rang through the air and he went down.

Screams were erupting from the crowd while Lucas was laying on the floor, eyes pressed tightly together.

I cannot do this to Eliott again.

The sounds started to fade into the background of his mind as he waited for the pain to burn his insides. As he waited for death to come and get him.

But there was no pain.

There was his beating heart, the panic inside of him still fresh and not giving place to unconsciousness.

Lucas started to scan his body with his hands, searching for any injuries. But there was none. No blood, no wounds, no sign that he was about to die.

But if he wasn’t dying right now…

No.

Lucas was short to hyperventilation as he turned around, dizzy from the fast and sudden movement. His heart was beating painfully against his chest out of fear what he would see now.

Tears were starting to fill his eyes as he saw him.

No. No, no, no. Please, let me wake up. This is not real.

Lucas did not fall down because of the shot. He did not fall down because the assassin chased a bullet through his still beating heart.

He fell down because someone pushed him out of the way.

Because Eliott pushed him out of the way.

Because Eliott saved him.

Because Eliott took the shot which was meant for Lucas.

Directly into his heart.

Directly into his heart.

Lucas stared at Eliott whose eyes were close, the red speck on his white shirt spreading slowly, so fucking slowly as if the blood would take over his whole body.

Someone had caught the assassin who was laughing frantically in the background.

Lucas crawled over to Eliott, not caring about anyone or anything at all right now. He would never, never ever forget this imagine of Eliott lying in his own blood in front of him. Of Eliott who was getting paler and paler now.

“Eliott?”

Lucas’ voice was shaking, there was so much fear in it.

And Eliott…

Eliott didn’t open his eyes.

And Lucas started to scream.