#no i saw a reel that started with ''you should always think twice'' and why was my first thought like TT... just like TT....

[mishkakagehishka]

You should always think twice... i do always think twice. Seollenda me likey me likey likey likey me likey likey likey dugeundugeundugeun

[tobesolonely]

aura

A/n: Hi everyone! this is a tad bit different from the things i usually write (I think) as i wanted to switch things up a little bit. I’m kinda nervous to post it so pleaseee please let me know your thoughts! As always please enjoy!! thank you to everyone who beta read for me btw :)

summary: witch!y/n can see auras and harry is blue

my ko-fi! thank you :)

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Y/N has always been able to easily empathize with others. She could see others' emotional energy— their aura— and this made it easy to know exactly what they were feeling. Not only could she see auras, but she could take away anyone’s emotional turmoil just by touching them.

One of Y/N’s most vivid memories from her childhood was when her best friend came to school one morning in tears over the death of her pet fish. When Y/N leaned in to give her a hug, she felt an overwhelming heaviness overtake her body as soon as they made contact. Upon pulling away from the hug, her friend’s demeanor was completely changed. Instead of being sad over the death of her fish, she was able to instead reflect on all the good times she had with him. Her friend was fine for the rest of the day, but Y/N was left grieving over a fish she never even owned.

Y/N went home that day, confused. How was it that her friend was so easily cheered up just from a hug? Was that all it took for Y/N to make others feel better? If that was the case, she decided she wanted to be a ‘Professional Hugger’ when she grew up. As time went on, Y/N learned that she didn’t even have to hug others to rid them of their mental pain. The slightest touch from her instantly made anyone she came into contact with feel better.

It took a few months for Y/N to realize it was her touch that healed others. Sure, that mental anguish then became hers to carry, but how many people could say they could heal someone just by touching them? If that was the price she had to pay, then so be it. From that point on Y/N made it a point to help anyone she could. 

As Y/N got older and her skill with this power grew, she learned to redirect the painful energy elsewhere so she didn’t always have to sit with it. It worked some of the time, but it was something she was still learning to master. Y/N wasn’t always successful in doing this, though. While whoever Y/N touched went about their day feeling great, she would experience their emotions so intensely that she felt as if she were coming down with a cold. Y/N dealt with it in silence because the way she saw it if she was blessed with this gift, she had to be selfless and put it to good use. Y/N was a firm believer that all the good she put out would come back to her in another life at least ten times over.

It was difficult for Y/N not to touch everyone she saw whose aura reflected sadness, anxiety, or worry. She tried to stick to only doing this to people she knew, but there were some instances where Y/N encountered someone who was just so clearly unhappy that she could not help herself. 

For example, right now. 

Y/N immediately sensed this stranger’s emotional turmoil as soon as they entered the space. It was late afternoon on a Wednesday. Y/N had the longest, most physically demanding day at work and the last thing she wanted to do was go home and cook. Even though she had just gone grocery shopping two days prior, she stopped by her favorite Thai place on the way home. Y/N was in the middle of ordering when their presence quite literally took her breath away, causing her to stumble over her words. 

She turned to look over her shoulder at the person who was so greatly distracting her and locked eyes with the most pitiful looking stranger she’d seen all day. The first thing Y/N noticed about him was his hair. It was unruly, like he had just gotten out of bed. She also noticed how tall he was–– if he had just a couple more inches on him, he would’ve had to crane his neck to enter the establishment. Upon making eye contact with Y/N the man quickly looked down at his shoes, twiddling his thumbs. His aura was a mixture of indigo and dark red when Y/N looked at him. Anger and sensitivity.

“Do you still need a moment?”

The voice of the cashier breaks Y/N out of her analytical thoughts of the stranger standing a few feet behind her. She nods, re-situating her purse on her left shoulder. 

“Uh, please. He can go ahead if he’s ready.” Y/N gestures behind her and the cashier nods, asking the man behind her if he was ready to order yet. He steps up to the front counter, eyes trained on his feet as if he couldn’t walk without watching every step he took. 

His energy was intense and Y/N wasn’t sure how much longer she could ignore it. Something about him was reeling her in— his aura wasn’t looking too bright at the moment, but she could just tell it usually was. She felt compelled to take away his pain, and she hadn’t spoken a single word to him yet. While he was placing his order, Y/N internally debated on whether or not she should “accidentally” graze his arm when they walked past each other. Would that be weird? What if she wasn’t able to redirect his negative energy elsewhere? While she did love to help whenever she could, some people’s emotional baggage was just a little too heavy. She didn’t know him. For all she knew, he could be a killer!

He turns back around once he’s finished ordering and stands by the entrance, out of Y/N’s way. The pair lock eyes again as Y/N makes her way back to the counter to order. Once again, he quickly looked away from her. Y/N’s trying to ignore the annoying nagging feeling she gets when she wants to help someone, but it’s unrelenting. She makes up her mind that once she’s done, she will approach this stranger to get a better read on his emotions. 

“Nice weather we’re having today, isn’t it?” She cringes at her choice of a conversation starter and hopes he doesn’t notice. Y/N folds her hands across her chest, forcing herself not to reach out to him. He nods.

“Lovely.”

The tone of his voice causes Y/N to wince. It was sharp and short. He was clearly not in the mood to converse. Although Y/N knows this, she continues on.

“I love this place. I think I come here at least twice a month–– what’s your go-to order?”

The man turns to fully face Y/N this time, his aura now more red than blue. He was beginning to grow annoyed with her small talk. 

“Green curry and stir-fried vegetables.” He doesn’t ask Y/N for her order, so she takes this as her signal to stop speaking to him. The bell above the door jingles, signaling another persons’ entry. Their aura is shining gold–– Y/N would not have to interfere. 

Y/N moves away from this man, deciding not to speak to him anymore. She was getting better at accepting the fact that no matter how much she wanted to, it was impossible to help everyone. As he collected his food from the front and turned to leave, not sparing Y/N another glance, she silently hoped that whatever was wrong with this man would not last.

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Harry was in a funk. There was no denying it, and he was over feeling so terribly. He hadn’t been feeling like himself for far too long. It seemed like everyone wanted something from him when he had nothing left to give. Jeff had set unrealistic deadlines, his mother was upset with him for not calling enough, and he was exhausted from constantly traveling and waking up in a new time zone. Harry needed a break.

Harry’s mind wandered to the pretty girl in the Thai place. She seemed inquisitive. She was very curious about his go-to order, and she was standing a little too close for his comfort. Harry was surprised when she didn’t ask him for a picture. He wasn’t trying to be cocky, but nearly everyone he met asked him for a picture–– he was Harry Styles. However, it was almost like this girl didn’t know who he was. She didn’t seem starstruck in the slightest.

While Harry was waiting for the light to change, it dawned on him that he may have been a tad bit rude to her. He noticed her happy expression drop when he shut her down, but he didn’t feel like talking. He liked to move from place to place as quickly as he could in the off chance he got recognized and it started circulating on Twitter. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little bad. She was sweet like honey–– or so it seemed. In their brief interaction, she bought him comfort.

Harry wanted to turn back around and go back to the restaurant to check if she was still there. What would be the point, though? She would most likely be long gone by the time he made it back over there, as she did order immediately after him. Harry’s torn out of his thoughts when the cars behind him start honking, and he realizes the light must’ve turned green. He decides not to think about the confrontation anymore. 

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The world works in mysterious ways. 

Y/N was sure she’d never encounter the grumpy man from her favorite Thai restaurant again but yet here she was in another situation that involved take-out and him. His aura was dark indigo this time. Stress? Isolation? Y/N didn’t know, but she wanted to help him. In her eyes, there was no reason for anyone to be down this badly. She just wanted everyone to be as happy as she (almost) always was! She takes a deep breath before approaching him.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry was absorbed in a text conversation involving his manager and stylist when a sweet, familiar voice interrupts him. 

“I’m okay, thank you. Yourself? Also, we’ve spoken before, I believe.”

She nods, a troubled look on her face. “We have. At the Thai place. How are you, though? Really.”

Harry was beginning to find her a bit strange (but still incredibly gorgeous, even more than he did before now that he got a good look at her face). Why was she so concerned with how he was feeling? Was she going to ask him for a picture or not? As Harry opened his mouth to again tell her he was fine, the desire to tell her how he was really feeling came over him. So he did.

“Honestly? ‘M exhausted. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling and my manager wants a lot from me. I think I jus’ need a break.” 

He radiated red. Anxiety? Anger?

“What do you do for work?” Now it was Harry’s turn to wear the troubled look.

“I don’t mean this to be rude, but you’re serious?”

Y/N nods, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. Just as quickly as she touches him she removes her hand, and she’s almost certain he didn’t even feel her touch. She notices him let out a visible sigh of relief, his aura changing from a red to a pale yellow. Optimism. Positivity. This causes her to let out her own sigh of relief. 

“You’re feeling better! That’s great.” Y/N was not able to redirect his negative energy as the restaurant was too crowded and she didn’t want to risk putting it on anyone else, and she was feeling him. He was stressed, overworked, and anxious. Y/N just wanted to go home and nap, no longer in the mood for the food she just ordered.

Harry decided she was definitely odd but in the most endearing way possible. “How do you know I’m feeling better? Wait, am I feeling better?” Y/N watches as he works through his emotions, his aura ranging in color before settling back on pale yellow. 

“Are you?” Y/N knows the answer to this of course, but she wants to hear him say it.

“I think I am. I’ve been feelin’ horrible all week but saying how I felt out loud to you automatically made me feel better. Kind of weird, but I won’t question it. Thank you for asking…,” Harry scrunches his nose, a distasteful expression on his face. “I don’t think ‘ve gotten your name yet.”

Y/N gives him a small, forced smile. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you around, I think.” Before Harry can tell her his name she’s gone.

And she didn’t even grab her food.

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Y/N felt like she had been hit by a ton of bricks. How one person could carry around all this emotional baggage was beyond her, but she wanted it gone. Immediately.

There was a spell Y/N kept on hand for times like these. Times when she couldn’t redirect the negative energy before it got to her. Times when it was just too much to carry. Y/N had regretfully done this spell more times than she could count and was an expert at reciting it from memory. The vile was open and ready to capture the negative energy that would shortly be leaving her.

Y/N works quickly to complete the process, unsure of what time her roommate would come barreling through the door. She had caught her doing things she deemed strange one too many times (she thought her roommate almost figured out who she really was when she caught her having a full-on conversation with her cat, Sapphire, once). She was beginning to run out of excuses for her “unusual” behavior. Y/N mutters under her breath, willing the energy to exit her.

She notices right away when it leaves her. She feels lighter— like her usual self again. She guides the energy into the vile and immediately seals it, hurrying into her room to lock it away. Y/N kept a box in her closet that she only opened if she had to. It was her Pandora’s Box, in a way. Nothing bad would be released into the world if she opened the box, but if the viles’ were opened then the bad energy she trapped would be re-released into the world, finding its way back to their original owners.

Y/N feels like she can breathe again once she bolts the box. She hoped that whatever he was doing, wherever this man was, he was still feeling okay. 

Also, for his sake and everyone’s around him, she hoped he got a break.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was on Harry’s mind. 

Something about her was magnetic. He wished he’d gotten more information about her than only her name, but she left him in such a hurry he could hardly process their conversation. Harry felt like a madman! He searched ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ on all social media platforms, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. It was dumb luck that he had ran into her twice in such a short time span, and he hoped good things happened in threes and he would see her again.

He was almost certain that Jeff thought he was losing his mind.

Harry tried explaining his interaction with Y/N first at the Thai food spot and again when he was getting Greek food, but Jeff thought Harry was so sleep deprived he was imagining things. 

“How did you see a beautiful, young woman who didn’t freak out or ask for a picture? Doesn’t make sense. You’re Harry Styles.”

“That’s what I thought!” Harry exclaimed wildly. He holds his phone up. “I’m thinkin’ she really doesn’t know who I am, though. I couldn’t find her on any social media platform. It’s like she’s off the grid or somethin’.”

“No social media at all? A little weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s fitting for her. If you met her then you would understand what I meant,” Harry felt the need to defend this alluring stranger who took away his pain just by listening to him speak. “Look at me, Jeff. Don’t I seem so much better than I was jus’ a few days ago?”

His manager couldn’t deny that Harry’s mood (and attitude) had done a 360. He didn’t complain about being woken up early and he happily consented to do not one, but two interviews.

“I mean, yeah? I guess––”

“Thanks to her!” Harry cuts him off. “I’m telling you. I need to see her again and thank her for whatever she did.”

“How are you going to do that?” 

Harry leaned back against the counter in Jeff’s kitchen, mulling the question over. It was a valid one. How was he going to do that? He already tried to no avail to find her on social media. He hardly knew anything about her. All he knew was her name, that they seemed to have a similar taste in food, and that she went to the Thai spot at least two times a month. 

That was it.

In one last effort to contact Y/N again, Harry planned to go to the Thai food place, pray the cashier who was working when he went in earlier this week was there, and leave his number with her. It was a risky move, probably not the smartest thing he could do, and Jeff would for sure drop him as a client if he knew Harry was doing things like this. Harry didn’t care. Phone numbers could always be changed, and he was desperate. 

If Harry couldn’t contact Y/N, he would wait for her to contact him.

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Y/N was confused.

She stopped at her favorite Thai food spot (sooner in the month than anticipated, but she had another long day), ordered her usual, and was about to leave when the sweet cashier who was always there insisted she takes the piece of paper with ‘HARRY’ followed by a phone number scrawled on it.

“For me?” Y/N was confused. Something like this had never happened to her before. I mean, does it happen to anyone?

“He insisted,” the cashier warmly responds. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back–– knew you would soon enough.” Y/N’s face flushes at this and she makes a mental note to start cooking more.

“Well…,” Y/N trails off, not sure what to say. “Thank you? I guess I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ve done well.” The cashier’s aura shines pink. Affection. Love.

“You should. Take care!”

Y/N leaves the restaurant with the crumpled piece of paper in her sweaty hands, eager to get home as soon as possible. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something told her not to disregard him. His reaching out was a sign–– and Y/N did not ignore signs.

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“She hasn’t called me yet.”

“It’s been five days, Harry. She probably doesn’t eat Thai food every day. I can’t believe you did something so fuckin’ stupid…”

Jeff’s reprimanding fades into the background as Harry drifts off into daydreaming about what it would be like if– when- Y/N finally called him. Would she find him obsessed? What if she thought he was stalking her? Harry decided that when she called, he would immediately clear things up. He’d thank her for her kindness (his trademark) and see how she was doing. She left the Greek food place so abruptly when he last saw her that he was under the impression something was bothering her. Harry wasn’t sure what he could do to help if something was troubling her, but he could at least extend a listening ear to her as she did to him.

“Harry, are you listening?”

“What was that?”

Jeff shakes his head at Harry, an amused expression on his face. “Man, I hope she calls you soon.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The phone rang three times. After the third ring, his gruff voice came through the other end of the phone.

“Hello?”

Y/N sharply inhales, suddenly growing nervous. “Is this Harry?” Silence. Y/N was preparing to repeat herself when he spoke again.

“Is this Y/N?”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to be silent. Harry says nothing, awaiting her response. “Well, it is. You sound familiar–– how do we know each other?”

“Now that ’m actually able to talk to you, it sounds a bit silly…” He seems unsure of himself. “Promise y’won’t laugh at me?”

“I promise.”

Y/N says it with such conviction that Harry believes her, and it gives him the confidence he needs to proceed. “I was havin’ a hard time a couple of weeks ago. I was in line to get some falafel and you asked me what was wrong. What was really wrong.” Y/N says nothing, so Harry continues.

“I told you I was exhausted from work ‘nd wanted a break. That’s it, y’know? But I immediately felt better afterward. I’ve actually been feelin’ great ever since. I jus’ wanted to thank you, is all. I know it sounds weird and it’s probably all in m’head but I feel like talkin’ with you was just what I needed.” Harry’s rambling, nerves finally catching up to him. She was gorgeous and he was afraid she would think he was insane. 

“I’m glad to hear you’re still feeling better, Harry. That’s great.” Y/N’s voice is gentle and soft and to Harry, hearing her speak was just as comforting as getting a hug from his mum.

“I’m also really sorry that I was such a dick when you tried talkin’ to me the first time at the Thai spot,'' Harry feels embarrassed, stumbling over his words. “Not sure if you remember but I was just havin’ a shit day. I thought you were gonna ask for a picture and I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything and Harry winces, certain he’s offended her when she starts talking again. 

“That’s okay. I know you were having a bad day.” 

“How did you know I was having a bad day?” Again, Y/N pauses before answering. 

“Well, I didn’t do anything to you for you to be so rude to me. I knew it had to be a problem involving yourself.” Harry notices that Y/N speaks very slowly. It’s as if she considers every word before she speaks. He’s intrigued by her. 

“That is very true.” Y/N doesn’t say anything so Harry takes it as his cue to keep talking. “I’m sorry if me leaving my number at the restaurant creeped you out. I hope you didn’t feel obligated to call me.”

“Not at all. I’ve actually been wondering how you were doing since we had our encounter at the Greek place–– that doesn’t creep you out either, right?”

Y/N was hypnotizing. Harry was infatuated. 

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Course.”

“Why would I want a picture with you?”

Harry had to get to know her.

“Do y’wanna grab coffee sometime?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Something was definitely different about Y/N–– Harry just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. To begin, she truly had absolutely no idea who Harry was. At first, he thought she was just messing with him, but he quickly realized she was being serious. Y/N said she had “heard of” One Direction, but she never listened to the band’s music. Harry supposed that could account for her being unaware as to who he was. Maybe he wasn’t a “household name” like Jeff always said he was. 

Harry was also right about her not having social media. When he asked Y/N why she didn’t use it, she said she preferred to occupy her time with more substantial things. She didn’t elaborate, and Harry didn’t ask. She was however very interested to learn what a big social media following Harry had. He tweeted the word “Do” and they watched as the internet went wild trying to decipher what he meant. He even started trending worldwide for it. It made sense to Y/N after that why Harry was so intent on not taking off his sunglasses and beanie.

Y/N was having a great time analyzing his aura. 

She noticed that whenever someone glanced in their direction, his aura briefly turned red. Anxiety. When Y/N attempted to make a joke, it turned pink (she chose not to analyze that too much). Mainly though, his aura shone that beautiful, pale yellow that Y/N loved to see the most. Harry was doing well. He was happy. Y/N would not have to intervene today.

She couldn’t explain why, but she felt obligated to help him. Even though his energy made her feel so terribly last time, she would’ve still taken away his pain if he was blue without even thinking twice about it. Why was she so drawn to him? Y/N wasn’t sure what it was about Harry that drew her in, but she knew she would do anything to help him. Anything to see him happy.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Harry felt the same way.

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Y/N missed Harry terribly.

She wanted to call him–– just a brief conversation to see if he was doing okay. He mentioned when they last saw each other nearly two weeks prior that he was going to be very busy in the coming days, and she wondered if he still was. Harry told Y/N that he loved his job (of course he did!), but being so busy sometimes really hurt him. Not just mentally, but physically as well. 

She longed for him.

Y/N searched through her call list for Harry’s number and immediately tapped it, listening closely as it rang. She was about to end the call in defeat when Harry answered at the last moment.

“Hello?” He sounded tired, under the weather.

“Harry,” Y/N begins. “I haven’t heard from you in a bit and I just wanted to see if all was well. How do you feel?”

“Hi Y/N,” Harry perks up slightly, but he still sounds a bit congested. “‘M not sure if you can tell from m’voice, but I’ve got a cold.”

Although Y/N wishes with every fiber of her being that she could rid Harry of his cold, she cannot. However, she can make sure all is well with his mind. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she pauses for a moment as she usually does, hoping Harry can tell how sincere she’s being on the other end. “How do you feel though? Are you still feeling happy?”

“Jus’ feelin’ not the greatest again. I’ve been stuck in my house with this fuckin’ cold and haven’t seen anyone in days.”

“I can come over.” Y/N doesn’t think twice before offering. If he had to suffer physically, she at least wanted him to feel okay mentally.

“I don’t want to get you sick. It’s okay–”

“I don’t mind, really. I’ll keep you company.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/N’s sure she must’ve creeped him out. They don’t even know each other well and here she was offering to come over to his home and keep him company while he was sick. She’s about to rescind her offer when he lets out a loud sigh.

“My manager might kill me if he finds out I did this… but sure, let me give you my address.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As soon as Harry got off the phone, he sprung into action. His home was a mess. There were crumpled up tissues all over the floor beside his bed, a sink full of dishes, and he’s pretty sure every bathroom in his house was a mess. He opted to not have anyone over to clean up after him as he didn’t want to risk getting anyone sick and man did it show.

He quickly gathered up all the tissues and threw them into the bin in the corner of his bedroom, surveying the rest of the mess before deciding he and Y/N wouldn’t be spending time in there, anyway. He was going to focus on the mess downstairs, instead. He loaded his dishwasher and record time and used disinfectant wipes on every surface he could in the kitchen, dining room, and living room. He then surveyed the bathrooms and cleaned the one with the least amount of mess, closing the doors to the other ones. He would worry about those some other time. 

Harry was nervous to have Y/N over. He was just nervous to be around her in general. He missed her over the past couple of weeks but he opted out of contacting her, terrified that he was a bother. After Harry finished cleaning in record time, it dawned on him that he didn’t really have any food prepared to offer Y/N. If she was coming over to his house just to cheer him up, the least he could do was offer her something to eat. Harry hated doing things like this, but he was desperate. He texted his assistant and asked if they could drop off some food from the Greek place he and Y/N liked, making a mental note to find out what other places she enjoyed eating at for next time.

Y/N gets to his house much sooner than he was anticipating.

He rushes to his front door, looking through the peephole before opening the door. Y/N has a big smile on her face and looks absolutely gorgeous, as she usually does. She has a huge water bottle in one hand and a tote bag with the phases of the moon slung over her shoulder. He’s never seen it before and thinks it’s lovely.

“Hi,” Harry says breathlessly. “Thanks for coming. Uh, come in please.”

Y/N smiles and takes a small step forward, crossing the threshold of Harry’s home. She thought it was incredible–– and rather clean. “What can I do to help?” 

Harry was getting used to Y/N’s straightforward approach to things, so he’s not phased by her question. “Jus’ you bein’ here is great, honestly.”

Y/N can see that Harry’s aura is that deep indigo that she’s not fond of, but she wonders if he can work through it himself before she steps in. “So it’s just your cold that’s got you feeling down? Can we sit down and talk about it?”

“Sure. Also, not sure if you’ve eaten yet or not but I’m gettin’ some food dropped off for us.”

“That sounds great, I haven’t had dinner yet so thank you. Can we sit?” Y/N doesn’t wait for Harry to answer. She makes her way to his plush couch in the adjoining room, walking through the place like she’s been there before. Harry loves it.

“I think I told you the gist of it on the phone earlier,” Harry says, settling onto the couch beside her. He leaves some space in between them since he doesn’t want to risk getting her sick, but he wishes he was closer to her. “I’ve been feelin’ down ‘cause I’ve been stuck in the house with this cold. S’not fun.” Y/N hums in understanding. Harry notices that she reaches out her hand to him slightly and then quickly retracts it, but he doesn’t mention it. Y/N says nothing, just continues looking inquisitively at him. Harry doesn’t feel uncomfortable under her gaze–– he stares back. 

“Something’s making you feel nervous. What is it?”

Harry isn’t surprised that she was able to figure out there was more to what he was feeling than just loneliness. How was he supposed to tell Y/N that she was the reason for his nervousness, though?

“It’s nothing. I promise.”

“I don’t think so.”

Harry scratches the back of his neck nervously. “How are you so good at reading me? S’like you’re inside my brain, Y/N.” He lets out a little chuckle after saying this but quickly stops when he realizes Y/N isn’t laughing along with him.

“You’re just easy to read,” she cooly responds after a second. “Why are you so nervous? Do you have something coming up for work?”

“Not really…” 

“Then what is it? Something going on with someone in your family?” 

Harry was quickly realizing Y/N wouldn’t drop this unless Harry gave her an answer. He silently hopes for the best before answering her. 

“It’s you,” he mumbles, shifting around uncomfortably on his couch. “You make me nervous.” Y/N watches as his aura changes from red and blue to pink, and his cheeks flush slightly. 

“Why do I make you nervous?”

“You just do.”

“Why? Have I done something to hurt you?”

Y/N was so painfully oblivious that it was cute. Harry was quickly realizing that his heart doubled in size every time he talked to her.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually,” Harry reaches in the pocket of his sweatpants for a tissue, facing away from her while he pauses to blow his nose. “You’re so… you’re jus’ very interesting. Mesmerizing, really.”

Y/N feels her skin heat up at Harry’s compliment. His aura is still shining pink, the brightest pink she’s ever seen since meeting him. She was sad to see there was still quite a bit of indigo and red, though. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

Before Y/N can stop herself, she reaches out to grab Harry’s hand. Immediately she feels his energy transfer to her and without thinking, Y/N flicks her finger out of force of habit. The beautifully potted Pothos that Harry has sitting on his television stand instantly droops, leaves turning brown and wilted. 

Harry’s completely perplexed.

The first thing he notices is that he’s feeling better. Great, even. He feels as good as he felt after the interaction he had with Y/N in the Greek food place all those weeks ago. The next thing he notices is that his gorgeous Pothos, a plant that is nearly impossible to kill, is dead.

And it was all Y/N’s doing.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

please let me know what you thought!

[rickywritesstuff]

less than a friend - bill s preston esq x ted theodore logan

warnings: mentions of homophobia, mentions of abuse, f slur

desc: Ted is acting strange, and Bill intends to find out why, but Ted won't even look at him. When Ted finally talks to Bill, he reveals he doesn't want to be friends anymore.

The first couple of times, Bill had convinced himself Ted simply hadn't heard him. He grew more concerned, however, when he noticed Ted look at him and still avoid him. Had he done something? Ted would tell him if he did, right?

When Bill saw Ted getting things from his locker, he fully intended to keep on walking; he was clearly too occupied to talk to Bill, and if he wanted to talk to him, he would do so. That was the plan until he caught a clear glimpse of a bruise on Ted's arm.

"Ted?" Ted flinched, clearly able to hear Bill, but didn't move in his direction. "Please don't ignore me, Ted." He spoke quietly. He noticed Ted's busted lip, which wasn't noticable earlier because Ted's face had been hidden behind his hair. "Did you get hurt, Ted?"

The halls had begun to clear out as the bell rang. Ted took a breath. He didn't want to do this. But he had to for the both of them, right?

"We should talk, Bill," Ted stated in a way that told Bill something was very, very wrong.

Bill nodded, waiting for Ted to continue. When he didn't, Bill asked, "What is it, Ted?"

Ted hid his face behind his hair again. He could feel how fast his heart was beating. He didn't want to do this. He wished he didn't have to. But his dad would kill him if he didn't.

"Bill, I don't-" Ted could feel the tears threatening to come up, heard his voice crack, and cleared his throat. "I-I think we sh-should- stop being, uh- stop being friends." He paused to let the both of them process what he had just said. "The bands over, too, Bill. I'll come over later to get my stuff."

Bill stared at Ted, dumbfounded. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, I just- it's better this way, y'know?" Ted half-lied. He really wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

"Y-you- Ted-" Bill fought back the tears he knew would come up sooner or later. He felt his heart sink. Was he joking? He didn't look like he was joking. Ted wouldn't make this kind of joke, anyways. Bill wished he could get one single coherent thought out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, really." Ted began to turn around, stopping and turning his head to face Bill again, giving him a sad smile. "You were a good friend, Bill. Please don't forget that."

With that, Ted left Bill standing alone in the hallway, his mind reeling. It wasn't his fault. Ted had said that, and he wouldn't lie to him. But something inside him told him he had done something wrong, something so bad that Ted didn't want to talk to him ever again.

And then it hit him. He was alone. He was completely and utterly alone, with not even Ted to comfort him. He always had Ted, no matter what, that's just how it had been since they were little kids. They had never had anyone but each other, and now they didn't even have that.

Bill ran to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls. He began sobbing without checking if anyone was in the bathroom with him. He didn't give a shit if anyone heard him, anyways. His best friend didn't want anything more to do with him, he should be allowed to cry as much as he wanted.

As Bill sobbed loudly, his shoulders shaking rhythmically with each sob, only one thought came and went through his head; today, after school, would be his last chance ever to talk to Ted.

—————

Neither Bill nor Ted said anything on the ride back to Bill's house. Missy had no idea what was going on, and the boys' peculiar behavior only made her increasingly concerned with every passing second.

"I won't be home for a while, I've got some errands to run. Have fun, boys," Missy called out with a smile as they approached the Preston residence and the boys got out of the car.

"Yeah," Bill muttered, kicking a pebble in front of his foot.

Ted gave as convincing a smile as he could. "Bye, Mrs. Preston."

Missy waved, smiling, too. "Bye, Ted." And with that, she drove off.

The two stood there for a few moments, but to them it felt like forever. "So- I- I think you've got a few things in my room. I don't know. We can start there."

Ted shrugged. "You can keep whatever's in your room, dude. I just need whatever's in the garage."

Bill's heart ached. He really didn't want to keep any of Ted's stuff. He thought it would hurt too much. He nodded, anyway. "Okay. Garage it is, then, duder." He tried to keep his voice from cracking or shaking. He didn't think he was very good at it.

Bill pushed past Ted, doing his best to avoid any eye contact with him. He didn't want to see whatever emotion Ted was feeling right now. He opened the garage, faced with their instruments and small stage. The instruments and stage he would most likely never use again.

Ted pointed to the right of the garage. "I'll start there, I guess."

Bill nodded. "Oh, wait- don't you-" He could feel his voice start to crack. He hated this. He just wished he could fix whatever was going on between him and Ted. "Don't you want your guitar, dude? I think you should get that first, so you don't forget it."

Ted looked at his guitar sadly. It was leaned against the wall next to Bill's. "No, you should keep it. My dad would totally kill me if I had that thing in the house." He laughed slightly, like everything happening was just a joke to him. Bill didn't know if it pissed him off or made him even sadder. "I'm sure you'll find some other bodacious dude to start a band with, and you can give them my guitar."

Bill's heart sank deeper. He didn't think that was possible. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might continue Wyld Stallyns without Ted. He didn't plan on it. But Ted moved on, he would have to move on eventually, too. "Yeah, maybe," Bill mumbled, dragging his feet as he walked to a small table set by the stage. He took a breath. "Y'know no one's gonna be as bodacious as you, though, Ted," he said quietly, unsure of how he would respond.

Ted chuckled. "Yeah. You- you too, Bill."

Bill wanted to cry again. But he couldn't, not right in front of Ted. He sucked in his breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing again and grabbing a box below the table. It had a collection of random things pertaining to the band, merchandise they had hand made, a few scrapped song lyrics.

Pictures of the two of them together.

Bill reluctantly grabbed a photograph of the two. It was a picture of them Ted had taken; behind them, the beginning of their band set up. This photo was from a few years before, when they had first started their band. They seemed so happy. He wondered if he would be able to go back in time, to experience it all again. Probably not.

Bill let out a shaky breath, a low sob-like noise. Ted turned around. "Dude? What's up?"

Bill sniffed. "Nothing, Ted, sorry. Just- uh, nothing."

Ted crouched down on the floor with Bill, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Bill, it's okay, really. Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I promise." He smiled reassuringly. "Just because we won't be hanging out anymore doesn't mean you can't talk to me about- y'know, your problems and stuff."

Bill let out a loud sob, letting go of the photo and setting his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Ted, I just- I know you said it's not my fault, and I trust you on that, but- I just- I know there's some reason, that something obviously happened between us, and whatever it is I'm sorry- and- I- I don't know. I just can't move on as fast as you, Ted. I'm sorry."

Ted was quiet, and Bill didn't realize he was crying, too, until he started talking. "Dude," he said quietly, his voice cracking. "I don't want to stop being friends with you-"

"Then why!?" Bill yelled, breaking down into sobs once more. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't want to yell. Just-" He took a breath, lifting his head to look at Ted. "Why?"

Ted stared at him, obvious sadness in his expression. "I can't explain it, Bill. We- we just can't be friends anymore. I don't-" He took a breath. "I don't think I could handle it. And my dad wouldn't like it much, either."

"Screw your dad, Ted!" Bill paused. "I- wh- what the hell do you mean you can't handle being friends with me? Did- did I do something?" His expression turned into that of fear as he searched his brain for anything and everything he'd ever done wrong.

"No, Bill, of course not. I don't think you can do anything wrong, really." Ted stared at Bill for a minute, then sighed. "I can't explain more, Bill, I'm sorry. I don't want you getting more mad at me than you already are."

"Mad? Ted, I'm not mad. I've only ever gotten, like, slightly annoyed with you, like, twice for totally stupid reasons. Just tell me, Ted. I won't get mad." Bill was confused, but he knew if he continued pressing he would get at least a slight explanation as to why his best friend completely left him.

Ted sighed. He stared at nothing for a few minutes, contemplating whether he should even say anything. He felt like just being here would send his dad some sort of distress signal or something. "Bill, I-" He let out a breathy sob. "I'm a total faggot. And- and my dad found out and he thinks if I spend any more time with you it'll only get worse, and honestly, I think I agree with him."

Bill's face scrunched up in thought. "Dude, I don't care if you like dudes. Shit, is it because I called you a fag? I-"

"No, Bill, it's not about that. I mean, kinda, but- it's more about what dude I like. And how my dad found out." Ted didn't want to say it. He hoped Bill would fill in the blanks.

"I'm not following, dude."

Ted swallowed. "Okay, so, I- I was working on a song for this really bodacious dude I know, and my dad found out and- he found out who it's about- I mean, his name is in the song, y'know? So, yeah, he-" Ted turned to face Bill again, who was looking at him with wide, seemingly hopeful eyes. "Bill, why do you think I can't talk to you anymore, dude?"

Bill stared at Ted. "Dude." He lifted his hand to Ted's cheek, letting gentle tears flow from his eyes. His voice was shaky and squeaky as he said quietly, "I love you so much." He pulled Ted into a quick kiss, laughing happily. "And your dad's a major dickweed. You can stay here as long as you need, dude."

Ted smiled weakly. "My dad would totally kill me, Bill, you know that."

Bill was quiet for a moment. Reluctantly, he said quietly, "Y'know, I never said you had to leave anytime." He squeezed Ted's hand. "I would love to hear that song sometime, though."

Ted laughed, squeezing Bill's hand back. "I'll totally play it for you soon, dude." He was quiet. "Y'know, I think you're right. My dad is a total dickweed. I think I will stay here for a while."

Bill laughed, too. "Good."

They were quiet again, still in the same position they had been in. Then, Ted adjusted himself, touching his forehead with Bill's. "I'm sorry, dude. It was most uncool of me to completely avoid you all day. I love you."

Bill felt butterflies in his stomach. As much as it was totally uncool to ignore him all day, he understood. "It's okay, Ted. You're here now, that's all that really matters, I think." He paused. "I love you, too."

He loved being able to say that to Ted. It felt real, because he really did love him, and he felt like breaking into sobs all over again, because here he was, holding the hand of his best friend since kindergarten. He would be more than content if they stayed like that forever, never leaving each other's arms.

[misselko]

BEAUTIFUL MIND

Chapter III: Kindness

Catch up here: Part 2, Part 4

Warnings: Fluff

While bluebells represent kindness, purple bluebells flower meaning also includes mystery.

It’s warm and nice. Soft scent of coffee, musk, and old parchment paper fills your nose. Bringing back millions of memories from your childhood, smells like your Father’s study room. How comfortable and nostalgic. You shift, feeling blankets wrapped around you. Suddenly a cold, feathery touch brushes over your forehead, making you jolt up in panic. You shoot up from the bed, panting and breathing heavily. Covered in cold sweat and burning fever, you flop back to the bed as relentless pounding pain strikes your skull. You can feel someone’s presence and a soft mumbling sound but your hazy mind and vision makes it difficult to tell who it is.

“Fa...ther?” Your voice is hoarse and barely audible. Each word is spoken separately, each a struggle to get out. Raising your hand, you smile and try to reach for the person, you feel a large hand pushing your shoulder gently, attempting to make you lay down while you attempt to struggle into a sitting position. 

“Do not even think about trying to get up. And... I’m not your Father.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you let out a squeak of surprise and fear, locking eyes with the human sitting next to you. Your mind is reeling, trying to recall the details of prior conversations. You didn't remember returning with someone, but wait... that’s...? Hubert? The heir of House Vestra is sitting in a chair beside the bed, you notice with a start. He is reading a book. Or is pretending so. The book is upside down. Poor attempt.

“You are ill. You should not be moving around,” Hubert grumbles without looking up. You glower at him, ignoring the tone in his voice that is nearing concern. 

“I’m okay.”

“You are NOT.”

Hubert slams the book shut in emphasis. Setting it aside, his eyes turn to bore into yours, sharp and perceptive. You find that you prefer it when he is ‘reading’.

“You are staying in bed until you heal,” he chastises firmly, making you flinch. “You have already hid your sickness from me twice. I’m not letting that happen again. You are staying in bed and this is final.” You froze as he said that.

Twice? So... Hubert DID notice about your poor health on that ravine? This doesn’t sound good. “I am very disappointed in you.” His growl rumbles through your chest and makes you shudder.

“I-I’m fine Hubert.”

“I worry about you, (Y/N). You cannot hide your pain. If you are hurt I must know so I can help you. I do not want anything happening to you.” Hubert shakes his head and brushes his hair back with his hand. You never really saw his whole face until now but he had such striking features. The look of those piercing chartreuse eyes surprise you along with the sharp cheekbones that were hidden behind his hair.

“What happened... Where am I?”

“My quarters. (Y/N). Has this happened before?" You try to nod but your head barely moving. Why does it have to be Hubert of all people? You swallow the shame and pull the blanket to cover your face quickly to hide the uneasiness. “I’m okay. It just tires me out sometimes. Just lost my balance a bit. No big deal”. It is rare to see Hubert without his black cape. Your eyes widen when you spy his white clothes soaked in crimson.

“This is yours, (Y/N).” Hubert points at his chest solemnly as you look at him in shock. Oh no. Things may have gotten out of hand. That blood... so that’s why you aren’t feeling well. Magic always makes you feel unwell. But never this bad. The silence between you stretches too long. You squirm and try to get into a sitting position. Your hands are still a bit wobbly but you managed to do it somehow with Hubert’s help. He placed two extra pillows behind your back to keep you steady.

Hubert looks at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “Have you...,” he snarls quietly, but the words are all the harsher for it. There is a hidden edge in them, surely promising that fury is simmering beneath his facade. “No. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Hubert storms suddenly, in that same sharp, dark voice he always seems to use.

“....Yesterday?”

“Of course. How foolish.” A deep frown etches on Hubert’s lips as he places a bowl of chicken porridge and places a glass filled with warm milk on the nightstand beside the bed. The dining hall only serves porridge in the early morning. This porridge is piping hot and filled with many ingredients that you are really fond of. How does he know? Ah, forget it. Hubert always knows. He always has his ways to get his information, as expected from a Vestra. 

He’s a great cook, to your surprise. Even the carrots are cut into flower-like shapes! Anyone that will become Lady Vestra is a lucky woman. Hubert will be a good husband for sure. Not that you want to be his wife or anything.

“It’s safe. You need not burn it with your gaze, Pipsqueak. Gnaw it to replenish your strength.”

You pout at his remarks. Okay. Perish that foolish thought. What an insufferable man.

“I can tell, Hubert. I may be sick but am not stupid. You put a soft boiled egg, sliced chicken, ginger, chives, carrots, and sesame oil here. Pork stock was used instead of broth for extra depth of flavor. There are even some Teutates Pike floss inside. And this was made about an half hour ago.”

Hubert is bemused at your flawless explanation. “I expect no less from you, (Y/N).”

He pulls his chair closer to the bed and sits as he watches you make short work of the delicious porridge and milk. It tastes even better than it looks, reminding you of your Mother’s cooking. This truly brings back memories of your childhood. To think that Hubert is the one that did that for you... What a joke. A cruel one at that.

“So now I suppose I’m indebted to you,” you drawl begrudgingly. “Thank you, Hu—ugh!!”

Suddenly you feel lightheaded and hard to breathe. A cough wracks your body, turning into a complete coughing fit. Your chest and throat ache and burn, but the cough refuses to stop. When it does, you are left a panting mess. You try to move your hands to your face to settle your spinning brain, but all you feel is seeping, sticky warmth pouring from your nose. You are surprised to see more blood on the blanket and your hands. Both are soaked crimson now. Nosebleed? The once splotches of crimson have turned into sea, spraying from your nose.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner, Pipsqueak?!” Hubert’s stern, angry voice is met with silence. “Maybe it would be better if you refrain from participating in this ongoing war.” Hubert mutters quietly as he takes the blanket away, then wrings warm water from a towel to wipe blood that gushes from your nose. He gives you a small bag of ice cubes and another fresh blanket that he pulls from the cupboard, his concerned gaze flitting around your face.

“It is perfectly understandable that you would want to assist Lady Edelgard as much as possible, although I must inform you that the war effort may not be where your support is most needed.” Hubert seems to search your face for something, but what he is looking for or whether he finds it you don’t know. “Your help may be most appreciated in your companionship. Leave the combat to us.”

“It’s impossible to sit back and do nothing. I did nothing before and people died,” you smile faintly. “I tried to stay out of it but...I’ve made up my mind now. If this power can make things different, maybe this cursed power can be a blessing in disguise. I want to put an end to this war and keep the casualties at minimum.”

His brows furrow at your remarks and he snaps. “You can’t save everybody, little lady.”

“It’s fine, Hubert—nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you fume, hiding a wince. Shifting your gaze to Hubert, you are shocked to find his face pale white with anger. “I’m used to it. Weapons are always out of the question because of my frail and sickly health. As for magic… It is the bane of my existence. Various high rank Reason magic is a mere plaything for me. I can wield various devastating magic but my body can barely endure the backlash of the energy expended. That’s why I am as fragile as a glass cannon,” you blurt, the words finally spilling out of you. While your voice is calm, your body slightly trembles. You’re trying to wrack your mind for a suitable response, but you're too overwhelmed by the whole situation. Everything was nothing like and exactly like what you’d prepared for, but not in a way you were prepared to deal with things like this. Devising war strategies is gruelling but talking to Hubert is worse, much worse.

“Such lethal magic comes at the cost of my life. I have my OWN reasons to keep on going. Please keep this matter between us. My power has frightened the Black Eagles Strike Force. I am sure they see me as a monster now...” You fidget under Hubert’s scrutinizing gaze. It’s almost like he is ready to swallow you whole with that intense stare. “May I get back to my own quarters now?”

His pristine white bed sheet and shirt are stained crimson now thanks to your nose bleed. You make a mental note to yourself to ask him to let you wash them later so people won’t think that he has committed a murder in the dead of the night. You know he often does but... considering how ruthless Hubert is to his enemies, he had to be nightmarish if you bothered him too much.

“Tell me your REASONS.” He didn’t sound angry, or upset, but there was a finality to his tone that you couldn’t argue with. Hubert nods without speaking as he pinches your nose and presses another small bag of ice on it tenderly to stop the nosebleed. Always meticulous and careful, Hubert’s feathery massages feel nice on your nose. He sure is... much kinder than he looks.

“I want to fulfill my parents’ legacy and dying wish. Our family’s undying loyalty towards the Empire shall live on through me. To protect Miss Edelgard from any harm and help her to reshape this crooked world. The longer change takes, the more people fall victim to injustices of our current era.” Your face twisting in pain a moment later as your knuckles turn white from gripping the blanket tightly. “I came to Garreg Mach because I wanted to protect and ensure Miss Edelgard’s safety and to fulfill her ambitions. Father told me to put as much distance from our family name as possible to save my life. Duke Aegir and your Father will hunt me down to ensure a total annihilation of our bloodline."

His eyes widen at your words but he remains silent. Fiddling with your fingers, you continue to relive your harrowing past. “After what the treacherous Marquis Vestra— well rather, the former Marquis Vestra— did in the Insurrection of Seven to the Emperor Ionius IX and my family, an insurmountable anguish plagued my heart when I found out that a Vestra remains at her side.” The flatness with which you said it told Hubert enough about how you felt about your emotions, doubt, hatred, and past. About why the presence of him always irks your ire.

Hubert is alarmed at your words but chooses to stay silent. He looses a long, controlled breath and does not speak for what feels like a very, very long time. “I’m sorry,” he said, words so quiet he might have not said them at all. He leans forward slightly, making sure that you're looking directly at him. Right into him. “But,” Hubert glowers as his eyes gleam. The faint glow of moonlight from the open window turns them gold. “My duty to Lady Edelgard is no mere obligation. I chose this path on my own volition. I had thought that would be obvious to you. It would be downright condescending to compare my devotion with that piece of filth.” He spits indignantly.

“Fine.” You laugh a little and smile at his earnest answer. But the laugh dissipates into icy stares when you speak again. “I’m no fool, Huey. I have seen your resolute loyalty to Miss Edelgard since our academy days and I want to... endeavour to believe. I don’t know. Trust is not in my nature.”

“Glad to know that we have something in common.” He smiles sarcastically in response. “Then why did you come to save Lady Edelgard and... me in Derdriu?”

You raise your brow at his question and sigh. “I don’t know. My blood ran cold when I saw you were in danger. What if you get hurt or die?”

Hubert scoffs at your answer and folds his arms. “Your kindness and naivety will kill you someday.” He tries to sound harsh in his voice, but it still comes out as exasperated. Hubert is about to sneer again but as he glances down at your crestfallen ashen face, those condescending remarks die down abruptly.

Staring at you keenly as though he is scrutinizing you, Hubert frowns. “I do not deserve your kindness, Pipsqueak. Not after what House Vestra had done to your parents.”

“Our families have no bearing on this matter...nor does the Empire itself. Hatred begets hatred. And I can’t bring myself to let you die. I don’t want to lose anyone important to me ever again. Black Eagles, Professor, Miss Edelgard, and... you, Hubert.” Your next words were almost inaudible. “When I thought about anything that might happen to you, I— I just lost it. I don’t know why.” You spluttered and bit your lip. Looking down to the now melting ice cube pack in your hands, you could feel your cheeks are heating up from the realization of implications of your words. “That didn’t- I didn’t mean it that way but—” 

Hubert didn’t react nor turn towards you either. If he had, you would have seen him looking away from you, out across the window of his room with flustered look. You both notice how awkward you are, and clear your throats at the same time.

“I had thought you might be of some use to Lady Edelgard and me with that sharp wit and spells. But now I am beginning to think you may, through no fault of your own, present too great a risk. It should be my utmost priority to keep an eye on you from dangers or some dubious individuals that sought your power.” 

“.... Since when do you care about me? And what do you get out of it?” The words from your lips weren't bitter, but they did feel like a question. A really good question, really. That is rich for Hubert who has his life dedicated to the Emperor. “I think you only extend your kindness to Miss Edelgard.”

Your guard is up, having learned at a young age that everyone always wants something in exchange for help. Hubert frowns. “Good question. I do not have spare time for such trivialities. I am not…. I cannot believe I’m saying this but I feel uneasy when you are unconscious. Call it a passing fancy or whimsical thought but since you have tried to put your trust in me, another Vestra, despite everything that you have experienced.” He reaches out for your head and gives it soft pats. “Definitely it’s because you had protected Lady Edelgard. And me. Which was very sweet of you, even though it’s also infuriating.”

You are completely stunned speechless now. You had not seen this coming. A Vestra ruffling your hair affectionately. Hubert von Vestra, at that!! The way he is playing with your hair mindlessly somehow makes you blush even more. Hubert chuckles again, his gaze dropping to study your flushed cheeks and strands of your hair in his hand. “Cat got your tongue, (Y/N)?”

“You don’t have to put it so bluntly, do you?"

Something touches your forehead, so gentle and soft that it makes you squeak out of surprise. A warm towel? Hubert strokes the pillowy soft clothes on your damp forehead and sighs with concern. “You really must take better care of yourself, mouse,” he finally said. Putting his hand on your temple, he grimaces bitterly. “Save your breath. You’ve got quite a fever.” 

“Y-you think you can put your hand on my head without asking?” 

“Can I do that or not?” His troubled expression looks much livelier, and more appealing than his usual.

Hubert is actually very dashing. If he smiled, anyone could fall for him in instant. Either from the terror or infatuation. You can’t help but to giggle involuntarily at the thought. Maybe it was your exhaustion that made you do it. Maybe it was just emotion, for whatever reason. Whatever it was, you lay a hand on Hubert's arm, making him flinch momentarily. Who would’ve known that hidden beneath that glove, his large hand is so warm?

“It feels nice and warm. A bit embarrassing but... it’s not like I hate the feeling. Go on. Thank you, Huey.”

“HUEY?” He flinches from your pet name.

“I think it is better than calling you a dark rat. Suits you better.”

Hubert takes a deep breath and gulps. His gaze is flickering to anywhere but your eyes. “I am taking care of you just because no one else does.” Suddenly his chartreuse eyes meet your gaze unflinchingly with unexpected warmth. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to lose my feisty mouse. Everything would be boring without your bratty mouth, sharp acumen, and that noisy attitude.”

“Huey......”

“You pushed yourself too hard.” He produces a fine handkerchief from his pocket and wipes another cold sweat that beads on your head before folding the cloth and placing it to the side. “Slow down and take care of yourself too. If you run yourself into the ground then you’re not going to be helping anyone. You're up past your bedtime. Go to sleep now, (Y/N)."

“I’m not a child! I need to go back to my quarters now."

“Might as well just stay here. You are as white as a sheet. You should not be alone right now.” Hubert suddenly seems like a different person. His lips are no longer set in a stern line and his eyes glint with sincerity.

“But you are a man and sleeping together is...!!”

“Rest assured, I will take the floor, it will be fine. Any objections?” The coldness seems to have vanished and Hubert’s faint smile is like the first buds of spring after a harsh winter. There’s a peculiar warmth about him. Maybe you’re curious about this other side of him, or maybe you are just too exhausted from the magic exertion... The next thing you know, you have acceded to his suggestion.

“.....Thank you, Huey. Good night.”

Somehow sleep finds you easier that night, unlike your other previous nights.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Lover

Day 8, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Lover (or, five times Lavender felt Ron slipping away, and the one time she didn't)

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Lavender Brown, but also heavy insinuations on Ron x Hermione 

Prompt: 5+1

Rating: T (for fabricated insinuations)

TW: Teen heartbreak and all the drama that comes with it.

Author's note: While I am primarily a Romione writer, I could not get this idea out of my head. So, here's a little Lav redemption. After all, she was only a girl who fell for a boy and pursued a perfectly unattached boy.

******

9 November 1996

I think he knows his hands around a cold glass 

Make me wanna know that body like it’s mine.

-I Think He Knows

The Gryffindor common room was aglow in crimson and gold, filled to capacity for the celebration of today’s victory against Slytherin. Seamus and Dean managed to smuggle in a boatload of Butterbeer for everyone, which masked the two bottles of Firewhisky Seamus was passing around their inner circle. Parvati and Lavender were lounging in the same armchair on the far side of the room.

  Lavender’s never been one to pay close attention to a Quidditch match. Sure, she was all about the parties and house spirit following a match, and if Hogwarts had a cheer squad, she’d be the first person to sign up. But sitting in the stands, watching a match for an indeterminable amount of time? She could think of at least five other things to do that didn’t involve the wind claiming victim to her hair as players whizzed by on broomsticks.

  Now that they were inside and out of the crisp November air, she could enjoy the party with her friends. Though, it’d be much more enjoyable if a certain redhead would stop flashing a grin in her direction and just come over to talk to her instead.

  “You're staring again,” Parvati chided.

  Lavender sighed in response. She couldn’t help it. He’d filled out over the summer, and Quidditch training had been kind to his physique. Red hair wasn’t a feature she ever gravitated to in the past, but freckles and those bright blue eyes were her downfall. Not to mention his infectious smile and the way he was always able to make everyone around him laugh. Ron Weasley was a good guy, and Lavender wanted to get to know him better.

  “He’s single, right?” Her fingers twirled her curly blonde hair between her fingers as she watched him take a swig of Butterbeer from the cold glass in his hands.

  “As single as the last time you asked me,” Parvati responded with an air of nonchalance in her tone.

  Lavender wasn’t surprised by her bored tone. There was only so much they could talk about when it came to Ron, considering neither knew that much about him. She contemplated Parvati’s response, weighing the options of trying to pursue something. A voice in the back of Lavender’s mind was screaming at her to ask what her other roommate’s thoughts were on the matter concerning Lavender asking Ron out, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. 

  Besides, did it really matter what she thought? Hermione has had all the time in the world to make a move on Ron if she really wanted to. She had no claim on the redheaded Gryffindor. As far as Lavender knew, he was fair game, and at the rate Ron kept glancing in her direction, she was sure it meant something.

  So, Lavender swiped the bottle of Firewhisky from the space between Parvati’s legs and the arm of the chair, where she’d been keeping it hidden, and took a large swig. She’d need the liquid courage for what she’d just decided to do.

  “What are you—” Parvati started to ask before Lavender cut her off.

  “I’m going for it.”

  Without another thought, Lavender hopped off the chair and marched over to Ron, who had just set his empty glass down on the table behind him. She still hadn’t made up her mind about whether she was going to say anything or not and let the wide lopsided grin that erupted on his face decide for her when he saw her approaching.

  “Hey, Lavender! What’d you think of the—”

  Lavender didn’t wait to hear the rest of Ron’s question as she threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. His eager response paired with his hands finding a home on her hips egged her on as she refused to break the kiss right away. It was sloppy, and he was inexperienced, but he didn’t pull away at her advances. 

  I can teach him a thing or two and whip him into boyfriend material in no time.

  When they finally did pull apart, it was to a chorus of catcalls around the room. A coy smile passed over her lips as she asked, “should we find someplace a little more private?”

  ♚

20 December 1996

  Kiss me once, cause I know you had a long night

Kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be alright

Three times ‘cause you waited your whole life

~Paper Rings

  “So, what do you want to do tonight?” 

  Lavender bounced up and down on the sofa next to Ron. It was the last night before the Christmas hols, and she wanted to make the most of it since she wouldn’t get to kiss him for two weeks. But something was off. Ron seemed distracted, and he kept looking past her, which was beginning to grate on Lavender’s nerves.

  “Er, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of packing to do still, so I’m not sure if we should really—”

  Lavender was taken aback as Ron threw himself at her, lips clashing together even though he was just in the middle of telling her he was too busy to do anything. Lavender cracked an eyelid open to see Hermione shoot them a disgusted look as she crossed the room and waited by the portrait hole. She clamped her eyes shut a moment later when she sensed Ron’s twitch.

  She wasn’t going to complain about snogging her boyfriend in the middle of the common room, but she kept her ears open.

  “Ah, Granger, looking delicious as ever.”

  Hermione was going to the party with Cormac? She must really be desperate to want to go with that sleazeball. 

  “Let’s get going,” Hermione responded in her usual clipped tone. “I’d rather not be in the vicinity of that much longer.”

  Lavender tried not to be offended by Hermione’s icy words. Ron didn’t deserve to be treated like rubbish, and neither did she. It’s not like Hermione had laid any claim on Ron. She tried to refocus her attention on the snog, but Ron pulled away as soon as the portrait hole closed.

  Huh, well, that was odd.

  “Well, I should go and get packed, then. I’ll see you in the morning?”

  What just happened? Is he really going upstairs after snogging me like that? 

  Lavender was thoroughly confused by Ron’s actions. Nothing seemed to match up tonight, and she didn’t want to leave things like this at the train station tomorrow. She needed to know what was going through his mind.

  “Won-Won, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing'. Why’d you start snogging me when Hermione came down the stairs?”

  “What? I can’t snog my girlfriend? It had nothing to do with Hermione.”

  Ron sounded convincing, but Lavender was still hesitant to believe it.

  “Are you sure? 

  “Yes.”

  Lavender noticed how Ron’s ears turned a bright shade of pink and wondered if he was hiding something. Even if he was, he was her boyfriend, and she decided to trust him. Switching gears, Lavender asked him the other question that was weighing on her mind.

  “Not that I care who Hermione’s going to the Slug Club party with, but why McLaggen? Everyone in Gryffindor knows to stay away from him.”

  “Dunno. Why do you say that?”

  “You don’t know? McLaggen doesn’t like to be told ‘no’.”

  “He—what?” Ron groaned and rubbed the back of his neck while his nostrils flared in annoyance. Or was it anger?

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, well, she shouldn’t be going with him in the first place.”

  “Why?” Lavender peered intently at Ron, waiting for an answer.

  His cheeks were flushed as he shook his head, eyes darting to the boy’s staircase as if he was looking for an escape.

  “Er, no reason…”

  “Won-Won,” warned Lavender.

  “I—er, I think I was supposed to go with Hermione tonight.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lavender sensed his immediate attempt to backpedal the conversation before he even spoke. He was already standing and moving around to the backside of the sofa. Even as he attempted an explanation, Lav gathered the impression that he was trying to convince himself more so than her.

  “Well, she never officially asked me! Besides, we got into a huge row, and now I’m with you, so it doesn’t matter. Look, Lav, I’m tired, and I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Without another word, Ron disappeared up the boy’s staircase, which left Lavender on the sofa, reeling at his words. How had she not known that Hermione had asked him—or tried to ask him—to the party?  He wasn’t trying to get back at Hermione by using Lavender, was he?

  No, that’s ridiculous! He fancies you! You wouldn’t have spent a whole month together if he was trying to get back at your roommate. 

  Lavender pushed her discomfort over Ron’s actions to the back of her mind. She’d know if he wasn’t interested. He probably just misses his friend. It was really a shame Hermione couldn’t be happy for Ron, or Lavender for that matter. But Lav wasn’t going to do anything about it, not while she had Ron all to herself. Maybe she was being selfish, but Ron was her boyfriend, and she intended to keep it that way.

♚

5 January 1997

  Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true

I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

~Cruel Summer

  Lavender was chomping at the bit to spend time with Ron upon their return to Hogwarts the Sunday after New Years, but obligations kept getting in the way. Apparently, Ron was busy with rounds and Prefect meetings during the entire train ride back to the castle, and then Harry had scheduled a team meeting after dinner. She’d given up the hope of seeing him that evening and settled on waiting for him to go down to breakfast the next morning. 

  Lavender hoped Ron wasn’t embarrassed because he never bought her a Christmas gift. They were only together for a month, and there wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend where he could have gone to buy her anything anyways. And since Harry was staying with the Weasleys, she assumed there were more safety wards in place, so the chances he could get to Diagon Alley to shop for her were slim too. 

  It’s not like she intended on getting him a gift, either, but when she saw the opportunity to get two lockets at buy one get one free, she couldn’t resist. She’d purchased one for Parvati’s gift, and her mother had always taught her to never pass up a deal, so she’d had the locket engraved with ‘Won-Won’ and sent it to him for Christmas.

  When Ron came barreling down the stairs the next morning, Lavender was so excited that she pounced on him, which caused him to flail backwards and almost topple over. 

  “Won-Won!” She left a sloppier than intended kiss on his cheek as he turned his face.

  “Hey, Lav. Er, sorry about yesterday.”

  “It’s fine, are you ready for breakfast?”

  He nodded as they exited the portrait hole. They were halfway to the Great Hall when Lavender attempted to engage him in conversation again. She knew he wasn’t a morning person, but she wasn’t willing to wait another few hours.

  “So, how were your holidays?”

  “Huh? Oh, they were good. Yours?”

  “Wonderful! I love going home for Christmas. My younger brother was so excited to see me. I picked out a toy broom for his gift this year, and he spent the whole two weeks riding on it! I was so sad to say goodbye to him again, but Easter will be here before we know it. Maybe you can come home and meet my family for Easter hols.”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.”

  Lavender could sense from Ron’s lackluster response that he wasn’t paying attention. So, she followed his gaze, and of course, there was Hermione, most likely darting off to the library or wherever she went to avoid her former best friend. Her blood boiled at the way she was treating Ron. At least that’s what she was telling herself. She certainly wasn’t jealous of the way Ron was watching her.

  Lavender reached up and gently turned his face back to focus on her. “Did you like your gift?”

  “Y-yeah, it’s great.”

  “Are you wearing it?” Her hand slid down to feel his chest. Maybe it was concealed under his uniform.

  “Er, no. I—uh—I’ve got it tucked away under my pillow for safekeeping.”

  “Why? You aren’t embarrassed of us, are you?”

  “N-no! I just like to—uh—keep it close when I’m sleeping so I can dream of you!”

  Lavender suppressed a laugh at his attempt to give an excuse to not wear it. It was sweet, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. She threw her arms around him and squealed in response to his reasoning. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable, so Lavender figured a positive reaction would make him feel better about the whole ordeal.

  “That’s so sweet, Won-Won! I’m glad you liked it!”

  His face turned a blotchy red as they entered the hall and found a seat at the Gryffindor table. Lavender chose not to press the issue anymore as she turned to her thoughts instead. Maybe the locket wasn’t the best idea to give a boyfriend of only a month. But she’d never felt this way before. Seamus had been a fun fling, but with Ron, she felt different. He made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and she hoped she hadn’t given him the wrong impression with the gift. 

  She’d just have to make it up to him in other ways. Yes, that was it. Lavender would make sure he knew how much she cared while also making sure his eye didn’t continue wandering toward her roommate and his former best friend.

  ♚

14 February 1997

  Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

~Lover

  Lavender sat alone in the empty classroom, waiting for Ron to show up after rounds. Rounds! Why did he have to have rounds today, of all days?  It was completely and utterly unfair. He promised her he’d meet her in the empty classroom near Gryffindor tower as soon as rounds were over, but it was already ten past eleven, and he was nowhere to be found.

  She hadn’t gotten him anything this time for fear it might embarrass him again, just like the locket. Oh yes, she’d heard Harry telling Neville about his Christmas present while she was searching for a book in the library, and she heard every excruciating detail of how mortified Ron was by it. Apparently, it wasn’t under his pillow after all. It was hidden in the bottom of his trunk. So, for Valentine’s Day, she opted to give him something he could hang onto in his mind instead. 

  At least, that’s what she planned. Lavender took to pacing the classroom for another ten minutes before resigning to the fact that Ron wasn’t coming. A pang of disappointment rippled out from her heart, and she tried to convince herself that maybe he’d forgotten. But ever since they’d returned from Christmas hols, she felt Ron pulling further and further away. Before the two week break, they’d gone off to spend time together every night, snogging in empty classrooms and broom closets, and sometimes even a late-night walk around the castle. Now, she was lucky if she could pry him away from his studies twice a week to spend some quality time together. 

  Sure, they ate meals together and sat next to each other in their shared classes, but it wasn’t like they ever talked that much. Come to think of it, every time she’d try to ask about his life, he’d always deflect to her. And of course, Lavender never had a problem finding something to talk about with her family because she wanted to share everything she could with Ron. Yet now, she was wondering if he actually cared or if he was just being polite.

  Thoughts consumed her mind as she walked silently back to Gryffindor tower. By the time she entered the common room, it was deserted. Part of her thought about checking to see if Ron was back in the dorms, but the other side told her it wasn’t worth it. It’d be his own fault if he got caught sneaking around after hours without her since he’d ditched her on what was supposed to be the most romantic night of the year. 

  The last thing she wanted to do was go up to her dorm and face Hermione’s smug look when she found out Ron ditched his girlfriend tonight, but she wasn’t about to hang around the common room like a rejected piece of garbage. 

  Ron is still yours. Not hers. Even if tonight didn’t go as planned, still make her remember that.

  So, when she entered the girl’s sixth-year dorm, Lavender plastered a smile on her face. Parvati was sitting on her bed while Hermione’s curtains were closed tight.

  “Hey! I was wondering when you were going to show up. Have a good night?”

  “Oh, it was the best!” Lavender gushed. “Ron was so sweet and romantic. He gave me some chocolate frogs, which I know are his favorite, and I gave him...well, you know.”

  She made her voice sound as suggestive as possible, and if Hermione was listening, then that was her own fault.

  “I need to freshen up now. I’m rather sweaty from all that we got up to. And then I should head to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning, Par, I promise. Ron thoroughly wore me out, I’m exhausted.”

  What neither girl realized, though, was that Lavender let out a good cry in the shower instead. Because her boyfriend ditched her on her favorite day of the year.

  ♚

2 March 1997

  Cause I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not

It’s death by a thousand cuts

~Death by a Thousand Cuts

  “I’m sure he’s just on a lot of potions, Lav. I wouldn’t think too much of it.”

  Parvati was attempting to comfort her best friend. Lavender had had a rotten weekend. Ron was poisoned yesterday, on his birthday of all days! Not that the day mattered. He was still poisoned, and he could have died!

  What did make it worse was that nobody thought to tell her until well into the afternoon. She’d burst into the Hospital Wing to find his best friend, sister, and her sitting vigil at his bedside. Lavender didn’t think she’d ever been so livid in her life. And then he’d croaked something out in his sleep that sounded like a name, but it was not hers.

  She felt the entire relationship slipping through her fingers. When did things start to take a turn for the worse? What went wrong? Surely he still fancied her because if he didn’t, then why hadn’t he called things off?

  Because he does still fancy you. Of course, he does! Don’t worry about her. She means nothing to him. 

  Lavender tried with all her might to believe it, but it was becoming harder and harder every day. And despite her best friend’s attempts to make her feel better, it wasn’t doing any good. Parvati wasn’t outside the Hospital Wing with Lav when she overheard Ron talking to Harry and asking for Quidditch magazines. There was no question that he was awake, but as soon as she walked in, Ron ‘magically’ appeared to be sleeping again. And Harry had the audacity to cover for him!

  She’d tried to go see him two more times that day, and both times he was ‘sleeping.’ Something happened, and he was avoiding her, and it hurt. But how could she call him out on it when he was ‘asleep’? 

  She thought about whether she should confide in Parvati or just internalize her feelings. Parvati had been there through everything, but Lavender decided she wasn’t ready to bring up her speculations until she had more proof. So instead, Lavender chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

  Did she want to break things off with Ron? No. Was she willing to do what it took to keep him around? Yes. So, Lavender resolved to do whatever it took to keep Ron interested. She’d back off, not be as needy, and keep things cool and breezy. They could make this work. She was sure of it.

   ♚

2 April 1997

  And I don’t want you to (go) I don’t really wanna (fight)

‘Cause nobody’s gonna (win) I just thought you should know

~Miss Americana and the Heart Break Prince

  Lavender entered the common room after Divination to see Ron sitting on the couch next to Harry. The two were furiously scribbling on parchment, and Lavender couldn't help but roll her eyes at what she assumed to be a last-minute attempt to finish one of his assignments. Even so, she figured she’d surprise him and see if he could be persuaded to take a break and go for a walk instead.

  She dropped her bag behind the sofa and covered Ron’s eyes with her hands. “Guess who!”

  “Oi!” Ron flung his arms back, sending ink droplets flying over his and Harry’s parchment, as well as the table and upholstery of the sofa in the process.

  Lavender ripped her hands off his eyes and apologized with a pout. “It’s only me, Won-Won. I just wanted to surprise you.”

  “Oh, er, sorry, Lav. I’m busy right now. I need to finish Snape’s Defense essay.” 

  The words sounded apologetic, but the lack of sympathy in Ron’s expression caused unease to bubble up in Lavender’s stomach. Usually, he’s better about hiding his disinterest in showing affection around his friends. But the way he’d acted just now made her feel like he was downright repulsed by an innocent touch.

  “But that essay isn’t due until tomorrow. I still have to put the final touches on mine as well. Maybe we could go for a walk now and work on it together after dinner?”

  Sure, the snogging was brilliant, but that’s all they ever seemed to do. She wanted to make things work between them, and after five months, she knew they’d never have a successful relationship if it stayed strictly physical. Besides, that clearly wasn’t working in an effort to keep him interested anymore.

  “Sorry, Lav, I can’t. I’ve got rounds tonight.”

  Another pang of hurt emanated in her chest at his rejection. “Oh, well, maybe I could work on it with you now, then?”

  She knew what his answer was going to be before he said anything. He was already packing up his things. 

  “Er, maybe on another assignment. I’ve got to hit the library before dinner and see if I can find one more source. I’ll meet up with you later, though, yeah?”

  Ron was already out of his seat and headed for the door without bothering to wait for a response, which further solidified Lavender’s suspicion that it was an offer he didn’t intend to follow through on. Ordinarily, she would have given him the benefit of the doubt, but it’d been three weeks of him avoiding her ever since he and Hermione had reconciled. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her bag and headed for the girl’s dormitory, where she passed Hermione on the stairwell.

  “Let me guess, Ron’s busy?” Parvati asked, saving Lavender from having to retell the excuse.

  “Yeah. He has rounds tonight, I guess.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Hermione has rounds tonight, too. Padma said they switched back for the month.”

  Lavender felt as though a fifty-pound weight had been placed on her chest as her heart constricted at Parvati’s news. She knew this was coming but refused to believe it, choosing instead to turn a blind eye to all the signs. A tear escaped out of the corner of her eye as she tried to come to terms with the fact that no matter what she did, Hermione was going to win. Which led her to wonder whether Ron had ever truly been hers at all.

  Well, good. If Ron’s not interested anymore, then he can be a man and break things off. And if he’s too much of a coward to do it on his own, then I’ll do everything in my power to help push him along, all while reminding Hermione that he’s still mine in the process.

Maybe it was spiteful, but Lavender no longer cared. Deep down, she knew their relationship was probably doomed from the start, but that didn’t lessen the pain. Perhaps she never stood a chance, especially knowing his relationship with Hermione never was a typical friendship, but Ron could have told her no all those months ago if that was the case. Their fleeting relationship may have come to pass, but at least Lavender had the memories of time spent together to look back on when he had cared. Because he had cared once, right?

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 11

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: So the cat's out of the bag and the milk's been spilled and it kind of feels like the sky is falling, but at least these three doofuses have each other.

Murder was the only thing on Alya’s mind after Chat Noir’s detransformation left behind one Adrien Agreste. In fact, she had never wanted to murder anyone so badly. Not even Chloe.

But the “Guardian” Marinette spoke of? The one who chose two kids from the same school and forced them to keep secrets from everyone they loved and who loved them? The one who pressured them into being child soldiers before their brains were fully developed with crap about being “chosen?” Who put the fate of Paris in the hands of two adolescents not even allowed inside the R-rated section at a movie rental but were apparently allowed to fight until they were bruised, battered, and traumatized?

Yeah, she was willing to go to jail for manslaughter.

Her heart broke for Marinette, whose biggest problem should have been whether she completed her history report on time or if she was going to be able to parallel park for her driver’s test without bumping an unsuspecting car, not if her choice to love and be loved led to the apocalypse.

“I cannot wait to strangle that Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master of Unnecessary Manipulation.”

On the other side of the camera, Adrien was sweating buckets. Alya just saw him detransform! Not even one person was supposed to know, but now two people knew?! And why did she want to strangle a Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master--

“Wait--” Adrien said, eyebrows furrowed as his single brain cell tried to fit a square block in the circle slot of a shape puzzle. He only knew one Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master, but he didn’t think Alya should know about him.

Having recovered from his shock and utterly lacking the ability to read the room, Nino clapped a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and squeezed. “Dude, this is so cool! I can’t believe we’ve been fighting crime together this whole time!”

“NINO!” Alya protested to deaf ears from the laptop.

Adrien gulped. “We?” He surveyed Nino from head to toe once more, taking in his Rena Rouge pajamas with fresh eyes. The Rena Rouge posters plastering his walls were suddenly searing into his retinas. Can the Miraculous change your gender? he pondered.

The devil worked hard, but his one brain cell worked harder.

“Oh, right. I forgot Chat doesn’t know. I’m Carapace, dude!”

Adrien whipped his head so fast he felt faint. Nino grinned at him dopily from beneath the spots in his vision, not a single hint of regret at revealing his secret marring his features. On the contrary, he seemed extremely pleased with himself.

“Y-you’re Carapace?” Adrien’s eyes were blown so wide Alya wondered if they could get any bigger, and that was saying something from the other side of a screen.

While Adrien was stunned speechless by the news, the effects of sharing such intimate secrets among his closest friends settled over him like a comfort blanket until the shock melted into a sweet contentedness, one as velvety and rich as a dark chocolate ganache.

“You’re Carapace,” Adrien sighed, crushing Nino in a hug.

“And you’re that flirty cat throwing himself into danger all the time,” Nino quipped. “Here, I thought you were an innocent duckling. My little baby’s got game!” As the two chuckled, Adrien caught a glimpse of an agitated Alya from over Nino’s shoulder.

Is she disappointed that one of her heroes is just me? he asked himself, his smile giving way to a frown.

Wait.

Alya didn’t look at all surprised by the news that her own boyfriend was a superhero.

Had she already known?

Images of a turtle and fox hero snuggling up to each other once or twice when they thought no one was looking played in his mind like a film reel. Adrien released Nino, not quite taking his eyes off the redhead. “You know, I always thought Carapace and Rena Rouge had a thing going on, but that’s not possible because you and Alya--”

As Adrien stared at Alya, her agitation resolving to worry in the creasing of her brow and pursing of her lips, the recognition bumbled into place, so much slower and clumsier than it had with Nino’s clean confession. His brain had to fight the barrier of the Miraculous magic and--he wasn’t gonna lie--it kind of hurt what with the way his synapses fired and his eyes strained to mentally peel away a magical mask from the image of Rena Rouge in his mind. Rena’s hair was a much more vivid red-orange, her hairstyle way more intricate than Alya’s everyday curls, and Adrien even had to wonder if her lips changed colors when transformed, but . . .

Well, true as the sky was blue, so too was the fact that the girl staring back at him from the computer screen was his other teammate.

“You’re Rena Rouge.”

Alya rubbed the temples of her forehead in an attempt to dissuade the oncoming tension headache. She was counting her lucky ladybugs that Marinette was out of the house, not even wanting to imagine how different this conversation could have gone had she been there. Perhaps she’d serve a plate full of supernova-level panic attacks with a side of catastrophizing and a sprig of heroic guilt for good measure.

“Nino,” she sighed. “The point of a secret identity is to keep it secret. Because, you know--” she waved her hands around wildly and scrunched her nose, reminding Adrien of someone else he knew “--Shadow Moth!”

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t about to lie to my best bud after he shared his alter ego with me.”

“You’re Rena Rouge,” Adrien whispered dazedly, pointing at Alya first, then Nino, “and you’re Carapace.” He looked his friend up and down again, recalling his own cache of Ladybug-themed nightwear hiding in his armoire. “Well, that explains the pajamas. You know each other’s identities. You’re dating and you know each other’s identities.”

He felt like his legs were going to stop working any second then. He backed away until his calves hit Nino’s bed board and promptly fell back onto the mattress.

“Ladybug let you know each other’s identities.”

Plagg, who had stayed out of sight for the duration of this conversation, drifted to Adrien’s lap and curled up on his thigh. Adrien absentmindedly stroked his kwami to calm himself, but he abruptly stopped when another realization crashed down on him with the full force of an akumatized Tom Dupain-Cheng.

“If you’re Rena Rouge, then you know who Ladybug is,” Adrien said, his voice sounding far away even to himself.

Nino’s eyes bulged out of his sockets. “You know Ladybug’s identity?!” he shouted before clapping his hands over his mouth, praying to Allah that none of his neighbors heard his outburst.

Alya could not pick up her jaw from the floor even if she had tried. The volume inside of this bus was astronomical. Secrets. Secrets spilled everywhere. This was The Office now, and her chili pot had spilled all over the floor. How could she even begin to salvage this situation? Was Bunnyx going to pop out of her burrow hole any time soon? Was this going to lead to Chat Blanc again somehow? Right in front of her salad?!

With a start, Alya noticed both boys had been staring at her and she had yet to answer them. Her head was spinning. She tried to swallow her nervousness and silently wished the Earth would swallow her instead. “Yes,” she eventually confirmed, voice low. She spoke slowly, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. “I do, and it’s not my secret to share.”

Adrien bore a pained expression, and yet again, Alya wanted to commit murder.

Suddenly, the blonde boy jumped to his feet and approached the computer screen in three short strides before placing his hands firmly on the desk and inspecting Alya’s background. “Wait, Alya, you’re in Marinette’s room.”

Alya wanted to die.

“Is Marinette there?” Adrien asked her. “Did she hear everything? Does she know I’m Chat Noir?”

Alya opened her mouth to respond but paused long enough to observe the speck of desire in his eyes. If she could sense his affection for Marinette from the other side of this screen, she speculated what she might have been able to pick up on had they been having this conversation in person. And, well, if there were dials in her brain labeled “Supportive Friend” and “Meddling Friend,” she imagined a mini Alya in her cranial cavity cranking the latter up a couple hundred notches.

She leaned forward, a smirk on her lips and her eyes hooded just a tad. “Why? Do you want her to know you’re Chat Noir, balcony boy?” Alya couldn’t help retorting, waggling her eyebrows. His reaction was immediate.

So he’s not as dense as I thought.

He blushed and tried to hide his cheeks in the collar of his shirt. Alya stifled a laugh. “Oh, yeah. She told me all about your candlelit balcony meant for Ladybug.”

“Smooth,” Nino complimented.

The praise would have boosted Adrien’s ego had it not been for one microscopic, little detail. “It didn’t work,” Adrien muttered, making Alya want to strangle Master Fu once more. For the love of all that was Holy, these two were pining after each other and she wanted to frickin’ yeet herself off a building.

She sighed. “To answer your question: no. My girl’s not here.”

Adrien tried to hide his disappointment, but Alya saw right through him.

They all sat in silence, each member of the team working through their own feelings about the revelations thrust upon them that night.

Adrien turned his back and headed for the door. “Plagg, claws out.”

“Wait, bro, you’re leaving?”

“I came here to tell you I’m Chat Noir. I did that. I wasn’t expecting Alya to know, too. I wasn’t expecting you to be Carapace. I wasn’t expecting Alya to be the person Ladybug trusted with her identity over me. And honestly?” He spared a glance at her over his shoulder. He could feel the sympathy coming off her in waves through the screen. He offered her a smile, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes or touch his heart, but it would have to be enough for now. “I don’t even know if I have the energy to be jealous over that because Alya’s a great friend.”

Thanks, sunshine. You’ll think I’m a superb friend after I’m done working my magic, Alya promised him with the resolve of a vengeful Best Friend (which is a very strong resolve indeed).

“Anyways, I’m pretty exhausted. I just hope Lila’s off the premises by the time I get home.”

Alya’s feathers ruffled. “Lila?”

Chat Noir grimaced. “Yeah. She was chatting up Father when I got home and . . . suffice it to say, the sight made me sick.”

“It’d make me sick, too,” Alya agreed. “Anti-Lila club, anyone?” Both boys tilted their heads at her like two Golden Retrievers. This was the first time either of them had ever heard Alya express distaste toward Lila.

“Wait, I thought you liked Lila. Marinette seemed to be the only one who saw through her lies.”

Alya cringed at that. “Well, some new information came my way that made me see the light, I guess. Like, say, she couldn’t possibly be best friends with Ladybug.”

“Tell me about it. Ladybug loathes her,” Chat Noir chuckled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Absolutely despises her.”

Nino felt like he was missing a large piece of this puzzle.

“You know, when Lila first came to town, she tried to tell me she was the owner of the fox Miraculous. She had a fake from the Gabriel line and everything. That was when Ladybug swooped in and told me she had been lying about their ‘friendship.’”

Nino still wasn’t following. “Lila was trying to impress Chat Noir?”

“Well, actually, I was Adrien me when that happened,” Chat replied, rubbing his neck in the same fashion he would have as the timid boy beneath the mask. Alya blinked. No wonder Marinette hadn’t pieced together his identity. It was bizarre seeing Chat Noir do that.

“So Ladybug didn’t want Lila impressing Adrien,” Nino surmised, nodding in approval. “Nice. Good for you, man.”

Chat Noir spluttered. “I don’t think it was like that at all. She just hates liars.”

“She must really hate being Ladybug then,” Nino mused aloud.

“Yeah . . .” Chat Noir trailed off, recalling his last meeting with Ladybug just a little under five hours ago.

“All of the secrets were too much. I think--I think I was depressed. I went to bed sad and woke up sad. Akumas were coming for me left and right. So I made the decision to tell Rena.”

Chat Noir had been so focused on the fact that Ladybug had shared her identity with someone other than him that he hadn’t really processed the why. Even as she told him that she trusted him, it didn’t line up with what he knew to be true: she had a habit of withholding information from him. And he couldn’t fathom why her default decision was always to leave him out of the loop. Would Ladybug have ever even told him that Rena knew had Alya not slipped up?

Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing since what was done was done. C’est la vie and all that. Yet, somehow, it always came back to that one fundamental difference between Adrien and Ladybug. Adrien adored his role as Chat Noir. His alter ego was the only freedom he had from his otherwise suffocating life. Ladybug was his only friend to know him without all the bells and whistles that followed the Agreste name. But did the girl behind the spots not feel the same way as him? Could she actually hate being Ladybug?

He supposed he would have to ask her.

When Chat Noir lifted his gaze from the floor, he discovered both of his friends watching him, patiently waiting. He half expected them to chastise him for wasting their time, but he had to remind himself that they weren’t Father and let the subsequent sorry dissolve on his tongue. Catching the hint that Chat was ready to depart, Nino escorted him to the balcony.

As Chat fiddled with the sliding glass door lock (clawed gloves really didn’t help with such coordinated tasks), Nino pulled him into a bear hug.

“Thanks for telling me, bro. I’m here for you, you know that.”

After a moment, Chat returned the embrace.

“I know.”

Reaching past Chat, Nino easily unlocked the sliding glass door for his best friend and watched with a proud smile as the Black Cat of Paris vaulted away into the night. The chilly night air sent shivers down Nino’s spine, so he was quick to close the door and robotically meandered back to his room, his girlfriend waiting for him on the screen. He sank into his computer chair and slid his hat over his face, allowing himself to simmer beneath its darkness for a beat or two.

“Sorry, Alya, but I’m a LadyNoir shipper now.”

Alya couldn’t have stopped the snort that came out of her even if she’d tried. “And what makes you say that?”

“Marinette’s my friend and all, but my boy has his sights set on the bug. I’ve gotta support him, you know? Bros before--” the unamused glare Alya had pinned on him burned a hole through his hat “--not bros.”

“Right. Well, don’t count my girl out yet. Why don’t you just get back to writing your script?”

And so he did. For the rest of their Skype call, the two heard from neither Marinette nor Adrien. Alya worked on a blog piece while Nino brainstormed his film idea, and all was relatively peaceful (well, as peaceful as it could be after finding out your best friend was a spandex-wearing cat boy).

That is, until Nino received a Discord message from Adrien.

22:47

adrienagreste

You’ll never believe who I just bumped into at the park

All alone

Talking to a Chat Noir doll

Nino cocked a brow. Wasn’t Adrien supposed to have gone straight home? Also, hadn’t Alya mentioned something about Marinette going to the park? In fact, he was in the middle of typing Marinette’s name when Adrien’s next text came in. And all this text contained was a single emoji . . .

Just now

adrienagreste

🐞

Who knew an emoji would be all it took?

“So you weren’t gonna tell me being an Adrienette shipper is being a LadyNoir shipper?” Nino spun to face Alya with the smuggest smirk on his lips and his arms folded pompously over his Rena Rouge pajama shirt.

Alya froze. Slowly, she craned her head toward the camera, abandoning her article completely. The two of them stared at each other as well as one could through a screen, sizing the other up, waiting to see who would make the first move. Nino already started the game, but now it was Alya’s choice how to play.

Knowing Nino, however, she knew that hubris in his shoulders and that gleam in his eye meant her efforts would be futile. The mask already slipped off Ladybug in his mind, and there was literally no possible way for her to tie it back on. She slumped.

“How did you figure it out?”

Nino whooped and spun himself around in his rolly chair. “These two idiots have got it so bad for each other and they don’t even know it! This is awesome. It’s like a--a love triangle! No, wait . . . A love square!”

Suddenly, he slammed his hand on his desk. The chair immediately stopped spinning. “Alya, it’s a love square.”

“I know.”

Nino dropped his head onto his table like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Oh, this ain’t it, chief. They could’ve known each other this whole friggin’ time, Alya. Whoever did this is a monster, straight up. Who’d do this to ’em? To our sweet, little hopeless romantic ducklings? Only a monster!” he wailed.

“There, there,” Alya offered, aware that Nino must be cycling through the same realizations she had just thirty minutes ago after learning Adrien was Chat Noir. She would have been patting his back had they been in the same room.

“Wait. Why don’t we just tell them?” Nino sat up, and Alya was surprised to find actual wetness on his cheeks. Upon seeing the look on Alya’s face, he continued, “We could do it. We could just tell them!”

Alya shook her head. “They’re fighting a guy who infects your mind and manipulates you. Chat Noir throws himself in the line of fire all the time, and he’s even been mind controlled to fight her. Marinette says if either one of them knew who the other was and Shadow Moth akumatized them, he would be able to get both their Miraculous.”

She considered telling Nino about Chat Blanc, but that experience was traumatizing enough for Marinette. The least her best friend deserved was control over who knew about it. Besides, the story wasn’t really Alya’s to tell. After a moment, she added, “And no one even knows what he plans to do with them.”

“Something evil, I bet.”

“Probably.” Alya sighed.

“But, Alya . . . now we know both their identities.”

Nino didn’t finish his question, but the implication hung heavy in the air, nonetheless. So what if we get akumatized?

Alya smirked, a deadly thing when cast in his direction. “I’ve broken out of an akuma’s control before.”

Nino’s jaw dropped to the floor. “You have?!”

“Mhm. Shadow Moo has nothing on your girl,” Alya contended, puffing out her chest in a superhero pose. The stars in Nino’s eyes that were placed there by the sheer awesomeness of his girlfriend sparkled.

“You must teach me your ways, Master Alya.”

They both chuckled and settled back into their chairs, letting a comfortable silence wash over them. When Nino spoke again, his voice was small, tentative.

“Still . . . I wish we could tell them.”

Alya silently watched her boyfriend pause to compose himself as if he were taking a bomb that could blow up the entire world and carefully placing it into a microwave to prevent an explosion. It would always be there, the bomb, reminding him to watch where he stepped lest he knock the microwave over and bring his friends down with him, but now? Now, it was manageable. Languidly, he returned to his script.

Alya followed his example, turning her attention back to her abandoned article but not before she confided, “Me, too, Nino.”

Although she hadn’t meant to learn Chat Noir’s secret identity, she didn’t have it in her to regret her slow fingers, to regret the spilling of their chili pot. Like fate, it had led to this, to her and her boyfriend sharing in the weight that Marinette and Adrien had been carrying on their shoulders alone for so long now. And even if they didn’t know they weren’t alone anymore, even if Alya and Nino were just supporting them from behind like little weight-spotter fairies . . .

Alya didn’t regret it, not one little bit.

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

23:14

ladyblogger

So u wanna 🔪 who did this to them??

DJLahiffe

ADSHF

WAIT

hol up

u kno eho made them keep their identities secret??? 👀

who*

ladyblogger

black_lady_chewing_with_knife.gif

Eye do

DJLahiffe

kombucha_girl.gif

i’m listening, babe

ladyblogger

Mhmm

And how do i kno u have it in u?

It’s an old man

Whose entire wardrobe is Hawaiian button-ups

DJLahiffe

say less

i’ll hide the body

🧍🏽‍♂️

—–

Heya! Wow! Two chapters in one day :D Only for you, dear reader ❤ Check out my Instagram for Wingless updates. I’m also posting pieces of a Wingless cover with each chapter update! We’re so close to finishing.

(11/?) Previous | Next

[waywardimpalawriter]

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

With Marcus Pike? Maybe BFFs to lovers because I want it to end happy? Thank you 🙏

Love of his life

Pairing: Marcus Pike x best friend!Female Reader

Characters: Marcus Pike,

Setting: five years after the last episode Marcus was in.

Rating: PG:13

Warnings: 2,774

Summary: Conversation overheard leads to feelings of regret at the chance not taken. Will he take that risk and go for who he wants or let it slide away just like the past?

Word count:

Notes: Written for the lovely @hnt-escape asking for the prompt “I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.” Will be in bold in the story. I hope you enjoy sweetie.

Tag List:

Forever tags: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Pedro Pascal tags: @evyiione

Staring into the caramel colored liquid ceramic mug warming your hands, thoughts clouded by a certain brown eyed man and how to handle the feelings you’ve harbored since grade school.

“Trying to divine this weeks lotta numbers from you coffee sweetie?” Soothing southern accented voice breaks through the fog smile in the sweet lilt.

Head snapping up to look towards the blonde, grin firmly in place over her ruby lips, “I wish, would donate at least half to research the antiquities we have that no one’s cataloged yet.”

“Wow devoted,” chuckling, walking over to the Keurig k-cup spinner to pluck the last Colombian dark roast pod. “What or should I say who’s on that gorgeous your mind that’s got your brow furrowed deeper than the Mariana Trench?”

Not wishing to discuss your thoughts right now, you deflect to ask, “Those things waste so much Donna and bad for the environment. Why don’t you just buy the bulk grounds?”

“Great way to keep from answering the true question,” baby blues lock, sincerity written deep and meaningful. Knowing she’s only trying to help having confided many times your dilemma those feelings you’ve held on to for so long brings about. “I don’t know why you haven’t told him sugar I mean you came to DC…”

“For this job Donna, Marcus turned up later… not much later,” last few words muttered into cooling coffee you try to hide behind while taking a sip. “I didn’t upheave my life for a man,” not sure who you’re trying to convince more yourself or Donna.

Established in your position at the museum a month before Marcus’s transfer and at the time he’s heavily invested with one Teresa Lisbon. Memories flood through like film reel before your eyes. Of that very night he comes to you heartbroken bags in hand with no one beside him and no real place to go. Promising yourself to shove your feelings aside and help him get back on steady legs. Even letting him stay till his place became ready to move in.

Loud snort greets your ears, breaking you from memory lane. “You keep telling yourself that and while you’re at it keeping him friend zoned when your clearly in love with him does neither one of you any good. He ain’t gonna wait around forever sugar trust me on that one,” hurt coloring her tone speaking volumes of her own pain. She looks away to watch the final drops of coffee land in her mug. You know exactly why she’s not looking at your right now, the hurt she tries to hide behind the bubbly personality. Fixing her coffee up just the way she likes to hide her own pain she’s shared a few times.

“How,” licking your lips slowly, mug placed beside you on the counter to clasp your hands in front of you. “I’m not even sure how or where to start Donna. He’s my best friend knows me inside and out I don’t…”

“Do you love him?” Simple question with no easy answer as grey blue eyes land on and pierce you with their intensity.

“I…” wringing those hands her question chases thoughts around your head. Finally giving the heart answer, “I love him, just unsure if he loves me in the same way. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to change the dynamics of our relationship and loose what we have for a what if.”

“Oh sweetheart I know it’s not easy to bank on what if’s but trust me when I say that man loves you in ways I’ve never seen and I’ve seen a lot.” Giving you a teasing wink then sobering, “Why do ya think I haven’t tried to snag him up myself?”

“Cause he’s not your type?” Joke sounding stupid to your own ears, glaze dropping to your shoes. “What if… what if I’m not his type? I mean you’ve seen the women he’s gone out with before. I’m hardly in the same league.”

“No your in a league of your own sugar.” Head nodding in understanding Donna comes over resting a hand on your bicep giving a gentle squeeze. “Compensating maybe even trying to replace the one he truly wants sweetheart. Don’t let a good man slip away especially since you love him.”

“I do, he’s,” head shaking at a loss for words to describe Marcus. “Amazing and sweet, the kind of man that’s so easy to love and care for. I’m lost truly without him.” Happy tears blur your vision for a moment thinking about him. How he’s always at your side just when you need him without notice at times. Sixth sense when you need those late night pancakes from the best diner in town. Watching old movies after a crappy break up, snuggled together with popcorn and beer, snacks of all kinds. Snap shot of his face filters across your vision, “I’m gonna tell him in fact,” glancing down at your watch finding end of day fast approaching. “Would you close down for me Donna I need to tell him now before loosing my nerve.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice sugar go get your man,” nodding towards the doorway you start for, coffee long forgotten in favor of someone more sweeter. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“There’s things you wouldn’t do?” Cheeky grin highlighting your features, the sound of crinkling plastic reaching your ears so you look down. Frown replacing the smile at finding a small bouquet of blue tipped carnations laying on the ground. Bending to scoop up the beautiful flowers knowing only one man would’ve brought these. “Shit,” curse flying from your mouth while your feet start to eat up the distance towards the back doors bouquet held firmly in your grasp.

Missing Donna yelling about your keys and belongings, to not forget about the storm rumbling in the background. Wide smile forming watching you go hoping you’ll catch Marcus just in time.

While you pray with each step taken you’ll catch him in time to explain. Thoughts running rampant wondering what he heard and didn’t. If the reason for the dropped flowers has to do with the fact he thinks you love someone else. That last thought spurs you on into a run, thankful for the flats you wore today instead of customary heels you normally wear. Eating up the distance you burst through the back doors into a curtain of rain meeting your eyes as more curses fly from your lips. You pause eyes narrowing through the gloom looking for Marcus’s car, his back, hair surely plastered to against his head. Something to point you in the right direction. At the right moment a flash of lighting illuminating the darken skies, makes you jump but press on determined to find him. While stepping out into the pouring rain, clothes soaked through low rumblings of thunder taking your calls out for Marcus away with the howling wind.

Tears form and slide down cool cheeks, still franticly looking around but coming up empty till you catch the flash of grey out of your periphery. Whipping around you head in the direction calling out his name praying there’s a break in the rain so your voice carries to his ears.

And for a moment that one split second he catches a sound other than the storm raging around him. Sweet desperate voice calling out his name, giving him pause in dragging footsteps. Looking around but seeing nothing but the driving rain, drops soaking his suit and blurring his vision. Before turning to resume his path the voice calls out again, nearer and stronger than the last time.

His doubts cloud the mind, accusing him of hearing things the wind brings from other parts of the parking lot. Till a vision dressed in black slacks, creamy silk blouse, hair and clothes plasters to your body appears in front of him. Hand raised in the vain attempt to keep the rain from your face as you search for him.

Eyes lock surprised deep chocolate orbs meet the relief in yours, “You’re gonna get sick sweetheart go back inside.”

“No,” single word yelled out as you near Marcus, gripping his bicep and moving closer to speak into his ear. Warm breath making him shiver despite the cold rain trying to drown the both of you. “Why’d you leave?”

“Saw you busy didn’t want…” shaking your head Marcus swallows catching sight of the flowers in your free hand.

“You dropped these why?” Hurt lacing the tone in your voice as you bring the small plastic wrapped bundle up between you. “Thank you.”

Eyes dart between the flowers and your eyes unsure how to answer your question as so many of his own chase around his mind. Wanting the truth Marcus gather’s his courage to ask, “Do you love him?”

Confusion coats your veins, drawing up your brows with the same emotion till it clicks. “Yes, very much in fact you just doesn’t know it.”

“I’m done,” pain etched into his voice heart aching behind its prison of bone and flesh. Misunderstanding the look in your eyes and the words your spoke. “I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction. I just can’t do it anymore it’s so much worse than any of the other.” Taking two steps back from your touch that sears the skin under heavy suit jacket and starch white cotton dress shirt. Gaze dropping to concrete unable to look into your eyes a second longer knowing he’s lost the chance. Internally cursing himself for waiting so long, letting other’s in his heart when the one woman he’s wanted all along stood by him through all life’s ups and downs.

Frowning at the loss of touch, his words sinking in you step forward he matches with one back. “Marcus,” soft achingly tender voice reaches out towards him. Heard now the rain has slowed to light drizzle. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you? Not as a brother or best friend, but in love with you.”

“What?” Single word choked off on a gasp, eyes reaching your smiling orbs trying to find the jest. Only seeing genuine love backed by worry and fear that he doesn’t truly have the same feelings. “You never told me.”

“You didn’t tell me either Pike so we’re kinda in the same boat,” carefully reaching out for his nearest hand tugging him back towards you. “So many times I’d try to tell you, to explain, to see if there’s a chance for us. Every time someone else got my shot. I gave up almost for good this time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Moving closer, warm palm coming up to cup your cheek from apple to jawline. Thump brushing slowly over soft delicate skin drowning in your eyes as you rubbing your cheek into his large palm. “Never would’ve guess you felt the same way.”

Not sure how to answer the first question, so you joke instead. “Not only good at picking out a fake piece of art but putting on a good show.” Trying to infuse a little lightheartedness into the tense moment. “Gonna call Oscar see if they’ll give me one of those little golden guys for my performance. Not Ingrid Bergman worthy but I can hold my own,” nervous little laugh leaving your lips that Marcus brushes his thumb over the bottom lip. Stuck dumb by the action breath shallow before held while trying to depict the emotions running through those sweet brown eyes. “Say some Marcus.”

The tremor in your voice shakes the shocked cobwebs from his mind to focus his thoughts. Picking up that you haven’t answered his first question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Which time?” Breathy sigh leaving your mouth as you try to gather the right words. “Not to mention your my best friend Marcus I didn’t want to fuck that up especially if you didn’t feel the same way,” taking a breath fresh rain mixes with the warm subtle cologne Marcus wears. “Couldn’t risk loosing you and changing our relationship for a what if.”

“And now?” Cupping the other side of your face, keeping your chin tilted upward, eyes searching the depths of yours. Finding the peace he’s missed out on with everyone who came before. Home written in your embrace, sweet light flora scent wrapping around his senses reminding him of just who he needs.

Swallowing, pink tongue coming out to wet your lips, a path he follows with rapt attention. “I recently became enlightened by a good friend reminding me sometimes you need to take those chances.” Both arms wrap around his neck, flowers still clutched tightly, free hand carding through rain soaked strands at the back of his head. Blunt nails scratching gently over Marcus’s neck receiving a shiver that vibrates through your body and has nothing to do with the cool air or wet clothing.

“And you want to take that leap with me?” Inching closer with barely a millimeter’s breath between your lips. Eyes still wide open assuring each other and finally showing the truth and need.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful love affair,” cheeky smile splitting your face at the crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. Knowing full well you’ve gotten the quote wrong on purpose.

“Here’s looking at you kid,” deepened voice sending tingles of excitement racing down your spine. Slightest brush of his chapped lips to yours bringing a sigh and parting your mouth that’s captured and devoured.

Angling your head just right as he licks into your sweet coffee tasting mouth mixing the minty freshness of his. Low groan whispers between your lips, which moves and changes. Nibbling his bottom lip, slipping your tongue over the bruised skin to sooth before sliding back into the warm cavern of his delectable mouth. Dreams having no merit on the real kiss that makes your toes curl a moan of your own existing to join with the groan he’s let loose. Air becoming much needed and you part to rest foreheads together.

“I love you to have for a long time,” admitting his feelings frees a part of him held back for so long. “I’m sorry for all the missed opportunities but if you’ll let me I’ll make them all up to you.”

“Start by taking me home to change then out for pancakes,” bright smile blooming over your lips that press into his. Unable to stop yourself from giving another tender kiss while wrapping your arms around his shoulders tighter. “And kisses lots more kisses,” mumbling the words into his mouth while initiating another kiss for emphasis.

Only breaking when someone clears their throat you both turn to see Donna standing there with your purse in hand. “No making out in the parking lot you two take it home,” grinning extending your purse towards you. “Just remember don’t do anything I would,” before turning to start back towards the museum. “Congratulations by the way took y’all long enough.”

“There’s things you’d do I wouldn’t Donna,” you call after her shaking your head before looking back up at Marcus. Catching the look burning in his eyes, “I’m guessing pancakes won’t happen tonight huh?”

Soft smirk slides over those kiss swollen lips, “Later but right now I have other plans.” Tugging you against his chest for one last deep drugging kiss that leaves you weak kneed and panting.

“Care to share those plans?” Snuggling into his arms as you both head the last short distance to his car.

Opening then crowding you into the corner of the door hands braced on either side to lean in placing a soft chase kiss to your cheek. “Making up for all the missed time and then later,” pausing to brush his lips over your ear. Whispering the last words with gentle puffs of air floating across your skin. “I’ll make you those pancakes and lick the syrup from your lips afterwards and any other place you’ll let me.”

“Only if you’ll let me return the flavor,” mischievous smile stretching across your lips, ducking under his arms to slide into the car. Finding him still standing there, you tug on his jacket gaining his attention.

Darken eyes meet yours, “I’ll even paint you like one of my French girls,” sending you a playful wink while closing the car door and running around to the drivers side. Marcus slides in, key slipping into ignition, simple flick of his wrist the car flares to life and he’s backing out heading for home and a new start filled with promise.

[spacedikut]

starstruck ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary:  “Can I request some age gap Spencer x reader. Maybe he’s nervous about approaching her for a relationship bc she’s younger, but he’s so goofy for her it’s he’s in love obvious. Pretty pls 🥺💕” 5222 words

a/n: i didn’t specify ages cause i wasn’t sure what people would be comfortable with so i just mentioned an age gap and leave the rest up to you!! i would happily date someone twice my age but i also have daddy issues so :)

masterlist

The day has finally arrived.

Mollie can call you a nerd all she wants, but you know the second she lays eyes on Derek Morgan or Emily Prentiss she’ll change her tune.

This event has been in the university’s calendar since the beginning of the semester. At least two members of the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit were promised to give a talk about their department, even taking you through a solved case like an interactive documentary, to encourage students to consider joining the academy post-graduation. There was whispers they’d even stick around after to answer some questions.

Your other friend, Jen, the one that understands your excitement, wrote your names down for tickets immediately. You’ve had a countdown on your phone ever since.

“They’ve announced a last-minute guest,” She beams, just as giddy as you. You’re wasting time at the coffee house near the auditorium, waiting for Mollie to arrive.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

You almost drop your cookie in shock and stare at her, pupils blown.

“You’re a big fan?” She smirks.

As nonchalantly as you can, you lean back in your chair, “I’m a fan of his work, yes.”

“Oh, his work?”

“Don’t start.”

“I bet you love his work.”

“He’s well-versed and his papers are super interesting-“

“His papers are super interesting-“

“You are a child.”

Just then, Mollie appears, checking her watch. You wish you could kiss her in thanks for saving you from the teasing that would likely never end. “We’re gonna be late for your morbid seminar if you two don’t stop bickering.”

Jen downs the rest of her drink, you shove the last of the cookie in your mouth. Mollie watches your excitement in amusement – your heart starts pumping, whole body buzzing, the same nervousness you felt when you were a preteen right before your first ever One Direction concert. It’s the kind of nervousness that makes your palms sweaty.

Is it evolution or devolution to go from sweating over One Direction to sweating over FBI profilers?

+++

The seminar goes on for an hour, including the questions people ask throughout. It’s everything you could’ve asked for, entertaining and so, so informative and although you weren’t considering joining the FBI before, suddenly it’s all you can think about. Guest speakers have that affect, don’t they? They make you wonder if you should drastically change everything you’ve been planning.

Even Mollie, who you had to threaten to tag along, ended up enjoying herself. “Maybe I learnt a thing or two,” She’d said, rolling her eyes playfully.

You and your friends are some of the last to leave. There’s quite the bustling outside, which you assume is just post-seminar chatter, but you and Jen falter in your steps when you see the exact profilers that had been onstage several minutes ago in front of you, happily interacting and talking to fellow students.

“Oh, man,” Jen whispers, her and Mollie making eye contact across you. “I have to see if I can talk to Emily.”

Mollie encourages her with a frantic, “Go! Go!” while you’re rooted in place. Mollie jabs you with a pointed nail, “You in there, Y/N? I’m sure you have loads of questions for them-“

You stutter and shake your head, “N-no. I’m good. You can try and hit on Derek, if you want.”

You give a half-attempt at a smile, barely lifting the corners of your lips. Mollie recognises that look. She wants to stay with you, check you’re not too overwhelmed, but you shoo her away and send her towards Derek. You breathe a sigh of relief – you’ve been friends with her long enough that she knows when you need space.

There’s something about seeing people you admire so abruptly that totally throws you for a loop. All you had prepared for was seeing them from afar and subsequently talking about it forever, but nothing beyond that. In some circumstances, it’d be a pleasant surprise, but for someone that struggles around strangers and especially around people as admirable as profilers, you are not mentally prepared for this and have therefore shut down.

But then you see him.

He’s shuffling in place in the corner of the room, close to a large potted plant like it’s his only friend. He’s nibbling his lip as his eyes flutter around, never staying somewhere for longer than a second, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Why is no one talking to him? He’s Spencer Reid.

There’s a couple of people surrounding Emily, fully entranced by whatever story she’s relaying, another few people around Derek, chortling at a joke he just made. Spencer glances between them and their audiences, and you can’t help but wonder why he isn’t right next to them, chatting away, too.

Does he not want to talk to anyone?

You should talk to him.

No. He probably wants to be alone.

Or what if he doesn’t and no one else is talking to him which means you can have a one-on-one conversation? What about that?

Are you insane?

…

You have to talk to him.

Before you can change your mind, you’re approaching him with a tight grip on the handle of your bag, pushing it higher up your shoulder. He spots you and makes eye contact just as you stop in front of him, and you notice he momentarily tightens his grip on his satchel.

Was this a bad idea?

“Hi,” You breathe, “I’m Y/N. A big fan.”

His eyes widen a fraction, which you don’t understand because why else would you be here, but he smiles nonetheless, “Hi, I’m, uh, Spencer Reid.”

“I know.”

“Yes, you know. That makes sense, because you were in the seminar. I saw you.”

Now you’re shocked. For as long as you can remember you never sit in the centre of a room, where most attention seems to go, so how did he-

“I-I always scan the room I’m in its.. it’s not a creepy thing, I swear. I’m not creepy.”

A laugh escapes you at that, making him visibly relax. “I don’t think you’re creepy. There was just.. a lot of people in there, so I’m surprised you remember my face.” You shrug.

I couldn’t forget such a beautiful face.

You don’t know what happens, but Spencer suddenly tenses up. His back straightens and he looks alarm, stiff.

Did he just think that? What.. why did he think that?

You wonder if you’ve said something wrong, so you try to change the topic.

“I-I have a question, if you don’t mind answering.”

Spencer nods with an of course, and when the question rolls off your tongue, his mind is still reeling from subconsciously calling you beautiful in his head. It’s not untrue, but it feels.. inappropriate. He doesn’t know why. But you are beautiful.

As he scans your face, now much closer than in the auditorium, he realises yeah, you are incredibly beautiful.

You wave a hand in front of his face, “Doctor Reid?”

“Sorry, yes, sorry. What are you studying?”

There’s a light in your eyes that Spencer recognises when you say, “Psychology.”

“Thought so.”

“You probably talk to a lot of psychology students. I-um. I almost went to Caltech,” Spencer raises an eyebrow, "After I read your dissertation, it really inspired me to look into it – your dissertation is incredible, by the way.”

Spencer smiles bashfully, a futile attempt to not allow the grin to overtake his face, and thanks you, “I appreciate it. Actually, I was sixteen when I wrote it.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Your eyes widen, “You’re insane! You’re amazing!”

The praise bursts from you, and his blushing face makes you oddly proud. On the other hand, Spencer feels like you’ve set him alight, his blood pumping loudly in his ears, as he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your smile.

He desperately needs to change the topic.

“To answer your question…”

Derek notices you two interacting across the room. Mollie sees him looking and hums, “Oh, that’s Y/N, my best friend. She really likes Spencer.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Looks like he really likes her.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll collapse.”

They both watch you for a second, Spencer flailing his arms as he explains, you eagerly adding to his rambling, asking a question here and exclaiming some kind of encouragement there. It’s sweet, Derek thinks.

“Hey..” Mollie begins, a scheming look in her eye, “We’re planning to hang out in the campus bar later. It’s open to all and the drinks are cheap. If you and Emily happen to find yourselves looking for something to do and you drag Spencer along.. I’m sure Y/N would like it.”

“I like the way you think,” Derek says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

+++

“She’s getting hit on. Again.” You giggle, gesturing for Jen to turn around and witness Mollie get your drinks paid for by a random guy.

She’s always been a people person – it’s saved you hundreds on nights out.

All Jen does is glance over her shoulder, scoff, then turn her sceptical eyes to you.

“I saw you and Spencer Reid.” She says, twinkling eyes. She’s trying not to look smug.

“I almost proposed to him.” You joke, taking your drink from Mollie with a mumbled thanks.

“Oh, I bet you did,” She laughs, “You two looked sooo good together.”

“Alright,” You slide a shot to each girl, “I know you’re making fun of me, but I’m taking that compliment and cherishing it. Spencer Reid is cute, what of it?!”

You clink the shot glasses with your friends and down them, all wincing at the taste and giggling at Jen when she takes a gulp of her cocktail to wash away the taste of straight vodka.

“How did talking to Derek and Emily go?”

And then Jen starts chattering away.

You miss the bar door opening behind you, But Mollie notices. She’s been watching the door since they got here, conveniently choosing the table with the best view, just in case some profilers decided to stop by.

Derek catches Mollie’s eye and winks.

“Well I never,” Mollie fakes shock, “Look who just walked through the doors.”

You turn and choke on your drink. Emily and Derek look relax, like they’re home, but Spencer?

He looks just like he did earlier: like there’s a million places he’d rather be.

He’s lost the blazer he was wearing earlier, leaving him in a fitted purple shirt with a matching tie. With the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you can see his firm hands and the silver watch that rests on his wrist – is it possible for a watch to be sexy? Or maybe it’s just cause he’s sexy?

That shot must be getting to you.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You hiss, a sharp whisper piercing the air as you turn and (terribly) try to hide your face.

But Spencer’s seen you. He spotted you the moment they came in – he recognised your clothes and your hair – and the second he did he turned right back around to exit the bar. Derek’s arm stopped him at his chest, like he does to unsubs, forcefully turning him around and laughing when Spencer tensed up.

“What, Reid? Scared of a pretty girl?” Derek teases, much like he’d been doing since he spoke to you earlier.

“I am scared of college girls, yes. Last time I was in a college bar I was twelve and downed shots of apple juice.”

“What?!” Both Emily and Derek stop short, looks of disbelief at the revelation. “You’ve never mentioned that.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“We,” Derek places his hands on Spencer’s shoulders, directing him to your table, “Are just gonna have a few drinks and talk to a few people, and then you’re gonna explain that apple juice story in explicit detail- hey ladies!”

Jen and Mollie look overjoyed at the new company, while you stare rigidly with distinctive what the fuck eyes.

“Would you mind if we joined you?” Emily asks, with a sparkling grin that no one could say no to.

“Of course not,” Jen grins, like it’s the most obvious answer.

The empty seat next to you is taken by Spencer (Derek discreetly shoves him) but right before he’s firmly placed on the stool, Emily calls out, “Spence, why don’t you get us some drinks? You still owe us after you lost that game of gin..”

“I didn’t lose.” Spencer huffs indignantly, “You cheated.”

Despite his grunts, he stands to make his way to the bar, but not before-

“Y/N!” Mollie beams, “It’s your turn to get the round, if you’d be so kind.”

You know that look on her face. You hate her, you realise, but you also love her because being alone with Spencer sends a thrill through you.

Alone with Spencer. What the hell are you supposed to say to him?

You follow him to the bar. He leans against it with an awkward smile.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey.”

“It’s uh.. it’s been a long time since we’ve seen eachother.” It’s a half attempt at a joke, followed by instant regret. But then you giggle and everything feels right in the world, even Spencer’s sucky joke.

“It has been a while, Doctor Reid.” You say. The bartender approaches, takes your orders, then you turn to Spencer, “What brings you to a college bar, of all places?”

“Well,” Spencer glances over your shoulder to your table. He makes eye contact with every single person there, all watching you two interact, and they all sharply turn and try to play it off like they’ve been talking casually. Spencer’s brows furrow a little. “Derek said the drinks are cheap and our hotel is only a couple blocks away. I don’t know, maybe Derek likes college girls.”

You laugh again, and Spencer has to take a second to realise you’re not laughing at him but at what he said about Derek. “Yeah, Derek seems like a real ladies man.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” Spencer grins, “We once timed him to see how long it would take to get a girls number and he did it in five minutes. And he said he was having a bad day.”

The drinks are placed in front of you. Neither of you notice.

You unconsciously lean closer, saying, “Have you timed it to see how long it takes for a girl to approach him? That’s gotta be, like, maybe ten minutes?”

“Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“Well damn. Has he always been so…” A hand gestures in the air, looking for the word.

“Promiscuous?”

“I was gonna say free.”

“Free?” Spencer giggles, “That’s very nice of you.”

You shrug, “I don’t judge.” Spencer agrees, and it slips out, “What about you?”

You wish you could shove the words back in your mouth. Even more so when his expression changes. You can’t entirely make out what it is, but even in the dimly lit bar you can see the flush of heat that spreads through his cheeks to his ears.

“Are you asking me if I’m free with the ladies?” He murmurs, suppressing a grin.

You give an awkward laugh, wondering if you’ve overstepped a boundary, “Yeah. But that’s kinda weird to ask, so-“

“I’m so popular with the ladies it puts Derek to shame.”

You can’t hide your surprise. “What? Really?”

Spencer caves. “No. Is it that hard to believe I’m a ladies man?”

“Compared to Derek? Yes.”

Spencer scoffs.

+++

“As adorable as they are, it’s been thirty minutes.” Emily sighs. “I want my drink.”

“They’re bonding,” Jen sends a wistful look, “I’m so proud.”

“I’m guessing Y/N isn’t the most social either?” Derek asks, proudly watching you interact.

“She’s the best, just a little shy sometimes.” She smiles at you, even though you can’t see, “She’s an idiot, but our idiot, you know?”

Both Emily and Derek laugh airily, nodding with a, “Yeah, we know.”

At once, three phones vibrate throughout the bar – Emily, Derek and Spencer. They’re instantly filled with disappointment; Derek can’t watch Spencer attempt to flirt with a girl he’s obviously interested in, Emily still hasn’t got a drink, and Spencer has to leave you and he can’t think of anything worse.

He’s clearly hesitant when he looks at his phone. How does he say goodbye? Does he ask for your number? Would that be weird? That would be weird.

“Uhh…”

You channel every ounce of liquid courage you have in your body and offer, “Would it be weird if I gave you my number? Just.. for anything. Anything at all.”

Spencer nods, a gentle look in his eyes and a smile on his face, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You mumble an alright, accepting Spencer’s phone and creating a new contact for yourself.

Please text me. You think. Please text me.

+++

He doesn’t text.

It’s been a week. A week. You know how cases are, some take longer than others and some are solved in literal hours, but it’s been a week, Spencer goddamn Reid, so why haven’t you texted me.

That’s when the doubt creeps in. Your friends keep telling you he’ll text, that he’s just busy (“He’s an FBI agent, Y/N. If you start dating you’re gonna have to get used to lapses in contact.” To which you’re too distracted choking at the mention of you two dating), but you can’t help but wonder if he took your number simply so he could leave quicker. He had a case to get to, after all. He had people to save.

Now you feel guilty. You forced your number on him, didn’t you? Oh God, he hates you. He hates you and you forced your number on him and he hasn’t texted you because he’s filing a restraining order against you because he hates you.

Mollie tells you you need a nap.

+++

Spencer spends the time on the jet back from the case staring at your number. He has it memorised, of course, and has had it memorised from the first time he read it, of course, but he can’t bring himself to do anything with it.

All he’s done is change your contact picture from the standard first letter of your name to a cute picture of a frog Garcia sent him. It reminds him of you.

Derek lowers his headphones, “You texted her yet, Pretty Boy?”

“Huh? Uh, no. I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer shrugs, locking his phone and placing it face down. “I don’t think anything would come from it.”

“Kid,” Derek leans forward, eyebrows furrowed, “You two talked for well over thirty minutes in the middle of a college bar about God knows what. Maybe I’m easy to impress, but that seemed pretty special to me.”

“How is talking in a college bar worth anything?”

“Because you’re Reid, who, most of the time, has to be physically dragged into a bar. You hate talking to strangers about anything other than work. Y/N? A stranger. What did you two talk about?”

“We talked about you a little.”

“Uhuh. About how good I am at my job?”

“God, no,” Spencer scrunches his nose, “We talked about your charm with the ladies.”

Derek falls back in his chair and scoffs, “I’m flattered, but that doesn’t sound like work-talk to me. So you’re comfortable with her. I saw you laughing, so she makes you laugh, too. Sounds pretty great to me.”

Spencer stares. Derek’s right, but..

“So what is it, Reid?”

Spencer licks his lips. “Do you think she’s too young for me?”

Derek rarely looks taken aback, but he does now, “Too young?”

“She’s in college. I’m-I’m-“

“A legal adult. As is she.”

Spencer slumps. “A 2014 Current Population Survey found the average difference for a heterosexual couple is two-point-three years, with the man older than the woman. Even if you double that, that’s still less than me and Y/N-“

“Four years isn’t a lot, Spence,”

“You just.. you don’t think it’s weird?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Derek’s conviction gives Spencer some reassurance, but he can’t help himself when he thinks that.. maybe.. you’ll find him boring. Most people seem to, with all his statistics and figures and facts, but with the added element of you living it up at college.. how could he compete?

“I think you’re worrying over nothing, Reid. You haven’t even texted her, and you’re already worrying about stuff like age gaps?” Derek crosses his hands and looks at Spencer with determination, “She gave you her number. She initiated it. She knows who you are, so she knows how old you are and it doesn’t seem to make her uncomfortable. So, why should it make you?”

Spencer just grunts.

“Are you worried people will say things?”

“I guess.”

“People always say things. You know that better than anyone. So screw ‘em.”

Spencer feels a smile creep onto his face.

And Derek relaxes. He’s planted the seeds, that Spencer is fretting over nothing, now all he’s got to do is wait for Spencer to let it sink in and allow the flowers to bloom and, next thing you know, Spencer’s gonna have himself the perfect girlfriend.

And Derek will take too much credit for it.

+++

“Heeeeeeeeey my precious Doctor…”

Garcia looks like her hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Spencer’s back straightens. “What did you do?”

She looks embarrassed, fiddling with the fluffy pen in her hand. She smiles awkwardly. “Derek may have told me about a pretty little college student that captured your heart, and then he told me you also haven’t texted her yet, so I did a little digging and…”

“You cyber-stalked Y/N?” Emily asks, casually. JJ seems unphased at the discussion. Does everyone in the office know about you?

“I did. I’m guilty. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.” She’s speaking a mile a minute.

Emily spares Spencer a glance, “Did you find anything?”

“Well…”

Concern fills Spencer. “Did something happen?”

“I just found some stuff she’d probably only tell a close friend and I feel really bad about it.” Her shoulders are by her ears as she tries to fold in on herself out of guilt, “But other than that she’s a genuinely sweet girl who volunteers at pet shelters and the college library in her free time and we have really similar music tastes so I think we’d make great friends.”

They all look to Spencer, waiting for his reaction. What? Is he supposed to be surprised that you’re the epitome of perfect? He’s not. He studied you the entire time you spoke.

“She’s also written several incredible papers on child development that I think are revolutionary and I totally emailed them to you because I think you should read them. She’s also a genius.”

Spencer’s hand twitches. He ignores the sudden need to check his email.

It’s silent as they just stare at him. He doesn’t say anything and tries not to react, but he does. They notice how his eyes flicker to his phone, how his leg fidgets, the longing in his eyes.

Emily brushes her hair back calmly and asks, “Hey, Pen, when does Y/N work at the college library?”

Penelope doesn’t catch on at first, casually replying, “Oh, basically every day from five pm onwards. They’re a twenty-four hour library and she combines working and studying.” When she sees Emily pointedly look at Spencer, she goes ohhh.

“Good to know,” Emily nods, “Good to know.”

+++

Spencer finds himself at the college library that night.

He wants to say it was an accident, or that he just happens to know there’s a special edition of a specific book here, but he’d be lying. He read your papers between reports, and found himself having a deep appreciation for the way you write – he wants to ready everything you’ve ever written. Every essay, every note, every formal and informal piece of work you’ve ever done.

He’s already fallen in love with the way you write. He doesn’t think he’s far from falling in love with you.

He wanders around the lower floor of the library. It’s impressive, he must admit, and he’s disappointed in himself for not visiting earlier. There’s students everywhere, but he notices some other people mixed in too – professors, businesspeople, as well as parents with their children.

He feels a little less weird for creeping around now.

Not that’s he’s creeping. He’s just.. there. To see a certain someone under the guise of looking for a book.

He moseys for a while, from the fiction section to the non-fiction to comics to autobiographies. You’re nowhere to be found – not between the rows of books, not working on any of the desks, not at the centre reception desk.

Until you’re suddenly behind him.

“Spencer?”

He jumps, looking up from the book he’s reading. Your voice is as calming and smooth as always.

“Y/N. Hi.”

“Hi,” Your brows are furrowed, but you’re not disappointed by the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts the book he’s holding, an Arthur Conan Doyle, giving a light lipped smile. “I’m just looking. I didn’t realise the college library was so plentiful – did you know the oldest library in the world dates from the seventh century BC?”

“I do, actually.” You point to a poster behind him, which displays that exact fact, “I thought dotting facts around the library would be interesting for the kids. They seem to like them.”

“Learning in young children is socially mediated, so good quality learning environments outside of their schools is crucial for children’s development. So, in a way, you’re enriching their lives beyond understanding.”

You’re flattered at his somewhat far-fetched attempt at complimenting you. It makes your heart flutter.

Why didn’t you contact me, you dimwit?

You open your mouth to ask another question, ask if there’s something he needs help finding, when he beats you to it.

With a firm grip, he slams the book he’s reading shut and says, “I’m lying.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t come here to.. look around. I came here to see you.”

“Oh.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to make of that. You haven’t awkwardly looked away, or stepped back to increase the distance between you. That means something good, right?

“You didn’t text me, so I assumed you weren’t interested.” Your brows twitch, and you back-pedal, “Unless you purposely didn’t text me because you actually weren’t interested and you might be here to see me but for something book-related rather than me-related and I’ve totally humiliated myself.”

“No, no. You’re right. You’re right.” He fiddles with the book in shame, “I should’ve texted you. I just didn’t know what to say and.. Well, it’s stupid.”

Your head jerks a little to the side, something he’s noticed you do a lot, looking patient and too pretty for him to handle. “I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

Spencer thinks back to his conversation with Derek, specifically the reminder that you gave him your number which means you initiated this so yes, you are interested in him.

It’s just.. when he looks at you, he struggles to believe it a little. You’re breath-taking.  

“I’m worried I’ll bore you.” He starts light, easing you into what’s been troubling him. He’s emboldened by the fact you’re clearly frustrated he didn’t text you.

You give him a look of horror, “The first time we met I told you I loved your dissertation on geographic regression. I definitely do not think you’re anything anywhere near boring.”

“Okay,” He nods, “What about our ages?”

You’re confused. “What about it?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “It doesn’t.. bother you?”

“Does it.. bother you?”

Usually, answering a question with a question is a sign of deflection, a sign of hiding something. However he doesn’t know why, but Spencer trusts you with his life. Maybe not his life. Maybe his heart.

“Does that silence mean yes?”

He shakes his head, “No. It doesn’t bother me. I just worry that, you know, college years are the so-called best years of your life and I don’t want you to regret being with me, someone older than you, and resent me for it, or something-“

“I think you’re getting way in your head, Spence.” You laugh a little, “We haven’t gone on a single date and you’ve convinced yourself of so much already. For the record, no, your age doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It never has and I doubt it ever will. I think you’re the most fascinating and interesting person on this planet, and if anyone is getting bored with anyone I’m pretty confident it’ll be you getting sick of me. And,” You take a breath, “I think I’m old enough to know what I want, who I want, and what I want is you. If you want me, too.”

Spencer shoves the book back into the bookshelf with a satisfying sound, then turns and quickly places a kiss onto your cheek. It’s completely unexpected and, quite frankly, not something you’d expect from Doctor Reid, but you blush and there’s a definite red colour to Spencer’s cheeks, too.

“I will never, ever, get sick of you.” He says, voice small but firm. “But I don’t want you to regret being with me. Promise me you won’t.”

You give him a look that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. “I promise that I won’t regret being with you. I’d like us to last as long as possible, if I can be picky.”

“I’d like that, too.” He murmurs. The thought of you wanting him for as long as possible almost sends him into a frenzy. He wants to kiss you all over.

You stand close and talk quietly for a while, a little more discussion on a possible date that weekend and a constant stream of compliments from you to Spencer and vice versa, before you realise the time.

“I should probably go. I have a paper to finish.” You smile sadly, a tiny pout forming.

“I understand. Do you think I could read it? When you’re done?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Do you know how terrifying the idea of the Spencer Reid reading my work is? But yes, anything for you.”

Anything for you. Are you trying to kill him?

You turn to leave, refusing to admit how sad leaving Spencer makes you feel, when you stop, “One more thing.”

Spencer hums. He’s not fully paying attention, praying to whatever Gods exist that killers take a break on the weekend so he can take you out on the sweetest date.

“If age is a sore area for you,” There’s mirth in your eyes and Spencer prepares himself, “Does that mean the nickname old man is off the table?”

His lips purse and move towards his nose as he narrows his eyes, giving you a look of faux annoyance, “I am not an old man.”

“Sounds like you’re sensitive, old man.”

As you walk away, you jokingly blow him a kiss to add insult to injury. His pretend glare lasts until your back is turned and he feels his gaze softening to something akin to love.

Spencer thins if the rest of his life is this, you teasing him with that twinkle in your eye and smile on your face, then life is truly the most beautiful thing.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist Here

AO3 Link Here

‘Hello, Miya-san? Yes, please don’t worry, Shino-chan is fine, just that your husband hasn’t come to pick her up?’ the nervous childcare assistant murmurs her apologies as she hangs up, ready to dial Atsumu to chew him out for yet another display of his bloody lack of responsibility. But it’s no use because Atsumu’s number is engaged, and after five minutes, she gives it up as a lost cause and after a moment’s hesitation, dials the other number most used on her phone. 

‘Samu – I’m so sorry to trouble you, could you…? Yes – Atsumu forgot to pick her up again. I’m sorry – I’m at work so I can’t just step out… Thanks ‘Samu – I owe you again’. 

She sighs, leaning her head against the cubicle wall in her office toilet. Then she squares her shoulders before heading back to her cubicle, preparing to tackle the stack of work on her desk until office hours end.  

She picks Shino up from Onigiri Miya later that night, promising treats to her daughter to persuade her to give up her perch from Osamu’s neck. 

‘He’s an ass’, he tells her, voice heavy with sympathy, and she lets herself rest her head on his shoulder. 

‘Yes, you’ve told me that’, she responds with a tired smile. ‘Maybe I should’ve listened’. 

He pats her back, and she departs with Shino in hand.

A storm blows into the city from the sea, so she shutters the windows and locks the doors, but the house still shakes from the blitz of thunder and lightning. She rocks Shino to bed, and sings her to sleep amidst the gale wailing outside their walls. 

She can hear the jangle of keys and opens the front door to let Atsumu in. He ignores her baleful glare and shoulders his way in, dripping rainwater all over the floor. 

‘Well?’ she demands, hackles rising at his sullen silence. ‘Would you like to explain how you managed to forget to pick up your daughter from childcare today?’ 

‘It just slipped my mind, alright?!’, he replies, face arranged into a sneer, and with a few strides he’s already halfway to their room, back turned against her. ‘You don’t need to make a big fuss about everything all the time’, he says, his hand on the doorknob. 

‘Atsumu!’ she snaps, her fists clenched by her side. ‘Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to keep bothering Osamu to help clean up your messes? Could you dig deep and grow the fuck up so you can act like a decent husband and father for once? I wish I listened to Osamu when he warned me about you, even before we started going out’.

He whirls around and grabs her wrist in a painful grip, a blaze growing in his eyes. ‘All I ever hear from you these days is  Osamu this,  Osamu that. If goddamned Osamu is so fucking perfect, why didn’t you just marry him when you had the chance? It would’ve been easy enough to pass Shino off as his, aren’t I right?’ 

‘Maybe I should’ve - then I wouldn’t be in such a state’, she snarls, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. ‘But my fate was sealed the moment I was stupid enough to fall in love with you instead.’ 

He snorts through his nose, the sound bitter, twisted. ‘Well, the feeling ain’t mutual, darlin’. Who said I ever loved you?’ 

She reels back from the force of his words, the bruises on her wrist nothing  compared to those in her heart. His eyes widen in shock – but he does not take his words back. 

The rain turns the apartment freezing cold and she shudders, fighting the urge to shrink into herself, counting the seconds in the strained stillness between them before stepping tentatively towards him to cup his face in her hands. 

‘What’s with you, Atsumu?’ she asks, more gently this time. ‘This isn’t like you.’

Her words break his silence, and he sinks onto the couch with a groan, dropping his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been offered a chance to play in Italy for a year, and MSBY’s agreed to let me go for a season. I just haven’t told you yet’, he finally says, shoulders hunched. 

‘Are you going to accept it?’ She manages to ask, a lump of ice lodging itself at the back of her throat, choking the airflow to her lungs. 

He nods mutely, and a storm erupts in her heart.  

‘Gods, Atsumu. Does it mean nothing to you that you have a wife and child now? Couldn’t you have talked to me first before making such a move? You know I can’t just up and leave Japan with my job and Shino. Are you going to just get up and leave? What’s going to happen to us?’ 

‘I’m just tired of all of this, ok?’ He shouts, jumping to his feet, his tone sharp enough to pierce right through her heart. ‘We got married and had a kid so fuckin’ young, and there’s so much out there that I could be chasing that I wonder sometimes if all of this is a mistake’. 

‘You asked me to jump off a cliff. This is what you wanted, Atsumu, don’t you dare pin this on me!’ she screams back, not even bothering to staunch the bleeding from her multitude of wounds.  

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound drenched with bitterness and contempt. 

‘Osamu fuckin’ talked me into it – do you think I actually wanted all of this?’ he says, with a callousness she always knew he was capable of but never experienced first-hand. ‘I wish I'd never listened to him, I should’ve just stayed away. Then all of my problems – all of  this - would’ve never existed.’

His words finally strike the breath from her lungs, and she chokes, chilled to the bone, unable to speak as she watches him grab his bag and storm out of the house again. 

‘He’s not picking up my calls either’, Osamu tells her, when she drops by his store a day later. ‘I could hunt him down for you and beat some sense into his thick head’. 

‘Don’t bother’, she says, shaking her head. ‘He’ll resent me even more if you take my side again’. 

‘What are you going to do then?’ Osamu asks, the steam from freshly cooked rice rising between them. 

‘Come home’, her mother said when she called to break the news, her words ringing clear even over the cacophony of threats her older brothers make in the background about ‘slicing that bastard’s balls off with a knife’. She'd be lying if she said she weren't tempted by the promise of her family's support - her father had always taught her to run for the bamboo grove if there were ever an earthquake, to trust in the strength of the bamboo’s roots to hold the foundations of the earth in its place. But she’s built a career in the city, a life for her and Shino in a small apartment between buildings that seem to burst through the clouds in the sky, and she’s not sure she can walk away from all that just yet. 

‘I don’t know’, she says to Osamu. ‘I guess I’ll figure it out along the way’. 

Atsumu evades all of her attempts to talk through matters again, and a month later, he’s packed his bags, ready to get on a flight to Italy. He pauses to kiss Shino goodbye, and slips her two stuffed toys – a fox and a jackal, and she almost smiles at the sentimentality of it. Then he turns to her but does not look her in the eye. 

‘It’s ok to forget me as long as you remember that we have a child’, she says softly.   

He parts his lips to respond but decides against it, eyes hardening as he drops his set of house keys and his wedding ring on the countertop by the front door and storms off. 

She does not cry until Shino is safely tucked into bed, and she finds Atsumu’s old jacket, carelessly thrown in a heap at the back of the closet. She holds it close to her chest, breathing in the memories sewn into its seams, and lets herself finally break. 

‘Miya-san, I saw on the news that your husband is playing in Italy now. We’re all so surprised you didn’t go with him?’ Yuna-san asks in a too-loud voice, and she has to suppress a cringe when the rest of the office hyenas swoop in, hungry for a kill. 

‘We decided that I should stay in Japan to ensure Shino has some stability in her life’, she answers with a tight smile, the practiced statement she and Atsumu’s manager eventually agreed on spilling easily from her mouth. The ladies slink away, and she sighs in relief. 

Atsumu thankfully heeds her words and sends money and gifts to Shino, and even calls their little girl twice weekly, so she still manages to recognise her father - she’s grateful for that. 

He only responds to her texts once, when she messages him to let him know that Shino got admitted to the hospital for a high fever, but seemed to be responding well to treatment, and would be discharged the next day. He promised to pay the hospital bill, and said nothing more. She does not allow herself to be crushed by her disappointment and stops texting him after that. 

Osamu does his best to step in to fill Atsumu’s shoes in his absence, fetching Shino from childcare and letting her hang around his shop until she’s done with work. He spoils her with far too much affection and food, doling both out interchangeably, and his staff and customers treat the little girl like their mascot. 

‘Thank you for all of this’, she says one night, when Osamu insists on walking her and Shino home. ‘I’m sorry for making you clean up Atsumu’s mess.’ 

‘Don’t thank me. Sometimes I wonder if I should be blamed for stepping in to meddle with ‘Tsumu in the first place’ he responds with a strained laugh. 

‘Don’t be’, she responds, pressing a chaste kiss to Osamu’s cheek. ‘Your interference gave me Shino. I could never regret that’.  

But Osamu can never fully step into Atsumu’s place - they may look heartbreakingly similar but he is not her husband, a fact she’s painfully reminded of when they drive back to Hyogo to the Miya family home for Obon without Atsumu. She does her duty with her head held high and Shino strapped to her back, placing the offerings by the family graves, releasing lanterns down the lake to guide the Miya ancestral spirits back to the mortal realm, but the matriarch of the family sniffed her disapproval when Atsumu’s mother shakily informs her that he isn’t visiting this year. 

‘You’re his wife - what good are you for if you can’t even make your husband come back home’, the old lady snapped. 

She bent herself into a low bow to murmur a litany of apologies, shaking her head minutely at Osamu before he even tries to put his foot in his mouth in a misguided attempt to defend her - dear boy that he is, but he does not deserve the burden of his brother’s sins, and she will not let him go to battle for her when she can hold her own - until the old lady stalks off, only vaguely appeased. The smile on her face for the rest of the night is unflinching but she still cries herself to sleep because she hates herself for being so goddamned stupid  - it should have occurred to her that chasing Atsumu into the eye of the storm would leave her with nothing more than a ruined home and a broken heart. 

But when the morning dawns and the sunrise reflects its colours in her daughter’s eyes, she’s reminded afresh that she's a knife maker’s daughter, and her spine is forged with steel. So she hammers the pieces of her heart back together and does not let herself break again. 

The months pass and the pain recedes. It slowly becomes easier to breathe. 

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Last First Kiss

Summary - Jensen finally lets his feelings towards you known but it doesn't get the reaction he had anticipated.

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x OFC!Jessica (brief)

Characters - Jared Padalecki, Gen Padalecki, OMC Mark, OMC Luke, OFC Jessica

Warnings - Fluff, Insecurities, Bad dates, Implied smut, Language, Angst-ish, happy ending

Square Filled - Valentines Day ( @anyfandomgoesbingo ) Jared Padalecki ( @spndeanbingo )

Word Count - 2262

A/N - Written for my 500 Followers challenge

Request by @akshi8278 - Hi, once again congratulations on your 500 followers. 🥳🎉 Could you write number 23 and 25 for Jensen. It could be fluff/ smut, whatever you want. Thank you 😊 (I added a little bit of angst for the course of the story. Hope you like it!)

This is also a submission to @negans-lucille-tblr' 6k Roll The Dice Challenge

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine. Prompts are in bold.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You trudged down the empty hallway, your body slumped with exhaustion and feet hurting from wearing the ridiculously high heels to impress a man who never showed up. The silence in the empty halls was deafening unlike the crowded diner which was buzzing with lovestruck couples on the fine evening of Valentine’s Day. When you reached his door, you were barely hanging in there. Hesitantly, you knocked twice, immediately cursing yourself for fucking up his Valentines Day as well.

“Y/N?” Jensen tilted his head in confusion at your dejected state. “What happened?”

“I am done with dating.” A stray tear rolled down your cheek as you replied. Jensen pursed his lips as he opened the door wider to let you in. He threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the couch.

“Mike was a douchebag.” He said, as you plopped down on the blue couch.

“His name is Mark.” You rolled your eyes at him, “I dressed up all for nothing. I am done trying to find the perfect man. I will get a cat and become a cat lady. At least it will show up when we have a cat date with cat food and pizza.”

“You can't just swore off dating because Macaroni didn't show up.” Jensen smirked. “You just haven't met the right person yet.”

“I got stood up thrice within a span of two months. I surely know how to pick them.”

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry but I know you'll definitely meet the right person. It's just a matter of time.” He rubbed your arm as you snuggled closer to him. “Should we order takeout? I am starving.”

“Mhm. I wouldn't mind some chinese. I'm sorry that I fucked up your plans for the night.” You said.

“I didn't exactly have anything better to do. Spending time with you is much better than third wheeling Jared and Gen.” He chuckled.

“What am I doing wrong, Jay? Something is definitely wrong with me or the entire male population is a douchebag.” You sighed, as Jensen took out his phone to place an order in your favourite Chinese restaurant.

“Y/N/N, nothing's wrong with you and there are good men out there in the world.” He said.

“They are all taken.” You replied, nonchalantly.

“I'm not.” Jensen said and your heart skipped a beat at his words.

“Maybe I was too blind to notice it,” you wanted to say instead you blurted out, “You're my best friend, Jensen.”

His hands dropped to the side as he visibly tensed up. An unbearable silence followed the awkward conversation. You could barely look at the actor beside you who was staring off into the distance, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Fortunately you were both saved from further conversation by the delivery guy.

You bit down on your lip to stop the yawn that was threatening to leave as you pretended to listen to the man in front of you complain about his work life. You hummed along to the man’s words as your mind reeled back to that night at Jensen's house. You still didn't know why you didn't speak about your true feelings. Even though his little confession didn't break you two up, whenever you used to hang out, a discomfort lingered in the air and so you had ditched the weekly movie night the day before.

After another painfully long hour, your extremely bad date came to a very fortunate end. As a sign of politeness, you had agreed with Luke, your date, when he had offered to drop you at your doorstep. With no promises for a second date, you had left Luke’s car after successfully dodging his attempt at a kiss. You sprinted across the usually empty hallway and found yourself in front of Jensen's room. You knocked at his door.

“So I was on a date and oh god, time wasn't passing by at all! Luke was such a boring guy. I surely do know how to pick the guys- and I'm so sorry I didn't come yesterday for our weekly movie night-” You rambled on as soon as Jensen opened the door without giving him a chance to pitch in his two cents.

“It's okay.” He finally spoke but his words were soon forgotten when you saw the half-naked brunette standing behind him, glaring at you.

“I'm sorry,” You turned your attention to the man in front and noticed the swollen lips, tousled hair and his unbuttoned jeans, “I didn't know you had company.”

“Next time try to call before you barge in complaining about yet another bad date.” Jensen grumbled, rolling his eyes before he shut his door to your face. You stared at the closed door, crestfallen as tears started to pool in your eyes. You made your way back to your room which was on the next floor in the same apartment building all the while wondering if your insecurities had really messed up a good friendship.

Jensen had neither heard nor seen you since he had closed the door on your face. He winced every time he remembered how rudely he had pushed you out of his apartment when Jessica was over. He was finally trying to move on since now he knew how you felt. Jensen was definitely hurt when you made it clear that you didn't reciprocate his feelings but he didn't hate you. You were still his best friend so it hurt when you had started to distance yourself from him, even ditching him on your weekly movie night. All that bottled up frustration had turned into anger when you had knocked on his door the next night to complain about your boring date but he still regretted the way he had told you off.

“Is Y/N going to come to Gen’s party?” Jared asked his tv brother during one of the takes.

“I don't know. Why don't you ask her yourself?” Jensen snapped as he went back to reading his script.

“What happened?” The hazel eyed actor frowned at his friend's behaviour.

“I haven't talked to her in weeks nor have I seen her.” Jensen grumbled.

“You two are like the Siamese twins and now you are saying you haven't even talked to her? Dude, what happened?” Jared asked. “Maybe you should talk to her.” He said after Jensen opened up about what happened.

“I have called her. Dozens of times. She is not picking up.” He scoffed.

“Gen is going to invite her I suppose. Maybe you can talk to her then.” Jared shrugged as they were called back on to set.

Jared was right about everything. You were invited to Gen’s backyard birthday party and so was Jensen. You had hesitated before you finally made up your mind to go to the Padaleckis' because you knew someday you had to face Jensen. When you had returned home that night, you had realised why no one was ever good enough for you since the perfect person for you was right in front of you but your insecurities had made you blind. You knew you had missed your chance when you had caught him with the brunette but what hurt more was when he shoved you out of his apartment.

Jensen had called you a dozen times but you hadn't picked up. You didn't know what to say and the longer you stayed away from him, your feelings for him grew stronger so instead you started to avoid him like plague, trying your best to move on.

The clinking sound of bottles behind you pulled you out from your deep thought.

“Hey.” Jensen awkwardly said.

“Hi.” You returned the same awkwardness.

“You weren't picking up my calls. I'm sorry for the other night.” He said, his gaze quickly dropping to the floor.

“It's all right.”

“No it's not. Then you wouldn't have avoided me.” He said. “I know things have been awkward since that night but no hard feelings. It's perfectly okay if you don't feel the same. I just want my best friend back.”

“I do feel the same.” You muttered quietly which made him look up to you. Jensen stared at you dumbfounded.

“Then why didn't you tell me?” He finally said.

“I panicked. I got scared because you know me, I don't do well with men and I thought if we didn't work out, I would lose you.” Your lips trembled ever so lightly as you stared into his green eyes.

“You won't ever lose me.” Jensen walked up to you, “Even if things don't work out relationship-wise. I will always be your best friend.”

“I don't wanna lose you. You're my person, Jay. So I lied not realising that I had pushed you away myself.” You said.

“I will always be your person just like you're mine but I can't fight this feeling anymore. I think I'm in love with you and I don't know what to do.” He said while walking up to you.

“Maybe you do know now.” He leaned down, cupping your face, his lips hovering over yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his hot breath fan against your skin but then you felt him pull back. You opened your eyes as you saw him stare at you with a look of regret in his eyes.

“I can't.” Jensen sighed.

“Why?”

“I have a girlfriend.” You gaped at him, heart broken into millions of pieces. Before Jensen could get another word out, you fled the scene.

“Hey Y/N.” Gen beamed. “Are you going home already?”

“Yeah I think I'm coming down with something. Sorry Gen. Happy birthday, again.” You said and wasted no time to get into your car and quickly drove back to your home.

Jensen had repeatedly called you since you had fled the Padaleckis’ house but you hadn't picked up. The first two days you had hardly left your house. You had been sobbing uncontrollably. You had bared your heart and soul to the man you had fallen head over heels only to get your heart broken.

You were lying on your couch, watching a sappy romantic movie when you heard a knock on your door. Pausing the movie midway you got up to open the door.

“Hi.” The green eyed man spoke quiet as when you opened the door. The sight of him brought tears to your eyes again. He was carrying a box of chocolate and a bottle of wine. “I would have brought flowers but I know how sad you get when they start to wilt.”

“What're you doing here?”

“I heard a guy hurt my best friend so I'm here with chocolates and wine.” He smirked. You snatched the box of chocolates from his hands as you held the door wide open.

“Sappy romantic comedy? Oh sweetheart, want me to kick the guy's ass? He deserves it. No one hurts my best friend.” He said as he pulled you into a tight hug. The intoxicating smell of his cologne finally breaking you. “I'm so sorry.”

“I'm so sorry too.” You sniffled as you looked up at him. “Our timings sucked.”

“It did. Can we start afresh?” Jensen smiled.

“What about your girlfriend? I don't wanna be your ‘slutty mistress’.” You said, quoting Grey’s Anatomy which made him chuckle.

“I broke up with her. I tried to date other girls to keep you off my mind but there wasn't a single damn second when you didn't cross my mind because I am totally, completely, hopelessly in love with you.” He grinned as he leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“I am in love with you too, Jay.” You said, “Kiss me.” Jensen dropped his head as he leaned into you, capturing your lips with his. His hands travelled all the way down your body before stopping at your waist. He gripped you tightly and pulled you closer, your hands landed on his biceps as you tried to steady yourself. His teeth grazed your lips lightly, making you moan into his mouth. Your hands left his biceps, hooking themselves at the nape of his neck, your fingers tugging at his hair, eliciting a groan out of him.

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?” He growled into your ear.

“Is it working?” You smirked. Jensen growled once more into your ear before pulling away from you. He effortlessly picked you up, your legs hooking behind him as he went towards the bedroom.

Panting hard you tried to come down from your high as you felt him go soft before he pulled out. He placed a chaste kiss on your lips and rolled off to the side. His chest heaved as he tried to control his breathing, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Lost in an euphoric state, you didn't notice when Jensen had left the bed to get a cloth to clean you up. After a few minutes, he returned back to bed. You laid there in his arms, naked, basking in the afterglow of what was actually the best sex of your life. Jensen was tracing tiny, imperfect circles on your arm as a sigh of contentment left his lips. Your back flushed against his chest, smiling, you spoke.

“We might be each other’s last first kiss.” You turned towards, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“No more bad dates. No more bad first kisses. You're mine.” Jensen whispered.

“You're it. You're my person. My world is a better place with you in it.” You said, snuggling against his warm chest. “I love you.”

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[angelsxbelle]

inch by inch.

part 1??? if i get more requests idk

request: soulmate sugawara with reader that’s nishinoya’s cousin

parings: sugawara x reader, nishinoya x reader (cousins)

warnings: nishinoya, swearing, fluff

synopsis: in which y/n l/n runs into a certain handsome gray haired boy at her cousin’s volleyball practice and just can’t seem to get him out of their head for whatever reason

yuu was your classic crackhead cousin, the one that sat at the kids table at dinner despite being a whole ass 17 year old, the one that stuck his face in his birthday cake when it was put in front of him, the one that rode his bike down a hill at top speed while screaming his lungs out

what you didn’t expect him to do, however, was almost accidentally make the best decision of your entire life happen

you both went to karasuno, you were in the same year as he was a few months older than you and you lived relatively near each other, so you saw him ever day at school

you were well aware of his volleyball team, as he was always eager to play and you had met his best friend tanaka a few times when he had come over to yuu’s house when you were visiting with family

tanaka was fun, but you had never been interested in him in a romantic way, despite the enormous blush that appeared on his face whenever you walked into the room and the stupid grin that came over him

you had just assumed all of his other teammates would be the same way

normally you didn’t have too many interactions with yuu at school since you were in different classes and didn’t really have any of the same interests, but you still always made sure to say hi regularly

he was more into sports while you had other hobbies, but your paths still intersected fairly frequently

one day, as you were getting ready to go to school your mother called out to you from another room, saying that she had made a special treat to give your cousin since it was his birthday, and she wanted you to give it to him at school since you would be seeing him there

begrudgingly you agreed, since you would have to stop by his morning practice to drop off the sweets before your first class

you made your way to school like normal, carefully carrying the basket under your arm as you walked toward your destination

looking around, you spotted the boy’s gym quickly and walked over to where you knew your cousin would be practicing with his teammates, hoping you wouldn’t cause too much of a disruption

you creaked open the door apprehensively, trying to keep a low profile and direct a minimal amount of attention towards you

you were just about to make it to the side of the gym when you heard a loud, “OIIIII!! Y/N!!!!” from across the room

you winced, looking over at the bouncing ball of energy that was nishinoya yuu, otherwise known as your nutcase of a cousin

“h- hi  yuu, i brought you these sweets from home since it’s your birthday today’, you squeaked out

“ ahHH, thanks!!!”, he yelled, making everyone turn around to look at you

“well, i better be going”, you say, as you look away from your cousin’s face your eyes pan around the room, scanning the faces of the other boys in the room, seeing a particular one with gray hair staring right into your soul, eyes as wide as saucers

you gulp, and then awkwardly make your way out of the gym, too embarrassed to say anything else, not thinking too much of what you had just seen, shutting the doors behind you and making your way to your first class

*sugawara’s point of view*

he had never seen anything like it, at least not in his three years of being at karasuno high school, not ever with anyone else he had ever met. 

sugawara koushi watched as you gracefully walked by him, despite how on edge you appeared, your hair swishing past, eyes bright and sparkling even though you weren’t looking at him.

he had gone so out of focus that he hadn’t even been hearing the words coming out of your mouth, although he could have sworn he heard the words “nishinoya” and “cousin”, thinking thank god to himself you weren’t there for anyone else.

 his thoughts twisted and turned back and forth, not able to figure out why it felt like he couldn’t breathe, or why he couldn’t stop thinking about that beautiful girl that had just walked by him.

after he was sure you were long gone, sugawara walked slowly over towards your cousin, stopping just before him, not even realizing the words about to tumble freely out of his mouth.

“h-hey noya- san, who was that?”, he said, in an almost muffled tone.

“just my absolute favorite cousin of all time!!”, yuu yelled enthusiastically.

“what’s her name? is she in your year?”

“it’s y/n, she’s a second year like me although she’s pretty mature, almost a buzzkill if i’m being honest”, he mused.

“h-huh, okay, i see”, sugawara said, almost speaking to himself as he started to walk back to where he was standing before, ready to resume the passing drills they had been doing before you had stopped by. interesting, he thought.

“ you aren’t into her or anything eh suga- san? hah!!”, nishinoya yelled from where he was in the gym over to sugawara, jokingly.

“n-no!”

shit. that was probably the most unconvincing thing he had ever said, not to mention he had just developed a fat instant crush for his kohai’s cousin out of the blue during volleyball practice. this was going to be a long ride.

the entire practice sugawara couldn’t focus, his body was moving in the routine way it did every day, but his mind was elsewhere. the moment you walked past him kept replaying over and over again in his head, like a reel from an old movie. he had never seen your face before, but it felt like he had been waiting for you for years. 

the real question though, was what next.

after practice had ended, he walked over to nishinoya once more, his body moving before his brain could.

“noya- san, what kinds of things does your cousin like’? 

“huh???? so you do like her after all do you eh?” 

“yeah, i do”

“well i’m just going to ignore the fact that you’re trying to hit on my cousin and focus on the fact that you’re asking me for girl advice, so HERE WE GO:)!!! she really likes stuff that’s more calming, and i know she’s not a huge fan of small talk and she likes to get to know people for who they are deep inside, you know intellectual stuff like that.”

“hm, i guess i can figure something out, but i think that’s really interesting, she’s not like you at all noya- san”, he laughed.

“yeah!! i think she’ll really like you though, she seems like your type!! as long as you talk to her a little bit before i’m sure she’ll be into you.”

“well, thanks for the advice noya- san, i should go to class now but thanks for your help!”

“no problem, good luck suga- san!!”, he yelled.

that morning, sugawara koushi walked away with an extra spring in his step.

not wanting to ever make you feel uncomfortable or rushing you, he took his time with getting to know you, starting with little interactions in the hallways, offering to help you with your homework, the small things that mattered.

 he couldn’t help but feel completely captivated every time you looked up at him, the butterflies in his stomach never really going away.

sugawara took his time getting to know you, waiting for the right moments to speak to you, remembering the little things that made you happy, noticing you seemed just as happy to see him as he was to see you as time passed. 

being your friend was already amazing, even he could be satisfied with just that but he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. not for a second that you were near him, he always had no trouble listening to what you had to say, watching every word flow out of your mouth like water.

slowly but surely, you were falling for sugawara koushi as much as he had fallen for you. 

sugawara knew he was finally ready to ask you out, after weeks of finding out just how much he really did like you after dozens of conversations where he could tell you felt the same way for him too.

it was after one of your afternoon classes had just finished, when you spotted a certain gray- haired boy walking towards you that you happened to be very fond of. you let a huge smile cover your face, ready to hear whatever he had to say to you before your next class.

“hi y/n!”

“hey koushi, what’s up?”

“o- oh! not much actually, you see... uhm... i was actually wondering if you would want to go on a date with me sometime with me this weekend? it’s totally okay if you don’t though!”

“no, it’s okay koushi... i’d really like that actually... what did you have in mind?”

“r- really? i was actually wondering if this weekend on friday night we could go stargazing together, i talked to nishinoya about it and i thought it might be something you’d like to do.”

“yeah! that sounds like something i’d really enjoy, how about i meet you at your house and we walk together?”

“that sounds perfect, i guess i’ll se you then, and... thank you so much for saying yes to me!”

“no problem- i... i really like you koushi.”

“i really like you too y/n.”

and so, that weekend, y/n l/n found herself getting ready to go stargazing with sugawara koushi. you wanted to make sure you looked good, so you were careful to keep your hair neat and wear a nice outfit, one comfy enough to lay down on the grass for two hours but that would also catch his eye.

you put on your shoes, ready to walk out the door and make your way to sugawara’s house, nervousness and anticipation fluttering in your stomach as you prepared yourself to see him.

as you got to his front door and met him on his steps, you couldn’t help but notice how he looked awestruck at your appearance, his eyes as wide as saucers as he looked you up and down once, and then twice. after normal hellos, you made your way to the spot you had designated for your viewing.

as you approached your destination, you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you saw the hilly fields of grass outstretched in front of you, with a warm breeze slowly whipping through the long dark green strands as faint clouds shifted above you, revealing a bright blanket of scattered stars adorning the sky. 

you looked over at sugawara, his soft eyes and gray hair glistening in the moonlight, looking almost as perfect as the scene in front of you. 

he took your hand in his as you moved forward up the biggest hill in front of you, stopping at the top of it to look out onto the small town you had called home your whole life, the lights inside looking absolutely tiny as you looked over the onstretch of scenery below you, the hem of your dress slowly fluttering with the wind flowing by you.

“koushi... this is beautiful”

“not as beautiful as you.”

you laid down on the grass together, careful to keep the hem of your dress from sliding above the top of your thighs as you stretched out comfortably on your back next to him, the midnight blue sky in perfect view above you.

“y/n... i just wanted to say i think you’re really amazing and i hope after this we can go on more dates together.”

“i’d love that koushi.”

you looked up, your hand brushing alongside his, bodies close, you could hear him breathing and feel his chest moving up and down, watching the bright orbs in front of your eyes dance along next to the fluffy clouds mingling alongside them.

you turned back to your side, looking over at sugawara, just as he turned to look over at you. you stared deep into his soft brown eyes, and you could feel his staring right back into yours. 

you had never felt a connection like this with anyone else, not in high school, not in middle school. he was the one person you had ever been able to look at and tell instantly how much they cared for you.

you slid in closer, inch by inch, just a little bit closer, as you watched him do the same, his fingers reaching underneath your jaw, gently pushing your hair out of the way as he pulled you closer.

and then your lips met.

his lips were soft, warm, it felt like a hug and a warm cup of coffee from a long lost acquaintance, like security and reckless excitement at the same time. 

you felt like you could stay like this forever.

and then he pulled away slowly, looking deep into your eyes as you looked deep into your eyes as he brushed his fingers along your cheek.

you buried your face into his neck, taking in his scent as you never wanted to leave this position. you felt like being close to him was the only place you could truly rest, the only place you wanted to rest.

you talked for hours that night, about anything from books and movies you both happened to enjoy to sharing deep vulnerabilities, you had no trouble letting each other in as you felt completely in tune with him, until you looked at his watch and realized it was 3am already.

groggily, you both managed to stand up and slowly make your way back home, with him dropping you off at your house since he didn’t want you to walk alone so late at night.

you barely managed to tuck yourself into bed and put on pajamas before you passed out cold from the day you had had, as you got ready to slip into your cool bedsheets you replayed the night you had had over and over in your head, not wanting it to end.

you were sure, at koushi’s house, he was doing the same.

in the weeks that followed after that, he had asked you to be his girlfriend and you had gladly accepted, the looks on the faces of his teammates, specifically your cousin’s, was all the reason you needed despite there being so, so much more.

what started as a basket of sweets for your cousin and a painfully awkward interaction turned into the best thing that had happened to you in your entire life, your sweet boyfriend that never ceased to astound you. 

sugawara koushi got what he had wanted most, and you got what you ended up needing the most.

each other.

[babylooneytoonz]

I Didn't Love Your Father - Tommy Shelby X reader

I have been putting off writing for Peaky Blinders for a long time now, just silently reading and enjoying the works by all you precious writers. But somehow I decided that I should go ahead and try to come up with a solution the Writer's block in my mind.

It might not be that good but I've tried writing something and ugh, do let me know if it's shitty as fuck. I might even consider doing a part two to this one maybe later.

Tommy is kind of an arse in this one. He leaves the girl who he had a history with and who loved him through thick and thin for Grace and when she is finally happy again, engaged to another man, Tommy realizes he loves her and wants her back.

Warning : Angst with a not so happy ending?

Gif - Not mine.

You felt like you had devoted your life to him – sticking with him in thick and thin, you had watched him grow from a young boy to a dark, vicious man, a man that could throw you under a running bus if it meant he got what he wanted. That is what Thomas Shelby had become now, and no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, he wasn't the man you had fallen in love with, before the war happened.

You still remembered the day Tommy and his brothers were supposed to board the train, the train that was to take them to their fate. You still remembered how you had waved him off, a boy, a boy you loved with all your heart – but he had returned, not as the boy you always knew him to be , but a man. He still looked the same, his blue oceanic irises looking down at you, but they lacked the warmth you saw in them before he had left. You often wondered about the horrors that he might have witnessed at the Somme but you never had the heart, or the courage to ask him about it. Not that he would have answered.

At first, you had thought that time would heal all the wounds – that one day, Tommy would wake up and maybe have a change of a heart, that he would just look at you and realize how you still were in love with him, even after all these years. You hoped he would realize how you had been waiting for him to come back to you, but he didn't.

Instead, he found her.

It was a low blow to you, when you found out about the barmaid that had Tommy's heart. Polly, even Ada, tried to comfort you, telling you that Grace had put a spell on Tommy, that he was not in his right senses, but you knew, Tommy wasn't in love with you anymore. Why blame a woman when a man couldn't control his desires for her?

So you had done what best you could do – try to move on. It had not been easy at first, but somehow you had managed to keep at bay the storm that wreaked havoc in your heart. You found yourself a man, twice as man as Tommy would ever be, who loved you for you and cherished you, so much so that he went down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

You accepted. You deserved a man like him, not Tommy Shelby, who your heart still pinned for.

It wasn't until that nail-biting winter morning when Tommy suddenly had a change of a heart. You had decided to head home early that afternoon. Locking up the bakery early, you stuffed the keys into your purse and walked down the five minute path that led to your rented apartment in Small Heath, Birmingham.

As soon as you stepped into the familiar confines of the place you called home, your eyes fell on the not so good looking interior. The paint was chipped off at the edges and the mirror on your vanity had a massive crack. Taking your coat off and hanging it on the coat hanger, you locked the door and put the tea kettle on the stove on a light flame for the water to get boiled. Your fingers toyed aimlessly with the ring that adorned your ring finger, a tiny smile breaking out against your lips.

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door – more like pounding against your door in an urgent way. Your frown widened when you waited for a few seconds but the knocking, instead of dying down, started sounding even more frantic than before. Without wasting any more time, and a fear inside of you that your flimsy wooden door will splinter into two if the merciless pounding against it continued for two more minutes, your feet literally ran towards the door, pulling it open.

"Tommy?" A gush of air flew out of your lips, when the sight of the gaunt, blue eyed man caught your eye, his hair disheveled and messy, almost falling over his eyes. His eyes looked glossy, hazy and he reeked of whiskey. That's when you knew he was intoxicated. He lazily brought up his fingers to his lips, a lit cigarette plucked between his fingers as he look a long, lingering drag of it, the smoke bellowing out of his plump lips.

He waited a few seconds, wondering if you would invite him inside but it was as though someone had turned off the wiring to your brain. You kept standing there, looking at him blankly, unable to move or utter any word. That's when he took the cue, shoving past you and went into your apartment, leaving you still standing at the door, reeling from a sudden shock of seeing him at your door when you least expected it.

You swirled around, when the sudden realisation hit you. There he was, the man you loved, sat on your bed with a cigarette in his hand, pretending as though nothing had ever happened.

"Tommy, what's the bloody meaning of this?" Your arms flew around your frame, as though you were suddenly cold but the man in front of you didn't react. He just sat there, his body stiff, his shoulders almost drooping as he plucked the cigarette and shoved the butt into your ashtray, finally getting up from the edge of your bed.

You could only watch in a harrowed way as he speed walked towards you, his pocket watch dangling from the crook of his coat until he was standing inches from you, his eyes fixed on the ring on your index finger.

"Call it off."

"Excuse me?" You realized you were glaring at him now, your eyes reaching his lips as he looked down at you.

"You heard me. Call off the fucking engagement, to whoever it is. You think I don't see what you're doing ? You are fuckin' trying to get back at me aren't you?" You knew it was the alcohol talking. Because Tommy, the man he had now become, never spoke more than three or four words to you now.

Maybe in a parallel world, you would have been happy – happy that maybe he finally felt the same way about you and your engagement to another man had caused him to have a change of heart – but you had known Tommy Shelby all your life now and you knew what Tommy was feeling right now wasn't love. And even if it was, it was too late. You see the thing with Tommy was, he often wanted things that didn't belong to him. You were the best example of this – when he had you, he didn't want you. But now you were someone else's, Tommy couldn't bear it.

"Why? Did Grace leave? Is that why you are back?" You snapped at him, not failing to notice the sudden look of anger cross his eyes, only to take form of a distilled, simmering rage. You didn't know what you had just said as a come back was actually true, Grace had indeed left him and gone to London.

"It was you all along, it never was Grace. I thought I did but –" Tommy's voice cracked, only slightly, causing you to falter, wanting to reach out and hold him because he did look like a defeated man. It was funny how Tommy was saying it now, how he truly felt about you, but you knew how it was too late.

You still loved Tommy, with all your heart. But you two weren't meant to be. Not in this lifetime. You were never selfish, had never been selfish, and you couldn't abandon the man who took your hand in his when Tommy had thrown you out like discarded clothes.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Thomas." You flinched at the harshness of your own words and it didn't fail to come into your notice the sudden stiffness that came over Tommy when you called him by his first name, something you never really did. "You don't get to just bloody walk in and out of my life whenever you want, just because you are Thomas Fuckin' Shelby. I waited for you, for fucking years. You think that was a joke? Ey?" You pointed your index finger, stabbing Tommy's chest with your pointed nail when he didn't reply, his head almost lowered when he realized he didn't have the answers you wanted him to give you. "I cried myself to sleep every fucking night, Thomas. I wanted you, I needed you but you chose her. I waited for you patiently when you were fighting the fuckin' war, hoping you would come back to me but you didn't even look at me."

You pushed Tommy backwards, his weight surprisingly light as he almost stumbled backwards but regained his form. You moved away from him, pulling out a box of cigarettes from underneath your pillow as your fingers fumbled against the box to pull out a stick.

"You chose her, Tommy. Now who gives you the bloody right to just barge your way in here and try to claim me for yourself?" You hadn't realized when your lips had started trembling and hot tears had started skimming down your cheeks. Tommy let out a barely audible sigh as he brought his palms closer to your face, his reluctance to hold you pretty evident.

"I fucked up, I know that. You think I didn't fucking think about this? How you deserved to be happy after the fucking mess I put you through?" His voice was broken, his palms holding your face in his hefty fingers, cupping your cheeks.

"Well you didn't think well enough, Tommy." You whispered, almost choking on your sob.

"Love, I need you to give me a chance, to show you that I am a changed man, for you."

His statement caused you to flinch, your arms moving up to fix your hands on his palms that you shoved away, causing him to look at you with pain stricken eyes.

"You're mistaken, Tommy. Some people don't change. For anyone. And you haven't changed for me. You just realized I moved on and that is bloody bothering you." You croak.

You brought up the cigarette to your lips, inching the smoke and brought your hand down, moving two steps away from where he stood, his eyes burning a hole into yours.

"Tommy, we can't. We were never meant to be. You know it. Had Grace not left you, you wouldn't even think about me. I'm nothing but a second choice for you. And I refuse to be that." You forced yourself to look away, anywhere but his haunting blue eyes, the eyes that you knew could make you weak and destroy the wall you had built up around you. Bits of that wall had already started to crumble.

"So is this it, (Y/N)? Is this how we end?"

You looked up at him and realized that his eyes were moist. He brought up his hand to his face, pinching his nose and then ran his fingers through his obsidian hair.

You gave him a faint smile, lowering yourself against the edge of your bed as you brought up the cigarette to your lips once again, "We ended a long time ago, Tom. We ended the day you chose Grace."

Your words were like an arrow shot right through Tommy's heart, and at the same time, through your heart as well. It hurt you to see him, the man who never broke down in front of anyone, looking so lost, so forlorn, sitting by the edge of your bed next to you, his elbows resting against his knees, his face buried in his hands. You couldn't see his face, or his hidden eyes. Or he intentionally wanted to hide his weakness from you. You. You were his weakness.

Suddenly, he lifted his head up, craning it towards you so that he could get a better look of you and you saw his red, swollen eyes. He reached forward, slowly taking your hand in his, his fingers entwining with yours, reluctant at first, as he had expected you to pull your hand away. You didn't.

"You won't change your mind? Not even if I love you?" His voice was so raw, it made him the boy he had been to you, before the war had changed him.

You shook your head, slowly, squeezing his hand as he held on to it.

"It's too late for that, Tom. I have always loved you and you love me now –" Your words stopped at your throat, leaving you with your mouth agape, struggling to speak, " – but Chris is a good man, Tommy. He is a good man. I don't love him the way I have loved you but he was with me when I had no one to turn to, when I cried myself to bed at nights, while Grace kept your bed warm and mine was cold."

"Fuck." Tommy cursed, barely audible, looking down at the floor, his hand still holding yours, the grip tight, as though he was afraid of letting you go.

Finally, after what felt like ages of silence, which must have been a minute, he let go off your hand, your hand suddenly feeling numb and cold, due to the lack of his warmth. He stood up and cleared his throat, his eyes looking everywhere but into yours.

"Well then." He turned to look at you, which you felt was the last time. "Let me walk you down the aisle then, no matter how much it hurts me, I want to be the one to give you away."

"Jesus, Tommy –" You pressed your palm to your lips that were trembling uncontrollably now, not wanting to break down in front of him. Your tears caused him to clench his hands into fists, hanging loosely by his sides. When he could see those tears no more, he grabbed you by your arms, pushing you to the wall behind, your back hitting the wall with a thud, his hands placed on either side of you. You were taken by a surprise, your heart beating frantically inside your chest, so fast, it could have won over a fucking racehorse. Your gaze fell, unable to keep it fixed on his raging blue eyes.

"Look at me one last time then, before we go back to being strangers." His thumb came to rest on your cheek, stroking your skin in gentle strokes. Teary eyed, you rose your eyes, making them meet his once icy eyes, that had all the warmth reflecting in them.

"Let me kiss you one last time, love. For old times sake. The kiss we never got to experience, the one that should have fucking happened years ago." With that said, he took a step closer towards you, removing what little distance you both had left in front of each other, his arm snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, a weak yelp escaping your lips. You let your eyes close for a split second before craning your neck slightly upwards, your lips hovering directly over his plump ones as you brought them to his lips, giving him a bittersweet peck. Within seconds, what was meant as a peck turned into a raw and passionate kiss, mixed with the taste of your own salty tears, and probably his too. Finally, with much reluctance, you broke the kiss, placing a hand on Tommy's chest to keep him away from you and looked away as it was time for him to go.

"Goodbye Tommy, and try to stay out of danger." You gave him a weak smile, your deep longing for him and the pain it caused you hidden behind that fake smile of yours. Tommy took a step away from you and then another, reaching for his Blinders cap that was laying abandoned on the bed, lifting it up and flinging it to his head, all this while his eyes fixed on you.

With one last look, he walked up to your front door, his shoulders stiff, his hands clenched into fists by his side. When he reached the door, he paused for a bit, his hand grabbing your doorframe for support but he didn't turn to look at you.

"Don't let the fire fizzle out in you, love. It's this fire that I love about you, that makes you different. From anyone I ever met. It's this bloody fire that brings warmth to me. Don't let it fizzle out."

With that, he was gone. With that, you crashed to the floor, your knees scraping against the wooden floorboards as you let out the sobs that you had been holding in, like a tsunami.

Tommy meant what he said. It was Thomas Shelby that walked you down the aisle on the day of your wedding to Chris. He was there the entire time, seething, burning but had a smile etched to his face, watching the woman he loved get married to someone else. For the first time, he had voluntarily chosen to lose for you and maybe this was why you believed him when he said that he loved you.

It was on the day of your wedding that you realized Thomas Shelby really loved you, enough to watch you marry another man, just because you wanted to.

You blinked. The memory, although hazy, was still fresh in your mind. You turned to your left, your eyes falling on your one year old daughter sleeping soundly, her chest rising up and down as she slept. Chris died six months after your daughter, Rosemary was born. Influenza. Grace died, giving him a son, causing Thomas Shelby to marry Lizzie Starke, and you were happy for him. Neither of you met again.

You ran your fingers lightly over her tiny black hair, pushing them off her face.

"One day, when you are old enough, my love. I might tell you the truth of how I never loved your father. He was my friend and I loved him, but I was always in love with someone else. You are too young to understand, but I hope you find the man you truly love."

[vs-redemption]

Hey! Can i request tamaki,mirio and nejire with a s/o who have a very powerfull quirk?

From Cindy: Thanks for requesting the big three! It was interesting trying to imagine them reacting to a powerful quirk. I had fun thinking of the quirks though. I hope this is what you were looking for anon!

Mirio

Mirio had no idea just how powerful your quirk was until he’d already been dating you for a few months.

You were a support course student at a college outside of Japan, and you had met Mirio when he’d come to your school to do a study abroad program after graduating from UA High School.

You both shared some general studies classes together and Mirio began to rely on you to help him whenever he struggled with homework because you were one of the only students on campus who spoke fluent Japanese.

It was easy for you to fall for a positive and passionate person like Mirio, and he went head over heels for your kindness, smarts, and accent just as quickly.

Your tutoring sessions turned into study dates, which turned into real dates, which ended with you eventually becoming an official item.

Mirio had inquired about your quick once or twice during your time together, but you often brushed off the questions.

“It’s an emitter type quirk that isn’t very useful.”

Your hero course boyfriend never even thought to push the subject any further, but he was very surprised when he found out you had signed up for the school recruitment event that was similar to the Sports Festivals held at UA.

“Don’t they hold this event for hero students to show off and find jobs with pro hero agencies?” Mirio asked you.

“Basically,” you answered with a shrug. “But support course students can use it as a chance to show off their products as well.”

Mirio was worried that it might be a little dangerous, but couldn’t bring himself to discourage you from doing something you wanted to do.

On the day of the recruitment, Mirio makes sure to come support and cheer for you whenever he has time between the events he was participating in.

He was happy to see you doing well in one of the obstacle races until you suddenly came up to a part of the course with thick giant walls blocking the way.

None of your support items seemed to be helpful with the roadblock and it looked like you might not be able to continue the event.

Imagine Mirio’s surprise when you sigh in annoyance before reeling back your fist and punching a giant hole straight through the cement slab and walking past it as if it were just a minor inconvenience.

He’s shocked, of course, but also super excited and proud of you.

“Babe! Why aren’t you in the hero course?! Your quirk is amazing!”

You explain that controlling the sheer force of your power was more trouble than it was worth, and that making support items for heroes had always been more fulfilling for you anyway.

Mirio respects your feelings, but now that he knows how strong you are, he can’t help but ask you to work out with him from then on.

It makes him happy that he can finally do something with you that he excels at since you’d been the one helping him since the beginning.

He will also add your strength to the list of things he brags about when talking about you with other people.

Amajiki

Amajiki already knew the basics of your quirk when he met you since it was on the resume you’d used to apply as a sidekick at his agency.

He had no idea what to expect though at first since your ability to steal other people’s “kinetic energy” was pretty unique.

“Whenever I touch something that’s in motion, I absorb the energy and use it for myself!”

You could literally steal energy from ANYTHING that was moving, be it a small empty can rolling back and forth on the sidewalk or a four thousand ton train racing along its tracks at full speed.

Amajiki learned during your first patrol together that it was even more incredible as it sounded.

“Ah! My bag!” A woman’s scream drew your attention to a man running down the street with a purse he’d just stolen clutched in his arms.

Before Amajiki can even react, you are already running after the man, high fiving people walking in the opposite direction and tapping the hoods of moving cars as you run by to use their energy to boost your own speed.

You catch up with the man in the blink of an eye and tackle him, using his own speed against him to fuel your quirk. You successfully restrain him and wrestle the purse out of his arms.

“You were so fast,” Amajiki says after the incident is resolved. He means it as praise, but he can’t help but feel embarrassed that he hadn’t helped at all. “How did you overpower him though? He was twice your size.”

“I can convert the kinetic energy I collect to do anything I want!” You say happily, “that includes increasing my speed, strength, jumping power, grip and more!”

You start to remind Amajiki of Mirio with the positive energy you give off and the incredible control you master over your quirk.

He is conflicted because he admires you so much, and knows you’re an asset to his team.

On the other hand, he feels like you deserve much more than to just be his sidekick. The poor boy worries that he is holding you back.

He casually brings up the topic of you starting your own agency one day, but is surprised to see how disappointed and sad you look at the very thought.

“Is this your way of politely asking me to leave because you know I have a crush on you?”

You start to apologize for possibly making him uncomfortable and try to explain that you’d tried to keep your feelings in check, but it was hard when he was such a cool hero and amazing friend.

Your words slowly turned him into a blushing, flustered mess.

YOU had a crush on HIM?!

“No, that’s not what I meant!” He begins to stutter about how amazing he thinks you are and how you deserve more recognition, not realizing that you were getting flustered too now.

Somehow, you both make it through the nerves and agree to continue working together at the agency.

Amajiki even finds the courage to ask you on a date.

Even after dating for a while, Amajiki still gets overwhelmed by your quirk sometimes, but you make sure to encourage him and boost his self-esteem whenever possible.

Nejire

Nejire knew about you and your quirk long before you even met her.

Her curiosity about you had been peeked the moment she saw you using your mutant ability to transform into some sort of half human, half jaguar badass warrior.

Nejire’s eyes went wide when your hands and feet grew into big spotted paws with razor sharp claws, giving you the ability to run on all fours at crazy speeds, darting around like a real jungle cat.

When the cameras zoomed in, she got a glimpse of your dangerously long fangs and adorable fluffy ears. The reporter on the tv explained that when your quirk was activated, your jaw pressure was double that of an actual tiger.

Nejire became obsessed. Not only was your quirk super strong, but you also looked super cute when you were using it!

She had so many questions!

The first time she has the chance to see you in person is at the tail end of a pretty scary villain encounter.

She’d been doing her best to hold off a couple of beefed up bad guys who’d been harassing some girls when you’d shot out of nowhere, pouncing on top of the biggest looking one and pinning him to the ground effortlessly.

Her breath had caught for a moment when she saw your glowing yellow cat eyes, but she quickly recovered so she could take care of capturing the second criminal.

Once the incident was resolved, she was quick to bounce over to you and thank you for helping her out.

“You seem totally awesome!” She tells you with a huge smile, “We should definitely be friends! Do you have time to grab a bite after your patrol?”

“Um… of course!” you laugh feeling awestruck to be invited to hang out by one of the famous big three heroes from UA.

Both of you head to the nearest diner, and Nejire spends most of the time interrogating you about yourself and your quirk.

“Does it hurt when the claws and fangs grow out?” She asks. She was so excited she was bouncing in her seat. “Are the jaguar features just physical or do you get any cat like instincts too?”

Her questions could sometimes get pretty personal, but you could tell her intentions were innocent. You didn’t mind sharing information about yourself, and hoped you’d get the chance to learn more about her too.

“Hey we should totally team up again real soon!” She tells you before it’s time to head back home.

“I’d be up for that!” you smile happily at her friendliness. “And maybe we could get dinner after?”

“Oh!” She spins around in delight. “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling glad she was on the same page. “Like a date.”

You both are basically inseparable from that point onward. Nejire’s playful and bubbly behavior matched your own and you found yourself spending more and more time with her both in and outside of work.

The more she learned about you and your quirk, the more enamored she became. The same was true for you about her.

Gossip magazines were calling you two a power couple even before the relationship was official.

[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part seven

“I know that. And I’m sorry. Just—fuck, Ryan—I need to speak with you. Please.” It’s the waver of his voice that forces Ryan to finally look into his eyes, noticing the way his skin looks taut and the bags underneath are more pronounced now than ever before. The pallor of his face is almost disturbing, and even though Ryan is still upset, the sight of him pleading with her is enough to make her concerned. 

His hand is still grasping her elbow, and when she tears her eyes away from his face and down in the direction of his hand on her body, he gets the hint and drops it, backing away slowly. Her door is ajar and with a silent nod of approval, Harry’s following her into the flat.

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*** When It Goes From Worse to Maybe Okay

In the days that follow, Harry’s never felt so alone. It’s an odd thing to say, considering he’s spent every day with his son the same way he has for the past five years. But there’s something missing this time—something that makes him feel less than part of a whole. The loneliness is deep in his chest now, and the emptiness echoes through his body until he feels a shiver run underneath his skin until he’s nothing but hollow.

He’s never felt so cold in his life. 

The hollowness grows deeper when Harry thinks about how most of this is mainly his fault. Because he has become so in tune with Ryan’s feelings in such a short amount of time, sensing her unease before she even knows she’s started fidgeting in front of him. And maybe that was his problem—he spent most of his time making sure she was okay, and in turn, forgot how to even act in front of her. 

It’s not like he didn’t try to speak to her on more than one occasion. After Ryan left his flat with his tea mug, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He could barely sleep that night, going back and forth in his mind of whether or not he should just knock on her door and kiss her. And the restlessness didn’t stop—the next morning he heard a crash on the other side of his bedroom wall, and his mind started reeling, wondering if she was on the other end of the abnormally thin plaster. Was she up all night thinking of him, too?

And then when he knocked on her door and she was wearing big glasses and her hair was a messy knot bound together by a flimsy pen and she looked so cozy, he’s not quite sure why he didn’t kiss her then, either. Because he wanted to—it was all he could fucking think about. It was as if his body movements were in sync with his heart, because they moved closer towards her on their own accord without asking his brain for permission, and it was only when he could feel her short spurts of breath on his neck when he realized he could kiss her right then and there if he truly wanted to. But her brown eyes were blown out and her bottom lip was quivering and her hands were shaking, so he backed away. He figured she was uncomfortable and how could he kiss her when he was asking her to watch his kid for a few hours?

He was a blushing mess that entire afternoon. And when he finally had the entire flat to himself and grabbed his guitar, plucking strings and making melodies that faintly sounded like Ryan’s giggles, he never wrote a song faster in his entire life. Harry found himself scribbling dark eyes and olive skin and scraped knees, messy hair and big jumpers and hallways in his leather journal. And when he pieced them together and finally started singing, the song was so obviously about her that he couldn’t even believe it. Has she always subconsciously been in every lyric he’s written since he’s met her?

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the song until he was standing right in front of her a few hours later, looking into her dark eyes underneath big lenses, her olive-skinned shoulder poking out of her oversized jumper. His heart took over again, and when they prompted his lips to blurt out an invitation for dinner, he couldn’t even be angry with his head for not kicking into gear. He had never been more nervous for a date in his entire life—was it even a date? Did he even say the word date? 

His mind was in overdrive. Harry cleaned his already spotless flat twice over, and when he looked at the clock and saw that he only had thirty minutes until she was knocking on his door, he panicked and jumped into the shower. The entire time he was shampooing his knotted hair, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was panicking, too. Was she staring at herself in the mirror, deciding what shade of lipstick to wear? Did she change her outfit three times? Did she want him as badly as he wanted her?

After changing out of jeans and a corduroy pair of trousers, Harry knew he was fucked. His confidence was slipping, and he almost laughed at how much of a teenager he was being. It felt like he was fourteen again getting ready for his first date—giddy and nervous and practically shaking at the knees. Ryan felt like a lot of firsts for him, if he was being honest with himself. Did he feel like that for her, too? 

God and when he saw her. Her dark hair was falling down her back and the color matched her twinkling eyes, and when he noticed the subtle shade of lipstick she was wearing, it looked as if she had just eaten a perfectly ripened raspberry that stained her pouty lips. He couldn’t stop staring at the tangled gold necklaces around her clavicle—he saw the year 1993, a Greek letter that he assumed was her astrological sign, and a pendant that looked as if it had been on her neck for her entire life. He was fascinated—completely and utterly transfixed with the girl standing in front of him in the hallway.

Kissing her seemed inevitable with the way they were dancing around each other in his kitchen, the way her bare shoulder brushed against his forearm when she leaned over him to grab the rolling pin, the way she looked at him underneath the curtain of her eyelashes when she was on all fours in Jackson’s bedroom. The way she cleaned up without hesitation, the way she seamlessly fit in his living room, the way she flirted with him to the soft sounds of Joni Mitchell playing in the background.

But then he was talking about Rachel and feeling things he hadn’t felt in a long time. Talking about his unearthed hidden emotions he kept buried for five years, and suddenly Ryan was looking at him with the saddest look on her face and he couldn’t bring himself to admit that he was fucking terrified. 

Because she was there and sitting in front of him and it was everything he could have ever wanted—but then she started talking about her parents and her breathing pattern shifted in a way that made Harry nervous. And when her hands started trembling and her cheeks were painted red and she couldn’t bring herself to even look at him, he knew she was panicking, so he grabbed her hand to bring her back to him. To them. To sitting on the couch with their knees touching and being surrounded by the comfort of one another. 

And he wanted to kiss her—so fucking badly that his entire body was shuddering with anticipation. But it didn’t feel right to him, not after he just unloaded his past relationship with Jackson’s mother, not when she just told him about her parent’s divorce, not when she was shaking so hard underneath his hand.

He wanted the moment to be perfect, and for the first time in days, he listened to his head instead of his heart.

But when he saw the look on her face, all downtrodden and blank eyes, he immediately regretted it. And when her hand left his and she ran out of the flat without even putting her shoes on, Harry had never been angrier with himself. 

In trying to find the perfect moment, Harry let the actual one slip right through his fingers. 

And he deserves it, he supposes. Harry’s always been a suffer in silence type of person, and after the way he treated her in his living room, he’s never suffered more. Because being with Ryan, even for the short amount of time he was given, made him feel alive again. She was quirky and different and somehow burrowed herself into his life without even truly knowing it, and when she left, he felt her absence everywhere.

Where Ryan was scared of the unknown, Harry was afraid of reliving it. Afraid of letting somebody into not only his own heart, but also his son’s, only to just leave in the end. He was afraid of needing somebody—because raising a child without much help forces you to become acquainted with the feeling of solitariness. Before he met Ryan, he felt as if he was swimming in an abyssal ocean, floating his way through life. But with one chance meeting, one awkward run-in in their shared hallway, it’s as if he’s come up for air—breathing in all the possibilities of what could be. 

Being alone is scary, but being left is even scarier—and even though he was never in love with Rachel, Harry tried his hardest to make it work because he assumed it was what was expected of him. He never wanted his son to suffer in the end, to feel neglected, to feel not good enough. 

He knows in his heart of hearts that Ryan would never treat him the way Rachel did. But for a split second, his mind went into that dark space. The space that warned him not to let his heart, or more importantly, Jackson’s, fall into the wrong hands. Because giving somebody else that power allows for the pain he shoved deep inside his chest to come back up to the surface, and he isn’t quite sure if he wants to relive it.

But the crippling feeling of regret after he saw Ryan hold back tears in the hallway was enough to make him hate himself just a little bit more.

It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. Harry had been building up the courage ever since he told her he wanted to kiss her when she was in the lift to knock on her door and make it right. He wrote everything down, for fuck’s sake. An entire list of all of the things he had done wrong, of the things he wanted to do to make it better, of the ways she made his heart beat loudly inside of his chest like the bass drum to a rock song. 

But then Rachel shows up at his door unannounced, giving him the worst type of news he could have ever received. 

Without warning, she drops a napalm bomb on his front doorstep, informing Harry that she was offered a job position at her firm’s New York office. Before he could even hear her out, Harry instantly falls into defense mode—closing the door a few inches behind him so that Jackson remains unaware of his mother’s presence, folding his arms over his chest in a lame sort of protective armor, frowning deeply through his dried lips. Because once again, Rachel was choosing herself over her son. And once again, Harry was left to pick up the pieces.

So he tells her this.

“I can’t fucking hear this right now,” Harry whispers harshly, cutting her off just as the words temporary position falls from her lips. He didn’t even acknowledge it, didn’t even comprehend the string of sentences she was trying to explain to him.

“Harry, would you listen to me? I haven’t finished explaining. It’s only for a few—”

“—No! I don’t want to hear another excuse, Rachel! I’m the one that’s left to pick up the pieces whenever you fuck off to go do whatever it is you’re so passionate about. I’m the one that has to tell your son where his mum is. I’m the one who constantly puts Jackson first while he’s second, hell, practically fucking third on your list!” With every locution, he’s watching Rachel grow redder and redder with anger, and he knows it’s because he hasn’t let her get a word in edgewise.

But he isn’t in the mood to speak rationally. He’s had a week from hell, and just when he was about to go and make it better, Rachel had to show up and ruin it with ease. 

“Don’t you fucking dare accuse me of anything without even listening to what I’m trying to say to you! God, Harry you’re so bloody thick sometimes! I’m trying to speak to you like an adult, yeah? Like the way we always said we would talk to each other when we started co-parenting!” Rachel points a long finger into his face, waving it with each stressed syllable that falls out of her rogue-painted lips.

“You have to actually be a parent in order to co-parent, Rachel,” Harry spits out, and the minute he sees Rachel’s stony expression falter, he almost takes it back. 

He watches her take a deep breath, shaking the sadness from her eyes before the harsh expression replaces it. “Are you always going to make me the villain in your story, Harry? We came to the agreement two years ago that Jackson would stay with you while I finished law school. And for the past year, I’ve been doing the best I can, taking Jackson on long weekends so that you can have a break and I can spend time with him. We knew this would only be temporary until I became a practicing solicitor. This job will expedite that—I’m only needed there for six months, and then when I come back, I’ll permanently be in London. I’ll be working lesser hours, I’ll have more flexibility,” she pauses, eyes staring straight into Harry’s. “I can see Jackson for more than one weekend of every month.”

Harry’s head feels as if it’s about to explode, and suddenly he doesn’t want to be reasonable anymore. He wants to be angry. He wants to be upset. He wants to be irrational. 

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Rachel. You’ve been doing it all along.” He knows he’s being unfair, because even though Rachel has always been more selfish than Harry, she’s still a good person. She still tries her best to be a good mum to Jackson even when she’s buried in mountains of paperwork. She still tries to be a good friend to Harry even after all of the shit they’ve been through.

But Harry feels angry with the world, so he decides not to remember these attributes. Instead, he makes her the antagonist in his story—because being angry at her makes him a little less angry at himself. 

And when he sees messy brown waves behind Rachel’s shoulders in the hallway, it’s as if everything happens in slow motion. He watches Jackson run after Ryan, he hardly processes what Rachel says to him from his doorway, he watches Ryan comfort his wailing son with concerned eyes, and before he can even speed up time, Rachel’s yelling at Ryan, and Harry’s not sure how he hears it all over the sound of his heart dropping to the floor with a loud crash. 

Ryan’s gone just as quickly as she came and Harry’s left to pick up the remnants of his and Rachel’s disaster once again—scooping up Jackson with one arm to try and quell his chest-heaving sobs, closing the door on Rachel and telling her he’ll speak to her later, falling into bed with a heavy head and an even heavier heart.

That was three days ago. 

Now he sits in his dark flat, curtains completely drawn, lights still off. The wick from the sandalwood candle on the end table flickers from his position on the couch, the tiny flame creating swirling patterns along the slate grey walls, the crooning sound of Van Morrison from the record player the perfect backdrop for Harry’s dismal mood.

Gemma came to pick Jackson up for a few days after video chatting Harry and noticing the paleness of his face and the purple bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep through the grainy screen of her mobile. Her concern was evident, and after hearing Jackson mumble that daddy’s been sick for a few days (a lie both siblings chose to ignore), he didn’t even fight her when she told him Jackson was going to stay with his cousins for the weekend.

Now that the flat is empty, void of Jackson’s high-pitched laughter and tiny bare feet slapping against the hardwood flooring, the loneliness is practically unbearable to Harry. He can feel it eating away at him, and sitting on his couch listening to Astral Weeks for the third time through isn’t making him feel any better. 

Harry knows he needs to do something about it—because Ryan isn’t sitting in her flat feeling sorry for him, and out of everybody who was hurt by what happened in the hallway three days ago, she deserved it the least. 

Because thinking of her messy hair and big eyes, small hands swallowed by oversized knitted jumpers, pouty lips and red cheeks, small quips of smiles and dulcet giggles, secret tattoos scattered on olive skin—thinking of those things makes the heaviness in his head feel a bit lighter. 

And even if he ruined any hope of them ever having something, he knows she deserves an apology. Because all of this agonizing waiting and tiptoeing around feelings is only making his head spin faster and faster like a brand new top on a granite counter, and Harry can’t bear feeling like this anymore. Not when there’s any inkling of hope left.

Harry remembers hearing the sound of Ryan’s heavy oak door close almost an hour ago, and ever since she moved in practically two months ago, he’s picked up on her habits. He knows that she delegates Friday’s as her food shopping day, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he opens the curtains and flicks the living room light on, waiting by his front door near the peephole to try and catch brown hair whipping past.

And when he sees it almost fifteen minutes later, he has to blink to make sure he didn’t miss it. But there’s no denying Ryan’s tousled locks, and without hesitation he opens his door, meeting her in the hallway where it all began.

“Ryan,” Harry starts, watching the way she starts shifting her shopping bags into one hand so she can reach for her keys in her jacket pocket with the other, seemingly ignoring him. She’s trying to get out of this conversation with everything in her, and Harry knows this. But he needs to apologize. He needs to talk to her—even if it ends with her slamming her door in his face. “Ryan would you please—”

“—I really don’t think you have the right to ask anything of me right now, Harry.” It’s short, clipped, absolute. She still isn’t making eye contact with him, and Harry feels as if he’s going to burst. Once she allocates her keys it’s as if Harry works in fast motion, grabbing her elbow that isn’t anchored down by shopping bags, practically begging her at this point to just fucking look at him.

“I know that. And I’m sorry. Just—fuck, Ryan—I need to speak with you. Please.” It’s the waver of his voice that forces Ryan to finally look into his eyes, noticing the way his skin looks taut and the bags underneath are more pronounced now than ever before. The pallor of his face is almost disturbing, and even though Ryan is still upset, the sight of him pleading with her is enough to make her concerned. 

His hand is still grasping her elbow, and when she tears her eyes away from his face and down in the direction of his hand on her body, he gets the hint and drops it, backing away slowly. Her door is ajar and with a silent nod of approval, Harry’s following her into the flat. 

Luna, upon noticing a new figure entering the flat, treks over to him happily, rubbing her body against his shins and purring loudly. He crouches down and pets her quickly, watching Ryan settle her bags down on the countertop. When she spins around with her lower back resting on the counter, her arms crossed over her chest defensively, he stands up quickly and rubs at the back of his neck timidly.

“Go on, then.” Her voice has never sounded so distant, and Harry’s suddenly panicking at the thought of her wanting nothing to do with him ever again. Not even for his own selfish reasons, but for Jackson. Because he’d never forgive himself if he ruined things with his son’s new friend due to his own idiocy. 

“I’m sorry. What happened in the hallway was entirely uncalled for. Rachel had no right to speak to you that way, and I should have done more than just stand there and watch it all unravel. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice is scratchy from lack of use, and he begins wringing his hands in front of his waist due to the onslaught of nerves flushing through his system. Suddenly he’s terrified of what Ryan is going to say.

“Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t deserve that.” He feels the knife lodged into his chest start to twist, a pinching gut-wrenching pain shooting through his body. He hates it.

“I know, and I’m so—”

“—You’re sorry. I know,” she cuts him off and he’s left standing there completely unsure. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate something, anything, to get her to stop looking at him like that. 

But before he can find the words, Ryan’s voice carries from her kitchen into Harry’s position in the middle of her living room. “Jackson didn’t deserve that either. And I’m not trying to wedge myself into your lives, because trust me, the message was received loud and clear. But you don’t get to stand there and judge me, psychoanalyze me, just to go off and talk about me to your mates or your ex-girlfriend. You don’t get to voice any other insecurity I have to the people in your life, to put into your songs or whatever the fuck you do with that information. Because you’ve lost that privilege. You’ve lost every and all privileges to get to know me.” Harry flinches, his eyes squeezing shut at the rib-racking pain that echoes through his entire body.

“You’ve lost that privilege when you told your son’s mother that I was the nanny. That I was kind to you with the ulterior motive to fuck you. And even if that were true, you have no right to tell people that. Because I’m fully aware that my social anxiety is crippling at times. I’m fully aware that I’m better off on my own because people intimidate me. I’m fully aware that I’m not the type of girl who ends up with boys like you. And that’s fine. I can live with that. But what I can’t live with is you deciding that on your own, and judging me just because you feel like you can. Because that’s cruel, Harry.”

It’s the most she’s ever said to him without stumbling over words or breaking eye contact. Ryan’s standing strong in front of him, cheeks void of a crimson blush, lips in a straight line. Her hands are still and her feet aren’t shifting and Harry’s never felt worse about himself in his entire life.

Her words crush through his body, bulldozing any inkling of self-guilt and anger. Because suddenly, he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of self-hatred. He want to scream, kick, and punch through every fucking wall because he’s made this woman feel like complete and utter nothingness, and the only person who deserves to feel like that is him. 

He’s fucking heartbroken.  

Before she can send him on his way for the last time, he suddenly finds the words to speak. He needs to fix this, to salvage any inkling of hope between them. Because he’s never thought of her that way, and the fact that she thinks so lowly of him because of the false things Rachel said to her when she was angry gives Harry the push he needs to tell Ryan the truth. 

The whole truth.

“I had no right to make you feel like that, and I’m sorry for that. Truly fucking sorry. But I never, ever, referred to you as Jackson’s nanny. I never spoke a word about you to Rachel or to my mates. If anything, Jackson probably talked about you and Luna with her, because god knows that boy is in love with you. That was just Rachel making presumptions and taking her anger with me out on you, and I’m so sorry she made you feel like that, and I’m even sorrier for not intervening. I would never judge you for being who you are, I just—fuck.” Harry runs an exasperated hand through his messy hair before looking at Ryan, taking a deep breath and inching closer towards her.

“I panicked. Because everything was happening so quickly and for the first time since Jackson was born, I wanted to cradle you against my chest instead of him. And that’s a fucked up thing to admit, because he’s my fucking son and he was crying and he needed me, and all I could think about was how your heart was breaking and I needed to shove that feeling down before it took over. Because it fucking terrifies me.”

There’s a sudden silence between the pair, with nothing but mahogany eyes staring into emerald. Ryan’s aware that in all of her time knowing Harry, he’s never been this open and honest with her. He’s laying all of his cards out on the table, and that revelation alone is enough to make the empty hole in her chest start filling up with each subtle beat of her heart.

Harry takes a tentative step forward, and once he realizes that Ryan isn’t backing away, he takes two more so that he’s standing directly in front of her.

“I’m not used to wanting to be around somebody else besides Jackson. It’s been almost five years, just me and him, and then when you came into the picture, I suddenly wanted to be around you. Every second. Of every fucking day.” When Harry acknowledges that her eyes haven’t diverted to the ground, he can feel the hollowness in his body start to dissipate, the coldness in his veins start to thaw out with each beam of light that radiates off of the girl standing in front of him.

“It scares the shit out of me, Ryan. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. And I know I messed it all up by not kissing you, and I know I made you feel like I didn’t want you. But I just—I’m so scared of you leaving me, of leaving Jackson. Because no matter how many times I deny it, I’m so fucking scared of being left again. I don’t know if my heart can handle that.”

Ryan nods slowly, processing Harry’s biggest fear being laid out in front of her. She starts to feel bad for him all of a sudden, because maybe she was wrong in thinking that he didn’t want her. Because even though he’s in front of her and he’s here holding his heart in his shaking hands for her to have, part of him is terrified because he can’t only think about himself, he has to think about Jackson, too.

And that’s something Ryan possibly overlooked. Because she’s never been left the way Harry has, she’s never had to put all of her love and care into another human being who looks at her as if she hung all of the stars in the sky, she’s never had to be a parent by herself. 

There’s no rule book for that—no step-by-step instruction manual to describe how difficult that process truly was. And Harry did it because he had to. Because he needed to. Because he wanted to. 

And when she looks at him—really looks at him, at the small wrinkles around his brilliant green eyes that she wants to smooth over with the pad of her thumb, at his curly hair that somehow is still fluffy and tempting to touch, at his dried lips that she still wants to put on her own with everything inside of her—she’s mystified at how he could possibly think that.

How could anybody ever leave him?

With a small smile that somehow makes him feel whole again, she says, “Who said I was leaving you?” 

The weight that lifts from his shoulders practically makes him float through thin air. Harry takes a small step forward, testing the waters ever so slightly to make sure that she doesn’t cower away. And when she stands tall, looking at him as if she never wanted to blink again, he takes two more.

With one final step, he’s toe-to-toe with Ryan, so close that he can see the obsidian specks in her irises, the gold flecks when the light hits them just right, the gentle swoosh of her ebony lashes. He can feel her warm breath fannings against the column of his throat, and suddenly he’s reaching out, wrapping one long finger around a stray tendril of her dark hair.

“You’re wrong about not being good enough for boys like me. You’re wrong about being better off alone. Because I’ve done that, Ryan, and loneliness is shit.” His voice is low and deep, sweet like honey that seeps through her concrete walls. Ryan can feel them breaking apart inch by inch, and when he brings his other hand up to cup the underside of her jaw, she can practically hear them cracking, disintegrating beneath their feet.

“You’re so stupidly made for me, it’s fucking terrifying. And I know that I have Jackson. And I know that’s probably not in your plan. And I know this is going to sound absolutely insane,” with one last breath he leans down, the tip of his nose brushing against hers ever so softly. “But imagining another day without you is nearly impossible.”

Ryan tries her hardest not to gasp at his confession, and before she can conjure up the right words to say, Harry’s mouth is on hers. 

His left hand is cupping her jaw and the right is holding the back of her head gently and suddenly Ryan can feel the empty hole in her chest come back to life—thumping so loudly against her body she’s almost certain Harry can feel it against his own. 

Harry’s practically sweating at the rush of heat that swarms his insides, and when he feels Ryan reach up on the tips of her toes so that her chest is flush against his own and her arms lock around the back of his neck, he almost topples over at the feeling of it all. 

It’s everything and more, and part of him can’t believe that he waited this long to finally feel it—because he could write fucking symphonies about the way her lips feel against his own, the way the little hums in the back of her throat make his spine tingle, the way her fingers weave through the hair on the base of his neck so that she can anchor herself to him completely. The way he’s never felt this way kissing somebody.

The way he never wants to let go.

But they have to at some point, and begrudgingly he lets her go, watching the way she blinks against the apples of his cheeks. The flush that he’s grown to admire is back on her face, but this time it’s from another reason completely, and Harry’s almost positive that this is his favorite version of it yet.

“Should’ve done that a week ago,” Harry mumbles against her lips.

Ryan giggles and Harry’s almost certain he’s in love. “You’ve done it now, that’s all that matters.”

And when he brings his lips back to hers and wraps his arms around her lower back, hoisting her up and spinning her around until he’s swallowing her giggles with his own mouth, he knows that she’s right.

All that matters is them. Right now. Together.

***

A/N: Hi all, that was part seven of you feel like home AKA the penultimate chapter AKA the one that hopefully makes you guys smile instead of cry. I hope it was worth the wait! This was the story I wanted to tell, and I hope this clarified the frustrations we all felt about Harry in part six, as well as our first impressions of Rachel. I never wanted to villainize her, I just wanted to explore the possibility of a mother wanting to put her career first the way so many men have done in the past. I hope I did that justice.

Thanks for all the feedback and love you guys are giving this fic, it makes writing it that much more fun. Part eight will be posted on Thursday December 17, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime and tell me your thoughts! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! See you next week for the FINAL part, and stay tuned to watch me get emotional during the entire week x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles @harrysstyle @greatestview @solllaris​ @niallgolden​ @mellamolayla​

[muscatmusic18]

to offer a little help (1/1)

Fandom: Fate: The Winx Saga

Pairing: Farah and Musa

A week after the attack of the Burned Ones, Musa still isn't quite right. Farah notices, and offers a comforting hand. 

Part two of the Mama Farah series. Read it here on AO3 or below.

Farah had been able to see Musa’s distress for days now.

She could see all of the students’ distress. It had been a mere week since the Burned Ones’ attack, and many of the students were still reeling from it, on edge and worried and scared that once again they would be in danger.

But Musa’s distress was different.

It was sharper, more primal, more intense, radiating off her in a way that even Farah, her first connection being memories, could feel Musa’s pain. She thought it was because Musa was feeling all of the other student’s distress as well as her own, but a tendril of magic against the girl’s mind told her that Musa was focused, and that her distress was all her own.

The next day, she called for Musa to come to her office.

The knock on her door was quiet and tentative, and Farah kept her voice just as quiet when she called for her to enter. Musa peeked in then looked back at Aisha, who shrugged her shoulder and mouthed something before Musa turned back and walked in, shutting the door behind her.

“Ms. Dowling?” Musa’s voice had the slight quaver in it that it’d had since the attack, and Farah gave her a soft smile, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

Musa took it, fidgeting a bit, and she wiped her palms on her pants. Her eyes glowed, and Farah pretended not to notice as she allowed the girl to read her emotions, letting her feel the calm and comfort she projected. Musa sighed and slumped a bit in relief, then straightened, cocking her head a bit.

“What’s this about then? Ma’am?” she added on the end like she’d just remembered who she was speaking to.

Farah folded her hands in front of her, sitting forward. “It’s been a week since the attack. I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

Musa’s eyes darted wildly, like an animal in a trap, before landing on Farah again. “As good as everyone else, I suppose.”

A blatant lie, they both knew, but Farah nodded anyways. She took a deep breath then, and spoke carefully. “Mind fairies, as you know, are unique in that their magic is almost always on. When there are people around, their magic is triggered, and it takes great skill to control when that switch is turned on and off.”

She sat back into her chair, resting her elbows on the arms. “When I was your age, here at Alfea, I couldn’t control when I saw the memories of other people. If someone’s memory was taking up a large portion of their attention and I was near them, I would see the memory too, and experience all of the emotions that went along with it.”

Her mind wandered briefly to the secondhand joy, sorrow, and pain she’d felt all those years ago, but she carefully pushed them aside and gave Musa a warm smile, who was staring at her earnestly. “I was a student here at a time when Burned One attacks were common throughout the realm. Hardly a week would go by without reports of one. At its worst, we’d receive reports of one a day. Many students here were personally affected by the attacks — their family, their friends. And when all they could think of was the day they received the news that someone they knew and loved had been killed…” Farah trailed off, rubbing absently at the ring on her thumb. “It would be all I would experience, every time I walked through these halls.”

Musa’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she looked down at her lap. When she looked up, the tears hadn’t fallen, but they were still gathered in the corners. “So you know what it’s like, then? To feel like you know everyone better than you know yourself?”

Farah nodded. “I do.” She watched as too many emotions crossed Musa’s face to read them all before continuing. “I also remember what it was like to have those memories stick with you. It wasn’t enough to endure them once, but to remember them and experience them over and over again as your own.”

The validation of someone understanding seemed to break Musa. Her chest caved in and tears welled up again and spilled down her cheeks, and she took a gasping breath before speaking. “When Sam was hurt, I—” she paused and shook her head before pressing on. “I took his pain. To help him concentrate, so he wouldn’t die. And he didn’t, because I did that. At least that’s what everyone says. But when I let him in, I felt everything he felt. His pain, his fear, his anger, the infection pumping through his veins to his heart. And it was just like when my mum died, and I felt her — I could feel her, and then she was just gone.”

She gave a gasping sort of breath, full of panic, and Farah quickly made her way around the desk, leaning against the edge of it in front of Musa. She pushed calm towards the girl, like a warm blanket, and Musa steadied a bit before continuing.

“I can’t get those feelings out of my head, and everytime I feel someone else's fear it just amplifies my own. And then at night, in my dreams, Sam’s feelings are still there, except it’s my mum feeling them. Or it’s Sam dying, and the light is leaving his body. And—” Musa gasped again, her panic rising, and on impulse, Farah reached out and grabbed Musa’s hand.

Everything came rushing in all at once, and Farah braced herself against the onslaught. Musa’s memories and emotions came in waves, threatening to drown her, but Farah fought through them and broke through the surf, learning to ride them and center herself in the midst. Only then did she fully open her mind, taking in Musa’s pain and heartbreak and sorrow. She took it in and pushed towards her thoughts of sunlight and flowers and glittering dew, a lifeline in the middle of the hurricane.

Musa slowly settled, her grip on Farah’s hand softening and her breath starting to steady, but Farah kept pushing calm and comfort until the waves of Musa’s mind became mere ebbs. Only then did she slowly retreat, closing her mind, and Musa looked up at her with wide, tired eyes, blinking slowly. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

She gave a small smile, and tapped a finger against Musa’s forehead. “Most mind fairies can. Only some can do it well, though.”

Musa nodded, then slumped a bit, then shifted. Farah helped her stand with the hand she was still holding, and held out the other one when Musa began to sway. Slowly, the girl began to lean forward, and without hesitation Farah pulled her close, tucking her into her shoulder. Musa seemed to melt, becoming even smaller against her, and Farah’s heart twinged. How small had she been when she’d lost her mum? When was the last time she’d had a hug like this?

Not for a long time, judging by the way exhaustion ran through Musa’s body and how tightly she gripped. But that was something she could fix, wasn’t it? She was giving her that hug now.

When Musa sat up some time later, the haunted look in her eye wasn’t as prominent as it had been before, though it was replaced with a weariness Farah could feel without her magic. She cupped the girl’s cheek, swiping her thumb across it once before tilting her head up so Musa looked her in the eye. “You need rest, Musa. I want you to go back to your suite, crawl into bed, and sleep.”

Trepidation showed on Musa’s face, memories of nightmares and restless sleep shining in her eyes, but finally she nodded. Farah gave her a warm smile before letting go, and Musa found her feet. She nodded twice and turned towards the door, but stopped just before she grasped the handle. Turning again to face her, she looked shyly at the ground before meeting Farah’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she said in a clear voice, without the tremor it had before. “I wasn’t— I didn’t know how much I needed this. To talk, and… the comfort.”

Farah smiled again, at the small girl who knew more pain than she ever should. “Comfort, given and received, is the most powerful tool a mind fairy can have.”

And Musa’s answering smile was radiant.

[collecting-stories]

Dear Diary - JJ Maybank

Request: Hi!! I have a fluffy fic request if u dont mind - JJ and y/n are best friends, but y/n has a huge crush on him and she writes abt it in her diary a lot. One day JJ accidentally sees a page where she is rambling abt him, and he's very happy cos he loves her too, but never told her anything as he was afraid of a possible rejection. So he starts giving her massive hints re: his feelings and then they eventually confess their love to each other. ❤

Request: can I have one with JJ please? Where the reader is in love with JJ but thinking he is in love with Kie or someone else. JJ loves the reader but is to scared to telling her. Can you make this with angst and fluffy? Thank you ❤️❤️

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The first and only time that you had worked up the courage to tell JJ that you had a crush on him you were fourteen. Just finished ninth grade, a little shier than the rest of your friends, excited about the summer, and harboring a monumental crush on your best friend. You had hoped, stupidly, that he liked you back and had eagerly pulled him aside during a party to tell him that you liked him.  

“Well?” And when he didn’t answer you back after a minute, just looking back over his shoulder to your friend group, to Kiara, you started to get nervous. This had been all wrong.  

“I just, don’t think I like you like that.” JJ replied, looking back at you, eyes apologetic, “Sorry, I think we’re awesome friends.”

“Yeah, friends.” You nodded, “that’s fine.”

“I just-” he glanced at Kiara again, laughing at something John B was saying.  

“It’s okay, seriously, it’s good.” You promised, knowing full well that you were lying to him. It wasn’t okay and you were slowly realizing that the ache you felt from not telling him was not worse than the absolute heartbreak you felt now, standing there knowing that he didn’t like you. That you were just a friend and that’s all you ever would be.  

Crushes are peculiar things though and you no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t shake yours. JJ was impossible to avoid, even if you had truly wanted to, but you did what you could to lessen the amount of time you spent with him. That first summer after you told him it was like he was everywhere you went. Like the universe was constantly reminding you of your failed attempt at love, putting JJ in your way no matter what you were doing. At a party, surfing with Pope, at your house, at the Chateau, it was like he was always around. The only option you saw for yourself was to distance yourself from the pogues too.  

And you did, because it worked. Staying away helped ease the heartache. Polite hellos and the occasional fishing trip with Pope or John B, you kept your distance from JJ and Kiara by proxy, terrified that you would hear something you didn’t want to if you stayed close. But even after three years and purposeful distance your crush didn’t lessen.  

The only thing that seemed to ease your mind was journaling. You’d been keeping journals for as long as you could remember, documenting moments in time that you thought you wanted to look back on someday. Good moments like parties and every time JJ said a single syllable to you and bad times, like how you knew he didn’t like you and you were positive he liked Kiara.  

The bell above the door of the smoothie shop you worked at rang as JJ and Pope walked in and you pushed your journal away from you before they could get a glimpse. “Hey stranger,” JJ grinned as he walked over, leaning against the counter.  

You could feel your heart beat pick up at the close proximity and caught the knowing smile that Pope gave you over JJ’s shoulder. “Hey,”

“I feel like I never see you.” He said, eyeing the board, “can I get a blue mango smoothie?”

“We just saw each other on Friday.” You offered, moving away from him to make the smoothie he asked for. He’d talk his way out of paying for it until either you or Pope fronted the bill, something you were used to when he did come around.  

Every couple of weeks, for a least the last year and half when JJ realized that you and he seemed to be drifting apart, he started dropping in at your work, looking for you. Sometimes you saw him before he saw you, ducking into the back and getting a co-worker to wait on him. But sometimes, like today, it was slow and you were the only one in the shop.  

“Barely, I offered you a beer and then I didn’t see you for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, I guess,” you shrugged, “I was talking to some guy from school.”

“What about?”

“Uh...none of your business.” You replied.

Pope laughed at your back and forth, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator by the counter, “I hate to ditch but I promised my dad I’d run groceries for him. Don’t let him talk you into paying for that!”  

“I pay for my drinks!” JJ called as Pope backed out of the store, waving at you. “I pay for my drinks.” He repeated, turning back to face you.  

“Okay.”

“So I was thinking,” he started to say, cut off by the whirring of the blender. You glanced back and frowned at him, shrugging about the noise before turning back. You were hoping he would leave once he’d gotten the smoothie, drawn away by something else. When the blender cut off finally and you took it out of it’s holder JJ continued on, seemingly unphased, “I was thinking you haven’t been out on the boat with us in a while.”

“I guess not,” you had steered clear of any group activities since you told him you liked him. An incredible feat considering you were turning eighteen soon and you’d been fourteen then. “I work a lot though.”

“Take a day off.”  

“I’ll try.” You offered, passing the smoothie across the counter to him. JJ reached out for it, hand brushing yours and smiling like he knew what his smile did to you. “Maybe saturday...if you guys are going.” It didn’t take much to wear you down.

“Saturday’s good.” He nodded, taking a sip, “hey-”

“You forgot your wallet.”

“No, I had my wallet...but it was in Pope’s pocket. Cause we switched shorts earlier, cause his got a stain on them and he didn’t want to wear those to wor-”

“Are you trying to sell me a story right now?” You laughed, “we may not hang out all the time J but I’ve known you long enough, I can tell you’re lying.”

“I’ve fooled you once or twice.”

“Name a time.” You laughed, punching in the employee discount for the smoothie before swiping your own credit card.  

JJ bit down on his bottom lip, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you, more serious than the playful nature of the conversation called for, as if he was thinking about something he’d said before. Finally, he shook his head, smiling and tapping the counter, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

You were right, JJ knew he couldn’t lie to you but that didn’t mean that he had never tried. He had lied to you once, in the seventeen years that the two of you were friends, and actually pulled it off. And he’d regretted it ever since.  

-

As promised, because you lacked the ability to resist JJ, you showed up to the Chateau in the morning on Saturday. He was already out on the jetty, throwing fishing gear in the Pogue, just in case.  

“Does that cooler have person food or fish food?” You called, walking up to him. You handed you backpack to him and let him help you on board. When you stepped down he didn’t move away, crowding your space and looking down at you. You looked away quickly, though you didn’t miss the way he licked his lips as you skirted passed him.  

“Neither,” JJ finally said, popping the top up so you could look inside, “it’s all beer baby.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “I shouldn’t be surprised I guess. Where’s everyone else?”

“Pope and John B have work and Kie said she’s busy...sorry.”

“That’s okay, we can hang out.” You replied, shrugging, trying to calm your nerves as you stepped over some reels to sit down.  

“Exactly.” JJ agreed.  

In complete honesty he had texted John B after seeing you in the smoothie shop, asking if he could take the boat out on Saturday and, if asked, John B could pretend that he was super busy. He hadn’t really put anymore planning into this then that, despite Kiara telling him that he should. The last thing JJ wanted was to make you feel cornered or worse, to have you find out that he knew that you still liked him.  

It was an accident, really. A rather happy one, on his end. He’d been at a party with Pope when he noticed your backpack abandoned by the pool. He recognized the pins on the front and went over to grab it, finding a notebook beneath it that had your name on the inside with homemade stickers all over the front.  

“What are you doing?” Pope had whispered, leaning passed his best friend to see what JJ was looking at. Pope had seen you with your journal enough times to know exactly what it was. “Put that back.”

“Why? It’s just a notebook...” he replied, voice drifting off as he flipped through the pages, landing on one from the day before. In the dim light of the torches that lined the pool area JJ had caught sight of his name in your handwriting and stopped to read the page. He knew, technically, that it wasn’t a good idea for him to be reading something that you clearly didn’t intend to ever have anyone read, an invasion of privacy, he was sure Kiara would say.

“JJ!” Pope reached around him and grabbed the notebook out of his hand, slapping it closed and shoving it back into your backpack, “dude, don’t read that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He shook his head, not saying out loud what he had just read. He’d seen it though, that you still liked him. Despite ninth grade and the one great lie that JJ told you. Despite the distance you had manufactured between you and him. You still liked him and JJ was determined to let you know that he liked you too.

He knew that he couldn’t just come out and say it though. How would that go? Him confessing that he read your diary and knew you liked him and guess what it was the incentive he needed because he liked you too but he was so worried about fucking things up that he just insisted on being friends. No, that would never work. You’d be pissed that he had read something he was never meant to. So he let Pope return your backpack and he started a long game of hints. Blatant hints that he was interested, or so he thought but you didn’t seem to realize. You were oblivious that every time he stopped in the smoothie shop or sought you out at parties or invited you to hang out that he was trying to tell you that he liked you.  

So he tried the more direct approach. An afternoon on the boat, just the two of you. But that wasn’t working either cause he was listening to you talk about some dumb podcast series your dad was obsessed with and how he would play it top volume throughout the house.  

“And the guy said-”

“Oh my god!” JJ groaned. He’d tried sitting close and touching your back and telling you that you looked nice and holding your hand when you stepped on board and you were with him, alone, on the boat, for gods sake.  

“What’s the matter?” You asked, a little startled at his sudden outburst.

“You. This.” JJ practically shouted, standing up on the boat suddenly and making it sway a little. “Not...what I mean is...I know I shouldn’t have but I read your diary thing and I know you still like me and I like you.”

“You read my diary? When?”

“At that party like last month,” He said, “did you hear me? I said I like you?”

“I heard you say you read my diary! JJ, that’s my personal thoughts and feelings, I can’t believe you read that!” You were comprehending one part of the conversation at a time and your brain had settled on this. That he had invaded your privacy.

“I didn’t mean too! I opened it and saw my name!”

“You should’ve closed it!”

“Well I didn’t!” He raised his voice to match yours, both of you almost shouting at each other on a boat in the middle of the marsh.

“Oh and what? You read it and thought ‘how pathetic she still likes me’ and now you’ve done all this?”

“Are you kidding me? You think I can even plan something that far in advance? I tried like 12 other ways of telling you I like you! And what are you talking about...I’m telling you I like you!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well tough shit cause I do. And I know you like me too cause I read it!” He insisted.  

You crossed your arms and looked away from him for a moment, a deep set frown as you thought about what he said. He liked you. “Like...like me, like me?” You asked slowly, looking back at him.

“Yeah.” He replied, shoulders drooping as he relaxed.  

“Well I like you too.”

“I know.”

“JJ!” You groaned.  

He bit his lower lip as he sat down next to you on the bench, facing you. “So...we both like each other?” He said, grinning.  

“It would appear so.” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you twisted to face him. “This doesn’t mean free smoothies though, you owe me like...20 bucks, at least.”

“We’re gonna need to negotiate these terms.”  

-

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