#silly and didn’t realise when he was probably being a fucking creep. which makes me feel grosser

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

we are putting the pieces together in this chilis tonight

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!�� He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[orphicrose]

The Only One

Rick x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : life is strange in the rick and morty universe, as we all know. But things get just that little bit weirder when Rick meets you. Something seems oddly familiar with you, but for once In his life he has no idea why. So he searches from reality to reality to try and see if he had met another version of you, only to realise there where none. You where the only one. That’s when it finally hit him…

This is inspired by a song from Rick and morty that I think is beautiful https://youtu.be/epiOcz3HXNo

I accidentally got carried away and wrote too much, so I will probably just do a part 2 so it’s not to much to read if anyone is interested <3

_________________꧁♥︎꧂_________________

Humans are such fragile creatures, always have been and always will be. You knew that, but you refused to surrender down to it. Not wanting to be included In whatever earth had to offer, so you ran away. And not like how a silly fourteen years old runs away from home, Hah… no.

You left the fucking planet, not leaving behind a single trail or speck of dust for someone to follow you with. Your intelligence and ambition was all you needed to carry yourself through life. Travelling the infinite void of space, soon making a name for yourself. For good and for bad. An ordinary person couldnt even dream nor comprehend the things you’ve experienced or seen. And that’s just how you liked it. Being different. It was truly a gift to be intelligent.

And then there was rick, high IQ and normally not happy about it. Seeing his intelligence as a curse. Rick hadn’t seen it all, it was impossible, but he thought he had seen enough to make a valid opinion on life.

It’s pointless.

Such a bitter man with a bitter view on everything, including himself. You see, when you have an overwhelming amount of knowledge weighing down on your mind, you can go two ways. The first being ricks way, not caring about anything since he has seen how big the universe is and doesn’t see a point.

Then there’s your way, feeling blessed to be able to see things that no one else can, and finding a new reason to live every single day.

You two where polar opposites, but also the same. You where both alone in a universe you felt didn’t need you anymore.

The day both of your worlds collided should have been written down in the history books. It was the day both of your beliefs where almost questioned. Wondering whether fate really does exist.

————————————————

Out of the many things you have done, you’ve never visited the same place twice. Making everyday an adventure, as much of a cliche as that sounds it’s true. Not only that, but you seem to have people after you almost everywhere. For your intelligence, or for revenge. But there is one particular spot you cannot get enough of. Finding yourself there when you lose yourself.

It’s an isolated planet in the middle of the andromeda galaxy. It’s a newly ‘emerging moon’ as you like to call it. In fact, you pretty much founded this planet, since its a recent creation. This also means there is no intelligent life yet evolved, so it is safe for you to do what you please.

You go there often, to watch the two suns set over its small horizon and the thousands of stars come into view. Giving you time to reflect on your life. To appreciate it, but not to regret anything. The stars are far to beautiful to bring your mind to anything negative. The planet itself seems to project the meaning of peace and tranquillity even without life. Maybe that’s why it’s so comforting.

Your thoughts where leaving your mind, as you held your eyes closed. Feeling the breeze brush through your hair gently. That beautiful, genuine smile found its way to your face without you noticing. You where to lost in the feeling of relaxation.

But that soon came to an end. That euphoric state was snapped out of you when you noticed a bright light coming towards you. Getting bigger and bigger in just seconds. Until it became more clear, it was a spacecraft of some sort. A poorly built one to say the least. You sat and watched, mesmerised, as the flames from the object slowly engulfed it. Burning in the atmosphere. Finally hitting the ground, you shook your head and sighed. Being brought back into reality.

The flames took a second to fade after the ship had crashed. And it was clearer to see, it was the stereotypical UFO. The type you’d see in cheesy ski-fi films. But it had encryptions written in English. Which was very unusual, especially for it to be in this part of the galaxy.

What was even stranger was that it didn’t have even the slightest burn mark to it’s metal. Your vision of it became clearer and clearer the closer you got, slowly creeping past the incredibly green trees towards it. But just before you got too close, a figure fell out of the vehicle. Swearing like a drunken sailor.

This is what really messed with you, it was a human. You gasped quietly, not being able to remember the last time you saw one. A mix of feelings rushed over you; confusion, fear, excitement? You couldn’t help but stare, his unique blue hair bounced as he picked himself up, not even bothering to dust off the dirt on his lab coat.

“Fuck! You fucking piece of shit spacecraft. You’ve really done it this time Rick you fucking…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as he kicked the lump of metal. Screaming at the top of his voice.

“Fuck!”

You caught a small glimpse of his face, and recognised him. But you weren’t sure where from. You had met millions of people over the years so he could really be anyone. But there was something so compelling about his character. Something that felt like you where being pushed towards him. Or pulled, by a red string perhaps. Something that was just telling you to interact with him.

You stayed hidden behind a rather tall tree, still collecting your thoughts and questioning whether you should help him. Rick had slumped himself against the ship, putting his hands to his face and grunting. Pausing his breakdown for a second to take a sip from his flask, then proceeding to carry on.

He stayed like this for a good few minutes, before you had decided to approach him. Your curiosity and questions where burning at the edge of your mind. You just had to investigate. Keeping a hand on your weapon tucked neatly in a pocket behind your back. You slowly walked towards him, not even being able to speak before he noticed you.

A gun had been pulled to you, aiming directly between your eyes

“What do you want? I’m not in the mood so just tell me in advance if I should shoot you or not..” his eyebrows furrowed, looking at the hand tucked behind your back.

You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up in surrender. Just how you remembered humans to be. Aggressive and impulsive.

“Calm down, I saw your ship crash. Thought you where in need of some assistance. And put that gun down, god…” to your surprise, he did. With a loud grunt he put his gun back into his pocket and turned away. Usually, he probably would’ve shot on site. And who’s to say he still won’t, but right in this moment he is too preoccupied to care.

“God doesn’t fucking exist…” he mumbled “and I definitely don’t need any assistance!”

You raised an eyebrow at him, watching him as he attempted to fix his broken ship. Opening the lid to the engine and being greeted by a storm of smoke. Now Seconds away from another breakdown.

“Are you… okay?” You hesitantly asked, daring to inch closer to him. Probably was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. He threw the wrench down at the engine as he exploded.

“No, I’m not fucking okay. I lost my grandson, the entire galactic government is after me, I broke my portal gun and I just crashed my ship into a planet with no helpful resources to fix it.!” His speech sped up, and he went dead silent when he stopped talking. Clearly regretting telling you anything. He is usually good at keeping his mind together and keeping his problems to himself. But he had so much adrenaline pumping through his blood, he could barely concentrate.

“I’m, i’m sorry for your loss” is all you managed to get out

“What? Oh no, my grandsons not dead. I just left him somewhere and forgot exactly where…” he spoke slightly softer, still grunting as he tried to analyse his engine.

There was a small silence while you processed everything he had just said. Moving closer to get a look at his engine, you shook your head.

“You’ve burnt it out…”

“Yeah, no shit smart ass” he bit at you

You rolled your eyes and snatched the spanner from the place he had dropped it. Not using it to fix his engine, but you pulled out a small metal box from your pocket instead. Fixing a few pieces together. Rick stood there and watched with a puzzled look on his face. Moving his eyes from the gadget, then up to get a look at you.

His eyebrows softened as he took in your features, the creases in his forehead disappeared. A rush of a strange feeling replaced the adrenaline, not being able to pinpoint what it was but he didn’t like it. He could only describe it as his heart softening, and getting lost in a place that was familiar to him. Thats what he felt when he looked at your eyes, reflecting off of his.

“Hav-have we met before?” He said in a much calmer tone

You placed the gadget on the engine and pressed a small red button on the top, looking up at him.

“I don’t think so?” The box moved around the engine, like a shield. Fixing it effortlessly, Ricks eyes darted from you, to the engine, then back to you. Now with amazement written all over his face.

Deja vu was the only state good enough to describe what he was experiencing. You broke the silence by holding a hand out to introduce yourself.

“I’m y/n”

It took a quick second for him to respond, still trying to process your face and remember how he knows you.

“I’m… Rick” he finally shook your hand.

“Rick Sanchez..”

That name was oddly familiar to you. Like you’d heard it in a dream. Or it was a loved ones name in a past life. You felt like you had heard it before, in a very distant memory. But no recollection of the connection.

“That seems…familiar” you tilted your head, squinting your eyes at the old man who gave you the same look.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew me. I am the smartest man In the universe”

[sunjaesol]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

[realcube]

ARCADE

summary ★ she needs to get the action figure that's in the claw machine for her sister’s birthday, so saiki does her the favour of using his a telekinesis to win it...along with a few other favours.

trigger warning ★ gambling, god, swearing, fem!reader & reader has a younger sister

construction on the new arcade near pk academy had finally come to an end. the grand opening was today after school so of course, nendou suggested that they attend as a squad. usually, saiki tried to avoid getting roped into outings like this but for a change, he actually agreed without the need for any further prying. that's because the arcade was attached to a small cinema where they'd be premiering the latest action movie — based on the TV show adaptation of the game — 'Olfana's Story X-2'. as it turns out, a few months after saiki gave the game a shot, it became a craze and a massive hit among speed-runners. so from it's new-found popularity, they developed a TV show series which inevitably flopped so now they have created a movie. only the most elite people among the gaming community were allow to see it before the official release date and they all said it was incredible; but there was not a doubt in saiki's mind that they were being paid to sing it's praise. a crappy game turned into a crappy show, now adapted into a movie was sure to be crappy. so you may be wondering why he even wanted to view the movie if he was set on it being awful. Well, there are two simple answers; curiosity and the mystery. since it was so exclusive, he had yet to overhear spoilers through his telekinesis and he now had a germanium ring in his possession so he could watch the movie in peace. also, having played the game but not seen the show, he was curious to see how bad the movie is going to be and perhaps he'd be able to get a good laugh out of it. but he made the mistake of mentioning his plan to see the movie which screened a few hours after the opening of the arcade, as now kuboyasu, nendou and kaidou were all going to see the movie along with him. In theory, it shouldn't be a problem since he'll have his germanium ring on but in practise, the world seems to be against saiki so one of his friends will probably end up stealing his popcorn or chatting throughout the entire movie. he'll just have to wait and see. kaidou and nendou did not even stop to take breaths as they raced on about how excited they were while they were all walking to the arcade. "i'm sure the movie is going to be sick!" kaidou exclaimed, followed by rapid head nods from nendou as he replied, "yup! And i can't wait to see what sort of games they have!" saiki was a bit excited himself but he didn't care to show it like the others did. but when he saw the vaporwave building covered with bright neon lights come into view, his lips curled into a small smile. though it was short-lived as he noticed the massive queue to get in; it appeared as though they weren't the only ones who had the idea to visit the arcade after school as he noticed many familiar faces standing in line, amongst crowds of others. all of their cheery auras dissipated for a few moments until kuboyasu perked up, approaching the doors to the arcade with a smug smirk, cutting in front of everyone in the line and gesturing for the boys to follow him, "don't worry about the queue, guys. follow me." nendou followed without any further questions but saiki and kaidou were a bit apprehensive. all three of them watched as kuboyasu stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the guard by one of the doors, muttering something in the man's ear, causing him to sweatdrop and hesitantly open the door with a shaky smile; allowing all four of them inside. "woah, that was awesome, aren!" kaidou yelled, not only out of awe but so he could be heard over all the cheering, laughing and game noises from inside the arcade. "yeah, that was so cool! but what did you say to that guy? he looked freaked out!" nendou inquired, surprising saiki with his actually intelligent observation. kuboyasu's hand found it's way behind his neck, rubbing it awkwardly as he chuckled, "oh, nothing! it's not important-- hey! how about you guys start playing your games and i'll go get the tickets we reserved, yeah?" "yeah!" kaidou and nendou cheered in unison, high-fiving the purple-haired boy before the all ran off in different directions, leaving saiki standing alone at the entrance. he fidgeted with his germanium ring, contemplating taking it off as he stared at kuboyasu; he really wanted to know what the teen boy could've said that'd incite such fear into a grown man, but he decided against it — merrily making his way towards the claw machines, leaving kuboyasu's secrets alone. ★★★★★★★★★★ "shit." he cursed under his breath as he watched the cyborg cider man plushie that he's been trying to win — for yuuta — for half an hour straight slip out of his grasp once again. 'these things are rigged. and what's the point in having psychic superpowers if i can't use them.' he thought to himself but had to quickly shake off the idea, as there was no way he could risk using his powers in such a crowded place, especially for a plush that wasn't even for himself but rather for an annoying kid. he sighed, slipping another coin into the slot and about to find the right state of mind until he heard a loud "fuck!"  from in front of him. his head jerked up, scanning the area for the source of the noise until his eyes landed on you. the claw machines were lined up, back-to-back, and playing on the machine diagonal from him was a girl with enchanting (e/c) eyes which contrasted greatly with her disheartened expression as she stared at the box. the only emotion she wore was sadness as she stared at the machine, so out of curiosity, saiki slipped off his ring in order to read her thoughts; feeling no guilt in listening to the affairs of a complete stranger. 'c'mon, stupid claw machine, i need this!' your silky yet whiny voice rung through his mind, 'what's she gonna think about me tomorrow when i tell her that i couldn't get her the gift she's wanted? she's gonna hate me- even more than she already does. and now i've spent all my money on this silly game so i can't even try get her a crappy gift with the little money i had. Wow, (y/n), you're the worst big sister in existence.' saiki cocked his head to the side, peering through the glass of the machines to see the contents of the claw machine you were standing in front of and when he saw the limited edition, silver cyborg cider man action figure sitting on a pedestal — almost as if it was taunting the poor girl — he finally connected the dots. your hand dug through your pockets until you found the smooth metal surface of your final coin, 'just once more try. if i win her this action figure, maybe she'll finally respect me as her big sister! and this toy will surely make her more happy than any gift mom could've possibly thought of. i'll make her sixth birthday one to remember!' the dejected look on your face slow lifted into a determined one, but it wasn't very convincing as saiki — and anyone else — could see the worry and shame in your eyes as you dropped your last coin into the slot of the machine, giving you one more chance to redeem yourself and claim the title of 'best big sister in the world'. saiki watched you maneuver the claw of the machine with bated breath, admiring how your pretty nose crinkled and your tongue poked out from the corners of your perfectly glossed lips in concentration — 'ew, stop being a simp, kusuo.' he mentally rebuked himself before engaging with your scene one again. your fist slammed down against the big red button, followed by the claw opening and lowering over the box of the cyborg cider man action figure, slowly closing it's jaws around the box and grasping it perfectly, resulting in a slight gasp to escape your throat as your lips pulled into a grin. the claw kept it's grip in the toy as it lifted up, slowly making it's way over the hole where it would drop the action figure, straight into your possession.  that is, if the grip didn't falter hence allowing the toy to fall down, off it's pedestal and onto the bottom of the compartment to join the rest of the more average action figures. "fuck!" you screamed in an almost identical way to which you did earlier, expect this one held more pain. 'this can't be happening; is this the third year in a row that i'm going to show up to my little sister's birthday party empty-handed?' you thought, your bottom lips quivering so you quickly bit down on it, staring at the damned toy before turning on your heels, shuffling away from the game with your head hung low, the thoughts which cried in your head about how much you budgeted and how hard you worked made saiki's heart sink. 'maybe i could take out a mortga--' your thoughts were abruptly cut off when you heard the noise of something falling behind you. whipping your head around to see what happened, you exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary. however, you caught a glimpse of inside the machine which you had been cursing at and realised that the toy wasn't with the packaging peanuts where you left it, as if it magically disappeared in the few seconds you had averted your gaze. creeping up to it, your gaze darted around in search of anyone who might've won it in less than 5 seconds but that was unlikely. now that you were closer, you peered through the glass once more to confirm that the toy was in fact missing and you were right. recalling the noise of falling you heard just before you turned around, you dropped to your knees and lifted the flap to the compartment which held the good that people would win from the machine. you almost screamed with delight and shock when you laid eyes on the limited edition, cyborg cider man action figure that was tucked snugly inside. yanking it out, you pressed it to your chest and the tears you were choking back finally came running down your cheeks, but now they were from joy. "thank you, god." you whispered to yourself, making saiki chuckle from his spot at the claw machine which he hadn't moved from. he wasn't god — nor was he friends with god — but he didn't mind not being able to take the credit for his kind actions of using his psychokinesis to drop the box into the hole for you. honestly, he found that seeing you happy, sitting on the floor with brightest beam gracing your features along with your now cheerful thoughts in his head, was enough of a reward for him anyway. also, he appreciated how you didn't question how the box ended up in the hole and instead you just deemed it a miracle as you were too overjoyed to use logic; that sort of thinking saved saiki a lot of trouble. 'i should probably go home and wrap this.' your internal monologue had now calmed down slightly as you were now able to produce a thought that wasn't just a squeal of delight, 'hm, maybe once i am done i could come back and see the new movie that's premiering-- but i've not got much money left so i guess i shouldn't get ahead of myself.' you hummed, picking up the box along with yourself, dusting yourself off before heading towards the exit. saiki must've been staring for a tad too long though as you caught his gaze while brushing off your clothes. he cringed, instinctively darting his eyes away so you didn't think he was an ogling creep but the fact he appeared defensive probably didn't help. so he fully expected you to frown or cast him a dirty look, judging him for his actions but to his surprise, you simply chuckled. waving at the pink-haired boy before strolling off with the box under your arm. 'he seems cool. where i can get clips like those?' why were you thoughts making him blush like an idiot? time to put the germanium ring back on. ★★★★★★★★★★ as it turns out, nendou is surprisingly good at poker. he figured this out after he stumbled across the casino section of the arcade, and since he looks way older than seventeen, nobody questions it when he took a seat at one of the slot machines, under the impression that it was a fancy, old-timey arcade game. he was then offered a round of poker with some old dude with way too many gold teeth and nendou ended up taking the poor, stubborn guy's entire fortune. god-knows how many games with how-many people later, nendou was sitting on stacks of cash at a round table with a tired dealer, and two grown men — one crying into the shoulder of his arm-candy and the other weeping into the sleeve of his suit — while the three boys who had came to give him his ticket stood by, all wearing matching confused expressions. "uh, nendou." kuboyasu tapped his friend on the shoulder, waving the ticket in front of his face, "the movie is gonna start soon, we should start heading over there right now so we can buy snacks and get good seats." nendou raised an eyebrow, puzzled until he recalled that he was supposed to watch a movie today, "oh, that sounds cool and all but i'm having a lot of fun right here." he smiled, motioning to the large casino area. kuboyasu chuckled awkwardly, backing away from nendou slightly as he turned on his heels, ushering the two other boys away, "alright, well, have fun, nendou! don't stay out too late!" nendou sung an okay in response, sliding a kaidou some cash for the extortionate theatre snacks before he was rushed away by kuboyasu, the purple-haried boy not wanting to spend anymore time in the casino than needed. "if nendou isn't joining us for the movie then we have a spare ticket. here, saiki, you should have it!" "why me?" "uh, because you said you saw reita earlier. so if you see him again maybe you could offer him the spare ticket." 'absolutely not.' was vocalised as "sure." by saiki as he took the ticket from kuboyasu's outstretched hand, fiddling with it before stuffing it into his pocket along with his own ticket. "what i said to nendou was kinda an exaggeration" aren mused, glancing at his watch before looking up at his two pals, "we still have some time left before the movie starts. i'm gonna go handle some business — you two have fun, and try find reita!" kuboyasu said before pivoting on his heels in the direction of the staff only closet. the only thing saiki could think to do during this free-time was escape kaidou's pestering to play dance dance revolution — since saiki didn't want to dance, dance or revolute, he darted outside as soon as kuboyasu left, leaving kaidou alone and confused in the middle of the arcade. 'finally, fresh air.' saiki inhaled, filling his lungs with the cool air rather than the stuffy, arcade oxygen. scanning the surrounding area, his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure standing by the ATM, which he immediately recognised to be that of the girl he had helped earlier. so naturally, he flicked of his ring to figure out the reasoning behind the awkward look on her face. 'do i really want to withdraw money to see some stupid movie? i mean, i could leave that money to accumulate and buy something nicer later.' without thinking, saiki hummed in agreement with your thoughts as he had been in your position many times before. 'but then again, i should treat myself! when was the last time i saw a movie that wasn't pirated? hmm..' your indecisive thoughts matched perfectly with your conflicted expression as you stared through furrowed brows at the screen of the ATM. a soft breeze passed, followed by something light smacking against you face. you winced slightly, your hand snapping your cheek and grabbing at whatever it was; just by the texture, you could tell it was paper. holding it in front of you, upon further inspection you realised that the mysterious sheet that had flew into your possession was in fact a ticket to tonight's showing of 'Olfana's Story X-2'  row G, seat 9. you double, triple checked it out of fear that this may be a cruel prank but no, this was completely real! you cheered, bouncing up and down and away from the ATM since you no longer needed it's services as god had blew the desired item straight into your hands — or your face, rather. either way though, you were over the moon, clutching the ticket to your chest and basking in your second miracle of the day. unbeknownst to you, saiki's smile was almost as wide as your own. you thanked god for your relief and saiki had no problem with that; seeing your little happy dance and squeals with your free ticket was enough for him. but actually, perhaps he might benefit himself after all, since the ticket he had given you previous belonged to nendou. meaning that saiki was seated at row G, seat 10; right beside you. ★★★★★★★★★★ saiki forgot to send a few notes flying your way in the wind, so you walked into the theatre and took your seat, completely snackless since you couldn't afford the exorbitant prices that they sold food for at the cinema. but perhaps that wasn't all bad as it revealed the possibility for saiki to offer you some of his popcorn as a conversation-starter, as he's usually not too good at socialising with new people — forget starting a conversation. however, he didn't need to work up any sort of courage to talk to you as the first thing you did when you plopped down in your seat beside him was turn to him and chirp, "oh, you're the guy i saw at the claw machines earlier! i love your clip thingies." your buoyant-adrenaline allowing your to be more bold than usual. the movie had yet to start, low murmurs of chatter coming from across the theatre as the trailers played in the background, "yes. and thanks." 'good grief, curse myself for not being more talkative. she probably thinks i'm dull now. perhaps i should channel my inner nendou..if i have one.' instead of ending the conversation right there like he assumed you would, you continued talking and saiki was..glad? why did he want to interact with you so much? he spends most of his days trying to avoid interacting with people; why were you any different? "no problem- also, did you get what you were playing for?" you inquired, tapping your lip in genuine curiosity. his ring remained on his finger, despite the fact he wanted to know what you thought about him, he didn't want to invade your privacy any more than he already has. "no. did you?" "yeah, i did, actually!" you chirped, not noticing the smirk creeping onto saiki's lips as you were too engulfed in your memories, "i thought those games were rigged but maybe they're not 'cause i managed to win this super special action figure that my sister has been on the top of my sister's wishlist for like- forever! and her birthday is tomorrow so i'll be a--" you cut yourself off, crinkling your nose in embarrassment, "sorry, i'm over-sharing, aren't i?" your enthusiasm made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to, if you didn't know any better, he would have thought he was having a medical emergency. his eyes widened slightly as you halted in your speech, "no, you're fine." he said, the uncharacteristic softness in his voice catching the attention of his two pals sitting on the other side of him. you shook off his comment, "i mean, i'm telling you my life story and i don't even know your name." you said, laughing sheepishly at the reality of the reality of the situation. 

“saiki kusuo.” he blurted out without a second thought.

you blinked a few times, shocked that he’d give his details away so easily as you somewhat expected him to be more of a reserved type of guy but evidently, you were wrong. “uh, i’m (l/n) (y/n).” you choked, biting down on your bottom lip slightly before continuing you story as he seemed to wait expectantly, “as i was saying, today’s just been the best day ever! everything has been going so well, i’m a bit scared as to what is going to happen when it hits midnight.” 

saiki nodded along, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth before remembering his plan, “oh- would you like some?” he asked, offering you some popcorn from his bucket. unfortunately, the plan was a last-minute thing so he had only bought a small, but he still wasn’t opposed to sharing. 

you shook your head, trying to grin foolishly wide at his kind offer, “no thank you.” 

saiki nodded, about to open his mouth to reply until the blaring music from the beginning of the movie started, putting a swift end to your conversation — despite the fact saiki would much rather talk to you than watch the crappy movie — out of theatre etiquette. 

★★★★★★★★★★

it was worse than you or saiki could’ve ever imagined.

it was painfully trying not to burst out laughing right in middle of it or lean over and giggle in each other’s ear at the silly dialog but out of respect for the other people in the cinema, you both stayed silent and just cast each other occasional knowing glances whenever something cringey happened on screen. 

you both let out audible sighs of relief with the credits began to roll, accompanied by a slow indie song. “that was..something.” you mumbled, grabbing your purse and jumping to your feet, wanting to exit the building as soon as possible and hopefully leave your memories of the movie behind you. 

“definitely.” he snickered, absently flicking the side of his empty popcorn bucket, “i stopped paying attention once i finished my popcorn.” it felt weird to vocalise — or rather, telepathically communicate — the comments he’d usually keep to himself; why did he feel so comfortable speaking to someone he only just met?

he began gathering his things, stuffing all of his rubbish in the bucket so he could dispose of it all at once. his mind was fixated on crappiness of the movie and how a five-year-old could’ve shot a much better film, until you grabbed his attention by calling out his name, followed by a question which made him blood run cold.

“before i go, it gotta ask’ how’d you do it? or more importantly, why’d you do it?”

he blinked several times before putting on his best bewildered expression, with the idea that maybe if he played dumb, he could gaslight you into thinking that it never happened or that he had nothing to do with it. “what?”

“oh, don’t give me that!” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “i’m not stupid. every time something good happened to me, you were nearby. i’ve connected the dots so fess up. why did you do all those nice things for me? was it out of pity or are you that nice to everyone?”

“i’m that nice to everyone.”

“i don’t believe you.” you snapped, fixing your tone when you remembered that even though he was lying to you, he still helped you get the present for you sister and gave you his spare ticket. “i don’t care if you’re not gonna give me a straight answer, but at least let me make it up to you.”

he huffed, an unimpressed look covering his features before you even proposed your idea. there was really nothing he could possibly need from you. what were you going to give him that he wasn’t capable of obtaining on his own? so he frowned, ready to decline your offer. 

“i saw that you bought one of those jelly pots from the snack stand and i actually work at a little café in the town, so i might be able to get you few things for free or discounted?”

“yes.” wait, that wasn’t refusal. 

“great!” you chirped, glad that you wouldn’t have to pry further, “does later this week sounds good? we could meet up here then i can walk you to the café- or i could give you my number and we can arrange a date later?” 

“sure.” saiki said without thinking once again.

but it wasn’t as though he regretted it when you slipped the piece of paper you had scribbled your number onto, into the front pocket of his shirt, tapping it with a smile. “alright! i’ll see you later then- unless you want to walk home with me?” you fidgeted with your fingers slightly, instantly regretting what you just came out with. not because you didn’t want to walk with him, but due to the fact you highly doubted he was going so say accept so you mentally prepared for the impact of his harsh rejection.

“sure.”

★★★★★★★★★★

BONUS 

saiki ended up walking home with some girl he met at the theatre so that left kuboyasu and kaidou to fetch nendou once the film finished. they both searched the casino area for almost half an hour but neither of them had any luck finding nendou. that was, until kuboyasu had to take a step outside to escape the casino as he noticed an old friend of his playing on the slot machines, and he found nendou crouched by the garbage cans, on his phone. 

“nendou! we’ve been looking all over for you- why are you out here by the trash? and what happened to all your money?!”

nendou chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his spare hand, “fun story actually. i was doing so well and i was on my way to becoming a millionaire until these schoolgirls came marching in and absolutely slaughtered me! it was so embarrassing and the only way i could escape them was by running away so i hid back here.”

kuboyasu’s aura just screamed ‘disappointed but not surprised’, “so you’re telling me that you lost millions to highschool girls?”

“they might’ve been middle-schoolers, i’m not too sure. i didn’t get a very good look at ‘em but they were all wearing creepy red uniforms.”

all kuboyasu could do was massage his temples to ease his headache at the stupidity of his friends, “so you lost all your money to school girls in creepy red uniforms?” he repeated aloud, just to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“yes. but not all my money.” he said, pulling out his wallet and grandly opening it to reveal a few notes and a button, “i’ve still got enough to spend on ramen with my bros!”

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

"Tell who?"- Part 1

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 1 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Enjoy! :)

Part 2 Part 3

Remus sat on the windowsill in the 6th year boys’ dormitory rolling a cigarette with magic. Well, trying to. He carefully placed the tobacco and filter on the small paper and tapped it with his wand, but half of the contents plopped out. The spell needed perfecting, obviously. Remus had picked up the habit of smoking socializing with some muggle kids back home during that summer. He knew it was stupid, but he had thought it looked cool. Later, he also found out he quite liked the lightheadedness that followed smoking a cigarette quickly. And some more time after that, there was a boy at school to try to impress, but that's a little embarrassing to admit. A nicotine addiction was surely well on its way to becoming a reality, but Remus didn't like to think about that. And anyway, with the war looming over everyone's head, who cares if a 16-year-old werewolf is addicted to nicotine? The problem was that cigarettes were expensive and Remus didn't have a lot of money to spare, so he resigned to rolling as it was cheaper and lasted longer. With some practice, he'll be able to assemble them with magic effortlessly anyway.

"Hiya, Moony," James said, walking into the room, "you're not getting ready?"

"Yes, I am." Remus pointed at his cigarette rolling arrangement, although James was probably referring to the fact that he wasn't dressed for a party.

It was the 31st of December. The four of them were staying at Hogwarts for the entirety of the holidays, given that the full moon had been on the 26th. Well, that was the excuse they gave their parents. The real reason why they hadn’t gone to the Potters after the 26th, where they usually spent the Christmas holidays, was that Sirius had stumbled upon a flyer for a gig and party occurring in Hogsmeade that Friday. James and Sirius were ecstatic, but Remus was pretty apathetic towards the idea of going. With his crush on his best friend and all. In fact, he had been trying to steer clear of settings in which he was sure Sirius would look particularly, well, hot. However, there was a flaw in his thinking, he had realised. Day by day, Sirius was beginning to look extraordinarily hot to Remus in every setting, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Sirius had arrived at their train compartment at the beginning of that school year, Remus was very, very confused. Sirius had run away from home and spent the majority of the summer at the Potters, but in the two months, he had changed profoundly. Although they had been exchanging letters the whole summer, nothing could've prepared Remus for the feeling of panic bubbling up in him when Sirius had stepped through the sliding doors. After finally being released from his family's clutches, the freedom and eagerness to express himself had been immediately evident. Sirius had let his hair grow out longer than usual, past his shoulders, messier and curlier, but all the better looking (if that was even possible). He'd gotten taller and his shoulders broader, his muggle clothes sitting flawlessly on his lean figure. He’d looked cool, to say the least- chunky black lace-up boots, black trousers, a small silver loop earring in one ear and, of course, a black leather jacket. Remus had been perplexed and silent the whole train ride. What is wrong with me, he had thought. It wasn't envy or disapproval. It was excitement for his best friend's joy after years of trauma, of course, it was. But what the hell was that lump in his throat and the inability to look Sirius in the eye? Later that week, as Sirius had stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt hanging loosely around his neck exposing his prominent collarbones, Remus had realised with a sinking feeling that it all impossibly resembled a crush. A crush on Sirius?? I am so fucked, he had thought as he swallowed a lump.

In the following months, Remus had been desperately attempting to push his feelings into the deep dark depths of his mind and just forget about it. Still, as it turned out, Sirius' natural charm and charisma were impossible to look past. He would casually sling his arm over Remus' shoulders on their way to class or wink at him when James said a sentence without picking up on the innuendo of it. And it made Remus' heart jump out of his chest. On top of all that, Sirius was, in all likelihood, the most handsome bloke in the whole of Britain. So much so that talking to him made Remus' stomach twist with nervous energy most of the time. Anxious talking to my best friend of five years... He felt completely off his rocker.

In the present time, Sirius threw the dorm door open, stepping inside with Peter following and Remus jumped a little. "Lads," he said rubbing his palms together, "tonight's the night. We're getting plastered!"

"No," Remus said, still struggling with the cigarettes, now resolving to roll them manually. He wasn't very keen on his big mouth outrunning his drunk brain as it so usually happened after a few drinks. And now he had a dangerous secret to keep...

"Oh come on, Moony! This is our night off the chain!" There wasn't much Remus could say no to with those big grey eyes looking into his. Before he could say anything, Sirius asked: "Mate, could you roll me a few?" He had picked smoking up from Remus, of course. Sirius had said it looked "wicked" and “punk rock”. Remus was more proud of that than he was willing to admit.

"Sure," Remus replied.

"Cheers." Sirius winked at Remus and his stomach flipped. "Right. I'm going to get ready. We gotta clear off when I get out," Sirius said disappearing into the bathroom.

Remus successfully rolled up enough cigarettes for him and Sirius and placed them into his case. Oblivious to James' and Peter's conversation, Remus contemplated how he would survive the night. He'll have his cigs and the music, he concluded. He'll be fine.

He changed into his teal sweater and dark jeans and plopped onto his bed, gazing into the wooden board above him for a while. He sighed. In a few hours, 1976 would die and the illusion of a new slate in the form of a new year will be born. Remus was aware it was silly, but he liked creating little lists of goals for himself for the following year. They were never anything revolutionary, just a couple of small and realistic things he would like to accomplish. He thought about it for a few moments, then reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. He wrote:

1977 New Years resolutions:

1. Get mum that record she's been talking about for months now

2. Master the cig rolling spell

3. Improve on non-verbal magic

4. Complete that muggle reading challenge Lilly and I compiled

Sirius then came out of the bathroom dolled up and with very discreet lines of black eyeshadow around his eyes. The parchment and quill slipped from Remus’ fingers. The deep grey now stood out even further than usual. "Should we get a move on, then?" Remus rolled on his bed, pressed his face into the pillow and groaned softly, pretending it was because of his reluctance to go. He didn't know how many more of Sirius' little surprises he could take before his head imploded. This was clearly one of those times Sirius would look just exceptionally fucking fit.

"You're wearing that, Moony?" Remus picked his head up to look at Sirius, not being able to suppress the disappointment that was creeping up.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, you wear sweaters every day, don’t you? This is a party we’re going to!” Remus sat up and peered at him silently, allowing himself to take a better look at the eyeshadow that suited him wonderfully.

“Where did you get that?” James piped in, finally noticing Sirius’ make up.

“Borrowed it from Marls. Now, Moony, let’s see...” He started rummaging through his wardrobe and emerged with a dark grey shirt with a band logo on it. “Here you go, mate.” Sirius held it up for him to look at, then tossed it on the werewolf’s bed. Remus loved that shirt, especially because it was one of Sirius’ favourites.

“It’s December,” Remus said, but excitement was swirling in his stomach at the thought of wearing Sirius’ clothes. “Well, wear your coat.” He flashed Remus a smile. As the other boys started pilling their belongings into their pockets and putting on jackets, Remus reflected on changing into the shirt. Then he did it, quickly. Heat rose swiftly up his neck and cheeks at the realisation it smelled like Sirius. It felt like he would melt into the carpet any second now. Maybe he could allow himself to simmer in his infatuation just for tonight.

“Looking good.” Sirius smiled at him in the mirror as Remus checked himself out. The blush intensified.

The four boys crept down hallways using the Marauder’s Map to avoid Filch and the teachers and made it safely to the One-Eyed Witch Statue on the third floor. Sirius and James were practically skipping down the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Even Remus felt a little giddy, but that may or may not have been because of the shirt. They arrived at the pub without hindrances and made their way inside. The place was loud and crowded as they pushed their way to a round wooden bar table. There were decorative lights of different shapes and sizes everywhere as well as tiny glass lanterns with magical flames flickering inside. The atmosphere was bewitching.

“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands, “what’re we drinking?”

Remus wanted a Butterbeer, but it was decided on his behalf that he would be having Firewhiskey. After all, Sirius was now of age and this was his first opportunity to take advantage of it. And so, Remus was coerced into his first glass of alcohol. He downed it quickly when the first girl approached Sirius. This was nothing new, of course. He was showered in attention from girls at school all the time. What was different now was that it gravely bothered Remus. However, Sirius paid no attention to the lady and instead turned to Remus to ask for a cigarette. Sirius smoking was a work of art; Remus could testify to that.

After the first drink, it was no trouble following up with more and the boys wanted to try weird sounding beverages from the menu. Thick, white smoke covered their table when James brought over the Simison Steaming Stout. Later, Remus had a shot (or three) of something called Checker’s Quick Everclear which made him inexplicably snap his fingers a few times after swallowing it. It was incredibly amusing and enough to get him rather half cut. After that, things became somewhat fuzzy. The band was fine, so they danced and drank and Remus felt just swell. It could’ve had something to do with Sirius ignoring the girls or plainly the amount of alcohol in his blood. By the time people began counting down from ten, Remus had half lost his ability to comprehend what was going on. He caught sight of James hugging Sirius when the clock hit midnight as the two of them shouted: “Happy New Year!” A couple seconds later Remus felt hands around himself and realised James hugged him next, yelling the same words, frankly a bit too close to his ear. It seemed that James was either holding his drinks well or just hadn’t drank that much. Sirius’ eyes, however, were half-closed, Remus noticed, as he moved to embrace him. It was just a smidge underwhelming. Remus was numb all over and barely felt the touch of Sirius’s arms over the colossal spike of adrenaline that flashed in his insides. He likely held him tighter than necessary and reluctantly pulled away when Sirius did too. Their cheeks brushed briefly in the process. When Remus looked at him, Sirius was smiling. His hair was messy, lips full and smooth. The eyeshadow hadn’t moved. Remus almost leaned in, but chose to just smile back instead. I have a secret to keep. Big secret. Scary secret. He slyly avoided hugging Peter (who was really sweaty) as his stupid, drunk brain kept repeating: Big. Scary. Secret. Secret. But he had already forgotten what was so confidential. He was really fuckin’ pissed, wasn’t he? Remus sniggered to himself.

Sirius and James wanted to go to the dancefloor and Peter followed them. Remus, however, wasn’t quite sure he could stand very well without having a table to hold on to once in a while. So he stayed put, fetched a cigarette from his case, lit it with his wand and leaned on his forearms on the table. Reveling in the fact that that he was allowing himself to feel all his forbidden feelings tonight, Remus observed Sirius in a manner he hoped was subtle. Sirius was dancing with his eyes closed, smooth, controlled movements, face tilted upwards. Christ, Remus banged his forehead on the table, why does he have to look like that?! It felt strangely pleasant, so he stayed in that position for some time. His head was swaying lightly and he got an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Alright, Moony,” a voice brought him back to reality. Remus forced his head up.

“Splendid,” he said. Sirius smiled at him.

“We got any more fags?”

“Yup.” He pulled out the case out of his back pocket and handed it to Sirius, just as he asked: “Having fun, Moony?” Remus’ mouth stretched into a stupid, crooked smile.

“Oh, I’m having a brilliant time.”

“Good.” Sirius struggled pulling his wand out of the pocket of his tight-fitting (Sigh...) jeans. Remus brought his own wand to the cigarette hanging from the other boy’s lips and produced miniature blue flames. Sirius sucked in the smoke, held it briefly, then exhaled. “Cheers.”

Remus downed whatever it was leftover in James’ glass. Then his mind blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being dragged up the stairs by James to their dormitory. “You’re a miracle,” he mumbled, thinking how James could have possibly snuck him through the castle in this state without getting caught. James laughed softly.

“Okay, Moony.”

Remus plopped on his bed face first and let out a long, loud half-sigh, half-groan. He heard Sirius laugh from his own bed. “Nooo, we’re not getting plastered tonight! No waaay,” he said in a teasing voice. Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

[illfoandillfie]

Maybe a ben POV one? where bens off on a movie shoot and misses you and wants to fly you out to him but he’s worried it’s too much of a “romantic gesture” like in movies so he doesn’t want to weird you out but then on the phone you say how much you miss him too so he gathers the nerve to ask you and you’re like duh ofc I’ll come you dork (im envisioning this still kinda early in the qpr maybe right after platonically or smth)

Thank you so much babe!!

This is the second of the blurbs for my Platonically themed event! This one follows directly on from the one I posted yesterday so maybe read it first.

Words: 1,759

Warnings: just two idiots being dummies. Minor references to sex and probably some swearing but that's about it.

Reflecting on the situation, Ben had come to the conclusion that it was the perfect time to be in Greece. The run of beautiful weather they’d had over the course of the last month must have set some sort of record, he thought. Every day was blue skies, white fluffy clouds, and the sort of heat that was comfortable and not overly sticky. It made working a dream, especially when half the film seemed to take place on the beach. The sand was warm under his feet and the water clear and cool. They didn’t have much down time since the studio was pushing for it to be finished ASAP so they could release it at the optimal time, but the few days off they did get, Ben spent either fishing with some of the crew or else exploring the picturesque town they were in. There was just one downside. You weren’t with him.

Whenever the thought crossed his mind, whenever he really started to miss you, he’d remind himself that he loved his job, loved that it took him to exciting and beautiful places. And then he’d send you a quick message to check how everything was back home. He called too, mostly in the evenings after he got back to his hotel room. But the deeper into the project he got the more night shoots there were and the later he got back to his room. What brief conversations you had were good but not quite the same as if you’d been there with him. Of course, he’d try to remind himself that it wasn’t like he’d never been away from you before. But those times had all been before you got together, and the changed nature of the relationship made him feel your absence more. He never said that to you though. Mostly, when you could talk, Ben would ask how you were and talk about the exciting things he saw. He’d tell you about the beaches or the trinket shops and say how much you’d like them but he’d never tell you exactly how badly he wished you were with him. He didn’t want you to take it the wrong way and he didn’t trust himself to explain it properly. Whenever he tried to verbalise it (quietly, to his reflection or the dark hotel room he was staying in) he worried it came out too...well, romantic.

The truth was, he’d always been attached to you, since very early on in your relationship. You just got him. His sense of humour and his personality and the way he thought. It took him no time at all to start referring to you as one of his best friends and it was a title you’d held for years. But then he’d realised the way he liked you wasn’t strictly platonic, and it made him feel weird around you. More uncertain than he was used to. He found it hard to describe the relief he’d felt when you agreed to think about his QPR idea or how, when you’d accepted, it had alleviated the uncertainty and doubts that had been plaguing him. To you it would probably sound sappy and sentimental and tat all what you wanted to hear from him. Of course the QPR was really just an extension of your friendship. More or less the same, just a few new ways to show affection like kissing and getting you off (both things Ben greatly enjoyed), and a few new words that made it specific to the two of you. And maybe a new future too, depending on how things went. But again, while he might think those sorts of thoughts, he wouldn’t know how to begin saying any of them to you. Because he was starting to really want that future with you, and saying so might make it impossible to get there.

So Ben allowed himself to miss you quietly. Occasionally an idea of inviting you to join him would pop into his head. But he always let the thought go as quickly as it came. The weeks ticked by like that. Texting when you could between scenes and less and less frequent calls at night, which left Ben’s head swimming with lots of unsaid things. Progress was made on the movie too, most of the beach scenes wrapped and everyone moving to other parts of the script. Until everything came to a screeching halt. Ben wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was – something to do with scheduling conflicts or maybe special equipment that hadn’t arrived on time. All he was told was that things would be back up and running soon but it might take an extra few weeks to complete the project. He didn’t mind so much, it gave him a bit of extra free time after all, but it also meant he wouldn’t get to see you again for a while.

The possibility of flying you out to Greece to join him had been rattling around his brain since his third week on set. You could spend a couple of weeks, maybe a month, together. He could take you to that restaurant he’d sent you photos of and show you the handmade stationery shop he’d stumbled across that he knew you’d have fun exploring. And then there was the rest of the town, thin streets to get lost in together and beautiful views to look out over. Maybe you’d like to walk along the beach with him and collect seashells or rent a little dingy to take out on the waves. Once or twice he’d come close to actually asking you to join him but he always talked himself out of it, sure it would be crossing a line for you. Missing you was one thing but offering to buy you a plane ticket and whisk you off on a getaway to a gorgeous Greek island was surely too romantic. But the news of the delay made him consider it again.

That night he called you, smiling as soon as he heard your voice. At first the call was like any other. He listened to you talk about what had been going on since he last had a chance to call, getting caught up on your mutual friends and your work and whatever else came to mind. “But what about you?” you finally said, “You must be pretty busy since I haven’t had a call from you in a little while.” “Well I was busy except not so much right now,” “Oh?” “There’s some sort of delay, I don’t the details. But it looks like I’ll be here for another few weeks at least.” “Oh.” Ben was a little surprised by how disappointed you sounded. “I really miss you,” “I miss you too,” his voice got softer as he said it, “a lot.” “I really wish I could see you,” “Well,” he said sheepishly, hoping he wasn’t reading things wrong, “how would you feel about coming out here then? I can get you a plane ticket if you want.” “No shit! You can do that? You won’t like, get in trouble or anything?” Ben laughed, not quite understanding, “What are you talking about?” “I don’t know man, I’m not an actor. I just figured it’d be like a partner free zone. Like they wouldn’t want you getting distracted or whatever.” “You fucking dork,” his laughter threatened to obscure the words but he managed to make himself heard, “That’s not how it is at all. You being here wouldn’t be a problem, as long as I’m on set when they need me. Plus it looks like we’re about to have a whole lot of downtime anyway. So does that mean you wanna come?” “Ummm let me think abo- of course Ben!” “Well if I’d known you’d react like this I would have asked sooner,” The laughter had faded, leaving a grin on his face, though the embarrassment at his hesitancy was creeping up too. “Wish you had’ve. Why didn’t you?” “I just didn’t want you to take it the wrong way,” “And what way would that be?” “A romantic way? I don’t know! It’s just the sort of thing that’d happen in a romantic movie or whatever and I didn’t want to come across like that. It’s Greece man, it’s kind of a romantic place. Maybe not like Paris but it’s up there. Don’t laugh,” he groaned, “I’m just saying, white sands and clear seas and lots of pretty flowers in bloom, it’s definitely got romantic vibes.” “It didn’t even cross my mind that it might be that sort of thing. No offence to Greece, I’m sure it’s lovely.” Ben let himself chuckle at his idiocy, “I guess cause I’ve like, y’know, got feelings for you or whatever I saw the romantic side and assumed you would too. Feel silly for not just asking you but I’m glad we have that sorted now.” “I think it’s sweet, Ben. I love that you were conscious of how it might be perceived and I understand you didn’t want to hurt me. But yeah, dude, please get me that ticket, I miss you a stupid amount.” “Alright, I’m on it. When do you want to leave?”

Two days later and Ben was content, sitting and staring out at the waves on a quiet beach as you rubbed sunscreen into his back. He’d greeted you at the airport, feeling ridiculously excited to see you, squeezing you in a tight hug (which you later suggested had cracked one of your ribs). “Okay, all done, now let me do your front,” you shuffled around Ben on your knees, throwing a leg over his lap as he leaned back on his palms. “You’re such a perv,” Ben chuckled, subtly adjusting his posture to push his chest further towards you, “I bet you only suggested sunscreen so you could feel my boobs.” “Oh you caught me,” you squirted some more of the cream directly onto his chest, beginning to rub it in, “Definitely nothing to do with sun safety.” “No I get it, you don’t need to lie to me. You missed my pecks. It’s totally natural. But let me know when you’re done so I can show you the same courtesy.” "Think we might save that till we get back to the hotel, Benny,”  Ben laughed at your exasperated expression, raising one arm to pull you toward him for a kiss, barely noticing the cool of the cream still on your palm as you cupped his cheek and kissed him back.

[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 10 - The Good News

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff

Summary: The reader and Joel, well, seal the deal.

Word Count: 4.405

Author's Note: Okay so my dumbass mixed the dates in the previous chapter and although I fixed it on the other post, I just wanna clarify that this is December 2035! I almost screwed up the story line a lil bit but, no worries, it should be fine now 😅 Apologies again for late updates, I promised you all I'd see to the end of this series and I will, trust me!

Enjoy!

You weren't expecting him to propose.

Oh no ma'am that was the last thing you were expecting.

But that didn't stop you from whispering a soft 'yes', of course. It took you a moment to process because you were caught off guard, but without hesitation, you placed a tender kiss to his lips after your answer.

He knew the idea of getting married in the middle of an apocalypse was a silly idea and the whole labeling yourselves thing even more so, but he was more than relieved when you said yes. The circumstances you were living in (being lucky enought to live an almost normal life in Jackson) made it a bit more available for a an in-front-of-god's-eyes kinda ceremony; you were even fine with calling him husband and him calling you wife - you didn't even have to get married for that if you were honest. Your feelings towards each other were deep and true, you just had to label it without official papers.

You could tell Joel was scared, though. He confessed that he'd been only thinking about proposing to you, but after everything that happened, he knew he might not get another chance at doing so. You understood better just how scared to death he was all that time you were captured by Axel, then in the infirmary where he thought you may not survive it.

There was also the tiny, insignificant issue of his ex-wife, of course. It had been more than 25 years since her and you weren't worried about it at all, obviously. Tommy let you have an insight to their relationship from time to time (brief but still eye opening) and you knew everything you had to know - it wasn't pretty, and you couldn't help but think Joel's mind often wandered to his old memories, which perhaps made him feel insecure. You didn't say a thing about it, of course. If he wanted to talk to you, you'd be more than willing to listen.

In the end, he chose not to, even until the wedding day, so all you could do was assure him over and over again just what a perfect husband he was going to be, without touching the other subject. He was the ultimate family man, according to the younger Miller and you could see that too. You loved him for who he was, dearly, and that's really all that mattered.

Breaking the news to the close circle- to Tommy, Maria and Ellie, was delightful. Ellie was a little bewildered, but still happy. Tommy was surprisingly too enthusiastic, insisted you made a ceremony, despite your and Joel's protests.

"We don't want no fuss, Tommy, we already talked about it and decided not to," Joel gently traced your fingers with his thumb as he held your hand in his.

"Aw c'mon, this is big- for the both of you!" Tommy chuckled. "You're the town's sweethearts, not many people have beef wih either of you and, plus, it'll give folk some break and a reason to celebrate."

You reasoned with it and decided to do it, but without the usual formalities. Naturally, it was impossible to get all dolled up for a wedding with the traditional dress and suit in the post-outbreak world. Plus, the weather was going to be very cold by the time you had healed completely, or enough to stand on your feet without any help.

...The remaining 2% who helped you around was either Ellie, or Jesse, who was absolutely thrilled to see you out of the infirmary and when he heard about the big news. As soon as Ellie brought him over to visit you at Joel and your (now officially) shared house, he bombarded you with questions like when you were going to heal completely and join patrols again, or when the wedding was, which made you really happy and appreciate him. Dina was, well, very happy too but kept telling Jesse to Shut up! Let her rest, she just got out! Sweethearts they both were, probably your favourite kids in Jackson after Ellie.

Speaking of Ellie...

You got to spend more time with her again once you moved back in. You sometimes had your meals together while Joel was away on patrol, but whenever the three of you were together, Ellie got quiet. She sometimes wouldn't say a single word from the beginning to the end unless you made her talk, but you stopped pushing it after a while, as you realised how tense she'd get and how she'd start to play with her fingers. You wanted to ask her about it, but you also didn't want to push her; she always came to you when something bothered her, so you decided to be quiet about it and let her come to you.

By December, you were capable of standing on your own feet for the most part. Although not mentally, you had healed a lot and what was left of the attack were a couple of bruises. Your nightmares, well, they were reoccurring and continuing, but with Joel by your side, it was easier to handle than it was when you were in the infirmary and alone. It took you a long, long time, but you felt like you were finally ready to move on.

What was done, was done. Axel had killed your family, you thought he died and focused on your grieving; he turned out to be alive years later, almost killed you and your husband, so you dealt with the only option you had left: Killing him. Was it... necessary precautions? Or was it just revenge? He was clearly looking for you, he somehow managed to track you to the outskirts of Jackson, so really it was either him or you - a group of murderers or a town filled with innocent people.

You came to the conclusion that, by torturing him to death, you were taking advantage of 'getting rid of him for the sake of the town'. Everywhere he went, he brought destruction, he surely would've attacked the town if you hadn't killed him. While sparing Jackson from a dangerous threat, you also put an end to a vendetta you didn't know existed until then.

You didn't feel good, much as you were relieved that he wasn't going to be a trouble for the town and you anymore, it didn't feel good at all. Like you'd said before, he had ruined you.

Even though you were going to get married, the weight of that day still pulled you down from time to time. Days grew shorter and nights turned longer, but without being able to help around town to busy yourself, you thought too much about it. Joel noticed this of course and did everything you asked of him: From asking him to stay in occasionally, to giving you some space.

You knew Joel was scared when you pushed him away, which was on very rare occasions. He was scared that you wouldn't want to marry him, or worse, do something stupid. But, you needed him more than ever. It never crossed your mind once, to cancel the wedding and move back to your house. You loved him and nothing changed that: That's what you had told him too, with a genuine smile.

"I hate it when I don't have you around," You'd admitted two weeks before the wedding day, cupping his cheek. "I hate it so much when I push you away and- and seeing you upset because of it- but I wouldn't do it if I didn't need it."

"I know Dolly," He kissed the inside of your hand which was cupping his cheek.

"I love you, Joel," You grinned as he peppered kisses across your knuckles. "And I'm not planning on not marrying you. It's gonna take something real awful for me to not marry you."

You hadn't seen him smile this big ever since you replied yes to his proposal, he then chuckled: "Lord, you even started to talk like me."

Nothing that scared Joel happened. On the same day you shared your first kiss, you got married; Tommy was right too, the winter was taking it's toll on the townsfolk and they needed something that would take their minds off of things. Despite a few figures you weren't exactly fond of but had no actual beef with, it all went accordingly.

They got the both of you as pretty as you could get in the middle of an apocalypse. In Jackson, there were a variety of resources of pretty much everything - wedding dresses weren't one of them. You were dressed more like you were going to a cocktail and you felt a little embarrassed, Joel's situation was no different.

"This is ridiculous," He complained. "Last I checked, I didn't gotta shave for a wedding- it's not a rule or anythin'."

"Well..." Maria insisted as she fixed up your hair.

"Darlin', you want me to shave?" Joel abruptly turned to you, a brilliant smirk creeping up his face.

"No honey," You smiled sweetly, a little exaggerated to tease Maria. You agreed that this whole dress up was ridiculous as well. "I love your beard- don't ever shave it in fact."

"Ugh, you two are infuriating," Maria sighed, defeated.

"Perfect match," Tommy agreed as he snickered from the doorway.

"It's December, snowing outside- cold as fuck and you want me to wear a dress." You groaned.

"Don't you make the sweetest bride, Dolly..."

"Shut up Tommy."

Most of the town was there, except for the people in the infirmary and the people who were assigned for patrols. You and Joel were placed on a table away from most people, creating enough distance to make space for a not-as-big-as-Maria-liked kind of dance floor. The speakers were set, lights were up and the cozy atmosphere mostly eased your stress. You kept getting the feeling that something bad was going to happen, because surely this was too good to be true: You couldn't afford to have good things for too long, something terrible ought to happen-

"Hey," You suddenly felt Joel's hand envelop yours in his. "Will you relax?" Your forced smile, which was mostly you pursing your lips, didn't convince him; he leaned in a little and whispered softly: "If this gets too boring and you promise to at least act like you're having a good time, maybe I'll help you relax..."

His tone sent a shiver down your spine. You loved it when he suggested a quickie or talked dirty to you in public, soft promises of how he wanted to bite the insides of your thighs before diving his tongue into your depths - a teaser of what you were going to get as soon as you were alone.

Just before you could say anything, a familiar redhead with a brunette by his side appeared by your table, making the both of you tense up: "Hey, you two..."

"Hey Bruce," You forced an awkward smile. "Walt..."

Bruce was a small figure, comparing to the other patrol leaders- especially next to Walt. He had jet black hair, big eyes matching the colour of his hair and an oval face. He was always clean-shaven, which made him look a whole lot younger than he was. Him and Walt were really good friends, that's why you assumed he didn't like you too much, given your history of ups and downs with the redhead... Too loyal of a friend, if you said so yourself, but you didn't care.

"Don't you look handsome," You heard Bruce comment, looking at Joel, making you look between him, your husband and Walt. For a moment you thought he was joking, but the suggestive tone in his voice made you raise a brow.

"Uhm... thanks?" Joel replied awkwardly, a little confused because he looked exactly the same, the only difference was he was wearing something that resembled a suit. "It's nothing new though..."

Walt was giving Bruce a look too, which the man in question noticed and immediately spoke: "I mean, it's hard to see you two in anything other than pants and a t-shirt... You both look different, I mean-"

"Yeah, it's nice for a change," Walt immediately interrupted. "We just wanted to say congratulations."

"Thanks," You offered a soft smile and a long blink in acknowledgement. Just then, someone called for Robert and he left with a sincere smile. "Is he okay? He looked nervous."

"Yeah, he's a lil' on edge, dunno why," Walt scratched the back of his neck, although his face indicated that he knew exactly why. "Anyways," He cleared his throat and turned to your husband. "I wanted to say that, I know we got off on the wrong foot Joel and, I also know that we haven't been on very good terms," He looked between the both of you. "But I just want to you both to know that I'm very happy for y'all... I- I hope-"

"Joel!" Ellie suddenly appeared, to the left where he sat. "You need to come with me, don't ask why."

"Uh-?" Before he could even process, Ellie was tugging him by the arm and off the chair. He gave a look to Walt: "'scuse me."

You both gave Joel a quizzical look as Ellie dragged him away. Walt chuckled lightly, scratched the back of his neck once more and politely asked: "You mind if I sit here?" There was a chair by your side where Maria was supposed to sit when she announced you as married. You nodded and turned to the right as he sat towards the edge: "Look, (Y/N), I know we couldn't talk properly after what happened to you... I came to visit but, well, Joel has a way of putting me on spot."

You chuckled and nodded: "Yeah, I heard. It's okay though, I appreciate it."

"He said you would..." He grinned shyly. "You really love him, huh? 'Cause you sure as hell have him wrapped around your finger."

Your smile grew wider and you nodded: "Yeah, I do. I- I'd tell you more but I don't really wanna cry on my wedding day," Your voice cracked a little. "As best as I can, anyway. I'm too overwhelmed with- everything, y'know?"

"I can guess," He laughed, a bit more comfortable now that he was sure you weren't hostile towards him. "You know I'm... I'm really glad you're- I- ah, I'm very happy for you. Sincerely. You two are just... perfect for each other."

"Oh shush," You looked up and blinked several times. "I'm glad makeup doesn't exist anymore!" He laughed a little more, his dimples showing themselves under his red beard. "Hey... thank you, though. Let's uh- let the past stay in the past, yeah?"

Walt looked at you in surprise for a moment, then finally processed what you said: "Oh, s-sure, definitely. Those awkward chats were killing me..."

"Yeah," You smiled apologetically. You had to talk sooner or later, you sometimes got paired up for patrol and you had to interact to make everything work. Slowly, it turned into casual 'how are you's, but stayed that way until the wedding day.

You smiled at each other for a moment, then he finally nodded and got up: "Congrats, again. You two make a good couple. A power couple, in fact."

"Okay okay," You giggled and shooed him away with your hand. You watched him walk back to his table: The fact that he seemed to have gotten over you was a delight. Just then, Joel appeared and sat by your side, taking a seat beside you.

"You two good, then?" He asked with a netural expression.

"Yeah, you two, too," You smiled at him. He looked unimpressed, so you gently placed a hand on his thigh: "He was genuinely happy for us, Joel, relax..." Then, at your own words, you smirked devilishly, giving his thigh a squeeze. "If you act like you're happy about it, maybe I'll help you relax~"

He gasped when your fingertips brushed against his crotch lightly, the both of you gazing at each other's lips then simultaneously making eye contact: "I need to relax," Joel growls. "Now."

Your eyes widened at his tone of his voice, giving him a big, excited smile; only to be interrupted by none other than Tommy, who probably knew what you two were planning. He was holding a microphone in his hand, he walked up and into the space between where you and your husband sat: "Right... Today's a good day, folks." Almost everyone directed their attention to where the three of you were: "It's been around two and a half years since my big brother showed up at our door with Ellie and a lovely lady- none other than our (Y/N)... I say it was about goddamn time they got married." Tommy snickered and made the people laugh. "No really, I remember the day I met her," He turned to you: "She had a knife against Eugene's throat and we were only a second away from killing each other-"

"I forgive you!" Eugene suddenly called out to you across the room and you hid your face with both of your hands as the people continued laughing.

"Something fierce, she was- still is!" Tommy continued. "Don't make no mistake about that... She'll tear the whole country down to do what's right." He smiled at you sincerely: "I've spent most of my life with Joel and I've only known her for around two years but, I can confidently say that these two were made for each other."

You and Joel shared a look: No one in town had seen you smile this big- ever, you thought. Even Joel, who had seen your smiles countless times, was looking at you as if he'd seen you smile for the first time and he was falling in love with you again. Tommy's words meant the world to you: You had no family left and Joel only had his younger brother, and you had his only family's blessing. He'd seen the best and worst in both of you, knew what Joel had gone through all those years ago and he still claimed you as the perfect match for Joel. The realisation hit like a tidal wave and your eyes filled with tears. Chuckling, you spoke: "Okay, enough."

That earned another round of aww's and laughter. You looked at Ellie for a moment and saw the content spread across her face - despite the growing awkwardness between her and Joel, she still cared about him deeply. The look on her face even gave you some sort of hope that, whatever was going on between them was going to get solved soon. Everything felt so perfect and normal for a moment.

"Yup, now, y'all gotta dance," Tommy smirked.

Joel didn't look too pleased, being the centre of attention while doing such a simple yet special thing with you. You Have Been Loved started playing suddenly and your eyes shone brightly, then he led you to the makeshift dance floor. You pressed your chest against his lightly and your hands met behind his neck, while he repeated the motion around your waist. You slowly started to sway to the rhythm and he watched you fondly.

"I love this song," You muttered and looked into his eyes, beaming up at him.

"I know," He grinned.

A minute or two passed, then Tommy appeared with a video camera in his hands: "Here are the lovebirds..." You both smiled at the camera with such genuineness that even Tommy felt your shared happiness, even more so when he captured the moment with a camera. "Don't tire her out too much, big brother. It's my turn after you."

You giggled at his comment and Joel raised a brow at him: "Why is everyone so appreciative of my wife all of a sudden? At our wedding?"

"It's the dress," You bit your lip and smirked.

"Tsk," Joel looked elsewhere with a chuckle and it gave you an opportunity to kiss his cheek, then place your chin on his shoulder. He welcomed your body gently into his embrace and wrapped his arms even more around your waist, while you connected yours around his shoulders.

"Shoo, Tommy, let us dance in peace," You waved your hand in a go away motion and he did as you asked.

Now it was just you and Joel.

If I was weak, forgive me

But I was terrified

You brushed my eyes with angels wings, full of love

The kind that makes devils cry

So these days

My life has changed

And I'll be fine

But she just sits and counts the hours

Searching for her crime

Many songs played and other couples took you and your husband's place on the dance floor not so long after. Tommy kept his word and danced with you to a short song, where he expressed how grateful he was for you. He deeply cared for Joel, definitely more than he led on and that's when he told you once more that you were good for the older Miller- that you completed him. A picture of you two was taken right after he had said: "Welcome to the family- officially."

A few more songs later, it was Jesse who asked for a dance, much to everyone's amusement.

"If you're trying to make me go easier on you on training days, it's not gonna work Jesse," You smiled at him.

"No ma'am," He spoke seriously, then gave you a silly grin. "Not even a little?"

"Don't push your luck, rookie."

"Are you trying to make a move on my wife, son?" Joel growled, messing with him. Jesse however didn't understand that Joel was just joking, so you both laughed at the poor boy's tense expression.

"C'mon then," You got up from your seat, actually feeling a little tired already, then patted a red-faced Jesse on the shoulder. He'd grown quite tall over the years: He reached and maybe became a little taller than Joel.

You were Jesse's mentor ever since you started taking up patrol duty and training. He had moved to Jackson with his parents only a few months before you had. Being trained in the army and serving for almost 20 years, you were in charge of training new comers and teens who wanted to sign up - Jesse and Dina were assigned to you at first, until Dina switched to Eugene some months ago.

Jesse was enthusiastic about training and he was still very young, which helped him progress better. On a side note, his parents were lovely. Dina would occasionally tease that he had a crush on you, like a silly little teacher crush, then she'd joke about how she was jealous of you because he never admired her like he did you. You'd just smile, feeling like your age and tell Joel about it later.

You loved both of them as if they were your own, while being reminded of the kids in the prepatory school back in the Boston QZ. Guilt occasionally gnawed at your insides whenever the thought lingered too long on your mind. You really wished you could break them out and bring them here, give them the life and childhood they deserved. You kept telling yourself, like Joel, that there was nothing you could do about them, but still...

That was how fate worked, you supposed. If you hadn't been ambushed and Alpha One had survived, you may have never met Joel and Ellie, arrive in Jackson and, most importantly, you wouldn't be sitting across Joel when he took you as his wife.

Perhaps, there was no way- no alternative scenario about bringing your family to this safe haven. To have them sit there amongst the crowd and cheer you as you kissed your husband after his sister-in-law announced you married. Oh, how badly you wanted them by your side that day: Kurt sending death threats to Joel if he ever broke your heart (jokingly, of course), Maxim and Amanda encouraging you, Robin and Cole trying to tell embarrassing stories of your younger years...

Felicity and you having a talk.

Felicity.

She'd be the one to style your hair (maybe Robin too), fit you in your dress and of course, the first person to hear about the good news. She'd take your hands in hers, smile at you, then hug you.

You'd give anything to hear her voice again, to have her talk to you- even just for five minutes.

Nevertheless, you were still grateful for the new life that was given to you by the man who held your hand and smiled as you spoke to the microphone: Alright folks, thank you for coming... Training starts early tomorrow, so get some sleep! A new chance, given to you by the man made love to you in the following hours and who now slept next to you peacefully. The man, who introduced you to a new family and gave you hope that, in these times you lived in, there was still love and humanity left.

You studied Joel's relaxed features as the sun slowly crawled up the horizon. He was sleeping facedown, muscular arms partly under his pillow and face turned to you as he breathed through his nose slowly; his naked body disappeared under the thick blanket, meeting yours.

The alarm on your side of the bed went off minutes later, waking him as it did. He met your half lidded gaze with his own and mumbled something that resembled a good morning. You smiled and whispered it back, then watched his eyes close again. Your smile grew wider instinctively, then you tapped his right arm (the arm on your side) gently. He immediately turned his body towards you in the bed and opened his arms for you: "Ten minutes at most."

He nodded sleepily as you pushed yourself into his warm, naked embrace, placing yourself against his body, head right below his chin. Your arms found themselves on his waist and you sighed contentedly, placing a kiss on his collarbone.

Perfect. That's how everything was when he was involved.

As you stayed in his embrace, your eyelids automatically pushed themselves down. Inhaling his scent and listening to his heartbeat, you thought to yourself before dozing off:

Huh. Maybe it really was meant to be.

[expiredfairydust]

best friends ~ bubblegum rock/kazuleon || ft. nb gay! kaz || pt. 2

//tw: self hatred, kinda internalised homophobia, uncensored F slur bcoz the author can reclaim it//

a loud gasp forced the two to pull away from their kiss quickly, both of them quickly moving to look in the direction of where the noise had come from.

kazuichi went red due to embarrassment, noticing the unmistakable blonde hair of miss sonia darting away.

she had poked her head around the door to souda’s room - they never locked it in case leon wanted to come and cuddle - meaning to ask the pinkette if they’d been given any homework as she had been in first aid for most of the day before, unaware of what was happening between the mechanic and their crush.

and now she was running off, trying to give the pair privacy. souda, panicking because their illusion of heterosexuality was likely being broken, ran after her, calling “miss s-sonia! wait!! i-i swear it’s not what it looks like i’m s-sorry miss sonia you’re the only one i love i swear!!” they were crying for real now at the realisation that they had just ruined the one thing that was theirs.

the blonde suddenly stopped in her tracks and turned back to kazuichi. her face had an odd expression that kazuichi couldn’t read.

she put a hand over the mechanic’s mouth. “you do not understand souda, i do not care about you and kuwata’s relationship! in fact, i am glad because now you can leave me and miss fukawa to our relationship in peace - i was and still am rather disgusted at your lack of knowledge on personal boundaries but now i do not have to worry about that because you have no reason to!” she spoke slightly forcefully without meaning to. when she was done, she took her hand away and started walking off again.

“miss sonia!! i-i-i-“ kazuichi couldn’t gather their words, thousands of thoughts racing through their head. “we’re not dating... it was.. it was only a kiss....” they would mumble, more tears streaming down their face with every word. “i-it was all my fault anyways... i-i.. i was.. i was the one who kissed him and it was so so stupid of me because he’s the only person i have left and now he probably hates me for- for-“

their voice cracked and they couldn’t go on speaking, their legs giving way underneath them. “for being such a disgusting fucking faggot!! and-and-and i don’t blame him because i hate myself too!!” they were practically shouting now. “but dammit i love him so fucking much! so much, it hurts! god it feels like my heart is being ripped apart and i can’t fix it and i don’t know what to do and i hate that! and even if i could ever tell him properly i just know he’d hate me because who could ever like such a pathetic little FAG”

they didn’t know why they were telling all of this to miss sonia, maybe it was because they didn’t want her to think leon’s standards were so low as to date them. maybe they just needed to let everything out, needed to rant. because the moment they opened their mouth the words seemed to vomit out.

and once they were done ranting they ran off to the loos so they could actually vomit, as they often did out of distress. they ran to the far away disabled loos, on the opposite end of campus - they were the only public gender neutral loos on campus - so they wouldn’t have to face leon again, who they assumed was still in their room.

key word: assumed.

because leon had actually heard every word, only a few paces behind kazuichi during their confession. he had ran to try and take the mechanic in his arms, to say that it was okay because he loved them that way back. he had ran, just as kazuichi ran off.

meanwhile the princess was just happily beaming to herself, knowing that leon heard every word. she had successfully wingwomanned for the creep and the punk! it was a double win, as leon tended to flirt with touko as well as kazuichi’s horrible attempts to look straight by chasing after miss sonia herself. she made her way to her girlfriend’s dorm to tell her all about what she did.

leon’s thoughts were racing, as he tried to figure out what was even happening. kaz was in love with him... kazzy loved him back... but they thought that kiss was all their fault? as if leon hadn’t chosen to kiss them too? and now they thought he hated them? why? why would he kiss them if he hated them? god kazuichi was a dumb bitch at the best of times...

leon couldn’t help but smile through his tears, which he hadn’t noticed either.

kazuichi really loved him back..!

him!

but they thought leon felt the opposite...

right...

well, leon would just have to change that, he decided as he started looking for his best friend. he knew the mechanic got physically unwell when they were unwell, so he’d just have to check all the loos until he found the right one!

except kazuichi was nonbinary and relatively androgynous, so the baseball star had no clue which loos they’d be in, and he couldn’t exactly barge into the women’s loos checking to find his friend.

so, that meant he’d have to find ibuki, who had joined his band, and ask nya to check the girls’ loos while he checked the men’s and disabled loos. nya was also non binary, but at least she passed as a girl enough to enter the women’s loos.

it wasn’t hard, seeing as the noise they made made all over on the other side of the campus-

(conveniently close to one of the only gender neutral loos on campus)

-was loud enough to be heard in another country. leon was regretting leaving his ear plugs in kaz’s dorm, as he plugged his ears with his fingers and ran towards the sound.

“IBUKI!!!!” he yelled once he was in the practice room mioda was in.

“WHAT?!?”

“WHAT???”

“WHAT?!”

this was going to be tedious, leon thought, as he moved towards where everything was plugged in and unplugged the speakers.

ah, silence,,, at least it would’ve been if mioda wasn’t screeching at leon for what he did. “jesus christ calm down ibuki! i need you for something important” leon hissed, ibuki going completely quiet at the word “important” - void loved being helpful!

the bubbly musician sped off to search once leon explained what he needed. knowing nya, she’d probably check all the men’s loos too, void didn’t seem to get what made people so iffy about not sharing a bathroom with different genders.

but with that, leon got to looking too. and it wasn’t long before he heard the sound of sobbing in the disabled loos, accompanied by the sound of vomiting. well, there’s kaz...

he knocked on the door “kazzy?” he tentatively spoke. there was the click of the door being unlocked for leon to enter. he soon dropped to the floor, next to the pinkette, pulling them into his lap and holding them tightly. “shshshhh... i’m here kazzy...” the ginger would whisper sweetly into souda’s ear.

he held the younger student’s hair back as they puked again. “now how about you tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours?” he whispered, despite knowing already. he wanted kazuichi to say it again. to him, not to miss sonia.

but kaz didn’t want to talk. “it’s stupid” they said, snuggling against leon.

“if it’s stupid why don’t you say it?”

“coz you’ll hate me even more than you do for kissing you” their words were hard to understand through their tears.

“what makes you think i hate you? if i hated you, would i be here with you now? c’mon how about you wash your mouth out? all that puking must have left a horrible taste” leon spoke with a gentle tone, which was unlike him but comforting to the sobbing boy in his lap.

once almost all traces of puke had been ridden from the mechanic’s mouth, leon sat them on his lap again, holding them tightly. “how about you tell me what’s wrong now, eh kazzy?” he said sweetly, wiping his best friend’s tear stained cheeks with his sleeve.

“promise you won’t hate me?”

“pinky promise”

the pinkette drew a deep breath, getting ready to speak. then shook their head. “i-i can’t”

a realisation dawned upon leon then. this was his chance to reveal his own secret! “i’ll tell you something about me that i’ve been hiding if that would make you feel any better” a slow nod gave him the ok to speak.

“i’m intersex. when i was born the doctors told my mom and dad and they were.. well, i don’t know how they felt but i was forced into an opporation to make me “fully” male as a baby and all my life i’ve had to take medication to keep my hormones at a “normal male” level, which is odd coz i was never actually told that’s what it was for until recently” the ginger spoke, resting his head on kazuichi’s shoulder

“but, i want to stop taking my meds, i don’t want to be 100% a boy, and that decision kinda scares me in case people won’t accept it. in case you don’t accept it” he added after hesitating. “now do you wanna talk about your problem?” he wanted to change the subject.

kaz had gone quiet. then, after a few seconds they said. “it sounds silly now that you’ve told me how serious yours is... but- but-“ they paused to figure out the words they wanted to say. “i-i- i’m so sorry for kissing you! i had no right to do it and i-i- i didn’t even take the time to ask you if you wanted a kiss and- and- and- i’m so sorry i know you hate me for it and i don’t blame you because i totally deserve it” the words seemed to fall out quicker than kazuichi could think of them

“and i know you probably never want to see me again but if you could ever forgive me i’d really appreciate it because you’re the only friend i’ve got and i love you dude!” as those words came out, the pink haired mechanic started tearing up again. “i-i love you... i love you so much it hurts and i don’t know what i’d ever do without you but i totally understand if you hate me because how could you ever love someone who’s such a disgusting f-“

their words were cut off by leon kissing the shorter mechanic. it was a brief kiss, even shorter than their first, but the pure, raw emotion behind it was clear. love. reciprocated love.

“if i thought you were disgusting, why would i choose to kiss you twice? because now you know it sure as hell weren’t just you who wanted that first kiss” leon said simply, wiping the shorter guy’s tears away. “but i don’t still want to be friends,” he said, suddenly going cold, making the pinkette’s face drop. “i want to be boyfriends!” he said, making kazuichi start laughing with relief.

just as they were about to share another kiss, in barged mioda, yelling about how nya had found the pink haired mechanic, then once void noticed the ginger sat next to them and started yelling about how unfair it was that she had been looking all over for kazuichi for leon when the ginger was probably with them the whole time.

the couple smiled and sheepishly promised to make it up to the ultimate musician. the end.

[vampire--dad]

Can’t Win A Battle For A Lost Cause - Part 1

Part 2

I don’t think I’ve ever written something so quickly, wow

I just love writing Lambert. I love exploring his character and breaking it down. And of course, as with any of my favourite characters, I love hurting him :DD

——————

Fucking vampires.

Monsters are so much easier to deal with when they’re stupid, like nekkers. Nekkers are idiots that would probably walk into a sword on their own if you gave them the chance. Vampires are smart, which is half the reason Lambert hates taking contracts on them. They know how to hide, or even worse, they know when they don’t need to. The whole damn duchy knows the duke’s new wife is a vampire, but none can get close enough to kill her. So what do they do? They hire a witcher, someone who can add more fuel to this political bonfire and walk away unscathed, right? Yeah, sure, that’s what we’ll go with.

From this spot in the lower gardens of the duke’s mansion, Lambert can see the vampire on the balcony. The guards are well aware that he’s there, they’re the ones that hired him, but they couldn’t let him inside in case a servant alerted the duke of an unwanted visitor. So here he sits, hidden among the bushes, watching. She’s ballsy, this vampire, sinking her teeth into his neck under the moonlight. The power she has over the duchy must have gone to her head, or the blood, but he knows he can’t underestimate her. Blood is almost like alcohol for a higher vampire, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be weak, if anything, this is going to be even more of a pain in the ass.

The duke stumbles back into their bedroom and the creature turns her face to the moon, her skin a ghostly white and nearly shimmering under the pale light. It seems to pass right through her, as she casts no shadow. Lambert shifts his weight under him and stays low as he creeps along the wall. The ivy that clings to the bricks is strong enough for him to haul himself up to the balcony. As quiet as he can try to be, he’d be an idiot to think she didn’t notice him.

“Tell me, witcher,” she says, opening her icy blue eyes but not turning away from the sky. “How much did they offer you for my head? I’d like to know how much they thought I’d be worth.”

“Looking to buy your way out of this?” Lambert replies. “I’ll warn you, it won’t be cheap.”

“Please, witcher. Killing you will be easier… and more fun.”

Lambert barely has time to roll his eyes before the vampire launches herself at him and they tumble over the edge of the balcony. He was really hoping she wouldn’t say that. He hits the ground with a grunt, barely holding the snarling duchess back. He mumbles something under his breath and suddenly she is launched across the garden, hitting the far wall and slumping against it for a moment. Lambert draws his sword and rolls his neck, considering what he might do with his reward for killing her. Well, not that he can really kill her. Hopefully her body being burned will teach her a lesson while she spends a few decades regenerating.

Her head lolls for a moment, but then she becomes very still. Her neatly manicured nails grow into long, razor sharp claws. The delicate features of her face are drawn back into a hideous, animalistic form. She lifts her head with a disgusting grin. Lambert centres himself and raises his sword as she launches herself at him once again. The duke’s blood has her all riled up. She’s crazed, swiping her claws at him and screeching, only to be met with his blade, at the very least redirecting her attacks away from his body. The witcher can’t risk taking his eyes off her for a second, lest he lose an arm to her talons. She’s lightning fast, but she is at a disadvantage. If she slips up, his sword will tear through her like paper.

His blade catches against her arm. She roars, more out of indignation than pain, but her pause gives him an opening. He surges forwards and his blade plunges through her lithe figure, lodged just beneath her ribcage. A crimson stain blooms across her abdomen and her breath leaves her lungs suddenly. Her claws recede, followed by the rough features of her face. She assumes the gentle beauty she used to get herself into this mess in the first place. Lambert smirks cruelly and cocks his head.

“Fucking vampires. You’re all the same,” he says. “You all think you’re the biggest and baddest thing out there. It’s pathetic, really, how cocky you all are. I’ve faced far worse things than you, sweetheart. You really think your kind is the worst on the Continent?”

His words light a cold fire in her dying eyes. She grins, baring her fangs.

“See for yourself.”

She grips the hilt of his sword and pulls herself into it, the blade sliding through her body with an obscene sound. With the last of her strength she throws her weight forward, opens her mouth and latches onto Lambert’s neck. He groans out a curse, expecting to feel a drag against his skin. He’s been bitten before, but those before her quickly learned that witcher blood tastes vile. But he feels no such drag from his veins, rather he feels a burning sensation spreading across his skin. Suddenly he feels dizzy and short of breath. He feels her smile wickedly against his throat. His knees buckle beneath him. The last thing he hears is a cruel laugh, a sputtering cough, and the sound of his own body hitting the ground.

Lambert wakes with a yelp in an unfamiliar room. He grips the sheets and feels something sharp pressing into his palm through the linen. As he recoils, he notices the pointed nails on his fingers and frowns. Then his memory comes flooding back.

The vampire. His hand finds a bandage wrapped loosely around his neck. She bit him, but didn’t feed. No, he felt something going in instead. It burned like hellfire through his veins. He vaguely remembers being picked up by the guards… then everything ached… he vomited a few times, he thinks. It wasn’t unlike the trials that made him a witcher. With wide eyes he stumbles out of the bed and, in the soft light from the window, looks for a shadow. Nothing. He looks up at the window now, expecting to see his reflection, but yet again, there is nothing.

Shit.

Shit.

He runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes blood. His canines have grown long and sharp.

Fuck.

She turned him. He’s a vampire.

He runs a hand through his hair. What the fuck is he meant to do now? He was made to hunt monsters, it’s all he knows, and now… he is one. Destiny really can’t give him a fucking break, huh? He sighs and sits back down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. What are his brothers going to think? They wouldn’t try to hurt him… would they? He’s their brother…

He stops that train of thought the moment tears threaten to well up in his eyes. Now isn’t the time. He needs to figure out what to do. Perhaps there’s someone who can help him… His mind wanders back to his brother’s, but instead of getting emotional, he latches onto a vague memory. Geralt’s friend, what was his name…? Regis. That was it. A higher vampire that Geralt had befriended on his search for Ciri all those years ago. He mentioned he had taken up residence in Nilfgaard. Lambert can think of no better person to go to than another vampire.

Well, he can. He wants to go to his brothers. He wants to find them and just hear them say that they still love him. That’s all he wants and all he fears he won’t get. How could anyone love him like this?

Lambert shakes his head and stands, finding his things in the corner of the room. His medallion rests atop his jacket. He puts it on and clutches it to his chest, ignoring the feeling that he shouldn’t wear it at all. He dresses quickly, collects his things, and emerges from the room into a shop he recognises. The healer’s. He bought a few herbs from the woman who now stands at her workbench across the room. She looks up at him with a friendly smile.

“You’re up,” she states. “Good. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” he lies quickly. “I should be on my way.”

“A moment, witcher. I assure you I won’t breathe a word of it, but… can witchers be turned if they’re bitten by a vampire?”

“No,” he lies once again. “Our bodies reject their… venom, I guess you could call it. We can’t be turned.”

He notices her glance at the floor behind him as he makes for the door.

“Very well,” she says carefully. “I wish you the best in your travels.”

Nilfgaard, to Regis’ surprise, is quite peaceful. Winneburg is a big enough place for him to fade into the background, but small enough that he doesn’t run the risk of getting involved in any silly political games again. His home is humble, but thankfully filled with books and things to keep the endless days passing by quicker.

It came as a relief to him to live a normal life again, or at least the mirage of one. He is generally regarded as one of the more reliable surgeons in town, as he had studied enough to know that blood-letting and leeches never work and opts for the use of medicinal herbs and salves for wounds. After all, he’d had almost 400 years to perfect his trade.

He knows he has a visitor well before the knock at the door sounds through the small house. He hears footsteps, hurried and nervous. Regis closes his book and sets it aside, expecting someone in need of his care. Instead, on the other side of the door stands a witcher. He has dark brown hair, a scar across his right eye, and he wears the same medallion that he saw around the neck of an old friend.

There’s a look in the man’s yellow eyes he’s never seen in a witcher before. Fear. Geralt was good at hiding his emotions, brilliant at it. Over the years he saw many things in his friends’ eyes; joy, despair, anger, content, but never fear. That was the one thing he never showed. But this one seems unable to hide it.

“Regis?” he asks.

“Yes, witcher?”

Given a moment to analyse the man before him, Regis quickly realises why he is here. Small details give him away. The bluish tint to his skin that makes him look far paler than he should be. The small cuts around his lips. The pointed nails that he digs into his palms as he looks around nervously.

“I need your help,” he pleads.

“I know. Come in, we have much to discuss.”

He stands aside and lets the man in, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the bags under his eyes. It’s not uncommon to see such things when someone is turned, but he’s never seen a witcher turned. He can’t imagine what this must be like for him.

“What is your name, witcher?” he asks as he closes the door.

“Lambert,” he says. “I’m one of Geralt’s brothers.”

Regis can’t help a small smile as he says, “Yes, I do remember him mentioning you. He spoke of his little brother quite fondly.”

Lambert seems to grow even more nervous at the mention of his brother. Regis drops the subject and gets to the point.

“How long ago were you bitten?”

“A week or so.”

“Where? Show me, it’s not uncommon for bites to get infected.”

Lambert sheds his leather jacket and rubs his neck before tilting his head to bare the scar. He had spent what little coin he could spare on a new jacket with a higher collar. Regis notes his lack of eye contact. Anxiety isn’t a good look on a witcher.

“That healed quite nicely, actually. Of course. Now, where was this?”

“A duchy in Maecht. The duke’s new wife was a higher vampire. She was slowly draining him of—”

Lambert pauses and curses under his breath. His fingers come away from his lips bloody.

“Pull your fangs back a little,” Regis says. “It should feel like tensing the roof of your mouth, and it might hurt a bit, but try it.”

Lambert finally looks up at him with a look of surprise, like he didn’t expect to be met with compassion. He makes an odd face as he tries, then clamps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. Regis chuckles slightly.

“I told you it would hurt.”

“Yeah, a bit…” Lambert grumbles

“You’ll get used to it. Now, a higher vampire in Maecht? What has become of her?” Regis asks.

“I assume the duke’s guards burned her body like I told them to. It’ll at least put her out of action for a few decades.”

“Good. I assume you know there is nothing I can do for you in terms of curing you—”

“Yes, I know,” Lambert snaps. “I just… I needed someone to… I needed…”

Now that he thinks of it, he can’t explain exactly why he came here. He just thought seeking out someone who knew better than he did what was happening to him would be a good idea.

“Guidance,” Regis finishes for him, his tone comforting and soft. “That is what you’re looking for. Guidance and reassurance. Would I be right in thinking so?”

Lambert nods meekly. Regis offers him a comforting smile.

“Fret not, dear witcher,” he says. “You can stay with me while you find your footing. I may not have been turned myself, but I can understand what this must be like for you.”

Lambert resembles a puppy more closely than a wolf. He looks far more vulnerable than Regis had ever pictured him. Geralt had described a man with biting humour, a tendency for sharp remarks, and more often than not, a cruel smirk. But the man Regis sees before him is, for lack of a better word, broken.

“Thank you, Regis,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck again.

“Come, Lambert. Let’s get you settled in. I have a spare room, you can stay as long as you like.”

——————

Tags: @elliestormfound @jaskierswolf @lovelyeskel @feral-jaskier @patchwork-doublet

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[justanotheronechicagofan]

Previous Chapter 

10. Elephants 

series summary - Will the Halstead brothers be able to reconnect with their sister after 5 years? chapter summary - the Halstead reunion continues Madeline Halstead (oc), Will Halstead, Jay Halstead, Mouse [mentioned]  TW - pregnancy related death 

series masterlist  | main masterlist

Madeline basked in the warmth, feeling her roots revitalising as their chatter enveloped her, a sense of tribe, a much missed shield. Still, It seeped in corroding the cocoon.

It. An unwanted guest - never leaving, always looming. Ready to creep, sprinkling in doubt, threatening to ruin… well, anything. They won’t like them. A decorated hero turned detective and a doctor. They like boxes, they like lines, they like nor-

“Babe, just tell them already!” she could hear Jess’ laughter. Angelic against Its coils.“You’ve got this! They all love them, what’s different this time?”

But what if they don’t Jess? What if they lea-

"-addie, you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry" The brothers watched Madeline flash a smile. They didn't miss her tenseness, the way she clasped her trembling hands onto her teacup. The siblings were glad at the more smoother than expected reunion but they all knew of the certain elephants they couldn’t ignore. They decided to ride out the silence. 

Finally, she broke the quiet. “I uh- I need to tell you guys something. Something important” That phrase paired with her expression would have warranted teasing from the brothers followed by Madeline's bursts of laughter. Something related to getting seconds of ice cream or wanting a second dog perhaps. But this wasn't 5 years ago. 

Madeline bore into them, searching as if their eyes laid a hint of what their reactions would be. Both brothers tried for a reassuring smile, hoping to pass this sudden test she had put them on. Jay hadn't felt this level of nervousness, if ever - which was saying something considering he sat across from _the worst _of what Chicago had to offer everyday - he felt as if she didn't like what she found, there would be another five years lost. 

When she seemed satisfied, Madeline spoke, “Jay- you’ve met but uh I don’t think I introduced him. Not officially anyway. And Will, you haven’t met yet but,” she took a deep breath and beamed, “I have a son. His name is Nathan, Nate … He’s 3 and I love him, more than anything in the world. I know- sounds corny but it’s true” Her expression was undeniable.

Will was elated. He had heard from Jay that night when the detective had stumbled into his apartment - “Will, she was right there. And there’s this kid, the cutest kid man. He called her mama… Fuck - Will, she had a kid and we weren’t there” - still, he could count the times he had been this happy. The brothers knew that after half a decade apart, it would be a gamble if their little sister would want them to be in her life let alone her family’s. Will hoped that her telling them was a good sign - maybe some sort of invitation that would lead to him becoming an uncle… He realised he had just been sitting there - smiling like an idiot - and rushed to congratulate but was stopped by Madeline's shake of her head.

"Please. J-just let me- I need to tell you this" Madeline breathed out, her eyes dripping with something they couldn't quite place. 

Jay recognised the mint green envelope that she pulled out of her purse. She opened it and laid out a photograph on the table, her movements so careful as if the slightest jolt would would make it evaporate. 

They immediately recognised Madeline - younger and thinner - sat on a sofa, mid laughter with a young woman in the middle. The woman reflecting Madeline (who Jay guessed was in her early 20's at most) had blonde hair, glowing skin and a growing bump to match. She was snuggled against a similarly aged man with dark brown skin who lovingly gazed at her as he held her close.

"Danny took this one, it's one of my favourites," her eyes crinkled at the memory. "That's Ty and Jess - they're family y'know. Really helped me out" 

Jay recognised that look even through her misting eyes - it was one he had seen many times before - the look Nadia and Erin had when they had talked about each other. 

Madeline continued, "Jess and I - we were so close, like sisters. And people used to think we were cause of our eyes," she shared a wistful smile, pausing as her baby pink nails traced the edges of the photograph. 

Jay furrowed his eyebrows at the past tense - were they no longer friends? did this 'Ty' have something to do with it? had this ‘Jess’ just upped and left? 

When she looked up, her eyes were filled with pride, "Nate ... he was a preemie, nearly 2 months early. But healthy considering - 4 lbs, 6oz." 

A smile touched the brothers' eyes as they imagined their little sister, a part of that precious moment. But it faded away at her features starting to cloud. 

"But Jess-," Madeline started as if on rote, her agony seeping through her blankness, "-she had complications and they took her for an emergency c section-” 

Jay recognised that look as she trailed off. It was one he was all too familiar with - the one he couldn’t hide. Hoping to be the anchor Will and now Hailey were, Jay shifted closer to her where she was fiddling with her bracelet.  

Madeline jerked, blinking herself back to the banquette. She took a shaky breath and continued, "Before they took her, I was so scared y’know?” Jay couldn’t take his little sister’s gaze as it crushed his spirit.

Her eyes empty, she shared a hollow laugh, “But she was laughing … told me to chill out, that she'd be back with Nate before I knew it-” She braved a tight smile, hoping to smother the pain. Knowing it never did. It didn’t matter that every syllable had been rehearsed, imprinted in her mind - Madeline always wished she could pause at Jess, beaming before they wheeled her away, before they- 

The brothers held a breath as they realised where this was heading. Will had seen one too many of these cases even working in the ED. The ones where what should be a happy occasion would turn into one of much grief - the ones where more often than not, they couldn’t give answers. 

“They said she lost too much blood- t-that there was nothing they could do.”

“Jess- she never got to hold him” 

They saw the blame laced with confusion. The waves of emotions she had fought to surf, the numbers of tears she had shed, the days she had clung onto to arrive at this exact place with her grief. They saw it all. They knew the power of the nightmare those two sentences held. It was too great. 

Will found himself thanking God in that moment. He didn’t know what to feel about that. Or in fact any of it. Guilty for being thankful that it had been the friend that was struck with the ultimate misfortune? Or was it because he let this happen to her, his little sister in the first place? Maybe it was both. Or was it relief? None of that changes anything. He could hear in the back of his mind. None of that changes the fact that you failed her.

Jay didn’t know what to say. Having done one too many notifications and witnessed the tragedy that came with the job, he knew. That no apology would be enough. Probably better than none though he thought. But everything about one just sounded phoney. Because in the end, it wouldn’t change the fact that he hadn’t been there. That he had failed her. All he could bring himself to say was,

“What’s he like?” 

“Nate? He has Ty’s eyes y’know. So Much life in them. And he has this laugh … you have to hear him, it’s just like Jess’ - it lightens everything. Oh and he’s silly and hilarious, just like his Dad … has the biggest heart … he’s just amazing.” 

You have to meet him, I want you to. She wanted to say. Madeline didn’t know why she felt as if she had to make an appeal of Nate. You’ve done this before - why all this now? she thought. But she knew, that this was different. Because this was Jay and Will. 

As he listened to Madeline beam about her son, Jay couldn’t help but replay the all too short meeting he had at her porch that day. And before he could swallow it back, it slipped out, 

“Can we meet him?” Shit. That was way too soon. 

But his growing doubt came to a halt as soon as Madeline’s features lit up. “Y-Yeah? For real? You want to?” 

“Maddie, heck yeah! Of course we do” The brothers’ reply didn’t do justice for how truly, undeniably happy they were. 

See? Told ya Madeline heard Jess’ smile. She breathed again,_ It_ silenced. Madeline couldn’t put a word to it but it felt great, something like relief and ecstasy rolled into one. But she wasn’t done yet. She still had another brother to ask about … 

"And Mousey?” 

Will gave a cautious glance, knowing how much it hurt his little brother to see his best friend go. 

Jay chuckled at that nickname. He hadn’t heard that one in a while, “He went back about 2 years ago, comms specialist”

“Really?" 

“Mmhh. Do you remember the sergeant we used to tell you about? Well, he put a unit together and he reached out to Mouse” Jay smiled, proud. 

With the same admiration as when she was little, Madeline spoke, “Seriously? That’s awesome! That unit’s lucky they have him. And … he’s okay?” Will noticed the look his younger siblings shared - he wondered if it had something to do with that one and only phone call he ever got from Pat while he was in New York. 

“Mads, He’s good, spoke to him about a month ago - I should probably call him again soon though” Tell him you’re finally home, safe. 

“Yeah? That’s great. Maybe I’ll join you, make it a surprise? Oh! And do you know his address? I want to send him something. Samoas and Cinnamon Crunch right? And jerky. Wait… or was that your thing?”

Jay smiled at her chatter, “No, he likes ‘em too Mads. And yeah, I’ll text you everything - Man, he is gonna freak out when he hears you.” He was surprised that Madeline had remembered those little details because even though the nightmares chased him, being overseas felt like another life ago. He guessed in a way it was. Will couldn’t help but feel a pang as he was reminded yet again of how his sister who was barely in school at the time knew more about Jay’s time with the Rangers than him. 

“Good. I missed him” she shared a sweet smile before it turned into a mischievous grin. “So?”

“Yes Madeline?” Will amused, raising his eyebrows. 

She huffed in return, “C’mon! All I know so far is that Jay’s a detective in a district with a nice sergeant and that you work in the Emergency Room in the same hospital as Connor which who kne-”

“Hang on ‘nice’? Which district did you go to?” Jay joked. There was one thing everyone agreed on at the 21st district - Trudy Platt although one of the best cops in the city, nice was not the first word that came to mind. 

“Yeah, Sergeant Platt” she stated as if it was the most obvious. 

“Pretty sure this is the first and last time I’ll ever hear Platt and nice in the same sentence - the less I have to interact with her the better.” Will dramatically shuddered before laughing with the others. 

“But seriously, stop avoiding my question.” Madeline mocked annoyance. 

Will jokingly put his hands up. “Alright, alright,” He straightened up and announced “Well Maddie, I have a girlfriend. Her name’s Natalie-”

“About damn time too. He’s been pining after her for how long? since you started there?" Jay smirked. 

“Ooooh. So she’s at Gaffney’s too? Is she a doctor? Or a nurse? What’s she like?” 

Will’s eyes crinkled at her curiosity. “Yeah, we work in the ED together - she’s a doctor too. Natalie’s great, I think you’ll like her. Hang on -” he paused, fumbling with his phone. “She can’t wait to meet you by the way.” He added before giving her his screen. 

It was a selfie taken in a park or maybe a garden. Will’s girlfriend ‘Natalie’ was white and had shoulder length brunette hair - there was something kind in her eyes as she laughed. Probably to one of Will’s Really Bad jokes… Madeline amused. She’s pretty … I’m loving that top, maybe I’ll ask her where it’s from. Madeline chuckled at her eldest brother’s grin as he held her close. There was only one word to describe his expression - Smitten. 

When she swiped to the next picture, she was pretty sure her heart stopped. It was probably taken a few seconds after the first one and everything else was the same except from one unmissable detail. Madeline zeroed in on the toddler now in Natalie’s arms. Crap, I waited too late. Did I miss becoming an aunt?! How old is he? Maybe like two? 

Will laughed at her shocked beyond belief expression. “You’re not an aunt just yet Tiny. He’s Natalie’s son but hoping that down the road y’know …” He trailed off, giving a lopsided smile. 

“You are SO in love with her” she teased before turning her attention to … “Jay?”

“Good luck” Will laughed. “Even if there is someone, he’s not sharing - Believe me Maddie, I’ve tried.” 

“Uh-huh. Like I believe that. C'mon there's no one?” She tried again, now putting the puppy eyes on max. 

“Nope.” Jay smiled and she couldn’t tell if he was lying - she never could to be honest. Damn his Ranger training. She was about to let it go but she saw Will raise his eyebrows and take a sip of his mug.

So there is someone she smirked. 

As he looked at the row of townhouses standing impressive against the dusking sky, Jay wondered what this place was to his little sister. He had barely resisted the urge to ask the whole less than 5 minute drive to this street. The not knowing was honestly killing him but he heard his partners voice, “She’ll come home Jay.” He smiled, hugging Madeline. Guess I’ll have to follow Hails on this one too.

Watching his younger siblings hugging, Will smiled. Our family’s back. Maybe he hadn’t let himself get there but it was clear to him now how much he had craved it. He squeezed her tight, feeling that missing part of his soul starting to be found. And as he watched her walk through the gate, he made a promise right there and then - He wasn’t going to let go. Not this time.

Walking up the stone steps, Madeline couldn’t hide her grin at her body full with that warm cozy feeling. That’s got to be one of the best days ever. Replaying bits of the long awaited catch up, she chuckled at Will calling her Tiny - a nickname she almost forgot about and hated when she had turned a teen - she now realised how much she missed it. 

The brothers drove back in silence for a while and when Jay heard Will say,

“She didn’t ask about Dad.”

He nodded and stared ahead. That was an elephant he was unwilling to touch. Not yet anyway. 

                                            💙✨🦋✨💙

A/N - The characters belong to Dick Wolf and are from the One Chicago universe he created. Thank you so much for reading! This chapter was really difficult for me to write and at one point I considered deleting the whole series but I kept at it and about 4 months later here we are ;) This one touched on a really heavy topic but I hope I was able to do it justice and that you enjoyed it. I’m still not sure how I feel about it but I think this is the best I can hope for in this chapter - let me know what you think 💗

[sarcasticsir]

No Need To Be Afraid When I'm Here With You

Okay so this fic was entirely self-indulgent. It's also my first fanfiction so that's something. This has been in my notes for a while now so fuck it, I'm posting it.

In which Garmadon and Lloyd traverse the serpentine tombs. The only problem? Lloyd's afraid of the dark.

**********************************************

As the serpentine and humans had only just recently become allies, someone had to go check on them to make sure they were doing okay in their new home. Lloyd had volunteered, needing something to keep his mind off of Zane, and his dad had decided to accompany him since the ninja had left the week before.

Lloyd had actually been looking forward to this trip. He was curious about the serpentines culture, and what their new home was like. Of course, he had overlooked one small (huge) detail. They're serpentine, so they live underground. Where it's cold and wet. And, more importantly, dark. Very dark. As in pitch black, can't see two metres in front of you kind of dark. The kind of dark where something could be following you, and you would never even know until it's too late.

So Lloyd may have a slight fear of the dark. Slight. He figured it probably first came from that one time the other boys locked him outside during the night in the middle of a violent storm. As a 5 year old, it was terrifying. But for a 5 year old who had already been a little afraid of the dark, it was pure torture. But that's in the past, the past is past and all that. It was fine really. He was fine. That was what he kept telling himself as they entered the new serpentine tomb.

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It wasn't even that bad. It was well lit by glowing torches that lined the walls. The heat they produced chasing away some of the cold. Still, Lloyd didn't like the way the shadows lining the walls would move hauntingly as the torches flickered in a faraway breeze. He inched closer to his dad, telling himself that it was just because of the cold, not because he was scared or anything. He's the green ninja, he's fought darkness before. Ah. There was the other reason he was (not) afraid of the dark. The Overlord.

Lloyd's train of thought was thankfully cut off as they arrived at the serpentines chambers. After the usual greeting and some talking, Lloyd found himself wandering off a bit. His father seemed to have it covered anyway.

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Garmadon and Scales were having the usual dad conversation, as Lloyd had decided to call it. Wait, Scales was a dad now. That was weird to think about. But Scales Jr. seemed nice enough where they played (um, did he say played? No, no, he meant- wait-) on the floor, just within Lloyd's earshot of the pair. Lloyd realised from what the two adults were saying, that their conversation seemed to be coming to a close. He considered getting up and joining them, but decided against it, choosing to continue chatting happily with Scales Jr. about the Starfarer comics he so cherished.

That was until Scales asked about where Garmadon and Lloyd were going. Lloyd noticed his dad hesitate for only a second, before answering truthfully. It was okay. They were allies now. They could be trusted. Scales was now telling Garmadon about a new tunnel that had just recently been drilled that would take them closer to where they needed to go. Oh, cool. That was nice of him. The path they had taken had been pretty far away from his dads monastery. He might even get some training in before it got too late. Lloyd came back from his thoughts to see his father waving him over. He quickly said goodbye to Scales Jr. and promised that the next time they visited, he'd bring some of his comics with him. He then turned and happily bounded (walked) his way over to his dads side. Lloyd pouted as his dad swept a hand through his hair affectionately with a bright grin on his face. Lloyd returned the grin with a small smile of his own. Maybe today was gonna be a good day.

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His bubbly mood was immediately smashed into a billion tiny pieces as soon as he saw the tunnel they were taking home. Lloyd could see what Scales meant now when he said that it was recently made. The hard ground was uneven and rough, making Lloyd trip every few steps. But that wasn't even the worst part. No, the worst part was the lack of light sources. It was the unnerving darkness creeping all around him.

As Lloyd already said. He doesn't like the dark. He wasn't about to show any signs that he was scared though, of course not. He couldn't let his dad, his sensei, know. He's supposed to be the green ninja, the most powerful ninja in all of Ninjago. He shouldn't be afraid of anything. But he is. And he hates that. His dad doesn't need to know that though.

"Watch your step here son, the ground's pretty uneven up here," Garmadon says suddenly, breaking the silence, and Lloyd notices that the floor seemed to be sloping up a bit. Maybe they were almost out? He hoped so. Lloyd stumbles for what must be the 50th time since they started this treck. He barely catches himself before he falls flat on his face, silently thanking Wu for the balance exercises. Lloyd can't see his fathers face, but he can feel his gaze on him and can only imagine the look of concern he's being given.

"I know you're a rebellious teenager, but maybe listening to me now and then wouldn't hurt." Nevermind, Lloyd was wrong about his dads concern.

"Well I can't exactly listen out for all the rocks in my way, now can I?" Lloyd had always been pretty sarcastic, but it only seemed to occur more often when he aged up, much to the dismay of his family.

"That was quick" Garmadon replies, a smirk audible in his words. Lloyd doesn't answer, too preoccupied with the ever increasing pit of anxiety growing in his chest. He really didn't like the dark.

Garmadon must have sensed his son's anxiety, because he slowed down his pace to walk beside Lloyd. "What's wrong?" Lloyd could just about see Garmadons face now, his features painted with worry as he squinted down at Lloyd.

"Nothing." A lie. Great. Lloyd really doesn't want Garmadon to find out about his fear. Yes, he's admitting it, he's afraid of the dark. He just wants to get out of there and into the light, away from the shadows (and whatever could be hiding in the pitch black of the tunnel).

"Lloyd, I know you. I know something's wrong. You can tell me, it's okay," Garmadon says, tone soft and caring. Fuck. Lloyd can't tell him. What would Garmadon think of him if he found out his son, his son who he is actually proud of, is afraid of something so silly as the dark. Lloyd averts his gaze, immediately regretting that decision as all he can see is black. The pressure in his chest becomes stronger, making it hard to breathe, and Lloyd worries that he's going to start hyperventilating. He wants to cry.

"Son, please," his dad presses, and Lloyd hears his footsteps cease at the same time as a weight grips Lloyd's shoulder. In hindsight, he really should have known that it was his father's reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Lloyd was scared and it was dark and he couldn't see. He flinched rather violently backwards, losing his footing and falling on his butt on the cold, hard ground.

"Lloyd, are you okay?" Garmadon is crouching in front of Lloyd now, and Lloyd suddenly feels awful, seeing the look of concern and the warmth that he's still getting used to seeing in his fathers crimson eyes. "Please tell me what's going on, son." Lloyd takes a breath, feeling the jagged floor beneath his hands, attempting to ground himself. He lowers his head and squeezes his eyes shut tight. His dad may be disappointed in him after this, but he can't bear to lie to him when his dad's so worried about him. Well, here goes nothing. "I'm afraid of the dark," he whispers out in one breath, keeping his eyes closed, not wanting to see his fathers reaction. "Oh," his dad is just barely audible, and Lloyd can't really make out how his dad is feeling. He prepares himself for whatever is coming next.

And then the one thing Lloyd didn't prepare himself for happens. A familiar, gentle pressure cups his face. Lloyd slowly opens his eyes, meeting his dads loving gaze. His father strokes his thumb across his cheek, wiping away a tear that Lloyd hadn't even realised was there. That weight in his chest makes itself known again by rising to his throat and Lloyd finds more tears spilling onto his flushed cheeks. His father pulls him to his chest, holding him close. Lloyd burrows his face into the crook of his dads neck as his father strokes his hair comfortingly.

They stayed like that for a while, and Lloyd's sobs quieten to slight hiccups and sniffles. "Please don't leave me," Lloyd's voice is muffled where his face is still resting against the silky, lavender scented fabric on Garmadons shoulder, but judging from what Garmadon says next, Lloyd figures he heard him. "What?!" Garmadon pulls away from their hug to place both his hands on Lloyd's shoulders with a firm but comforting grip. "Why would I leave you?" Garmadon asks, bewildered. Lloyd swipes at his eyes with his sleeve, "because."

"Because why?" Garmadon pins him with a penetrating stare and Lloyd squirms under his gaze.

"Because I'm a disappointment." Lloyd feels the sting of tears again but stubbornly ignores it.

Garmadon makes some noises that Lloyd can't quite understand before taking a breath and asking with a forced calmness, "why- why are you a disappointment?"

"Because, I'm supposed to be the saviour of Ninjago, the green ninja, and I'm afraid of the dark," Lloyd mutters, picking at a hole in his sleeve and avoiding his dads eyes. Garmadon hesitates, choosing his next words wisely. He had forgotten how bad Lloyd's 'I have to constantly prove myself, even at my own peril or else everyone I love will hate me and abandon me' fears were.

"Just because you're afraid of something, does not make you weak, and it certainly does not make you a disappointment, in fact, if you weren't afraid of anything, you'd be a fool," Garmadon answers, giving Lloyd a reassuring smile when he looked up, "I love you, sweetheart, and I am very proud of you, I always will be, no matter what. It's okay to admit that you're scared, that's a very brave thing to do." Garmadon seemed to think about something for a second before saying "How about I let you in on a little secret?"

That got his sons attention. Garmadon chuckled, "you have to promise that you won't tell anyone though, okay?"

"Okay I promise," Lloyd answered, curiosity temporarily taking over what was left of his fear.

"Not even Wu."

"Okay dad, I promise I wont tell anyone."

"Or Misako."

"DAD!" The mischievous grin on Garmadons face melted into a fit of laughter.

"Okay, I'll tell you," Garmadon could see that the suspense was killing Lloyd, he was thoroughly enjoying this, but there was also a point to what he was about to tell his son, "I'm actually afraid of snakes."

"Wha- really?" asked Lloyd, wide eyed.

"Yes, really."

"But what about the serpentine?" something seemed to click in Lloyd's mind.

"I didn't want you coming alone."

"O-oh" Lloyd gazed up at his dad, a small smile forming on his lips after a few seconds, "thank you." Garmadon returned the smile, and quickly moved to ruffle Lloyd's hair, eliciting a groan from the teen and a bat at his hand.

Garmadon stood up, offering a hand and helping Lloyd to his feet. He figured they must be near the surface now, but judging from the slight shake in Lloyd's hand, his son was still scared. "Would you feel better if I held your hand the rest of the way?" offered Garmadon, hoping to somehow make his son feel safer.

Lloyd considered his father's words carefully. A part of Lloyd told him no, that that was childish, but then again, he hadn't held his dads hand since he was a child (which, in his defense, really wasn't that long ago), and he figured he was probably a little (a lot) touchstarved. So it only took him a few moments before shyly responding "yeah." Garmadon took Lloyd's smaller hand into his warm, calloused hand, briefly squeezing it before the two walked side by side through the darkness.

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

It didn't take them too much longer to find the exit. Lloyd felt relieved seeing the bright rays of sunlight scattered across the rocky floor. He didn't run ahead, surprisingly, instead choosing to stay by his fathers side. Garmadon still held Lloyd's hand as they walked home, and Lloyd was glad for it. The more time he spent with his dad, the more he realised that it didn't matter what he did or felt or that he was the green ninja. His dad's love was unconditional. And he showed that love through small gestures, like hair ruffles or hugs, and Lloyd was all too happy to return the gesture.

[alagalaska]

‘It’s On!’ Chapter Three

Summary: Mini-series. Y/N is the captain of the female basketball team at Hawkins High. She clashes with the new captain of the male team when he keeps booking out the gym, leaving the girls with nowhere to practice

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem! Reader

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Chapter Two

A/N: This was submitted as part of the wonderful @lets-hargroove’s Valentine’s Writing Challenge. It’s here, finally! Chapter 3! Sorry it’s taken so long. It was my husband’s birthday yesterday, which I have been preparing for for weeks (if you wanna see what I made him just head on over to my other blog @alagalaska-makes, especially if you’re a Harry Potter fan). I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please like, comment or reblog to let me know what you think. If anyone would like to discuss this story with me or has any questions about the plot or the characters, please feel free to send me an ask or a message, I love hearing from you guys!

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers trope

Please do not steal/ copy my work, in part or in whole. Plagiarism is a crime!

Chapter warnings:  swearing, talk of underage drinking, slut shaming, sexist comments, Billy being an ass.

Word count: 6,900

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

The next morning, you wake up feeling horrible, in more ways than one. 

You open your eyes and promptly squeeze them shut again. 

“Ugh,” you groan. Why is it so bright in here? 

There’s a dull throbbing inside your skull and your entire body aches. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess you were coming down with an illness. However, you know this is purely self-inflicted; which means you don’t deserve to feel as sorry for yourself as you do, or at all in fact.

You peel your eyes open again, squinting against the light, and make a clumsy attempt at sitting up in the bed. 

“Mornin’ Sleeping Beauty,” Heather says cheerily from beside you. You flinch at the sound, too loud for you having only just woken up. “How you feeling?”

You bring a hand up to massage your temple.

“Like death.” The words scratch against the inside of your throat. 

Heather chuckles from beside you on the bed. The mattress trembles slightly beneath her. 

“Look like it too,” She says jokingly. She’s lying on her stomach on top of the covers, flipping through a magazine, still wearing her pyjamas. 

You see that someone, probably Heather, has placed a glass of water on the bedside table next to you and you reach for it, suddenly aware of how dry the inside of your mouth is. You take a few grateful gulps then place it back down, feeling slightly nauseous.

You move the covers off you and notice that you’re wearing your pyjamas. You don’t remember putting them on last night; in fact, everything after the party is a bit of a blur. 

“How did we get home?” you ask Heather, unsettled by the blank space in your memory.

“Steve drove us. When he came to find me, you passed out on a bench; that’s probably why you don’t remember. He carried you in too.” She laughs at the memory of it, but you feel the shame starting to creep in.

“I’m so sorry I pulled you away from the party early,” you say. “And I’m sorry I got so drunk.”

“Don’t be,” she smiles and shrugs, “It’s fine, we’ve all done it before.” 

You’re happy Heather’s not mad at you, but you still feel bad. And it wasn’t just her night you cut short either; you should thank Steve at school on Monday for helping you.

Heather scoots slightly closer to you on the bed.

“And I’m sorry that I left you,” she says.

“Heather, don’t be silly. Even if you had been with me, it probably would have still ended the same way.”

She gives you another small smile then looks down at the magazine. She closes it, smoothing the cover of it out with her hand. You can tell she’s thinking about something. 

“Steve said you were upset about Billy?” she asks, glancing up at you.

Ah yes, now that part you do remember. 

You sigh. 

“Yeah, I think I fucked up,” you say, scrubbing your hand down your face.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really,” you say, but you continue anyway. “Turns out Billy is the new captain of the boys’ basketball team.”

“Oh,” she breathes.

“Yeah, exactly. I found out and sorta flipped out about it. It was baaad.” You want to bury yourself back under the covers at the memory of it, but you just about manage to refrain. 

“What did you say to him?” 

“I can’t remember exactly,” you say, rubbing at your temples again to try and ease the throbbing. “I just remember shouting at him and then storming off.” You groan, recalling his face as he’d asked you where you were going. “I mean, sure, I’m still annoyed about him stealing my gym time, but if I’d just taken a second to think about it, instead of biting his head off…” you sigh in frustration at yourself. “There’s no way he’s ever gonna agree to let me have my days back now.”

She considers your words silently for a moment. 

“Well, maybe it wasn’t that bad. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

You look at her skeptically. 

“He clearly likes you,” she continues. “Enough to kiss you, anyway.”

I suppose she has a point. But wait-

“How do you know about that?” you ask, eyeing her suspiciously. 

“I just assumed,” she says, smirking.  “And also, you have a hickey on your neck.” She points to it. 

“What?!”

You leap off the bed and check yourself in her mirror, moving the collar of your pyjama top out of the way to better see the red mark on your neck, not yet a bruise, from where Billy had been kissing you last night. 

Oh fuck. I can’t let my mum see this!! 

You turn to look at her in distress. 

“Heather!” you scold as she laughs at you from the bed. 

“Oh calm down, it’ll cover up easy enough,” she says, shuffling to the end of the mattress and sitting cross-legged. “So, was it good?” She asks you eagerly.

“Was what good?” 

“The kiss, stupid.”

You stare at her in disbelief for a moment. That’s what she’s choosing to focus on?

“Yeah, it was great,” you say dismissively, sitting down on the end of the bed next to her, “but that doesn’t really matter, does it, because he probably thinks I’m a psycho after the way I acted.” You groan and flump down onto the mattress so that you’re lying on your back. 

Heather gives an exasperated sigh from beside your legs and you sit up halfway to look at her, propped up on your elbows.

“So then apologise,” she says, as if it’s the obvious solution. Like it’s that easy.

You scoff a laugh. 

“Oh yeah,” you say skeptically. 

“Look, just say you were really drunk. That’s the great thing about parties; if you do something stupid, you can just blame it on the alcohol.” 

You frown at her words. Your head hurts and all you want to do is lay here for the rest of your life, hiding from the world.

“Can’t I just avoid him forever?” you say pathetically. You flop down onto your back again and groan, turning your face into the covers.

She laughs at you. 

“Not if you want this whole thing with basketball practice sorted you can’t.” Ugh. Why does she always have to be right?!

“Trust me, I really don’t think this is as big a deal as you’re making it out to be,” she says, amusement in her voice. “It’s like I said, he obviously likes you; you can totally use that to your advantage.”

You uncover your face and peek at her.

“And you never know, if it goes well, you might even get another kiss!” she says excitedly, jostling you on the mattress. You smile into the covers, trying to hide your face from her.

You’re not so sure about that; but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of kissing Billy again. You bite your lip, thinking about the kiss you had shared last night. 

“Ok, fine!” you say finally, glaring at her playfully as you sit up. “I’ll go talk to him tomorrow. Now fix my neck!” you gesture at Billy’s mark on your skin and Heather grabs her makeup bag off the dresser, still laughing at you. At least one of us is enjoying this situation!

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

Realising that there’s still a good chance that Billy will try to book out the gym for your slot on Tuesday, you make the effort to arrive at school slightly earlier than usual on Monday morning. 

You do still plan to find him and apologise for your behaviour on Saturday, but you also want to try and avoid any more tension with your own team, and beating him to the booking schedule would definitely help with that. 

Your chances are looking pretty good too; as you pull into the parking lot there’s a good selection of available parking spaces and, much to your delight, the car that had taken to blocking your spot last week, is nowhere to be seen. 

It even feels like it might be warmer today; the sun shining down on you as you back into your space. And (dare you say it?) it feels like this might be a sign from the Universe that things could be looking up this week. 

When you enter the office you find Amber sitting at her desk as per usual, filing her pristine nails and chanking on gum. Her eyeshadow is bright pink today.

She glances up at you as you enter. 

“Hi Amber,” you begin.

She sighs heavily. 

“I’ll spare you the breath,” she says, in her familiar nasally voice. “You’re already too late.”

You freeze, mid-step, in the doorway. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, really?” you say in disbelief.

“Will you keep your voice down?” she hisses at you. “The Principal is in a meeting.” She points with her nail file at the dark brown door that leads off from the main office area, with a small golden plaque that reads ‘Principal Davies.’

She sighs again. Puts her nail file down on the desk. She’s reaching for the booking schedule, but you don’t need to look at it to know whose initials will be on it. 

You walk forward and take it from her anyway. 

B.H glares up at you from the paper in neat cursive and your stomach sinks. 

How is it that someone who barely even shows up to lessons has managed to beat you to booking out the gym three times in a row?!

You consider arguing your case, but you know it’ll do no good. Amber may be bad at her job, but she’s a stickler for the rules. Or maybe it’s just that she likes telling people ‘no.’ Yeah, that sounds more likely. Either way, it’s a fight you know you won’t win.

You hand the clipboard back to Amber and leave the office, defeated; all hopes of this day being a good one, well and truly dashed. 

What am I gonna do now?

You already know the answer. You need Billy to switch days with you, or at the very least agree to stop stealing your days. Which means you need to find him and apologise before lunch break; there’s no way you can face your team in the cafeteria without this being sorted. Your stomach knots up at the very thought. 

You head for your locker like always but as you’re early, Nancy won’t be there yet. You could really use her advice right now about how to approach things with the team. She has always been much better at the politics of it all than you.

You hear quiet muttering and look up to see a guy and a girl standing at the left hand side of the corridor, talking amongst themselves as they get their books from their lockers. You notice that they keep glancing at you as you pass. You continue on your way, but as you turn the corner you peer over your shoulder and see that they’re still looking at you. The boy says something and the girl nods and laughs. Don’t be paranoid, you tell yourself. They could be talking about anything.

When you get to your locker however, a girl who’s in the same Math class as you and Heather watches you from the end of the hall. You shoot her a friendly smile as you open up your locker but she just frowns at you and looks away. That’s strange. 

Maybe you have something on your face? Or maybe people are just shocked to see you at school early for once. Or maybe news of your drunken antics on Saturday has already spread throughout the school. Knowing your luck at the moment, it’s probably the latter.

You adjust the neck of your jumper, pulling it higher just in case, making sure the mark on your neck is covered. 

As you turn back to grab your books from your locker, you spot Nancy and Steve heading up the corridor towards you. 

Nancy is slightly ahead, walking quickly, with her head down and Steve is hurrying along behind her, trying to keep pace. He says something to her but she doesn’t acknowledge him. You guess they might be having an argument. 

When they reach you, you say hi but neither of them returns it. Nancy goes straight to her locker, with only a brief glance to you. Wow, he must have really pissed her off. 

Steve leans against the front of the locker on the other side of Nancy’s and briefly meets your eyes, giving you a very quick, very strained smile. He runs his hand through the front of his hair, and from the way it doesn’t flop back into its regular shape like it usually would, you guess that he’s been running his hand through it a lot this morning. 

You really want to get straight into telling Nancy all about Billy being the new captain and how he’s booked out the gym again, but something’s telling you this might not be the best time. If they have indeed just had an argument it isn’t really fair of you to lay this on her as well. You should wait until later.

You clear your throat a little awkwardly.

“I owe you a ‘thank you’ for Saturday,” you say to Steve over Nancy’s head. He glances at you with slightly startled, hazel eyes.

You feel Nancy watching the pair of you, unsmiling. 

“He was great, Nance,” you tell her, trying to make Steve look good so that maybe she will be slightly less mad with him. “Made sure I got home safe.”

Nancy continues to look unimpressed. 

“That’s ok, Y/N, you don’t need to thank me,” Steve says quickly, then glances nervously at Nancy.

“Well, I at least owe you an apology then,” you huff a laugh and then add, to Nancy, who’s staring at you with one eyebrow partially raised, “I was wasted.” You give a nervous bubble of laughter. 

“Yeah, Steve already told me all about it.” There’s an edge of resentment to her tone. 

You feel like you should probably leave and let them continue their argument in peace. You’re about to make your excuses when you think of something. 

“Hey, did either of you guys happen to see Billy when you were outside?” 

You’re expecting some sort of cutting comment from at least one of them about Billy but, surprisingly, it doesn’t come. Nancy goes back to grabbing her books out of her locker.

“I don’t think so,” Steve shrugs, “I doubt he’s even here yet.”

“Oh,” is all you say, although you know he is here already, because he booked out the gym before you.

Nancy shuts her locker forcefully and with a certain finality. 

“Right, well. I’ll, uh, see you at lunch Nance,” you say to her. 

“Yeah.” She gathers her belongings and starts heading off towards her first lesson.

“Bye,” Steve says to you, looking slightly harassed, then rushes to catch up with Nancy again. 

You watch them go, hoping whatever they were arguing about wasn’t anything too serious. They’ll probably be all loved up again by lunch time. 

You stand next to your locker for a little while longer, trying to think of where the best place to start looking for Billy is. There’s not long left until first period is due to start. You figure he’s probably smoking.

You go outside, despite Steve saying he hadn’t seen him out there, and head over to the bike shed. You check the space behind it, where you met him last week. 

No luck; it’s empty. 

You head back up to the school just as the bell sounds and you hurry to your lesson. 

------

In between each period, you go back outside and check behind the bike shed. Apart from just aimlessly walking around the corridors hoping to bump into him, it’s the only place you can think to look. After your third time of checking the little alleyway, it’s looking less and less likely that you’ll find him before you have to face your team. It’s time for a contingency plan, you think. You can’t turn up unprepared, or Ashley will chew you up and spit you out. 

So during fourth period, you find yourself barely paying any attention to what’s going on, choosing to spend your time jotting down the points that you want to make to your team and a rough plan of action. 

When lunch time rolls around, you still haven’t found Billy and you’re officially out of time. 

You visit the bathroom on your way to the cafeteria and take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror above the sinks, giving yourself a pep-talk.

“Come on, Y/N, you got this,” you tell yourself. Just hold it together, your team needs you. 

You sigh. You remember a time when being captain was straight forward. 

You bet your sister never had to deal with any of this shit when she was captain. But even if she did, she’d know exactly how to handle it. You meet your eyes in the mirror. Push the thought down.

You huff a breath, deciding to stop procrastinating and just get this over with. 

When you enter the cafeteria, you do a quick sweep of the room with your eyes, hoping Billy will be here. Unfortunately, there’s no sign of him, but you spot Carol sitting at a table near the door, talking with a small group of her friends. Maybe she’ll know where Billy is? It may be too late to fix things before you have to face your team, but if you knew where he was going to be later, you could still get this sorted today at least.

You go over to her.

“What, do I look like his keeper to you?” She sneers unpleasantly at you when you ask her. Takes a long slurp through her straw. 

“Carol, look, I really need to talk to him,” you try to reason with her. 

She scoffs.

“Oh yeah, I bet you do.” Her tone is mean, judging. A couple of her friends laugh. You assume that’s a dig at you for kissing Billy at the party on Saturday.

She’s probably just jealous because she’s stuck with Tommy, you tell yourself. 

Before you can press her any further, she’s standing up and walking away from you, with a roll of her eyes. Her cronies follow her. One of them, a girl with ginger hair and a turned up nose, coughs exaggeratedly as she walks past you. You’re pretty sure you hear her utter the word ‘slut’ in between coughs and the others dissolve into laughter as they leave the cafeteria. 

You scoff disbelievingly at their behaviour, but you refuse to let it bother you. You only kissed him. If they think that makes you a slut then they’re just prudes. Pretty sure most of them have done a whole lot worse anyway.

You’re distracted by Ashley, who’s standing up at your team’s table. Here we go. 

As you head over to them, she stops talking and sits down.

You take a seat opposite Nancy. She looks up at you but doesn’t smile, just casts her eyes back down at her lunch, on the table in front of her. She must still be upset. You make a mental note to check if she’s ok when you’re alone. 

You take out the notepad you’d written in earlier, turning to the page with your scribbled notes on. You don’t even bother taking out your lunch; you don’t think you can stomach eating anything until this is over with. 

You glance up the table to check everyone’s here, to see Ashley eyeing you expectantly. 

You take a preparatory breath. 

“Ok, so guys, I’m just gonna get straight to it,” they all turn their attention to you. “We lost our gym slot for tomorrow to the boys again.” 

Ashley barely reacts. If anything, her face grows slightly smugger, almost as if she had predicted this. Everyone else, on the other hand, had obviously thought this whole fiasco had already been dealt with. Or, that’s what you assume from their various reactions. 

Molly pauses, her sandwich still held halfway to her mouth, and gapes at you. 

“What?” She lowers her food. “Are you serious?”

Nancy is peering at you, a deep furrow in her brow. Her expression is hard to read. You’re not sure if she’s annoyed at you, like everyone else, or worried for you. 

Rebecca and Jenny, your substitutes, are having a full blown rant at the other end of the table. 

You can do this. Just follow your notes. 

You glance down at your notebook and remind yourself of your plan of action.

“I know. I’m sorry, but as it’s first come, first serve, there isn’t much I can do about it. So, if we look at our op-”

“Wait, so you’re telling us that, after this happened last week, you didn’t think it was a good idea to get here earlier to try and beat him?” It’s Ashley who’s interrupted you. 

Of course she can’t just make this easy for you.

You don’t even want to justify her comment with a response, but everyone at the table is looking to you for some sort of explanation.

“I tried,” you begin, “but he got here-” This time it’s Margo who cuts in. 

“Wait a minute, I thought you said you were going to speak to their captain last week?” 

“I did, or at least I attempted to, but I couldn’t find him,” you say. 

“But weren’t you with him on Saturday?” Rebecca asks. She and Jenny share a look and the latter suppresses a laugh by turning her face into her shoulder, hiding behind a curtain of curly hair. Great, looks like the whole school knows… 

You don’t even try to mask your frustrated sigh. 

“Yes, but I didn’t know Billy was their captain at that point,” you say tersely, subconsciously adjusting the neck of your jumper. 

You don’t even have to ask to guess how they knew that you were with Billy at the party on Saturday. Carol. She’s such a little…

Ashley scoffs a laugh.

“How did you not know?” she asks, sounding more than a little amused. Oh, I bet she’s just loving this. 

“Can we please just get back on topic?” Nancy snaps, speaking for the first time since you’d sat down at the table. 

Everyone looks at her in surprise; Margo even leans slightly away from her, as if she’s worried she’ll bite. 

You could kiss Nancy right now. Thank you, you tell her with your eyes. She looks back down at her lunch again.

You clear your throat. 

“Yes, as I was saying, our options are this: I can keep trying to book out the gym for our regular days, however as that is proving difficult, I suggest we try for another day as well. And as the boys are practicing on our days at the moment, we can assume that Wednesdays and Fridays will now be free.” You pause, giving everyone a chance to soak up the information. 

“Well, Friday is when I look after my sister,” Margo says, popping a carrot stick into her mouth with a loud crunch. 

That sparks a barrage of reasons why people ‘can’t do Fridays.’ You had expected that though.

“Then that leaves us with Wednesdays,” you say. “I appreciate it may be too short notice for some, but I think if most of us can make it, we should aim for Wednesday this week, plus one of our regular days; let’s say tomorrow. That way I can talk to Billy before practice to try and get this sorted sooner.” You look around the table and don’t see anyone objecting. Finally, now we’re getting somewhere.

“Right, so raise your hand if you can make Wednesday this week,” you say, raising your own. Most people do, with the exception of Jenny, but you’re not too fussed about missing one person; plus she’s a substitute so it should be fine. Ashley hesitates, glancing around at the rest of her teammates before reluctantly raising her own arm. She rolls her eyes for good measure as she does it, just to show you she isn’t happy. 

“Ok, great,” you say. Everyone puts their hands down. You glance at your notes again, “I’ll try for Wednesday then; but, to be clear,” you look back up at your team, “we will just have to resign ourselves to training outside tomorrow. And possibly for the foreseeable future if Billy decides to make things difficult for us.” 

Molly groans loudly in response.

“I know,” you say to her. “That is the worst case scenario; but at least the weather is starting to get warmer. Soon, it won’t be as unbearable anymore.” 

“Yeah, but that’s just part of the problem,” Ashley pipes up. “How are we supposed to practice effectively, long term, without any basketball hoops?” she folds her arms over her chest, waiting for your answer. Jessica copies her, nodding. The whole team seems to be watching for your rebuttal. 

“That’s a very good point, Ashley,” you say, begrudgingly. “I would suggest that as a team, we all try to come up with some solutions, just in case we do find ourselves having to train outside again in the future. But let’s just see how things go with Billy tomorrow; I’ll talk to him before practice, then we’ll take it from there. It might be that he just lets us have Tuesdays and Thursdays, you never know,” you say, shrugging. I really hope it’s that easy, you add to yourself. 

Everyone, with the exception of Ashley, seems to be appeased by this solution and conversation eventually turns away from basketball, much to your relief.

Nancy stands, having finished her lunch, and gathers up her rubbish. You also stand, grabbing your notebook and say a hasty goodbye to your team; taking this as your chance to check if she’s ok. 

She doesn’t wait for you, heading straight for the doors of the cafeteria. You hurry after her.

“Nance!” you shout when you make it into the corridor.

She slows her pace so you can catch up. She spares you a small glance as you reach her but doesn’t say anything. 

“Thanks for helping me out back there,” you say, walking beside her now. You offer her a smile but she’s looking straight ahead of her, so she doesn’t see it.

“I know it’s not an ideal situation for us all to be in, but I appreciate the support,” you add. 

She still doesn’t look at you.

You’re trying not to take her frosty demeanor towards you personally, because you figure it’s still to do with her argument with Steve from this morning. 

“Hey, are you ok?” you ask her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, curtly. Then she gives her head a small shake, as if she realises she’s being short with you and finally glances at you, her expression softening slightly. “Sorry, I’m ok. Thanks for asking.” She offers you a small smile then drops it quickly, looking ahead again. 

You’re not sure whether to ask her about her argument with Steve or not. You figure if she wants you to know about it, she’ll tell you herself; so you decide against bringing it up. 

You change the subject.

“Did you know Billy was the captain of the boys’ team?” 

“No,” she says, then pauses for a second, “Actually, I think Steve did mention something about it, yeah.” She glances at you, an apology in her eyes.

How is it that everyone knew but no one thought to tell me?!

The bell rings to signal the end of lunch. 

As students start filling the hall, Nancy turns to you.

“I better get to Biology. See you later,” she says, before heading in the direction of her classroom. You watch her go then make your way to your own lesson. 

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

The next morning, you find yourself standing in the office, staring down at the booking sheet again, not quite believing your luck. So he’s taking all the days now?!

“He came in this morning and booked this?” you ask Amber. 

She looks up from her magazine.

“Well, duh,” she says, looking at you like you’re stupid. “How else would his name be on there?”

You look down at the neat, curly letters in front of you, a deep crease in your brow. 

“But I’m even earlier than yesterday,” you say. It’s not necessarily aimed at Amber. “I don’t get it.” You look up at her, putting the booking schedule back down on the desk. 

“How long ago was he in here?” you ask her. 

She pauses her reading again with a sigh. Looks at you over the top of her glasses in exasperation. 

“What?”

“Billy. Did I literally just miss him? What time was it when he came in?” 

She blinks at you.

“I don’t know,” she says, huffs like you’re asking too much of her. “Not long ago,” she shrugs.

“And you’re sure it’s definitely the same guy booking it as last week?” 

She rolls her eyes at you.

“Er, yeah,” she says curtly. You realise it’s an odd question, but there’s just something that doesn’t quite feel right. You can’t put your finger on it though. 

“Tanned, blonde mullet,” you check.

“Ridiculously good-looking; yeah, it’s the same guy alright,” she says. Shoots you a look as if to say ‘will that be all?’ She picks her magazine up again, makes a point of holding it in front of her to show she’s no longer paying attention to you. 

Welp, that’s as much as I’m getting out of her. You glance back down at the booking schedule on her desk, frowning at his initials, then huff a sigh and leave. 

You decide to try your luck at finding Billy again. He can’t be far. If he booked it not that long ago then maybe he’s still hanging around somewhere? 

You doubt he’d be the sort to get to class early, seeing as he barely even shows up at all. I could check the library, I suppose. 

You quickly check outside first, including behind the bike shed, but to no avail; then you do a sweep of the corridors and, finally, the library. The bell rings.

Nowhere. How is he nowhere?!

Frustrated, you make your way to class.

------

After school, you’re pacing back and forth in front of the large trophy cabinet just outside the doors to the gym. You’d kept an eye out all day for Billy, but hadn’t seen him. He didn’t show up for Chem 3rd period either. If you didn’t already know that he’d been in school to book the gym out in the morning, you would have guessed he wasn’t even in school at all. 

But you knew he’d be here now, in the gym. He can’t avoid you any longer; not that you think that’s what he’s doing. But… maybe he is?

You’re wearing your basketball gear, which consists of your school sports hoodie and gym shorts, with a scarf carefully wrapped around your neck to hide the hickey. Luckily with the weather being so cold outside, no one on your team questioned why you were wearing it to practice. 

You’d instructed the other girls to start warming up on the forecourt before making your way here. However, now you’re about to see him for the first time since the party, you’re not quite sure you’re ready for it.

Your bottom lip throbs a little from where you’ve been worrying it between your teeth all the way here.

You can hear the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor of the gym on the other side of the door.

Just apologise for Saturday, you tell yourself. You were in the wrong, you know that. Billy’s cool, he’ll probably be fine about it. 

You take a deep breath and push open the double doors. 

Billy is in the middle of the court, practicing one on one with one of his teammates as the others stretch and jog laps at the edge of the room. 

He’s shirtless; curls grazing his naked shoulders as he confidently blocks the other guy’s attempts to get past him with the ball. 

Your eyes linger on him as you hover by the door, waiting for the right moment to catch his eye. You don’t want to interrupt him. 

A few of the other team members have paused in their stretches and are watching you from across the gym. Tommy spots you and shouts to Billy to get his attention.

“Hey, Hargove.” Tommy points to you and Billy looks up at him, then over at you.

His jaw clenches when he sees you and your stomach drops slightly. Yep, he’s pissed at me. 

Ok, that’s fine, you think, trying to calm your nerves. You knew he probably would be. No need to stress, you take a deep breath, just stick to the plan.

You wave him over. 

He looks away and, for a second, you think he might be choosing to ignore you. Then he charges at the other boy, ramming him with his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. He easily gains possession of the ball and dribbles it over to the basket, laughing cockily. He passes it under his own leg and dunks it with minimal effort. As he looks over at you again, his eyes flash, the same way they had at the party when he’d seen you talking to Steve. He goes over to where the other guy is on the floor. 

“You were moving your feet,” Billy says, pulling him up, “Next time, plant them.” 

He slowly looks you over as he approaches, taking in your gym shorts and bare legs. Notices the scarf around your neck. Then he meets your eyes with a steely gaze.

“Come to see how the game is meant to be played?” He asks when he reaches you, earning a few snickers from his team mates, all of whom have abandoned their warm up to watch. 

You blink a couple of times, caught off guard by his standoffish tone and his clearly sexist comment, which you choose to ignore.

“I er, actually wanted to talk to you about Saturday,” you say, trying to keep your voice down so the rest of the team can’t eavesdrop. “Could we maybe talk in the hall?” you ask, gesturing over your shoulder at the door.

He tells the others to keep warming up, without a word to you, and leads the way out of the gym. You hear Tommy’s voice call out after you, but you don’t hear his words, muffled by the door closing. It’s probably something obnoxious though, and no doubt a comment about you and kissing. Whatever it is, the other guys find it amusing. Their laughter reaches you in the corridor.

Billy turns to face you, licking his bottom lip. Your eyes go to it, just as they had on Saturday in Tammy’s garden. Suddenly you’re thinking about what had followed that; his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. 

You fight to compose yourself, to get your mind back on the matter at hand. You clear your throat. This would be so much easier if he had more clothes on.

“So,” you start, nervously fidgeting with your hands, trying not to look at his bare chest. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I acted at the party. I was pretty drunk and I-” He cuts you off.

“Which part are you apologising for?” he asks you, licks his lips again. 

You blanch at the question, thrown off. Before you can ask him what he means, he clarifies for you.

“Flipping out for no reason and leaving me standing there like a jackass or for kissing me and then going home with Pretty Boy?” His voice is irritated. 

“What?” you ask, dumbfounded. You expected him to be annoyed at you for shouting at him but… Pretty Boy? Is he talking about Steve? 

He scoffs a laugh, running his tongue along his top row of teeth.

“Carol said she saw you leave the party with Harrington.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

“Yeah,” you say quickly, trying to explain yourself, “But it wasn’t like that. I was wasted, he was just making sure I got home safe.” 

It suddenly makes sense why everyone has been acting so weird around you since Monday. So Carol has been spreading rumours; only, it’s worse than you had thought. 

The whole school must think I slept with Steve! Oh, that’s just great. And after your little ‘display’ with Billy in the garden, why wouldn’t they believe it? Kissing someone you barely know...

You think about how Nancy had given you the cold shoulder yesterday. Oh no, poor Nancy... You’d assumed she’d been upset with Steve and was just projecting, but she must have been upset with both of you. 

You can’t believe how ridiculous this whole situation is. 

“Sure,” Billy says disbelievingly.

It irritates you that he would think that little of you. 

Even if something had happened with Steve- which it hadn’t and obviously never would- it’s not like it’s even his business. 

Why does he even care? Jesus, a guy kisses you once and thinks he owns you. And it’s not like he can talk, anyway; according to both Nancy and Steve, Billy’s got a reputation of his own to worry about.  

You have to remind yourself that there was another reason you came here to talk to him. You need him to forgive you, so keep it civil. 

“Well, either way, I’m sorry.” You manage to keep your tone remorseful. 

He stares at you for a long moment, arms folded over his chest and chin jutting out defiantly as he considers your words.

“Ok,” is all he says, shrugging once. He starts to walk away from you, back towards the doors of the gym. 

“Wait, Billy,” you say, moving quickly to follow him. 

“Please can you stop booking out the gym on my days?” Your tone borders on pleading. 

He turns back to you, cocking his head to one side in mock confusion. Squints at you.

“I’m sorry, your days?” 

“Yeah, Tuesdays and Thursdays,” you clarify for him, even though he knows full well what you meant. “I agreed it with Matt. My team gets those days; you get Wednesdays and Fridays.”

He licks his lips and leans in towards you.

“Well, Matt’s not the captain anymore; I am.” He’s watching your face closely as he speaks. You notice his eyes flick to your lips before they move back up to meet your gaze. “So that no longer stands.” 

You exhale slowly, letting go of the breath you had been holding. This conversation is not going the way I planned, at all.

“Surely we can come to some sort of arrangement?” 

He takes another half step closer so that his face is only a few inches from yours. You try not to breathe him in.

“I would love to make an ‘arrangement’ with you,” he says suggestively; his tone makes you think he might not just be talking about basketball practice, “but I’m not really in the mood.” He backs away from you slightly.

This must be his way of punishing me for Saturday. I can’t believe he’s being so petty!

He goes to walk away from you again.

“Billy, please.” You go to reach out and touch his arm but think better of it, dropping your hand back to your side. You hate grovelling to him, but you’re running out of options. “My team can’t practice on the forecourt for the rest of the season; there aren’t even any hoops out there! If you really have to practise on Tuesday and Thursdays can’t we work it out so that we each get one day in the gym and one day on the forecourt? Or you could let me have Wednesdays instead?” You’re desperately listing off your remaining options, just praying he’ll agree to one of them. “Please, I need something to work with here!” He smiles at you but it’s not friendly.

“Sorry Princess,” he puts emphasis on the new nickname, and you feel your face screw up in disgust of it, “your team might need the practice more than us, but as the only ones with any real chance of making it to the finals, we should get priority,” he says smugly.

How dare he?! We are every bit as good as them!

That’s it, to Hell with being civil!

“Well, you can’t stop me if I book the gym out before you,” you say petulantly, seething at his comment. He thinks he’s won, but he hasn’t. I’ll show him! I’ll just have to get here for as soon as the office opens. There’s no way he’d get here that early.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he scoffs. 

“Oh, it’s on, Hargrove. It is on.” 

You start stomping away up the corridor but he calls after you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says. You whip back around, scowling. “Nice scarf.” 

His eyes meet yours and instantly you understand. He knows that underneath the patterned piece of material around your neck, is the mark that he left on you.

He laughs at your stunned expression, like a smug asshole, then heads back into the gym, leaving you standing there in the corridor, totally lost for words.

Chapter 4

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

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[peaceoutofthepieces]

show me some stars (beneath this ceiling)

Sobbe Fic

Here is this 11k mess, written during the run of the show, as a set of missing scenes. For those who haven’t already seen it on ao3. Five times Robbe wishes he could wake up next to Sander, and one time he does. (part 3 covers the night after that scene, so you can skip that if you want!)

1.

Robbe’s heart is racing. He’s breathless. 

Sheer adrenaline is keeping him going. It’s the only thing providing any heat. His clothes are still piled in his arms, and he can’t pause to think about that, doesn’t want to, knows it’ll terrify him. He just keeps running and laughing, following the shock of bleached hair that stays only a few feet ahead of him. Sander’s laughs float back to him and keep him following, chasing. He can’t believe they did that. He has no idea what they’re doing. 

He’s jolted abruptly to the side, dragged by Sander’s hand on his wrist, and then they’re behind a row of bushes and Sander is cursing and laughing and putting on his clothes and oh, that’s what we’re doing. Robbe shakes himself out of it, feels stupid for standing there in a daze when he’s freezing. His hands are going numb and his legs are aching from the mixture of the cold and exertion and his stomach is clenching entirely subconsciously and his nipples are literally going to fall off, he’s so fucking cold. 

Then there’s another touch, on his still bare waist and the side of his neck. His t-shirt’s halfway up his arms and he’s never been so warm. Sander’s clothed chest presses against Robbe’s bare one as he slants their lips together and his laughter spills into Robbe’s ribcage, filling him up. Robbe kisses him and almost drops his clothes, forgetting everything else in his urgent need to touch. “Fuck, you’re freezing,” Sander mumbles. “You’re beautiful. You’re freezing.”

“Yeah, because you won’t let me put my clothes back on.” Robbe means it, but he doesn’t want Sander to move, laughs through the words as he presses closer and Sander pecks his lips once more. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. What he’s thinking. He’s not thinking at all. It’s a blissful feeling. 

Sander steps back, hands falling away slowly and leaving goosebumps over Robbe’s skin. Robbe aches to lean back into him, to stay close to his blissful heat. He doesn’t care that he’s standing behind a bush in his sweats, still bare from the waist up. He doesn’t care about what all of this means, if it means anything. He doesn’t care about anything but kissing this boy again. 

Instead he pulls his shirt on, tugs his jacket over his arms, and only realises once he’s wrapped up how cold he actually is. They couldn’t even dry themselves off, and his clothes are already damp enough to be irritating, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, because as soon as he’s dressed Sander pulls him in again, and Robbe’s mind empties. It’s a dangerous thing, how much he likes it. How much he wants it. 

Sander kisses the corner of his mouth, trails a fluttering path along his cheek, lets out an amused huff against his ear when Robbe sways into him. He wraps his arms around Robbe’s shoulders and says, “We forgot our bikes.”

Robbe hums, leaning against the blonde’s chest and turning his head for more kisses. Then he freezes. “What?” He looks around, pointlessly, in some mindless hope that their bikes have followed them on their own. Because they certainly didn’t fetch them on their way. “Fuck,” Robbe says, burying his face in his hands. Sander sneaks his fingers around them and kisses each one, just above the wrist, and Robbe lets him pull them away. “We can’t go back,” he mumbles, detached and contained even as he feels hysteria creeping in. “There’s no way I can get a new bike. I need to go back. Fuck.” He doesn’t understand how they were so stupid. How he was so stupid. He followed Sander blindly, without pausing to think. He can’t really bring himself to regret it. 

Mostly because Sander’s cupping his cheeks and kissing him again, whispering a gentle, “Hey.” He waits until Robbe’s looking at him, which might be a mistake, because when Robbe’s looking at him he’s not entirely capable of doing much else, such as listening to whatever he might say. “I can get it for you. I’ll go back. Wait here.”

Robbe does manage to hear that. (Although it does only sink in once Sander begins walking away and takes with him all his distractions.) He laughs, feeling some of the hysteria creep in, and reaches out for Sander. “Sander, wait, wha—“

Sander turns to him, arm in Robbe’s grip, and simply raises a brow. Robbe has the sudden realisation that this probably isn’t real. That he must be dreaming. He’s probably been dreaming for the past few weeks—dreamt Sander up entirely and created this dramatic, drawn out, heart-stopping fantasy. Even though he’s not artistic enough to conjure such a thing, to capture such accurate shadows and sparkles, that particular brightness to Sander’s eyes under the scarce spread of stars and a single street light. Sander himself. Yet, only in his deepest, wildest fantasy could something—someone—so perfect exist. 

If he is dreaming, though, it’s unlikely anything particularly bad will happen. It won’t matter if he does. 

He’s already accepted that Sander could lead him anywhere and he’d probably follow without a question asked. So he leans in to kiss him again, hand grasping at soft, bleached hair, and says, “I’ll come with you.” Because he’s dreaming, and nothing matters. His mind has given him this, and he’s already taken it far enough that there’s no point in stopping now. 

He feels Sander’s smile, against his lips and his cheek and in his chest, settling low in his stomach, and then they’re running back the way they came. Clothed this time, at least. God, what are they doing? 

When the pool is in sight again, Sander comes to an abrupt stop and presses his arm to Robbe’s chest, a barricade and a support. Robbe’s breathing harshly, and he shouldn’t really be, he’s relatively fit, so he chalks it up to Sander, because the boy’s been leaving him breathless since they met. Sander looks over his shoulder at him and holds a finger to his lips, an ineffective warning due to the smile beneath it. The hysteria has been replaced with giddiness. Robbe bites his lip to hold back giggles and nods, and they creep towards the door together, Sander’s hand still hovering near Robbe’s chest. They crouch down behind the hedge a few metres away and Sander looks around, peeks his head over the top, and then yanks Robbe after him in a final sprint to their bikes. 

They collect them and climb on clumsily, Sander stumbling much like he had that first time, barely even an hour before. Then they’re off again, pumping their legs and letting their laughter fill the open space. 

Sander zooms off ahead of him; but Robbe doesn’t have much trouble catching up. When he does, Sander holds out his hand. Robbe smacks at as he had earlier, and Sander grips his fingers like he had earlier, except this time he keeps holding on. 

Robbe doesn’t mind one bit. 

It makes his bike wobble a little, but he doesn’t doubt that if he fell, Sander would either catch him or fall with him. So he lets himself be towed along at an easy pace, lets Sander swing their arms between them, lets himself be, content and free and careless. 

Sander turns his dangerous smile on him once again, and Robbe’s heart picks up speed, but he only says, “Back through the tunnel?”

Robbe feels himself smiling back, unable to contain it. “So we can race again and I can beat you while you’re not cheating?”

“Hey!” Sander gives his hand a tug. “You cheated the last time,” he exclaims.

“I did not,” Robbe denies, but his smile is betraying him. He’s not, technically, lying. The competition aspect had been pretty absent by that point—it hardly counted as cheating when they’d stopped playing. Plus, they’d both come up at the same time. Robbe counted it as a win all around. 

But if Sander’s still up for it, Robbe’s not above a little play-fighting. A bit of friendly competition has proven to be a good choice so far. 

He lets Sander tug him along, lets himself be guided, unable to keep his eyes on the road in front of them. He stares at Sander, instead, tracing his eyes over his side profile. His hair, still damp, though drying quickly. His lips, the slight uptick at the corner. The dark curve of his eyebrow over bright eyes, intense as always but shining. Looking as content as Robbe feels. His quiet nature urges him to look away every time Sander turns his head, not wanting to be caught. It doesn’t matter than he can feel Sander’s gaze linger on him then, only looking away when his bike jolts oddly underneath him due to an errant stone or crack in the pavement. He can’t quite fight the smile off his face, however. It sits there, small and dopey and unmoving. Even when Sander lets go of his hand to race him down the tunnel. Even when his bike spins out of control and he almost careens into the wall, turning into a laugh at Sander’s panicked return and string of concerned questions. 

Even when they make it back to Robbe’s building and roll to a stop a little bit away, Sander’s feet settling on the ground as he gives it an appraising look. Robbe leans his back against the building and allows their gazes to meet this time. He feels silly for being shy before, all anxieties appearing foolish as warmth fills his chest. Sander stares at him, biting at his lip and seeming hesitant for the first time since Robbe met him. Then he’s getting off his bike and halfheartedly propping it against the wall. The distance between them disappears in an instant, but Sander stops himself from closing those last few inches. Robbe can feel the tension in him, pulled taut like a string that has its end hooked in Robbe’s own chest, and he lets it droop in relief by pressing forward and nudging his lips against Sander’s. 

Sander sighs into his mouth and his confidence makes an abrupt reappearance, his hands settling on Robbe’s hips and pulling him right in. Robbe parts his lips and lets Sander take what he wants, tries to give back all that he gets. His arms wind themselves around the blonde’s neck without his conscious decision. Trying to be closer. Trying to hold on. 

It didn’t feel like this, kissing Noor. Kissing anyone. He’s never been kissed like this before. Well, that’s not counting earlier. Or a little while before that. 

Before Sander. He’s never been kissed like this, before Sander. 

He’s never wanted to be kissed like this, before Sander. 

So he knows to enjoy it. To savor it. If it’s a dream, he wants to enjoy it as much as he can. He wants to remember it, as much as he can. He wants to focus on Sander and only Sander. He doesn’t think about those times he was kissing someone else, doesn’t think about Noor. He thinks about the fact he can feel Sander’s pulse under his hands. About how soft his hair is even with all that bleach in it, how he tilts his head and kisses him a little harder when Robbe runs his hands through it, tugs it just so. About Sander’s hands, on his waist, sliding around to his back, up to the back of his head and tangling in his hair, anywhere they can reach. About Sander’s lips, pressing against his over and over, parting on gasps and letting Robbe in. About Sander’s tongue, teasing over his lips and the roof of his mouth and flicking against his teeth until he draws a laugh out of him, until he can make a joke out of it just to dive back in and make Robbe lose his mind again. 

About Sander, and nothing else. 

He’s still smiling when Sander pulls away, drawing it out with a few lingering pecks, pressing one to Robbe’s nose before stepping back entirely. Even when he says, “I should get going.” Because Sander’s still smiling, too. 

Robbe nods, swallowing down his words before they can escape. He doesn’t say anything, because he wants to say stay. He wants Sander to come in with him. To kiss him again. To curl up next to him, around him, on top of him, whatever. As long as he stays, close and warm and content, where Robbe can feel him. 

He wants to wake up with him and finally be able to believe he isn’t dreaming. 

But he can’t do that, so he nods, and Sander’s still giving him that look, so he thinks he might kiss him again. Hopes he will. Instead he reclaims his bike and walks it backwards, keeping his eyes on Robbe. Robbe watches him until he has to round the corner and realises he really just wants to wake up with him because it means he wouldn’t have to leave. 

2.

Robbe wants to stay here forever. 

He knows that’s probably cliche, and corny, and sappy, and whatever else, and it makes it seem less genuine than it is, less meaningful, but he really can’t explain how much he means it. He has Sander right where he wants him, and he doesn’t ever want to let go. 

He already let go when he shouldn’t have. Worse than that. He pushed him away, hurt him in order to do it. He was sure he’d ruined everything. He was trying to. He should have. 

He doesn’t deserve this, really. He knows he doesn’t. Sander should never have even looked at him again, never have spared him a single thought. He shouldn’t have been forgiven. 

He wants to apologise again. Feels it bubbling up in him every few minutes. He’s torn. He wants to apologise again, multiple times. He knows apologies don’t suffice. He feels so happy. They’re both so happy. He doesn’t want to ruin that. He wants to stay on this high they’ve found, wants Sander to keep smiling so he can trace it with his fingers and his lips. Wants to tease more of that brilliant laughter out of him, wants to make him scoff and roll his eyes, wants to earn back that intense look from that night, their first night, forever ago but really only a week before. He wants to kiss him again and again and then do more than that, but maybe not now, maybe not yet, but the sheer feeling of wanting at all is something he wants to hold onto. 

He wants to hold onto Sander and never let go. 

Sander makes it so easy for him to want these things. He just has to smile, or kiss his cheek, or lay on his chest or shoulder, or touch him in any of the smallest ways, and Robbe is gone. He’s just so beautiful that Robbe’s chest hurts, looking at him. Not looking at him. 

Really, he never stood a chance. He doesn’t know how he ever thought this was something he didn’t want. 

From the moment Sander played him in that kitchen, he’s all Robbe’s wanted. 

And Sander wanted him, even before that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Sander asks, chin propped on Robbe’s chest with a barely-there smile on his face. Robbe moves the hand in his hair down along his cheek and runs his finger over the blonde’s lip to make it widen, turning into that easy, blinding, sunshine grin that he’s so familiar with. 

He debates whether or not to tell the truth, but Sander’s eyes have slipped closed under his ministrations, so he musters up the confidence. “Did you really like me from that night?”

Sander’s eyes open at that, soft and bright and too green. Robbe’s heart flutters even before he says, “Yes. Did you really not notice me?”

Robbe shakes his head, then lets it fall back against the pillows. “I don’t know how you even knew it was me. You couldn’t even see my face?” It turns into a question at the end, because he’s suddenly not sure, suddenly can’t remember. Maybe he’d taken the mask off for a moment, or Sander had seen him before he put it on, but he doubts it. The picture is clearly him, but of course Robbe is going to recognise himself, that’s not the same thing. For someone who’d never seen him before, it’s a different story. He can’t believe Sander even recognised him. He can’t believe he didn’t say anything about it. 

“I saw your eyes,” Sander points out. He reaches up and plays with Robbe’s hair. “Your hair. The rest of you.” His tone is so suggestive there that Robbe laughs, pulls him up for another kiss, because he can and he still can’t quite believe it so he’s going to remind himself as often as he likes. “Also, Noor took you mask off to kiss you. I was surprised by how much I wished I was her.” Sander plants a kiss on his cheek, trails a few down his neck, and Robbe hates what he does him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it. 

Still, Robbe isn’t used to this, doesn’t know what to do, and he can feel heat creeping into his cheeks. It makes him giggle and look away, but that only gives Sander more room, more of Robbe’s sensitive skin to work with. 

He adds his teeth to the mix, biting down lightly, just a nip, and it really shouldn’t affect Robbe the way it does. But his stomach stirs and his cheeks only get warmer and he can’t help but squirm, whining a drawn out, “Sander,” in protest. Sander chuckles and nips the spot once more, definitely enjoying Robbe’s little gust of breath, but relents when Robbe twists towards him in search of another kiss. 

Robbe can’t stop touching him. He always his a hand on his neck, in his hair, skimming over his back, down his side. Wherever he can reach. Anywhere and everywhere he wants. Sander reciprocates in kind, so Robbe’s pretty sure he doesn’t mind. 

Sander half lying on top of him is really, really nice, and Robbe thinks he’s making that thought pretty clear. So when Sander sits up to look down at him, much too far away, he really should be expecting Robbe’s protests. He laughs and pokes Robbe’s cheek, leaning down to kiss his nose, just to make his face scrunch up. “You’re adorable,” he mumbles, easy smile on his face, and Robbe blushes and turns his head away, giving a breathy laugh. 

“You can’t keep doing that,” Robbe protests. 

“What?” Sander raises his brows. “Complimenting you? But you’re so cute, Robbe,” he coos, smushing Robbe’s cheeks. Robbe bats him away, but it’s half-hearted. It only leads to Sander catching his hands and pressing kisses to the back of them. 

Robbe is really tired of being the only one blushing, and he’s not about to be outdone. He pushes Sander back against the pillows and swings a leg over his lap again, enjoying the brief surprise that flickers over his face. “Woah, we’re very confident,” Sander teases and Robbe just hums, stealing a short kiss. “Or very needy?”

“Hey,” Robbe protests, deciding to silence him by kissing him again. He doesn’t think about how it probably proves Sander’s point. Sander’s kissing back, though, holding him to his chest, so Robbe makes himself comfortable on his lap and kisses him until his lips are numb. 

Then, he just leans into him. He wraps his arms tighter around his shoulders and tucks his face into his neck and relishes in the way Sander’s hold tightens in return, arms strong around his waist. He presses his lips to Sander’s neck lightly, briefly, and then just sits there. Holding him. Being held. This is all he intended. Closeness, intimacy, yes, he craves it always around Sander, but nothing more, nothing they aren’t yet ready for. He just wants them to be like this, just them, close and comfortable and together. 

“Can I just stay here forever?” Sander asks quietly, after a moment. The words ruffle Robbe’s hair. Robbe hears the echo of his own thoughts in them and cuddles closer, squeezes him tighter. 

“You can,” Robbe whispers, because he wants to say, please, stay, I don’t ever want you to leave again. Even though he’s the one who left, really. He’s the one who did this to himself, who let fear consume him and pushed Sander away. The knowledge that Sander wants him regardless, wants him forever, makes him a little dizzy. 

“You know,” Sander starts again, “I bet we live together, in another universe. I bet I get to stay with you like this, every day.”

Robbe wants to be in that universe. Except he doesn’t, because then that means he wouldn’t be here, right now, where forever seems far away but there’s an undeniable something stirring to life between them. He can’t admit to even thinking about any of that, though, so he hums. “Just the one?”

Sander shrugs, laughing when the movement makes Robbe’s head bob. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Robbe shrugs back. He thinks he would find Sander in every universe. He doesn’t think he’d let him go for long in any of them. So his answer, that he only admits to himself, is infinite universes. I would choose you, stay with you, forever, always. He doesn’t give a verbal answer, but he kisses Sander’s shoulder. 

A phone buzzes, and Sander reaches to pick it up, and something in Robbe’s chest twists and tightens. His immediate thought is that it’s Britt, texting again, sending a sweet message to her boyfriend. His stomach revolts at the mere thought. When he subtly turns his head, he catches a glimpse of the contact, Sander’s mother, and feels silly even as relief takes over him. He tells himself it wouldn’t matter anyway, that if it had been Britt, Sander wouldn’t reply. He didn’t before, Robbe’s sure. He’d promised that if he did, it would be for the simple reason of telling her to stop. 

Sander heaves a sigh and tilts his head against Robbe’s. “I’ll have to go, soon. My parents want me to have dinner with them.”

Robbe nods, solemn, because he can’t say no to that. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be separated from the other boy again, no matter how briefly. He wants, at least, proof that this is real. That it’s going to last a little longer, beyond today and a few after that. He wants Sander to stay here so Robbe can hold him, can continue to apologise without the words, and finally, finally, wake up with this boy next to him. 

“Hey,” Sander says softly, knowing exactly what Robbe’s thinking, just like he always does. “It’s just tonight. I’ll see you again tomorrow.” 

Robbe only nods again. Sander jostles him until he can cup his face, then drags him until their nose to nose. “Hey. I’ll miss you, too.” Robbe smiles at that, closes his eyes, and settles once he feels Sander’s lips on his. The next time, he thinks. They’ll be able to stay together next time. They have forever to wake up together. 

3.

Robbe can’t breathe. 

It’s because his entire chest aches, he knows. It’s because his ribs feel bruised and out of place and something’s been dislodged in his stomach and he simply can’t get the breaths in. 

He knows it’s because he’s terrified. And he’s crying. And he doesn’t really want to be breathing, right now. 

He curls up tighter and considers it, wonders, but his lungs are begging and he can’t think so his body works on its own and does its best to provide. The only air he can get is sucked in through his teeth, and it leaves him gasping and wheezing but it’s working. He knows, because the pain intensifies. His breath rattled along his ribs, knocking on every bone, pushing and pulling in and out and fuck, it hurts. His stomach throbs. His head is buzzing, spinning, and he’s glad he’s still lying down, even though the chill of the pavement is seeping into his bones and deepening the ache. He doesn’t want to move. He can’t. There’s no point. 

Then the ringing dies down, and he can hear his breathing again, except he’s hearing double. Echoes. 

Except he’s not. He’s hearing another person. He’s hearing Sander. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in another breath. He needs to get up. He needs to, and he will, he just has to take his time. He just has to not think about it. He prods at his chest, testing. It gets a choked cry out of him, but he can bear it. He can. He presses his hand to the ground and pushes himself off, slow, too slow, wincing all the way. He manages to roll onto his knees and then he pauses as his vision goes dark around the edges, as the ringing in his ears returns. He breathes deeply and waits, and once he can he seeks out blonde hair. He finds Sander curled against the wall, unmoving. He makes no sound other than watery, laboured breaths. 

Robbe’s heart thumps painfully. 

Sander’s only a short distance away, but it takes Robbe years to crawl to him, to find the strength to lift a hand and set it on his shoulder. Sander flinches from his touch and Robbe retracts it immediately, hurt by this amid everything, even though he understands, even though he should’ve expected it. Robbe looks at his face—at the bruise on his cheek, around his eye—and bites down a sob. “Sander,” he tries, then clears his throat, tries again. It’s quiet, but Sander blinks, focuses his gaze on Robbe, and reaches out for him. 

Robbe instantly settles a hand on his uninjured cheek, brushing away the few tears that have leaked out. He needs to know if he’s okay, needs to ask, but of course he can’t ask that, of course Sander’s not okay, how could he be? Robbe certainly isn’t. 

Sander doesn’t ask, either, just stares at him and says, “Robbe,” in a ragged tone. Robbe strokes his cheek, shushing him, assuring him, but Sander just reaches up to touch his temple, repeats, “Robbe.”

When Sander pulls his hand away, his fingers are red, wet with blood. Robbe’s blood. Robbe blinks at it, raises his own hand to the cut, and feels bile rise in his throat. His next breath is ragged, panicked, and Sander forces himself up to sitting with a groan. He pulls Robbe against him, cradling his head against his chest, and Robbe allows himself one short, low sob before forcing the rest down. Sander tightens his arms around him. Robbe says, “I’m okay.” He’s amazed his voice doesn’t break. 

“You should go to the hospital,” Sander argues, except he doesn’t, really, his tone too flat, emotionless. Robbe just shakes his head. They should both go to the hospital, probably. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t think Sander would agree, either. So he repeats that he’s fine, says that it would be unnecessary, because he’s not going to go if Sander’s not going with him. Sander is his priority. 

Robbe gives his waist a squeeze and says, “I just want to go home.” Sander pets his hair. He debates asking if he wants Robbe to call someone, but he isn’t sure who he would call. Jens, Senne, whoever, would come get him, but they don’t know. He could call Milan. Milan would know, instantly, and he would question and hover but he would back off when Robbe asked. Right now, though, he doesn’t even want him to know. He doesn’t want to be coddled and pitied and taken care of, because that won’t make him feel better. 

For right now, he wants to believe it didn’t happen. 

He wants to hold onto Sander and have Sander hold him and pretend that they’re okay. The ache in his chest can be replaced with the fluttering heartbeat Sander always conjures, the pains in his stomach soothed by warmth. He knows he shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t try to ignore it, shouldn’t push it away, but he does. For now, that’s what he does. For now, that’s all he can do. He soaks up some more of Sander’s comfort until the blonde starts to loosen his grip, and they slowly make their way to standing. 

Robbe can’t even imagine getting on his bike. When he simply starts walking and wheeling it alongside him, Sander does the same without a word. He’d been worried it might’ve been broken, but nothing seems out of place. He can’t quite say the same for himself. Nothing’s broken, he’s pretty sure, but out of place—well, out of place fits everything. They’re farther apart than he would like, both their bikes between them, but Robbe bites his lip and refuses to ask for anything different. Sander’s been oddly quiet. Maybe he doesn’t crave contact and comfort like Robbe. Maybe he wants space. Robbe isn’t going to deny him something like that, not now, and he knows that asking would do exactly that because Sander wouldn’t deny him, either. 

So he walks and tries to ignore the hole in his chest that’s growing to match the space between them. When Sander walks him right to his door, he doesn’t ask then, either. He just looks and hopes the other understands, prays that he’ll accept the unspoken offer. Sander gaze glances off him, to the side, back the way they came, the way he would leave if he’s going to, and Robbe knows he is even before he speaks. “I think I should go home, too.”

Robbe nods, mute. His mouth is dry, his throat closed. He unsticks his tongue enough to say, “Do you want someone to take you? I could—I could get Milan, or you could call someone, or we could get you a taxi—“

“It’s fine,” he cuts him off, not frustrated or angry or tired. Soft, quiet, the way he only seems to be with Robbe. When he sees that the other doesn’t believe him, he momentarily abandons his bike and takes the two steps to Robbe, cradling his face. “It’s fine, Robbe.”

And it’s not, Robbe’s not, and he’s relieved he doesn’t have to wake Milan and terrified of Sander walking the distance himself and his breath is catching in his lungs again and he can’t get it to move, can’t move anything. Sander’s hands slip down to his shoulders and glide down his arms until he can grip Robbe’s, squeezing in comfort, and Robbe slowly exhales. 

Please, don’t, it’s not okay, I’m not okay, I won’t be okay if you leave, so please, don’t. Stay. I want you to stay, Robbe thinks. 

He says, “Will you text me? When you get back?”

Sander nods, smiles, and it’s fascinating how everything in Robbe calms at the curve of his lips. He leans in then and presses them to Robbe’s own, brief, chaste, and Robbe squeezes his eyes shut. Sander kisses his forehead and steps away. “Of course,” he murmurs, tone smooth as ever, and Robbe digs his nails into his palms. He won’t be weak, will be as strong for Sander as he’s being for Robbe, and that means he can sleep on his own. It means he doesn’t have to reach out again, doesn’t have to cling on and refuse to let go. It means there’s no reason for him to cry when Sander gets on his bike and heads down the street without looking back. He can’t see well enough to be completely sure if he winces, but he’s sure enough. 

The apartment is dark and quiet when he makes it up the stairs. He’s disappointed and relieved. He doesn’t want to explain. He doesn’t want to interact with anyone. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants Sander. 

He curls up in bed, alone, legs tucked up and arms close to his chest, and he hates it, because it takes him right back there, but it’s all he can do. Curl up in a vain attempt to protect himself. To stop it from hurting so much. To feel some sort of comfort. 

It’s not really working, so he thinks about Sander, because all thoughts of Sander are comforting, soothing, always. Except now when he thinks about touching him, kissing him, it’s followed with after, and he’s right back there, and his only image of Sander is the boy curled up on the ground, trying to protect himself after trying to protect Robbe. His chest constricts, his eyes sting, and squeezing them shut doesn’t help. The image is still there, the tears slip out anyway. He fists his hand in his pillow and holds on the way he wishes he could hold onto Sander, the way he wishes he’d held on a few moments ago, refusing to let the boy leave. 

Crying only increases the pain in his chest, his stomach, his head, but he can’t stop. He probably should have checked himself out, should have at least cleaned the cut on his head, stuck a band-aid on it, anything. But he avoided the mirror in the bathroom and got changed in the dark and all he wants to do is sleep. He worries that maybe he shouldn’t, that maybe his head injury is worse than he wants to believe, but it doesn’t really hurt that much, and he’s just so, so tired. His tears are making the pillow damp and cold under his cheek, and it only makes him feel worse, frustrated. He wipes them away, digs the heel of his hand into his eye for a second, and almost misses his phone lighting up where he’s left it on the locker. 

Home and in bed. I love you. 

Robbe’s sight blurs again, and he’s only able to send a heart in response. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t say anything else. He holds his phone to his chest and allows himself to think of Sander again, to imagine that he’s here, tucked in behind him and around him. Holding him, protecting him, loving him. Being here. He’s used to wanting Sander, but it’s never felt quite like this. Even when he thought he’d lost him, even when he missed him more than anything, it wasn’t quite as much as he misses him now. 

He wants to wake up to Sander’s arms around him, to his sunny smile, unmarred by pain or fear or sadness. He wants none of it to have happened. 

For once, he wants to wake up and find it was all a cruel, terrible dream. 

4.

Robbe has never really thought he’d like being manhandled, never really thought about it at all. It’s definitely not something he’s fantasized about, or anything like that. But having Sander toss him around, realising that he can, well—he can’t say it doesn’t do things to him. He can’t say it doesn’t turn him on. Though, clearly, everything about Sander turns him on. From his outrageously bleached hair to his brilliant green eyes to his ridiculously soft lips. Then there’s all the rest of him, his arms and his hands and his chest and his stomach and his back. His thighs, that Robbe has become recently more familiar with, that are now held captive between Robbe’s own as Sander rucks his shirt up to his chest and detaches from his neck long enough to pull it off. 

Robbe knows it’s distracting him, that he has more he wants to say, more he wants to ask, but it’s incredibly comforting. Sander kissing him, Sander touching him, Sander wanting him, Sander here. It’s all he wants, at the moment, all he needs, so he helps divest Sander of all his layers again and simply pulls him close. Now that he knows the strength hidden in those deceptively skinny limbs, he marvels at how easily Sander lets himself be handled, how he shows no resistance as Robbe pushes him onto his back and takes over. It’s intriguing, the understanding that he could, that Sander could easily hold him down if he wanted to. Sander wouldn’t just do that, he knows, wouldn’t use his strength against him, and that’s what makes Robbe seriously consider it. He wonders if Sander would do it if he asked, is pretty sure that he would, then wonders if it’s something he wants, if it’s something Sander would want, and he can’t believe he’s even going down this line of thought so he tucks it into the back of his mind for sometime much, much later. 

When Sander’s finished distracting him with his muscles and his kisses they remember the breakfast Sander so kindly snuck out to get. Robbe finds the croissants on the floor, all still safely in the bag. Robbe worries about all the potential crumbs in his sheets for about half a second, in which he wants to eat carefully, before he’s tucking himself into Sander’s side anyway. Sander presses a kiss to his hair and accepts the offered pastry. 

Robbe holds the bag under his chin in hopes of catching some of the mess and sinks down lower, turns closer to Sander’s chest. Just to make it a little more difficult for Sander to see his face as he admits, “I wanted to wake up with you.”

He can hear Sander crunching on his food, knows that’s why it takes him a while to answer, but the time allows his anxiety to build. It’s soothed slightly by Sander’s fingers skimming over his collarbone, back and forth in an idle rhythm. “We can take a nap.”

“Sander,” Robbe protests. He can hear the amusement in Sander’s voice, the teasing, but he can’t quite match the tone. Can’t quite get the volume into his voice, can’t quite mask the fact that he’s still a little upset. That he’s still a little wary, still a little untrusting of this. 

Sander finishes his food and wraps his now freed hand around Robbe’s waist, the other still draped over his shoulder. “I woke up with you. And you’re so beautiful, Robbe. You looked so peaceful, and content, and I just wanted to do something for you. To make you smile.”

“I would have smiled seeing you. I don’t need croissants. I just needed to know you hadn’t left again.”

Sander presses his nose to Robbe’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to. Before. Britt, she just—she made me confused. Made me think it’d be better for you if I wasn’t with you. And I was—I was scared, and I believed her.”

“Sander,” Robbe whispers, finally allowing himself to turn towards him. “I could never be better off without you.”

He can’t quite explain how much Sander hurt him, doesn’t actually want to. He wants to bask in this, in them, wants to cling to it and trust that Sander means what he said. He truly thinks that he does, believes it more with every kiss and smile and softly spoken reassurance. He wants to enjoy it while he can, to enjoy Sander. He doesn’t want to ruin their renewed happiness with any of this. He mentioned Britt and that was enough, made his stomach churn enough. 

He doesn’t want to mention that. Because Sander hasn’t brought it up. Robbe thinks there’s a vague allusion in there, hears it in the hitched tone of ‘scared’. But it doesn’t feel open to discussion. If feels far away, now, removed, hidden. Like they’ve made the mutual decision to forget it ever happened. 

Robbe’s not sure he’ll ever be able to. But he doesn’t bring it up. 

He doesn’t bring it up because he can see the pain in Sander’s eyes now, can see it slowly being replaced with relief, and he wants to rewind to the happiness they had moments ago, wants Sander to give him his sunshine smile and kiss him and make him feel okay. He listens to Sander’s sigh, sees the beginning of his smile, and takes the initiative himself. He lets himself get lost in the kisses, lets himself drown in them because he trusts Sander to always give him more air. Because there’s an equality to their give and take that he’s never found anywhere else, a surety and a balance he’s still getting used to. 

Robbe makes his marks where he pleases and is happy Sander doesn’t protest. Is spurred on by his response, all the lovely tiny noises he makes, taking it as encouragement. Sander only eventually tugs him away to kiss him again, before returning the favour. 

He’s content. They’re sweaty and flushed from their activities, trading kisses and words and affection. He’s a little wired, a little overheated, but it isn’t bothering him much. Lying on his bed with his head on the soft pillows and the covers pulled up to his chest and Sander curled around him, he’s content. He feels more peaceful than he can ever remember being. Nothing else has ever brought him this kind of quiet happiness, the kind that fills up his chest and spreads through his veins, wrapping his heart in warmth and cradling it in the most gentle grip. 

Sander presses a kiss to his shoulder and then tucks his chin over it. He trails a finger over Robbe’s forearm, light sweeps back and forth, and says, “I’ll have to go home soon.”

Robbe twists his hand around until he finds Sander’s and locks their fingers together. His heart clenches, as if it can hold on to that content feeling by sheer force of will. As if it can hold on to Sander. “Can’t you stay?”

“I wish,” Sander sighs. He tightens his grip on Robbe—squeezing his fingers, hugging him closer to his chest. “I want to. I would stay here forever if I could. Can I? Can you lock us in?”

Robbe smiles. “You can.” He twists in the other’s grip, turning his head to look back at him, and whispers, “I won’t let them take you back.”

This earns him another kiss. Robbe really wishes he could stay again, really wants the chance to wake up with him, but he’ll take what he can get. He’ll take Sander’s promise to text him as soon as he gets home and then late on into the night. He’ll take his deep kisses and loving touches now. He’ll take ’I’ll come back tomorrow as soon as I can so we can finish this, okay?’ in all its giggly glory when he tries to convince Sander to stay through his masterful powers of seduction. 

He’ll take a goodbye kiss, I love you murmured against his lips, and Sander’s t-shirt to wrap around him in the boy’s place. Because he has infinite time in infinite universes to wake up with this boy, and he knows now that their separation is only temporary. 

Whilst they, Robbe and Sander, are one hundred percent, forever. 

5.

Then he realises none of it was real. 

He wants to go to him, still. Despite Britt’s words, despite Sander’s lack of reaction, Robbe wants to go to him. It’s why he stands there and watches the ambulance pull away. It’s why he begins to pedal after it, before his senses come back to him and he stops abruptly, just outside the school. There’s no siren, and they’re going at a steady pace, not in a rush. It’s quiet, not particularly notable. Complete devoid of panic. It does not at all match Robbe’s urgency, the fast pace of his heart. 

Sander had looked so small. So young. So emotionless. He hadn’t looked like Sander. There had been nothing of the bright, magnetic boy Robbe has come to know. That spark that had first drawn Robbe to him had just been extinguished, leaving a dim holder in its place. 

The lump in Robbe’s throat has grown so large that it’s choking him, and he can’t find the strength to swallow it down. 

How did he not know? 

He’d just lain there, half asleep, and let it happen. He’d watched Sander continuously get up, listened to him pace and open windows. He’d thought his breathing had sounded off. He’d thought there was something off, maybe, earlier. Thought maybe it was unusual. 

Still, he hadn’t really thought anything of it. 

Why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he fucking wake up and pay attention and stop him? Why didn’t he notice?

Why didn’t Sander tell him?

There’s hundreds of reasons, probably, many unreasonable but understandable. Would it have made any difference, if Robbe had known? Maybe he would’ve paid more attention. Realised earlier and managed to keep Sander with him, or take him home, or get him back before the paramedics had to. 

But it wouldn’t have changed the thing that actually hurts. It wouldn’t have meant Sander loved him for real. 

He feels his heart collapsing in on itself, there in the street, shriveling up like Robbe is tempted to do. He wants to just curl up on the pavement and hide. To let the ground swallow him whole, putting him away like he’d never even existed. No one could love someone who didn’t exist. That wouldn’t be half as embarrassing. It wouldn’t be half as painful. 

But people are already looking at him, watching while pretending not to, and the last thing Robbe needs is to draw more attention. He’s sure they’ve all witnessed everything. It makes his heart ache, thinking of Sander here, under all their scrutiny. Out of his mind and vulnerable, naked and lost and alone. Anything could have happened to him. Robbe wonders what did happen, who found him and called who must be his mother and Britt and the ambulance. If it was a stranger, someone still here, standing around. If it was the police. If it was Sander himself. Robbe doubts that, but he supposes he shouldn’t trust his judgment on anything. He doesn’t really know what Sander would do, because he doesn’t know Sander at all. 

He’d known a Sander who loved him, and he’s just found out that Sander doesn’t exist. 

He doesn’t quite like the idea of breaking down in the middle of the street, and the lump in his throat is quickly turning into sobs. He has to get away before he can let them escape, because he should try to keep at least some of his dignity. He’s not sure if it’s too late for that, already. 

It’s like that night weeks ago. Robbe returns to the flat to find it dead, no one there to greet him, and he’s simultaneously relieved and crushed. He wants Milan’s wisdom, his gentle honesty and boundless comfort. He wants Zoe’s motherly gaze, her easy affection and warm hug. He wants Senne’s silent company, nonjudgmental and comforting in its own, brotherly way. 

He doesn’t want anyone else to see him like this. He doesn’t want any pitying eyes. He doesn’t think he can handle any interaction, doesn’t think he can form words or deal with physical contact. 

None but Sander’s. 

It’s what twists the knife. The understanding that Sander is the only one who could possibly comfort him right now. That despite all of it he wants Sander’s arms around him and Sander’s pieces of affection and Sander’s words of comfort. He wants Sander, as much as he always does, as much as it feels like he always has and as much as he knows he now always will. It hurts, the realisation of just how much Robbe loves him. 

It hurts that not even two hours ago, Robbe had had him in his arms. It hurts that not long before that he’d had him even closer, in a way he’s never had anyone but Sander. It hurts that he’d been so sure Sander had loved him then, because how could he do that, make Robbe feel like that, if he didn’t? Why would he bother? Why would his eyes shine like that, his smile matching them, if not because he was in love?

Mania, Robbe’s been told. 

He types ‘bipolar’ into Google on his phone, curled on his bed with a pillow crushed to his chest and tears freely soaking his cheeks. But his eyes are already blurry and the brightness of the screen is only making them worse and the words he can make out are only increasing the pounding in his head. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, what he thought he’d get out of it, why he didn’t realise it would only make him feel worse. He’s already established that the only thing that could make him feel better is Sander. And Sander isn’t here. He’ll probably never be here again. 

He’d been with him. They were happy. So happy, so content. Sander had surprised him, had been so sweet and teasing and tantalizing, as he always is. Robbe had wanted him more than ever. They’d had dinner. They’d had sex. They’d been together, and Robbe had been so content. He’s never felt anything like it. 

And now it’s gone. 

Ripped away from him. 

Like it had never fucking existed. 

The sudden thought comes to him that it possibly isn’t like this in every universe. It can’t be, right? In another universe, there’s a Robbe who’s with his Sander right now, who has been for years and who will be for the rest of their lives. In another universe, there’s a Robbe and Sander that have just met. In another universe, there is a Sander who loves him. 

This also doesn’t really make him feel any better. 

He wonders if, maybe, in another universe, there’s a Sander who isn’t bipolar. If there’s a Sander free of mental illness entirely. 

Robbe doesn’t care. He’s not in another universe, and he doesn’t want another Sander. He wants his bleached blonde, green-eyed Bowie lover, bipolarity and all. It doesn’t matter to him. He wishes he could at least tell Sander that—that he’s found that someone to love him, that Robbe loves him more than anything, unconditionally, and it doesn’t matter that Sander didn’t mean it. He’s still the best thing to ever happen to Robbe. He still deserves the world. Robbe wants to tell him that. 

He wants to wake up in the morning with Sander in his arms, like he was supposed to. To give him one last kiss, one last reminder, and promise him that everything will be okay. He just wants to know that Sander’s okay. 

But just the thought of his name makes his heart ache. He never really wants to see him again. He realises there’s a possibility he never will. 

He goes to sleep with nothing but that thought to keep him company. 

+1

It’s not exactly what he expected, when he finally does wake up with Sander, but he isn’t disappointed. 

Blonde hair tickles his chin and gentle breaths tickle his collar. There’s a comforting weight on his chest, along his side, that he hadn’t realised he’s been missing this past week. That he hadn’t known he’s grown to expect. He wasn’t supposed to get used to it that quickly. Now that he has it, he can’t quite figure out how he lived without it. The idea doesn’t scare him, not like it might have a year ago, a month ago. He doesn’t think it’ll be an issue. 

Sander shifts in his sleep, curling his arm closer to himself and pressing his face into Robbe’s chest. Robbe pets light fingers through his hair and kisses the top of his head. He covers Sander’s hand with his own and traces over the knuckles until it relaxes again, flattening over Robbe’s stomach. There’s still a tension evident in his shoulders, the taut curl of his back, but it has eased out slowly through the night. His expression, at least, is completely smoothed out, peaceful in his sleep. Not at all like the broken thing that had taken it over yesterday. That had probably been there for days before Robbe found him. Since Robbe let him go. 

But he’s here now, he reminds himself, and that’ll have to be good enough. Now, he’s holding onto Sander. He doesn’t plan on letting go again. 

It had been hard, seeing him like that. Almost worse than the week before. It only wasn’t because Robbe was finally sure, yesterday. There hadn’t been the same fear and confusion and doubt. There hadn’t been the same despair. Robbe was sure he was losing Sander, before. That wasn’t a worry yesterday. Robbe hadn’t planned on leaving without him—if Sander didn’t want to leave at all, Robbe would be staying with him. Because he knew, as soon as he got that message, that Sander didn’t really want him to leave. He just couldn’t bring himself to ask Robbe to stay. 

He’d sat there for almost an hour just holding him. He’d moved to settle them more comfortably against the wall, but other than that, he’d been a solid and silent presence, hoping that Sander would understand. Or at least stop pushing him away. 

It seems to have worked. 

He’d wiped Sander’s cheeks wordlessly and asked what he wanted to do. He strongly suggested they go home, of course, but he would’ve stayed as long as Sander needed. Sander hadn’t wanted to go home. He still hadn’t realised. He needed his home to be Robbe, right now, and Robbe knew it. He wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, either, if their roles were switched. Sander’s his safe place, too. Even if he doesn’t yet know it. 

Robbe has known it since the first time Sander touched him. 

He comes to life slowly now under Robbe’s own ministrations. His arm shifts first, draping over Robbe’s waist and pulling him close in what seems to be a completely unconscious gesture. It makes Robbe smile anyway. His head moves next, turning first into Robbe’s chest before realising it has nowhere left to go. He makes a muffled, disgruntled sound and twists around again, pillowing his cheek more comfortably and scrunching his face up in displeasure. Robbe tucks the covers up around his shoulders and passes a soothing touch over his jaw, and his eyes blink open. 

Robbe greats him with a smile, small and easy, and Sander fixates on it, expressionless. 

“Hey,” Robbe says quietly, and his mind stops there. His earlier determination and conviction seems to have gone, run off and left him with his tail between his legs. He feels out of his depth, suddenly. Sander’s eyes are clearer than before, so intent and alert and green. There’s a pebble sized piece of Robbe’s heart purely dedicated to loving those eyes. He doesn’t want to see them sad again. 

They travel over his face now, taking in every inch, cataloguing him, and Robbe feels settled under their intensity. This doesn’t scare him. This is familiar. This is Sander. 

“I thought maybe I’d dreamt you,” Sander says finally, an admission and a revelation all at once. 

Robbe trails his finger around Sander’s ear, through the short strands of hair, and down along his jaw, watching as Sander’s eyes drift shut. He says, “I know the feeling.”

This earns a tiny smile. It’s the best thing Robbe has ever seen. 

He lifts Sander’s chin enough to kiss his forehead and is mildly surprised when Sander stretches further, a silent plead. Robbe is all too happy to comply. He keeps his kiss soft, close-lipped, and Sander seems content to follow along, reciprocating with ever gentle press of his mouth. 

Robbe brushes their noses together, lets their foreheads rest together, then tugs Sander back on to his chest, wrapping him up tightly. He drops another kiss on his head as he does so, for the simple reason that he can. “Don’t you have school?”

“Mm,” Robbe affirms. “My exam isn’t until later, though. I get to lie in with you for a bit.”

Sander hums. “Lucky you.” There’s some of his usual suggestive intonation, hidden in the still visible traces of his smile, but it’s weak. Only barely there. Robbe is happy to take what he can get. 

“Very lucky,” Robbe agrees, squeezing him tighter just in case the message isn’t clear. Sander doesn’t say anything, but he picks Robbe’s hand up off his waist to tangle it with his own, settling them on Robbe’s chest. Robbe lets him play with his fingers in silence. If that’s what Sander needs, it’s not much for Robbe to give. His throat still feels tight and there’s a lingering ache covering his heart, but Sander’s here. He’s with Robbe and he’s safe and that’s all that matters. 

Sander eventually clears his throat. “Thanks for letting me stay.” 

Robbe wonders if he says it for lack of anything else. He wonders if maybe he’s joking—teasing. Because that doesn’t make any sense. Robbe should be thanking him for being here. He wants to thank him for everything. Robbe wouldn’t be who he is without Sander. He wouldn’t be himself—he would never have gotten the chance. Robbe says, “You can stay forever, if you like.”

Sander makes a questioning hum; Robbe hums affirmingly back at him. He doesn’t say anything else, because if he tries, he’ll say everything else. He’ll tell Sander how there’s nothing he wants more, how he wishes he could infinitize this minute and live together in it forever. Because maybe they’re not currently as happy as they could be, as they have already been, but it’s more than Robbe expected to ever have again. He’s content. He thinks Sander is, too. 

But he wouldn’t be if Robbe said any of that, so he doesn’t. Not right now. It’d be a bit contrary to his minute by minute promise, he thinks, and he doesn’t plan on breaking that. 

Robbe questions, “Are you hungry?”

Sander hasn’t eaten much. He hasn’t moved, really. When Robbe brought him home yesterday he’d spent the first while laying with him. Sander had immediately sunk into his arms and fallen asleep, his body a dead weight after having completely shut down with exhaustion. Robbe realised he probably hadn’t slept properly in days. He stayed with him for over an hour, just laying there and providing whatever comfort he could, before getting up to get himself food and deciding to make Sander some as well. 

He hadn’t wanted any of it. Robbe hadn’t pushed. He hadn’t wanted Robbe hovering. Robbe had left. 

Well, he’d gone out to the sitting room and stared blankly at the television until Milan and then Zoe had come home. They’d distracted him a bit, but he couldn’t help wandering into Sander occasionally. He used the excuse of needing to study more, sitting at his desk and studying little more than Sander’s features, until Sander had called him quietly and reached his arm out in offering. 

He’d gotten Sander to eat a little dinner. He settled in with him again then and he hasn’t moved since. 

But it spins round and round in his head, poking at his skull. The reminder that Sander probably hasn’t eaten much in days, either. Robbe can’t force feed him, but he can casually bring it up every now and then.

“Not really,” Sander mumbles, and that’s fair. He’ll leave it at that. “You should go make yourself breakfast though, if you are.”

“I’m okay,” Robbe assures. “I want to stay here for a little bit.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Then, “You don’t have to stay with me. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Sander.” Robbe shakes his head, then realises the other boy can’t see him. He adds a little extra incredulity to his voice instead. “You’re not a burden. You’re my boyfriend. I missed you. Can’t I just want to lay with you for a little while?”

Sander swallows, but his voice is still hoarse when he speaks. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Sander,” Robbe says again. He tugs at the boy’s side, urging him back a few inches so he can look at Robbe and hopefully be more convinced. Sander reluctantly drags his head up onto the pillow, not far from Robbe’s own. Robbe rests a hand on his neck to keep him there. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Okay?”

Sander rolls onto his back, and the movement takes him just a little further away. “There is,” he whispers brokenly. “I hurt you. I’ve hurt you so many times.”

His eyes are glistening again, and no, this is not what Robbe wanted. At all. His heart throbs. He should’ve kept him bundled up in his arms. He’s farther away now, and Robbe’s scared Sander won’t let him reach him again. He shifts a bit closer, breaching some of the distance, and decides to at least try. “I know. I hurt you too. But none of it hurt as much as when I thought I’d lost you.”

Sander’s already shaking his head, fingers clenching and opening over and over again on top of his chest. “No, no, you got hurt.”

And suddenly, Robbe understands. 

“Sander, no. No, that’s not—“ But Sander doesn’t even seem to be listening, still shaking his head and clenching and unclenching his fist, chest rising and falling in unsteady motions. He abandons the soft tone then, putting as much conviction in his words as he can muster. “Sander, no. That wasn’t you. You did not hurt me. That wasn’t your fault, Sander. Do you hear me? That wasn’t you.”

“Hey,” he continues, gentle again, cupping Sander’s cheek and tilting his head towards him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. If I hadn’t been with you—“

“No, Sander. If I hadn’t been with you. You got hurt, too. Why aren’t you blaming me? Why should it be on you?”

“Because I told you not to do anything about it,” Sander snaps. He looks back at the ceiling and rubs his hands over his face then leaves them there. He’s breathing harshly, still, and his shoulders heave once, a tremor running through him. Robbe pulls his hands away, tangles them with his own and sets the whole bundle on Sander’s chest. A hopefully steadying weight. 

“Okay,” Robbe whispers. “Okay. But that doesn’t make it your fault. You have to know that, Sander. It wasn’t our fault.” Sander remains unmoved. “Sander,” Robbe prods. Then, “Why didn’t you want to go to the police?”

The blonde closes his eyes. “I did. I thought that we should. I just—that morning, Britt was there and when she asked what happened I just told her. She wouldn’t let it go and she already knew about us and she was—she was angry at me and I just told her because I thought that she—I don’t know.” That brokenness is back again, and it seems so far from the Sander he knows that it doesn’t seem like Sander at all. But this is just as much Sander as the boy he met in the beach house. This is a part of Sander as much as Bowie is, as much as his art is, as much as Robbe is. It’s just the part he didn’t know. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, Sander, c’mere,” Robbe coaxes. “Come.” Sander settles back into his arms again after some insistent probing on Robbe’s end. Robbe takes the opportunity to rub his back, smooth sweeping motions up and down, until Sander relaxes some. “Okay, now go again. Just breathe.”

Sander does just that, taking a few deep breaths until they grow somewhat even again. “Thank you,” is muttered into Robbe’s chest. 

Robbe kisses his forehead, moving his hand into Sander’s hair, the other now rubbing soothingly over his arm. “What did she say?���

“She asked what did I expect?” Sander huffs a laugh. He seems, like Robbe, not to find it very funny. “Did I not know what happens when I just go around kissing boys? But I wouldn’t, because it was the mania, and I couldn’t think of things like that when I was manic. Didn’t I know that’s why it had to be treated? Didn’t I know that’s why I shouldn’t be pushing her away, because I need her to take care of me? Because I wasn’t thinking, I never think, and she knew it would get me hurt, that it’d make other people get hurt because I couldn’t help but drag them into it, because of course they’re going to hurt you if you don’t act normal—“

He cuts himself off with a ragged breath, but Robbe knows before he hears the sound that he’s crying again. It’s not like yesterday. He isn’t sobbing, isn’t falling apart. This is different, quiet and controlled, and Robbe can’t help but think it’s worse. He hates that Sander still feels this need to direct his hurt inwards, doing everything he can to protect Robbe from himself. Robbe will gladly carry some of the weight if it means he can have just a sliver of Sander’s light back in his life. 

He will gladly take every memory of Britt and every word she’s ever said from his beautiful blonde head and shred them into a million pieces. 

“Sander, no.” Robbe curls towards him, holds him impossibly tighter, and feels some of the ache fade. “Sander, that’s not okay. It’s not your fault. Do you hear me? None of it is your fault. You’re not abnormal because you’re bipolar. You’re not abnormal because you like boys. They’re the ones who are fucked up, okay? It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, baby. It’s not our fault.”

Sander tucks his arm between their bodies to press his fist against Robbe’s chest. “But it was, the first time.”

Robbe freezes. 

“I started it.”

Robbe tries to make words, but he can’t quite get anything out. His voice has left him, shrinking low in his throat, away from the tension closing his vocal chords. His brain cowers away, shutting down before it can run away with its lone thought. Every single one of his cells is only capable of screaming no. 

“They weren’t even doing anything, they were just outside this club. These guys still called out to them as they passed. But they weren’t going to do anything. They wouldn’t have done anything. But I couldn’t let it go, and I called them out, and when he—when he came over to me I asked him what the fuck was wrong with it, and then I...I kissed him. I thought, I don’t know, I thought—I thought I’ll just prove my point, and I didn’t even think. It was the stupidest thing I could’ve done and it seemed like a perfectly sane idea.” He laughs derisively, and it’s almost a sob. Robbe blinks hard at the wall and draws his bottom lip between his teeth, holding Sander silently. “It was my first manic episode.”

“The guy hit me,” he says, in a tone that implies obviously could be tagged on at the end. “And I think I just went into shock. But the two outside the club came to help me, and it just—it didn’t make any difference. There were four of them and they were bigger and they knew what they were doing. I went to the police with them. But all they focused on was that I provoked them. It didn’t even matter that they’d thrown the first punch. I goaded them into it. I kissed him, so he had the right to sprain my wrist.”

“Fuck,” Robbe breathes, finally. “Fuck, Sander. I didn’t…”

He doesn’t bother finishing the sentence, because of course he didn’t. There’s so much that he didn’t know, that he still doesn’t, that he probably never will. There’s a limit, somewhere, to the things Sander will ever be willing to tell him, he realises. But he’s telling him this now. So Robbe will listen, no matter how much he wishes it’s something he’d never have to hear. 

“Britt was there. I don’t know why. I don’t even remember where it was. But she saw the end of it, and she helped me get home, and she messaged me the next day. She’s the only one who knows what happened, aside from my parents. She told me the same thing then. That I should’ve known better in the first place, that I should’ve expected it, that I should’ve at least known better than to expect anything from the police. That going to them would only elongate the whole thing and I should just forget it ever happened, because if anything I was the one who looked bad. I’d done the wrong thing.”

“Sander,” is all Robbe is capable of repeating, hopelessly. He makes himself think through it for a moment, heart breaking a little further with ever one of Sander’s trembling breaths. “That wasn’t okay, either. Yes, you fucked up, but you had the right intentions. You were trying to stand up for someone, trying to help, and you took it overboard but you didn’t hurt anyone. Not like they did. They shouldn’t have hurt you. It wasn’t your fault that they hurt you.”

His chest loosens enough to let a small stab of fury through, a little bit of steel. “And Britt,” he continues, “she shouldn’t have told you it was. Not then and definitely not now. That’s fucked up, Sander. She was the one in the wrong, okay? If she loved you, she wouldn’t have treated you like that. You can’t believe any of that. I promise it’s not true.”

Sander’s hand slides around his neck to curl in his hair. He meets Robbe’s gaze and Robbe holds it, steady and sure. Sander presses forward and kisses him, equally determined, and Robbe returns it slowly, until it turns soft and reassuring and Sander melts into his side once again, face tucked into his neck. Robbe adds another kiss to his hair. 

“Is it too late to go to the police, now? Do you still want to?” Sander asks after a moment. 

Robbe gives him a squeeze. “I don’t think it’s too late. But we don’t have to talk about that now, okay? We’ll just chill.”

“Minute by minute.” Robbe can hear his smile. He gives an affirmative hum in response. “How many other Robbe and Sanders do you think are lying like this right now?”

“Right now? None.” Sander looks up at him, and Robbe lets his voice drop to a whisper. “I think, the universe is giving us this minute. This minute is just ours.”

Sander’s smile is brilliant. Robbe wants to wake up to it forever.

[meltedhorror]

“S- Simon? This isn’t funny! Where did you go?!”

Emmet's voice echoed through the seemingly empty house, the old and halfly rotten floorboards creaking beneath him as he rushed through the almost endless corridors and rooms.

They had just been driving before this, on their way home from a different location and investigation, when Simon had spotted this abandoned house through the thickly grown trees and begged him to stop just so they could explore for a bit.

But there were a lot more buildings than they had initially thought, and his friends' curious hunger had kept them there for longer than anticipated. Much longer. It had gotten dark, and neither of them had taken any equipment except a small handheld camera before they left their car, so they were left with the flashlights on their phones, which hadn’t been such an issue if they had made it back to the car at all…

On their way back, when it wasn’t that dark yet, Simon had realised he forgot something in one of the buildings. He had told Emmet he remembered where he left it, and that he’d be quick to get it and meet him back at the car.

They had agreed to meet at the car, but Simon never came back.

After five minutes he figured he was on his way back.

Ten minutes passed, he thought he must’ve had trouble finding the thing he was looking for.

Fifteen minutes passed, Emmet started getting a bit worried but told himself he probably just found something interesting on the way back.

20 minutes, he tried calling him but no answer.

25 minutes, he started to get really worried. It was completely dark out now, and he couldn’t see much further than his phone's flashlight would let him.

Finally he decided to go look for him, worried something might’ve happened to him or that he got lost in the maze-like buildings. If it was hard to find their way around before in daylight, it was bound to be impossible now in the dark.

But now here he was, frantically looking for his buddy in pitch darkness, in an old house which could possibly collapse at any second and his mind playing tricks. For every corner he’d turn or door he’d pass through, the light of his phone would cast shadows that looked frighteningly a lot like people.

“Simon!”

His voice was breaking as he yelled, both from how tired his vocal chords were from yelling and how out of breath he was. He had been running around a good ten minutes at this point, and still no sign of the shorter brunette.

Eventually he had to stop to catch his breath. The room that he stopped in was like every other in the building; halfly torn down, the roof caving in and in some spots missing entirely, revealing the upper floors. The wallpaper that was still on the wall was just barely hanging on, chipping off in chunks if not entirely missing. He heaved, standing bent over and leaning on his knees. He couldn’t see anything in front of him if he didn’t have his light aimed the way he was looking.

He decides to check the battery on his phone.

23%, 10:42 in the evening. And still no sign of Simon.

“Please… You can’t have gone missing right?” He thinks out loud “If this is your idea of a prank…”

But then he thought he heard something. Emmet quickly straightened his posture and looked around with his phone. Yeah, he definitely heard something. Something echoed through this place, something sounding awfully a lot like faint music... 

But how was that possible? There weren’t even as much as power lines running to this place, there shouldn’t be any means of electricity in any of the buildings. Unless it was...

He stood and listened for another moment. He could hear the rustling of leaves outside in the wind, and how it almost howled through the empty corridors. Faint music, but it wasn’t far off. He swallowed hard, thinking for a moment. If it was Simon, he couldn’t afford to just stand there and wait.

He decided to follow the sound.

As he got closer to the source he started to realise something was wrong. It sounded… Strange. Almost as if through an old radio, but how could that be possible? It was a very old song as well, maybe 40’s or 50’s by the sound of it. This couldn’t be Simon, it was something else. But he had to find out.

‘Keep a knocking but ya can’t come in… Keep a knocking but ya can’t come in.... Come back tomorrow night and try again…’

It got louder and louder, until he found himself in front of a doorway, of course missing it’s door like every other he had passed by and through. The music was clearly coming from within that room.

“You in there?”

No reply, just the music playing back at him in it’s upbeat 50’s tempo.

He took a deep breath, wondering if he should just turn back and leave, go back to the car maybe. Because maybe Simon had came back while he was gone.

But he had to see what was playing that music.

Gathering whatever bravery he still had within him, he took a step forwards and entered the room, but as soon as he got through the entrance the music just… Stopped. He froze mid step, staring straight ahead and listening sharply after anything moving at all in the room. Nothing.

It was dead silent, as if nothing had been there at all.

He exhaled heavily after what seemed like hours just standing there holding his breath, quickly shining his light around the room.

It was empty.

Through another exhale he mumbled a short ‘what the fuck?’ as he stepped further in in complete and utter confusion. There had been music there just a couple seconds ago! Where did it go? Who was playing it? And most importantly, what was playing? Because as he was standing in the middle of the worn down room he couldn’t see any trace of any sort of electronic, let alone a radio of all things.

He scratched his head, eyes darting wildly around the room trying to find answers. But he wouldn’t find anything.

He checked the battery on his phone.

Already down to 6%

He didn’t have much time to ponder over why it had drained so quickly however… The room seemed to drop in temperature scarily fast, and sent him shivers throughout his entire body. He stood there, frozen, staring up at the wall in front of him with his back turned to the doorway.

And that’s when he heard it. The radio. It was behind him, and it was playing static mixed with what seemed to be flipping through channels inhumanly fast, voices and songs coming and going and only staying for a split second.

His heart sank, and In that very same moment, the cold seemed to have eaten the last of his phone's battery. The light disappeared, leaving him in complete darkness. 

He blindly turned around, staring wide eyed and shaking towards the doorway.

Two yellow glowing eyes and a huge smile stared back at him… No, one eye and what appeared to be a… Tuner?

He was frozen in place, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make a single sound. All he could do was watch as the thing crept closer. The distorted channel flipping seemed to die down in favour of static, but there was something else in the background, and it sounded like it was cackling, as if it thought this was funny.

“Well well well WELL what do we have here?”

The voice was heavily distorted and riddled in static, the same as you’d hear listening to someone through an actual radio, but he could tell it was the voice of a young man. He could feel him creeping even closer, even if he couldn’t tell visually. The lights that seemed to be coming from the person's face were glaringly bright, and he couldn’t make out much more of him than that.

When Emmet didn’t respond he seemed to grow impatient, tilting its head to the side but not letting him go out of his sights.

“What’s the matter? Cat caught your tongue? Oh come now! Don’t be shy! I won’t bite~ I’ll promise you that much~” His words dripped of poison, again inching closer and causing Emmet to stumble back and hitting the wall behind him. Not only did he regret doing that because he now successfully cornered himself, as soon as he touched the wall a cascade of dust and old crumpled up wallpaper came falling down on him.

“Wh- Who are you!? What have you done to Simon?!” Emmet finally manages to sputter out. Although he couldn’t see the other person, he could tell he was a bit taken aback.

“My my, what accusations already! To assume little ol’ ME have even SEEN your pal! Psh! Such manners, or should I rather say no manners” The person sounded almost offended “But to answer your first oh so RUDE question, I’m your show host for the evening, for the night, for the day for the week for the mONTH FOR THE YEAR FOR THE LIFETIME!”

The way it sped up its speech was enough to send him shivers, but it’s cackling laughter afterwards was almost worse.

“What do you mean ‘show host’?!”

The way his voice quivered seemed to almost amuse the other person. “Oh… Don’t be silly now… I’m the show host, and you’re my new and fresh contestant! Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t that GREAT?”

“Contestant? But I never signed up for anything!”

The being seemed to shake his head disapprovingly, or maybe it was out of pity, and appeared to back off a bit.

“Wonder how long you’ll make it… Things ain’t looking so bright for ya kiddo if this is your attitude! Hm… Shame. Such a shame.”

After it had finished that sentence, it turned around and left Emmet staring into complete darkness again, and left the room without another word.

“H- Hey!! Wait! No stop! You have to explain!”

He blindly scrambled after the person, tracing his hands along the walls to not accidentally run into one and frantically looking both directions of the hallway outside the room. He couldn’t see anything, but he could still hear the static.

It was coming from the right.

He stumbled down the corridor, keeping one hand on a wall and praying he wouldn’t trip on the remains of ceiling or leftover furniture. The corridor seemed to lighten up a bit further ahead though, and as he got closer he got more and more confident in running a bit faster.

He turned a corner, and it was a bigger corridor with windows to the outside evenly spaced all the way down. The moon was out, shining just enough to brighten up the corridor so he could see… But he soon wished he hadn’t followed the person.

Further down the corridor it stood, no, it floated. It didn’t have legs, but a long tail that was slowly moving side to side. It wasn’t tall, by the looks of it shorter than Emmet himself, but it was the way it was staring back at him that scared him rather than his size…

He was wearing a blue polo shirt spotted with flowers in various sizes, and it looked far from clean just like the rest of him. It was spotted with blood. His skin was a dark and unnatural green, and from his neck two antennas stuck out, as if they had been stabbed into him. His collar was stained red beneath them, obviously far from fresh but still looking as if it was constantly getting soaked.

But his face… His emotionless and cold face, halfly covered in his own blood from a huge wound on the side of his head. It resembled a radio, his mouth now revealed to be the screen of a very old radio, showing the different channels, and his right eye as previously suspected replaced with a dial.

The radio host slowly lifted a hand, pointing directly to Emmet and staring coldly, like a predator at its prey...

“You better start looking for your buddy before it’s too late.”

[all-the-love-harold]

Chapter 16- Goodbye For Now

Master post 

Come and Talk about Harry and Poppy 

Previously: 

Danny lived on the other side of London in a dingy old flat that Harry was only able to find because he’d been there once before, to help Danny bring some supplies to set for the photoshoot.  He climbed up the stairs, opening lines running through his head “Do you really want a kid mate?”, “you don’t know the first thing about being a dad”, “You can’t just swoop in now, after everything you’ve put her through and expect to be a happy family.” None of them would do, he knew what he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to say it – He needed Danny to know how much he’d hurt Poppy, and how much this baby meant to her, but there were no words that could express how both Poppy and Harry felt about this baby.

Harry reached the top of the stairs on Danny’s floor and made his way down the hallway to his door, a boozy smell surrounding it. He drew in a deep breath and knocked on the door, unsure what he’d be greeted with. After a few seconds, a drunken Danny answered the door, squinting at the harsh light in the hallway.

“What the fuck do you want dick head?” He slurred at Harry “Come to buy my silence or summat?”

****

“I just want to talk” Harry said, scrunching his nose at the smell omitting from Danny’s apartment

“It’s not your kid- it’s not your business” Danny slurred

“Well, she’s my wife, so it is my business”

“So she does suck your cock to get your money” he laughed “Good at it isn’t she?”

Harry drew in a breath, in an attempt to calm himself “Don’t you dare talk about her like that, she’s wanted this for too long and I won’t let you come in and ruin it for her”

“Ruin it? I gave it to her, didn’t I? If I remember correctly you were the one that set us up”

“And if I remember correctly, you said you didn’t want a thing to do with it”

“Didn’t” he hiccupped “do now”

“You can’t just swoop in and pretend everything’s been fine” Harry said through gritted teeth “it hasn’t been fine, this isn’t a fairy tale”

“You married her like it was one” Danny countered back

“That has nothing to do with it, our marriage is between us, but I can’t let you come in and ruin this for her, she’s waited too long to have this baby, she knows you didn’t want it and she gave you an out” he sighed heavily “take it”

“I’ll take it, as long as you have nothing to do with the kid either”

Harry looked at him incredulously, amazed how petty he was and confused about what he had done to make Danny hate him so much “I guess you’ll be talking to my lawyers pretty soon then.” He stepped away from the door and took his car keys out of his pocket and walked away, wanting to say more, to make sure he went away, but remembering what Poppy had said just before he left.

The drive home was a haze, he couldn’t remember how he got there, his mind too busy running through potential scenarios in his head. He wanted to understand where Danny was coming from, if he was in that situation, would he be acting the same way? Sure, he’d want to be apart of his baby’s life, but not out of spite. There weren’t many normal things in his life, but Poppy and this baby were his chance at the life he’d always dreamed of, he couldn’t let Danny in and ruin it.

“H?” Poppy called as she heard the front door slam shut. Silence. She stood from the couch, and left her mum  watching the 7pm news and walked towards the entryway. As she rounded the corner, she saw Harry, walking up the stairs to their bedroom, looking defeated “Harry” she said softly.

He turned his head, running his head through his hand “I need to call my lawyer again”

“What happened?” she asked, walking up the stairs to meet him

“He’ll go away if I go away” he refused to make eye contact with her again “I’m going to call my lawyer, see about a divorce”

Poppy looked at him in disbelief, “divorce?” she whispered, aware that her mum was probably listening in “That’s not a solution Harry”

He heard Linda shuffling around in the next room and took Poppy’s hand, leading her into the bedroom, closing the door behind him “You’ve wanted this your entire life Poppy, I can’t be the reason you don’t get it” tears were forming in his eyes now, as he came to the realisation that this was all his fault.

“Harry” Poppy wrapped her arms around his waist “I want a family with you, this little prince is as much your son as he is mine, no one in their right mind is going to take him away from me, which means that they’re not taking him away from you”

“If I’m out of the picture, Danny goes away”

“I don’t want you out of the picture, I can’t do this alone” the room was dark, lit only by light from the street lamp that flooded in forming shadows on their faces “We’ll figure out what’s going to happen with Danny, but you see these” she toyed with wedding rings on each of their fingers “these mean we’re in this together”

He smiled weakly at her “This entire situation is my fault, you know”

“Hey” she lifted his head so that he was looking at her “You’re not the one who slept with a stranger, because she was too afraid to tell her best friend that he was the love her life”

“You forgot the bit where you forgot to use a condom” he smirked

She giggled, resting her head on his shoulder “shut it Styles”

“Don’t be silly” he laughed “wrap your willy”

“Ok” she said, taking her arms away from his waist “I’m leaving now” she turned and walked out the door “you call your lawyer, get us an appointment for tomorrow morning and  I’ll sort out dinner because clearly you forgot”

“Sorry” he called as he watched her walk back down the stairs “I’ll only be five minutes and then we can work dinner out”

***

September 12th 2017 – 22 Weeks  

Harry had Poppy up early the next morning, so that they could meet with his new lawyer. The meeting was set up for 8am, because Poppy had to get to work and Harry had to pack for tour. With the wedding and everything else that was happening, the start date for his tour was quickly creeping up on him, and now it was the day that he was set to leave for the American leg, and he was yet to pack a single item.

The mornings were starting to get cold now, so Poppy grabbed her coat from the wardrobe and poured her morning tea into a travel mug while Harry got dressed. When the were both ready, they left the house in silence, mostly because they were still waking up and they found it much easier to be quiet at this time of the morning.

They followed the legal secretary into an empty conference room and sat down in the two chairs at the end of the long table. Harry was nervous, Poppy could tell by the way he was playing with his lips and she had to admit, she was feeling the nerves too. She knew that no one was going to take the baby off her, but she didn’t want him to have the confusion that came with shared custody.

“Mr and Mrs Styles” an older man, with a kind smile walked in holding a file “I’m John” he held out his hand and Poppy and Harry both shook it.

“Thanks for meeting us on such short notice” Harry said, taking his seat again

“My pleasure Mr Styles”

“Please” he said “call me Harry”

“Alright, Harry, why don’t you give me the rundown on this situation, Kate’s given me the general overview, but I’ll admit I was a little confused”

“Fair enough” Poppy nodded her head and John smiled at her

“Basically, the baby isn’t mine, we weren’t together when he was conceived, but now we’re married the father suddenly wants custody”

“How much do we know about the father’s financial situation”

“He’s unemployed, but he was paid quite well from a job that he did a few months ago” harry said and Poppy smiled to herself, knowing exactly that Harry had offered him opportunity because he needed it.

John took down some notes on his legal pad “what about his living situation?

“He lives in an old one bedroom flat in Hackney” Poppy said

“and has he filed any motions for custody yet?” John asked, putting his pen down

“Not yet” both Poppy and Harry said

“Right- and Harry, Kate mentioned something about him wanting you out of the picture?”

“I went to talk to him last night and he told me that if I had nothing to do with the baby, then he wouldn’t either” Harry said, putting his hand on Poppy’s knee

“Ok” john said, looking through some of the papers in the file he’d brought with him “Because there hasn’t been any custody motions filed yet, there’s very little we can do, but what I’m going to suggest is that, when the little bundle of joy is born Harry adopts him, which makes you both the child’s legal parents.” Poppy looked over at Harry and saw that he was trying to hide a smile “that will make it harder for the biological father to be granted custody when and if he does file for it” John saw the unsettled look on Poppy’s face and continued “I don’t know a judge that would grant full or even part custody to parents in such vastly different situations, so more than likely, the most the fellow will get is weekly visitation rights”

“Good” Poppy said smiling at Harry who beamed back at her, obviously excited about the adoption

“Am I right in saying your leaving the country today?”

“I am” Harry nodded “Poppy’s staying here, that’s not a problem is it?”

“No, not at all, there’s not much we can do until he’s born anyway, I think it’s pretty unlikely that the father will find a lawyer that will file a custody suit for an unborn child, because they almost always end in the mothers favour, so we’ve got nothing to worry about for now” John nodded “I’ll have the adoption papers drawn up, and if you’ve decided on a name, I can have it all ready to file once he arrives”

Both Poppy and Harry looked at each other, in all the chaos of the last few weeks, from moving in together to deciding to get married and having to organise a last minute wedding, the thought of a name for their little prince had never even crossed their minds. “He, uh, doesn’t have a name yet” harry said quietly

“That’s fine” John took out his pen and scribbled a few more notes on his legal pad “I can have it all ready anyway, and once he’s born all we’ll have to do is have you both sign the forms and fill his name in – when are you due Poppy?”

“Early to mid-December, I have two different C-section dates set, he’s likely to come early because of a medical condition that I have”

“Ok” John nodded “If you don’t mind me asking, has this been a complicated pregnancy?”

“It’s considered high risk” Poppy admitted, putting her hand over Harry’s which was still resting on her knee

“And has there been extra costs associated with that?” he asked, looking at her sympathetically

She looked to Harry, who nodded at her to continue “Yeah, in the first trimester I had to have weekly scans, which incurred an extra cost, and once I reach 30 weeks, I’ll be having them weekly again”

He scribbled that down “And I know this might seem invasive, but it may be helpful when and if the father sues for custody, were the costs covered by yourself or Harry?”

“Harry” she said, squeezing his hand

“I’ll make note of that” John said, scribbling it down “It may be irrelevant, but his absence during a complicated pregnancy is definitely something to be used against him”

“Great” she smiled

“Ok, I think that’s about all we can do for today, I’ll make sure those adoption papers are ready as soon as possible, just in case we need them sooner, and Poppy I might get your email address too, because it might be easier to contact you while Harry’s away” he said, handing her a pen and his legal pad

“Of course”, she wrote down her work email, and handed him back the pen “Thank you for all your help”

“You’re welcome” John opened the door and ushered them both out. Harry held her hand as you walked down the hallway and out the door, both feeling much less nervous about the whole situation now.

“Feel like being late to work today” Harry asked as they both got back into his car

“Depends” she said, trying to suss out his plans

“Breakfast? Like old times, at that café that Ali used to work at?”

She gave him the side eye and looked at him suspiciously “wanting to run into ali again are we?”

“No” he said, without missing a beat “just like the food there”

She giggled and rested her head on his shoulder as he put the car in reverse to get out of the parking spot “I’ll text big boss ben and tell him I’ll be late- Mumma’s hungry”

***

The rest of Poppy’s day was a nightmare, the second she walked into the office she was bombarded with things to do, emails to answer, and a spread to organise for London Grammar who were in for their Live Lounge performance. She also had to 3 meetings to go to with Ben, where she had to be concentrating enough to take notes, so by the time she made it home she was exhausted. But she didn’t have time to rest now, Harry’s flight left in a few hours and she had to make sure he was packed and ready to go before she took him to the airport.

“Dinner first. Pack later” Harry said to Poppy as she stressed about finding his favourite jumper that had gone missing in all chaos of her moving in “You have to feed my little boy in there”

“He’s not yours yet styles” she  smiled at him

“Heyy” he looked up from the kitchen counter where he was serving her dinner for her “Eat. I’ll go look for the jumper one last time”

She gave in, taking a seat at the kitchen table to eat her meal. She was starving, she hadn’t realised how hungry she was until she took her first bite, and before she knew it she’d finished it and were onto her seconds

“Found it!” Harry yelled from upstairs and Poppy rolled her eyes

“Where was it?” she yelled back, mouth full of food

He walked back into the kitchen, holding the jumper up triumphantly “was in your drawer” he looked at her accusingly

“’s soft” she admitted “an it smells good and it fits the bump”

“Were you hiding it?” he asked, stealing a piece of chicken from her plate

“Maybe”

He looked at her, and back at the jumper, and back to her “Keep it love, I have plenty more that I can take”

“Are you sure?” she took the jumper from his hands and wrapped it around her shoulders “You love this jumper”

“I love you more” he kissed her cheek and served himself a plate of food.

Once they’d both finished eating, Harry took his bags out to the range rover and double checked that he had everything that he needed. His stylist had all of his suits packed up for him, all he needed to worry about was his casual clothes for between shows and a few bits and pieces to keep him entertained on the road.

“You ready?” he asked Poppy when he was satisfied that he had everything he’d need

“Yeah” she grabbed the keys off  their hook and opened the front door, she was driving him to the airport so that she could say a proper goodbye just before he got on the plane. This was something that she’d always done before he left for tour, even when she barely knew him, she drove him to the airport and made sure he got on the plane safely. This time was different, they were married now and this was his first time being on the road solo and by the time tour finished they could both be parents.

“I’ve written Jeff’s number down on a piece of paper and stuck it on the fridge” Harry said as they pulled up at a red light “if you need anything and I’m not picking up for whatever reason, he will and he’ll get any messages to me that you have”

“Thanks” she smiled

“And don’t forgot you need to be writing down all of your symptoms for your OB and you’ve got that growth scan on Friday so call me as soon as you know what going on and don’t forget to keep taking your vitamins and you..”

“Harry” Poppy said, interrupting him “I’ll be fine, Mum’s here to keep me on top of things, and I’ll keep you updated on everything that’s going on”

“And if Danny tries anything, call me”

“You know I will” she pulled up to the quick stay car park at Heathrow airport and helped Harry load his bags onto a trolley and as she walked up to the departures gate, Harry was met by airport security, in case there were any fans or paparazzi around.

“This is it love” he said as he reached the point where he had to check in. He wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his chest

“I’m going to miss you H”

“It’s only 3 and a half weeks love, then I’m home for two weeks before I go again”

“I know” she nodded, choking back a few tears

“I’ll miss you too” his said placing a kiss to her forehead “look after yourself”

“Gotta look after the little prince H”

He moved his hands from her waist to her belly “That’s right, our little Prince needs you to look after yourself”

“I love you Harry”

“I love you too Poppy” he kissed her again “We’ll do what we used to do yeah? I’ll facetime you everyday”

Poppy  nodded, pulling away from his hug and placed one last kiss on his hand as she removed it from her belly “Call me when you land.”