#sorry this is rather brief but i will answer a similar ask soon!

[clove-pinks]

Please give me all the knowledge of war of 1812 naval surgeons!!! My 1805 doctor would greatly profit from knowledge from future and the new world

For the specific knowledge of War of 1812 surgeons, you could turn to a respected medical textbook of the time, Medicina Nautica by Thomas Trotter. It's a little dry to read from cover to cover, but you can find interesting takes on nautical medicine. On pp. 111-113 Trotter argues against the 15 shilling fine charged to sailors with venereal disease, which caused men to hide their illness and turn to dangerous quack remedies.

A great open-source article that explores what type of medical treatment was deliberately sought by sailors and expected by them is Treating, Preventing, Feigning, Concealing: Sickness, Agency and the Medical Culture of the British Naval Seaman at the End of the Long Eighteenth Century by Sara Caputo. It even opens with the battle of HMS Shannon vs. USS Chesapeake! Naval sailors had a surprising amount of agency in seeking medical care, despite their very regulated lives, and Caputo argues that "naval doctors had to foster an atmosphere of trust and support rather than punishment—because their care remained an option among many."

[acefaun]

Kaeya~ The Curse

Synopsis: God!MC brings back a container of cleansing water from the pool they came across on their adventure with Dainsleif in the Chasm. They hoped to give it to Kaeya… But it seems as though they were a little too late to help. Hopefully they can make up for lost time.

⚔️Masterlist⚔️ Gender-neutral, God MC! ~Spoilers for Chasm Interlude Archon Quest after Liyue A/n: Popping into the Genshin fandom with a self-indulgent serving of my favorite Ragbros! 💕 I read a few fanfics about how Kaeya might have had a similar reaction to Dainsleif during the Archon Quest, so I decided to add my own bit to it with a little bit of the SAGAU aspect of MC being their ‘god’.

–Word Count: 2,800–

I had been gone from Mondstadt for too long, I mused as I took in the fresh air around me. Being in the Chasm for weeks on end made me cherish the feeling of the open air in Mondstadt. The free wind was so much less stifling than suppressive rocks.

Still, however grateful I was, one person remained on my mind on my trip home. The cool container that rested within a pouch against my leg reminded me that my mission wasn't over. On my recent adventure into the Chasm with Dainsleif, we found the ruins of an ancient civilization that the Abyss was using for another of their schemes. Their goal was to bring Khaenri’ah back, but we put a stop to their nefarious plot. 

While it would have been nice to see the ancient citizens of Khaenri’ah freed from their curse, it would have caused much more suffering and loss than done any actual good. There wasn't a chance that their plans would meet with surefire success, after all. In fact, I—along with Dainsleif—was certain their plan would fail spectacularly. I had Khaenrian friends to protect, and I would never take a chance playing with their lives. 

My fingers brushed against the cork of the bottle I carried. I wasn't that powerful, but even I could feel something comforting from the bottle. I couldn't imagine the discomfort and suffering that those cursed had to go through without a hint of relief. By having this water nearby, I hoped that Kaeya might feel some reprieve. 

Kaeya never divulged anything about himself to me, out of fear that I was the god from Celestia that sent his nation to ruin. So, I wasn’t entirely sure how Kaeya’s lineage really affected him, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry. Fortunately, each adventure I went on seemed to lead me to more answers that he probably didn't even know himself.

Still, I might have been overthinking things… After all, Kaeya was only a descendant of Khaenri’ah, he wasn’t there when it was destroyed. But that Abyssal scheme was terribly effective—even Dainsleif had to rely on me to resolve the situation. I had to prepare for the worst and hope for the best with Kaeya’s unknown situation.

It was early in the night when I walked through the gates of Mondstadt. Luckily, if all was as well as I hoped, I knew exactly where my friends would be gathered. 

I was grateful that, as soon as Dainsleif and I finished our quest, he understood the urgency with which I had to return home and check on my found family.

Opening the door to the Angel’s Share, it was unusually quiet, and my apprehension only grew. My eyebrows furrowed as I noted a few regulars, but there was no bard. There was no exasperated Diluc or rambunctious Kaeya. “Charles,” I asked, walking up to the bar. “What's the lull? Isn't it usually more lively here at night?”

“Your Excellency,” he addressed me formally. “Sorry. You must be looking for Master Diluc. He's visiting Master Jean tonight. You might be able to find him in her office.”

My eyebrows furrowed further. Something was wrong for the alcoholics to be missing and Diluc to be in the Knight's headquarters. I prayed I was jumping to the wrong conclusions… I couldn’t wait for an explanation. “Tell me what happened.”

He let out a brief sigh, his empathetic eyes landing on me. “I heard that Captain Kaeya fell ill. I wish I had more to tell you, but the Knights have been keeping things quiet since. No one really knows what happened yesterday-”

“Yesterday?” Then my suspicions were unfortunately correct. Kaeya was affected by the Abyss’s device, and no one was there with Kaeya to help or understand why he was suffering. Before Charles could give another word, I was flying out of the door. I was thankful the foot traffic was light as I raced up the stairs to get to HQ. 

The knights were quick to fling the doors open for me as soon as they recognized my intended path. Nearly crashing into Jean's office door, I flung it open, startling those inside. Jean immediately stood from her chair. “Your Excellency, you're here. There's been a problem-”

“With Kaeya,” I finished for her, my eyes flickering across the faces in the room. There was Jean, Diluc, Barbara, and Amber. They were no doubt all gathered there for the same reasons. But I needed them to cut to the chase. “I heard. Tell me everything.”

Jean gestured for Amber to tell the story from the beginning. Taking her cue without hesitation, Amber walked me through her version of what happened, “I was just returning from my patrol yesterday afternoon when I ran into Captain Kaeya. He looked… bothered; but I didn’t think he was feeling unwell or anything. I was about to ask him about it when he just… Well, I don’t know what really happened. He just looked like he was in so much pain; it was so bad, he looked like he couldn’t breathe and then couldn’t even stand on his feet.”

“We were thrown completely off guard,” Jean commented. Apparently it wasn't the most subtle thing. Many citizens panicked at the sight of the Captain in such agony and went straight to the Knights of Favonius to report the emergency. 

Barbara then added anxiously, “We tried our best to help and make it bearable, but nothing we did worked. We spent all night trying everything, well into the morning. Even with my hydro vision, I couldn’t seem to ease his symptoms. Eventually, we had to send for Master Diluc… We thought they might be at odds, but we were sure he might know something to help. I mean, something like that wouldn't just randomly happen, right?” 

Of course, she assumed it was some natural affliction. It wasn't poison, and it wasn't something they could heal with their church medicines. They had Kaeya’s situation all wrong, and Diluc didn't seem like he told them a word. 

Guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders. I tried to stop the Abyss Order as quickly as I could, but there were too many abyss mages for me to work swiftly and efficiently. Not to mention, Dainsleif was in agony and his friend was dying in front of him. Stopping the Abyss took far too long and drew too much attention to Kaeya. I could only imagine how long of a night it must have been for Kaeya to endure.

But what could Diluc have possibly done to help, anyway? This situation never happened before—and I would be sure it never happened again. None of what happened was precedented. With my gaze flickering to the apparently frustrated red-head, I paused, taking in his appearance. I knew he didn't enjoy working with the Knights of Favonius, but this particular agitation was new. It was time I got his side of the story. “Diluc… What did you-”

“I came to see him as soon as I was informed, and when I got here, they refused to let me in his room,” Diluc hissed, withholding so much wrath that it left me surprised.

Jean sighed, all of them looking awkwardly away from the angered man. She supplied me with an explanation, “At first we thought getting Diluc would be the best response. But… As soon as we had Kaeya inside of headquarters, he started shouting that he was burning. It wasn’t a fever, and he seemed like he wasn’t in his right mind. Knowing vaguely what happened between them, I made the last minute call to keep Diluc out. Your excellency, you have to understand… I did what I thought was best for Kaeya given the circumstances.”

“He could have been dying, and it was ‘for the best’ that I couldn't see him,” Diluc retorted. He didn't need the weak excuses of the Knights of Favonius, he wanted to make sure his brother was okay. He couldn't do that if they restricted him from going as far as the first floor.

“I disapprove of how you made the decision to keep Diluc out after so quickly inviting him to this mess.” I snapped at the group of knights in defense of Diluc. “What happened between them is in the past and had nothing to do with what happened to Kaeya. Diluc,” my steely gaze softened as I met Diluc’s eyes of adoration. Of course, he knew I would understand everything. I would take his side. I offered to him, “Come with me. We're going to go check on Kaeya. I came to help.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t hesitate to follow me out of the quiet room. Everyone else meekly remained where they were for just getting scolded by me. Still, I had trouble waiting for Diluc as I practically rushed to leave Jean’s office. 

“Captain! Captain Kaeya, please go back to your room! You're not-” The knight that was chasing Kaeya down the stairs, faltered at seeing me. “You're Excellency! I'm sorry! Captain Kaeya shouldn't have slipped past us! Ah!” The Knight panicked as Kaeya immediately flung his arms around me, his larger frame almost overtaking me. “C- Captain, please, that's their Excellency you just-”

“(Name)!” My eyes widened at hearing Kaeya call my name. Hardly anyone ever used my name. Everyone respected me, feared me, cherished me, adored me. Using my name was disrespectful, something frowned upon. But I loved hearing it from them. I loved when they used my name and not some impersonal title.

“Kaeya,” I replied with his name, in turn, my hands resting on his back.

“It feels nice…” Kaeya muttered, his arms tightened around me, holding me closer. “I felt when you got to Mondstadt. You felt different from usual, but I needed to find you. Please, let me hold you. It doesn't hurt anymore.”

“We're going home, Kaeya,” I hushed, trying to soothe him as best I could. I knew the water I had with me was really what was drawing him to me like this. But for now, I wanted to make up for not being faster. Just like Dainsleif, even Kaeya would need time to recover from the strain his body was put through. “Diluc’s going to take us back to the manor, and we'll take care of you.” Similarly to how his grip tightened around me, I pulled him closer, my fingers sinking into his unkempt hair. “I'm sorry… I'm so sorry.” 

He hummed, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more as he basked in the presence of the cleansing water. Though the effects of what happened lingered in his system, he was feeling better just by being with me. He knew I was his god.

Diluc hesitantly pressed closer, despite the eyes of onlookers that were judging us. “If the manor is where you want to go, I suggest we depart. Kaeya, can you walk?” 

Kaeya could—he just bounded down the stairs for me—but he'd never make it as far as Dawn Winery. Awkwardly, I mentioned, “I'm agile, but I'm a bit of a limp noodle when it comes to weights. I'm afraid you'll have to carry him, Diluc. He’s been through a lot.” Reaching for the pouch at my side, I untied the strings and held the bag out to Diluc. “You can hold on to this for now. I have one for you when we get home. It'll help him feel better.” 

I didn't explain much just yet as Kaeya was carefully lifted, and he relaxed into Diluc’s arms. No one dared to question or stop me as I left with the two brothers accompanying me. I wasn't necessarily leaving because of the way Diluc had been treated. I was leaving purely because of the confidential matter that only involved the three of us.

Taking us to the teleport point, the journey home was short, and we took our time to get relaxed in Kaeya’s room, where he passed out almost immediately. It was the first time he was almost entirely free of pain since the incident. 

“If I may ask,” Diluc started slowly, his hands grazing over the pouch you gave him with the concealed bottle inside. “What exactly is this?”

Diluc knew mostly everything about Kaeya—who he was, where he was from, why he was in Mondstadt. He also knew Kaeya as a brother, which was where we were now. He wanted his brother to be okay and as annoying as usual, not bedridden.

As promised, they deserved answers. So, I began my summarized explanation of events, “I went on a mission recently against the Abyss Order. They… tried to revive Khaenri'ah against my warnings of what would happen. They were determined to cleanse the Khaenrians of their curse. However, all that resulted was suffering. Every living soul with that curse was in unbearable agony. It could have been devastating if I hadn’t gotten there in time.” My downcast eyes landed on the gentle rise and fall of Kaeya’s chest. “Even a nation away, he probably thought he was dying. I could only do my best to fix it as quickly as possible—but I wasn't strong enough to take care of them as fast as I wanted to. Who knows how long Kaeya was suffering because of me…”

“But you took care of them,” Diluc reminded me, knowing I would no sooner fall into self-loathing. “You did good against a powerful enemy. You should be proud. Whatever this water is… you managed to bring it here to help him. Don't think what you did wasn't adequate.”

Pursing my lips together, I knew better than to argue. He would only try to make me take it back. Diluc cared much more than he let on. He wouldn't let me shoulder the guilt. So, rather than dwelling on that, I changed the subject back to the pouch. “I forgot, I brought a bottle for you as well. However, I mean to go back and collect more for you to store in the Winery in case of emergencies like that one.” Taking the pouch back, I opened it, pulling out the glass bottle of cleansing water. “This was in an ancient city. Apparently, it acts as a cleansing water, soothing the effects of the curse. It won't cure him, so it does no good to drink it. But having it near will help.” 

“Cleansing water,” Diluc repeated, observing the seemingly normal water that I held. It was strange that Kaeya couldn't even tell what he was attracted to when he found me in HQ. From what Diluc could tell, Kaeya could simply sense the water from that far away. “It's fascinating. I'm sure we'll have to keep a greater supply. I… feel like I should ask how you came to know that this water would help him when it looks and feels like normal water to those without the curse.”

“Because that fountain was where the cursed went to meet a peaceful end,” I replied quietly, avoiding mentioning my travel partner. In truth, I probably wouldn’t have suspected what the effects of this water truly were if not for Dainsleif’s explanation. “It seems sad, but this water is truly the only thing that seems to be able to give some respite.”

Diluc hummed, his eyes now searching Kaeya and wondering when his sad end would come. Luckily, he wouldn't have to suffer so much anymore thanks to my efforts. Diluc watched how I delicately traced Kaeya’s still hands, my eyes overflowing with guilt. “You did your best. I wish you'd be kinder to yourself.”

I hummed, but I didn't agree or disagree with him. “I'm not finished with my mission against the Abyss… but… I'm not leaving Kaeya right now. You can stay too. Mondstadt can do without their Darknight Hero for a while. Kaeya needs us more than they do.” Kaeya deserved to be coddled after his horrible experience. I'd do my damned best to ensure it never happened again.

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

I think I might've missed the posts about the situation but why did you split your blog up and (most importantly) are you doing okay? I know that was something that was a big source of stress for you. Also can people follow your new blog?

((First and foremost: thank you for asking if I'm okay or not. I know that's a rather easy thing to just assume one way or another online and I appreciate the care and effort. Also I'm sorry if you missed anything important, I tried to reblog the related posts a handful of times but you can't always reach everyone, you know? It wasn't intentional I assure you. To answer if I'm okay or not I'm....getting there, is the best way to put it I suppose? I'll try to keep this brief.

I'm taking a slight break (not a hiatus and while I do occasionally slap a post on the dash I'm not really speaking or engaging ic) from this blog because; and I'm trying to keep this is a simple as I can, I'm dealing with a lot of feelings of anger and resentment towards this blog (which I know is unfair to the people--which is pretty much everyone here---who haven't done anything wrong but I'll spare detailing you the intricacies of my deeply rooted anxieties and etc) which is harder for me to reconcile/progress with in a positive way compared to feeling stressed and lonely over on the new blog at the moment and so I'm choosing to focus my efforts over there because I feel like I can progress in a positive/healthy way, enjoy what I'm doing in a safe space, and so on. I am incredibly stressed---what I did and am still working on diligently to the best of my ability every day---is stressful to the point of being overwhelming if I think about it too hard, look at everything on the whole, etc, but it's necessary. It's necessary to enforce boundaries and not neglect myself a space where I can write what I want and what I love so dearly and that makes it worth it.

I split my blog up due to a lot of unwarranted harassment (anonymous for the most part but some people weren't, all of them have been blocked) that has been going on for months a thing that only increased in severity in spite of my earnest attempts to understand or work through what was going on, reconcile any expressed 'issues', repeat and thorough attempts to explain my side of things including offering to help people around the content that they professed to hate so strongly (said hate which bled over to me as a person and writer/roleplayer in general) and so on. It became untenable incredibly quickly---and if you followed me to alexandrite (which had a different name/center muse originally but I digress) from my former rp blog you'd know how severe the harassment there was and how I promised myself I'd handle such things in the future--- and this is me doing that. This experience on the whole was incredibly similar to the one that happened on my og blog and I promised myself that I wouldn't go through that again if i could help it.

I deserve to be treated better; both by myself and by everyone else, and this is me doing that (meaning treating myself better at the very least rather than staying in a hateful/hurtful environment) even if most days it makes me want to scream. Did I want to split everything up? To be completely honest no I did not. But I think in the end this is the best solution for everyone involved---but most of all this is the best solution for me---and once the stress ebbs a bit (and by a bit I mean a lot, a fucking lot, because I'm kinda drowning rn lol) I'm hoping to feel more secure. I'm....getting there, like I said. One thing at a time, always one thing at a time. I'm already doing good things over there and soon I'll be doing good things over here again too. Both blogs can (and will) coexist and we can all have fun together no matter where you follow me or who you want to interact with....eventually. I wish that people would realize how they treat others---that driving someone out of their own space when they've done nothing wrong, when the only thing they've done (or tried to do) is share something that they love with their friends/writing partners---isn't okay. I wish people would realize that how I was treated was not fucking okay (and most won't unfortunately) but I realized it and that, at least, is important. I said 'this isn't okay' and did what I needed to do not only to better myself (which is something that is incredibly hard for me to do; honestly it would've been impossible for me to do even a year ago) but to keep doing what I love. I'm trying to focus on that. I'm trying to let that drive me forward over everything else.

And to end on a further positive note: Yes, you can follow my new blog if you want to, all that I ask is that you make sure that your interest in the blog and the muses featured there is genuine and that you actually want to interact with them before following. If you liked them (any of them) and wanted to interact but never had the chance for whatever reason, or if we started something but never finalized anything yet, so and so forth, you're welcome to come on over because I'd love to have you. And if you don't (because as I've said a hundred times to idk how many deaf/closed ears) have any interest that's okay too. They're not for everyone and it's a lot to learn/take in even with my offering to help people in a variety of ways (an offer that is always open!), I get that and hold no resentment in that regard whatsoever, all that I ask is that you understand that I'm taking care of myself by doing this...all of this...and that I appreciate you too. The people who remain here waiting for me to come back and post for the muses here are just as appreciated as the people who follow me on my new blog. I love all of you very much no matter what and I look forward to writing with you all again, it's just that some of you will see more of me than the others will, at least for a little while.

If you want to follow my tcol blog you can go here @constellationcrowned (you'll see my self promo for the blog over here periodically as well, it's obvious af lol) or if you have any questions please feel free to contact me privately either over there or on discord. And thank you again for your kind words anon, truly, I hope you have a nice day/night and I look forward to potentially writing with you soon no matter where that might be.))

[jacksjoke]

Title: netting Summary: Pre-series speculation centered on Palm Ao3 link

or read here :)

     Palm’s eyes are fixed on the ceiling when his alarm disturbs the night’s quiet. For no reason he can name, he’d only managed to sleep on and off for less than four hours, rendering his two-am wakeup call unnecessary. He retrieves a loose linen from his dresser to settle over his tank-top and denim cut-offs, an outfit designed for comfort over anything else, then gives his teeth and face a wash before making for his favourite place to be: the shore.

     He’s gotten into the habit of arriving earlier than his seniors, even if it’s just by moments, to get a start on the morning’s routine so that they don’t have to. Palm has worked alongside these men for half his life, and a decade of watching sunrises with them has made the group more of a family to Palm than any he might have had otherwise. A kindly older man Winyu, P’Bank, and the latter’s younger brother appear in good time, soon to be followed by several others, as it goes every morning.

     “How’s it, Palm?” Winyu asks, like they’ve just crossed paths at the market midday rather than their fishing boat at three-am. He never seems tired, not in all the years Palm’s known him.

     “All right, Leung. Just got through cleaning up some of yesterday’s nets that were left.” Palm drops the netting atop the rest and swipes his hands together as he stands. He can’t help but grin at Winyu’s usual smile. “Ready if you are.”

     From the earliest hours to very near the men’s break and to Palm’s enjoyment, the day is shaping up to be the same as those before it. He’s got his shirt tied around his waist, hair that had been soaked by water on the boat now beginning to dry under the morning sun, and any minute is sure to find nong Bee asking no one in particular when they’re going to get breakfast.

     Instead, as he’s helping the yelping boy untangle a crab from one of their nets, Palm catches sight of a man he hasn’t seen in well over two months, and his laughter fizzles to nothing.

     “P’Palm, don’t — ”

     “Just a second,” Palm assures Bee. “What’s this anyway, your fifth crab and you still go redder than chili paste at the sight of it.”

     Bee scrunches his nose at Palm and dismisses him with a jerk of his chin, coaxing another smile from Palm who uses the moment to brace himself against his unexpected visitor.

     “Bpaa,” he says.

     “Palm. You look well. How’s things?” The question is similar to Uncle Winyu’s, but unlike Winyu Palm knows better than to think his father genuinely cares.

     “Fine,” Palm answers, polite but carefully neutral. “What brings you here?”

     “I have a proposition.”

     Of course you do, Palm knows better than to jibe. “What’s that?”

     “There’s been…” Chanon frowns, swallows. “Khun Kiattrakulmethee was killed this week past.”

     Palm’s first thought is to ask why this has anything to do with him. His father dedicated the entirety of Palm’s childhood and now young adulthood to protecting this man, a boss in the mafia, instead of raising his own son. He’d met the family, only once and for a very brief occasion. The boss’ wife was elegant, more like royalty than someone involved in the… dicier side of their country’s economy. And they’d had a son too. He was quiet, maybe two or three years Palm’s junior, and did nothing but avoid Palm across the room after they’d exchanged a polite wai.

     Palm ignores the opportunity to ask, Does this mean early retirement for the both of you? and says in its place, “I’m sorry,” because he’s never been honest with his dad on any accounts and he has no reason to start now.

     “Yes, well… It’s become something of a pressing issue for his wife, that is —  Khun Thanya is requesting protection for their son as well. There’s never been cause for worry but the boss’ assassination has her on edge.”

     “Makes sense.”

     “All that being said, I have a job for you, son.”

     Son. “I have a job.”

     “I mean a job that pays in more than fish,” Chanon says, eyes darting to the sea at Palm’s back like it’s there to annoy him specifically.

     “Fish are my life, Bpaa.”

     “And I’m offering you more. Your role will be to protect their son, the heir, Neungdiao. It pays generously, you’d be set up to live right on their property, and you’d attend a private school — ”

     “I’m going to be 20 years old; I’m not going to dress up as a high school kid to babysit another. There’s a hundred guys who’d jump at the chance to take a bullet, it’s not me.”

     Chanon looks at the sky, squinting against the sunlight, and then says simply, “They asked for you, Palm.”

     “Huh?”

     “The family is about trust, you understand? It’s natural for you, my son, to protect hers, as I did for her husband. That coupled with your history in muay, you’re the piece Khun Thanya is looking for.”

     Palm shakes his head, tipping back onto one heel with crossed arms. “I’m not just a piece to be given to these people, Bpaa.”

     “Son, Nuengdiao is in the process of taking over his father’s work; he needs to be kept safe. This isn’t a butler position. You, as the boy’s protector, would be considered one of the most important people in the family. This may turn into a lifelong career that ensures you never want for anything again.”

     Palm doesn’t want or need anything as is, not that his father would know what that feels like. He’s never been satisfied here; the death of Palm’s mother had ended with her husband leaving Palm here with the villagers so that he could do something ‘worthwhile’ elsewhere. Palm wouldn’t have guessed that synonymous to playing bulletproof vest to a mafia boss.

     But Palm knows Chanon’s being here is a pretence to guise the truth, which is that Palm has no choice. He’s already sold him out to Thanya, and come to complete the deal. A transaction. Chanon’s apparent failure to protect his charge means the next generation, an unfortunate son, has to give up his life too. For all he knows, Chanon will turn up dead if Palm flat out refuses to help; and Palm — or, God forbid, his family in this village — would be next.

     The man must see Palm’s resignation because he gives a slight nod. “Brace yourself for what’s to come. And whatever it takes, do not let anything happen to him, Palm.”

     A day like any other.

[brassknucklespeirs]

Pʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ ⁻ Pᴀʀᴛ Tᴡᴏ [Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ Sᴘᴇɪʀs x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Genre: um so i accidentally made more angst i’m sorry my dudes, BUT there is also fluff and a lil spicy moment too hehe (not quite smut though)

Warning: mention of death, mention of inflicting pain on ones self, mention of blood and wounds, implied smut but no actual smut, language, warfare, brief mention of concentration camps

A/N: i did not realise how long i made this HAHA so now this is like a short story rather than a one shot

There was a long list of words one could use to describe Y/N: persistent, bold, resilient, strong-willed, gutsy, stubborn, reckless, stupid. The last one was Ron’s favourite ways of describing her when he got frustrated, the question he’d always ask being ‘why are you being so stupid?’ or something along that mantra. Even when she was gone he’d still ask her in his head as if she may one day reach out with her own thoughts and answer his question.

Now, it wasn’t the way he’d describe her always, no it was just when he was frustrated with her, even though that may have been a little more often than not. There were many things he could say about Y/N, though if he was honest, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to put them into spoken thoughts. No, not words but ideas; beautiful, magnificent ideas. Like the sun peaking out from behind the clouds after a harsh storm, or the sweet smelling, soft breeze tickling gently at ones cheeks as they stood amongst a field of blossom trees. Those were the kind of ways he could describe her, worldly and beautiful. 

It was different though, now that she was gone. These ideas were all he had left to remember her by as he had to fight so hard to clear his mind of their last moments together; the blood, the cries, the dull look in her eyes. He had admitted to himself that he had been more scared in that moment than he had been at any other moment in his life, and this included his extended stay in the forest of Bastogne. He was certainly scared in those other moments, yes, but though the feelings of his chest constricting and his breath getting caught in his throat were similar, they had not been accompanied by the excruciating pain of his heart breaking. 

Lipton had been sat in the jeep beside the man, watching his face tighten into a pained expression as they continued their journey to Hagenau. After spending most of the trip discussing plans for the company for once they’d reached their next location, Speirs had recognised the tired look on Lip’s face and decided against continuing the conversation, the thought of a short break from war being too nice not too take. Ron had stared at the area surrounding them, taking in the way the snow glistened as the light reflected off it while the clouds finally moved away to reveal the sun. Though it didn’t hold as much warmth as one may hope for, the feeling still lingered on his skin, caressing his cheek with such a gentleness. He thought of her then, in the feeling of the sun shining down on him, illuminating his face as if placing him on a pedestal for the whole world to see. 

Lipton saw it on his companion’s face, the look of longing in his expression as he briefly closed his eyes and let out of quiet sigh. Ron opened his eyes again when the sun disappeared behind another cloud, blinking away any clear emotion on his face. Lipton held his arms across his chest, his hands tucked under them to keep warm while tilting his head in curiosity at his new CO. A harsh cough left his lips as he went to say something to the man causing Ron to look over at him in concern. After letting out one final choked breath from his mouth, he cleared his throat carefully before turning to look at the man beside him, meeting his gaze as soon as he moved. 

“Can I ask a rather personal question Sir?” He asked.

“Ask away first sergeant.” 

“You uh-you’ve never mentioned anyone before but I thought i’d ask-”

“Just ask first sergeant Lipton.”

“Do you uh-you got a lady?” Lipton asked the question so tentatively. The sudden drop of expression on Ron’s face was clear to him, but only because he’d been staring straight at the man, and as quickly as it came it had been covered. Ron had sat for a moment, replaying moments in his own head, letting himself open up to the memories he hadn’t let himself see in so long. It was her face, her smile, her laugh, her angry glare, her balled fists, her cries, her blood, her emotionless eyes; everything and anything he could remember of her, he did. Ron looked away from his lap that he had turned his gaze to subconsciously, his eyes moving back to the man beside him. He pursed his lips in thought of what he would say in response before running his tongue along his teeth.

“I uh-I did. I had her and I didn’t even realise until she was gone.” He had said firmly, yet the questioning look in Lipton’s eyes showed he wanted to ask what he meant by ‘gone’. Ron took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders slightly before readjusting the collar of his coat that had felt as though it was tightening around his throat slowly. “She’s far, far away from me now. Hell, she’s likely already got another fella giving her everything I couldn’t. A woman like her...she’s more than anyone could ever try to deserve.” 

***

Y/N was, in the grand scheme of things, a lot closer to him than he previously thought. It was a rather long and detailed story of how she had ended up with the 17th Airborne Division as a platoon commander during the Battle of the Bulge, and it involved a lot of arguing with people she very really should not have been arguing with, giving more confirmation as to the need to call her stubborn and strong-willed. After fighting hand and foot to be taken back into the war as soon as possible, the opportunity arose when the 17th division cried for replacement officers as they lost more and more men. 

It had been hard, she wouldn’t lie. With her need to prove herself to her new men to the environment they were left to fight in, cold and wet and lonely, it was no wonder she had struggled to hold on to hope. After a particularly harsh fight supporting General Patton’s third army, she had managed to earn the respect from those around her and was finally welcomed as one of their own, an idea that boosted her morale just enough to push on. But still, there was an empty feeling, one that hadn’t left since the day she’d woken in the English hospital. The lack of blood in her body and the substantial wounds she had sustained had left her comatose for a couple of weeks, miraculously boosting her chances of survival by tenfold. Some would say it was her resilience and persistent nature that led to her mind forcing her body to piece itself back together so quickly. It had been such a long journey back to the front lines yet compared to others it was a sprint instead of a stroll. Her shoulder had healed to a faint scar, her thigh similarly restored with only the faintest of limps when it came to movement, while her stomach wound was still red, raw and ugly against the soft skin that surrounded it. When the woman felt herself drop to a certain level of exhaustion, the pain came back as a throbbing ache with the occasional sharp pinch, yet she pushed that away with a groan before carrying on to look after her men. Not only was there the physical pain, but the mental pain; the fear that came to visit while she slept, the sense of loss that seemed to hang around her head like an ugly, dark cloud. She was not the same woman she had been before she had fought to rejoin the war once again, but she wasn’t a shell of nothingness either. She was simply a woman who had lost so much, and that included parts of herself. And though she would sometimes take the time to mourn those lost pieces of herself, she also triumphed in the empty spaces she now had to start fresh. The world had always been black and white to her, yes or no, hot or cold. Now, now there was possibility in the spaces in between, chances to be left in the dark for the sake of one day seeing a full spectrum of light.

It had been by some random choice of her current superior and that of her previous one with the 101st division that things changed so suddenly. She’d been with the 17th division for three months now, only 8 or 9 months since taking those shots for the sake of the man she loved. These men were now her men as she had fought with them through blood, sweat and tears, so when she got the news that she was being transferred back to 2nd battalion, 101st division, she felt conflicted. 

She had known several of the men from Easy company where she would be sent to, especially the officers. So when Captain Lewis Nixon walked through the door one day ready to jump with them as an observer for Operation Varsity, she had revelled in a face from the past. He looked at her in awe, aware that she was alive but clearly unaware that she had been sent back to the frontline so quickly. He wandered over to her slowly, her feet pulling her to meet in the middle, a smile wiped across her face. Nix looked down at her, letting a smirk crawl to his lips. He commented on how she had been one ‘crazy dame’ before grabbing her for a quick hug. It was soon explained to the both of them that once the jump was over, Y/N would be leaving immediately with Captain Nixon to be taken to Easy Company’s new position in another location in Germany while her replacement would be flying in with a squad of her men to take over as soon as they landed. They shared a smile before she made an excuse that she needed to prepare her men and say her goodbyes before slipping out the door, promising him she’d meet him on the other side.

It had turned sour quickly when they flew over the border into Germany, artillery blasts causing such a ruckus of noise as she stood by the door. She had prepped her men and given them each a pat on the back and charming smile to boost morale as they boarded the plane, but no smiles could be seen now, only the feeling of anxiety itching away at their skin while they waited as patiently as they could. It was so sudden, the plane lurched and sent her flying into her platoon sergeant, who caught her around the torso tightly. She had to ignore the pain that spread from the contact on her scar as she pulled herself up, screaming at the pilot that they needed to jump as soon as possible. 

The ground beneath her had started to lean unnaturally, her voice holding back a tremble as she got her men to hook up and make their checks as quickly as possible. They stood waiting for the red light to switch to green when the plane shook violently once more, the men being thrown around harshly. She looked around helplessly, eyes darting around erratically to check on those around her. The plane begun to drop suddenly, the nose plummeting towards the ground beneath them. She made eye contact with her platoon sergeant, panic setting in, her hands grasping tightly at the side of the door. He flashed her a reassuring smile, one that she didn’t have the time to read into as he pushed himself off the seat he had been balancing on and moved towards her quickly. His hands were on her shoulders in a second, a look she couldn’t quite place covering his face when he saw the explosion happen over her shoulder. She didn’t even have the chance to scream in protest as he gave her a harsh shove out the door, but she did let out a strangled yell when she felt herself pulled away by the wind. She watched as the plane went up in explosive flames as soon as her chute had deployed, a sense of utter shock filling her. 

Y/N’s body floated towards the ground, her eyes still fixed on the spot where she’d seen the plane go down, along with her platoon sergeant and a squad of her men. She gulped the feelings down as she tried to focus on finishing her jump, yet the bile threatened to escape with every push. Her legs rolled beneath her to a standing position as she hit the ground, her hands moving to tug the chute off as quickly as possible. Her fingers ripped at the rope harshly, her teeth grinding together as she felt a rage build up inside her. She fell to her knees, thinking if she hadn’t have been in the middle of god knows where she would have screamed in a fit of anger but she decided against it, opting to throw her balled fists into the ground to the point of drawing blood. Hot tears had fallen quickly down her cheeks, one after the other, after the other. 

The woman had been kneeling for who knows how long when a hand found its way to her shoulder. Her instincts kicked in immediately as she swung one of her bent legs out from underneath her, sending the person to the ground before pulling herself above them, her rifle ready to shoot. The equally troubled face of Lewis Nixon became visible under her as the tears cleared from her eyes. She jumped up quickly before pulling him to his feet, muttering a thousand apologies. He shook his head and shot her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as they moved over the woman before him. He knew from her performance he’d stumbled upon and the lack of other men surrounding her that her jump went as well as his, if not worse. They stood staring at each other for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. Y/N was the first to step forward, throwing herself into Nix’s opening arms as a quiet sob escaped her throat. They held on to each other, relishing in the shared emotions for every second they could get. They held onto each other as two lost souls who just needed a friendly embrace.

***

The two companions had somehow made it to Easy’s location without losing it completely, though the comforting metaphorical and physical hand to hold definitely helped. On the drive, Nix had informed of the many things that had changed in the battalion since her leaving, including Major Winters’ promotion and the promotion of the new CO after the battle of Foy. Her breath had caught in her throat, her heart beating fast as the inevitable reunion dawned on her. With this reality setting in, the woman had taken it upon herself to spend the rest of the day with Nix, not that he seemed to mind at all. In fact, he was seemingly soothed by her presence especially when Major Winters had come in to talk to the man. She’d apologised to the XO for not coming to meet him on her arrival, but after learning the nature of their shared jump, the man had let it go with a reassuring smile. Nix had sat there scoffing and making smug remarks to the man when they spoke, always dodging a significant question for an unmannered answer. Y/N had watched the exchange between the men only for Dick to ask her for a moment with him alone. She’d nodded her head and went to rise from her seat when the intelligence officer snubbed the query and almost yelled at the red haired man for her to stay. She had taken this as her queue to sit back down, slowly lowering herself back into the chair beside Nix, taking up the drink he’d offered her. 

It had been a day of sitting around with Nixon, trying to calm the agitated man in a bid to distract herself from her own feelings. It was not unlike her to do this, what with her past history of self-neglect for the sake of others. However, when the man had to leave to talk to Winters and Speirs, the woman had declined to come with him, making up the excuse that she would walk through town and perhaps meet up with some of the familiar faces. He’d left with a nod, though reluctant to not be in her presence as he had been for the past two days. She released a sigh once he was gone, pulling herself to her feet and dragging them out the door. 

***

Y/N felt calm for the first time in what felt like forever, the chill of the rain not bothering her as she savoured the way it fell on her skin. She felt alive, felt the blood pumping through her veins, felt the breath leave her lungs evenly, almost as if the water falling from the sky could cleanse every negative feeling from her body. No one seemed to want to bother the woman, though that could have been because of the time of night it was. 

She’d spent a good portion of her day just wandering around town, talking to a few of the men who recognised her such as Randleman, Luz and Perconte. They’d seen her across the road and had yelled out to her with large smiles across their faces. It had been such a long time since they’d been able to talk to the woman outside of the war, the last time likely being in a pub before they even jumped into Normandy. They were reluctant to let her leave when she tried to rush off at the first sight of a certain CO she had not yet built up the courage to see, but after the promise of seeing them later, they’d let her run off. 

The woman spoke to Captain Winters when she’d stumbled upon him on her mad dash away from Speirs, the man even looking worried as she came to a grinding halt before him. She’d blown it off like there was nothing wrong before jumping into a conversation with him about her position in Easy company in which he detailed she’d be taking over 2nd platoon with Malarkey as her platoon sergeant. She’d let him take her to the housing in which the men from 2nd were staying to meet some of the ones who had been lingering around. She was happy to see Malarkey once more, even pulling the man in for a gentle hug which he had greatly appreciated. She spent some time with him that afternoon, learning more about the platoon and its men, Malark explaining some of the things that had been going on recently. The woman grasped at his hand carefully when his voice seemed to drop while talking about Bastogne, an action that he returned with a squeeze of his fingers. 

The night had begun to arrive when she finally left the company of her new platoon sergeant and those who had slowly started making their way back to the house, each of the Toccoa men greeting her with a smile and some following it with a hug. The air was chilly, but didn’t hold the same biting freeze that she had become accustomed to, so she welcomed the shiver that ran down her spine. The rain had started on her walk back to the officers housing, soaking her to the bone as she slowed her walk to a wander. She let herself inhale deeply, enjoying the smell of the wet pavement. Something that seemed so mundane had sparked something in the woman’s brain. Her entire body felt as if it was melting away with the rain as she tuned in to the sound, the scent, the feeling. Everything felt so normal for once, and it made her feel so very alive.

A crash of glass was heard suddenly, breaking nature’s silence that she was enjoying so much. Her eyes quickly moved to the figure who had stepped into the street lights, a sigh leaving her lips as she saw the look on the man’s face.

“Nix, what’re you doing?” His gaze flashed to her as he stumbled across the street in her direction, passing two patrolling cars as he did. The man looked fragile, his lip quivering ever so slightly and his eyes flickering here and there.

“You’re the one standing in the rain like a madwoman.”

“I think we’ve already decided I’m a madwoman.” She replied as he came to a halt in front of her. The tension in his shoulders was obvious, while the look on his face said it all. “What are you up to?” He looked away in shame, knowing the woman would figure him out in a heartbeat. He sighed, his fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I-I just want another drink Y/N.” His voice trembled as he spoke, rain dripping off his hair as he looked down. The woman let out a deep sigh before moving her hands to grasp at something from the bag she had over her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t usually condone the high levels of alcohol consumption I know you’ve been taking part in today, but seeing as I could also use one...” Her hand pulled away from the bag, holding out a bottle of Vat 69 that she had happened to stumble upon on her wander round the town. “Here.” She held it out to him carefully. His eyebrows pulled together as he looked down at the bottle before taking it from her hand. He let out a huff of disbelief, the smallest of smiles pulling to his lips as he shook his head.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He muttered, throwing the woman under one of his arms before pulling her back towards the officers housing. A smile tugged to her face, a chuckle leaving her lips while she patted him gently on his waist with the hand she’d slipped round his back.

“Not a damn thing Nix.” She replied, her hand coming to clutch at the side of his soaked coat as they neared the building, anxiety starting its crawl up her throat. The sound of several men yelling was heard as they stood outside the door, one of which was a voice she’d never forget. Nixon looked at her as he felt her shoulders tense, a sense of confusion running through him at her feelings of stress.

“You alright?” He asked gently, his hand reaching out to grab a hold of the door handle. She inhaled deeply, her eyes shutting as she did, before nodding her head at the man.

“I will be.” She all but whispered as he opened the door. Three men sat at the table that her and Nixon had been sitting at while talking to Winters earlier that day, all with smokes in hand and a drink in front of them. The one with his back facing them turned at the sound of the door, revealing himself to be Harry Welsh. He smiled at the woman with a toothy grin, his hand moving the cigarette from his face.

“Aye, look what the cat dragged in!” He explained merrily causing Lipton and Ron to turn their gazes towards her. She smiled at Welsh, and then Lipton while taking a few tentative steps forward into the room, bracing herself for what she knew was to come next. She stopped short beside Harry’s chair, placing a hand on the back of it to use as stress relief as her fingers clenched tightly onto the wood.

“Long time no see boys.” She said as she looked the two over before finally turning her gaze to the man she had yet to acknowledge. “Ron.” Her voice was so very gentle speaking his name, yet the sound alone made the man’s throat close up with shock. His face held no emotion for a moment, his eyes blinking constantly as if trying to sort a passing dream from the reality of life. His chair flew back suddenly, his legs pushing him to stand before taking a few cautious steps towards her. The other three men watched as Ron gazed at her in confusion before he quickly reached out to grab her, tugging her to his chest while his hands knotted themselves in her sopping wet hair. He held in the tears that threatened to spill as he clutched her to his body, feeling her there with him, alive and safe. She stood frozen for a moment, not expecting him to be so touchy, but she relaxed into him regardless, letting his chin rest on her head. He pulled back from her yet held her by the arms as he continued to look at her. She smiled up at him, not knowing what to say after the last conversation they had had. In all honesty, she didn’t know where they stood at all, hence why she didn’t try to reach out to him after she left. She was scared. Scared of rejection, scared of his reaction, but most of all she was scared that he might actually feel the same way as her. If she was a woman driven by love who had taken several bullets for him, then what would stop him from doing the same?

“Why did you have to be so stupid Y/N?” His voice broke her thoughts, setting a deep feeling of longing in her at the sound. She shook her head while chuckling, her eyes turning away from him as she stepped out of his grasp to grab a chair to pull up beside his.

“You’re still the same Ron you were when I left huh? Aside from the promotion that is.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, trying to set aside her urge to talk to him privately as she turned to the other men in the room. “You know, if I hadn’t have pulled this idiot aside that day and gotten shot, I recon it woulda been my promotion. Captain L/N, has a nice ring to it.” Three of the men laughed at her comment as she plopped herself down in the chair, an award winning smile on her lips, which was a disguise from the inner turmoil she was actually feeling. But as she turned to flash her smirk at the man beside her, she was met with eyes filled with fury, his hands clearly balled into fists as he just stared down at her. He shook his head before sitting down in his own chair, rather harshly one might add. Her brows pulled together in confusion as she watched the man down his drink in one before slamming the glass back down and turning to her.

“Don’t joke about that. Don’t you dare joke about that because it’s not funny.” He said through his teeth. Y/N let the smile drop from her face immediately along with the three other men in the room. The silence was deafening as they all sat there unsure of what to do or say next. The three other officers in the room felt as though they were imposing on a conversation they shouldn’t be but had all let their curiosity get the better of them as they sat and listened. Ron let out an angry chuckle while he lit another cigarette and placed it between his lips. They all watched as he took a long drag before he opened his mouth to speak once more. “I can’t believe you Y/N. That’s all you have to fucking say huh?” He stood suddenly, his chair screeching as it scrapped the floor. Y/N moved to stand as well, her confusion of his reaction setting a weird feeling in her stomach.

“Ron, I’m sorry-“

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry Y/N? I thought I’d lost you and you just show up here after nine fucking months out of the blue, making jokes about you getting shot. Do you know how that makes me feel? And you don’t have to fucking remind me that you were doing it for me cause god knows I fucking remember, I remember it all. So don’t come around here acting like everything is okay, cracking jokes and smiling away, because guess what Y/N? It’s not. fucking. okay.” His voice had risen to a shout as he stood in front of her, his jaw tightening to a clench while he stared at her with dark eyes. Y/N’s cheeks had gone red with embarrassment, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to piece together a response. With no verbal response, Ron just shook his head once more before walking towards the hallway, muttering something about how he was out of the next game and to not deal him in as he stormed off past Lipton.

Nobody said a word in the room after he left, all staring at the woman who sat in shock with her gaze turned to her lap. She cleared her throat and blinked back a few tears before standing carefully, grabbing at the closest full bottle of alcohol from the table.

“I uh-I think i’m just gonna enjoy my drink in bed.” She muttered, keeping her gaze away from any other as she continued to look at the ground. Her feet moved quickly when she received a few hesitant responses of ‘goodnight’ from the officers still in the room, her arms crossing over her chest to make herself as small as possible. As soon as she was out of the room, the three men looked at each other in shock and confusion, shrugging at one another with the shared thought. Nixon went to walk towards the door she had left through only for Harry to place a hand against his chest, stopping his movements to a halt.

“I think it’s best if you didn’t. I don’t know what the fuck just happened but I don’t think you need to insert yourself into it. I’m sure everything will be fine with a good night’s rest for everyone.” Lip had nodded in agreement with Harry’s words as he continued to stare at the door Y/N had passed through, his head sorting a few puzzle pieces into place to form a general idea of what had just gone on. He had a feeling he knew what was happening yet he needed a little more detail before he could confirm his theory; if only he knew, he’d just have to be patient.

***

It had, in fact, not been alright with just a good night’s rest. For several days now, Ron and Y/N had only spoken to one another when necessary, a clear rift brought between the two officers as he seemed to dance around her any chance he could. She had gotten sick of trying to talk to him or to get any response out of him, anything at all. One of the times she had gone out her way to interact with him is when he had been asking Perconte for a lighter, who knowing the man, was reluctant to hand his over. She had rolled her eyes, pulling her own from her pocket before walking up to light his cigarette. He turned to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face as she stared straight into his eyes, refusing to back down from the man. Once the lucky strike had been lit she wandered off, flashing a smile and a wink at Perconte who stood watching the whole exchange with appreciation knowing there wasn’t a chance of his lighter going missing. She had glanced over her shoulder as she sauntered away, catching sight of her CO still staring at her, a small smirk moving to her lips. You can’t yell at me and expect me to back down like everyone else, that not how this works Ronald Speirs.

The woman wouldn’t admit it to anyone aside from herself, but her lack of communication with her CO was causing quite a problem in her ability to focus. She so desperately wanted to pull him aside and pour her heart out to him and ask for the same in return but had time and time again been interrupted or held back from doing so, settling for longing glances across the room. In all honesty, she held a little bit of anger towards the man for his outburst as she still held confusion in her mind of what she had done so wrong aside from making an ill-tasted joke. 

Y/N returned from the particularly hard day completely drained of any speck of energy, a tired look taking over her features. The discovery of some kind of camp containing the forms of hundreds of sickly looking, neglected people put an instant dark cloud over everyone’s head. The confusion mixed poorly with the rage and dread that filled the woman’s heart as she walked slowly through the camp, trying her best to be respectful with the smell that lingered so strongly in the air. She gulped, pushing the tears back down in a bid to stay strong for those who desperately needed help. Ron kept a watchful eye on her as she walked over to a group of approaching people, helping to lower them to the ground to save their energy, trying her best to speak in the broken German that she knew to reassure them they were now safe. The need to protect the woman from anything and anyone was growing stronger and stronger the longer he tried to avoid her.

The woman had walked out the bathroom after trying to let the pain wash away with the water from the shower head, a deep sigh leaving her lips. She held her uniform from the day in a laundry bag hanging from her hand, her body covered by an undershirt and a pair of fresh pants. The feelings of her wet hair tickling her neck was irritating as she grabbed at her towel to squeeze the remainder of the water out, another huff of frustration leaving her lips. The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, coming in her direction as the figure accompanying them arrived. He froze when he saw her standing by her bedroom door, his eyes just staring at the woman before him. She smiled gently at him, too tired to try be petty, though it only just reached her eyes. 

“Hey Sir, bit of a rough day huh?” She asked him as he made no action to leave. His eyebrows pulled together immediately, a small frown settling on his lips.

“Since when do you call me Sir?”

“I don’t know, since you’ve gone cold.” She stated firmly, her smile slipping from her lips. He went to open his mouth only to pause, staring into the woman’s eyes and picking up on the emotions swimming through them. 

“I’m-I’m sorry for you yelling at you...the other night.” He said carefully, his eyes skimming over her face to gauge her reaction. “To tell you the truth Y/N, I wasn’t quite sure how to handle...well everything.”

“I get it, I really do. But you just needed to speak with me, you know i would have listened to anything you’d have to say.” She let the smallest of smiles pull back to her lips, watching him as he took a smoke from his pocket before realising he had no lighter with him again. He cursed under his breath but froze again when Y/N had stepped forward with her own lighter in hand, once again lighting his cigarette. He pursed his lips after taking a drag, his tongue running over his bottom lip after he exhaled the smoke. 

“You always there with the solution, aren’t you Y/N?” 

“What can i say? I’m a gift.” She teased causing a smile to pull at the corners of his lips.

“Yes you are.” He all but whispered, a look in his eyes that Y/N could remember from the day she’d been shot, though this time it wasn’t shrouded in pain and sorrow. They fell into a comfortable silence again, both of them enjoying the fact that they were able to be in each other presence without the usual tension. 

“Penny for your thoughts Ron?” The sound of his name as it dripped like honey from her mouth had him in a second, moving him to take a single step closer to her. They stood close, toe to toe now, lost in the look in each others eyes.

“I never realised how much I needed you until you were the only person who wasn’t there.” He offered her the idea so tentatively that she felt thrown off balance by this different side of the man. This was no longer Captain Speirs, the legend he was, no, this was just Ron, her Ron.

“Well, I was kinda hoping you needed me now. Is that selfish of me?” She had whispered to him, her eyes glistening with fear as she worried for rejection. He reached out in that moment, his fingers twirling a strand of her hair around them before tucking it behind her ear. His hand stayed by her head for a moment before trailing down her cheek to cup her jaw. 

“Not as selfish as I want to be right now.” Her look of confusion and the tilt of her head gave him a push to elaborate. “I want to be able to keep you safe, lock you away if I must to keep you from making all those stupid decision, protect you from others and yourself. I wanna keep you all to myself, make it so no one could ever hurt you ever again.” He spoke so truthfully that it brought tears to her eyes, her brows pulling together gently. His thumb ran along the skin under her eyes as she pushed up against his hand, her eyes closing as she savoured the feeling. “But I know I can’t do that because then who’s gonna stick around to protect me?” A sound mixed between a laugh and sob left her mouth as they were both sent back to that day she had asked him that question.

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected?”

He’d laid awake at night pondering that question when she was gone until he’d come to the conclusion. It wasn’t about deserving protection, it was about deserving her.

“I want to deserve you Y/N. And i’m going to keep trying to deserve you for my whole life. But I think letting you do this for me might be a good start, yeah?” He declared the words so firmly yet with such a gentle nature as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip, taking in the face he’d missed so much. She huffed a laugh from her lips, staring up at the man with a lovesick look in her eyes.

“Oh, don’t you worry darling. I’m always gonna be right there, watching your six.”

“You bloody better be. But please, try and refrain from getting shot again.”

“I can’t make any promises but I can definitely try.” She said with an amused smirk before she leant forwards suddenly and placed a bold kiss to his lips. He stared in shock for a moment when she pulled away, a strike of fear running through her as she watched him freeze. The feeling quickly disappeared as he grabbed her by the jaw and pulled her back to him, placing a soft kiss to her lips. They both smiled as they moved in sync, taking in the feeling of what they had both been imagining for so long. When they pulled away they both had similar smitten expressions covering their faces, and an almost shy smile painted Y/N’s lips. 

“I should let you sleep, god knows we all need it.” He said to her, his hands slowly letting go of her face. She nodded before opening her bedroom door.

“Goodnight Ron.” She whispered wistfully, her smile never leaving her burning cheeks. 

“Goodnight Y/N, sleep well.” He took a step back, turning away from her. Her hand instantly moved to her lips as she replayed the memory over and over in her mind, yet a feeling washed over her suddenly when she watched him walk away. It took ahold of her chest as she forced herself into her room and threw herself against the door once it was closed. Her mind ran wild with thoughts as she leant her head against the door, knocking it gently against the wood. You should have said it. Why didn’t you say it? She asked herself over and over. 

Just like it had before, a sudden boldness took over the woman’s body as she threw the door open and rushed out, calling Ron’s name while hoping he hadn’t rushed off. As soon as his name left her lips, he came back into view around the corner of the hall. Little did she know, he had stopped just round the bend and asked himself the same question. Why didn’t you say it? He stared at her as she took a deep breath, his eyes asking her to tell him everything she didn’t say.

“I love you.” The words left her mouth confidently in that moment, her mind made up that it needed to be said. Ron didn’t even reply as he took several fast steps towards her before capturing her lips once again, yet this time it held such fire and need compared to the gentle caress of the last one. His hands grabbed at her waist, tugging her closer to him as they bodies moulded together like perfect puzzle pieces. He pulled away, letting his eyes roam her face once more.

“And i love you.” He whispered in response. It was her turn to not respond with anything more than a kiss as she grabbed at the man, tugging him into her room. The two didn’t pull away as she used her foot to close the door before he backed her up against it, giving her a gentle but firm shove into the wood. She responded with a gasp, to which he took full advantage of as he slipped his tongue across her bottom lip. Y/N let out a quiet moan as his hands found their way down her sides, caressing the curve of her hips before moving to grab at her thighs, hoisting her up against the door with her legs round his waist.

They stayed enveloped in one another for several minutes before her hands found their way under his shirt, her fingers trailing over the hard muscle that hid beneath it. He let out a quiet grunt into her mouth before he felt her smirk against his lips. He pulled away, frustrated, before frowning at her, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

“Don’t start something you’re not going to finish Y/N.” He warned lowly which she responded to immediately with an innocent smile.

“Who said i wasn’t going to finish it?”

His lips were back on hers in a second, his hands wandering to places they hadn’t before as she tugged at the buttons of his shirt, one after the other, after the other. Ron pulled her off the door, keeping her legs round him as he walked them hastily to the bed, disconnecting their lips as he placed her onto the soft mattress. His shirt and pants were gone in seconds, as were hers as she shimmied out of them while gazing up at him. She felt untouchable then, peering up at the god of a man who stood before her, a man she could call her own. 

Ron looked down at the woman in a similar fashion, his eyes taking in every piece of her that he could. His very own angel sent to protect him, a woman he could call his own. His eyes shone with such mirth as he leant forward, placing another searing kiss to her lips, his hands finding their way back to her waist, but this time skin to skin. He felt the softness, the suppleness of her under his palms causing him to let out another groan against her lips as he dug his fingers gently into her flesh. She moaned in delight at this, her fingers moving to grasp at the hair at the base of his neck before she tugged at it. Unfortunately, she had been so wrapped up in nothing but the feeling of him against her that she couldn’t help but let out a yelp of shock against his lips as his hands grabbed a little too hard at the raw scar on her stomach causing a sudden pain. He pulled away immediately, a look of concern and alarm on his face as he looked from her face to the spot beneath his hands. It didn’t take long for a look of guilt to cover his features, accompanied with him pulling away from her even further. 

“I’m sorry, I’m fine, i promise. It’s just still a little tender.” He looked unconvinced at her words, his eyes flashing to meet hers before they moved back to her stomach. She called his name but got no response, resorting to grab him by the face to look directly at her, her elbows propped up underneath her to reach him. “Ron. Stop that. I know what you’re thinking.” His gaze softened slightly but the guilt didn’t leave his face. “It wasn’t your fault. I made the decision myself, nothing you could have said or done would have changed that.” He nodded slowly as if trying to convince himself of the truth in her words before leaning forward and placing the most gentle kiss to the scar. She smiled at him, grabbing at his jaw and pulling him to her to capture his lips in a soft peck. “You know, you’ve asked me several times about why i made the stupid decision to take the hit for you that day.” She murmured to him as he caught sight of the scar on her shoulder before he leaned in to kiss it as he had the other. She let out a quiet giggle at the feeling of his lips on her skin as she continued to talk. “Well, my simple answer is because I protect what I love and I love you Ron. I’d fight for you until my lungs give out and will continue to do so whether you ask me to or not.”

“I’d fight for you too. And i’d kill for you. I’d lie for you, cheat for you, die for you.” He said softly, moving closer to her as he gazed into her bright eyes, a look of pure adoration flashing through his own.

“I just need you to live for me. That’s all i ask of you.” She whispered to him, so close that he could feel her warm breath on his face. He leant forward and connected their lips as a response, savouring the taste of the woman he loved with every second he could get. Y/N let herself lay back on the bed as he propped himself over her, a hand placed on the mattress on either sides of her head as they melted together once again. Lips moving in sync slowly and softly changed as she pulled him closer by the neck, passion and need flowing between them. She removed her lips from his yet keep him close to her as a mischievous glint shone in her eyes. 

“You know, you haven’t given this one a kiss yet.” She whispered, the desire dripping from her lips as she pointed a finger at the scar fading on her inner thigh. Ron’s gaze moved down in confusion before connecting the dots quickly, a smirk pulling to his lips as he moved himself down her body. 

“What my woman wants, my woman shall get.”

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

Kisses

A/N: Okay, so let’s pretend that Bucky didn’t blip 😉 That is the job I am trusting you with as you read this, dear reader (especially during a certain part, but you’ll get there when you get there) Also, please ignore my lack of original concepts, as I am well aware that I used this similar concept for a Shawn fic a while back (I promise this version is quite different and much better written) Anyways, happy reading! :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem Avenger!Reader

Summary: Different types of kisses throughout you and Bucky’s relationship

Word Count: 4.3k+  (oof, much longer than I intended. Sorry, friends!)

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets stabbed, mentions of blood, mentions of pregnancy, (brief) mention of death (nobody actually dies)

---

The First Kiss

It was quiet as the two of you walked down the hallway, save for the occasional sounds of Bucky’s boots scuffing on the linoleum. Whether it was because you didn’t want to wake up anyone else in the compound this late at night or because there was nothing left to say, you weren’t sure.

After months of longing looks and nervous conversations (and a bit of pushing from Steve), Bucky finally found the courage to ask you out on a date. He made it a whole ordeal, even bringing flowers when he asked if you wanted to grab some sandwiches from a nearby deli and eat them at the park. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been waiting to hear those words for a while now and told him you’d be happy to. Your shy smile made Bucky’s insides melt and he found himself mirroring one back at you.

Now, your third date--a midnight hike through a trail you suggested--was coming to an end.

“Can I walk you back to your room?” Bucky broke the silence, chewing his lip nervously as he awaited your answer.

“Your room is right across the hall from mine. Aren’t you going that way anyways?” you giggled.

“Let me be a gentleman,” he insisted as you rounded the corner of the hallway that led to your rooms.

“I mean, how can I say no to that?”

“I don’t think you can.” His signature smirk and charm had you melting and you stared at the floor in hopes that he wouldn’t see the obvious ways he affected you.

The two of you arrived at your door almost too soon, and you found yourself wishing that your night together wasn’t over quite yet.

“I had a great time with you, Bucky.” You turned to fully face him, looking up shyly into his eyes.

He took one of your hands with his, bringing it up to his lips. “I did too, Y/N. We should do it again.”

“The date or getting eaten alive by mosquitoes?”

“The mosquitos were endearing but I was more so thinking of another date.”

“I’d like that.” You squeezed his hand before letting go, pushing your door open and taking a step forwards before Bucky’s hand grabbed your wrist. He gently spun you back towards him, his charm suddenly replaced by a more timid look.

“Um, can I . . . would you let me . . .” he glanced down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t respond, simply placing your free hand on his cheek and leaning towards him. His hands both went to wrap around your waist as your lips brushed and your other hand came to rest on his chest. The kiss was slow and soft. There was no need to rush as you stood there in the hallway at 1:45 in the morning, wrapped around each other like you couldn’t let go.

You finally broke away, feeling Bucky’s chest steadily rise beneath your palm as you calmed your own breathing. You tried to play it cool on the outside, though you were screaming with glee internally.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You slowly slipped out of his grasp, a twinkle in your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Welcome Home Kiss

Your eyelids seemed to droop more by the second as you tried to keep yourself awake. The caffeine you had earlier could only do so much to curb the sleepiness that was settling in your bones. The fact that you were sitting in your bed at the moment probably wasn’t helping, but you were too tired to move.

Waiting up for Bucky seemed like a good idea until it was 2:30 in the morning and he still wasn’t back. He would probably scold you when he got back, saying how sleep deprivation didn’t look good on you, but you didn’t care. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in a week and you missed him. If you had to pull an all-nighter to do so, so be it.

The sound of footsteps outside your door pulled you from your thoughts. It only took a second to recognize the familiar clunking of Bucky’s combat boots, causing you to perk up as you waited for him to peek into your room.

The footsteps paused outside your door for a moment and you held your breath in anticipation. The door didn’t open though, and the footsteps became fainter, presumably walking away from your room.

Does he think I’m asleep? You frowned. Usually, he at least opened the door to check in on you.

You pulled the blanket off your body, getting out of bed and padding out of your room towards Bucky’s. You did your best to stay quiet as you twisted the door knob in case he was already asleep. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pass out as soon as his head met the pillow after a mission. Lord knows he needed the rest.

You were met with an empty room when you peeked your head in. You almost left, assuming that your excited mind had been playing tricks on you, when you caught sight of light peeking out from beneath the bathroom door. A smile crept its way onto your face and you closed the door behind you, sitting on the edge of his bed and waiting for him to come out.

A few more minutes passed and you debated just letting yourself fall asleep there when the bathroom door swung open. Bucky stepped out, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that you had tried to steal on multiple occasions. He didn’t notice you until he was almost to his bed and lifted his gaze from the floor, jumping back with a “shit!” when he saw you.

“What are you doing up, doll?” he asked once he regained his composure.

“Waiting for you,” you replied simply, pulling him into a hug as soon as he sat down next to you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You pulled back just enough to press your lips against his, relishing the languid movements of his lips against yours at the absurd hour of the morning. His arms traveled down to your hips as yours moved to wrap around his neck.

“Welcome home, sergeant.”

The Fevered Forehead Kiss

You were burning up.

The sweat drenched shirt you were wearing was sticking to your body and the fact that Bucky, AKA: the walking furnace, was laying next to you, wasn’t helping in the slightest. His arm was slung over your back, which made your situation that much worse. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully: a rarity with him. Moving out of bed was sure to wake him up but you really needed to change your shirt.

You sighed, deciding that you needed to get into some dryer clothes if you had any hopes of falling back asleep before the sun rose. Prying yourself from Bucky’s grip as carefully as possible, you swung your feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. A wave of dizziness overcame you, forcing you to brace yourself against the wall. A quiet groan escaped your lips when the dizziness started getting worse rather than fading away. Your vision started to tunnel: a surefire sign that you were going to pass out.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and Bucky’s face came into view. He gently eased you back onto the bed, supporting your back as he layed you back down. You felt a hand brush over your cheek as the dizziness faded and your senses returned.

Bucky frowned at how warm your cheek felt beneath his touch. You were feeling a little warm when he carried you to bed after a group game night--of which you had fallen asleep halfway through--but he didn’t think much of it then. He smoothed some hair back from your forehead and rested his lips there to better judge your temperature.

“Shit, doll. You’re burning up,” he murmured.

“It’s really hot in here.” Sleep was clawing at you but you were uncomfortable beyond belief. “I need to change my shirt.”

Bucky silently helped you out of the shirt you were wearing, throwing it in the hamper before shuffling over to the dresser to get you another one. He grabbed the first one he saw, making his way back over to where you were laying and helping you into it.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said as he pressed his lips to your forehead once more. “I’ll be right here.”

The “Shut Up!” Kiss

The Quinjet was filled with chatter as the team headed back to the compound after a successful mission. You managed to get the intel you needed and nobody got hurt in the process--well, nobody except you, but no one needed to know that.

You managed to get yourself stabbed in the right bicep when you were making your way back to the jet. It wasn’t horribly severe, it just hurt like a bitch. You were quick to take care of the Hydra agent and keep moving, knowing the team was going to want to get back to the compound as quickly as possible to celebrate. Missions without some kind of injury were a rarity with you guys.

You just assumed that you’d wait until you got to the compound and stitch yourself up there without anyone knowing. Seemed easy enough of a plan, right?

“Hey, doll,” Bucky said as he sat down in the seat to your left with a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, babe.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, snuggling into the warmth radiating off of him.

“I’m so ready to get in bed.”

“You said it.”

You were able to block out the pain coming from your arm for a moment, allowing yourself to relax in your boyfriend’s presence instead. That was, until Bucky’s arm came up to wrap around your shoulders. You winced when his hand brushed over your wound, cursing internally when you felt him stiffen up next to you. Of course he was going to find out.  

He pulled his hand back, seeing it covered in red. “Is that blood?”

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now. You know what does matter? Getting to bed cause you look-” You sat up, rubbing your hand over the wound yourself, finding that there was significantly more blood there now than there was earlier.

“You are literally bleeding right now!” He raised his voice slightly and you glared at him, not wanting to draw attention to the situation.

“I know but-”

“I love you but if you shut the fuck up right now, Y/N-”

“Buck-”

Bucky grabbed your face, quickly bringing your lips to his. “You are going to stop talking and let me take care of this, okay? No ifs, ands, or buts. I don’t wanna hear ‘em.” His voice was stern but you could see the concern in his eyes.

“Okay,” you sighed, dropping your eyes to your lap.

“Now let me see your arm so we can fix you up.”

The Top of the Head Kiss

“You don’t think it’s too soon, do you?” Bucky asked Steve as they sat in the kitchen. It was early on a Thursday morning, when everyone else was either asleep or doing an early morning workout. The two super soldiers had already finished their daily morning run and decided to enjoy a cup of coffee in the kitchen before the rest of the team showed up.

“Buck, I thought you were going to propose after the fifth date. You’ve been together for almost two years. I think it’s about time,” Steve answered with a chuckle, enjoying the bashful look on his best friend’s face.

“I just wanna do it right, you know?” Bucky bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the right way to propose for what was probably the thousandth time. “I know she doesn’t want something that’s so romantic it’s cheesy but I want it to be special.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Steve patted Bucky’s arm as he got up to put his mug in the sink. “You know she’s going to say ‘yes’ no matter what.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just scary trying to-”

“Morning boys.” Your groggy voice rang through the kitchen, causing Steve and Bucky to immediately shut up.

“You’re up early, sweetheart,” Bucky commented as you made your way over to him.

“Thought I’d be productive today.” You ran a hand through his hair, still unruly from his run, before placing your lips on top of his head. “Whatcha’ guys talking about?”

Steve and Bucky shared a panicked look. “Uhh . . . super secret boy band stuff.” Bucky’s hands made their way to your hips, fingers messing with the hem of your shirt.

“Ohh, okay. Let me just grab my breakfast and then I’ll let you plan your little boyband stuff.” You ruffled Bucky’s hair and busied yourself with making a bagel, winking at him before leaving the kitchen.

“You better hurry up,” Steve chuckled. “Cause she’s gonna figure out what you’re doing soon if you don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled. “I’m working on it.”

The Passionate Kiss

“I’m so hungry!” you complained as you took your suit off, having just returned from a mission. You weren’t able to eat lunch earlier and your stomach was making sure you knew just how much it did not appreciate that.

“We stocked up the fridge yesterday so you should be good to go,” Bucky said from his place on the edge of the bed. His eyes stayed glued on you as you slipped on a pair of shorts and one of his Henleys.

You smiled brightly at his words and made your way over to him, giving a quick peck to his temple and grabbing his hand. “Care to join me?”

“Course, doll.” He stood up and followed you out of your shared room, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side as you walked to the kitchen. Everything was going according to plan.

The mission you just came back from? It was fake. You didn’t know that of course, but Bucky had Steve and Tony help him set it up so he could get ready for what he was planning on doing tonight without you either finding out or getting overly suspicious. What was he planning on doing, exactly? Proposing. He was finally going to propose tonight.

You and Steve were sent out on an undercover “mission” in which you had to pretend to be a couple in order to attend a ball and gather intel on a possible new Hydra branch. Bucky wasn’t quite sure how Tony managed to set the whole thing up, but he decided not to bother himself with the logistics. There were more important issues at hand.

He patted his pocket as you parted from his side to grab plates. Yup, the ring was still there.

“Why don’t I get the plates and you grab what you want from the fridge, sweetheart?” he suggested.

“Oh no, I got the plates. You grab whatever you think is good. I’ll eat whatever.” You took two plates out of the cabinet and made your way to the table, your back to the fridge.

This is going to be harder than he anticipated.

In his debate to decide the perfect way to propose to you, Bucky somehow came to the conclusion that the best way to ask you to be his future wife was by spelling out “Will you marry me?” on the refrigerator with a bunch of magnets. A picture of the two of you from when you first started dating was placed next to it with a heart magnet, and Bucky was pretty proud of himself for the idea. He forgot, of course, that you could be a little oblivious sometimes when it came to noticing things.

No need to stress about it. She’ll notice eventually.

Bucky grabbed some things from the fridge, microwaving a few before bringing them over to the table and sitting down in the seat next to yours. “Bon appetit!”

“¡Muchas gracias, señor!” You smiled, already dumping a few things onto your plate and digging in.

“That was a completely different language,” he chuckled.

“And?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Tell me ‘bout the mission.”

“It was alright,” you said through a mouthful of food. You swallowed before continuing. “I don’t know why they sent Steve with me instead of you. You’d think that since we had to pretend to be a married couple, they’d have me go with my boyfriend.” Damn, Tony really didn’t try to be that subtle, did he?

“Yeah, strange . . .”

“Anyways, it was pretty easy. I didn’t even have to go to a debriefing!” You put some more food on your plate, noticing that Bucky had barely touched his. “You okay? You’ve hardly eaten.” You motioned towards his plate.

“Hmm? Oh, I ate before you got home so I’m not that hungry.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. He ate, just not a lot to be considered a meal. Nerves.

“Uh huh.” You gave him a weird look as you took a bite of food. “You’re up to something.”

“Me? Up to something? Never.” He watched you finish your food and sit back with a satisfied groan.

“Okay, sure.” You gave him a playful glare as he took your plates and got up to put them in the sink. You grabbed the leftover food and containers, and put them in the sink, nudging Bucky’s hip with yours.

“You trying to start something, doll?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe I am.” You looked back at him, completely missing the colorful magnets on the fridge yet again as you opened it and put the food back inside. Your hand caught the ‘W’ when you tried to take your hand off of the refrigerator handle, causing it to fall off and clink on the ground.

“Ill you marry me?” you read off the fridge, a confused laugh escaping your mouth. “What?”

Bucky playfully shook his head. He walked over to you, picking up the fallen magnet and putting it back in its place. He leaned against the fridge as he watched you read the phrase again.

“Buck, are you being serious?” Your eyes lit up, though there was a hint of hesitance in your voice.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He pulled the black velvet case out of his pocket, getting down to one knee.

Your hand slapped over your mouth, trying to contain the squeal of joy threatening to jump out. “Bucky!”

He flipped the lid open. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You bit your lips together, nodding your head vigorously. “Yeah. I think I’ll marry you, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky stood up and you grabbed his face, crashing your lips onto his. It was messy but perfect for the moment. Your heart was beating a million times a minute but you paid it no mind as you tried to pull Bucky even closer.

“I love you,” you said once you pulled away for breath. Your eyes watered as you tried to keep tears from falling.

He leaned back in to slot his lips between yours again. “I love you too.”

The Relieved Kiss

Bucky wasn’t sure what exactly to expect when he rushed out with the team to find Captain Marvel lowering down a giant ship in front of the compound, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see.

He’d been a mess since Thanos snapped away half the universe. Unbeknownst to him, you were up in space when the battle happened, leaving him to assume that you had dusted away with the millions of others and left him behind to pick himself up.

While Bucky suffered in his own personal hell down on Earth, you were stranded in a broken spaceship with Tony and Nebula. Up until your rescue, you were sure that you were going to die up there, staring into the void of space. You recorded a message for Bucky after Tony recorded his for Pepper in hopes that it would someday make it back to him. Then Captain Marvel came to save you and bring you back to Earth; to bring you back home.

Bucky ran up with Steve to help Tony, supporting the man who looked like he’d been to hell and back a few times. He stepped aside once Pepper ran up, choking on his own breath when he looked back to the steps of the ship.

You held onto Nebula’s arm as you slowly stumbled down the stairs. Bucky let out a sob at the sight of you, immediately rushing up to help you. You felt so fragile in his arms and it took everything in him to not collapse to the ground in shock, not sure if it was relief that you were alive or horror at your condition

He held you to his chest as tightly as he could once you made it to solid ground, his vibranium arm holding you up by your waist while his flesh hand held your head to his chest.

“Oh my god,” was all he could say as he stood there, body shaking as he cried

“Hey, I’m okay.” Your hand shook as it came up to weakly pat his shoulder. He could tell you were completely out of it: eyes distant and mind barely there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching, ready to help get you to med bay.

He pressed his lips to the crown of your head, gently rocking you back and forth in his arms. “You’re alive.”

You tried to pull back in his grip, forcing him to loosen it slightly. “I love you.” You leaned up to kiss his lips, though it ended up being more of a brush of your lips than an actual kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He kissed your hairline, scared that kissing your lips would steal more oxygen away--something you desperately needed more of in your system right now. “You’re gonna be okay.”

The “Holy Shit!” Kiss

You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it a secret. You were sure he would’ve figured it out by now: the sticks in the trash, the sudden avoidance of certain foods you would usually never pass up, the second heartbeat that now accompanied your own.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to know--you had actually been trying for a baby for a while now--you just weren’t sure how to tell him. Is this how he felt before proposing?

The opening of your bedroom door interrupted your thoughts. You were met with the sight of your husband shrugging off his jacket when you turned around. He cut his hair recently. Something about it being “too hot for this shit.”

“Why are you wearing a jacket? It’s June,” you giggled.

“The air conditioning is fucking blasting and I got cold while I was doing my paper work, if you must know,” he said, laying the jacket on the chair you were standing next to. He left a quick kiss on your lips, leaving you craving for more.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy? I think you have the wrong guy here, doll.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Your hand caught his, tangling your fingers together. Should I just tell him now?

“You keep thinking that. Steve asked me to help train some agents here in a few minutes so I gotta go now.” Another quick kiss and a wink and he started making his way out the door.

“Wait, Buck!” He turned around, almost out the door. “I need to tell you something real quick.” You motioned for him to come back over.

He took a few steps forward, a confused look on his face as you grabbed both his hands in yours. He could hear your heart rate picking up, which only served to worry him.

“So, I was wondering if you would be free to go to the hospital about eight months from now?” You gave a small smile, hoping he’d catch on quickly. “I’m not sure what the exact date is going to be quite yet but I’d really appreciate it if you could be there.”

Bucky frowned. What business did you have at the hospital that you scheduled nine months ahead of time? “Babe, what are you talking about?”

“I think we’re going to need to find our own place too. We’ll need a lot more space.” He still wasn’t catching on. “I doubt having three people in here would be super pleasant.”

He frowned even more and you simply giggled, bringing his hands to your stomach. “I’m pregnant, Buck.”

“Ohh!” He let out a sigh of relief, glad that that was all you were worried about. “Had me worried for a second there, doll.”

It was your turn to frown. “What?”

“From the way you started, I was worried you were dying and this was some sadistic way of telling me.”

“Nope. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Was wondering when you were going to tell me.” His thumbs rubbed circles into your belly.

“You knew?!”

“I heard the heartbeat weeks ago. Took me a while to figure out what it was but I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”  

“Damn your supersoldier hearing.” You leaned your head on top of his shoulder, letting out a small groan.

“Holy shit though,” His voice was soft as he rested his chin on your head. “we’re having a baby!”

“Yeah,” You lifted your head up slowly to see the biggest grin on your husband’s face. “we’re having a baby.”

A hand came up to cup your cheeks as he leaned into your lips, kissing you deeply and trying not to cry. “Holy shit!”

---

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Jersey Bros by writer-ofstuff

"So, how did these two do?"

"What do you think? Failures. Just like the others have been."

"I don't know. I wouldn't say they were total failures." The lead scientist mused.

"Sir? What do you mean? The super soldier serum didn't work." His assistant said.

"Yes, while that is true, it does tells us we are on the right track to perfecting it." The scientist said. He types on the computer and brings up their two subject's readings to show his assistants what he means.

"Look at their readings. Their DNA is already changing due to the serum. Which means we are closer to our breakthrough. We just need to do some more adjustments to the formula to get it exactly what we want it to do." He explains.

His assistants nod their heads in understanding and then busy themselves with work that the lead scientist instructs them to begin.

"Sir, what should we do with these two?" One of the asked, gesturing towards the two men who lay asleep on the metal table in the next room.

"Toss them out on the beach. They are no longer of any use to me now." He says dismissively.

The assistant nods his head and calls up a few soldiers who stood guard outside to help take Dean Winchester and Derek Hale's sleeping forms out of the lab and into a truck. Driving them down to an isolated part of the beach just as the morning sign rises and leaves the two sleeping men on the sandy beach.

------

Derek awakes with start, sitting up and looking out at the ocean while the gentle waves wash up and down the sand shore. He rubs his hand through his hair, not caring he is getting small pieces of sand in it.

He feels like he is forgetting something, like the last few hours there is just a hole in his memory. Derek turns his attention to the man sleeping close by him. The werewolf rolls his eyes when he hears Dean starting to snore rather loudly. He has a hard to believing this guy his a feared and bad ass hunter when he is passed out with his ass up in the air and a little drool coming out of his mouth.

Derek doesn't quite remember why he and this hunter teamed up, that being part of the missing pieces in Derek's memories. Yet he still for some reason remembers meeting Dean.

Derek gets to his feet and walks the short distance between himself and the sleeping hunter and lightly kicks him with his foot. The action jars Dean away who quickly rolls over and hits up, sand falling off his face from where he had laid asleep.

"Wake up."

"Wha? I am up." Dean says in a sleepy voice. Rubbing his face clean of the drool and the sand that was still on his face.

"Derek? Why are we on a beach?" Dean asked.

The hunter had sounded just as confused as Derek felt. So Derek doubts asking Dean if he knew what was going on here would be of any help.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Derek says.

He offers his hand out for Dean to take to help the other man up. As soon as their hands make contact a strange feeling jolts through both men's hands. The two men are so startled they let go of their hands and Dean falls on his ass.

"Oops, sorry bro." Derek says.

He frowns when he thinks about why he just referred to Dean as bro. That wasn't a word that Derek would use yet it just slipped out when he spoke. Derek thought nothing of it, besides Stiles said bro all the time so it must have just slipped into his speech.

Thinking about Stiles, Derek started to wonder where the younger man was. He had an odd feeling that he had been looking for him and grew tense at the thought.

'Was Stiles endanger and he didn't remember it?' He thought for a moment. But then his mind felt a little dizzy and then he thought about how the younger man is just at home relaxing.

Derek glances at Dean who looks lost in thought as well. Derek wants to ask him what he is thinking about, but he refrains from it. Dean was a hunter so Derek didn't want to bother to get to know the other man.

Now that he thinks about it, why was he even with Dean? He asks the human and sees Dean's confused frown deepened as he pauses walking.

"Huh, I don't know either." Dean said.

This honestly should alarm both men, yet Derek felt himself feeling relaxed instead. He assumes Dean feels the same way since the other man doesn't make a move to get away from Derek by walking in the other direction.

As they continue to walk side by side down the sandy empty beach Derek's mind wonders. Thinking about how the pair ended up on the beach anyway. Surely there was a reason wasn't there? At the moment he couldn't think what the reason was. When he asked Dean the other man shrugged his shoulders and didn't say a word.

When Derek stole a glance at him he frowned when he noticed that Dean's hair looked lighter than before.

'Wasn't his hair brown?' He thought to himself while he looked at Dean's now bleach blond hair. The hair style even looked different. Looking a little longer and styled differently with hair products to give Dean a fluffy faux hawk style hair do.

The hairstyle even made Dean look younger to Derek. The older man now looks like he is around Derek's age instead of a man pushing into his late thirties.

This was really starting to confuse Derek, but the more he pondered what was going on here the more those thoughts left his mind and he got distracted by something else.

"Did you change your hair?"

Dean hears Derek ask and he turns his attention to the werewolf.

"Sorry, what?" Dean asked. He wasn't really paying attention to what Derek said. Busy in his thoughts about why he was on a beach with a werewolf.

"Your hair. It looks different." Derek said.

Dean touched his hair, feeling how it was a little stiff from the hair product he put in this morning after his shower. It felt like his usual style, telling Derek as such.

When Dean looks over at Derek it's his turn to be confused since Derek's facial hair looked different. He could have sworn Derek had a thick amount of stubble along his jaw and around his mouth. Yet now Derek's face was all clean shaven except for some scruff that covered his chin.

Dean had intended to ask Derek about it, but he then thinks against it. After all it would sound rather odd to ask Derek that. Since obviously Derek just had the chin scruff prior, Dean must have just been mistaken is all.

He started to second guess himself, wondering what if something was going on here with himself and Derek. Especially since he couldn't quite explain why the two were even together in the first place.

The two men reach the boardwalk and continue to walk side by side in silence. The pair were both lost in their own minds trying to make sense of what they were doing when Dean noticed a gym to their right.

He pauses and stands outside it, looking inside through the glass windows. When Derek notices he isn't by his side the werewolf pauses and turns around.

"You alright bro?" Derek asked.

His voice sounded off to him and he clears his throat and asks again.

Dean didn't answer him so Derek walked up to stand beside him. He peers through the window of the gym like Dean is doing.. For a moment nothing happened but then Derek starts to get flashes of memories in his head. He sees himself inside the gym, working out with Dean. The two chat like they are best friends while they spot one other while they work out.

The memories he recalls aren't really, he knows this, but at the same time they feel like they are real to Derek and he hates that.

"Come on bro, let's get goin yeah?" Derek asks. Again his voice sounds off to him, but he can't quite place why.

"In a bit dude, I need to see somethin." Dean replies.

Derek opens his mouth to say something, but before he could Dean confused walking into the gym without another word.

"Fuckin hell." Derek grunted.

He paced a little outside, debating on what he should do. Running his hand through his hair, as soon as his hand falls back to his side his hair shifts. The sides shaving down to a buzz style while the mid section of his hair style back as it lengthens.

He thinks about just leaving Dean. Clearly something strange is going on here and that is the reason they feel holes in their memories while also having these fragments of new memories.

"Fuck it." Derek grunts and follows Dean into the gym.

------

Dean can't explain the urge he felt to go into the gym. Like Derek he gained those similar memories of himself and the other man coming here. In those false memories it seemed like they were close friends despite the two men hardly knowing one another.

He told himself this was to get to the bottom of things. Instead though Dean just wanders through the main area of the gym. He only sees men in the gym, some guys alone working out while others are grouped up and chatting while jogging on the treadmill.

What makes it strange is how some of them address him by his name, as if they know Dean. Rather than question how they know him Dean just rolls with it, greeting them back. While he does and continues deeper into the gym. His body alters, muscles becoming more toned and defined. Gained from years of working put and maintaining this kind of physique rather than Dean having earned it through training.

The tattoo on his left pec that wards of possession starts to break apart. The ink traverses along Dean's chest under his shirt. Wisps of ink branch off to spread along Dean's arms while the rest form into different styles of tattoos.

More false memories bombard Dean's mind and the hunter clenches his head as he attempts to push those new thoughts out of his mind. He looks ahead of him Dean sees he is standing a few steps away from a large wall mirror. He can see his green eyes darken and for a brief moment he fears he is being possessed by a demon.

"Demon? Demon's don't exist," he then thinks.

His green eyes turn brown, his lips get a little fuller, nose wider and the bridge of it becomes slimmer. Dean grunts, watching his face change before his eyes and unable to do anything but throw his arms up and start to pose. Smirking at his biceps and admiring how large they are. Giving into the admiration of his own appearance finally pushes Dean over. His mind purging his own self from it finally as his new dimwitted and vain self takes over.

He lifts his shirt up to admire his hard earned abs and pecs next once he has had enough flexing. Only stopping to look around and wonder where his best bro is at.

📷

----------

Navigating through the gym was making Derek feel uneasy. What connection he had left to his werewolf abilities was telling him something wasn't right about this place. The men he walked by all seemed like the same type. Self absorbed meat heads who cared only about themselves and showing off.

Derek despised shallow men like this. So whenever any of them tried to stop and talk to him he would give them a glare and ignore them to continue his search for Dean.

The further Derek ventured into the gym the harder it was to recall past memories of his. Thoughts he would have would shift to random things.

'I'm totally bigger than that dude.'

'Jason's here? May need to see if he wants to fuck in the locker room again.'

'Mike's here too. Should talk to him about getting another tat.'

'Where the hell is Dean at? My bro needs to spot me.'

Derek tried to shove those thoughts away but it felt like the more he tried to, the more adamant they were to linger in his head.

He needed to find Dean and get out of here. When he reaches the back area of the gym he finds a tattooed dude posing in front of the mirror.

Derek thought of what a self absorbed guido the guy was. The type of guy you would hate on a trash reality show. He releases only to realize a moment later that this man was somehow Dean.

Astonished, Derek quickly approaches Dean, opening his mouth to ask what happened to him.

"Looking good bro." He says instead. Taken aback by his own words.

Dean turns to look at him and grins.

"You see yourself bro? You hitting the iron hard ya?" Dean replies.

Derek wants to deny it, but he can feel his body surging with muscle. He tries to repel the ongoing changes, but it proves to be useless. His pecs inflate to large and firm pectorals. While his biceps gained quite a bit of bulk to them. The rest of him gained a significant amount of solid muscle while Derek also felt himself growing a little taller.

His pale skin darkened with a tan gained from walking around shirtless and hitting the tanning bed when he could.

Derek tries even harder to repel these alterations happening to him. Not wanting to end up like some self absorbed dick like Dean had become. He assumes being a werewolf has given him an edge that made whatever caused this work slower on him.

He can feel himself being overweight by whatever this is, wincing when two diamond studs appear in his earlobes and his mind shatters a few moments later. Derek stood there in a daze while his old thoughts were overrun by a new persona.

Derek then blinks himself awake, a slow grin spreading on his face as he flexes for Dean.

"Fuck yeah bro. You know I gotta keep this bod in shape for the studs." Derek said with a heavy Jersey accent.

He stands beside Dean and the best bros make faces and pose for a picture. Uploading it to social media before the pair get back to their workout routine. Neither of them remembering anything of their past selves.

📷

[divinolenta]

comforting childe and diluc after a nightmare 

character x gender neutral reader, fluff (angst?)/sfw

trigger warning: brief mention of blood and death

additional notes: this was requested by a lovely anon ♡ i had fun writing these (had the most fun picturing what nightmares they would have but you didn’t hear that from me)! i listened to “the moon song” by karen o while writing childe’s scenario and “butterfly’s repose” by zabawa for diluc’s, which is why i’ve included lyrics in their respective scenarios! feel free to imagine yourself singing another song to them, if you’d like :) there are potential spoilers for their backstories, so read at your own risk.

childe:

he is cold, frigid air nipping at his skin viciously as he flees, blinking away snowflakes that cling to his eyelashes. pursued by ravenous wolves and beasts, he loses his footing, falling into a seemingly innocent fissure in the earth. recognizing the dark realm that haunts his memories, he panics, searching for an escape. no, please, not this again. 

too late, he lands, trapped in this hell once again. pain jolts through his bones and a gasp leaves his lips when he places weight on his sprained ankle. struggling to stand, childe grips the sword in his hand, hope dying when he finds that several monsters block his path. slaughtering them quickly, childe wipes off the blood that splattered on his face. 

“b-brother?”

he turns around, shock evident on his face when he sees his younger siblings, cowering away from him. the snow surrounding them is stained with crimson, and his hands are slick, viscous blood slowly dripping on the floor. tonia wraps her arms around anthon and teucer, shielding them with her body. childe takes a step forward, and extends a trembling hand toward them, calling their names weakly. 

“stay back! you....you monster!” a shriek rips from tonia’s throat, gripping her brothers’ closer to her, her terrified expression mirroring theirs. childe recoils at the lack of recognition in their gazes. no matter how heroic and righteous he believed himself to be,  he is merely a tainted soul, a monster who could never redeem himself.

lurching awake, childe’s momentary relief is quickly replaced by bitter contempt. a nightmare? he almost laughs, running a hand through his mussed hair, but his hammering heart and shaking hands tell another story. childe needs a breather, and he eyes the door, longing to escape the past and lose himself in the beauty that nature offers. perhaps he will meander along the ocean and watch the waves kiss the shore and recede, and let it wash away his sins. sitting up, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, but it creaks underneath his weight and childe cringes at the sound that resonates throughout the room. 

“where are you going?” you ask groggily, squinting blearily at him. 

“i just,” childe begins, but before he could continue, shudders ran through his body, interrupting him. you tug him back into the warmth of the duvet, hands cradling his face while you peer at him in concern.

“i’m sorry...” childe squeezes his eyes shut, hands clenching tightly. he tries to calm down his erratic breaths, apologizing meekly as his hands try to nudge you away. 

what if he hurts you too?

but you hush him, pulling him closer so that his head rests against your collarbone, limbs tangled together. 

you start to sing, the familiar melody striking a chord in his heart. your voice is hoarse and muddled with sleep, but you gradually fall into a soothing rhythm, like the euphonious and undulating cadences of a piano.

i'm lying on the moon

my dear, i'll be there soon

it's a quiet starry place

time's we're swallowed up in space

we're here a million miles away

childe sheds his brash and arrogant exterior and allows himself to get pulled under by the overwhelming tides of his emotions, just like the waves of the ocean that he adores so much. he feels like he’s fourteen again, but this time, you’re here with him. he grasps your shirt tightly, and anchors himself, tears leaking from his closed eyes, falling on to your skin, seeping into the fabric of your shirt. 

there's things i wish i knew

there's no thing I'd keep from you

it's a dark and shiny place

but with you my dear, i'm safe

and we're a million miles away 

he is consoled by the fact that you do not view him as a monster, and when he’s with you, he can be whoever he chooses to be. he does not need to be tartaglia, childe or even the ajax he used to be, rather, he is content with simply being your lover and spending every hour of the day with you. 

diluc:

the moment diluc sees his surroundings, he knows. he knows what’s going to happen, and how everything will go down. the carriage rocks back and forth as it travels over the uneven path, and everything is calm. too calm. swallowing thickly, he turns to his father, heart twinging at the sight of his familiar figure, with hair of flame, so similar to his own. 

horses whinny frantically in the distance, and diluc tries to warn his father, but is cut off by the carriage toppling over as they lose control of the reins. a roar shakes the very earth and diluc is thrown against the side of the carriage, hissing in pain when his hand gingerly presses against the bruise on his head.

“father! wait!” diluc scrambles to his feet when his father begins to rise to his feet to investigate and protect the transport fleet. his father looks at him inquiringly, and diluc advances, clutching the hem of his coat in an effort to make him stay.

“you mustn’t go, father, your life will be in peril.” he implores, and even though he tries his best to keep his voice steady, the anguish he truly feels does not fully dissipate.

“i can’t afford to lose you again” is what diluc wants to say, but can’t muster the courage to form the words. 

“my son, is that not what a man like your father should do?” his father rests a heavy hand on diluc’s shoulder, and his heart sinks in response. 

“but, father-” diluc presses, but his father simply shoots him a reprimanding look.

“i’ll be back soon, just wait for me here.” he lets out a booming laugh, and ruffles diluc’s hair with an affectionate gaze, before walking off, summoning his weapon. 

horrified, diluc calls out, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. he desperately wills his body to move, but it’s like vines have erupted from the dirt and tangled around his legs, trapping him in a prison of thorns. 

all he can do is stand there, watching from the sidelines. even as his father gulps his dying breaths, all diluc can do is clutch on to him, and pray to whatever god that still remains, while the very light of his soul eclipses.

and like an incompetent fool, all diluc does is weep and regret. 

hands shake his shoulders, and diluc snaps out of his dream, released from the tormenting illusion. his gaze meets yours, and when he reaches up to touch his face, his fingers come away damp from the tears that streak his skin.

you’re seated on the bed, sheets pooling around your waist. your brow furrows, and diluc opens his mouth, about to let false reasurances tumble from his lips to alleviate the look of unease you don. how many times had he dreamed of the incident? how many times would he continue to blame himself?

diluc himself does not know the answer. 

you lean forward, hands tenderly brushing away the tears that remain, and diluc loses himself in your eyes. eyes really are the window to the soul, he thinks, everything is so clear, like how he knows that the sun will rise, signalling a new beginning. your eyes betray every emotion that flicker through their depths.

“i’m okay.” he whispers, but both you and him know that he’s lying. diluc lies back down, and he gestures for you to do so as well, but you situate him so he lays with his head in your lap. 

you card your fingers through his hair carefully, your delicate touches evoking a chill that runs down his spine. you begin to hum softly, voice lilting in an ethereal melody before words surface and accompany it. diluc feels like he’s simultaneously floating and sinking. he wants to weep, for barbatos was lenient enough to grant him such a caring and understanding lover to someone as undeserving as he is.

for a moment, he wonders if you are perhaps hestia incarnate. the warmth and love with which you behold him with is surreal, and god knows that diluc is not capable of replicating or returning such affection. 

the shadows in your head

they've got you down again

got you feelin' low

your voice is an intimate whisper, and diluc welcomes the warmth that it entwines him in. he catches your hand, bringing it to his lips so he can press a chaste kiss against it. moonlight slants against your features, and diluc can only stare in awe as you continue to sing, body slightly swaying along as your hand aimlessly caresses his hair. 

but it's time to rest, now 

let it all melt now

wipe your tears 

“thank you.” he murmurs, eyes falling close as your voice lulls him into a sleep. one that he knows will not be plagued with nightmares. you don’t respond, but diluc can hear the hint of a smile in your voice.

it’s a sight to behold: diluc ragnvindr, a man with a renowned reptuation of having a heart of ice, melting in your embrace. out of everything, perhaps your love is what ignites him, and brings back the fervor that was once lost. 

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

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

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

[tickly-trashcan]

Height Matters {KazuScara}

A/N: i actually wrote this a little bit ago, way before Kazuha was announced so i apologize if he’s ooc orz. I’m also working through sentence starters and headcanons, sorry for the wait! some are already queued so expect them soon! Anyways, hope yall enjoy this one!

Summary: After noticing Kazuha’s height, Scaramouche finds himself a bit down in the dumps. How will Kazuha cheer him up?

Word Count: 1.6k (under the cut)

Scaramouche grumbled. He was spending some time with Kazuha, exploring the waters in a cove. Scaramouche had taken off his sandals and hat for better maneuvering, and Kazuha had removed his own shoes as well when Scaramouche noticed something.

He had taken plenty of time to observe his partner’s features. His cream colored hair with a single red streak, the moles that decorated his shoulder blades, his beautiful crimson eyes that could make all of Scaramouche’s worries melt away with a simple glance paired with that sickeningly sweet smile of his. 

But there was something that Scaramouche noticed now that they were standing next to each other as Kazuha held his hand above his eyes, blocking out the sun as he stared over the water. The waves crashed gently against the sand of the cove, making sloshing noises that echoed over the stone cliffs that came over them.

Scaramouche looked over at Kazuha when he noticed it. He wasn’t looking directly at Kazuha, he was looking up at him. Scaramouche felt his heart sink as he noticed that now that he didn’t have his shoes on he was in fact shorter than his partner. 

Kazuha smiled fondly at the water, taking in a deep breath of the salty air as Scaramouche slowly raised his hand, placing it on his head and sliding it off towards Kazuha, realizing it hit just above his ear. Scaramouche’s face darkened as Kazuha turned to Scaramouche when he felt the sudden touch by his ear, showing yet another sweet smile to Scaramouche.

“What’s going on Scar?”

“...You’re taller than me.” He said darkly, and Kazuha’s smile quickly vanished. He held his hand flat on his head and dragged it across the air, seeing that it ended up roughly two inches above Scaramouche’s head. Scaramouche grumbled, and Kazuha frowned. 

He didn’t think it was funny, he knew how self-conscious Scaramouche was with his height, and he definitely didn’t want him to start hating Kazuha because he was a bit taller than him, so Kazuha immediately began to sputter as he tried to find some comforting words.

“Your height doesn’t matter! Plus the shoes add on some extra height, you’re completely fine Scar! Trust me, I wouldn’t lie to you about that!” Kazuha started, waving his hands around in frantic gestures as Scaramouche grumbled, crossing his arms as he sat down in the sand, crossing his legs.

Kazuha frowned, feeling like he wasn’t able to successfully comfort his partner. He sat next to him with a sad look on his face, almost akin to a pout as he glanced over at Scaramouche, who still wore an angry look on his face. 

“I’m sorry Scar…” Kazuha said sadly, and though Scaramouche gave no answer, his expression softened as he glanced over at Kazuha, who frowned.

Scaramouche sighed. He figured he had overreacted a bit, especially with someone like Kazuha who felt responsible to comfort his friends and those close to him. Scaramouche turned to face Kazuha, opening his arms slightly as Kazuha looked at him.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t be angry.”

Kazuha bit his lip to keep himself from smiling wider than before. He was so happy that Scaramouche wasn’t upset with him and he immediately dove into the offered hug, wrapping his arms around Scaramouche’s tiny waist as he held him tightly, Scaramouche letting out a short yelp of surprise with how tightly he was hugged.

Scaramouche wasn’t big on affection, even with Kazuha. He was always the one to initiate it, whether it be a quick forehead kiss or a brief side-hug, and Kazuha respected that. However, there was one thing Kazuha was able to initiate on his own.

A grin creeped up Kazuha’s face as his hands rested on Scaramouche’s waist, Kazuha gently tracing circles on it as Scaramouche froze in the hug, squeezing Kazuha a tad tighter.

“Kaz, no-”

“I think you need a bit of reassurance though, Scar. Can’t have a great Harbinger like yourself feeling insecure about something as silly as his height, now can we?”

Before Scaramouche could let out another word, opening his mouth to speak while all that escaped was a shriek as Kazuha suddenly latched onto his waist fully, giving it a firm squeeze. Scaramouche crumpled forward, pulling his arms off of Kazuha and using his hands to grab at Kazuha’s, squirming in his grip.

“K-Kahahahaz! I hahate you!” Scaramouche immediately gasped out, and Kazuha only chuckled as he pinched his sides, slowly travelling down to his hips before kneading them like dough, Scaramouche throwing his head back as he laughed loudly.

“NOhohoho! Not thehehere!” Scaramouche wailed, and Kazuha only hummed as he continued to squeeze his hips, digging his thumb into the bone and wiggling it around as Scaramouche spasmed in his grip, unable to worm away.

“If you say you’re a lovely height I’ll stop,” Kazuha said, though he knew Scaramouche would never say anything like that.

“Shuhuhut up! Like hehehehell I’d say thahahat!” Scaramouche squealed, jolting when Kazuha pinched where his hip and upper thigh met, a shrill squeak escaping his lips. Kazuha grinned, pinching there again as Scaramouche let out a similar chirp. Scaramouche shook his head but Kazuha simply grabbed onto his upper thighs, squeezing them as Scaramouche positively cackled, throwing his head back as his shrieky laughter echoed through the cove.

Kazuha chuckled at Scaramouche’s rather dramatic laughter, though it was part of what he loved about him. He never let anyone else so much as touch him, but with Kazuha he would be alright with the occasional poke or prod. He wasn’t sure about full-on tickling, but…

Scaramouche wasn’t making much of a move in terms of trying to get Kazuha to stop, and he hadn’t asked him to either. This piqued Kazuha’s interest, and as he slowly travelled down Scaramouche’s thighs, he decided to ask about it.

“Scar… do you like this?” Kazuha asked curiously, and Scaramouche’s face went as red as his eye makeup. He shook his head frantically, jolting when Kazuha’s hands brushed his knees.

Kazuha took note of this but paused his tickling, wanting an answer from his partner.

“Do you?”

Scaramouche didn’t answer, and when he didn’t Kazuha grabbed his knees and gave them a firm squeeze, making him practically scream as he arched his back, trying to uncross his legs which was proving difficult as Kazuha easily squeezed just above his kneecap, sending Scaramouche into a fit of hysterics.

Kazuha realized he likely wouldn’t get an answer if he was attacking Scaramouche in a spot that made him unable to do anything but screech and laugh hysterically, but he didn’t really care. 

“KAHAHahahazuha! Kahahaha - Kazuha!” Was all Scaramouche managed to say before bursting into a fit of unintelligible hysterics, completely spasming as Kazuha hummed, teasing his partner.

“You’re pretty ticklish here, huh? You sure you don’t like it?”

Scaramouche shook his head, a screech bursting from his throat as Kazuha went back to his upper thighs, squeezing the sensitive flesh as Scaramouche arched his back, trying to worm away again before Kazuha wrapped an arm around his waist, gently squeezing his side as he kept him from rolling away.

“Stahahahap! STAHAHAhap!” Scaramouche screamed, his face bright pink as tears started to prick the corners of his eyes. Kazuha ceased his fingers but still held onto Scaramouche, who panted heavily. He looked at Kazuha who offered him a shy smile, Scaramouche quickly glaring at him before shoving him off and into the sand, Kazuha laughing.

“You think it’s funny? I’ll give you something to laugh about!” Scaramouche threatened, and Kazuha immediately started shrieking as Scaramouche pounced on him, hands descending on his sides as Kazuha squealed, immediately squirming as Scaramouche straddled him, digging his fingers in rather hard as Kazuha laughed.

“Scahahahar! Wahahahait, I’m sorrehehe! I didn’t mean it!”

“It’s too late for apologies, Kaz, now suffer,” Scaramouche said, his tone dark as Kazuha shook his head, cackling when Scaramouche crept up to his ribs, a spot he knew was especially sensitive as he dug in, vibrating his fingers against the skin as Kazuha spazzed.

“SCAHAHahahar! Not thehehehere!” Kazuha shrieked, kicking his legs weakly as he covered his face with his hands, only exposing himself more as Scaramouche continued to easily tickle his partner.

“How do you like it, huh? Not so pleasant, now is it?”

“It is! GAha! No no no not thehehehere!” Kazuha shrieked when Scaramouche started to prod at his upper ribs, slowing his pace slightly as his attention was caught by what Kazuha said.

“Kaz… do you like this?” Scaramouche asked, and Kazuha nodded his head. Scaramouche pulled his hands back, Kazuha catching his breath as he looked at Scaramouche with a confused look on his face.

“Why did you stop?”

Scaramouche felt his cheeks warm as he averted his gaze from Kazuha, who sat up and chuckled.

“It’s not embarrassing to like it, Scar,” Kazuha said, holding Scaramouche’s hand as he huffed, his eyes still looking away from Kazuha.

“I don’t like it, I only tolerate it because… because it’s you,” Scaramouche said softly, making Kazuha’s heart melt. Kazuha threw his arms around Scaramouche, who gasped at the sudden touch, though he didn’t pull away. He hugged Kazuha back, still frowning as his grumpiness slowly faded.

“Kahahahaz!” Scaramouche suddenly wailed when Kazuha’s hands were back on him, digging into his ribs with ease as Scaramouche flailed around, trying to escape Kazuha’s devious fingers.

“What’s wrong? You said you tolerated it!” Kazuha teased and Scaramouche could only laugh as he realized those words had basically dug his own grave. He threw his head back as laughter poured from his lips, Kazuha laughing with him as he dug under his arms, making his partner squeal. 

Kazuha had definitely succeeded in one thing that day, and that was making Scaramouche completely forget about his height, and as the two of them laughed in each others arms, all insecurities were forgotten.

[heartcal]

“who do you believe?”; l.h. (pt. ii)

oh my GOD it’s here, it took longer than expected but she’s finally here! after the eye strain i got a sty so that threw me in for a loop, but the good news is my eyes are better! and i’m fully vaccinated too! please get the vaccine if you are able to :^) enjoy!

a/n: (formatting again lol) there’s a part where there’s supposed to be texts (in italics) so it may be a bit weird to read (hopefully not) (sorry for these parantheses) please let me know if there’s anything off!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

warnings: swearing (as usual), 

genre: angst, fluff, basically friends (to brief enemies but not really) to lovers?

wc: 5,201 (they’re getting longer, huh)

taglist: @1sosrvd1267 + @wowitsel (side note: i don’t have a current taglist, this is just for this fic!)

part one | my masterlist!

You skipped the after-party that night. You couldn’t bear standing in the same room as Luke and Rachel, so you booked a ride and left as soon as the car pulled up.

Had you stayed for the party, you would have crumbled under the looks of pity thrown at you by those who would have heard about what happened. The knowing looks that something bad had happened between two people everyone on the crew knew were best friends would have been uncomfortable.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you were thankful the driver wasn’t the talkative type. The soft jazz playing on the radio wasn’t calming but it did distract you from the pain and embarrassment you felt from the argument.

Once the car had pulled up to your place, you bid a silent farewell to the driver and slid out.

You just wanted to get inside, take a shower, shut your phone for the night, and sleep until you physically can’t get any more sleep.

You’re not too surprised Luke stood up for his girlfriend. He does love her—he’s shown that with friends and with fans. But the way he glared at you, defended her without trying to find out what exactly went down…he had never looked at you like that.

You’ve seen that look before; it wasn’t something you were used to but it was the look he would give paparazzi when they would harass you, the guys, and his friends. The glare carried such strength that it would make people back off. And so when it was directed towards you, it struck you hard.

Having done what you wanted to do once you entered the house, you lay in bed with wet eyes staring at the ceiling. Your phone was face down on your nightstand, completely out of reach to the point one slight touch could knock it off.

Maybe you were the one at fault. Maybe you should’ve told the truth about your feelings to Rachel or Luke before this all happened. It could have prevented the fallout and you would be with the guys and the crew celebrating a successful show.

But what good would that have done? Had you told someone, anyone, that you liked Luke more than a best friend should, would that have caused the same problem but presented differently? Or would something come from it? Maybe nothing would have happened.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your back away from the nightstand, facing the empty half of the bed and before your mind drifts to more pitiful thoughts, you close your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. It’s as if you blinked, with the night flying by faster than you had wanted and anticipated.

The sunlight beamed down on you from above your headboard. It was late morning and it was time to face the harsh reality of the day.

There is no doubt you have lost Luke as your best friend.

Wiping the sleep and crust from your eyes, you sit up and vacantly glance around the room. The box where you keep gifts from Luke is illuminated by the sunlight, and with the vacant stare you stand to walk towards it.

You hesitate to open it; it’ll bring back memories of good times and with the events of the previous night, you do not think you can handle the rush of emotions.

It’s then when you realize your phone was off, and though you don’t want to do anything social today and would rather stay home with your favorite snacks and shows, you know you have to let your friends know how you’re doing.

You stall by washing your face and brushing your teeth, albeit slower than usual. You know that once you turn your phone on, the onslaught of questions and missed calls are going to take possibly an hour to clear up.

Sure enough, as you turn your phone on, the missed messages come in, barely giving your notification tone a break and the missed calls and voicemails were coming in fast. You can feel the heat from the battery on your palm, and for the sake of the phone you switch the sound off and turn on Do Not Disturb to prevent any new calls from coming through.

The messages you saw were from the crew, asking where you went and if you were okay. Others were from the boys minus Luke, and looking through the missed calls, there was nothing from Luke.

You’re not surprised, but the pain was still simmering within and seeing no messages or missed calls from him was adding to it.

You responded to the crew’s messages first, since many of them sent one or two messages asking simple questions: “Are you okay,” “Where did you go,” and “Did you get home safe?”

Then you responded to the boys’, Michael’s first since he had the least amount of messages.

hey, you didn’t have to leave. we could’ve talked some sense into him when he calmed down (11:37pm)

did u get home okay? we know you didn’t drive here yourself. (11:58pm)

please let us know you made it home. let us know you’re okay (12:10am)

hope you made it home and that you’re safe and okay. thank u for ur work today. please text me when you see these. goodnight (12:49am)

You typed your reply to him, letting him know that you were okay and got home safe.

Calum’s messages were similar, asking the same questions but some were repeated to emphasize his worry. In response, you answered his questions like Michael’s.

But even before you can open Ashton’s messages, seeing double digits next to your conversation with him, rapid knocks on your front door grab your attention.

With a groan you stand and grab your robe from the hook on the door, wrapping it tightly around your body as you open the door and groggily walk to the front door.

It was a stupid idea, as you weren’t ready to face anyone yet Ashton stands in front of you. He’s well-rested, a stark contrast to you as you were sure your eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, along with an occasional sniffle from your nose.

His eyes travel from your face, down to your feet, and back up to your eyes. He can immediately tell you had a terrible night.

“You weren’t answering anyone last night,” he begins, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, “we were worried about you after you left.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I just—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“You could’ve let one of us know that you were shutting off.”

You nodded with a frown, “I could have, yeah,” your eyes dart around behind him to avoid his worrisome eyes before asking him if he wanted to come in.

He doesn’t hesitate and steps in once you move aside, opening the door wider to give him enough room. He notes your bag in a heap on the floor a few inches away from the couch, and how your shoes were far apart, with one upside down, as if you flung them off.

“How are you holding up now?”

You shrug, still avoiding his eyes because you know if you make eye contact, you’ll break down and you won’t have control over the onslaught of emotions.

“Be honest,” his voice is soft, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.

You stare at the ground, biting the skin of your lower lip nervously. This is why you did not want to talk to anyone face-to-face. Talking to them over the phone, preferably through text, allowed you to lie to the other person (and if applicable, to yourself). But talking to someone in person, and to someone who can see through your lies, you were bound to break down and become vulnerable.

You inhale, taking careful steps to the couch and gently sitting down with a sigh. Ashton follows you, sitting next to you but giving you space to not overwhelm you.

“What happened last night—,” you lean back with your arms folded over your chest, “—was something that I feared. When I realized I liked Luke, I was so worried about him finding out and what the outcome would be. I knew from the beginning that things would never be the same if he found out, and I was afraid of the change that would come from it.”

Ashton listens intently, his eyes displaying sincerity as he listens to you list off your worries. What he saw last night bothered him to no end, and had he not exerted most of his energy during the show, he would not have slept at all and would have stayed up all night in a constant state of worry.

“So, now that Rachel knows, and no doubt Luke has caught on, I don’t know what to do. I responded to everyone’s texts before you arrived, and Luke sent nothing—not even a phone call.”

Ashton nods, swallowing before speaking, “Well, after you left, things went down that may be the reason why he hasn’t tried contacting you.”

Your head turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as confusion embeds itself across the rest of your features.

Ashton readjusts himself, getting comfortable in his seat as he gathers the right words.

“Something happened after I left?” You ask as you shift in your seat to face him.

“Michael wanted to go after you, to at least offer you a ride back, but Calum went back to tell Luke that it was bullshit what happened. So, Michael went back to make sure they wouldn’t fight or anything. I also pointed out that he was a dick; choosing you over her when he’s known you the longest didn’t sit right with us. But he got defensive and kept wanting to leave but Rachel convinced him it was alright, so they stayed for the party. But the party was bad—the crew felt the tension and the vibes were down—,” he chuckles at the word choice, getting a small laugh out of you as well, “—it brought everyone out of the energetic and ecstatic mood we were in before the confrontation. We all kinda did our own thing during the party but we noticed things were tense between Luke and Rachel. And when the party ended, shit hit the fan.”

“What happened?”

Ashton sighs, “To make the long story short, they got into an argument when we were leaving the venue after Michael brought up your name. He said something like, ‘I hope they got home safe,’ and that you weren’t answering your phone at all. Calum and I pointed out, again, how rude Luke was to you and Luke kept defending himself. Rachel dropped an insult and something shifted. Basically, they’re done and the guys and I can finally fucking breathe.”

“Wait—,” you stand with bulging eyes, “—wait, are you saying they broke up?”

Ashton hums as he watches you mindlessly walk around your living room.

The guys have been waiting for their break-up. It’s not something they were open about, as to avoid any conflict with their best friend, but it was almost an unspoken agreement: Rachel was not liked.

As for you, it’s not like you were wishing for their break-up. You wanted Luke to be happy, and if he was happy in that relationship, then so be it. But you were not a fan of it. Yeah, you liked her in the beginning but when she started disregarding you as if you did something to offend her, you lost most of your respect for her. Now, with this news of their break-up, you don’t know what to do.

Are you happy? You don’t exactly feel happy about it, but there is some relief.

“So,” you sit back down on the couch slowly, “what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Not sure,” Ashton shrugs, “but I recommend talking to Luke.”

You shake your head fervently, “No. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“But you’re talking to me,” Ashton has a smirk, but you know there’s no malice behind his joke.

“You showed up unannounced, Ash,” you smile, “I was responding to everyone who sent messages and voicemails. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else in person.”

He holds his hands up in defense, “Fair enough, but don’t be a stranger.”

He gives you a quick hug, whispering something similar to ‘don’t shut Luke out’ before he pulls away and walks out.

Ashton’s words stuck with you for the next week. You felt comfortable enough a few days after the fact to contact the boys, eventually meeting up with Ashton and Calum for lunch and third-wheeling Michael and his fiancée. The only person out of your friend group and co-workers you have not contacted was Luke. He hasn’t contacted you either, but you do not think much about it as you’re still trying to figure things out. If he were to contact you, how do you talk about what happened?

You want to know why he was able to choose his then-girlfriend over you, but at the same time you don’t want to know the answer. You know that one day, and though it hurts, you will not be his number one. With the way he behaved that night, it felt like that dreadful moment came to earlier than expected, that he found his number one and you immediately became his second go-to person.

So it did surprise you when you were out with an old friend to receive a text from Luke.

Can we talk about what happened? (2:23pm)

You only stare blankly at the text, not even moving to type a response. You were in such a good mood, and not even this text would change it. Instead, you lock your phone and place it back in your pocket, noting to leave it alone until your day out comes to an end.

And when it does, you see that more texts from Luke had arrived, the final being sent an hour before the outing ended.

I know you’re mad, I understand that and I don’t blame you but please talk to me (2:31pm)

You’re reading these, please say something (2:33pm)

There are some things that I need to clear up with you, I want to apologize for what happened that night but I want to do it face to face. Please respond. (3:57pm)

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. Sorry if I’m bombarding you with these texts, I just don’t want to lose you over something that I realize now should not have happened. Respond when you want to, I’ll be here. (5:49pm)

You could only let out a small chuckle at the persistent requests to talk, and you don’t deny the small—minuscule, honestly—flutter in your stomach. You don’t waste any time responding.

Sorry, I was busy. We can meet somewhere to talk. (7:08pm)

He responds about five minutes later, agreeing to meet at a small café the two of you love tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night for you is spent thinking of ways to carry yourself, being completely confident, and accepting the fact that you love your best friend. Pep talks in the shower and mirror to calm any arising nerves, revising the topics you want to talk about in your head so you keep the confidence.

As for Luke, he was struggling to gather all his thoughts. In the beginning, he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you and Rachel got along. He liked seeing his best friend and girlfriend become friends like that. He didn’t notice the shift, however, and he wishes he did before things got out of hand.

When he defended Rachel, without finding out the story from all sides, he thought he was doing what was right. To him, friendships and relationships have the same base, but romantic relationships with a partner have a different structure than friendships do, and he was starting to see cracks in his friendship before he saw it in his relationship.

When he confronted Rachel after she insulted you, he started to see someone he never saw. He remembered the times Rachel ignored you, sometimes playing it off as if she never heard you. He remembered how she would make plans with everyone and exclude you, but he always played it off as an accident (even if he knew it wasn’t). He remembered all these times he noticed a change in mood when the two of you were in the same room, and he couldn’t believe he turned a blind eye to all of it.

It hurt him to break-up with Rachel—he won’t deny that because he did love her. It’s not that he saw the rest of his life with her as they weren’t at that mark in the relationship.

But, when he did picture his future, he always saw you. He always thought it was just as a friend, someone who was just joined at the hip. Yet, he was quick to throw that away for someone he rarely saw when he pictured the future.

Which is why, the next day, as he sits at a booth near the window of the café, he carefully goes over what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to ruin the chance to fix things between the two of you. If it goes awry, not only does he lose you, but his friendships with the band and the team will take a hit since they all love you.

The bell above the door rings making his head turn to watch you walk in. Your eyes danced around the café before they fell on him.

He couldn’t help the smile the formed on his lips, a small breath of relief escaping as he watches you walk towards him. The smile doesn’t stay long though, because as you sit down with a stoic expression, the reality hits him.

“I got your usual,” he’s shy and timid, pushing the mug toward you as he eyes the liquid nearly spills the edge.

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ grabbing the mug and taking a small sip. It falls silent as the two of you wonder who should start first.

Luke makes the move first. He sighs, sitting up straight and wiping his palms on his pants.

He’s nervous. When the guys started touring, visiting new cities and countries, he would always be nervous and constantly wiped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straight and even straighter if he wasn’t slouching. It’s an old habit, but something you remember fondly as he had grown out of it. Or so you thought.

“I want to start with I’m sorry,” he begins, making eye contact but fails to hold it. His eyes instead drift to his drink, “I know what I did was wrong, and I put you in a spot that hurt you and disregarded you. At the moment, I thought I was doing the right thing because she was my girlfriend, but then—” he gulps, “when she insulted you, it struck a nerve and, not to sound cliché or anything, it felt like it opened my eyes. I saw someone I didn’t see when I first met them.”

You don’t respond, just nodding your head to let him know you’re listening.

He licks his lips before continuing, “When the guys brought up how you left on your own, I was feeling nervous and they started reminding me how much of a dick I was to you. I didn’t want to admit it myself, but now, I was such an ass. I’m just—I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Luke,” you sigh, shifting in your seat, “I’m not saying I forgive you but I accept your apology. It hurt me so much that a friend, someone I’ve known for years was just so quick to turn their back and take someone else’s side. I know she was your girlfriend, but I wish you didn’t do what you did.”

“If I could go back and fix it, I would.”

You only nod again, trying to think about other things that need to be talked about. The one topic you hope to avoid is the possibility of him knowing your feelings—something you do not want to discuss, at least not yet.

“Did she say anything to you?”

The question leaves your mouth before you register it, and the widening of your eyes catches Luke off guard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and taking a long sip.

“She didn’t tell me what started the problems between you two, if that’s what you mean,” Luke smiles a bit, watching you nervously play with the mug’s handle after the sip. It fades when your eyes move up to meet his, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it isn’t important anymore. She’s out of the picture, and I don’t want to lose you.”

The silence returns, but unlike the previous bout, it’s a calming silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the air is easier to breathe and the tension isn’t unsettling.

“Where do we go from here?” Luke asks, nervously wringing his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Luke,” you offer a smile, “but it’s going to take some time to ‘heal,’ if you will.”

Luke smiles again, this time a bigger grin. He nods, leaning back in his seat, “Let me know what I can do to make things better. I’ll do it if I get to keep you.”

Over the next few months, your friendship with Luke was rekindled. The guys were at ease now that Rachel was gone and you seemingly had taken her place, even though you were friends. The awkward glances they would give when Rachel was in the same room were now playful rolls of the eyes over a dumb joke or pranks. You didn’t miss out on any outings you wanted to go to, now that everyone invited would check in with each other the night before. Things went back to the way they were before Rachel.

There was a change in your friendship, however. It wasn’t something you noticed right away, but it was something you thought about at night just a few weeks ago. Luke paid more attention to you, not that he didn’t pay attention before, but this was a noticeable change where he still looks at you even after you finished talking, and would only look away from you when you caught him. He would always cover his mouth with his index and middle finger, but you saw a small smile behind them. You played it off as friendly teasing, but it tugs on your heartstrings.

Another noticeable change is the hugs. Duration-wise, they were relatively the same. However the touch lingered; if he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, an arm would stay around your shoulder, meanwhile if they were around your waist, his hand would stay on the small of your back. You played it off as a friend being protective, but yet again, it did nothing to stop your growing love.

Tonight was the first night of their tour. The boys were up to their usual pre-show antics, as well as the nervous habits; Michael fixing his hair and deciding whether to go with a beanie or a hat, or neither, Ashton was warming up with his pre-show playlist, Calum testing his bass, and Luke was relatively fine.

Sure, he was nervous because it isn’t a crowd of 500, close to 20,000, but he was calm compared to the last time he performed. He didn’t have any worries to talk about, his vocal warm-ups were smooth, and getting dressed up was a breeze. He shared chuckles with you as you both watched the others move around with tense expressions (all with no malice, of course).

“You sure you’re not on edge?” you nudge Luke with your arm as he leans forward on the couch your sitting on to fix his shoe.

“Nope,” he sits up, leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” you inquire again, doubt laced in your tone with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “if anything I’m excited about tonight.”

You hum, crossing your arms as you watch Ashton walk over.

“Ten minutes left,” he nods at Luke before walking to Michael to tell him the same thing.

You give Luke a look, wanting to get him to admit he is nervous, but all you get is a smirk and a shrug. He stands, patting your shoulder left before walking away to put in his in-ears.

You won’t deny you still don’t have feelings for him. Throughout the past few months, you were able to pinpoint the reasons why you fell for him. The small acts, the obscure things he would remember about you—especially the ones you don’t remember yourself—with the attention he would give you. It was staring you in the face, but you chose to deny all the signals to give yourself the satisfaction of thinking it was just a phase. But now you know why you love him.

Two minutes until showtime, Ashton finishes his speech and the crew is taking their places. The band stands at the opening, waiting for their cue to head out.

As you watched them hype themselves up, you noticed Luke looking around nervously. Of course.

“Nervous?”

His head whips toward you, and you can see it in his eyes.

“A little,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over the crowd’s excited screams.

“You got this,” you grab his shoulders to make him look you in the eyes, “like Ash said, you guys worked your asses off for this album. The fans loved it, your shows are all sold out, and you have thousands out there waiting to see you kill it.”

He’s silent, blue eyes staring into yours as they bounce from one eye to the other.

“I love you,” he blurts, loud enough just for you to hear.

You freeze, the grip on his shoulder loosens but remain.

He notices, “She did tell me something that night, and whether or not it’s true, I-I love you.”

“Sixty seconds!” a stage recites in the earpieces.

The boys turn to look at both of you, curious eyes turn into surprise as they watch your expression.

“I don’t know how long, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it was, but I know for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Ashton briefly, not missing the knowing smile he gives you before you look back into Luke’s eyes.

“I…love you, too,” you respond, gripping his shoulders while your eyes drop down to his shiny shoes.

He doesn’t hear you over the cheers and screams, but reading your lips he knows the answer.

Luke smiles, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.

He leans down to your ear, “I expect to hear you say it when I come back.”

With flashing lights scattering across the stage, the boys run out to the stage, big smiles gracing their faces for multiple reasons with adrenaline pumping through their veins. From backstage, you watch the show you a smile, feeling high from the brief but fulfilling confession.

It’s two hours later when the show ends. Your heart is pounding as you watch the crew celebrate the successful first show.

Luke pulls you away from the crowd, into the hallway and away from the noise.

“So it was true, what Rachel said?” Luke begins, his hand still holding yours as a shy smile forms.

“What did she say?”

He exhales air through his nose in a laugh, “She said you were in love with me, and that you were trying to break us up.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look at your intertwined fingers. He squeezes your hand to get your attention.

“I doubt that last part, but the first part I’m hoping is true in a sense.”

Your eyes meet his, adoration swimming in them bringing a smile to your face, “There may be a strong crush I have on you,” you tease, “and it may or may not have turned into love.”

He laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap you in a hug. His head dips down, his forehead on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. He moves slightly, whispering in your ear, “Say it.”

Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beat rapidly and rhythmically.

“I love you,” you whisper.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he pulls away, his arms resting on your hips as he smiles down at you.

“If you’d like,” he begins, his tone timid now, “that place you like in Seattle has a new dish. It’s our next stop…” he drifts off, hoping you’d catch on to him asking you out.

You do, laughing at how he remembered yet another thing you seem to have forgotten. It was a themed restaurant that had some of the best food you’ve ever eaten, and for days you wouldn’t stop talking about it. But you never went back to it, even during breaks, but somehow he seemed to remember.

“Yes, Luke.”

You know the shock will hit you later that night, that finally the person you’ve fallen for, who happens to be your best friend, admitted his feelings to you. But you’re happy, Luke’s happy, and with the boys’ and crew’s reaction to the two of you walking back to the area where they’re celebrating, the happiness is infectious.

On the road in the tour bus, Ashton passes you as you respond to emails.

“Thanks for not shutting him out,” he says, drinking a small bottle of water from the fridge.

“Did you know?”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes as he finishes the bottle and tosses it in the recycling bag. “Maybe,” he walks towards the back where the beds are, “maybe not.”

You shake your head, “You did.”

“Didn’t want to spoil it,” he gives you a quick hug before retreating to bed.

Luke walks out of the bathroom shortly after, taking his spot next to you.

“Go to bed,” you slightly shift your shoulder as he lays his head on it, “you need the rest.”

“No,” he mumbles, sleep lacing his tone, “feels like a dream. Don’t wanna wake up.”

You chuckle at his nonsense, finishing off the last email before shutting the laptop and placing it on the counter next to you. You adjust yourself on the couch to have Luke lay down with you. He readjusts himself so he doesn’t crush you, wrapping his arm around your waist and placing his head on your chest.

“I wish I had known before all the drama,” he mumbles again, eyes closed, “I want you in my life, always.”

He drifts off to sleep with that, a faint smile on his lips.

You know what made you fall in love with your best friend. You accept it now, and you’re at peace knowing the feeling is mutual.

[yoonpobs]

we don't talk together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, growth! exes that remain exes

words: 2, 842

summary: it's hard to say it's over

What they don't tell you about goodbyes is that it isn't the end.

It's far from the closing of a book. Goodbyes are the itch that urges you to pick up an old book from the shelf just to feel what you first felt when you re-read certain parts of a book; the same remorse you felt when a character you grew attached to didn't get the ending they deserved. Or, maybe it was the villain that was misunderstood—your own heart wishing to reach out to the sad soul that couldn't even be recognised when all they do is speak.

But some books will end up dusty, forgotten, tucked away in the corner of your shelf; or in the most drastic of cases: lost.

"The park looks ... different," Yoongi speaks up for a lack of a better conversation starter.

You hum. What would you say? That it wasn't the same from when we used to spend our Spring's blended into Summer's until it got too hot for us to lay in each other's embrace?

It was still too fresh even though it's been nearly a year.

"There are more dogs," You point out the moment a tan pomeranian runs past the two of you, the owner an old couple laughing away under the cherry blossoms.

He nods, fingers stuffed in his trench coat. You note that it's the same one he wore on your anniversary, plans abandoned when there was a mix-up with the reservations until the two of you stumbled across a hidden gem that soon became your go-to date place.

You will yourself to look away so no more memories can resurface. It seems like every part of your life has somehow seamlessly intertwined itself with traces of Yoongi that it was impossible for you to exist as just yourself.

"How are things at the firm?" He asks after the two of you walked side-by-side in complete silence as more and more chatter fill your ears.

"It's ... going," You chuckle dryly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, shooting you a brief glance over until the two of you reach a bench. You dare say it's muscle memory that dragged your heavy feet into the direction of the only bench that you've known in the park. The compressed reminder of the initials of your names that you carved as teenagers likely still staining the years old wood. It was meant to be an emblem for wisdom, the ring of growth that meant to be the endgame for the two of you.

You almost laugh in bitterness and how literal the metaphor was.

"Everything okay?"

Yoongi takes the first step to sit on the bench because he always did. Ever the gentlemen when he opened doors for you, let you into the car first, waited until you stepped ahead of him to trail behind like a shield.

The first date, first kiss, first confession.

The first one to decide that it was over.

"My boss is just being sexist, as usual. I thought I'd get used to it after spending two years there but ... there are some things that you just stay unfamiliar, you know?"

It was very like you to speak in double-entendres without intending to. But it was also like Yoongi to pick up on it, especially after years of learning all the best and worst parts of you; he was and probably will be one of the few people in your lives that will always foresee your next move.

The two of you sit a fair distance apart on the bench even if it was a battle for space anyway. You didn't have the liberty to lean into his embrace anymore and he wasn't in the position to say that it was okay for you to breathe, to relax.

"You shouldn't get used to those remarks. There are times where you learn to grow used to constructive criticism but if what he's saying makes you question your worth because of very arbitrary reasons like your gender then that isn't criticism, nor is it constructive. It's bigoted and chauvinistic."

You look down to your thumbs as you fiddle with it, his words comforting you. It was woeful that you still chased validation from him even after learning to be that person to yourself.

"Yeah, I guess."

Then how did you get used to things?

If time didn't make things familiar then what did? Was it not the five years with Yoongi that led you to see him build an empire for himself all the while destroying the relationship that you had? Or was it because he was the person that you thought of doing the most minuscule things?

"By the way," He clears his throat, eyes still set forward, "Namjoon says hi."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised to hear the name of a mutual friend—or more appropriately, friend by association and acquaintance when that link was broken.

"He knows that you're with me?"

Yoongi nods his head.

"I needed to let someone at the studio know and ... well, he's the only one that knew of our situation."

You chuckle bitterly.

Of course. The suggestion of his work only made your heart drop because as much as you wanted to be supportive of him, even after the break-up, the name of his studio or songs only reminded you of the battle that you helplessly lost.

"You can tell him that I'm still a text or phone call away. No need to play messenger," You return.

The atmosphere is more reflective than awkward. You know that the two of you had your pieces to say, your own narrative to tell but neither brave enough to break the calm that you were settled in. It was a nice difference from the way that things ended, and you supposed that you were similar enough to believe in a mirage than the inevitable truth.

But you didn't call him out after six months to sit in silence to walk away with your heart feeling heavier, nor did you invite him out just to remember what it feels like to have him next to you—even in complete silence.

"Would you have really quit?"

This time, you gather all the bravery that you've built over the past few months to ask the question that has been mulling in your mind since the night you decided that it was officially over.

It was a painful break-up. Even if you expected it when Yoongi came home earlier one night with bags under his eyes and his keys that he usually left at the studio because he knew you'd always be home to open the door for him.

"I'm sorry?" He seems taken aback.

You don't blame him. You've always been more passive in dealing with confrontation due to your conflict-averse nature—but that didn't mean you didn't get angry or annoyed—or hurt. But if you learned anything, it was to stop asking yourself questions that you'll never have the answer to.

"Would you really have left the company to save our relationship?"

You chose your words carefully. Instead of saying to be with you, knowing that he lost the love, he had for you somewhere along the way—you point out the one hole that he held on to for the sake of stability. The one thing that was constant in his life with how unpredictable the music industry was.

"Yes."

Somehow, the answer doesn't make you feel better because even with time apart you knew he was lying to save your face.

"You don't owe me anything to lie to my face, Yoongi." You frown.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his hands across his face as he leaves your statement hanging in the air to mull over his answer.

You prefer the silence that way. It showed that he was at least listening, or cared enough to decide his next set of words. Nothing like how much it pained you to acknowledge the responses you got from him when you were crying were just out of obligation than sincerity.

"No, I wouldn't have."

You nod your head, expectant of the answer but you needed to hear him say it himself rather than drowning yourself in ruminating thoughts of how there was still a semblance of hope that he would've given it up for you, for your relationship—or the life that you were meant to build.

"I wouldn't have asked you to, anyway." You confess.

Yoongi turns his head to look at you and for the first time since you've met at the park, he notices the absence of a necklace around your neck. The necklace that you never took off. He wants to comment on it, ask where it went or if you've pawned it off out of pettiness but he held no remorse towards you. You were tolerant with the break-up even as you sucked in your tears when he knew that it killed you on the inside. Yoongi didn't have the heart in him to ask you.

"Oh."

"You were the one that said you'd quit so we could stay together," You say softly.

Yoongi doesn't respond as he looks back to the night where the two of you sat down to talk about the standing of your relationship. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that started off with an amicable discussion that eventually led to the two of you yelling until you surrendered to your tears and just left the battle completely.

He said a lot of things that night. From things that he's been bottling up for months, to things that he's always wanted to tell you and things that he didn't remotely mean, and things that he's regretted the moment it left his lips.

"I guess I did."

You sigh, leaning back into the bench as you observe a couple walking in front of you, passing your bench as they share an ice cream on a cone; bickering on who'd get the first lick. To anyone, you and Yoongi would've looked just like a couple that has reached a comfortable point in your relationship where intimacy was just sitting next to one another.

But you admit, there was something oddly intimate and heart-breaking about sitting next to someone you've loved with your whole heart and feel nothing but ... weightlessness. Like the burden of your concerns was lifted ever so slightly just being here.

"I wouldn't have made you choose between your relationship or your dream, Yoongi. I would never have done that to you."

Yoongi knew you would never have made him do something as abhorrent as that. You were far too understanding. But you had wanted from him too, that he wasn't willing to provide just yet. He didn't know if it was because of the expiration date to your relationship or because of the stress he was under at work—but he convinced himself that it was you that was asking for too much instead of him compromising too little.

"I ... I know," He whispers, "I'm sorry."

You purse your lips. You try not to let your emotions appear on your sleeve. You were tired of allowing your face to speak before you did. You needed to use the voice you had.

"I loved you so much, Yoongi," You murmur, "I loved you so much that I would have taken anything I could've gotten with you just so I could be with you."

Yoongi stays silent at this.

"I didn't mind if you spent more time at work than at our home. I just wanted to know if I was ever in the picture when you were talking about the future. I know how much you love music and I supported you through every audition and failure ... and to know that I was just—" You swallow, the words still painful to say. But you needed to make your peace with it, "—that I was just someone that would wait for you instead of your partner. That's when I knew that you didn't love me the way I loved you."

Yoongi chokes to speak up but you shake your head.

"No, Yoongi. You loved me, you did. But somewhere along the way you stopped and you just pretended that we were okay even when I was trying my best to fix the seams. I wasn't your girlfriend anymore, I was just someone familiar to you and I didn't deserve to feel that way." You tell him sternly.

Yoongi surrenders to his silence as you take a deep breath to continue.

"Maybe I loved you too much in a way that you couldn't understand."

"_______, don't say that—" His eyes widen when he tries to reach a hand to yours to comfort you, but your body language remains stoic as you keep your hands in your lap.

"—and that's okay Yoongi. I loved you but not in the way you needed. I'm not here to make you feel bad about what I chose to do on my own because it wasn't my fault that I couldn't be what you need." You say sadly, but a small smile on your face as you finally say the words that have been eating at you for months.

"... okay," Yoongi accepts.

"We all have different ways to love and be loved. I loved you and that was enough for you at one point but love isn't all a relationship needs. You loved me too, in your own way and I accepted that but just because it was enough for me doesn't mean it was enough for us." You glance over at him to see him staring at you intently.

"I'm sorry that things turned out this way," Yoongi says softly, eyes gentle.

You wave him off.

"I don't think I'll ever love someone as much as I loved you, though," He confesses, eyes returning to the scene in front of him filled with different colours of life that seemed to look vibrant under the Spring sunset.

You shake your head and chuckle softly.

"You say that now but you'll meet someone one day and you'll remember all the reasons why you love in the first place. And it'll be enough for you, and them."

He shrugs, a small smile itching on his face.

"I really did love you," He says, "But I'm sorry for not being honest with you. I owe you that much of an apology."

"We're not here to forgive or forget, Yoongi," You look at him kindly, "We're here to move on."

He purses his lips and hums, nodding his head.

"I hope you get that promotion at work you were talking about months ago, ______." Yoongi offers, a gentle grin marring his face.

"I did," You shrug.

It feels liberating to have achieved something and only feeling content by acknowledging it yourself. Months ago, you would've hurt at the fact that Yoongi didn't know. But the change you welcomed after the end only showed you that there was a new path for you to walk on.

His eyes widen, but eventually, he chuckles and shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like knew it.

You push yourself off the bench, dusting your hands on your pants as you offer him one last smile before you say goodbye for the second time.

"I hope you find someone who you'll love more than you ever did with me." You tease.

He rolls his eyes.

"Impossible," The grin on his face is easy, and your heart still clenches at the nonchalance, but you don't expect the feeling to go away so easily—nor do you mind. It just shows that you needed to wait and that you were willing to do it.

"Of course you will. You're a musician, Yoongi. You need a muse," You smirk at him as you turn around, a small wave on your hand to say goodbye.

As you walk away and his body gets smaller and smaller from your vision, you turn around to say:

"We don't talk together is a beautiful song."

Yoongi's smile is genuine, and so is his goodbye. A gentle acknowledgment of his hand as he stands up himself, walking to the other direction of where you were headed.

You still had a love for Yoongi, and you suppose you always will. Just like how you would feel pleasant when rediscovering a childhood hobby that triggers a fond memory, or how you love different things in your life in different ways. Whether or not you love someone more than you've ever loved Yoongi isn't your concern, because when love comes in one form, it goes in another.

When you still take the same route you'd usually take with Yoongi after your walks back home, you pass the cafe you used to frequent to see that it's replaced with a new bar. You smile fondly to yourself, shaking your head.

You loved that place.

But eventually, you'll find another cafe with a beautiful interior and a latte to match, and you'll love it too.

[oumaheroes]

NZ and Artie hcs pretty please! Something 🥺 thank youuuu

Sorry this took me so long to answer!

I should start with something 'overall' first. I've enjoyed seeing different fandom interpretations of New Zealand throughout the years- as a shy golden boy, to rambunctious fellow play fighter, to mud weary tomboy, to a poised daughter, or all at once. For me, potentially due to how Zea has been canonically drawn, New Zealand is non-binary. What they've got going on under there ain't my business and they certainly don't care. I’ve therefore given them the name ‘Alex’- for the feminine or masculine version, who’s to say.

They very much live by the feeling 'I am New Zealand', and whatever that entails. Nothing more, nothing less.

Childhood/ Teenagerhood:

England had really settled into the swing of things at this point. He was used to children, used to parenting in general- the ups and downs of it - and used to keeping his children at more of a distance emotionally than he had with Canada and America. So, by the time Zea came about there was a smoother transition into family life than there had been for poor old OZ. Australia, who had a few brief years of England as a more affectionate, happy, and relaxed parent, was abruptly cut from contact for a few years and then reintroduced to someone stricter and far more distant and which has left their relationship a bit strained at times.

Zea knew nothing else. From the get go, England set a standard of behaviour and maintained it. On the one hand this was good: Zea never struggled around England, either in being comfortable in his presence or with the 'new' rules that were in place, and also never suffered from any sort of consequence that came from having a parental figure suddenly do a 180 on you.

On the other hand, they did grow up slightly lacking in the affection department. They knew England loved them, but as soon as they became a little older there were less hugs, less kisses, less of playing silly games and more study, learning, and filling their days with their own company. They were used to this and it didn’t bother them at the time, but compared to their older brothers, or younger ones (seeing him with Sealand does spark some bitterness), they certainly missed out, and have inherited England’s current (in)ability to interact physically with loved ones- they’re not overly touchy-feely and express love through acts of service or gift giving.

Mainly though, Zea's childhood was good and quite stable. They were home schooled, but England also used to like sending them off for playdates with noble families with children to get them more acquainted to people their physical age, or would take Zea with him into town to work with their politicians or their tradesmen. Zea thus spent a lot of their time waiting, either sitting on the floor of England's study, or somewhere around him outside, watching and listening to him work and talk shop with people.

Nations are robust things, sturdy and, surrounded by their people, not really in too much danger. I think England was rather lax in this regard with his children (someone who had a childhood of wandering around villages, foraging for food, and being personally thrust into war from a young age will hardly find a town centre in the 1800s dangerous) and used to leave New Zealand with some local children for entertainment if he needed to go and do things that required a bit more time than a quick chat.

Because of this, a humdrum of business is something New Zealand finds to be a soothing white noise, something they can filter out or tune into easily, and they appreciate this unorthodox education. They’re also very happy with their own company and can entertain, and soothe, themselves independently.

Not to go on too much of a tangent (because I do do that, in these posts), I just want to quickly touch upon Zea and Oz’s relationship because I think that helped cover up for what they were lacking in terms of openness and easy affection from England- Zea because they never really had it, and Oz because he was missing it. Due to how close they are geographically, and potentially because England on some level felt guilty for his inability to fully let himself go and open up to them, New Zealand and Australia spent quite a lot of time with each other in either of their lands from England moving them about with him when he visited one or the other. Both were also sometimes taken back home with him to the UK and a lot of Zea’s exposure to a more ‘traditional’ Kirkland upbringing comes from their time with their bother- playfights, arguments, mischief, and an open easiness with each other’s raw and unfiltered company.

Back on topic and to summarise, New Zealand's childhood relationship with England was a good one. As I mentioned in my Canada headcanon post about a similar topic, England is very, very good with small children and Zea was no different. But as they got older this decreased rapidly, something that they considered perfectly acceptable at the time but now is something they sometimes look back on with a small amount of hurt and confusion.

Teenagerhood they were very used to being on their own and, funnily, when you think about what England was trying to do, very independent. Not independent like America, with his fights for recognition as an independent entity removed from England, but independent personally. A childhood of watching England work and playing often by themselves meant that Zea as a teenager was studious, quiet, and happy to be left alone or taken out for company (similar to Wales in personality, I reckon. Need their alone time and will take themselves away if this is not given).

Arguments with England were rare- Zea’s not one for butting heads but would much rather learn the ins and outs of everything and then put forth and argument for change. England may be a hothead and stubborn, but he’s not closed minded. It’s how you approach him that matters and Zea caught onto this early. Whereas Australia would shout or refuse to do that he was asked if he didn’t want to, or would put up some form of fight, New Zealand would instead do the task, do it well, and then request time with England to formally present him with all of the reasons their proposal was far better.

England being told he is wrong will likely not listen if he believes himself to be right (even if he has doubts, someone telling him that his way is bad will make him stubbornly cling to it just to prove them wrong and himself justified for doing it in the first place- clawing and scraping for even an inch of a victory). But England being told that someone has thought of a different way, and asking for his opinion on it, is far more likely to inspire change. He feels valued and goes into the discussion with an open mind that most often went in New Zealand’s favour.

Because of this, they do have a reputation of having England wound around their little finger from a young age. But really, they were just smart enough to figure England out and use it to their advantage. They were also smart enough not to overplay this hand, and so their teenagerhood was peaceful and calm.

Adulthood:

As adults, the two are on very good terms. England prefers adult children to teenaged ones, especially calm, well-mannered ones, and this relationship improved after Zea got their independence. Rather like a burst of relief from England’s end, I feel- he’d spent so long paranoid about his colonies leaving him that this clouded his enjoyment of them. With them finally independent, that worry is redundant and he can enjoy them for the people they are. And Arthur likes Alex, he really does. He finds them mature, funny, and intelligent. The two have similar hobbies and interests and England often spends time with them travelling about to beaches or passing book recommendations back and forth.

Being nations heavily shaped and surrounded by the sea, this is something that is a huge passion for the both of them and they often go sailing together on the ocean, either on smaller boats by the shore or for larger trips out to sea. Arthur willingly took all of his children out to sea, but Alex was the only one who really took to it and shares a similar hunger for it as he does. They’re probably the least openly affectionate pair of all of the Arthur- child relationships, but that doesn’t mean he loves Alex any less and, most of the time, Alex knows this and is content with the way things are. As mentioned in my Canada post though, England is trying to improve himself in this area in the modern day and he’s trying really hard with Zea, (though this is sometimes awkward for the both of them.)

[yuulina-vre]

Cuddles

Fauna’s save heaven

Summary: Y/N has trouble sleeping and shifting only helps for that long. Bucky and Steve are the best help.

Pairing: Steve x Bucky x Reader

Wordcount: 4555 words

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping and violence, Nightmares

Masterlist

“Y/N? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” Y/N’s head snaps up from the spot she had been staring at. The others around the table stare at her. Tony especially looks annoyed since she hasn’t listened to the mission briefing at all. This time he actually tried to turn his rambling down. The others just look amused, maybe with a little bit of concern. Bucky’s the only one who really looks worried. He grabs her hand under the table, squeezing it lightly. “No, I’m sorry, I’m listening now.” She ducks her head in shame, clearly embarrassed but Tony seems satisfied enough and continues talking. She tries to listen and pay attention. She really does but her head hurts and her eyes are heavy with sleepiness. “Did you manage to sleep at all?” Bucky’s voice whispers in her ear as he leans in a bit. “No.” She whispers back. Her voice is so silent that she worries if he even had heard her. “Y/N…” Bucky sighs knowingly but defeated and squeezes her hand again. She only looks briefly at him before her gaze falls back to her lap where Bucky’s hand clutches hers. “Alright. I have enough. Do you two want to share something with the class?” They both look up. Tony’s arms are crossed, glare directed at them, though, he’s the only one who seems annoyed. The rest are just watching, waiting for reactions. “No.” Y/N whispers but Bucky’s answer different. “She hasn’t been sleeping for days. She needs a break.”

“Bucky!” Now she’s the one glaring at him, trying to get her hand out of his but Bucky tightens his grip. “Why?” Sam pipes up, the concern now on his face, too. Bucky’s eyes meet her eyes, silently asking if she wants to tell them what’s up but she shakes her head nearly not noticeable. “She has nightmares. The bad ones.” That’s enough. They all know what that means. Dreams of kidnappings, torture. Experiments. For four years of her life, when she was only seven years old, she got kidnapped from her home. The people that took her got her across the whole country to a facility where other people with similar abilities to hers were kept. Four years of her life, the years in which children learn a lot, where children should have the happiest time because that’s the period of time that forms who they are going to be later on, were spent in constant fear and pain. She never told them what these people had done to her, not in any detail at least. Only Bucky and Steve have a vague idea and only because she once said that Bucky had suffered just as bad as she did and Steve’s the only one who make living with it a little better. This one little sentence had shattered their world for a week. They weren’t able to understand how someone could do things, these kinds of things, to a child.

“Then… Go to bed.”

“What?”

“Out of the room and to bed.” A cold shudder runs down her back. For a split second a picture flames up in front of her. Someone’s scolding her, sending her to the bed, a bed with nails. The picture is gone as fast as it came but Y/N lifts herself from the chair, slowly. She tenses and she knows that Bucky sees it, that he wants to get up with her. But she doesn’t want him to get punished too, so she squeezes his hand and leaves the room. Funny thinking, they would punish her. Tony never punishes her, where did that come from? “Y/N! Wait a second.” She stops, back tensing again, worried she did something wrong but the warm hand on her lower back feels like a lifeline, like comfort. She turns her head to see Sam smiling at her. “You know Tony didn’t mean it like a punishment, right? It just came out wrong, he’s worried.”

“I know.” She mumbles silently but Sam catches it and nods. “The nightmares. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I…” She swallows thickly. Can she tell him that she was afraid of what he would say? That he would laugh? “Hey.” His hand lightly lifts from her back to be placed on her arm. “You remember what we talked about? You don’t need to tell me what’s up. You don’t need to do anything, but I’m here when you want to talk and I listen, not judge. Just like the rest of us.”

“I know.”

“Good.” The man nods and grins again. He quickly looks back to the conference room and then to her. “What do you think about the thing we did last time? You think it would help now?” Y/N’s eyes stay on Sam’s face. “I-I don’t know.”

“Well, why don’t you go to your room and shift? I’ll come in a minute and pick you up. We can at least try.”

“Okay.” She nods and Sam squeezes her arm in comfort. Silently she walks down the hall to the elevator. FRIDAY does her job without Y/N doing anything. The AI gets her down to her floor without a hitch. Back in her room, Y/N falls down on her bed with a heavy sigh. How come she’s so miserable these last few days? What triggered it? There were no missions she had attended, no briefings, no reports. She hasn’t talked to her parents or about anything from these four years. So why are the dreams torturing her right now? Where is it coming from so suddenly?

She closes her eyes, only to open them again. The pictures start flashing as soon as they’re closed. With another heavy sigh, she sits up. Her back is tense, just like her shoulders. Her headache gets worse with her anxiety spiraling. “Are you ready?” The knock startles her a little. “A-a moment, please.” She stutters, gets up, and quickly sheds out of her dress and underwear. Then she concentrates. Sam usually asks her to change into a smaller animal, something that fits into the pockets of his hoodie or can easily be carried around. This way he can keep her calm and steady but still do his work. Sometimes Y/N settles for mice or a flying squirrel but today she doesn’t feel it. Instead, she concentrates on something else. She doesn’t want to sleep in a dark pocket. It will encourage other memories she rather forgets. So, she slowly shifts until she sits finished on the ground. Running over to the door she makes a small screeching sound. The door opens quickly, revealing Sam. “Well, this is new. Monkey?” He smiles and crouches down, holding his hand out for her to climb up on his arm until she can rest on his shoulder. Her tail wraps around his bicep to hold on tight while one of her hands grabs Sam's ear. “Okay, here we go.” Sam walks slowly, making sure she’s not falling off until he reaches the conference room again. Everybody turns to look at him. “Is that…” Tony looks confused but Wanda coos instantly. “Oh my god. She’s so cute.”

“It’s a squirrel monkey, right?” Bruce looks closer at her and she nods. “We have watched some documentaries in the hope for her to fall asleep. I think one of them was about Primates or something.” Sam hums, probably connecting the dots while he walks back to his seat to sit down. “Come on, down.” He holds his hands to his lap, motioning for her to climb on his lap but Y/N doesn’t want to sleep down there. Instead, she climbs down from his shoulder but only halfway. She stops at his chest, holding tight to his shirt like the babies do, and looks at him to see if it's alright. He seems surprised but not bothered. He places his hand on her back and runs his fingers slowly over it. “It’s alright. Just try it, yeah?” She eyes Sam for a second longer but his focus is more on Tony now, so she uses the time she has to look around. Steve, Clint, Nat, and Wanda are also concentrated on Tony, though she sees Steve glance at her now and then. A soft smile grazes his face each time their eyes meet and Y/N knows that he itches to have her lying on his chest. He’s a sucker for a good cuddle. Only Bruce and Bucky watch her closely. Bruce seems a little on edge but the good kind. Like he really, really wants to touch her. She makes a mental note to seek him out later on when she’s not on the edge of falling asleep. Bucky looks… a little startled. No, more unbelieving, like he can’t figure out why she’s on Sam’s chest and not his. Maybe he’s a little jealous. But the moment he catches her staring he smiles at her with a nod, making sure she knows it's okay. She makes a small chirping sound before a big yawn escapes her and she snuggles closer to Sam, tail wrapping more securely around his wrist. Her eyes start to droop while she listens to Tony’s rambling about finances and training schedules.

 * * *

 “Hey, are you coming back to me now? You were out for a while.” Y/N chirps lowly, still pretty sleepy and struggling to open her eyes. She notices though that she’s no longer clutching Sam’s shirt but lies nestled in the crook of his arm. “I managed to get you down when we were halfway through the meeting. It looked kinda uncomfortable and Barnes was glaring at me the whole time.”

“I wasn’t glaring.” The deep rumble of a voice behind her lets her look around. She twists a little struggling to get a better look. Bucky’s sitting on another couch, book in hand but his eyes are focused on her. She makes another chirping sound, climbing out of Sam’s arms to run up to her brunette favorite person. “Sure Barnes. You looked like you would stab him any second.” Natasha wanders in a bowl in hand. Y/N looks at her briefly then back at Bucky and notices that Steve’s sitting next to him, head on the brunette’s shoulder and eyes closed. Though, what’s more, interesting is the little stuffed and colorful bear that he has in his hands. It was the first one that he tried to stitch on his own and even if it looks uneven with one arm longer than the other and the eyes not quite on the same height. The head is hanging a little sideways too and one leg is turning in the wrong direction. But the little stuffed creature is all hers since she loves to cuddle it while changed into smaller animals. It reminds her of him when he’s gone and they both lovely named it Cappy. A mix of Cap and crappy. Bucky sees her gaze and follows them, snorting. He lifts his shoulder lightly to rouse Steve while Y/N scrambles forward, over Bucky’s lap and right into Steve’s to free the stuffed friend of his hands. “Wha-? Y/N?” Steve wakes, rubs his eyes before he notices the little animal on his lap. She chirps and clutches the teddy to her chest while rushing up to sit on Steve’s shoulder. He laughs a little and quickly rubs her teil the moment she settled. “Y/N…” Bucky whines, sending his own puppy eyes to her. “No cuddles for me?” Steve rolls his eyes and Y/N would do the same, even giggle but she can’t. Her stomach grumbles loudly. She can smell fruits. She looks around and her eyes stop on the bowl Nat has on her lap.

Y/N swears she can see some banana slices just over the top. She looks between Nat and Bucky, who’s still pouting but her hunger wins out. She jumps from Steve’s shoulder, bear still clutched to her, over to the couch where Nat has settled. There she climbs all over Nat’s lap. “Hey, you. Hungry?” Y/N nods and climbs on Nat’s shoulder and lets Nat hand her a banana slice. Y/N quickly starts devouring it, grabbing into the bowl herself for the next one. “Hey.” Nat laughs but lets her get the next few slices of bananas and strawberries. Y/N chirps around the food, now and then jumping around to switch positions when Nat angles the bowl differently. A few times she even throws a raspberry on the coffee table and Y/N has to jump around to get it, making the four people laugh. Though, she notices that Bucky’s not as happy as he tries to look. Dread and guilt settle in her little chest. He still seems a little jealous, now of Nat too, maybe even of Steve, and Y/N knows that he sometimes starts to doubt himself when others can help her but he can’t. So, she makes a split decision. She runs up to Nat for the last time and steals two more Bananas only to waddle over the cushions to where Bucky sits. One of the slices finds its way into her mouth and while she munches on that she climbs up on Bucky until she’s snug on his chest, Cappy trapped between their chests. Bucky seems surprised but the smile on his lips is genuine and actually reaches his eyes. He lifts his hand and one of his finders stokes over her nose and along the white markings on her face. “Hey, monkey.” Instead of answering in any form, she holds out her hand with the slightly squished banana as compensation. “What’s with your banana?” She holds it up higher, poking it against his mouth. “For me?” She nods, which probably looks strange for a monkey to do. Bucky chuckles and Y/N holds her hand up higher once more until Bucky actually opens his mouth for her to drop the slice. “Thank you.” He leans down and kisses her little head. While he chews on it, Y/N jumps a little with cute little squeaks in a happy dance before climbing his shoulder and holding on tight to his hair, nuzzling it a little. Even if Bucky sometimes can’t help her fall asleep, he is one of her favorite persons after all. At some point, Y/N yawns again. Steve has gone back to napping a while ago and Bucky is drawn back into the fictional world of his book. Though, he notices that her head drops forward now and then. “Hey, monkey. Come down here, yeah?” He holds out his hand, slowly taking her small one, and guides her down onto his lap. Before she settles herself, he quickly grabs one of the smaller pillows to lies it on his thighs and lets her climb it. “Go to sleep. Stevie and I are here.” She doesn’t nod but she rolls herself into a ball, curled around the bear. Her eyes are closed and for a second, she fears the pictures will return instantly but she’s relieved as that’s not the case. She concentrates on Bucky’s warm, big hand on her back while drifting off.

* * *

 The man that’s holding her hand has a fierce grip on it. Y/N doesn’t really understand what’s happening. She hasn’t got an answer after she asked for her parents, the man just had rushed down the street without a word. Soon he had pushed her into a car and after that, she must have fallen asleep. Now they walk through unknown halls with people she has never seen. The man's still silent, not saying anything. At first, she had thought he was a friend of her mum but now she isn’t as sure anymore. She’s afraid and has cried but kept silent. The other people that they go past don’t even look at her and if they do, they don’t show any sign that she would describe as pity or empathy. Suddenly the man stops walking. She looks up at him and then to the door. It’s big and looks heavy, not like the door to her room at home. “Where are we going?” She looks back at the man but he ignores her, instead he pushes the door open and leads her inside only to lift her up and set he into a chair. There are more people around now. Men and Women in white coats, a man in a suit and a woman in a dress. It looks like the one her mum wears when she meets with her dad at work. The people in the room run around her not even noticing her and the man that was with her the whole time now steps back and leaves the room. The fear she has felt spiraled a little and she curls herself together. She doesn’t know where she is, she doesn’t know anyone and she doesn’t have her little dolphin plushie to keep her company. The man and the woman that has been standing at the wall now walk up to her. They look nice enough, the woman even smiles a little at her. “How’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N.” She speaks silently, wiping some tears away from her face. “And how old are you?”

“S-seven. Where am I? Where’s my mommy?”

“What animals can you shift to?” Y/N blinks once, then twice. Not only has the woman not answered her but she knows of her ability. Y/N’s mum and dad always told her to not go around and tell someone and she never did. “I want my mommy.” She starts crying again. This woman scares her. Then suddenly pain blossoms on her cheek. “I asked you a question!” her tone is sharp and she doesn’t look as friendly anymore. Y/N’s cheek throbs with pain and she clutches it while scooting as far back in her chair as she can. She’s too afraid to answer and only shakes her head. She flinches as the woman lifts her hand again, probably ready to slap her again but this time the man holds her back. “Darling, let her be. We will find out in a few days. Let us just proceed so she knows what’s up.” He smiles at the woman but Y/N can see that this smile is evil. It reminds her of one of her aunts’ friends when she promises Y/N to get sweet and then hands her these disgusting lollipops made of vegetables. Y/N watches as the woman nods and steps back. The man comes forward, smiling at her but then grabs her wrist and puts them on the armrests of the chair, and binds them to them. “W-where are you doing? Where’s my daddy?”

“Oh, did no one told you?” The man looks with pity at her while he now sets something on her head and attaches some strings to it. Then he attaches something to her chest after opening her pajama top. “Your mommy and your daddy don’t love you anymore. They don’t like your ability and want you gone.”

“Noo… They love me.” She cries again. Can it be true? Her mum always tells her how much she loves her, that she is her little miracle. And her daddy always tells her she’s his little princess. “Oh, you sure? Why are you here then?” he waves an arm around to show her again that she’s all alone under all these strange people. “Your parents want us to find out why you are as you are and to make it stop so you can come back and they can be a family again. Without a freak baby girl.” Big sobs wrack her body but she can’t do anything against it. And she can’t say anything. Only a split second later the man steps back with yet another gin and then. There’s only pain.

 * * *

She opens her eyes, confused about where she is. It’s bright outside, so it’s not night. A warm hand lies on her back and she looks around to find the interior of the common room. Nat’s sitting on the couch Y/N remembers her being on and on closer inspection, she sees that she’s still sitting on Bucky’s lap. The man is sleeping peacefully with his head bedded on Steve’s. Her eyes dart around as the feeling of fear grows in her. She knows that it only was a dream, a memory that’s way back into her childhood, that nothing the man had told her was true. But on the other side, she has lived with that lie for four years of her kidnapping and her mom… She hasn’t taken it well that her only child was taken right out of their home while she was sleeping only two doors next to her. She had committed suicide two months before they finally had found her. Her dad then had moved away with Y/N, out of their old little town into the big city to try and start anew. Even through all the therapies, he got her she still suffers the effects of the four years. And right now, she desperately needs comfort. She hasn’t noticed that she’s shivering until she gets taken off from the pillow and pressed to a broad chest. The smell alone is enough for her to know that it's Steve who picked her up. “Hey, doll. Are you alright? Another nightmare?” She doesn’t nod, instead, she quickly hides her face in his shirt and holds on tight, her tail wrapping tightly around Steve’s wrist. “Hey, hey. It’s alright. Your perfectly safe here.” Y/N only tightens her grip but looks up at him. He must see something in her eyes because he sits up straight, startling Bucky awake. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“Why?” Bucky yawns but as soon as Steve stands up and Bucky sees Y/N in his arms he seems to understand. He disposes of the pillow but grabs the bear that has fallen to the ground. “Here, doll. Cappy might help a bit, yeah?” as fast as she can She takes the toy with a sad chirping and hides back in Steve’s chest. The whole way to their shared room she can’t stop the shivers or the picture of the two people that started her suffering. It’s as if the images burned themselves into her mind. No matter how much energy she pushes into it, she can’t get rid of them. She loses track of time quickly swirling yet another time in the pain that had come over her, in the torture she had endured, and in the pictures of other suffering children she had seen in that few years. Some of them she has never seen again. Today she knows they hadn’t made it through these ‘tests’. “Y/N!” Her head snaps up quickly. Steve looks down at her with a pained expression. She notices now that they are already in Steve’s room, sitting on his bed. “I’ve called you a few times now. How about we change, yeah? Cuddling is easier that way. Buck’s getting the laptop and beamer ready so we can watch a movie.” She’s not really able to answer but clings to Steve with all that’s left. Then she nods end lets go. While she shifts, she hears herself let out a sob. It sounds strange, some kind of screeching like an animal but equal like a human sob. The shaking intensifies but Steve comforts her, pressing her naked body against his. He cradles her head to his chest, even leaning back on the bed while she shifts so that she’s comfortingly leaning against him. Even after the shift, she lies against him sobbing. She hears Bucky come close and soon gets covered by a light blanket while he wraps his arms around her. “Hey, baby.” Bucky presses a kiss against her head. “How about we coot a little to let Steve lie against the headboard, hm?” Y/N notices Bucky’s hands gripping her. He is careful but Y/N is transported back into her dream with more tortures she had to endure. The screams broke free without her noticing. The hands pull her and the blood rushes in her ears. She hears screaming that’s faint and not coming from her, she feels more hands gripping on her, wetness in her face. She starts kicking and punching, everything to get the hands away from her, to not let herself be dragged to the room with the whips and collars. And then, suddenly… There’s calm.

There are warm lips on her forehead, arms circling around her waist and a broad chest against her back. She hears murmuring in her ears. Soft whispering voices paired with soft touches. All around her is warmth and the cold that has shaken her body is completely gone. The fear in her body slowly ebbs away but she still doesn’t dare to open her eyes. “Shh, doll. I’m sorry but you’re safe, you’re safe.” The voice sounds thick with emotions. “Y/N?” Another pair of hands join her body, one hand slowly stroking over her arm, while the other cups her cheek, thumb rubbing tears away. “Can you look at me?” Involuntary, she shakes her head. She’s not ready to open her eyes. What if she’s dreaming? What if the people she wants to see aren’t here? What if… What if she’s still there? 

“Hey, hey. Darling, come on.” Lips press again on her head; hands rub her skin in comfort. Slowly she peels her eyes open, just for a second. She sees Steve’s concerned face and hears a faint sniffle, right behind her ear. Dread fills her stomach. She knows these kinds of sniffles. Turning lightly, she finds Bucky’s face. It’s white and pale with streaks of teas on the skin. “B-Buck...?” She whispers, silently but he hears her. He sends her a watery smile and tightens his arms. “I’m okay, doll. I’m sorry I startled you. I’m sorry.” Y/N’s head empties from her worry and guilt, from her fear and dreams. All senses are focused on Bucky, on comfiting the man that helped her through so much. She sits up a little but his arms press her against him again. She struggles a little against him until he finally losses his grip. In a blink of an eyelash, she turns herself and flings her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him and taking him down with her. She can hear his head bump against the headboard but she ignores it in favor of pressing her lips against his. He makes a small confused sound but then turns it instantly into a moan, his arms tightening. Behind them is a chuckle. Y/N quickly turns around and grabs the wrist that’s the closest to her, pulling it in. “Woooh… Y/N.” Steve laughs almost tripping over and landing on her and Bucky but he catches himself in the last moment, though, it's to no use. Bucky pulls him down on top of him connecting their lips in a loving kiss. Y/N watches for a second before she drapes her free arm around Steve’s neck as well, connecting her forehead to the sides of them. “Thank you. I love you two.”

“We love you, too.” And all of a sudden, she has two pairs of lips against her forehead, two pairs of loving arms around her, and two favorite people that comfort her. Two people, she loves the most.

[mionemymind]

Do I owe her the truth?

Summary: (Hermione x Gender Neutral Reader) Should Y/n tell the truth to Hermione no matter the consequences? 

Words: 5223

A/N: Let me know what y’all think. I’m sorry I having been writing a lot but I figured you deserve something for waiting for so long. Thank you for being patient. You all are the best!!

According to the great philosopher Kant, one must always do the nature of the good principle regardless of the outcome. Simply put, even if a killer was knocking on the door and asking for your friend, you must answer with the truth of their location. Although a lot argue over philosophies, Y/n simply minded their business. They figured that they have their whole life to sort out what good things they must do and bad things they must keep away. However, a bright witch among their age, made them question every single good and bad thing they had sorted out in life. Because on the very most important day of Hermione’s life, Y/n pondered the question, “Do I owe her the truth?”

The story starts out small like any simple home. You must start with a bit of foundation and the right material for it to be built. So, when Y/n transferred from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, the very first student they were introduced to was Hermione Granger.

Walking around the halls, Y/n found themselves slightly amazed at the walls of the castle. From the decorations, to the hallways, its scenery, and even its people were more amazing than of Ilvermorny. “Right this way.” Professor McGonagall led the young sorcerer to the very Great Albus Dumbledore. Y/n had only read of the magnificent things Professor Dumbledore has done for the wizarding world and was only slightly scared to meet her current headmaster. While opening the vastly large door, Y/n slowly followed Professor McGonagall in. At the sound of the doors opening, a booming but soft voice uttered, “Ah there you are! Do come sit.” Walking up the stairs, Y/n sat at the seat in front of his desk. Sweaty palms and nervous thoughts clouded their mind. “It is a great pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts. I know you must be eager to survey the school so I will make this brief.” With a slight pause, Dumbledore had signaled for McGonagall to leave. “As a long-standing tradition of Hogwarts, let me first assign you your house.” Quickly, a hat that looked as if it lived through many ages, was placed on Y/n’s head. “Fierce loyalty like no other to those she cares about why you must be HUFFLEPUFF!”

The hat was taken off as quickly as it was placed. Soon, a new attire was placed on her lap. “Here is your new schedule that corresponds with what you should be learning now. I took great liberty to consult with your headmaster about your curriculum. They talk highly about you in regards to your academics and wizarding abilities.” Y/n blushed at the sound of the compliment. They weren’t used to the praise given to them. “To make sure you are consistently tested, I made sure to put you in classes with one of the brightest witches of your age – ah and here she is.” Y/n turned around and suddenly timed slowed down. A girl with red and black robes entered the room as if she already owned it. It was the confidence that surrounded her aura the most, but Y/n had noticed more of the beauty that she shows.

“This young witch is Hermione Granger.” Leaping to their feet, Y/n stood up to shake Hermione’s hand. “Y/n Y/l/n.” Hermione gave a small smile and sat next to Y/n as Dumbledore had briefly explained the rules of the school. “Ah – I believe that takes care of everything. Ms. Granger please give our newest student a welcoming tour around the school. I have already informed your teachers of your absence. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. Other than that, welcome to Hogwarts.”

The two young students left the office and went to the nearest bathroom. While Y/n changed to their new robes, Hermione had fiddled with her hands. “Not to intrude, but you must be extremely smart.” Y/n was buttoning their shirt when Hermione had answered the question. Good thing she couldn’t see them otherwise Hermione would have seen how red Y/n turned. Scratching their neck, Y/n replied, “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh, it’s not a guess rather a fact. You happen to have been put with some of the most difficult classes Hogwarts can currently offer for our year. That’s not something every new student experiences.” It was the way Hermione had said it as a matter of fact that made Y/n blush more. Exiting the stall, Hermione turned around and saw that they had their tie around their neck. “Need help?” Hermione said while pointing at their tie.

Once again Y/n blushed and nodded. Hermione was quick to get close to Y/n and started to tie their tie. “I do have to warn you though. There’s not a lot of competition when it comes to academics in Hogwarts. Don’t get me wrong, there is certain bright students, but none seem to come close.” Tightening the tie, Hermione looked into Y/n eyes. It was the first time she noticed how deep they looked. Regardless of their color, they were enchanting as well. “However, you seem to be my closest competition. So, I will have to take every chance I can get to beat you.” Y/n chuckled at the bright young witch in front of them. Hermione backed away after realized how close they were and cleared her throat. “Don’t take it as a laughing matter. Academics are truly important to me.”

Y/n had put their hands up in defense. “Don’t worry…I just find it funny that you think it’s going to be easy to compete with me.” Y/n smirked at their come back. If you were to ask where the hell that confidence came from, don’t bother. Y/n doesn’t know the answer either. With a similar smirk, Hermione said, “You and I are going to be great together.”

The story continues as the home is built. The next few things needed are the walls and roof.

It was the summer after their third year when Hermione, Harry, and Y/n had spent the summer at the Burrow. Ron had almost forgotten to invite Y/n when Ginny saved the day. The three of showed up at the house all dropping in one by one. Y/n was the last one to drop in, showing up during dinner time. Slowly walking in with trunk in hand, Y/n was met with the sound of their name echoing through the house. Ginny was the first to notice Y/n’s presence and loudly yelled, “Y/n!” Ginny quickly gave Y/n a hug when the echoes came from up the stairs.

“Did someone say Y/n?” George asked.

“Y/n?”

“Are they here?”

“Y/n’s here?!”

Hermione was the last one to ask when a stampede of people came running down the stairs. “Y/n!” One by one, they all started a group hug with Y/n in the middle. “Guys, I can’t breathe.” They all broke apart allowing Y/n to regain air, but was cut off when Molly came swooping in. “Oh, hello dear. I was beginning to worry that you couldn’t make it – are you hungry? You must be starving. I cooked your favorite.” Molly was quick to ramble on and on when Fred had pried the two apart. “Mum, I think Y/n needs oxygen. We’ll go ahead and start setting up the table.”

Molly slightly blushed and smiled at Y/n. “I’m glad that you’re here Y/n. Now come on people, dinner won’t serve itself.” The group was quick to help around the house, working like a well-oiled machine. Soon, everyone was sitting down at the table enjoying their home cooked meal. Y/n was sitting smack dab in the middle between Ginny and Hermione. Across from them were the boys.

Over the course of dinner, plenty of topics arose such as school, quidditch, muggles (only because Arthur can’t get enough), and more. The boys plus Ginny and Y/n couldn’t stop talking about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Hermione butted in about how glad she was that summer finally came. It was especially hard on the girl considering her tight schedule.

After dinner came the night. The house was quiet as the guests separated to their assigned rooms. It just so happens that Hermione and Y/n were assigned Charlie’s old room. If it weren’t for the dragon paraphernalia, Charlie’s room was actually quite neat and well organized. “Going to take a gander but I think Charlie really likes dragons.” Hermione snorted at Y/n’s obviously sarcastic comment. “Oh really? Could’ve mistaken me, I thought he was a quidditch fan.” Jokes aside, the two changed into their sleeping garments and went to bed.

Well Hermione went to bed while Y/n stared at the ceiling deep in thought. It was not until the moon was shining brightly through the window that Y/n realized how late it was. Considering the time, they tried to sleep but failed miserably. After giving up, Y/n laid on their side and faced towards Hermione. Seeing as the young wizard had already spent too much time alone with their thoughts, Y/n poked Hermione’s face until she was awake.

“Hermione. Psssst. Hermione” Y/n whispered as they poked her. “Hermione. Psst.” At the feeling of someone poking her, Hermione swatted their hand away. Seeing Hermione with an annoyed sleeping face was funny to Y/n but being alone sucked more. “Hermione, are you awake?” Suddenly, Hermione’s eyes opened; it was like a fierce dragon was staring into your soul. She looked mad at the fact someone woke her up from her slumber. “What Y/n?”

With an innocent smile, Y/n looked at Hermione and said, “Wanna tell secrets?” Hermione rolled her eyes and faced the opposite way of Y/n. “Go to sleep Y/n. We have to wake up early soon.” Y/n groaned at Hermione’s words. She was right, of course, but Y/n couldn’t go to sleep. Night was always the hardest.

“Come on Hermione.” Y/n received no response from the girl. Only a silent shoulder. Laying on her back and hands behind their head, Y/n looked at the ceiling. “Ya know, I know your secret…at least one of them.” Y/n glanced at Hermione and she still was facing away. “Or maybe two of them. Well, it’s the same secret, it just so happens that two Hermiones happen to share them.” Hermione quickly shot up and faced towards Y/n to see them smirking. “It’s not that hard to tell that a bright witch like you can’t be in two classes at once, but somehow you were.” Hermione grabbed her pillow and proceeded to hit Y/n with it. “Don’t you dare tell a soul Y/n Y/l/n. I won’t be afraid to hex you.”

Y/n grabbed the pillow and threw it back at the witch, making sure to aim at her face. “Well maybe next time, try not to be in two places at once. It sure threw me off when I had to drop off a note for the Professor only to have found you in a different class. And after I returned, you were still at the same spot I left you.”

“Unbelievable. I knew I should have volunteered to do that, but you just had to be faster than me.” Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up against the bed frame. Y/n followed suit and did the same thing. There was still an obvious smirk on their face. After a couple minutes, the silence broke. “Well, are you going to tell me your secret since you exposed mine?”

“Well Ms. Grainger lets see what secret you get to hear today.” Pondering for a moment, Y/n tried to think of information that no one knew, something of equivalently as important such as time traveling. “I got it! However, you have to promise me that you won’t tell a soul not even Crookshanks.” Y/n held out their hand with only their pinky in the air. Hermione looked them in the eye as she said, “I promise.” They locked pinkies as Y/n said, “I think I like girls.”

Hermione blinked for a couple seconds which only led devasting thoughts in Y/n’s mind. It didn’t take long, but she responded with, “Oh for Merlin’s sake. If you’re going to tell me a secret Y/n, at least make it to something that isn’t so painfully obvious.”

Hermione broke the gaze as Y/n stared in disbelief. “Don’t look so surprised. Just as you said, maybe next time try not to be caught staring at every single girl in Hogwarts.”

Gulping down their fear, Y/n said, “You don’t mind?” Hermione shook her head. “Nope. Not one single bit. You’re still the same, just love who you love except for racists and he who shall not be named. Well there’s a list. As long as they’re not genuinely bad people and you can see them joining SPEW, then I approve.”

Y/n looked at the girl beside her in amazement and wonder. They continued the conversation as the night grew, telling even more daring secrets as the previous. But one secret did remain with Y/n that night, it was their everlasting crush on Hermione Jean Granger.

The second to last thing a home needs is the spark to light the fireplace as well as the furniture. That way the home can feel as warm and as safe to those that harbor in it.

It was a winter wonderland at Hogwarts. Students were preparing to travel back home to their respective families. However, a group of students decided to spend the last weekend at Hogsmeade before leaving the next day. Right now, they had crowed the room at The Three Broomsticks with laughter, joy, and happy memories. The air was filled with a different type of warmth, one that felt safe and even like a second home. Everyone was talking so loudly within small groups, it was hard to even feel alone. Ginny and Y/n were standing near the fire talking when Fred had grabbed the attention of the room. “Everyone. Everyone. I propose a game. Let’s do a simple muggle game called truth or dare.” Everyone in the group oood as they knew where this was going to lead. They would start with a couple truths before someone breaks the ice with a good dare. Typically, the twins were the ones to propose the dare, but not a lot could compete. “Whoever cannot complete the truth or dare shall lose. Completion allows you to stay,” George had added.

The group sat in a tight makeshift circle that almost took up all the chairs and tables provided. “I’ll start. Harry, who was the last person you snogged?” All eyes were now on the chosen one. Everyone could see his nervousness, but everyone knew he would never want to be the first one out. “Draco.” Certain eyes went wide, but Y/n simply went unphased since she somewhat caught the two making out in between classes. “No questions. Neville, is your crush in this room?” Neville immediately turned red at the question and was the first one to back out. There were small boos mainly coming from the twins. “Since Neville backed out, lets go with the person to his right, Ron. Is your crush in this room?” Ron had the same reaction as Neville but had looked at the ceiling to refrain from giving away his crush. “Yes.” Everyone looked among each other trying to figure out who it could possibly be. “Don’t even try asking who it is. Ginny since you’re bloody enjoying this, did you and Y/n ever snog?” Y/n and Ginny both went wide eyed causing the group to lean a little bit closer to the two. What added more was at how everyone knew how close the two were. Not wanting to entirely answer the question, Ginny backed out the circle causing more booing from the crowd. “What a buzzkill. However, lets just ask the second-best person. Well Y/n, have you snogged my sister?”

Y/n looked at the crowded but had kept glancing towards Hermione. Although it was a simple question, Y/n hadn’t wanted to entirely answer it. You see, Ginny and Y/n did kiss before, but it was an accident. There was a bump, a stumble, then a fall, and then an accident kiss. It didn’t mean anything to the two of them, plus Y/n felt like her heart might’ve been for somewhere. So, Y/n had followed Ginny in the same manner and backed out the circle. “Oh bloody hell! You two have a knack to keep this stupid mystery alive.” They both rolled their eyes at Ron and watched the game continue. What Y/n failed to realize was how affected a certain witch was at their answer.

The game dwindled down until there was three left and unironically it was the golden trio that had made it this far. It was a little surprising for Y/n that Hermione had made it this far. Majority of the time, Hermione would be among the first to decline doing a truth or dare. “I’m sorry Hermione, but I must win. So, I dare you to kiss Ron.” It was something about the dare that made Y/n’s stomach turn. Their mood soured so quickly that they almost felt sick. Slightly tapping Ginny’s back, Y/n whispered in her ear, “Hey, I’m gonna head outside real quick. I don’t feel so good.” Ginny gave a concerned look. She was going to say something back, but Y/n was already out the door with their hand clutching their stomach.

Besides Ginny, Hermione was the only other person that noticed Y/n had left. In her line of sight, she saw past Ron and briefly seen them leave in distress. The deafening chants of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” didn’t register with her. The only thing running through Hermione’s mind was Y/n. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this dare guys.” Quickly getting out the circle, the chants stopped, and the game continued to declare the winner. Hermione excused herself and made her way outside. She made sure to grab hers and Y/n’s coat. “What an idiot. It’s freezing cold out there.”

Stepping out the tavern, Hermione saw various witches and wizards pass by. Some she knew and some she didn’t. Walking further out, Hermione grew frustrated after not quickly finding her friend. “Where the hell are you?” Walking around further, she saw an outline of a person. Clearly, they had no coat on with how much they were shivering. Hermione walked closer to the figure and realized it was Y/n. “For someone so bloody smart, you are such an idiot.” Hermione accidentally wrapped her own coat around Y/n. She didn’t realize she had instinctively put on her best friend’s coat. Y/n chuckled, but it was cut short due to the freezing weather. Hermione sat down beside them and focused on the view in front of them. There was a small silence between the two as they had people watched. Hermione almost forgot why she even went outside in the first place. She shook her head remembering her thought, “Are you okay? I saw you leave in a hurry.”

Y/n glanced at Hermione, giving her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I think my stomach was just feeling off. I went outside to get better air.” Hermione looked in their eyes and was quick to call bullshit. “Better air? It’s absolutely freezing out here. Even Merlin themselves wouldn’t want to be outside this weather. So why don’t you tell me the real truth? And if you lie Y/n, I will not hesitate to read your mind.” Y/n gulped at the sound of her threat. They glanced back out into the view in front of them. Taking a deep breath, Y/n nervously replied with, “During your dare, I suddenly felt…sick…I don’t know why but my stomach felt so knotty and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So, I left.” Y/n glanced back at Hermione and immediately noticed the look on her face. It was intense and serious. Suddenly, something in the air felt different. It was getting hotter and hotter regardless of the snow falling around them.

“Can I kiss you?” Hermione asked in such a small whisper. A lump appeared in Y/n’s throat. They didn’t know what to quite say. They never really thought about what their feelings meant towards Hermione, but then again, everyone practically knew that Y/n and Hermione were in love with each other. Y/n just happened to be the biggest dumbass when it comes to realizing their feelings for others. But here Y/n was. They weren’t answering the question, but felt themselves leaning in. The two closed their eyes and was slowly leaning in. Hermione felt her heart beating so fast that she was certain it would explode, but she didn’t care. She knew that for so long, she wanted this.

However…the moment never arrived. It was cut off from a distant yell, “Y/n!” The two quickly separated and looked at different directions. Suddenly Hermione took it a step further and slightly moved away from Y/n. “There you are – I’ve been looking every where for you!” Ginny jogged up to the duo, noting the awkward tension that emerged. “We have to go back to the castle, I’ll explain on the way.” The red head dragged away her best friend while giving a small nod towards Hermione.

When they were far enough and half way towards the castle, Ginny explained the dire situation. “It’s your parents Y/n, you have to go home. An owl was sent towards the tavern. Here, you’re going to want to read this.” Ginny handed Y/n the letter. After reading it, Y/n’s stomach dropped. “I have to get home.” Ginny sent them a look. “Clearly dumbass. Come on, let’s get your stuff.” It was eerie quiet between the two since the situation had escalated. Y/n’s parents were in trouble and needed Y/n’s help.

Back at Hogsmeade, Hermione didn’t quite know what to feel. She was so close to kissing her crush, but Ginny just had to ruin the moment. The same person she was somewhat certain had Y/n’s heart. Asking the younger lad to kiss her took all the courage Hermione had, and here she was slightly heartbroken that she was gone. So deep in thought, Hermione didn’t notice Ron sit next to her until he said something. “Hey.”

“I need you to explain to Hermione that I’m sorry.” Ginny sighed. She slightly felt guilty for ruining the moment, but time was precious and something Y/n very much needed now. “I know you saw what was going to happen, but I don’t even know what I was doing.” Closing their trunk, Y/n stood up and looked at Ginny. “I do know that I also need to realize what I feel for Hermione. For a lot of my life, I thought I just had a deep love for her. I guess now it might be even deeper.” Ginny walked up and gave Y/n a bone chilling hug.

“I’ll try my best, but she’s definitely going to want to hear it from you.” They separated. Y/n saw the tears forming in Ginny’s eyes. “I’m going to bloody miss you. Please be safe in America and you better send me an owl at least once every two weeks.” Y/n gave Ginny and small salute and crossed their heart.

“I will Ginny. Besides, I need you to deliver all the letters I write for Hermione. I really gotta figure this out.” With one last hug and a small punch to Y/n’s shoulder, the young student left Hogwarts on to the next ride to America. The letter was still clutched in her hand and in it was detailed the long passage of how to save Y/n’s parents from the very people chasing after them. Y/n didn’t quite know how long it was going to take to save their parents, but they could only hope Hermione could understand. “Please wait for me.” Y/n whispered to Hermione in particular, but the younger witch didn’t hear those words. Instead, Hermione heard comforting words from a different red head.

The last thing a home needs is the very people that should live in it. It needs family, friends, and most certainly you and me.

Y/n stood, pacing around the bathroom. They knew time was running out, it was now or never. “Why? Why? Why? Why?” Y/n stood still and pinched the bridge of their nose. Eyes closed, Y/n pondered more and more about all of the things they didn’t do. How could they have let this go on for this long? Why did they let it go on for this long? Deep in thought, Y/n didn’t notice a certain ginger walk into the bathroom. “Y/n, what in the bloody hell are you doing there?  Hermione has been calling you and quite worried sick. If it wasn’t her big day, I would have already knocked you out you big prat.”

Y/n glanced at the second most important person of her life. With a heavy sigh, Y/n slid down the wall. Their knees were propped, hands in their face, and heart in their throat. “I don’t know what to do anymore Ginny.” Ginny pursed her lips and looked back out the door, making sure the coast was clear, before locking the door. She laid her small bouquet of flowers on the sink and sat down near Y/n while trying not to mess up her dress.

“Although I love my idiot brother with all my heart…I somehow love you more.” They sat there together knowing where this was going. “I can’t do it Ginny. I really can’t sit there without feeling like my world is crashing apart right in front of my eyes…The worst thing about it is, I can only blame myself for letting it go this long.”

Ginny rested her head on her best friend’s shoulder. She didn’t quite know what to say anymore. Offering her presence and her ear was the only thing left. “I-I-I spent so long in other countries to try and find my parents while trying to find myself. To try and figure out what I feel for her and by the time I have, she’s already engaged to another…And it’s my stupid fucking fault for ever thinking Hermione would wait. I mean why would she? If some other bloke can already provide her happiness, why should she wait for me? For…us?” Y/n hadn’t realized they were crying until their hands suddenly felt wet. “It’s sad, isn’t it?” Y/n said as they wiped their tears. “What is?”

“Knowing I am my own cause for my sadness. I mean who I am to blame Hermione. The girl was only doing what Aristotle says. Because as he said, we all want to be selfishly happy.” Sighing in defeat, Y/n got up and dusted off their attire. Lending their hand out, Ginny got up and did the same manner. “How much time do I got?”

Ginny looked at the clock in the bathroom. “You have five minutes before she needs to be walking down the isle.” With a small smile, Y/n kissed Ginny forehead and said a small goodbye. The two were only going to part ways for merely a bit. After all, Ginny is Y/n’s second-best friend. But here was Y/n, jogging to the very person that was going to forever have their heart.

Standing outside the bride’s room, Y/n silently prayed and opened the door. There she was in all her glory, the bride to be, the love of her life, the Hermione Granger. However, the brunette herself wasn’t feeling so great. With all the stress of wanting the wedding to be perfect, it wasn’t helping that her very best friend was mysteriously disappearing all the time without a single word. She looked up and sighed once she saw who it was. Picking up her dress, Hermione strutted to Y/n as they closed the door behind them. “Do you have any clue how worried sick I have been?”

“I-” With a single motion of Hermione’s hand, Y/n remained silent. “And anytime I happen to need my best friend to calm me down, they’re nowhere in sight. What is wrong with you? This is my special day Y/n and you haven’t been as great of a friend as you should be. So please, enlighten me where have you been running off to that’s sooo important that you need to leave me?” It was those piercing eyes that made Y/n’s heart melt over and over again. It’s those very same eyes that could practically melt the iceberg that hit the titanic. And it’s those eyes that makes Y/n’s world spin again.

“I…I can’t be your friend Hermione.” Y/n’s voice was so soft and so delicate, Hermione almost questioned if her ears were playing tricks. “What are you bloody saying? You’re not making any sense.” And all the remaining courage Y/n could muster up, they held her hands, looked her in the eyes and said, “When I was gone, I learned of this great philosopher named Kant-” “What does this have to-” Hermione saw the silently begging eyes in front of her and shut her mouth. This was serious and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for it.

“He always focused on good principles and always asked about the before of the action. Generally, he believed others should necessarily treat people how they want to be treated. So, a short example is that one should never lie under any circumstances. It does not matter the outcome, but it is simply something you must do. And although I’ve never really believed in absolute, I’ve been asking myself if I should tell the truth. And if people actually deserve to know the truth. So while I thought about it and asked, well what if they deserve the truth, should I still tell them regardless of the outcome? Although I thought I knew a lot of the world, it turns out I only know two things. One is that you deserve to know the absolute truth Hermione and the second is…you are the lie I repeat at night. Because every night I tell I love you, the truth is…I am so in love with you Hermione.”

The world went silent for Hermione. Not even a single pin drop could break the silence for her. Here she was still holding her best friend’s hands as they had just admitted that they were in love with her. “And I’m so sorry Hermione that today of all days was when I told you. I know I had my chances in the letters I sent but I must be honest now because you still deserve the absolute truth. And I’m running out of words to say, because it would be too selfish of me to convince you to run away. So I offer my congratulations Hermione, but I must still run. For then maybe in the blur of life, I can see a small fragment where there could have been you and I.” Y/n kissed Hermione’s forehead as tears may their way down. Letting go of Hermione, Y/n silently walked out the room without turning back because if they had, they would have broken down.

So, while Y/n told Hermione the truth directly. Hermione stood still at the alter with someone who she is most positively certain she loves pondering the very question, “Do I run after the truth?”

[jonsa101]

Do you think when Max double back and said “we never talked about it” do you think Helen took it as yes finally he’s opening up and that’s why she hug him and laugh that relieved laugh? And then she asked him that question and she realize he still doesn’t get it??

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!! This is a great question and such a hard one to answer as well! I’ve honestly considered a lot of scenarios in my mind about where Helen’s mind was at before and after the hug. I have gone back and forth about it but after analyzing it for awhile these are my final thoughts on it.

In my last ask I got from @abriaashley, I had mentioned that there was a very brief moment in that rooftop scene that reminded of me their rooftop scene in 1.17. Before I answered this ask, I took a couple days to really make sure that I knew what I was talking about but after analyzing it I know without a shadow of doubt this is the exact same expression. To me, this brief moment below is the most important key in understanding everything that happened during and after their hug.

But in order to understand why Helen has this expression on her face, we need to first examine the scene where we saw this expression first. In episode 1.17, Max and Helen are having a conversation within a conversation about their relationship. Everything is subtext but essentially Helen tells Max that she needs to “triage,” she can’t be his “all of the above” and that she’s removing herself as his doctor. Of course Max is upset by this and with his wonderful Freudian slip he reveals his true heart’s desire when he says...

But what if I want you?

After this declaration, we get this expression on her face and then Helen STICKS TO HER RESOLVE!

In the context of this scene, Helen’s expression here tells me two things:

Max telling her “what if I want want you” is exactly what she wants to hear. She clearly has feelings for him and hearing that is supposed to tempt and sway her resolve. But based on their current circumstances the idea of them is simply not possible and it’s heart aching.

She clearly doesn’t want to do what she’s about to do in this moment but she’s BUILDING UP THE WILL POWER to do what she feels she has to do!

This is my interpretation of why Helen has that expression on her face. When I look at episode 3.10 where Helen has that same look before she hugs Max, I think the same reasons apply for this moment as well. As an avid Sharpwin shipper it’s easy to fan girl about these intimate moments and get carried away but when you logically look at their scene and the scene that took place right before, hopefully what I explain will make perfect sense to you.

Before Max and Helen’s moment on the roof, Helen had a GUT-WRENCHING scene with her niece. Mina is still heavily grieving her father and this explains so much of why she’s also had a lot of behavioral issues. She’s suffering emotionally and is desperately trying to find some semblance of peace and healing. Shanthi Sekaran, the writer for this episode, said the inspiration for this scene was Micaheanglo’s Pieta and how fitting it was for this moment between them.

“Pieta” which translates to pity or compassion, shows the the Virgin Mary compassionately holding on to the dead body of Jesus as she sorrowfully contemplates the death of her beloved son.

Like this sculpture, Helen compassionately holds Mina and comforts her as Mina is overcome with her grief and as Helen is trying to empathize with the depths of Mina’s sorrow! It’s just such a beautiful thing to witness and why I’m hoping Mina sticks around for the long haul. There’s so much emotional investment already and in this moment of their lives, they desperately NEED EACH OTHER! So when you look at everything from a wholistic perspective and you look at the chain of events that led Helen to be on that rooftop in the first place, does it LOGICALLY make sense that Helen would be in the headspace to address her relationship with Max or even kiss him? Nooooooooo!!!!

It doesn’t make sense!

If anything, her actions in this scene is a reflection of what she did earlier with Cassian when she broke up with him. As she made her niece first priority with Cassian, she is essentially making her niece first priority again with Max, despite being in love with him!

Let’s breakdown 3.10’s rooftop scene so y’all can know where I’m coming from.

Part 1 of this scene is Max and Helen discussing parenting and him emotionally supporting her when she feels like she had a parenting fail. This should have been the first clue for us to understand how this moment between them would play out because this issue with Mina was the main thing that was clearly plaguing her mind!

In part 2 of this scene, Max turns to leave and then after briefly hesitating, he turns around says

“I’m sorry about Cassian.”

As soon as he says this we see this same expression we saw in 1.17. Then Max continues and says.

I don’t know what to...say. I mean, we never talk about it.”

Y’all I said this in my last ask but this is a really big deal! This is Max’s first attempt to bring up the elephant in the room between them and it’s something that he’s never attempted to address before. Helen knows this is a big deal too and she knows where this conversation was headed. Hence why before the conversation could even go anywhere, Helen cut him off with a hug!

Like I said at the beginning of this post, the expression Helen makes before the hug is the key to understanding this scene in it’s entirety! Similar to 1.17 I believe the same reasons apply for her expression in 3.10 but vary slightly.

Once again, what Max is saying is exactly what Helen wants to hear but also what she’s been waiting for him to do! Unlike in season 1, Max and Helen are in completely different circumstances than they were back then. Subconsciously, they had feelings back then but now they are both fully aware that they’re in love with each other. The massive elephant in the room exists between them because they don’t talk about their feelings and they’re to afraid to voice that they’re in love with each other. There is no doubt in my mind that Max finally being able to at least broach the topic is something that she has always wanted Max to do. They seemingly don’t have anything that’s holding them back from being together but based by how I see it, the heart aching look on Helen’s face tells me that in Helen’s mind it’s essential she puts her sole focus into Mina, even if this is something she’s always wanted. (This Is KEY!)

Like 1.17, I think Helen was building up that will power to tell him that she’s happy that their friends even though she’s in love with him. That hug between them was a lot of things. It was deeply loving and heartfelt. It was cathartic with pent-up angst and longing semi-released but most of all, it was desperate and supportive. Despite this, I also believe that this hug was used to avoid a conversation that Helen didn’t want to have. If she allowed that conversation to go any further she would have 100% been swayed and would have probably given into her feelings. But Helen didn’t want to be swayed. She wanted to stick to her resolve that Mina is her first priority! Is this a problematic mindset? Yes! But after that emotionally charged moment with Mina I can see how Helen might think she’s making the right decision.

Also, I’m convinced that if Mina’s breakdown didn’t happen before Max and Helen’s moment on the rooftop, they would have probably had that conversation. But since it did happen, it totally plays a role in what transpires between Helen and Max.

For the moments after they hug this is how I interpret those interactions:

When Helen says to Max “what you said earlier” initially I thought she was referring to something he said earlier in the day. Now that I’ve taken a couple of days to really think about it, I just don’t think that makes sense. Again, after Helen’s moment with Mina, I don’t think she was in the headspace at all to talk about her feelings for him. This scene was more so about Max stepping up and being emotionally supportive of her and I think what’s she’s actually referring to is Max saying “But it helps not to be alone.” In that moment Helen recognized that Max will unequivocally support her and I think that’s something she’s incredibly grateful for. When Max responds with “what did I say?,” I genuinely believe he’s not thinking straight because he so overwhelmed and overjoyed to have Helen in his arms. Also, I think naturally he asks that question because he wants to know for future reference what he needs to keep saying to keep her in his arms 🥰.That look that she gives Max before she tells him that she’s really glad that they’re friends isn’t necessarily a look of disappointment because of Max. After I watched it again, that look to me is more so of a look of “I hate that I’m doing this but I have to do this.” As she is gazing into his eyes, it’s her final push to stick to her resolve! Her mind was already made up and she was going to see that decision through.

Y’all I’m going to wrap this up here because this ask wasn’t supposed to be a meta but ended up that way! Lol! Though these are my opinions on what transpired in 3.10 that doesn’t change my opinion of how I see things unfolding for Sharpwin this season. I just think it’s important to put scenes in proper context. Though Helen might have said that they’re friends, it is so evident that she is clearly in love with him. Like Max, she can’t pretend or neglect her personal wants and needs forever! The great sleeping bear of her desire stirred and is wide awake! Sooner rather than later that bear needs to be fed!

Feel free to reach out to me through my Dms on Tumblr or on Twitter! @oyindaodewale. Also my ask box is always open! 🥰

None of the Gifs in this post are mine!