#so kind of this fella to stay put long enough for me to take a good picture of it

[lifemod17]

Bugtuals pspsps 🪤

There's been a lot of dragonflies around our street lately, here's one that landed on my snake plant

[the-universal-sun]

Do you have any little Fiddleford hcs?

I haven’t really thought about before, but you’ve inspired me. Thank you! Please let me know if this is what you were thinking of!

I don’t really think he’d start regressing until after the memory gun is created and Ford goes through the portal. His mind is in shambles, he’s stressed, anxious, and neurotic all the time basically. He’s probably homeless/living in the dump at this point, too. So all that combined leads his mind retreating to a safer age, a younger age. It’s the one good thing besides the Society that he has.

Now, let’s imagine he goes to the Mystery Shack to confront Ford after a memory is triggered and he finds Stan instead, after Stan explains his connection to Ford, Fidds tells Stan that he used to be Ford’s research partner but left for reasons he couldn’t and didn’t want to remember. Stan, feeling sorry for the squirrelly little man, offers to drive him home, but when they reach the dump he’s been staying at, he offers Fidds to stay back at the shack. He doesn’t do it out of kindness, though a part of him is sympathetic given he was homeless for a decade up until a year ago, but because he thinks he can convince Fidds to help him with the portal. Stan’s a conman, so it doesn’t take him too long to get Fidds to agree to stay, just for the winter at least.

I would imagine that they don’t spend time together until Stan convinces Fidds to help with the portal, which took weeks to do. And he’s still not happy about and refuses to go down to the basement. He’ll do the equations and teach Stan the engineering bits, but that’s all he does, and he’s only doing that much because Ford still is his friend.

Onto the actual headcanons:

- Stan doesn’t really notice anything too out of the ordinary at first, Fiddleford is already an odd, fluttering, and anxious mess with a fractured mind, so seeing him act less like an almost 30 year old and more like a 7 year old isn’t out of the question, who knows the effects of the memory gun?

- It only clicks for Stan after living with and observing Fidds for a couple of months. Stan is actually not surprised or weirded out. He’s lived on the streets for 10 years, he’s seen his fair share of different behaviors, and this is one he actually sort of knows about. One of the prisons he was in made him go to weekly group therapy and this was brought up more than a few times.

- For all the fronts that Stan puts up, he’s a deeply caring and emotional man when it comes to his loved ones, and Fiddleford wiggled his way into his heart quite easily, so he’s going to look after the little guy. That being said, he won’t make it obvious that he knows and cares (he’s being so obvious it’s painful). He speaks softly to Fidds when he notices him feeling smaller, offers kid friendly food and shows, and doesn’t let him work on the portal’s math. And sometimes rocks him to sleep. He’s not obvious at all.

- Fidds is a smart man, he knows what’s going on, he knows that Stan knows what’s going on. But he doesn’t mind so much, having Stan there just helps his anxiety and quiets his mind. Plus, he hasn’t been called “Little Fella/Guy” since he was actually 7 years old, and it feels nice to be taken care of instead. He took care of his 5 younger siblings, his cousins, Ford, his own family, technically he takes care of the town with the Society of the Blind Eye, so this is a nice change

- He does have the energy and eccentricity of Old Man McGucket when regressed. He’s just a boy from the south who loves to run in the dirt and hock loogies sometimes. Stan encourages it, encourages Fidds being loud and playful and full of energy, something he never got to be. It was beaten out of him, but damn if he ain’t gonna make sure that his boy can experience childish joy

- You know how sometimes kids from the south have the strongest and cutest country accent? That’s how Fidds sounds when regressed and Stan cannot get enough of it. He usually hates the accent, but coming from his Little Man? It’s the best sound he’s ever heard, and if he hears anyone making fun of it, he’s punching their lights out

-Fidds is an engineer at heart, always has been, so Stan swipes him some wooden stacking blocks, some child’s robotics sets, and some advanced looking Rubix cubes. Of course when Fidds is feeling overwhelmed and super anxious, not wanting to think for a little bit, Stan acquired some kid friendly books from the library, some crayons and marker, and regular old printer paper

- About every picture Fidds ends up drawing gets put on the refrigerator by Stan. He’s so happy and he loves them

- I headcanon that Stan shows love through home made gifts and quality time, like with Dipper and Mabel’s fishing hats and the time he spent with them, so he makes gifts for Fidds. He’ll draw with him and give him the drawing to keep afterwards (they’re all in Fidds’ little treasure/memory chest), he’ll spend time learning and making food he grew up eating, home made biscuits and gravy, buttermilk pie are the first he learned and are what Fidds wants to eat the most. He hand sews stuffed toys for him, Fidds’ favorite is a dog that was made with different cloth patches, he carries the affectionately named Copper with him everywhere

- Fidds loves being with Stan, his Bubba, he loves the care he can see and feel with each action. His soft touches when Fidds gets into a fit, his soft voice, he never yells and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows why, but his head is too fuzzy to think on it. Fidds was always the one in charge, the big brother, so it’s nice having his Bubba take care of him. He gets fed, he stays warm, and on the days when Fidds feels awful in his mind, he gets wrapped up in a blanket burrito and just held and carried everywhere, all day. He loves Stan

- When Fidds gets scratches and scrapes from playing outside, Stan kisses his boo boos for healing and puts a colorful bandage over it. And then kisses them again for good luck

- His juice has to be watered down or he’s bouncing off the walls and talking a mile a minute, which is cute and all, but not when it’s been nonstop running for 4 hours

- He once had an accident after a nightmare during his nap. He just sat there sobbing until Stan came, he was so scared that Stan would be disgusted and would yell at him. But when Stan found him, all he did was whisper a soft “Little Man”, pick him up, and bring him to the bathroom to give him a warm bath, wrap him up in a burrito with a clean blanket and Copper, and rock him back to sleep.

- Stan loves taking care of Fidds, he likes being needed sure, but he truly does care for Fiddleford, whether he’s the genius engineer helping his get his brother back, or his Little Guy, who loves to draw horses and pigs and can solve a Rubix cube in 15 minutes. And Fiddleford loves Stanley, his best friend who’s helping him stop with the memory gun use and eagerly listens to his engineering lessons, and his Bubba who draws with him and kisses his boo boos when he falls down

- In conclusion, Fiddleford H. McGucket is just a little guy

[ms-scarletwings]

A Speculative Analysis About Irkens No One Asked For: Part I

Dem green fellas. Them lil guys, they’re an interesting pack of critters, aren’t they?

I used to really fixate on them back in middle and high school, stronger than everyone else seemed to be on the spazz in the dog costume. Jhonen Vasquez’s worldbuilding has always towed a very fine line between nonsensically ridiculous and surprisingly logistical, and this balance is typified in everything we know, and can infer, about these bug-eyed imperialists at the center of everything Invader Zim. So, let’s infer, and take a crack at it since no one’s stopping us anyway- More specifically, some thoughts and ponderings I had about how they “tick” as a fully realized society, not just a sci-fi monster..

A Homeworld Obscured 

Now, to really understand the history and “deal” of any civilization, or any animal, usually you would turn to their environment first to give you some handy clues and context.

Small problem, though: We actually don’t get much in the way of direct, explicit showing or explanations about Irk itself when it comes to the show. This makes some sense, given that the whole of what they do worth showing (and the most notable members of their kind) exists almost entirely off-world. So instead, we mostly find out more about Irk from what Invader Zim does tell us about its natives. As far as confirmed canon goes, we know that Irk’s atmosphere appears red, its surface is entirely and densely urbanized, and it’s long been depicted in starmaps with a set of Saturn-like rings. 

  This last fact is probably the most interesting, because planetary rings are usually something we, in our own little solar system, would only associate with massive, gaseous worlds, not terrestrial ones.  What These rings are made of is really anyone’s guess- could be ancient debris from natural satellites, Water-ice particles, maybe even some form of artificial defense network put into orbit by the Irkens themselves. If they aren’t artificially created, this would suggest that Irk has quite a strong gravitational field- greater than that of any of our neighborhood’s rocky planets. This is the common theory I personally like to subscribe to, because it would also go hand and hand with explaining why the average height of the irken race is so much shorter compared to that of an adult human. It fits neatly into the “why” question for the sort of athletic skill and agility we’ve seen invaders able to demonstrate on Earth, too, for otherwise being of meek physical prowess. It even adds some credible context for why the very achievement of growing to a more substaintial height is both uncommon and associated with extreme survival fitness to them.

A Fun fact that’s about to be relevant: “Rayleigh scattering” is the term given to when light wavelengths become shifted and scattered through an atmosphere medium. Long story short, it’s the reason our sky has color to it during the day. Stay with me on this.

I’ve also seen some people take a go at the red-looking surface, guessing a different gas makeup than the elements on earth responsible for our blue skies. I’m gonna go against the grain here, and actually contest that. I think that Irk’s atmosphere is coincidentally extremely similar to Earth’s. We know well enough that they both have a similar composition of gases breathable to both societies, given that Zim, Skoodge, and Tak all seemed pretty comfortable without some form of assistance on the same dirtball as humanity. Instead, I propose that Irk’s magenta skies are actually the symptom of heavy pollution. Sunsets and sunrises in the real world are known to make the sky appear more reddish-orange, even pink, as is. Usually, Rayleigh scattering has the light From the sun appear bluish in full midday, but during low sun, the rays are coming at an angle making them have to travel farther before reaching us, so you have already stretched light waves getting the same treatment from the air and, well, a higher frequency blue turns down to the lower end of the spectrum, red and yellows.

And wouldn’t you know, air pollution can actually do the same thing. THIS is why there's a scary ass orange haze known to accompany the presence of massive forest fires and volcanic eruptions. Earth’s most polluted cities even experience longer and redder sunsets for the same reason. 

Left: Image of a lilac sky over a Chinese city experiencing heavy smog levels Right: Intense red haze spotted over towns in Indonesia in the wake of rampant rainforest fires

On Earth, Zim stared directly into the midday sun without hesitation, nor concern that it would literally blind him. I think the planet hue and this is plenty enough to guess the likely case that Irk’s surface probably doesn’t get a lot of direct sun on an average day as is, and the sheer amount of unbroken cityscape that covers the homeworld would be the more obvious suspect than just having a more distant star from them. If they overcrowded to the point of their expansion, why build their civilization deeper into the ground, instead of up? Maybe there's actually a good reason or two they don’t raise their young topside.

A Psychology Molded for Domination

As well, I want to chirp about real world space again for a second. So, anyone up to the buzz in geek circles and aware of the math on the matter probably got the memo: humanity is almost matter-of-fact certainly not alone in this sandbox of a universe (or at the very least, we won’t always be alone). Like, about as certainly as we were about Black holes’ existence before we up and observed the real thing. And while it’s probably not going to happen in any of our lifetimes, sci-fi and media generally have been trying to take a crack for years at what the theoretical first contact with an alien civilization is going to look like. 

And I’m gonna go ahead and say it, 

As “cliche” and Hollywood as the conquering little green/grey dudes trope might have become… it’s actually not a wild take after all. The little and green thing, that’s creative liberty, but the part about them being hostile and something we may not actually even WANT to be aware of our existence? That’s an idea that even the smarty pants experts have been fearing the realistic odds of, even including the late Stephen Hawking .

The Evolution of intelligent life is a hard thing to really pin down and predict, given that we literally only have the one example to study. Under the right conditions, what reason would another advanced species NOT have to be equally as expanding, as exploitative of its resources, self-destructively short-sighted, and as supremacist as humans have already demonstrated themselves to be capable of? There is a lot of very interesting literature that suggests BOTH empathy/altruism and or aggression/tribalism to be (at least in the short term) very rewarding characteristics for an intelligent social species to develop.

And that’s the thing about the behavior of the Irken Armada I think has always been fascinating. Their drive to be the biggest definitionally invasive species across the cosmos is framed exactly as irrational, bumbling, and pointless as it deserves to be; however, is it not just the extended conclusion of every empire that has existed here on Earth, if only it had survived long enough to achieve the technology of Irk? And yet, it’s reminiscent, like the rest of their design, to the far from sapient, yet very real world creatures they appear to be most inspired by: hive and colony building arthropods. Whether the next point I'm about to touch on should be seen as a rejection of that resemblance, or further elaboration of it is anyone's to answer.

Transhumanism, or.. Transirkenism, in this case?

Like the specifics of what Irk really looks like and how it realistically works, a bunch about the aliens’ physical biology is left to scattered tidbits to ponder and piece together into a bigger picture. A few of those tidbits are as follows, drip-fed to us over the course of aired and scripted but never released episodes:

+ From the mouth of Vasquez himself, it has been confirmed that Irkens lack any form of reproductive organs. Instead, they rely on industrialized facilities to grow and produce them in a factory sense.

+ Yet curiously, they still demonstrate something akin to sexual dimorphism, or at least the cultural existence of masculine/feminine genders, where females are aesthetically set apart by the presence of curled antennae, eyelashes, and higher voices.

+ Irken lifespans are able to stretch far past that of an average human’s (Zim himself is cited to be around 2 centuries old in earth years).

+ Invader class soldiers have been implanted with surgical upgrades to their eyes.

+ Every Irken is fitted with a PAK that serves a wide array of utility and life-sustaining functions for its owner. These units are physically and neurologically connected into an Irken’s spine from “birth” and contain a cybernetic backup of an individual’s personality, assigned occupational programming, and memories. 

That’s not close to a complete list by any means, but it’s got the gist of what I want to dwell on most, starting with the last bit; because the PAK isn’t done true justice in one statement. It is not an extra addition the way a prosthetic enhancement is, and it is not a tool the way armor and weapons are. It is literally analogous to a vital organ to these aliens, and they are shown to die within 10 minutes of being forcefully detached from their own.

The degree to which Irken bodies and minds rely on this technology, and how seamlessly they are integrated into it, ALONG with their completely artificial life cycle all directly points to the fact that their civilization has advanced into a cyborg-like stage of evolution. It may even be on track to reach a post-organical peak in due time, phasing out more and more of their “vestigial” and feeble meatsuits until they’ve become a true drone army. And that actually begs some huge questions now that we realize we will never know how much of the Irken anatomy was ever originally a natural feature. An Irken’s own brain practically comes secondary to the superior efficiency of the supercomputer on their back, capable of literally holding their own essence and being in the form of code. A code that can preserve the “self” even in the event of meatbody failure, being uploaded post-mortem into the Control Brains’ collective data and repurposed for a future generation of workers. It absolutely would stand to reason that the species has continued this biological self-tampering to other heights- extending their lifespans, incorporating untold amount of mechanical upgrades into their bodies, and maybe even genetically engineering their smeets to be so compatible with this technology.  The control brains themselves are a mesmerizing reflection of this change over time- the result of an evident shift long ago from technology serving them, to them serving the directives of computers. When you really pay attention to the control brains’ role in the series, it comes clear to you who (or what) is really in charge of their society. The Tallest still maintain their symbolic/cultural importance to the Irkens, but outside of their part in spearheading the active intergalactic invasion, they ultimately are figureheads when it comes to actually running the homeworld and ruling the lives of Irk’s inhabitants. If I had to bet money, I would say the Brains may even have the ability to choose and predetermine the next Tallest when a replacement is needed. But what does that make the Tallest? A meaningless title and transformation, chosen arbitrarily by the AI overlords? Well, I don’t think so, actually… but maybe that, and more on the “meaty” morphology of their race is all a tangent fit for another day and post ;)

[rafesgoldrings]

currently still thinking about cowboy!rafe lmaoo you made him SOOO DREAMY I CANT

may we please get some fluffy/flirty moments with him?

I’m going to kind of just include multiple moments because I like this format a little better for this concept

When you agreed to be his girlfriend that night, he already knew what he was going to do. You’d walked into work that day expecting the usual ‘mornin darlin’, assuming he didn’t want to draw any attention to the two of you. But instead, he pulled you into a dip kiss, supporting your back as you balanced on one leg and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could hear your fellow ranch hands whistling and hollering at the two of you when he pulled you back to both feet. A wide smile of your face as he yelled a proud “This pretty girl is mine fellas!” flashing you a pearly smile and letting you get to work

He started buying you jeans that he knew would hug your curves perfectly, he insisted it was because you just needed some jeans that could stand the wear and tear, but the gaze on your ass at all times said different. Each time you’d bend over to grab a stack of hay, or reach down to grab a bag of feed when he was around? You’d be met with a slap on the ass and a cheeky smirk on Rafe’s face. “ ‘M sorry sweetheart, just can’t help myself round ya is all, too gorgeous” you’d roll your eyes playfully and get back to the task at hand, swaying your hips dramatically and laughing at the groan he let out

You could keep things professional most of the time when you worked. After all, you got to go home with him almost every night and be as unprofessional as you wanted. But the way he was swinging his lasso around to rope in the new herd of cattle was really doing something to you. You’d be leaning against the bars, thighs slightly clenching at the way he used the rope so perfectly. He was putting on a show for you, flexing every possible muscle he could and smirking in your direction every so often while still focusing on the herd. Once he’d successfully roped them all in, he’d walk over to you and tip his hat, giving you a small kiss. You’d reach over and pull his hat off, placing it on your head and giving him a devilish grin. “Cowboy hat rule still apply for your girlfriend Cameron?” swaying your hips as you walked to his office. “You’re killin me darlin, absolutely killin me” he’d mutter, following you into his office and locking the door.

At the end of a long day, he’d occasionally stay a bit longer wanting to make sure everything was in order before he went home. You never questioned why he’d been staying late the last few days, he was in charge of the place and it wasn’t that uncommon. But what you didn’t know, was that he’d been preparing a moonlit dinner place for the two of you. He had a secret spot his mom used to take him to as a child that was at the end of a nearby trail, he’d put a small projector down and a large blanket, put up strings of fairy lights, took his comfiest pillows. He asked you to stay with him that Friday night and you of course agreed, happy to give him the extra help if he needed. “Do ya trust me?” you of course nodded, he smiled and walked over to the stalls with the horses, walking out with his horse that nobody was even allowed to touch. He climbed up, offering you his hand and pulling you up with him, arms wrapping around his waist as you began moving. The sky full of twinkling stars setting a romantic mood, he told you to close your eyes right before you got to the place so you did. The horse came to a stop, Rafe tying him up to the tree, before jumping off and grabbing hold of your waist to help you down. His hands covered your eyes as he guided you to the blanket, finally uncovering them and telling you to look. A loud gasp falling from your lips at the setup. “Do ya uh, ya like it?” his hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck, worried he didn’t do a good enough job. “I love it Rafe, thank you” wrapping your arms around his neck and deeply kissing him. You’d both sit down, spending the rest of the night enjoying the stars and each others company.

(And finally) Everyone knew you were dating, it wasn’t a secret. They’d seen you kiss and grab on the other when you were free, but nothing more. You could usually keep it professional until you got home, but today you were both far too needy for the others touch and snuck into his office for a quick fuck. You thought Rafe locked the door, he thought you did, and so when one of the older ranch hands opened the door to find your pants around your ankles and you bent over the desk? Safe to say you were both shocked, he quickly shielded you with his body to the best of his ability as the guy apologized and quickly turned around to let you get dressed. You’d pull your pants on urgently and quickly leave the office, Rafe watching with a small smirk as the man turned around and avoided eye contact. He’d just have to make it up to you later…

[clownholemcfannywhistle]

Could This Be Love (Yandere!Shane x F!Reader - Stardew Valley Smut; MDNI

Minors, I can't stop you from reading, but do NOT interact with this post!

Content/trigger warnings: Alcoholism, suicidal ideation, obsessive behavior, jealousy, gross stalkery behavior, voyeurism, creepy camera stuff, masturbating (m), oral sex (m receiving), P in V sex, a lot of dub con stuff, some emotional manipulation, there is an... um... non-sexualized piss scene(?), reader is a young adult but referred to as "kid" affectionately (not sexually), slight love triangle situation with Sebastian, unprotected ushy gushy, lemme know if I missed any.

Word count: 9392. She's a long one, fellas.

Also just a quick reminder that reading or writing or thinking about fucked up shit does not mean you endorse any of it. There's a very big difference between thinking about something from the safety of your own home and something terrible and uncontrollable actually happening. That said, if you start feeling uncomfortable reading this, there's no shame in stopping! And no shame in continuing, as long as you ARE comfortable. Enjoy, sluts. :)

From the moment Shane laid eyes on you, the two of you shared a rocky, complicated, fucked up relationship. It started on the First of Spring, your first full day in Pelican Town. You'd spent the morning and better part of the afternoon working on your new farm, showered, put on a tight-fitting tank top and shorts over leggings, and headed into the saloon.

Shane had been brooding in his usual corner with his drink when you walked in. Heads turned towards you immediately like some kind of shitty pick-me-girl movie. Of course Shane had been informed of the new farmer who would become his next door neighbor to the north of his Aunt Marnie's ranch where he stayed. It was all anyone was talking about. But no one had mentioned the fact that you were drop-dead gorgeous. Shane couldn't help but stare for a moment.

Something about the confident smirk on your face rubbed Shane the wrong way. What the hell were you so happy about, anyway? It was your first day in town, and you had waltzed into the bar like you owned the place. Shane discreetly watched as you went around the room introducing yourself to everyone, just marching up to strangers with the confidence of the attractive. It was annoying, was what it was.

He didn't like the look of your apparent optimism, however sexy you may have been. He didn't like your cocky smirk, like you knew something he didn't. Most of all, he was bitter because he was certain that a pretty young thing like you would want nothing to do with a drunken loser like him. He'd been kicked in the balls by life enough to smell a rejection before it happened anymore. Yep, definitely no chance in hell you'd be interested in him. If anything, you'd just be a pretty memory to stroke his cock to on lonely nights...

As you made your way over to him, Shane groaned into his drink. Before you could get a word in, he cut you off.

"So're you that new farmer everyone and their mother won't shut the hell up about?" he grumbled, forcing his eyes off of you to give off a blase vibe.

You blinked, a bit stunned by his rudeness, but you put on a pretty smile and soldiered on.

"Yep. That's me."

You gave him your name and he gave you barely a grunt in return.

"...What's your name, you ray of sunshine?" you asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

He glared at you and drank from his mug, purposely taking his time about it before he finally answered you.

"Shane." And then he looked away and belched unapologetically.

You chuckled. "Try not to sound so excited."

Shane's glare darkened a bit, and he couldn't resist trying to knock you down a peg.

"Listen, kid. Nobody here gives a shit about you. This town has been dying for years, so the only reason anybody pretends to give a damn is because getting a new farmer in town is a hail Mary to try and save it." He looked at you sideways for a moment before adding, "...Do you know what a hail Mary is?"

Your nostrils flared a bit and for a moment, you gave him just the cutest little pout that had his cock twitching up, so he had to look away lest his body betray him further.

In an obnoxious voice, you retorted, "A hail Mary? What's that? I'm a woman! How many home runs does it take for the goalie to get to the 69-yard line?"

Shane bit his lip and blushed, embarrassed. He hid his shame behind a growl.

"Just fuck off, would you?"

You scoffed. "Gladly."

And you got up and left the saloon. As you walked off, Shane couldn't stop himself from admiring the sway of your hips in those tight shorts and leggings, a small, bitter smirk playing on his face.

The next time Shane saw you, he was hungover and trudging his way to his shitty retail job at Joja Mart. You had your back turned to him, facing the "help wanted" requests board. While sneaking another peek at your ass, he tried to clumsily slip by undetected so he could avoid talking to you. Unfortunately, he was too hungover to be doing any sneaking, and you heard him and turned around, putting your hands on your hips.

Damn. That's what he got for trying to have his cake and eat it, too.

You nodded at him. "You got any odd jobs for me, by chance, Shane?"

He gulped as he heard his name on your lips, but he quickly recovered.

"...As a matter of fact, I do. There's a rare bird around these parts, called a snipe. You bring me one, and I'll pay a pretty penny." He had to keep from laughing to himself.

"Oh, really?" you asked, feigning innocence.

Shane nodded convincingly, secretly enjoying the time he got to look at you. "Oh, yeah. Real colorful. Can't miss it."

"Hmm, I don't think I've ever seen one before, but I actually do have a different type of bird for you!" you said, deceptively chipper.

Shane couldn't hide his confusion. "You do?"

"Yeah!" you smiled. "Right here!"

And you flipped him your middle finger with a shit-eating grin on your face.

Damn it. He walked right into that one.

Shane found himself cracking a small grin despite himself. He rolled his eyes playfully.

"Alright, I'll give you that one," he allowed.

You snickered at him. "Come on, man, a snipe hunt? That's the oldest trick in the book, you geriatric."

Shane tried to scowl, but found that his amusement was evident on his face. "You got a sharp tongue on you, that's for sure."

He didn't mind imagining what else that tongue of yours could do, and he shivered at the thought.

You chuckled and shrugged. "It's gotten me both into and out of bad situations."

Shane shook his head and rubbed at his neck, squinting in the bright sun. "I gotta get to my shift. Later, brat."

You grinned and waved cutely at him. "Toodles."

And for the next few weeks, that was largely how your relationship with Shane went. Sometimes he'd be cold and prickly, but sometimes you could get a laugh out of him. He always admired the way you'd stick up for yourself when he acted like an asshole. He was actually astonished that you were so patient with him, despite not taking shit from anyone. Against his will, he found himself warming up to you quickly.

On the Twentieth of Spring, you were walking through the town square and happened to check the calendar. You saw that it was Shane's birthday that day, so you made sure to visit him at the saloon that evening.

That night, Shane took immediate notice when you walked in the bar, just like every time. He watched quietly in his usual corner as you ordered two beers. When you made a beeline for him and held one mug out to him, he was a bit taken aback. He had known better than to get his hopes up that you might do something nice for his birthday, but this was a pleasant surprise. It had to be too good to be true, right?

Shane looked up at you briefly and shook his head. "I don't wanna owe you anything."

You rolled your eyes and pushed the beer into his hand. "Shut up. It's your birthday. It's a free beer. Get over yourself and take it."

He was a little embarrassed to find himself blushing just a bit. "Thanks," he muttered.

You sat down next to him and gave him a small smile. "So, how's the birthday boy?"

"Not amazing," he sighed. "...But better now that you're here."

He smiled a bit, genuinely grateful for your company. Then he sighed and looked wistfully into the distance.

"Buh, life," he began. "I'm another year older, and not an inch closer to being happy. ...You ever feel like you're stuck in a hole, and no matter what you do, you just can't climb out of it? That's how I feel."

You paused, unsure of how to respond. Maybe he was just drunk, but it was a little unlike him to be this genuine around you.

"...Cheers, I'll drink to that, bro," was all you could come up with, and you immediately drained your tall glass.

He snorted.

"As will I," he sighed. "I mean, what the fuck else is there to do about it?"

Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, you smirked and leaned in close to him, whispering, "Maybe instead of sending people on snipe hunts, you should go hunting for some snatch. Assuming you swing that way."

Shane had been trying to swallow a swig of his beer, but as you said that, he choked a bit. You laughed and thumped him on the back as he coughed. He gave you a cautious glare, but his flushed cheeks gave him away. He silently hoped you'd assume the blush was from drinking so much.

"Relax, Shaney. I'm just fucking with you," you chuckled.

Of fucking course you were, he thought. He should've known better than to mistake that for flirting, even for a split second. He grunted bitterly into his mug and downed the rest of his beer. The gorgeous new gal flirting with him? Entirely too good to be true.

"Little shit," he grumbled at you with a small smile.

You flashed him a winning grin and his cheeks heated up a little more. He had to look away as he felt a tingle in his pants.

He cleared his throat softly, then said, "Welp, my liver's begging me to stop. I better head home."

Shane slowly stood up from his barstool, trying to act normally, but he was clearly a bit wobbly on his feet. You frowned a bit with genuine concern.

After a deep breath, you stood up as well and put an arm around his shoulders. He looked at you in confusion as his head spun. Were you leaning in for...?

"I'm walking you home," you insisted.

Shane tried to roll his eyes, but it made him so dizzy he stumbled.

"You don't have to do that... seriously, get lost..." he protested.

But you weren't hearing any of it, and deep down, he was grateful. At least this way, he'd get some extra time to look at you up close. You gently guided him towards the exit. As you led him back towards Marnie's ranch, he bit his lip, and faked a stumble. You looked over at him with worry.

"You alright there?"

"I'm fine, jus' need to..." he mumbled as he dared to slip his arm around your waist.

Hopefully you didn't suspect a thing. If you did, you didn't say anything. As he leaned slightly into you, he couldn't help but catch a whiff of your scent. Damn it, but he was a glutton for punishment.

When you arrived with him at the ranch, Shane fumbled with his keys for a moment before unlocking the door. Before he could head inside, you smiled at him.

"G'night, jackass," you said with a warm smile.

He couldn't help but return it.

"G'night, little shit."

The following day, Shane found that he didn't remember much of his birthday, but he did remember that you were there, and the way you made him feel. His heart fluttered just at the memory of the feeling. He was still positive that you were too good for him, but... he'd be a fool not to explore some more of this feeling.

He cursed quietly and looked down at the tent in his shorts. He'd woken up with the most intense morning wood he'd had in years. It was a strange combination of headache, hangover, and horny. Horny. Yoba, he hadn't felt this horny since he was a teenager.

His cock was aching with need, begging for attention. He sighed quietly as his eyes flicked to the door, making sure it was locked. Then he slowly allowed his hand to slip into his shorts and squeeze gently at his pulsing shaft. His thoughts could only focus on you, and the intense lust he was feeling. He thought about you, your smug, cheerful face, those cute little outfits you'd wear. He mentally undressed you, getting even harder imagining what you might look like naked.

Fuck, when was the last time he jerked off to his pure imagination? He sighed quietly, sliding his shorts and boxers down just enough for his erection to spring free. He spat into his hand and started rubbing himself gently.

For a brief moment, Shane wondered if this was wrong. Getting off to the new girl just because she seemed to care about him and act interested in him? Or, more accurately, just because she showed him some basic human decency? Pathetic... He blinked rapidly a few times, dismissing the thought. His heart was thumping in his chest as he picked up the pace of his stroking.

He felt... different than usual. In a good way, surprisingly. How to describe this feeling, though...? Curious? Excited? Alive, was what he settled on.

He panted softly, trying to keep quiet as his arousal intensified. His movements were urgent now, as he was approaching his climax already. Fantasies of you kept racing through his head, each one dirtier than the last. You sitting on his lap at the bar, you lifting your skirt a little just to flash him, you not wearing any underwear because you were ready for him and wanted him, him dragging you into the back room of the saloon, him forcing you onto your knees and shoving his cock into your pretty mouth, your plump lips wrapped so deliciously around him, you looking up at him obediently, ready to serve...

Shane frantically reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a tissue, not caring that he accidentally knocked over a few empty beer cans in the process. He bit down hard on his lower lip, whimpered in ecstasy and despair, and shot his load into the tissue.

Slowly continuing to stroke himself as he caught his breath, Shane's climax died down rather quickly. His glowing feeling was replaced with his usual bitterness. There wasn't a chance in hell that any of his fantasies about you would come true.

But still, he was pleasantly surprised at how good it felt, rubbing one out to the thought of you. He truthfully couldn't remember the last time it felt like he had anything to look forward to, or fantasize about. As he disposed of the tissue, he figured that he might as well chase this feeling. It couldn't be wrong if it felt so right. It couldn't hurt to indulge in more of you, right? You wouldn't even have to know about it.

...Unfortunately, he apparently wasn't as subtle as he thought he was, because as you were walking through the town square later that day, you noticed he was filming with the bulky video camera he had gotten to film his admission for the Joja commercial contest.

"Oh, sorry, am I in the frame?" you asked after offering an awkward wave, wondering what he was doing.

Shane cursed his luck, but he smoothly fed you the lie he had rehearsed.

"Oh, hey. Don't worry about it. I'm getting into amateur filmmaking as a hobby. I'm making a mockumentary of Pelican Town, so I was just shooting some candid scenes. Don't mind me, just pretend I'm not here."

You smiled at him and responded, "Nice. I'm glad you found something to do other than drinking away your money."

Shane scowled briefly, but he supposed there was some truth to your words. Since he had become more fascinated with you and started capturing videos, he hadn't felt the urge to drink all day. Funny just how good for his health you were.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"Alright, I've got shit to do, so I'll just pretend you're not here, like you said," you said with a small smile.

"Okay. I'll... see you later, I guess?" he suggested hopefully.

You snorted. "Obviously. We're neighbors."

"Right... of course. Duh."

And with that, you went about your day, doing your farm chores and running errands in town. Thankfully, you had bought his excuse, but Shane was extra careful about his new pastime from then on. He ended up spending the whole rest of the day following and filming you. He was so glad it was the weekend so he didn't have to work.

Shane cursed under his breath as he followed you at a distance up the mountain and to the mine. There was no way he could follow you inside without getting caught. Waiting impatiently for your return, he pretended to take some nature footage of the lake nearby.

By the time you finally reemerged from the portal of the mine, it was ungodly late. Even in the dark, Shane could tell you had gotten into a few scrapes with monsters in the mine. He huffed quietly and discreetly trailed you on your way home. He hid behind a tree as you entered your cottage.

As you turned the lights on, Shane's eyes widened. You just left your curtains open at night? He chuckled softly to himself. How innocent and naive you were.

Before he could register what was happening, you were suddenly stripping your muddy, sooty clothes off, and right in front of the uncovered window, too. His breath caught in his throat. He held the camcorder with shaky hands and zoomed in on your naked body. He could feel the blood in his body quickly rushing to his crotch at the scene before him.

But sadly, you walked away from the window, into what Shane assumed was your bathroom to take a shower. And just like that, the moment was over.

He turned the camera off and caught his breath.

"Fuck me," he cursed almost silently, running a hand through his hair and quickly sneaking back home.

When he got back to the privacy of his bedroom back at the ranch, he eagerly reviewed all of the footage he had collected of you throughout the entire day. He was watching all of it, too, slowly working up to the nude footage that he was blessed with at the very end of the day.

Holy shit, his perverted cock sprung to life just looking at footage of you doing mundane chores and errands. He chuckled breathlessly at his lucky shot of you dropping a package of cookies through the window at Pierre's. You'd bent over with your ass on display right in front of the window. Surely you knew people could be watching, right?

"Clumsy idiot," Shane murmured to himself with an adoring smile as he watched the footage and tugged at his cock underneath his pants.

He chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip with his attention split between the videos he took of you and the pleasantly selfish way he played with himself. He smirked slightly at how disgusting he was being, getting off to video footage of you that you didn't have a clue he had. Disgusting in a good way, though. As always, the shame would come later on.

Starting to break a sweat already, he groaned very softly. Shit, he might not even last long enough to get to the nude portion of his filmed peep show, after all. He could feel himself getting close already. His tongue stuck slightly out of his lips as he focused intently on his film of you fishing.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. He set the camera down on his bed quickly and came with a grunt he attempted to keep himself muffled. He managed to catch his cum shot in his hand, and then wipe it on a tissue after a moment.

Shane waited for the inevitable guilt to follow, but to his surprise, he found that it was far more muted than he'd expected it to be. Sure, it was still there, but more than anything, he felt grateful that he now had something - you - in his life that consistently and effectively made him feel really good really quickly. He smiled a bit, chasing off his feelings of self-hatred by replacing them with images of you in his mind.

Unfortunately, when Shane woke up the next day, it was Monday. Meaning that he had to go into work, instead of engage in his new "hobby" of watching and filming you throughout the day, at least not until he got off work in the evening. He gritted his teeth and got dressed for work, hoping he'd at least get to pass by you on his way to work. He didn't, though, curse his luck. You must have been busy with chores on the farm.

The only thing that got him through the monotonous torture of his long shift at Joja Mart was the thought of hopefully getting to see you at the saloon. He had to cling to that little bit of excitement to stop himself from bashing his boss's face in when he was reprimanded for moving too slowly and "spacing out."

At last, he was able to clock out and change back into his street clothes. As he started making his way over to the saloon, he sniffed the air and smelled someone smoking weed. He rolled his eyes. Probably downwind of that weirdo, Sebastian, he thought to himself.

He was just about to move on when he heard your voice. That got his attention, and he followed it, only to see you lounging underneath a tree, sharing a joint with Sebastian.

Oh HELL no.

Shane's eyes narrowed as he marched right up to you and Seb. You were too entranced by your laughter to notice him standing over you until he cleared his throat. Then you looked up at him and smiled, exhaling a bit of smoke still.

"Oh, heyyy, Shaney!" You greeted him, your voice slightly raspy from smoking the joint.

No time for him to acknowledge the cutesy nickname you gave him; his blood was boiling.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled.

"Fuckin'... white water rafting?" you giggled, being cute and sarcastic with him, even though he clearly wasn't in the mood for it.

Which made it all the more funny to you.

You followed up as he frowned more, "What does it look like I'm doing, old man?"

Shane's nostrils flared as he snatched the joint from between your fingers. Now you were both frowning.

"Hey, what was that for?" you pouted as you stood up. "I'm an adult, and I can make my own choices!"

"You sure as hell don't act like it," he growled.

Sebastian stood up, too, glowering at Shane, but unsure of how to intervene, or if he even should.

You folded your arms and protested at Shane, "I've had drinks with you, but you have a problem with me sharing a joint with Sebastian?"

Shane scowled and put his arm around your shoulders to whisper to you. "Listen, kid. You remind me of myself when I was your age. I just don't wanna see you making bad mistakes with bad people."

He shot a glare at Sebastian, who was nowhere near out of earshot, by the way. Sebastian just scoffed and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking angsty as he kicked at the dirt.

You sighed. "Look, Shane, I appreciate you looking out for me, and all, but you don't have to be so protective over me."

Shane's face softened for a moment and he nodded slowly. Then he removed his arm from your shoulders, realizing with a slight blush that he'd been making physical contact with you for a little too long. Of course, he still knew he was ultimately barreling towards a rejection, but this definitely wasn't the time or place. Shane backed off, feeling like a bit of an asshole.

Glancing at Sebastian and raising his guard back up a bit, Shane scoffed, "Whatever. Just be careful."

And he turned around and headed to the saloon to hopefully quickly forget what had just happened and replace the bitter taste of jealousy lingering in his mouth with a different bitter taste. He hoped that his warning to you had sunk in.

But sadly, as seemed to be his usual luck these days, he found out during the Flower Dance festival just two days later that apparently, his message didn't get across to you.

Shane was honestly kind of hoping you wouldn't show up to the event. Unlike most mornings, today he had spent some time nervously fussing with his hair and trying to smooth out the wrinkles from his blue suit. He wasn't ready to bite the bullet and ask you to dance, that was for damn sure. Obviously, he didn't want you dancing with anyone else, either, but if you did... he wanted to know about it.

So he enjoyed the free refreshments and anxiously watched for you to make your appearance. You had shown up a bit late, but when you met his eyes across the field, you offered a slight smile and a nod to show that there were no hard feelings from before. He managed a small smile back.

As you made your rounds greeting everyone, Shane tried to remain inconspicuous as he kept a close eye on you. His grip on his drink tightened when he saw Sebastian approach you. He could just barely hear the words exchanged between you two from where he was standing.

Sebastian just asked you to dance. That slimy fucker.

You said yes. Shane's fists clenched. You bitch!

The dance was just about to start, and Shane was double fisting beers at this point. Emily approached him and asked if he'd like to dance with her as friends, but Shane gave her a stormy glare.

"Fuck off, and go dance with your own aura or whatever," he snarled at her.

Emily looked substantially more disappointed than angry as she left him alone.

Even after the dance, Shane kept his intense gaze on you from a distance. He couldn't believe that you had the gall to not only dance with Sebastian, but to talk with him for hours after the dance. And after he had specifically told you to stay away from him, too!

And still, after you went back to your farm and darkness fell, his anger wasn't subsiding. Only now he was drunk off his ass, as well, with his inhibitions lowered. Still with a can of beer in his hand, Shane found himself wandering onto your property, grumbling to himself.

Without realizing when he'd even made the decision, he was fishing his cock out of his pants, drunkenly pissing over your crops.

"Stupid... bitch..." he muttered.

"Nice stream. Eight out of ten."

It was your voice behind him. When the hell did you get out here?

"Fuck...!" he stumbled as you startled him, spraying a wider surface area of your livelihood.

Shane quickly finished up and fumbled his cock back into his pants. He slowly turned around, trying not to tip over, and was met with you with a scowl on your face.

"Explain yourself," you coolly demanded.

"Shut... fuck off..." he growled as he dropped his empty beer can on the ground.

You frowned deeper. "Pick that up."

"Pick this up," he grunted, grabbing his crotch.

"Alright, that's it, mister..."

You grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him towards your house. He allowed it to happen and tried not to trip over his own feet. Once inside your farmhouse, he looked at you with a dazed confusion. You pulled him into your living room and sat him down on the couch, leaving the room for a moment and returning quickly with a tall glass of water.

"Drink," you commanded, shoving the glass into his hand.

He took a small sip, then made a face. "...This isn't vodka..."

"It sure isn't!" you chirped with an obnoxious smile. "You drink that whole thing, then we'll talk."

Shane scoffed quietly, looking at you over the tall glass of water. He was able to down the whole thing within a few minutes. When he was done, you took the glass from him and set it on your coffee table. You shifted next to him on the couch to face him more directly, trying to keep calm.

"Talk."

Shane let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes, then said, "I ju-just... felt like you were ignoring m..." he paused to burp. "...my advice. 'Bout Sebastian. Was only trying to keep you safe..."

You slowly raised an eyebrow at his lame excuse, thinking for a moment, before you said, "Shane, you want to know why I danced with Sebastian and not... anyone else?"

He met your eyes with a guilty stare. Fuck, nothing was getting past you, was it? He hated himself, but damn it, he had to know. He nodded slowly.

"Because Sebastian actually grew a pair and asked me. Asked me before I had the chance to ask you."

Shane grunted softly at the implication that Sebastian was tougher than him. And then the second part of what you said hit him, and his eyes went wide.

"...You were going to ask me?" he questioned, to which you nodded.

Then he had a suspicious scowl on his face. "Are... are you fucking with me? 'Cause it's not funny..."

You frowned, looking a little bit sad. "Is it really that hard for you to believe?"

Shane almost laughed a little. "Did you forget I just took a leak in your fields?"

You snorted a bit. "How could I forget? Your fly's still down, jackass."

He blushed and clumsily zipped his pants up. "...I'm sorry..."

You sighed and put an arm around his shoulder. "Listen, dude... whatever it is you're going through, it's gotta be more than just you being jealous. I mean, I'm pretty sure you were a drunkard before I rolled into town. I just want you to know that I'm here for you, and you can talk to me, okay? You're my friend, you know."

Shane smiled a little, genuinely touched. "You actually wanna be friends with an asshole like me?"

You chuckled softly. "Don't give me a chance to second guess that decision."

"Well... thanks, then."

An awkward silence fell over the two of you for a moment.

Shane cleared his throat softly. "I should... probably get back home... I'll repay you for the, uh, damages, promise..."

As he stood up from your couch slowly, you rose with him and steadied him on his feet. "I'll take you back."

He thanked you quietly as you helped him out the door and back to the ranch. Before opening the front door of his aunt's ranch, he hesitated. He caught your eyes, and you both lingered there for a moment. He leaned in...

But you'd turned your head to the side, so his lips met your cheek. Shane pulled back slowly, unable to hide the hurt in his eyes.

But you gave him a gentle smirk. "Call me when you're sober."

"Hah..." he breathed softly, unable to help the small upward curl of his lips.

"Goodnight, Shane," you said as you gave him a small hug, and then made your way back to your house.

Predictably, Shane ended up not remembering much of that night the day after, but his feelings for you did stick in his head. In fact, if anything, they intensified. Over the next few days, things between you and Shane were better than ever. He was a lot less guarded, and much kinder.

That is, until one fateful rainy evening. Shane was on his way home from work, and he saw it from far away, but it was unmistakable. You, in the middle of the town square, with your lips locked with Sebastian. After freezing up for a moment, Shane couldn't watch anymore, and he hurried off.

Maybe thirty minutes later, you were on your way back to the farm when you saw a figure laying belly down in the mud, dangerously close to the southern cliffs. Upon closer inspection, you recognized the familiar blue hoodie, and saw that he was surrounded by empty beer cans. You sprinted over to him and knelt beside him.

"Shane!" you yelled out.

"Buh... you..." he managed to croak, without opening his eyes.

Despite his grumbling, you rolled him onto his side.

"My life is so fucked up... I don't have anything good in my life, a-anything worth sticking around for... I'm just a piece of soiled garbage, fluttering through the wind... too small and s-stupid to take any control over my life," he slurred. "Been coming here often... Looking down... it'd be a way to take control. ...But I'm too fucking scared..."

You put a hand on his shoulder solemnly as he sobbed a bit.

"J-just... give me one reason I shouldn't... shouldn't just roll right off this cliff..." he groaned.

"Well... the decision is within your control, but I'm here for you... And you'd be missed. Marnie and Jas would miss you. Hell, I would miss you..."

After a moment of silence, Shane responded, "...Thanks. I appreciate that. ...I think you should take me to the hospital now, farmer..."

You picked him up and hauled ass over to the clinic to have Doctor Harvey treat him. You insisted on staying with him until he woke up. When he came to, he was in a hospital bed, and he saw you uncomfortably sleeping in a chair beside him. He groaned softly, realizing more or less what had happened. He sat up slowly and gave your hand a squeeze. You jolted awake and looked over at him.

"You didn't have to stay..." he said.

You finally let out a breath and your shoulders relaxed. "Fuck, I'm just glad you're still here..."

"Shit... it was that serious, huh?"

You swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna get help," he reassured you.

Harvey knocked on the door and came in. He gently asked you to step out for a moment so he could talk to Shane confidentially. You left the room and fidgeted until you were invited back inside and caught up to speed.

Scratching at the back of his head in embarrassment, Shane filled you in. "Doc recommended I stay in inpatient for a week or so, make sure I'm safe."

You looked concerned, looking at Shane, and then at Harvey. "That sounds... really restrictive... I'm honestly worried he'd be worse off with that kind of loss of autonomy... Could he maybe stay with me for a week instead?" you suggested.

Shane's eyes widened. Yoba, he hoped that would be an option.

Harvey considered it for a moment, then said, "Well... it's not my recommendation, but if you can keep an eye on him, I suppose that's an option."

You looked at Shane and raised your eyebrows. He looked totally stunned.

"Uh... y-yeah... if that's okay with you, I'd prefer to... stay with you."

You smile a little. "If it wasn't okay with me, I wouldn't have just offered, dummy. We'll stop by your place so you can pack some stuff for your little vacation at my place. I'm ready whenever you are."

Shane nodded stupidly. "U-uh, yeah. Sure."

Was this really happening? Harvey handed him the discharge papers, and you and Shane left the clinic. Shane squinted at the bright sun, a bit distracted. That is, until you linked your arm with his. He looked over at you.

You shrugged and said, "Just keeping you safe."

He chuckled softly. "I guess I'll allow it."

As you walked with him through town, you looked over at him, deciding to let him know about what had happened with Sebastian yesterday. "Uh, Shane?"

"Yeah?" he paused and looked over at you.

"...Sebastian kissed me, yesterday..."

Oh, right, that.

His jaw clenched, but before he could say anything, you continued, "I don't want to be with him, though. I think he got the wrong idea when I agreed to dance with him at the festival. ...I just thought you should know."

You didn't want to be with Sebastian? Sweet fuck, that was music to his ears!

After the initial shock wore off, he couldn't stop himself from teasing you, if only to distract you from his own blush. "See? I warned you about him."

You scoffed with a smile. "Yeah, I guess you did."

He smiled wide and pulled you a little closer as you continued your walk.

Making a quick stop at the ranch to gather his belongings, Marnie stopped the both of you in the doorway.

"Shane! I was worried sick about you! You didn't come home last night!" Marnie exclaimed.

Shane looked down at his feet. "Uh... everything's fine. But I'm going to be staying at the farmer girl's place for a week. Just need some space to clear my head."

Marnie glanced back and forth between you and her nephew. His explanation obviously raised more questions than answers, but she bit her tongue, figuring it was none of her business anyway.

Shane brushed past her and went to his room to pack a suitcase with clothes and toiletries. He could barely be bothered to fold his clothes, lazily crumpling them up in an almost intentional way before stuffing them into his bag. Looking up for a moment, he paused as his eyes fell on the camcorder sitting on his dresser.

Hesitating for just a moment, he quickly checked to make sure you weren't looking before he hid the camera underneath his clothes in his suitcase. It was a massive risk, sure, but he'd be stupid to pass up such an opportunity.

Shane met you at the door, suitcase in hand. "I'm ready," he said quietly.

The walk back to your farm was too silent and somber for your liking. You wanted to try and stay positive, and hopefully it would have at least a small impact on his mood. He needed someone there for him, right?

"So, I know the circumstances of your visit aren't ideal," you ventured, "but I think we'll have some fun together." And you gave him an encouraging smile.

We'll have some fun together? Fuck me, I hope so...

"Er... yeah. I'm sure we'll find something to do to pass the time," he replied.

When you and Shane entered your house, you gave him the grand tour. The first thing he took note of after stepping through the threshold was that your home had a distinctly pleasant smell. A combination of you, cedar, and... something sweet, perhaps? Shane looked all around as you showed him each room. Looking at your decor and aesthetics satisfied his growing urge to know more about you.

Once you concluded the tour, you turned back to face him and said, "I bet you're super hungry. I can make us something to eat. How does pizza sound?"

Shane chuckled a bit. "I would kill for some pizza with you right now."

You grinned. "Awesome. I'll get started on that."

As you started shuffling around your kitchen to get ingredients and food prep materials ready, Shane lingered awkwardly in the background. It was cute, how you seemed to know what you were doing in the kitchen. Domestic, even. Imagine her, my perfect wifey, in an apron... nothing but an apron... us sharing a house...

Shane had to shake his head a bit to chase the thought away. Sure, against all odds, it seemed like you were into him, but he couldn't get that far ahead of himself. It would only be a recipe for disaster and heartbreak.

After clearing his throat softly, Shane said, "Do you want me to help out with anything around the house...?"

You looked up from what you were doing and smiled over at him. "Nah, you just sit there and look pretty. I want you to enjoy your stay with me."

Smiling and looking away, Shane deflected your compliment. "Me and 'pretty' don't go together, sweetheart."

You grabbed a flyswatter and gently bapped him on the arm.

He laughed out loud. "What was that for?"

"For being mean to yourself. I hit you with a flyswatter 'cause that shit won't fly in my house," you said with a grin.

Shane laughed more and rolled his eyes. "You're so corny. How adorable."

You chuckled a bit.

"Seriously, though. Go make yourself comfortable. Turn on a gridball game, or something. I'll be there in a minute with our pizza," you told him.

He smiled, his heart full of love. ...Holy shit, could this really be love? The thought of that was both intimidating and exhilarating.

Shane took his seat on the couch and turned the TV on the sports channel. But truly, his eyes were only on you. He watched as you took the pizza out of the oven. He smiled to himself as he saw you doing a little dance out of the corner of his eye while you waited for the pizza to cool off a bit. Fuck, you were so cute.

Pretty soon, you joined him on the couch with two plates in hand, each plate with a couple of slices of pizza on it.

"Take your pick," you said, offering both plates to him.

He couldn't help but chuckle a little. He looked at you as he took one plate at random.

"You're being too accommodating," he chastised you with a grin.

"Yeah, well, I care about you," you shot back with a snarky but authentic smile.

"I could get used to that," he murmured.

The two of you ate your pizza brunch and watched the gridball game together. When you were both finished with your meal, you took the dishes to the sink and cleaned up. Shane followed you with his hands in his pockets.

"I wanna help out around the farm," he finally said. "It'll be good for me to do something productive. Especially if I get to do it with you."

You shrugged, then nodded. "Sure, I won't say no to that. Plus, you'll get to see some of the chicks from your ranch all grown up."

As the day went on, Shane found himself growing more and more attached to you. He especially loved how gentle you were with your animals. By sundown, the both of you were tired and ready to head inside. You both showered - one at a time, sadly - had snacks for dinner, and were now on the couch, watching a movie together.

While your eyes were focused on the TV, Shane couldn't help but steal glances at you. You were sitting so close to him, almost thigh to thigh. If ever there were a better time to make a move, he certainly couldn't think of it.

He slowly stretched his arms up, and when he went to put them down, he slowly settled the one closest to you around your shoulder. Smooth. You glanced at him briefly, then curiously leaned into his touch, looking back at the movie. Okay, fuck. What now?

He looked over at you, and he smirked slightly. Deciding to act on his first impulse, he started tickling your ribs. You instantly started squirming as you erupted into breathless laughter.

"Cut it out, asshat!" you giggled.

Shane just chuckled and intensified his tickling. You laughed harder and tried to stop his hands, but he was relentless. As you wriggled around, you ended up falling onto your back against the couch cushions. Shane's body was quick to follow on top of yours. He posted his arm to the side of your head, gently trapping you under his weight. He looked down at you with a small smirk and half lidded eyes.

You stiffened up a bit. "...Shane?"

"Mhm?" he hummed softly in response.

"Shane... I don't think we should--"

Wait, what? His face fell in a bit of confusion. You had been flirting with him before, right?

"Why not?" he whispered.

"I just... I like you and all, but I don't want anything getting in the way of your treatment..."

Had you seriously invited him to stay over at your house for a whole week, only to blue ball him?

Shane shook his head, protesting. "Why would it get in the way?"

You tried to let him down gently. "Well, if things... end poorly, or get awkward between us, I don't want you to be worse off..."

Shane's expression darkened. "The hell do you mean?"

Your eyes widened a bit at his change in demeanor. "I just think you should focus on getting better before getting romantically involved with anyone. The last thing you need is for your mental health to decline from losing a friend or potential lover..."

His frown deepened as he leaned a little more of his weight on you, a silent threat to keep you trapped underneath him. "Yeah? Well, I think I'd be much worse off if we didn't even try it at all, don't you?"

Your jaw fell open. "You'd better not be implying..." your voice trailed off.

He could sense you were getting angry, so he took a deep breath, and went with a softer approach. "Please. We both want this. And I just need something to help forget the pain, even if it's only one night..."

You exhaled sharply, the gears turning in your head. He watched your face intently for any sign of a change in heart. Finally, your face relaxed a little, and you relented.

"...Alright. Fine. But no promises on this leading to anything more."

Shane grinned and looked at you with adoration. "Of course. No guarantees."

Little did you know, he'd already decided you'd be his, and now there was no going back.

He gazed down at you, his heart racing as he admired the view of you under him. How long had he been fantasizing about this exact moment? He leaned down slowly, as if trying not to scare you away.

When your lips finally connected, it was like sparks ignited in his chest. He couldn't help but let out a quiet, shuddering breath against you as he gently teased your lips with his. You closed your eyes and brushed your lips back against his in reciprocity. He groaned and smiled a little when he felt you kissing him back.

Truthfully, he'd already been at half mast since he was tickling you. But just a gentle kiss with you was enough to have an impressive erection straining hard against his shorts. He gently rocked his hips forward, making sure you could feel it, making sure you knew what you did to him.

Your eyes opened a little and you let out a squeak. Shane chuckled and nipped at your lower lip, making you let out a soft moan. Fuck, what he wouldn't do to hear you some more...

You reached up and gently cupped his face, sitting up slowly. He took his weight off of you to allow you to sit up, but he couldn't bring himself to disconnect his lips. He needed you like he needed air.

You pulled away and stood up from the couch, gently holding his hand and pulling him up with you. "Let's take this to my bedroom."

"Fuck yeah," he panted.

You led him to the bedroom and shut the door behind both of you, and then he was immediately on you again. He held the back of your head with one hand and your hip with the other, resuming the kiss that was broken earlier. You whined a little and tangled your fingers in his hair, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

He was quick to respond with equal force. As your tongues dueled, he started tugging at your top.

"Off," he commanded simply.

You pulled away just long enough to slide your shirt over your head and drop it carelessly to the floor. Shane took a moment to marvel at your tits, before he realized how desperately he needed to see more. He went back in for another passionate kiss, but as he kissed you, he unhooked your bra in the back. You felt him doing it and grinned a little.

Once again, he pulled back to stare, this time at your bare chest. Holy fuck, it was even sexier up close. You chuckled a little bit at how excited he was. He wasted no more time, cupping one breast in each of his hands.

"Fuck, they're perfect..." he whispered.

You smirked and gave him a playful swat on his ass. His eyes widened a bit, and he spanked you a little bit harder. Taking it as a challenge, you spanked him even harder.

"Ah! That wasn't nice," he playfully growled before giving you a hard smack on your ass.

You squealed a little in surprise, but still with a smile on your face. "Okay, okay! I'll behave!"

"Good girl," he murmured and rubbed soothing circles on your ass cheek where it still stung.

Focusing his attention back on your breasts, he leaned you back a little to give his mouth easier access to your chest. He swirled his tongue over one of your nipples, looking at your face for your reaction. Your little whimper in response made him grin wolfishly, and he moved his mouth over to the other nipple to kiss it and lick it as well.

After a few moments, you started tugging at his shirt.

"It's not fair if I'm the only one shirtless," you complained.

"Fair enough," he conceded with a small smile as he took his shirt off quickly.

He moved back in to kiss you again just as quick, so you didn't get too long an opportunity to look at his tummy. You whined into the kiss, sensing that he might be self-conscious about his appearance.

You pulled away just long enough to compliment him. "Damn, you look amazing without a shirt."

Shane's cheeks heated up a bit at that, and he chuckled. "Glad you enjoy what you're seeing."

And with a dominant smirk, he firmly pushed you onto the bed.

"Hey!" you giggled at him after you fell back.

His eyes were glued to your chest, obsessed with the way your breasts bounced when you moved. Leaning over you with an eager grin, Shane shimmied your pants and underwear off of your legs, then he let out a low whistle at the sight.

"You're so fucking hot," he said appreciatively, using his hand to spread your legs a little more to get a better look at your pussy.

You chuckled softly, then rolled onto your tummy while he stood close to the bed. He watched you closely as you teased your fingers lightly up and down his legs a couple of times. He pushed his hips slightly forward with a grunt, hoping you'd get the message.

"Impatient much?" you teased him.

"Obviously," he said. He couldn't even deny it anymore.

Shane let out a satisfied sigh when your hand finally settled on the massive bulge tenting his shorts. You slowly rubbed him over his clothes, and he was already going wild. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you undo his button and zipper. He slid his shorts off, and you grinned at the small wet spot of precum on his underwear where the tip of his cock was poking.

He rushed to take his boxers off and join you on the bed. He was pleasantly surprised when you gently pushed him back against the pillows. Glancing up at him and smirking, you lowered your face to his crotch, and he let out a groan just at the sight of you going down on him, without him even asking.

You teased him with your tongue, first, licking up and down his length a couple of times before focusing your attention on his balls.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, utterly enamored with the sight of your lips closed gently around one of his balls.

You sucked gently on one of his testes, and then the other, while gently holding his thigh. You went back to gripping his cock and you affectionately gave the tip a few kisses, and it made his heart absolutely melt.

By the time you actually closed your lips around his cock head, he was unapologetically moaning. His hands went to your hair and clutched at it tightly, simultaneously trying to hold himself back and shove his whole cock into your throat. You took him in slowly, moving your head up and down at a slow pace, but one that left him breathless nonetheless. You worked your way up to fitting all of him in your mouth, and when his balls were pressed up snug against your chin, Shane panted loudly.

You only managed to bob your head up and down a few more times before he was grabbing your hair in a tight fist and pulling you off of him. You looked at him as he caught his breath for a moment.

"No fucking way I'd let myself cum without fucking you first," he breathed.

You blushed a little, and he sat up, grabbed you by the arms, and manhandled you down on the bottom. He knelt over you, absolutely loving the sight of you naked and ready beneath him. He leaned over and spat down onto his cock and rubbed it in, making sure he was plenty lubed up. But truth be told, you were already slick enough for this to be easy and painless.

Shane stared intensely into your eyes and pumped his cock slowly a few times with his fist. "Are you ready for me...?"

You nodded quickly at him.

He smirked. "Ah-ah-ah. Use your words."

"Yes, Shane!" you said excitedly.

He guided his tip to your already soaked entrance, pushing in just a little. It almost took his breath away completely, having just his tip inside of you. Since you weren't protesting, he slowly slid in farther, until your hips were connected, and he was all the way inside. It was almost too much, he thought. He sighed happily and pulled back about halfway, then pushed back in gently.

You let out a moan as he bottomed out again. He smiled a little and started thrusting at a slow but constant pace. You bit your lip and squeezed adorably at your own tits. As Shane got more into it, he leaned forward and started kissing at your neck as his hips rocked into yours.

He loved the sound you made when he bit down and sucked at your neck, and he relished in the idea of leaving marks all over you. His, you'd be all his.

It was a little embarrassing, how close he already was. He sat back up, licked his thumb, and pressed it against your clit as his hips slapped rhythmically against yours.

"I'm close, are you close?" he whispered.

"Uh-huh," you whimpered.

Shane rubbed slowly at your clit as he slammed his cock into you the last few times. You whined really prettily as you spasmed and came around him. In no time, his hips were stuttering, and he shoved himself into you as deeply as he could as he came with a loud groan.

His hips stilled, and his cock twitched inside of you a few times. He took another moment to cherish just how beautiful you looked after your orgasm. He finally pulled out of you with a soft sigh. Both of you caught your breath for a moment.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up," you said eventually.

"Alright, babe. I'll be right here."

When he was sure you had left the room, Shane got up from the bed and made his way over to the closet. He reached inside and pulled out his camera that he'd hidden in the dark shelves in plain sight. He smirked as he stopped the recording.

It was a risky move, definitely. But it seemed like it had paid off. He hid the camera back in his suitcase. Finally fucking you felt amazing, and he hoped he'd be able to again very soon. He smiled to himself, certain you felt the same.

[remyfire]

what if........ beejtrap 22 👀

I love you SO MUCH for requesting them!!!!! :D :D :D I think this is my first time Actually Writing Them too so I am running a victory lap rn. I hope you enjoy!! Kiss Roulette (22) A french kiss/kiss with tongue [AO3 crosspost]

Keeping his mustache exactly how BJ likes it (for this month, at least—last week it was longer, the month before shorter, the one prior to that practically handlebars) takes a steady hand and intense concentration. It has nothing to do with it being difficult to maintain with precision. No, it's entirely related to the footsteps he hears coming down the hall.

BJ keeps his gaze on the mirror, lips parted, eyes narrowed, making sure. To trim it. Just. So.

And then two broad hands find his waist.

"Whaddya doin' that for?" Trap asks. Though BJ refuses to so much as look at him in the mirror, he can hear the curve of Trapper's grin shaping those words into something that thrums a pulse of endorphins with every beat of his heart.

Of course, it wouldn't do to show him that so easily. "It's called personal hygiene, McIntyre." BJ tilts his head with a thoughtful frown, letting the light hit his cheek at a different angle. Little more. "You ever heard of it?" he asks as he brings the trimmer back to its task.

Like the bastard he is, Trap drags the tip of his nose over BJ's jawbone, then purposely finds the sensitive spot right behind his ear. "You're the fella who sucked me off last night," he purrs. "You tell me. How'd I taste?"

"Can't remember exactly. Think I'm gonna need to check again."

Trapper hums. He nips BJ's earlobe and BJ just barely keeps himself from cutting a sharp diagonal line. He's not sure the world's ready for that style yet. "Mm, by all means, take as long with that experiment as you like, honey. Hey, c'mon, that's short enough, ain't it?" As Trapper's fingers wander—one hand slipping under BJ's hem and splaying over his stomach, the other easing under his waistband into the thick thatch above his cock. "You're a fucking sexy hairy beast. Why you gotta mess with perfection, huh?"

Despite himself, BJ's lips quirk and his cheeks warm. If he's lucky, he'll be able to blame it on the bathroom still being humid from his shower. "'Cause I've always gotta keep myself perfect by staying two steps ahead of you." His smirk flashes, gleaming white and mischievous through the glass as he takes the trimmer a few inches away to consider the evenness of his mustache. "Then again, you don't exactly make it all that hard to get on top, do you?"

Trapper slaps the bottom of his hand hard enough to knock the trimmer free.

"Dick!" BJ scrambles for a second and a half to finally grab it before it can fall in the sink. The sweet serenade of Trapper's high and free laugh rings in the bathroom, through the hallway, maybe even out the open windows so the neighbors all out enjoying the pretty spring day can hear the infectious nature of it and smile too.

Fuck, the man's dizzying in every damn way. He used to be so much easier to be pissed off at. But now that mirth burrows inside BJ's chest and transforms into tendrils of desire, and not even thinking to fight it the way he did for ages, BJ lets it overtake him. He slams the trimmer down on the edge of the sink, whips around, gets a fistful of Trapper's shirt, and drives him into the wall. He gets a glimpse of the satisfaction written all over Trap's face right before BJ crushes their mouths together, shoving his tongue inside that laughing mouth whether he's ready for it or not.

He tastes like coffee, the roast that BJ prefers and that Trap started picking up from the very beginning without asking. The faint sweetness of syrup too that BJ put by his elbow with the pancakes he'd kept warm for Trap until he rolled out of bed. But BJ searches with a feral kind of hunger, twisting their tongues together fervently, until Trapper clings to him and lets his shivery moans roll out of him a little at a time. That's when BJ swears he can savor the purest essence of Trapper John McIntyre, this vulnerability that he's been offering BJ ever since the first thunderous time they locked eyes. And fuck, but is it a whole goddamn banquet.

As he breaks the kiss, heart pounding, BJ holds Trap there with a hand locked around his jaw, drinking up that handsome grin, those shining amber eyes, the way he's so completely relaxed and unafraid. They've come a long way, the two of them. Despite everything that they fought and bled through to get this far, finally, finally Trapper feels like home.

BJ takes a long, smooth breath in through his nose to cool his blood. "Oh, you're damn lucky I've got somewhere to be in fifteen minutes, McIntyre," he murmurs, watching how Trapper's pupils swell, consuming his irises little by little.

"Guess you'll just have to find me when you get back, huh, Hunnicutt?" His drawl is as ragged as the unhemmed edges where he cut the sleeves off of his messiest shirt just to get BJ hard every single time he's doing yard work.

So much for taking down the temperature. BJ darts forward, then stops himself an inch from Trapper's mouth so he can feel his hot, skittering breaths of need against his lips. "Be ready for me?"

Trapper's legs seem to buckle for a moment before he catches himself with the faintest whimper. "Three fingers. You got it, boss."

BJ chuckles as he pulls away and pats Trapper firmly but fondly on the cheek. BJ makes it exactly three steps, then turns on his heel and marches right back to shove his hands in Trap's back pockets and kiss him senseless one more time. He can be two minutes late. It's fine.

[this-is-all-unreal]

My Dear Friend

Part 6

Masterlist

Warning: mention of drugging, kidnap, and death.

          I had backed myself up against thee Superman. He wasn't looking at me though, he was looking at the two men. 

          "Why don't you fellas go to a different alley?" Superman said with a friendly smile. The men didn't stick around long enough to say much else they hightailed it out of the alley. I took a step away from him once the men were gone. 

           "This guy's such a nerd."  I didn't say anything as I started to walk off. 

          "Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" He asked as he walked beside me. I knew he worked closely with Bruce in the justice league. I didn't want this odd encounter to become watercooler talk for them and give Bruce any clue where I was. 

            "No, I'm okay." I say as I walk quicker. He doesn't seem to change his pace but has somehow got in front of me. I have to stop I don't bump into him again 

        "Think I could-"

         "No." I say softly to my friend.

         "I just want to make sure you are alright. You're soaked to the bone." 

I took the blanket and wrapped it around me. I don't respond to him and keep my head down.

           "What if I can find you some new clothes? Would you change out of those?

          "That's a great idea. Bruce will be looking for these burgundy pajamas. Let him take you to some clothes." I keep my head down but nod. 

           "Great, there is a store just up the street." He said as he held out his hand. I looked at it for a second but took it. It was so warm. We walked out of the alley. If I wasn't getting Strange looks before I definitely was now. 

            "What kind of clothes do you like?" He asks but I don't say anything back. "Not big on small talk that's okay." He said as he opened the door to some kind of thrift store. "Okay stay right here I'm going to see what I can do." He said as he left me in a corner of the store. He walked up to the counter and pointed back at me as he talked to the lady working. She smiled and nodded as she went to the back. She returned with some clothes. He waved me over and I shuffled my way to them. 

         "These should fit you. The changing room is right here." The lady said as she walked me to the small stall. She handed over the clothes and shut the door. I changed into the jeans and tee-shirt and stepped out. 

          "Fit okay?" He asked and I simply nodded. "Are you sure the pajamas will cover the cost of the outfit?" he asks, looking over at the lady. 

          "Oh definitely. Go find some shoes and maybe a jacket too. She's gonna freeze out there." She says as she goes in the stall to get the wet pajamas. 

           He asked her if she was sure and the conversation trailed as I walked to the shoes. I was desperate to get something on my feet. I found a pair of sneakers and put them on. Superman brought over a jacket. After signing an autograph for the lady. I walked out of the store once I was sure the jacket fit. He hurried after me. 

 I got a small coughing fit as we stepped back out into the cold air. I hunched over as I covered my mouth. He patted my back like I was a baby. I pulled away. 

           "That sounds bad. How long were you outside?" He asked as he took his hand away. 

            "I'm okay, I just have to get home." I say quickly as I manage to get the coughing to stop. 

           "You can speak, great. Do you want me to take you home? I'm sure your folks are worried about you." He says as he walks in front of me. I shake my head. 

           "No, I can walk it, it's not very far at all. Just up the road." I say pointing. He looked in the direction I pointed. 

         "Odd, that street is all office buildings." He says looking back at me. 

        "Yeah I mean past the street." 

        "Past that is the restaurant district." He says as he crooks an eyebrow. 

        "Hurt his feelings. This boy scout gets off on others loving and needing him. Tell him to go to hell he will leave." I didn't like the idea of telling Superman off. He can crush a bus with one hand. But it did sound like it might work. He is supposed to be the nicest person ever. He will feel bad and leave.

         "P-piss off. I want to walk alone and I don't need some ch-chimp in tights to help m-" a cough cut me off. "I don't want or need your help" I say in a horst voice. 

        "That was pathetic" it really was but his eyebrows turned up and pushed together as he looked at me. It was confusion and hurt maybe. 

          "Did I do something to offend you?" He asked. I shook my head knowing if I spoke I was sure another cough would come out. He stared at me for a second. "Is someone hurting you? Is that why you are lashing out?" He asked as he tried to take a step closer. He wasn't far off. I wasn't being hurt but there is a reason I was lashing out. I stare at him for a second before walking past him. Maybe he wouldn't follow if I just didn't give him anymore interactions. So I began to walk I wasn't sure if he was behind me. 

        "Is he still there?"

        "Shut up idiot! He has superhuman hearing. Just keep walking." I curled my lips into my mouth forgetting all about his hearing. "Okay he flew off." I took a deep breath and sighed but it was interrupted by another coughing fit. "That's getting worse."

          "No it's not." I say as I catch my breath again. I continued walking. I saw a big map of the subways and saw Central City was closest and was west. So I began to walk in that direction. 

          "I'm going to steal a bus pass."

           "No, just wait a bit, we are fine. I don't know why you are always so eager to steal." I take a seat on a bench and rest. A man in a suit sits down next to me. I didn't pay him much mind. 

          "Margaret don't move. Don't let him know you know but that's Superman. What, he thinks if he puts on some glasses we wouldn't recognize him give me a break." I keep my head still but I slowly look over at him. He did have glasses on but I couldn't see alot of his face. Maybe it was him. The guy was big enough to be. I stood up and walked away. I walked to a random alley and walked into it. I crouched behind a dumpster and waited. Sure enough the man in a suit came into the alley and looked around for a second. He shook his head and started to unbutton his shirt. Underneath was his big S on his chest. It really was him 

         Without warning a cough came hurtling out of my mouth. In a second the dumpster was lifted in the air. Superman stood above me, dumpster in hand. I was too scared to speak. 

        "Why are you hiding?" He asked, sounding frustrated. 

        "Why were you following me?" 

        "I wasn't, I was just…." He sighed and set the dumpster down. "I was just worried. Look, can I just take you home. I don't feel right leaving a kid alone in the city. And how much did you see before you coughed?"

         "Not a thing I had my head down." I didn't know if he believed me. 

         "Ask him to fly us to Central City. It will be faster than the subway or bus."

          "I actually lied, I don't live down the street. I live in Central City. Is that too far to take me?" I ask as I smile up at him. I didn't like how easy lying was becoming. He thought for a second. 

        "What were you doing in Metropolis? Why were you In pajamas?"

         "I was um running away from home. But I changed my mind and want to go home." He looked down at me with a skeptical eye. 

          "Are you sure you want to go home?" He asked as he leaned down to eye level with me. I nod and smile 

           "Yes please." He smiles and puts his arms around me as he lifts us into the sky. We got so high the people looked like little dots on the concrete. 

         "Cover your face." He says as he speeds up. Putting my face in his chest I use my hands to cover my ears. He places a hand on the back of my head. Before I know it I hear muffled whooshing and air brushes against my body. 

          "Something isn't right. He's hiding something. Why is he heading east?" A few more moments pass with nothing but the sound of rushing air. 

        "Margaret he's going to Gotham!" As soon as I hear the words I start trying to wiggle free. I feel his hand press slightly harder against my head along with his arm that's around me. It wasn't tight enough to hurt but it was definitely purposeful. 

          "Let me go!" I scream at him. 

          "That wouldn't be a good idea." He said with a chuckle. "Just relax, we are almost there." I fight against the wind to open my eyes and turn my head under his hand. I see the pointed tops of dark buildings and knew we were back at Gotham. Felix was tugging on his cape. I could see the grip marks but Superman is too strong. I was completely besides myself. I worked so hard to get away now this "hero" was going to bring me back. I start to pants and cough. I could feel my throat closing as I looked up at his face. I slowly reached my hand up to his cheek. I wasn't sure what was happening but he screamed out of nowhere. Black veins started to grow on his skin where my hand was touching him. His scream became more frantic as he let go of me to grab his head. I started to fall. It all happened so fast. My body turned as I fell through the air. I could see the building tops coming closer and closer until I felt someone grab my jacket. 

          "Don't ever do that again." Superman said as he rubbed his head with one hand. His other hand gripped the hood of my jacket. His tone was far more serious than it had been. It was almost dark. He let me dangle as he flew us to the back door of the Wayne manor. I kicked and screamed as I saw Bruce looking up from the steps of the patio. He lowered me to him.  He grabbed me and held me against him. 

          "Thank you." He said shortly as he looked up at Superman.

          "Can I come in? We need to talk." He says back as he steps down on his feet. I squirmed and kicked in Bruce's hold but I wasn't going anywhere Bruce put this plastic mask over my face again. 

            "I'll kill him!" A rock was thrown at Bruce but it was caught quickly by superman. My legs and arms felt numb as I was forced to breathe in the familiar smelling gas. I looked up at Bruce to realize he was struggling to breathe as well. He leaned against the wall. Invisible hands were closing around his throat. It was getting red and almost looked pressed on. 

          "Bruce? Bruce, how do I help! Say something!" Superman was yelling. He sounded so far away all of a sudden. I closed my eyes and passed out shortly after. 

  

        — Bruce put Margaret upstairs and came back down to see Superman sitting down in the chair across from his desk. Bruce rubbed his neck and cleared his throat. A bruise was forming around his neck already. 

         "That kid's got a hell of a chokehold." He says as he sits down in his chair at the desk. 

         "It's not funny Bruce. I have never seen anything like that? Is she a telepath? What the hell was that?" Superman said as he rubbed his cheek where Margaret touched him.

           "Possibly, I think she has some kind of mental illness that's aggravating whatever abilities she has. Thank you for bringing her back." He says as he starts to pour scotch into two glasses. 

            "When you asked me to keep an eye out for a little girl in pajamas who talked to herself I thought you had finally lost it. He said as he reached for the glass. "How did you know she'd go to Metropolis?"

        "I didn't know where she'd go so I contacted all of you. Even Diana." Bruce says as he takes a sip. "We just need to get her on the right meds and therapy lots of therapy." 

             "What you need to do is be careful. You can't take in every orphan you find Bruce, especially not the enhanced ones. She almost got herself killed on the way here and she… she got into my head or something. I don't know what she did but one second I was flying with her over Gotham and the next I was holding Lois's broken body in my arms surrounded by destroyed buildings and fire. She doesn't know Lois, how the hell did she show me that?" The man of steel looked almost scared as he took a sip of his drink. "That's only the half of it. The pain I felt, it was like her hand was inside my brain. I thought I was going to pass out."

         Bruce listened to his concerns and nodded. But deep down he knew Margaret was just as much a victim in this situation. He regretted having to have her brought back like that. He felt guilty that Jason let her out to begin with. All the fear and pain she felt was his fault. He couldn't even blame Jason because him acting out  was his fault as well. He did his best to hide his guilt from his friend Clark he knew he would owe him after this. 

          "You have my word Clark, your pain wasn't for nothing. I'm going to save her. She needs to get a hold of her mental health and abilities. Maybe one day she can help others." He said looking across the desk at his old friend. 

           "I know you will do everything in your power. Just be careful. I know somehow Diana would blame me if anything happened to you." He said as he leaned forward to pat Bruce's shoulder. The two men chatted for a bit longer before Superman left to return to Metropolis. He felt bad for Margaret and for Bruce but he trusted him and if he said this is the best thing for her it must be. 

            Bruce talked with Jason who said he didn't think she'd actually run. He explained he was going to let her out so she would see how impossible it would be for her to leave in this weather. That he was just trying a different way to get her to stay for at least a few more days. As punishment Jason had to fix her door he broke down the other night and had to write an apology letter to Superman. He ended up paying Tim to write the apology letter. —

             

        I woke up feeling groggy and out of it again. I could tell I was in the green guest room again. I felt a cool hand on my forehead so I turned to see who it was. Dick was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked worried. 

         "Sorry I was just seeing if your fever went down any." He said in a whisper. 

         "I should kill him too"

         "No." I mumble as I try to sit up.

         "It's okay I'm just getting you a new ice pack. You got yourself pretty sick running around outside like that. He said with a small grin. 

          "Dick Dick please you have to call the cops or something. I don't want to be here. I want to-" 

          "Shhh stop it. The fever has you all worked up. Alfred gave you some cough medicine a few hours ago. I don't think I can give you anymore." He said as he looked up at a clock on the wall. I shake my head and push my way to sit up. 

            "No, I mean it. I don't want to be here. I'm not worked up from the fever. I'm pissed because I have been kidnapped!" He gives me a sympathetic look. As he sighs. 

           "I'll let you and Bruce talk about that. I know you are scared but trust me if he didn't think this was best for you he wouldn't have adopted you. I won't argue with you that to you it feels like kidnapping but it's not." He says as he gently pulls me back down to lay under the covers. He lays an ice pack on my head and stands up. "I'll tell Bruce you want to talk to him alright? Just stay in bed." He said as he walked out, closing the door behind him. Not long after the door opened and Bruce came in. He kneeled at the edge of the bed, likely wanting to give me my space. 

        "I want to leave." I say as I turn to look at him. 

         "I know you do and that's my fault I went about this all the wrong way. I'm sorry Margaret." He looks remorseful. 

         "You can't keep me here. Felix will kill you. There will come a point where I won't be able to stop him." I warn as I look at him. Why did I feel guilty?

         "I appreciate your concern but I hope one day maybe he and I could be friendly. I don't want to do anything other than help. When I was young I lost my parents, maybe that's why I adopted so many kids but when I saw you scared out of your mind in Arkham it was like I was looking at myself as a boy. Scared, angry, and helpless. I want to help you grow up right. I want to give you the life that you deserve. I talked to the Jeffersons. I heard their story but Margaret I don't believe Mrs. Jefferson. I haven't known you for very long but even I know you wouldn't try and hurt that dog. Felix needs help too and I want to help him as well. Just give me a chance to make this all up to you please." I listened to his words. He sounded so sincere. The fact he believed me meant so much to me. I could also tell he didn't seem to know the full truth of the situation though. I nod slightly and look at him. I was too tired to fight anymore. I could hear Felix start to yell in my ear. 

         "Okay fine but can I ask you something?" He nods with a small smile. "You don't want me to become a Robin right?" It almost sounded like a joke when I said it but I was being dead serious. He looked at me for a second before answering.

        "Well I don't want to lie to you. The thought had crossed my mind but that would be years in the future and only if you wanted to." As he finished speaking a lamp was pulled off the bedside table Presumably by Felix. Bruce picked it up and continued. "Like I said. Only if you are comfortable with it. You too Felix I know you two are a packaged deal so I want to make sure you both are comfortable." 

          "I don't think I want to be a Robin ever but I'm willing to try one day if I feel up to it." I say as I look at him. Maybe Jason was wrong. This Bruce was the one I thought I knew before. Soft, kind and honest. 

          "And I promise you once you get feeling better I'll take you anywhere you want to go but for now no more running off please. The more I can trust you the more freedom you get but I know trust works both ways so you tell me what I can do to make you feel safe here." He says as he pats my arm. It did kinda sound like a dog on a leash scenario like Jason had warned me about but for now maybe that was okay.

          "No more gas. It makes me feel sleepy and sick." 

          "You got it, no more gas."

          "And can you take the TV out and have it smashed?" He gave me a confused look but nodded. 

           "Consider it done." He says as he holds out his hand for a shake. I take it and we shake on it. I was optimistic about what it might be like to live here. Felix was not. Shortly after Bruce left with the TV Felix would pull on my foot while I tried to sleep. He wouldn't let me rest when he was mad. 

        "You are just going to lie there? Let him be your daddy or something? You're pathetic! Your real dad is dead and your adopted one hates you. You don't get to have another!" He shouts as he shakes the bed. I ignore him. 

         "I should slit all their throats. They will betray us Margaret. I'll make sure it doesn't get to that point."

          "No! No you will not. You are going to sit in here with me and you will shut up and let me sleep. I love you Felix but I don't like you very much right now just leave me and them alone!" I shout back at him. He doesn't say anything but the chair in the corner gets an indent in it as I assume he sat down. I could believe that actually worked. I lay back down and try to rest. Just as soon as I do, the doorbell rings.

I had a friend tell me the red bothers her eyes does anyone else have this problem? I can always change the color if so.

[shivunin]

✨9 Ship Songs✨

Rules: List nine songs for one of your ships

Tagged by @brother-genitivi---Thank you so much! I am always delighted by any opportunity to talk music c:

I didn't want to pick one ship, so here are three songs for each of my canon DA ships instead (I have great playlists for all of them that I want to show off haha), so nine total split across the three.

So:

Arianwen/Zevran

The Killing Kind by Marianas Trench (YT link)

The ghost in me was true but you were haunted too just didn't see it all along. Nevermore to leave here, nevermore to leave here You should never be here I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know my love can be the killing kind.

Howl by Florence + The Machine (YT Link)

If you could only see The beast you've made of me I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free Screaming in the dark I howl when we're apart Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your bleeding heart

Got Weird by dodie (YT Link)

I got weird when we made out What a goddamn kiss to think about Poured a drink all over my wiring Short a fuse, all cylinders firing It got weird when we made out Clearly I've got shit to figure out Baby, baby, please don't hate me Call me up again, I won't get weird

Maria/Fenris

Francesca by Hozier (YT Link)

Now that it's done there's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm since I was born How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'd tell them "put me back in it." ... I would still be surprised I could find you, Darling, in any life

reckless driving by Lizzy McAlpine (YT Link) (with Maria singing the man's part)

Now we're at 180 and I can finally see but then it's over in a second, crashed the car into the tree Yeah, I can see it all happen You'd rather die than take your eyes off me

Lose Myself by Lera Lynn (YT Link)

Don't want to talk Don't want to listen You'll just convince me That you're what I'm missing If I stay longer, I know what I'll do I'll lose myself in you

Emmaera/Cullen

Dark Doo Wop by MS MR (YT Link)

The world is gonna burn, burn, burn, burn As long as we're going down Baby you should stick around It's all gone to shit; it's out of our hands Baby if you could, I know: you would hatch a plan That's my, that's my man

You and Me on the Rock by Brandi Carlile (YT Link)

I'll build my house up on this rock, baby, every day with you There's nothin in that town I need after everything we've been through. Me out in my garden And you out on your walk Is all the distance this poor girl can take without listening to you talk I don't need their money, baby Just you and me on the rock

Photograph by Cody Fry (YT Link)

If I wished myself a superpower I would make this moment last for hours If I had my will, time would just stand still Wait for me until I find some magic film To take a photograph and live inside I need some way to prove that this was real A memory is not enough I'm scared that I'll forget the way it feels To be young and in love Let me stay right here---just a moment longer The picture is so clear Please let this last forever

Tagging (no pressure): @greypetrel @demandthedoodles @star--nymph @vakarians-babe @scribbledquillz @zenstrike @gaysebastianvael @transprincecaspian @ndostairlyrium @gvnseylike @idolsgf @layalu @bitchesofostwick @jtownnn and YOU

Tell me what music you like for your fellas!!

[pearljen-blog]

Renovations with Joel Miller - 01

Chapter 01 - Introductions

You meet Joel by accident and find out he’s working in constructions. Hopefully with some convincing he can assist you with some urgent house renovations... and then some.

Based on the video game version of Joel, but can be changed to the HBO version if preferred. Taking place pre outbreak in Austin Texas.

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x afab reader

Warnings: This is my first published story, which in itself should be a warning / Reader is afab and has long hair, I will try avoid using any additional physical descriptions / Not familiar with the area of Austin, so most of it is badly googled or made up / swearing / smut eventually

Rriiiiing

‘Hello’. It was 2 in the morning. Who would be calling at this time?

‘Hey! Hun! It’s me.’

Of course.

‘I am so sorry, really sorry. I met this guy…. we were at that new place in town, Butlers.. something, in Austin. It was CRAZY.’

Who’s that chuckling in the back? Where is she? Drunk?

‘Crazy I tell ya. Anyway, we’re kind of … We’re in jail. He got in a fight. It wasn’t anything bad. Just.. he kinda hit that guy and he went down. Some idiot anyway. And he was doing it for me. That fella was just talking shit.’

‘What? Where are you?’ I love you Carla but I swear..

‘It’s nothing bad. I promise. Seriously. They took us in and we had to go to Travis County Jail. We’re there now. Just waiting.’

‘It’s 2 in the fucking morning…’

‘I know! Fuck.. I know! But we don’t want to stay here all weekend.’

‘Who is we?’

‘Tommy, he’s the guy from the fight. He didn’t start it. Fuck I’m sorry, but I don’t know who else to call. I can’t call dad. He’ll kill me’.

‘I’m an hour out of the city. What do you want me to do?’ God I’m tired.

‘PLEASE! I’ll pay you back. Just let us get out of here. I’m begging ya.’

My head hurts. My eyes are sore. ‘How much is to get you out?’

‘Fuck I don’t know. But I’ll give it back to ya. Promise.’

You turn on the lights next to the bed. Hating the idea of spending an hour in the car, driving through the fucking city and then her drunk ass home.

‘I hate you. You’re a terrible friend.’

‘Please Y/N!’

‘Yeah I’m moving. But it will take me about 90 minutes to be there.’

‘Thanks babes. Thanks thanks’

You hang up. Out of pleasantries for this time of the night. Once in the bathroom you put your hair in a ponytail and fresh water to your face. You love Carla, but she’s a mess sometimes. Like a real mess. But she’s also the first person you have been able to click with since you arrived in Austin. She doesn’t ask too many questions, mainly happy to talk about herself. And she gets you out of the house. At least some nights.

The drive to Austin is fine. Boring, especially at this time of the night. You made some coffee for the road and listen to Booker T & the MG’s. One of your dads’ favourite albums. You always doze off to some long-forgotten time, when listening to it. Time passes much faster this way. You were hitting Austin fast and prepared yourself to be lost until you found Travis County Jail. Driving in the city didn’t scare you but drained a lot more energy from you.

***

‘We can’t release anyone today. You will have to come back tomorrow.’

‘He is right there for fuck’s sake!’

‘SIR!’

‘He’s right there! Just let me pay and get him out. Do your job!’

‘SIR! That’s enough! I am asking you to leave.’

Two men around the desk standing close and arguing. What the hell did you walk into at this time of the night?

‘I just want my brother out is all. Why are you being so difficult?’

‘You can come back tomorrow to collect your brother. Please leave, get out, before I will arrest you as well for disorderly conduct.’

One guy is storming off. Head bowed to the ground, nevertheless you could see the anger on him. His posture rigid and ready to crack any second. He sprints past you and for a second you feel intimidated to walk any further to the reception. What a night this turns out to be.

‘Fun night?’

‘What can I do for you love?’

‘My friend got into a little trouble last night and called me to release her. Her name is Carla Thomas, age 34.’ What other information do they need you wonder.

‘Well, I’ll tell you what I told the last guy. You will have to come back tomorrow. We are not releasing anyone today.’

‘What??’ You are joking?

‘Come back on Monday from 9am love.’ There is an uninterested look that comes with his statement.

‘I just drove over an hour to pick her up.’

‘I’m sorry to hear. But there are no weekend releases. Please come back on Monday.’

You realize there’s no way to discuss or argue your way out of this, but you try anyway.

After some back and forth you cave and walke back outside. What a night indeed.

Carla will have to wait. She will have to understand. Maybe you can just stay in Austin and get breakfast somewhere. Or maybe you’ll be able to fall back asleep when you get home. How will you pick her up on Monday? You have work. There are about 15 thoughts currently in your head. But you are unable to focus on any one of them, so you just slowly walk back to your car.

On the way to your car, you spot the guy who was arguing to get his brother released. More out of your peripheral, but you see him. He’s standing by his truck, not far from you. On the phone, or desperately trying to ring someone. Possibly his brother you think.

‘Fuck sake!’

You look towards his direction.

‘Fun night?’ Yes, your one and only ice breaker, you think to yourself.

‘It’s fucking bullshit.’ He looks up and straight at you. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that.’

Southern gentlemen.

‘It’s ok. Same thing I said to myself... in my head.’

He turns slightly towards his truck. Frown all over his face. You smirk, hands slightly fidgeting.

‘You know they have people around. I just don’t understand why they just can’t release people on a fucking Sunday. Tommy, my brother,… he could have told me when he called.’

Tommy, well..

‘Your brother’s name is Tommy?’ You huff and smile to yourself. ‘That’s.. funny. My friend called me tonight at 2am, telling me she got arrested with a guy named Tommy. Or arrested because of him.'

You look at the ground now. Still turned towards him.

‘He’s a mess but a good guy.’

You look up. ‘Oh yeah, sorry I didn’t mean it that way.’

He’s looking right at you now. Just a grey worn out shirt and a tired look, but he looks gorgeous. God, you wish you would be able to keep eye contact.

‘Well, I guess I may see you on Monday then to get these kids home.’ Your gaze drops back to the ground, and you slowly turn towards your car.

‘Yeah, can’t wait to give up half a day of work to drive around the city just to get him out. Only getting paid for the days I’m working for fucks sake. He should know better.’

You look back at him just to acknowledge that you are listening. But you don’t say anything.

‘Sorry I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me missing a day of construction.’

‘You work in construction?’ Your eyes go wide, and you look at him expecting.

He stays silent for a second. Seems it’s not the usual reaction he gets, when mentioning constructions.

‘I’m a carpenter. But we, Tommy and I, we do whatever works needs to be done really.’

‘Are you looking for work?’ Maybe too forward. ‘Or do you know any construction friends that are looking for work?’

There’s an awkward silence. No longer angry, he’s just looking at you wondering. Possibly trying to figure out where he wants this conversation to go. You can’t keep your gaze up and turn back at the car. He’s still gorgeous. For a second you start playing with your lower lip.

‘Always looking for work.’ You turn back at him. Eyebrows raised slightly, heart beating heavier now.

‘I bought a house recently,…well a few months ago now actually. Ehm.. It’s a really great house! Spectacular! But it needs some work done. I think the walls are fine. At least my brother thinks so. He’s been looking at it for now, and I trust him. But the roof needs work, and pretty much all the windows need to be replaced. Bathroom and kitchen, all needs to be re-done, but that’s second to getting the house in actual good shape.’

Oh my god, why don’t you just tell him your whole life story? Jesus…

‘How urgent is it?’

Is he considering it?

‘I’m already living in it. But my brother is pushing me to get it done. He’s been helping me a lot, but he doesn’t live around here, so it’s been moving really slowly.’

‘Can go and take a look. Get and understanding of what we are dealing with here. How much you paying?’

‘Oh.’ Your brother warned you about this question.

‘Honestly you would have to talk this out with my brother. He said around $30 per hour. But it depends what extra charges come on top. Like fuel and that kind of stuff. So I don’t know for sure. Oh, I should mention, the house is not actually in Austin.’

Here we go, the deal breaker.

‘It’s in Luling. About an hour on a good day.’

‘Yeah, I know that place. I grew up there’ He’s smiling. Wow.

‘Wow… Please tell me you have font memories of your childhood.’

‘Some of them. Place was great though.’

You’re thinking to yourself. Just ask him.

‘I can take your number. Or give you mine. Or whichever way this usually works.’ Breath in ‘You know, in case you want to have a look at the house.’

He keeps looking at you with no mercy now.

‘Yeah lets swap numbers and give me a call. I’m not sure what time I’ll be here on Monday.’

You swap numbers and walk back to your car. Goodbyes are short but you need a second to collect your thoughts in the car anyway. You found out his name is Joel Miller. He was looking for an excuse to visit Luling again, so he told you. Maybe Carla’s drunk ass could be good for something. You’re getting breakfast for the road.

Masterlist // Next Chapter

[illleavemymessageinmysong]

same love hey diddle the mess name and address playboy to a man i’m carrying San ferry anne if you wanna love in song struggle arrow through me the other me no more lonely nights twice in a lifetime write away this one my brave face footprints secret friend I do the lovers that never were so like candy demons dance turned out lifelong passion anyway looking at her souvenir long-tailed winter bird only love remains sixty second street hosanna nothing too much just out of sight off the ground hope of deliverance say say say getting closer to you get enough beware my love cage 4th of july

So many songs about, or more often, addressed to, an ex. Of course , some, from before John’s death, might be messages to him, under the cover of a relationship song format. Not included here but I think ‘Coming Up’ is a John song. ‘Call Me Back Again’, if it’s about anybody, might be John. Linda, of course, is a massive presence in his songs. Some of them here might well be about contemporary events with Heather, Nancy. Some, of course, might just be words to fit a tune.

It’s the accumulation, though. Also, I think, a sense of distance: distance in time and in place from the person being addressed.

Yet, in all the articles and blogs written about Paul, many of which are great, this is not addressed at all. As someone commented on a YouTube video of one of these songs: “Sometimes I don’t know how people don’t pick up on what Paul is putting down”. There are, of course, people here and there who have picked up on this and whose thoughts have influenced my own on this subject.

Within these songs, there are some recurring themes that we can go on to have a look at. In the meantime, a lyrics jumble:

If I give my love again to you, will it be the same love that we once thought was true….hey diddle, I want you back.. I wouldn't make her her wooden table, I wouldn't care…. you sailed away one night in June..the mess I’m in…. you packed a bag, and like a birdie flew away, meanwhile, I'm sitting here, I'm getting in a mess…. you had your own way one too many times and now you’re going to find out what it`s like, just what it`s like, now you`re a mess….

by dawn’s first light I’ll come back to your room again..ah, long time no see baby sure has been a while…. your little man brings you trinkets when he can, but he can't stay, dear…. If you wanna love me again, I’ll take you for a ride in my Cadillac….my heart cries out for love..I can see the places that we used to go to now….want to get you in my heart again, want to love you once more..we can work it out together, we'll get through this somehow….

you couldn't have done a worse thing to me if you'da taken an arrow and run it right through me…. I know I was a crazy fool for treating you the way I did.. I wish that I could take it back..and if you let me try again, I'll have a better attitude…. I can wait another day until I call you.. and I won't go away until you tell me so, no I'll never go away…. once in a lifetime I'm a lucky man If I can find the kind of love that’s gonna last for me, twice in a lifetime is one of those unspoken dreams we usually reserve for fantasy…. you need love, write a letter, you need love write away..hey Cinderella, did you need that other fella…. did I ever take you in my arms, look you in the eye, tell you that I do?….

ever since you went away, i’ve had this sentimental inclination not to change a single thing.. ever since you left I have been trying to compose a 'baby will you please come home' note meant for you…. but his heart keeps aching in the same old way, he can't help feeling that she might come back someday….

here we are, where are we, cast adrift on some uncharted sea..I know we'll find our way, i know we'll reach the end if you will say you'll be my secret friend…. please remember this, after a time it's through and nevermore will there be days for me and you…. I hang patiently on every word you send, will we ever be much more than just friends?.. and I know dear, how much it's going to hurt, If you still refuse to get your hands dirty, so you, you must tell me something... I love you, say goodbye or anything…. what did I do to make her go, why must she be the one that I have to love so….

I can't wait much longer till you tell me baby, there’s some chance we'll get together maybe sooner or later, I'll be in with half a chance.. exorcise my demons, cast them out today, only you can do it, make them go away…. if you don't mind some stormy weather, we’ll be together in our fantasy..looking back it didn't hurt me, it did something for my soul, it taught me when you find a love don’t break it…. step into the misty mountains with your hair like ambered honey..give me love, be my lifelong passion…. If you love me, won't you call me, I’ve been waiting, waiting too long..in my soul is constant yearning, always singing, singing this song…. she’s good, she's kind, she's so refined but me, I'm losing my mind..though she haunts me like the sound of the rain, or a river running down to the ocean, I hate to complain, but it's happening again….

If you want me, tell me now, if I can be of any help, tell me how, let me love you like a friend, everything is gonna come right in the end…. do you, do-do, do you miss me? Do you, do-do, do you feel me?…. and if you take your love away from me, I’m only going to want it back.. to bring a happy ending to our song, I’ll carry on believing in a love…. well you could make my life complete, if you say that we could meet,for a minute on sixty second street…. come now lady don't you do me wrong.I fell for you and now it wont be long, before I hold you in my arms, before I take you to my heart again…. I said I love you I thought you knew, the last thing to do was to try to betray me, the new morning light, I'll never forget it….

there must have been a lot of heartache for you to sink so low.. I need loving, you need loving too..wouldn’t take a lot to get off the ground…. I will always be hoping, hoping you will always be holding my heart in your hand…. all alone I sit home by the phone waiting for you baby..through the years how can you stand to hear my pleading for you dear?…. when will you see me, my salamander..now don't try to tell me, oh no, don't answer, oh no, I’m getting closer, I’m getting closer to your heart….

well if the same thing happened to you, will you still put me through what you put me through?…. it was a time when we walked by the docks, I told you, "I need you all of my life" and watching the tugs rolling by together, do you remember?..do you remember the lights on the shore, how they reflected the rain on the road? I believed that you love me alone, it was real, do you remember?.. get enough, girlI can't get enough, enough of you…. I have to leave and when I'm gone, I’ll leave my message in my song…. emotional moments, you left in a rage, but if you could love me now I wouldn’t be in a cage..dramatic performance, direct from the stage but if you could get me out, I wouldn’t be in a cage….sunset’s painting up the sky, there’s something in my eye, why am I crying, it’s the 4th of july.. could it have something to do with the fact that I've been feeling blue since friday..you came in with him again and, suddenly, I knew it wasn't my day..why am I crying, it’s the fourth of July….

[bodhranwriting]

How about descriptions? (under the cut as not to influence the vibes)

Sixsmith

This Sixsmith’s hair was completely white and hacked close to his head, more an attack than a haircut. His stance was different: his left shoulder hanging lower than the other and he’d lost enough weight that his ribs showed eerily through his dark shirt, not helped by the prominent chest characteristic of Taiyeks.

But it was his realising that it wasn’t paint on Sixsmith’s face which knocked the breath from his lungs.

Three long, puckered scars raked down the right side of his face, crossed by a shorter, thicker one from his eyebrow to his hairline. It twisted his face into a strangers’, a jigsaw not quite put back together right. It was almost as if someone had tried to keep a tally on his features and miscounted.

2. Professor Vincent

She’d seen Professor Theodore Vincent once before, but that had been in the sixth row of a huge auditorium as a wide-eyed eighteen years old. She remembered him as a distant speck behind a lectern: a skinny man with owlish spectacles and a gruff, taut voice who very matter-of-factly had laid out the realities in becoming a necrotic archaeologist. Those facts had included the assertion of why he was so admired. While none of his discoveries had individually been as earth-shattering as his contemporaries, he had been steady and consistent in uncovering the pertinent, careful minutiae of the past. And, unlike, his contemporaries, he was still alive and not being treated for ‘nerves’ or ‘alcoholism’.

3. Alby

It always reminded me of a chess player in the height of the game. Funny, I could always smash Alby at that. He wasn’t much of a cardsharp either.

I cleared my throat loudly, but the shuffling didn’t miss a beat.

From behind, I could see the way his beloved moss-green shirt now shrouded his shoulders, excess material bunching under his braces, and that his white hair was flattened against his skull by repeated passes of his hand.

I was older than him, but my last strands of black were still valiantly clinging to the tips of my twists.

He still had bruises too from our last assignment, yellow-green against his skin. I know us older folks take longer to heal up, but this was slow even for him.

4. Thorne

“Do you work here?” Thorne asked, fixing his grey cravat. He was a neat figure, his stance loose despite the collision. He had strange eyes, Hywel couldn’t help but notice – the pupils huge and black, the irises a pale glass-sliver around the edges – which coupled with his snow-white hair made it seem like they had leeched all the colour from his body.

“Uh… no, I know… someone…” Hywel gestured nervously across the room. Despite a good six inches and thirty years between them, the nobleman’s mild gaze was tremendously disconcerting.

5. Bas

He was a shortish elderly man, only an inch or two taller than Dmitry himself, and stout with a shock of white hair poking out from under a cap. As Dmitry sauntered towards him, his eye was irresistibly drawn to a pale pink dress-shirt and black waistcoat embroidered with seed-pearls and white stitching. It was so outdated, it had to be a costume. The man beamed back at Dmitry, hands stuck in his pockets, then nodded to the trapdoor, knocking the hat askew. “That’s where the fella got out yesterday.”

6. Palamon

He always did his best to make himself presentable before he returned to civilization and it was mildly disconcerting how little he had to do. His hair staying white made sense, but not that it stayed the same length, curling around his ears. He shaved off his short beard and mustache on semi-regular occasions, but it sprang back like moss on a trunk.

Palamon had stopped looking at his reflection some centuries ago. Green eyes, lined round face, pot-belly... nothing changed except his clothes.

He'd cared once. Now it was just to decrease the likelihood of being seized as some kind of forest witch and tied - again - to a stake.

7. Polites

It was uncharitable, but the first description which came to Nostos' mind was 'drowned rat'.

The man trailing behind the party looked a few seconds away from breaking down. His clothes barely fitted, clearly handed over by a taller, broader owner. His salt-and-pepper hair hung loose to his shoulders obscuring his face.

No, Nostos' thought, rats were cunning. "Mouse" was far more accurate.

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

���Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

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

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

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

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?��

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[volleychumps]

« Insecure S/O Reacting to a Confession 2

part 1 here 

format: scenarios

genre: fluff

- includes: Iwaizumi, Tendou, and Matsukawa

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

Iwaizumi Hajime

The sun wasn’t helping his flared cheeks in any way. 

“Stop interfering.” 

“Stop stalling then.” Oikawa grins, rubbing his best friend’s shoulders as if he were about to enter a boxing ring. The dark haired ace rubs his eyes in irritation with one hand, ignoring the flare against his cheeks as Iwaizumi attempts to shake his childhood friend off. The sight of you kneeled down in the school garden, hair pinned back away from your face as you tended to the flowers, made the heat surge through Iwa’s cheeks even more. 

“I’m not.” 

“Really? Because every day you approach her creepily from some distance, and then disappear. C’mooon, I already owe Hiro like fifteen bucks-” 

“You’re betting on this, shithead?”

“Nope.” The answer comes out a little too quickly as Oikawa dodges a second swat. “She’s so pretty I might have to approach her myself-” 

“Not another word.” Iwa grits out, Oikawa slightly smirking at the tick in his jaw and the way his onyx eyes harden. “I just...don’t wanna mess this up.” 

“There’s nothing to mess up until you confess. Ah, young love.” Oikawa sighs dreamily, Iwaizumi ignoring his dramatic friend’s swoon before making a decision. Today was the day. 

You wipe sweat from your forehead, attempting to ignore the beating sun down on your face as you tried to hurry the process a long, ensuring the flowers were getting just enough water. The touch of an icy can of tea against your cheek startles you, almost making you drop the watering pot before you hold a hand up against the bright sun rays, tilting your head in confusion at the broad-shouldered man in front of you. 

“Iwaizumi?” You smile in greeting as Iwaizumi shuffles his feet, breath catching in his throat at the sight. He was so screwed. 

You laugh a bit awkwardly, the cold touch of the can beginning to numb. “Um, is this for me?” 

“Yes.” He curses himself at how stern it comes out, but you gently take the can from his grasp, nodding in thanks. “I-I know you like this one.” 

“You do?” 

“No.” He didn’t want to sound creepy, yet somehow made it worse. 

“Oh.” 

Iwaizumi was ready to kick himself. He was hoping you would understand, the day you shyly maneuvered your way through Oikawa’s fanclub to get to him to offer him an ice cold drink was the reason he became so infatuated in the first place. 

“Well, thanks for the tea-” 

“I like you.” 

This time, you do drop the watering pot, eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights as Iwa’s heart sinks at your reaction. 

“I get it, alright?” You mumble, sadness swimming in your stomach as Iwaizumi fought the need to dart off. “You’re the handsome volleyball ace all the girls want, and they put you up to ask me out as a joke again. It’s getting old.” 

Ah. 

Iwaizumi sighs, knowing that the other girls preyed on you for your beauty and soft heart, finding ways to hurt you in the most immature ways possible. 

“Oi.” His heart tightens at the look of sorrow on your face, making him click his tongue before reaching a hand out before he can stop himself, smudging his thumb along the streak of dirt on your cheek. You look up at him in a doe-like manner, and your wet eyes are enough to make the ace want to hurt anyone who ever made you feel this way. 

“I’m not kidding.” 

“Iwa-” 

“Hajime.” He cuts you off, hiding a smirk when he feels the heat rush to your cheeks. “You can call me Hajime. Only you.” 

“Hajime.” you try it out, clapping your hand over your mouth once in shyness as Iwaizumi smiles a genuine grin, elated when you shy away into his touch. 

“Then...please take care of me.” You manage, condensation running down to your other hand holding the can as Iwaizumi slips it out of your grasp, taking a heavy sip of it before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I finished this one. Can I take you to a cafe?” 

“I’d love that.” You slip your gardening gloves off, Iwa slipping his hand into yours casually as you trail behind him, smiling when his grip tightens ever so slightly.

Surprisingly, the sun suddenly didn’t feel too hot today. 

Tendou Satori

“Today’s the day fellas!” 

“Oh, is it?” Shirabu mocks his surprise. “It’s not like you put ‘ask y/n’ out in huge block letters on our team calendar or anything.” 

“Bingo!” Tendou points finger guns at his teammate as Semi shrugs at a disgruntled Shirabu. “I’m about to get myself a Miss Tendou Satori-” 

“That’s not how that works-” 

“Hush, Ushijima. Your logic won’t ruin my day today.” Tendou bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for practice to let out as he tugs his last shoe on, his other teammates still in the process of changing. 

“Is she waiting for you?” Semi tugs his shirt overhead as Tendou hums happily in answer, Shirabu snarkily making a remark from the other side of the locker room. 

“She’s out of your league.” 

“I know she is! Which is why I’m going to treat her like the queen she is, since I myself am but a lowly peasant beneath her-” Tendou perks up at the time. “Gotta go, I’ll text you the outcome boys.” 

“Please don’t.”

“Tendou-senpai-” But the redhead had already darted through the door as Ushijima glances at his worried kouhai, tilting his head in question. 

“What, Goshiki?” 

“Isn’t Y/N L/N the one who had that mean prank pulled on her last year?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you rocked on the balls of your feet, fidgeting with the ends of your skirt as you wait for the rambunctious redhead on the volleyball team. No way a cute guy like him was actually- 

“Did I make ya wait long?” A pair of sneakers appear in your view, making you lift your head as Tendou Satori casts you a wide grin, school shoes hanging in his other hand. You tilt your head, wondering if he rushed here.

“Did you need something from me, senpai?” You blink, swinging your legs lightly on the bench you were sitting on, fearing the worst. Tendou clears his throat, suddenly feeling the nervousness he had been outrunning catch up to him. He can’t mess this up. Ever since you had adorably asked him to reach something for you at the snack shop for the school, he hasn’t been able to get you off his mind. He made sure to wait around during the same time during lunch hour, your usual snack already in hand and plucked off the highest shelf. 

“Go out with me.” 

You flinch. There it was. 

His smile fades slowly with every beat of silence that soaks in the atmosphere between the two of you, and you swallow back a sob. 

“How much are they giving you to do this?” 

Tendou’s shoes hit the floor, his eyes blinking rapidly in confusion as you refuse to meet his questioning gaze. 

“What?” 

“I um, can help you if you want. Go out with you for a few days so they really believe-” 

“Hey, hey!” Tendou’s arms begin to flail around as he shakes his head no. “I mean it Y/N, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. I really wanna date you for real-” 

“You do?” 

Tendou’s chest felt heavier at the crack in your voice and insecurity swirling in your eyes, and he nods his head, kneeling in front of you carefully before asking to take your hands with his eyes. 

“I 100% do. You can strip me of my honor if I’m lying.” 

This makes you crack a smile, making Tendou breathe out a sigh of relief through his nose. He thumps his forehead against yours, making your eyes glint in a way they haven’t in awhile.

“Can this lowly senpai please take you out on a date this weekend?” 

“No, my lowly senpai cannot.” You say, turning your palms over so he can hold them properly. Tendou quirks an eyebrow, but he’s slightly smirking as you offer a shy smile. 

“But my boyfriend can.” 

Matsukawa Issei

“You’re staring again, ya creep.” 

“I think the term you’re looking for is skillful admiring-” 

“Just ask her out.” Hanamaki yawns, getting comfy on his best friend’s desk as Matsukawa leans into his palm, eyeing the way you pout when your friends steal your snacks. So cute. “What’s the worst she’s gonna do, say no?” 

“Yes.” Matsukawa sighs, hanging his head slightly as Hanamaki arches a brow, crossing his arms in pure amusement. 

“Wow, Matsukawa Issei hung up over a girl?” 

“Who the hell is hung up-” 

Hanamaki arches a brow when his friend visibly tenses up, looking over only to smirk when he sees another boy in class shyly offer up his pocky to you, you gladly accepting and smiling widely in thanks. Issei rests his head on the desk, stubbornly looking out the window as Hanamaki withholds a laugh over the hold you have over your classmate. 

“Oh just ask her out.” Hanamaki uncaps his drink. “You’re so into her dude, it’s making me sick.” 

Issei shifts in his seat. Maybe his adoration for you wouldn’t have begun if it hadn’t been for the way your much shorter legs pumped to catch up to his figure, who had pretty much reached his home.

“Matsukawa-san!” You had gasped for breath, the messy-haired boy guiltily slipping his headphones off at how tired you seemed. Before he could profusely apologize, you shoved his notes in his hand, bright hue to his cheeks at the act of kindness. 

“Um, you left this in the library!” you manage out, Matsukawa seeming to freeze in the moment. “I added some notes in there, I hope you don’t mind. It seemed kinda empty-” 

“You wrote notes for me?” He finds his voice again, cursing himself at that being the first thing that came out. 

“I was bored during free time anyways.” You scratched the back of your head before turning on your heel again. “Anyways, bye!”

And then you darted off again as Matsukawa Issei stayed still in his spot, wondering just why the hell his heart was beating at the pace it was going, colorful notes hanging from his grasp. 

“I’m gonna do it.” Hanamaki almost falls off the desk at Matsukawa’s revelation and the way he suddenly stood up. “I could kiss you right now, Makki.” 

“I’m praying to god, please don’t.” 

You lean against the shoe lockers, humming to yourself as you wonder just what your classmate would need from you, figuring he wanted to properly thank you for the notes. You would accept it and go, knowing that Matsukawa Issei was favored among the girls- 

“You’re here.” 

“This.” You smile softly, holding up a folded note between your fingers as Matsukawa shoves his hand in his slack pockets, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “This made it hard for me not to be, you know?” 

You eye him carefully, stomach sinking at the familiar situation in front of you. 

“You might have already guessed,” Issei breathes, trying to steady the pounding in his ears. “Or Makki might have already told you because he’s a shithead like that-” 

You tilt your head.

“-but I’ve got this killer crush on you. And if you could help me out, I would thoroughly appreciate it.” It comes out business-like, and you almost laugh if it hadn’t been for the weight in your throat. 

“Help you out how?” He doesn’t notice the crack in your voice as he pulls his sleeves up to his forearms, swallowing tightly. 

“I think a date would begin to ease the pain.” 

You really do laugh this time, but it’s not the kind of laugh of amusement. It’s forced, awkward, and makes Issei falter in his smile and movements. 

“Do they ever get bored?” 

All playfulness drains from the middle blocker’s face as his tone hardens. “What are you talking about?” 

“Sure, get the hot guy from the volleyball team to try and ask Y/N out, are you getting it on video?” 

“Y/N-” 

“I’ve gotta go.” you try to step away, eyes widening when he stops you with his much bigger frame. His lidded eyes widen at the tears prodding the corner of your eyes, carefully lifting a hand to swipe at them before looking at you seriously.

“You think I’m hot?” 

You can’t withhold the giggle that escpaes you, sniffling slightly as Matsukawa smiles gently, wrapping his arm around you to touch the small of your back. You yelp a little when you find yourself crushed against his chest, your upper back touching the lockers. 

“I don’t know what the hell happened to you in the past, but-” you look up at the handsome tall boy you had hand-written notes for, hoping your crush on him wasn’t too noticeable. “I can tell you right now that you’re really fuckin’ pretty, and I want to brag to my friends about how hot my girlfriend is-”

“Do you ever stop talking?” You cup his cheek in question as his grin widens. 

“Make me your boyfriend and I’ll show you.” He winks, and you raise both eyebrows in amusement before practically speaking against his lips. 

“I think we can arrange that.” 

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

General Taglist: @ebiharachan @purplefangirl2001 @ssuna @saffyspirals @baes-x @nabisonyeo94 @celestialuffy @uh-what-day-is-it-again @genesisrose74 @takemetovalhalla @thathoneybee3 @animebae100 @jesssobs @tsukkikeiibabe

[waters-and-the-wilde]

EHEHEHEH GOT ANOTHER ONE FOR PETRUSHKA okay backstory i was on a War and Peace kick around the same time as the S3 hiatus and was thinking about. 'hey what did Nureyev's first love call him. if he was young enough that someone else knew his real name, probably didn't call him Nureyev, and definitely didn't call him Peter, what does that leave us with. pet names? gamely switching to whatever he was wearing in the moment while he was figuring himself out in the aftermath of giving up Peter Nureyev?' and 'well Nureyev has Eastern Slavic origins and Zolotovna invoked that style of naming conventions, wouldn't it be neat if the diminutives were also a thing and maybe his fella called him something like Petya or Petrushka' and that was a fun little headcanon just for me AND THEN STONE UNTURNED CAME OUT AND PETYA WAS CANON. AND I HAVE BEEN SCREAMING ABOUT IT EVER SINCE.

and then. i was CONVINCED in S4 that he was going to come out as Nureyev as part of freeing the others. maybe some kind of deal with Dark Matters where he has to make that choice to give his name up to free them. and could not stop thinking about him shucking the name Ransom and like. looked up Zolotovna's whole thing because he was curious and had quietly put 'Aurinkovich' in his back pocket in case he needs a middle name for formal occasions like *cough cough* maybe wedding vows or something (and/or that Buddy fullnames him when he's On His Behavior) and mostly I just really liked the symbolism of breaking the hold that Mag's memory has over him and taking on Buddy's name, going from a name that's a reminder of 'I am alone and I will not forget that again' to 'I AM a part of this family and i will carry that with me after we have parted'. and uh. I don't seem to be getting that lucky a second time around but it's okay we dreamed it etc.

bit of both with the floundering/dissociating? like you mentioned he's gonna have NO idea how to act, extremely comparable to Juno catching up with him and going 'ah shit didn't figure out what next,' it's gonna be his own 'dog that caught the car' moment, like he's just not even remotely equipped to deal with the long term quencies of 'Slip's alive, what the hell now'

(and it seems like a lot of his canon spacing out/losing time/overdeveloped sense of compartmentalization tips into dissociation territory. not sure i'm all that qualified to speak on it myself but I've gotten the sense that it's at the very least in the neighborhood). I'm definitely convinced that whatever it looks like he's going to Crash Hard. like everything's just going to feel so so bad because he's finally safe enough to actually feel it.

and even that's probably going to take a while because last time he thought he and Slip got away from the Executives it was a fake-out so the whole notion that he's free and has Slip and Juno is. making him want to stay in hypervigilance mode because he knows what happens when he actually thinks he's safe, right?

in some ways having Slip come back is the angstier version in the sense that there's absolutely no option for a cut and dried form of closure, for letting go and moving on. Nureyev's in no way the boy Slip knew anymore but he's also the only familiar thing Slip has in a completely new world. from Slip's perspective he just barely found his Petya again and had him yanked away and replaced by a man who has given up twenty years of his life on Slip's behalf. they've both gotta grieve while the other is still right there yknow??

Slip laying into Nureyev for the exact same reasons Nureyev's been telling Juno off, (Juno's in the corner like 'yeah not fun being on that end of it huh') and Nureyev's trying to hold it together and let Slip react however he needs to because it wasn't like he was doing it for gratitude or to be together again, it's enough that Slip's alive to be angry at him, alive to be something at him (and like that's what he tells himself and it's true but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt)

Slip's not even sure if he's actually upset that Petya's in love with someone else or relieved that Petya has somebody, found somebody (who also has somebody, who also seems like she's got a pretty good track record at being there for a self-destructive guilt-ridden dingus), like thank fuck Petya has two whole friends, this would be so much harder if they only had each other right now. (he can be both upset and relieved he knows he can be both he just physically hasn't had any feelings for twenty years and is having a hard enough time figuring out his own end of things let alone anybody else's)

he's probably really resistant to any of Nureyev's attempts to look after him because Nureyev's already done enough and too much and he isn't even looking after himself so dealing with Juno is just a lot less loaded. Slip's easily in a position to be like 'yes Steel was integral to getting us both free. and he cares about you. can't fault him for that. but also he's a grown-ass lady who does what he wants, and he's maaaybe a bit of a dick, and also seems like whatever I have to say probably won't be kicking him while he's down'

OH YEAH and also like you said about journal Slip vs whole person Slip, Nureyev had basically only just met the version who mouths off to faceless corporate dickheads. ("I don't get tongue-tied around everybody, just the man I love.") A Slip who's more resilient than he looks is probably going to take them both by surprise. It's not a massive leap for him to realize that he and Juno can recreationally heckle each other without jeopardizing the alliance. maybe Juno's like momentarily taken aback the first time or two and then 'oh that's how we're gonna play it huh?'

and then they move onto heckling their weird thief man and if Nureyev had so much as a moment to think about what it might look like for Juno and Slip to interact, he was probably not picturing 'OH STARS THEY'RE GANGING UP ON ME'

it's just. the lock, the fucking lock right? the stim toy lock where the combination changes as you try to pick it. like we actually saw them do it, the executives scrambling the parameters to force him to keep up (also WHOOP right in tandem with the impact of the 'making radiation treatments free' thing!) but also there's this sense of it almost doesn't matter because it's literally their game and they can make him play along, nothing's going to give until they show their hand

[lewis-winters]

Day 2: Impossible

part of my OC-tober 2022!

tw: internalized transphobia/queerphobia, a few slurs (one of which is reclaimed while one is used by a trans character as part of her internalized transphobia), period typical queerphobia, and mention of police brutality against queer folk in 1940s-60s.

Floyd left five minutes ago to get her a glass of water from the kitchen. He’s still there, currently, laughing up a storm with Babe, Nat’s glass still in his grip, his hand protectively covering the top out of reflex. Usually, Nat wouldn’t mind him taking his sweet time—he never does it quite enough, she thinks. Always bouncing back to her like an elastic band when he’s away for longer than he thinks is necessary, be it at home or here, visiting the Philly faction of their company. He deserves a little time with friends, at least. But in this very moment, she silently hopes Floyd would hurry the fuck up; Bill’s currently in the process of talking her ears off, and there’s only so much of it Nat can take before she takes a page out of Johnny’s book and does something asshole-ish. Like take the man’s crutch and hide it somewhere he can’t get it without help. Maybe the attic.

"I'm just sayin', Morse, if ya wanna get 'round Philly with no trouble, just get ol' Gonorrhea to escort ya and he'll keep ya safe."

Natalie scoffs. "If there's somethin' I don' wan' followin' me around anywhere, Sarge, it's gonorrhea," she says, tipping her head into her hand to hide the small groan of annoyance. How does Frannie deal with this day by day? He’s impossible. "And I told ya already: a girl like me draggin' 'round a man no matter who will definitely draw more attention than castin' it away."

"'Ey, wassat s'ppose to mean?" Bill grumbles. Though his original tone had carried along with it some humor, by now it's all gone. Replaced entirely by a concern that's got his brow all crumpled up in a scowl and his eyes all darkened with endless scenarios. Each one more sinister than the last. "Some bum givin' ya trouble?”

"Still amazes me that ya'll Philly boys always manage to answer ya'lls own dumbass questions with more dumbass questions," Nat marvels, shaking her head. "Nah, Sarge. Nothin' like that—not yet anyway. I’m a freak. I’m a girl with a cock, and I've heard enough stories o' fruits like me on the wrong side of a cop club or fists to know walkin' outside at any time o' day lookin’ like how I look—alone or no—jus’ ain't worth whatever it is ya out for."

"Yeesh, no wonder you'se all cooped up," Bill hisses, sympathetic, scowl digging in deeper. "Listen, Morse, I ain't the kind to get between a fella and his girl—"

"Unlikely. But go on."

"I'm gonna go ahead an' ignore the implications of that rude interruption," Bill huffs, though he does smile. Only a bit. Once he drops it, he's back to being serious. He continues; "Talbert's all worried 'bout ya. And whatever gots him worried gots all o' us worried, ya know?"

"Ugh," Nat groans, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Ya'll talkin' 'bout me behind my back now? Did Floyd put ya up to this?" Suddenly, the very long time he’s spending getting her a glass of water makes sense. The traitor.

Bill waves that off, though, determined to say his piece. "All I'm sayin' 's when Tab's all worried 'bout ya, then Arthur's all worried, and when Arthur's all worried—"

"I get it."

Bill shrugs, finally propping his crutches up next to the table to leave his hands free for his stump, that seems to be cramping. As he massages it, his mouth runs; “’M jus’ sayin’. It ain’t safe for you out there—”

Natalie scoffs. “’S why I stay inside—”

Bill cuts her off. “I know you’re scared,” he says, bluntly, shaking his head. “Hell, I’m scared too—Nixon an’ Winters ain’t the only ones keepin’ an eye out for ya. When somethin’ happens, people call me first, ya know. Not Winters. I mean, they’ll only do that if somethin’ ever happened t’ you or Tab, but I’ll still get that call, ya know? And I can’t shake the idea that one day, I’ll get a call, and it’ll be about you beaten bloody in some jail cell or. Or worse.”

He fixes her with one of those rare, grim expressions of his. The kind that comes with a chilling sort of clarity that looks too out of place on his face after years of housing nothing but a passing shadow of confusion and instant dismissal for her every time they so much as met each other’s gaze across the mess hall or in the middle of maneuvers. Now, he’s looking again, letting it be known that he can see her, and Nat can’t fathom it. This being seen so thoroughly by Bill Guarnere.

There was a point in time where she wanted nothing to do with him, convinced that he was one of those men who wouldn’t hesitate to put a fist through her face the second he found out what she really was. A part of her, the frightened part that runs on the fumes of anxiety, still thinks he is. But he’s proven himself a good man. Though he still has the tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, he’s still trying. That’s more than she’s ever asked from him.

She owes him some honesty. “Or worse,” Nat echoes, turning away to look at the ground. The curtains. The kitchen, where Floyd is still laughing, so handsome and so kind and so loving and so stupid, devoted to a tranny who could do nothing but bring ruin to his good name. Nat swallows, hard. “You know why I stay inside.”

“I know,” Bill says, so gentle. Nat doesn’t think he’s ever heard him so gentle; it makes something in the corners of her eyes grow warm. “It’s not safe for ya. But Natalie—” she turns to him, surprised. He smiles at her; “let us make it safe. We can do that for ya, ya know? You’re one of us, still. A sister. Ain’t it a brothers’ job to take care of their sister?”

A beat. “You,” Nat begins with a rasp. “You called me Natalie.”

“That’s your name, ain’t it?” Bill laughs, not unkindly. “Natalie.”

“It is,” she replies, for lack of anything else to say. Then, she does something she never thought she’d do for Bill Guarnere. She smiles. “You just want us to move to Philly, don’tcha?”

“C-Can’t fault a man for tryin’,” Bill blinks, his smile slipping for just a fraction before coming back in full force. “Did Frannie tell ya there’s an apartment—”

“You’ll have to fight Nix for custody.”

“He’ll give ya away for a crate of Vat 69.”

“The man’s tryna get sober.”

“A bottle, then. And a pack o’ luckies.”

“Ya know what?” Nat says, brightly. “That might actually work.”

Then, she laughs, and Bill can no longer hide his surprise—he’s never heard her laugh at any of his jokes, before.

[peeterparkr]

between lightning and thunder|harry styles.

summary: he’s your best friend’s boyfriend, you have feelings for him, you know the drill.

“In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were.” 

word count: 7k

pairing: Harry Styles x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, a bit sad, Little Prince, some songs. 

PART TWO: thunderstorms and shooting stars PART THREE: stars and fate

So, here’s my first official Harry Styles one shot (kind of two-part one shot), thanks to @peachybloomss and @laurieteddy for helping me out with beta reading. Yes, there will be part two if you guys want it. I’ll see if you like it, please send feedback, reblog, be kind. 

The rain pattered against the asphalt, now bright and dense, reflecting the tinkling lantern that barely gave an excuse of light to the street. There you were, in that corner, shading the sidewalk with those sneakers that used to be white. You were getting wet, that was an understatement, you  knew you would have a cold the very next day. You clutched your dark blue umbrella as you waited for a miracle.

You saw the sky light up and counted the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

The lightning struck with such a crash it made you shiver.

It seemed like it was the worst day of your life. It probably wasn't, but that's how it felt. It is difficult to understand why a relationship ends. It’s even more difficult to understand when you’re an outsider. You were not one, though, not really. You wished you were. 

Your best friend’s boyfriend, now ex. Probably ex. 

Harry. 

You saw him, right outside of the building where you were supposed to be in, leaning to give a shoulder to your friend. You would, of course. 

But you wondered what would happen if you didn’t. If you instead went to him. Of course the imagination can go as wild as we let it go but this was just not what you needed. 

Harry. 

It felt weird, and you didn’t know if she’d seen her. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to breathe in. They’d probably had another fight. One of those loud arguments where both of them made absolutely no sense at all. The relationship both of them were fighting for but there was barely any relationship to be saved at all. 

Harry. 

There are secrets in life we all like to keep. This was one you’d kept for a long while right now. 

But you didn't know how longer you could keep it. You were in love with your best friend’s boyfriend. Probably ex now. Who wouldn’t be? 

It was the same old story, coming of age kind of story with no happy ending whatsoever and which led to this absolute mess, with every day your feelings growing deeper. It was your fault for becoming so close to him. 

You saw him again, cursing at the rain as his hair was soaking, he only cursed between his teeth again as he was debating whether or not to go back into the building, he kicked the puddle forming in front of him and groaned. That’s when he saw you. 

With your dark blue umbrella, and coat. Calmly watching him, not moving, not doing anything at all. 

You wondered if he knew. 

If he’d ever notice how your eyes brightened up when he was in the room. Maybe he had, all those years, with you in the shadows. 

When you met him, him sitting down with some friends, they’d introduced you to one of his, and Sierra had insisted on pairing you up with that guy. Teenage years, when one escapes to parties and tries not to come back home drunk for your parents to notice. A Halloween party, you’d dressed up as Wednesday Addams, he’d dressed up as Elton John. 

You had noticed him first, his green eyes had crossed with yours. It wasn’t really his zone, it had seemed. Sierra had caught his eyes, though. 

You barely remembered anything from that party, it was like any other party from that time. Drunk teenagers, gathering around to smoke and play a bare excuse of beer pong. 

It had been raining but it had stopped, that you could remember. You had gone outside, tired from the buzzing music that you could barely recognize, just loud strums and unnecessary words put together. Songs talking about material things and partying. Not feelings. 

You remembered walking outside to the wet grass and you avoided some other people making out on the floor, Britney Spears making out with Frankenstein, that was something. Some other kids yelling through their phones as they assured their parents they weren’t drunk when they clearly stung like warm cheap beer. 

You didn’t remember why you had walked out. But you did remember seeing him there, too. 

“Got bored of the games?” He asked you, he was leaning against the wall. 

There it was, the reason you went outside. He had intrigued you, why hadn’t he stayed with his friends? Why was he staring at the night sky? Was he that drunk? 

You had crossed a few words with him throughout the party, nothing important or particular. Very… forgettable. You’d played beer pong against him and his friend, the one Sierra had insisted that he liked you. 

But nothing too important. 

However you’d seen him walk out. It had awakened something in you. 

“I’m terrible at beer pong,” you admitted. “Not even risking playing.” 

“That’s the fun of beer pong, though,”  he commented. “Ge’ing your ass drunk enough.” 

You chuckled. “Well why aren’t you playing anymore?” 

“I’m too good,” he sassed. “Ain’t nothin’ fun in that,” he pointed out. “So, Wednesday Addams, huh?” 

“Yes,” you smirked. “Be afraid, be very afraid.” 

“You’re too smiley to be Wednesday, very pretty smile,” he grinned. 

“Thanks, Elton,” you grinned. You didn’t know if the warmth in your body was from embarrassment or if it was the effect the alcohol was having on you.

He winked at you. “So, no beer pong for me.” 

You rolled your eyes, and laughed a little. “I’m sure that’s not the reason why you’re here outside, your friends are having fun.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I just came here to see the sky—That sounds so pretentious.” 

“It does,” you conceded. “But I’ll give it to you, it’s pretty, can’t judge you, I partly came outside for it, too.” Although you hadn’t. It was no secret his eyes had staggered in your mind for the whole night and that the constant smiling had caught your attention. 

He had smiled, you still remembered it to this day. “Haven’t had a clear sky in days,” he commented. 

You shrugged, “haven’t noticed.” 

“You haven’t noticed,” he sounded incredibly offended, “didn’t you miss this?” He pointed at the sky, he was just slightly tipsy you could tell. “The stars?” 

That had made you smile and even laugh. “Oh, yes. I missed it, I just hadn’t realized how much.” 

“You hadn’t noticed how much you missed this beautiful night sky!” His movements were big, hands up in the air. He even caused some of the other teenagers to stop making out. 

“Shh! You’ve interrupted them!” You pointed out as the couple walked away angrily. 

“Tha’s great! Look at the sky fellas!” He reached out for them. 

You laughed. “Oh my god.” 

“Huh, they can be horny teens else here. Why ruin m’moment with the sky and a beautiful girl,” he grinned at you. “This only happens in the movies!” He yelled again. 

You couldn’t help but blush and cling to the red cup in your hand. He was drunk. 

“In the movies though, the guy isn’t as drunk,” you mocked. 

“I’m not even that drunk love,” he said. “I’m just concerned how you haven’t noticed the stars.” 

“I had noticed the moon was gone,” you admitted. “Bigger fan of the moon, alright?,” you said. “Right up there, see it?” 

“She’s gorgeous,” he grinned. You stared at it, bright and round, and you turned to him shining bright enough in his nose. “She’s the love of my life,” he stated. 

You had chuckled. “It’s a shame she disappears once every month.” 

“She’s reborn,” he chuckled. “Maybe we should learn from ‘er, huh?” 

“Really?” 

“Each month she rises up again and she’s beautiful in each one of her stages,” he commented, “no matter if she’s on her way to the darkness, she’s stunning.” 

You only scrunched your nose. “We’re getting a bit too poetic, are we?” 

He laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted. 

“I’m kidding, I like that,” you’d said. “We should all be like the moon.” 

“Hm, but if we were, who’d be the stars,” he commented. “It’s funny, we take the stars for granted but y’know what?” He chuckled. “Each one of ‘em is very particular.” 

“No one would notice if a star was gone,” you pointed out. 

“I would, the sky would look sadder,” he said. “And even if I love the moon, everyone does really, the stars are what paint the night sky so beautifully.” 

“Well the moon works hard to be seen,” you grinned. “I think we should compliment her effort.” 

“What about the stars? They’re so far away yet they’re freckling the dark sky,” he smiled and then turned to you.“This does feel like a movie scene, innit?” 

“A bit, yeah.” 

“It’s not one,” he added. “Or else you would’ve kissed me.” 

You coughed, blushing. You had felt butterflies. The kind of butterflies that hadn’t disappeared in all those years. “Yeah, it’s not—Not a movie scene.” 

You should’ve kissed him, though. But he hadn’t kissed you either so maybe that was the answer you needed.

“Is it the Wednesday Addams in you?” He wondered with a chuckle. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged, trying to get as serious as you could. 

He blushed. “What would you do if a guy worshiped and adored you? Who'd do anything for you? Who'd be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?” 

“I’d pity him,” you quoted Wednesday. 

He laughed. “You do know her, great.” He kept staring at the sky. “It would be great if a shooting star passed by, would add to it.” 

“Shooting stars, are they like the moon?” You asked.

He chuckled. “No, they’re one of a kind and shall be treasured. If you miss your shot then it’s gone, you should take the chance when you get it.” 

“Never thought of it that way,” you admitted.”hm who would’ve thought a drunken teenager dressed as Elton John would teach me of this.” 

“A wise drunk teenager dressed as Elton John,” he corrected. “You’re a lil’ bit tipsy yourself huh.”

You grinned. “Yeah, just a little.” 

“Besides, you proved my point!” He chipped. “You hadn’t noticed the stars!” 

You smiled. “Now I will, I guess, thanks Elton.” 

“I love the stars,” he pointed out. “Shame they’re barely seen.

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart,” you said. 

“The Little Prince,” he grinned. “You know that book?” 

“Everyone knows it,” you chuckled. “But yes, it’s my favorite.” 

“But everyone barely does,” he grinned. “It’s my favorite book, too, read it each year.” 

“Me too,” you beamed. “Helps me out when I’m lost.” 

“I always learn something,” he said. 

You grinned. 

“I’m Harry,” he had introduced himself to you. “Harry Styles.” 

And it rolled on the top of your tongue every now and then, that named you crushed and cursed. It had lingered until now. Of course his stupid name was perfect, too. 

You should’ve kissed him or ran along with his—had he attempted to flirt? Was he trying that? You knew you had liked him. One of those stupid connections, like he’d said. It had felt like one, one of those coming of age films. But it wasn’t. 

Short conversation that you couldn’t quite put your head to it. Didn’t make any sense, if you were honest. You should’ve kissed him, and to this day you still wondered what would’ve happened if you had. 

The story of how Harry and Sierra had officially met was his favorite to tell. He’d say it over and over, how a beautiful girl dressed like Puglsey Addams, because of course best friends always match, had accidentally ran to him and he’d spilled his drink on her moments after meeting you. How he had helped her in the bathroom to clean herself and they’d instantly laughed. How he had fallen in love with her the second he’d met her. 

Funny. 

They had walked out of that party, they’d probably gone for a walk. You remembered it. How since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

How since that day you always stared at the night sky and watched the stars. 

Funny thing, he was the one to call you out for being in love with the moon and never paying attention to the stars, yet he had never noticed you. Taken you for granted. 

You couldn’t blame him, after all, the moon was the love of his life. 

You’d grown fonder of him, and Sierra had made sure you both got along. 

“My best friend and my boyfriend have to get along.” 

You shouldn’t have, though. Because with time you both were hanging out a friendship was forming, from his side. And then a growing feeling in yours. 

Had he ever noticed? 

Each time Sierra dragged him so you wouldn’t feel left out, but it was counterproductive because you’d fall for him. Because it seemed that his jokes were just made for you, and you couldn’t help but think that you were meant to be. 

Maybe he’d noticed that time near her birthday, years ago, when he’d call you to bake cookies together for your friend. He probably had noticed then. Maybe he had felt something, too. 

Licking a spoonful of cookie dough, and laughing against each other, how he would hide his smile, and how he’d give you those shy green eyes before avoiding a laugh when you’d said a very bad joke. 

How both of you were tiptoeing and dancing in the kitchen, music playing loud, as you were sitting on the counter and he leaned against it, scrolling on his phone as he played songs. 

“Okay, so this,” Harry had said, “this is one of my favorites,” he said before a guitar started to play. 

“The Zombies, She’s not there!” You guessed quickly. “A classic, please, you have to be kidding me, play something difficult.” 

“How do you know it?” Harry frowned, jokingly turning to you. “I swear—“

“I love them, what do you mean?” You chuckled. 

“But you’ve guessed every single song I’ve played,” he pointed out very dramatically. “Every single one, I swear Sierra wouldn’t have guessed one.” 

“Sierra has bad taste in music,” you pointed out. “I love her, but really, but she’s got great taste in cookies so she’ll love this.” 

Because you knew him. Sierra dated him but you knew him. And sometimes you wondered how Sierra couldn’t really see his magic. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, back then, how you fit so well together. How your laugh would synchronize with his and how every single joke he’d make, no matter how stupid, was funny to you. The way you’d try to hide some smiles, and how the tension would be broken when she arrived. She whom he loved. 

A usual friend. Should’ve remained as friends. You still were. You felt dirty each time they looked at each other, it hurt, so much. And they talked too cute, and they were always adorable. 

You had to stop thinking about him. 

Except you loved him, and you had realized it, that one time, around Christmas, one of those Christmas parties that you always had with your friends in which eventually Harry had joined in. You remembered how you got his name in Secret Santa. 

Cozy night it was, they were cuddling each other. 

You remembered how he had opened it, Love is a Dog From Hell by Charles Bukowski, a book he’d constantly mentioned, a book he loved. He had thanked you and hugged you and it had been the perfect Christmas present. 

You knew that. 

You saw them, kissing under that mistletoe that he’d jokingly placed on top of them. You wished you were her. Sierra being pretty and lovely. And Sierra having him. 

But then he’d decided to give everyone presents, maybe for accepting him on your Christmas party, or whatever he meant. How he was the life in the party, and how he had made you smile. 

And everyone got presents, and each of them proved how much he put thoughts into it, because he really wanted to make them. How he had given that one friend some brushes so they could paint, or a new camera to that other one. 

You remembered how perfectly unevenly wrapped yours was, with that silly wrapping paper that had  little Santas on it. He probably had wrapped it himself, you could see how it was cut, and the tape all over it, with a hand-made bow, so pretty. It felt warm, and it felt like him. You opened it, he told you you could rip it off, and you hadn't, you had so slowly opened it, you still kept that wrapping paper to this day.  The Little Prince. As if he was joking with you. 

He had only winked at you, probably unaware that he was digging a deeper way into your heart. 

And you kept loving him, watching him from afar as they kissed over and over again. 

How you’d help her with gifts for him, when his own birthdays came around, like when you told her to give him more rings for his fingers, because you knew him. And how he would share his news with you first because he knew you’d listen. 

You wondered if Sierra ever noticed he was more than the guy who had nice clothes, and the guy with that pretty smile. Did she ever stop to listen to his thoughts? Those that came at 2 in the morning. Those you’d been able to listen to at a party, where both of you were away from the crowd as Sierra was partying with some other of your friends. 

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Harry had asked you, that New Years party. They had kissed at midnight, of course. He had brought his guitar, a new habit that he had earned over the time. You loved every time he sang, raspy and quiet. Over the years he’d sing more and more with you, and less and less with crowds. He thought nobody wanted to listen, you did, you always wanted to listen. 

You only looked up to see her, she was. Dancing as the lights were jumping around with her, the music bouncing with her. Harry had his fingers brushing against the strings, barely stroking it, as he was so mesmerized watching Sierra. You always wanted to be seen that way, you never would. 

You could never be Sierra, and of course, why would Harry ever turn to love someone like you? When Sierra was so perfect and lovely. 

You’d never say anything, maybe Sierra did notice. But she trusted you. 

“Yeah,” you had answered. You had been cold. 

He could tell, you knew that. 

“You’re cold,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. 

“I am,” you admitted. “Tis cold, though.” 

“You’re never cold, though,” he pointed out. 

“I am today.” 

“I’m not cold,” he had said. “Want my jacket?” 

And he had given it to you, and Sierra had seen it. And she didn’t mind. Because Sierra trusted you, and she trusted him. 

So she didn’t mind when Harry had taken your hand to shove you into the dancefloor with him. Sierra had said it once: ‘he sees you as a best friend, I think he’s claiming you’. 

And you remembered being silly while dancing with him, how he put his hands in fists and shook them in front of his chest, giggling to himself, and gave you that damned smile. And by then by that time you aready had your own way with him, always singing to each other, being stupid really. 

Heroes by Bowie was playing, a song he loved, and you did too. 

“Just for one day.” 

You still thought it was your song.

And though you were the one to wear the sweater, she’d be the one to go home with him. So in love. It didn’t matter. 

But life goes on, the birds sing, the sun keeps rising.

It had been a long time since you thought of him that way, he was just one more, another broken heart. And you knew it, that life does not stop, she did not either. And crying for a love that never had a chance to be sounds foolish, insensitive and useless.

At some point you did move on. Because you had to, and you wanted it to pass but then it would always come, how he’d smile at you and you’d think of it, the start that one time when you should’ve done something. 

And it was weird listening to Sierra talk about him, she was so desperately in love with him. That’s what mattered, they made each other happy. And so, so happy. And though it hurt, you knew it had to be that way. 

You were the one to listen to both of them, whenever they had a small fight or whatever, both sides. You usually agreed with both, honestly, but always took Sierra’s side. She was your best friend, after all. 

And you couldn’t tell the world that he made you oh so happy, and you new Sierra probably didn’t even think of it, because you weren’t obvious and you had dates of your own, you dated other people of course, but you always ended up wondering what would happen between you and Harry. 

It probably didn’t ever occur to Sierra. Not to Harry either, probably. Because everything was so platonic. Like when he picked you up in the middle of the night just because he wanted to drive around the city, whenever him and Sierra had a fight and he needed to understand her and he knew that the way to understand her was through you. And you’d end up sitting on the trunk of his car, watching the stars, listening to him, making him laugh until the sun was rising. 

You knew everything about him, meaning behind every single tattoo, favorite movie, favorite song. You always had to stop yourself, so patient, but sometimes you couldn’t help it, your hand would brush his hair and you’d think about it, if you could only kiss him. Would it feel the way you dreamed of it? 

An indentation between you and him, always stepping back. But then he’d smile at you and you’d want to close it. Please, please, please, just once. How would it feel? To seal the notch, close the gap.

And once it had happened. Nothing serious, really. A few years ago, around spring, nothing serious. Not at all. It was an accident. 

Really was, of course.  

Harry had been excited about Spring, and Sierra always said that whenever spring came around love was in the air, and Harry wanted to plan out a picnic for Sierra so of course he asked for your help. 

It had been so stupid, an accident. He had asked you to go to the supermarket with him, and you were prancing around, laughing and having fun. He was always so sweet when it came to be so domestic. He was singing in the hallways as he was choosing the pastries, picking out the wine. 

“Something in the way she moves,” he sang along to the song, hand movements as he reached out for a feeling with his hand, exaggerated movements as he threw his head back. 

“The Beatles,” you said, matter of factly. But you knew the Beatles weren’t singing that version. It didn’t feel like a usual supermarket song, but he was moving his head and singing. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “However, they’re not the-”

“Not the ones singing, I know, that’s a woman,” you answered before he could fight back. 

He giggled, “Yea, this is Phyllis Dillon,” he pointed out. “Such a song. I’m impressed, y/n, you didn’t know her.” 

“Didn’t, now I do,” you grinned. “Unusual song for the supermarket.”

He watched you, tiredly with that bright smile that could light up the entire world. Sunlight. 

“This is going to sound rude,” he said. 

You raised your brows at him. 

“But like, if Sierra and I ever break up who’s gonna keep you?” He joked. 

You had laughed. “Like a dog?” 

He scrunched his nose. “I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“Oh, I’m most certain you did,” you teased. 

“Did not.” 

“Well I don’t think you guys will break up,” you had said, and you had meant it, because you really didn’t want them to. He made your best friend happy and your best friend made him happy. All that matters. 

He smiled, “you think?” 

“Yeah, I’m making sure you don’t,” you winked at him. “Also, that wine, Harold?” You asked before putting it back and choosing a better one. 

“Thanks for helping me,” he had said. “Y’er always such a good friend.” 

“Just making sure everything is—“

“Perfect for Sierra, I kno’,” he smirked. “And you always make sure tis perfect for me too.” 

You grinned. “I'm the mastermind behind the relationship.”

And the problem was he had leaned over to kiss your cheek, you guessed in an attempt to thank you for being a friend, but it had been an accident or maybe you had turned to him, subconsciously longing for your lips to meet his. Barely a peck. Yet it had felt… electric. As if a lightning had just struck you. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four. 

And he had backed away. 

Had he felt it? That buzzing and flickering spark? That thunder You’d kissed. 

In a grocery store. Planking a picnic for his girlfriend. Your best friend. This was wrong. 

“I’m—sorry,” both of you had said at the unison. 

“I—was going to—“

“I didn’t know—“

But both of you knew it had been four seconds. It’s funny, someone had once taught you to count the seconds between thunders and lighting. In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. 

In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were. 4 seconds had been until he had pulled away. 

4 stupid seconds. 

Could mean a lot of things, could mean nothing. 

Harry and you had stopped talking for a while after it happened. Neither of you told Sierra, but she had noticed you were avoiding her boyfriend which brought her to doubt him. No she didn’t think you had kissed. She thought you had fought or whatever she had come up with. 

“Don’t you like Harry anymore? Why are you not hanging out with us anymore?” She had asked you. 

“Maybe I don’t want to third-wheel anymore,” you snapped. “Enjoy your boyfriend, Sierra. I don’t have to be around twenty four seven.” 

That’s when the problems had started. Not between you and Sierra, but him and Sierra. It was no secret you had been the “mastermind” behind their relationship. But you had walked out of there. However it had been coincidental, or so you told yourself. It didn’t really have much to do with you walking out. 

Or had it? 

You had guessed you’d feel that way each night, with the light of your phone illuminating your face while the dark room paled your tears. You’d see his initial on the screen, and doubt if calling was a choice. He was never a talker, really. He barely liked to speak up. He was more of...actions. So whenever he didn’t do anything, you knew something was up. He wasn’t... really, he wasn’t like this. 

At least a text but he didn’t like texting. Nothing. His silent treatments were like others. The ‘H’ is silent, you thought to yourself. 

Funny.

Sierra had mentioned he had been distanced. It was around the time you started dating Daniel. Danny.

And you saw Sierra arguing over and over through the phone, and coming back crying to your shared apartment. Giving her your shoulder to cry on.

She said that Harry had told her he wasn’t sure about it. 

Which led to the first breakup. 

One that didn’t really last. But you remembered it perfectly, you were at a museum, date with Danny. Nice, romantic. 

And then you’d received a call, Harry. He hadn’t called you in a while and you weren’t sure why he had called you. 

You had looked down at the caller ID. He wasn’t a texter, you knew that, but—you answered the phone. 

“Hello? Harry?” You answered, with fear. 

Danny hadn’t questioned you. 

“Sierra and I broke up,” he stated. 

You felt cold. “Oh.” Your first instinct had been to call your friend. See if she was okay. 

“I—“he sighed. “I… can I see you?” 

“I—sure but—“

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in ten,” he said. “Please don’t—“

“Oh, Harry I’m on a date right now.” 

“You—what?” 

“Yes I’m here with Danny,” you had said. “On a date.” 

He had gone quiet, dangerously quiet. 

“But-I’ll call you when I get home, alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

When you got home, Sierra had her door locked and didn’t want to talk to you. 

“I need some time alone.” 

And you had called Harry but he hadn’t answered. 

One. 

Two. 

Three.

Four calls until he answered. Before you knew it, you were with him, driving again, he liked to drive, you knew that. To watch a sunset. As they said in The Little Prince, you see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.

And he was sad, and he was quiet. ‘Could it Be Another Chance’ by The Samples was playing in the background. 

“I guess Sierra told you,” he had said, gulping. 

“She didn’t,” you said. 

He hadn’t dared to look at you. It felt weird, you hadn’t talked to him a while and seeing him standing there with tears wanting to come down. 

He coughed. “Well.” 

“What happened?” You didn’t know. 

He hadn’t answered, and there was that usual frown upon his face, thoughtful, very thoughtful and dark if he wanted it to be. He was sad or disappointed. You didn’t blame him, of course, breakups are hard enough. 

“Dunno,” he admitted. Endless nightmare when he didn’t actually say what he wanted to. He actually had that habit, but he usually showed it, with his eyes. 

“Then?” 

“Are you afraid of me, y/n?” He blurted out the question. 

“Why would I?” 

“Not in the--scary way,” he said quickly. “But in the way that we both know each other,” he said. “The way that it feels off.” 

“I’ve never felt off with you,” you admitted. 

“That’s the thing,” he sighed. “That’s the thing,” he repeated. “I don’t get it,” he said. 

“Did you feel off with Sierra?” You asked. 

He didn’t answer. Maybe he should’ve. 

“We haven’t talked for a while so I have no inkling on where you were standing,” you admitted. “Not from Sierra’s perspective, either.” 

He shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said for the third time. “That’s the thing.” 

He had only turned the music louder, and sang along to it. 

“Danny, then?” He asked eventually. “Danny?” 

“Yeah,” you said. 

“And do you feel off with him?” He asked. 

“I don’t.” 

He had clenched his jaw.  “Is it going anywhere?” He asked. “Or is it like any other guy you’ve dated?”

“No.” 

“You like him, right?” He asked. 

You smiled, slightly, feeling warm on your cheeks. “I-” 

“When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes’?” He asked. 

You didn’t answer. 

“I’m just, I’ve been wondering I’ve always wanted to feel with Sierra the same way I feel with you,” he had said. “Not in-” 

“Harry that’s-” 

“Sounds mental, doesn’t it?” He sighed. “To want a friend in someone you love.” 

“Someone you love should be a friend,” you said. “But I…” 

“Did you ever wonder about it?” 

“About what?” 

He shrugged. “If that night I had ran into Wednesday instead of Pugsley.” 

“You did run into me,” you pointed out. “It just wasn’t meant to be.” 

“Yeah, could’ve been.” 

But it had you thinking. Maybe it  had been stupid, but you had broken up with Danny after a few weeks of thought. Or maybe led Danny to break up with you because you had been off. And it had felt off, and it hadn’t but with one simple question Harry had made, it had you thinking. 

And maybe it was stupid to think that now that Harry and Sierra had broken up you could simply get your shot, but he had been the one to say it, hadn’t he? 

Shooting stars are chances. And he was one and you hadn't taken it. 

Just after you’d walk in to your apartment with Sierra, you’d seen them kissing again. They were back together. 

So there was your chance, gone again but then again it was stupid to think that you could get a shot, besides it was Sierra’s boyfriend. 

Yes, heartbroken you were. 

And it continued, for a long while. They were fine again and you had to be quiet again. Halloween, Spring, New Years, Christmas, Birthdays, parties, every single season they were there. All the time. And they were fine. For most of the time, other times not so much, and the second, and third breakup came around. Yet, they always got back together, even with all the fighting and yelling which you never understood, not really. Why would anyone stay in a relationship like that? 

You guessed that at the end of the day they still loved each other, and their fights were simply stupid and they always, always, always got over them. You didn’t, you remembered them yelling and fighting and just searching for an excuse to stay together, and then they’d kiss and forget it and they’d be calmed. 

It still ached, to have him around nd think of the stupid ‘what if’ that would certainly never come because even if you were given the chance, you’d never take it because Sierra was and would always be your best friend. 

Did she know? Had she seen it? The way your world stopped when Harry was around? How you’d make time for him or how whenever he was around you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Your bright and true smile, and how you’d listen to every song he told you to, or how you’d always be there to listen to him, no matter the time. 

How you looked away each time they kissed and how you wished you could find someone like him and yet it wouldn’t be enough because it wouldn’t be him. Because his mind was the place where you wanted all your secrets to be hidden. His lips were the only one thing that could make you feel, or so you thought, that could make you get to paradise. His voice was supposed to tell your story, and his ears were meant to listen to you. 

Yet, it was Sierra. 

Not you. 

Sierra. 

And Harry would tell her. He loved her, he lived for her, spared his entire life and love for her. And though you knew they weren’t happy, you wondered if you were allowed to tell them. Maybe you were biased, and you did hear them say how they loved each other but then it… You could tell it was off. 

The moment you had given up had been barely a few weeks ago, finally given up. You remembered how he had asked for your help. 

“I’m picking out a ring, y/n.” 

“Another one?” You had chuckled. “You’ll need more fingers, Harold.” 

“For Sierra.” 

“Oh, she’s not really a ring person-” you had started. 

“No, I… y/n I’m asking her to marry me,” he had blurted. 

You had paused. 

“Seems like it’s time,” he said. “And she’s been hintin’ it. Doesn’t get any better than this.” 

It hurt. But you had gone with him. 

Walking through the store, seeing rings and rings, jewelry.

“I dunno anything ‘bout marriage,” he admitted. “It’s ironic, I love rings yet this one I can’t seem to know….” 

“This one is pretty,” you had pointed out at one. 

He had made a face, scrunching his nose. Always making faces.

“Why are you doing this?” You had questioned. 

He had looked up at you. He knew why you were asking. Because things hadn’t been right but he probably thought this was the way to make things right, but he probably wanted you to question him. Harry couldn’t be tied, yet this seemed like he was tying himself. 

It made you sad, how he had lost what made him oh so beautiful, oh so perfect. His freedom. He was willing to take away his freedom. Not because marriage per se was taking away someone’s freedom but for Harry this particular decision seemed like it was. 

He didn’t smile anymore, not that much, he wasn’t as silly. 

“She’s my moon,” he had said. 

“Yet I remember you were a bigger fan of the stars,” you had called him out. 

“The shooting star passed, y/n, this is what’s meant to happen, I lost a shooting star, but I love the moon,” he said. “The moon is meant to be loved.” 

“Marriage won’t solve your problems.” 

“I know, but it might make me get back to my senses, I’ve spent all these years with her, I love her, that’s it, no other explanation, and that’s--” 

“Harry.” 

“it is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important,” he quoted. 

“Love doesn’t mean wasting time.” 

And the conversation had continued and you kept playing it over and over your head, and tried to understand if this was your fault, which you were sure led to the fourth breakup, to the one you probably were witnessing now. 

To this day, of you standing with your dirty sneakers, with two options. To offer a shoulder or to finally try and fight for something that probably would never work. To risk everything for once. 

Standing with your umbrella, watching him staring at you. Wondering what could’ve happened if it had been Wednesday instead of Pugsley. Wondering what would’ve happened if you kissed him. Wondering what would’ve gone by had you made a wish to that shooting star. 

You were willing to do it. Risk it all to count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. 

-

part two: thunderstorms & shooting stars

part three: stars and fate

I’ll tag some friends who might like this: 

@saintlavrents @annathesillyfriend @tanyalooovesyou @harrysrightchelseaboot @harrysleftchelseaboot @wholesomestyles @whatevsholland @eerieharrie​ @pparkeramorr​