#protests. i have a lot of complicated feelings about it because for a lot of jewish people israel is complicated

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

there’s a group on my campus supporting palestine that i think i’m going to join, but i’m also.. really nervous. if i show up publically i risk being ostracised by my jewish community which has made it very clear they are firmly in support of israel. but i also can’t just sit to the side anymore and not do anything when there are resources for me to help

[reiderwriter]

Hello!I hope you are having a great day!I love LOVE your writing and I would like to request a fanfiction where the reader is Hotch's daughter who works at the bau and is in a secret relationship with spencer without her dad knowing.Spencer wants to tell the team but she is scared about how they'll react so they fight but during a case she gets kidnapped and the feelings are high,so spencer accidentally reveals the relationship.I would love if it ended in smut (possibly dom!spencer who is angry at her for being so reckless and risking her life like that) and maybe a lot of angst??Hotch could potentially be fuming but when they get her back he decides that he will let them be??I would like my emoji to be 🌼!Thank you in advance and if you write this I would absolutely LOVE to read it!🤍🤍

A/N: I love writing for a Hotchner Reader because the Hotch/Spencer parallels are so 😙👌 This was so fun to write!

Warnings: Smut/ Angst with a happy ending, Semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, case details, kidnapping, abuse, strangulation, mentions of child death/ allusions towards pedophilia etc, Hotch is a somewhat shitty/overprotective dad/boss.

Masterlist!

Falling back into a hotel bed that wasn't yours, you wrapped your legs around Spencer Reid as he furiously worked open the buttons of your shirt, his lips locked with yours in a furious exchange. 

“Spencer, Spencer, we can't-” You moaned as his lips fell down to your ear, a small tap to your thigh signalling that he wanted tour legs spread for him. Despite your vocal protests, you complied.

“Need to feel you,” he groaned, nipping and sucking his way down your chest as his big hands began pushing your skirt up and your panties down. 

“Spencer, someone will hear.” 

“I don't care who hears,” he whispered, finally ridding you of the last piece of material covering your wet sex. “I just want to make you feel good.”

His lips fell to your cunt, falling on your cunt as he began his ministrations. You loved this, the feeling of him near, his lips on you, his tongue teasing out whimper, then moan, then a scream of his name as you came undone on his lips. But that wasn't a chance you could take today. 

“He's in the next room, Spencer. Fuck, he's going to hear us.” 

You wouldn't push him off, enjoying too much the feeling of your building pleasure, so appealing to your boyfriend to do the right thing was your last resort as your hips bucked into his face, chasing your orgasm. 

He didn't stop, but held your hips down, thrusting his tongue in and out of you as his fingers came up to tease your clit. 

“Spencer, fuck-” you slapped a hand over your mouth as you shuddered below him, finally reaching your climax. 

Your hands fell limp as he worked you through the end of your orgasm before rising up to lay beside you on the bed. 

“I wish you wouldn't push it, Spencer. You're a dead man if he catches us like this.” 

“Hotch won't kill me just because I'm dating his daughter. I don't understand why you don't want to tell people.” 

You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. It was a conversation you'd been back and forward on a lot in the past six months. 

Dating a coworker was tricky, doubly so when your coworker’s boss - and your boss - was your overprotective father. Things only became more complicated when you factored in a ten year age gap and the fact that your father refused to view you as an adult, even when you were a fully qualified member of his own team. 

You'd had to fight for acceptance into the FBI and go above him to get the job on his team, a decision that he still berated you for to this day. But you'd had enough of him shielding you from reality, and it was a step you needed to take. 

Falling in love with Spencer Reid, though, that was just pure bad luck. 

You weren't sure how it had taken you until joining the team to meet the man, but you sure were glad he hadn't been introduced earlier. You'd joined the team at 24, having been in grad school until your FBI Academy application was approved, and somehow in the 10 years before that Spencer had worked under your father, you'd never crossed paths.

Of course, you knew who he was before that from context and conversations with your father, and of course, he figured out who you were quickly based on the many arguments you'd had in Hotch’s office. But that hadn't stopped you from repeatedly falling into his bed month after month, and then falling in love with him. 

Your relationship was more than the sex, but it was also a lot of sex. From the stories you'd heard, and from the look of him, you'd assumed that Spencer was a delicate little flower, an innocent in the bedroom as much as any 34 year old man could be. 

And then you'd both been offered spiked drinks at a holiday party courtesy of Penelope Garcia, and he'd proved you deliriously wrong. He'd been hooked from then on, and after waking up awkwardly in his bed the next morning to two cups of coffee and a spread of breakfast pastries he'd gone out to specifically pick up for you, you'd been hooked on him as well. 

The only problem was Hotch. 

You certainly weren't winning any daughter of the year awards already with the stunt you pulled to get on the BAU, but you didn't want to be completely and totally disowned just yet. 

“Hotch won't kill you for dating his daughter, you're right,” you mumbled back to Spencer rolling yourself back on top of him and pinning his arms down so his fingers couldn't tease you any further. 

“Thank you, now if you trust me, I've ran like four different scenarios in my head so-” 

“He'd definitely fire us both, though. And that's worse than death.”

“Y/N….” 

“Tell me I'm wrong, please. Back up your findings with empirical evidence. He doesn't want me on the team, Spencer. He doesn't even want me in the FBI. I think he'd be happy enough to ship me out of the country, too, if that helped.”

Spencer sighed and tugged your hair behind your ear as he gestured for you to sit up. 

“I know it's scary. But I love you. I don't care about the consequences because I'll still love you before and after telling him.”

“And during?” 

“I might freak out a bit, but deep down, the love will be there still.”

You hit him with a pillow and climbed off the bed. 

“Okay, get out now. I'll think about it but you really can't stay here tonight.” He nodded, grabbing his things and pulling his clothes back into place. 

“So, like we're totally done for tonight? Nothing else.”

“Spencer! Out!” You whisper-shouted the words and watched him turn your door handle as slowly as possible before he waved his goodbye and left your room. 

12 hours later, you were once again getting frustrated with Spencer Reid. And Aaron Hotchner. They may soon be enemies, but goddamn they were perfect for each other in some ways. 

“Hotch, you can't just give me nothing to do. Send me to the morgue with Rossi, or let me interview family members with Tara. I'm a member of this team, too, so let me do my job.” 

“You'll do well to remember that I'm your boss, Y/N.”

“You're acting more like my dad right now. A boss would utilize his team members.” 

You'd been stuck in this stale mate since the morning, and Reid hadn't helped at all. When giving out assignments that morning, you'd not been notably left out of crime scene investigation, suspect interrogation, and anything helpful. Reid usually asked for your assistance at times like these, but he was finally putting his money where his mouth was and keeping distance from you in the office.

So far, you'd ran coffees back and forth between the kitchen and work room and had been communicating back and forth with JJ and Derek in the field and Garcia back at Quantico. 

You'd been, for lack of better comparison, relegated to receptionist. 

“At least let me work on the geographical profile with Reid-” 

“Absolutely not.” 

You stiffened at the reaction, wondering just exactly why he would react so strongly. Spencer had snuck in a few secret kisses here and there this morning, though you'd been sure that you'd had no witnesses. 

“Why not?” 

“I don't want you to distract him.”

Bile settled in the back of your throat as you tried your best to bite your tongue and keep the bitter words in. 

“You know, sometimes, Dad, it feels like you love everyone on this team more than you love me.” 

He locked eyes with you quickly, but he glance was dismissive and stern, almost as if he was asking you ‘seriously.’ 

You turned on your heels and began to walk out before he called out from behind you again. 

“Y/N,” you stopped despite yourself. 

“Leave the gun and badge on the desk. We'll discuss this after the case is closed.”

You almost laughed. You almost blurted out your relationship with Spencer just to spite him. You followed his order and took yourself out of the office for some fresh air, finally giving him what he wanted. 

An hour of aimlessly wandering down the street, and you turned into a run-down park. 16 missed calls from Spencer and other members of the team, who'd no doubt watched you turn in your badge. 

Garcia had even called a few times, and you felt guilty for not forwarding her calls somewhere else, knowing she'd probably have key case information for someone. 

But you just couldn't handle it anymore, so you switched it off, pushed it back into your pocket, and kept walking. 

It was two more blocks before the man following you pushed a soaked rag over your mouth and nose and pushed your unconscious body into the back of a waiting van. 

×××××

Two hours of near constant complaining to Hotch had gotten Spencer nowhere in his demands to know just where you went. 

He'd called you 36 times since Hotch had told him you'd left, and he hadn't stopped freaking out since. 

“But where did she go?” 

“I sent her back to the motel.” 

“All of our cars, bar the one JJ and Morgan took to the crime scene, are outside and accounted for. The motel is a 34-minute drive away. It'll take her 5 hours on foot through our unsubs hunting grounds, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she matches the victim profile we just gave. Where is she?” 

A muscle in Hotch's jaw twitched, but neither of them moved, eyes locked in battle to see who would back down first.

A call from Penelope ended whatever disaster was storming between them. 

“Hotch hey, I can't get in contact with mini-Hotch, so here I am. Morgan called earlier from the crime scene. From the way they're posed, he said they could be possible stand-ins for a lost child  a daughter or a sister, so I cross checked the ownership of the vehicles that run with the tires we found prints of at the scene, and I got a name. Like one.”

“Great work, Penelope, send it over.” 

Hotch dropped the call and looked back up at Spencer, readying himself to give orders and push the issue. 

Again, their standoff was interrupted. 

“Hotch,” JJ rushed in, carrying a radio dispatcher, face white, and filled with worry. “You need to hear this.”

“Witness reported an abduction on East and 7th, patrol surveyed the scene and found a cellphone. Identifying information suggests it belongs to a Y/N Hotchner. We're bringing it into the stat-” 

Hotch stood so fast his chair almost crashed to the floor. He stood so fast that he barely had time to dodge the lunge Spencer took in his direction, fist pulled back. It would connect, given the chance  he knew it would. He'd been the one to teach Spencer to throw a punch in the first place. 

Morgan insinuated himself between the two men before, and blood could be shed, quickly pulling Spencer back as Rossi, too, rushed into the room to diffuse the situation. 

“One hour. I've been asking you for one hour where she went, and you wouldn't answer me. You made her leave her gun behind.” 

It wasn't exactly a shout, but there was something broken in his voice, as of his mouth had filled with blood and he could only spit hate at a man who'd been a mentor to him until seconds before. 

“If she's hurt- fuck, if even a hair on her head is out of place, I'll-” 

“What, Spencer? What will you do? She's my daughter. What could you do that-”

“She's my girlfriend! She's my girlfriend, she's the love of my life. God, I want to marry her, I have the ring, I have the proposal planned, all that was left was telling you and then asking her, but you've been such a dick to her about this job, and about cases, and God knows what else, that she doesn't want to say anything to you, and now you've driven her away and she's fucking gone. And she could be hurt or in danger or d-de…” 

He crumpled to the floor, Morgan still holding him as his legs gave way beneath him. 

Nobody moved for what felt like hours, still in their grief, shock, some just nervous to see what would happen next. 

“You've been in this situation before, Hotch. So have I. It's …. It hasn't ended well for us before.” 

The words were so final, so defeated that they sucked the air out of the room.

“Morgan,” Hotch started quietly, eyes still locked with Reid's, still staring down the reflection of his own despair.

“Get Garcia back on the line, I want confirmation that the vehicle that picked Y/N up is the same one that our unsub has been using to set up crime scenes. See if she can lift a name and an address. Rossi, if he's skilled enough to pick up an FBI Agent unaware, we need a SWAT team, get one on standby.”

Slowly growing in volume, he continued, as the room started moving at his signal. 

“JJ, Tara, take over where Reid left off with the geographical profile. Look at Y/N's last known location and how far a car could've gotten in the last 24 minutes.” 

He paused again, staring Reid down. 

“Reid, you're with me.” 

xxxxx

It took you a few seconds to gain a sense of your surroundings when you came to. Partially because of the drug induced migraine splitting your head, and partially because of the mess of ribbons and stuffed toys you'd woken up in. 

A change of clothes, and hands tied to what seemed to be a children's bed and you felt so grossly vulnerable your body shook with a few harsh sobs before you regained your composure and remembered your training. 

The knots on the rope holding your hands were tight. There wasn't much room to move with them pinned above your head, but you recognised them as naval knots. Your unsub had experience at sea, recreational or professional you'd yet to determine. 

Looking around again, you looked for entries and exits, wanting to know how the unsub would come in again and how you could get out. 

There were no windows, but a set of stairs leading up towards a solid door told you that you'd been locked inside a basement. A basement decorated similarly to a child's bedroom. 

Dimly lit by a mass of fairy lights, the room seemed covered head to toe in teddy bears, dolls, and children's books, a sturdy handmade doll’s house standing in the corner of the room. 

Faintly, you heard the creaking of floorboards above you before the handle of the basement door rattled and more light poured in. 

“I bought you breakfast, cupcake.” 

There was no time to feign unconsciousness again as your captor finally came into view. 

He was older than middle-aged, slightly wider around the midsection than you assumed he'd been in his youth. His hair was closely cropped and laid neatly, leading you to suspect he was former military. 

“Oh, good, you're awake. What do you want to do today, cupcake? Daddy has some time off now, I can play with you all you want.” 

You moved slowly, pushing yourself up to a seated position so you could bend your arms a bit. But you didn't look away, needing to keep him in your line of sight the entire time.

“Where am I?” You asked slowly, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Wow, you must've had a deep sleep cupcake. You're in your bedroom, silly!”

The man's sprightly tone was disconcerting, and you could see a muscle in his forehead twitch slightly as you spoke. 

“O-of course. My mistake. Maybe I'm just still tired.”

He laid the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to you. You tried your best not to shy from his touch as he stroked your hair, but every muscle in your body tensed and pulled from him reflexively. 

A quick glance to the tray and you saw the food he'd brought you was a small cup of pills and a glass of water to rinse them down with. 

If he noticed your flinch, he said nothing, grabbing a hairbrush from the nightstand and beginning to comb through your hair slowly and deliberately, taking care like one would a daughter. 

“Daddy,” you took a chance, recalling the name he'd given himself earlier. “Can we play outside today? I want to go to the park.” 

He stopped moving, and you held your breath as his smile dropped. 

“No, sweetie. You know we don't go to parks.” 

“Why not? I really want to play there, Daddy, please!”

In seconds, his hands wrapped around your throat as he pushed you back down into the bed, holding you there with his tight, suffocating grip. 

“Shut the fuck up you little slut. I said we don't go to parks, you listen. I am your father, you are not being taken by one of those sick freaks again.” 

He released you as quick as he grabbed you and stood up, pacing as he attempted to regain composure. 

“You can draw or we can have a tea party but you know we can't go out. You know that cupcake, I've told you so many times.” 

He grabbed at his hair, pulling it from its carefully styled arrangement into a mess, his fingers leaving red marks against his white skin as he pushed and pulled his head. 

He breathed deeply, and you sat up, trying to regain your composure as you watched him lose his. 

“What was her name?” You whispered, half hoping he would hear you, half praying that he'd ignore you for the sake of his fantasy. 

“W-What?” 

“Your daughter. What was her name?” 

He focused on you again, but his hands - hands that you knew could and would choke the life out of you if you did something wrong again - his hands were shaking. 

You heard the floorboards creaking upstairs and decided to push your questioning, hoping it meant what you thought it did. 

“Why are you saying it like that, ‘was?’ Is. Her name is, your name is Laura, and you're my little cupcake.” 

“What happened to her?” You filled your voice with as much sympathy and understanding as you could muster, one eye on the basement door that was being slowly pushed open. One look at Morgan at the top of the stairs had your heart rate slowing to a calmer speed. You locked eyes with him for a second, halting him, and he nodded, waiting for your signal. 

“You, you're my cupcake, you look just like… She should look just like you.” 

The man sat on the bed again, stroking a hair out of your eye as his filled with tears. 

“Fifteen years. I looked for her for fifteen years, you know. If I hadn't taken her to that park-” 

“That must have been hard.” 

He nodded as he broke down in silent sobs. 

“They said… they said she probably died a day or two after we lost her. When they found her, she was…” he rested his head on your shoulder, let him cling to you as he mourned his daughter. 

“We couldn't identify her, but she had that teddy with her. The teddy with the cupcake in its hands. She never went anywhere without it. So we…we knew.

You looked at Morgan as he slowly made his descent into the room, closely followed by JJ. 

The man looked up into your eyes again, wiping the tears from his face. 

“She was only 8.” He looked defeated, and your heart broke for him, even as you wished to get as far away from him as you could physically muster. 

Morgan pulled him up and away from you as he secured the man with handcuffs, but his eyes remained locked on you. 

JJ untied you and guided you out, but you felt his gaze bite into you ever after you'd left the basement. 

As soon as you were above ground, you let your body divest itself of adrenaline, your legs buckling as JJ tried to catch you. Another set of arms was quicker, though, and you didn't even register Spencer's arrival before burying your head in his chest and letting your sobs escape you. 

He guided you to your feet and walked you out to the ambulance, his arms protectively wrapped around you, his lips peppering kisses along your hairline and forehead, anywhere he could reach. In moments, you were bundled into the ambulance, and three gentle voices were trying to calm you, to pry you away from your comfort doll.

You wondered if you'd die like the unsubs daughter had, if they'd find you clinging to Spencer the way she had to her teddy bear.

“Y/N,” your father's deep voice was clear and smooth, the only thing that was cutting through the wretched moment of pain you were enduring. 

You remembered yourself again, relinquishing your grip on Spencer and wiping the tears from your face as you finally looked towards Aaron Hotchner. 

The paramedics took their chance and began checking your vitals, working around you in a hurry. 

“Dad, I'm sorry, I was walking and didn't notice that he was behind me, I should've been more careful-”

“Y/N, it’s okay. You're okay now.” 

You nodded as he came closer. You ignored the tears in his eyes, trying not to break down again. It had been an age since you'd last witnessed him cry, at another crime scene with another family member and another unsub. You couldn't think about how close you'd come to making him relive his worst nightmare. 

Spencer's hand was still firm in yours, and you held it like a lifeline, though you were sure your nails had to be cutting him by now. It took another moment to register that he was holding onto you just as hard, that he was unmoving, still where he was usually a series of compulsive moments, tapping, hand wringing, fists clenching and releasing. 

You glanced between the men, who had now become quiet as they surveyed you, and noticed the tension. Before you could say anything, though, the paramedics took over. 

“We're going to get you to the hospital now, Agent, one coworker can accompany you in the vehicle, preferably one with knowledge of your medical history.”

Both men immediately moved forward again, as if ready to jump into the van, before turning again to each other. 

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself just as the buzzing in your head from the migraine grew louder. 

“Y/N, it's your choice. Who do you want to come?” Spencer said gently, his body still stiff with worry. 

“I'm her father. This isn't a question of who she likes better.”

“I have her medical records memorized, and I have more knowledge about the drugs the unsub gave her, but Y/N can choose for herself because she is a grown woman.”

You sighed and dropped the man's hand as the medics ushered you into the van fully, but the men were fully absorbed in their fight for dominance that they barely registered it. 

“JJ. JJ is coming with me,” You could see both of them turn back to you to argue, but you continued before they could. “Because I am a grown adult who knows her own medical history, and I don't need my father and my… coworker having territory wars over my wellbeing.” 

And possibly because she'd be the least awkward option to answer the questions about sexual activity and possibility of pregnancy around, but you really did not need to vocalize that. 

“Right now, I'm just a victim you've saved. Go and do your jobs and meet me at the hospital later because I am not doing overtime completing paperwork while on suspension.” 

JJ climbed up into the ambulance and the doors shut, letting you finally get a few moments peace as it began slowly making its way to whatever hospital was closest. 

“He knows, right?” You asked, covering your eyes with your hands as you braved for the answer. 

“Hotch? You could say that he figured it out.” 

“That bad?” 

“Spencer threw a punch at him. He tried to at least.” 

“What?!” Your body shot up, but the paramedic gently forced you back into a laid position, giving you a warning look to stay put as she checked your blood pressure. 

“Don't be too hard on him, Y/N. He thought he was going to lose you. They both did. I don't think either of them would survive it happening again.” 

The guilt hit you right in the chest as you nodded and dropped the conversation. 

“Maybe I should've let Spencer come with me.” 

“Why?” JJ asked, not offended bit curious. 

“Because I'm not entirely sure my father won't throw that punch back at him now he knows I'm okay. It's hard being in a relationship if one of you is dead.” 

The older woman chuckled slightly, and you settled back down, letting the car movements rock you into sleep. 

xxxxx

A few hours later and some quietly bickering voices pulled you from the rest you'd so sorely needed. Without even opening your eyes, you knew they'd both subtly scrambled to your bed to make sure you were comfortable. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, wiping your eyes carefully as you tried to sit up, arms still aching from being tied up. 

“Oh shit-” you exclaimed after seeing your boyfriends freshly split lip. 

“Dad, what the fuck?” 

“Y/N, it's fine. It doesn't hurt.” 

“Aaron Hotchner, do you have nothing to say for yourself?” You tried to put all of tour anger into the words as you said them, bit he looked at you again with his straight face, and you crumpled under the pressure. 

“I won't…I'm not going to object. I just ask you to keep your private life separate from your work.” 

“And you're going to punch my boyfriend while I'm unconscious, so I can't defend him.” 

“I'm still your father, and he deserved it.” 

You looked back over to Spencer, who was quite notably not meeting your eyes. 

“Do I want to know?” 

“I'm leaving now. Jack will be here soon. He wants to check on you now that school is over. We told him you were hurt trying to save a sick man.” 

“Thank you, dad.” 

He nodded at you and left you alone in your hospital room with Spencer. 

“Why did you deserve it?” You whisper shouted the moment you assumed he was out of earshot. 

“The doctor came in and asked about some old bruises on your upper thighs. And ass. And chest. I had to admit they weren't sustained during the kidnapping, and Hotch wasn't pleased.” 

You huffed out a sound halfway between incredulous and a strangled moan of shame as you curcled yourself up into a ball and tried your best to die. 

“Great. Wonderful.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he thought it was signs of domestic violence and not just rough...sex.” 

“Yes, Spencer, that makes me feel entirely more comfortable with the situation.” 

Registering the sarcasm in your voice, he quieted down again, settling into the chair by your bedside and grabbing your hand. 

You sat silently together for a few minutes before either of you said anything. 

“I'm sorry. I know you didn't want him to find out.” 

“Spencer, you don't have to apologise. All things considered, this is possibly the best way he could've found out.”

“My busted lip suggests otherwise, I think.” 

“And a whole lot more would've been busted if he caught us any other time. Besides, I already lost my job, so there's not much else at stake anymore.” 

The words stung you as you said them, but you did still feel the weight of your dismissal in your chest, spreading miserably through your bones. 

“Does your head still hurt?”

“Not really, why?”

“You're not as perceptive as you usually are.”

You shot him a confused look as he smiled softly down at you, offering a nod towards the small coffee table under the window of your hospital room. 

There on your table sat your creds and your gun. The silent acknowledgement you'd been waiting for from your father. 

Spencer sat by you as you did your best to hold off the tears. He let you pretend there was something in your eye, let you wonder if your eyes had become watery because of dust from the basement. He quietly held your hand as you grinned and grinned until you pulled him in for a kiss and held him close to you. 

His lips were soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you even as he tried to hold himself up and off you so he didn't hurt you. 

“You know,” you said, punctuating each word with another sweet kiss. “This means- that- you're- stuck- with- me.” 

He laughed into your final kiss, finally pulling back for more air, studying your face as if he were trying to memorize it. 

“That was never the issue.” 

“Oh really, and what was?”

He kissed your again, slow and deep this time, taking his time working his hands down from your hair to your neck to cup your face so you were opened up to him, letting his lips and tongue explore everything he wanted to. He pulled away eventually and instinctively your lips tried to chase his, even as he pulled out of reach. 

“Making sure you stayed by my side.” 

[moonsaver]

Thinking ab Yan!Dr. Ratio in arranged marriage.. in whichever setting, I dont know

He doesn't like the idea of it at all. He opposes it until he can't. It would have to be a painstakingly limiting situation for him to even marry anyone, especially someone that's arranged.

When it comes to actually talking with him and setting out boundaries – he's not interested at all. He doesn't want to know you, he doesn't care, and he thinks it most likely won't change, and he'll remain uninterested..

If it weren't for the fact he's so damn touch starved.

He finds out by a lazy morning in the kitchen, your hands accidentally brushing each others as both of you carry on your routines in your own world. He doesn't realise ‐its just a brief feeling of nice. And his hand subconsciously tilts a bit to touch yours again, to emptiness. Your hand already moved away. And Aeons, he just can't get the feeling out of his head. He loved that brief moment where you both touched and he hates it.

And neither of you actually realises just how clingy he is, because he builds up to it so slowly. He pulls you along to some of his lectures, and sometimes you protest. He grabs your hand, and secretly relishes just how good the contact feels. He says there's something on your face with an annoyed tone, and brushes it off, his fingers lingering near your lips a little longer than they should. Whenever you walk by him, your scent practically intoxicates him, his head whips up from whichever book he fancied that day just to find the source of the scent, which he knows deep down, very well, it has always been you.

And it infuriates him. You have such a grip on him that it drives him up a wall.

And Aeons, he loves the feeling so so much.

He forces you to take a bath with him, telling you to keep the bathrobe on if you want to but it is a must that you join him. He tells you to move closer with a stern voice, impatience bubbling inside of him, all covered up with his signature scowl. The water sloshes as you move and his hand almost eagerly snakes around your waist, holding you snug against him. He fills the noise by asking you all sorts of things, calling you an idiot, and going on a ramble about some or the other complicated topic, trying so hard to not just hold you and bite into your shoulder, arm, neck, wherever his eyes can see your skin. You're practically driving him feral.

Oh dear, he swears he doesn't care about you. He cares even less about your personal life and whatever daily affairs you carry on. It's none of his business and he doesn't want it. But seeing you talk and become so chummy with another man boils a kind of anger he's never experienced before. As if to prove him wrong, Veritas tells you to sleep beside him at night, not answering your "why"s and shutting you up in an instant with something or the other. The summer heat is bad, but it's even worse with Veritas practically sticking himself to you, the direct skin-to-skin contact creating an absurd amount of sweat and humidity under the covers. His arms just tighten their grip around you if you ask him to get off. He won't. He needs to prove to himself, that bumbling buffoon won't ever get as close to you as he can. He will make sure of it.

And suddenly, he starts presenting just how possessive he is behind doors. He always keeps an eye on what you're up to from behind you, telling you to stop overthinking and to just come to him, that it'll take you months to understand this concept, and to just let him help you instead. Who else would tolerate you as well as him? Just let his hand keep it's deathly grip on your thigh, or arm, maybe even your waist. Its a fair exchange, and he's being generous, when it really comes down to it. Ugh, you're testing his patience too much. Just.. let him shut you up with a harsh kiss, don't ask, and let him continue. Keep listening, or he'll test you, and he won't go easy on you if you get those questions wrong. He has a lot of pent up frustration about you, anyway. You'll only give him a reason to take it out on you.

Don't bother going outside. Just invite your friends here, instead. You'll waste more than half your break-time just travelling alone. Maybe your idiot friends can join in on the study sessions, so Veritas knows what kind of people you enjoy surrounding yourself with. Of course, he isn't amused at all. Idiots, the lot of them. Is this who entertains you? He scoffs. Perhaps letting you talk to them in the first place was a mistake. Yes, of course.. just talk to him, instead. He's much better than them. You'll only waste your time around them.

[strawberrybyers]

i feel like it actually is important to talk about noah’s stance on palestine especially within the byler tag considering he plays a character within the ship that we talk about A LOT.

noah posting a video with “zionism is sexy” stickers is disgusting. it’s dehumanizing. the way him and his friend are smiling in the pic?? i’m sorry that’s not being “uneducated” or “young and stupid”. he knows what is going on in palestine (also in case you weren’t aware— what’s happening in palestine isn’t new!! palestinians have been suffering for decades!!) and he chose his stance on it. anyone that can defend and support a genocide lacks good morals and definitely makes me view them in a negative light.

i won’t apologize for being disgusted and repulsed by noah’s posts. he’s literally saying a mass murder of people is okay… and that’s not being hyperbolic because the truth is that supporting israel = the murder of palestinians. like that’s literally what is happening. funding and support to israel is giving the government more power to kill the people in gaza. it’s not a complicated subject the way people want to make it seem. that’s literally what’s been fucking happening and it is important to not remain silent about it. there’s no good enough reason to stay silent on a genocide. there are petitions to sign, phone numbers to call your local politicians, protests to attend, blogs to follow and posts to share from people who are posting updates of what’s going on, donation links to donate to and share… don’t let yourself or anyone else make you believe you can’t do anything because there are things out there that you can do that does make a difference. it may not seem like much, but it does a lot more than staying silent.

very unfortunate that noah has decided to share zionist views and maybe one day he’ll acknowledge and question why he supported the death and displacement of palestinians, but the blood is already on his hands and the world won’t forget.

[the-xolotl]

Morning Kisses

Alastor x gn!Reader

ღ Itty bitty snip !

ღ a/n: this was originally only a warm-up posted to a discord server but a comment from @theradioshusband made me want to post it as well, so thank him :33

summary: Sometimes it’s nice waking up before Alastor because you get some extra cuddles.

ღ TAGS: sfw, just kisses and fluff

It’s rare to ever wake up before he does, the man seems to either never sleep or a perfectly attuned internal clock for dawn. But there are days like today when you rise from your own slumber with his warm body next to you, even with an arm wrapped protectively around your middle. Alastor has you pressed up against his chest, nose firmly pressed against your neck around your pulse point area, he looked peaceful while he slept, almost innocent with relaxed features with a soft smile.

Slowly and gently, you turned over to face him. You didn’t want to wake him just yet. Wanting to admire the cute sight that you’ve been gifted with. However, once you had made the 180° turn his arms tightened around you and he buried his face into your chest. You had to bite your lip to get a giggle. Not very long ago Alastor himself had protested having shared living spaces, trying to convince you that having independence from one another would be better, except now even when he doesn’t admit it he enjoyed these opportunities to hold you. Show you some affection behind closed doors and away from prying eyes.

The deer demon isn’t much for PDA, public or otherwise. He showed affection in different ways, his own ways. But there came reserved moments like these where he indulged you, and himself, in sweet touches and whispered nothings. The moments you could live in your own bubble together and ironically made your own little piece of heaven here in hell. You could stay like this forever if you could, but alas, there are duties and responsibilities that you know Alastor is nothing less than punctual to.

With a gentle hand, you run your fingers through his currently messy red hair. Your nails traced the back of his ears making them unconsciously twitch. It’s then you hear a soft groan.

“Good morning, deerling,” you whisper, leaning down to deliver soft kisses to his cheek. This is your favorite way to wake him up; peppering him with kisses while he’s still sleepy enough to not stop you from smothering him. “You were slow to rise today,” chuckling lowly your lips travel down to his to peck him, “You have to get up.”

Alastor blinked the sleep out of his eyes searching for the clock. “Good morning, darling,” the low reverb of his morning voice seemed to echo in your own chest. His radio filter is usually off until he’s fully awake. A little treat you learned about when you started waking up with him. “Seems I’ve overslept today. You’re getting me into bad habits.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that it made you giggle. “What do I have to do you waking up late?” you brush a stray strand of hair from his face, “It’s not my fault I’m comfortable to sleep with, silly.”

And yet despite his remark, he still hasn’t unwrapped from you. Alastor wasn’t that complicated of a creature, one just needed to learn to read him. He’s used to hiding or lying about his own emotions, it came as natural as breathing and that included his feelings about you. It took a lot of effort to get him to his point but there was still a lot of work to do in the spoken honesty department. For now, you didn’t quite mind it.

He hummed dismissively at your words pulling you into an actual kiss. Tender, warm. A gentleness he’s reserved for you and you alone. It’s slow, with purpose and his hand is now cradling your cheek. His thumb caresses the skin of your face, the very tip of his talon gracing it sending a shiver down your back. But the kiss doesn’t deepen or become heated. It stays just as it is; innocent and soft. The kind of kiss that has you smiling against his lips and don’t want to pull away until you need air.

“Simply starting the day off the right way, dear.” And with a last kiss to your forehead, he untangles himself from you to get out of bed. You almost want to groan at the loss of contact but you know there wouldn’t be any convincing him to stay any little longer. He already woke up “late” by his standards. So instead you watch him as he dresses and fixes himself up in his usual dapper attire ready to go about the hotel as per usual.

“You can sleep in here longer if you wish, sweetheart. It’s still pretty early for you,” he offered coming up to the foot of the bed, his hand coming to rest atop your head, patting you. “But don’t sleep for too long. It’s not good for you to be in bed for so long.”

With that, he vanishes into the void. Not without his shadow lingering behind for a second longer, he grabbed the shadow of your hand that dangled off the edge of the bed kissing your knuckles before also scurrying away. You giggled to yourself thinking, progress.

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

—

word dividers were done by ME with @ cafekitsune template — give proper credit if you use it.

[hlficlibrary]

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🎒 so let's cross the lines we lost by @thecoloursneverfade {E, 165k}

Louis lives a not so quiet life on a not so quiet street. Starting university was supposed to be easy, that is, until he realises his new neighbour is Harry Styles, and they kind of hate each other, so falling for him is definitely out of the question.

(or: Harry and Louis have a complicated past, Niall throws too many parties, Zayn is definitely not pining, and Liam just wants everyone to get along)

🎒 i want you so much (but i hate your guts) by becauselarry / @obviouslybecauselarry {M, 83k}

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

🎒 And I'll judge the cover by the book by harrystylesandstuff {M, 73k}

At twenty years old Harry has his life figured out. He’ll graduate from the private University of Buckingham and move to Oxford to study journalism. He’ll meet someone who shares his values and accepts who he is, and apply everything his successful parents have taught him.

At twenty-two years old Louis has no clue what he wants in life. He’s not sure he’ll pass the year and doesn’t know where he’ll go after that. He spends his time smoking away his doubts about himself with his friends and all he cares about is making sure his family doesn’t fall apart.

They don’t belong together.

Or a Private University AU where Harry is a queer posh prince, Louis is a closeted troublemaker, and neither expect to understand each other the way they will.

🎒 always you (i should have known) by 28goldensfics / @28goldens {T, 60k}

“Oi, now we’re talking. Came running to ol’ Tomlinson for help, gotta say Harold,” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Harry watched as his eyes looked him over. “It's very out of character for you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t feel too special, you're my last choice,” Harry subconsciously crossed his arms as well, giving Louis his own look over.

“Oh, that's a lot of power, I’m your last resort!” He wagged his finger at him, letting out a cackle. “Alright, hit me with it.”

Harry’s lips pursed as he slowly started to regret the words about to spill out of his mouth, “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

or the one where harry and louis cant stand each other and fake date to make someone jealous.

🎒 Love's On The Line, Is That Your Final Answer? by PearlyDewdrops {E, 53k}

Harry can’t believe it when Louis, the boy he’s always had a tempestuous rivalry with, asks him to be his boyfriend. Well, pose as his boyfriend, that is—for a new television game show in which young couples are quizzed on how well they know each other for a jackpot of thirty grand.

Reluctantly, Harry agrees—because he's got student loans to pay off, hasn't he? What's the harm? And he can totally deal with keeping his secret thing for Louis under wraps too. This is all just to win some money. It's fine. No big deal. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, everything. Obviously.

🎒 catch me if i fall by @shimmeringevil {E, 47k}

“You– how do you–” Louis stammers before attempting to compose himself, fighting off the tidal wave of fear that threatens to wash him away in its wake. “No. You don’t. You don’t know.”

Every protest falling from his lips is in vain, because despite what he keeps telling himself, Harry knows.

Harry's widening smirk is answer enough as he steps forward slowly, walking up until he’s right in Louis’ space.

“You look like you need some time to process things,” he whispers with false-earnestness. Sliding a hand under Louis’ chin, Harry tilts his head so Louis is forced to look up at him. “Why don’t we take a little break and start up again later, so you can mull things over?”

OR - Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

🎒 Through a Mirror Dimly by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {M, 38k}

Louis Tomlinson, in his third year at university, does not expect nor want the roommate that is being assigned to his room.

Harry Styles, in his first year at university, has just been kicked out of one dorm and doesn't want to deal with yet another snobby, rich roommate.

They don't get along, and that's just how it is, until circumstances force them to reevaluate.

🎒 an ocean in my veins (you'll be diving in) by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst {E, 31k}

But, since Niall is so talkative to literally anyone with a working mouth, it means that when Louis Tomlinson started to take a shine to him, Harry started to hate him.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t just Harry and Niall, and whoever else wanted to join their antics. It was Harry and Niall and Louis.

Did Harry mention that Louis is a stupid fucking prick? He wants to make sure that’s clear.

[or, harry and louis hate each other and niall just wants everyone to get along]

🎒 don't make this easy (i want you to mean it) by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze {E, 24k}

“Harry’s a player. All he does is chat everyone up. And guys like him are just--so ugh. He’s got that arrogant, self-assured smirk plastered to his face all the time. Always smug and stupid, like he could get anyone he lays his eyes on. All he does is make me mad and laugh all the time like he knows something that I don’t. That is so annoying.”

“But that’s just Harry,” Niall shrugged at Louis. “He doesn’t even try to flirt or anything. He’s just naturally charming, but that doesn’t mean he’s a player nor that he’s trying to get into everyone's pants. He’s just friendly. And he likes you. He doesn’t usually fall for people, but he fell for you.”

“Oh, should I feel special then?” Louis asked, snorting and rolling his eyes.

or Harry’s a frat boy who is head over heels for Louis and Louis wants nothing to do with him.

🎒 it's not a walk in the park to love each other by maroonmoonlouis (E, 24k}

“Um, where is your stuff? Have you even packed?” Harry tries not to sound irritated. Louis looks up to level him with an unimpressed glare.

“If you had bothered to pay attention to the news, you would know that I’m pretty sure I can’t leave this apartment.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry demands, hoping his panic doesn’t show. If Louis missed his flight, Harry will personally pay out of pocket for a new one. He is that desperate for his alone time.

Or the one where Harry and Louis are roommates forced to quarantine together, but they hate each other very much a lot.

🎒 Love Me Please by @angelichl {E, 23k}

Louis hates Harry, which is fine because he would really rather prefer to avoid him at all costs.

The only problem?

They're soulmates.

🎒 I Didn't Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) by @allwaswell16 {E, 20k}

These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course.

Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...

🎒 Spinning Out Waiting for You by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose {M, 18k}

Harry Styles is a year and a half away from graduating with a masters in potions and he has one huge milestone to reach in his academy career: the Matching Ceremony.

From Halloween night until graduation, matched witches and familiars will have to create a talisman to be a physical representation of their bond. One for the witch and one for the familiar. Most pairings last an entire lifetime.

If only it were that simple.

🎒 if it looks like, feels like, tastes like love... by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix {T, 16k}

Niall has an easygoing smile on his face, bright and unbothered, as if he isn’t facilitating a lunch between Harry and the one person he might truly hate. “Niall. Louis,” Harry greets them both, somewhat strained. Louis doesn’t even look up at him. Harry sighs, taking a seat next to Niall and grabbing for the sandwich on the table. “Hear me out,” Niall says, cutting right to the chase. “Family housing.”

Or, the one where harry and louis hate each other but pretend to date to be able to live in university 'family housing', zayn and liam are their nosy next door neighbors, and niall is the friend who made it all happen.

🎒 oh so familiar by @insightfulinsomniac {E, 13k}

When Harry transferred to the University of Mestonwood, he hoped that he'd finally fit in. As a witch, he's much less likely to feel isolated on an entirely supernatural campus, right?

Wrong. Thanks to the cold-shoulder efforts of Louis Tomlinson, president of the vampire Coven, Harry still feels the sting of rejection from the most gorgeous boy on campus. It's doubly frustrating that everyone else, even Harry's only close friend, Niall, seems to think Louis is a great guy.

Harry vows to actively ignore Louis in return, but his plans are foiled when his familiar, Oli, starts turning off their telepathic connection during Harry's classes. It doesn't take long for Harry to find out where Oli is disappearing to - or, rather, who he is disappearing to.

A story of misguided enemies to lovers brought together by a stubborn orange tabby.

🎒 Do You Like My Sweater? by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou {E, 13k}

“Look, for a Sadie Hawkins dance the omegas are supposed to invite the alphas instead of the other way around.”

Niall and Liam shared a look. “That… sounds like the sort of thing you would usually be all over, Lou,” Liam said, face pinched in confusion. Niall nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, if omegas were hosting it,” Louis replied sourly. “It’s one thing if we decide that we’re going to ask the alphas for a change. It’s insulting that they think we need their permission.”

When Harry's alpha fraternity decides to host a Sadie Hawkins dance, outspoken omega Louis has a thing or two to say about it.

🎒 Where Do We Go Now by @jaerie {E, 10k}

Louis goes off to college ready to start a fresh life away from the oppressive alphas of his pack. The odds aren't in his favour when his new dorm mate turns out to be an alpha. Louis hates alphas.

🎒 Can't Buy My Love, Can Buy Me Dinner by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 {G, 9k}

Is it ethical to accept a dinner date for the free food? And will you hate me when I go anyway?

Fact 1: Louis hates Harry Styles. Fact 2: Louis is temporarily living off toast and spaghetti hoops. Fact 3: ...Louis may be semi-accidentally dating his worst enemy.

🎒 Cut me up, kiss me harder by @lunarheslwt (M, 9k}

“Y’know, you push and push and you’re mouthy and defiant, but it’s all an act isn’t it,” Harry pressed tauntingly. He was helpless to not tilt Louis’ face back up to him by placing a hand under his chin. Louis’ eyes fluttered in response. “You just want to be roughed up a little,” he continued, voice dropping. Louis swallowed harshly, keening. “You just want to be made to take it.” “God, shut UP!!” Louis hissed, fisting roughly at his shirt. “You don’t want that either,” Harry mumbled. “Are you like this with every other omega you fuck too? How does anyone,” Louis seethed, crowding into his space further, “beg you to fuck them when you’re so full of it?” “Who said they do?” Harry asked. “Unless,” he began, voice devious, “You’re speaking for yourself. Is that it? Are you gonna beg for my knot, then? Hmm?” “Shut the fuck up,” Louis bit out. Harry had no time to think before Louis crashed his lips onto his again.

Or, a group of friends, a slightly drunk alternate version of spin the bottle, and the universe having a wicked sense of humour may just be enough to bring one bratty omega and a tired-of-said-omega’s-bullshit alpha closer than they’ve ever been. In more ways than one.

🎒 Lock On by thinlines / @thinlinez {E, 8k}

“Sure you don’t wanna do this? It’s fifty pounds a throw, my man.” The alpha winked as Louis froze before turning slowly back to face him. The twinkle in Liam’s eyes meant that he knew Louis had taken the bait. “Fifty pounds?” Louis exhaled as Liam nodded, holding the water balloon further out. The smaller alpha swallowed thickly. “Why didn’t you say so?”

In which a missed water balloon throw might have led Alpha Louis to the world's most difficult omega

[suzukiblu]

what do you have for Clark kent?

Clark is the last son of Krypton.

Clark is the last of Krypton.

At least, that's what he thought thirty seconds ago.

"Uh," the kid standing in the middle of the broken-up Metropolis street in front of him says awkwardly, a gloved hand half-covering the bright and bold and undeniable emblem on his chest. There's a lot of surrounding property damage, a lot of staring civilians hovering on the sidewalk, and some very upset police officers cuffing up some very unconscious metahuman gang members. Clark can't even begin to bring himself to care about any of it. "Hey . . . ?"

"Hello," Diana says, raising a curious eyebrow at both the kid and the ridiculous mess that's somehow been made of the street. From the look of it maybe one of those gang members had some kind of tectonic-based abilities or something similar, but Clark continues not to care. "It seems we've encountered an admirer of yours, Kal."

"You're wearing that crest without permission," Bruce says flatly, looking less amused than Clark has seen him since the last time someone died on the League's watch.

Clark, meanwhile, can't say anything at all.

"Hey, Superman gave me permission, okay?!" the kid protests, bristling defensively. Clutching the emblem . . . protectively. Like he's afraid to have it taken away. "Just not, uh . . . this one."

"This one." Bruce frowns. The kid flattens his hand against his chest and just . . . shrugs, looking away. Clark can't look away from him at all. He looks like . . . he looks . . .

"Yeah," the kid says, gesturing a little directionlessly with his free hand. "I'm kinda not, like . . . local? There was like this whole thing, like with Hypertime and–it's complicated, okay? Just, like, it's an alternate reality issue. I'm sort of, uh . . . lost. Or–stranded, more like. I guess more like . . . stranded."

The kid swallows. Drops his hand away from the emblem and folds his arms over it instead.

Keeps standing there, looking like . . .

"Are you, now," Bruce says neutrally, and he's definitely going somewhere with that, but–

"You're Kryptonian," Clark blurts, because he can't hold the words back a moment longer. Diana and Bruce both go very still beside him. The kid just looks surprised.

"Uh, not really?" he says. "I mean, okay, sort of. I'm a binary clone of . . . you know, like a hybrid? Um, they based me off, well . . . our Superman. And then, like, stitched me up with human DNA to hold me together 'cuz the Kryptonian genome is a freaking nightmare and they couldn't really figure it out all that well, so otherwise I would've degraded and–uh. Sorry."

Clark feels something he doesn't think he's ever felt in his life, looking at this kid. Feels like he's been dragging himself through the uncanny valley and finally seen the other side of the thing; like he's finally crossed through the fog and darkness and come out into the clear light of day and seen what people are actually supposed to look like. Everything about him is just . . . right. The pitch of his voice, the slope of his shoulders, the way the sunlight reflects off his skin, the pattern of spokes in his irises, the color of his eyes, the weight of him in the world . . .

Clark wants to snatch this kid up and wrap him in his cape and never let anything else touch him. Never let him be hurt or upset or–or alone. Never. Not for anything.

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met . . . when they first . . .

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met their child. A sense of awe and wonder and . . . and . . .

He feels like he felt the first time he left the atmosphere and saw all of Earth all at once. Everything on it, everyone on it. The whole thing all together, all the same. Perfect.

Complete.

He's never loved anything this immediately, Clark realizes distantly. Not even that first full glimpse of Earth.

He can't imagine how he ever, ever could have.

"What's your name?" he asks, unable to shake the intensity of emotion held painfully tight in his chest. Not even wanting to shake it.

The kid looks–worried, almost. Puts his hands behind his back. Clark can see the full image of the El crest emblazoned in pride of place across his chest for the first time, and it makes him feel weak.

"Superboy," the kid says. "Um . . . Kon-El."

Clark's heart could burst, hearing that.

Or break.

"Kon-El," he echoes, forcing himself not to step in closer; not to crowd the kid. "I had a . . . on Krypton, before it was destroyed, there was . . ."

"A cousin. From the, uh, second house of El," the kid–Kon-El–agrees, shifting just barely anxiously. "My Superman said I . . . reminded him of him, like from what he saw in the recordings and all? So, uh . . ."

"I named you after him?" Clark asks wonderingly. He would've given the kid a human name over a Kryptonian one, himself, but then again, a public street in an alternate dimension isn't really the place for him to be introducing himself as "Jon Kent" or anything similar. Kon nods stiffly, drawing himself up a bit.

"Yeah," he says. "He said, uh–um. He said Kon-El was strong-willed. And . . . uh . . ."

He trails off, looking nervous, and then visibly steels himself and looks defensive again instead.

"He said I was family," he says, squaring his shoulders and lifting his jaw, like he's actually expecting someone to argue with him or something. "So he gave me that name."

Clark doesn't know who the hell made this kid so much as hesitate over saying that to any version of him that isn't an active supervillain, but he thinks he'd like to throw them into the Phantom Zone for a century or two. Just . . . that's all.

Or maybe three.

[trans-axolotl]

hi! saw your recent posts and wanted to ask for some advice, if that's okay. I'm a wheelchair user and I really want to get more involved in protests, but I feel pretty out of my depth. A lot of protests seem inaccessible and I just have a lot of questions about how things would work as a wheelchair user. I guess, do you have any tips about protesting as a wheelchair user and how you deal with inaccessibility?

Thank you!!

Hey anon! completely okay to ask for advice about this--I feel very passionate about this topic and am happy to share some tips! disclaimer that not all of the tips I share here are going to be applicable to everyone's situation--even among wheelchair users, we have so many unique situations, types of wheelchairs, health variations, other medical devices, etc etc. and many of us are multiply marginalized, which can also shape our experiences pretty significantly. so i'll share some general tips, and feel free to take what works for you and ignore the rest! most of this is based on my experience in the type of protests I go to in my city, so I also understand that this advice might not be applicable to every type of protest in every location. i've been involved in many types of protests for the past 9 years, from marches to die-ins to encampments, and have dealt with many situations including tear gas, riot cops, police brutality, fascist agitators, getting arrested, and many different types of high risk tactics. i don't want to position myself as an expert or anything, because i'm always learning and growing, but I do just want to share that for context!

I think the first thing I want to say is just to affirm that it is absolutely possible for wheelchair users to get involved in all kinds of protests, including higher risk and escalated protests. I'll focus on actual on the ground protests in this post because that's what you asked about, but know there are many many ways to get involved with organizing if protesting in the streets is not accessible for you. There are many of us involved in these type of actions already and figuring out ways to make it work for us, so you are not alone in that. I won't lie that it can be complicated, there's a lot of inaccessibility, and some shit might not be possible, but a lot of stuff can be made possible if we get creative.

Before the Protest

For me, one of the most helpful things is trying to find out as much information as possible before the protest, so that I can have a really good plan going in. Sometimes this might be more difficult, because there might be legitimate security culture reasons that a march route can't be announced publicly, for example, or specific tactics aren't posted about on social media in order to keep people safe from police surveillance. But when it is possible, this is the type of information I like to figure out:

What is the location? is it a stationary protest like a sit in or an encampment? is it a march? what is the route? how long is the route? are there obstacles in the route? are there curb cuts? is there hills? construction? other barriers? are there easily accessible exit routes? is there pavement, grass, gravel, etc? are there accessible transit stops nearby? are there accessible bathrooms nearby? if it's indoors, are there elevators and ramps?

A lot of times, to find out this information, I look through google maps street view, ask friends, or go in person if i can beforehand. for me, as a manual wheelchair user, I can deal with a lot of of nonideal circumstances such as hills, curbs, rough terrain, especially when I have a protest buddy who can help push me when needed, but it helps to know if i'm going to have to deal with those situations. Often times, protests are held in pretty inaccessible locations. Sometimes, this is because organizers are not considering accessibility which pisses me off, but sometimes, there are legitimate strategic reasons that we might need to protest at an inaccessible location because of the specific circumstances of the protest. (maybe we're even protesting at it because it's inaccessible!) You'll know best about what geographic features are inaccessible deal breakers for you and having that kind of information can help you make a decision about whether it's possible to attend.

What is the risk level? What tactics are being used? Are people intentionally risking arrest? What patterns of repression and brutality are most commonly used by cops in your city? How high is the risk of chemical weapons?

This can be really hard to predict--there's no way to ever say for certain how cops are going to respond and we can't see the future. But paying attention to how cops in your city have been responding to protests and learning the patterns of what types of protests are more high risk can help us make more informed guesses. We can reasonably estimate that a silent vigil in the daytime is likely going to be lower risk than a occupation of a building, for example. And for some of these things--there's no real way to make getting tear gassed an "accessible" experience for anyone, but for some of us, the consequences might be more severe than others. I have a comrade who uses a ventilator who cannot come to protests where we think there's a risk of chemical weapons, so that can be really important information to try to figure out beforehand.

What do I need to practice? Do I need to teach my comrades how to de-arrest a wheelchair user? Do we need to practice lifting me and my wheelchair over a barricade? Do I need to teach my comrades the safest places to hold onto my wheelchair if we're locking arms and moving as a line? Do I need to practice wheelies to get over curbs? How will I plan to protect the electrical parts of my wheelchair from chemical weapons? etc.

For higher risk protests there might be a lot of different tactics that we can use to navigate things like barricades, arrests, facing down a riot line of cops, etc. It is so, so helpful to be able to practice these skills with your protest buddies before a protest, so that when these situations start happening in a chaotic, fast moving environment, you and your comrades are prepared to navigate the inaccessibility that can come with a lot of these situations. You'll know what is possible for you and be the expert on what feels important to prepare for before an action.

2. At the Protest

Navigating a Crowd. To be honest this can be one of the most frustrating things for me to deal with while at protests. A lot of people are not aware of their surroundings, areas will get very crowded with little space to navigate, and people will block my view. The main ways I try to deal with this are by trying to be in the front of a march or on the sides of a march when possible, to try to have the most space to navigate. As we move, I continually scan our location to find the closest accessible exit route, paying attention to where cops are, curb cuts, etc. My protest buddies know that if we're in a middle of a crowd, they need to provide me with updates about cop movements or any other information that I can't see. I get loud and tell people to get out of my way when I need to. I try to stay near other mobility aid users, bike marshals, or people with wagons because they often leave more room for me to navigate.

Roles. There are lots of different roles we can take on at a protest that might make it easier for us to navigate. I sometimes like to join the bike marshals and help block off roads and intersections. Maybe you have medic training and you act as a street medic. Maybe it's more accessible to act as a scout and communicate police movement to your comrades. Other roles could include leading chants, handing out supplies like water and masks, acting as a legal observer, filming the cops, organizing art builds beforehand, etc.

Community. It's been super, super important for me to always go to a protest with a protest buddy so that we can watch out for each other and keep each other safe. Oftentimes, situations can change rapidly at higher risk protests, and we might end up in an inaccessible situation that we didn't plan for. If I don't have a protest buddy, I usually just turn to the nearest person next to me and start saying loudly "I need you to help me exit this situation/grab my handles and get me up this curb/tell me what the cops are doing etc." It can feel really scary and vulnerable to have to rely on complete strangers in these type of situations, but I've found that a lot of people are really willing to help if I tell them exactly what I need from them.

Surveillance. A lot of us really can't bloc up or hide our identities, because our wheelchairs are easily identifiable. This might shape what tactics we use, and also means there might be added surveillance concerns after a protest. When thinking about your own risk tolerance, grappling with the fact we are visible in a crowd is a really important consideration. This might mean we need to be even more careful about security culture, use encrypted messaging to communicate, avoid cameras, stay in a middle of a crowd to block visibility, and other things like that.

Unique advantages. There can be advantages and skills that we bring as wheelchair users! In flat locations and downhills, I'm much, much faster than my comrades who are walking--I can easily pass messages or get in front of a line of bike cops. I can usually carry a lot more supplies on my wheelchair backpack without getting tired. In my city, there's only one cop van that has a wheelchair lift, and at a recent protest where there were multiple of us in wheelchairs, I heard a cop say on their radio that "There are too many people in wheelchairs and we don't know how to arrest them all." In situations where it's logistically difficult to arrest us or the cops think the optics are bad, that can allow us to cause a LOT of logistical delays, act as a front line, get in between the cops and other people, and just generally make the cops lives a little more difficult.

3. After the Protest

Arrests. If we're risking arrest, there's a lot of wheelchair specific information we need to know. Theoretically, under the ADA, cops are supposed to arrest us with our mobility aid and let us have access to our mobility aid in jail. In practice, this doesn't always happen. Cops might arrest us with our wheelchair but then take it away from us in the holding cell, make us use the jail's standard transfer wheelchair instead, or just completely take away our mobility aid altogether. Cops might zip tie our hands so that we have no way to independently move. The cops in your city might have a van with a lift, or might try to get you to fold or disassemble your wheelchair and put it in a standard car. If they don't have a van with a lift and your wheelchair doesn't disassemble, they might have a contract with a wheelchair van company. Once we're taken to a holding cell, there's a lot higher chance we might get put in solitary. We often won't have access to wheelchair accessible restrooms. We might get separated from all of our comrades--at my last arrest, all my other comrades were taken to a location that processes mass arrests, while I was taken to a separate, wheelchair accessible location and held in solitary. It's super important that whoever's running jail support knows these things and can advocate for us and also track us in the system, especially if we're taken to a different location. If your area has a chapter of the National Lawyer's Guild, they often have a designated person running a hotline. It can be super important to memorize that number, and also to reach out beforehand and explain your needs as a wheelchair user if you're risking arrest.

Overall, there are a lot of considerations for protesting as a wheelchair user, and you are going to be the expert on what is important for you! My general approach is that I want to have as much information as possible so that I can make an informed decision about if I want to attend a particular action. Then, when I'm at an action, I expect my comrades to respect my autonomy and support me in making sure that I can participate and that all of us can stay safe.

Also, for any abled people reading this post, I want you to read this very carefully and understand just how many barriers there can be at protests for wheelchair users. You have a responsibility to your community to whenever possible, mitigate these barriers, choose accessible locations, communicate with your disabled comrades, and support us in the moment. If your excuse is that "oh there aren't any disabled people at our protests, so we don't need to think about these things," you're wrong, and this attitude ensures that no disabled people can show up to your protests. and if that's the case, you're missing out on so much meaningful experience and knowledge that your disabled comrades could bring to the table. "We keep us safe" means that we actually work to meet everyone's needs, including the needs of your disabled comrades.

anyway, this turned into a very long post, but any other wheelchair users feel free to add on your own advice! love to share as much community knowledge as possible, especially advice from people who have different access needs than my particular situation.

anon, please let me know if you have any other specific questions that i didn't cover, and best of luck!

[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Three

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Explicit smut and omega heat stuff. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : 😅 trying to walk the fine line between plot and smut

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

MASTER LIST

Chapter Three

Grudgingly, you had to admit that Bucky was right; if you left, you weren’t going to get far. And, if you tried to kill him again...

Well, that probably wouldn’t go well either.

The realisation that you were stuck had dread coiling in your stomach. You hated this, hated yourself. If you weren’t an omega this wouldn’t be happening. So many things in your life would be different if you’d been born a beta or, better yet, an alpha.

You remained sat on the bed, glaring at the door, willing yourself to just try. If you didn’t make it all the way to the front door, what was the worst that would happen? You’d embarrass yourself and look like a useless idiot, that was what. Not wanting to risk that, you decided not to move, staying sat on the edge of the bed before exhaustion took hold and you needed to lay back down.

There was no telling how long had passed when your eyes opened again because you didn’t feel rested or any better for it. In fact, you woke gasping for breath, fearing that the room was on fire; your skin felt like it was burning and your lungs struggled as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

Things started to spiral pretty quickly, not only because of the heat itself, but because of the trauma that you associated with it, and the fear that filled you at being so close to an alpha during it. And it would only get worse. You knew that this was just the start and the symptoms would only become more severe. Your heats had always been bad but after suppressing them for so many years, you weren’t sure your body could still handle the stress of it.

Already there was a tension coiling inside you, a longing ache that you didn’t want to put a name to, a need that was desperate to be sated. Bucky’s scent wasn’t making things any easier, hanging in the air around you, stoking a fire in your belly, making you want in a way that turned your stomach.

First, you tried kicking out of your pants and socks, leaving you in just your shirt and your panties, hoping it would help you cool off a little but it didn’t. It still felt like there was no air, like you were burning up and suffocating.

Standing, you staggered towards the window but, when you got there you found that you didn’t quite have the strength to open it. The rusted frame screeched and protested and so did you, letting out a pathetic whine when the damned thing refused to move. You were about to give up when his hand appeared by yours, sliding the window open with ease, allowing a cool breeze to fill the room.

In an attempt to get away from him, you almost fell backwards, but you didn’t make it far before his arm was around you, pulling you against his chest.

He held you there for a few seconds before tensing, realising what he was doing, and returned you to the bed. For a split second, you noticed his eyes drop, as if suddenly realising you’d stripped down to your panties.

“You look like shit,” he remarked, obviously shocked by how quickly your heat had taken hold and how severe it was. You awkwardly tried to pull away when he placed the back of his hand on your forehead to gauge your temperature. “What do you need?” This time it was more demand than question.

“I don’t -” but, as much as you hated it, you had to concede that you needed his help. You weren’t going to survive this without him. “Cold water... towels... clean clothes… cushions...”

It had been so long since you’d done this that you weren’t sure anymore. There were things you might have wanted, certain clothes and possessions that brought you comfort, but they were in your backpack back at your apartment, and there was no way anyone would be able to get them for you.

“What about food?” He asked and you shook your head, the thought of eating turning your stomach. “You’ve gotta eat something.”  

Too tired to argue or explain, you just shook your head again. Bucky looked at you for a moment before huffing a sigh and leaving the room. 

You felt marginally better now that the window was open, but that feeling wasn’t going to last long. The instinct to nest, to create a safe space for yourself was building inside you, but beyond the sheets and pillows on the bed, you had nothing. Covering your face with your hands, you tried to ignore the feelings of desolation that were starting to creep in, but it was hard and you were just so tired.

But, you knew that you needed to be better than that; you weren’t just some weak little omega. You had to get through this.

Just beyond the door, you could hear Bucky talking - it sounded like he was on the phone to someone, asking for supplies, it became harder and harder to focus on anything other than a new feeling starting to grow inside you. Want. Everything before that moment had been a preamble, the pain and discomfort leading to something much worse.

There was a knock on the door before it opened, and when he came in you found your thighs instinctively pressing together. You tried to hold your breath, not wanting to catch his scent any more than you had to, but it was impossible.

As he placed some of the items you’d asked for on the foot on the bed, his eyes caught yours and you knew that he could tell your heat was really starting to take hold and your arousal was spiking. The air in the room was thick with it and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment as you felt slick between your thighs, slowly soaking through your panties. Your gaze dropped as your body started to betray you in the worst possible way.

“That’s all I could find for now, but I’ve got a someone bringing supplies later,” he said, clearly trying to ignore his own discomfort.

“Okay,” was all you offered, leaning to grab one of the cushions he’d brought from the sofa and placing it on your lap, trying to hide the way your thighs pressed together.

You didn’t look at him. It was taking every ounce of restraint that you could muster to ignore the way your body thrummed for him - for any alpha, really. It made you feel worse, sick to your stomach, that any part of you could want him after what he’d done to you. 

It was a flaw in your biology, another reason to hate being an omega.

When he didn’t move to leave you found that you, grudgingly, had to look at him. You caught a flicker of discomfort on his face and he took a step back, but instead of going he leaned back against the wall, observing you.

Again, you tried to ignore him, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a long, slow drink.

“We should talk,” he eventually said, softly.

“Why?” You answered, focusing all of your attention on the bottle in your hand.

“Because I want to know what I did.”

“You should already know,” you snapped, hating that he’d been able to forget, hating that the life he’d taken had meant so little to him.

“You’re right, I should,” Bucky sighed, “but I don’t, so I need you to tell me.”

That wasn’t the answer that you were expecting. No, if anything, you were expecting an excuse, for him to try and play the victim. You knew that he’d been pardoned by the government, that they’d chosen to forgive and forget, and you knew why. But you didn’t buy the nice guy act - he might play at being gentle and kind and sweet now, but you’d seen who he really was.

“Fine,” you said sharply, “what do you want to know?”

Bucky was silent for a second, obviously trying to get his thoughts in order. You wanted to hurry him up, wanted him to get on with it so he could leave you alone. Pressing the cushion down on your lap, you tried desperately not to squirm. You still felt like you were burning from the inside out, your stomach tying itself in tight knots while your core seemed to throb with a desire you refused to sate.

“When?” He said, finally deciding where he wanted to start.

“Just over fifteen years ago.”

“And you’re sure it was the Winter Soldier?”

You hated that, hated that he wanted to try and separate himself from it.

“I was there. I saw you,” you told him and watched the confusion grow on his face.

“You saw me?” He repeated and you nodded. “And I let you live?”

“You didn’t see me,” you answered. He didn’t need to ask for clarification, you could tell just by looking at him that he wanted more than that. “My brother made me hide. I wasn’t even supposed to be with him...”

“Where?” He asked almost mechanically. It felt like he was forcing himself to have the conversation, like he didn’t even really want to know.

It took you a moment to realise he was asking where it happened and not where you’d hidden.

“The Crowne Plaza, Berlin,” you said.

“And what was he doing there?”

“He was at a conference,” you answered, deciding to continue so you could end this awkward and stilted conversation as quickly as possible. “He was an engineer - he did something with satellites. He was supposed to be presenting what he’d designed. It was gonna make him millions, it was supposed to give us a better life.”

“If you weren’t supposed to be there, why were you with him?” 

For a moment you looked away, your fingers gripping the cushion on your lap even tighter as shame filled you. After a few seconds, you forced yourself to look back and answer.

“‘cause I was sick. I was a sickly kid and Ryan didn’t want to leave me in case something happened...”

“What was wrong with you?” He asked despite your very clear discomfort. 

There was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine. Concern. He managed to make it sound like he cared, like he was worried about you. And that wasn’t something you were prepared to allow. You didn’t want his pity.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said.

It was all you were willing to give him. You being a sickly kid didn’t change anything and it didn’t matter to what he had done.

Bucky let out a slow exhale and nodded. “So, you were with him when I...”

“When you killed him,” you finished the thought for him. “When he heard you in the hallway, he forced me into the closet. And I stayed in there. I stayed hidden while you murdered him, instead of trying to stop you.”

There was no point trying to hide in the anger in your voice, even if it was tempered by your exhaustion and growing discomfort. You hated yourself. You hated what you’d allowed to happen. And, more than anything, you hated how weak and pathetic you felt because of it. Killing Bucky was supposed to change all of that, it was supposed to rid you of the burden you’d been carrying for almost half of your life.

“If you’d tried, you’d be dead too,” he said grimly. 

“Yeah, well, if I wasn’t an omega, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” you said, the implication clear; if you weren’t an omega you’d have been able to kill him.

(Or, maybe not. He was still a super soldier, after all. And an alpha. But you couldn’t think clearly or logically anymore, not when it came to him, not when you felt so out of control.)

“Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, you might not have killed me but you still managed to hurt me,” Bucky said with another heavy sigh. A second later he stood away from the wall and excused himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone once more, wondering what he meant about you hurting him.

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

It was hard, almost impossible for him to stand there, and not just because of the thick scent of pheromones filling the air. Every time you looked at him, Bucky felt a stabbing sensation in his chest. He hated that he’d hurt you, that he’d caused you so much pain and misery. Just when he thought he was finally making progress, just when it was starting to feel like he’d be able to move on with his life, he was pulled back into the darkness of the Winter Soldier and a life that hadn’t been his.

After the bedroom door closed behind him, he lingered close, just listening for a moment and wondering what was going through your head. It was a lot - it had to be a lot for you. You were effectively trapped with him at the worst possible time.

There was more to your story, he was sure of it. He just didn’t know how to get you to share it with him.

You didn’t trust him, and he didn’t blame you.

But, Bucky couldn’t just sit idly by without at least trying to understand. He needed to know what had happened and why. He needed to try and make it right. You deserved that much from him (even if you were quickly becoming a massive pain in the ass). 

He hated that he’d had to call on Sam for help again, and it took him a few minutes to work up the nerve. But it wasn’t about him and what he wanted. He needed to help you, and he couldn’t do that without the whole picture.

Though Sam quickly reminded Bucky why he hated asking for help.

“Wow, three times in two days,” Sam answered smugly, “I’m starting to think you miss me.”

“Sam,” he started, skipping over the pleasantries, “I’ve got more information for Torres. I need him to look into any old reports of the Winter Soldier in Berlin about fifteen years ago.”

“Wait, slow down. What’s going on?” Sam asked.

Bucky sighed before starting to relay everything, from what had happened since he got you to the safehouse to what you’d just told him about Berlin. Thankfully, Sam listened and didn’t ask questions.

“Okay, yeah, I can pass that on to Torres, but are you sure you want to drag all that stuff up?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?”

“All the Winter Soldier stuff. The things you did for Hydra.”

Bucky knew why Sam was asking - he’d seen him struggle with it, trying to do the work to put things right, to make amends where he could. And he’d seen the effect that it had had on Bucky.

“I need to know, Sam,” Bucky said. “I need to help her.”

Sam gave a non-committal hum. 

“Buck...” He started before hesitating, “are you okay?”

It was a question Sam rarely dared ask and Bucky more than understood why. He didn’t like to answer, he didn’t like to expose how weak, helpless and uncertain he often felt, and he didn’t want anyone to worry about him. 

“I’m fine,” he said.

The moment he said it was the moment he realised something; he sounded just like you and, suddenly, he felt like he understood you a little better.

“Have you spoken to Dr Raynor lately?” Sam asked, already knowing it was pointless to try and push Bucky to admit that he was anything but fine. 

“I’m fine, Sam. Really.” He said, just about managing to hold back a sigh. 

Sam made that sound again, that sound that said he didn’t believe him but that he was willing to let it drop for the time being.

“Those guys who tried to grab your friend,” he started again, deciding to change the subject, “you’ll never guess who they used to work with.”

“Who?”

“Rumlow,” Sam stated. “And, here’s the kicker; there’s rumours he’s still alive. If he’s still alive, he might be the one who’s really going after your omega friend.”

“Why would Rumlow be after her?” Bucky asked, not expecting Sam to know the answer.

“Maybe you weren’t her only Hydra target?” Sam suggested. “Maybe you should ask her about it?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that when she stops biting my head off every time I open my mouth.” 

Sam let out a laugh. “Well, like I said, you do have that effect on people.” Then his tone turned serious again. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?”

“Do you still have that bag of my stuff?” He asked, already knowing the answer. “Could you bring me it?”

“Sure thing, Bucky.”

The call ended and Bucky felt more lost than he’d been to begin with. Could Rumlow really be involved in all of this? Was Sam right; would dredging up his past cause more harm than good?

Exhausted, he slumped onto the sofa and turned on the TV.

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

As the door had closed behind him, you were left feeling like you were crawling out of your own skin. Rage and upset had managed to distract you from the tension that was coiling inside you but, once you were alone, it quickly started to build again.

For the first few minutes you tried to fight it, you tried to ignore his scent every time you drew breath. You kept the cushion pressed against your lap, fingers gripping so tight that you worried you might tear the fabric, anything to stop you from giving in. But it was too much - it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and, already, your heat was getting impossible to control. The next few days were going to be hell if you didn’t figure something out, if you didn’t find a way to manage it. 

Beyond the door, you heard Bucky talking, obviously on the phone again.

Try as you might, you knew there was no fighting it. The feeling was going to grow and the pain was going to get worse until it became unbearable. You couldn’t deny it. You wouldn’t survive if you tried. As much as you hated it, and by extension hated yourself, you knew that you had to give in.

Laying back on the bed, you slipped your fingers into your panties, cheeks heating at the amount of slick you found there. You started with slow and teasing touches, your body already feeling so sensitive and desperate, your clit throbbing every time your fingers so much as grazed it. But the teasing didn’t last long and, soon enough, you were eagerly circling your clit.

Your head fell back on the pillow, biting your lip, trying to keep yourself from making any sounds, but it quickly became too much.

Suddenly a thought came to you, completely unwanted and unbidden. Bucky.

You closed your eyes and tried to think of anything - anyone - but him. But every gasped breath you took was Bucky and, no matter how tightly you closed your eyes, all you could picture was that night in his apartment and how he’d looked at you as you’d knelt before him. The sounds he’d made haunted you, and your frustration doubled. The memory of his fingers on your neck, ghosting over your gland, had you reaching up and touching yourself there, trying to recreate the sensation.

The way he’d touched you, held you, kissed you; every memory was like a tidal wave washing over you, causing your arousal to climb despite your disgust. Soon enough you stopped trying to fight it and let the intrusive thoughts take over, until in your mind it was his hand between your thighs, driving you insane.

Covering your face with the cushion, you bit down as hard as you could, smothering the moans that were desperate to escape you. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to figure out you’d reached the stage of your heat where your arousal had started to spike uncontrollably. 

You realised too late that Bucky’s scent was all over the sofa cushion and, soon enough, you were taking deep breaths, breathing him in as your fingers worked over your swollen clit, bringing yourself to orgasm.

Turning onto your side, you pulled your knees to your chest and closed your eyes, trying to enjoy the momentary reprieve while it lasted.

At some point you must have drifted off and you were awoken by knocking on the door again. You slowly sat up, watching as Bucky entered, the heat quickly returning to your body and your core slickening at the sight of him.

“What?” You asked impatiently.

“I brought you something to eat,” he answered, ignoring your tone.

Your eyes followed him as he moved towards you and placed a bowl down on the nightstand. You looked at it, then him, and back again. Cookie Crunch cereal. He’d remembered. 

“I know you said you didn’t want anything to eat but I really think you should -”

“Thank you,” you said, cutting him off. You didn’t exactly sound grateful (you didn’t feel it either) but even you had to admit that the gesture was nice.

“How are you feeling?” He dared to ask, though the only response he got from you was a glare. “Right, okay... anyway, I had a someone pick up some things for you; clothes and wash stuff, but if there’s anything else you need...”

For a few seconds you said nothing, prompting Bucky to take a few steps back, like he was going to leave. And that was what you wanted. Wasn’t it? You wanted him to leave you alone, but -

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“Doing what?” He said.

It only just struck you how tired he sounded. No, not tired, he sounded exhausted.

“Any of this,” you answered, “trying to help me... keeping me safe...”

“Because it’s who I am,” he answered with a shrug. “Because, even after everything, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No but, if you’ll let me, I’ll prove it,” Bucky said. Before you could think to answer back, he continued; “try to eat something.”

Then he left, leaving you feeling more confused than ever. None of it made sense and, try as you might, you couldn’t reconcile the cold-hearted killer you believed him to be with the kind and sweet guy who was helping you. 

Had you been wrong about him all this time?

No.

No, you told yourself. You weren’t going to start thinking that way. He might be different now, but fifteen years ago, he had been the Winter Soldier and he had killed your brother.

Somehow, you managed to eat the whole bowl of cereal and, more surprisingly, managed to keep it down. And you did feel a little bit better because of it. But, like with every other moment of comfort you’d managed to find since waking up in the little room, it didn’t last.

The next time he came in to check on you, less than an hour later, you were practically writhing on the bed, unable to stay still. You had no idea how long he’d been there watching you before you realised he was there. A hand quickly scrubbed at your eyes, trying to make sure none of your unshed tears managed to fall in front of him and you tried so hard to just stay still.

When he moved closer, you couldn’t even find the strength to sit up, nor could you pull away when he reached down and placed his hand on your forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up,” he muttered, his hand lingering, feeling cool against your burning skin.

“Yeah, that’s why they call it a heat,” you answered back.

“You’re seriously gonna bust my balls at a time like this?”

You didn’t have a response for him. As much as you wanted to say something cutting to remind him that you weren’t friends and you were there against your will, but another wave of cramping hit and you were still far too focused on his hand, on his scent. Your thighs pressed together, giving yourself away.

He shook his head before pulling away and leaving the room. Abandoning you. Something inside you threatened to break at the feeling of rejection that suddenly filled you. Had you finally pushed too far and made him give up on you?

(Why were you even thinking like that?) 

Everything felt so jumbled that, less than a minute later when Bucky returned, you were relieved, you were glad you weren’t alone anymore.

He put a bowl down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed beside you. The next thing you knew, he had pressed a cold washcloth to your face. You continued to squirm uncomfortably but there was no denying that the cold was helping. Over and over again, he returned the cloth to the bowl before pressing it to your face again.

Finally, you settled a little and closed your eyes. For a few seconds, Bucky watched you, expecting you to fall asleep, but then your leg twitched and your eyes opened again. A frustrated whimper spilled from you.

“It’s okay,” he soothed.

Fingertips pressed into your thighs, mere inches from your panties, longing to touch yourself and find some relief that way again. When Bucky noticed, you saw his cheeks pinken a little.

But he continued to sit beside you, looking down with a tenderness you didn’t expect, and you found yourself squirming, squeezing your thighs together in desperate need of release. Your leg awkwardly twitched and shook, keeping you from relaxing. His hand found your calf, trying to soothe you, trying to stop your awkward movements so you could rest. But his touch made you feel worse, it made you want things that should have turned your stomach inside out.

“Listen, if you need me to, I can -” he started to offer.

“No,” you cut him off before he had the chance to make the offer, not sure you’d be able to resist if you actually heard the words.

But, whether it was the thought of what he was offering or just his proximity to you, you felt yourself burning hotter, your stomach cramping tighter and tighter. Blinking, you felt tears in the corners of your eyes again and you knew that there was no way you were going to survive this without any help. And Bucky seemed to know that too.

“Just let me help you get through this,” you heard him mutter.

The slither of rationality you had left told you no; this was the Winter Soldier, the man who’d ruined your life. But all your desperate hindbrain knew was that he was an alpha and he could satisfy the craving that was burning inside you.

You forced his hand off your leg and reached for the vibranium hand instead, clumsily pulling it between your thighs, letting out a desperate whine as metal fingers pressed against the wet fabric of your panties. Bucky didn’t need any prompting, he didn’t need you to ask any more than you already had. His fingers started to move, first rubbing you over the fabric and, when that wasn’t enough, he tore your panties from your body, exposing your slickened cunt.

Closing your eyes you fought against that last scrap of common sense that was screaming at you not to do this. A scream that he silenced the moment he touched your bare skin.

You cried out at the feel of cold metal between your folds, your body trembling as he let out a low growl.

“Fuck, little mouse,” he groaned, pulling away his hand for a moment just so he could look at his slick coated finger.

“Please,” you whimpered without meaning to, needing his touch, needing something to help relieve your discomfort.

His hand returned, quickly finding your throbbing, swollen clit and starting to circle it. You felt yourself grow instantly slicker, wetness coating your thighs. His touch became more intense and you felt something slowly start to coil inside you. Your thighs trembled and you already felt completely overwhelmed; by his touch, by his scent, by him.

You kept your eyes shut, trying to imagine anyone but him touching you, but every time you inhaled that thick, musky scent, images of Bucky filled your mind.

“Look at me,” he demanded suddenly.

And you found you couldn’t deny him, you couldn’t deny an alpha.

Your eyes opened and found his, and you came almost immediately.

He held your gaze through that first orgasm, watching as your lips parted and you let out the most desperate sounds he’d ever heard. Your whole body shook, some of the pain of your heat abating, but not a lot. Not enough. And Bucky seemed to realise that.

Before your orgasm had had the chance to peter out he slid a metal finger between your trembling walls and started to fuck you with it. You cried out, reaching down to grasp his wrist, but you found you couldn’t bring yourself to try to pull him away. You needed it. You wanted it.

His eyes stayed on yours, seeing the whole gamut of emotions that were running through you.

The hand fell away from his wrist and Bucky took it as a sign to keep going. 

An unrestrained and desperate moan spilled from you as a second finger slid into your trembling pussy. Your hips lifted of their own accord grinding yourself against his fingers, your hindbrain completely taking control. His thumb brushed your clit and easily sent you spiralling into another orgasm.

But his fingers didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. 

The noises escaping you only got more wanton and desperate as he forced you through one climax and into the next.

You howled with need as a third finger forced its way inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way, fucking away any last vestiges of rational thought.

Without thinking, you reached for him, one hand on his shoulder. the other hooking his neck. You pulled him down towards you, pressing your lips to his. Bucky seemed to hesitate, shocked, but a split-second later, he was kissing you possessively, his tongue slipping into your mouth and muffling your whines and moans.

His free hand cupped your cheek as you kissed, and you leaned into the touch, unable to think about anything but the urge to belong, the urge to be claimed, your omega senses eagerly screaming inside of you. The hand slipped lower down to your neck and you started to rub against it, pressing your scent gland against his palm, submitting to him completely.

It felt like every fibre of your being was crying out for him, needing more, wanting more. Wanting him. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, you’d never wanted to be wanted like that, never craved being claimed by an alpha.

But this wasn't just some alpha, this was Bucky. This was the Winter Soldier.

You knew you shouldn’t want this.

(But you did. You wanted this and so much more.)

His lips pulled from yours, leaving you gasping for breath as his face pressed against your neck, inhaling your scent. The brush of his stubbled cheek against your gland was enough to push you over the edge again. 

You trembled and shuddered, exhausted, your head falling back on the pillow, some of the coiled tension finally leaving your body. You whined as he pulled back, your walls still trembling and convulsing as he withdrew his fingers. It was only then that you realised his other hand was still on your neck, and that touch lingered as he looked down at you.

Through the haze of your heat and all the orgasms he’d pushed you through in such a short space of time, you couldn’t quite focus on the look he was giving you, you couldn’t understand it.

Finally his hand moved from your neck.

He reached for the bowl beside your bed and pressed a cold washcloth to your forehead as your eyes struggled to stay open. You tried to fight it, but exhaustion quickly claimed you. 

All you could think about as you fell asleep was how good he’d made you feel.

End Note : I don't know what it is about my fics but character always start going feral in chapter three...

Anyway, thanks so much for the likes/comments/reblogs on the last chapter! Hope you enjoy the direction I'm slowly taking this in.

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18

[queerprayers]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judensau

luther inspired hitler, following him is a step away from following hitler

Welcome, beloved. I don't want to dismiss your message, but I do want to make some things clear. I, like many, have horrors in my religion that I have to be able to address, and prejudices that I do not perpetuate consciously but know that I nonetheless have absorbed from culture, and am responsible for healing. Antisemitism within Christianity is a huge topic, with people devoting their lives to studying it. I would not fault any Jewish person for antagonism toward my communities--you would be right to be wary, and if I intend to continue participating in these communities, I must be able to understand and accept any justified anger or distrust coming my way.

I'd encourage everyone reading to learn more about this through the Wikipedia link, but a brief description/summary for those who don't want details/images: The mentioned article is about an antisemitic artistic trope from the Middle Ages. The church where Martin Luther preached included an image of this sort from 1305.

Martin Luther was antisemitic. This isn't up for debate. There is more to say, of course--we can look at how his attitudes changed over his life (for the worse, to be clear), we can talk about the extent to which he specifically influenced Nazism (this is a complicated conversation that I'm not qualified for)--but he was undeniably, horrifically, antisemitic. There's a Wikipedia page solely devoted to this topic.

That said, there's huge diversity within Lutheranism, seeing as it's a large religious tradition, and if you're interested in learning about Lutheranism and Hitler specifically, I'd encourage you to look into the split within the German Lutheran Church in 1933 and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran theologian who was hanged at the Flossenbürg concentration camp. It's fascinating to look back at that while living through such religious division in America right now.

Luther was a complicated man, who did not set out to found a church, and opposed the term "Lutheran." He was attempting to reform the Catholic Church from the inside, because he himself was Catholic. Not a very good one, obviously, but he didn't consider himself anything else. He was a monk for a time, then an academic, and his beliefs got him excommunicated. I've read some of his writings, but not all. I find value in them, while disagreeing with a lot of it. Lutheranism is a space with which I have fellowship with God and humanity, not a set of rules or a devotion to every word of a man from the 16th century. I'm not interested in excusing or defending him, nor do I feel the need to honor him in any way. I hope I disappoint him completely.

I am a Lutheran Christian--and I would not fault anyone for thinking those words function similarly. So to explain: I'm a Christian as in I follow Christ, devote myself to his teachings, pray to him, and live for him every day. I'm a Lutheran as in I am a member of a church and culture that traces back to communities of German Protestants who identified with the theology of Martin Luther. I do not follow Martin Luther. I do not follow Lutheranism. I follow God, and participate in Christianity often within Lutheran communities--primarily because of my heritage and the music.

Protestants don't have Saints in the Catholic sense, nor do we have a pope. Martin Luther is not our Saint, or someone we pray through, or our leader. We don't read his writings in church, we don't look to him for answers. He's someone many people have found wisdom in, someone who has inspired countless reformers, but he is a man. A saint in the Lutheran sense, a lowercase-s saint, a member of Christ's community--a sinner from his mother's womb. He probably wrote more about his own sin then you ever will. He devolved into conspiracy, and said horrible things about Judaism and Catholicism and Islam, and we have seen the legacy of German antisemitism (which he did not create, but obviously contributed to), and it's a good thing I don't idolize him. I honestly don't think about him very much. Yes, I read his catechism in Bible classes, but we were free to disagree with it--we were using his most basic writings as a starting point. The words of his that are most present in my life are his hymns, which we do sing often. His teachings were intended to lead people to the Bible rather than leaders/traditions, which is why he translated the Bible into German, and why I go to the Bible, not to him. I learned about his antisemitism growing up, and prayed for repentance on behalf of my ancestors.

There are people who hold Luther in higher esteem than me, to be sure. Do I think they're basically following Hitler? I don't know. It depends why they value him, I would say. Idolizing anyone is dangerous, especially men in the 1500s. I can think of no historical male writer I value that was not at least slightly misogynist. The two authors I've read today, Virginia Woolf and Shakespeare, both have antisemitic writing. Countless people sainted by the Catholic Church, and countless popes, have been antisemitic. There is no innocent tradition. I'm not trying to excuse any of this, or say we shouldn't be critical, but this is why we don't base religions on people. They have to be founded and organized by people, which means there's going to be issues (and Christianity's are quite obvious), but Christians have to remind ourselves every day that the only human we worship is the one who was God.

I wish you well, beloved. I'm glad you see the evil in my religion, genuinely. Not enough people do. I hope you continue educating people and being active in your fight against antisemitism--if you're not Jewish yourself, hopefully this shows up more as supporting Jewish people and communities, and less like borderline accusing people online for following Hitler because they still use the word for their traditions that their Norwegian great-grandparents did, because it's the word that stuck from the beginning. We're named after Luther's excommunication, not his antisemitism--Catholics would have had to change their name to Lutheran too if that was the theological issue happening. There's a whole conversation to be had on whether we should call ourselves Lutheran, but regardless, the communities and heritage exist, and will continue to evolve.

May God have mercy on the crimes of my community members. May God lead me to walk in the way of justice. May our religion serve us, and may we serve God.

<3 Johanna

[nihilnovisubsole]

something i've been thinking about as GDC comes around again: it's amazing to sit in the same room with Real Industry People and hear the truth of why certain story decisions happened the way they did. studio games are odd group projects that take a really long time to make, and there are many irons in the fire and many interests at play. sometimes the stars align and a team gets a laser vision, creative freedom, and the budget they need, and they ship the thing they meant to ship.

but not always. if a character you love got killed off, it's entirely possible that their original writer left or they couldn't bring the voice actor back. or leadership wanted to close down old story arcs and tie up loose ends, or someone felt new characters would bring in a new audience. if a series seemed to drop a plot thread in a sequel, it's possible that the narrative team wanted to include it and it got cut for scope. or shareholders wanted to appeal to a different part of the playerbase. or the team had internal creative conflict, or any number of reasons as simple as "it got lost in the shuffle because we did so many rewrites". [important disclosure: i'm not vagueposting about specific games here. i'm just rattling possibilities off. resemblance, unintentional, etc.]

and of course that's not a phenomenon unique to video games. tv shows make snap decisions when they get canceled before the planned end of the story or a cast member wants to leave. movies' plots can change when a new director comes on board, or they bring in a script doctor, or an actor's problems interfere with the shoot. even louisa may alcott changed little women's ending over concerns that if jo remained unmarried, the book wouldn't sell. i'm not sure whether it was her publisher or she worried about it herself, but the point is, something got altered, and it can happen anywhere.

as a fan, i found these developers' stories both comforting and vindicating. for a long time, i've felt like someone riding two horses at once: the fanfic-and-OC girl playing on other writers' playgrounds, and now also the staff writer who sees how the sausage gets made. i've been affected - probably overmuch - by a character's sad end, only to learn that some third party or outside motive influenced it. i've met writers who also didn't like where a plot was going, but didn't have enough seniority on the team to protest it. i've heard stories along the lines of, "we were trying to make lemonade, man," and what shocked me more than the revelation is the peace i gained from it. it's a miracle the games shipped at all. the things that got made, got made. between professionals, it's neither heretical nor some wild flight of irrationality to ask, "what if things had gone a different way?"

and, i mean, it would be both cynical and incorrect to wave it all off and say that no storytelling motives are ever wholesome. some characters die because it's the logical conclusion to their arc. some universes with complicated worldbuilding benefit from narrowing their focus and shaving off a few subplots. i'm just saying many things are possible. when you only sit on the fan side, it's easy to feel like Canon™ looms above you, inviolable, when you're really in conversation with it. there's a lot of power in saying "i respect the team's accomplishments, but i would've made different choices." you'd be surprised how often the team agrees with you.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Punishment

Synopsis: Domestic hurt\comfort becomes domestic smut because Tiriel should have listened to her vampire and not risk her life.

Tags: hurt\comfort, smut, dom!Astarion, very long prelude to the smut, a lot of butt slapping + also some complications of having an active sex life when you have a child Based on this amazing art by @mutualcombat

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The fall was painful.

An enemy, a resurrected skeleton in heavy armor, easily pushed Tiriel from the cliff. Her armor and weapon left her no place for maneuver and the barbarian fell on the thin layer of ice that was covering the black waters of a lake.

Pain pierced her body. Tiriel gasped – every breath was agonizing as her ribs were broken. She coughed and immediately realized that a bone damaged the lungs.

Stupid, she thinks. So stupid. 

The ice cracks and the waters take Tiriel.

**

“O’su, why are you angry?” Alethaine rubs her sleepy eyes.Whether her dhampirism is to blame or the quarter of human blood in her body, the girl sleeps like a cat, for much longer than human kids her age. 

Astarion doesn’t mind this quirk of hers. 

When she sleeps, she can’t run up to the ceiling and fall from there. And she won’t try to escape outside, especially at night following the call only vampires and dhampirs can hear.

“I am not!” Astarion huffs putting food onto a plate. The four-year-old elf yawns and grabs a spoon in a very clumsy manner. Then she sticks it into the oatmeal and Astarion suspects Alethaine is trying to find sweet pieces of berries there. 

“You are angry,” Alethaine says. “I heard you and Mum fighting yesterday.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did!” Alethaine gets anoyed and hits the table with her small hand. “You were fighting!”

Astarion crosses his arms. Well, as a half undead Alethaine has extremely acute hearing. So acute that no matter how hard her parents try, she does hear noises from their bedroom she can’t yet comprehend.

And of course, she did hear her parents yelling at each other outside the house.

“Well, we had some… disagreements.”

Tiriel was offered a job. To help a bunch of adventurers retrieve a treasure from the dungeon deep in the High Wood. And his wife wanted to go so much that she couldn’t care less about what Astarion was saying.

That the job was dangerous.

That those morons who hired her had no idea what they were getting into.

That the weather was so shitty it made Icewind Dale look like Calimshan. 

And Tiriel accused Astarion of controlling her. That he was possessive, that he didn’t want her to go without him – because he was fucking jealous!

Ridiculous. 

“Why?” Alethaine demands answers.

“It was a bad idea to go alone, that’s all!” Astarion says. “Your mother will spend more gold on healing potions than she will earn!”

Alethaine’s ears twitch. She stops eating and pulls away.

“I don’t like when you fight,” she says. 

“I don’t like either, princess. But it’s going to be alright! Your mother will come back and everything will be good!”

“O’si said she was bored,” Alethaine adds. “When she was reading me a story, she told me she was bored at home. Mum wanted to slay a monster like in that book.”

Astarion nods. Well, another thing he sometimes forgets. Whilst he feels comfortable and nice in their house, reading books, sewing clothes, and taking care of their child, Tiriel is a fighter. She is used to the roads, sleeping in the dirt, fighting, and drinking. Domestic life is exhausting – and she doesn't even know how to occupy herself when the blizzard howls in the woods.

When Alethaine was younger, she required all of Tiriel's attention, but now Alethaine is more or less independent – and the barbarian has started feeling…

…Bored…

“Still no excuse to risk herself!” Astarion protests. “Alethaine, your mum fights as if she was a vampire. And before, I used to be there to have her back or drag her to the healer. Those… morons…. Young idiots won’t do that for her!” Astarion quickly corrects himself. 

“What does “moron” mean?”

“You didn’t hear that.”

“I did!”

“It means someone stupid. Just don’t repeat it anywhere, it’s a bad word.”

“Then why did you say it?” 

“Alethaine, eat your breakfast” Astarion bares his fangs as a threat.

The dhampir huffs and takes the spoon. 

The next moment Astairon hears footsteps. Someone is coming to the front door. 

“Vampire!” he hears the healer’s voice. “A quick word!”

Astarion opens the door. The female halfling doesn’t wear a winter jacket even though her house is many blocks away.

And there is an aura of…

Fear…

“What happened?”

And the Astarion catches a familiar scent. Way too familiar to ignore.

The healer’s sleeves are covered in Tiriel’s blood.

**

Tiriel feels like dying. She knows she is dying.

The dark waters dragged her under the ice trying to murder her. So stupid. Astarion warned her not to go and he was right. He has a better perception of danger than her. She should have  listened.

She didn’t.

Was it some stupid pride preventing her from listening to her husband? Or just the exhausting boredom she endured at home?

Anyway, she is dying.

She is leaving her husband and daughter alone.

Alethaine will grow up barely knowing her.

Astarion … Can he survive without her? Twenty-four years is such a short time for him to heal…

Tiriel failed them both.

Then, she starts suffocating. Primal fear suppresses everything sentient about Tiriel – and it awakes the rage in her.

The ice wounds her hands as she crawls to the surface, bleeding and freezing. 

And then the rage leaves her with only a fever.

Ttiriel barely remembers anything after that. She knows someone carried her somewhere. 

Voices, insults. 

A pair of red eyes staring at her in a dimly lit room.

A child crying.

“Is she dying?! Dad, is Mum going to die?!”

Tiriel wants to console her daughter, but she is too weak. The healing potion burns her throat, but it’s not enough to repair the damage. 

“Astarion, she has frostbite. If the potions don’t help, I will have to cut her leg off.”

Tiriel is hit by a wave of panic. No, not cutting her limbs off! No, they can’t do this to her!

Pain. Fever. Thirst. Difficulty breathing. Tiriel wants to scream but she can’t. She can’t move, she can’t see anything.

Another cry. An angry voice forcing the child to go away. 

Gentle hands. Cold skin. 

Astarion.

Tiriel tries to open her eyes to see him but can’t. She needs to see him. She needs to make sure he’s not a hallucination. That he has come to save her. 

But then, the darkness takes her and there is no pain anymore.

**

Astarion leans on the kitchen table. It’s over. Tiriel is getting better. She has made it. They didn't even have to cut her leg.

She is home.

It will take her months to fully heal, of course, but she isn’t dying. That's the most important thing. 

Astarion takes his blood-stained shirt off, suppressing the desire to chew the soaked fabric. 

“Daddy.” 

He turns around and sees the dhampir. She’s been crying – damn, she is still crying – and stands in the kitchen hugging a plushie dragon.

“What is it, princess?”

“Is mum going to be alright?”

“Yes,” Astarion puts on the clean shirt, the one made of black fabric. 

“Why did you yell at me?”

Astarion feels guilty. The last thing he was thinking about was how the whole situation was perceived by a four-year-old child – he just didn’t want her to be in the same room with her mutilated mother.

“I am sorry,” Astarion lifts the girl up. “Sorry for yelling”.

“Is mum really going to be all right or you just say so?” Alethaine insists.

“She is going to be all right… She just needs rest”

“Dad.”

“Hm?”

“We aren’t letting her go anywhere anymore,” Alethaine says. 

Astarion chuckles. “Well, I don’t think we can prevent her from going outside, but you can express your concerns about her behavior”.

**

A week later Tiriel feels more or less capable of standing up. All these days, she was basically nursed by her little family – Astarion was spending all his time near her bed. Alethaine would come to check asking if she needed anything and was extremely proud of herself when Tiriel asked the girl to bring her a glass of water or medicine.

Tiriel gets up, puts on her trousers and a shirt, and goes looking for Astarion. Alethaine is fast asleep in her bed, barely visible among pillows and plushies. 

Perks of not needing to breathe – Alethaine can bury herself in soft blankets and experience nothing but warmth and comfort.

And, if one day she is thrown into a frozen lake she won’t drown.

One less thing to worry about, Tiriel thinks.

Tiriel finds Astarion in the basement where they stash artifacts and gold. 

“Hello, my sweet,” Astarion smiles, but Tiriel knows he is faking it. He is upset. Angry. And gods know what else.

“Hello,” Tiriel sits beside him. “I'm feeling much better.”

“Good.”

The silence is so heavy it causes discomfort. Tiriel touches his shoulder and suddenly he flinches as if this form of intimacy were out of the question.

“Are you angry?” Tiriel asks. 

“Oh, thank you for asking,” Astarion closes the book and throws it at the wall. The heavy volume immediately becomes a pile of paper. “I am!”

Tiriel bites her lip. She is ashamed of herself. Of what she did.

“Why couldn't you listen to me?! Do my words mean nothing to you, Tiriel?!” Astarion's eyes glow red. “You could have died!”

“I am sorry!”

“I am very well aware of the fact I am going to overlive you. But could you not make it happen so soon?! Alethaine was crying her eyes out. Because she fucking saw you bleeding to death! She has nightmares! and I… I…” he sits on the floor grabbing the fistful of his hair. “Tiriel… I…”

The words are stuck in his mouth and Tiriel kneels in front of him. Then, she cups his cheeks and kisses the bridge of his nose. Then she proceeds to kiss his forehead and lips.

“I am sorry, Astarion. I will listen to you next time, I promise.”

“You can’t even understand how much I want to lock you somewhere,” he says.

“Astarion, we’ve been there. I know you are possessive. But love isn’t about control, unless it is a bedroom play.”

He nods and kisses her wrist. 

Tiriel smiles. “How can I … pay for my disobedience?” 

Astarion suspiciously looks at her. He is examining her, she realizes. Trying to understand if he can… make her pay.

Tiriel unfastens the claps of his shirt, baring his chest. Then she kisses his right nipple and teases it with her tongue.

Astarion lets out a moan but, instead of undressing Tiriel, pushes her away.

“Astarion?” she hesitates. How angry is he, actually?

“You told me you want to pay.” He sits on the bench. “Then you will.”

Tiriel giggles.

“As you wish, my lord, '' she says. “How will I do it?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“I obey,” Tiriel undresses and throws the clothes on the stone floor. Astarion studies her body – scars, fresh bruises. Tiriel nods, inviting him to continue their game.

What is he thinking about?

“Turn around,” he orders and she obeys. “Now, kneel!”

Tiril cringes feeling the harsh and cold surface with her knees. Astarion stands beside her and puts his arms on her shoulders. His grasp is strong and Tiriel admires how truly strong he is as a vampire. 

Fangs pierce the nape of her neck. She gasps, but Astarion hardly takes any blood; he just licks some with his cold tongue.

“You were a terribly bad girl,” he murmurs. “Not listening to what I say!”

Tiriel smiles. Astarion is fully clothed, but she suspects he is already hard.

He pinches her nipples forcing her to moan. 

“What are the odds she won't hear us?” Tiriel whispers and Astarion immediately shuts her mouth with his cold palm.

“We could have built torture chambers for people like your recent clients here and princess wouldn’t have suspected anything.”

“Hm, then we need to bring a bed here.”

“Then she will suspect. Now shut up and let me make you pay for your misdeeds!” Astarion clenches his hands around her neck and forces Tiriel to lie on the stone floor. 

She feels his cold finger touching her pussy. He gently tracks along her labia, forcing her core to get wet. 

Tiriel expects him to get inside, but it doesn’t happen as he keeps teasing her. 

“Astarion…”

The next moment, the index finger of his left hand is in her mouth. 

“Suck it!” He orders.

Tiriel wraps her lips around his finger and makes suckling movements trying to catch the same rhythm Astarion has teasing her pussy.

The heat between her legs became unbearable. She wants to beg him to at least fill her with his fingers, but instead, he abruptly lets her go.

She sits up in front of him as if she were enslaved and he was her captor and master deciding her fate. Tiriel waits, letting him savor the image.

Then he kneels in front of her. His smile is coy and his eyes are tender and Tiriel thinks the play is over – and that he is going to become his usual self in terms of sex. Maybe even much sweet and tender – compensation for all the years of rough fucking.

But then, he tugs her to his lap. His free hand tugs her half-elven ear.

And then he slaps her.

The sensation is so unexpected that Tiriel lets out a cry and then feels tears pricking her eyes. Another slap, stronger and rougher.

She elbows up a bit and feels the bump between his legs. 

Then a pause. Astarion waits. Tiriel can leave. She can say she doesn't like it. That the stone floor hurts her elbows, that the whole thing is embarrassing. That she feels cold or not fully healed.

But she doesn’t say anything. Instead,she moves a bit, making it more comfortable for him to keep slapping her naked butt.

SLAP

His hand is cold and strong, and Tiriel knows it will be hard to sit.

SLAP

Tiriel concentrates on the painful pleasure, allowing herself to melt in it. Her whole world is narrowed down to the torture she inflicted upon herself. 

SLAP

“Will you disobey me again?” Astarion demands.

“No, I never will! Aah!”

“What if I say it’s fucking dangerous to go alone next time?”

“I will listen!”

SLAP

“Good,” he stops. His fingers are placed on her pussy again as he gets distracted by her scent.

Tiriel squirms and moans in his arms as he keeps playing with the swell of her sex.

“Please…” Tiriel whimpers.

“What is it, bad girl?”

“I want you inside of me… please…”

But Astarion doesn't listen. His fingers play with her as if she was a musical instrument. Astarion knows all of her sensitive spots. He knows how to make her come, how to make her a mindless half-elf. He's learned her body thoroughly. In a both possessive and selfless way.

Tiriel feels her orgasm approaching. She clenches her fists and lets out a cry as she reaches her peak.

She doesn't feel cold anymore. Tiriel pants and mewls as Astarion finally lets her go.

He caresses her cheek in the most tender way possible and kisses her.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Tiriel puts her hands on the lace of his trousers, but instead of letting her continue, he gently pulls her away.

“No,” Astarion firmly says.

“Why?”

“Because you are still healing.”

“Astarion, are you fucking serious?! You’ve been slapping me!”

“Yes. I was slapping your butt not lying on top of you”.

“We can do it in a different way!”

“And it still involves some form of physical activity from you. Or me absolutely ravishing you. No. You will get better and only then we will fuck each other into  oblivion.”

“And what are you going to do about this?” she pokes the bump to feel the delicious hardness below the fabric.

“I will use my hand.”

“Save it for the time when I am away,” Tiriel unlaces the trousers, freeing his cock.

“Hand or mouth?” she asks, tracing her finger along the shaft. 

“Mouth… And keep…eye contact…please.”

“As you wish,'' Tiriel kisses the tip of his cock. Over the years they have been together, Tiriel learned how his body reacts to her touches. 

In a moment she’s already swallowed it fully – tears flow down her cheeks. She moves her lips and tongue along the shaft, never breaking eye contact. 

Astarion groans and grabs a fistful of her hair. His cock is cold and hard, but his sensitive, soft skin is quickly getting warmer in Tiriel’s mouth, and she wishes to prolong his pleasure.

But it’s so damn cold in the basement.

Suddenly, she feels being pulled away. Tiriel lets the cock go. Astarion grabs it with his free hand, makes a few stroking movements, and then the white liquid spills over her breasts.

Tiriel stands up shivering from the cold, and only now does she realize how truly intense the slapping was.

Astarion laces his trousers and quickly kisses Tiriel's lips and when she tries to put on her clothes back he wraps her shoulders in a blanket and lifts her in the air.

“Let's go to our normal bed,” he says. 

“Only if you stay there with me,” Tiriel pouts.

“Of course, love, of course!”

Minutes later, Tiriel lies in Astarion’s arms –  he’s insisted on wiping her breasts and pussy himself – and now she can just enjoy the comfort.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“I promise to listen to your advice next time.”

“Thank you, love.”

**

By the time spring starts, Tiriel finally feels well enough to wield her weapon and wear her armor. Astarion knows she longs for a fight and a good adventure, and it would be too ungrateful for him to try to lock her down and guilt-trip her into always staying by his side. 

But someone needs to keep an eye on their daughter and Astarion slowly makes peace with the thought that Tiriel will indeed have to go away without him from time to time.

Astarion puts his old bedroll on the stone basement floor. There was a period when this imitation of a bed was the most comfortable thing he owned. Well, there was a period when he thought getting kisses from Tiriel was merely a reward for his services, not a genuine demonstration of affection.

“No, don't go!” he hears Alethaine’s voice. “Mum! Don’t go!”

“It’s all right, kitten. I will be back in a week. I will bring you a gift from Secomber.”

“No! I want you to stay! Dad!” Astarion hears small footsteps – Alethaine is forbidden from going to the basement due to all the dangerous artefacts stashed there, so she stops on the top step. “Dad, Mum is going somewhere! Again!”

Astarion goes up and sees an absolutely angry four-year-old dhampir pointing at her mother who is preparing for a trip.

“That’s all right, she promised not to fight anything stronger than her,” Astarion picks the girl up. 

“She will find things that are stronger!”

Tiriel approaches them, hugs Astarion from behind, and caresses her daughter’s cheek. “Kitten, I will be back soon, you will see. And when you grow up, you will also have someone who won’t want you to go away – but you sometimes will have to.”

“When I am as big as you, I will have a little girl,” Alethaine says. “And when she asks me to stay, I will!”

Astarion chuckles – well, he hasn’t got used to the idea of having a daughter even though she is four and the very idea of having a grandchild eventually sounds even less realistic than him regaining his mortality. 

“That will be your choice,” Tiriel kisses. “What do you want me to get you?”

“I want a book about elves,” Alethaine says.

“Ok, I will take a look for something interesting.”

Alethaine pulls away, showing that she wants to go. Astarion puts her back and the girl immediately disappears into her room. 

“Are you leaving in the morning?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel nods. “Something on your mind?”

“Actually yes,” Astarion takes Tiriel's hand and makes her follow him downstairs. “Besides,” he playfully pushes Tiriel on the bedroll, “Our best nights were on the road in our old tent!”

--

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[starry-bi-sky]

I'm so annoyed. @kingcrow01 tumblr ate your ask about Danny's opinion on the League. tumblr i pressed 'save draft' why didn't you sAVE DRAFT.

ANyways I'm making a post instead. For everyone else, the ask was in summary:

What was Danny's opinion on the League now that he's left it? If he missed the familiarity of it, if he recognized the cult-like behavior inside it, and if he now detested his grandfather.

And to answer (again, grrr): It's complicated! We love complicated <3. Yeah, Danny does miss the familiarity of the League, it was still his home for the first ten years of his life and he has a lot of memories there. Plenty of good along with the bad, and while he's less homesick than he was when he was 10, it still hits him like a truck at random intervals.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz are great, and he likes the Drs. Fentons enough that he's contemplated murdering Vlad for his meddling, but if he wants to eat the same food his mother used to make him and Damian, he has to do it himself and he can't get the taste right. No one knows arabic so he speaks it to himself because he doesn't want to forget his mother tongue, and he has a few books too. Frankly? He genuinely misses training.

Getting to use Sam's gym helps with his restlessness, same with training with Maddie, but he has no one on or above his level to go against other than his mother. And he only sees her twice a year at most. He knows that he's getting stagnant and he fucking despises it like a bad itch he can't scratch.

He feels conflicted about missing the League, however, since by now he recognizes the flaws and what was wrong with it, and he recognizes that it was cult-like. But even that is kinda, hrm, complicated? If this was a fic I would be able to go better into depth about what he has and hasn't unlearned because cult deprogramming is hard and Danny's doing most of this on his own.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz have helped with the more obvious stuff: like the ecofascism, the disregard for human life, his emotional constipation; the more obvious stuff that shows in his behavior and personality. But none of them are professionals nor do they actually know the full extent of what Danny's life in the League was like. They only have snapshots since Danyal is very tight lipped about it. So they can only help with what they see themselves through Danny's behavior or word of mouth.

But in summary: He sees, for the most part, what's wrong with the League and disagrees with some of the stuff they do now. But he's very conflicted, and trying to dissect his feelings on the League confuses him. His protests about it whenever Sam and Tucker joke about it have at this point become mostly empty (altho it still causes him some discomfort), and its an inside joke between them three.

As for Ra's? Despises him. If only because Ra's wanted him to kill his little brother -- thinking about his motives with the League confuses Danny, cognitive dissonance and stuff, -- a lot of his hatred stems from "He wanted me to fight my baby brother to the death. I destroyed my relationship with Damian because of him, I had to fake my death and leave my home, and I will never meet my father or see my brother again because of him. Fuck that guy."

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 2

Artist! Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next | masterlist |

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: no use of y/n, bee is the reader's nickname Joel gave to her. There is some slight angst, fluff, and an age gap(Joel is 36 and reader is 28)

a/n: Hello! chapter 2 is here. Firstly, I want to thank everyone for reading this fic, I was really excited about writing this story and I appreciated all your comments, reblogs, and all <3 Which, by the way, are always appreciated. I hope you like this chapter as things start to escalate from here. Happy reading! and please feel free to share your thoughts with me. If you want to be added to the taglist, please tell me 💌

“You did what?" Tommy asked Joel, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair as he reluctantly admitted, "I asked her to pretend to be my girlfriend."

Tommy couldn't hide his disbelief. "I can't believe you asked her to pretend to be your girlfriend."

Joel chuckled, trying to downplay the situation. "Well, it's not like I had a lot of options, and it's just a temporary arrangement."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Joel's nonchalant attitude. "You know, I think there's more to it than that."

Joel furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Tommy leaned in closer, a mischievous grin on his face. "The only reason you don't like her is because you had a crush on her when she arrived."

Joel's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he sputtered in protest. "No, I didn't!"

Tommy just shrugged, clearly not convinced. "Whatever you say, Joel."

“Look, the only reason I’m doing this is because I don’t want Lauren with me. One thing is she wants to know Sarah and another one her wanting to be a family”

“So, your only solution was asking her to pretend to love you? 

Joel didn’t reply.

“You’re fucked” he said laughing at his big brother. 

“It's not about love, Tommy. It's about keeping Lauren away from me"

Tommy's grin softened a little bit "I get it, Joel. You're trying to do what's best for Sarah, and I respect that. Just be careful, okay? These fake relationships have a way of getting complicated, if you know what I mean” 

With that, Tommy made his way upstairs leaving Joel alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had put himself in a turbulent situation that could cost him something. 

At the same but in a different place of the city, the same situation was happening with you and your best friend.

"Wait, you did what?" Lily, your best friend, exclaimed in disbelief as you recounted the events of the past few days.

You leaned back in your chair, sighing. "I agreed to pretend to be Joel's girlfriend so he can convince his ex that he's moved on."

Lily raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on her face. "And why would you agree to that? You've never got along”

You rolled your eyes, knowing she had a point. "Trust me, I didn't want to, but he was desperate, and well, I think that maybe this could help us to get along.

Lily's grin widened as she leaned in closer, clearly enjoying the news "I can't believe you're playing his girlfriend. The same guy you've called a dick for years”

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. "I know, it's insane. But it's just temporary, and we both know it's just an act.”

“Oh, but do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” 

“I just want you to be careful with your heart,” she said, taking a seat beside you “Remember when you and Conell broke up because he left for Europe? You were heartbroken and I don’t want to ever see you like that again.” 

“That was real. I loved Conell”, you reminded her. “And this is not real.” 

Her expression was still serious, so you gave in and nodded at Lily’s words, “I’ll be careful, I promise.” 

Lily gave you a reassuring smile. "Okay, as long as you're aware of the risks. Just don't forget that you deserve someone who's genuine and treats you right."

You leaned in and gave her a quick hug. "Like who?"

“Conell. He was the best boyfriend you had.” 

You smile at her, but you couldn’t help but feel this could lead you to have a real heartbreak. 

The following day, Joel was opening his gallery, trying to put the events of the previous day off of his mind. He truly thought he was stupid for asking you to pretend to be his girlfriend. He couldn’t sleep because of it, he felt he had made a mistake, especially because he found himself unable to stop thinking about you. 

Even when he unlocked the gallery doors and began arranging his art and tools, his thoughts kept drifting to you. The way you had looked at him, the unexpected spark when your hands briefly touched—it was consuming his thoughts.

Just as he was settling into his work, the sound of footsteps from behind caught him off guard. 

He turned around expecting to find you, but when he faced Lauren standing there, he felt disappointed.

"Lauren," he greeted her, his tone polite but distant. "What brings you here today, again?"

Lauren looked around the gallery with admiration. Joel was a really talented man and his work showed it. "I got a job in the building across the street," she said, gesturing to the building in front of Joel's gallery. "I'll be working there, so I thought we could have lunch together sometime."

Joel's heart sank at the news. Having his ex, who was trying to rekindle their relationship, working just across the street was the last thing he wanted. But he couldn't stop the nagging feeling that his thoughts were drifting back to you and how your (his) already complicated plan was going to become a harder task to do.

“I don’t feel it's correct for us to have lunch,” he said.

“Why? Your girlfriend doesn’t allow you to have female friends?”

“You’re not my friend Lauren” he replied shortly.

“But I’m the mother of your child.” 

“The one who abandoned her. Besides Sarah is 13, she is not a child anymore.”

Lauren's face twisted with frustration, guilt, and a hint of sadness. She had hoped that her return would be met with open arms and forgiveness, that Joel was going to be there waiting for her to return, but instead, she faced the truth of him moving on. 

"I know I made mistakes, Joel," Lauren admitted, her voice carrying the regret of her actions "Leaving you and Sarah was the biggest one. But I'm here now, trying to make amends. Can't we at least try to be civil for Sarah's sake?"

Joel hesitated, he had built a life for himself and Sarah in Lauren's absence, and he didn’t trust her intentions completely. “It's not that simple, Lauren. You can't just walk back into our lives and expect everything to be as it was."

Lauren's shoulders slumped, and she let out a heavy sigh. "I understand that, Joel. But I'm willing to work on it, to earn back your trust and Sarah's love."

Joel met her gaze, his eyes reflecting a tint of longing for her. After all, she was right, she was Sarah’s mother. Nevertheless, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you.

And as he had called you with his mind, the gallery's entrance door suddenly swung open, breaking the momentary silence. Both Joel and Lauren turned to see you, entering the gallery carrying a cup of coffee and a bag of pastries.

You glanced between them, sensing the tension in the air, and cleared your throat before speaking.

“Joel?”

The sound of your voice broke Joel's tension and a sense of relief rushed inside him, and he managed a grateful smile at your arrival.

“Baby. I missed you” he said as he approached you, signaling you to keep the act. 

You fake the best of your smiles in order to follow the lines of this stupid plan he made up.

“Me too, my honey bee”, her smile was so big, and Joel knew he had continued the laugh at the name. 

“Honey bee?” Lauren interrupted, as she crossed her arms.

“Yes. It’s a joke, you know. Because I’m a florist, get it?” you said. 

Joel wrapped his arm around you, squeezing a little bit harder than he should.

“Look, sunflower. I didn’t really have the chance to introduce you both properly yesterday. This is Lauren, Sarah’s mother.” 

You extended your hand toward her with a tight smile. 

“Nice to meet you." She shook your hand politely, maintaining a composed demeanor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for my behavior yesterday. I was stressed. ” You apologized, feigning politeness and keeping up the facade as you continued to play your part in this.

Lauren nodded; her initial reservations seemingly put at ease by your polite behavior. "No need to apologize. It's nice to meet you, Bee?"

You nodded “This is what this one calls me”, you smiled, looking at Joel.

Joel, relieved that the tension decreased a little, spoke "A special name for my special lady.” 

“Am I?” you asked Joel through your teeth.

He nodded, keeping his smile in place. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not, honey.”

You grit your teeth and bop his nose with your finger. 

Lauren's curiosity got the better of her as she looked around the gallery. "It's a lovely gallery you have here, Joel. You must be proud." 

Joel nodded, his pride in his gallery evident. "Thank you, Lauren. Then he directs his look at you. “Actually, in a few weeks, I have a new exhibition and my bee here is helping with everything. Don’t you honey?”

“I’m gonna make you pay, Joel Miller” you whispered in his ear, without dropping your smile.

“I wanna see you try” he answered defiantly. 

"So, how did you two meet?" Lauren asked, her tone casual but her curiosity evident.

Joel exchanged a quick glance with you, and for a moment, his guard slipped. He hadn't anticipated this type of question, and he knew that any answer he gave would need to be natural.

"We met at the gallery," Joel replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "She was a regular, always coming to see art, but I feel I was the art she wanted to look at.”

You laughed and nodded, playing your part in the charade. "Yes, I've always been a fan of Joel. It was only a matter of time before we connected on a more personal level."

Lauren raised an eyebrow, her skepticism growing. "It's just... you both seem so different."

Joel and you exchanged another look, this time with a touch of unease. "Well, you know what they say, opposites attract," Joel offered with a forced chuckle.

Lauren didn't seem entirely convinced, but she let the matter drop for now. 

Joel couldn't help but wonder how much longer he could keep this act, especially with someone as perceptive as Lauren watching every move.

“I just came to give this," you said. Giving the coffee and the pastries to Joel. 

Your nice act was unexpected for him. It actually warmed his heart how attentive you were, and the little details like this. he found himself in awe of you.

Joel accepted the coffee and pastries with a grateful smile, genuinely touched by your thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Bee. You didn't have to do this, but I appreciate it."

You shrugged casually, trying to keep up the appearance of a loving girlfriend. "I know you're always so busy with the gallery, and I thought you could use a little pick-me-up."

Lauren watched the interaction with a hint of curiosity, and Joel couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the elaborate web of lies he had created.

He had to remind himself he was doing this to protect Sarah and his own heart, there was no way he was going to fall for you. 

“So, I’m gonna go now. I have things to arrange with the shop” you said, placing your hand delicately on his upper arm. 

Joel nodded, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "Of course, honey. We'll catch up later."

Lauren also gave you a polite nod. "It was nice meeting you, Bee. I hope we can get to know each other better."

“You too. You can stop by the shop anytime ” You offered a polite smile.

There was a brief glance between you two before you turned onto your heels to walk away, but before you could take a step, Joel gently grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Bee, wait,” he said.

Joel's eyes locked onto yours, meeting with a questionable gaze. At that moment, it felt as if the world around you had faded away.

Then, without saying a word, Joel leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss that was meant to be a performance in front of a woman he once loved. It was a soft, lingering kiss as if the two of you were trying to convince the world you were madly in love.

Your eyes closed instinctively as the kiss deepened, and for a moment, it felt as if time had stopped. The feeling, the taste of his lips, and the desperation in the way Joel held you against him, made this feel like falling until your bones crashed against the ground.

The kiss eventually ended, but the lingering sensation of it remained. When you pulled away, there was a flicker of surprise in both of your eyes, as if you had just shared a secret only for the two of you to know

“Now, you can go,” he said, smiling as if that would help him to calm the crimson color of his cheeks.

But you were lost for words, so you just nodded in a daze, unable to form a coherent response. You turned away from Joel, your footsteps unsteady as you made your way to the gallery's exit.

Once you stepped outside, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm the racing of your heart. The kiss was a surprise and you needed a moment alone to process it.

Meanwhile, inside the gallery, Joel’s heart pounded hard in his chest, the thoughts in his mind were racing, and he was confused and conflicted about his own emotions. The kiss woke up something he hadn’t anticipated. 

As he stood there, he forgot about Lauren’s presence behind him. The only thing running in his mind was the feeling of your soft lips on his. One he had initiated as a part of the game he was playing, but the gravity was too much for him to handle and the spark was something he couldn’t deny. 

What had made him kiss you like that?        

You

Come asap to my shop.

Sent at 9:30 AM

Joel

Sorry, can't. Busy with work.

Sent at 9:32 AM

You

Do I care? Oh wait, No. Come here before I make you

Sent at 9:33 AM

Joel

If you wanna see me so bad, I’ll go. 😉

By the way, how did you get my number?

Sent at 9:34 AM

You

Tommy.

Sent at 9:35 AM

Joel sighed, setting his phone down for a moment. He had tried to resist, he didn’t want to face you yet, but your persistence had won out and he had to act like a man.

Minutes later, Joel entered your flower shop, the bell above the door chiming softly. He scanned the colorful array of blooms, then turned to find you. But before he could react, he was welcomed with a hard slap on his right cheek.

“Ouch. What the hell was that?” he asked defensively.

“What was that?” you asked furiously. “You kissed me!” You hit his chest. “Who gave you the right to touch me?”

Joel rubbed his stinging cheek, his eyes wide with surprise at your reaction. He hadn't expected a slap. That meant you didn’t feel anything after that kiss. 

"I... I didn't mean to upset you," he stammered, taking a step back to create some space between you two, avoiding making you more upset. "I thought we were just playing a part for Lauren."

You glared at him. "That doesn't give you the right to kiss me without permission, Joel."

Joel sighed, realizing he had crossed a line. "You're right, I shouldn't have. I'm sorry.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Just don't do it again, okay?” 

“What do you want me to do? Boyfriends and girlfriends kiss each other” he said, as a matter of fact.

“And we aren’t. Remember?” You felt your anger dissipating as you saw the look in his eyes.

“We are going to have to spend more time together, by the way,” he announced, already taking a step away from you in case you slap his face again.

“What? Why?”

“Lauren found a job in front of the gallery” 

You sighed, the news about Lauren working nearby adding another problem to deal with. "Great, just what we needed, more opportunities for her to snoop around."

Joel nodded in agreement. "I know it's not ideal, but we'll have to be careful and make sure our act is convincing."

You reluctantly nodded. "Fine, I'll try to be more convincing, but please, no more surprise kisses."

Joel snorted. "Agreed”. He closed his mouth for a moment, as he was contemplating something. “Maybe we could sit and talk about what we can or can’t do.” 

“Like a date?” you asked skeptically. 

He snorted “I would never take you on a date” His tone was like a knife stabbing your ego, and at your expression, he regretted his words immediately "I mean, not that you're not... I just mean we're pretending to date, and it's not a real date” 

You gave him a pointed look but decided to let it go.

“Today. My place” he said. 

You sighed, realizing that it was necessary to discuss the boundaries of their fake relationship. "Alright, today at your place”

Joel nodded "Great. I'll see you later then."

With their plans set, you and Joel parted ways, each of you feeling the weight of this act, and as the day passed, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than Joel.

That same evening, as the day cast the last ray of light. You were closing your shop without noticing Joel was waiting for you leaning on his car. 

"Bee Bee” he called out softly, careful not to startle you.

You turned, your heart skipping a beat as you saw him standing there. "Joel," you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. "What are you doing here?"

“We are having dinner tonight. Don’t you remember?” 

“I thought-"

“Get in the car,” he said, interrupting, as he opened the door for you. 

You hesitated for a moment, something in the air was thick with tension. But something in Joel's gaze made you take a step forward. Without a word, you walked forward and got into his car.

When you arrived at Joel’s house, the warm and cozy atmosphere of his house felt nice. 

As you entered the living room, there stood Sarah. She had a mischievous expression on her face as if she had just found out a secret. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, and there was a hint of amusement dancing in her gaze.

"Hey, Dad. Hey, bee” Sarah greeted you both with a knowing smile.

Joel cleared his throat, his cheeks faintly tinged with a red color. "Sarah, we didn't expect you to be home."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Clearly."

You couldn't help but feel a flush of discomfort at the situation. It was one thing to pretend to be Joel's girlfriend in front of adults, but having his own daughter catch you in the act was a whole different situation.

Joel shot you an apologetic look as if silently acknowledging the awkwardness you felt. 

"Sarah, let me explain..."

But Sarah waved a hand, still wearing that amused grin. "No need, Dad. I think I've figured it out."

You exchanged a glance with Joel, both of you unsure of how to act in front of her. It was clear that Sarah had pieced everything together. 

As Sarah turned to head upstairs, she couldn't but say something else “By the way, you guys make a convincing couple. Almost had me fooled."

With that, she disappeared up the staircase, leaving you and Joel standing in the living room without knowing how to address the situation. 

“Well. That went well.” 

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, she saw right through us, didn't she?"

Joel ran a hand through his hair, his expression conflicted. "I didn't want her to find out like this. It's just... complicated."

You nodded in understanding. "I know. No one would like to let her daughter know that she had a ridiculous father.” 

Joel couldn't help but chuckle at your choice of words. "A ridiculous father, huh? Thanks” 

You grinned, the tension in the room gradually easing. "You know what I mean. This whole situation is just... well, ridiculous."

Joel nodded, but still, he gestured for you to take a seat, and you both sank down onto the couch. 

"I didn't want her to think that... well, you know," Joel began, struggling to find the right words.

"That we're actually together?" you finished his sentence, your voice gentle.

Joel nodded, his eyes meeting yours. "Yeah. I didn't want her to get the wrong idea."

You sighed, “Would it be that bad if she had believed it?” 

Joel hesitated before answering, his gaze fixed on a distant point, “I don't want her to get attached to something that's not real."

You nodded in understanding, appreciating his concern for his daughter. "I get it, Joel.”

He offered a small smile, grateful for your understanding. 

But then, Joel's expression shifted, and he looked directly into your eyes. "Maybe this will help us to get along. There's something about you that I didn't see before.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission, and your heart should be skipping at that. 

Joel cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, I guess we should discuss some boundaries."

you nodded, meeting your gaze with his. 

“Do you like wine, right?” He asked.

“Sure.” 

Once Joel came back from the kitchen, taking a sip of wine, he began talking about the boundaries you were both setting up.

 "First off, we need to maintain a certain level of physical contact, like holding hands or the occasional kiss in public." 

You raised an eyebrow, "But it should be natural.” 

Joel nodded in agreement. "Absolutely, we'll keep it subtle. And not touching when we’re alone."

"Agreed," you replied. "Now, about spending time together. We should aim for at least a couple of nights a week, maybe dinner or a movie."

Joe smiled, appreciating your help in all this situation. "That sounds reasonable. And we can attend some social events together, like gallery openings or parties."

Your conversation continued as you laid down more ground rules. It was a strange situation, talking about their fake relationship as if it were real.

As the evening wore on, they finished a takeaway meal, and Joel poured more wine into your glasses. You chatted about other topics, gradually letting go of the tension that always existed between both of you. 

You couldn't help but notice that, despite the differences and the odd circumstances, there was a certain comfort in Joel's presence. There was a genuine connection you didn’t expect. 

Joel also found himself strangely at ease with you, despite his initial thoughts. There was a depth to your personality that he had never got to appreciate before, and he was beginning to see you in a different light. 

 "So, Joel, tell me more about your art. What inspires you?"

Joel leaned back; his gaze thoughtful. "Well, art has always been a way for me to express things I couldn't put into words. It's a way to capture emotions and moments, you know? I find inspiration in life, in the people I meet, and the stories I can tell through it.”

You nodded, genuinely interested. "That sounds amazing. I've seen your gallery, and your work is incredible."

Joel smiled a hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“So when will you show me?”

“Show you what?”

“The things you’re working on now” 

“Soon” he replied, gracing a smile at him.

“What about you Bee? What made you become a florist?" he asked, in order to continue the conversation.

You chuckled. "Oh, that's a long story. I've always had a fascination with flowers and their symbolism. They're like nature's way of speaking to us. Plus, I love the idea of brightening someone's day with a bouquet."

Joel found himself captivated by her passion. "That makes sense.”

“Why?” you genuinely asked

“You’re a sweetheart to everyone.” 

A hint of blush colored your cheeks at his compliment. "Well, thank you, Joel. I try to be."

Joel smiled warmly.

You continued sharing stories about both of you. Joel listened to your own stories about moving to Texas and opening your shop, and you got to learn so many things about Joel, some struggles he had at the beginning of his career, how he raised Sarah on his own, and things you could never have thought of him.

"And what happened after she was born? I mean, how did you end up raising her on your own?"

Joel took a deep breath "Lauren and I were together back then. She was thrilled about having a child at first, but after Sarah was born, something changed in her. She became distant, started going out late at night, and eventually, she left."

Your heart skipped a bit as he spoke. "That must have been incredibly difficult.”

Joel nodded, with a sadness that also showed nostalgia "It was. I never expected to be a single parent, but I had to step up for Sarah. I couldn't let her down."

And there was a time when you understood why Joel was so afraid of letting Lauren back into his life. 

After the night wore on, you left Joel's house, and the atmosphere inside his home shifted, now it felt empty.

Joel sat back at the table, nursing what was left of his wine. He knew inviting you over was a risky plan, but the night was a pleasant surprise, you were a pleasant surprise in his life. He got to know glimpses of you he didn’t know existed. 

As he pushed his glass away, Tommy entered the house, scanning his surroundings. At the state of his brother, he couldn’t help but tease him. 

"So, Joel," Tommy said with a mischievous grin, "How was it dinner with bee?”

Joel rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where this was going. "It's not what you think, Tommy. We're just pretending” 

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Pretending, huh? Tell that to your face”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. "Tommy, you wouldn't understand. It's complicated."

Tommy leaned in closer, a sly grin on his face. "Complicated, huh?”

"It's complicated, okay?" Joel finally admitted, rubbing his temples. "I didn't expect any of this to happen."

Tommy chuckled, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. "Is Joel Miller falling for Bee?”

Joel shot him a warning look, but Tommy just grinned wider. "Relax, brother. I'm just teasing”

Joel didn't respond, lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't deny that something had changed over dinner, something he couldn't quite put into words.

Over the next days, Joel and you continued to play your act as a couple, and your interactions became less about pretending and more about genuinely getting to know each other. You were sharing time, laughing together, and interacting in a way that was unexpected for Joel and you four years ago. 

Joel was surprised to find he was enjoying your company more than he had expected. He appreciated things about you, your dedication, your dreams, and especially the look on your face when you talked about something you love, the sparkling of your eyes that could light up the whole city.

One evening, as you were closing up your flower shop, you received a text from Joel.

Joel

 Can't get enough of me? Dinner tonight? My place.

Sent at 4:30 p.m.

You couldn't help but smile at the message and reply to it. 

You

 You're becoming quite the charmer, aren't you? Dinner sounds good.

Sent at 40:30 p.m.

You ended up spending time with Joel, Tommy, and Sarah at their home. You were even invited to spend their traditional movie night with them. Joel had picked a classic film, and the living room was enveloped in the soft glow of the television screen. Popcorn bowls were passed around, and Sarah curled up in an armchair while Tommy claimed the couch.

You found yourself sitting next to Joel on the couch, and as the movie played, you couldn't help but feel the consequences of a tiring day. The soft lighting and the comfort of the living room made your eyes feel heavier, you fought to stay awake, but without even realizing it, you leaned on Joel’s shoulder and rested your eyes for a moment. 

Joel glanced down at you, noticing that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He didn't want to wake you, so he simply adjusted his position, to allow you to rest your head on his chest, making sure you were comfortable. The way your face seemed to be at peace melted his heart, and he couldn't help but smile.

The movie played on, and Joel allowed himself to relax, as you slept soundly on his chest. He couldn't help but wonder why the nagging feeling in his stomach was intensifying.

The next day, you were back in your flower shop, tending to vibrant flowers as usual. Autumn was arriving and the cozy environment and scent were filling the air. The scent of flowers filled the air, and the soft music playing in the background added to the nice atmosphere. It was a simple but normal day. 

Just as you were arranging a bouquet, the bell above the door chimed, signaling a customer's arrival. When you turned to greet them, you froze in your tracks. It was Lauren, wearing a polite but insincere smile.

“Lauren,” you said, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. " How can I help you?”

Lauren's smile didn't reach her eyes as she leaned on the counter. "I just wanted to stop by and have a little chat."

You couldn't help but feel a growing tension in the air. "About what?"

Lauren's tone remained polite, but there was a soft threat in her words. "About me, about you and Joel, of course. I hope you're not getting too comfortable in his life."

You maintained a calm expression, despite the growing unease in your stomach.

She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering "I just wanted to remind you of something, dear. You see, Joel and I have a long history, and Sarah is our daughter. I'm sure you understand how important family is."

She paused for a moment, as if considering her words carefully, and then added, "You are just a girlfriend he is going to get tired of."

You felt a surge of anger at her words. "I understand your concern, Lauren. But my relationship with Joel is our business.”

Lauren's smile remained, but there was a glint of steel in her eyes. "Oh, I'm not trying to say anything bad about it. I just thought you should know where you stand. After all, Joel and I have a daughter together, and that's a bond that can't be broken."

With that, she turned and walked out of her shop, leaving behind a flame threatening to hunt you with the venom of her words. 

Joel had made you stand in a mess that wasn’t yours, but now you were too deep into it and you didn’t know where it would lead you from here. 

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed

[reasonsforhope]

Do you have any advice for dealing with election anxiety?

I think/hope so!

First, a couple caveats:

I'm from the US, so US perspective, and about US 2024 elections

I know more about politics/follow them more than like, at least 85% of US Americans? But I am not an expert.

Environment/climate news and climate hope are science-based and can be measured/predicted empirically wayyyyy more than politics can, because People

I'm not getting into the trenches around Democrats vs. the Left vs. Liberals vs. Progressives. In this post, we're all in one big venn diagram of mostly interchangeable terms

So, first off, maybe my biggest piece of advice is this: The antidote to anxiety is action.

Find something you can do to help - anything. Anxiety is like fear - it's part of your brain's alarm system. It's part of your brain's mechanism for telling you that you need to do something

So if you listen to that alarm and do something, your brain won't feel the same need to desperately escalate the alarm system

You can look up and sign up for actions, protests, petitions, letter-writing campaigns, phone banking, canvassing, and more for candidates near you at Mobilize.us (no Repubs on here I promise). They also work with Swing Left a lot - a group that helps voters look up and focus on helping the nearest race that is actually competitive (because most of them aren't!)

Again, that's Mobilize.us and Swing Left as two of the best places to find out how and where to help, and sign up to do so

Other than that, I don't have advice specifically so much as I have "some useful and more hopeful ways to think about the coming US election" and to a lesser extent democracy in general

1. The media is going to underreport how well the Left and/or Democrats are doing, basically no matter what.

So, although we can't get cocky about it, this is something absolutely worth remembering when you see just about any polling or predictions about the 2024 elections.

Here's why:

Poling is weird and often inaccurate and skews in a lot of ways and is inherently biased, and it's less accurate the further you are from an election. Also, the electoral college is a huge complication here

This skewing is built into both the interpretation of the poll and the design of the poll itself - how many people do they sample? Demographic spread? Polls try to go for "likely voters," but how well can you predict that, especially as voting rates for young people and marginalized groups are rising, often dramatically?

Right now, those biases are all skewing most to all polls and predictions to the right. Including from basically all pollsters, as well as left-wing media and news outlets.

Now, THAT'S NOT INHERENTLY A BAD THING. It's not because they don't want the Left to win. It's because in 2016, basically all mainstream media, including left-leaning media, said that there was a very low chance Trump was going to win. They said that Hillary Clinton had it in the bag. So they're all correcting for the huge inaccuracy in the 2016 (and 2020 and 2022 tbh) elections

Not only were they catastrophically and humiliatingly wrong about that, they then had to deal with the fact that that very reporting was part of why Clinton lost in 2016 - voters heard she was probably going to win, so they felt safe staying home instead of voting

And then the 2020 election polls were also super wrong, mostly in the other direction

Polling as a field is undergoing a massive shakeup around this, trying to figure out how to not fuck up that badly again, but they haven't figured it out yet, so right now they're skewing things to compensate

That's for the sake of both their own credibility and, you know, the part where just about no one in either left-wing or mainstream media or mainstream polling orgs wants Trump to win

So they're going to underreport Democratic chances on purpose to a) compensate for the bias skewing things toward Democrats in their models, and b) to make sure that they don't accidentally help Trump win again

Sources: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

Reasons the Republicans are in more trouble than a lot of people think

Democrats are largely closing ranks hard around Biden, because no matter what they think of Biden, they know a Repub victory would be a thousand times worse

Republicans, however, are absolutely NOT unifying around a candidate. And they're also the ones who go around saying a ton of awful and offensive and wildly untrue things about their opponents. Meaning that the Republican primary is about to get fucking messy, and probably all of their candidates will be tarred in the process

So, basically, the Republican candidates are all going to be busy smearing the fuck out of each other - while Biden mostly doesn't have to deal with that level of negative campaigning against him for months and months

As studies show, in politics, "a negative frame is much more persistent, or “stickier,” than a positive one. If you come at an issue negatively, but are later reminded of the policy's positive aspects, you will still think it's a bust."

Also, Biden is gonna get basically all presidential-race left-wing big-name donor money, while the Right will have that money split a bunch of ways and blow through it hard on infighting, creating a probable funding gap

Trump's campaign contributions are all going to pay his legal fees. Like, to the extent that last month, his main PAC had just $4 million in cash on hand - because they siphoned over $101 million to pay his legal fees (muahahaha)

Sources: x, x, x, x, x, x, x

Other hopeful things to consider

Yes, Trump's indictments and trials are, unfortunately, boosting his numbers among his supporters. However, that's only with the hard right wing - and you can't win a general election with just the far right. He needs to appeal to independent voters and moderate Repubs - and every indictment and trial hurts his chances with them. x, x

In 2022, literally everyone was predicting a "red tsunami." And they were wrong: it never happened. Instead, Democrats picked up a seat in the senate, lost a third or less of the seats in the House that they were expected to, and won a number of statewide races. x, x, x, x, x

DeSantis's decision to go to war with Disney stands to do him a lot of fucking hard. Disney isn't just powerful in general - it's an unbelievably powerful force and employer in DeSantis's home state of Florida. Disney has already pulled a $1 billion project from Florida due to the feud, is responsible for "half" of FL's tourism industry, and and is branding DeSantis as "anti-corporation" and "anti-business" - dangerous charges in the right wing. x, x, x, x, x, x

Abortion is an issue that gets voters to the polls. This is an issue on which politicians are wildly out of step with voters: Numbers change depending on how you break it down, but generally 60% to 70% of Americans think abortion should be legal - which is, in election terms, is a landslide. For years, that momentum has been with Republicans. Well, now it's with us, and so far pro-choice candidates and ballot propositions have done way better than expected. To quote Vox, in 2022, "abortion rights won in all six states with abortion ballot measures, including in red states like Kentucky and Montana that otherwise elected Republican lawmakers." x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

[justanamesstuff]

Chapter 5

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader A/N: And one day she uploaded the fifth chapter! I'm very happy to bring you guys this new chapter I had fun writing and editing...it's full of emotions but so am I. I also want to thank you all for patience and understanding while I'm going through this difficult time of my life, i really dont know where i will be without your unconditional love and support!! Please let me know what you think and what you expect for this tangled story <333 love you lots! Warnings: ANGST, anxiety, so many feelings...fluff, cuteness, surprises, typos. Word count: 8.2 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

< Chapter 4

Few weeks later, LA

Matty felt the mild temperature on the air caressing his cheeks as he opened the door of his rented car at the airport. Denise and some of her friends were supposed to step out of the big doors in only minutes. Trying to be a good son, he offered himself without being asked. One because he wanted to see his mother and, two, because staying at home with Hann’s eyes following around all the time was driving the frontman insane. They had been going through a weird phase after the talk involving Matty’s feelings and problems. They were good but, at the same time, they weren’t. Just as Matty with Y/N. Why that kept happening to him? No clear answer.

While he waited, Matty walked around the rented car, his hood up and trying to wake up massaging his face harder than intended. He was trying to keep his mind at ease. He couldn’t think about his issues. Quickly, Matty’s hands reached quickly for his pack of cigarettes. 

Matty deliberated a hundred of times if asking his mom about the situation would help, even though it was complicated. He would put her in a sketchy situation, and he was against it. At the same time, he knew very well –deep down– his mother would see through his eyes with her x-ray vision and say exactly what he had to do but was avoiding. 

Matty didn’t feel ready.

He had to decide. To accept what was really going on with his feelings, say those out loud and risk a lot in the middle. Or keep the same behaviour, not only the one he maintained for the past months, for the past years. Either way, he’d continue  hurting himself.

Lies -no matter how suited they could be- at the end are lies anyway. Denying feelings you have, don’t make them disappear…you only sweep them under the carpet and wait for them to explode in your face sooner or later.

The process of accepting is painful most of the time, but isn’t more painful to believe something that is not? Isn’t it worse to maintain a relationship that deep down you knew you don’t want?

Matty was protecting his heart. He was getting himself ready for the next part…for the inevitable. 

After a couple of more minutes, the singer spotted his mother looking for him. At the same moment, his phone rang.

“’Ello?” he answered, throwing away the butt of his smoked cigarette. 

“Hi Matty, where are you?” his mother asked. He gave her the directions, as he waved his free arm in the air. The whole group approached him. “Hi, love!” Denise greeted him, embracing him on a hug.

“Hi, mom.” Matty muttered, feeling the warmth of her arms. He didn’t realize how much he had needed that hug. “How was the flight?” the singer asked politely while greeting his mother’s friends.

“It was good.” one of them responded.

“Where are the others?” Denise asked.

“At the house, I volunteered to pick you up.”

“Aw, my son.” Denise took his face between her hands. 

Matty laughed feeling the tight squeeze. “Mom, stop!” he moved away, feeling like he was a teenager all over again.

“Oh, shush!!” she protested making the rest laugh.

Shortly after, Matty and the group of women got on the car. He started driving, chatting a little with Denise’s friends and her mom. He made jokes, trying to be the nicest he could be.

“So, how’s the record going?” Denise inquired.

Matty didn’t give her much information, “Good, good.”

“You look tired.” she noticed.

“I am.”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Mom!” Matty whined, stopping at a red light. 

“What? I want to know if my son is alright.” 

“I’m sleeping just right, okay?”

Denise scoffed. “What that even means?” her accent thickened warming Matty’s heart thinking about home. 

“Oh god, I was missing you but…now I don’t know-” Matty teased her. He felt the urge to divert the attention.

“Excuse me, boy? First, I know you missed me- “

Matty smiled wide, “I did.”

“-and secondly, you can’t get fussy. I’m angry with you.” she folded her arms, emphasizing her sayings which was answered with a frown from Matty.

“What are you on about now?” Matty asked her.

“And you dare to ask!”

“Denise…” Matty warned her.

“Y/n? Ireland?“ Matty’s mother started counting, Matty’s face dropping. “Does that ring any bells?” 

Matty scratched the back of his head. “No? I mean- Yes, she’s working over there.”

“Not that! I know that!” Denise shouted. “Well, I’ve already known that.”

Denise’s son turned for a split of a second, staring at her puzzled. “What else then?”

“She’s dating someone! Don’t fake like you don’t know…” she continued rambling, but Matty’s ears closed. His mind was foggy while he imagined Y/n and a boy with no face doing a ton of shit he couldn’t do with her. 

“Like actually dating?” Matty’s voice came out strangled. He didn’t dare to look at her mother.

Denise hide her mouth behind her right hand, gasping, “Oh, you don’t know! She’s going to kill me!”

“Mom…”

“Do you remember Tom?” she exhaled.

“Tom?”

“Tom Blyth.”

“Yes, I do. I saw him at an even, I reckon? Not sure.” Matty’s mind desperately trying to remember how this Tom looked like. 

“Well, they… I don’t know how much I can tell you. I shouldn’t say a thing.” Denise explained, worried. Y/n never told her not to tell, but still.

“Don’t worry, I knew she was dating someone.” Matty lied. Y/n told him about a boy she fancied, not this. Why didn’t she? They talked a week prior, why hide this?

“Oh, okay. I’m really happy for her.” Denise felt a wave of relief washing over her.

“Yeah, me too.” Matty said through gritted teeth.

“It’s lovely she’s dating someone! He sounds like a good lad.” Denise continued ranting, unaware of Matty’s emotions.

“Yes, it is.” Matty couldn’t say more. His heart was aching. 

“Anyway, how’s Nadia?” his mother changed the topic.

“Ah?” Matty snapped out of his daydreaming. “Oh, Nadia- She- Yeah, she is alright. I guess, she’s in Italy right now.” Matty responded. Hoping his mother didn’t ask more. Luckily she didn’t.

Matty drove the group of women to the hotel they were going to stay at. He promised to come back later for dinner, and then he continued his driving.

His mind was nowhere to be found. His heart was hurt. Matty’s body was on pilot mode, he only wanted to arrive at the house and sleep. Just forget the news.

This Tom and Y/n? This new dude and his best friend? He couldn’t picture it. He didn’t want to. Why Y/n never said his name?

Matty was sure that the last conversation they had had was a fully sincerely one. He knew they didn’t talk about many important parts but…why she didn’t tell him?

…………………………………………

Hours later

Matty woke up suddenly. He sat on his bed, trying to calm his breathing. His heart beating so fast, he could perfectly sense it and hear it in his ears. 

After dropping her mother at the hotel, he came back home to sleep for a couple of hours before leaving to set. His life was hectic right now. His mind was troubled. And now his body was showing it more than before. He had to decide sooner than later. This thing was going to drive him insane.

His mother told him a lot of information he hadn’t considered. In fact, he forgot about this guy Y/n talked about. Matty was so focused on his relationship with her. On his relationship with his girlfriend. With maintaining both alive and going. But in the end: one, he wasn’t fulfilling the task, and secondly, he was only focusing on him.

The guy, well, Tom…never was in the equation for him. He kept Y/n in a place, in his head, where she was single and no seeking for a relationship right now. Did she tell him that or he believed it? She did tell him about this guy she had a crush on…but Matty knew that Y/n never took the lead. Probably Tom made a move. 

Matty ripped the blankets from his body, irritated.

He had to be happy for Y/n. He wanted to be happy. Matty couldn’t. He was more than screwed, he realized. The singer couldn’t say it out loud, not even to himself only. But he knew why this bothered him so much.

For a while he sat on his bed, running his hands –desperately– through his curls, trying to find the answer to his sorrows. 

Nothing helpful came to mind, but his breathing settled a little. His mind kept running. 

And then he remembered his dream.

He could picture it so vividly. It wasn’t fully a dream. It was more a memory with Y/n.

The dream took place months after they became friends. That time the rest of the gang wasn’t there, just Y/n and Matty. They had this kind of tradition, like a movie night but different. Instead of films they watched series. Sitcoms in particular. One of them picked two numbers, one for the episode and another for the season.

This time they were watching the office. They loved it. And Y/n particularly loved Pam and Jim’s relationship. Every time they appeared on the screen doing something remotely cute she screamed or remarked it for Matty in case he missed it.

He couldn’t care less about the episode. He was focused on her. How beautiful she got cheering for some random characters. Matty tried to look at her without her noticing. Y/n made him feel so many things back then. 

“Omg, he’s going to propose. Matthew!!” Y/n screamed turning to look at him, and then again to the screen.

“He’s not.”

“He totally is!”

“You already know what happens!” Matty accused her, chuckling. 

“Shh, I want to pretend that I don’t know.” the singer remembered how she snuggled closer to him. “Let…” she pointed a finger on his chest. “me…” again. “be, Healy.” Y/n looked up at his brown eyes, so close and yet so far. Matty’s heart was going to explode on his chest. He stayed there, just looking at Y/n. “Stop.” she looked away after a few minutes without a real reply from him. 

“I’m not doing anything, darling.” he smiled.

“You are.”

“What am I doing?”

“Looking at me.”Y/n said, drawing patterns on his clothed chest around his heart where his tattoo was imprinted. The girl wasn’t aware of the power she had upon him.

“Well, yeah, I’m not blind.” Matty was so surprised about how well he was faking being unbothered. “What’s wrong?”

“You are looking me like that night…” he made a puzzled face. “The night we met.” Y/n clarified. 

“Ohh.” he cooed.

“So- yeah- stop.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asked cheekily. Matty touched the redness of her cheeks gaining her attention again.

“Dunno.”

“You’re beau-” Matty couldn’t help to start saying. Y/n moved her head forward hiding her face on his shoulder.

“Shh. Don’t. Let’s continue watching.” she made herself comfortable on his left side. Using his shoulder as a pillow this time. Matty couldn’t complain. He was happy there, with her, even when the words got stacked on his throat.

Y/n was everything he wanted back then. Why did he stop trying? Yes, they were friends. That was the most important part of this mess. Although he hated himself for not trying enough, for not waiting enough, for being an idiot, to realize late all of this when she was apparently starting a relationship with someone else, and he was in a former one already.

Nadia. He kind of used Nadia. He loved her, but not in that way…or not any more as the beginning. Matty couldn’t keep with that. He was going to hurt her so much..if he wasn’t already. Why he convinced himself he was ready for a formal relationship with someone else when in fact he wanted her? 

 If he broke the relationship, both of them would get hurt. Nadia doesn’t deserve that, in fact, she deserved better than a half love. It was the best, in the way that he had to let her have a better opportunity.

Matty ran his hands through his hair anxiously for a million time. He needed to know about this Y/n and Tom thing. He had to be sure if it was a real thing. Not because it would help. It would hurt in fact, even though he had the urged to know. He couldn’t ask Y/n though. Matty was sure that George knew something. He had to ask him.

Matty walked the short distance from his room to the studio downstairs where he knew George would be. 

He opened the door without announcing his presence. 

“Everything okay, mate?” George said in a calm tone without turning, his eyes still on the board in font of his eyes. 

“Do you know Y/n is with a Tom?” Matty didn’t wait a second. 

His best friend’s body stiffened visibly. “Tom? What Tom?” G tried playing dumb, although Matty saw right through him.

“George, I’m not in the mood for this. I know you know. So fuckin’ start talking.” he stated.

“Mat-“ 

The singer cut him short, “Don’t use that stupid tone with me.” Matty pointed his finger even though George couldn’t see him. He sat down on the couch behind G set up. “Please, I need to know.” Matty almost begged. “Can you tell me what you know?”

“Mate, you know I can’t tell you- “ George turned around on his chair. 

“So, she’s…mom’s right- Fuck!” Matty said more for himself, resting his entire body on the couch. 

“What’s going on? Why is making you so anxious?” G asked, with a patience he only had for Matty.

“I- I’m not in a good place right now…everything is- I don’t even know what to say.” Matty chuckled dryly.

“What do you mean?”

“George.“ he hissed.

“C’mon…say it.”

“I’m not ready to talk about this. I can’t- “

“This has something to do about the same feelings you had a while back?”

“Yes.”

“I know.”

George let the silence linger for a second, feeling like a pause between topics. 

“And Nadia?” the drummer asked.

“I don’t know.” Matty closed his eyes, cringing.

“Matty- “ G said in a worried tone.

“I know, okay? I’m going to talk to her…”

“Okay, it’s not going to be nice- “

“Believe me, I know.”

“I think it’s the best.”

“Yes.”

“And… Matty?”

“Yeah?”

George got serious after stating clearly, “You can’t say this to Y/n.“

“I know that too.” Matty responded defeated, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hands rhythmically.

“Mate- “

“I have things to figure it out, but I’m okay.” Matty lied to G and to himself.

G knew he was far from that state, but he wasn’t to push Matty more during that moment. “Okay…” 

“I’ve to go now.” Matty exited the room as fast as he came in.

G moved his face from side to side, praying silently that none of his best friend got hurt after all. 

………………………………………………

A week later

End of March

“What else could go wrong in this story?” Hann thought on the flight from LA to New York. He had no idea what he somehow manifested to happen after that without even knowing.

The first few days were fine, but when the fifth came everything changed. Hann and Matty didn’t talk much, they were still in this particular position since they had the talk. Hann decided to leave Matty alone for a while, but keeping his eyes close in case something happened. 

Strangely, Hann was left alone in the posh studio while the rest of the guys, the producer, and people he couldn’t retain their names even five minutes after meeting went out to get food. It would be easier ordering from an app or something even though all of them needed a break. 

The line connecting the front desk with the private area they had been working in rang startling Adam out of the zone. He left his guitar to the side, running to answer the thing.

The guitarist cleared his throat before asking, “Yeah?”

“Hello, I have a woman here that says he knows you.” the woman’s voice was tinted with suspiciousness. 

“Name?” 

Adam waited for longer than expected, listening quietly while the woman at the front desk asked the other person waiting.

“Nadia Parton.” she finally gave Adam a name.

‘Shit, what was she doing there?’

The receptionist did a strange sound urging Adam to inform her what he wanted to do with Nadia.  “Do you know her?” Hann rolled his eyes at the question and her urgency when she took longer than him asking Nadia only her name.

“Yes, I do. Let her pass, please.” he was short and polite, although he didn't give her much information. 

Adam hang up begging for a moment of peace that didn’t arrive.

…………………………………………….

Matty entered the room first, agitated as well since he played a bet with George that we would get up there before them and proceed to run upstairs. The run didn’t take his breath as much as witnessing Nadia talking calmly with Hann. 

Nadia was there.

To say that Matty didn’t expect her was to highlight the obvious. Matty had been trying to push the conversation as far as he could, and she was there, three meters away from him. He believed he had more time. The universe works differently.

“Hi, baby.” she approached him excited. “Surprise!” Nadia said while hugging him. Matty didn’t know what to do really. He hugged her back and looked at his best friend. Adam moved his shoulder as a sign he knew nothing about this, he even didn’t dear to ask the girl in the half hour they shared.

“I wasn’t expecting you…” the words fell from his mouth.

Nadia took a step back still with her arms around his neck. “That was my intention. I wanted to surprise you, as you did for our anniversary.” she said sweetly. Matty felt a little bit more miserable with each word she dropped. 

“Oh, right. I forgot some special occasion?” he inquired, lost.

She gifted him a big smile. “No, silly! I was missing you so much.” Nadia said, leaving a peak on his lips. A move that made Hann much more uncomfortable, sitting there just watching the scene as in a film. The studio’s phone rang once more, and he hadn’t been happier to hear that sound in his life. 

Adam spoke with the secretary once more informing him that Jack was in his way up.  

After he hung up, Adam tried to gain his friend’s attention at the same time he heard the guys approaching the studio. 

“Matty.“ he said between his bandmate’s name and a cough, getting the attention of the couple, not only Matty’s.

The frontman looked at him for a second time in only minutes, “What?” his face expressionless. 

“Jack is coming, and I think I hear the guys in the kitchen. ” Matty looked at him as if a second hand were growing beside the one holding the phone.

“Alright?”

Adam didn’t dare to look at Nadia. It wasn't rare that friends or family stay during the record sessions, but he was aware that Matty didn’t want her there right at that moment. Hann was trying to gain time and Matty wasn’t taking the hint.

Something must’ve clicked inside the singer’s brain because he continued saying, “Ah- Yes…I mean, top secret.” Matty moved far from Nadia’s embrace one because they were blocking the door and two because he was feeling guilty receiving so much caring he couldn't reciprocate. “Nad, would you give us a time alone? We won’t be long…just Jack checking some stuff about this-”

“Yes, yes…I knew I’ll have to when I planned the surprise.” she said, walking towards him. Matty couldn’t help feeling cornered, although he let her kiss him shortly before heading out of the studio.

When she was out of sight, and they were sure she wasn’t listening, Matty dared to ask, “Did you-?”

“Tell her something? Hell, no!” Hann said.

“Alright, alright…good.” Matty said, under his breath, passing around.

Neither of them continued the conversations. Adam looked how Matty walking in circles before turning around with his eye full of certainty. 

“What?”

“I- “ Matty mumbled the words making it impossible for Adam to hear.

“Come again?”

Matty stood in the middle of the studio, opening his chest, “I’m going to break up with her.” Matty admitted and Adam doubt it.

“Right now?”

The singer chew on his upper lip, “It wasn’t in my plans she was going to- “

“Yeah, I can tell.” Hann said sarcastically.

“This is not funny!” Matty looked at him with a stern look.

“Yes, sorry. And then…?”

“I can’t focus on that now. I have to work”

“Yes, you have to.” neither of them knew if he was speaking about work or something else.

Adam grabbed the collar of his forgotten guitar, leaving his friend with his own thoughts. 

……………………………………………….

Few hours later

Nadia wasn’t an idiot. She knew from a long time up to that moment the fact that Matty was dealing with something. She was confused though. Matty kept sending her way a lot of mixed signals. One day, she was everything to him, he followed her around, being the attended boyfriend or travelling for their anniversary, even though the next day, he was cold and doesn’t seem happy to see her in NY.

She continued dismissing it, thinking it was part of being with a rock star, or ‘Matty is Matty’, or ‘the album is stressing him’; everything instead of thinking he didn’t want her any more. 

The woman was deeply in love with him, Nadia was sure of that. She was head over heels for him. But, was he? ‘Yes’. Why would he be with her if he wasn’t? Matty wasn’t that type of guy, and Matty had shown her that he loved her. Still, something was wrong. Nadia didn’t want to think about it. She was happy with him. Matty was everything she sought in a man. She could deal with this bad moment of their relationship because it would past…or she wanted to think.

After they wrapped for the day, Matty and the rest of the group returned to the hotel. Matty was drained, very tired, so he decided to wait for the next day to talk with Nadia. That’s why she stayed with him in his hotel room, and he was in peace with his thoughts for just a moment.

“Finally, alone.” she said, smiling at him.

“Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.” he said, going to his suitcase.

“Can I join you?” Nadia said cheekily.

“Nad, I’m not in the mood.” he responded, searching for his clothes.

“Oh, okay…” she said feeling slightly embarrassed. “I’m going to call room service, what do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Matty replied without looking at her, meanwhile he stood up walking slowly towards the bathroom.

Nadia left the phone on the side table, turning her body to face her boyfriend. Before Matty closed the door behind him, she exclaimed, “Fine, what’s going on?” 

“What?” he didn’t turn around.

“Matty.“

The singer quickly got defensive, “I’m not hungry that’s all.”

“I’m not talking about the food and you know that.” she kept glancing at him. She could tell he was nervous, his back muscles were tight.

“I don’t- “

Nadia left the comfort of the mattress, standing in the middle of the room. “I know you, tell me what is going on.” with a courage she didn’t feel, Nadia approached him, placing a hand on his back and sensing Matty got stiff felt like a dagger ripping her heart.

“I’m knackered, okay? Can we not do this right now? “

“I’m tired of this, Matty. I need you to speak to me if you are going through something. We’re a couple!” she let her hand dropped to her side.

“I- “

Nadia felt desperate. “Please, tell me!”

“Okay.” he turned around. “Please, take a seat.” she obeyed, returning to her previous position.

“I wasn’t expecting you to show up- “ he started to say.

She couldn’t stay silent, her anxiety making her interrupt his rambling, “That’s everything? Me surprising you?”

“Please, let me finish.” Matty scrubbed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t expect you to show up in fuckin’ New York, at the studio. I was waiting to fly back home and talk with you properly.” Matty continued, starting to gain power on his words. “I know my behaviour during the last months weren’t the best- In fact, they were the worst. I’m being a horrible boyfriend, and you don’t deserve this. Don’t- “ Matty stopped Nadia with a signal of his hand when she moved and before a single word fell from her lips. “Please, let me finish. I wasn’t expecting you, but when you showed I decided the best would be talking tomorrow when I’ll be more awake than now. I guess this can’t wait any longer. I know this is going to hurt you, and me too. You’ll hate me for this- “

“You’re scaring me, Matty.” Nadia said worriedly.

“I- I’m struggling a lot with myself. And I don’t think you should…you have to deal with it too.”

Nadia’s eyes stung with tears.“What are you suggesting?” 

“I think we should break up.” ‘I said it, I finally did it’, Matty thought.

“What?” she asked surprised. “If it’s because I didn’t tell you or any of the guys that I was thinking on coming- I’m so sorry.” Nadia tried explaining quickly.

“That’s not why.”

“Then what? You don’t love me?”

“I- I do love you.”

“Then?” she moved on the bed anxiously.

“I love you, but there are things I can’t tell you that I’m dealing with…and you don’t deserve this.”

“There’s someone else?” Nadia hatred herself for asking that. She sounded so cliché.

“It’s not- It’s not exactly about that- “ he said sitting on the bed, reaching for her hand.

“Then what?” she asked again, looking down.

“I can’t- “

“Don’t you trust me?” she inquired, this time crying. She wanted to seem strong, she couldn’t.

“I do. I do. This is- I can’t even think about it without going insane.” he admitted.

They stay for a moment in complete silence. Both of them were hurt. Nadia’s heart was shattered in hundreds of pieces. Matty suffered watching her in that state. Fully knowing that he caused it.

“I’m so sorry.” Matty said verily out loud.

Nadia chocked on a sob, saying, “I love you, Matty.”

“I love you too, Nad.” he reached for her cheek, while she continued crying. “Please, don’t hate me. I mean, I understand if you want to punch me or kick me in the nuts.” she chuckled. “Please know that I’m doing this because you deserve so much better.”

“I don’t know.”

“I know it. It seems like the most horrible excuse, but I mean it. You’re an incredible person, women, and you deserve someone that loves you and treat you better than I do.” Matty admitted.

“I want you…”

“I know- “ Matty sadly said.

After a while Nadia tried to dry the tears that never stopped falling. She told Matty, “I better go.” 

“You can stay till tomorrow.” He offered.

“I preferred not to.” she took out her hand from Matty’s grip. 

“I’m so sorry.” Matty apologized again, staring at her form while she moved around the bed grabbing her stuff.

“I’m too. I wish you the best, Matty.” 

“I don’t deserve it.”

Nadia titled her head, staring for a last time into his soft brown eyes, “You do. I hate you right now, and I don’t want to see you for a while.” she stated, meanwhile Matty answered with a nod. “Don’t reach for me when you are sad, well, you stop doing that a couple of months ago. I don’t understand why this happened but above all, I love you and I know you’re a good guy. You gave me a lot of beautiful moments to remember, you’re a kind soul. I know I don’t deserve this, although you have to know that I stay because you're worth the wait…and if you tell me there is a little part of you that wants me to wait I’ll probably wait. I know you don’t have that part.” she said when Matty opened his mouth to speak. “It hurts so..so much, because I know, I’m sure, that in your own way you love me, you said it too. Sadly, not as much I love you. Because I love you fully. When I love I do it that way.” Nadia stopped and dried her tears once more. “For all we shared and how much I cherish you…I wish you the best. Goodbye, Matty.” she finally said, turning around, graving her suitcase and then left the room.

When the click of the door made a loud noise in the silent room, Matty started to cry. He hurt one of the most important people in his life. Nadia was gone. Matty knew it was the best, and he also knew it was going to hurt. Not that much. He couldn’t complain though.

She didn’t shout, Nadia didn’t even raise her voice. Which, made it more difficult to deal with. Sometimes, it is easier to hate the other and shout. Not the best, or healthiest, just easier. That time was the opposite

Why does he keep hurting the people that love him deeply?

………………………………………………..

The next morning Hann found an obviously tired Matty. The guitarist wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask or not. Something clearly happened, the singer’s face showed it.

They had a free day, luckily for everybody. A couple of days ago, they decided to be the typical tourist and walk around town. Matty wasn’t in the mood for that even though it might help.

Adam knocked on Matty’s door two hours before the activity started. The frontman took his time to prepare even though he ended up showing with a simple shirt and jeans combo. Hann was expecting to encounter Nadia, but she was nowhere to be found. That gave him the first hint. He also remembers what Matty told him the day before. He wasn’t expecting his friend to be so quick about it. Although, he couldn’t assume anything. Adam didn’t want to. He was going to wait for Matty to come around and speak about it.

They stayed in silence for a good amount of time. Matty plopped himself on the bed and rest his head on his hands after opening the room’s door for his friend.

“Nadia left.” he informed Adam when the eyes of the guitarist scanned the room.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Mhm.” Hann only dared to express. 

“We- I broke up with her.” Matty looked at his best friend, waiting for a reaction.

Adam showed nothing, “Okay.” 

“It was the correct thing…right?” he hesitated.

“I’m not going to tell you what it’s or what it isn’t right, Matty.” Adam clarified. 

“Damn it!” Matty projected himself out of the bed.

“Take it easy, mate.” the guitarist said with a calm Matty envied. 

“How? I mean, HOW? She hates me now. I’m an asshole!”

“Okay, no. Yes, you did pretty fuck up things…although you can’t beat yourself up like at. Everybody makes mistakes, you’re trying to solve them. Focus on that. It’s not nice, because you realize big things, feelings and I understand you’re hurt- “

“I can’t make myself the victim. I know.”

“No, you can’t. Although this is not a Disney film, there’s not a good guy and a bad one.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Matty let a big breath out. “What I do now? I broke up with Nadia, and Y/n is…” the singer started to tell him, and then stop.

“Y/n what?”

“Nothin’.” Matty muttered.

“Oh, no. You’re going to tell me.” the frontman was satisfied with Adam’s nervousness. 

“Don’t you know?” Matty inquired. 

“About what?”

“Y/n is in a relationship.” just saying the words hurt as if someone was ripping his heart out of his body.

“Oh, shit. Did she tell you?”

“No, mom did.”

“Your mother told you?!” 

“And then George quite of confirmed it.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“Yeah, exactly. I hate my life right now.”

“Don’t..”

“Let me be miserable for a minute, okay?”

“No.”

“Please.” Matty begged without caring.

“No.”

“Hann!”

“You said it…you’re not the victim. Suck it up, mate!”

Matty scoffed, “Very kind of you.”

“I’m trying to help!”

“Well, you’re not helping…at all.” Matty snapped at him. And quickly regretted it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” the frontman took a sit on the bed once more and Adam copied him. 

“I understand.”

“Why didn’t she tell me? Or you? Instead, she told George and mom…”

“I don’t know.” Hann lied. He perfectly knew why. He wasn’t even hurt. Hann knew the reasons why Y/n tend to skip talking to him about this stuff. He couldn’t tell Matty though, it wasn’t his thing to tell.

“Should I call her?”

“What? Are you insane?” Adam exclaimed.

“Fine. Yeah, I’m not going to…” Matty hesitated even when the urge to do it was big.

“Please promise me you’ll not.” Hann begged, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I promise.” No matter how hard it will be, Matty had to stop hurting the people he loved. The first one was Y/n. Somehow, he hurt her. He doesn’t understand why quite well, but he knew it. He can ask her about how was she doing and all of that, although if she didn’t want to tell him about Tom…he had to stay out of that.

Matty had to focus on work again and work only. When he returned home in a month or so he could think what to do. For the time being, he had to fix himself and stay out of more problems.

————————————————————————————–

On the other side of the ocean

Spring was one of her favourite seasons. Y/n loved all of it. From the flowers starting to blossom to the mild temperatures and all in the middle it was a lovely season. Or maybe this year she was looking at it with other eyes.

The woman was happy beyond the imagination. Finally, after many months she was in fact and without a doubt happy. She longed for that moment and now she had it. The positivity she irradiated was amazing. Y/n was giving so much, and the universe responded or herself in a state of pure happiness wanted to believe that.

Y/n was euphoric for all the work she had done in the previously few months with herself, how much she grew. She took a step aside from the horrible place where she was, Y/n took a place aside from being the cliché girl in love with her best friend. But it wasn’t all her merit, she had a big helper. She had a handsome helper: Tom.

Y/n never felt what she felt with Tom.

Tom was everything she ever dreamed of: he was always attentive with her, but not overwhelming her, he understood her reserves and didn’t complain; they talked about everything and nothing, every conversation was perfect. Sometimes, they fought about their strong beliefs, but they also end up kissing and hugging. Y/n was happy with Tom.

She didn’t tell Tom about Matty. Y/n didn’t see why. She wasn’t thinking about that as well. Tom and her talked by text and she was okay with that. After all, he was her friend, and she promised not to disappear. She still had affection for him of course.

Anyway, Y/n was living in a dream. Work was going well, she was kind of sad because they had only one week left of filming, and then she would be back home. This time with Tom. They talked about it fully, feeling extremely happy that both of them were in the same page about continuing dating. Tom lived closer to the centre of London, and she was only 20 minutes away by car from there. They could make it work out.

Since they were in the last week of shooting, Y/n had a lot of work in hand. They had to leave everything perfectly done, and she had pressure about helping Lily accomplish all of what was expected from her.

“Please, could you leave those papers and hung out with me?” Lily begged, sitting in her trailer’s couch.

“You know I really want that, but I can’t.” Y/n continue going through the schedule.

“Agh!” Lily scoffed. “You’re not fun any more.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at her, “We see each other every day! Don’t overreact.”

“That’s exactly why…we have only a handful of days to be together and then- “

“And then, we’ll see each other as well.” Y/n turned around, looking at her.

“You’ll be so busy with your prince charming!”

“Omg, don’t call him that!”

“Being all happy and loving each other.” Lily continued with her rant, making weird sounds that tried to emulate kissing.

“You’re impossible.” Y/n returned to her papers.

“Talking about Romeo!” Lily exclaimed. Y/n didn’t understand until she heard a voice.

“Were you talking about me? I’m flattered.” Tom looked at Y/n, approaching her and the woman couldn’t help noticing her stomach sprung to life with excitement. 

“She was talking about you.” Lily pointed like a little girl.

“Oh, really?” Tom crocked an eyebrow while placing his arms around Y/n.

“Yes, about how she’s going to ignore me- like right now- and be all lovely jolly with you.” 

“I don’t want to brag but- I’m pretty cool so- “ Tom joked. Leaving a kiss at the back of Y/n’s head.

“Oh, you shut up!” Lily said standing up. “I’m going to leave you two to it…” and then she left without waiting for an answer.

“Lily!” Y/n exclaimed, shaking her head disappointed but laughing before turning to face Tom. “Hi”

“Hi.”  Tom looked down at her eyes. His height always amused her, Y/n felt secured with him being so tall, she didn’t know exactly with, but she did.

“Did you need something?” she inquired, placing her hands on his chest.

“Yes.”

“Oh, what?”

“You.”

“Cheesy, way too cheesy, Tom.” she laughed.

“It’s the truth.” he replied, kneeling down to meet her lips. 

…………………………………………………

Sad day, last day

The last day of shooting and the day before that one with the big wrap party, Y/n felt really emotional. This production gave her more than she could ever ask for: a lot of experience and work, of course, but also friendships and a lovely boy. She was more than grateful with it.

Y/n was leaving that day with Tom and Lily. He brought his stuff a couple of days before so when they had to leave, they went straight from the Airbnb that Lily and Y/n shared towards the airport. It was more practical and that let Tom and Y/n spend nights together.

Y/n woke pretty early sensing the warmth that Tom’s body spread. Her head was in his chest, and his arms were around her form. She let a sigh out in pure bliss. Tom moved a little, waking up as well.

“Morning.” he said in a raspy voice.

“Morning.” she smiled, propping herself up staring down at him. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. After that intense activity- “

“Tom! Stop that!” she whined.

“Okay, okay. Now you’re shy but last night- “

“Omg, shh!” she shushed him, trying to leave his side.

“No, come back here.” he begged.

“Such a baby.” she teased.

“Thanks.” he answered laughing after she was only centimetres away from his face. “I need my morning kiss, y’know.”

“Oh, really? I don’t know.” she played dumb.

“Please? I’ll stop saying how hot last night was.” he chuckled.

“Exactly, no. You lost your opportunity.” she tried to stand up, but quickly Tom pulled her into the mattress.

“Why so shy so suddenly, darling?” Tom asked. The nickname made her think about Matty, making her instantly felt bad. Now she was fully aware they were coming home. “Hey.” he tried to get her attention when Y/n’s sight fell elsewhere, lost. “If it’s so bad to kiss me and think about us having- “

“Stop!” she placed her hands on his mouth, laughing at the same time. “I just- I don’t want to get back home.”

“Why?”

Her hands found his curls quickly, “I’m not going to see you every day.”

“And then I’m clingy?” he inquired, leaning down to caress her throat with his nose, taking her in.

“Oh, forget it!”

“No. I’m sad about that too, believe me. But, we don’t live that far from each other.”

“I know, but…”

“Stop with the but’s. I want my kiss.” he said, reaching her face to finally kissed her.

Tom’s kisses were like no other ones in her life. Y/n didn’t kiss many boys but she was sure none of them kissed like him. He made her feel inexplicable feelings. He was tender and kind, but hot and torrid at the same time. Tom treated her as if Y/n was made of porcelain, with so much love and caring. She was getting addicted to him.

Tom was like her favourite season. Tom felt like spring. 

………………………..

After the three of them left for the airport, Tom acknowledged quickly how clingy Y/n was being. In fact, he was making most of it because she was rarely like that around other people. Neither of them was. He kept her close. Hugging her or taking her hand. Subtle forms of ‘I’m here, we’re okay’. Y/n was glad he noticed. It amazed her how well he understood her when they had only known each other for nearly 10 months. He was going to miss him, no matter if he was close, and they already had plans to meet in London.

Y/n was trying to avoid overthinking her behaviour. She succeeded until they took the plane home, and Tom fell asleep. 

For a while, she admired his face and features. She didn’t want to appear creepy, so she turned her sight to the clouds. The sky was almost black. She could still picture the lights of the city, of Ireland. Then, the sea came into her view. Y/n always felt a big connection with the water no matter how much she loved the earth, the land. There was something so deep and meaningful about water that amazed her. Maybe, it was the fact that you can reflect yourself on water. At that moment she couldn’t picture her figure from so afar even though the colour and the depends on the Irish Sea made her look inside herself.

The inner talk was something she avoided a little since her relationship with Tom started. On the other hand, you can’t stop yourself from thinking. You have to, if you don’t talk with yourself how would you know what you want and what you have to do to get better?

Y/n felt that she failed to herself in that part. Yes, she wanted to be happy. She was happy. But she repeated something she acknowledges a way back. She avoided Matty. Well, she didn’t, they talked even though she avoided her feelings or not feelings for him. She avoided thinking about which position she was in about him. And that was a little bit wrong. Not because she was happy with Tom she could keep avoiding her problems, avoid Matty. 

Y/n wanted to solve her situation. She wanted to get back to her friendship with Matty as it was. Without knowing, she drifted more apart after she repeated that to herself.

She didn’t tell her best friend about the amazing relationship she was in now. Of course, Y/n had her reasons. Although, if she wanted to get back to be just friends…didn’t friend tell each other things like this? Matty told her about him and Nadia back then.

She wanted to tell him, but after two months or so Y/n wanted to do it in person. Matty was in New York at the moment, which made that quite difficult. Maybe when he returned. She knew he would get angry, that’s why she wanted to somehow explain it to him. She would have to lie a little bit longer…for the last time. 

Y/n had to admit to herself, she missed him. She missed the whole gang. She missed her English family. That was why she was also happy to be back. Not everything was awful.

Y/n came back to real life once the plane started the descended and Tom woke up. She tried to enjoy those last minutes. Yeah, she knew she was kind of overreacting, but she couldn’t avoid it. As well as oceans, she was restless…to many feelings. As well as oceans, she was going to settle. The calm was here. Or that was what she liked to think.

………………………………….

Two weeks after

Two more weeks went by during which Matty was still unhappy and troubled. That time not only due to Y/n and his feelings, this time because of the coronavirus. They had to return home. Sadly, the cases were rasing in so little time, that the government was closing down everything again.

For the album, Matty wasn’t preoccupied because with the rumours of this happening they managed to do most of the works left, and they wrapped a day before the announcement. And they could always continue from home. 

Staying in New York was an option, although they had been gone for a long while. George was missing his girlfriend, Adam his child, Ross his family and Matty the comfort of home. They preferred to return home. Back in England, the situation wasn’t bad but also not good. The government was considering closing everything again, they didn’t have news about it.

A part of Matty wasn’t sure if he wanted to get back. Part of him wanted, he missed his family, his shared house with the boys, and everything. Another part, didn’t want to get back though. Too many things to deal with. Being out of the country, wherever work took him, he was available to stay far from his normal problems, or he had that illusion. 

Anyway, coming home was exhausting. More during the corona time. Having to use the face mask and all the protocols. He wasn’t complaining, he supports taking care of the rest and his wealth. It just adds a lot on his shoulders and made him more tired.

Once he returned, Matty spent a lot of time inside his room playing games or writing, he even went on a walk with Denise for a short time. 

He knew Y/n was also back home, and she sometimes met up with George and the rest. Although, he wasn’t ready to see her. They still talk by message, they avoid the topic. Even when Y/n knew very well he was at home, she mentioned nothing. She didn’t want to push him, and at the same time, she was spending time in London for a good amount of time with Tom.

So, yeah, Matty wasn’t ready for what life, the universe or God had under her/his sleeve this time.

……………………………….

Sunny Sunday

A week prior to the dinner, Denise started begging and bugging him to get all together. She said, ‘let’s share a nice meal at this place closer to you guys now that we’re allowed before everything closes again, Matty!’ and no matter how much he tried she won. The boys were excited to see new faces after weeks of only seeing each other working to get the record ready to publish.

Matty and Hann arrived at the restaurant first but they waited at the car park for the rest to arrive. They did minutes after.

“Hi, boys!” Denise said, very happily.

“Hi, mom.” Matty was the first greeting her.

“Hello.”

“Why so happy?” George inquired.

“Can’t I be happy for seein’ you handsome boys?” she asked, innocently.

“Mom…” Matty knew better.

“Okay, okay. I have a surprise for you all!”

Ross got all excited like a little kid during Christmas, “What?” 

“Patience, dear. We have to wait a little longer before it arrives. Well, it’s not a thing, is a person.” Denise’s smile was wide. 

“I’m not following.” Adam interrupted.

Louis interfered,  “Me neither. But, you get used to it.” and the rest chuckled.

“Wait and see. She is arriving!”

“Oh, she?” George inquired.

“Yes, she. Not whatever you’re thinking- I don’t want to- “

“Mom, could you just tell us!” Matty was growing anxious.

“Oh, she is here!!” Denise cheered so loud.

The whole family looked at how a very familiar car parked beside theirs. Shortly after, Y/n came out smiling nervously at them.

“Hi, guys.” she greeted the group.

Matty’s heart stopped beating right there.

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Chapter 7 >