#real quick let me process the inevitability of being alone in the world and then hopefully I can get back to it…

[butch--dean]

when will my ability to make amvs come back from war

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Dream a Little Dream of Me (J.P.)

Requested: Yes  “Of course I remembered.”  “Please hold me. It’s been a day.”  “I think you might be my soulmate.”

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Summary: You have been having odd dreams about your best friend

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Cursing, pining

You shot up from your bed, your chest heaving. You had been having another dream, a blissful and happy one, but you awoke feeling nothing but dread. You had been having these dreams for months. They depicted a future of a happy and blissful relationship, days passed by with lazy, languid kisses and longing and loving stares. The dreams were everything you could ever want. The problem laid with who starred in these fantasies. 

James Potter had been your best friend since early childhood. Your mothers had met in school and the two of you had practically been raised together. You had seen each other’s first steps and had been there for each other through everything. You had always thought of him as a brother. That was, until the dreams began. 

Suddenly his presence made your stomach erupt with fireworks and roses bloom on your cheeks. Every smile he sent you made you nervous and every bit of contact made goosebumps arise on your skin. It didn’t help that your friendship with James had always been touchy; from a young age, the two of you would hold hands or hug often. Many nights the two of you could be found cuddling on the common room couch, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist, and your legs tangled together. It had never bothered you before, but suddenly every touch made your skin burn. 

You knew it was cliche, falling in love with your best friend, but the dreams made it an inevitability. You couldn’t escape your thoughts of a domestic life with him. But there was too much at stake for you to ever reveal your feelings. If he rejected you, your friend group would shatter. You knew people would take sides and most of your friends would choose James. You also knew that if James didn’t feel the same, you’d lose him forever. You couldn’t bear the thought of a life completely devoid of him. You’d rather suffer the curse of friendship than the anguish of a ruined relationship. You also knew that a rejection could drive a wedge between your parent’s life long friendship. They were like your second family and you could never hazard the possibility of ruining that. 

So you pulled back slightly, hoping that the distance would help rid you of your feelings. You didn’t disappear completely, not being able to stand the idea of that. You just stopped touching him as much and you spent more time in the library than with him. You couldn’t tell if he noticed or not, but you hoped that he believed that everything was fine. 

You looked around your room, realizing that you were alone. You spared a glance at the clock and realized it was almost noon. Your roommates had probably left already, wandering around the grounds or down to Hogsmeade. You groaned as you realized that you were supposed to meet James nearly an hour ago. You hoped he wouldn’t be too angry that you overslept. 

You sighed and got up, your feet padding towards your dresser. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror, grimacing at the messiness of your hair. You smiled though when you realized that in last night’s sleep-induced haze, you had pulled one of James’s jumpers over your head. You took a deep breath, inhaling the remnants of his scent on the sweater. Your thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. You frowned and smoothed down your hair, unsure of who it could be. 

You walked over and opened the door, only to be met by James barreling through the doorframe.

“James?” you squeaked, surprise overtaking you, “How did you get up here?” James ran a hand through his hair and turned to face you. 

“You really think the enchantment on the stairs could stop me?” he asked, his words clearly intended to be a joke but the frown on his face ruining the effect. You laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. You wrung your hands, preparing the apology that was about to spill from your lips. 

“Listen James-” you started, avoiding his gaze.

“What did I do wrong?” he asked suddenly, interrupting you abruptly. You froze, unsure of what to say. “Because I think that you’ve been avoiding me and now you’re not showing up for our plans, and I don’t know what I did,” he said quickly, the words spilling from his lips desperately. You shuffled awkwardly in your place.

“I didn’t mean to not show up this morning,” you said meekly. James furrowed his eyebrows.

“So you did remember that we had plans?” he questioned. You looked up at him with an apologetic look.

“Of course I remembered,” you said, “I just overslept.” James let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. 

“I feel quite dumb now,” he joked with a laugh, “I overreacted quite a bit don’t you think?” You gave him a forced smile, knowing that while he had been wrong about you ditching plans, you had in fact been avoiding him. James flopped dramatically onto your bed, kicking off his shoes in the process.

“Please hold me. It’s been a day,” he said with a playful grin on his face, his arms outstretched to welcome you into his embrace. You laughed and made your way towards him.

“James it’s not even noon yet,” you replied with a smile. Still, you clamored into bed next to him, feeling the warmth of his strong arms around you. 

“What about Hogsmeade?” you asked softly. James let out a non-committal noise and pulled you closer. 

“We can always go next time. I want to hang out just you and me,” he said, “I’ve missed spending time with my girl.” His words sent a jolt of electricity up your spine. You snuggled closer into his chest, pretending for a moment that maybe he wanted you the way that you wanted him. 

Several hours later you woke up, still curled up next to James. At some point, the two of you had fallen asleep in your bed. You looked up to look at his sleeping face, admiring how his eyelashes fluttered against his skin. You reached up and poked his cheek, causing him to stir slightly.

“Wake up sleepyhead,” you said softly in his ear. He groaned, stretching out his legs and his back. He reached up a hand and rubbed his sleepy eyes. He seemed dazed and half asleep, not fully aware of what was going on. He looked at your face and you saw a gentle smile grace his lips. 

“I think you might be my soulmate,” he murmured softly, his eyes half-lidded and his voice groggy. You felt your face fall in shock.

“What?” you whispered out numbly. James seemed to wake up fully then, shooting up to sit in the bed. He put his head in his hands.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that.” You sat up, brushing hair away from your face, and removed his hands from his face.

“James,” you breathed, “Why would you say that.” He looked at his lap, avoiding your gaze. 

“I’ve been having these dreams,” he said, “Where you and I are, I don’t know, together I guess.” It took everything in you not to gasp at his words. 

“And everything in the dreams is just so perfect, and you’re so perfect. And for a while, I’ve wanted what the dreams showed me. I want to be with you,” he said softly. You sat in shocked silence, unsure of what to say. How was that possible? That you had both been dreaming of one another? 

“And now you’re being quiet so I’m pretty sure that I just messed everything up but I think that I love you,” he admitted, “I know I’ve always been shit at divination but something about these dreams seems too real for them to mean nothing.” His voice was filled with nothing but sincerity, his eyes downcast as he took your silence as a rejection. 

“I’ve been dreaming of you too,” you finally admitted after a moment. He looked up at you with a wide-eyed expression, a shocked smile spreading across his face. 

“You have?” he questioned breathily. You nodded shyly.

“I have. And I think you might be right,” you said softly, “I really do think we might be soulmates.” James let out an airy laugh before tackling you into a hug. You giggled as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and tickled your side. 

“James!” you shrieked in excitement, slapping his shoulder playfully. 

“Hey, get used to it,” he said playfully, “I am your soulmate after all.”

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

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[stopeatingwhales]

real estate x damon albarn

THIS REQUEST WAS SO CUTE TYSM ANON <333

Pairing: 1998 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: none :))

Word count: 3.104

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Searching for a home to share with your partner is one of the most fulfilling yet extremely stressful experiences. To prior discussion and awareness of the reciprocity of feelings you have for one another, a mutual agreement is conformed in the idea of wanting to invest in a space where you both can start anew, and begin a segment in your lives which in hope can progress until the very last breath. From being in a relationship with Damon for quite a significant amount of time - and having him inhabit my apartment for many a year - it was quite transparent that we had both worn out the flat, to the point that it was wearing us down. To be able to start fresh, in a new space, grants the ability of us to create the life that we had always manifested together - notwithstanding the fact that we had loved where we had lived at the time, it was simply the element of growth and the need for a change between our relationship. As you get older, mature more into your thirties, simple doings like getting drunk every friday night after a long, dragging day of work and intoxicating your body with countless shots of pure ethanol, losing all ability of processing any cognitive skill, becomes more of an impediment than going out to release the burden placed on your shoulders from the entire week of pure hindrance - and not to mention the hangovers. If we had perpetuated ourselves in the same routine that had been occupied as long as the decade induced in our twenties lasted, not only would it morph a lifestyle of monotonous sadness, but it leaves no ground for the chance to mature, the chance to experience all else that this world, this life can provide. It defeats the purpose of life, as existence is never steady; it is a continuous development between life stages, and an inevitability. To not accept the philosophy of life, proves a lack of purpose in your existence. Life is fleeting from the moment a baby opens its mouth for its first cry, and to distract one’s self from the thought of the end, we comply with life as it blossoms.

Me and Damon were visiting the second home that the real estate agent had been showing us. It was beautiful; a much larger space in comparison to the apartment we had in the heart of Camden - a place where the life of the party never comes to a halt, so getting to sleep was quite a challenge some nights, as well as it being an actual house. We decided upon the fact that we should search for houses instead of another apartment as we had endured living in a one-floor apartment for years on end, and to be able to have more space where you could rest your feet, not have clutter at every corner of the room, would be a dream. As I wandered around the upstairs floor, I walked into the master room, where I had found Damon standing, gazing out of the window which conveyed the most picturesque landscape of freshly cut grass, accompanied with the sun’s glisten to allow the richness of the green pigment to blossom even more. It felt like a stupor admiring the beauty that was portrayed forth, like an over emphasised memory from your childhood, in which every little thing seemed to be so enticing, full of pure feelings of euphoria, where there had been not a care in the world for anything except your own - merely just that significant moment that had been playing out. From the repetitive reminiscence towards those specific memories, things seem to feel a little more bright, full, happy, than it had been before, as if it was your mind toying with the fact that you may not feel as elated as you were when everything had been handed to you from unconditional love and care. “What do you think of it?” I asked Damon, as I sat myself on the mattress laid on the bed frame.

His figure didn’t move from his admiration of the nature. “It’s alright,” he mumbled, just audible, before stepping away from the window and turning to face me, his back now resting against the warm glass surface. He seemed quite uninterested with the house itself, which had happened with the house we visited beforehand. All he seemed to do was pull faces or rest on the couch after looking around a couple times. “Let’s go visit the last place, see if we get anything better.” A hint of annoyance had been laced in his words, confusing me slightly. I had the urge to question him, see if there was anything bothering him, or if he had begun to doubt wanting to get a house together. The simple thought had shattered my heart a little, as if it had been trodden on by accident, though accidental pain seems to hurt the most. Attempting to brush the everlasting thought away from my mind, I nodded slightly, getting up from the mattress and walking out of the room with him.

As we reached the last property, it had only seemed as if things had gotten progressively worse in Damon’s demeanour. He walked around the building alongside me, leaving snide comments here and there about specific things that didn’t appeal to him from the interior. However, the home that had been presented to us seemed almost perfect for the both of us, a place that was created out of the utmost creativity and affection for the right couple to walk in and begin their lives together. This home was illustrated to have your heart sink into the ground, seep into the mud underneath as if it were quick sand and completely engulf your mind with it, a hypnosis so intense that regardless of the pricing you would sign any form sent your way. By having been with Damon for the past couple years, I knew him more than a reasonable amount to understand that there had been something else causing him to project such a detest towards our property-searching the entire day. There was not a single flaw in the architecture, as if the residence had been created as a welcome to Eden’s garden subsequent to your soul’s departure, except it had been built in the wrong heaven. A single step in the building had your jaw cascading to the wooden flooring, your mouth empty yet so brimmed with compliments, mesmerisation aching to escape your throat, though you could not muster any form of ability since it had been utterly hushed by the construction’s elegance that you didn’t want to damage any part from speaking, even in a mere whisper.

“What do you think of it?” I asked, my mind gaining déjà vu from the question I had repeated at every residence we had stepped forth into. We were wandering around the kitchen, which had an island separating it to the living room. It was a very large, open space, and the thought of not dividing rooms with brick walls, like the kitchen and living room, having them conjoined except separated with a countertop was very thoughtful. It removed the feeling of being trapped into such a small room, needing to wander through many doors twisting knobs and pushing the wooden frames in order to get into another corner of the premises, and made living much more free and easy. It's extremely draining by living in a space for many a year that it begins to close in on you, as if every single time you walked in it had gotten tighter, more smaller.

Turning my gaze to watch Damon wander around the living side of the room, I placed my hands on the countertop, sucking my cheek in as I attempted to think of something that may be bothering him, minus the stress of the entire house hunt we were doing today. Stress from work? Perhaps he got into an argument with a friend? Got up on the wrong side of bed? It was a pure mystery. My gaze was fixed on him until he connected eyes with me, a hand placed on his neck as his fingers grazed the back of it lightly, an attempt to relax himself. “It’s the nicest one we’ve visited,” he replied, walking over to me slowly, also scanning the large room as he did. “The amount of detail that went into designing this is mad.”

A small smile crept up on my lips as he stopped by the countertop, that now being the only thing in which dividing us at that point. “It’s perfect for us, don’t you think?” I asked quietly, admiring the craftwork that had been delicately carved into the ceiling.

“I think we should think over what we want before we make that decision,” he replied as our gazes matched once again. Looking up at him, a confused expression spread out on my face, but before I was able to speak up he had carried on. “Don’t take that the wrong way, but I don’t want us to rush into things and have us regretting something we could’ve easily thought of if we gave ourselves time.”

“We have spoken it out, haven’t we?” I questioned him, now taking a step back and folding my arms together. Everything about Damon today felt so off, the thought of him not wanting to share a place with me sinking into my thoughts again as I tried my hardest to battle it out of my mind. “You agreed that it was time for us to search for something new, together, and that’s what we’re doing, is it not?”

An exasperated sigh left his lips as he stared at the ground. At this point I had begun to get frustrated with his overall mood - this was supposed to be a fun experience together, but the feeling of him weighing the cons was more visible than his thought of the pros. “I don’t want to argue here, let’s just keep looking around.”

The build-up to the argument had seemingly debunked itself, at Damon’s command. Indeed, we carried on looking around, though this time I had decided to admire the place alone, which had been made very clear when I had pushed past him, not with much strength to cause damage, but enough to cause a point once I left the room. The upstairs floor was no different in beauty and elegance as the ground floor embodied. It would be a simple wonder to think how much time, dedication would be taken into creating such a masterpiece; it was so magnificent that you’d practically feel guilty for stepping foot inside. Glad I took my shoes off once I walked in, then.

After spending what seemed like all eternity having my eyes fixated on the embellishment surfaced all around, picturing what furniture would suit in far right corner, the middle of the room, what would hang on the wall, I headed to the ground floor, refreshing my memory of the delicacy that had been portrayed everywhere. My pace was slow, as if my mind was taking mental pictures of the palace to be able to look back in my memories for later, when me and Damon would discuss which place suited us the most. The market was quite tight at the minute, seemingly every person in the industry and in our lives growing up and deciding upon starting new chapters of their lives, which is why we were extremely lucky to be able to have such a place offered to us at the minute, surprising as it had not been taken by some conservative wanting to waste their money on a place where they probably wouldn’t walk inside. I saw the estate agent in the living room, who immediately made eye contact with me as I stepped into the room, a grin spreading out across her cheeks almost instantaneously. “Nice, right?”

“Oh, it’s absolutely beautiful,” I replied back, engaging myself in the ceiling’s artwork once again, thinking for a moment before choosing the right thing to reply. My thoughts had then been distracted from Damon’s footsteps heading towards the pair of us. He stood beside me as I gazed up at him, swallowing lightly before I knew what to say. “I think we’re going to head home and think about everything first, before we make any big decisions.” I added, my gaze never leaving Damon’s side profile.

“That’s completely alright, you have until the end of the week to make your decision, I’ll put this place on a reserve.” She replied, followed by our thanks as we walked out of the elegant building and headed home.

~~~

Me and Damon hardly spoke after we got home as I needed to finish up some work that was overdue from my job. Damon had nothing else planned for the rest of the night, so he stayed in the living room, providing no extra distraction for me to prevent any extra pressure or stress so I could be able to complete everything as quickly as possible. I overheard the television in the background, and the occasional phone ring, every call being for Damon it seemed as his deep voice followed after the repetitive rings of the phone line had come to an end. Oftentimes I envied his freedom due to his occupation being a musician, however a lot of the time his job seemed quite enclosing and tiring. Having to constantly be away from home, not being able to have an easy way of stability from the constant movement to a different country every couple of days, sometimes even every single day. Though, arriving in a new country every morning does seem quite fun.

After I had finished up all my work, I changed into my pyjamas and headed to the living room, welcoming me to the sight of Damon, who had now dozed off on the couch, his hair quite messy from shuffling around in the same spot, his skin illuminating a golden glow, courtesy to the warm light being omitted from the lampshade beside him. Part of me didn’t want to wake him due to how relaxed he looked, though I knew he would be more comfortable waking up on a mattress rather than an old leather couch. I turned the television off, quietly tiptoeing around his sleepy body, then crouched down slightly to shake Damon so he would wake up. “Come to bed, love.” I whispered, causing his eyelids to flutter open softly as he stretched his arms out unintentionally, conveying his exhaustion, a small smile spread out across his lips once he was greeted by me in his sight. Helping him get up, I allowed him to walk into our bedroom in front of me, turning the light off after we both left the room. There was no light on in the bedroom, except the shine of the moon seeping onto the bed covers due to the curtains never being shut. Once we both made ourselves comfortable under the duvet, we turned our bodies to look at one another's, Damon’s tired eyes evident due to the eyebags surrounding them, though he was more awake now after moving around a little. “I know you’re tired, but what was wrong with you today?” I asked quietly, regretting speaking as soon as the sentence had rolled off my tongue.

A large sigh escaped his throat before mustering a response towards my asking. “I’ll be honest, the houses were very nice, but I didn’t like any of them.”

“None of them? How come?” I replied, attempting not to raise my voice out of shock.

“Because I want to start this part of our lives with a house big enough for us to raise children,” he admitted, staring deeply into my eyes. “I want the perfect house for us, but I haven’t been able to find it at all, and it’s so frustrating.”

A grin spread across my face as I reached to embrace his face with both my hands. "Damon, it doesn't matter the style of the doors, how big the living room is, or whether there's two or three bathrooms," I began, allowing my thumbs to lightly graze over his cheeks. “What matters is enjoying our time together, and the lives that we'll lead together as parents, raising our children,” A large beam spread across his face from my reassurance, compelling me to give him a soft peck on the lips before carrying on. "If you can picture the house of your dreams, it isn't your dream house. Your dream house is something that you shouldn't be able to picture, something that you can't fixate upon in specific, because it carries such beauty that you will only know you have achieved, once you've got it."

“Does that apply to everything?” he asked, mumbling, his voice now soft as if the love of the moment had been seeping out of his mouth.

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Then that means I’ve got the girl of my dreams.”

“Oh shut it you softie.”

“What? It’s true, love.”

“I can’t wait to start a family with you.” I mumbled absentmindedly, a light sigh leaving my mouth, repeating all that had just happened these past couple minutes.

“Likewise, darling,” he replied, bringing his lips to my face to kiss my temples gently, the feeling of his kiss lingering on the skin, my heart filled with pure elation and adoration for the man in front of me. “Spoke to your mum today.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, she called whilst you were doing your work so I just told her you were busy, then she decided on having a conversation with me instead,” he replied, taking a hold of my hand and playing with my fingers, his gaze focused on the action. “I love your mum.”

A laugh rumbled out of my throat. “You say that every time you speak to her.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I love your mum more than you do.” he jokingly replied.

“What?” I scoffed, a smile spread on my lips. “I never said that!”

“Well you certainly implied it.” he joked, raising his eyebrows as he awaited a response.

“Shut up, go to sleep.” I laughed, partly serious as the fatigue from all the walking we had done began to kick in my body.

“Only if you give me a kiss.”

“I just did!” I answered back, shifting my body so my back was to him.

“You’re the worst.” he replied, annoyance laced between his words, causing my smile to widen.

“Thanks, lovely.”

[geminisholland]

i’m covered in you Tom Holland x actress!reader

a/n: whew i had fun with this!! i loved writing this so much! also, if you like star wars and want to give my other blog some love @makerkenobi i would appreciate that!! references to my fave song, ivy by miss swift

requests are open

warnings: cussing, angst, and a whole lotta fluff

word count: 2174

join my taglist!

bold and italics are text messages

italics are song lyrics

The hours spent on set between you and Tom had inevitably created a close bond for the two of you. There were many sleepless nights together, running scenes for hours on end before the director finally shot one they liked. You were each other’s rock during the whole process, Tom made a point to come over to your trailer before a particularly difficult scene, and provide support. You were newer to acting, and Tom helped guide you and give you advice during filming. It was safe to say that Tom was your best friend, and you were his. However, playing lovers on screen and having that chemistry was difficult for you to ignore. You knew that deep down, you had feelings for Tom, you just decided from the very beginning that you couldn’t pursue him. You wanted to make sure you established yourself as a professional, which you are.

You were professional for the entire filming process, never having a night where you drank too much and kissed him. Never. You were quite proud of that, because there were many opportunities where you could have. Tom was hard to read, anyways. You never knew how he was feeling, one minute he’d talk about some girl he likes, and the next he’s going on about how he just wants to stay single right now.

The press tour for this movie was coming along in just a few days, and you were doing your best to prepare. Mentally, that is. The press tour was going to have a lot of bonding time. Interviewers asking you questions every day, all day. Sitting next to Tom for hours on end just talking about each other and the movie. Being only a hotel room away from him. Celebrating the movie coming out with trips down to the hotel bar at midnight, you knew this was dangerous.

A ding from your phone made you snap out of your daze, as you picked it up to look at it.

Tom: Are you excited for the press tour or whattt

You: haha yesss i’m so excited & also kinda nervous?? idk why

Tom: I have that affect on people

You: shut up

You: it’s effect btw

Tom: No it isn’t

You: uhhh... yes it is dumbass

Tom: Shut up

Tom: I’ll see you in a few days in the best city ever

You: you’re only saying it’s the best city because it’s your city

Tom: Ya that’s why it’s the best

You: you’re so annoying i’ll see you soon

With that, you locked your phone, and resumed packing. You really only needed to pack pajamas and workout clothes, because all your outfits for the press tour were being brought in by your stylist. You really couldn’t complain about any of this, you got to play dress up for a month or so, hang out with Tom, and talk about a movie you’re really proud of. Oh, and also travel across the world. That part was pretty cool.

You flew into London a day early so you would have time to adjust to the time difference. Tom was kind enough to invite you to stay the night at his house before the two of you left for hotel rooms every night.

When you arrived, you were extremely tied, and didn’t have the energy to hang out with Tom’s entire family, and his roommates.

“Hey everyone,” You said as you walked into his house. Tom was behind you, carrying one of your bags.

“It’s so heavy,” He groaned out, and you rolled your eyes at him. He was never very subtle about what was on his mind.

“Hey y/n!” Harry called out. “We missed you!”

You looked around the room to see just about everyone that Tom knows sitting in his living room. You weren’t expecting to be met with at least ten people, right after you got off of a ten hour flight.

“Oh... hey!” You let out, your eyes were wide with shock. You were really tired, but didn’t want to be rude. “How is everyone?”

You made your way around, saying hello to everyone, as Tom put away your luggage in the guest room. He came downstairs, and you turned around to look at him. He had the biggest smile on his face, he loved seeing you with everyone. Of course, you had already met and hung out with his family and friends, but you were special to him; which means you getting along with his family and friends was really important to him.

“Hey, Tom,” You said. “Can we talk real quick?”

“Of course, darling,” He responded. You grabbed his arm, leading him out to the backyard so you could talk in private.

“That was really nice of you to have everyone here,” You acknowledged. You looked up at him as he flashed you a grin. He was overflowing with excitement, it had been a few months since you last saw each other in person.

“Everyone missed you,” He explained. “Myself included.”

“I missed you too, Tom.” You looked up at him, your arms were still interlocked together as you stood on the gravel, overlooking his backyard.

“I don’t want to be rude,” You started. He furrowed his brows as you continued, “But I’m really exhausted, and I think I need to just take a little nap. Can everyone come back for dinner?”

“Oh, of course!” He exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking- I was just so excited you were coming, and everyone else was too I ju-“

“Tom, it’s okay,” You smiled at him. He relaxed as your eyes met. “I’m really appreciative, Thank you for doing this. I just need some sleep right now.”

“Of course,” He nodded. The two of you went back inside, and Tom had asked everyone to come back later to give you some time to unwind. You walked into the guest room he had made for you, and laid down on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers as you drifted off to sleep.

Having dinner with everyone later was extremely fun, and you were feeling like yourself again. The entire stay at Tom’s house was incredible, the two of you messed around a lot, but at the end of the day he was really a great friend. The morning you two were getting ready to leave for the press tour, he brought up tea to your room. It was the little things, you thought.

That day consisted of driving to the hotel, getting ready for interviews, and talking a lot about the movie. The two of you ended up in the hotel bar later that night, starting off the press tour by getting drunk. There were multiple days of this; you went from England, to France, to Germany, Spain, everywhere. You and Tom were having so much fun, all you did was talk in interviews, eat good food, sightsee, and get drunk. It was magical, actually. But everything changed when you went to Italy.

“We have Y/N Y/L/N and Tom Holland here, promoting their new movie,” The interviewer spoke into the camera. You and Tom sat beside each other, smiling as they continued to talk and ask questions.

“Was this movie more difficult to film, Tom? Because of how dark it is?” She asked, and Tom nodded his head.

“Oh, definitely,” He began. “I had a hard time with scenes, but luckily I have an amazing costar who helped me out with them.” He placed his hand on your shoulder as he looked over at you.

“And you, y/n?” She started. “It was also difficult?”

You nodded your head, “It’s definitely something I’ve never done before.” All three of you laughed before you continued. “Yeah, it was very difficult, actually. I’m very lucky Tom was there, there were a lot of tears- on and off screen!”

The three of you let out a laugh again, and Tom took his hand off your shoulder, and it fell onto your lower back. You gave him a quick look before the interviewer continued to ask questions.

“Because this movie is so dark, I thought it would be fun to ask some fun, lighthearted questions!”

You and Tom nodded, and she started to begin.

“What are you favorite colors?”

“Blue,” You let out.

“Green,” Tom responded.

The questions kept coming, and you and Tom were having a lot of fun with them. It was something different, and you liked that. Then, she asked the question that changed everything.

“What song reminds you of the other person?” She asked. You and Tom looked at each other, thrown off by what was just asked.

“Uhh,” Tom started. “I think I’d have to say Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra.”

You laughed, knowing why he said this.

“We had a lot of dance parties in the hair and makeup trailer to this song,” Tom answered. You nodded your head.

“And you, y/n, what song reminds you of Tom?”

You hesitated, you knew what song he reminded you of, you just were scared to say it out loud.

“Umm,” You drifted off. Tom stared at you, waiting for your answer. “I don’t know why, but my brain is saying ‘Ivy’ by Taylor Swift.”

You and Tom looked at each other, he looked confused; raising an eyebrow to indicate his confusion. The interviewer cleared her throat, then changed the subject. You spent the whole interview on edge, Tom kept giving you the side eye, and you knew you were going to have a conversation about it after.

Except after wasn’t until much later, you had at least three more interviews to do that day. When this interview ended, you didn’t have any time to chat with him. Your makeup artists rushed over to do touch-ups before the next interviewer walked in.

You were in agony, you wanted so badly to talk to him about this, but the two of you had no time alone. You were doing your best to not look at him, you couldn’t make eye contact right now.

Finally, you wrapped up the interviews for the day, and you and Tom started heading to your hotel rooms.

“What was that?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence as you walked back to you rooms.

“What was what?” You played dumb, but still looked at the ground.

“Look at me,” He demanded. You looked up at him, he was taller than you, and you were already in a vulnerable position. “You told me that ‘Ivy’ was a song that made you feel like you were in love, do you not remember that? You said that when we were filming.”

“I remember.”

“Then what the fuck was that?”

You breathed in, your heart was racing and you started to sweat. You were growing anxious. You looked behind him to see your hotel room number, you were hoping you could escape this. Maybe this wasn’t healthy, you thought. Running away from your problems. You just couldn’t handle him saying anything other than that he feels the same for you. You tried to move forward, but he blocked you.

“Don’t run away from me,” He growled out.

“Fine,” You said. “What do you want me to say?”

“What you meant,” Tom responded. He started to back up, so he was against the wall right next to your hotel door. You stood across from him, on the other side of the door.

“What I meant,” You were stalling. He stared at you, waiting for you to response.

You couldn’t look away, though.

So yeah, it’s a fire, it’s a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it. You started it.

Your eyes met each other, and you started to moved your way closer to him. He started walking towards you, your bodies inches apart.

So yeah, it’s a war, it’s the goddamn fight of my life and you started it. You started it.

You would do anything for him, anything. He breathed out, and you felt his breath on your face.

“I love you,” You whispered. You nodded your head, looking down at the ground. You couldn’t even look him in the face. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He had a smile on his face.

“Oh, y/n, I love you too,” He said. You laughed, but was abruptly cut off by him smashing his lips into yours. You brought one hand to his neck, the other to your back pocket, trying to find the hotel room key. You stumbled, Tom was closing in on you. There was no space left between your bodies, and you were on fire. His hands were in your hair, and he was pushing you up against the wall. You giggled, you were struggling to put the key into the slot of the door, but Tom ripped it out of your hands and shoved it in the slot. He opened the door, then picked you up, taking you into your hotel room.

Now I’m covered in you.

taglist:

@white-wolf1940 @holyfrickfracks @stylessugarhigh @lilhoodhippie @lowkey-holland @lmaotshollandd @thehumanistsdiary @tomshufflepuff @zspideyy @lovely-blackinnon @hollandfanficlove @minejungwoo @th45

[vhsrights]

Ever since I saw them posts about JJ have short hair??? Like a pixie cut??? Wanna do me a solid and tell me your thoughts on Emily’s first (and maybe subsequent) reaction when JJ walks into the bullpen? Assuming they’re not together already.

OH OH BRILLIANT THOUGHT WHILE IM WRITING THIS: JJ with short hair AND a leather jacket. I feel like PG definitely had a hand in this new change in JJ...

for sure i gotchu! :) this was one that i have been wanting to do for a while. (edit: so i know that you only asked for my thoughts but i got really excited and into it so i turned it into an OS) <3

Dashing

Pairing: Pre Jemily - talked about

WC: 4.8k words

Summary: JJ with short hair, and what it does to Emily :) [bullpen and team night out version; pre jemily] (like a prelude to gnc jj)

It happened on a Thursday afternoon. JJ had been shaking all day, but Penelope had convinced her that it would be okay. The blonde locks that she had been identified with for so long felt even heavier against her shoulders. She made sure to stay hidden away in her office, thanking her lucky stars that they were off case rotation. Her fingers consistently found themselves back into her hair, twisting and twirling them relentlessly. If JJ could have simply willed her long hair away, she would have. She restlessly twirled the pen in her hand for several hours, making little headway on the mountain of files by her. Her eyes kept darting over to the screen of her computer monitor, feverishly checking and rechecking the time.

5:45 pm. That was when the appointment was set for. JJ wished that she would be able to simply forget about it until then. Maybe if she did, she would actually get more work done. She texted Penelope, who was out for coffee on a break, to get her some too. Soon after she got the caffeine, JJ was able to shut out the rest of her thoughts. The boost alone drove her to finish files at triple her previous rate. Maybe that was also the adrenaline. Her phone broke her trance-like consciousness when it began to beep incessantly. She had set an alarm to go off 45 minutes before her appointment, enough time for her to wrap up at the office and calm her nerves before she made the short 10-minute drive to the barbershop.

Feeling her heart pound harder in her chest, JJ sat back in her chair to ground herself. She decided that getting up before she had a grip on her emotions was not a good idea. JJ let her eyes close gently and her mind began to wander. In her head, JJ saw the faces of those that she had met as this version of herself. They had all changed her, for better or for worse, and the memories began to flow in. It started with her mother and father. They had given a life that she couldn’t have been more appreciative of in the early years, forgoing the memories of harsh words and other negative acts. Moving on quickly, the next face flashed before her eyes. Roslyn.

Her sister had been her saving grace before JJ could even comprehend the idea. JJ had always looked up to the girl. Roslyn was phenomenal and JJ could only imagine how far she would have made it if she had still been alive. Roslyn was the one that had taught JJ how to braid her hair, wash it, and even curl it. Roslyn had curled her long blonde hair for the first time when she watched her get ready for the homecoming dance. It had only been one clump of strands but the way that her sister had so gently handled her locks left JJ in awe of Roslyn’s caring nature. After Roslyn left, JJ held onto her hairstyle, scared to let go of it as it sometimes felt like her only tie to her older sister.

Her college best friends, partners in the Academy, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, and so many more came and left in her thoughts. It was like her thoughts were forming their own little presentation of what JJ was getting rid of today. Some had more important roles than others but she had to remind herself that today wasn’t getting rid of anything but her hair. She was still JJ, but this felt more real. She wouldn’t have to avert her eyes in the mirror as much, and it would help to match her appearance more closely to how she felt inside.

Eventually, her mind came to the inevitable. Emily. Emily was something to JJ that she couldn’t describe. JJ loved Emily, but it wasn’t just that. Over time, as she had gotten to know the woman, JJ had come to truly understand her. It was the kind of intimacy that relied on the briefest of eye contact, all thoughts conveyed in body language alone. She couldn’t tell Emily though. It was too risky, and no matter how bold JJ was, Emily was a whole new world. She pushed away the thought that Emily would hate her haircut. If Emily rejected the haircut, it would feel more like she rejected who JJ truly was. But she would never do that. Right?

No, Emily would never do that. She couldn’t, because then JJ didn’t know what she’d do. Trying to distract herself from the increasing anxiety, she tried to remember their Girl’s Nights and separate hangouts where Emily would mindlessly run her fingers through JJ’s hair. It was how she calmed JJ, and the experience itself felt like home to the blonde. Glancing down at her watch, JJ realized that she got a bit too tied up with her imagination and saw that it was 5:25. Grabbing her things in a frenzy, JJ quickly headed out of the bullpen. She caught a glance of Morgan, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. JJ waved the team off, not slowing down on her way to the elevator. Hotch already knew that she was taking the early day so she was set.

JJ shot a text off to Garcia before driving off, telling her to check her office for anything that JJ might have forgotten and that she was going to her apartment after the haircut. Throwing her phone into the passenger seat, JJ drummed her fingers against the steering as she pulled out of the parking lot. She drove to the barbershop and reached in 7 minutes. Emily and her crazy driving skills would have been proud. Exiting the door rather quickly, JJ ran her fingers through her hair one last time.

This was goodbye.

She fidgeted with her fingers the entire time she waited for her appointment. JJ rocked her body gently, forward and backward, grounding herself in the steady rhythm. After some time, a person wearing a short-sleeved, cuffed button-down and a large black apron approached her. Their hair was cropped short, the sides shaved to a small length to let the top flow over their forehead. It was perfectly what JJ wanted. She felt her face grow hot at the realization that this was actually happening. JJ was going to do the big chop.

“Hi, Welcome to the Queer Barbers’ Guild. My name is Tay and I can help you today. JJ, isn’t it?” Tay held out their hand as JJ stood up, initiating their quick handshake.

“Uh, yeah. I had said over the phone that I wanted to cut most of my hair off. Actually, I would like exactly what you have. If that works?” JJ took quick strides to keep up with the barber, hearing the bustle of the shop as they got closer to the chair.

Tay chuckled, nodded, and gestured for JJ to sit in the seat. They pumped up its height, adjusting it to their work position. She sat down eagerly, feeling energized as the moment of the cut drew nearer.

“So are you looking to do a wash first today? I can definitely do my cut on you, so it’s just whatever you want. I would have to say though, I think you’re going to look rather dashing.” JJ blushed and failed to respond.

Dashing. Not pretty.

“I haven’t washed my hair in a few days for this haircut, so that would be nice. Thank you.”

JJ sat back in the chair and let Tay drape the apron cover over her. They combed through her hair slowly, getting tassels out and examining it for the cut. Once it was all brushed out, they measured out lengths and showed them to JJ in the mirror. JJ soon came to an idea of what she wanted.

Tay led her out of the chair and over the washing room. She sat down and made herself comfortable. JJ tried to solidify those last few moments in her head as the last memories she had with her long hard. The warm water began to run over her scalp and she forgot what else was running through her head. Before she knew it, the wash was over and she was back in the hair cut chair.

Now was the time.

They dried her hair and combed through it again. JJ closed her eyes. She was scared of what would happen. What if it wasn’t right? How would she undo the damage? She then felt a chilled glass against her fingers. Slowly peeking one eye open, she spotted some kind of alcohol in Tay’s outstretched hand. Curious, JJ looked up at the barber.

“To calm your nerves. Don’t worry, I’ve done plenty of these chops myself and I had my own. Trust me, things are only going to get better from here. So, here’s to relaxing. You earned it.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” JJ couldn’t explain her gratitude as she took the glass.

Maybe everything would be okay.

JJ relaxed and Tay began to gather her hair for the big chop. Tay carefully sectioned her hair, making sure to constantly check the length. Then, the time came. Tay lightly tapped her on the shoulder, indicating that they had the scissors at the ready. All they needed was the go-ahead from JJ. The blonde took in one last deep breath, giving them permission on her exhale.

The first cut was the most jarring. JJ could feel the hair being cut, its strands tugging at the sharp shears. She let out a gasp and everything happened too quickly for her to process after that. The hair fell left and right, leaving her head feeling instantly lighter and freer.

Tay worked incredibly efficiently. They managed to keep checking in with JJ as they deftly cut her hair. Soon, it was gone. The buzz of the razor sent a jolt up JJ’s spine but Tay quickly reassured her. They made light passes and cut down the hair on the sides and back. It was still nearly half an inch long, but that was exactly what JJ wanted.

“There you go. All done, JJ. What do you think?” Their voice cut through the haze of JJ’s thoughts and she turned her head, examining her new look.

The long hair was gone.

JJ had short hair now. It felt like a high, like one she’d never felt before but would never let up again. She ran her fingers through it, marveling at the softness and sleek nature of the look. She looked pretty fucking dashing. JJ turned around and looked at Tay, struggling to keep her tears at bay. She shouldn’t be on the verge of crying. JJ chastised herself internally.

“I- I don’t really have the words to thank you right now. I know that I shouldn’t be so emotional over a haircut, but you made everything perfect.” JJ held her head down, trying to hold back the tears.

“Of course. It’s no problem. For the emotions, believe me, I was a sobbing mess when I got my first big chop. You can always ask for me when you come to the Guild. Thanks for coming, and we can go up to the front for payment now.”

JJ paid and left the establishment. She was still dazed, not sure if everything was real. Her fingers found their way back into her hair several times, simply running through it as she made her way to the car. Her watch showed 7:03 pm as the time and JJ pulled out her phone. Her fingers quivered as she typed out her text to Penelope. She didn’t want to text her friend a picture of herself, deciding to keep the hair a surprise until she arrived at Penelope’s apartment.

Jayje (7:03 PM): Got the haircut. Pen this feels fucking crazy. I almost cried in the shop because of how nice my barber was and how I look. Heading over now.

PG (7:03 PM): AHHHH im so excited for you!! i already know that you look hot as fuck babes.

JJ smiled and set her stuff aside. She was off to Penelope’s apartment. The analyst had told her that she had a surprise for her.

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

JJ pulled up to the analyst’s apartment. The sun was still high in the sky outside, and she could hear the chirp of several little birds off in the distance. Penelope was waiting for her. Taking one last deep breath, JJ walked towards the front door. It was part of a little archway to a quaint apartment but it could have been the door to the White House with how nervous JJ was.

She shivered as she rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing. Reaction number one, how bad can it be? Penelope had already been anticipating JJ’s arrival so the door flew open mere seconds later. She appeared in the doorway, beaming with energy. Then she laid her eyes on JJ.

“OH. MY. GOD. JAYJE. YOU LOOK AMAZING.” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of JJ.

Penelope dragged JJ into the apartment faster than the blonde could respond to her statement. She was bubbling with excitement, super ready to give JJ her present. Penelope began to give a preface before they reached her couch. On it, sat a medium-sized silver bag. Tissue was popping out of the top and JJ was drawn to it. Penelope noticed her eyes on the present.

“Go ahead. Open it. I got it for you because I think it definitely matches your new vibe and that you ARE wearing it to team drinks tomorrow. Emily won’t be able to take her eyes off of you!”

JJ paused.

“What does Emily have to do with this?” She looked back at Penelope, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

“You’re joking, right? You can’t seriously ignore the tension between you two. It’s Miss Darking and Brooding and The Badass Baby Blonde. You two are a power couple! Unless, you aren’t madly in love with her and would be fine with me setting her up with this other friend of mine…”

“Okay, okay. No setting Emily up with your friend. She’s mine, thank you very much.” JJ spoke confidently, knowing that Penelope could see right through her bravado.

“I’m sure she is. That’s why you asked her out. Oh, wait…”

“Fine, so I haven’t asked her out. I’m just terrified. She’s Emily.”

“Yeah, and you’re JJ. Plus, now you have that super butch look so you can ask her out tomorrow. But not until you open the gift!” Penelope pointed at the glossy bag once more.

JJ rolled her eyes and turned back to the bag. She slowly pulled out the tissue and spotted dark fabric underneath it. Reaching inside, it was cool to the touch. JJ pulled out a black, leather jacket. It was sleek with 4 zippers, 2 collar buttons, and seams that traced around the jacket.

JJ thumbed it and fell more and more in love with it as she took in the jacket more. It was perfect. This jacket, combined with the haircut and the way that Tay complimented her earlier, felt like an amalgamation of the person that she was supposed to be. JJ wasn’t the girl that hid behind her femininity and used it as a weapon to get her way. In fact, her femininity did more against her than it did for her. Pushing that thought out of her head, JJ turned to Penelope.

With tears in her eyes, she hugged Penelope. She hugged her with all her might. She couldn’t describe the feeling in her head. Later, she would come to find out that it was gender euphoria. But in that moment, every positive emotion felt weak in comparison to the explosion of happiness in her mind.

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

JJ had opted for her pantsuit for work on Friday. Her normal skirt suits just didn’t fit who she saw herself as in the moment. Whether that would change or not, she didn’t know. It felt powerful, and with her hair coiffed up, JJ was unstoppable.

The elevator doors dinged open and she hesitantly took her first step. The big glass doors of the BAU seemed daunting now, and it made JJ feel small. She felt insignificant and her breath partially caught in her throat. Looking over at her watch, JJ realized that she was almost late. Deciding that the time to wait was over, JJ took confident strides forward. She pushed the doors open and made her way to her office until something stopped her.

Derek’s voice boomed out in front of her. Reid and the rest of the BAU men were sitting at his desk and their eyes lifted up to meet hers. It took all of JJ’s strength not to turn on her heel and bolt. But she loved this haircut, and it made her confident; so she had to act like it. Slowing up her stride, she detoured over to the group. Derek had called out to her, commenting on the haircut.

All of them were genuinely curious, stating their approval multiple times. JJ even got a fistbump from Derek and a wide smile from Spencer. Hotch’s usual morose expression lightened up. They talked about how she had wanted to get it, the differences from long hair, and the overall confidence boost. It was invigorating. More than anything else, JJ felt her heart swell at the sheer support from her teammates. They joked about her being one of the guys; and though right now it was short hair, JJ could feel that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

They eventually got to the topic of where she cut it and JJ casually mentioned the barbershop. At that, Derek’s eyes lit up. He was always one to preach the benefits of a barbershop, offering the argument that it was a place that created a sense of family. He asked if it had been The Queer Barber’s Guild, to which JJ had nodded her head. His interest peaked, Derek asked if it had been Penelope’s recommendation. To that, JJ nodded enthusiastically again.

“Yeah, she’s always loved that place. Babygirl got me hooked on it too, right after I came out. They’ve got some really cool bi stuff in there. Who did you have? Was it Tay? They’re my bro, and a top notch barber.”

“I did have them. They made things so easy. I’m definitely only going there from now on.”

JJ and the group carried on their conversation for a little longer when she heard a squeal behind her. She turned partially to see Penelope clacking over in her yellow heels. She had a huge smile plastered on her face, and was obviously excited for JJ.

“Jayje! You look even better today than you did yesterday! So what’s going on, are we talking about the QBG because, my god, do I love that place!”

Everyone giggled and they continued the conversation. Penelope watched as JJ’s eyes shifted around the bullpen ever so slightly. Of course. JJ was looking for the only missing member, arguably her favorite one. Emily. Penelope held back her laugh yet could help but to smile at the blonde’s little search. She leaned in close to JJ and tapped her on the shoulder.

“She’s in the break room.” JJ tried to fake obliviousness, but she knew that she’d been caught.

“Thanks PG.”

Casually excusing herself from the conversation, JJ left on the behest of “files that she needed to tend to”. She didn’t care if anyone bought the excuse. In her mind, the only place for her to go was the break room. JJ wanted to show Emily the “new her”. Of course, it wasn’t new, but she felt different. Trying not to give things much more thought, JJ arrived at the break room with a quick pace.

She noticed Emily at the coffee counter, stirring her mug. JJ was overcome with something at the sight of Emily. Not even thinking, she leaned against the doorframe and called out to the brunette.

“Got enough for another cup?” Her voice was nonchalant but her heart was pounding in her chest.

Emily perked up at the sound but didn’t turn around. She finished stirring her coffee and began turning around before starting to speak.

“Jen! Oh, shoot, I just used the last of it for my cup.” Emily spoke cheerily as she brought the mug to her lips.

Then her eyes landed on JJ.

Emily completely froze, nearly choking on her coffee. Her eyes widened as they took in her friend’s new look. JJ looked hot. There was a pervading silence between them, but neither could break their trance for long enough to say something. Emily looked over the short hair on JJ’s head, inspecting it almost. She noticed how it’s varied length set off the blonde’s angular features. Emily could almost feel her knees go weak but held it together.

Neither knew nor cared to time how long they stayed like that. It somehow hadn’t reached the point of awkwardness, but both JJ and Emily’s minds were overactive. At some point, JJ managed to point back at the coffee pot. Emily jolted up and moved to the side, breaking her haze. Her gaze instead landed on their best friend in the distance, who was giving her a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Penelope Garcia really was something.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned back to JJ. She was setting things up for a new pot of coffee and the brunette couldn’t help but to watch her intently.

“So, uh, Jen. The haircut. You look amazing. It really suits you.”

“Thanks, Em. I just got it yesterday and I already feel like a whole new person. It’s a bit strange, but honestly, I love it.”

Emily smiled dopily, attempting to hide her grin behind her sips of coffee. They spoke for a little longer before the coffee was nearly done brewing. The small talk was comfortable, though not the kind of conversations they usually had. It was workplace appropriate because that was what JJ and Emily were, colleagues.

“Okay, I’m gonna head back to my desk. I’ll see you at team drinks tonight?” Emily patted JJ’s arm and turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” JJ blushed and the two ignored the giddiness they felt.

After leaving the break room, Emily made her way to Penelope’s lair instead. She definitely had some thoughts about JJ’s new look.

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

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were the first to arrive. They were known for their punctuality. The bar wasn’t crowded just yet, the Friday night crowd was beginning to flow in. They had all changed into more casual wear, except for Rossi. The men made small talk until Derek and Emily drove in nearly 15 minutes later. They had hung out before and just decided to ride in together.

Emily and Derek’s arrival immediately added more pizzazz to the event, spurring them to order the first round of drinks. Things were lively after a crushing week at work and the BAU was ready to let loose. Not long after Emily had placed their drinks order, JJ and Penelope arrived.

JJ was wearing a white Tshirt, ripped black jeans, vans, and most importantly the leather jacket. She drowned out any thoughts of doubt with the idea that this was her family and that soon they would be intoxicated enough to simply not care. She trailed slightly behind Penelope’s eager steps but they eventually reached the table. Hotch spotted her first. He gave her an approving nod, a barely noticeable smile gracing his expression.

Emily spotted her next. Before she could stop herself, Emily’s breath caught in her throat and she gasped. JJ had left her speechless for the second time that day. Her gaze passed over every part of JJ’s outfit. She felt her face get hot and Emily shoved her hands in her pockets. By that point, JJ and Penelope had joined the group at their table but Emily had yet to say a word.

“Wow, Jen, you look amazing. That leather jacket is perfect. It’s a very hot look, but also very you.” Emily couldn’t help her awkwardness but the compliments just kept going. She couldn’t find a way to stop herself.

JJ's thoughts staggered with the compliments but she was able to thank Emily. Penelope simply watched the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on her face. After that, the alcohol took no time in arriving at their tables. They all downed those drinks quickly and went after another round. After a couple rounds, JJ pulled Emily out to the dance floor. They let the music take them over, relinquishing their thoughts to the rhythm on the dance floor.

They spent an unknown amount of time dancing, not caring about anything besides themselves and dancing. But soon, that magic started to fade and the women returned to their table. Derek was standing at the table’s side, having noticed the way that JJ and Emily stood closer as they drank more alcohol. Having a brilliant idea, he spoke up as JJ and Emily took a bite of the chips they had ordered for the table.

“JJ, Emily, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a little game? You two are the strong ladies of the BAU, including my Babygirl but right now I’m focusing on y’all. How about the two of you arm wrestle? I want to know which of you is stronger.”

“Derek, we’re both drunk. That’s not a fair game, even though we know the winner would be me.” JJ’s body swayed lightly, but Emily quickly stabilized her.

“I’m down. At least, I’m no chicken.” Emily spoke in a teasing tone, stealing a glance at JJ.

“Oh, no you don’t. Okay, let’s do it. I’m in.” JJ nodded enthusiastically, invigorated at the idea of a challenge to beat Emily in.

They cleared the space and let JJ and Emily get ready. Both did their own ridiculous warm ups, obviously exaggerating it. They set their arms down and were ready to begin when JJ stopped.

“Wait. What are the stakes?” Emily responded, saying something that she’d wanted to do for a long time.

“If I lose, I’ll take you out on a date. If you lose, you have to take me out on a date. How’s that sound?”

Her proposition shocked the entire table. They’d all been waiting for JJ and Emily to stop tiptoeing around each other. This was just not how they expected things to unfold, albeit it would make a great story for the future. Sober JJ and Penelope would have a field day with this.

“Deal.” JJ was drunk too, but that was an offer that was too good to pass up.

With that, Derek set the two up to begin the match. It was very evenly matched in the beginning. Neither woman budged, focusing very hard on their end prize. The team’s eyes shifted from JJ to Emily, and back again. Their grip was strong but no progress was being made. By the time that they had hit the 20 minute mark, Emily could feel the fog in her brain begin to clear up.

At that point, she took a closer look at her opponent. She watched the way that JJ’s blue eyes locked onto their hands, checking for even the slightest of hesitations. She saw the way that JJ’s clothes hung on her body, giving her an air of confidence that made JJ infinitely hotter. Finally, Emily looked back up to JJ’s hair. It’s long, straight stands dropped over her forehead and framed her face well. Emily lost herself in the thought of running her fingers through the silky cut.

That was when she felt the cool, hard wood of the table. Emily’s eyes widened and she looked down. There it was. Her hand was pressed against the surface, pinned underneath JJ’s.

“I win! Guess you have to take me out on that date, chicken.” JJ teased Emily, getting closer to the brunette’s face.

“I get to take someone as dashing as you out? Well, I might have lost but this seems like the better prize.

JJ’s heart soared at the compliment. The way that the word ‘dashing’ rolled off of Emily’s lips made her feel ecstatic. It wasn’t like when men called her pretty after buying a drink. This hair really was working wonders.

They ended the night with a kiss before Emily climbed out of the rideshare and walked up the apartment. JJ ran her fingers over her lips as the car pulled away. Best decision ever.

tag list: @ssa-jareaus @coramvobis @altsvu @hotchshoney @morcias @jelle-jareau @dragisthegame @ssakayprentish69 @dimitrescus-bitch @jay-writes-jemily @bridget19 @hmm-wanky @emilyprentissfangirl @tokoblade @temily

[now-im-a-belieber]

speirs + "you're scaring me" or "you're so cute when you're mad" it goes without saying, but please make me cry ❤️

prompt: "you're scaring me"

ron speirs x reader

a/n: hi, i have no idea how to write speirs, but i tried? please forgive me for how bad this is. i was just anxious to post something again :/

taglist: @capsparkyspeirs @wecomrades @tvserie-s-world

══════════════════

Everyone had a breaking point. Some men would meet it, and stumble to the ground and bleed out for good. Others would claw their way back to standing and carry on best they could. Some men lost their wits trying to avoid the inevitable crash and burn that came for everyone. They could fight and curse and cry, but no man could escape war without facing the end of their rope at least once. Everyone had a breaking point.

Even Ron Speirs.

Some said he'd already lost it long ago. And his high strung manic behaviour was born from some horrific terror that he vowed never to be affected by again. Some believed he was truly immune to any such stumble and was built inside and out to handle the weight of any war. You didn't quite know what to believe, really.

You'd never known exactly what to think of Ron Speirs.

Even tonight, after all this time. It was as if you were always hearing about Ron. Never hearing nearly as much from him. Though he tried, bless his heart. He tried so hard with you. And that's how you knew there was some kind of real honest love in the pull that kept pushing the two of you back together.

He'd steal you away to join him for useless patrols and for drinks in local pubs when there was time. When there wasn't, he'd maintain quiet by your side in a half dug fox hole- not daring to frighten you with his chatter about being some kind of dead man walking. He'd tried once, somewhere back in France. And you couldn't help but let out a giggle at his scare tactics. You might've regretted laughing at what he'd said if he hadn't been so quick to smirk at your reaction. It was all a blur since that night. A mess of memories of stolen midnight meetings and winks across briefing rooms... And rumours about the man when he was away.

Tonight was no exception. All the things you'd heard about Ron before you'd dared to try and get to know him, all the rumours that arose still, were being traded like campfire stories one room over.

Your nerves gathered in heaps each passing minute, while you stole cigarettes from the pack Luz left on the tiny coffee table he and Talbert were using to play some card game. It was a futile distraction. Both men would glance past their deck and toward the parlour where some replacement was getting the ever-loving shite knocked out of him.

You had almost missed everything. You weren't anywhere around when Talbert came rushing through hours earlier, gathering friends to head off on a manhunt. You'd almost missed the group of guys shoving a stranger into the closest room of the building you'd been calling home, for now. If you hadn't breezed in from waiting up for Ron just then, you might've very well gone the whole night without hearing what happened.

And it was only because Luz and Talbert stayed behind that you managed to ask what the hell was going on.

It was Easy's favourite funny man who'd passed on the gut-wrenching news. Chuck had been shot, and the man who dared to fire his weapon was in the next room over, facing payback at the insistence of Ron Speirs. Only he wasn't here, not yet. Talbert said the man you so often concerned yourself with would only return from the hospital they managed to open in the nick of time, when he knew the Sargents fate.

So you smoked while the boys pretended to play a card game. You watched time pass much too slowly for your liking, promising Luz to repay all the cigarettes you'd stolen in an effort to stay calm. There was no one you wanted to hear from more than Ron, now, for more reasons than one. You battled the selfish feelings as all sorts of other worries had you pacing the hall. The war was supposed to be over. Ron was supposed to have met you for dinner. But he was off someplace, taking charge.

Just as you began marvelling over the man's fortitude, and wondering if it was his courage that might inevitably send him into a spiral, he appeared.

Ron breezed in, but you heard him before you saw him. His demands to know where they'd taken the assailant echoed through the hall you'd wandered toward the stillness of. At that, you stamped out the cigarette you'd only just started and rushed toward the man who'd been on your mind all the while.

Ron was passing through the doorway you'd been avoiding by the time you reached him. So you dashed in his direction but had to stall in the frame of the opened door to take in the scene.

The room was full of men you'd come to trust and admire, their faces pulled down with frowns. Their eyes heavy, fists bloodied. It wasn't much of an unusual sight. You just thought you'd seen the last of nights like these.

You thought you'd seen the last of the gazes your friends cast toward Ron in moments like now. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the soldier, expressions reminiscent of those they wore when the stories about Ron were traded to spook the new kids. They looked afraid of what they'd heard he was capable of. Afraid of what he might do now.

Ron managed to scare everyone, somehow, some way. But never you. Not until now.

Of course, you understood when he lashed the end of his gun across the bastard's face. And you couldn't blame him for pointing the weapon right at the waste of space who'd put your friend's life on the line.

But there was a certain fury in Ron's eyes. The gaze he wore brought every story and rumour to life for a moment, whether they were ever true or not. And you weren't sure what he'd do next. You never really were. But this time, that frightened you.

Everyone watched on silently. Maybe they were scared, too. Maybe they'd been waiting to see something like this with their own eyes. But you weren't. As the gun shook with the tremor of Ron's hand, you realized he was just as frightened of what might happen next.

Despite your halfhearted and very brief attempt at shoving your feelings deep down, they only swelled more fiercely. And Ron's paused action was the final straw that toppled over your will at keeping calm. The words you'd been biting back clawed their way through your throat and pushed past your lips by what seemed to be their very own volition.

"Ron... You're scaring me." You managed to croak, in a whispered plea from the doorway, ready toward bolt to or from whatever commotion came of the scene.

At your desperate, frightened call the soldier seemed to ever so slightly turn toward you. He considered everything for another moment, everyone's collectively held breaths in the palm of his trembling hand.

Then he seemed to notice the blood soaking his fingers. He wiped the side of his hand on the shoulder of the man they had all tied up, as he fought for an easy breath. But none of your comrades seemed to let out their own sighs. Not until Ron reached for his hat, letting it slide away, exhaustion every so slightly evident in his movement.

You watched as he turned toward the door, not looking at you but instead instructing Talbert to get the MP's to take care of the criminal's fate.

"Grant's dead?" Your friend begged to know.

"No. Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it," Ron replied, a sure statement spoken with confidence. But you heard the waver that lived on the edge of his tone, and the dread in your gut only stirred more so.

Before you could reach out to him, Ron stormed out of the door without a further word, or a glance your way.

You were left with no choice but to scramble after the man. The only goodbye you manage to offer your friends is a pointed apologetic look before dashing off, hot on Ron's trail.

Your heart raced as you watched the man you loved saunter further down the road. His shoulders square, his pace steady, like he was on duty, like his mission was never-ending.

You called his name in your hurry to keep up with him, hoping he'd pause, or call back, or something. But he just kept walking, turning a corner as if your voice never reached him.

You moved even quicker now, at his silence. In a worried haze, you rounded the corner quickly, never thinking of stalling. But Ron had stopped just there, causing you to nearly crash into him.

You held your hands to his shoulders, half steadying yourself to stand, half digging your claws into him so he might not ever go so far from you again. And right as you opened your mouth to ask a dozen questions, Ron beat you to it.

"I don't know if I did the right thing, just now." He spoke so much more softly than he'd just been that it made your worry grow tenfold. Ron's eyes glazed over, unfocused. His quandary hung heavy in the air between you. And you'd barely processed its meaning, let alone any sort of answer in the seconds that passed in silence. Then your man met your eyes. His slowly came to lock with yours, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something, anything.

"I... I don't know either." You half shrugged, still holding his shoulders as if that would keep him from sinking deeper into the darkness you could see start to fill him up.

"I didn't mean to scare you... I didn't-"

You shook your head at his discombobulated way of apologizing and moved your hands to his face. Holding him much more tenderly in hopes the sweet gesture would calm the usual electric tide about Ron that seemed to be buzzing out of control tonight.

"Let's go see Chuck. Can we?" You wondered suddenly. Would he even be aware of your presence by his side? Would it even help Chuck? Or Ron, for that matter?

Your man nodded, though, and drew one of his hands closer to grab ahold of one of yours. And with a furrowed brow, he started yammering another vague apology. Saying something about how he wondered if he'd regret letting the replacement go like that. And it just wasn't like him to battle with such uncertainties. So you stopped Ron's murmurs by saying the first thing that came to your mind,

"I still think you're the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the whole regiment. " You assured with a smile, meant to encourage his own. "And I'm sure all the others do too."

Then he grinned, and let his eyes roll away from yours. And some part of him seemed more alive at your jest. After a beat, he nudged you to walk on, with his hand in yours. And you knew this was only the start of the worst night ever. And that maybe once you got him all alone, really alone, your man might really lose it.

Everyone had a breaking point. Maybe this was Ron's. You hadn't quite figured him out yet, even after all this time. Maybe you never would. But so long as you got to tough it out at your favourite soldier's side, there wasn't really much to fear.

[graysonsdarling]

in the rain

places where people kiss: in the rain

word count. 1.7k

warnings. extremely cliché kiss sjfdknkd

author’s note. i have spent WAY too much time on this thing for it to not be good... and rewritten it like 3!! times!! and i literally have to wake up early for a google meeting and im queuing this at 3:02 am rn

Dick didn’t have the slightest clue as to what drew him to you. Maybe it was your eyes, full of life and curiosity. Or had it been that smile of yours? God, that smile. It swirled butterflies in his stomach. It was blinding, but he couldn’t help but stare straight into it. If your smile was the sun, then he was Icarus. His feelings came with ease, becoming a complete free fall for him. Around you, he was warm as though he had been wrapped in a blanket of love. You sent him the same exhilarating rush that falling from a trapeze did when he was younger. Yeah, how could he not fall for you?

Even sitting in a quaint coffee shop across from you made him almost forget how to breathe. His eyes fell upon your lips and he wondered how they would feel against his. How would you kiss? Would it be soft and chaste, or passionate and needy? There was one thing he knew for sure though; it would be all-consuming. There was a faraway look in your eyes—all thoughtful and he wished to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours. Your elbow was rested on the table as your fingers went to tuck a piece of stray hair behind your ear absentmindedly. The action made him silently wish it was him who pushed back your hair instead.

“What?” you had asked him, plush lips slightly agape.

He blinked, snapping out of his lovesick trance, hand coming up to hold his chin. “Huh?” was all that left Dick’s mouth, too caught off guard by you to form a better response. He wanted to slap himself for getting caught looking at you like a total creep. What were you doing to him?

“You’re staring.”

“Oh,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

You giggled. Dick’s heart leaped out of his chest at the sound, and all he could think was that he was the reason for it. He wanted to be the reason for your laughter for the rest of time. “It’s okay, you’re not so bad on the eyes either, Grayson.”

Dick choked on his coffee, which he quickly masked with a cough. But the look on your face told him you had noticed. His ears turned a soft shade of pink. “I wasn’t—“

“I’m just teasing you, Dick. You should be very familiar with that by now—I didn’t think I could make you flustered though.” An amused smirk played on your pretty lips.

He pushed away the desperate thought of needing to kiss you to the back of his mind and rolled his eyes at you. “I’m not flustered.” Though the clear heat in his cheeks did nothing to aid his argument. He watched as you pressed your lips together in a line before taking a long sip of your drink, nodding along. He could almost hear the sarcastic quip from the look in your eyes.

Your head cocked toward the window, watching as dark gray clouds quickly enveloped the sky. “It’s going to rain.”

“When’s it not?”

His eyes met yours, an unamused look on your face from his comment, though it had soon softened. “Fair enough. Do you want to head out now so we don’t get caught in the storm?”

Not really, Dick thought. He’d rather spend all the time in the world with you. He nodded in agreement anyway. The two of you stood up and he smoothed down his clothes with his hands. After leaving a nice tip on the table, you quickly made your way out of the building. The rain began sooner than you had predicted and he felt you grab his hand, pulling him with you as you run to the nearest cab. He could only hear the loud thumping of his heart, which drowned out the sound of the pouring rain and the taps of your footsteps against the wet concrete. Once you stopped at an empty taxi, he held open the door for you to slide in. 

“Aren’t you getting in?” you asked him, looking puzzled by the way he stood in the rain, continuing to get soaked by the second.

He paused for a moment. He had planned to hail his own cab, thinking this was where you parted ways. Quickly, he rushed in next to you after hearing the cries of the taxi driver, upset that the leather in his car was getting wet. He didn’t have time to feel bad though, because his eyes trailed towards you as you began to spout off his address. Your clothes were practically soaked through, and the hair you probably spent a considerable amount of time on was stuck messily to your face. You still looked gorgeous.

The warmth of your presence enthralled him. It felt like sunshine on his skin, and he felt himself leaning into you, almost going in to close the distance between you in the back of this dingy cab that smelled a lot like little tree air fresheners. Yeah, he would rather not have his first kiss with you be in here.

You cleared your throat under his watchful gaze. Your eyes went to examine the water on your shoes before moving up to watch the little cat figurine mounted on the dash endlessly beckoning. He noted the way your hands fidgeted, switching the position of your legs every minute or so. Still, in this state of nervousness, he’s in awe of you. He wondered what would make you feel this way. Him, perhaps? Dick hoped so.

“Want to get dinner with me tomorrow?” he asked softly, words leaving his mouth without a second thought. Though his heart began to pound.

“Sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you teased, not paying much attention to him as your gaze was now set on the car window. His eyes followed your index finger which absentmindedly traced the raindrops sliding down the glass.

“What if I am?”

He watched as your finger came to a stop. Worries instantly filled Dick’s mind. Had he fucked up? Was he wrong about all the signs? Maybe you hadn’t felt the same, making him look like a complete idiot to you and the taxi driver sat in front. A hundred different scenarios about how you’d let him down ran through his head. You were too nice and sweet to be mean about it. Instead, you would gently tell him you viewed him as a friend. Kindness was one of the things he loved about you. The thought nonetheless hurt.

There would be no turning back now. Things would be too weird after this. You wouldn’t want to see him again. Those many years of friendship? It was all thrown out the window. All because of a silly little sentence he uttered. He could hear Jason snorting at him, overly amused at the thought of playboy Dick Grayson being turned down. Nice going, Grayson.

The wait for your response felt like an eternity. An eternity of accepting the inevitable "no." His heart was hollow, and he wanted the world to swallow him whole. The bitter taste of the coffee he had came back. It overwhelmed the sweetness he felt with you earlier. He thought he got used to its harsh taste. But it came back with a foreign feeling, one he didn’t particularly enjoy. Rejection, he supposed. Dick doesn't think he could ever have another coffee again after this.

You blinked, seemingly processing his words. Maybe coming up with a carefully articulated rejection as to not hurt him? He prepared himself, ready to face rejection face first.

“Then,” you drew out, “I would say yes.”

The words reached his ears with such saccharine sweetness, almost akin to the taste of the raspberry filling of the bismark he enjoyed earlier. It was almost too good to be true, and for a second, he asked himself if it was real. He wondered if you were a hallucination and if you’d disappear if he blinked. But the beat of his heart calmed down, the breath he had been clinging onto was released with relief. He grinned widely, feeling like the luckiest person in the world right now.

His hand began to move on its own accord, almost reaching your delicate fingers before coming to a halt as the taxi driver’s gruff voice filled the air. The car came to a stop. Your head turned towards the man and you told him you were being dropped off at a different place, briefly mentioning you’d pay for the entire trip much to Dick’s objection. You quickly brushed him off. Repay me with dinner tomorrow, you had said. He reluctantly agreed, not wanting to cause the cab driver any more grief than he had already. He opened the car door, glancing back at you with a shy smile and a quick goodbye before sprinting towards his building’s doors.

But his eyes couldn’t help but linger on the shadow of you in the back window. It steadily disappeared from his sight, leaving him to continue getting drenched in the cold rain. The thought of you left a giddiness in his heart. Dick was just about to reach the cover of his building before he was tugged around, a pair of lips meeting his own feverishly. He soon melted into the sudden touch once realizing it was, in fact, you. Dick could taste the lip balm you had applied earlier in the day. The scent of it was strong as if you had reapplied it just to kiss him. Had you?

There was also the faint taste of the drink you had consumed in the coffee shop. The taste alone had never appealed to him before, but Dick thinks he could have it every day if it was off your lips. He felt your hands reach up behind his head, pulling him further towards you. His hands instinctively flew down to your waist, holding you like it’s the only chance he’ll get—still not sure if his mind is playing tricks on him or not.

Still, he’s drowning in you, and to him, it would be a death he’d gladly accept.

He yearned to have your lips touching his again, the second you broke away. His forehead pressed gently against yours, a soft reminder that you were real and right in front of him.

You exhaled, whispering as softly as the pattering of the rain, “See you tomorrow?”

[thefanficmonster]

Icy Fairytale

Boyinaband (Dave Brown) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Falling in love is walking on thin ice in and of itself, but what happens when it's literal? Yeah that's right - two ambitious individuals fall head over heels for one another on the delicate icy ground of a Brighton ice skating rink.

Requested by @onceuponadie Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I'm so sorry for the long wait but I still hope you find the time to enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

No matter how hard I try, I can't tie the laces of my skates properly. I can't tell what's wrong with me today but I know something's seriously not right. To be perfectly honest though, I might have an idea or two as to why this is happening to me but I'd rather keep my mouth shut on the subject to avoid the intense blush and the flock of butterflies that will inevitably attack my stomach. And I can't have that many distractions while I'm on the ice.

Oh who am I kidding, my main distraction is always there, either in front of me or by my side. Sometimes even holding onto me for support.

Dave Brown is the name of it.

The name I was completely indifferent to when it was first brought to my attention.

It was a cold rainy day in Brighton, the town I was still on-the-fence about at the time. My trainer had been wanting to collaborate with a trainer from the UK for a while and had finally scheduled and arranged for the two of us to be able to fly out there and meet with him. I thought my trainer was ambitious, but this this new guy was a whole new level of ambitious. I could tell right away he'd be hard to please and I had no issue with that - I am and I always have been a goal-getter; I myself am hard to please and I've often been called an 'obsessed artist' by my trainer so I was beyond excited for this new extraordinary and challenging journey.

I just didn't know that the challenging part wouldn't be the skating.

After a particularly long practice session, once I was finally left alone by my trainers, I stuck around at the skating rink to wind down and feel the freedom of skating how I want and how I know I'm supposed to. Free like a bird gliding through the sky, not bound by any choreography or anyone's rules and opinions. That's when I'm most myself.

And that's when I met him.

The rink was closed and suppose to be reserved for only me and my coaches for the day but him and his friends - now my friend too - Joel probably didn't think much of the notice on the door considering they had waltzed in with zero idea the vicinity was booked.

I was too entranced in my own world to notice their presence by the seats. I only took notice of the fact I wasn't alone when Joel called out to me.

"Are we interrupting? Is this a private session or something? We can leave, sorry for bothering you."

While the other boy was talking, Dave remained silent, blending into the background and not drawing any of my attention to him. And yes, maybe I was supposed to turn them back, tell them to leave and whatnot, but I did the exact opposite.

"Private session's over, you can stick around, it's not a problem." I said, slowly gliding over to the entrance of the rink where the boys were now standing after they finished climbing down the stairs to approach the ice rink.

I stopped in my tracks rather abruptly as to not crash into them, stabilizing myself before offering them my hand for a handshake. "I'm Y/N. Professional figure skater."

I couldn't help but let out a little giggle when their jaws went loose, hanging open in surprise. They were quick to regain their composure, Joel being the one to accept my hand first, followed by Dave, both of them introducing themselves as they did so.

"Cool streak." I casually pointed at the red streak in Dave's hair, "I've always wanted to dye my hair but I'm not allowed to by my trainer."

He scoffed at my remark, "Your trainer? He's got the audacity to boss you around? Does he not realize how lucky he is to have a skater like you to his name?"

I was understandably taken aback by this compliment. I'm used to being given compliments after my performances in competitions, but I've never considered my unchoreographed skating as anything more than mediocre. It was surprising to receive such a positive remark, heartwarming nonetheless though.

"That's so kind of you to say, Dave, thanks." I'm still a long way from knowing how to properly respond to compliments - mostly cause I don't believe them - but I'd like to think I handled that one well. No, I know I handled it well considering Dave, Joel and I have been friends ever since.

As to why they were at the skating rink that day - they wanted to fulfill a New Year's resolution they had made at the start of the year: learning how to ice skate because apparently they were hopeless at it. And yes, they were - they got on the ice with me that day and were dropping like flies. I considered it a miracle if they were even able to get off their asses on their own. I had to pull them up a couple of times - a gesture they paid me back for with lunch afterwards. Following that day, only Dave remained determined to make his resolution count and he kept coming to the ice rink to practice (read: fall and get back up) and learn with my help of course. It's safe to say I've never laughed so much in such a short period of time and never have I ever established a friendship so quickly with anyone ever. I guess being someone's ice skating buddy is a whole different level of a friendship where the rules of a regular friendship don't apply.

I soon came to realize why that was...

Because I suddenly found myself wanting more than a friendship with Dave. It's ridiculous as hell, as all goddamn hell, but I couldn't and still can't help myself. It's these little subtle signs that shine through my behavior, all completely unintentional. The lingering hold meant to keep him stable on his skates. The firm eye contact when I'm trying to get him to focus on his balance. The little touches and hugs all gestures meant to congratulate him on his little wins like falling and managing to get to his feet on his own; managing to make three solid strides without sprawling out on the ice, etc. I must be the worst ice skating instructor ever - as Dave gained more balance and needed my assistance less, I found myself missing the times I literally had to hold him up, his arms wrapped around me and mine around him. I miss the times he held my hand to avoid falling and still fell, sometimes dragging me down with him.

And I'm only gonna miss those times even more after tomorrow because after tomorrow, I'll no longer be in the UK and I'll no longer be there to see Dave's successes and fails. I'll no longer have him be my distraction, the only distraction I've ever approved of and wanted around. I'll no longer have a chance to feed into the temptation of telling Dave what I feel for him. It's a temptation and a fear and excites me just as much as it terrifies me, paralyzes me just thinking of the outcome, especially when I know I won't get my feelings reciprocated. I won't get anything better than a soft rejection from him yet I still want to come clean.

Why, you might be asking - well, it's rather simple, actually. I think he deserves to know how special he's made these last few months. How much he's made me fall in love with this city and the UK as a whole. How much I enjoyed our adventures both on and off the ice. How much fun I had going sightseeing with him as my tour guide.

How much I enjoyed his company and how hard I fell for him in the process.

Today's the last day of 'class' for the both of us but I just so happen to be the only one who's aware of it. Yeah, I've been one hell of a coward and never brought up my inevitable departure despite having been informed over a week ago. Exactly, I had a week to come clean about more things than one, but I chose silence.

And boy did that bad decision come to hit me against the back of the head like a boomerang. A mocking and particularly painful one at that.

Get it together, Y/N. One of these news you'll have to tell him, he has to know you're leaving. And the other...

"Sorry I'm late!" The familiar voice coming in a breathy yell from somewhere in the darkness surrounding the seats awakens me and frees me from my mind's battle with itself. "The rain only makes traffic worse."

Now or never. Don't drag it out and keep adding salt to the wound!

"I'm leaving!" I say, loud enough to be heard clearly despite our distance. Also loud enough to cover up the tremble in my voice. It took a lot of power just to say that one sentence, I wonder how I'm gonna power through having to explain it to him.

"Jeez, did I upset you that badly?" Dave surprises the hell out of me when he steps on the ice, already in his skates which I didn't even notice him put on. I'm not surprised by that to be honest, I'm too caught up in my own thoughts and how I'm displaying them in my demeanor to notice my surroundings.

"N-no, I..." so much for covering up that tremble in my voice, "I have to leave the UK...tomorrow...I'm going back home for a competition and to, you know, get ready for the Olympics...I don't know when or if I'll be back but I was hoping..."

"What? When'd you hear about this? Why so suddenly? Is it that big of an emergency that they inform you literally five minutes in advance?" There are enough emotions in his voice to prevent me from looking at his face, especially his eyes. I'm afraid of what kind of hurt or whatever other emotion I might see there.

I bite the inside of my cheek, "My trainer told me last week...", I admit, gritting my teeth and cringing as my stomach ties itself is several knots that are causing me great discomfort.

There's a pause which I'm assuming is meant for him to collect all his thoughts and properly process them. I'm afraid of what he'll say when he does.

"So I'm the one finding out five minutes before your departure?" He finally asks, the tone of voice he uses making my heart sink a little.

Damn it, Dave I already feel guilty enough, this is unnecessary!

No, no, he has a point and has every right to be upset. Friends don't keep friends in the dark about things like this. About any things really.

Then why do you keep him in the dark about literally EVERYTHING?

This is what I was afraid of - getting the temptation of coming clean. I have nothing to lose after all, I'm leaving tomorrow anyway. I'll lose him one way or another.

"Listen, Dave...", I didn't think this through but I'll improvise it, that's a better option than shutting my mouth and not saying another word, "I was gonna tell you, I really wanted to, but I couldn't...I couldn't bring myself to do it. I still don't want to believe that I'm leaving. I love it here and just the thought of leaving it all behind...it hurts, you know. And 'the more people know the realer it is' is a real thing so I didn't want...." I stop, my voice cutting off completely as I find myself weak on balance. Maybe standing in the middle of an ice rink isn't the best setting for this conversation. "I'm being ridiculous and I'm stalling like a coward." I say that more to myself than to him but I don't let him speak. Instead, I continue my rambling after a brief sigh.

Dave, God bless his soul, stays silent and just looks at me with this curious gaze which is letting me know he's holding back for my sanity's sake, allowing me to take a breather and collect my thoughts before I express them to avoid misunderstanding me.

I inhale, finally ready to start talking, "Alright, here we go...Look, I don't want to end this...friendship between us on a bad note but I don't want it to end with there still being secrets between us so I'm gonna finally say what I've been wanting and not wanting to tell you for a while now. It's on you whether it'll be a bad ending to a good story or not, but I just need to get it off my chest, ok?"

He nods, not at all as hesitantly as I thought he would which is relieving to see, so I continue.

"This is gonna sound pathetic and downright laughable but here it goes - I like you, Dave. The kind of like where I see you as more than a friend and sometimes even wish you would see me the same way as well despite being sure you don't. And please, if you plan on pulling a pity act give me a heads up so I can just walk aw-"

My ramble is put to an end when Dave puts his hand up, pointer finger in the air and almost touching my lips as a gesture to shush me. I am typically one of the hardest people to shut up EVER, but now the words die down on their own as if they are even happy to be put to rest at his request.

"Y/N you are the most talented, most graceful, the kindest and most beautiful and smartest person I have ever met and yet you still also happen to be the densest and most ignorant when it comes to the people around you. You're a people pleaser, I've figured out as much, but goddamn it, you rarely know what a person actually wants. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, this could just be the case with me and an inability to show emotion which I haven't known about all this time, but still - if your dense ass hasn't noticed it yet I'll say it out loud for you and if you still find a way to misinterpret it, I'll spell it out for you in huge neon letters, got it?" He makes something barely alike a pause before sighing, "Y/N L/N, the most densest person in this whole word, you've had me star-struck since day one and I've only been falling deeper and harder in love with you ever since. And you don't have even the slightest clue of what happened to me and my heart a couple minutes ago when you said you were leaving. Believe what you wanna, but words have never crushed me harder ever before and trust me, that says a lot. So, before you go and think you have my emotions figured out, remember that I actually know how to skate."

That's A LOT to take in. It's got layers upon layers of questions followed by answers followed by even more questions that I'm not sure I'm prepared to ask or answer.

So he's liked me since the day we met? Love at first sight? Nah, that shit only exists in movies.

He was hurt by that? I hurt him by not telling him then I hurt him by telling him and I'll hurt him the hardest when I leave tomorrow. How am I supposed to not feel responsible for putting so much pain on him without even realizing it?

And wait - he knows how to skate???

"You can skate? Like, you can can skate? Like, you're not a hopeless case like you've made me believe?" I ask, one of my eyebrows shooting up suspiciously.

Dave goes from looking puzzled to cracking up with laughter within a second after hearing my question, "Oh Y/N, you're so adorable. That's what's got you puzzled the most out of all I just said?"

I narrow my eyes at him, folding my arms over my chest defensively, "Well the rest seems pretty cut-and-dry, if you ask me." I say sarcastically, earning another laugh from him.

It's only now that I notice how confidently he's standing on the ice - as though he's standing on solid, non-slippery ground which is far from the image I have of Dave while on ice. The uncertainty, the lack of stability, it's all disappeared from his still demeanor which now makes a lot more sense.

He smirks at me, "Does it now, densey?"

I frown at the nickname, "Don't call me th-"

He doesn't let me finish, instead presses his lips against mine, the contact making me lose balance on my skates. Luckily, he probably calculated this risk in advance cause his arms wrap around me instantly, preventing me from slipping more than an inch.

"Who needs to be held up now?" He asks, pressing his forehead against mine when we pull away from the kiss.

I keep my eyes closed despite the urge to roll them in playful annoyance, "Oh, shut it."

And he does so by pressing his lips against mine once again.

What will happen once I leave, I have not the slightest clue. Hell, I don't even know what'll happen when we pull away permanently and get off the ice we're standing on. But I do know what's happening right now - I'm kissing Dave Brown and nothing's ever felt this right before.

@waterlilypat @iwillboilyourteeth @insanedeathwish @onceuponadie @loraleiix @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @goldenstarofthunderclan @cosmicstorm19 @lam-ila @sra-verissimo @marthebeeduosimp

[princeanxious]

Trust is a Fragile, Fickle Demon.

Pairing: Analogical

Fandom: Sanders sides

Warnings: hurt/comfort, happy ending, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of mental abuse, mentions of abusive parent, mentioned of past betrayed trust, trust issues, let me know if i missed anything!

Wordcount: 1.9k words

(A/n): this is sort of a short one, idk that im very proud of it, its written a little differently than I normally write so let me know if ya’ll like it? I tried!

Trust was something earned, gained, given, not expected. At least, to Logan, thats how it’d always been. The omega had learned young the mistake of trusting anyone so readily, a freely given token of connection that only served to hurt him in the long run.

Even now, Logan was aware his upbringing had been slightly rougher than his common peers. His therapists all readily, or subtly, pointed out that his alcoholic alpha of a single father who never should have been a parent to begin with was undoubtedly the root cause of many of his issues.

First of all of them was the lasting trauma of the emotional abuse he’d endured as a child and teenager. Never smart enough, never quiet enough, never clean enough. He was never enough, he was never going to be enough. He was a weak, broken, and useless omega in his father's eyes, and would never amount to anything more. And while he never wanted to believe it, often said he never believed any of it, he could only confidently say he didn’t truly believe even just part of it by the time he was 23.

Another was that he’d never been given any freedom to do as he pleased when he was younger. He never got to visit friends or do anything more fun than read at the library(and boy did he read any chance that he got back then). His first real social outing was when Roman, his then longtime college roommate and current best friend, had playfully offered for him to come join him to go buy icecream at midnight. But, that story is better saved for a different time.

All you need to know is that, that midnight ice cream became a bi-weekly routine, and the other omega learned more about Logan than he thought he’d ever get out of the closed off nerd that night. Perhaps one could even go so far to say that Roman was the reason Logan ever even dared to go to a therapist in the first place.

Logan had become very stunted from the childhood neglect he’d endured. Omegas had many self-soothing mannerisms built into their primal instincts to comfort themselves when stressed, like purring when upset(was well as when happy or content!) and nesting to decompress or hide in a safe zone when stressed. And well, Logan had pretty much stifled his purring by the time he was 14, and.. Completely stopped nesting by the time he was 9.

There had been no point, and both had become increasingly dangerous to do as he grew older. Anytime his father caught him purring, the Alpha would berate him for being ungrateful, seeing it as a weakness. And no matter how well he’d try to hide his safety nests, his father would inevitably find them and destroy them. Far too many afternoons were ruined when he came home to find his father in a drunken stupor and his newest safe haven wrecked beyond repair, and stinking to high heaven of alcohol and aggressive, angry alpha pheromones.

So he gave up. He gave up trying to make the nests in hopes for comfort, in hopes for a safe haven to hide away. The longest he’d gotten was hiding away in his closet for periods of a time before his father decided it didn’t deserve a closeable door anymore.

Roman had been horrified, and promptly dragged the other omega into his own nest in distress. They spent hours like that, Logan sobbing and tucked up tenderly into Roman’s protective embrace as the omega purred and crooned comfortingly enough for the both of them.

It would be Roman to encourage Logan to begin nesting again. They’d made a whole day out of it, going out and buying brand new nesting materials along with comfort food and rented movies. Slowly but surely, Logan rebuilt his nest for the first time in a little over 10 years, and he was in heaven. And day by day, every time he came home to it intact and undisturbed, Logan’s psyche was assured just a little more that the nest was safe, that he was finally safe.

And no one could really be surprised that Logan became viscerally protective of his nest, even more so than the average omega, at that. The first time they realized this, one of their mutual friends, a beta named Patton, had suddenly come close to his nest in excitement over the new addition. Logan had snarled loudly and aggressively before he’d even processed moving to guard his nest from the approaching threat. When Patton had taken multiple careful steps back in shock, Logan finally snapped out of the defensive mindset and realized what had happened. He’d apologized profusely, and was quick to try and make amends.

Patton understood the justified reaction after some light explanation and waved off the apologies immediately. Logan, though mortified at his own surprising lapse in control, was grateful that there had at least been no hard feelings in the end.

Safe to say, their friend group and subsequently any new friends made in the future would be warned, “Don’t approach, or touch, Logan’s nest.” And it was fine. Things were even looking up, Logan had started truly healing, and trusting people started to become a little less difficult!

So it would really come as a surprise to everyone, let alone Logan himself, when he started developing a small crush on the kind and patient(if a little anxious) Alpha who nearly daily visited the library Lo worked at to study. It was an honest shock, but, perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world..?

Logan had never seriously considered dating another until Virgil came around, and the prospect of dating an alpha was frankly terrifying. But, Virgil was nice, he was caring and gentle with him, and yet unwaveringly respectful. He’d listen to Logan ramble about stars for hours and never interrupt him, only asking questions when Logan’s voice lulled or allowed him to speak. Virgil encouraged this, wanting Logan to open up and ramble and talk without fear of being shut down.

Roman had told Logan it was obvious Virgil was crushing hard on Logan, that they both had it bad for one another it seemed. Of course, nothing had to come of it if Logan didn’t want it to! But the thing was, he did. He did want something to come of it, if at the very least they could just remain friends.

It took a few more months, but Virgil eventually worked up enough confidence to ask Logan out, and the unwavering, almost immediate ‘Yes,’ had almost taken Virgil off guard. They wouldn’t share their first kiss for another few weeks, but neither of them minded.

Virgil slowly but surely was given the whole story, and expressed his own quiet outrage in the form of promising to never let that happen again, nor let Logan’s father near him again. It was a protective sentiment that almost scared Logan, but the protectiveness was born out of love and compassion, not selfishness and hate. So he let it slide, and contently tucked himself into Virgil’s warm embrace with a soft “thank you,” and the first very soft but very happy purr that he’d let out in years.

This alpha, he’d find him telling himself a year and a half into their relationship, this alpha was the one that would be allowed into his nest.

It didn’t bother Virgil personally, that he wasn’t allowed into his omega’s nest. No one was allowed near the nest except him, and even then he still got growled at plenty. He was completely aware that Logan had a deep instinctual fear of the destruction of his nest, sewn by the only parent he’d had growing up doing just that out of malice. Logan had made strides in his journey of healing though. The omega was confident in himself, and refused to be pushed aside or spoken over. Logan was highly independent, even during his heats, which made Virgil feel all the more love for him to be let into his omegas life.

Logan wasn’t dependent on him like society demanded he be, and Virgil didn’t mind in the slightest, because he knew Logan. He loved this omega and knew said omega loved him back. That was all that mattered to either of them.

It took another half a year before Logan finally tried breaking down some of his protective walls over his nest. He was tired, so tired of the separation. Having Virgil's scent heavily entwined with objects in his nest wasn’t enough anymore. At two years into their relationship, Logan’s instincts didn't feel the need to growl at Virgil for being near his nest anymore. He wanted Virgil in his nest, and that thought was jarring to realize.

And when he’d brought it up, Virgil had been quick to assure him that he didn’t have to force himself to let Virgil in, that Logan’s safe space was sacred and he never wanted Logan to feel pressured by anything to let him in.

Perhaps Logan kissed him soundly after that, and was reminded just how much he really loved Virgil. Virgil's insistence for Logan's comfort coming first only made him want to pull his alpha into his nest that much more.

But still, he agreed to take it slowly. Every day, Virgil would scoot a little closer to the edge of the nest, would hold Logan’s hand and stroke his hair, even sometimes daring to slowly lean over and kiss him with prior warning.

It took a full week to really prove to Virgil during their progress that they were ready to take this next step, that Logan truly and fully trusted Virgil and wanted him in his nest.

And when it finally happened, they’d made a little date out of the occasion, setting up snacks and candy, ordering take out and lining up a few documentaries to watch on Virgil’s laptop, getting into their nightclothes.

Virgil had been beyond nervous, and Logan understood why. They managed to soothe each other as everything fell into place, and Logan carefully walked Virgil step by step into his nest. With careful movements, they sat down and Virgil let himself be carefully arranged as he was leaned back into the nest. It took a second for Logan to finish tucking things against Virgil and pull a weighted comforter over them before he finally settled himself onto Virgil’s chest.

Despite their original nervousness towards the idea, everything felt right, now. Logan felt so unbelievably safe now that he was tucked into his alpha’s arms within the cocoon of his nest. It was amazing in its own right. And it takes Virgil chuckling lovingly for Logan to notice just how content they both are.

“You’re purring like crazy, L,” he murmurs with a smile, running his fingers up and down Logan’s rumbling back, “If you’re not careful you might fall asleep before we even get through the first documentary.” Logan just grins back, tilting his head to peck Virgil on the cheek.

“I see no downside to that, V, considering I’ll be falling asleep in my alpha’s safe embrace. What more could I ever want?”

Virgil flusters and hides his face in Logan’s hair as the omega laughs, hugging the other closer. Logan eventually does fall asleep in the middle of the second documentary, cuddled close and relaxed.

And really, there was no other place Logan would rather be.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Winter Whumperland Day 11: Vows

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 11. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 10 'Ruin'. During the months after his son's disappearance, Stoick has trouble coping and finds himself lost in memories.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Stoick, Gobber, Valka, Hiccup, Fishlegs, Dagur, Astrid, Heather, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: Past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 006

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Falling Through Ice”

Whumpee: Hiccup, Stoick, Gobber, Valka

Author’s Notes: Okay, so believe it or not, I did finish this one waaay back in December. But I didn't want to post it until I finished Day 12, which then turned out to be so long I needed to divide it into two parts. Day 12 part 2 still isn't finished yet, but after much too long, I did finally have the energy to get through proofreading this one.

So there you have it, here's Day 11 at long last!

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

Ao3

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It’s through a call in the late morning that Stoick received the news. He was sleeping in for once, something he rarely does as he enjoys waking up early in the morning to get the most work out of a day.

That day, he slept in and it was the ringtone of the smartphone Hiccup made him get that woke him up. He grabbed it and sat up before he answered tiredly.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Haddock, sir?” He recognized the voice as belonging to that of Astrid Hofferson, his son’s girlfriend.

“Yes, lass?” He rubbed in his heavy eyes. How did sleeping in longer make him more than waking up with the sun did?

“We think something’s happened with Hiccup. We think he’s missing.”

It was news Stoick never thought he would ever get to hear and he would’ve thought it a prank, if it wasn’t for the tremble in the girl’s voice. Astrid has always seemed tough to him and a terrible liar, like Hiccup. That was genuine emotion in her tone.

That was how he found out his son was missing.

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In the beginning, there was a fire driving Stoick forwards.

When his son’s friends called to tell him that they hadn’t seen or heard from Hiccup in a worryingly amount of time when he should’ve been taking his dragon home, Stoick was quick to come over.

He met with the five and the dragon, the one Hiccup was supposed to return to the sanctuary he had escaped from just to see his human companion.

He’d gotten their stories in person, spent another couple of hours trying to reach Hiccup, then searched the places he could’ve possibly gone to, even visiting Gobber and calling Valka, neither of which had seen a sign of him either. After a whole night wasted on trying to reach him, Stoick finally went to the police.

The friends had to do their story again, they were taken seriously, Stoick provided with a description and a picture, it was on the news, posters were printed and posted, it was a whole process, but they were fired up and stubborn in bringing him home.

Then days passed with no real news, then weeks, and then months of nothing. Nothing but sick minds who get some sort of kick out prank calling a worried father and grieving friends and girlfriend.

Stoick went out there himself to search for his son. The coffee shop he worked at, his street, the neighboring streets, he searched the entire city for just a single sign of Hiccup. And if he thought the police wasn’t doing enough, he’d hound them into doing more.

In the beginning, there was no short supply of spirit in his desire to find Hiccup, but now it’s been months and he feels like he’s already running on fumes.

He’s not going to stop, he’s never going to stop, but there are days where he can only sit on the couch in a darkened room and nothing more.

It doesn’t help that the holidays are fast approaching and all they do now is add to his sour mood. If Hiccup isn’t found soon, this’ll be his first without his son and that does not sit well with Stoick at all.

But anyway, Gobber is here, too.

“You know, Stoick, you scowl any more, you’re going to scare even me away.” Gobber jokes with him, attempting to lighten the mood with a light joke. The two have been silently and mindlessly watching whatever crosses their way, hoping to chase away any and all thought as they bring them both nothing but pain.

Gobber is heartbroken, too, jokes and faith in their son’s stubbornness used to help him cling to the hope that they’ll see him again.

At first, it was the hope that they’ll see him again soon, nowadays it’s the hope that they’ll see him again someday, whether dead or alive. Because Gobber isn’t a fool, he knows the first few days are very crucial in a missing person’s case, especially the first 24 hours. Isn’t that what those cop shows always claim? Hiccup has already been gone for months.

He wasn’t able to do much in the beginning. When it came to searching for Hiccup out there on the street and surrounding forests, he was only able to come along for so much with a leg and an arm missing. But with jokes, by talking with Stoick, or just keeping him company, he can help the man be less alone in his suffering.

Stoick hasn’t left the house in days, has stopped returning Valka’s call, and Gobber thinks that’s an alarming thing. The last thing his friend needs is to cut himself off from his family and Hiccup’s friends.

Taking his glare off the tv, which he isn’t paying attention to, anyway, Stoick instead scowls at Gobber.

“Do you truly think that I am in the mood for jokes, Gobber?” He asks, not all that happy to deal with Gobber’s attempt at humor, to say the least.

“Only for tasteful ones!” Gobber replies, his cheer still very much intact. Or that’s what he wants Stoick and those friends of Hiccup’s to believe.

Wordlessly, Stoick looks back at the tv. Apparently, they’ve been watching a channel about DIYs, a chair is being constructed in the current program. He hadn’t even noticed before.

Gobber sighs and looks back at the tv, the living room bathing in darkness except for the light from the screen. Once upon a time, he could at least annoy Stoick into interacting with him, now he can’t even accomplish that anymore.

And if he can’t reach Stoick… Well, it does little good for his own mental health.

Though usually a man that likes a clean house, Stoick has really been letting the place go as there are dishes and cans and filth everywhere. Not that Gobber can fault him for that as his own housekeeping isn’t what it used to be, though it’s always been on the messy side.

Stoick hadn’t wanted to see him either, further backing up his worries that his friend is isolating himself from the outside world. It’s only because Gobber insisted by pushing right past him and forced his way into the home that he isn’t alone now.

Gazing at the silent man, he wonders what he’s thinking now.

Stoick is thinking of Hiccup, for sure, he always is these past months. He shuts himself off to avoid the media, to avoid people who will recognize him from the tireless interviews, to avoid being bothered, running into Astrid or any of her and Hiccup’s friends, or coming across any reminders of his son. Gobber guesses those are the reasons that Stoick no longer goes outside and he only wishes the other would let him in.

Gobber’s assumption couldn’t be more right. In his attempt to hide and stop his endless thoughts and worrying, all Stoick does is think and fret and tear himself apart for his failure.

As a father, he’s supposed to protect his child, that has been his duty from the day he and Valka decided to expand their family. He followed through on this while Valka was pregnant with their son, he held him as soon as he could after birth and promised him that he wouldn’t know a single day of strive, and he tried and tried every single day of the boy’s short lived life to make it come true.

Now look where his incompetence has left him, left Hiccup.

And before this, there were at least two more times when he felt, and was, absolutely useless.

The second time was when a dragon attacked his son, scarred his back, and mangled his leg so badly it had to be taken.

The very first, it was during a snowy winter when his son was 12-years-old and that is the particular moment he’s thinking of now.

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“Be careful!” He remembers warning his son that cold afternoon as his friends had come to ask him outside to play, which is slowly devolving into “hanging out” as they age. Not a bad idea, Valka had convinced him and she was still his wife at the time.

Hiccup was a young boy with plenty of friends, he should make use of his childhood while he still can before the inevitable responsibilities of life will whisk him away. He should enjoy himself, that is what Valka said to convince him to let Hiccup outside.

Back then, Oswald, a good friend of Stoick’s, was still alive. Back then, Dagur was still a good boy and Heather was a young girl full of life, who didn’t need to struggle to make ends meet following the loss of her father and her brother’s troubles.

But Stoick knew there was something off about the boy from the beginning. Dagur was too reckless for his tastes, always seeking trouble in some way, never listening to his father. That day, it was Hiccup he dragged down with him.

It was Fishlegs who suddenly stood on his front porch, twiddling his thumbs uncertainly and timidly staring at the ground. Apparently, Astrid had sent him, as Stoick would later find out. She’s always been a smart girl, a girl who doesn’t like to break rules and listens to her parents.

“Um, Mr. Haddock, sir? I think Hiccup’s about to get in a lot of trouble.” For any kid at any age, tattling on your friends never feels good and it doesn’t help that Stoick is so big and scary. The 11-year-old never understood how Hiccup was never scared of him. But Astrid had made him go while she stayed, believing she needed to keep an eye on what she thought was a situation about to get really out of hand.

Tearing their coats off the rack, he and Valka left quickly, the boy guiding them towards the local lake in a forest just outside of town.

They would find that Dagur was the biggest troublemaker in this situation. A much older boy, he’d followed his sister when she left with Astrid.

“Come on, Hiccup! You’re not scared like they are, are you? Get over here!” That was unmistakably young Dagur’s voice that they heard as they approached the lake. Whatever he was hounding their son to do, it couldn’t be anything good.

“Hiccup!” Stoick called out to him the second he spotted him, seeing his small frame on a frozen lake nobody has cleared for use yet and there he was.

Dagurr stood in the middle of it, arms crossed and an impatient look on his face. That is, until he saw the angry and mountainous dad of his target at the banks of the lake together with Hiccup’s mom. And suddenly, he felt like fleeing, having been caught red-handed.

“Mo-Mom? Dad?” Hiccup looked back at his parents, his face and posture betraying that his position isn’t one he put himself in as willingly as it first appeared.

Dagur had been bullying the younger kids, daring them into getting on the ice like he dared to. Kids don’t like to be challenged this way, they don’t like to be made to feel like they can’t do something, like they’re afraid and being afraid makes them a coward. Nobody wants to be seen as anything but brave. But Hiccup, he merely wanted to “prove himself” to end this charade and convince him to get off.

Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, Astrid, and Heather, too, looked uncomfortable with the situation. They knew it was bad, even the first three who are troublemakers themselves.

“Hiccup, come on! Come back!” Astrid shouted towards him, but he was too stubborn to leave, still waiting on Dagur to get off the ice first.

He wasn’t ready to give up on him yet, not even with his own well-being on the line. He cared too much about others, he has always cared too much. Three years in the future, it might contribute to Dagur’s future obsession with him. His mother has left him, his father would, too, then, but Hiccup hadn’t.

Looking away from his terrified parents to gaze back at Dagur again, he shuffles ever closer while trembling in fright. He can hear and feel the lake cracking in warning beneath his feet.

“Dagur, I’m-I’m-I’m here-I’m here now, can we-can we go back?” He asked with a tremble and tears of stress in his eyes. He wanted to go back so badly, but he refused to go alone.

“Um-” The older boy’s bravado from before was entirely gone, his gaze moved from Hiccup to his father nervously.

“Yes, you two can! And you better come back quickly! Dagur, your father will hear of this!” Stoick couldn’t hear the ice straining, but that didn’t make him any less urged to get those two boys on solid ground.

“Dagur!” Heather shouts, sniffing.

“Dagur, please, you’re only putting yourself in danger! Come back to shore and everything will be okay.” Valka took a less consequential stance, something Stoick looked at her in disagreement for.

“Oh-okay,” Dagur quietly replied, spooked by Hiccup’s parents, and shuffled his way cautious off the lake.

It was only then, when he saw Dagur safely on the banks, that Hiccup could breathe easy and return, too.

“And now you, my brave boy, come here!” Valka stretched her hands out, causing him to smile.

Stoick didn’t plan on being as encouraging as his wife was being, fuming. Their 12-year-old was recklessly risking his life and for what? If he wants to be a hero, he should do it without endangering himself as well.

“I’m-I’m coming!” Hiccup called back, happy that he no longer needed to be here.

But as his luck would have it, just like he will somehow attract the attention of two obsessed men in a span of only three years, he had to be the one to fall through the ice.

Slowly, he moved closer to his friends and parents, the thin layer of ice under his feet cracking beneath his feather-light weight. No matter how much he moved from the spot, the cracks followed him and they grew bigger and they multiplied quickly. He was so scared, dying to reunite with his parents again. They were right there and yet so far away.

And then it breaks and he sinks into the freezing water below with a shriek that is cut short.

“Hiccup!” Everyone shouted as they watched him disappear.

Stoick will remember this incident as one of the worst moments in his entire life. Nothing in any of his 45 years of life will ever come close, not until his son loses his leg and fights for his life in the hospital, not until some faceless stranger kidnapped him for reasons Stoick never wants to know.

He couldn’t traverse the ice to go get him, it would’ve never been able to hold his weight if it couldn’t hold Hiccup’s. All he was able to do, all any of them were able to do, was watch in fear as Hiccup cried and clawed and struggled to get out.

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Somehow that incident ended well. Somehow Hiccup managed to pull himself back up on slightly thicker ice than the parts that kept breaking on him. He got far enough away from the hole that someone could pull him the rest of the way. Once he was pulled back, Stoick and Valka enclosed him in their arms, his tiny and wet body cold in their embrace.

Neither of them have ever forgotten that day and it’s all Stoick can think about now. He can still hear Hiccup’s voice.

“Mom! Dad!” He’d cried for their help, something he has rarely ever done growing up. No matter how many problems may pile and pile, Hiccup has always wanted to solve things himself before he called in any sort of help. It’s probably why, after recovering from his amputation, he wanted to pull Toothless out of his guilt.

Stoick wonders if that was what had gotten him kidnapped. There are plenty of stories of people pretending to be hurt or in distress just to lure in unsuspecting good-natured people. If anybody could fall for such a scam, it would be Hiccup. Every part of his mind could be telling him that this person was up to no good and he would still act on that small, small “what if this person truly is in trouble?”

Is that what got him kidnapped? What got him... killed? Was Hiccup simply too pure of heart and did someone take advantage of that to snuff out his light?

After the lake incident, they drove him to the hospital as fast as they could and they found out he was okay. The doctor there told them he would be just fine and that they just needed to keep him warm and dry until his temperature was back up. After that, they could take him home with them.

He hadn’t lost consciousness, he didn’t seem to have swallowed or breathed in too much water, they could be almost certain that he was entirely okay.

As for his parents, however, they were never quite the same after that accident. Once Hiccup was dry, Stoick held his shivering son to him and vowed to him that he would never let anything happen to him ever again.

It’s a vow he broke twice.

Hiccup bounces back from pretty much anything thrown at him. After his fall, he would sneak out to play when his parents would much rather have him home with them. And though he wouldn’t go back on a frozen lake again, he’d still go out swimming with his friends.

During his divorce with Valka, though it was a painful time for all of them, he seemed to understand why it needed to happen and adjusted quickly. Even when asked if he thought badly of his parents months after it was finalized, he’d told them “no”, that it was better this way.

When a dragon went and bit his leg off, Hiccup went on to not only see the darn thing again, but he made friends with it and decided to fully dedicate his life to dragonkind. At 15, he wasn’t sure yet where he wanted his life to go, not until that accident.

Again and again, Stoick promised his son that nothing would ever happen to him after this. He held him in the hospital after his birth as he promised, then a second time after the lake, then a third time as he held his hand just before the surgery that would take his leg. Chances are, he will never get to promise him a fourth time.

Sitting on the couch, not paying attention to the tv and wasting away, there are tears in his eyes. Never much of an emotional man, Stoick doesn’t feel like he can stop them.

Strictly statistically speaking, the chances of a missing person ever being found alive, or even found at all, dwindles by the day and Hiccup has been gone since early June.

It’s December now.

The horrendous theories from the police don’t help either. Some even dare to put the blame on Hiccup, insinuating that his death, not his vanishing, but his death , might’ve been caused by a crime of passion. 19 years old, handsome, tall, capable, who isn’t to say he’s been cheating on his girlfriend and either she or the mistress found out? Naturally, that meant Astrid was a suspect at some point, too.

Stoick remembers seeing her after an interrogation once. Her parents came to pick her up at the same time he’d come to the station to demand an update.

She’d been distraught, face red and eyes bloodshot. Hiccup was her boyfriend of a year, her childhood friend, and they’d accused her of killing him over something like that. While cheating is no trivial matter, it’s not something she would kill over. Besides that, everyone who knew Hiccup also knows that he would’ve never done such a thing to her in the first place.

Then they settled for the most likely culprit, which was Dagur.

Stoick won’t lie, it felt good to finally hear from the police that they got him and that he would answer for his crimes, but that only lasted for… what? A day? Two days? A week at most? The relief ended quickly because the question of what happened to Hiccup remains unanswered to this day and Dagur stubbornly persists that he’s “getting better”, that he “would never hurt Hiccup”. And frankly, a part of Stoick seems to believe the young man.

Gods, why didn’t he just let him go live with Valka to study dragons? He wouldn’t have needed to move out and gotten an apartment deeper in their town. He would’ve already been living in the sanctuary if he did.

Or maybe the sanctuary was part of the problem. It’s not exactly a car ride away, you need to take the ferry there. So perhaps, part of the reason why he didn’t let Hiccup study dragons, he now realizes, is because he didn’t want him to go so far away.

How ironic, then, that someone decided to take him away anyway when he wasn’t looking. As if someone knew of Stoick’s inability to let go of his only child and thought that they should be the one to make him.

This never would’ve happened if he let Hiccup do as he wished. On the sanctuary, surrounded by dragons who know and love him, where Valka is, he would’ve been perfectly safe. Stoick may as well have asked someone to kidnap him.

It’s a painful thought and a tear falls, but Stoick doesn’t fight the guilt that he feels. This is all his fault. If he didn’t constantly break his vow to keep his child safe, Hiccup would still be here.

Gobber can read every self-deprecating thought on his old friend’s face, can see the tears, and sighs deeply before he looks back at the tv. On the channel they’re watching, they’re now installing some plumbing on a different program.

He wishes he could take the hurt away, wishes he could say something, but everything that can possibly be said he’s already said.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Stoick.”

“They’ll find him, Stoick.”

“Hiccup’s a strong and smart lad, Stoick”.

He’s sick of repeating himself. He doesn’t even believe his own words, so why should he continue to spout these lies? To a grieving father especially?

Hiccup is smart and he is strong, but does that mean he could still be alive today?

The will to comfort his friend quickly abates in the face of his own doubts and loss, Gobber feels like he may as well follow Stoick’s example and waste away alongside him. What else is left for him to do?

Just then, Stoick’s phone rings.

Snapping them both of their contemplation, Stoick picks it up and looks at the caller’s ID. It’s Astrid, the poor lass. He doesn’t feel like talking to her, but then, he also didn’t feel like letting Gobber in, so he answers the call.

“Astrid, lass?” He acknowledges her, hand rubbing in his eyes.

His eyes widen suddenly and he shoots up from the couch, startling Gobber in the process.

“Stoick?” He wonders what’s gotten him so riled up and so out of nowhere. What could Astrid possibly be telling him?

“Yes, I’m still here. Thank you for telling me, lass, I’m coming. Please, tell him that when he wakes up.” Eventually, after what felt like much too long of a call to Gobber, Stoick hangs up the phone and stares at him with that same wide-eyed look he can’t quite place. The tears are still there, they’re still falling, so what is that expression telling him?

“What is it, man?! Don’t keep me waiting, spit it out!” He demands, throwing his remaining hand up in growing frustration.

“They found him, Gobber. They found my son.”

Perhaps, Stoick can still make good on that vow.

[alostsock]

With me.

Summary: Andy and Nicky get kidnapped. Post-movie.

TW: kidnapping, starvation, dehydration, weight loss, temporary character death (I mean it’s The Old Guard?), a bit of blood, mentions of violence.

AN: I didn’t know you could get cut off in the tags that’s never happened to me before apparently there’s a length limit.

For all her years, Andy cannot remember having felt purpose like this before. Knowing that her body no longer heals does nothing to dissuade her - if anything, it motivates her further. She may break, she may hurt but she now sees, as she hasn’t in centuries (maybe ever) that it is worth it.

Nile seems to accept her leadership, and follows it without question.

Nicky and Joe, however, draw on almost two thousand years of combined stubbornness trying to keep her from harm.

Nicky researches nutrition and tries to serve her balanced (boring, bland) meals despite her protests. Joe finds her the best available body armour (never mind how it moves). They both throw themselves in front of her at every possible opportunity. (This isn’t to say that Nile doesn’t, in the face of real danger - just that Nicky and Joe don’t seem to understand that she doesn’t need protecting from traffic or raccoons or hot oil on the stove).

She doesn’t think she’s been particularly careless - they vet jobs as they’ve always done, and now they have Copley to help. She’s not reckless, just filled with purpose, with vigour, with the need to do right. Besides, all her years have taught her that sometimes, despite best efforts, jobs go wrong.

It doesn’t entirely bother her that they’ve been locked up in a cell. It’s hardly the first time, after all. Besides, she has every faith in Nile and Joe and Copley to track them down.

What she does hate with every fibre of her being, is that Nicky is locked up with her.

He reassures her, because of course he does, that it isn’t her fault, just as she reassures him that it isn’t his.

They’ve been captured together before, they all have, really, and they know the routine. They have exhausted their options for escape, have tried at every opportunity, and have failed. All they’ve managed to do is maybe piss off their captors a little more than was strictly necessary. It isn’t in them to just give up and accept their predicament, though - they need to try everything first. Once they’ve done this, however, all that’s left to do is wait.

It’s all standard procedure, as far as standard procedure goes for a bunch of immortal warriors. Andy finds the way that criminals haven’t really changed the core of their modus operandi in decades more than a little tiresome. There’s an angry kingpin (with his fingers in many increasingly unconscionable pies) who doesn’t believe that nobody hired them, who scoffs at their insistence that there aren’t more of them, a selection of cronies and hired hands who are all too happy to try to beat the answers out of them, and a general limited amount of food, water, and warmth to make them extra miserable. Frankly, she’s bored with it.

Joe is coming. Nile is coming. They just have to bide their time, like every time this has happened before.

The one difference - the only difference - is that this time Andy is mortal.

Nicky (and Joe, her boys, her beloved boys) have always hated it when she put herself in danger, and even more so when she did it to protect them. But, until this point, they recognized her leadership and would defer to it. They accepted that this sometimes meant letting her take the brunt of their latest opponent’s anger if she felt it necessary to keep them safe, or to get them out of a sticky situation.

This time, however, there is no dissuading Nicky. No command, no proposed strategy will change his mind. Andy still puts up a fight, but eventually he turns those big, plaintive eyes on her and admits in a soft voice that the best way she can keep him safe right now is if she lets him take care of her - if she lets him stop them from doing something to her which cannot be undone.

Andy has never been able to say no to Nicky when he looks at her like that, and this time is no different.

So, she agrees. When their captors come in to see if they’re ready to talk, Nicky is the one who goads them, infuriates them. When they’re delivered pitiful meals, he refuses his half, begging with his soulful eyes.

I can starve, he says. You can’t.

I don’t need water, he says. You do.

Andy hates it. She doesn’t feel mortal, she feels the same as she always has. She feels strong, she feels enraged, she wants to protect her Nico. She wants to shield him from the world. She knows, logically, that after nine hundred years there isn’t much innocence left, but still he feels so young to her. They both do. They all do.

She thinks of the plea in his eyes, though, the desperation in his face as he silently begs her to stay behind him, to stay silent, to let him take it, and so she does.

She suspects it isn’t entirely quick tempers or even benevolence that has their captors keep taking Nicky’s bait, though - she suspects that the brighter among them recognize the look in her eyes - they see that by hurting Nicky they hurt her more than they could by beating her.

---

They lose track of time. There is no natural light in the room they are in, so they don’t really know how many days have passed. Andy isn’t sure if the room is getting colder, or if they’re maybe just getting weaker with lack of food. Perhaps both.

The first few days their captors try violence, but when neither of them cracks (and also as they seem to take out no small number of henchmen every time they are in the same room as them) they seem to settle on trying to starve the answers they want out of them. Nicky continues to insist on giving Andy his share, so while she doesn’t know exactly how many days it’s been, she knows it’s been long enough for Nicky to start looking grey with dehydration. She suspects he will die from it soon, but when she brings this up to him he just gives her a tired smile and reminds her that it’s fine if he does - he will come back. The only thing that seems to matter to him is that she doesn’t.

She’s miserable - cold and damp and hungry - but what hurts the most is watching Nicky waste away beside her.

---

They talk - or, at least, at the beginning they talk. As time goes on and Nicky grows weaker, it mostly becomes Andy talking while Nicky dozes (or lies unconscious, or dies and comes back) tucked into her side. It starts as discussions of possible means to escape (always in oldest languages they share, just in case anyone is listening), but when that seems to become increasingly hopeless, and as Nicky starts to lose the energy to hold his head up, Andy starts spending most of her time telling him her favourite stories of years gone by.

They (he - Andy reminds herself) might be immortal, but they are still human. Their bodies will heal, will regenerate but they need food and water to do so, so as Nicky fades and starts to die not only from lack of water but from starvation the deaths start to come closer and closer together. He will die from malnourishment, come back, and then, when his body realizes it still has no stores to draw from, still has no energy to heal itself with, he will die again.

Sometimes, when he is too out of it to protest, she tips small sips of water into his mouth. This tends to end up with him waking up enough to realize what she is doing, at which point he will turn tear-filled eyes on her and remind her that while he will come back from whatever physical trauma his body is put through, he will not be able to handle waking up to find her permanently dead beside him when he could have prevented it.

---

They move them once during their captivity. Having learned early on that entering the room while either of them is awake is dangerous, both times they accomplish the move by knocking them out with gas and transporting them while they’re unconscious. Andy comes to in a shipping container, bound with rope and alone. She makes quick work of the bindings before exhausting herself trying to find a way out. Nothing gives, no matter how hard she tries. 

She loses time again. Perhaps more gas? Maybe her body just gave out? She isn’t sure, but when she wakes she and Nicky have been tossed in the same room again, carelessly dropped on the cold floor. There is blood on Nicky’s temple that wasn’t there before.

She wonders if their captors have realized that, no matter how much he bleeds, none of the marks linger on his skin. She hopes that the mess of dried blood he’s covered in is enough to mask the fact that he isn’t actually bleeding where he should be, because she doesn’t want to think about how their situation could get messier if they figured that out. Luckily, they seem to prefer keeping their distance (or perhaps they have just realized it is best for their own safety to not get too close).

Andy frees herself from her new bounds. Nicky stirs but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fully wake, so once Andy has repeated the process of checking their cell for potential means of escape (she doesn’t find any) she drags him to a corner of the room and, leaning against the wall, pulls him to her chest.

---

Someone comes to check on them what Andy assumes is once a day, with a bottle of water and some stale bread, or sometimes a can of soup and a demand for answers that they both don’t have and would never give anyway.

Nicky is barely more than skin and bones, a painfully fragile warmth (and sometimes lack thereof) in her arms. She is hardly any better, the food they get absolutely pitiful, but at least she hasn’t died of starvation. She isn’t the one who keeps coming to in stuttering huffs of air before inevitably going limp again - over and over and over.

---

Andy rouses from sleep. She’s hungry - hungrier than usual. She thinks they haven’t been fed in a while. Nicky is still slumped against her, his soft breaths puffing against her neck. She tiredly runs her hands through his dirty hair, brushing it back from his face as she wonders if they have given up on them entirely. She feels like it’s been too long, like they are overdue for food and questions, but she has no way of being sure. Maybe this day has just felt longer than the others. Maybe it’s been more than one.

The door opens with a clang. Andy doesn’t bother to look up, keeping her face buried in Nicky’s hair and keeping her own thin arms wrapped around his frail form as she holds him close on her lap. Even when she senses someone letting out a breath and dropping hard onto their knees beside her, she doesn’t look up. She would fight, but she doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe she could knock out this one with the remaining dregs of her strength, but then what? She doesn’t think she has it in her to fight her way out all while carrying Nicky, frighteningly light as he is at the moment.

Joe is coming. Nile is coming. They just have to wait.

A shaking hand meets hers where it is buried in Nicky’s hair. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. The hand reaches across Nicky to tuck her own hair behind her ear. Initially she recoils, but then she takes a deep breath and tries to muster the reserves of her strength. The person is close. Maybe she could take this one out. She takes another breath, steeling herself. Her eyelashes brush against Nicky’s greasy hair as she blinks, her face still tucked down onto his head. She moves to look up but then she realizes that she knows that hand.

She knew that hand for millennia, but she hasn’t held it in hundreds of years.

She blinks, raising her head.

The world swims in front of her, and she blinks a few more times before it comes into focus.

She must be dreaming.

She hears shouting, sees the mouth in front of her moving but her brain doesn’t connect the sight with the sound. There’s the sound of running footsteps and Joe - or her mind’s conjured version of Joe - comes skidding around the corner, making a beeline for the three of them when he enters the room.

Suddenly, there are inexplicably warm hands pulling Nicky away from her. She clings tighter, clings with all the strength she has left as dream-Joe tries to take Nicky from her.

She huffs out a disgruntled protest, complains that this is my dream, why can’t you do what I want. I want him with me before burying her face back into Nicky’s hair and trying to let the dream take her somewhere else. Perhaps her subconscious can take them somewhere warm.

She doesn’t get the chance. Moments later, hands are prying Nicky from her arms and she finds that she doesn’t have enough strength to keep fighting back. She opens her eyes again to see the arms pick Nicky up, cradling him against a broad chest. She sees Nile enter the room, coming up to her with her hands raised before pausing in front of her and giving her a brief relieved smile before hauling her to her feet and pulling her arm across strong shoulders.

She doesn’t see anybody else.

Just Joe and Nile.

Joe and Nile have come.

---

She vaguely remembers stumbling through hallways, Nile hauling her uncooperative body along. Joe is just ahead of them, Nicky held close.

Their path out is clear.

Some of the guards have been cut down, some have been shot, others, inexplicably, have been struck with arrows. Nicky hasn’t used a bow in decades, Joe in even longer. She didn’t realize Nile knew how.

When they reach the getaway car Nile helps her into the backseat before climbing in after her, taking her hand tightly in both of hers. Joe gets in on the other side with Nicky still in his arms, maneuvering awkwardly, trying to avoid bumping Nicky against the door.

Andy leans her head on Joe’s shoulder, leaving her right hand in Niles’ as her left buries itself in Nicky’s hair. She breathes in the smell of Joe’s shirt, finally allowing the last remnants of tension to leave her body. She sees Booker get into the driver’s seat. They must have needed to call him in for backup. The passenger seat is empty. She supposes they’re a little cramped in the back, but she doesn’t want to let go of Nile and she isn’t sure she would be able to handle Nicky or Joe moving away from her. She relaxes completely against Joe’s side, and relief so strong it makes her want to cry overcomes her as he presses a kiss to her hair.

She sleeps.

The passenger side door opens and shuts.

The wheels squeal as the car pulls away.

[honestlyhufflepuff]

Taking a closer look at “Why So Blue”

This episode was a lovely break from Steven’s “baggage,” instead focusing on the growth Lapis has had. It was visually beautiful, with a touching new song from Lapis, and an interesting contrast from gems that remind her of her old self.

However, I feel this episode has been a little neglected in the fandom as far as the things it tells us about Steven and the world around him. Remember, Future is primarily about Steven’s arc and anything revealed about another character is bound to reveal something about him as well. “Why So blue” has been overshadowed by more dramatic episodes that had Steven’s anger and negative feelings at the forefront. This is no surprise, as seeing Steven’s issues manifesting so intensely is still such a new thing for the fans to process. This episode has Steven acting closer to his lighthearted, optimistic “old self” than any other one in SUF, and I wanted to delve into the implications of that. Let’s break down some things the episode establishes…

1. Despite his “outbursts,” Steven is still a Pacifist at heart.

This look was all it took for Lapis to regain control of herself. In this episode- this moment- is when he really seemed the most like “Classic Steven.” He’s not shouting at her to stop, or joining in the fight. He is just believing in Lapis’s growth and giving her the space to come around on her own. I don’t think the Steven we saw in “Guidance” would have done that. Part of this shift is due to his personal growth, but it’s also probably because he is falling back into his old role of pacifying hostile gems, which is what he knows best and what he’s comfortable with. That isn’t healthy, especially considering how much we’ve seen him panic when he doesn’t have someone to fix in later eps. However, it’s still a relief to see that fighting is not his first recourse despite his new “pink” powers making an appearance almost every episode.

2. Our Lapis is far stronger than your average Lapis. It is unclear if she was designed to be this way or if it is a result of her trials. Regardless, the Crystal Gems should be very grateful she’s on their side. She has the potential to rival a Diamond in combat.

She fixin’ to mess y’all up.

3. Steven has had growth over the course of SUF.

I bring this up because I think even though Steven is facing a very real personal crisis regarding his growth, he’s still had positive changes since the original series, and since the start of Future.

Lapis: I wish I hadn’t done that. They just remind me so much of myself. It’s infuriating.

Steven: Give yourself a break. You’ve grown a lot. It’s not your fault they’re stuck in their ways.

Contrast Steven’s attitude in this scene with his attitude towards Jasper back in Little Homeschool, after agonizing about his inability to change her:

Are you just going to sit here…waiting for someone to give you a purpose? Because I’m TRYING to give you one!

There have been obvious parallels between Jasper and Steven in this series, as Jasper is possibly the only character almost as stuck in the past as Steven is. I don’t know if Steven is self aware enough to realize that Jasper set him off so easily because he saw himself in her, like Lapis did in the HW Lapises. What he has realized is that not all gems will change in the way he imagined they should, and that’s ok. Him and Jasper, as far as we know, are not exactly friends, but they have an understanding of each other. Jasper may always be stuck in her ways, and Steven has apparently made peace with the fact that her bitterness is not his burden. He even sees value in the fact that she sees the world differently from him, and wants to learn from her.

This was a huge point of growth for Steven. All he did through the main series was try to fix people, and it’s obviously taken a toll on him. The only problem is now that he’s let go of his need to fix others by leaving Little Homeschool, he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

Steven has moments of self awareness regarding his issues (in between all the repression, avoidance, and denial) throughout SUF. One is in this moment with with Lapis, where he articulates that you can’t blame yourself for someone else not wanting to change and grow. He admitted to the Rose Quartzes that he’s “not fine,” but vehemently says the opposite to anyone else. He admits to Pink Pearl that he has “baggage,” although he won’t elaborate. He admits to Amethyst that his need to control others is a problem. He admits to his friends- under extreme duress and prodding- that he is having a hard time coping with cange. He opens up to “Cactus Steven” more than anyone, but after how that turned out the next time he opens up won’t come very easily.

My point is, Steven is still growing as a person, but it is a slow process due to all the trauma he is processing, compounded with having powers just as volatile as his emotions are.

4. HW gems are having a hard time letting go of the old caste system.

He’s half Diamond. Maybe we should half listen.

If the Lapises were really listening to Steven in the first place, then their primary motivation for listening to him would not be him being “half diamond.” The whole point of him overthrowing the empire was to create an equal society where Diamonds wouldn’t dictate what everyone does anymore.

How can the thing we’ve always done just suddenly be wrong?

Everyone is having trouble adjusting to this new equality in practice, including Steven. This is a massive, ancient, complex dictatorship that is now adjusting to a new government created by a human teenager. A Diamond is the one teaching and leading the new way things work, so of course it’s a mixed message for HW gems who have him telling them everyone is equal, but also that they no longer can do what they want to if it impedes his vision. I certainly wouldn’t want to be in Steven’s position. It would make most people uncomfortable to tell someone that the thing they were created for- that they also take joy and pride in- is now not only obsolete but morally wrong. Hooray for minors dealing with the nuances of cultural sensitivity in their galactic imperialism!

“He’s smaller than I thought.

Funny that this was the same thing said by the Rose Quartzes. It’s probably hard for any gem to imagine a Diamond that is not massive and imposing, but Steven is still pretty small even for a human (and still shorter than Connie). I can imagine this is why Jasper was so quick to reject him as her Diamond. Steven does not project the towering picture of immortal and flawless power as the other Diamonds have, and this is inevitably disappointing to gems that have long valued that image.

You really expect us to dance and sing like Pearls?

Gem society was not lacking in the arts, but they were strictly reserved for the elite and those who served to perform for them.

It’s interesting that Peridot had no idea what music was, and I presume this is because she was in a lower status than Lapis. The problem is not that the HW Lapises were unaware of artistic expression, but that they found it beneath them. The Lapises take pride in being instruments of power and destruction, the opposite of how everyone perceives Pearls. It’s no surprise they perceived such a heartfelt song from a fellow Lapis as “pitiful.”

Despite the fact that Pearls were very close to those in power, they had none of their own, and even Peridot considered herself above them when she first arrived from Homeworld. Pearls were created to be objects. Status symbols. Pretty little ornaments. Music boxes. And gems created for more “practical” purposes than entertaining the elite and opening doors would see anything associated with Pearls as beneath them.

5. Hot take: Lapis’s approach wasn’t totally in the wrong.

Lapis: We’ve just got to force them to stop. They’re not nice like me.

Steven: Ummm *avoids eye contact*

Lapis: Exactly.

The HW Lapises- much like Jasper- valued physical power over other virtues. Lapis beat herself up a lot for her loss of restraint, but communicating a bit with a show of the type of power the Lapises valued was enough to get them to listen. Steven’s approach alone clearly wasn’t working.

Sometimes people think so differently from you that you have to meet them halfway to have any hope of getting through to them. Steven did this when he agreed to fight Jasper.

I think the main reason he feared Lapis taking this approach was because he knew her past. He knew how hard she was to reign in once she got started, and how drastic she could be in confrontation. I mean, that’s why we have the entire Malachite story arc.

Restraint takes strength! Patience takes strength! Ugh, I don’t have the strength to deal with you.

However, Lapis has grown past that stage of her life, where her trauma ruled all her interactions with others. She has friends- like Steven and Peridot- who keep her grounded. She has developed healthy coping skills and outlets for her processing her emotions. This is why is so concerning to see Steven doing the opposite. The more fragile his mental state becomes, the more he distances himself from his closest friends and interests.

Lapis had the self awareness to realize she was slipping into old habits and losing control, and removed herself from the situation to cool down. That is huge for her.

Not every gem is going to want to go to Little Homeschool, and there’s probably a lot of them that still like fighting and destruction- especially if that’s what they were made for. Era 3 is so bent on avoiding violence that there isn’t really an outlet for pent up aggression (which Steven could use as well, btw). I think starting up some kind of gem dojo would be a great alternative instead of just expecting every gem to like the “softer” things like dancing and making meep morp.

Also, just imagine Jasper as a dojo master. Hell yeah.

6. Most people probably do not realize that Steven is struggling.

Wow, Steven. It took you a whole 5 seconds to make a new friend. You’re getting rusty.

I found this quote from Lapis telling. She still sees Steven as being able to make and keep friends effortlessly. In “Room for Ruby,” she was actually relieved to hear Ruby’s immediate love for earth was all an act, laughing and saying “No one could be that well adjusted.” The only exception to this rule for her seems to be Steven. She looks to him for stability, just like she did in the fight with the other Lapises.

In reality, Steven is terrified of his friends moving on and changing, while also being resentful if they don’t recognize he has changed. He has unresolved trauma that is eating away at him and causing him to have emotions he doesn’t know how to handle. However, most people probably see Steven as he presented in “Why So Blue-” gentle, charismatic, and carefree. It is not uncommon with mental illness to be “high functioning” in public and then come undone the moment you are home around your immediate family.

Even after the very public display of his stress in “Little Graduation,” none of his friends were like “dude, you’re scaring me, please go to therapy.” They saw one incident, but not the whole picture, so none of them seemed to really grasp how bad things are going for him. This is because Steven is still pretty adept at putting up a positive front most of the time.

***

Anyways, I just wanted to revisit this episode and give it some love. Feel free to RB and tell me things you noticed about it that I may have missed!

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 5

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: A creepy guy

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 5: Takodana Castle

You figured it'd been about two weeks since you were first brought aboard the Slave I. It was hard to tell, traveling in space. Every "day" or so, the ship would land somewhere and Boba would go out on some kind of business. Sometimes he'd take you with him, tying you up to his belt like a dog. You never understood what he was up to as he'd talk to people in languages you didn't understand. But you welcomed the chance to get out of the ship and enjoy the fresh air.

Other times, though, he'd leave you alone in your cage. You didn't care so much for these moments. Being dragged around on strange planets on a leash may have been humiliating, but it was nothing compared to the crushing loneliness and boredom you already had to suffer as Boba piloted his ship around the galaxy. The one silver lining was that your tampon box had come with a little pencil and calendar to help keep track of your cycle. You instead used the pencil to start translating the box. You clearly remembered the symbols that had been on your wanted poster in that crazy shop, the ones that undoubtedly spelled your name. Using that as a starting point, you'd been able to decipher other words on the box and learn some new symbols. It was a simple way to the pass the time.

You'd also tried coming up with an escape plan, but that activity was less than fulfilling. No matter what crazy ideas you came up with, you'd inevitably find ways you knew they wouldn't pan out. Boba Fett was just too smart for you. Every outing he'd take you on, you were on the lookout for opportunities to break loose and run, or hide. But as soon as you'd spot one, the bounty hunter was already in the process of preventing you from taking it. Your other ideas involved you having physical capabilities you certainly didn't possess. It was maddening.

Today, you'd expected the hunter to leave you behind as he landed on a new unknown planet. You were prepared to entertain yourself by singing; you were too scared to let out more than a low hum whenever Boba was on board, so you were going to take advantage of the solitude and belt out every show tune you could think of.

But apparently Boba was changing up his routine now. He collected you from the cage, secured you to his waist, and promptly ushered you out into a leafy green world.

The two of you traipsed across uneven, mossy floor through what you could only describe as a jungle. Trees and shrubs jutted out from every nook and crevice. You stumbled multiple times, misjudging an unstable rock for a firm foothold. Eventually you discovered that by swallowing your dignity and hanging onto Boba's arm, you were able to make it with fewer scrapes and stubbed toes. He didn't offer you any help, but didn't protest to you clinging to him either.

After a few minutes of miserable trudging, you emerged in a clearing. Toward your left was glistening blue water. You smiled as it reminded you of childhood trips to the lake on your home world. But more impressive was the looming stone fortress in front of you. You gazed up at it in wonder and Boba forged on toward its entrance, pulling you with him.

The courtyard was littered with flags with varying colors and images on them. A massive statue of a female-looking creature with arms held high sat atop the tower above the front door. Though it was all visually overwhelming, you felt an odd sense of peace in this place. Even the helmeted man walking beside you, who was usually so uptight and somber, seemed to have relaxed a little.

As you approached the set of double doors ahead, you noticed one of the flags hanging above it had the same symbol from the armor on Boba's shoulder. It looked like a melting skull of a tusked animal. You'd always thought it was a random decal he used to look more intimidating. But seeing it on a flag on this planet suggested it had much more meaning. A dozen questions ran through your head that you ached to have answered. Where was he from? What did the skull mean? Did he miss home? Were there others of his kind flying around, capturing prisoners and collecting bounties? Or was he an outcast? A rebel? A traitor?

Inside the castle, you were greeted by a sign written in multiple languages. Your face brightened as you recognized one of the scripts as your own. Finally, something you could make sense of! It read, All are welcome (No fighting). Short, to the point, and incredibly comforting. It occurred to you, as you were lead deeper into the fortress, that the only times Boba had taken you on his excursions was when there was a clear indication of safety. The times he'd gone solo, he'd come rushing back on board as if chased. Once he'd even had a spot of blood on his armor.

You knew deep down it only meant he was dedicated to getting the five million credits on your head. But with your friends and family so far away and with no guarantee of you ever seeing them again, it was nice to know someone was looking after you.

There was a bar in the middle of the large room you now found yourself in. All manner of people and creatures gathered around it, chatting and drinking and laughing. A band played a jazzy tune on a small stage in the back. Booths and smaller rooms jutted out from along the surrounding walls. A litany of various languages reached your ears, and you were pleased to be able to understand a few of them. There were some species you recognized as well, though no familiar faces specifically. It seemed like all walks of life were represented, able to relax alongside each other as they enjoyed a reprieve from daily life.

You immediately fell in love with the place.

"Ah! Boba Fett!" a vibrant voice reached your ears, speaking your language. A tall, impeccably dressed older man practically skipped over, extending a hand to the bounty hunter. "It's been ages since you've graced us with a visit!"

Boba did not accept the handshake, saying only, "I'm here for Maz."

The man, a human but with orange-tinted skin, waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, I know. She sends her sincerest apologies. An urgent, personal matter has taken her away for the foreseeable future. But she has a appraised me of your agreement and I am happy to help in her stead."

He gave an overdramatic bow, a wide grin plastered across his wrinkly face. You wished you had a helmet on yourself, so you could roll your eyes at this goofy man in privacy.

"Ah, and you, my dear, must be the precious cargo," the man turned his attention to you. His eyes scanned you over like he was assessing the quality of a diamond necklace. He held a hand out toward your face, as if to caress it, but both you and Boba stepped just out of the way to send the message. The man smoothly recovered, taking his hand back and chuckling softly. "No need to worry. I don't bite."

"My business is not with you, Elon."

Boba made to turn you back toward the door, but the man quickly jumped forward, his hands clasped in an almost prayer.

"Please, my good sir. I didn't mean any disrespect. Maz entrusted me personally to get you the information you need, and give it to you I shall. Please, this way."

He gestured with a sweeping arm toward a staircase that led to a second floor. A balcony wrapped around most of the below area, and you could make out more little nooks nestled in the walls. Boba was silent for a few seconds before begrudgingly leading you to follow the man upstairs.

Boba made you slide into the offered booth first. You were both on the opposite side of a table from the man called Elon. A curtain was pulled over the opening for a bit of privacy, making the air feel more stuffy. Muted sounds from the bar downstairs wafted through. You wished so badly to be out there, enjoying the liveliness, rather than cooped up in the company of an assassin and his business partner.

"Well?" Fett demanded, impatient. Elon shifted in his seat, glancing at the curtain as if someone might open it at any second, but he still had a smile on his features anyway.

"To the point, as ever," he laughed, taking out a cigar. Ugh, you felt yourself dreading the inevitable cloud of smoke that would fill this tiny space. Now you wished you'd just been left in the ship.

"So there isn't much to share, unfortunately. Your man never stays in one location for long. No name, no real descriptions. But Maz did find something that may prove useful."

Elon paused with a smirk, waiting for Boba to beg him to continue. But when the plea didn't come, and no other words or sounds for that matter, he huffed on his cigar and started digging in his jacket pocket.

You didn't think you had to pay attention to their conversation, believing this to be some side hustle the hunter had picked up while transporting you. So it didn't register they were discussing anything related to your situation until Elon set down a device onto the table that you instantly recognized.

"Hey..." you started to say, reaching for the device. But Boba was quick to snatch it up, twisting it around to inspect it.

"What is it?"

You didn't care about your status as his prisoner. You grabbed the object from his hands and held it tightly to your chest.

"It's mine."

[chaotic-txt]

Flowers and Thorns [Hanahaki AU]

— Loving you is like living and dying at the same time. Won't you please love me back?

Yeonjun x Reader | One-shot | Angst

Warning/s: Mentions of blood, surgery and death, implied death

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

All it took was one look.

All it took was one smile.

You didn't even have to do anything, and yet he fell. He fell so deeply, madly in love with you.

Yeonjun never knew when and he also never knew why. All he knew was that he could not stop himself from loving you, and he won't be doing so.

Slowly but surely, he felt it. That fluttering feeling of being hit by the Cupid's arrow made his heart beat so fast, and heat would always rise up on his cheeks. Those sensations were unfamiliar, but it feels so natural for him.

As if he was destined to feel that way.

His love for you grew over time, like a new blossomed flower in the time of spring.

Yet it never occured to him that someday it would happen...literally.

He should've stopped himself while it was still early.

· — ✦ — ·

"Yeonjun, are you alright? You've been having coughs lately."

The blond boy flinched away at your touch. He never wanted to, but he did, afraid that you would find out the truth. He knew you could be so persuasive, and so he never took the risk of letting you know.

It would only worsen his state. It would hurt his heart furthermore. Yeonjun loves you, but he's sick of the pain it brings that were much like thorns that encircled up and around his throat.

It stung, but what could he do? He could only hide it behind his smiles, so that you'll never suspect of it.

"I'm– I'm fine, Y/N...Just let me walk you to your class now."

"Are you really sure though?" you asked while rubbing his back, "We can go to the clinic now while there's still time."

Yeonjun didn't answer, instead he pulled your arm and began to walk towards your classroom.

"Oh– hey, Soobin-ah!"

No wonder you suddenly stopped walking.

The two of you came face to face with a tall boy whose features resembled those of the rabbit's. He approached you two with a beaming smile and dimples that adorned his round face.

If only you knew he was the reason for Yeonjun's misery.

He was the thorns to his throat, the thorns on his flower.

"Junie-yah, just go see yourself to the clinic, okay? I'm worried for you. I have Soobin to walk me to our class anyway, so it's fine."

As much as he wanted to fight back, to insist and be with you, he surrendered in defeat and obliged with your request. His eyes followed the two of you walking away from him.

No matter what he'll do, he would always be weak for you.

· — ✦ — ·

"Hyung, mom's worried about you."

"...Did you tell her?"

The younger one shook his head side to side as a response, "No, you told me you'll tell her yourself."

"I don't think I will," Yeonjun croaked, with blood slightly dripping from his lips, "I don't want her to know."

Beomgyu could only offer a look of sympathy towards his older brother. He knew of his condition, and it pains to see him getting weaker day by day, coughing out petals with the occasional metallic fluid splattered on it.

He realized that love was beautiful like a flower, and deadly like thorns at the same time.

In this harsh world they're living in, if it's not reciprocated, it could lead to losing that certain feeling—just to save yourself, or worse;

It could lead into inevitable death.

Beomgyu doesn't want that. He doesn't want to lose his brother. But Yeonjun was just so hopelessly into you that he really turned a blind eye from what it does to him.

Beomgyu was tired of seeing his brother be a martyr for your love that you won't be able to give him someday, or any day for that matter.

It's why he keeps on insisting the only way that he could think of saving him.

"Why don't you just go into surgery?"

Yeonjun gave a warning glare towards the boy. He was not having this conversation again.

"Why don't you just have that flower be taken out of your system and–"

"Because I don't want to!"

It's funny how he could still raise his voice despite the pain that was still scratching inside his chest. Yeonjun was honestly tired from keeping track of the times his brother had asked that same question.

"I don't– I don't want to lose my feelings for her. You just don't understand how it feels!"

"But what you feel—that's what's going to kill you!"

Tears welled in Yeonjun's eyes as he faced the truth again. The truth that never failed to crush his hopes every single time that it haunted him.

"Believe me, I don't want to say this to you, Hyung," the raven haired boy sighed out, "but I don't think she'll ever love you. You have to stop this, before it gets worse."

With that, he left the room and closed the door, leaving Yeonjun alone within the confinements of those 4 walls, alone with his thoughts.

"...Did you really think I haven't told myself that for so many times, Beomgyu?"

· — ✦ — ·

The days went by quick, they turned into weeks, then months; and so has the suffering that grew even stronger. Small coughs here and there became worse. The condition came to the point of vomiting more blood and petals of what Yeonjun could tell were pansies.

Your favorite flower.

He could feel that flowering plant inside him bloom. The thought may have sounded so figurative, but it was real and a bittersweet experience for him.

Who would've thought that loving someone may cost his life if the feelings were not returned?

Surely not Yeonjun.

He was too busy from torturing himself, thinking of the non-existent chance of you returning his affections. Yeonjun was too busy from hoping that someday, you'd finally come to love him and heal the growing illness inside him.

But you never will, for your heart belonged to someone else now, and that wasn't Yeonjun.

He doesn't hold your heart.

That mere fact had proven itself for so many times, but what did he do? He stood still on his ground, even if he already knew that it's going to hurt him even more.

The prickling pain was tolerable, but the idea of losing what makes him feel barely closer to you wasn't. It's why he kept on pushing himself on the edge, just for you.

Yet all of those finally died—like a withered flower deprived of its basic needs—as he saw you mutter a soft 'yes' to Soobin, who threw a surprise to ask you to be his girlfriend in front of everyone else to see.

That moment had killed him, as the flower inside him painfully grew. It was truly ironic of how it lives on from the pain itself gives.

Yeonjun couldn't bear to watch it any longer, and so he quietly walked out from the scene, with his mind telling him countless of thoughts.

But only one from those was finally clear to him now.

· — ✦ — ·

First thing in the morning, you found yourself opening your eyes to a complete and absolute nothing. You were met with the vast darkness above your head, and it covered the entire area. It left you with nothing but a flower field beneath your feet, just to keep yourself accompanied.

The place you woke up to was truly lovely as you began to realize, with different sorts of flowers in various colors that grew all around you.

The flowering plants extended up to the horizon, where a soft glow of light illuminated a strange figure from afar. The area seemed to be surrounded with much more of nature's blooming treasures in shades of purple, bubbling up an odd excitement from within you.

It reminded you of pansies.

This was too good to be true, but you intended to seize the moment while you still can.

Your eyes lingered upon that sight for far too long. A foreign feeling tugged at your chest, as if it was calling for your name.

As if it was pulling and luring you close to it.

And it successfully did.

You were enchanted by the magical place, and it almost had you wishing to stay there forever. Your legs began to bring you towards where your eyes were fixated, wanting to satisfy the curiosity that flickered inside you.

Each step you took mirrored the pounding feeling of your heart. The unknown suspense rattled through your bones, turning your hands cold and sweaty.

Slowly, you began to see it clearly.

And you wished you hadn't.

As you approached the figure, your vision was immediately clouded by tears. You couldn't tell why, but for some strange reason, you felt like your heart was being squeezed by a fist, squishing and crushing the poor flesh until it could beat no longer.

Your breath hitched with the sudden contraction of your chest due to what you saw.

In the distance, there ᎻᎬ sat still. Eyes closed, head hung low and his arms hang loosely by his sides. His white clothing was severely stained by a dripping purple substance that came from a slash on his neck.

You were shaken by the sight.

Was that supposed to be...blood? You couldn't bring yourself to find out.

Your glance then finally caught a look of his face.

Every little detail never missed your gaze.

Yeonjun's eyes were closed as if he was resting peacefully. He showed no signs of movement at all. With his skin and soft lips looking so pale, he looked utterly lifeless under the light you two basked in. Plenty of flowers adorned his head and some petals littered all over his body.

The sight was picture perfect. A beautiful tragedy was brought to light.

Was this a reality? A sad dream?

What was it telling you?

· — ✦ — ·

Hanahaki disease is something that was truly enamoring. Its beauty—for an illness such as itself—was not like any other, seeing that it feeds and grows from the pain of its victim. Unrequited love therefore must be avoided, for you not to have it and suffer from its slow and painful death.

The chances of surviving from it, however, could be possible. The patient must go through surgery, enabling the excision of the flower's roots from the lungs.

The process was terrifying, but if it saves another hopeless being, then it wouldn't matter so much. At least the patient would still be alive and breathing.

"Yeonjun-hyung,"

The disinfected smell of the air burned through the said boy's nostrils. The cold atmosphere nipped at his skin, leveling with the coldness brought by his nervousness.

"You're aware of what the results might be once it's finished, right?"

"Why do you seem so against this now?" Yeonjun teased with a playful smile displayed, "Aren't you the one who kept on telling me this?"

If only he could joke his way out of this pain.

"Hyung, I'm serious. You heard what the doctor said as he went over the process."

Oh he did, he heard it so loud and clear.

"Should I ever survive from the surgery...these feelings for Y/N will be erased—even those of my memories of hers might be, too."

The impulse to cry came at him again. Yeonjun felt so disoriented with the thought of the surgery. The urge to vomit and cough out blood and petals was way stronger though, so he had to maintain his composure, while Beomgyu rubbed his back soothingly.

"I'm happy now that you're doing this for yourself, Hyung. You've been in pain for too long...it's time to let go now."

The siblings shared a hug with each other as they waited for the time of Yeonjun's surgery. The light contact might be suffocating for the blond boy, but it made him feel better and stronger for what he's about to face.

And as for you, while you were there in your own room, still pondering about the strange dream you had for so long...

...little did you know that the boy who suffered from the excruciating pain, had finally given up.

Yeonjun did not make it through the surgery, for the flowers had caused complications amidst the process.

And you...you just had no single clue about it.

[indecisivedolly]

Silent words - Chapter 3

Warnings: minor character death (bc is it really Silent Words if it doesn’t involve death?), cursing, angry awkwardness, teeny tiny amount of fluff.

Word count: 1903 words

She can feel he knows he’s not alone. He feels watched, and he doesn’t like that he is clueless about who has broken into his home. He looks different from the last time I saw him. Hair cut short, different arm. He looks healthier, better. Then, she paused her thoughts. Get your shit together, you’re not here to feel like a fucking school girl. “New look huh?” She then decided to say. What the fuck was that? I couldn’t have said something more clever? She cringed internally. She saw his body stiffen. Even though she sat in the shadowed corner of his house, she felt his eyes on her as soon as she spoke. “Y/N.” She heard him say. If it wasn’t as quiet, she would’ve missed it. But she didn’t. He flipped the light switch, still staring at her in shock. “I’m not here for some jolly reunion. I’m here because you owe me a huge one and I know you can help me with this.” She was referring to Bucharest.

June 22nd, 2016

Y/N had helped Bucky hide after escaping HYDRA/S.H.I.E.L.D. two years ago. But lately, she felt like he was acting strange. Even if he didn’t want her to notice, Y/N noticed. She always noticed. “They’re looking for me. They think I did Vienna.” He then reluctantly said. Bucky had noticed that she was very hesitant around him, meaning that she knew something was wrong. She looked at him with an unreadable expression. She was tired, he could see that from the dark bags under her eyes. “Something is about to happen.” She said, sitting on her mattress, hugging her legs while she stared at the floor. He sighed and nodded. “They’re coming for me. But whatever happens; I’ll find you, and I’ll come back to you. I’ll always come back to you. Okay?” He tenderly placed his fingers on her chin and lifted her head so that she would look at him. “Okay.” She firmly said.

The next day, after meeting up with her father, she found the little apartment ruined. No trace of Bucky. She quickly grabbed a duffel bag and filled it up with her few belongings. After all, it wasn’t safe to be here anymore. Before she left, she took one last glance at the apartment.

Whatever happens; he’ll find me, and he’ll come back to me. He’ll always come back to me.

Still unable to process the fact that she was here, in his house, he nodded with his eyes still on her. There she was, in her full glory, as beautiful as ever. She looks different, hair cut shorter. A more mature look on her face, she carries herself much more elegantly. All of those thoughts ran through his mind and yet, he couldn’t say a word. “I-“ Nothing more came out of his mouth. “My father passed away. He left me a couple of wishes he wanted me to fulfill. I need your help with them.” He tensed, her body language visibly less tense when talking about her father. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He said, still unable to properly use his voice. “If I could’ve done it alone, I would. Trust me.” She said plainly as if she was ordering something from her favorite café. Oh. He gulped. Of course, what else did you expect from her? He thought. For her to blindly run back into your arms after leaving her in the dark for almost a decade? “I’ll help you.” He said, more firmly now. “Peachy.” She said faux cheerful and clapped her thighs as she stood up to grab her bag. 

She took an envelope out of her bag and threw it on the coffee table. She looked at him as if she expected him to do something. Hesitantly, he grabbed the envelope and opened it, revealing his father’s will. He looked up at her, unsure of what to do. She nodded, giving him permission to read it. “I, Nour Roux, hereby declare that I give to Y/N Roux absolutely all real and personal property whatsoever and wheresoever.” He reads in a confused tone. She sighed, “Not that, dumbass.” and took the paper away from his hand to turn it around and shove it in his hands again. “Read the first wish only.” She said, visibly annoyed now. He gulped. “To my daughter, Y/N Roux, I request she grants some simple familial wishes. My first wish is that I want you to visit Elias van Dyck sometimes and give him a serious headache for me. I can’t let him forget about me.” He read, still confused but thinking about the familiar name. Elias van Dyck. “I know him.” He said. She slightly leaned in, eyes slightly wide. “You do? What do you know about him?” She said eagerly. If it hadn’t been a serious situation, his heart would’ve molten even more at her behavior. That hadn’t changed a bit about her. “Yeah, I do. Faked his death to serve HYDRA full-time.” He mumbled. She shot up, making him slightly flinch. “I knew it!” She whisper-yelled. Then, she quickly regained her senses and sat down again. She cleared her throat. “The death faking thing, not HYDRA.” She said, eyes going everywhere except for his direction. Silence. “They’re code wishes, aren’t they?” He said rather hesitantly. “Look at you, being the bright one-hundred-and-seven-year-old you are!” There it was, that sarcasm of hers. He rolled his eyes. “If you want me to help you out, you have to be clearer than this you know.” He said, looking at her slightly irritated. She stared at him, wanting to bite back but holding her tongue. He noticed and quickly looked away. “Giving someone a serious headache means shooting him in the head. My father wants me to kill him. I’m not sure why, but the HYDRA and human trafficking thing could be the reason.” She then said in all seriousness. He nodded. He got up, her eyes shot up at him. “Germany.” He said, looking down at her. She looked even more beautiful when she’s confused. “He’s hiding in Berlin. The Office of Federal Utilities, where I work, has been looking for him too. Pack your bags, I know exactly where to find him.” He said, walking up to his bedroom to do the same. She scoffed as she followed him. “Really dude? You couldn’t have said that earlier? I just arrived from Paris!” She said exasperated. “Well, if you had notified me before you decided to bless me with a visit, I would’ve told you earlier and I would’ve met you there.” He said, back turned against her and busy filling a duffel bag with clothes and belongings. She scoffed. “Asshole.” She quietly mumbled. He smiled. “Where’s your stuff then?” He turned to look at her, wearing his backpack and grabbing his duffel bag. “It’s in the car, parked a block away.” She nudged her head into the direction of her car. He nodded. “Lead the way then, miss Roux.” He said in a non-mocking way. She looked at him for three seconds longer with squinted eyes, looking for a hint of malice before she decided to walk. He followed her. 

It was a silent but comfortable walk, as comfortable as it could possibly be. They soon arrived at the car. Bucky opened the trunk to put his bag in and Y/N sat in the driver seat. Shortly after, he joined her and she started driving. After a few minutes, Bucky broke the silence. “I’m really sorry about your dad.” He said, looking at her. “Yeah, you said that already.” She didn’t waste more words on answering him, looking ahead. He looked away and he nodded, not yet ready to talk about the inevitable topic. Thirty-five minutes later, they arrived at the airport. Y/N rented a car. So first, they went to bring the car back, then they went to check-in. After checking in, they sat down next to each other. More silence. He opened his mouth and turned to talk to her but she turned away her body, making it clear that chit-chatting with him was the last thing on earth she wanted to do. He quickly closed his mouth again and slumped back into the seat. Then, a voice announced they could board the plane. Before it was finished talking, Y/N grabbed her handbag and shot up to board the plane. Bucky followed her actions. After fifteen minutes, they finally sat down, she rubbed her temples and sighed. “You okay?” He said quietly. “I’m fine. Catching two planes in two days is just not my favorite thing in the world.” She shot back. He nodded again. Thirty minutes later, he felt a weight on his left shoulder. He turned to see Y/N asleep on his shoulder. He smiled to himself and sighed sadly. She’s still as comfortable as ever with my metal arm, he thought. He was indecisive as to whether to go to sleep or stay awake. He could wait for Y/N to wake up so that they could talk details on Elias van Dyck. Fuck it, he thought. We could do that later. First, he arranged for the safehouse to be ready for their arrival. Then he closed his eyes, and shortly after he fell asleep too.

Y/N had awoken by the pilot announcing that they were soon bound to land. She felt a weight on her head and opened her eyes. She then realized that she was asleep on Bucky’s shoulder and that his head was leaning on hers as he was asleep too. She wanted to move and wake him up, but she couldn’t. It had been many years since they found themselves entangled like this, so she decided to stay like this a bit longer. She readjusted herself to be more comfortable, resulting in Bucky to shoot up. She flinched. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He mumbled with flushed cheeks. She decided to stay quiet, feeling her face flush too. 

The journey from the airport to the safe house had been a short, but awkward one. As soon as they arrived, she grabbed her bag and looked for the nearest bathroom to take a shower. After a quick shower, she wore a tight black mid-thigh skirt, a white low-cut shirt tucked in her skirt, some white ankle socks, and her white sneakers. She then entered the living room to see Bucky arranging his weaponry. It was quite an impressive collection. He felt her presence and looked up to find her looking at the weapons. “Figured you wanted to find him as soon as possible, so we could go now.” He said, uncertainty lacing his voice. She blinked a few times and nodded. Without a word, she grabbed a gun and her jacket and waited for Bucky to do the same. They left, Bucky drove this time. When they arrived, she turned to Bucky. “Stay here, keep the engine running.” She said before leaving the car, giving him no time to reply. She entered the club and went straight to the VIP section to find him there. He looked at her as if she was prey and she smiled sweetly, too sweetly. “Elias van Dyck?” She said questioningly. His eyes widened, face laced with anxiety. He hadn’t heard that name since he has faked his death. “You’re about to get a serious headache.” Smile sweetly as ever.

BANG!

She quickly left the club and entered the car with a grin and a blood-splattered face. 

“I’m ready to go.”

Taglist (if you wanna be included, send me a message!):

@saiyanprincessswanie @disasterbii @zaynzierulez @kingbuckyx

[minniepetals]

String Of Fate 09

— summary: they set fire to the world around them but would never let a flame touch her.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, angst || poly!au, soulmate!au, mafia!au

— word count: 5.6k

— warnings: none

╰ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

You woke up in cold sweat, tears stained against your cheeks, and held a heavy heart against your chest.

Just when you indulge yourself into being happy, you were back to base one of that loneliness you've always had since a child. But to wake up in that same room they placed you in, you knew you weren't completely alone, yet you couldn't find the courage to run into their arms, seeking for warmth and comfort.

Maybe it was the fact that you didn't want to wake any one of them up in the middle of the night, or maybe it was because you still didn't feel like things were...right. As if things weren't actually falling into the right places, as if you were in a long dream waiting to wake up. Maybe it was just your mind's conscience not wanting the sad part of the story to ever come walking in whenever it wanted.

You wanted to stay happy forever. With them. But you knew it was only inevitable to go through the bad chapters soon to come. Or perhaps you were already going through it and it was just the small doses of happiness that made you feel as if you were capable of going through anything.

You sat on your bed, a dark room with the only light source being from the moon's light passing through the curtains. Your chin propped up against your forearm, arms hugging your knees.

The tears didn't stop flowing.

Some part of you wanted to just escape that dark mindset of the nightmare you just had to wake one of them up, but another part of you still felt stubborn.

Did you really deserved that happiness? Their protection? What did you do in your previous life to have made them act in such a way?

They looked at you with pain in their eyes, unspoken shattered memories they never wished to repeat again or to return to it and make things better. You alone made their hearts drop, scattered into a million pieces waiting to sew back together. And it was your fault for not knowing anything and living in that oblivion. It was your fault they were still living in those broken memories.

It was your fault for reasons unknown.

They made it seem as if everything was their fault, that they had everything to do with the lost memories and a broken relationship. But what about you?

What did you do? Surely you must have done something to hurt them, right? What was it that you did to have made them go into the mindset of everything being their fault?

You cursed at yourself for how stupid you were being and then finally made a decision to leave your room for a glass of cup. You hoped none of them was awake and slowly made your way into the kitchen, the endless thoughts still wracking your mind.

You didn't switched the lights on when you got there, pouring yourself a glass of water before exhaling a long, deep sigh. You didn't know how long you stood there unresponsive and motionless, lost in thoughts. And for that, you didn't realize someone had walked in until you felt a hand snaking around your waist and was quick to jump at the sudden sensation.

He didn't let you go, however, tightening his hold and propped his chin upon your shoulder, breathing your scent in. It was strange how you didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Hoseok?" You hated how your voice sounded.

He placed a kiss on your shoulder blade in response.

"Why are you up?"

"You're crying, my precious girl," he said, cheek nuzzling against yours in a cat-like way. It was comforting, just what you needed. Although you had hoped none of them were awake to see your crying state, his presence alone made everything feel better. If even a little. "What's wrong?"

You stroked his forearm, unconsciously leaning back against his chest. "Nightmare," you said. It wasn't a complete lie. "I want to sleep but I can't with my mind running all over the place."

Hoseok kissed your temple. Everything felt so domestic, so loving and sweet, like a soft lullaby singing into the dark room. "You can sleep with me if you'd like," he offered. "Only if you want to."

"May I?" You asked, subtly pleading.

"Of course, precious one." Another kiss touched you, this time on your cheek. "My room or yours?"

"Yours please."

He took your hand without another word and you found yourself falling asleep at the sound of Hoseok's heart drumming against your ear. Your conscious had already taken over before you could hear those three sweet words he whispered to you, one you found yourself dreaming about over and over again with tears once again staining your cheeks and now his chest.

Hoseok didn't go back to sleep. He watched your long breaths inhaling and exhaling, the way your nose lightly blew at the hairs that fell against your face. He brushed away the hairs, wanting to see more of your face instead, and found his heart breaking even more.

A lone tear fell from the corner of your eye, sliding onto the tip of your nose before eventually dropping against his shirt.

"I love you..." you whispered so softly, almost inaudible, but with how quiet the room was, he heard you. "...love you..." you said again, this time with your arms tightening around him as you maneuvered to rest your face against the crook of his neck.

"Baby?" He called, adjusting himself to help you relax at the new spot and asking silently whether you were actually still awake or was it your sleep talking? You didn't respond and for a long moment, all he heard again was your breathing that told him it was indeed your sleep talking.

Hoseok wondered who you had meant those words for and what sort of dream you were having.

And then, he felt wetness along his neck and your trembling body.

You weren't awake, you were having a nightmare again and Hoseok wished so badly that he could have what Namjoon had. He didn't want to wake up you, you needed the rest from the process of still recovering, so he moved cautiously to get his phone from the nightstand.

The screen felt like the bright sun against the dark room once he powered it open. You shivered a bit and Hoseok went to bring the blanket up to your shoulders before sending a text to Namjoon.

The man responded in a few seconds, letting him know that he was awake, so Hoseok pressed the call button.

"Something wrong?" Namjoon asked the second he accepted the call. It wasn't like Hoseok to call at four in the morning.

"Can you come to my room?" He asked in a low whisper, careful not to wake you. "Y/N's having a nightmare."

That was enough to have the leader leave the comfort of his office — where he had stayed up late working on some things (again) — and towards Hoseok's room.

"She's crying," Namjoon's chin protrude to form a small pout on his lips, his brows furrowed in worry the moment he saw the tears after taking a seat on the other side of your sleeping form. He held a hand up at your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes and in doing so, your hand unconsciously grabbed his. You didn't swat his hand away like he expected you to, but instead held tight, letting him hold your face because you wanted that skin contact from the familiar hand.

"Stay..." you whispered involuntarily.

Under the dark light, Namjoon met Hoseok's gaze with a soft smile, content with the fact that he felt wanted by you.

"I'll stay, little dove," he returned the whisper with a promise, "I'll stay."

He settled himself beside you, lips meeting your head with a sweet touch, kissing away the nightmares to replace it with a beautiful dream. You stopped trembling, the last of your hiccups coming out thrice before you visibly relaxed against Hoseok and your breathing became soft and slow once again.

Namjoon laid his head down onto the pillow, subconsciously wrapping his arm around you and holding onto Hoseok's hand. "I want to do more for her," he wished into the quiet room. "I can only do so much before those nightmares returns and she'll have to suffer through them again."

"Do you think it'll ever stop?" Hoseok asked.

"It'll only stop after she remembers everything."

They hated that, all of them did. If it was under their powers, they'd rather you not remembering anything at all and just make new and better memories instead. And maybe you wanted that too, maybe you were also hoping to forget the past because understanding how painful it was was enough to hurt you. You knew about how painful it must have been for them, so you must've known that it'd be more painful if you were to relive those times and remember all those aching pains all over again.

But you had to know, you had to understand, to remember. Otherwise the nightmares would never disappear and you'd live in oblivion your whole life.

Hoseok wiped away a lone tear that fell, sighing. "Will we ever tell her anything? She has questions, I know she does, but she isn't saying much because she knows we won't tell her."

"Not yet," Namjoon stated, "not until she's ready. She has to know about the us now before she gets to know the us then. Now go to sleep," he commended, leaning up to place a kiss on Hoseok's forehead.

Just after he did that, you moved around from resting against the crook of Hoseok's neck, head turned to the side of Namjoon, your arm following along and placed on the man's chest. They watched you with love in their eyes, moving in to sandwich you in between and saw the way your lips curled into a little smile. You earned kisses from the both of them, placed on each side of your temples before the night settled in again with the three of you fast asleep.

~~

To say that you were confused waking up in both Hoseok and Namjoon's arms was an understatement.

At first you felt that maybe the events of the night before had all been a dream, but to open your eyes and see Hoseok right there in front of you, you knew it was all real. Yet at the tug of another pair of arms around your waist, you turned around to find yourself in the arms of Kim Namjoon.

They both laughed at your surprise.

"What happened?" You asked, hoping to rub your eyes both from sleep and wanting to see if you were still dreaming but Hoseok quickly took your hands away to kiss your knuckles instead, a small smirk playing at his lips. "I thought this was your room?"

"Yes darling," Hoseok chuckled, "but your nightmares wouldn't go away so I had to let Namjoon know."

"Did you have a pleasant night?" The leader asked, hoping his kiss of magic worked.

You nodded and he inwardly sighed a breath of relief. "Actually, it was one of the best nights I've ever had."

Hoseok sneaked little kisses away from your knuckles and at the side of your head instead. "Why do you think that is?"

At the sight of both their smirks, you looked away and visibly shrunk under their stares, trying to hide through the blanket. "I...I don't know." But of course you did.

It was because of them. Hoseok pulling you into his comforting arms when he found you crying and Namjoon being able to kiss away the nightmares. You were sure that you must have held onto Namjoon the night before, not wanting him to leave the second you took ahold of him as you had done with Jungkook.

Gosh you were embarrassing.

"We should...get up," you said, still a bit flustered.

"Alright," Namjoon said after chuckling but the two of them made no sign of getting up so you remained there, content with just the silence.

You knew you had to leave soon, get back to your job and leave the comfort of waking up at whatever time you wanted, having them beside you whenever you needed.

Perhaps it came too soon because you knew you were already feeling better. Some things still scared you, like returning to your apartment or just the fact that they won't be around you at all times. Yet you knew you weren't all that dependable and you couldn't become depended upon them now just because they had everything you wanted; protection and love.

Love?

You thought on that word, stared at the two of them and wondered whether you could ever say those three words out loud. In your sleep, you dreamt of a beautiful world, a paradise with just you and your boys — could you even call them that?

Yours?

Jungkook said he was alright with that, and you told him that you wanted it. Namjoon also claimed that you were theirs — but that was in a dream. Yet Jungkook said that that had all been real.

So could you?

You inwardly groaned at your obnoxious self, feeling like a young school girl that couldn't figure out the basic idea to having her first boyfriend, because she didn't know whether or not to call him that, and you couldn't understand whether it was right for you to call them that.

Things were still going to unwind itself and the secrets kept from you were one of those things. You acted all lovey dovey, dare you say almost like newlyweds, shared innocent kisses never meant to leave the other one guessing whether it was real or not, and just the fact that your presence itself made each other happy made you wonder. Did they really needed to spell it out for you? Maybe you'd finally understand if they did.

"Are you okay?" Hoseok ask, worried at your distressed face.

You looked away, clearing your throat while nodding. "I was thinking about returning to work tomorrow," you lied and almost cursed yourself when their faces fell. It wasn't like you wanted to leave either but you had to return soon.

"Are you sure?" Namjoon queried while leaning against his propped up elbow, staring down at you with concern while stroking your hair. "Will you be alright?"

You laughed at their distressed faces, helping them smile a little. "I'm positive my health is fine now, has been for the past few days. We've been giving excuses about my health just because none of us wants me to leave."

They chuckled knowingly. "You're right," Hoseok admitted, "they've become excuses because we like your company. It hasn't been the same ever since and I'd want nothing more than this."

"Will you be returning to you apartment too?"

You thought about Namjoon's question for a moment. You didn't like to rush into things, wanted a little more time. But the nightmares...you were still afraid of them returning and haunting you late at night and it'd be worse if you couldn't find any shelter in any of their arms. But if you stayed any longer, you'd be a bother, wouldn't you?

"Do the nightmares still scare you?" Namjoon asked as if reading your mind. You gave a weak nod, reluctant to admit it. "That's okay, you can stay for as long as you want."

"I'll be a bother," you worried. "It isn't right, I don't want to get in the way of-"

"Since when did we say you'd ever be a bother?"  

"Well I-"

"Love, your presence calms us down," Hoseok assured with a soft voice, "makes us happy, makes us feel human."

Human...

Human?

"So there's no need to feel that way."

"Okay," you smiled. "I'm going to have to talk to Dahyun later today though, I want to talk to her before returning to work."

"Your friend?" You nodded at Namjoon's question. "Looks like you're already quick to get away from us."

"No no!" You quickly shook your head. "That wasn't what I meant. I promise I won't take too long."

They laughed aloud. "I'm kidding, little dove," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple to assure you, "Take as long as you want."

~~

"Are you alright?" Dahyun asked the second she released you from her tight hug, face filled with worry as she took a good look at you as if the two of you had been separated for years. You couldn't really blame her though, you did get kidnapped.

"Do I look alright?" You asked.

"Yeah, you..-" For a moment she stood there, a breath of relief escaping her lips almost as if tears could fall away at any moment. "You look wonderful."

She took your hand and led you to the table she reserved at the cafe you were meeting up in, both your coffees already there. "I'm assuming they're taking care of you alright?" She wondered.

"Yeah, Jin's a," you paused while the two of you took your seats across from each other, "Jin's a...doctor."

Dahyun's brow quirked for a quick second before falling away. "What's been happening?" She asked. "And I'm not just talking about the aftermath of the kidnapping but also about...you and them."

It wasn't easy to explain, not the strange connection you felt with them nor the situation you were in. The whole thing itself was a difficult thing to explain for Dahyun to actually understand a little. But you knew that you had to try, even if she'd get confused in the end, because she was your best friend. You could never lie to her.

"I just..." you trailed off, trying to think of the right word. What was it? What was the word? You know you've heard it in stories and movies before, like some sort of deja vous yet in a way, jamais vous. "It's like...like..."

"Soulmates?"

That was it.

"Yes," you nodded, "soulmates."

It was strange how just hearing that word and saying it brought lightness to your heart, as if it was meant to be, like the universe brought you to meet at an exact date. It couldn't all be a coincidence. Seeing them that night, that night at the club where you were the only one left standing as they refused to let anything or anyone hurt you. It meant so much. So, so much. In ways you couldn't even describe.

Soulmates.

Maybe that was what you were. Soulmates.

"It's weird, I know," you acknowledged, ignoring the way your heart swelled and drummed loud against your chest just thinking about the possibility. "I feel so connected and drawn to them and everything within me just screams at me to run into their arms because I know that's the only place I'll ever be the safest in. From the moment I saw them, Dahyun, my heart wanted to cry. It shattered into little pieces in ways I can never understand. And I know that right now I'm sounding so weird and confusing because I still don't know much about them, but trust me when I say this...they're special."

"Special?"

"Very special. To me." Just thinking about them alone made you want to cry, not of pain and sorrow, but of joy and happiness. "If you saw the way they look at me, how they make me feel like the only girl to ever exist, or the way their eyes starts tearing a little because they can never rid of whatever memories they have of me, then-"

"Wait," she stopped you, confused, "What do you mean by memories?"

You took a deep breath. "That's another thing." Dahyun's head cocked to the side, brows furrowed and silently asking you to go on. "You're going to think I'm very crazy-"

"I already do," she assured and you rolled your eyes.

"I think we're past lovers from our past lives."

"Past lovers?" Her brows raised, still trying her best to think it all through about all the things you've told her so far. "Past lovers?" she repeated, still confused.

"They haven't told me anything yet but if you saw the way they act around me, you'd understand that something must have happened for them to be so cautious and caring towards me as if I'm a piece of fragile glass," you told her, still trying to figure out everything yourself. "And I know that I've never met them in this life. You've been around me, you can confirm that and how I've never gotten into an accident to cause me to lose my memories." She nodded. "They know me," you emphasized, thinking back to the first meetings. "They knew my name before I even told them.”

"Hmm, sounds like some yandere crap."

You hit her lightly on the shoulder. "I'm serious," you chided, "Plus would I still be allowed to talk to you if they were so yandere?"

Dahyun shook her head, chuckling. "You're right. But you're still not making much sense."

"I know I'm not," you frowned, "you'd have to be in my position to understand my point of view."

"So let me get this straight," she said, leaning over the table as she looked you dead in the eyes to try and sum up your words. "That day at the club, you're thinking they decided to leave you alone and set you free while everyone else died because you're somehow connected from your past lives and for some reason, they still remember, meaning that makes them immortals or something-"

Dahyun gasped. "What if they are immortals?"

That was a possibility. I mean, who else could conjure up powers from themselves?

"Holy heck, you've scored yourself some gods, girl," she marveled, sending wiggling brows your way. But you couldn't tell whether she was joking around or actually being serious.

You on the other hand was thinking that that was a great possibility.

"Keep them."

"W-what?" You blinked. "You're telling me this because you think they're immortals?"

"What? No," she scoffed. "Who in their right mind could think anyone could be immortals?"

You.

"I'm just saying, if you feel somewhat connected not just in this life but in your past life, maybe something's telling you something. Maybe you are indeed soulmates."

"You think so?"

Dahyun shrugged. "We've only ever heard of soulmates in stories and movies, but some people have claimed their partners to be their soulmates because of their love for one another. I think that maybe you are their soulmate. I mean, why would seven mafias known for being so powerful and ruthless ever stop at you?" She asked. "They've never met you before and you've never seen them. That has to be it."

Soulmates. Were you soulmates?

"Can I ask you a question?" You nodded, asking her to go on. "Are you happy?"

You eyes drifted away for a moment, gaze going soft as you thought back to the days of living with them, how your mornings consisted of sweet good mornings and nights ending with at least one or two of them in the room with you because you were still afraid of the nightmares. They were the first thing you saw in the morning and the last you saw when the day was all over.

You loved it.

It was a moment you never thought you'd grow to wake up to because of the many years that had passed with no sign of any potential love interests. Yet seeing them for the first time that night, the way Namjoon assured you they'd never hurt you, how Jin had trusted you on not letting words out as he gave you your freedom to escape while everyone else in that room laid dead, or the way their eyes on you alone made you feel so special, how their hugs warmed you and made you feel safe, and their soft kisses so sweet and filled with passion, and how they were always there to make you feel better, maybe that was a good sign.

No, it was a good sign.

So yes, you were happy. More than happy and content. And to understand that you were someone close to their hearts, your heart began drumming some more with overwhelming happiness. "I'm happy," you confessed to Dahyun.

Your best friend smiled at the way your eyes had softened and the soft beam curling at your lips at just the thought of them. "Whatever comes about this relationship, Y/N, I want you to know that I'll always be here when you need it."

Dahyun was always so reliable, so trustful and protective. From day one, she had been by your side without ever straying away. You loved her faithfulness and her loyalty, knowing you'd never meet another friend like her ever again in another lifetime.

"Thank you for being understanding."

"I think I have to since my best friend's being a delulu."

You rolled your eyes. "Haha, very funny."

"Things settled?" Hoseok asked you the moment you walked out of the coffee shop after shooting him a text that you were done. They were still protective and scared of another attack aiming at you and you couldn't blame them. After all, you were still afraid yourself about walking on your own.

You nodded at Hoseok's question and took the hand that he offered for you to hold. "Then let's go home."

Home.

Home, he called it. As if it was your own home as well, shared with them. You felt so close and connected and even the linking of your fingers made your heart flutter some more.

Soulmates, you thought back onto it again, thinking of that possibility. Maybe that was what the eight of you were. Even though the numbers were far from two, perhaps that mattered not especially when it was possible for you to love more than just one of them.

Love.

That was another thing. And perhaps, maybe, you could love them too.

"Y/N?"

You looked up at Hoseok again. "What is it?"

He flashed you a smile, a smile so soft it could melt your heart. "You look happy."

"Do I?" You asked, feeling a little shy.

"You do," he chuckled while leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. "Happiness looks beautiful on you, precious one."

And it's all because of you guys.

~~

"Come in," you allowed after hearing knocks on your door.

You looked away from your floral book, waiting to see your door opening and revealing a lean man walking in. "Yoongi," you smiled, putting away your book as you stood up, "Why does it feel like I haven't seen you in a while?"

"Sorry," he apologized, sighing into your hug the moment you walked in his arms. "Been kind of...busy."

As in mafia works. As in he must've been so tired.

"Are you alright?" You worried, concern for the way he seemed to lean into you a little too much almost as if he hadn't rested in a while. His little hum of yes came out more as a small groan, one that indicated he was too tired and needed a break.

"Want to rest here for a bit?" You offered. "You're welcomed to."

"No, I-" he paused to lean away from you, hands running over his messy hair, "I can't."

"You're tired, Yoongi."

"I'm alright," he insisted, "just needed to see you for a moment."

You heart swelled, happy that he took a little break just to see you but was still concerned for his health. "You need a longer break, Yoons, I'm serious."

The man let out a long sigh, almost as if he was reluctant to do so. But still, he walked past you and invited himself onto your bed. "Come here," he called and you happily obliged, falling into his arms as the two of you laid on your bed. "Why are you so patient?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I was in your position," he began, fingers stroking your hair with gentle touches, "I don't think I would be able to wait this long for answers. Even I don't want to wait to tell you so many things but I have to unless Namjoon says otherwise. Isn't it hard to live in oblivion while the rest of us knows everything?"

You nodded admittedly. "But I'm willing to wait for as long as it takes. Whoever we were back then, whatever we did, nothing we do can ever change back time to return and live through those moments again."

"Yeah..." Yoongi trailed off, thinking again, about everything, about...that.

"Jimin told me that we were happy," you said, taking Yoongi's hand and playing with it as if to distract him because you knew that he was probably thinking back to whatever incident had happened. "He said that we were the happiest."

"We were," Yoongi smiled, eyes growing soft. "It wasn't all rainbows and sunshine, it wasn't anything perfect, and just like this life, it was a little corrupted. But if you look past all that and just focus on the good parts of that life, you can probably say that that was the most beautiful moment in life. Sometimes I feel like it was all a dream, just a random occurrence that never actually happened." He looked at you again, eyes with a flicker of distraught. "But I know it isn't because here you are, in our arms, not remembering anything and I'm brought into the reality of a broken moment that had once been so beautiful."

"It isn't broken," you reasoned, "You said it yourself, Yoongi, it was the most beautiful moment past all the flaws and non picture perfect memories. I'm sure that the me back then and the me now can come to an agreement that I'd never hold a grudge against you all. How can I?"

"No," he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "What we did was unforgivable."

"No, Yoongi-"

"We hurt you,” he stressed. “You're only saying this now because you have no idea what happened."

You sat up from his arms, looking at him with eyes that pled for him not to say that. "And I may never know ever again but that doesn't-"

"Exactly!" Yoongi jeered as he sat up himself. He was annoyed. He didn’t really have a good reason to be, you were only trying to help but Yoongi couldn’t think straight at the moment, not when the painful memories still affected him. "How can you say that you can forgive us if you don't even know what you're up against? You can't fight against something while you're still living in this oblivion."

"Because I know in my heart that..." Suddenly you couldn't find the words. No. You knew what the words were, perhaps you were just afraid to say it aloud. "That I...-"

"That you what?" Yoongi deadpanned, almost as if he was mocking you, like he was daring you to say whatever you felt you couldn't say, wanting the words to just come all out.

"I don't know," you spat out the lie, brows suddenly furrowed with annoyance. You were angry at the fact that you couldn't say anything to try and ease his worries and only being able to provoke it further. But also disappointed because he wasn’t listening to you.

"Of course you don't," he said in a low tone, voice whispered as if taunting you. "You don't know anything, Y/N. Don't pretend that you do."

Your heart dropped at his words, at the way he began standing up to leave.

"Well maybe if you told me-"

"I can't, Y/N," the man stressed, turning around while he let out a frustrated sigh. "You aren't ready to hear it."

"Then when will I be ready?" You challenged, stepping away from the bed and stood firmly on the floor, glaring at him. But deep inside your heart was aching at just his eyes alone, eyes that were filled with anger and irritation.

Because of you.

"I'm not ever going to be ready in your eyes. Isn't that the whole reason why you guys aren't telling me anything?"

"Because you aren't ready," Yoongi stated. "As much as you think you're ready, you will never be ready for the truth." He was ready to head out, turning his heel once again and just as his hand touched the door knob, you rebuked with,

"You did this to me. And I deserve the truth."

Yoongi didn't say a word, as if a deer caught in headlights. But Yoongi was far from wanting to make things right at the moment. He didn't like being reminded of the wrong thing that he had done and you were only provoking him further. He knew what he did was wrong, knew more than anyone besides Namjoon that it was all a stupid mistake that he'd always regret for the rest of his life. But to hear that from you was hurting him even more.

You were blaming him. You didn't know anything but you blamed him for his wrongdoings and that made everything worse.

"Do you think I don't know that?" He asked, jaws clenched and refusing to look at you in the face because he knew of the tears waiting to fall. "Do you think I don't find myself in bed keeping awake all night because I think about it all the damn time?"

You heard the breaking of his voice and your own tears fell. You wanted to run up to him, to apologize immediately and to make amends but your foot stayed put, refusing to move even an inch.

"Y-"

"I think about it constantly, Y/N, you don't have to remind me."

And then, he walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him.