#thanks hydrate saw your other ask. yeah I am taking my time and relaxing a bit with all the work i got by chilling here with everyone

[finiffy]

Hi fin,

Drink water.

-Hydrate

[<3]

Yeah..well I just finished some boba that I bought so I think that is good as water

[thegirlwhowritesawksh-t]

la douleur de l'amour - georgenotfound x f!reader

author: @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t​ me!

word count: 4.7k +

warnings: hella angst, mentions of blood/scabs/injuries. if there’s any you think that you see, please let me know!

a/n: hi y’all :)) first off, to whoever’s reading this: stay hydrated, smile and laugh! and second: this is my submission for @bozowrites​ writing event! <33 congrats!!

**this is my second fic, and i’m hoping to push more out as i get more comfortable with writing! i’m thinking to maybe make a part two to this but i don't know yet. please let me know what you think! *sending besitos to y’all :))*

Prompt: Why are you crying?

1:15 p.m.

In the corner of a dimly lit studio in front of the barre, (y/n) leans over to her left, counting four beats before resetting and proceeding to stretch over her right side. After months spent choreographing, picking costumes, and endless bandages wrapped around her feet, it has led to the final product: her first piece in her dance company’s annual recital premiering tonight.

All (y/n) could feel was pure energy and pride at what she has created. It’s her baby after all and nothing could ruin the day for her.

Feeling her joints start to loosen up, she runs through a mental list in her head making sure each dancer had their costumes, knew where all the dancers would start and end on stage, as well as remembering her own choreography, seeing as she had an important section to end her piece. After double-checking, (y/n) then begins to travel to the center of the studio, and begins to run over the piece.

Remember the triple pirouette here, before you end with a leap to fourth position. Finishing in the fourth position, she lets out a curse as she accidently stubs her right thumb toe, a small scab already tearing at the edge. Shaking out her pain, she reattempts the move, succeeding with an effortless bow.

“You know, your piece is going to be excellent. Why are you so worried?”, a voice calls out in the quiet studio, with (y/n) yelping and trying to find where the voice came from. Standing against the edge of the doorway stood Liam, her dance partner and best friend. (y/n) begins to chuckle and runs the piece over again.

“Can’t help but make sure it’s perfect. I have drenched all my blood, sweat and tears creating this dance, this- this masterpiece. It is my first, and most certainly not my last choreographing piece at this company. There’s too much riding on this for me.”, she replies.

“Even if so, I’d like to think you’ll be fine. Don’t stress, it’s amazing. Otherwise, how are you feeling?”

“Kind of excited, kind of feeling like I should run away.”, (y/n) replies. Avoiding to answering the question entirely, she begins to run the piece over again. She continues,

“I think regardless, it should be a great night. George is coming to the recital tonight and it’ll be the first time he’ll be seeing this dance.” With George editing and recording videos for the Dream Team, his Twitch channel, and YouTube channels, (y/n)’s barely seen him since the start of the dance season. The only time she’s been able to spend time with him has been going to bed with him - even if it’s been a bit more rare lately - and sometimes, a free day on a weekend with no dance practice or no recording for George.

“So that’s why you are nervous, how cute.”, Liam laughs, with (y/n) leaping over to Liam and swatting their arm lightly.

“He swore that he’d come tonight, and he knows how much time I’ve spent perfecting this. I just can’t imagine tonight going any other way. I made sure to get him a seat right in the front, so he’ll be able to see the whole performance, and me.”, (y/n) smirks. As soon as (y/n) found out she would be choreographing one of the pieces in the recital, she immediately told George her good news. George had told her she deserved it for working her butt off since the start of her being at the dance academy. Making him pinky swear, George swore that he would be there for her first performance with her also starring as a choreographer.

“So focus on that instead of thinking your piece is going to crash and burn! Relax a bit. We only have a bit of time before we start getting ready, so let’s run it over a few more times. And don’t even think about slacking off now, missy, we’ll stretch and go get ready after.” Liam decides, and she nods, thinking it’s probably for the best. Running to her bag, (y/n) sends a quick message to George.

George J: hey, can’t wait to see you tonight! i left your ticket on your nightstand, and remember to dress up slightly, it’s a dance recital after all ;) lub you xo - sent at 1:34 p.m.

Content with her message, she tosses her phone back into her bag, and heads back to run over the piece with Liam once more.

>>>

6:47 p.m.

Sticking the last bobby-pin to her bun, (y/n) glances in the mirror to make sure no mistake is in place. Eyeing her look, she can’t help but smile looking at her dance attire, admiring how her purple leotard and dress matches her eyeshadow. Paired with a dark nude lip, she smirks and turns to check her phone for any messages, hoping that one could be from George.

Out of the nine messages she received, most were from friends and family, wishing her luck on her performance tonight. She replied with a thanks and a heart emoji before finally reading the last message coming from George about two hours ago.

George J: hi darling, i saw the ticket, i am so excited for you! can’t wait for you to take my breath away, as you always do. love you more xo  - sent at 4:48 p.m.

Smiling even wider, (y/n) puts her phone on silent, before walking towards the backstage area, passing dancers along the way. Grabbing their hands and wishing them good luck, she arrives at the destination, nerves buzzing as members of the audience start gathering at their seats. Deciding to take a peek, (y/n) rushes to the curtains, peeking her eyes out towards the front rows, trying to spot the pale boy who danced into her heart. First row, seat G for George, she giggles to herself.

“Trying to find your lover? I’m right here!” Liam asks, with (y/n) turning around.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m no Harry Styles, so I don’t think I’m your type…” (y/n) smirks.

“Hm. Where’s George, I want to see him!”

“I’m looking for him right now, Liam. Give me a second.”, (y/n) laughs as she turns back to the audience. Finding his seat, she subtly frowns seeing as he’s not in his seat yet. He’s probably in the bathroom, or still in line to get to his seat, (y/n) tries to explain to herself.

“He’s not here yet, I think he’s in the bathroom or something. But give him time, he’ll be here.” (y/n) mutters as Liam frowns at her.

“He better show up, it’s your night, (y/n).”, they grumble. They start to say more however-

“Places, everyone! Take your places! We’re starting at seven sharp!” the stage manager yells out. He continues,

“We start in five minutes!” Rushing to get off the stage, she sees dancers brush past another wishing them luck. As the ballet dancers start to move into their places for the intro piece, she then walks over to Liam, helping them set up the microphone as they begin to breathe slowly.

“Hey, you got this. It’s just reading off of cue cards and announcing pieces. And then you’ll be set for my piece. You’re going to do great, Liam.”, (y/n) tries to motivate, with Liam smiling shyly at her.

“And your piece is going to kick ass, (y/n). It’s perfection. Just wait until George sees you dance. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s going to fall for you even more.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see…” (y/n) laughs. Liam clears their throat a bit before raising the microphone to their lips. (y/n) proceeds to head to the viewing room, where a broadcast of the show would play for other dancers to watch and support their fellow castmates.

Taking a deep breath, Liam starts to speak as (y/n)’s nerves start to palpitate.

“Hello, how are you this evening? And welcome to the 67th Annual Recital for the London Dance Academy! I am your emcee, Liam Barrings, and let me introduce you to the first dance of the night created by Sam Hastings. Here is Invictus!”

>>>

8:51 p.m.

An hour later, seven dances, and many whispered good jobs, it is finally time for (y/n) to step on stage and premiere her masterpiece. Slowly tip-toeing to her first position on stage, she glances at her castmates, thanking them silently in her mind for them to trust her to bring her visions to life. Before the curtains open, she turns to Liam on her right, kneeling down and grabbing her thighs, and they smile back at her.

“Ready for it?”, they smirk. Thinking to herself, she nods and turns back to the front of the curtains waiting for the music to begin. Remember the triple pirouette after Liam grabs you. And try to look like you’re in pain from loving him. It is exquisite pain, right (y/n)? Liam is toxic, yet you still love them. Make it believable. And finally, breathe.

Another emcee, Josh begins to speak.

“And now, I present to you (y/n - y/ln)’s dance. This is her first piece with her own choreography with the London Dance Academy, and tonight, we are the very first group of people to watch her story come to life. Please let me introduce you to (y/n) and her piece, La Douleur Exquise!” the audience claps softly, before the curtains open its wings to reveal the creation.

The background, a stark white, yet the lights casts hues of soft lilacs, with streaks of dark reds splattering across the dancers’ bodies. With a small pause, music begins to sing out of the speakers. Liam and (y/n) begin the piece with a small duet. Following closely behind, a quad of dancers mimicking their moves with childlike innocence.

Liam turns to (y/n), conveying an I love you through their linked hands and they abruptly pull her to their arms, as she looks at them with confusion in her eyes and pulling away. Gliding towards the middle, the quad walks slowly to (y/n), enveloping her with open arms, before having a dance section with (y/n) in the middle as Liam looks on, hellbent on grasping (y/n) once more. Every other beat, (y/n) turns to Liam, feeling lost as if they were missing from her.

As the quad looks away, having their own small solos, (y/n) slips away from the group only to leap back into Liam’s arms with her hands grasping their face as Liam slowly grips her waist. Looking at her with renewed interest, his face morphs into fury as one of the dancers pass by her, softly guiding his fingers from her shoulder down to her inner wrist. An angry duet starts, with Liam and (y/n) clashing against each other, as if saying they hate but love each other at the same time.

(y/n) leaps into Liam’s arms, before slowly sliding herself off him as the quad of dancers, follow closely behind, lifting (y/n) to her feet. Everyone proceeds to move as one, with the quad dancing in the center, whereas Liam paces their way to (y/n), lifting her into the air once again, before they land in a small leap. Conversing with their bodies, Liam guides (y/n)’s hands to their heart, slightly pulling her along. Finally coming to the end of the dance, (y/n) runs to the center of the stage, facing the audience.

Grabbing her left arm is Liam, pulling her to their side, and the quad of dancers are pulling her on her right. The war between the two goes back and forth in a tug-of-war before (y/n) seemingly gives up and slams herself to the ground, as the music fades into silence. The audience erupts into booming claps and cheers, and (y/n) feels herself being pulled up from the ground by Liam as a light blush covers her skin. Glancing up at the audience, she tries to smile despite the stage lights burning into her. I did it, I managed to make a story, my story come to life. Hearing the audience continuing to clap, realization sets in and she finds her eyes wandering over to the front row, seat G for George. Seat empty, her smile falters and her eyes become glassy. Some would think because of her success with her piece. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad, maybe it was a little bit of both.

>>>

9:23 p.m.

He’s here, he has to be. He’s probably peeing or waiting for me in the front with flowers, or in the dressing room. He has to be here, I know it, (y/n) mutters to herself, hellbent on her beliefs that George is here. Yet the bitter taste of rejection starts to seep into her bones. Shaking her head a bit and attempting to put on the brightest smile, she starts to rush back to the dressing room, a sinking feeling residing in her stomach with each looming step.

Facing the dressing room door, (y/n) can’t help but hope that maybe George is standing there with a bouquet of flowers and kisses reserved for her. Slowly opening the door, her hopes slip through with her mouth curling as she stares at only her reflection in the mirror. He swore that he’d be here. He swore that he would be here for my first performance, (y/n) softly whispers to herself, tears threatening to fall. Gasping, she finally lets herself breathe as she repeats to herself again and again that he wasn’t here.

A soft knock on the door interrupts her thoughts, causing (y/n) to quickly wipe her tears before foolishly yelling out,

“George?”, as the door opens to reveal Liam and the Director himself, Nicholas Anderson.

“(y/n)? It’s us. Where’s George?” Liam asks, a frown settling into his brows.

“Oh, he’s just in the bathroom, he hasn’t been feeling good.” She lies, feeling bile itch her throat. A little white lie shouldn’t hurt anyone, (y/n) thought.

“Hello, (y/n). You looked wonderful out there! Your dance was easily one of the highlights of the night, I couldn’t stop replaying the duet between you and Liam in my head. Your dance truly captured the aspects of a toxic relationship not from one side but from both of point of views. It truly showed exquisite pain, knowing that you would always go back to Liam, but would Liam be there for you?” Nicholas explains, his words smacking (y/n) at full force. Is- is George there for me?, (y/n) thinks to herself. Nicholas continues on,

“I think you are a great addition to our Academy, and tonight truly proved how ready you are to become a full-time member. So how about it? Next season, we’ll be adding you to the roster of choreographers.” Eyes wide, (y/n) nods furiously with a yes and hugs Liam. Nicholas smiles and exits the room, leaving behind two excited dancers jumping around.

“You did it! Now we have to celebrate! Club night, I don’t care. We are going to get plastered! Bring George!” Liam laughs. At the mention of George, her stomach turns as she then realizes George wasn’t here. What sounded like good news turns to rot as she starts thinking of George.

“Let me check my phone, it has been a while in the bathroom, huh?” (y/n) tries to joke, trying hard to not let her voice waver and letting her brain scramble to come up with another small lie. Reaching through her phone, she reads over the texts once again sent from family and friends, finding the conversation between her and George. No new messages, her heart sinks as she slowly starts to open up the rest of her notifications, scrolling to most likely find the purple box that would always stay permanently stuck on her home screen. With bright white letters glaring at her, her heart begins to ebb away feeling a familiar sense of loneliness.

1h, 53 min ago: MINECRAFT MANHUNT W/ THE DREAM TEAM

Relying on her emotions, she turns to face Liam, hoping that her excitement of her promotion would overcome the feeling of abandonment of the man she loved. Plastering a sad smile through watery eyes, she forces out,

“George isn’t feeling well, he’s got an upset stomach. I think it’s the stomach flu going around.” If you can convey pain through dance, you can lie through this as well, (y/n) thought. She continues,

“I don’t know if I should be going out since he’s sick.” (y/n) mutters.

“So we go without him! It’s your celebration, his loss.” Liam rolls their eyes. His loss, my loss - seems like the same.

“I- I don’t know, Liam… I’d want to celebrate with him as well.”

“And I get that, but at least go out with us. You always have tomorrow with him, or later tonight. Do it for tonight, do it because you’re going to be a choreographer next season! At least do it for me and the group. We’ve worked our ass all season and we made your vision come true.” Liam explains. Contemplating with herself, (y/n) resolves with a soft smile and mutters an okay. Pumping their fist in the air, Liam excuses themselves to notify the others of the good news and plans.

Once again facing the mirror, (y/n) repeats with determination to celebrate her night. It’s her night to celebrate with loved ones, even if the one she loved the most isn’t there beside her. So much trying to take your breath away when you weren’t even here, George. Taking a breath, she forces out a shaky laugh and tries to smile. Let’s go celebrate, (y/n).

>>>

1:39 a.m.

Slightly stumbling out of the taxi, (y/n) manages to slowly walk her way up to his doorsteps, phone still showing that George was still streaming. Pausing her hand on the doorknob, she resolves to try to wait until morning to confront him, not trusting herself completely to be okay in front of him. Opening the door softly, she walk in, attempting to not make a sound. With small steps, she closes and locks the door before setting her bags down. That can be cleaned tomorrow, (y/n) thought. Rubbing her eyes, she decides to make herself tea before she goes to bed, most likely not with George until he finishes his stream.

While making her tea, (y/n) thinks of everything that she has worked for in the last few months. Endless changes to her dance, countless small injuries, whether it be a jammed toe/finger, scrapes of blood scattered around her feet from dragging her feet too hard across the floor, everything. Why is it that with her triumph, she is beyond proud yet the idea of George not being there to witness her moment shatters that accomplishment? Mulling it over, she doesn’t notice George bustling down the stairs, finished with his successful 5 hour stream with Dream and Sapnap. Spotting (y/n) making her tea, he slowly approaches her and wraps his arms around her waist, landing a soft kiss to her shoulders.

“Why are you home late, Darling? It’s nearly almost two in the morning.”, George chuckles, as (y/n) freezes in his arms. Softly shaking her head, she tries to side-step out of his arms and brings her tea to the opposite side of the room, wrapping an arm around herself. Clearly, he didn’t remember, (y/n) slowly starts to think and repeat to herself.

“Why do you think I was out, George?” she softly asks, taking a sip of tea to calm her nerves. I guess we’re just going to have to hash it out now.

“I don’t know, but did you see the stream? I beat Dream at the last second and he was this close to defeating the Ender Dragon!”, George starts to explain while laughing, with (y/n) taking a harsh breath in. Pinching in-between her brows, she snaps,

“No, George, I didn’t see the stream because I went out to celebrate.”, she mutters, tears slowly starting to escape.

“(y/n)? Is there something wrong? Why are you crying?“ Turning around, (y/n) tries to look anywhere but him. She settles on looking at the clock, watching as time went by, and her nerves increasing with each second. George starts to say more-

“I needed you tonight. Do you remember what tonight was? To my career? To me?”, (y/n) cuts him off. Standing there without a thought, dread slowly seeps in as George realizes that he missed her performance. He starts to stutter,

“Darling, I- “

“No! No. You do not get to apologize. I needed you and where were you? Sitting on your ass playing Minecraft with Dream and Sapnap! I get that your career is very reliant on you being consistent with your uploads, but you couldn’t have taken a night off? For me? I- ”

“(y/n), it’s not like that at- “

“Don’t- just don’t try to explain or come up with excuses. I just don’t want to hear it George. I spent months working on this, exhausted yet still pushing myself for the damn Academy. You swore that you would be there. I left you the ticket on your nightstand, you even texted me saying that you were excited to come! So imagine me standing on stage, looking at the front row, seat G, and where the hell were you? Not there, George. You were not there. I looked like a fool waiting for you to see me perform and dance. Do you remember Nicholas Anderson?”, (y/n) tries to ask calmly. George only stare at her with defeated eyes as he shakes his head no. Cursing, she heaves out a breath before continuing,

“He’s the director of the Academy, George. He’s offered me a position to be a permanent member and choreographer for the London Dance Academy. So please, let me ask again: where were you? I had to lie to Liam and say that you had an upset stomach and that you couldn’t come out! So, Liam invited me to celebrate with the dancers, to celebrate tonight’s success.”

“(y/n)- (y/n), we can celebrate now. I know- I truly know I messed up, but I can fix it, we can celebrate right now!” George stumbles out, walking towards her to grab her hands. Stepping back, she glares at George, appalled that he truly thinks he could resolve this. Shaking her head harshly, she bites out,

“I don’t want to celebrate with you. I’ve already celebrated with loved ones.” Rolling his eyes, George tries to reason with (y/n).

“Okay, I get it. I’m the bad guy in this scenario. But I’m trying to make this right. I am so sorry, darling, but I want to make it up to you, you know I am sorry.”

“You know, I never ask you to cancel a stream or get off of the stream. I always try to understand for the life of me why the streams have to be long, but I try. I always watch your streams and interact with your fans for your sake. I’ve had to explain countless reasons as to why you never show up to my performances, or why you can’t go out with me with the other dancers. And I am okay with it, don’t get me wrong. I know how much Twitch and YouTube and the Dream Team means to you. But you mean everything to me as well. So forgive me if I wanted to be a little selfish and ask you to support me in one of the biggest performances of my life.”

“I can go to the next one, (y/n). It’s not like it’s the last performance.” George snaps.

“You don’t get it, do you?”, she asks, wiping furiously at her tears, trying to not stutter through her words.

“What is there to get? Clearly I’m trying my hardest to make it up to you.”, he replies.

“I love you. I’m so much in love with you, it hurts. But you don’t get it. I have been there for everything in your career. Your first hundred subscribers, your first million subscribers, when you won the MCC back to back, everything. This was- is the important night of my life, and you didn’t show up. You stuck with Dream and Sapnap and decided to stream instead. This night was important for my career, and you knew! I told you months and weeks in advance. I wanted you to take charge and clear your schedule for today and- and sit in the damn seat that I chose because G stood for George. It was for you.” She sobs out, chest shaking as she tries to collect the words tumbling out of her mouth. With eyes flashing in annoyance, George tries to speak over her tears,

“(y/n)- “

“I created this dance for you! For me and- and for us. Because we believed in each other and had the support for each other. Clearly, it was one-sided and tonight proved that.”

“(y/n), listen to me- ”, George stops himself. Watching (y/n) fall apart, he takes a shaky breath and tries to walk closer to (y/n). However, (y/n) takes more steps back, leaving a distance of hostility and guilt between the two lovers.

“I love you. I love you with all of my heart. And… and I know you love me. But I needed you. Do you even need me?” she asks, the thick silence covering the air.

“Yes! How- how could you even say that, (y/n)?“ George replies just as quick as she finished asking. Looking at him for the first time tonight, she lets out a sob. With cheeks red, hands tugging at his hair, and George frantically looking at her, (y/n) can’t help but cry a little more.

“Because tonight proved otherwise. I wanted a night of you to myself to watch me be pretty and dance, and you didn’t even give up one night for me.”, she says, tugging at her sweater. Looking up, she further goes on to say,

“How stupid would it be if I were to ask to choose between me or the Dream Team? Or- Or your career?”, barking out a bitter laugh as George stares with guilt. As silence meets her ears, (y/n) slowly starts to sober up, eyes slightly widening with shock.

“George…”

“I’d find a way to make it work, I’ve been making it work for us since the beginning!” George snaps.

“George, you know I would never ask that, because I personally think it’s a selfish question. But if I decided to ask seriously, right now. What’s your answer?”

“And I’m telling you, I am making both work. Please believe me, (y/n).”, George says quietly, grasping at whatever opportunities there are left to resolve this potentially fatal matter.

“I can’t tell anymore.”, her voice cracking as fresh tears pool down her cheeks.

“I don’t think I can stay here for a while. At least until I’ve had some time to think.”, she manages to force out.

“(y/n), you can’t be serious. No, we are fixing this now!” George tries to say with an unwavering voice, eyes slowly becoming glassy.

“I can’t look at you George without wanting to cry, and- and scream- yet tell you I love you, even if you don’t deserve my love, especially right now. I need to go- I’m going to go. I’ll be back in a while.”, (y/n) says, choking on her words. Walking backwards, she turns to the door, with George following her and watching her pick up her dance bags. Lying on the ground was a bouquet of flowers, crumpled amongst her heart. Choosing not to pick up the bouquet, she mumbles out,

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.” Pausing, (y/n) looks up at George for the final time tonight, willing herself to not run back to him, despite how much the desire is growing to do so.

“I love you, George.”, opening the door, George yells out,

“I love- “, the door cutting through his confession, acting as a wall between the two. George tries to reach the door knob, ready to run after the love of his life. Yet… he’s frozen on the spot, with tears finally trickling down his cheeks, and pushing deep breaths out to steady his shaking heart.

Why are you crying, George?

[jaxsteamblog]

Day 5: Soulmarks

This is a re-post of my 2019 one-shot “Destiny and the Domino Effect.” It’s a Modern AU that isn’t my faux flower shop thing. Click on the title to read it on AO3, or keep reading under the cut!

The day Katara got her mark, she was beset by nervous laughter. Her hands shook and Suki had to take the picture for her YoPic account. Aang smiled patiently and placed his hand on the table palm down. After taking a breath, Katara set hers down, having their pinkies touch. Suki took the picture and handed the phone to Aang, as Katara was still shaking.

It’s a match! #GotMarked #Blessed #ToldYaWeWereSoulmates

The rest of the day was a blur. They had to call Hakoda and the congratulatory texts started to pour in. Needing a moment to herself, Katara went into the bedroom of their apartment and shut the door. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she felt her phone buzz and pulled it out of her pocket.

Guess I’m the last one left. You owe me a very expensive bottle of wine.

Katara smiled and let her shoulders fall.

The Soulmate’s mark was anxiety inducing. As soon as the person was “sure” or in a place where they could safely admit their feelings, then the mark would pop up. This meant that one person could get their mark before their partner.

Sometimes it ended fine. Sokka had gotten his before Suki, and the weeks between had kind of been a mess. When he stressed, he worried that his attitude would delay Suki’s mark even more, and other times he just held onto his belief that Suki’s mark would match his. And it did.

Sometimes it ended horribly. Mai hadn’t been bothered when she had gotten her mark while Zuko would boil over from time to time from the anxiety. Then, one day and matter-of-fact, Mai informed him that someone else had her mark and she left.

Book-ending these events was this pairing. Aang had gotten his mark very early into knowing Katara, and had been convinced from day one that it was meant for her. After every holiday, birthday, special event, or particularly romantic date, Katara would stare at her hands, willing them to change.

Toph had to intervene, dragging both her and Zuko out to a very weird resort for two weeks. Katara could only remember a few of those days, as the rest had been obliterated by alcohol or sheer terror from the “bonding excursions” Toph had planned.

One night, she and Zuko had escaped. They hid themselves away and talked about everything other than their lack of marks. At the end, they had agreed that whomever got their mark first had to buy the other a very expensive bottle of wine.

I’ll buy you the finest vintage I can find in the FastMart.

Katara sent the text and fell backward onto the bed. Lifting up her arm, she looked at the back of her hand.

The marks were supposed to be special. It represented the couple and was supposed to be meaningful.

Aang said their mark was a mix of their cultures, but Katara only saw a curled arrow.

Katara covered her face with her hands and sighed.

Aang wasn’t a big traditionalist, so they had agreed on a small ceremony. Still, there was planning to do, and Katara did most of the running around. Aang helped when he was asked, but offered no input, saying he didn’t mind since at the end they would be just as married no matter what happened.

So weeks passed and Katara barely had time to think. With the mounting stress, Aang decided it would be best if he gave her space. He and a group from his work had planned an office trip to a nearby mountain to go skiing and would be gone for the weekend.

“You should try to relax. Why don’t you hang out or something?” He said and kissed her goodbye.

When Katara did see Zuko again, he was the one with the wine. She let him into the apartment and ushered Appa back onto his massive pillow. Even though he always said it was fine, Katara always felt bad about the dog hair that invariably ended up covering Zuko’s nice clothes.

They transitioned in a rush of radio static. She fumbled over his congratulations, thanking him for the wine. Holding out her hands to take his coat but being handed the bottle. They laughed, and Katara stared at the label in silence as Zuko hung up his coat. Then Katara remembered she had to uncork it and darted into the kitchen.

She asked about his drive as she dug in the corkscrew. He answered apathetically as he moved around her to grab two glasses. She frowned as she tried to pull the cork out and he chuckled. At his insistence, she handed him the bottle and saw her mark. She lowered her hand to her side as he pulled out the cork with a loud POP! He handed her the bottle, talking about the vintage, and she poured. He twisted the cork off the screw and mentioned a new take out place had opened a few blocks away. She replied it didn’t have many vegetarian options so she didn’t eat there often. She handed him a glass and took up her own.

“Cheers.” Katara said.

“Congratulations.” Zuko replied and they clinked glasses.

Katara took a slow sip and looked back down at the counter. The cork looked like one of the government seal stamps. The corkscrew was neatly folded next to it like a closed inkpad.

“So how do you feel?” Zuko asked. Katara swirled her glass and watched the oily arches.

“Relieved.” She answered quickly.

“Not excited?”

Katara looked over at him.

“Should I be?”

“Well, I mean, most people don’t sound so…”

“So what?”

“Most couples are just more excited when they match.”

“Well, we all already knew it was coming, right?”

“Not everything is a sure thing.”

Katara and Zuko turned away from each other as they drank in silence. Katara leaned against the counter as Zuko walked to the other side. She set down her glass and started to spin the corkscrew.

“It was just a lot of pressure. Having his expectation and nothing ever happening.” Katara stopped the corkscrew. “It’s nice to not have to worry about it.”

When Zuko didn’t respond, Katara looked up at him.

“What?”

“When did it happen?”

“My mark?”

“Yeah.”

Katara covered up her hesitation by drinking more of her wine.

“I just made the decision to be sure.”

“So you resigned yourself to it?”

“That’s not.” Katara felt her whole body warm as she lurched forward. “That is crossing the line Zuko.”

“You are absolutely right and I sincerely apologize for that.” Zuko sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He finally gave in and leaned against the opposite corner, but still kept hold of his glass.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m being a jerk because I’m frustrated and I will do better to not be such a jerk.”

Katara looked down at her glass.

“I appreciate you letting me off the hook so easy,” Zuko said. “but you don’t need to cover for my bad behavior.”

Katara snapped her eyes back up. “Do you think that’s what I’m doing?”

Zuko flinched and his eyes widened. “I, no? I just mean, I was told I shouldn't rely on other people making my apologies for me.”

“Yeah, but I already know you. I know that if I call you out and you apologize, you mean it. We already got to this point.”

Zuko gave her a wry smile. “You were the first one to trust me.”

Katara gave a sharp laugh, but then sighed. “And you understood me.”

They lapsed into silence again, and the air felt cool between them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

They talked until they finished the bottle. Then, while Katara ordered takeout from the new place, Zuko ran down to his car, bringing up two more. They talked over food and the next bottle. They talked as they took Appa out on a night walk. They talked as they sat on the floor of the kitchen, sharing the cold remains of takeout and the last bottle.

They never stayed on one topic for long, and as the night crept past midnight, Katara wouldn’t have been able to follow one thread anyway.

“Did I ever tell you about-” Katara stopped herself and snapped her mouth shut. Zuko tilted his head and looked at her.

“What?”

“No, I know I told you already.”

“Tell me again.”

“No, that’s boring.”

“You thought about it for a reason. I want to know what just popped into your head and then I am going to evis-, eviths-, evisceserate the reason for my own amusement.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Oh I forgot to say.”

“What?”

“Nice glass house you got here.”

Zuko took a drink as Katara picked up a chopstick and threw it at him.

At some point, she fell asleep. She could remember Zuko carrying her to bed and when she woke, there was a glass of water and two white tablets.

When Katara exited her bedroom, she was more hydrated, in her pajamas, and a little bit cleaner. The rest of her apartment was quiet, and she wondered if Zuko had already left.

Then she walked into the living room and saw him splayed out on the couch.

Leaving him there, Katara set about making breakfast. When the eggs were frying, Zuko shuffled in and grabbed a piece of bacon on his way to the coffee pot.

“How are you feeling buddy?” Katara asked, smiling as she swirled the eggs with chopsticks.

“Rough.” He mumbled

“Go wash your face or something. It’ll help.”

Zuko made some sort of grumbling grunt and shuffled to the bathroom. He had not abandoned his coffee mug.

They ate and when Katara took Appa out, Zuko cleaned up. She was surprised that she found him ready to leave when she returned.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I have to get some things done.”

Katara stayed quiet as she knelt down to unclip Appa’s leash. Once free, Appa bounded away to his water bowl. She watched the dog’s shaggy body wiggle as he lapped greedily, making the bowl jump on the rubber mat.

A pale hand came into view and Katara took it. Her hand still held the leash, so she looked down as once again she was awkwardly fumbling.

Then she saw the hand.

“Or are you meeting someone?” Katara asked slyly.

“What do you mean?”

Katara, still holding Zuko’s hand, held it up with a broad grin.

“You got your mark!” She said excitedly. As happy as she knew she was, her hangover made her stomach sour and it felt like an empty pit.

“Are you serious?” Zuko blurted.

Not wanting to see his face, Katara looked at their clasped hands.

“It looks like a wave of fire.” Zuko said.

“I know.” Katara whispered, seeing the exact same mark.

And no curling arrow.

[everlarkficexchange]

Hanging in the Balance

Written by: @ameliaodair

Prompt #29:  I want to request a fic where Katniss and Peeta almost lose their first child and it makes their love and relationship even stronger.  [submitted by anonymous]

The prompt pretty much says it all.  On their way to visit Katniss’s mother, Katniss, Peeta, and their daughter fight for their lives.  When Peeta wakes from the devastating crash, his life— and Katniss’s are forever changed as their sweet, baby girl has the fight of her life, with her life hanging in the balance.

Thanks to the amazing @taylerwrites for her magical beta skills!

Rated T for difficult situations

Warnings: (almost) losing a child

Hanging in the Balance

“How long has it been since the last time we saw your mother?” Keeping his eyes focused on the road and his hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel, Peeta glanced over to Katniss, his beautiful wife of six years.

“I don’t know, maybe …  Actually, I think the last time we saw her was just after Prim was born; oh my god, I can’t believe it’s been that long.  Oh, Peeta, did you rem—” Katniss tensed up, thinking they had forgotten an important item on their checklist.

“Calm down, Katniss. Trust me,” Peeta gave his wife a charming, yet reassuring smile and reached for her hand. “I went over the list three times before we even left the house, and then once more after loading the car up.  We didn’t forget a single thing.  And if, by chance, there is something we forgot, I’m sure it can be duplicated at the nearest department store.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Katniss murmured, catching a glimpse of the back of their daughter’s head before slowly relaxing into the passenger seat next to her husband.

“In fact, I’m almost certain we brought enough stuff with us to stay for a year,” Peeta gently joked with his wife, in hopes of easing her nerves.  He knew the real reason for Katniss’s high-strung demeanor, and her incessant need to be in complete control.  She had lost her younger sister when she was just a little girl and it nearly broke her.  Peeta still wasn’t convinced she had recovered from that loss. 

Katniss and Peeta were childhood sweethearts.  While Peeta knew from the moment he entered his kindergarten classroom that he was destined to be with the beautiful girl with the stunning grey eyes,  raven-colored braids down either side of her face, and a voice that could bring a stuttering, toothpaste-stained shirt little boy to his knees, it took Katniss a little longer.  It required some convincing, but Peeta was persistent and finally, at seven-years-old, Katniss accepted his friendship-invitation.  And the lovesick fool that Peeta was decided he would take what he could get.  So, for years, they were friends— best friends. 

Peeta was there the day Katniss’s sister, Prim, died.  He had sat next to Katniss, gripping her hand like a lifeline while they stood vigil by Prim’s bedside, and watched as she took her final breaths.  And it broke him too, but not like Katniss.  She was devastated beyond belief— for so long.  And for so many years after that devastating tragedy, Katniss vowed to never have children … she could not bear to love another person with so much of her heart, only to have them ripped from her life.  They dated for five years before she finally agreed to marry him.  And then it was another four years before she agreed, and quite apprehensively, to try for a family.

“I think I’m going to get off at the next stop for some gas and we can stretch our legs.  It’ll be nighttime soon and I’d rather you guys not wander around in the dark in some backwoods city I don’t know.”

“You worry too much, Peeta,” Katniss chided, taking Peeta’s hand and entwining their fingers.  She brought their conjoined hands up to her lips and placed a kiss against the crest of his knuckles.  That’s why they were perfect together— because they balanced each other out.  When one was overcome with fear and anxiety, the other was always there to level the other one out.

Peeta got off at the next exit and followed the signs to the nearest gas station, which was less than a mile away.

“Don’t go to the Shell, go to SHEETZ,” Katniss pleaded with her husband when she saw the direction he was headed.

“Why?  Shell has better gas.”

“SHEETZ has cleaner bathrooms.  Please baby,” Katniss whined, knowing the use of the pet name, in addition to giving him the wide, puppy-dog-eyes would be enough to melt his hesitation.

“Okay,” he conceded, “Anything for my girls,” he gave Katniss’s hand another squeeze as he stopped at the four-way intersection and then gently accelerated on the gas when he saw the coast was clear.  Ever since their daughter, Prim was born, Peeta drove like an old man instead of a man in his late twenties— precious cargo and all.

“PEETA!!!!!” Katniss screamed when a set of headlights came barreling straight for them.

    “Mr. Mellark?  Mr. Mellark, can you hear me?” Peeta opened his eyes and tried to sit up.  “Mr. Mellark, how many fingers am I holding up?” The uniformed man asked him as he waved his fingers in front of his face and shined a flashlight into his eyes.

“Three.  Where’s my wife?  Where is Prim?” Peeta responded, shoving the medic’s hand out of his face as he attempted to sit up again.  “Where am I?” Peeta demanded, turning his head from side to side, surveying the small space he was in and called for his wife, “Katniss?” But she wasn’t anywhere in sight; as far as he could see, he was alone in the ambulance with these three strangers— medics.

“Sir, please calm down.  You were in an accident.  My name is Pollux and I am a paramedic.  You have sustained some rather severe injuries.  We are rushing you and your family to the nearest hospital.”

Adrenaline flooded Peeta’s veins, his heart accelerated until he was fuming, “WHERE is my wife and my daughter?  Where are they?  Are they okay? Please, you have to tell me,” he demanded, oblivious to the steadily increasing beeping in the background and needing some answers before his anxiety consumed him.

“They were air-lifted from the scene of the accident; we should be arriving at the hospital any moment now.  We’ll know more upon arrival,” Pollux offered sympathetically and craned his neck to his shoulder to speak into the microphone attached to his uniform, “Hey Castor, what’s our ETA?”

Peeta didn’t realize there was already an IV connected into his arm, or that the paramedic injected something into it, which was the reason everything went black.

2 days later:

“Well!  There are those marvelous blue eyes I have been hearing about!  Good morning Mr. Mellark, my name is Dr. Trinket.”

When Peeta opened his eyes, everything was fuzzy at first.  He blinked a few times until his vision slowly adjusted, and this Dr. Trinket came into view.  She was a beautiful doctor, there was no denying that.  Probably in her mid to late thirties with short, curly, blonde hair— so blonde it almost looked pink … and she was in the traditional hospital scrubs you normally see doctors wearing.  

  ‘Seriously, bright pink scrubs?’ Peeta thought, wondering if he could go blind just by looking at her for too long.

“Can you tell me your name and date of birth?” Dr. Trinket asked him, shining a light into his eyes.  “Good, good.  Pupils are equal and reactive.”

Peeta recited his name and birthday for Dr. Trinket, and she nodded, satisfied with his response.  “Do you know where you are?”  Dr. Trinket asked, checking his reflexes.

“Um … a hospital?” Peeta thought that seemed obvious.

“And do you recall the circumstances that brought you here?”

Peeta closed his eyes and tried to pull the memory from his mind, only to come up empty.

“Mr. Mellark, you were in an accident,” Dr. Trinket began filling in the blanks for him, “You suffered a slight concussion in addition to a hairline fracture to your femur.  After assessment upon your arrival to Tribute Center Regional Medical Facilities, you were rushed into surgery to repair your injuries.  You have a splint on your leg and should heal just fine.  I foresee a speedy recovery as long as you stay off your legs.  Do you have any questions for me?”

Flashes came sputtering back, hitting the back of  his eyelids like one of those slow, stop-motion picture films from Dr. Trinket’s words. “M-my w-wife and daughter—” Peeta croaked, his voice still dry and hoarse from days of not using it.

“Nurse, nurse, can we please get Mr. Mellark some form of oral hydration to quench his thirst?” Dr. Trinket pressed the call button on the remote by his bed and spoke into the intercom, “I bet you are just parched, aren’t you Mr. Mellark?” As upbeat and gregarious as the lovely Dr. Trinket appeared to be, he was not fooled by her deflection.

Before he had the opportunity to ask about his family again, a woman with kind eyes entered the room, carrying a styrofoam pitcher of water, a small tower of cups, and a handful of straws.  She poured Peeta a cup of water and offered it to him.

“Thank you,” Peeta smiled at the woman, who returned his smile, and then disappeared from the room just as quickly as she entered.

Peeta took a long sip of water through the straw and wasn’t sure anything had ever tasted so good in his life.  But then he met Dr. Trinket’s eyes and asked the question that was looming over them once again, “My wife?  My daughter?  K-Katniss and Primrose Mellark?”

Dr. Trinket’s face fell, and then she looked at him with so much pity, which only compelled Peeta to immediately jump to conclusions.

“No, no, they can’t be!” He cried, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, no!  No, no, my apologies Mr. Mellark.  Your wife currently rests in a medically induced coma.  She had some minor swelling on her brain, so the doctors felt it was necessary to allow her body adequate time to heal.  She should be waking at any moment and her prognosis is optimistic!”

Peeta took another sip of water and braced himself for what came next, “And P-Primrose, m-my daughter?” Peeta faltered, afraid of her response.  She was barely two years old; if he and Katniss were injured this badly, what happened to her?  She was so tiny, she was—

“Your daughter’s—”

“Prim,” Peeta insisted.  If his daughter’s condition was as critical as he feared, he would not allow the staff in this hospital to treat her as another ‘number’.  He’d heard of horror stories and patients being neglected because of arrogant doctors.  No, they would call her by her name.

“My apologies; Prim is in the pediatric intensive care unit.  I do not know much about her case, but your daughter’s doctor will stop by shortly with an update on her status.  I shall page him now to inform him that you are finally conscious.  His name is Dr. Abernathy.”

“Okay,” Peeta nodded.

“I must warn you Mr. Mellark, Dr. Abernathy may come off a bit abrasive, his bedside manner needs much work, but—"

“Is he good?  Will he save my baby?” Peeta implored; he could care less about the doctor’s bedside manner, all he cared about was if the man was good at his job.  All he cared about was if he could save his baby girl.

“I may be a bit bias … but yes.  He is the best.  It is a fact that he is a world-renowned critical care pediatric surgeon.  You will not find a more qualified physician in all of Panem.”

“O-okay, that’s good,” Peeta stuttered, feeling more optimistic as Dr. Trinket walked toward the door.

  “Um … Dr. Trinket, if you don’t mind me asking, but why are you biased towards this doctor?”

“He is my husband,” Dr. Trinket answered proudly. “Oh, and please call me Effie, ‘Doctor Trinket’ is my mother … and besides, it makes me sound so old!”

  “Mr. Mellark, I’m Haymitch,” a man with scruffy blonde hair covering his eyes strutted into the room.  He had a white coat just like the other doctors Peeta had seen cruising the hallways, but this man looked far from any doctor he had ever met.  Sure, he had the arrogance the other doctors seemed to have in spades, but he did not share the chiseled and clean-shaven faces he had witnessed on some of the other medical staff.  He looked up, and above the breast pocket of this man’s jacket, the name, Dr. H. Abernathy, was inscribed in elegant script onto his coat.

So, this was Dr. Abernathy, Peeta thought.  “It’s— it’s Peeta.  Y-you have news about my daughter?”

“Yes, Primrose Ellis Mellark, twenty-six-month female,” Haymitch began, flipping through his notes.  Then he dragged a chair across the room, its legs scraping against the floor, finally planting it next to Peeta’s bed before he took a seat in it— backwards.  Dr. Abernathy— Haymitch put his notes away and crossed his arms over the back of the chair to look Peeta in the eye.

Yes, this was unlike any doctor I’ve ever come across before, Peeta thought to himself, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Mr. Mellark, Peeta, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, yer little girl is in pretty bad shape.  Thankfully, she was properly strapped in the car seat, and rear-facing at that— which is what will probably save her life.  Most parents don’t follow the PAP guidelines—”

  “I’m sorry, what is PAP?”

  “Oh, my bad— I mean … sorry.  It’s the Panem Academy of Pediatrics— you know, the guidelines— uh, the riff-raff of all the do’s and don'ts pertaining to childcare and whatnot.  Anyhow, most parents turn their kids around before it’s time so they can see them … but uh— yeah— she’s beat up pretty bad, we’ve removed all the shards of glass from her skin and stitched up all the residual lacerations.” Peeta cringed at the doctor’s extensive description of his daughter.  “She suffered some internal damage to her organs—”

“When c-can I see her?” Peeta stammered, interrupting the doctor and fighting back tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Soon.  I’ll have someone page your nurse once she’s stabilized, and then we’ll get someone to bring ya up there.  Ya got any other questions?” Haymitch asked Peeta, squirming to get out of the chair.

“Has … has anyone told Katniss— my wife?”  Peeta warily asked the doctor.  Part of him was hoping that Haymitch had already told her, while deep inside he knew it had to be him to deliver this crushing blow.

“No, not yet.  I have to round on a few patients and then I’ll be stoppin’ by her room.”

Peeta gulped, “Would it—”

“Sure kid, it’s all yours.  It’ll save me the trouble of havin’ to do it,“ Haymitch gruffed.

Geez, Dr. Trinket wasn’t kidding about his bedside manner, Peeta silently ruminated, all the while, wondering how in the world those two were married.

  “Katniss? Katniss, baby, can you hear me?” One of the nurses hunted down a wheelchair and rolled Peeta into Katniss’s room.  The sight of her broke his heart.  She was lying there, unconscious and connected to an assortment of tubes and wires.  As he sat by Katniss’s side, he found comfort in the steady beep, beep of her heart monitor, which he hoped was a good sign.  He reached for her hand, holding it in his own, and closed his eyes, silently willing her to wake up.

I … I can’t do this alone; please Katniss, please wake up, with a quivering lip, he silently pleaded to her.

“Shouldn’t she be awake by now?” Peeta looked up and asked the nurse.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Mellark, but it isn’t an exact science.  Patients can wake up anywhere between a few hours, to a few days once they’re weaned off the medication.”  Katniss’ nurse, Annie informed him with a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Although Peeta was frustrated, he knew it wasn’t Annie’s fault and forced a smile to his lips.

Peeta wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he first arrived in Katniss’s room.  He had already twice refused to return to his own room; he didn’t care about himself.  All they wanted him to do in his room was rest, and he was perfectly capable of doing that from the comfort of his wife’s room, if not better.  If he went back to his room all he would do is worry; at least in Katniss’s room, which was just across the hall, he could attempt getting a little rest.

“Mr. Mellark?” Annie slowly crept into the room.  Peeta had fallen asleep in the chair next to Katniss’s bed, the cramp in his neck proof of the poor position he was in.

He jerked up when he heard Annie’s voice. “I know you don’t want to leave her side, but Doctor— I mean Haymitch just called and said we could bring you up to see your daughter.  Would you like to—”

Peeta jolted up from his chair, forgetting about the injury to his leg for a moment until the pain shot up his spine.

“Oh no, no, no, I will get your wheelchair and take you up there.  You wouldn’t make it to the elevators,” Annie smiled.

Annie rolled his wheelchair in from outside the room and wheeled Peeta to the PICU floor.

“So, does everyone call Dr. Abernathy by his first name?” Peeta tried to fill the uncomfortable silence with small talk.

Annie chuckled from behind him. “Yeah.  He and Dr. Trinket— Effie; they don’t like formalities.  They claim it helps eliminate the doctor/patient barrier; something about trust and bonding.” Peeta nodded and thought, ‘Yeah, I guess that makes sense.’

“Okay, I guess … I can see that.  Have you worked here long?  Do you know … is he a good doctor?” Peeta hoped he wasn’t being too intrusive, he just needed to know if Haymitch was as qualified to care for his daughter as Effie claimed.

“Haymitch?  Oh, yes … he’s the best.  If it were my son lying in a hospital bed— no matter where in the world I was, I would want Haymitch as his doctor.  Heck, I would gladly pay him whatever he wanted and have him flown to whatever corner of the world I was in.”

“Wow, that’s … impressive.  So, you have a son?”

“Yes, Nick is four years old,” Annie stopped and flipped her name badge over, stretching it out in front of Peeta’s line of sight to reveal a picture of a little boy with the greenest eyes, and wavy, sun kissed golden-blonde hair.

“He’s adorable … he’s going to be a heartbreaker when he’s older,” Peeta smiled, his heart aching to hold his own daughter.

“Thank you.  His name is Finnick— well, Finnick Junior, after his father, but we just call him Nick.  Oh, look!  We’re here!”

Annie wheeled him into the PICU and spoke with one of the nurses who helped him to the “Scrub Room.”  ‘Johanna’ first demonstrated the process of “scrubbing down,” which meant vigorously washing your hands with a medical scrub brush that contained a special, hospital-grade antiseptic soap.  When it was his turn, Peeta “scrubbed” for exactly three minutes while Johanna stood over him, observing with her stopwatch in hand throughout the entire process.  On the one hand, it made him feel self-conscious, but on the other hand, he was glad the staff was this precise.  Then she checked his temperature, because, under no circumstances was anyone permitted to enter the unit with a temperature above 100.3.  The last step was donning a sterile gown, gloves, and a facial mask before finally being allowed to see his daughter.

  “So, if someone leaves and comes right back just a few minutes later, they have to do this all over again?” Peeta asked Johanna.

  “Every single time—no exceptions.  Hospital policy—or, well, Haymitch’s policy,” Johanna chuckled.

Prim looked so tiny in the incubator she was lying in, it reminded him of the ones you see premature babies in.  It brought back memories of the day Katniss gave birth to their daughter, Peeta, silently thanking the heavens that his and Katniss’s newborn baby was full-term and healthy.  He just hoped luck was on their side this time, too.

Peeta’s entire body quivered with trepidation when his eyes landed on his daughter.  Prim was covered in stitches— they stretched across her entire body; on her arms, legs, her chest, and covered a majority of her face and head.  It looked like they even had to shave a portion of her hair to place some of the stitches.  She had IVs inserted in both her arms, a tube down her throat, and a tiny nasal cannula blowing oxygen into her nostrils.  Peeta’s eyes began to sting from the sight of his beautiful Primrose, and the closer he inched toward her, the harder his eyes stung.  Until finally, the dam broke, and the tears began pouring from his eyes, followed by uncontrollable sobs escaping his entire body.

“Oh, Primmie baby, I am so sorry.  Daddy is so sorry; do you hear me?” Peeta cried to his little girl.

“Is she … will she make it?  Do you think— can she— will she survive this?” Peeta looked up, meeting the nurse’s eyes, and wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“I honestly cannot give you a definitive answer Mr. Mellark.  These little ones tend to have a mind of their own.  Right now, it’s kind of touch and go.  I would say that if she makes it through the night, then she’s got a standing chance.  But I’m going to tell you something, I’ve seen babies much worse than your daughter bounce right back, but— on the flip side, I’ve seen others with barely any injuries—” Her words trailed off, hesitant to complete her sentence, but Peeta knew what she meant.

They didn’t make it.  Peeta sucked in a breath, mustering all the courage he had to be strong for his daughter.  What would he do if Prim di— if she … he couldn’t even think the word without his chest feeling as if thousand-pound bricks were smothering him.

“Why is that? What makes the difference?” He forced the words out.  If Prim was to survive this, he needed to know.

“I think … Now, this is just my opinion, but I truly believe it depends on how hard they’re willing to fight.  Their will, their drive to live.  Right now, I would say, and perhaps this does nothing to ease your mind, but … hope and pray.  As a veteran PICU nurse, I truly believe in the power of prayer.  Talk to your daughter and let her know that you are waiting for her; that you are counting on her to survive this.” Peeta nodded, understanding what the nurse meant.  “Give that beautiful little girl something to fight for,” Prim’s nurse finished with a kind smile.

“What was your name again?  I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it, and how long will you be Prim’s nurse?”

“My name is Portia Rose, and I’ll be here all night,” the kind nurse replied, with an equally as kind smile.  Peeta wondered if it was fate that brought them together.  His daughter, named after Katniss’s lost sister, and this ‘Portia Rose,’ their names having an uncanny similarity.

  “Peeta, Peeta what happened?” Katniss croaked, knowing something was wrong the moment her eyes opened and her husband’s tear-streaked face came into focus.

“Katniss, there was an accident.  What is the last thing you remember?”

“I remember, we were going to the gas station … you wanted to stop before it got dark.  We … we were on our way to see Mom … and then … and then … Peeta, what happened?  Where is Prim?” Katniss asked, pushing herself up with her hands to straighten her position in the bed.

Water pooled in Peeta’s eyes and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop the flow of tears.  He had to be strong for Katniss, he couldn’t show weakness, not yet.  Not now. 

  Peeta poured Katniss a cup of water and handed it to her. “Here sweetie, I bet you’re thirsty.”

Katniss took the cup and pulled the water into her mouth, “Peeta, you’re scaring me.  W-what happened?”

“Katniss, we were in an accident; w-we were hit head-on by a drunk driver.”

Katniss felt the heat spread through her face, and then slowly, it radiated to the tips of her fingers and toes.  “And Prim?” She asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling nauseous and dizzy.

“She’s okay for right now.  The doctors are taking really good care of her.”

“Okay, that’s good.  That’s really good,” Katniss smiled.  Peeta could see the tears welling up in her eyes and knew she was biting down on the inside of her cheek to quell her tears as she nodded.  He instantly knew that something wasn’t right; this was the opposite of how Katniss should have reacted.  His Katniss would be screaming, throwing a fit— demanding to get out of the hospital bed, adamant to see her daughter.  But this was more like … like denial.  He saw this once before … when her father died.  Granted, that was years and years ago when they were barely teenagers.

Peeta observed Katniss for a few hours, occasionally leaving to check on his daughter.  He knew the staff in the PICU were taking exceptional care of his daughter, and something told him his wife needed him more.  After his most recent visit to Prim in the PICU, he made sure that Portia knew how to reach him in case … in case she needed him.

When Katniss was given “out of bed” privileges, she walked around the room, cheerful and full of smiles as she chatted jubilantly with her mother on the phone.  She acted as if their daughter’s life wasn’t hanging in the balance just a few floors above them.

“Mom’s on her way Peeta, she should be here tomorrow,” Katniss informed Peeta after placing her phone on the bedside table.

Concerned for his wife’s emotional stability, Peeta spoke with one of Katniss’ nurses to find out when he could take her to their daughter.

“I don’t see why it should be a problem, she does seem to be basking in the river of ‘De Nile’,” Dr. Cinna noted, trying to lighten the mood.  “Perhaps seeing Primrose with her own eyes will open her mind to the truth,” Peeta smiled, shaking Dr. Cinna’s hand; he was the first one to refer to their daughter by her name unprompted, and Prim wasn’t even his patient.  It was at this time that Peeta decided that he liked Dr. Cinna— that he was perhaps his favorite doctor as of yet.  Dr. Cinna provided Peeta with a wheelchair for Katniss, after first making sure Peeta’s legs were strong enough to haul her to the elevator.

“Come on Katniss, let’s go see our girl,” Peeta suggested, rolling the wheelchair up to Katniss’ bedside.

“Okay, sure.  Mom’s on her way Peeta, she should be here tomorrow.”

“That’s good Katniss, I’m glad,” Peeta tried to feign enthusiasm.  He frowned, wondering if she realized she just told him this only minutes ago.

Peeta wheeled his wife to the elevators and then pushed the “12” button that would deliver them to the PICU unit.  He followed the arrows and pressed the button on the intercom, waiting patiently for someone to answer them.  Johanna immediately recognized him, and took them through the same procedure from earlier of scrubbing down, a temperature check, and donning the sterile gown, gloves, and mask before Johanna led them to their daughter.

“Peeta, what— what are we doing here?  I thought you were taking me to Prim?” Katniss asked, all traces of joy disintegrating as she was wheeled to Prim’s bedside.

“Katniss, honey— this is—”

“Oh, baby!  Prim, baby, oh my God, what, how—” Katniss’ eyes filled with tears as she craned her neck up to meet Peeta’s eyes.

“No, no.  NO!” Katniss screamed, standing up from her wheelchair, glaring daggers at Peeta.  “NO, this is NOT happening!”  Katniss shrieked, bolting from the room.  Peeta did not follow her, he knew she needed time.  The wheelchair was only precautionary, Katniss’s main injury was the concussion, which had healed during her medically induced coma.

He pulled a chair up to his daughter’s bedside, stuck his gloved hand inside the isolette and began to stroke her tiny hand.  He needed her to know he was here for her and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet baby girl.  My beautiful, beautiful, Primrose; Mommy, and Daddy are here for you and we’re not going anywhere, do you hear me?  Mommy is just scared right now, and she will be back really soon.  Oh, Primmie— we love you so, so much and we need you to get better.  Oh, Prim; I know you probably don’t know this, or understand it, but you are the light of our lives.  You have to get better, okay?  Please fight, Primrose; you have to fight.  I don’t think Mommy would survive if we lost you, I don’t know if I would survive.  I know that’s a lot of pressure to put on such a little girl, but … but—” Peeta closed his eyes, held his head down, and did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. 

He prayed.

“If there is anyone out there who can hear me, anyone at all, I—” Peeta began, pleading with the powers that be as he sniffled, wiping his eyes with his free arm.  “Please save my girl, she is my world, my everything.  And— and my wife— Katniss needs her Primrose.  I’ll do anything; if it’s a life you want— or need, take mine instead.  Prim is just a baby; she hasn’t had time to live yet.  She still needs her first day in kindergarten, her first best friend—a first boyfriend and a first heartbreak.  I’ve lived, I’ve had all those things and more.  I’ve lived a happy life, but please, just please, don’t take my girl.”

“Prim …” Peeta began after a moment, hoping to reach out to the sister Katniss lost so many years ago, “if you’re out there, and you can hear me, please … please look over our girl.  Please, don’t … you can’t take her, it’s not her time,” Peeta sniffed again, his head perking up from the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Mr. Mellark?” It was Dr. Abernathy— Haymitch, looking no worse for the wear.

“Hi, Dr. Aber—”

“Haymitch.  Call me Haymitch.”

Peeta nodded and met the man’s eyes, “Peeta.”

“Peeta, we’ve done everything we can for your girl, now it’s up to her.”

“What does that mean?” Peeta asked with a befuddled raise of his brow.

“It means that medically speaking, there is nothing more I can do for your girl.  Now, it’s up to her, whether or not she’s willing to fight.  If she gains consciousness before the night’s over, I am optimistic that, in time, she’ll make a full recovery.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Peeta asked, trembling with fear as he awaited the doctor’s answer.

“Then it’s not likely she’ll wake up at all, and then … we’ll discuss extraordinary measures.  But let’s not cross that bridge until we get to it.  In my experience, kids will fight to live if they have somethin’ ta fight for.”

“Thank you, Dr.— Haymitch.  I … I need to find my wife— what are visiting hours?”

“I’ve cleared it with the nurses; you and your wife can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” Peeta smiled and shook Haymitch’s hand, eager to find Katniss.  As he made his exit from the PICU, he noticed Haymitch taking the seat next to his daughter and cleared his throat.  Peeta slowed his pace, straining to hear what the doc had to say.

Haymitch cleared  his throat once more and began to speak in a soft and gentle voice that  Peeta almost didn’t recognize from the hardened doctor.  But it was— without a doubt, him.  “Listen, sweetheart, I know you don’t know me and all, but my name’s Haymitch and I’m your doctor.  I know you’re little and all and you probably don’t understand how the world works, so, I’m gonna tell ya.  You see, doctors give orders and patients are s’pposed ta listen.  I’m the doctor, you’re the patient, got it?  Alright, well now that that’s settled, I’m ordering you to stay alive, alright kid?  That’s all you gotta do; stay alive.  I’ll do the rest.”

With that, Peeta went on a quest for his wife, knowing his daughter was in good hands.

  After Peeta wheeled Katniss to their daughter’s bed, it all hit Katniss like a ton of bricks.  That was her daughter lying in that miniature hospital bed.  Her Primrose.  She had already lost one Primrose; she wouldn’t survive losing another— she just wouldn’t.  Unable to face the truth, she ran from the room and took the elevators to the top floor.  Once she exited the elevator, she went to the nearest door, which led to a stairway.  She took the steps two at a time and passed through another door that opened up to the roof.

Katniss ran to the edge, leaning against the banister; not to jump, but just to look out into the sky.

For the first hour, she cried.  She cried and cried, trying her best to convince herself that wasn’t her Prim lying in that bed, but someone else’s baby.  It couldn’t be her daughter, it just couldn’t.  The universe couldn’t be that cruel, right?  But deep down, she knew it was.  And then, she was consumed with guilt—for wishing that fate upon someone else’s child.

During the following hour, she did something she hadn’t done since she was small, since her own parents forced her to do it.  She didn’t necessarily believe there wasn’t a God exactly, but she didn’t really believe there was one either.  But what if there was?  Would he still listen to her after all the years of silence?

Deciding it was worth the risk, on the off chance there was some kind of higher power out there, she begged, she pleaded for them to save her little girl.  And then, she resorted to begging, dropping to her knees as she bargained her life away.  She didn’t know that at the same exact time, her husband was doing precisely— the same exact thing.  She was on her knees sobbing when she heard the door whoosh open, her husband’s beautiful blue eyes piercing into her own grey ones.

“Katniss, are you okay?” Peeta asked her, worry glazing over him from the sight of her on her knees.

She wanted his comfort, needed it even.  But then, she was angry at him.  No, not angry, but furious, enraged.  This was all his fault, after all.

“Go away!” She shouted at him, seething with rage.

“Katniss, what?” Peeta shrunk back, hurt by her rejection.

“This is all your fault Peeta.  If you hadn’t— YOU’RE the one who wanted kids, not me.  If YOU hadn’t convinced me to have kids, this wouldn’t be happening.  We wouldn’t be losing her.” Katniss stood up and inched herself closer to Peeta, sending him a cold, icy, glare.

“You don’t mean that Katniss,” Peeta told her, holding his stance with pain-filled eyes.  He knew deep down that she was just hurt and needed to channel her frustrations elsewhere.  Lashing out at him was the easiest, and fastest way to achieve that goal.

The closer Katniss got to Peeta, the angrier she became.  The tears began streaming down her face until she could no longer hold back the uncontrollable sobs.  She began hitting and pounding her fist against his chest, she was so angry.  But Peeta didn’t budge.  He didn’t try and stop her, he just stood there, taking each hit and allowing her to use him as her own personal punching bag.  He knew it wasn’t actually him she was angry at, she just needed somewhere to divert her anger.

Peeta pulled Katniss into his arms and within seconds she ceased pounding his chest.  He held her, crying his own silent tears while Katniss sobbed in his arms.  Once the tears subsided, Katniss looked up to see the pained expression on her husband’s face, in addition to the tears streaking his cheeks and she felt … guilty.

“I’m sorry Peeta, I’m so sorry.  Oh, Peeta, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Shhh, sshhh.  I know, I know,” Peeta whispered into her ear, stroking circles against her back as he tried to comfort her.

“I can’t lose her Peeta, I— I won’t survive if I lose her.”

“I know Katniss, I know.  Me too.  But … but I won’t survive if I lose you.  So, let’s pull ourselves together, go to our baby girl and give her something to fight for,” Katniss sniffled and nodded her head.  Together, they walked back to the PICU to be with their daughter.

They re-entered the PICU and headed straight for Prim, only to see a swarm of nurses huddled in a circle; in what looked like them holding vigil at their daughter’s bedside.  One look on their faces and Katniss and Peeta knew something was wrong— devastatingly so.

“I’m so sorry Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, her vitals are steadily declining.  It won’t be much longer now; would you like to hold her before— before—”

“I … I wasted so much time,” Katniss cried, nodding as the tears streamed down her face.  One of the nurses pulled up a rocking chair for one of the parents to sit in.  Peeta was adamant that Katniss hold her first— just in case.

They opened the tiny incubator and placed Prim in Katniss’s arms, draping a blanket over them while another nurse made a call to Haymitch.

“Oh, baby girl, momma loves you so much.  Mommy and Daddy love you so, so much sweet girl.” Katniss hummed through her tears.  “You are so special Prim, so, so very special, my sweet, sweet girl.  You are so special and so loved and …” Katniss sobbed through her tears, placing kiss after kiss to her little girl’s forehead.  Peeta squatted next to Katniss and with one hand, he linked their fingers, and with the other hand, he stroked his little girl’s foot.  The floodgates were open— he didn’t think he could cry any harder until he heard Katniss’s beautiful voice singing the lullaby to their daughter.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head and close your eyes,

And when they open, the sun will rise;

Peeta’s heart plummeted in his chest as he heard Prim’s heart monitor “flat line.”  As difficult as it was with the splint on his leg, he inched closer to his wife and daughter as they both cried and overwhelmed Prim with kisses.  They showered her with as much love as they could muster, telling her how much they loved her.  They told her how special she was and how they would never forget her.  As badly as it hurt Peeta to say the words, he finally told his baby girl that it was okay for her to go.  The last thing he wanted in this world was for her to suffer.

The nurse reached up to silence the heart monitor when, suddenly, the steady beeping from the machine resumed all on its own.

“What the—” the nurse exclaimed just as Haymitch burst through the door.

“I thought you said code red?” Haymitch growled, seeing the normal heart rhythm on the monitor.

“She—she flatlined, and then— she just— came back,” Portia stuttered in complete bewilderment.

“Little slugger had something worth fighting for, what’d I tell ya?” Haymitch chuckled, looking at the teary-eyed parents.

One Year Later:

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you …”  Katniss and Peeta sat on either side of their daughter on her third birthday, slightly less than a year after the devastating car accident that nearly took her life. 

  “That is one happy little girl,” Effie looked up and smiled at her husband.  “Thanks to you,” she added in a whisper.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Haymitch pretended like he didn’t care, but Effie knew—she always knew; he cared too much.

  “What did you wish for, sweet girl?” Katniss asked her daughter after she blew her candles out.

  “A baby brudder,” Prim said, her face smeared with chocolate frosting and a mouthful of chocolate cake.

  Simultaneously, Katniss and Peeta’s eyes locked and Katniss inadvertently reached up to palm her belly.

  “Should we?” Katniss mouthed to her husband who gave her a slight nod.

  “You’re going to be a big sister Prim, but not for a few more months,” Peeta informed their daughter, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Yay!  I like wishes, Mommy!” Prim squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around her mother’s neck.

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Hello hello! Here’s my POCuties collab piece for Valentine’s Day. Even though today sometimes makes me feel unloved please know everyone is deserving of love and even if you don’t have someone this year, you can have me! I love you and so do your favs okay? (✿◠‿◠) ~ bunny ❥

Warnings : none! Just very sweet (a bit of the reader feeling like a burden to tamaki so a touch of sadness here and there)

Word count : 2.1k

Paring(s) : Tamaki Amajiki x F! Reader (fem pronouns)

Enjoy ♡

———————————————————————

Forever // T. Amajiki

Being with Tamaki for a few years taught his lover a lot. She saw more sides of him than most, and it made her heart swell to see the usually quiet boy happy and determined when he accomplished something he was trying for or when he was down she knew just how to cheer him up.

As the day drew on she realised just how much she loved him and how much she wished for him to be home, to give him a big kiss as he came through the door, knowing that his day was long, plagued with paperwork and patrols. Hearing the door open she saw her tall boyfriend enter, hood over his eyes as he let out a sigh, stretching as he felt his body being encased by his girlfriend “Hello butterfly how was your day” His low voice spoke out as she gave him a bright smile “It was nice heaving the day off but i missed you Tama” she pouted as he gave her a chuckle, kissing her forehead “I missed you too, the office was a bore without my adorable secretary” Moving into their shared apartment Tamaki saw food already laid out in front of him “I ran you some bath water too” [ ] called out as she rounded the wall separating the kitchen and living room “Y-you didn't have to do that love im-” A finger silenced his pleas “Let me take care of you okay? You need your rest and i didnt want you to worry about anything coming home except relaxing and cuddling with me okay?” [ ] said as she stood on her tippy toes, kissing the top of his cheek “Tamaki Amajiki we have been doing this for years, won't you please let me love you without trying to outdo me ; you deserve it, you're a wonderful hero, you're my hero and eventually...you'll be our family hero..once we have one..” She trailed off as he stared at her, watching a sadden face appear over her features. Shaking it off as soon as it had appeared she gave him another smile “Its alright. There's no rush, i'm here for the long haul , me and you okay?” she said as she let his face go , heading to the couch “Now go go, hurry up before the food gets cold.” She teased as he gave her a soft look, coming over to kiss her cheek “Okay i wont argue butterfly”

These little things stuck with him, her caring ways, cooking for him, cleaning his office while hed be gone, even doing some of his paperwork while he was on parole. He loved her so much and enjoyed all of the little things here and there she did for him. He ddi the same, and each time made her cry, not out of being upset but for how caring he was to her. Bringing her roses, making sure she didnt have to cook if he could help it, spa days and doing more crafts and bonding with her whenever they could. But he realized while she helped him with so much he felt like he struggled. She struggled with her own issues too, similar to his. Sometimes she felt like she wasnt enough, she had her own anxieties and could get in a sup when she felt inadequate, unlovable and unwanted. But to him, to tamaki he loved everything about her, and she was one of the strongest people he knew. He felt motivated and glad to have her as the one he wished to marry , to have kids with, to start a family. But that also broke his heart when the topic came up she did usually didnt talk much about it, happily making plans but going back on them by saying ‘if i was a good mother’ She didnt want to dissapoint their future kids, didnt want to be a lacking mother or wife. As usual Tamaki came home, but htis time he went past the wonderful smelling food in the kitchen and to their bedroom, his cute girlfriend wrapped up in a blanket “How are you feeling butterfly?” He asked as she gave him a smile, reaching over to hug him “Im oaky! Just a bit overwhelmed is all, im sorry i passed out during the meeting..” She said as she gave him a hurt look before continuing “I shouldve tried harder to stay and present with you i-” Before she could finish he gave her a kiss, stopping her words “You needed rest. Im still surprised you got up to cook, did you at least take a nap love?” He asked as she shook her head , causing him to smile “Good. i love you butterfly and i woudnt change that for the world” he said as she smiled, giving him a hug “I’d hope so” She giggled as he pouted “Never doubt my love for you [ ], no matter what im gonna be here, i promise okay?” he said as she nuzzled the boy, kissing his nose “ And i for you Tamaki”

February came in , the happy couple had started up to take more time off to do more things and enjoy eachothers presence in the month of love. As the days went by Tamaki noticed [ ] was having odd days. From sleeping long hours of the day to just crying randomly, he knee something was wrong. Coming from the store he heard sobbing from their bathroom. Terrified , he tried to enter only feeling the door being locked “[ ] baby whats wrong? Can i come in?” with no response he nervously knocked again. “[ ] please...whats wrong” He pleaded as the door unclicked, showing his still beautiful but tear stained cheeked girl. “T-tama..” She cried as she just jumped into his arms, scaring the indigo haired boy “Baby are you okay?” he asked as she took in a breath before smiling sadly “Y-yeah i am..” She said as he picked her up, taking them into the living room. “I love you..and whatever is making you feel like this..if i can help let me okay?” Tamaki said as [ ] shook her head, placing it into his shoulder as they fell asleep.

Every day from her breakdown Tamaki came to her office with a rose, ate lunch with her and made sure she was hydrated and well. Once the week of valentines day came up, he had his plan set in motion. He had their schedules fixed, the week off for themselves as they did different things. A spa day the first day, a picnic the next, shopping at an expensive store for clothes. Then an art day where they drew (or tried to ) eachother and made art fro and about the other. Once the day of Valentines came however, it was different. It started with them taking a shower together, Tamaki cooking breakfast in bead for [ ] as they talked through the morning. Tamaki told her the outfits they ha gotten the days prior was for tonight which gave [ ] the jitters. She was excited for what her pro hero boyfriend had instore for them. Once they got to the restaurant all eys were on them. [ ]’s long black dress falttereed tamakis white suit and black bow tie. The two of them sat and started to eat, coversating with some fans who so happend to be around thwm. One was a small girl with wide hopeful eyes. She came to the couple with her mom in toe “Im so sorry to interrupt you two, my daughter wouldnt let mt husband and me rest until she came over to you guys” the wmoan laughed, causing bothe members to smile “Hello there how are you?” Tamaki asked the girl as she stepped from behind her mother “ H-hi my name is Shiemi a-and i really like you suneater!” The small girl said , causing [ ] , Tamaki and her mom to smile “Why thank you Shiemi, i hope im a good hero for you” Tamaki responded as the little girl shook her head “The best! Youre so cool. A-and your wife is pretty like mama! I like you dress miss suneater” The girl said , causing [ ] to stutter as she sipped her water “O-oh why thank you Shiemi but Im-” before she could continue she saw her boyfriend give the woman and her daughter a wide smile “She is, inst she?” He said as he turned to [ ] , moving from his chair “Tama what are you-” [ ] asked again as he leaned to the little girls ear , then to the mothers as they both gave him a smile, the woman happily shaking her head as her daughter followed the hero. Confused, [ ] watched as he picked the little girl up, putting her atop of the bar table “Hey everyone! Suneater has an announcement!” she yelled as most people turned around or to the table in the middle of the room, watching and smiling at the energetic child and pro hero “In fact I do, [ ] would you mind standing?” Tamaki asked as she gave him a wide eyed look, standing as he gave her a smile, extending and hand to her as she joined his side

“H-hey guys , as you know um..this si my lovely girlfriend and partner [ ]” He started as she gave everyone in the room a wary smile, her face feeling hot as he continued “ Ive known her for years, and weve been dating for some of those, she's seen me through thick and thin, helped me out in a pinch and made me feel like the strongest man alive, well next to almight…” he whispered as some of the people laughed, more paying them attention “And through all of this….i could think of a more beautiful and right person to spend the rest of my life with” And with the the young child handed the now kneeling man a ring as some whooped and hollered, others recording as both [ ] and the girls mother had tears in their eyes “[ ] [ ], the love of my life, my butterfly, i couldnt think of a more beautiful person inside and out to be with, will you give me the honor and make me the happiest man on this earth to be my wife?” He asked as the ring was revealed, diamond glistening as his own tear filled eyes looked to hers. Thinking her voice would fail her she shook her head yes, causing the room to yell as she had her ring put on her finger , jumping to hug her standing fiance as they hugged and cried, video of the engagement spreading as he thought to himself ‘I can now have my family, my endless love with you my dear butterfly’

As their wedding came , all of their friends and family came, including the new found friends of the young Shiemi and her parents. The ceremony went though flawlessly, Shiemi being their flower girl as the newlyweds ran down the easel , heading for their limo as they herded for the reception. The family spoke on how happy they were from their marriage, friends giving their comments on how they knew the couple would get married as the couple laughed at some stories and comments about their relationship. The night ended with so much love and joy for the new couple, startint their life together\

Two years went by before valentines day came again, three years to the day he had proposed arrived. Happily and ready to celebrate Tamaki woke up to his wife missing, hearing her fumble in the bathroom. Heading to the room he was shocked to she her in a disarray , eyes foggy as she met his “Tama...i have a surprised” She said as her teras fell down her face. Confused and still a bit tired , he gave her a look as she handed him a blue and while stick. The word pregnant snapped him awake as more tears started to fall, handing him two and three more all with the same small but powerful word “Im..gonna be a dad?” He asked as she smiled, shaking her head as she hugged the trembling girl “T-tama i'm gonna be a mom..what if i'm not good enough…” She sobbed as he cooed her, kissing her lips as his tears fell with hers “You're gonna be great Butterfly, i promise, you're gonna be so so great” He said as his heart swelled feeling her lips against his ‘This...This is forever , a love i wished for...and i couldn't have asked for more of a way to live my life...i love you butterfly’

[ladecena]

MY BRIGHTEST STAR🌌🌠

May 14,2020

11:15 pm

There are 45 minutes before my birthday. I got out of bed, holding my phone, because I couldn’t sleep no matter what I did.

I slowly opened the door and tiptoed out of my bed, taking care not to let it creak. Everyone in the house is still sleeping, so I can’t make any noises that would wake them up. Since my throats were dry and I needed to remain hydrated, I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After all, I can’t be dehydrated because I’m supposed to be hydrated all the time.

I walked out of the house wearing my oversized T-shirt and night shorts, leaving my glass on the counter. Since there were some torches, the whole subdivision was quiet and dim. The sky was lovely, but the boy who had just entered with his silver bicycle was even more so. I told myself, “Shut up, all boys are gorgeous.”

“Are you ready?” Miguel stated as he brushed his long, silky golden hair back with his lovely fingers. I grinned and walked over to my pink bicycle in the garage. “Where is your gear?”

“Where is your gear?” I questioned as well after noticing that he had not brought his. He squinted and raised one of his thick brows. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Especially because you’re here with me.

His lips curled into an endearing grin, exposing his charming dimples. I got on my bike and pedaled down the road first, hoping he’d be close behind.

The cool night breeze caressed my face and caused my hair to fly, making me happy. I took a left and later realized Miguel was standing right next to me. He hasn’t changed since I first saw him with his hair flying and his aesthetic dark eyes. He is still the boy I loved and admired, still admire, and will still genuinely love.

11:30 pm

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Just don’t breath—“

“Do you want me to die horribly?” When my eyes accidentally went down, I exclaimed. I screamed and turned away, my eyes closed. Miguel sighed and his hands rested on my shoulders, which helped me relax a little. Only a little bit. I’m in a panic, crap.

“What I mean is, don’t breathe too quickly; instead, breathe slowly. Exhale slowly after taking a deep breath, then repeat. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to die, okay?” He said calmly, which made me feel bad for screaming at him while he was simply trying to help me from panicking.

I followed his instructions and, to my surprise, it succeeded. When Miguel wrapped his handkerchief around my knee to cover the cut, I slowly opened my eyes and yelped in the quietest way possible. When he kissed it after tying it, I bit my lip and felt my face flush. He got up and extended his hand to me, which I gladly accepted.

“Are you all right now?”

“Thank you very much, Miguel.”   I smiled, and he smiled even more. God, I love that face.

“Oh, if you weren’t so stubborn, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” He said it with a little frown on his face, which made me laugh because he’s so sweet when he’s upset.

“If you hadn’t been there, I would have passed out in the middle of the road right now, but I’m still standing and breathing.” As I smiled, his frown vanished, and all he did was shake his head before walking to get his bike.

 “You’re stubborn as hell. As he grasped the handlebars of his bike, he uttered. “Instead, let’s go for a stroll.”

“If I’m right, give me 500 pesos.” Your favorite shirt right now is the blackpink t-shirt I gave you.” Miguel muttered something and smirked as he looked at me and the path we were walking on.

“Wrong my favorite shirt is the other black pink t-shirt which I bought last Saturday. “I confidently replied and smirked back at him. Aw, you don’t love me anymore?” he pouted and gave me that cute puppy look. My weakness.

“oh my gosh, stop that. You look like an idiot.” Yes I’m a great liar.

“ugh, darn it.” He huffed and continued walking, which made me chuckled because of his cuteness.

It became quiet after. Enjoying the peaceful and satisfying cold wind with each other’s company was already enough.

I know in my heart that he has a problem but he didn’t want to share it with me and I respect his decision.

“ Has the thought of leaving me ever cross your mind?” I asked out of nowhere to cut the silence while we’re walking down the silent road with our bikes.

“Yep.” I pouted and glared at him immediately when he said but he just laughed. That hurt right into my heart. “ What, if I am be pooping, you wanna watch?”

“Gross, of course not.” I cringed which made him laugh harder. His laugh is annoying but also cute but its pissing me off but I still love it.

“How about you? Ever thought of leaving this handsome boy?” he raised his eyebrows up and down while staring at me, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t wanna promise that I won’t because we never know what will happen in the future but I assure you that no matter what happens, even if the worlds screwed up, we’re screwed up, I will always stay with you.” Miguel stopped walking so I did too and looked at him. He smiled at me before starting to walk again.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

11:45 pm

“Don’t go yet.” I whined quietly while softly pulling the sleeve of his hoodie. I know that its late and he might be tired but I wanna be selfish even just for now.

“Alright then, my princess.” Miguel smiled and pulled my hand going inside our house silently. Miguel being Miguel, he didn’t make the slightest noise even in closing closing the door. It was dark but with Miguel’s hand holding mine, I know that I shouldn’t be afraid.

When we reach my bedroom, he gently pushed me inside and slowly pushed the door behind him while his sexy dark eyes were staring into my soul, dominating me. He took little steps going towards me, not cutting eye contact, and as if I’m frozen, I stood still staring back into his beautiful dark grey eyes until I could feel and smell his strawberry scented breath.

“Let’s go stargaze even if I know to myself that gazing at you is better.” He huskily uttered before smiling and pulling my hand to go out the window. He assisted me to climb up the roof carefully before he followed.

He gently guided me to a spot between his legs where I could sit comfortably. As his arms wrapped around me and his big hands devoured my tiny hands, I laid my back on his chest.

Nothing beats sitting on the roof with the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with, gazing at thousands of sparkling stars in the midnight sky, which isn’t quite midnight yet, but let’s call it that anyway.

 “Did you know that the sun is a star?” Miguel said as he rested his chin on my left shoulder. Our eyes glued on the sky full of stars above us. 

“uh-huh.”

“Personally, I think that stars don’t appear only at night because if it only appears in the darkness, the isn’t it unfair that it doesn’t appear during bright days?” he said in a serious expression which made me laugh a bit. 

“That doesn’t make any sense. And the sun is a star because science shit.” I replied which made him laugh as well.

“Yeah I know, I didn’t know what to say so I just wasted my saliva for bullshit.” He said while chuckling because of his darkness. What he said didn’t really make sense but he’s still cute so never mind.

“but let me tell you something, my princess.” He sat properly so I faced him to give all of my attention.

“if all the stars disappears, that doesn’t mean that its over. Darkness is everywhere already. No, don’t forget that the moon is still there, there to light up the darkness. And it lights up the most. So don’t ever think that you’re alone and your life is pure darkness just because the stars disappears.” He smiled for a while before continuing.

“the stars will appear again. But they may not be the same stars from before again.”

11:55 pm

When I got tired of watching the stars above the sky. I faced Miguel.

Miguel had the same dark grey eyes. The same dark grey eyes I used to always stare at since when I was six. He had the same small nose. The same small nose I used to always poke when we were toddlers since it was cute. He had the same chubby and soft cheeks. The same cheeks I used to always squish whenever I’m ecstatic, annoyed, sad, or normal. He had the same sexy pinkish lips. The first same sexy pinkish lips I kissed when I was ten. He had the same long golden hair. The same long golden hair I used to braid or play with when im bored though I always envy his hair since its straight and silky more as hell than mine. And lastly, he had the same effect on me.

Only realizing it now, his face was only an inch away from mine. His deep breaths made me look hotter.

“Advance Happy Birthday, I love you my princess.” Miguel said.

I slowly shut my eyes as tears started forming in my eyes. Seconds have passed and sobs started to come out. I slowly opened my eyes to look at the time.

12:00 AM 

May 15, 2021

“It was all a dream” I told myself.

Miguel died because of the car accident. If only I hadn’t been selfish and let him go home that night, maybe he’s still with me right now celebrating my birthday.

It’s been exactly a year since my star vanished.

It’s just unfair that among billions of stars out there, he’s the one chosen to be vanished.

I held onto the shirt he gave me a year ago on my birthday while crying hard. It will never not be painful as hell.

His smile, his eyes, his dimples, his long golden hair, my Miguel that I will never get to see anymore.

“Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re happy.” I sobbed while looking above the sky full of stars. “I don’t do promises but I’m doing it now. I promise that I will continue living the nights with different stars. Only for you, baby. I miss you so much.

 - meng✨

June 09, 2021

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 6

Part 6~ cuz I love y'all <3 don't forget to drink your vitamins and keep hydrated! Stay safe and healthy my loves :)

Word count: 3k+ words

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: None. (tis a fluff-filled chapter)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

* beware of little shifts in perspective from two characters, we will be jumping casually from their minds.

*

You caught the orc staring at you again, with a smile that made his tusks jut out more. "H-Hi!" you blurted out, waving.

As you began walking towards him, you found yourself losing balance, your legs giving out. You closed your eyes reflexively and expected to land face-first on the tiled floor.

Only you didn't.

You felt a strong arm around your waist and a large hand on your back, nearly covering the expanse of it. Instead of the floor, you found yourself smushed against something warm, and that thing, you figured out a second later, was Tai'chi's chest. You became flustered and felt your cheeks and ears redden. Your nose was practically inhaling his scent now, all that musky and rich smell of his making you light-headed. Stuttering, you pulled your head back.

"I-I-I— Ta-Tai'chi???"

Congratulations self, that was perfect, wow.

"Hm? Oh, uh, sorry. I acted on impulse when I saw you collapse." He said as the grip he had on you slackened and moved to hold your shoulder to support you in case you fall again, his other hand, though, remained in its place behind you.

"Don't w-worry about it. My legs just gave out, haha."

That came out awkwardly.

Damn, he is fast.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, his words filled with genuine concern. Your ears were sporting a tinge of red, he noticed. Your scent also changed, signaling you were flustered.

"Ye-yep! We should uh, head back to class now. Oh! We haven't eaten anything for lunch." You said and as if on cue, your stomach grumbled to agree, followed by another grumble but louder, it wasn't yours but Tai'chi's.

The two of you laughed from the sounds they made.

"You're right. How about we go to the cafeteria first to grab something before we head back to our classroom?" He asked, smiling down at you.

"Great idea!" You agreed, a little too eager than you would've liked.

"We should get going then."

He straightened up and removed his hand from your shoulder when he was certain you wouldn't stumble again. Though, he let his hand on your back linger a bit longer even after you left the office.

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

The trip to the cafeteria was peaceful, minus the sounds of muffled talking coming from the rooms. Tai'chi was beside you as you walked down the halls, thankful that your legs found their strength again.

Arriving at the significantly less crowded canteen, both of you went ahead and ordered some food before finding a place to eat. Spotting a vacant one a few tables from the main entrance, you trudged to it, Tai'chi following close. You sat down and got a clearer look at his tray.

It was a lot, though you expected it to be. There were more vegetables than meat though.

"Not a fan of meat?"

He looked at you and laughed, echoing through the whole cafeteria, which resulted in some students glancing in your direction.

You were a bit taken aback, not expecting that sort of reaction from him.

"I'm sorry. I just- I don't know why I found it funny. I meant no offense."

"None taken."

"To answer you, I'm a huge fan of meat, red meat to be exact. This was the only portion that's left when I asked for more. And I'm still growing so I made up for the lack of meat with the vegetables. We orcs love a healthy and hearty meal."

What he said made you smile even more.

"What about you?" He glanced at your tray to see a portion almost similar to his albeit more assorted. This made him look back up and you, flabbergasted. "You can eat all of that?"

You looked down to inspect your food choice, and you instantly felt self-conscious.

"I...Uhm yes. I can." You replied, albeit meekly.

Tai'chi noticed the sudden change in your voice and made himself clear; "No, no I didn't mean it like that. I'm just, well, as you already know I haven't met many humans aside from the ones in a village back home, so I was just surprised." Watching him explain himself made you smile again. The thought of you being repulsive vanished out into thin air.

"I eat a lot. Though sometimes I eat more junk than healthy food. Anyways, let's begin, shall we? We're already late and I'm starving!" Laughing, you both know today's attendance in class isn't much of an issue. They did say there won't be any lessons today to give time for 'socializing' instead.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized you haven't shown him your face ever since you met. You looked around to see if anyone was watching and stole glances at the one in front of you. You slowly removed your mask and revealed your face. Not many have seen you without it, only those who are close to you, specifically your family.

"I guess this is the first time you've seen my face, huh?" Nervous, you asked.

Tai'chi stared at you so intensely you felt self-conscious once again. "I-Is there something wrong?"

'Shit, does he find me unattractive? Weird? Not that I expected the opposite but —'

"No. No, there's nothing wrong. You-"

"I'm what?"

"You're beautiful."

'Did he just—'

Your face heated up again and this time you had no mask to hide it.

Hastily, you covered your face with one hand and looked away.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when you did, coughing into his fist before he started eating.

Once you cooled down, you did the same. Trying to focus on the savory food they served in the uni.

Eat, damn it.

You barely noticed the orc, or perhaps you chose not to, as you wolf down your food like you haven't eaten for weeks. Another thing he found admirable and attractive. You ate cleanly, not letting a single piece of food go to waste.

He'll have to find some time later to formally introduce himself, along with other...things.

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

You leaned back on your chair, noticing Tai'chi doing the same, as you let the feeling of content wash over yourselves. The food was great! You made a note to thank the cook later.

You sat up after a moment and arranged your dirty utensils. You were against the thought of making the cafeteria's job of cleaning harder than it is. So you cleaned up, stacked plates properly in your tray with concentration, you didn't realize until later that you did the same to his dishes. You didn't spare a peek up into his eyes or else you'd make a fool out of yourself again. Taking a napkin, you wiped your mouth clean before you quickly put on your mask, much to Tai'chi's dismay.

You stood up but before you could walk away, a hand reached out to grab your arm, stopping you. He stood up from his seat.

"Pearl."

"Uh, yes?"

"There's still time before our next class starts. Would you mind taking a stroll around the campus with me?"

"Y-Yeah— sure. I wouldn't mind." You replied, avoiding his gaze.

The two of you strolled around the quiet grounds of the campus. There were trees, younger than the ones in the forest. You took in the nice scenery before you, feeling the fresh, cool air, the gentle rustling of leaves, calming, and the scent of your companion to your left, relaxing and sweet. You were in a daze, barely paying attention when Tai'chi said your name and stood still.

"Hmm?"

He chuckled lightly at your response.

"I want to continue where we left off in the forest."

"Oh. Oh, of course."

"I want to know more about you, Pearl. So I'll start with my true name." He knelt down which startled you momentarily.

.

"I am Tai'chi Kashharzol, eldest of five siblings, son of Durog and Gala. I come from the Northern stronghold of clan Fatof'san. Before I came down to the city, I was trained and taught basic socialization by an old human who lived in the village under our protection.

"I went through one of my clan's traditions and hunted down my first Snow Bear. The elders gave me an honorary title to carry, right after my kill."

You stood there listening to him earnestly as he told you all of this with pride, taking in each word and committing them into memory.

"I was given the name, 'Frostbreaker'. It is my warrior name." He took a breath before he asked. "Will you honor me of becoming my friend?"

All of this sounds like a confession— technically it is but there's something, intimate about it. The way his eyes shone with such determination and something you can't figure out.

Should I ask? He stopped talking, snap out of it–

"Oh, wow. I mean yes! Yes I'll be your friend. I'd be more than happy to. The honor is mine!"

You beamed as he returned a toothy grin.

"Right. I should also say something like that, well, uh, wait." You were slightly nervous as you removed your mask, offering a shy smile before speaking.

Breathe in.

And out.

"I am Pearl Blackbell, only child and daughter of Leon and Athena Blackbell. I'm from a town, West of here, Red Springs is its name. My parents taught me martial arts, and, uh, the use of self-defense weapons." You paused and showed him your crimson knuckles. "This is my favorite one to use, I'm sure you noticed already. My father... didn't want me to leave home without any assurance that I can defend myself. You were right when you said I have experience in combat. A decent amount of it," you sighed.

"I always, almost every day, get into trouble standing up for someone, bullied, or abused. I also held my own when someone tries to harass me, smashing their faces in."

Tai'chi in turn listened closely, his gaze intense on you. He was concerned about what you implied. Many attempted to assault you? How many times? Did they hurt you? Your smile faltered as you told him the next things about yourself.

"I... didn't have friends as I grew up. People tend to be afraid of what they do not understand, y'know? They didn't want me near them, finding me weird for wearing a mask, plus my reputation for punching humans didn't help," you laughed self-deprecatingly. "So I spent my whole high school years training, mastering my art with the help of my father, who was of course, very strict and hard on me." Finding nothing else comfortable to say at this stage, you went quiet.

"Can I ask you a question?" The orc said a moment later. He was bothered by the fact you had no friends, not even one. And training, training meant pain.

"Only if I can ask one in return." You replied, feeling bold all of a sudden. He grinned at this.

"Why do you always wear a mask?"

There was no trace of ulterior motive in his scent, not the usual annoyance you smelled every time someone asked the same question. So you answered him, honestly.

"Promise you won't get weirded out?"

"I swear on my name."

"Oh. oh, okay that's good. You see, my nose, or my sense of smell specifically, is err, not normal."

Now this made Tai'chi's eyes widen. Did you have an illness of sorts? Is your health in danger? Were you h–

"I can tell how someone is feeling based on the changes in their scent. My nose is very sensitive to odors so I keep wearing a mask every time I go outside. It has been like this since I was born. My doctors say it's rare for a human to possess, they say it's special, a gift from a higher being."

"When we went in the cafeteria after our first class, "—Tai'chi inserted— "Was the reason you stopped advancing inside further, the sour and disgusting smell of the students in there?"

"Yes, actually— Wait, how did you know?" you asked.

How does he know??? Did he just smirk?

"I can smell them too."

"You can?!"

"Yes."

"So you mean to tell me, my nose functions similarly like yours?"

"Yes, perhaps, a little bit differently. Or maybe it's because you didn't hone it."

"How can you say so?"

"I can block out certain smells if I want to. And based on your reaction early on, you're having a hard time doing so, is that right?"

"W-Well, yes. You're right. Usually, I'd wear a mask with a basic filtration device, but that doesn't work when I'm inside a closed space and the scents are all mixed up and concentrated."

Tai'chi nodded in reply. He began to stand up and you were met with his towering form once again. You took a step back so you can put less strain on your neck from looking up.

"You still owe me an answer to a question by the way."

"Go on and ask then."

"So, uh, is it just me or when you told me about you...it kind of felt different from how talking to a friend sounds like..." You fidgeted, a certain heat slowly creeps up your face again as you looked around not wanting to meet his gaze. You felt your heart rate increase as you noticed his scent change, telling you you were right.

Tai'chi sighed heavily and rubbed his temples before gathering the courage to talk.

"Yes, it was different."

"So..."

"We use that kind of formality, usually towards someone we want to court."

Did he say 'court'?!

"C-Court??" you squeaked. Pretty sure your face is redder than the color of your brass knuckles, your heart hammering in your chest you believed he could hear it.

"Courting, or dating, or whatever everyone calls it down here." Breathing in deeply, he returned to kneel before you and took your hands into his, large palms caressing your small ones.

"I'll have to rephrase my words."

He locked his gaze into yours, deep blue eyes to your mahogany ones.

"Will you allow me to court you, Pearl Blackbell?"

"W-Why would you want to court me?"

The hell would someone want to court me? I'm seen as a freak by most people and I'm not soft or girly like the others. I don't like skirts or dresses. I hate makeup. I have calloused hands, scars hidden under my clothes. I don't understand —

He gave you a soft smile, cutting off your train of self-deprecating thoughts. "I can hear your mind, Pearl. Don't think low of yourself. You are amazing, y'know that? The first time I saw your eyes, and the moment you fought for my sake, I knew I was smitten. You are graceful, each motion fluid and filled with strength, people would never expect you possess until they feel it through a punch you throw. You are kind, righteous, beautiful, strong, with a heart of gold. It is a shame how most people do not see it. I want to prove myself to you, and win your heart properly."

You were about to pass out from his confession when you remembered you need to respond! Gathering what courage and energy you have left, you answered.

"I...Oh my God... I don't know what to say— I've never experienced this, ever! I'm afraid I won't know what to do- what if I mess up? What if I—"

"Listen, liga ni..." He cut you off as he rubbed circles on your hands, that small shift of language sent his voice into a guttural one. "This is also a first for me, and I share your fears in this. But my wish to pursue you remains unwavered. I will try my best to woo you, and if I do something you didn't like, it is up to you to end the courting, any time you want, and I will stop immediately. I hope we would stay friends if it comes that..." He said as he broke eye contact and looked down.

"Tai'chi..." Seeing him sad like this made your chest twist in discomfort.

Steadying yourself, you studied him, his scent was pure, no malice within his words, he was speaking from his heart. With renewed confidence, you finally decided.

"Tai'chi Kashharzol...I wish to court you as well."

He snapped up his gaze back to you and saw you smile. He scented you just to make sure you weren't doing this out of pity. The moment he realized it was genuine he lifted you in the air and spun you around. You were surprised at the sudden outburst but laughed together with him once you got over it. He set you down after a while and moved his face close to yours but halted immediately when he saw your eyes widen.

"Too forward?" He asked.

"Y-Yeah." Your heart was doing backflips, even if that sounds so ridiculous.

He understood. "I apologize, I got carried away." But before he pulled back you pressed a quick kiss on his forehead. He almost purred from the gesture but suppressed it as not to scare you in any way. You were new to this after all. He cleared his throat and reached out a hand to you.

"We should head back, our class will start soon."

"O-okay." You moved to wear your mask again before taking his hand, enjoying the rest of the walk in silence. You were still nervous, but you decided to focus on the now.

I've never felt like this before... Is it a good thing? I think it is.

And with that on your mind, you let yourself relax.

*

A pair of cruel eyes witnessed the whole exchange, remaining unnoticed as he hid behind a tree, a good distance from where you stood. They watched you and the orc walk away before they went the other direction.

"She will be fun to break. A female, human Blackbell, tempting. This will be a great chance to demonstrate and prove how monstrous an orc could be." They snickered. "I will enjoy this, exceptionally."

"In time, Pearl. In time."

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

Now now who is this suspicious person?!

Liga ni — means 'little one' (as an endearment) in Orcish

Tags: @crackinanutshell @kokokatsworld @mitchiesdungeon

[liibrii]

Chapter 2: Tattered 

Ojiro Aran x fem!reader

Series Masterpost || Ch. 1

wc: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, internalised guilt and shame, intrusive thoughts, self doubt, depression.

a/n: I don’t really have anything to say other than I’m enjoying writing for Aran so much. if you wanna be tagged in future chapters lemme know, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated! 

Aran knows people don't always mean what they say.  Even he had done it before and it destroyed a few of his relationships. Knowing that doesn't make your words hurt any less.

He tries to convince himself you didn't really mean it, still a part of him wonders if that's how you really feel. How you've always felt. For all those years he was assured of your friendship and now you've pulled the rug from under his feet. None of your words align with the image in his head. Perhaps you've never been the person he remembers. The you in his mind is just that, a memory, a perfect picture he created from bits and pieces he chose. Has he truly always seen only what he wanted to see?

Thoughts of you run through his mind as he stands on the back line. One more serve before he wraps up. Bam.

To always see good in people is what he was thought growing up and what he still tries to do to this day, even if years had thought him people aren't only their good sides. He always thought of you only at your best and failed to even get to know you properly. What kind of friend does that? You're in pain and he can't help because he has no idea where the wounds are. He has no idea where to look for them because he refused to see. 

Perhaps he is a terrible friend after all.

Bam. The ball gets caught in the net and falls. Aran watches it roll away before picking up another. He breathes deeply. It's all about focus, he reminds himself, even when his mind wants to slip he has to remain focused.

All of his teammates have left already. Home, to their partners, their families. What will he return home to? An empty apartment with take-out he'll eat on the couch. Alone. Maybe he should get a pet. But when will he have time to care for it?

Bam.

He should call home. Check on his friends. Maybe if he had checked on you more often then-

Bam.

What use is pondering over what could've been? With each serve his palm aches more, his muscles already sore from practice but he doesn't want to stop yet. One more.

“There's a difference between training hard and overdoing it, you know?“

Perhaps life is just memories of days long gone sipping into present.

When he turns to face you uneasiness rises in him. Any other time he'd be elated to see you. Now even words to greet you with escape him. You come closer, shoes softly squeaking on the gym's floor. “Doorman let me in. After a little bit of convincing.“

“Really?“

“No, I slipped past while his back was turned. How long are you planning on staying? I saw all of your teammates leave already.“

Aran turns the ball in his hands. It's becoming slippery from all the sweat. He can't bring himself to look you in the eyes. “My serves are gettin' sloppy. I need more practice.“

Bam.

You stay where you are, watching and fiddling with the strap of your bag, until you can't bear the silence anymore and speak up. “Aran, I actually wanted to talk to you. About you know... what I said.“

“T's okay. I know ya didn't mean it.“

“I did.“ Your voice eerily echoes in the otherwise empty gym. “As shitty as it is, it's how I felt.“ You're eyes stay fixed on the floor. “I'm sorry.“

Aran catches the ball he just threw in the air for another jump serve. When he looks over at you you're still intently focused on your shoelaces, gripping the strap of the bag so tight your knuckles turned white. Why are you beating yourself up so much? If you feel something, you feel it. What reason for it do you need to have? Knowing how you felt hurts, that much he can't deny. And yet he can't hold it against you.

He puts the ball on the top of your head, just like boys used to do back in high school to annoy you. “If ya really insist on apologisin' then I guess I have no other choice but to forgive ya.”

As his words sink in you shyly glance at him. “You sure?“

“'Course I am,“ smiles Aran, balancing the ball so it doesn't roll from the top of your head.

“You're not angry? At me?“

He takes the ball and starts throwing it from one hand to another. “Not really. Very surprised. A little hurt.“

“I'm sorry-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know,“ he cuts you off. “Set for me and we'll call it even.”

“Aran, my sets are in no way near the level you're used to.“

“So?“ he asks already walking over to fetch the ball cart. “Ya still remember where to stand, right?“ he teases, cackling softly when you roll your eyes and take off your bag and jacket, all while trying to hide a smile creeping on your lips.

It takes a few tries for you to remember how to make an overhand set. Aran's filled with giddy warmth when you manage to send the ball in the right position for him to spike it over the net. Perhaps all those lessons with Atsumu years ago didn't go to waste after all. Your little victory jump makes him burst into laughter and he rewards you with a high five.

It really is an echo of history.

Your skills are rusty, something that makes you apologise profusely every time you mess up, even after he reassures you he doesn't mind, and ruffles your hair.

With each set you relax more, till every smile and laugh seem sincere. Only now Aran realises how he missed this carefree side of you. Time always flies too fast when you're around and soon enough, out of breath and wiping the drops of sweat from your forehead, you call an end of this individual practice.

He hurries with showering and changing into fresh clothes, not wanting to leave you waiting for too long, especially since you have morning lessons tomorrow. He buys you a drink from the vending machine. It's not much, but staying hydrated is important, he tells you when you tease him about it.

“You know, that brought back a lot of memories,“ you say while walking to the train station, then poke his shoulder. “Thanks.“ The smile dancing over your lips makes his cheeks warm up. You glance over to the sky hiding behind a golden halo that city lights cast over the rooftops. “Do you ever miss Hyogo?“

“Sometimes.“

“I miss the stars.“ You kick a small stone from your path. “You've become quite a star too you know. With all the fans and attention I really wonder, do you get lonely?”

Your question catches him off guard. “I'm too busy to get lonely,“ he lies.

“I get lonely sometimes,“ your eyes still search for a glimmer of a distant star. “And tired. Some days I just want to sleep all day. Do you ever get the urge to do that? Skip practice and stay in bed?“

“No. If I skipped practice how will I become better?”

You purse your lips and nod. “That's why you're a professional athlete and I'm just trying to figure out why I have to separate blue and red laundry.“

“Those are two very different things.“

“Both are just some pieces of cloth. Why do I have to separate them? If they got problems with each other they should grow up and talk it out.” 

That’s not what he meant, but your slight annoyance over technicalities of doing laundry still makes him laugh.

In the coming days Aran checks his phone every chance he gets, just to see if you already wrote back. No matter what you talk about he wants to hear it; be it about your day or the delivery man being late with your order. His teammates notice and tease him about it yet he denies you're anything more than just a friend, and they exchange knowing looks when his back is turned. Even if his entire body heats up at the sole mention of your name Aran isn't ready to admit to himself, let alone others, he wants you to be more.

Not when he isn't sure if his feelings for you are being muddled by his memories.

That Tuesday you grab a dinner together that turns into a late night walk through the streets. It's not a date, Aran keeps reminding himself. It's just two friends hanging out as you've done a thousand times before. So why is his heart threatening to thump it's way out of his chest?

After that night weekly hanging out with you becomes a regular occurrence. Sometimes you go out to eat, sometimes you drag him along when you go shopping, saying he has a good eye for colour combinations. It has nothing to do with the fact he buys you ice cream every time. Some days you come to his place to play video games or watch movies. Seeing his favourite series making you laugh warms his heart.

As you become more comfortable around him your facade slowly, bit by bit, starts to crumble. He's scared to see what lies beneath yet at the same time he wishes it would break already. He can't help you if he doesn't know, can he?

Whatever is troubling you he wishes you'd trust him enough to confide in him. In the back of his mind lingers the question he's too scared too ask.

Does Kita know what's on your mind? Do you still talk to him?

You used to be close to the team. The one they relied on. The one who so lovingly tapped their fingers before each game. Do they know your eyes are puffy? Do they know every sleepless night that goes by makes the dark circles under your eyes harder to hide? Do they know his heart breaks every time he sees the tremble of your lips when you force a smile?

No matter how bad he wants to hold you, tell you it's going to be okay, the mere thought of reaching out paralyses him.

What if you don't want his help?

If you did, you would've asked already, right? Not even practice can stop him from thinking about you. His disappointment grows a little when he sees no new messages. Perhaps you don't want to talk to him after all.

He's just leaving the gym when his phone lights up and seeing it's your name makes his heart flutter. He eagerly picks up. “Hi!“

“H-hey.“ Already in the first word the strain in your voice is apparent. “Um, am I interrupting you?“

“No, of course not. I just finished with practice. What's up?“

“I-“ He hears you take a deep breath. “Um, I don't, I don't feel so good...“ Your next words are almost a whisper. “Could I come over?“

“'Course ya can come over. I'll be home in about an hour.“

By the time he arrives you're already there, standing by the entrance nervously stepping from one leg to another. You give a shy wave when he approaches. He noticed you've been acting weirdly sheepish around him and he's not used to it. You're friends. What's making you so nervous?

You trail behind him, hands tucked deep in your pockets. You don't even pull them out when taking your shoes off.

“Tea?“ he offers when you make your way towards the sofa.

“Sure,“ you nod, sitting and tightly hugging a pillow. “Sorry about that,“ you say when he joins you with two cups of tea, “I just... bad day, you know? Didn't want to be alone.“

With a smile he assures you it's no problem. You're welcome to come by whenever you want.

You tell him about college, about work. “Boss is a shit bag,“ you complain. The working hours make you late for your lessons and even professors are getting fed up with you always being late. Not to mention your classmates aren't keen on lending you notes to copy.

It's all too much, you say, work, college, the pressure of everyone's expectations. Your fellow students give you funny looks sometimes, you tell him. It's only a few years but you're still older than them, at the age where your parents are asking when you are going to settle down. Have children. Get a stable job. Well how could you when you haven't even gotten your degree yet? It all makes you feel like a failure.

And yet something tells Aran that's not why you're here. Maybe it's the nervous fumbling with the hem of your clothes. Maybe it's because you don't look at him at all. A silence falls on you as you sip your tea. Aran considers asking out right but you gather the courage before he does.

“Shin called.“  

“Ah.“ That's all he manages to say.

“He's doing good, in case you're wondering. He asked if we have any plans on visiting any time soon.“ Your eyes skim over his face. “That would be nice, don't you think?“

Aran forces a smile. “Sounds great.“ Once again your words threaten to shake the ground he stands on. All he hears is 'seeing Shin would be nice'. His grip on the cup tightens and he puts it away before he'd crack it.

“Do ya miss him?“ he asks, words coming out more choked up than he intended. He clears his throat when he leans back on the couch's backrest.

You think over his question. “I miss my best friend.“

He asks. Even if he doesn't want to know the answer, he asks. “Will you get back with him?“

“No.“ Your answer is quiet, but firm. You readjust yourself to lean on the backrest, facing him, the pillow still tightly squeezed in your grip. “Shin is a great guy just... not the right for me. Wasn't easy to accept but that's how it is.“ You fumble with the thread sticking out from the stitch. “I wasn't good for him, you know?“ you quietly continue. “He protected me since we were kids but at some point it all just... fizzled I guess. I was so used of always being by his side the thought of living without him terrified me. He was that stability I craved. For a long time I believed he would give me a goal in life, or something similar.“ You chuckle. “Try getting through seventeen-year-old-me's head that's not how relationships work. I knew we wouldn't work out. But I stayed because I was selfish and stupid... and scared. I think he knew. And it started to take a toll on him. So I left before he'd break.“ Tears start forming in your eyes. “Shin could never understand why I'm so sad without a reason... Maybe if I left sooner... well, it doesn't matter now.“

“Ya can still go back,“ hearing his own words shatters Aran's heart, “once ya feel better.“

The brief laugh you give almost sounds like a sob. “Can I?“ You forcefully wipe the tears away. “Even if I could it wouldn't be the same as I remember now. It's hard to explain but somehow, what’s in your memories is always better than reality. Know what I mean?“

He knows. Memory is the thief of future.

The lump in his throat grows larger, heavier as he watches you try to hide tears starting to run down your cheeks. He's lost, not knowing what else to do but to pull you closer, tucking your head under his chin. He hugs you and softly caresses your back. “It's alright,“ he whispers when you apologise through sobs and tears. He keeps repeating, it's alright. What else could he possibly say?

You relax in his arms and your sobs slowly turn to muffled sniffles. Aran only wishes you feel safe in his arms, your head leaning on his shoulder, your arms shyly wrapping around his middle. It's not the most comfortable position but he's to scared to readjust. He hears your hitched breathing sync with his own as he runs his hands up and down your back and, exhausted from your crying, you're soon fast asleep.

Perhaps for the first time in his life Aran's starting to really understand you. It pains him, knowing your struggles. You, who were always so full of light, you who were the pillar, tall and unyielding, one he could always lean onto. How memories managed to muddle his perception of you so much is beyond him. The only thing he can do is promise himself to never let them deceive him again. After all, who needs memories?

He messages you more frequently. Not too frequently, he doesn't want to appear nosy or pushy. Just often enough to let you know he's there for you if you need him.

You've been busier with college lately, so weekly hang outs turn to late night phone calls. Hearing your voice feels like a refreshing cool breeze on these hot summer nights.

He collapses in his bed, only half listening to your rambling on about one of the professors. He didn't catch her name.

“Aran? You still there?“

“Yeah, I'm still here. T's been a long day, t's all.“

He hears you hum and he can imagine the way you lean your head to the side. “Coach in a bad mood?“

“Not really. I'm just not feelin' my best. Couldn't sync with Aritsura's sets. But ya know, more practice 's all we need. How was your day?“ he asks, forgetting you just told him a few minutes ago.

“It was alright,“ you say instead of repeating what you already told him. “Actually, I wanted to apologise. About last time. I shouldn't have dumped all my problems on you.“

“How many times do I need to repeat it's okay. I'm here for ya.“

“Still. I'm sorry. It was a lot. I... I don't want to be a burden.“

His brows furrow. How many times does he have to repeat it? Why don't you get it? “Yer not.“ Your low chuckle makes him irritated . “I mean it. If ya ever need to talk just say, alright?“

“Yeah, yeah I will... Thank you. It's just that... I don't want to ruin this friendship too. That's all. Tell me when I become too much. Please.“

What are you talking about? “Whatever is on yer mind I promise I can handle it.“

“Can you? So you not being able to play your best has nothing to do with me dumping all my problems on you?“

Something in the way you say those words pushes the wrong button. He's only trying to be here for you, why can't you see that? “I don't care enough to let it impact me.“ Fuck. Even before the final word leaves his mouth he knows it came out wrong. “I'm sorry, fuck, y/n, I didn't mean it like that-“

“It's okay,“ you interrupt. “You're right.“

“I'm-“

“Get some sleep Aran. You have practice tomorrow. G' night.“ You end the call before he gets the chance to say goodbye.

Fuck.

Ch. 3: In the light, your name

Tags: @rosecaffelatte, @aonenthusiast

[hold-our-destiny]

He’s the closest thing to family i have

My pitch hitting fic for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

this is for @sdottkrames

Rating: teen

Relationships: Peter parker & tony stark, Tony stark & avengers team

Characters: Peter parker, Tony stark, steve rogers, avengers team

I would link ao3 but i can’t rn

“Can you just tell me where we’re going already?” Steve asked, having already asked the question 5 times since they left the tower. 

“I’ve already told you, we’re going to the compound for the meeting but we gotta make a quick pit stop on the way. Nothing to worry your pretty little super-soldier head about,” Tony replied, reaching over to ruffle Steve’s head as he said it.

“Yeah, i get that, but where’s the pit stop? We’re taking a two hour detour for this- this thing and you won’t even tell me what it’s for,” Tony chuckled.

“Let it go, cap, we’re here anyway, get in the back,” Tony said simply, pulling off his sunglasses.

“Get in the- wait, why are we parked outside a high school? Tony?” Tony ignored him, instead deciding to hum whatever came to his mind, only sniggering slightly when Steve couldn’t climb into the back properly, he wasn’t going to get out, not with civilians around.

They waited in silence for a few minutes before Steve saw Tony visibly perk up, the door opening a few seconds later.

Steve’s eyes landed on a kid- a teenager- who couldn’t be older than 16, climbing into the front seat. He was about to talk, ask him to leave, tell him he has the wrong place before-

“Hey, kiddo, how was school?” Tony reached over again to ruffle the teenager’s hair before slowly pulling out of the parking space.

“It was alright, had a calculus test fourth period-”

“Lemme guess-” Tony interjected, before the teen finished.

“Nailed it,” The kid said simply, smiling when Tony laughed, Steve smiled slightly and he saw the kid’s eyes dart to the side mirror quickly before he shrunk slightly.

“Hey, kid,” Peter shrunk even more when he heard Steve's nickname for him.

“Peter, Steve Rogers. Steve, this is the kid i’ve told you about” Tony said without looking at them, a small smile still on his face.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Peter said, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

Steve just gave him a quick nod, not wanting to press any further.

_________

Of course, he immediately told the team.

“Wait, Stark has a kid?”

“I know, it’s not really believable but he picked him up from school! He’s with him now getting him ‘settled in’ as he put it,”

The team… was suspicious, they’d never thought of Tony as the father type, especially considering what he’s been through with his own parents. It just didn’t seem possible.

“What’s the kid’s name?” Natasha asked, seemingly innocent but after five years of friendship, Steve could see through it.

“Hell no, I’m not letting you background check this kid, it’s bad enough I’m telling all of you.” Steve said, seemingly ending the conversation.

Coincidentally, Tony picked that exact moment to walk into the meeting room.

“Okay, now that that’s all sorted out, where were we?” Upon seeing the tension between the group, he paused for a moment, “What’s wrong?”

Steve seemed to be the first one to snap out of it, “Nothing, Tony, let’s continue,”

Half way through the four hour meeting, Tony’s phone buzzed on the table, he didn’t bother to check it before ignoring it. It happened three more times before he finally picked up.

“Hello? Wait- Pete?” He turned away from the group slightly and lowered his voice, “‘You okay?”

He stood up suddenly, a tense look on his face, “What’s wrong?” He listened to the voice through the phone for e few moments before rushing out of the room, not bothering to make up an excuse as the team was following behind him.

He skidded to a stop when they entered the penthouse, eyes darting to the couch and dropping to his knees in front of it.

“Hey, kiddo, you okay?” He only got a small whimper in reply, face creasing with worry, he called bruce over.

“It’s okay, kid, Bruce is here now, he’s gonna fix you up, okay?” The teenager nodded from his curled up position on the couch, eyes still tightly shut.

After a tense few moments of looking at his vitals, Bruce turned to Tony, “It’s not- it’s not looking good, Tony, but i think i can help him, we just need to get him to the medbay,” Tony was already standing up, softly pulling the boy into his arms, wincing when he heard groans from the plaint body.

“It’s okay, kiddo, you’re gonna be just fine,” Tony turned to Bruce and whispered something once they were in the elevator, Bruce only shaking his head sadly. Tony’s eyes hardened as he turned his head forward.

Needless to say, the rest of the team didn’t know what to do, Sam was trained in the basics so he was helping Tony situate Peter on a gurney, and the others… they felt useless, standing to the side, not knowing how to help.

“I think it’s a poison, bloodwork’s already on it’s way to the labs but we have to get him stable until then. Set up an IV so we can get him hydrated and I’ll do the rest,” Bruce explained, Sam immediately ransacked the cupboards for an IV kit, handing it to Tony who immediately got started.

It wasn’t even a second later Peter started moving, Steve couldn’t tell if he was seizing or not but regardless, he stepped forward. Bruce rushed to the side of the gurney, immediately being pushed back hard by Peter.

“Steve, hold him down!” 

Steve moved to hold his shoulders, Tony already standing by the side of his head, while Bucky held his ankles.

Together, they managed to hold the teenager down long enough for bruce to inject him with… something, probably a sedative. 

Tony carded his fingers through the kid’s hair, voice low as he whispered reassurances. For the first time since they left the meeting, Steve looked at his face, only now realising that he’d been crying. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he sniffed every few sentences. Only looking up when they tried to move the bed into a private room.

“Tony,” He ignored him, instead, choosing to follow the kid he’d come to love like his own, as they wheeled him down the hallways. He could hear footsteps behind him, no doubt Steve’s. 

God, he doesn’t know when to give up.

Steve decided to wait in the doorway as they set up his bed, hooking the small body up to various machines and putting a chair by his bedside. Tony was to the left of the bed talking to Bruce in hushed voices, pale as Steve’s ever seen him. After a few minutes, with only four people in the room left, Tony nodded to bruce, thanked him, and sat down in the chair, immediately reaching out to hold the teenager’s hand. 

Only then did he look to Steve, still stood in the doorway.

“You don’t have to stay guard, y’know?”

Steve shrugged, “What else am i supposed to do?”

Tony gestured to the chair in the corner, “Come sit down,” He said simply, as if it didn’t carry the weight of the past 3 years with it.

Steve old nodded, moving the chair to the opposite side of the bed before sitting down.

“I know you must have questions,” Tony said, eyes on the teenager’s relaxed face.

Steve looked reluctant, “Who is he?”

He’s mine, he’s as good as, he’s the only truly good person left-

“He’s my kid,” Tony replied shortly, a small smile on his face.

“Oh,”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you had a kid,”

“Not by blood,” Tony replied, but close enough, 

“Then by what?” Steve questioned.

Tony merely shrugged, “He’s the closest thing to family I’ve got,”

[veralovemail]

Hi! I would love myself a matchup if it's ok 👉👈

I'm female and pan, I'd prefer one of the males tho, Survivors please!

So uhhhh I differ in my personality a lot depending on the situation! I'm more of a loner around strangers IRL— shy, quiet, I don't like interacting and prefer to stay by the sidelines since being in the middle makes me uncomfy.

I try to be as polite as I can, even keeping in my opinions and pain a lot as to not Hurt anyone. I also tend to blame myself a lot for bad situations I'm a part in unless I know I absolutely didn't do anything!

Also I'm quite hot headed and have a bad temper, though I'm working on it! I have quite the problem with guilt and it comes to me fairly quickly when I do something bad.

Ah yeah I'm really forgetful and also really impatient KNRKS

Now- online!!

I'm a lot more open and chaotic. I like to tease my friends and jokingly make fun of them, etc. I try and stop when they tell me to, but I might understand it as them just joking too if they write it that way in my eyes-

I try to look on the positive side for them and their situations and am always willing to make someone happy even without words since it makes me happy too. I'd say I'm caring to a fault- I don't let loose until they finally do something healthy that they've been avoiding and I do get rather angry if I'm not taken seriously with that, causing me to maybe lash out at someone unwillingly,,- and then guilt pops in like "hi there 😍" KDHDJDJ

Anyway,

I encourage anyone to vent, though I'm not the best at giving advice. I'm more of a person who likes to listen and give support if they need it. Oh yeah- my attention span is REALLY short (as short as me good ol' 5'1 me aNENSJJSJD) so I get distracted pretty easily and procrastinate then.

As for hobbies: I love to draw! (As you might know-)Music is my life (especially Jazz) and video games are, too. Though mostly singleplayer Games since I only really like multiplayer with friends-

What else can I write..

Maybe like- I'm an ISFP-T And I think it was 5w6 that I was given by another test

I also got Philophobia, the fear of falling in love because of bad experiences but I'm tryna work on it!!

I guess I can also write about my appearance? I've got short, curly but chaotic black hair that's p much swept to the side- I'm definitely not that skinny lmao- and as I've said before, I'm 5'1! I usually wear casual clothes (hoodies, e.g!! They're so comfy...) I also got brown eyes and glasses!

I think that should be it.. ah yeah! In your introduction, you should prolly add your ID for others to add you because name search doesn't work! :0

Ok that's really it now- take your time, don't rush yourself and stay safe and hydrated!! 💕💕 Hope your blog takes off!

Sorry for my English by the way- I'm German so I might've messed up on a few things!

OH MY LORD I DID NOT KNOW THAT I HAD TO PUT IN MY ID... oml... thank u for telling me that. and don't worry about it, i can see how it'd be difficult (i actually studied german for my gcses :], it was very fun) but anyways! tysm for sending in btw!! i loved writing this, i hope u enjoy - mod vera ♡

i match you with ... naib subedar!

he kinda takes on to your quiet personality, unlike some of the other people around the manor. it's relaxing to be around somebody who doesn't talk much.

you two most likely met when robbie came over to the survivors' side of the mansion, jokingly demanding sweets... but it most likely sounded authentic. and oh god, is that an axe-

you two accidentally locked eyes but you both had a " ah shit, here we go again " face. it just kinda went from there.

at first, he's a tough nut to crack, but if you try hard enough, within a month or so you gain his trust and he .. deems you a friend?

you both kinda start falling for eachother after a period of time, but naib is great at hiding it BUT SIKE, so are you! it's like a game of who can pine for the other in the most subtle way possible.

however, if you tell him about your own troubles with falling in love, he may just open up a little too about his own troubles.

it's takes a while for you two to build a relationship, but eventually (after a lot of rescues, late night hangouts and just being near eachother) you make it!

when he learns about your more chaotic side, naib tries to keep up with you as best he can, he may just need a little tug to do so.

he loves your smile, especially the one you have when you're talking about your passions.

he also tries to help with your temper, but he's just as bad as you are.

however, he's there whenever you have a bad day - he can almost instantly tell, even if you try keep it to yourself. it could be the way you look at him, try to smile or talk, he does notice the change in your aura.

since your shorter than him, he likes holding you. it makes him feel like he's just protecting you from anything and anything, especially on one of your bad days.

he likes your optimism, looking on the good side of every situation. he once saw you trying to comfort robbie when he started crying about not finding any sweets around and you told him "look on a brightside robbie! now we know for next time to stash some away for you before we eat it all!" AND OH GOD, IS THAT AN AXE?

naib gets frequent nightmares about his time being a hired merc, so sometimes you may get woken up at 3 am because he's a bit distressed and needs a bit of comfort.

other times, he just finds holding you while you're fast asleep enough to put him back in a coma for the next 2 hours.

naib also encourages you to talk to him about stuff. whether it be what made you mad, how much of a bitch vera can be, ect. he's there for you and that man is never gonna let you carry your burdens alone.

saying that, you also have to remind him that he can't carry his own burdens sometimes and when you encourage him to talk to you about what's upsetting him, he'll most likely tell, depending on how bad it is.

he also grounds you a lot!! if you tell him about your forgetfulness, he's most likely going to try and remind you.

" hey, [ name ], you did bring [ item ] into the match, right? "

" um... "

" goddamnit [ name ], i thought i reminded you "

naib takes it upon himself to rescue you, or keep you within his general vicinity if you're in a match with him. he does know you can kite very well though! he just wants you near him for a bit of reassurance.

he can be mean sometimes, but he means it in the most endearing way possible since most of it is sarcasm.

you two kinda have " stab as a warning " vibes so nobody really opposes the two of you. even norton. not even freddy dares to oppose you because the last time he did, aesop almost had to prepare his equipment to embalm the poor fella.

when you lash out at someone, naib is there almost immediately to take you away to calm down and comfort you when your guilt kicks the door down and goes " Hey girlie! Hold still 😎 "

sometimes you have to do the same for him because you both have a tendency to lash out.. but.. never at eachother? you two kinda agree on the same things, there isn't much to exactly disagree on.

please draw him!! watch him while he's training in the garden and draw him, or just a few silly doodles of him.

he likes looking at your drawings, it kinds boosts his ego knowing that he's worthy enough to be drawn.

if he finds out that you like music, he'll tell you about nepalese music, or at least what he knew of it - if you both get engrossed in it, he may try and get you some records to play.

teach him how to dance, if you can. it'd make listening to music together way more fun.

he's very content with you!! he likes kissing you out of nowhere, too. you could just be chilling and naib would come up to you, turn you around and give you a smooch outta nowhere. but only in private.

i feel like neither of you would be big on pda, you just stick to holding hands around the manor.

if this were in a modern setting, you two could probably play a game like phasmaphobia together just for funsies.

all in all, your relationship with naib is mutually beneficial and robbie has learned to never ask for sweets again.

i hope you enjoy this <3 it's my first time writing naib too so i apologise if it's not very good </3

[btsqualityy]

BTS Second Pregnancy Series #10: Third Trimester Issues

32 weeks, or 8 months, pregnant

Kim Seokjin

You opened the front door to your house and walked inside, holding the door open for Kaiden to amble in behind you. 

“Is that my two favorite people?” Jin called as he walked down the stairs.

“Hi Daddy!” Kaiden shouted and once he had gotten his shoes off, he ran over to his daddy, who picked him up and gave him a tight hug. 

“How was school?” Jin asked him.

“Good!” Kaiden replied.

“Do you have homework today?” Jin wondered.

“Only a little,” Kaiden pouted and Jin chuckled at him. 

“Well, why don’t we go get started on it?” Jin suggested and Kaiden reluctantly nodded. Jin then looked over at you, a small smile on his face at seeing you. “How was work jagi?”

“Got a lot done today,” you told him and he nodded. 

“I’m gonna go help him get started with homework and I’ll be back,” he said and you nodded, watching as he turned around and carried Kaiden upstairs to his room. After setting your purse and keys down, you kicked off your shoes and walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch once you were there. You then lifted your feet, setting them on top of the coffee table and your eyes widen when you saw how swollen your feet were.

“Alright, he’s all set with his homework,” Jin announced as he walked back down the stairs and over to the couch where you were, sitting down next to you. “I still don’t understand why they give three, almost four year olds homework.”

“It’s just tracing letters,” you giggled. “It’s just to get him used to the idea of doing homework.” Jin shrugged with a hum and his gaze fell onto your feet that were propped up, his brow furrowing when he saw how swollen they were.

“Y/N-ah,” he tsked, reaching over and grabbing the backs of your calves, making you swing them around and rest your feet in his lap. “What did I tell you about being on your feet all day?” He asked as he began to massage the soles of your feet.

“I wasn’t though,” you replied lamely, making him glare lightly at you. “I’m eight months pregnant now Jin, they’re gonna be swollen regardless of what I do.”

“But there’s no need to make it worse than need be,” he responded. “I still think that you should take your maternity leave early.”

“And you know that I didn’t want to do that yet,” you shot back. 

“Y.N-ah...”

“Jin, please,” you begged and he looked up at you, his face softening when he saw your slight pout. “Just a few more weeks.”

“Alright, fine,” he relented, making you smile widely. “But I want you to rest when you come home, ok?”

“I promise,” you nodded, leaning over and kissing him softly. 

Min Yoongi

“Oh my fucking god,” you muttered as you walked out of the bathroom, fresh out of the bath. Yoongi looked up from his notebook that he was writing lyrics in and he frowned when he saw the grimace on your face.

“What’s wrong Y/N-ah?” He asked. 

“My back and hips are still hurting,” you whined. “I thought the warm bath would help but it didn’t.”

“You don’t think that they’re Braxton Hicks, do you?” He wondered and you shook your head.

“It feels nothing like contractions, it’s just really fucking sore,” you explained. Yoongi bit his lip as he thought for a second and you watched as a small smile spread onto his lips. “What?”

“Do you want me to massage your back and hips?” He offered and you raised  an eyebrow at him. “It could be worth a try.”

“That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” you chuckled.

“Well, get over here then,” he smirked and you walked over to the bed before sitting down on the edge next to where Yoongi was sitting. He then sat up, getting onto his knees before setting his hands on your lower back and kneading the skin there.

“How’s that baby?” Yoongi wondered.

“That’s actually really fucking good,” you murmured quietly and Yoongi chuckled as he began to massage you a little harder. “I just wish that Kammie wasn’t moving down more just yet.”

“You know that just means that we don’t have much longer until she gets here,” Yoongi whispered. “You are eight months pregnant now Y/N-ah.”

“I know, but I’m tired. Hopefully, she’ll come as soon as I’m full term.”

“What if she’s overdue like baby girl was?” Yoongi wondered.

“Don’t you even speak those words into existence,” you hissed, making Yoongi laugh loudly. 

Kim Namjoon

“Mommy, come on!” Mason shouted as he rushed out of the kitchen, eager to take his bath so that he could play with his toy dinosaurs in the water.

“I’m coming Myungie,” you chuckled, turning the water off on the kitchen sink and wiping down the counter one last time before walking out of the kitchen. Mason then ran up to you, grabbing your hand in his as he pulled you in the direction of the stairs.

“Mommy,” he smiled, making you laugh at how excited he was. “Faster.”

“I’m going as fast as I can Mase,” you replied, watching as Mason let go of your hand and quickly climbed the stairs. You then followed after him, quickly running up the stairs. By the time that you made it to the top, Mason had already run into the bathroom while you were breathing heavily and your heart was beating fast. 

“Hey jagi,” Namjoon called as he walked out of your shared bedroom but when he saw you bent over with your hands on your knees, he rushed down the hallway and set his hand on your lower back. “Y/N-ah, what’s wrong?”

“I..took the stairs...too...fast,” you replied as you did your best to get your breathing back to normal. 

“Here, deep breaths in and deep breaths out,” Namjoon told you and you nodded before doing as he said, inhaling as much as you could before slowly releasing it. “Good?” He wondered and you nodded, lifting your abdomen so that you were standing up straight again.

“I know it probably sounds stupid but I guess I just didn’t release how far along I am now,” you said and Namjoon gave you a small smile as he rubbed your lower back comfortingly.

“I get it jagi and it’s ok,” he replied. “Just be a little more careful yeah? You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry Joon,” you apologized, puckering your lips and a small hum escaped your throat as he kissed you softly. 

“Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll go give Mase his bath?” Namjoon offered and you smiled lightly.

“That would be great,” you said. 

“Then go ahead and get into bed,” he told you and with one last kiss, the two of you went your separate ways. 

Jung Hoseok

“Look Mommy, watch!” Lennox shouted out as he stood at the top of the slide. Every since Hobi had confided in you about wanting to spend more time with the kids, the both of you were doing your best to do as many activities with the twins as you could before Hendrix was born. Today, the two of you decided to take them both to the park that was not far from your house.

“I’m watching baby,” you yelled back, watching with a small smile as Lennox sat down and slid down the slide.

“Did you see me Mommy?” He asked excitedly.

“I did see you,” you nodded and Lennox grinned widely before turning around to climb back onto the play-set. You looked over and saw Hobi pushing Berkeley on one of the swings and when the two of you made eye contact, he winked at you before turning his attention back to Berk. You then continued to watch Lennox, when you suddenly felt a strong headache hit you. You set the tips of your fingers on the sides of your forehead, trying to massage the pain away but it only became more intense. You almost began to feel like passing out but you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“Y/N, what is it?” Hobi asked frantically and you opened your eyes, blinking a few times because of the sunlight.

“My head,” you whispered and Hobi immediately guided you over to a bench where the two of you had left the bag that held stuff for the twins, making you sit down before he sat down next to you.

“What, it hurts?” He guessed and you nodded. 

“Almost felt like I was gonna pass out,” you explained. 

“Have you had any water today?” He wondered and you shook your head. He then reached into the bag, pulling out a bottle of water and handing it to you. You quickly unscrewed the cap and put the bottle to your lips, taking a large gulp of the water. “You know that you have to stay hydrated Y/N-ah.”

“I know but I forgot,” you replied once you had lowered the bottle from your mouth. 

“Are you feeling a little better now?” He wondered and you nodded quickly, the headache that you had previously been feeling almost disappearing immediately. 

“Thank you Hobi,” you smiled, making him do the same.

“No problem,” he shrugged. “Now, you stay here and relax and I’ll watch over the kiddos, alright?” He said and you nodded, watching as he kissed your cheek before getting up from the bench and going back over to Lennox and Berkeley. 

Park Jimin

You flipped onto your back, stretching your legs out as you tried to find a more comfortable position. As you progressed further into your pregnancy, you found it harder and harder to sleep comfortably. Most nights, you ended up just giving up on sleep completely and it looked like tonight was going to be another one of those nights. 

Just as you moved to sit up and get out of bed, you felt Jimin’s arm tighten around your abdomen. “What’s wrong Y/N-ah?” He muttered sleepily.

“Can’t sleep again,” you whispered back and that’s when Jimin opened his eyes. He then sat up, rubbing at his eyes for a few seconds before pushing the covers off of his body and getting up from the bed. “Where are you going?” You called after him.

“Just stay there and I’ll be right back,” he replied before walking out of the bedroom. You laid down against the pillows again, rubbing your bump softly as you felt your baby moving around a little. After about 10 minutes, Jimin walked back into the bedroom with two mugs in his hands. He placed one of them down on the nightstand next to his side of the bed before climbing onto the bed, handing you the other mug once he was settled down next to you.

“What’s this?” You wondered as you brought the cup up to your nose in order to smell it. 

“Lavender tea,” he replied and you nodded before taking a small sip of it. “I know that you’ve been having some issues sleeping lately so I goggled some pregnancy safe ways that might help and lavender tea was one of the top results.”

“So you went out and bought lavender tea for me?” You finished for him and when you looked over at him, he was smiling shyly. 

“Well, I wanted to help,” he shrugged. “Plus, it’s not healthy for you not to be getting any rest.”

“I know,” you nodded in agreement, taking another sip of the tea. “I really do appreciate this Jimin-ssi.”

“It’s the least that I could do,” he told you. “You have such a hard time when you’re pregnant, I want to do as much as I can to help you out.”

“And you definitely go above and beyond,” you said firmly, recognizing the tone in his voice and he nodded. The two of you then continued to drink your cups of tea, talking quietly about random things. Once you were both finished, Jimin set both mugs on the nightstand and cuddled up to you, setting his hands on your bump and rubbing softly.

“Good night jagi, I love you,” he whispered.

“Good night Jimin-ssi, I love you too,” you replied and you shut your eyes, sleep taking over you almost instantly. 

Kim Taehyung

“What do you want for breakfast today Spence?” You asked her as the two of you walked down the stairs, her tiny hand in yours. Since it was a Saturday, you liked to make Spencer whatever she requested for breakfast as a way of saying ��good job for getting through this week!’.

“Pancakes please,” she replied.

“You always want pancakes,” you chuckled as you looked down at her and she looked back up at you with the same pout that Taehyung has.

“But pancakes are good,” she said and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. 

“You’re right, they are pretty good,” you nodded, setting your hand on top of her head and pushing the flyaway hairs that had escaped from her ponytail away from her eyes. Once the two of you got into the kitchen, you pulled out of the ingredients to get started on the pancakes as Spencer sat at the kitchen counter and colored in one of her coloring books. As you started cooking, it didn’t take long for Taehyung to make his way down stairs. 

“Mm, good morning,” his still gravelly voice greeted.

“Morning Daddy,” Spencer chirped and you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see him lay a soft kiss onto her forehead. He then walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Good morning,” you smiled, giggling when he brought his hands up and placed them on your bump.

“How are you feeling?” He wondered and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Since you were eight months pregnant now, Taehyung was on high alert for any sign of something wrong.

“I feel fine Tae,” you told him, flipping over the pancake in the pan in front of you. “No need to,” you tried to finish but you cut off by a wave of pain wrapping around your lower hips. You stumbled back against Taehyung, who tightened his grip on you and held you upright.

“Hey Y/N-ah, what is it?” He asked worriedly and you shook your head as you stood up straight on your own again. 

“Braxton Hicks’ contraction,” you explained. “It just caught me off guard.”

“Want me to breathe with you?” He offered and you nodded, grabbing onto his outstretched hand and closing your eyes. The two of you then inhaled deeply and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. 

“Mm, thanks Tae,” you murmured as you opened your eyes. “I forgot how much contractions knock me off my ass until now.”

“No need to thank me jagi and don’t worry,” he assured you. “I’ll be right here with you, through the fake contractions and the real ones, ok?” You nodded and then kissed him gently before turning back to the stove.

“My pancake!” You shrieked at seeing your now burnt pancake in the pan. 

Jeon Jungkook

“Have I ever mentioned how much pregnancy annoys the absolute fuck out of me?” You said as you walked out of the bathroom and Jungkook looked up at you in surprise, his brow furrowing in confusion right afterwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you, watching as you walked over and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

“I’m sick of having to pee all the damn time!” You exclaimed. “Aria has started to move down and she’s growing, meaning that she’s pressing down on my damn bladder and I hate it!”

“Y/N-ah,” Jungkook said, lifting his hand to try and stop his laugh from escaping. You caught him however, and you could tell by the way that his eyes were crinkling up that he was about to laugh.

“Oh, I’m really happy to know that my pain is funny to you,” you hissed as you smacked his thigh and he shouted in pain.

“I’m not laughing at your pain, I’m laughing at how you just said that,” he clarified, still chuckling in spite of himself. “I know it sucks Y/N-ah but you’re eight months now so you only have a little while longer to go.”

“It can’t come fast enough,” you muttered. “Don’t get me wrong, I love our babies and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world but carrying them sucks.”

“I know you love them Y/N-ah and it’s ok that you’re tired,” Jungkook nodded as he reached out and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’ve been doing an amazing job though, and that’s why Ava loves you so much and Aria will too.”

“You really mean that?” You questioned and Jungkook nodded.

“Of course I do,” he assured you. “Hey, want me to go pick up your favorite pocky?”

“Yes please,” you said immediately, making Jungkook laugh. He moved forward and kissed you three times, pulling back and looking at you afterwards.

“You got this, ok?” He said and you nodded with a small smile. “Now, I’ll be right back with your pocky.” He got up from the bed and after grabbing his car keys from the dresser, he walked out of the bedroom. It wasn’t until you heard the front door shut behind him that you got that familiar urge again.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned as you got up and walked back into the bathroom.  

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Six

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson

Warnings: DARKER THEMES AHEAD. Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, male-on-female violence, description of injuries, PTSD, mentions of medical talk? Sloooooow burn ahead. Fluff!

A/N: guys guys GUYS! Get ready for a lil fluff! The balls gonna get rollin’ and its a non-stop ride now. I hope you all enjoy, any and all feedback is appreciated! <3 Happy Valentine’s Day!

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

Ow. That’s the only thought going through your head. Your eyes open and judging by the IV’s in your arm, you’re in a hospital. The events that landed you here start flooding your mind. You remember the HYDRA base, the agents, and the pain, but where is everyone? Where’s Steve? Sam? Where’s Bucky?

You sigh, Bucky.

He’d been so mad at you for ignoring him...a commanding officer. You’re in a huge amount of trouble—no doubt about that. You decide now isn’t the time to think about that, after all you were just shot.

You wanted to know if you’d dreamt him carrying you into the jet. If it was all just delirium from blood loss when you thought he was caring for you, assuring you that you’d be okay. You wanted to see him. Hell you needed too.

“Shit...” you seethe. Your right arm is in a sling and your shoulder is bandaged tightly. You scoot attempting to shimmy your body up so you could sit up some more. The sound of the door opening caught your attention, and when you saw him walk in you almost fainted.

Sergeant Barnes entered your hospital room, two water bottles in hand, dressed in black sweats with a tight, black cotton shirt. He’s being quiet as to not wake you. When he realizes you’re up he freezes, though. Unsure if he should be there at all.

“Hey...” you practically whisper. He says nothing, but takes this as an approval of his presence. There’s a chair next to your bed... right next to your bed. So close that the arm of the chair is indenting the side of mattress. Bucky grips the chair and moves it out from the bed a foot or two, then sits in it.

“Where am I?” You ask him quietly. It is then you notice that his jacket had been hanging on the chair he moved from your bed. Had he been here while you were asleep?

He opens the top of one of the water bottles, and hands it to you. “You’re at the compound. This is the med unit.” He speaks softly.

You take a sip of the cold water, relishing the hydration it gives your body. “I didn’t even know we had a medical unit on-site.” You say in an attempt to make conversation.

He stops to lock his gaze on yours. “And you wouldn’t have, had you just listened to me last night.” He sounds annoyed with you already, but also worried.

“Sam was in trouble. Steve didn’t respond to his distress call and neither did you, I did what I thought needed to be done.” To you it was simple. Your friend was in trouble, and you helped him.

“You defied a direct order, Ella.” There he goes, using your name again. “There could be serious consequences to that. If I wanted to, I could have you dismissed from the Cadet program all together.” His tone was serious but he wasn’t threatening you, he was just stating a fact.

You cleared your throat, before looking at him and fiddling with the head of your shirt. “Is that what you want?” You ask.

Why wouldn’t that be what he wants? He makes it pretty clear you’re a huge thorn in his side, and he doesn’t enjoy your company. This is an easy out for him, get rid of you and ease his work load in the process.

He smiled softly to himself. Smiled? Was that a smile on those perfect lips?

“No,” he said softly. “I just—“ 

Bucky was cut off by a tap at the door, causing him to stand quickly and move away from you even more.

“Knock-Knock...” You knew that voice. “Hey Ella, how are you doing?” Steve asks, sitting at the edge of your hospital bed.

You smile at him, unsure of what you’ve done in your life to deserve such a good friend. “I’m okay I promise. I’m just so sorry for all the trouble I caused.” You glance to Bucky, who’s gaze seemed to be locked on your shoulder.

“Can we get you anything?” Steve asks sincerely.

You shake your head, “I’m okay. I swear, I’m not looking forward to the scar this is gonna leave, but at least Sam is okay.”

Sergeant Barnes’ demeanor changed suddenly. You felt the tension in the room build and you didn’t like it. Why does he do this when other people are around?

“Sergeant Barnes,” you call to him, when his eyes meet yours you feel you heart do back-flips. How can someone be so gentle one moment and so cruel the next?

“Thank you for staying with me, and for helping me last night. I don’t know what would have happened had it not been for—“

He interrupts you, “Get this straight, Cadet. Out there—that’s the real world. The threats were dealing with are real,”

His eyes shift between yourself and Steve, who is looking at his friend with disappointment.

“The consequences are too. You get hurt, or worse...” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “The shit storm comes down on me, and people wonder why I put up with a recruit who can’t follow a simple instruction in the first place.”

Your heart falls into your stomach. “All I can do is apologize, Sergeant.” What else can you say? He clearly doesn’t wanna hear excuses, so there’s no point in trying to defend yourself.

“Despite all that,” Steve starts, “You did great out there. I don’t know if Sam,” He looks to Bucky, “or any of us would be here if you didn’t take the initiative.”

A small smile creeps across your lips, “Thanks, Cap.” The wound in your shoulder starts to throb from your elevated blood pressure. You grit your teeth, adjusting yourself on the cot.

“You’re sure you don’t need anything?” Steve asked, guilt painting his word. He rested his hand on yours, earning a stern glare from Bucky. You watch him subtly out of you peripherals, his jaw was clenched as was his metal fist.

You close your eyes momentarily, wrestling with the pain you feel in your shoulder.

“I’m alright. I just need...time.”

Bucky scoffed. “Time? You need to learn to listen to orders.”

“Buck—“ Steve started, removing his hand from yours.

He continued, “You wouldn’t be in a hospital if you could follow a simple command. You risked everyone’s safety because you’re too stubborn to do as you’re told.”

My eyes narrowed at Sergeant Barnes. Why does he do this? He treats you so differently when Steve is around, and you’re about fed the-fuck up.

“Ya know what? You’re absolutely right.” You say firmly, attempting to stand from the bed.

“Ella, just relax. He didn’t mean—“ Steve interjected.

“No Cap, I know exactly what he means.” You got to your feet; pride being the only thing hiding the pain from your face.

“Sergeant Barnes has made it very clear from the beginning what he thinks of me. What was it you said a few weeks back? Oh right, that I���m incompetent, I’m lazy, and I’m spoiled. I’m a rookie who would run from a fight the minute it started.”

Steve’s thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose, before looking at his friend. He subtly shook is head at Bucky, who kept his eyes locked on you, jaw tightly clenched.

“Guess what Sarge,” you say with disdain, gesturing to your shoulder. “I didn’t run did I?”

Bucky doesn’t speak, and his gaze on you is unyielding. “From now, keep your two-faced ass away from me.” You felt that all too familiar sting prick your eyes as you rip the IV from your arm. “You don’t know a God damn thing about me, Barnes.”

You pushed by them both, finally allowing the hot tears to stain your face as you head for your room.

“Mother...fucker...” You groan. You’re attempting to change your bandages, but unable to get it wrapped fully around your shoulder. Even with a mirror, it was impossible to do using your opposite hand.

You almost had it when a knock at the door made you jump. “Shit! Yeah, what is it?” You call, looking to the door.

The door opened slowly, revealing a casually dressed Bucky on the other side of it. You turned your back immediately, tending to your bandages again.

“What do you want?” You sneer.

He was quiet for a few seconds. You almost didn’t think he was going to say anything, until that familiar, irritated sigh passed through his lips.

“Christ, let me help you.” He said taking a few steps into your room.

You groaned. “I do not need your help.”

He scoffed. “Fine. Wrap your bandages poorly and get that wound infected.” He knew you wouldn’t protest, and shut your bedroom door.

You sigh, rolling your eyes so hard you thought they’d get stuck. You stood from the seat you had taken at your desk, walking up to him with as much attitude as you could muster and shove the gauze into Bucky’s chest. The force doesn’t move him an inch. “Just hurry up.” You command.

He unrolls the gauze, ripping it with his teeth when he deems it long enough. Bucky looks at the half-assed job you did on yourself and let’s out a chuckle.

“What is so damn funny?” You ask, annoyed to your core.

“Nothing, I just think it’s ridiculous you’d risk losing an arm for the sake of your pride.” He jested.

“What, not something you’d recommend?” You joke, nodding to his metal appendage.

He lets out a breath of laughter, “Not exactly, no.”

Bucky undoes you’re bandages, watching the pain form on your face as he moves over the open wound.

“Shit...” you intake a sharp breath of air causing him to pause. He watches you grip the edge of the table so hard, your knuckles go white.

He softly grips the spot above your elbow. “Just...take a deep breath. I’ll move as fast as I can.“ Bucky’s voice coaxes the tension from your muscles, and you relax.

Doing as he says, you inhale deeply through your nose and out through your mouth. Bucky attempts works quickly, seeing the discomfort in your face. The rough tips of his fingers cause chills to go through your body. He notices, and you hear him swallow hard.

The skin he passes over is burning, calling out for him to touch you again. You feel his warm breath on your neck, as you shudder. His body heat keeping your muscles relaxed.

“Almost done. Keep breathing.” He whispers in your ear. The smoothness in his voice coats your eardrum like honey, sending your body into a hypnotic buzz.

When he finishes he places his right hand on your bicep. His thumb stroking the smooth skin of your arm a few times. “All set, Els.” He speaks, using his nickname for you again.

You spin around to see he’s mere inches from you. “That um, that’s perfect.” You whisper. Your eyes flicker over his lips, and his do the same to yours. 

He’s so handsome. You think, Ya know, when he’s not being a total dick.

He stands to his feet quickly, breaking the intimate trance you shared. He disposed of the used bandages, and you realize that you indeed needed more help than you were willing to admit.

“Thank you.” You mumble in his general direction. You hated this, how you wanted to forgive him for all the horrible things he said to you and about you.

“You’re welcome.” He says softly.

Another moment of silence passes between you two. This is the Bucky you wanted all the time. This Bucky was kind and gentle and actually cared about you, or at least he made it seem like he did.

“So why did you come here? To my room? The last time you were here, you made it clear you didn’t wanna see me again.” You ask.

“That’s not true.” He said quickly defending himself. “You left the med unit before you were suppose to, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well as you can see, I’m fine.” You retort.

He looks at the ground for a moment. “I’m glad.”

You nod, as a sigh escapes your lips. The way he affects you isn’t insignificant. It means something, at least to you.

“Bucky, what are we doing?” You ask softly.

He doesn’t protest as you use his name, but rather looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

You stand with a scoff, “This! I mean here you are, in my room...again. We’re alone and it’s private and it’s intimate so you’re being,” he steps closer as you fumble over your words, “I don’t know, you’re being the guy I wish you were all the time. When we get around people and it’s like you can’t stand the sight of me.”

He takes a step towards you again.

“I wanna know where I stand with you.” You say shyly.

He swallows hard, “This is the second time you’ve been hurt on my watch.” His face was pained as he looked at your wound.

You reach out for his hand instinctively, trying to show him that it’s not his fault. When your hand grasps his, he gently pulls you into him, playing with your fingers for a moment.

“I don’t know how to stay away from you. I’m trying, Doll. Really I am. Every time you’re around me you’re in danger and this,” he gestured to you shoulder, “This just proves it.”

He’s holding your hand with both of his now, “I want to keep you safe.”

“I’m okay, Bucky. I promise.” Is all you can say.

A breath of laughter leaves his lips, “You’re always okay, aren’t you?”

You smile, and nod. “I am...but I’m better when you’re around. Like this,—this feels...”

Bucky held you closer, encroaching your small frame with his. He’s mere inches from you now.

“It feels right, Buck.” You say, look up at him through your lashes.

He drops your hands gently, and cups your cheek with his right, holding your waist with his cool left one.

He swallows hard as he presses his forehead to yours, “I know it does, Doll. I know.”

You’re gripping his arms as he holds you. His eyes closed, breathing deeply. 

“What are you doing to me, Ella?” He whispered so low, if he wasn’t holding you, you wouldn’t have heard it.

A small smile graced your lips, “I could ask you the same thing, Sarge.”

Bucky holds you like that for a moment or two, before he gently lets you go and takes a step backward. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

He sighed thoughtfully, “Don’t think because you’re injured it excuses you from training. You may not be able to do hand to hand combat, but we will train your non-dominant arm to do everything your dominant one can.”

Ah, there he is. Reminding you once again that he is your commanding officer and you are his...burden.

Despite his words, a smile graced your face. “Y-you’re training me?”

He nods, and you notice the corners of his mouth turn up. “Yes. At least that way I’ll be able to keep an eye on you, and try and get some of Sam’s sloppy habits outta your head.”

“What time?” You ask happily.

He looks at you. His cerulean eyes mapping your shoulder up to your face. He reaches out and strokes your cheek with a smile, “7 A.M. Not a minute later.”

You stand from the edge of your bed, “Sir yes Sir.”

“Goodnight, Els.” He whispered.

You smiled softly, “G’night, Buck.”

That night, you had the best sleep you’ve had since being here.

...and so did Bucky.

Chapter Seven: Left

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Baby Love - Part 8

A/N- Wow its been a minute since i’ve updated this one! 💕

"Are you okay?" I heard Chris ask as i sat in the car staring at the new scan printout we were given.

"Im great" i smiled brushing my finger over the image "its just.... you can actually see that its a baby now! Before it didn't really look like anything"

"Starting to feel more real now huh?"

"Definitely! You wanna FaceTime your mom? You know shes dying to find out if shes getting a new granddaughter or grandson"

"You don't mind? We can wait if you want, just keep it between us....."

"I don't mind" i shrugged "you choose babe, its your family"

"I love you" he smiled leaning over to kiss me "ok, lets do this".

Chris pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled his mom, it only rang twice before Lisa appeared on the screen.

"Hey you two" she said happily "so?? come on...tell me"

"Wow straight to the point huh?" Chris laughed "okay, okay. Its a....."

"WAIT!!! DONT YOU DARE SAY A WORD UNTIL IM THERE!!!" We suddenly heard Scott yell in the background making us all burst out laughing, we saw him run in through the door behind Lisa and then he was squeezing in next to his mom to see us on the screen.

"Okay go, I'm here!"

"Hey Scott" i smiled giving him a wave.

"Hey mama, your looking good!"

"Thank you"

"Okay come on! I cant wait any longer!" Lisa interrupted practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

"Its a girl!" Chris announced loudly and proudly.

"Oh sweetheart thats amazing! And everything looks okay?...."

"Yep everything is good, doc said everything is as it should be"

"Thats great, i know its a scary time going through your first pregnancy,  if you ever need to talk to anyone im here for you"

"Thank you Lisa that means alot"

"Im here for you too! I dont know anything about pregnancy but anything else im your guy!" Scott added making us all chuckle.

"I'll keep that in mind Scotty"

"Okay guys well I'm going to get these two home, we just wanted to tell you the news"

"Okay sweetheart, you both take care i love you".

The call ended after the 'I love yous' we're exchanged and Chris drove us home, 10 minutes after getting home i was fast asleep on the sofa cuddled up to Chris. I guess it was too much excitement for one day!

It was the day before the Premiere and i still didn't have anything to wear. So here i was trying on dresses with the help from none other than Scott Evans!

He had been on the phone with Chris last night when he heard i still hadn't got a dress and insisted he take me out to find something.

"I can't believe you've left it this late Y/N!" He was moaning from outside the changing room.

"I know im sorry! But what was the point of getting it weeks before hand when i know im probably not going to fit in the thing when it comes to actually wearing it"

"Okay fair point" he chuckled as i turned around getting a good look in the mirror before i showed him.

"Okay, i think this one is good, its comfortable and it kinda hides the bump with the ruffles..."

"Okay well show me!"

I opened the curtain and he looked wide eyed at me "wow"

"Is that a good wow or...."

"Definitely good, only it doesn't hide the bump as much as you think" 

"In a way i cant wait for it be public knowledge, i don't want to have to worry about what I'm wearing when i leave the house you know?" I shrugged turning back to face the mirror and running my hand over my growing baby bump "I'm not trying to hide the fact I'm pregnant its just the hate i know I'm gonna get. But then i guess if I'm with your brother i should just learn to deal with it. Its never gonna go away is it? There's always going to be someone putting me down about something"

"There will be, but lets face it their just jealous. And you wont ever need to meet these people.... don't even read what they say sweetheart. You are an amazing woman and you make my brother so happy its actually quite sickening"

"Thanks Scotty" i laughed shaking my head at him "so this dress?"

"That dress!".

All of Chris's family met round at our place before the premiere where family photo's were being taken. It was nice to have photo's that were just ours and not splashed online for everyone to see. After Lisa said she had enough we all headed out to the cars, I was a nervous wreck from the second the car started moving. My stomach was in knots and i felt like i was going to be sick any second, without knowing i moved my hand and placed it protectively over my growing bump. Suddenly Chris's hand took hold of my free hand that was gripping the leather seat.

"You okay sweetheart?"

"Im just freaking out" i replied shaking my head with a tight smile.

"You'll be fine, i'll be with you every step of the way.... well i'll probably have to step away to give some interviews but Scott will stick by you, you'll never be on your own"

"I'll be okay once I'm there its just the thought of it.... everyones gonna know about the baby"

"And i cant wait for the world to know how lucky i am" Chris beamed leaning forward and carefully kissing me so he didn't mess up my lipstick.

The car finally rolled to a stop and already the crowd outside was going wild.

"You ready?" Chris asked turning to me smiling.

"Are you?"

"Not gonna lie my anxiety is through the fucking roof right now... but yeah. Lets do this" he took a deep breath and threw open the car door getting out quick before he could change his mind. I watched him turn and give a quick wave at the waiting crowd before holding his hand out to me. I took his hand and held on tight as i got out the car, the camera flashes already going crazy all around us. Chris wrapped his arm around my waist and lead me down the purple carpet keeping me close to his side, Scott followed close behind with his family keeping a close eye on us.

Once inside i felt myself start to relax a little knowing this part was just the cast interviews, i stepped off to the side with Scott to let Chris do his thing.

"You want some water?" Scott asked holding out a bottle of water "you need to stay hydrated"

"Thanks Scotty" i smiled accepting the water "i really wish this was alcohol right now" i said quietly to him making him laugh, i saw Chris looking over at me smiling.

"Pay attention!" I mouthed to him and pointed to the guy who was trying to talk to him and RDJ.

As soon as he had finished with that interview he made a be-line for me. His hands went straight for my hips pulling me closer to him.

"We're heading in now to watch the movie" he said pressing a quick kiss to my temple and taking my hand.

"So how many people have asked about us?"

"All of them, but funnily enough none have mentioned the baby"

"Huh, i thought they'd be all over that"

"Im sure someone will have said something by the end of the night".

The movie was amazing like always! I laughed and cried.... cried alot!! Damn hormones! Chris had kept everything to himself so i was still in shock after watching the movie. After the movie we all headed off for the after party, this is when i finally felt myself relax properly.

I was currently sat at a table with Scott while Chris did the rounds, i was starting to feel tired now, i wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with Chris and Dodger.

"Hey sweetheart, you remember Sebastian right?" Chris smiled down at me with Sebastian Stan! Standing beside him. I felt my cheeks flush suddenly, Sebastian had been my celebrity crush for years!!

"Hey! How are you?" Sebastian smiled before leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"Hi, I'm good thank you. How are you?"

"Im great. Its nice to see everyone again"

"I can imagine"

"Can i get you something to drink?" Sebastian offered.

"No thank you, I'm not drinking tonight I'm good with water" i smiled .

"Wait.... are you....?" Sebastian looked down at my stomach then over at Chris with wide eyes, Chris smiled and nodded proudly.

"What?!! man thats great news! Congratulations you guys" Sebastian grabbed Chris patting him on the back.

"Im so happy for you guys!"

"Thank you Sebastian thats means a lot" i smiled "lets hope everyone else is as happy for us"

"Babe its gonna be fine"

"I hope your right about that Evans".

(Photo's are for the dress not face claim, i apologise for my bad manips! 😂)

Baby love tags: @jennmurawski13 @mybabyboytony

@ms-betsy-fangirl @vampgirl1997 @ajosieface

@afuckingshituniverse @chmedic @esoltis280

@southerngracela @bethabear12

@letsdisneythings @sellulii @patzammit

@katiew1973 @princess-evans-addict

@deidrahouseofpain @siren-queen03

@shipatheart

[jaxsteamblog]

Secrets

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

They didn’t stay out much longer than that, and they walked back to the beach house quietly. Zuko let Katara rinse at the outdoor shower first and she listened to him smack their shoes to clean off the sand. A futile effort, but one that had to be attempted.

While he rinsed, Katara found a pair of sandy beach towels in a box near the porch and took them over. Wrapping herself in one, she looked up at the sky. The stars were a little different here, or at least in slightly different positions.

Clutching the spare towel, Katara shivered slightly in the night air.

“Cold?” Zuko asked. She handed him the towel and pulled an unimpressed face as he dried his hair while steaming slightly.

Pulling water off her body would act like evaporation and just cool her more, so Katara stood still dripping. Firebenders just warmed themselves apparently.

“Yeah. I think I’m going to take a proper shower and go to bed.” She replied.

Zuko twisted up his towel and wrapped it around the back of his neck, holding onto the ends.

“Good night your Highness.” He said and smiled. Katara did pull the water from her body and tossed it in his face.

“Good night.” She retorted and walked off.

The shower in the house smelled faintly like brackish water, but it felt clean. Katara turned her face up into the warm spray and rinsed the ocean from her hair and skin. There was soap here already and smelled like an artificial ocean; fake salt water jelly soap and coconut shampoo. But as she bathed, she felt the small shells of tiny bivalves sticking to her arms and legs.

Wrapping herself in a clean, rough bath towel - whoever kept this house obviously didn’t believe in fabric softener - Katara moved from the bathroom and fell directly onto the bed. If she got two nights in a row of good sleep, it’d be a miracle.

When she woke up a ten hours later, still nearly in the same position, Katara wondered if she had slept or merely passed out. Her sheets were damp and the towel was uncomfortably caught under her body. With bending, she dried everything and unabashedly used the water to rinse her face free of sleep. Clapping her hands together, the water exploded into steam and she dressed as it dissipated.

Over breakfast, Suki announced that she wanted to go to the beach and they all started to pack up a basket to take down. Katara found the bottles of sunscreen, using her foot to fend off Suki who was reaching for the tanning oil while also yelling at her brother that their melanin wouldn’t save them from skin cancer.

Zuko packed lunches and they all somehow managed to dress and get down to the beach. With her bending, they all played a variation of king of the hill with everyone attempting to get to Katara to knock her over. Not one of them could get past her multitude of water limbs and she even picked Sokka up by his ankles and flung him off toward the reef.

They wound down after the initial burst of energy and Suki went snorkeling while Sokka stayed on the beach doing some sand sculpting. Zuko went looking for seashells and Katara floated in the calm water, feeling the sun warm her skin.

At lunch, Zuko announced that he had found some shellfish and, if they wanted, they could make a beach pit for dinner. Sokka readily agreed and worked with Zuko on digging the pit. Katara fulfilled her assumed role as her bending made it much easier to catch their dinner and grab seaweed to layer over the hot stones.

Suki engineered the layering while Zuko heated everything up. Then, while Sokka placed the electric thermometer and reburied everything, the rest of them went back up to the house to grab supplies.

A cooler was filled with ice and beer, while Katara grabbed plates and cutlery. They chatted as they moved around the kitchen, snagging butter and bread, arguing about what else they could need.

Back at the beach, Katara went swimming again while the others stayed by the pit and relaxed. Treading water, she looked at them all.

It was odd to have such a normal night with her secret out in the open. Zuko must not have said anything to her brother as Sokka hadn’t turned on his overbearing parent mode. And Zuko himself didn’t seem bothered by it.

Katara kept swimming until she saw Sokka and Suki walk up to the house. Darting back to the beach, Katara dried herself before sitting on the large blanket they had laid out under an umbrella that was quickly becoming unnecessary.

“Zuko, did you know Admiral Zhao?” Katara asked suddenly and Zuko looked at her in surprise.

“Zhao? Yeah, I did.” He said. Katara nodded and pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees.

“I hated him, to be honest.” Zuko added and Katara lowered her face so her forehead pressed on her knees instead.

“You’re not just saying that?” She questioned.

“No, he was truly awful. My time in the war was,” Zuko made a sound as he thought of how to word his thoughts. “Questionable. He kept trying to out me as a traitor and I had to dodge him quite frequently.”

“Your uncle said your family fought for the exiled prince, so doesn’t that make you a traitor for real?” Katara asked, raising her head. Zuko looked pained and it confused her.

“My uncle, he,” Zuko’s voice was strained. “My family was not united during the war. I didn’t overtly fight for either side.”

“Your father supported the coup?” Katara asked incredulously. Zuko frowned and turned away from her.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He murmured.

Katara watched him for a moment, feeling a little sick. Then she turned away too, speaking softly as she did. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s only because it makes me look bad.” Zuko replied, his voice low.

When he stood, Katara startled and unfurled herself, stretching out her legs and looking at him as he moved.

“Want a beer?” He asked, his back turned to her.

“Sure.” She said. He went to the cooler and opened it, making the ice shift as he grabbed two cans. He let the lid slam shut and walked back, handing Katara a can before sitting down. They both opened their drinks and Katara watched Zuko as he looked out at the ocean.

“This feels awful because you know, you could look up everything in a high school textbook. But you don’t, so it’s up to me to tell you and I really don’t want to.” Zuko said and took a drink.

“You want someone else to tell me your secrets.” Katara said.

Zuko scoffed bitterly. “It’s not a secret if it’s public knowledge Katara.”

“Then why don’t you just tell me?”

Zuko chugged his beer and gasped, examining the label.

“Because I kind of like this world where I’m not me.” He said and smiled at her. Katara weakly reflected back the smile, like the moon reflecting back the light of the sun.

Sokka and Suki came crashing back to their spot in a tangle of limbs and running mouths. Throwing Katara a shovel, they dug up the food while Suki and Zuko laid out the dishes and necessities. They ate most of the food with their fingers, scalding themselves and laughing at each other. They continued to drink, while Katara insisted that they try to stay hydrated. Ultimately, she imbibed too much and stopped keeping track.

After dinner was done and the trash collected, they debated the merits of staying out. Katara had gotten too much sun and decided to head back in. Zuko agreed, claiming he had gotten in his share of night swimming already. Suki and Sokka had started to cuddle up together and neither was intending on going anywhere.

So Katara and Zuko got up and headed toward the sand dunes. Feeling her head spin, Katara stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Stairs, my old nemesis.” She said, swaying on her feet.

“Allow me.” Zuko said and reached for her. Katara held out her arms, but Zuko ducked under them, grabbing her by the legs and heaving her over his shoulder. Before she could protest, Zuko started up the wooden stairs.

“You okay?” He asked as Katara bounced against him, his shoulder pressing into her stomach.

“Yeah. You have a nice butt.” She stated.

“Thanks, I worked hard on it and I’m pretty attached to it.” Zuko said and she giggled. He stopped at the top of the stairs and set her down. As her world tipped right side up, Katara staggered and Zuko held onto her hands to steady her.

“Your girlfriend is a lucky woman.” Katara said and Zuko chuckled.

“Sometimes I wish she felt that way. Because I’ll tell you a secret,” He replied, leaning in and shielding his mouth with his hand. “We’re not actually in love.”

Katara scoffed and pushed him away.

“She told me that already.” She said.

“Then it’s not much of a secret.” Zuko remarked.

Not having anything else to say, Katara turned on her heel and started marching back to the house. Zuko quickened his steps to catch up to her and then started to walk leisurely. Completely besotted, Katara found herself matching his pace.

“You should tell me a better secret since I told you mine.” She said suddenly. Zuko stuck his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky.

“Hmmmm. Okay.” He stopped and Katara stopped. After a moment still staring at the sky, Zuko looked at her and smiled.

“What if I told you I’m a prince?” He said.

“Ha!” Katara brayed, just as Zuko’s face went white with terror.

“Wait. You’re serious?” She asked. Her stomach twisted and Katara could feel sour bubbles in her throat.

“You’re the prince of the Fire Nation?!” She shouted.

“Zuko, you idiot!” Sokka yelled back from the beach.

“I told you it was common knowledge!” Zuko exclaimed.

“But that means your father is the Fire Lord!”

“I am well aware of that, yes!”

“He’s not a great guy, Zuko!”

“I can’t really help being born, Katara!”

Katara abruptly sat down, holding her head in her hands.

“Spirits, I am so dumb.” She muttered.

Zuko crouched next to her, putting his hand on her upper back.

“To be honest, it is fairly impressive that you went this long without learning anything about the Fire Nation royal family.” He said and Katara groaned.

“You all were the bad guys and I was trying to ignore anything that had to do with my being Queen of the Water Tribe.” She said. Opening her hands, Katara stared down at the sandy patch of grass.

“We’re fine Suki.” Zuko called gently and Katara looked up. Suki cocked her head and Katara only nodded before covering her face again and groaning.

“I didn’t fight for my father Katara. I,” Zuko hesitated and Katara stayed quiet in her huddled form, breathing in her own hot air.

“You want to know a secret even your brother doesn’t know?” He asked.

“Please don’t tell me you were in charge of one of the prisons we burned down.” Katara grumbled.

“You, you burned down a prison?” Zuko sputtered.

“Multiple.” Katara corrected. “There were multiple prisons.”

“Well that answers a lot of questions my uncle had.” Zuko mumbled. He then patted Katara’s back. “No, it’s not about prisons.”

“What then?” Katara croaked.

“The reason why Zhao kept hounding me was because he thought I was the Blue Spirit.” Zuko said and Katara’s body went cold. “Have you heard of him?”

Oh spirits above and below. Katara thought. That is worse.

Katara popped her head up and stared directly at him. “Zuko, I think we already met before this summer.”

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

[lu-undy]

Hc! Theres days where Spy's scars itch. Hes uncomfortable on battle because of this. It isnt an itch you can scratch away, not really, the scar tissue is dense and he can get to she skin underneath it. Snipers job is to observe, so he notices how Spy squirms under his suit trying to make that itch dissapear, but its in vain. Sniper approaches his morethanfriend to see whats the matter. Spy is reluctant at first but he opens up to Snipes. Later dat day Snipes rubs some sorta thing on the scars.🐑

Alright, here we go, I hope you’ll like it :D

The Frenchman sighed and mumbled something in French to himself. It was summer and the habit of wearing a suit was less practical now, especially when topped with a mask. He was sweating beneath his attire… 

Him and his teams were in the respawn room and the battle was about to start. As the Administrator delicately sung the countdown, he lit a cigarette to take his mind off of what was truly bothering him. 

"BEGIN!" 

The gates flashed open and he watched his colleagues pour out of the room and into the battlefield. Spy cloaked and exited the room soon after.  He ran unnoticed, passing his colleagues and soon breaching enemy lines. 

He saw the Engineer setting up and upgrading a sentry in the back. He seemed alone and thank God, the nuisance that the enemy Pyro was was nowhere to be seen around the short man. That was his chance. Spy disguised as the fire spreading specialist and put a hand in his inner pocket. 

"Hey Pyro, need some ammo, pardner?" 

Spy hissed and shook his shoulder. 

Ah merde, not now…!

"Pyro…?" 

Merde!

The Engineer realised something was fishy with the way that his friend was holding his flamethrower. He raised his wrench and struck. Spy's disguised vanished. 

Beep-beep! 

The sentry rotated and the Frenchman felt like a rabbit flashed by a car light moments before impact. He knew he was done for. 

Click. 

Respawn was never pleasant. Not only did it leave a bit of a weird feeling, like a bitter aftertaste of death that your body somehow clings onto, but it also rhymes with defeat. Die and retry, as they say. 

The Frenchman lit a new cigarette and puffed on it aggressively. He was frowning and clenching his jaw. His annoyance was written all over his body and face. 

"Y'alright, pal?" 

Scout had respawned and put a hand on his colleague's shoulder. Spy shot him a murderous glance and wiggled his shoulder away from his hand. 

"Jeez, alright…!" 

The young man made sure his scattergun was reloaded and left the spawn room. Spy waited to see the distance between himself and Scout was large enough that he could tolerate it, and then exited himself. 

Part of his job was not to bump anyone and that day, he made it a point to stand away from everyone, friends or foes. The heat tired him and his failure at sapping a lonely sentry, barely defended, made his mood bitter. 

-- Evening, at the base -- 

"Putain de merde…" 

[Bloddy hell…]

The Frenchman was alone in his room. He had just exited the shower, wearing only a white tanktop and his pyjama trousers. He was standing in his bathroom, facing his mirror, an empty small cream box in his hands. 

What had been bothering him the entire day was the itch. 

He was used to it now. Whenever it was too hot or he sweated, one of his scars, the one on his right shoulder, would trouble him. It was a deep burn mark and the skin had healed up but the new skin wasn't as good as the "normal" one. It looked more transparent and felt different to the touch. But the most annoying thing is that that patch of skin was unable to deal with heat properly. Not only did it hurt when exposed to the sun - the same way a fresh burn would, only less strongly - but it could not possibly sweat or rather, humidity would form underneath a very thin layer of skin. It itched but couldn't be scratched away. 

Spy had been used to it. Whenever it bothered him, he would get a bit of cream there, to hydrate it and cool it down. He tossed the empty cream pot to the bin and got a new one. He opened it and took some of it on his fingers. Raising his eyes, he looked at himself on the mirror. 

The burn mark was large. He could see it when facing the mirror and he knew it spread back on his shoulder blade. Spy was about to put the cream on it when a knock on the door cut him. 

"Go to hell." 

He answered loud enough for whoever was standing there to hear him. 

"Well, I'm standing at its door apparently!" 

The Frenchman recognised that voice and the slight accent. 

Fine… 

He thought. Part of him was annoyed at the interruption. But it was only part of him. He put the cream pot back on the sink and slipped his mask and a dressing gown on. The Frenchman went to the door and opened it. 

"Bushman, how may I help?" 

Obviously, Spy was being sarcastic. 

"I was goin' to ask you the same, now, d'you mind…?" 

The Frenchman rolled his eyes and let his colleague in. The Australian entered and removed his hat. 

"Am I interruptin' somethin'? Do you want me to give you a minute?" 

Sniper was hinting at the fact that the masked man was in his pyjamas quite early.

"Non. It is fine. Just tell me what you want, I have very little patience for games tonight." He coldly answered. 

"Roight, let's sit and have one of your cigs." 

Both men took a seat on the sofa and Spy lit two cigarettes. 

"So, are you going to finally tell me what is it you seek with me?" The Frenchman sounded impatient and mildly annoyed. 

"It's how you behaved today." 

Silence fell for an instant. One of those awkward ones. 

"What about it?" Spy feigned innocence though he very well knew what Sniper was getting at. 

"I've watched you and you didn't seem normal. Also, you didn't sap the sentries as nicely as you usually do. And you got caught a lot more."

"And?" The impatience and boiling rage were very clearly visible on the Frenchman's face.

"And I want to help." 

Spy's eyebrows jumped. He had expected Sniper to tell him that he had been very bad at his job and asking him why. But non. 

"You want… to help?" He repeated. 

"Yeah. What's wrong with you? I've seen you actin' awfully weird, shaking your shoulder every other second as if you had something on it. I'm guessing something's on yer mind." 

The Frenchman's lips pursed up to a faint smile. 

"And you are wrong. Nothing is on my mind. And yes, I have been spectacularly mediocre today. Thank you for noticing."

"Spy, you don't have to take it that way-"

"Oh but I am."

"Spy, look-"

"Are you done?" The Frenchman dryly cut him.

Sniper didn't want to leave. He knew how stubborn and hard-hearted his colleague could be. But he said he would help and he would. He didn't go away from the comfort of his van for nothing. If confronting the masked man didn't work, maybe something else would. 

Sniper raised his hand and about to put it on Spy's right shoulder but the Frenchman slithered away even before the Australian could touch him. 

"Hey… It's only me." 

Spy raised his eyes and saw his friend's earnest face. He sighed.

"Fine. Here is what has been bothering me. But Sniper, one word of this to anyone else and I will make sure it is your last." Spy raised a threatening index finger. 

Sniper smiled softly. 

"Y'know me. I don't talk." 

Spy nodded. It was the force of habit… He put a hand on his dressing gown and pulled it down from his shoulder, revealing the burn mark. 

"Oh, Christ…" 

"I stopped invoking his help a long time ago…" Spy sarcastically answered. 

"Did you see the Doc' for it? Does it hurt a lot?" 

"Medic knows about it but there isn't much him or anyone else can do. I just live with it."

"When did you get it?" 

"A long time ago. I'm used to it. It's just when the temperature gets a bit too high, it itches in an unbearable way. I can't scratch it away." 

"Is there anything you can do to make it itch less?"

"There is a cream that I put. It's not a miracle solution but it lessens the itch and the burning sensation. I was about to put some before you came in." 

"Oh sorry mate, go and do it, I don't want to bother you." 

"Give me an instant." 

The Frenchman disappeared to the bathroom and re-appeared soon after with the small cream jar in his hand. He put the cigarette between his lips and removed the dressing gown before sitting down. Sniper couldn't help but stare. Spy was lean, maybe even a bit slim. His fair skin was beautiful.

"I can help you if you want." 

Spy raised an eyebrow. 

"I mean, surely you can't reach the rest behind your back…?" 

"Why, thank you. I think I will manage." 

"Okay." 

Sniper watched as his friend spread the cream on his shoulder. He massaged slowly, avoiding the tanktop. He hissed now and then, while the Australian tried to imagine how it could feel, the pain, the itch. He also wanted to feel that odd-looking skin below his fingers. But it hurt him. As if Spy wasn't cold-hearted enough, his own body worked to make him more bitter… 

"Spy, you're clearly strugglin'..." 

"Non, I'm not!" The Frenchman was irritated. 

"Hey…?" 

Their eyes met. 

"Let me try." 

Sniper extended his hand and offered his palm. 

"Fine…" 

Spy put the cream pot on it. 

"Makes you very angry this itch, eh?" 

"You cannot imagine how annoying it is." 

"Turn yer back." 

Spy's eyebrow twitched. 

"Nothin' to fear, I'm not the backstabber here…!" 

The Frenchman rolled his eyes and turned. 

"Now, remove yer top." 

"Bushman?!"

"It's only her back! And it'll make it actually easier! Can't put the cream where your top is, now can I?" 

Spy grumbled but obliged and Sniper was now facing the Frenchman's back. It looked like a abstract canvas of scars. Bullet marks, burn marks, cuts… He couldn't see it but the masked man was ashamed. He knew his body was bruised, awfully so. But Sniper's body was too, albeit differently. The man had fought more animals than men so he had more bites and claw marks than bullets or knife cuts.

"Don't hold your shoulders up like that, breathe and relax." 

"Had I been behind your back, you would react the same way, Bushman."

"Fair, but I'm not you. I don't kill from people's back." He spread the cream on the Frenchman's shoulder blade, trying to not push his hand too hard. 

"Non, you shoot them for far away." 

"A kill as clean as yours." 

"Correct. But my job is high risk for a high reward. Yours is more… safe."

"What?! No it's not! Do you know how much I'm bullied by the other bastard of a Spook?!" 

Spy chuckled. 

"Does that mean I am a bastard too?" 

Sniper's eyes raised to Spy's back of his head. The Frenchman turned his head slightly, waiting for his friend to answer. Each second of silence weighed more than the previous one. 

"Nah, no, you're not." 

"What am I then? I, too, am a Spook." 

"Oh yeah you are, no doubt about that… Nah, you're a Spook, but uh… You're fine." 

"Fine?"

Sniper chuckled nervously. 

"Y-you know what I mean…" 

The Australian had covered all the scar with the cream now. He put the lid back on the pot and closed it. 

"Do I?" Spy insisted with a smirk. 

The Australian smiled. 

"Yeah you do. You aren't stupid." 

Sniper was facing Spy's naked back. The Frenchman's shoulders were relaxed and he appreciated the breath of his friend on it. It helped cooling it down. The Australian handed the cream back to the Frenchman, from behind. 

Spy took the cream and Sniper's eyebrows jumped when he realised that he had also grabbed his hand and pulled on it. 

"I wouldn't have opened my door to anyone else." Spy said.

"I… Thanks." 

The Frenchman pulled on his friend's hand more and he felt Sniper's weight shift on the sofa, closer. 

"Non, thank you. I know I can be in a particularly foul mood sometimes. And I make myself hard to approach. Yet you remain." 

Sniper smiled and laced his arm around his friend's torso and pulled him in closer. Spy closed his eyes went Sniper's hug hit inside him. The Australian was hugging him from behind, resting his chin on his left shoulder. 

"Y-yeah. I don't know, I just think that… I mean sometimes you're a bit angry or sad. But you just need someone to be there for ya." 

Spy melted in his friend's arms. He felt the Australian's fingers lace between his. 

"I might sometimes." 

"Nah, you do, really." 

"What makes you say that?" Spy asked. 

"I can't see your face but I'm sure you're…"

"I'm enjoying this more than I can say, oui."

Spy turned his head to look his friend in his eyes. Sniper's pupils were wide and his smile, dreamy. The Frenchman's smiled widened as he pushed his cheek against the Australian's. 

"You should shave those sideburns off."

"In yer dreams. Also, why should I do that?"

"They sting me even through my mask." 

"Remove it and it will sting not through it then!" 

Spy turned his head again to look at his friend. 

"Well, I had to try…!" Sniper said.

"What makes you think that it is just a try?" 

Sniper got confused but saw his friend's hand rise from his lap and his fingers settle around his neck, at the base of his balaclava. 

The Australian never forgot that night.

[cilldaracailin]

A Kind Of Magic

Here is some more of the story. Thanks again for all the love :)

11

“The four most beautiful words in our common language: I told you so.”

“So, this is where I am pulling my ‘I am older than you card and you need to listen to your elders’. I will not take no for an answer.”

“Robyn seriously…”

“No Taron. I have seen you cringe more times than I am comfortable with and though you have tried to hide it you failed. I see everything. I have eyes on the back of my head. Even with the pain killers, you are still really sore. This will help you.”

The two stood in Robyn’s bathroom, Robyn with her arms folded across her chest as she insisted that Taron took a bath in her tub but he was having none of it.

Their afternoon had been perfect. The music had changed to musical and Broadway classics and both had enjoyed sharing stories of Westend and Broadway shows they had seen, Robyn explaining to Taron that Dublin had its own Westend style theatre now and she was able to go and see more shows. Taron loved hearing that Robyn was actively involved in the local musical society and had even been in a few shows over the years, taking on roles such as Scaramouche from We Will Rock You and Cinderella from Into the Woods.

After sitting for the whole afternoon, Taron decided it was time to re-hydrate but really struggled to get off the sun lounder without a groan and Robyn had to help him up, Taron leaning on her for a moment until he could catch his breathe.

“Taron, you ok?”

“Just feeling a little extra tender today. I slept on my right-side last night and I am feeling it.”

“Yeah I can see that. Been watching you struggle all day.”

“I think I get so relaxed that I forget and my body can’t keep up with my head.” He stood up straight, wincing again. “I think I just need to move a little.”

“That is the opposite of what you need. Your body needs to rest. The pain is its way of telling you that you have been through the runner and you need to do nothing but rest. Yes, sleeping on those bruises has not helped but I know something that will help.”

She had walked with him, her arm around his waist into the bathroom and Taron had flat out refused when she suggested he took a bath.

“Let me make the deal a little sweeter.” She said as she uncrossed her arms. “You love my rainfall shower, right? You told me yourself, it gave you a wonderful back massage.” Taron slighted nodded. “The bath does the same thing. It has those little massage jets you get in hydrotherapy baths. You are so pent up with tension. Anything that you had let go has come back tenfold since you woke but not because you mentally feel shit, but because your body feels shit. We need to do something that is going to loosen you up before you lay back down again to sleep. Otherwise when you get up tomorrow, you are going to be so stiff, it will hurt ten times more and you physically won’t be able to move at all.”

“I hate you; you know that?” Said Taron as he leant against the sink, his eyes avoiding hers because he couldn’t bear to see the kindness in her eyes, compassion that was purely for him and his well-being and health.

“I love you too.”

“You are too skilled at using your words for persuasion.”

“Why thank you Taron. So, I will take that as a yes then? You can play Bowie again?” Robyn moved to stand in front of him at the sink. “The heat from the water will just ease your muscles, like a giant heating pad and the water jets will help to knead out those kinks you feel. I will wrap your arm up so it’s waterproof and you can fully sink into the water. I will even add bubbles and I have these amazing Epson salt crystals that work like a dream.”

Because Taron could not say no to Robyn, he found himself submerged in the most superb bath he had ever had been in before. He wasn’t a bath person, preferring to shower but Robyn was quickly converting him. He had watched as she turned on the taps, letting the water flow into the bath, steam filling the bathroom quickly. She dug out a white bag from the cabinet under the sink and poured two cups of the muscle relaxer salts evenly through the bath, her own hand swirling through the water to make sure they dissolved properly, then adding some bubbles.

“Scent free,” She confirmed when she saw his nose squish up in protest.

She had shown him how to turn on the jets of water, pushing the buttons to increase or decrease the pressure and speed of the bubbles.

“I mostly sit in a chair all day, staring at a computer screen and my back, especially my lower back, aches after a week. I told you I wanted a deep bath and the shop was doing this deal on these special baths so for the same price I could get one and I did. Trust me, it works wonders on tender muscles.”

Taron was so thankful for Robyn in so many ways and he just added a new one to his list. She had carefully wrapped his arm in some plastic bags, making sure it was air tight so he could take full advantage of dunking his whole body under the water and it was heaven. It hurt to actually get into the bath and lowering his wounded body into the warm water stung until he got used to it. He accidently put the jets on full blast at first and that made him hiss in protest but once he found a setting that worked on every part of his body, his groans of pain turned to moans of delight. It was so much more than Robyn’s shower and he sunk further into the water so his chin was covered in bubbles, closed his eyes and all he needed now was two hands on his head, slowly massaging his scalp to be fully emerged in complete and utter relaxation. He was willing to this every day even if Robyn didn’t ask him too and moving his body a little so the water wasn’t so hard on the bruises on the back, he sighed happily. He could already feel the tension leaving him and he lowered himself as far as was possible into the bubbles.

While Taron soaked in the bath, Robyn had started on making some dinner for them, a simple salad with some chicken and sweet potato wedges. She was thrilled that Taron had given into her and accepted that he was struggling with the pain, willing to give her idea a go. A warm bubble bath would work wonders for his broken body. She had very much enjoyed their day of getting to know each other and sharing stories between them, once again adoring how his easy laugh filled his lungs, his hands going to his eyes as he giggled almost relentlessly but she hated how he felt the need to hide the real pain he was in. He did the same in the 7/11 and it wasn’t until he was almost unconscious lying on her lap, that he showed the extent of the hurt he felt. Robyn didn’t want Taron to get to that stage again. When she had left him sleeping, he was still on his back but he must have shifted to his right side himself so she could completely understand why he was feeling more tender but Robyn didn’t want Taron to be quietly suffering. She knew the warm bath would give him much needed relief and help to ease his developing ache.

After prepping the chicken and sweet potato and putting them in the oven on a low heat, she chopped up lots of different salads, putting them in a large bowl and back into the fridge for when they were ready to eat. Robyn then decided that she really needed to sort out the washing she had just left in the basket earlier that morning too so she pulled her case out onto the kitchen floor and took all the dirty laundry out, sorted it and then put the first load of colours on. She left everything else unpacked in the case. She still wasn’t ready to sort through it all but was happy to be finally dealing with the washing that was overdue.

As their dinner baked in the oven, Robyn resumed her place on the couch in her corner with her laptop typing away, finishing off the polices for work she had started yesterday while Taron was still asleep. When he was finished taking the all the time he needed to laze in the soothing bath, she was going to take a shower to wash off the suncream and dust from sitting outside all afternoon but while she waited, she was going to use her time to get some work done. Once she had opened the document she wanted to concentrate on, she found the words on the screen blurry so she walked to her room and routed out her glasses from the drawer of the bedside locker. She didn’t need them all the time, but when her eyes were tired it helped the sharpen the words she needed to read.

Settling back on her couch, Robyn began to type, completely lost in her work with only a vague idea of how much time had passed until she felt the couch sink beside her, Taron carefully resting his chin on her bare shoulder, throwing his legs up onto the poof as before, watching her.

“I don’t hate you anymore.” He said sleepily, giving her shoulder a little kiss before laying his chin back down on her warm skin, which smelt like coconuts from the suncream they had used. “I very much love you and your house and your garden and your fucking wonderfully cosy couch, your incredible bath and you in glasses!”

Robyn smiled as she pulled the black frames from her face looking down at him. “You feeling any better?” He had changed into another pair of navy shorts and a dark blue short sleeved shirt which he hadn’t bothered to button up, his hair was still damp and he didn’t cringe as much when he sat down on the couch beside her.

“A lot. Still hurts but I can move much easier.” He took her glasses from her hand. “Not in our twenty questions, the subject of glasses.”

“I only need them in the evenings, if I feel tired or the words are hard to read.”

“I have a pair too. Pretty much the same reason.” He gave them back to her. “Thank you Robyn. You always know what I need even if I don’t realise that I need it. That bath was exactly what I needed. I can feel a difference already.”

“You are very welcome and it is there for whenever you need it. You don’t have to ask. Feeling hungry?” She felt him nod. “Dinners on. Shouldn’t be too long. You want to do my work for me while I shower?”

Grinning Taron took her glasses back and carefully put them on. “Tell me what I need to do.” He moved so she could get up and took her seat in the corner, letting her place her computer on his lap.

“Finish writing that policy for me on why we should have used a stronger suncream factor on you. Your nose is sunburnt.”

Taron looked up to her over the frames of her glasses. “Really?”

“Just a little bit.” She gently touched his nose. “You got some nice colour on your face.”

He took her glasses of and left them on the couch beside him. “Do I see some new freckles on yours?”

“Probably. I don’t have that typical pale Irish skin though I do get my share of freckles in the sun.”

“They’re cute. I like them.”

“I don’t mind them. I’m not one of those who feels the need to cover their freckles.”

“It adds character.” Replied Taron. “Do you mind if I check my email while I sit here.”

“No of course not. Work away. I won’t be too long.” She went to walk away but stopped. “Can you pull this dressing off for me?” She sat down beside him with her back facing him and Taron carefully pulled the tape and the dressing off her shoulder. “Thank you.” She took the dressing from him and walked around the island to drop it in the bin, checking the oven before heading to the bathroom through the closet, grabbing two clean towels along the way. Taron had left it clean and tidy after his bath, once again putting the towels his used back on the towel warmer. The mirror was still fogged over with condensation and she noticed the addition of his wash bag to her bathroom counter tops, his razor sitting on top. The little touches of seeing his things in her apartment made her smile.

She pulled the plastic bobbins from the end of her plaits and shook her hair out, her now dry hair settled in a crazy wave. “Ugh no.” She stripped and threw her clothes and Taron’s used towels into the second wicker laundry basket she had in the bathroom and waited for the shower to heat up before she stepped in. She adored the water pressure that fell from her shower and it worked just as good as her bath after a stressful day at work and although she was not stressed, she just stood for a little while, the water beating down the back of neck, which still was a tiny bit tender from the candle that fell in the 7/11 but not too the point where she couldn’t enjoy the manipulation of the water. She then washed her hair quickly and turned the water off, grabbing the towel she brought in with her, wrapped it around her tightly, her hair going into the smaller one.

She stepped into her closet and routed out a pair of sky-blue shorts and a white t-shirt, glad she had put a wash on because she was running out of summer clothes to wear. Towel drying her hair first, she blasted it with the hairdryer. Robyn could dry her hair straight in less than five minutes and after doing so, she got dressed and headed back out to the kitchen. Taron was on his phone, her laptop still on his knee, so she checked on their food, both the chicken and sweet potatoes done. She pulled out the bowl of salad she had made earlier and grabbed the two plates from the press. She dished out the chicken which she had flavoured with garlic and chilli flakes and then the crispy sweet potatoes. Turning back to the fridge she selected the bottle of iced tea, not knowing if Taron liked iced tea but she was definitely going to have a glass.

“What smells so good?” Asked Taron as he came to stand at the island, closing the middle button on his shirt as he walked over.

“Chicken. Iced tea?” She showed him the peach flavour she had.

“Yes please. Thanks for letting me use your computer.”

“Any time.” Robyn poured the iced tea into two glasses. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah it was just Matthew.”

“The director from the film you were working on?”

“Yeah Kingsman. He had already tried to call me but I missed the call and my brain is still a bit mush and I haven’t called him back so he just called me again to make sure I was ok and to give me the revised schedule for filming.”

“Shit this whole mess fucks that up for you.”

“Nah not really. Matthew has sorted it. I mean under the circumstances there isn’t much they can do. I’m not going to be running around with a gun doing forward rolls over a car any time soon. We’re just going to pick up where we left off in two months, round the start of November.”

“Doesn’t that clash with whatever else you may have been planning to work on next?”

“Actually no. I was planning on taking a little bit of time off after I finished filming Kingsman at the end of October to spend at home before Christmas so it actually has worked out ok for me.”

“Sucks for your time off though.”

“Well I mean I am getting my time off now and I will get a break during filming for Christmas and New Year’s too so it won’t be too bad. Matthew has insisted. He wants to make sure I am fully fit before getting back into it and he also wanted to talk to you but I explained you were currently indecent, unavailable and in the nudey nudes.” Taron’s eyes sparkled as he winked at Robyn. “He really wanted to speak to you, has done since he came to see me in the hospital. Just to say thanks for what you did for me. I have a feeling I am going to be getting a lot of these phone calls.”

Robyn took some knives and forks from the drawer behind her. “It’s a lot of information for your friends and family to hear and understand so it’s natural they would want to talk to both of us and learn what happened.”

“I have already had to explain what happened to my mam and Matthew and I am tired of it already.”

“People just care about you Taron and they want to make sure you are ok.”

“Yeah I know but it’s hard to talk it constantly. I honestly hate being reminded about it.”

Robyn reached over and took his hand. “Me too but unfortunately, it is something that we are going to have talk about a lot and more so you, especially when you are back working and promoting your films. Unless your publicist can stop that from happening, it will be following you but it will get easier as time goes on. It’s hard because it is will very raw for us. It was only a week ago Taron. Give it some time. It’s why you and me need this time together too. We have to figure it out before we can really help others to understand it.” Taron nodded. “We are doing good so, far aren’t we? We haven’t killed each other; we get on really well and we have each other’s back.”

Taron smiled. “Yeah we do.”

“Time is our friend and food. Ready for dinner?”

“Always.”

Robyn laughed. “Do you want to eat outside again?”

“Yes please. I like it out in the garden.”

Together they carried their dinner out, Taron bringing his pain killers with him to take with his food and took their usual seats, another peaceful meal between them.

“How did you get here?” Asked Robyn as she took up her familiar position of legs tucked under her, glass in her hand.

“Airplane?” Answered Taron slowly.

“No no!” Laughed Robyn. “Sorry I didn’t explain myself well. I mean here, to Kilcreen.”

“Oh right. Bus. Two buses. I went to the bus station in Dublin, bus something or other.”

“Busáras.” Said Robyn.

“Yeah there and then got a bus here. The one one five.”

“Yep that sounds about right.”

“The lady at the tourist information said I could get a train but she explained the bus first and it sounded easier.”

“Definitely easier. The train station is a little bit of a walk from the bus station in Dublin.”

“I called into the hairdressers opposite the bus stop and the ladies in there told me how to get to you. Wrote down the instructions and drew me a map.”

“Ok so it wasn’t too hard for you.”

“No, it was actually easy enough. The heat killed me when I arrived and I think I was just so tired too that it seemed somewhat of a chore.”

“Just your typical Irish heat wave.” Smiled Robyn. “Definitely not what you expected when you arrived here. Kilcreen is in a good location for public transport though. We have a bus and train line and are right beside the motorway so have many travel options and it’s handy being so close to Dublin too. Not that I go in very often.”

“But you work here, so no travel for you.”

“Thank goodness. I would hate to be stuck in traffic for hours in the morning. I can just get up and go.”

Taron drained the last of his drink. “I think it’s my turn to cook tomorrow. You have been so good at me keeping me fed.”

“Like I said this morning, I make for one, it’s just as easy to make for two.”

“Maybe but I want too.”

“Well I won’t say no.”

“Good.”

Once again, they worked together to clean up, Robyn closing all the glass doors when they were finished as the sun began to set on the day. Knowing that her washing was finished too, she quickly hung it out on the clothes line to the side of her house, firmly telling Taron he wasn’t helping her. He had just spent the time relaxing his muscles, he didn’t need to strain them again to hang out her clothes. She also tidied away her laptop and made sure her glasses were back in their case. When she came back from her room, Taron had already made himself comfortable in the corner of the couch, giving her a smirk. “Sharing is caring.” He said simply but held up one of the dressings for his arm. “You mind?”

“Not at all.”

After Robyn had wrapped Taron’s arm, he returned the favour for her. “What are you in the mood for?” Asked Robyn getting up from the couch and walking over to the DVD’s beside the television. They had decided on a movie night after dinner, using the couch as their base for the next few hours. Taron joined her and looked sideways at the titles. “They are in alphabetically order, if that helps.”

“The Wedding Singer. I haven’t watched this one in years. This one.” Taron pulled the DVD out.

“Great choice. One of my favourites.” Robyn took it from him and loaded it into the side of the television. She pulled the curtains closed, made sure the air conditioning was also on, keeping the room cool. Taron closed the blinds in the kitchen and met Robyn at the couch, Robyn letting him take the corner, sitting right beside him. She started the movie and as the opening song began, Taron automatically put his arm around her shoulder. It was comfort he enjoyed and as Robyn leant into him, he knew she craved the cosiness too. It came down to the fact that it was a security both needed from each other, Taron knew he wouldn’t be sitting where he was if it wasn’t for Robyn and Robyn was relieved that her actions had returned nothing but positive outcomes.