#the abundance of blue and dark hair sure is lovely I would say

[mitta-likes-moths]

ngl I’m like REALLY tempted to make art based off this

[sykestarot]

what attracts people to you?

1-2-3 (left to right)

I do not own any of these images

Hi guys I'm back for this weeks reading! Thanks so much for all the love on the other post it really means a lot! I hope these messages resonate as well. Thanks for stopping by yet again! :)

Pile 1

"Just wondering when you said I'm beautiful, was I being lied to?"

(2 of swords (rx); ace of cups; 5 of swords; 4 of swords (rx); queen of pentacles; 2 of cups (rx)) I’m feeling for you pile one that you don’t believe that you’re attractive at all, energetically or physically. Like people would always prefer someone else other than you. Quite literally how the song title is opposite, you believe people are only attracted to the types of people who are opposite of you. Which is so obviously not true because so many people are attracted to you. I don’t know if you think more people value stability over spontaneity. But your cards imply that you are a free spirit and people love that about you. Not only are you a free spirit but you also are hard working. You aren’t one of those people that says they're a free spirit as an excuse to do nothing. I’m feeling that you carry this abundant energy of like “I want it, I got it”. And people just want to stay in that energy. You also have a resilience that people see and it makes them admire you but also want to learn from you. Your energy is truly so beautiful. I see that you might have long hair with beautiful waves to it. Perhaps you’re tan or have a darker complexion. You’re the type of person who loves doing hikes and smelling the fresh air outside. I also see beaches and a boho style to you. Lots of whites and vibrant blues as well. Perhaps you’re Greek or some type of southern European. I see that you also have doe eyes and people find them to be mesmerizing. As well as your smile. I don't know why you don’t think you’re attractive because the vibes I'm getting are that you’re a stunner!! I hope one day you can learn to appreciate the qualities in yourself that others see!  Signs : Athens, Greece, kitties, pasta, the smell of pine orange and vanilla, woven hats, big sunglasses, kites, hang gliders?, laughs, melted ice cream, strawberry scents, lip gloss, glitter, flamingos, Sagittarius

Pile 2

"She's got a halo around her finger around you" (The world; 5 of swords (rx); the high priestess; knight of pentacles (rx); 9 of wands (rx); the hierophant) Pile two you are my pile that knows people are attracted to you and use it to your advantage. Which is so real of you but also so slay. And this is not to say that you use your beauty to gain things in a negative way. It’s more like you know the cards that you were dealt and you’d be damned if you didn't use them. I feel like this is my Scorpio pile. Something about you is mysterious and that entices people to want to get to know you better. I feel like you are like a real life siren. The way you speak or the tone of your voice ensares people and draws them right to you. You also have a fated energy or destiny really plays a role in your life. To the point where people want to be in your life because they think they might be able to get some of whatever you have. You might also be witchy and cast spells or work with guides to make things go your way in life. You co create with spirit for sure. I feel like you guys have a contrasting appearance, like pale skin dark hair, or darker skin and lighter hair. I feel like your eyes are piercing like they are hunting prey and people love feeling like they are hunted by you. I see you being very chiseled whether that’s in the body or the face. You have a striking appearance for sure. The kind that people do double takes on the street. You might get a lot of losers who want to talk to you because your energy and appearance are so intoxicating. I also feel like you’re overall just very bold. Perhaps Aries as well? I also feel like anything said in this reading you already know about yourself lol. Signs : Osprey; Seahawks (football); Megan Fox; vampires; red lisp; metal; silver; motorcycles; the twilight saga?; Jennifer’s Body; clubbing; latex; Washington State; black hair; blue eyes

Pile 3

"I know she's gonna break my heart"

(8 of cups; 7 of wands (rx); page of pentacles; the moon; the hanged man (rx); the lovers) You, my pile three, are the heartbreaker, soul stealer, sad girl pile. People are attracted to you because people want to fix you, not necessarily that you need to be fixed to be honest. It’s more in the sense that you don’t care about them more than you care about yourself. It’s like they want to teach how to love or be the one that changes you. Which to me is so funny because it’s not that you don’t know how to love it’s that you don’t love them lmfao. You don’t entertain many suitors or people in general and so when you do give people your energy it’s special. However with how selective you are it makes people want to know more about your inner world. But you come off so nonchalant that people want to get a reaction out of you. You have the potential to feed people’s hero/savior complex if you actually like them back. I also feel like your sense of style is alternative or goth and that’s also what brings people to you. I’m getting retired emo’s or lil peep/suicide boy fans. Perhaps your taste in music also attracts people. I feel like you’re social media and the way you present yourself really gets people wanting to know you more. You’re very mysterious but I'm getting in more of an Aquarius or Pisces way. I feel like you like having dramatic makeup on or you have a very out there style. I keep seeing, like cyber goth or emo. I’m not super well versed in those genres of style so I hope you get it lol. Maybe you have lip rings or eyebrow piercings. Anyways you’re very unique and that’s what attracts people to you. I also feel like you’re always doing cool and new stuff and people are attracted to you because you’re a trendsetter in a lot of ways. Maybe you have a following on a social media platform? Idk I feel like people watch you via the internet. Signs: anime; jjk; tik tok; silver metals; lip biting; rilakuma; pastel pinks; black; stripes; oversized sweaters; skirts and thigh highs; leg warmers; big chunky shoes; platform boots; johnny guilbert?; music holds importance here

[thelaisydazy]

The Banshee Calls - Chapter 1

John "Soap" MacTavish x Aoife "Banshee" Finny

Next Chapter

One year ago, Johnny woke up in a hospital room, his mind foggy and his head throbbing with pain. He’d been confused, lost.

His lieutenant had been waiting with him that day, shocked but relieved. No one thought he would ever wake up, ever recover. Johnny couldn’t remember Ghost ever sounding so worried in the years they’d known each other. That’s how he knew just how fucked he was.

The last thing he remembered was storming an underground metro to intercept a bomb set by Vladimir Makarov, a Russian ultranationalist hellbent on starting another world war. Him and the rest of the 141 had been hot on his trail. Soap had been working on disarming the bomb with Captain Price when they were face-to-face with Makarov and his men. It had been a short firefight but when Soap pulled Makarov off Price, everything went black.

Now he was sitting in hospital, hooked up to a series of machines that beeped every so often. Ghost had told Soap he'd been shot in the head, somehow not only surviving but avoiding major brain damage. Nothing short of a miracle.

Johnny had wanted Ghost to joke about him not missing many brain cells, but the seriousness in Ghost's voice betrayed how difficult the situation was.

Soap spent months recovering in hospital, being run through test after test. He'd feared that he'd be forced to retire after all, but by some stroke of luck, he'd been told he could, eventually, return to service.

Or so they said…

---

His mind swam as he sat in the tiny, dark kitchen of the shitty apartment he’d been given by Laswell, somewhere in a city in Ireland. Johnny’s hand gripped a half full bottle of scotch, bringing it to his lips and gulping more down. He was disheveled to say the least, brown mohawk grown out and unbrushed, blue eyes sunken in.

Six months.. He’d been waiting to hear from his team for six months.. Instead he’d been left to rot in this damned apartment. He’d tried everything to reach out, to get any information. Laswell rarely checked in and when she did it was basically only to make sure he was still alive and that the apartment was still in one piece. For a while Ghost answered his texts, even a phone call or two when Johnny really needed someone to talk to, but even he’d grown silent.

A hand came up and pushed his unkempt hair from his forehead then it wiped down his tear stained face, over the stubble that had overgrown in the past few weeks.

Johnny wasn’t certain of much anymore, but he knew one thing must be true. He’d been abandoned by his team.

One bullet to the skull and he was thrown out.

Useless.. Fucking useless..

His chest ached at the idea. Sure, being a soldier was never easy work. Hell. It was the hardest work he could've found, but he'd grown to love it. In the military, Johnny could focus that abundance of buzzing energy into something worthwhile. Something meaningful. Now. Here. That same energy had nowhere to go. It just sat inside him, like a wild animal lashing out against the bars of its cage.

He gulped down more Scotch. Alcohol made the energy in his chest quieter, but it didn't muffle it completely. He could still feel it, but it was more bearable. Even if he felt like his chest might implode with every heaving sob that forced its way out.

---

“You look like shit, Soap,” Kate Laswell’s voice stirred him from where he’d passed out on the couch. She dropped a plastic bag on his coffee table with a deafening crash that made him groan through his hangover.

Johnny glared at her through narrowed blue eyes. “Some nerve ye git..” he slurred. He hauled himself into a sitting position that made his stomach lurch, still watching Kate. “Ain't heard fae na yin in weeks 'n' ye juist let yersel' in? Gang bile yer heid, Laswell.”

“Johnny.” Kate’s voice was firm and her gaze dangerous. She pointed to the bag she’d brought in with her. “Eat something and sober up. I have news and a job for you.”

He snatched up the bag and opened it to see some greasy fries that buried an equally greasy burger. He all too quickly shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. “Leid wi' that then..” he mumbled between mouthfuls of food.

Kate Laswell was quiet, standing across the littered living room as Johnny ate. He was in poor shape, he hardly looked like himself. “We have a lead on Makarov,” she said, making the man nearly choke on his food, a flash of anger in his eyes. “We're sending you after him.”

“How come me?” Johnny asked, straightening up and looking at her from his spot on the couch. “I been out for six months..”

“Everyone thinks you're dead,” she said. Kate had always been straight forward in the way she spoke. “We're setting you up with a reconnaissance specialist. You two are going undercover.”

Johnny thought for several moments as he chewed. Gaz and Roach were far from recon specialists and Captain Price was too well known to go undercover. That only left Ghost, but Johnny doubted Laswell and Price would send Ghost on an undercover operation. He had to wonder who he was being set up with.

“You're leaving in a few days,” Kate said, reaching into a bag she was carrying with her. She placed a manila folder on the table in front of Johnny. “Everything you need to know about your new identity and your mission is here. Familiarize yourself with it.”

Johnny wiped his hands on his sweats, picking up the folder. He rifles through its contents. Makarov was hiding out in America, some trashy little suburb outside of Hollywood. Ties to human trafficking. The idea made Johnny's blood boil.

“Where'd ye git a' this from?” Johnny asked, turning another page. There was plenty of information on what was being done to the poor girls being brought into Makarov's sick business venture in America, but not much on how they got there or where Makarov himself was. “Sick bastard…”

His eyes then landed on a piece of paper containing his new identity. His new name and life story. Neil MacBride.. At least they didn’t expect him to hide his accent.

“Corporal Banshee's been hard at work,” Kate answered.

Johnny looked up at that. “Banshee?” The word brought back memories, sitting with his grandmother listening to all the stories she liked to tell. The legends and myths of the isles. Banshees were probably one of the scariest things she told him about, the way they wailed and screeched.

“She's been undercover for the last few months gathering intel,” Kate continued, stepping closer. “She's expecting Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish on this, she's worked too hard to have the operation go under now. So clean up your act and get it together.”

Johnny nodded. Laswell was right, he needed to get back on his feet for this job. “What else can ye tell me ‘bout the Banshee?”

“Irish Special Forces, ARW, Corporal Banshee's young but she's a force to be reckoned with,” Laswell said. “Works mostly in reconnaissance these days. She's currently posing as security in one of the clubs Makarov's hiding out in.”

Johnny frowned. “No name?”

“You've worked with Ghost, Sergeant.”

He couldn't argue with that, though he knew Ghost's name, it took time, but he knew his lieutenant’s name and face. Certainly the old MacTavish charm would work on an Irish lass working in America.

“I'll just have tae git her to open tae me lik’ Ghost,” he beamed. This was the first time in months he'd felt like himself. Even if it was work, Johnny was ready to get back into action.

---

“Fuck’s sake, m’ apartment is still in one piece, yeah?”

Kate Laswell sat in her office, eyes fixed on the screen of her laptop. The tiny monitor showed a young woman. She had a slim face and black hair that cascaded over her shoulders, a pair of white streaks framing her face.

“Soap’s apologized,” Kate lied. “Thank you again for loaning us the space to hide him.”

Laswell knew the young woman was on edge with a soldier she didn't know staying in her personal apartment. It was the easiest way to make sure Soap would stay, mostly, out of trouble. Drinking problem notwithstanding.

The young woman on the other end, shifted on her couch, tilting her head like she was looking around. Kate could barely see the tattoos that peeked out from the high collar of her shirt. She turned a pair of stormy blue eyes back to her screen.

“Only fur you, Watcher. Thankfully I didnae have anything there anyway.”

Kate smiled gently at the soft Irish accent coming from her speakers. “He’ll be out of there soon enough,” she said. “Three days and he's on site with you.” Laswell adjusted in her own seat briefly. “Just remember, you may have put in the legwork on this, but he does outrank you.”

“Copy that Watcher,” the young woman said. “I'll keep it tight. Professional. Just make sure he's sober, I have a hard enough time here wi’ Americans thinking all I do is drink, aye?”

“Soap's good,” Laswell said, though she had her own doubts. Johnny had looked a mess when she arrived. “I made sure he dumped the last of that Scotch before I left.”

The young woman nodded. “I been putting in word ‘bout a cousin comin’ tae visit me soon,” she said. “Gonnae see ‘bout getting him a job in th’ club wi’ me. Far as those bastards know, he’s recently divorced ‘n’ lookin’ fur a fresh start in th’ states.”

“Good, we don’t need any trouble getting him inside,” Kate said. She looked at the time on her laptop. “Almost time for you to get back to work. Stay safe and report back in the morning.”

“Roger Watcher.”

“Goodnight Banshee.”

[pidgemotoiii]

Silly Billy

Scotty x reader: Banana episode(if u couldn't find it)

An: Hey yall uhm college is kinda tough. I'm writing this literally at the end of my spring break. Most likely this is gonna be followed by the Riri one-shot that I was gonna do for valentines day (muddo) or Hot for Shuri pt. 3 so I can finish that off. I need to stop writing these long ass plots. Motivation is so not it lmao, I want to write these longer stories but I think my cap is 4k and smut is such a challenge. Anyways make sure you take screen breaks. Also I really enjoy the comments and reblogs, I'm just trying to be more interactive with people on here. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Fic blurb: Poor Scotty she only knows one way to love. In abundance-

Warnings: Stalking lots of stalking, light smut (i'm tryin i'm tryin), swearing, Mentions of criminal activity, Reader is ambivalent to most of Scotty's activities.

Word count: 4.3k

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It was six p.m. on a Monday night. The cream-colored walls of the apartment added tension to a mood that sorely didn’t need it. An older woman in a bed lies down in a pale blue night dress. Her daughter presumably- finishes getting dressed. She fixes her hair and kisses her mother on the forehead. She tugs on the girl’s hand and fixes her face to say something. The thought she has on her mind is making her uneasy. 

“Viv, don’t be daft with her ok- just ask her out and be nice, and if she says no, move on don't get all silly this time. Promise.”

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“Hey, Phoebe! Where's that iced macchiato for Dean?” You strained your voice. The Saturday afternoon- summer heat was getting to you. Your work shirt and apron hug your body tight, and you thank the above for deodorant because the AC in the coffee shop was not doing you any favors. “Phoebe-” 

“That iced macchiato. I got you- I got you” Phoebe swerved around you and rang the bell, “Dean! Iced macchiato with two pumps of vanilla!” 

“You didn’t have to say two pumps-” Dean told your co-worker, marginally displeased. 

He adds a ‘thank you’ and goes to sit in the corner. He sits and stares at the glass door- like he's waiting on someone. A dark skin girl walks into view, she has on a plaid shirt with a green overcoat. How she survived in this heat was a mystery to you. Her hair is permed and styled with a bang in the front. Her head whips around looking for her friend until her eyes lock onto yours. Her eyes are wide, seemingly trying to memorize your face and features in five seconds. 

"Scotty!" Dean shouted- breaking the intense connection you two had. You peered over in the direction he was waving. His presence was demanding her attention, once ‘Scotty’ realized how long she was staring her face froze and her color drained. She pivoted in Dean’s direction and swiftly shuffled away toward him. 

You decided to play this game a little longer. You came from behind the counter to stock the shelves. You grabbed the box and a step ladder, and you muttered ‘excuse me’ and left your lips as you passed them. You unpacked the box and started putting stuff away, catching a bit of their conversation. 

“So- I found a way to get that four hundred quid” Dean sipped on his drink attempting to engage Scotty in conversation. While Scotty was busy drooling over how great you look in your apron; and how great it would be to feel under that apron, her mind wandered. 

She would be exhausted, coming back from a job that ran way too late and a client that ran his mouth way too much. She would round the corner and that same little black apron would be tied around your waist. You would be bent over the counter, and a sliver of fabric would be wound taught over a very gleaming gem. Obviously, it was Scotty’s gift from last year’s valentines day. Jazz would be crooning through your shared apartment. You would turn around slowly and ask her something awfully important. 

“Scotty?”

“Yes?”

“Yvonne still sends you letters?” Scotty does not take this well- you could see how her face morphed into a scowl. 

“Dean! Can you stop talking about her please?” Scotty begged Dean; her eyes began to water a little. You wondered why she had such an adverse reaction to that name. You felt a bit of pity in your stomach for the cute girl but were irked at the thought of someone treating her so badly. Your quick lapse of sympathy was proving to be your demise- you could feel the overpriced reusable cups falling out of your hand. 

“What the fuck!” Dean’s drink splatters on himself and Scotty. The clang being so egregiously loud sends you into a state of panic. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry!” You profusely apologized and ran to get napkins. After you found some, you race over to their table to clean up some of the spills. During your furious cleaning, you didn’t hear Scotty muttering under her breath. Terrified at the

“Can I make you a free drink or something-” 

 “I think you’ve done enough- thank you.”

“Dean-” Scotty’s tiny voice paled in comparison to Dean’s irritation. Dean snatched the napkin from your hand and evenly split it with Scotty- he handed it to her gently. As you walk away Scotty grabs your hand and brings you down closer to her face.

“I’m sorry, he isn’t usually like this-” Scotty reassured you. You knew she meant well but the only thing you wanted to do was get out. Scotty tugged on your hand again, not letting you go to do your job. 

“No- I’m serious he just hasn't gotten laid in a while-” she whispers through an awkward smile and giggles. You are bewildered at the very arrogant man and his weird date- that your face starts to betray your friend at all-time service worker training.  

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I.” Scotty’s face drooped and she quickly dropped your hand. She looked pitiful- you had to say something.

“No, it’s ok I’m not that uncomfortable I’ve heard and been in worse.” That did not make her feel better- she was about to sob again. All that ran through her mind was all the different ways that people made her uncomfortable and how she was now in the same category.

“What have you bloody done now?! Scotts let’s go.” Dean got up and kissed his teeth and gave a look to Scotty. She gives you a final quiet sorry and they leave not without Scotty putting up a fuss with Dean to give you an apology.

 You let out a sigh- your daze was interrupted by Phoebe. 

“Wow- I’ve seen you fuck shit up but now you fucked shit right up” she gave her unneeded commentary. She made it up by giving you the rag so you could clean up the mess. 

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Mondays are the worst- you already took shit from asshole customers but today marks that day you’re sticking up for yourself. You thank heaven for your break in between Saturday’s mess. A very long and hot shower was taken to prepare yourself for Monday’s madness. An angry letter from your landlord is looking very promising in your future. Making breakfast is your next plan of action- you made a tuna melt and lock up.

You make your commute to the bus stop when you realized that the buses weren’t running today because of maintenance.  You remember they were talking about striking a week ago- you kissed your teeth and debated going to work today. 

You already passed that insurance place that might as well be a money laundering scheme. ‘They’re already stationed from Manchester to Hampshire they might as well be’ sounds off in your mind. They call excessively about an ‘alpha package’ and the only reason why is because your mum and dad signed up and put you under an emergency contact. 

Lately, the calls have been more frequent and stranger- you start to recall one-

You were rudely interrupted from your Sunday nap- dazed and confused you slide over to your bedside table.

“Hello?”  you asked tentatively. 

A light breath hitches, echoing crackly through the cheap phone.  

“Look- I don’t want the stupid alpha package. Stop fucking calling oh my god!” you slam the phone on the receiver ending it. You feel a pang of slight guilt, but you remember where it got you last time.

‘What the fuck is that’ a piercing noise startles you- prompting you to take a peek around the wall. There- in the parking lot is a person besides a green van. They hunch over looking at what you assume could be a phone that they smashed onto the gravel. Their baseball cap matches the color of the van-

‘Fuck-’ they see you- they see you. The decision was made to go to work, and you take off in a sprint. It was better to go to a crowded area than to lead the person to your house. 

you hear the engine starting- “Fuck!”  you can’t tell if it’s as loud as you think or if it’s just your heart beating out of your ears. Your mild sprint turns into a breakneck speed-

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

By the time you reach work it’s a quarter past nine- The door handle acts as your crutch as you hunch over trying to catch your breath. You see your reflection in the glass, your hair is frizzed and sweat lines your brow.

“Jesus, you look terrible- what the hell happened.” Your designated favorite, Maggy- she does her work, and you do yours it’s a lovely partnership.

“Thanks- why the hell are you here- you’re not on shift today.” You walk over to wash your hands and put on your apron. 

“Boss asked If I could come in today, said he’d pay me overtime at double.” A sigh left your lips. “No but what happened to you?”

“I think I saw someone getting rid of evidence.” She looked at you puzzled and slowly brought her fingers to her lips.

“No- I did not smoke a blunt.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” 

“Positive?”

“Maggy- Im being serious.”

“We’ll talk about it later. Next in line, please!” You take a breath and recalibrate yourself to do your job. “Hi can take your order this morning.” The day keeps getting better- why is she here again? She was just embarrassed as you that day why couldn’t she have gone to another location- there’s one, two streets down.  

“I-I’m sorry, we were doing work on t-this building and they sent me to get them some coffee.”

“I get it you didn’t wanna walk far.”

“Y-yeah.”

She proceeded to tell you her order. You whipped it up in ten minutes and tapped on the bell. “Order for Scotty!” Her head popped and she sprinted over to the counter.

“I don’t see a macchiato?” you joked trying to lighten the mood and ease her nerves. 

“o-Oh he said he didn’t want anything.” The more she spoke the more her voice quieted. 

“You know you didn’t have to apologize again.”

“But I wanted to!“ as her voice climbed an octave, you made an ‘awe’ sound. Scotty pushed her chocolate croissant to you. 

“i-I want you to have it. If I told you when I was ordering, you would’ve said no. That’s if you’re not allergic to chocolate or gluten or- “her speech picked up speed. You think of your cold, soggy, and unappetizing tuna melt as you took the croissant from her hands; your stomach grumbled in awe. 

“Thank you, Scotty, that’s very thoughtful.” She smiles and giggles in delight. You tell her that if she stays any longer with you their coffee is going to go cold (and that she’s holding up the line but you do that gently). She shuffles out the door with a skip in her step and a high-pitched ‘bye!’ 

“You made her day.“ 

You paused in between a bite of your croissant. “Stop it-“ 

“It’s true! I think she has a little crush.” You rolled your eyes.   

“Whatever, I’ll let you enjoy your gift. I guess you’ll tell be about your run-in with a brigand some other time.” Your answer was the same as the last. 

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Scotty had become a regular at your job. For the past three weeks, she orders about four coffees and a chocolate croissant for you. You two have developed a sort of kinship- she’s so dedicated it’s endearing if you had to say so. She pops up on your breaks sometimes and eats lunch with you. 

 On occasions when you have the evening shift Scotty waits with you as you close up. Normally You two talk about your work but she decides to open up to you today. 

“Sooo you work in construction?”

“yeah-” Scotty’s getting better at answering you, she even looks you in the eye when you two conversate. 

“That sounds interesting where’s the site?”

“We’re just fixing up this flat for rent.” She tells you the location. You gasp-

“That’s just right across from me!”  

“Really?” If she wasn’t giving you one hundred percent of her attention to you before it’s at a hundred a fifty now. 

“Yeah! It’s so funny I can’t even imagine you lifting a hammer.”

“I even do electrical work.”

“You’re just so handy.” Scotty giggles as she beams with pride as you compliment her skill set. “Think I could get your number so I could call you if I need something fixed.”

You guess telling her telling you about her work is as deep as it’s going to get for now. Scotty gives you an erratic nod, and you two exchange phone numbers; Scotty’s through stuttered and broken words. Her alarm goes off signaling she has to get back to work.

“i-I can stay like I do on Saturdays, it’s fine my boss doesn’t mind, I swear.” She says urgently to you. You grab her hand and clasp it in yours. Her palm is rough, numerous healed scrapes and blisters cover it. 

“No, Scotty you have to back to work and so do I.” You two do this song and dance on almost every occasion though today felt very different. Her eyes start to water and she lowers her head. You steel yourself in order for both of you not to lose your jobs. “Scotty- Scotty look at me” she raises her head to look at you “We’re not going to war- I’ll see you tomorrow.” You end with a chuckle. Scotty seems placated by your laugh and reassurance and musters up a sentence.

“Can I call you, when I get home.” You let out a loud cackle and swiftly give her a kiss on the cheek. Scotty lets out a tiny whimper- “Just text me before, I don’t want to be asleep-“  

“Am I going to be disturbing you?-  

“Scotty! Go!” you practically shove her out the breakroom door and through the front door. She leaves you with a giant wave. 

You sigh in relief. That was one of the longest shifts you have ever had. You blame it on your anticipation for your call with Scotty tonight. The moment you hear the click of the locked door, you race home. 

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Reaching home and shutting your door. You go to your shower, scalding water as always. You don’t know why but you really like this girl. It doesn’t help that she looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. You run your hands down your neck to your nipples. They start to peak from the stimulation. You move your hand down to your pussy, but nothing really felt as good as those calloused hands against yours. The best thing is to towel off and do your skincare routine. 

You stare from the bed at your open window longingly. You check your phone 0 message- calling her first seems like a great idea but selfishly you want her to make the first move. The vibrator in your drawer is tempting- your pants are already off. Scotty’s call you bang your head against the headboard.  

The clock strikes eight and you toss and turn in your bed. Your restlessness leads to dragging your feet toward the AC panel. ‘Not working of course-‘ at least you have a reason to call- ‘No- No’ you don’t let your mind wander to the person haunting your dreams. It’s ridiculous what three weeks of nonstop affection, gifts, and heavy stares do to a person. You decide you need some fresh air, and the siren song of the cool breeze is taunting you. 

Your feet drag against the hardwood flooring towards the window. You open the window- ‘Fuck’. The car, the car it’s outside you shut the window and the curtains. ‘The fucking car it’s outside.’ Your legs are locked to the floor and your heart feels like it’s lurching out of your chest. ‘They’re gonna kill me- they’re gonna kill me.’ You feel like hell, nearly falling your way to the floor and crawling to your bed. Your heart won’t stop- it’s not supposed to stop but in this case, you would love it to slow down. You should’ve called your parents last week, they haven’t heard your voice in a while ‘Now they might not hear your voice at all.’

Bzzt! Bzzt! Your phone- oh my god- Scotty! You are so happy about Scotty’s resistance to instructions right now. You creep towards it making as little noise as possible. 

“Hey! It’s Scotty! Sorry about-“her voice booms through the speaker of the phone. Her nervousness is conveyed through her high-pitched voice. 

“Scotty- Scotty shh-“ 

“w-What happened?” she quieted down. 

“Someone-“ your throat starts choking up, and tears stream down your face. Every inhale you take tastes and smells of salts.

“Who?” 

your breath stutters- “Someone is outside my flat-“

“Who?”

“I don’t know who-“ you steady your speech to make a coherent sentence. “There was like someone dumping e-evidence, I think. I saw them smash a phone on the ground by a van- I don’t know but I think they’re criminals.

“Why do you think that?” Why is she dismissing you like this? Why is her voice so eerily calm. How is she thinking this is helping you?

“Because it’s the same fucking van is outside my fucking flat- what aren’t you fucking getting.” You sniffle loudly as you cradle the phone to your face.

“What color is it?” What-

“Fuck! Why do you- it’s green, the van is green, it’s outside-!”

“I’ll be there.” 

“Scotty?! Scotty no- stay there please!” your scathing whispers were only met with the dial tone. 

Scotty

Call the police

Call the police!

Don’t come to the flat please!

                            Read at 9:00pm 

What the fuck is wrong with her? 

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

No but, what the fuck is wrong with Scotty. How does she keep getting herself into these situations? She knows it ended fairly well for her- why jinx that? She is infatuated with you but now knows that love should be a slow process- taking the time to get to know one another. 

The kiss you gave her today, she skipped-tripped and almost slipped on her way back to work. Which she never lied to you about or so she tells herself. She is a handyman but on the weekdays, she works at your favorite company. If you only knew the days, she would watch you from the maintenance van hoping to get a glimpse of you. Not really the first time she used her job to get leverage onto you. It wasn’t her fault that your parents signed up- she was doing her job trying to recruit a new customer. 

All those calls- Scotty, and her coworkers were amazed at every day- how she wore her red cap and the giggle before she took it off. Especially that Sunday one, she knew she shouldn’t have done it but when she heard your groggy hello, it was all worth it. She would’ve saved it- a wave of happiness rippled through ought her body broken by your loud swearing. As usual, a giggle left her mouth after the cap left her head- though her joyous moment was ruined when it wasn’t her work phone but her cell. 

She pondered for weeks on what to do. She prayed you never checked the caller id-but, the suspense weighed on her chest. So, one day on a particular Monday morning she decided to nip it in the bud. Destroying her phone- it was dramatic but so is Scotty.

Through destroying her phone she felt that she could start anew, court you the right way. Buy you treats, spend time, and learn more about you. But that kiss, your kiss- your lips were so soft, so different than when Dean would give her a kiss on the cheek. Scotty wanted to know more, feel more, and be more. Which is why she’s petrified and struggling to find a way to park this van and get to your flat by eleven. She told herself it was going to be quick, you two would be on the phone for an hour and she’d go home right after. 

There is a reason that people say old habits die hard.

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

A loud knock at your door echoes through your apartment. You check to see if your cutlass is still under your bed-

“It’s Scotty-“ she said cautiously knowing you were in a heightened state. You paced over to your door. 

“Nobody’s out there with you?”

“Nobody.” You unlocked the door. Scotty’s hair was matted to her forehead from sweat, and she was shaking and out of breath. She stepped into your apartment, collapsed onto you, and buried her head in your neck. You felt her tears wet your neck, and her arms nearly crushed you from the strength of her hug. Hugging her back was mandatory- it felt so relieving to know that she was ok, the feeling was mutual. 

You were compelled to kiss her face, and she answered by pecking your neck gently. This was forbidden territory for her, she was tense but almost losing you gave her more than a bit of confidence. Scotty trailed her kisses down your neck and into your bosom. Nuzzling and nipping ever so softly, you let out a moan. Your nipples start to peek out from under your shirt, and she further squeezes you into her. Running her hands down your back and into your sleep shirt, her cold hands snap you from your trance.

You coo her name into her ear. “No- no I don’t want to let you go.” She pleads with you. “You don’t have to I just want to check for the van.”

 “I didn’t see it when I came up.” You stood your ground and her arms finally let you go as you clasp her hand. You two walk over to the window, lo and behold Scotty was right it was gone. It was safe, you were safe, just one thing. 

You take Scotty’s hand and trail it up your chest cupping it over your breast- her palm recoils from your touch. “I thought you didn’t want to let me go?” “I don’t!” she answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i-I wanted to ask you out first. When we got on the phone but uhm I’m not blaming you for any of this, the van and you were crying-” You bring her palm up to her lips to quiet her.

“Scotty, I want to go on a date with you.” Her eyes light up and her mouth crinkles at the sides from how hard she’s smiling. “Just one request though, can you stay the night? Please?” Scotty starts hyperventilating again, she wants to say yes but you have a feeling that something important is stopping her. 

“I can but-” there it is “I would have to leave,��and I don’t want you to think I was ditching you or something. My mother is at home by herself and I have to take care of her but I don’t want to leave you alone, at least for tonight.” Your heart melted at her confession; she was finally opening up to you. It was also divided, her mother at home by herself when Scotty had rushed to your flat, you shook your head. 

“Does that mean no?”

“No, it means if you’re gonna stay, you need to take a shower. I have spare clothes.” Her attitude perks up again, and you start to see your regular Scotty again. She practically skips off to shower and when she emerges; she flops down next to you on the bed. You make a come here gesture with your fingers and Scotty happily rolls towards you, wet hair soaks your pillowcase. 

“You were quick.”

“I wanted to be done before you went to sleep.” Again, she says it like these are concrete facts. If she only knew the indirect charmer she was. 

“Somehow, I don’t feel like sleeping.” Scotty twitches slightly but stays silent. “You don’t wanna say anything now?” She turns her head away from you, and you turn it back towards you. You tuck your head underneath her chin, and your nose nuzzles her throat. 

“Still Nothing?” Her neck gets warmer, you feel the heat radiate onto your face. Her actions are catching up to her and nearly fucking you in the kitchen standing up is the least. Scotty called your name.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” Scotty crashed her lips into yours. This is what it came to, a complete delight. Your lips felt even better on hers and tasted like chocolate, just like Scotty dreamed of. She slipped her tongue into your mouth and her hands snuck underneath your shirt massaging your nipples. Scotty’s calloused hands provided a level of friction that could not be replaced. She climbed on top of you, putting her weight on your forearms, caging you in between your arms.  

You spread your legs for her, and she took the hint and slotted her hips in between yours. She subsequently peels your shirt off your body. Her mouth trails down your chest and begins to suckle. Your breath hitches as Scotty looks up from your breast. She analyzes you and decides that her favorite part of your face is your mouth. She loves kissing it, the way she nipped it, and a whine escaped your lips. 

Your favorite part of her face is her eyes, they’re glossed over with hunger. For you and you only- “unh Scotty- lower please.”, she nodded and got to work. 

[amaurotine-daydreaming]

VI. Ring

The ringing of the Sanctum’s bells pealed throughout the Twelveswood, a clear and bright call to celebration. The doors of the sanctuary had been flung wide, and all along the outside steps and the wide promenade spilled dozens of well-wishers and partygoers in the wake of the ceremony. 

It was chatter and cheer, spontaneous shouts of laughter and handfuls of flowers flung from baskets passed out by the attendant moogles. Along the flanks of the promenade, large round banquet tables had been set with pristine tablecloths and piled high with fruits, meats, breads, and cheeses. At one of these, a group of companions settled into each of twelve chairs.

“What a lovely arrangement they’ve made for their guests,” a viera woman dressed in a billowy spring dress said, looking around admiringly at the spires and banisters festooned with flower garlands and streamers. 

“Aye,” agreed the high-cheekboned elezen woman across from her. She inspected the many neatly arrayed pieces of cutlery and plates at her place setting. “‘Twould seem we are in for a grand feast, as well.” 

“The happy couple do not strike me as one of the elite, but ‘tis clear for this day they spared no expense,” said a dark-skinned lalafell three seats down, dressed in the tunic and sarouel that marked him as an Ul’dahn merchant. 

“I was speaking to some of the guests, and learned that while the bride and groom are not from families of great means, their friends and companions pooled their time and talents,” the tall and fiery-haired miqo'te Seeker next to him said, tapping her closed fan against her cheek. 

“Ever the gossip,” softly laughed a lalafellin man opposite. He was dressed in traveler’s clothes, and among the lot of them looked most as if he had been swept right off the street into the gaiety. “Or I would say, if I did not have the feeling you at least knew something of the bride.”

The Seeker simply opened her fan and hid her smile behind it.

“Well, I think it’s lovely the couple has in turn opened their ceremony for all to delight in,” said a young miqo'te Keeper as she slipped a morsel under the table to the dog settled at her feet. 

“Indeed,” came the pleased rumble from the Hellsguard roegadyn who sat next to a wizened hyur. “‘Tis always a joy to have an opportunity to attend these events.” 

A cowled lalafell laughed behind her hand as she watched the knot of people cheering and embracing the miqo’te bride and groom at their center. “A shame we can but come to these–with all of us in attendance–only rarely.” 

“Were we to do so more often, surely we would be in danger of arousing suspicion,” noted a Duskwight elezen in an elegant white chiton. He took a poised sip from his glass, but a hint of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyelids.

“Who would question us as a free company?” suggested the wiry Sea Wolf woman with dual tattoos of silver-scaled fish leaping along her collarbones. “Plenty of other merry bands gain an informal reputation across the realm for these sorts of things. We would not be unusual.”

A cheer suddenly went up from the crowd, catching the attention of all at the table. 

“May the Twelve bless their union!” cried the wedding guests, hoisting the bride and groom into the air onto their shoulders. Both looked abashed, but between one another shared a look abundant in joy and hope.

“Indeed,” said the Keeper, her pale blue eyes shining with mischief as the group of revelers paraded the couple around in a circle. “I think that’s a marvelous idea. Who would like to toast the happy couple first?”

“Now, now, we mustn’t choose favorites,” said the merchant, his mismatched eyes–one gold, one pale–serene. 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” the Keeper pouted back, her tail swishing. “There’s no harm in simple well wishes. We would do the same for any other, given but the chance.”

“With our own toils nearing their end, let us share in the joy of these mortals in the time we have left among them,” suggested a man–a Midlander–who wore the purple robes of a mage but nevertheless had the muscled build of a warrior, and was greeted with nods all around. 

“Why don’t I begin,” said the Sea Wolf. She lifted her glass. “May the couple be blessed with fair skies and fair seas for all their days.” 

“Hear, hear,” said the Plainsfolk traveler, lifting his glass in turn. Each of the companions began to follow suit. “And the wind at their back, wheresoever they may go.”

“Let naught cast down their devotion,” declared the wizened Highlander.

“And the foundations of their bond remain strong,” boomed the Hellsguard.

“For all of time, in this life and beyond,” nodded the Midlander.

“And while they walk upon this earth, may they be blessed with a rich and full life,” the Rava beamed.

“And a warm hearth,” added the Seeker, setting her fan down on the table in order to lift her own glass with a flourish.

The Dunesfolk merchant bowed his head and placed a hand over his breast. “May they never be left wanting,” he murmured.

“Let wisdom guide their bonds, and peace and harmony reign,” spoke the Duskwight, his face haloed with long curls glowing in the sunlight.

“Fates smile upon them,” chimed in the Plainsfolk in the cowl, her own smile writ wide as she brushed the platinum blonde hair from her eyes.

“To a glorious union!” enthused the elezen woman, thrusting her glass skyward so sharply she nearly spilled its contents.

“My, after such beautiful proclamations, do I even have to say anything?” the instigating young Keeper said cheekily. A soft woof by her feet made her look down. “Oh, but of course I will, Dal!” she exclaimed, patting her dog’s head. 

She then stood, balancing one hand on the table while extending the other forward as far as it could go. “May their love inspire the realm! To love!”

“To love!” rang the chorus, and an answering cheer went up behind them.

[thegeeksideofsr]

The Hitter and The Artist

Eliot Spencer x Artist! Reader

I hope this isn't terrible. It took why longer to write than I thought it would. Kinda based of my own art experiences, minus Eliot sadly. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none I can think of. Fluff, mention of scars and bruising, a hint to smut, but not a lot because I didn't want to.

Working as an illustrator was fun. I get to read stories and bring the characters and their adventures to life on the pages.

I had been trying to work on a children's book for weeks now, but have been so blocked I can't draw. The story is good and I have ideas, but trying to get them from my head to paper is proving more difficult than I thought it would be. Deciding I needed a change of scenery, I shove my sketchbook and pencil case in my bag and head out.

The brew pub in Portland was one of my favorite places to work. Good food, great atmosphere, and an abundance of people to watch and draw. I choose a seat at the end of the bar, I order a coffee and a small sandwich, and people watch for a few minutes, before I start working in my sketchbook. Hitting a groove, I let the hum of the pub fade into white noise.

The sound of a throat clearing jars me out of my bubble. I look up and see Eliot, an acquaintance that I knew from coming the pub so often, standing on the other side of the bar with his arms crossed, his tank top showing off his arms and shoulders, which is a bit distracting. His hair held back from his face with a bandana, an expecting look on his face, as if he'd asked me a question.

"What?" I ask.

"I asked if you were alright. You've been here for almost four and half hours."

I look at my watch realizing he's right. It was later then I had planned on staying.

" I'm fine. I just love coming here to work. But I've gotten enough done for today, I should head home." I say, beginning to pack up my things.

" You don't have too. You worked through the rush, which is impressive, you seem to be on a roll. Might as well stay a bit longer." He replies, while looking at my stuff on the table.

" Are you sure? I've already taken up a stool this long, I don't want to be a bother."

He smiles softly then shakes his head.

" You're fine. We're a pub, we're open later then most places. Anything you want to eat?"

I smile at him.

"Surprise me."

He nods then heads back into the kitchen.

I turn back to my sketchbook and work a bit more, glance up every now and then so I wouldn't miss his return.

He comes out of the kitchen with a plate of food, though now he has a button front shirt on over his tank top. He sets the plate down in front of me once I move my things. The mountain of food in front of me that looking positively delicious. I look up at him and give him a smile.

" This looks amazing. Thank you, Eliot."

"Your welcome, Y/N." He says with a smile that causes crinkles at the corners of his blue eyes.

We stare at each other for a second, before his name is called. He and I both look towards where he was called from, a older man and and a dark haired woman are sitting in a booth with another slightly younger woman across from them, who looks extremely upset.

He nods to them then looks at me.

" I hope you enjoy."

" I am sure I will."

He smiles again, then heads over to the booth, sitting next to the younger woman. I turn back to my plate, and take a bite. It turns out to be the best thing I've eaten in a long time.

Once I'm done eating I set my plate to the side, then bring my sketchbook back in front of me. I try to work on my illustrations again, but I can't seam to be able to focus on it so instead I turn to a new page, beginning to sketch Eliot. I draw from memory as much as I can, but have to glance over my shoulder once in a while to where he was sitting facing me.

Once again losing track of time, I jump when he appears next to me. I quickly snap my sketchbook closed so that he wouldn't see what I'd been drawing. He chuckles at the movement as he sits on the stool next to me.

" I didn't mean scare you again."

" I scare easily. Especially when I'm drawing."

He nods, then looks down at my closed sketchbook.

" Whatcha working on?" He asks, a knowing look on his face.

" You saw what I was drawing when you came over, didn't you?"

" Guilty."

I groan and hide my face in my hands, resting my elbows on the bar top. He lets out a quiet laugh.

" It wasn't on purpose. But I'd love to get a better look at it if you'd let me."

I move my hands to look at him. He has a look of genuine interest on his face, but he isn't pushing.

I pick up my sketchbook and turn to the correct page, before handing it to him. He takes it and just looks at it. A small, some what bashful smile crosses his face.

" This is amazing."

" You have a nice face."

His head snaps to look at me. A surprised look crosses his face, then a small smirk takes it place. The realization of what I said hits me like a train.

" Wait. Um. I didn't mean for that to come out like that - shit." I feel my face get hot.

" It's alright. You have a nice face too."

My face gets hotter at the compliment. He chuckles again then asks me about my drawings.

We end up talking about all kinds of things, from my love of art and illustration, his love of cooking, to stories about friends and work. He is reserved, but we get along like we were already friends.

Eventually I decide to call it a night. Since it's so late he offers to walk me home, which I gladly accept. We talk all the way to the front of my building. We stand on the front steps for a few minutes and continue talking. I finally build up the courage to ask him to come in.

He follows me inside. I show him some of the art on my walls, and some of my current projects. He doesn't stay long as it was already almost eleven. I walk him him to the front door to bid him goodnight.

"Would you want to have dinner with me? Not in the pub I work at?" He asks.

"Yes, I would."

" I'm free tomorrow evening, at six? But if that's to soon that's fine."

" Tomorrow is perfect. Where are we going?"

He squints at me slightly and leans forward to whisper.

" It's a surprise."

He leans away and says goodnight, then turns and heads back the way we came, glancing over his shoulder once then heading of into the night, leaving me a flustered mess in my doorstep.

I close the door and lean back against it, letting out a squeak of excitement. I manage to pick my self up and head to bed, even though I know I won't get much sleep.

The next day seems to drag on forever, I put on some music to work to while I continue on painting the illustrations from yesterday to pass the time. Which seems to work too well, as a knock on my front door startles me. I look at the clock and see that it's quarter of six. I place my brush down, turn the music off, and run to the door, pulling it open in a small panic.

" I'm sorry! I was painting to make the time go faster, and I lost track of time, I can be ready in, like ten minutes. I just need to put my paints away and rinse some brushes and change because I have paint on my pants and-"

" Y/N. Calm down. You look beautiful. I don't mind." He says.

" Ok. Um. Come in, I will be ready soon."

I step back so he can come in the door. I close it be hind him, then make my way towards my art room. Eliot follows me and leans against the door way while he watches my put things away. Once everything is rinsed, covered and put away, I turn toward the door way, finding Eliot looking at me with a look on his face I can't decipher.

" What?"

" You're beautiful. I can't help but watch you in your element."

I remember that I'm wearing old, paint covered pants, a ratty tshirt, and my hair is in a messy bun. This is probably the farthest from beautiful I can get.

" You're crazy. Let me go change."

He shakes his head again, with a bit more force this time. He then takes a few steps closer to me.

" You don't have to. You look good like this."

" I want to."

He nods, and let's me walk past him to my room to change. Once I'm done, I head back to where I left him. I find him looking at the paintings had been working on, I walk up next to him and look at the painting on my desk.

" What do you think? It's not done yet, but it's coming along well."

" They're great. I've seen quite a bit of art work in my time, but I think your art is my favorite. Your art should be in a gallery. I shouldn't be the only one who see it."

He turns, looking at me for the first time since I changed. His eyes wide slightly, a smile spreading across his face. I feel butterfly's start to swirl in my stomach, fighting the urge to kiss him

" You look beautiful. You looked beautiful before, but wow."

He steps closer to me, warmth radiating off him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, in a low voice.

" Yes."

He cups my face with his hands, leans down and presses his lips to mine. It's a soft kiss, slow but passionate. I finally have to pull away for a breath, he rests his forehead against mine. We just stand there, basking in the aftermath the kiss.

" We had a date planned." He whispers. " But all I want to do now is kiss you again."

I let out a airy laugh before pressing my lips against his again. He pulls away after a moment, his hands still holding my face.

" I don't want to get carried away. I asked you on a date and I plan to keep our plans."

" You never did tell me where we're going."

" I was planning to bring you to my place, to cook you dinner, romance you a little, the whole nine yards," he says.

" Well then. I hope I haven't side tracked you too much."

He shakes his head, the movement causing his hair to move out of his face.

"Not at all. Are you ready to go?"

I nod. He then takes my hand and we head towards the front door, turning off lights as we go. I grab my bag, then lock the door.

We walk down the side walk, he stops in front of an older truck, he motions for my to walk in front of him to the passenger side. He follows behind, and reaches to open the door for me. Once I'm settled in my seat, he closes the door and goes around to the driver's side and gets in. He starts the truck, then pulls away from the curb.

After a ten minute-ish drive, we pull into a spot in front of a five story building. He hops out of his side and makes his way to my side once more. I am about to open the door, but he beats me to it.

" I can open doors for my self, you know."

" I know."

He has a contagious smile on his face and he offers a hand to help be out of the truck. I take his hand and hop down. He closes the door behind me, and starts to head towards the door, never once letting go of my hand.

His hand is warm, large, and callused. He leads me through the first floor, passed a wall of mailboxes, and a staircase, to an elevator.

He presses the button for the top floor. Once there, he leads me down the hall passed two doors before stopping in front of one. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a set of keys. He unlocks the door and gestures for me to go ahead of him.

His apartment is nice. Lived in and neat. It's an relatively open plan. The door way leads into the living room, the to the left is a bar with chairs facing the kitchen, to the right is a hallway. What catches my eye most, it the bay window that takes up most of the living room wall in front of me. A wall of windows, with curtains pulled to the sides, and a glass door leading to a balcony, the view of the sunset off the balcony is beautiful.

"Pretty, ain't it? I thought you might like to draw while I cooked. If you'd like."

" I'd love too. But I'd rather help you if I could."

He nods. Then takes off his jacket and hangs it on a hook. He leads the way to the kitchen. He pulls ingredients from the fridge and cupboards. He asks me to chop a couple onions and a while he cuts a few chicken breasts, then he cooks them in a pan with butter and spices.

After he cleans up from that, he turns to me seeing the amount I have chopped, he nods then turns back to the stove to stir the pan of chicken, then puts other ingredients together as well.

Once we finish cooking, and have plates of food, we move to the table. We talk some but mostly sit in comfortable silence enjoying his amazing food.

After dinner I help wash up, even though Eliot said I didn't have too, I insisted. Once the dishes were washed and set to dry, he took my hand in his and leads me to the living room, then out onto the balcony.

There's a small couch and table to one side, leaving the rest of the space open. I walk to the edge, resting my elbows on the railing, Eliot joining me on my left a moment later. We stand in a peaceful silence. It's dark out now, but the light from in side casts a glow onto the balcony. I see Eliot look at me out of the corner of my eye, I turn to look at him in return. The light from the door, eluminates the right side of his face, his eyes seem to glow in the low light.

I place my hand on his cheek, pull him down to my height, and kiss him. He kisses me back, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest. I move one hand from his face to the back of his neck. He pulls away after a moment, we rest our heads together breathing slightly heavier that normal.

" I don't want to take this to far. This is only a first proper date," he grumbles.

" I don't mind."

He hums, both arms wrapping around my waist tighter.

" What do you want to do?" He asks.

" I want you to take me to bed, if you'd be so kind. I've wanted to see you shirtless for a while but then I saw you in the tank top last night, and damn."

He chuckles, then crouches and lifts me like I was no more than a dried leaf. The movement catches me off guard, causing me to let out a squeal and grip his shoulders tightly with both hands.

He carries me inside again, letting go of me for a second to close the balcony door, then makes his way down the hall, and into his bed room.

He sets me down on my feet, his hand coming up to my face, he hesitates for a second, before I close the distance between us again.

I run my hand from his shoulders, down his front feeling the buttons under my fingertips. I find the top one, unbuttoning it, then proceeding down his front. Once the buttons are undone, I help him shed it, leaving him in his tank top. He runs his hands along the hem of my shirt, his fingertips grazing skin giving my goose bumps.

" Can I take this off?" He whispers.

" Yeah. As long as you lose the tank top next."

He lifts my shirt up and over my head, tossing it away. He then grabs the hem of his tank top and peels it off, tossing it next to my shirt. He leans down to kiss me again, my hand finds his torso, feeling the newly exposed skin. I can feel the texture change, I pull away from the kiss and look at where my fingers found a what looks like a scar. I run my finger along it, it's a slice, about six inches long, running from his ribs towards his navel. I pull away from the kiss look at his torso more closely, I find more scars, cuts, burns, nearly healed bruises, and what looks like scars from being shot. One still pink and fresh.

"What happened?" I ask.

He lets out a shuddering breath.

" I was a soldier. Then I went into the private sector. Made some bad choices. Did things I can't be clean of."

The weight of his words hit me like a brick. He lets go of my waist and takes a small step back.

" We do to have to do anything. You can leave if you want to."

" I don't want to leave," I say closing the distance between us, and pulling him down into a kiss.

He relaxes in to it, his arms wrapping around me again. He takes a step forward, causing me to step back. He repeats this a few times before I feel the end of the bed hit the backs of my knees. He pushes me down onto the bed gently, my legs falling open and his hips slotting against mine, kissing from my lips to my neck, and down to my collar bone.

" I have wanted to kiss you since you walked into the pub months ago. This feels like a dream," he whispers into my skin.

" I had a similar want, just as long. I don't want to waste any more time."

I tangle my fingers into his hair, pulling at the root lightly, earning a growl from his chest.

He picks his head up and looks me in the eye, his pupils are blown wide. He grinds his hips into mine,

" Be careful what you wish for."

°°°°

I wake up to the sun shining through the window. I can feel Eliot pressed against my back, one of his arms around my ribs holding me to his chest, the other under my head.

I stretch slightly, the slight ache the runs through me a pleasant reminder of last night. I roll over in his arms carefully.

His face is relaxed, breathing steady, and the seamingly perpetual scowl is gone from his handsome face, his skin warm against mine. I untangle my self from his grip, and slowly crawl out of bed. The cool air of the room sends goose bumps across my skin. I find our clothes from last night in a piles on the floor. I pull my underwear, and grab his button up, slipping it on.

I make sure he's still asleep, then make my way to the living room. I pull my sketchbook and pencil out of my bag, then tiptoe back.

I settle as carefully as I can on the side of the bed, I open to a blank page, then begin sketching him.

He stirs after a little while. His arm moves towards where I was laying, he stiffens when he finds it empty. He opens his eyes, then lifts his head, he looks at my empty spot, then towards the end of the bed. We make eye contact and he relaxes. He lets out a deep sigh, then lays down again, tossing an arm over his eyes, his torso on full display.

I set my sketchbook aside, then crawl next to lay next to him. I rest my head on his chest, my arm leaning on his ribs, just below the scar I found last night. One of his hand lands on my back, rubbing soft circles.

" I thought you left."

" Only to get my sketchbook. You looked so peaceful, I wanted to draw you."

He lets out a hum, his arm squeezing me tighter.

We lay like that for who knows how long, before my stomach growls. Loudly. I can feel my face heat up, while Eliot lets out a deep laugh.

" How bout I make you some breakfast, darlin'."

" That would be amazing."

[teyvatdreams]

when they cry / show emotion in front of you

includes: childe, diluc, zhongli x gn!reader

childe

childe wasn’t exactly the type to hide his feelings

however, it’s different when it comes to fear or worry

especially when it comes to you

one night, you decided to wait outside for his arrival; he had been gone all day adventuring but promised to return before it got too late

but night had fallen, and of course you were starting to worry and craving to see him

of course, the universe had different plans. after some waiting, a group of hilichurls managed to find their way to you — you cursed under your breath for straying too far from the harbor’s entrance

you knew how to defend yourself, and you would, but it was still a nuisance

you defeated them easily, but failed to notice the pyro abyss mage that accompanied them until it was shooting fire towards you. it completely caught you off guard

you struggled to catch your footing for only a moment, but that was all it took to get a bit burnt

right as you go to fight back, you see the familiar sight of two hydro blades slashing at the mage, and it’s not long until he’s no longer a threat

and it’s not long until you feel childe’s arms around you

since you knew the weight of the situation, you weren’t worried, but thankful for childe’s swift appearance

you giggle in his arms until pulling away from his embrace and seeing his eyes brimmed with tears

“wait… why are you crying?”

you knew childe well enough to know that these tears were not coming from a place of sadness, it was coming from a place of anger or frustration — you couldn’t exact figure out which one.

“i’m not mad,” he says, wiping his eyes quickly. “not at you, atleast.”

you took a hold of his hand to calm him down as he explained the situation

he thought it was safe enough for him to stop and pick some flowers for you, except he had to go out of his way to find them. he felt as if you getting attacked was his fault — if he had stayed on track he would’ve arrived back sooner.

he doesn’t let the tears fall, but from the way he keeps wiping his eyes, you know he’s emotional

you have to spend a few minutes convincing him that it wasn’t his fault you got a bit hurt, and he finally calms down and cuts himself some slack

before returning back to the harbor, he picks up the flowers he managed to find and tucks one behind your ear.

“i know they aren’t your favorite, but i found a sweet flower. i decided to bring them back here because they’re just as sweet as you.” he says softly.

diluc

you were in the tavern with diluc as usual when you noticed he was acting a bit off

he seemed spaced out; whenever anyone tried it took them multiple attempts to get his attention

so when you got a chance to be alone with him you asked him if he was feeling okay

and of course, diluc being diluc said he was fine. but you weren’t dumb.

“let me close the tavern tonight,” you say softly. “go home, get some rest. you deserve it.”

diluc looks back at you and opens his mouth to protest but he immediately closes it. he closes his eyes and nods.

“…alright.”

you lead him to the door and watched as he walked away, feeling uneasy.

after awhile, the drunkards found their way out of the tavern and you cleaned up before heading home.

the house you shared with diluc was quiet, a soft light across the room being the only indication that diluc was here as well.

you assumed by how quiet and dark it was that he had decided to go to bed

it’s not until you hear him sniffling that you realize he hadn’t

you find him sitting on the end of the bed you shared with him, shoulders slumped, head hanging

“diluc?” you say softly.

he lifts his head and looks at you, not bothering to move the hair hiding his tear-stained face out of the way.

you make your way to him and move his hair away, tucking it behind his ears. you gently wiped the tears off his face and gave him a moment to collect himself.

“do you want to talk about it?”

he takes a deep breath. “there’s not much to talk about. i’m just… in my own head. it’s almost the anniversary of…”

you nod, understanding his feelings. it was, in fact, almost his birthday, but you knew how he felt about that day.

“it’s alright. you’re still healing. it’s okay to feel this way.” you assure him.

you get him into bed and curl up next to him, making sure he knows his feelings are valid and that he doesn’t need to hide them from you, or anyone.

and as you look at him one last time before falling asleep, you swear you see a small smile creep onto his face.

zhongli

you had spent a nice day with zhongli spending time together and walking around the harbor

after awhile, though, you both decided to go further out, making your way up to guili plains and wangshu inn

you both checked on xiao before deciding to make qingce village your final stop of the day.

it killed two birds with one stone — you got to spend time with zhongli and also collect the jueyun chilli’s you promised to get for xiangling

you both parted ways for a moment; zhongli offered to find a nice place to sit as you collected the chilli’s

however, something caught your eye as you did.

a blue flower — unmistakably a glaze lily.

you lean down to examine it. you weren’t a stranger to them despite them being much less common to come by.

the petals were closed, but you knew how to open them. at least, you knew how to try and open them.

you sang a tune to it. nothing crazy, just a song your mother had sang to you as a child that remained one of your favorites.

and to your surprise, the petals opened.

you stared at the flower. you didn’t expect it to open, but now it was. and it was beautiful.

you hear footsteps behind you and see zhongli staring at you, hand covering his mouth.

you silently look at him and then back at the flower to show him.

“i… found an area abundant with the chili’s you need.” he says. his voice trembles slightly.

“zhongli?” you stand up, concerned.

he must know that you’ve noticed. he clears his throat. “i apologize. i was just moved by your interest in the glaze lily’s, i suppose.”

“oh,” you say, standing up and making your way to him. his eyes were watery. “well… they are beautiful. of course i’m enamored by them…”

he smiles softly, sadly.

“there was someone who once loved these lilies more than anyone. i think i see them in you. it is truly a beautiful sight indeed.”

[ohfiendangelical]

— MARRIED IN MOUNT AIRY  ♡   STARTERS —

the following are lyric starters taken from nicole dollanganger’s 2023 album married in mount airy. i tried my best to choose lines that have the most potential as semi-realistic dialogue, though a level of purple prose and heavy metaphor is inescapable with lyric-based starters. all tracks included save for track 10, summer song, which is an instrumental. use & adjust however you see fit. (trigger warnings in abundance: this is nicole dollanganger, after all.) 

TRACK 001   ♡   married in mount airy 

“we made love beneath the mirrored ceiling.”  “all you have to bring is your love of everything." “don’t recall what we were drinking.” “there was something very strange in the air.” “don’t recall what we were singing.” “he tasted of sherry.” “i remember swinging with my hands caught in the curls of his long hair.” 

TRACK 002   ♡   gold satin dreamer 

“i dream of the lake.” “i feel you in the wind.” “love you, baby.” “i wait for it to get dark.” “all those dreams left out in the sun, they run like syrup and clot like blood — disfigured beyond recognition.”  “even though other faces i forget, yours is carved out of stone.”  “tryin’a take you out of me is like tryin’a take smoke out of wood.”  “gold satin dreamer, gold satin heart.” 

TRACK 003   ♡   dogwood

“please don’t take him from me.” “i need him, you know i do.” “there’s no telling that man what to do.”  “you’ll have to pry him from my cold, dead grip.” “i refuse to understand.” “he just makes his own bed.” “there’s no use trying.” “you know how reckless he can be sometimes.” “he doesn’t mean it when he says he don’t care if he lives or dies.”  “i’m not letting go of him.”

TRACK 004   ♡   runnin’ free

“please don’t go.” “i can’t trust myself to be alone.” “i hear them drive off into the night.” “i’ll die out here if i stay.” “he’d love it that way.”  “the dogs in the yard keep me up with their cries in the night.” “the days are long.”

TRACK 005   ♡   bad man

“i wish he didn’t have to die.” “he was a bad man.” “i’m still crying, but i’m not sorry.” “i couldn’t give a goddamn about it.” “he had to go — and he’d say the same, you know?” “i could tell you that i don’t love him, but you know it would be a lie.” “goddamn him, he knows why.” “i’ve washed him out of my clothes.” 

TRACK 006   ♡   my darling true

“you won’t change your ways.” “it’s time for me to let you go.” “you may just be the death of me, but the truth is i’d love it so.”  “hold me ‘til i’m cold and blue.” “you play such wicked games.” “that girl’s plain dumb.” “she just loves pain.”

TRACK 007   ♡   moonlite

“got you mounted on a wall in the back of my mind.” “i just can’t forget, try as i might.” “i stay on the drink and you stay on my mind.” “you were my girl, my thing, my pet, to do anything i wanted with.”  “i wanna hold you in my hands like a porcelain decanter.” “i love you so much, i can’t stand you.” “i see right through you.” “i pray you can feel my eyes.” “the drunker he got, the truer he spoke.” “i keep a piece of you locked in my heart.”  “sometimes you’re my girl, and sometimes, bitch, you’re dead.” 

TRACK 008   ♡   sometime after midnight

“he’ll be picking me up sometime after midnight.” “i’ve spent all day thinking of what i’ll wear.” “there’s this feeling in my stomach — wondering if i should just ignore it…”  “when something bad happens, it’s usually at night.”

TRACK 009   ♡   nymphs finding the head of orpheus

“i’ll make myself sick from the water.” “all my tears and rage could fill a revolver.” “now i see.” “i used to think you must be the water i drink.” “in the dark, i wait.” “i used to dream of the day it’d just be you and me.” “you cruel, cruel man.”

TRACK 011   ♡   whispering glades

“i’m sure as in life, there will be beautiful women there in your death.” “you just have your way of charming those who catch your eye like shiny things.” “you’re a nightmare disguised as a good dream.” “when she wants a garden, you give her a rose.” “you just have your ways, what with all of those grotesque displays of love you show.” “i feel sorry for them because how could they know?” “you give nothing and think it too much.” “i’ll have a smile painted on my face.” “hollywood suits you, darling; i think you should stay.” 

TRACK 012   ♡   i’ll wait for you to call

“i’ll wait for you to call.” “if i wait my whole life, it won’t be wasted at all.” “i’m fine to love you from afar.” “if i don’t see you again, i understand it’s just how things are.”

[rawrymonahan]

Austin is late. Running late for whatever excuse he could fish out of thin air. Right now, it’s traffic— the bustling Los Angeles traffic, always a fine excuse, though entirely predictable. He can always tell the truth, about how he slept in twenty minutes late, and he wasn’t about to skip a single step of getting ready for rehearsal. Whatever he’s going to end up telling the crew, the crew of assistant directors and actors who were currently waiting impatiently for Austin’s arrival, will fall naturally from the tongue whenever he gets there. It’s thirty minutes past the start time when he finally drives up to the theater, digging through his center console once parked and pulls out his little pouch of black pills. He knows it’s not Provincetown, that taking the muse whilst out west would probably end very poorly for him, but still— he can’t help it. He’s addicted to the success and if it can help him direct as much as it can help him write well… it didn’t really matter that he’s late— or unprepared. He pops the black pill past his lips, swallows it dry before getting out. He stretches, his striped black and white button-up pulling up to expose some thick hairs kissing his stomach, though it’s not like he’s not exposed to the world already. Adorning some black dress pants, Austin also wears his shirt unbuttoned to just above his belly button, chest out in the open while several necklaces drape around his neck. It’s his standard at this point. He walks into the theater, pushing the big, blue doors of the auditorium open with a wide smile. “Terribly sorry, my loves!” he calls out as he walks down the isle between rows and rows of navy upholstered seats, “Los Angeles traffic is an utter hell— but, now that I’m here, we can get this party started, huh? Let’s introduce ourselves, shall we? I’m Austin Sommers, but you all already know that…” He can feel all eyes on him, just how he likes it, as he crosses to sit in on the front row seats, immediately crossing his legs, “can I have each one of you step forward and introduce yourselves? It’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen all your beautiful faces in those casting videos.”

@bloodsuckinsommers

Today had been eventful already, and it was still early in the morning. Not that Rory really minded, excitement brewing in his veins, with an underlying sense of nerves, on top of the cold brew coffee he had downed on the way here. He needed all he could get though, his first day on set, getting ready for a show directed by the one and only Austin Sommers. Sure, Rory spent most of his time on television, in front of cameras, the whole shebang but he wasn't complaining one bit- getting to be under the hot lights of the theater and get to perform live in front of an audience was something he'd always cherished, and getting to work under a brilliant director was only the cherry on top. Who, every other actor and assistant director had been waiting for at least for a solid thirty minutes, leaving everyone frustrated, pacing around the auditorium walkways and the stage Rory was currently sat on, swinging his feet until the great, big double doors open revealing the man in question, confident as he struts down the isle and plops himself down in a front row seat, right in front of him, apologizing, though halfheartedly, Rory thinks. Thinks, because he truthfully isn't paying much attention to what the other man is saying because he's too busy taking in the grin stretched out across his cheeks and dark eyes, ones that barely even rake over the auditorium as he makes himself known. And he's trying desperately not to let his eyes move south, to take in the other man's outfit, to the button up revealing a chest decorated with an abundance of jewelry and wisps of hair. He does however catch a bit of what Austin says, and then it's silent for a moment as everyone stops, now timid for whatever reason, leaving Rory to pull his feet up, clambering up to a standing position, a matching grin meeting Austin's, his cheeks flushing just the slightest bit as he straightens out his beloved white and blue baseball tee. "So much for getting the party started, huh? Well,, it's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Sommers. I'm Rory Monahan."

@bloodsuckinsommers

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

what the fuck I just found this in my drafts I literally wrote this years ago, like a very significant number of years ago this is old shit

and apparently I just saved it and forgot about it??? anyway I polished it up and now it is here, I have no context and I barely even remember writing it, enjoy!

my apologies for the long post I still can't figure out how to do read mores in the app

edit: some lovely people have unformed me how to use readmores, thank you ~

-----

Jack was starting to wonder perhaps if he'd done something wrong.

It wasn't uncommon for him to accidentally say or do something to upset his wife or daughter, although usually when such an event occurred Maddie would glare at him to express her displeasure, and Jazz would always take the opportunity to tell him in exact detail what he'd done wrong and how to make it up to them (something he was honestly very grateful for).

It must have been something pretty bad this time, because both women wouldn't even look him in the eye.

Jack first twigged that something was off that morning during breakfast, when he sat in the empty chair by Jazz's side and gave his usual greeting, "Hey Jazzypants!"

She ignored his presence completely, steely eyes glued to the wall opposite her, they were puffy and red and Jack wondered perhaps if she'd been crying.

It had been a long time since her problems were easily pushed aside by her father's warm hugs and jovial attitude, he had stopped being able to handle a crying Jazz after she'd turned twelve and countered his attempts at humour by insisting that he 'stop trivialising her distress', whatever THAT meant.

Nevertheless, warm hugs and gentle jokes were the only method he knew and so he wrapped a comforting arm around her thin shoulders, noting that she continued to sit still as a rock, not even glancing his way as he tried to coax a smile out of her.

Jazz didn't say a word as she pushed herself away from her unfinished breakfast and left the room.

It was when he walked down to the lab intending to ask Maddie about Jazz that Jack started to suspect he may have been the one responsible, as it became apparent that the two had seemed to coordinate their punishment for whatever transgression he'd made.

"Hey Mads!" his voice boomed over the noise of his wife's current project. He strained to see through the bright light of her blow torch at the large gun-like weapon on the table. Jack whistled in appreciation is he took in the size of what he assumed was some kind of rocket launcher. "So what are we calling this one? Ooh! How about, The Fenton Spectre 'Sploder!"

Maddie's goggles made it difficult to see what expression adorned her face, but her tensed shoulders and the shaky grip on the blow torch told him that she was most certainly upset about something.

"Mads? Are you alright?" his voice quivered slightly as he took a few steps closer, seeing his wife this tense tightened a coil within his chest. Suspecting that he may be responsible added an extra weight to his stomach that he knew wasn't cause by the breakfast he'd skipped.

The light from the blow torch snapped off and Jack had to blink the bright spots it left behind from his vision, trying to peer through the blotches to find any indication that Maddie was going to acknowledge his presence. It seemed as though she'd looked his way for a moment but before his eyes could clear enough to meet hers she'd looked away again.

Jack watched, puzzled as his wife raised a hand to cover her mouth and catch the sob that ripped its way from her throat, she hadn't succeeded as the sound echoed across the lab and tore its way straight through Jack's heart, causing his eyes to sting and his throat to close up.

He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder, intent on giving her some form of comfort. He'd barely brushed it with his finger tips before Maddie stormed right past him up to the stairs, Jack had to quickly stumble backwards to avoid being trampled.

He couldn't imagine what he possibly could have done to elicit such a response from the woman he loved, but he knew for sure that he must have done something terrible for her to not seek him out for comfort like she did any other time she was upset. He just wished he could remember what.

Jack's shoulders slumped under the dim light of the glowing jars of ectoplasm lining the various counter-tops, he dry-swallowed a few times, trying to push down his confusion and distress before following his wife's light footsteps up the stairwell.

He found her in the kitchen, leaning against a counter with her goggles slung around her neck and her wild red hair loose around her head, abundant with the kinks and tangles Jack usually watched her brush out of it every morning.

"Mads?" Jack said, voice rough and quiet, "Look I... if I did something wrong I-" Jack's apology froze in his throat as Jazz poked her head through the kitchen door, eyes once again glancing right over Jack and instead locking onto her mother.

Neither woman shared a word as Jazz crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Maddie, who desperately grabbed at her daughter in return, burying her face in long red hair as violent sobs wracked her whole body.

Jack, at a loss of what else to do, wrapped his own arms around his girls. Nestling his chin on his daughters hair, he expected the annoyed scoff that Jazz usually gave him for his 'chin noogies', but it never came. Neither Fenton woman pushed him away though, so Jack considered it progress.

Finally, after an age of rocking and sobbing, Maddie's muffled words escaped through strands of Jazz's hair.

"Where is he? W-where'd he go, where'd he go?"

A deep chill coursed through Jack's veins, Danny? Had something happened to Danny? Jack pulled away, a million questions thrumming through his mind.

What happened? Was he missing? Was he hurt? Had he run away, been kidnapped, been kill- no. Jack shook his head violently, running a hand through the shorts strands of his thick hair. No he couldn't be. He couldn't be he couldn't be.

Jack's mouth was on the verge of catching up to his brain, multiple questions bubbled at his lips when he heard a voice echo down the stairs.

"Jazz?"

Jack took a steadying breath and grasped at the counter for support, relief flooding his body as his son rounded the corner and came into view. Danny was fine, Danny was safe. He had been fretting over absolutely nothing.

Then Danny's eyes locked into his.

A number of emotions flickered across his son's face, the first being a brief moment of sheer relief and delight, but it didn't last. Soon, too soon, Danny's dark brows pulled together and his lips curled sourly in confusion before a new expression swept it away. It was one Jack had never seen before.

He felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room, an icy chill prickled up his arms as the sudden wave of absolute horror overtook Danny's face. Jack couldn't tell if his son was about to break down crying or scream.

And then it was over. The tension in Jack's limbs released as Danny's face flattened into an unnaturally blank expression, he dropped his gaze and continued his way over to Maddie and Jazz. Once again it was like Jack wasn't even there.

Danny placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Maybe you should do another lap around town, you might find something today." he spoke softly into her frazzled hair.

Jazz looked at Danny strangely, her brother sent her back a glance that must have held some meaning because she then gripped Maddie tightly around the shoulders and led her straight out of the house, and suddenly Jack recalled that he still didn't know who it was that had gone missing.

"So... is anyone gonna tell me what's going on?" the jovial tone Jack meant to use came out flat and strained, Danny didn't look even remotely amused.

"I think you should sit down." Danny said quietly. He was no longer meeting Jack's eyes as he pulled out a chair for himself and one for his father.

Jack took the offered seat and prepared himself for the worst, obviously someone dear to Maddie and the kids had gone missing, Jack ran a list of all the people they knew, preparing himself for the worst, it was obvious Danny did not want to tell him what had happened. Perhaps whoever was missing was someone that Jack in particular had been close to? Was that the reason behind the horrified look on Danny's face? Because he'd realised he was going to have to be the one to tell him?

Something in Jack's gut told him he was on the wrong track, but try as he might he just couldn't imagine what else it could possibly be.

Jack kept his eyes on his son as the boy's thin torso straightened up in his chair and his icy blue stare bored into Jack's. Danny took a deep breath, then took several more, eventually he seemed almost ready to speak, Jack didn't rush him.

"Dad... you're dead."

[austarus]

HR Wells x Reader - Reversal of Denouement

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes​ for being my beta reader.

Word Count: 8251

MASTERLIST

A low groan left HR's lips. His body felt numb, his chest ached - tingled as his heart beats steadily. Is it beating? The darkness of his eyelids eased the stinging coming from his mind – it wasn’t so bright. The headache formed there. His body screamed at him as the novelist made the slightest of movement. His left shoulder in particular had protested in desperate agony. He couldn’t move it very much, the area succumbed to restraints of some sort. HR’s throat felt raw as his body throbbed, the blood coursing meticulously through his blood vessels. The sound of a soft voice greeted his ears, but his eyes refused to open.

"I... you, HR... even if... see it." The voice was so familiar, so gentle. So sweet. "Should... better." A drop of water hit his numbed hand, static still prominent there from the little movement his body had done. “I wish…” The dark-haired doppelganger could only understand fragments of what the speaker was saying. He felt a pressure on his hand, tender skin holding onto his before something tickled his forehead. Feather-light. What was it? Who was it? A few moments passed and he heard nothing, the novelist only assumed that the voice’s owner had left. He didn’t want to be alone right now though, not with the darkness.

It had become unbearable.

Since... Since when did…? How...? Oh. Right. Savitar... Am I dead? Is this where spirits wait for their turn to pass into their designated afterlife? Have I really...? Events from earlier resurfaced to his mind, his senses coming together. Right, had to protect Iris. For Barry – it was my fault Savitar had gotten to her. My big mouth. Even if Barry didn't really see me as a helpful friend. At least... At least I proved Savitar wrong, who ironically is a version of Barry. That's hella twisted. He huffed out a breath before venturing back into the calmness of sleep. Maybe a little more rest will help?

***

HR cracked an eye open: this time, harsh filtered light had greeted him. The novelist grunted in pain, adjusting himself slightly to assess where he was. What day was it? What was the time? How long have I  been here? A yawn left his lips this time, his throat and mouth as dry as a desert.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up?” HR’s eyes met Cisco’s, who stood with a tablet in hand. “How’s sleeping beauty feeling?”

The Wells doppelganger cleared his throat. “Like I’ve gotten assaulted by an Amtrack bus, and not the good kinds.” HR’s baby blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the flower vase that was set on a table near him. Blue forget-me-knots and pink hydrangeas stood proudly in their vases, nurtured well. HR felt his heart swell, his eyes not daring to leave the delicate petals that accented the med bay in better tones. Cisco handed him a cup of water to which HR downed it immediately.

“Amtrack does trains.”

“Not on my Earth, Francisco.” The author couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lingering on the flowers once more. “Did Tracy bring those?”

Cisco pursed his lips, an odd look present on his face. He wanted to tell HR, but… “No. Um, she didn’t.” Tracy had been visiting, though it had become some sort of a nuisance to all her complaining at this point. She hadn’t even known HR for that long, anyway.

“Oh?” His shoulders dropped subtly in disappointment. “They’re beautiful, I was just wondering and…”

“Let’s just say, a special someone’s been… dropping by and bringing a new flower each day. That’s all you’re getting from me, Aurora.” Cisco reasoned with the Wells doppelganger. The mechanical genius knew, but it wasn’t his place to say. It killed him, but… “I wouldn’t move around too much, if I were you. You’ve got a fractured shoulder and that chest wound. I’ve been told to relay the message that you’re to be on strict bed rest until that shoulder further heals.” HR lowered his gaze to see the cross-body sling. He clenched his slinged hand and unclenched it to bring some feeling into the limb.

“What about my chest?”

“Miraculously, that’s been healing really well since day one.” Cisco kept the talk real, showing the injured doppelganger the schematics and pictures. “You got lucky that it missed your heart by a centimeter.” A stab wound like that should have… I wonder if she knows that I know.

HR blinked at the seriousness in his injury, the looming idea of death from his decision. “How long was I out?”

“A week and a half.”

“What?” HR’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I-”

“HR!” Tracy’s sudden voice pierced the room, stunning Cisco and triggering an ache in HR’s head. The grad scientists shuffled over to him, both forgetting that Cisco was in the room. “HR, my love, how are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there any pain?” He continued checking his friend’s vitals and adjusting dosages to the IV and morphine administered – as per your request. The room was growing ever louder with HR and Tracy. Tracy embraced him, minding his injuries as she continued to fuss over him. It made the Wells writer smile, yet… his heart didn’t swell as much as it used to.

Odd.

Cisco sent you a quick text while the two were preoccupied, but you were already at the Labs. You stopped just outside the entrance, the wall and dimly light hallway obscuring you from who remained in the med bay. They wouldn’t be able to see you from where you stood.  A shaky breath left you as you clutched the Freesia flower in hand. Your heart shriveled in your chest as you backtracked. Hearing his voice is enough. After all, with Tracy around you couldn’t be near him – those dirty and hateful looks she’d send you. Best to keep my distance, I guess. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him though, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart and would never reciprocate your love. You pushed down the lump in your throat. Hastily, you sent Cisco a text to check on the flowers. Silently, you trailed away from the med bay and to the upper levels of STAR Labs. I wonder if he liked the flowers. Standing at such altitude with the wind blowing lightly had calmed you a bit. Looking down at the flower, you gripped it tightly before you began to pick off the petals one by one. The little moments you had with the goofy novelist surfaced to the forefront of your mind with each petal you held. Your little curious escapades. The little talks. The nights you’d visit him when Tracy wasn’t around.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” You murmured, a stray tear trickled down your cheek. The freesia symbolizes unconditional love and honor. “He loves me, he loves me not,” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

***

A frown presented itself on HR’s lips as he tilted his head to crack his neck. The crack relieved him tremendously. It didn’t make sense. The novelist mused to himself, setting aside the current chapter draft he was working on. The voice I heard was… different. It didn’t sound like Tracy’s. HR couldn’t get that voice out of his mind – the tenderness that was laced in the tone of that voice. Nothing like the slight shrill in Tracy’s. He eyed the flowers once more that day, their presence was prominent. If Tracy hadn’t brought those, then who had?

The team had helped situate HR in his room in order to vacate the med bay should another imminent event occur. He had overheard Cisco tell Wally that you were preoccupied with something in Star City – a bit of disappointment twinged inside him. HR had taken up doing bits of physical therapy for the rest of his body without moving his shoulder as much. His shoulder and arm remained in a crossbody sling. The flowers sat on his bedside counter; he tended to them as best as he could with the limited movement he had. Tracy protested that they don’t need to be around, but the novelist was vehement on keeping the plants. HR won’t deny the fact that he had gotten annoyed several times with her around when he needed thinking space for his writing. He couldn’t write with noise and nonsensical chatter, especially if it’s mainly coming from someone who doesn’t want to really listen to his input. She’d go on and on about her scientific research and such, but wouldn’t hear a word from HR regarding his writing. The longer the novelist was confined to his room for rest, the more he had time to think – to contemplate. Yes, he liked Tracy, but… it just seemed that she didn’t really see HR. She does all the talking; she doesn’t really ask about how I feel about things or ask me about my life, even things about Earth-19… It’s like she doesn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face. It’s not even my face that Tracy sees, just Randolph’s. Was I too quick to jump at the first person who showed interest in me? Had I rushed into ‘forever’ with her?

He tabled those thoughts for now. HR reached for his laptop; one hand opened it to start it up. While the device loaded, he grabbed his black-clear glasses and set them on his face. If anyone saw him as such, they wouldn’t be able to tell the physical difference between him and his handsome, yet grumpy doppelganger. Except for the eyebrow scar, but that was obscured by the glasses. HR did a couple of searches with a concentrated look. Surely, it was the person with that… angel-like voice.

“Hydrangeas,” HR whispered as his eyes skimmed over the text that had popped up. “The hydrangea represents gratitude, grace and beauty. It also radiates abundance because of the lavish number of flowers and the generous round shape. Its colors symbolize love, harmony and peace.” The Wells doppelganger scrolled further. “Pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions.” Interesting. HR continued his research, glancing at the other flower type that resting in the vase. “Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness.” A particular link caught his eye, he clicked on it. The novelist read to himself the text once more, “Based on Christian lore, the story about forget-me-nots is that God was walking in the Garden of Eden. He saw a blue flower and asked it its name. The flower was a shy flower and whispered that he had forgotten his name. God renamed the flower as forget-me-not saying that He will not forget the flower.”

HR swallowed thickly; contrary to popular belief around here, he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t a science-based genius, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on other aspects of life and had basic common sense. The author was emotionally intelligent and intact with the world around him. These flowers weren’t picked out on accident. But who would do that? Who doesn’t want me to forget about them? The dark-haired man shook his head slightly as he shut his laptop. A surge of sadness welled inside him at the notion of ‘being forgotten’. Who had he done that to? He’d get to the bottom of this mystery in due time. Right now, I need to jog my memory on what I was writing. A hand found a rough draft paper, his eyes scanned over the words he had typed out. His brows creased as the written notes he’d made on the paper as well. (Y/N) … I had… What had I been writing about again? The novelist read each line, each note he had made no drafts and scratch paper.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up as realization hit him the more he had read on. The drafts, the notes, all of it – the little novel he had been writing regarding his adventures. But this particular part of his story – the ‘angel’ in his story. The one who stuck by him since coming here, the one who had given him a safe space… And the one he hadn’t seen since waking up. How could he forget? HR lowered the paper; his eyes became half-lidded as guilt shot through him. Before Barry had gone to the future and gotten hints of Tracy with her Speed Bazooka, HR had been working on his book. A book that he had pushed off to stick with Tracy and help in any way that he can to make the speed weapon possible. He had gotten distracted from doing the things he loves. A few conjectures arose in his mind as he slipped his glasses off, one arm end pressed to his lips. His heart hammered into his chest; you were among the last faces he had seen before passing out that night.

The irony. How could I forget that (Y/N) was the ‘angel’ in my story?

***

“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” Cisco strolled into the lounge with a cheeky grin. The mechanical genius didn’t take HR for granted anymore, not with the stunt he pulled. No, Cisco willingly checked up on him – not just for you, but for himself. HR had truly become one of his close friends in the end, especially with all the advice about Gypsy. “What are you cooking up this time?”

“Just an omelet with a side of bacon and toast, Francisco,” HR turned to the mechanical engineer who continued to tinker away at the schematics to get Barry out of the Speedforce. He offered Cisco some with a gesture only for the scientist to politely decline. “I haven’t seen (Y/N) anywhere. Um, is she also…?”

“Oh, you know how she’s like. Either up in the vents or chilling in her birds’ nest on the roof. And on that note, our resident hummingbird has become quite the firecracker.”

HR raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How so?”

“She punched Savitar square in the face then decked him multiple times over when Barry brought him in. Harry had to be the one to pull her away – well, more like carry her away kicking and screaming bloody murder at him. It sounded badass; wish I had been there to see it.”

The Wells doppelganger gritted his teeth at the mental image of Harry carrying you – touching you. The thought ruffled his feathers for some reason.  HR expertly masked his irritation, turning the stove off and assembling the food on his plate. “Why?”

“Because he hurt you, HR.”

“…”

“He almost killed you.” And that was unforgivable, especially to her. “We almost lost you. She almost lost you.”

A rough sigh escaped HR as Cisco had sent him a knowing look before exiting the STAR Labs lounge. The Earth-19 man chewed on the inside of his cheek. Only a fool would misunderstand Cisco’s subtle intentions. HR knew what he had to do – he’d been reflecting on his time here, thinking about the people around him, about the relationships he’s formed. The novelist glanced outside – the sun shined, the birds chirped, and the trees rustled with the wind. 

And the world continues to move on.

***

“When are you going to tell him?”

“…” You tensed at the abrupt voice. You snapped your head up, eyes darting to find Cisco approaching you with pocketed hands in his gray-black jacket. He wore a Bulbasaur shirt. The clouds surged by with the intensity of the breeze. Your hair blew over your shoulders slightly. Tilting your head, you turned back to watch the city. Days had passed and you refused to see HR, content on what Cisco had been telling you. He’d been recovering tremendously well, but… you didn’t really want to hear about what he and Tracy were up to. It wounded you. “Tell who, what?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Ms. I’m-going-to-put-my-feelings-in-a-box.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ohohohoho, no. I am tired of the love eyes, the lingering gazes, the pining. It ends.” Your best friend came to sit down next to you with that frustrated look on his face. “I know you have powers.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his accusation. “I know you used your powers to heal HR.” You bit down on your lip, not wanting to validate his statement. Cisco saw “I analyzed the wounds, looked at his healing at a microscopic level. I’m not Caitlin, but even I can pick up a few things. His cells were excelled to heal, but there were residues of your genetic markers at the wound point. You stitched his wounds together, cell-by-cell. My point is: why didn’t you say anything? Your powers are a-”

“-A curse.”

“What?”

“They’re a curse.” You threw a hard look at Cisco, making sure your hands wouldn’t touch him. “I can’t be playing God, Cisco. And… it’s unpredictable, volatile. I could either heal the life in my hands or take it away. I could rip someone ‘cell-by-cell’, Cisco. There’s no ‘in between’, not this time. He got lucky with my powers. He got lucky I didn’t make things 100% irreversible.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Cisco eyed the gloves you wore; it wasn’t the season for leather gloves.

“Because I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“You don’t want to give yourself false hope, you mean.”

“…I can’t even heal a plant, Cisco. No matter how hard I tried, it wilted further. It’s a curse.”

“That’s not guaranteed every time, you know. It takes practice – discipline to get your powers to work with you instead of for you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his gaze to the flock of birds drifting through the wind. “You know, he broke up with Tracy.”

“Ok?”

“Happened a week ago. She didn’t take it well and let me tell you. Tracy Brand was livid – the rage and yelling were off the charts. I think she has Harry beat. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, it was too superficial to begin with.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to sound uninterested, but deep down you were relieved. You heard a little ring in your ear. You wondered…

“She’s gone, won’t be coming here anymore.

“Ok.”

“So, go make your move.”

You turned abruptly to face him. “Cisco, have you thought that maybe HR doesn’t want to dive into a relationship right away? That… maybe he needs space to focus on himself?” All were things you had contemplated for yourself before.

“And what better way to do that than with a new roommate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise, you’re getting a temporary roommate while we fully fix up things around the labs. I volunteered you since you have the space and the patience to deal with HR.” Your blood froze in your veins.

“Francisco Ramon, I am going to-”

“-Thank me, you’re going to thank me.” He had already breached away before you had the chance to strangle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the idea of HR living with you, even if it was a temporary living arrangement. You scolded your heart for beating loudly in your chest. One hand gripped tightly to your other. An audible sigh escaped you as your mind played with the idea.

Shit, what am I going to do?

***Day 1***

Cisco blew out an exhausted breath, setting down another box on top of a box in the guest room. You and the mechanical genius had been breaching back and forth with HR’s things as said novelist was crippled. His arm would take about another four weeks to heal. About 20 percent of shoulder fractures are displaced and may require some type of manipulation to restore normal anatomy. Occasionally the rotator cuff muscles are injured or torn at the same time as the fracture. Fortunately for HR, his rotator cuff muscles weren’t as damaged. This can further complicate the treatment. Therefore, in that time, HR would just be handling the lighter stuff, bless his heart. The novelist entered the room with his black backpack slung over his functioning shoulder – it was the last thing that he could carry.

“I think there’s one more box left,” HR pointed with his thumb towards his back direction, the breach closing behind him.

“I’ll go get it, not a problem. Why don’t you two get started on unpacking, huh?” HR shrugged with one shoulder and stepped away to set his bag down by the bed. Cisco threw a cheeky look your way when HR had his back turned, his eyebrows wiggling. ‘Have fun love birds,’ the scientist had mouthed at you. You flicked him off with a deadpanned look. Instantly you dropped it when the Wells doppelganger turned as Cisco snickered before he breached away. He gave you a confused look, but you waved it off.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For allowing me to stay obviously. And for all the help since I’m, well, a bit tangled up at the moment.”

He was referring to the cross-body sling that clung onto him like a spider. HR rubbed the back of his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the motion in that gray short-sleeve shirt. Calm the fuck down, it’s just a toned muscle. You’ve seen things like that before.  The puppy-like smile HR sent you had your cheeks warming up. The gentle smile that made your heart melt all over again. You cleared your throat as you reached for a box. “It’s no big deal, HR.” Undoing the tape seal with scissors, you opened the box- and the first thing you see are a pair of handcuffs accompanied by a silky black blindfold.

“What’s in the box?”

A little noise left you as you shut the flaps of the box, trying to seal it again. The flaps remained downward in the box. “Nope, nothing. Just some clothes here. I’m going to get that one box from the living room.” You had backtracked right into the door, your nose throbbed in response at the collision. “Ow,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the skin.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine,” your response was quick, but not rude. A deep chuckle made its way to your ears as you scrambled out the room, your heart hammering in your chest. Your thoughts scolded you for being so awkward and flustered around him. Be cool, just chill out… The man you’re hopelessly in love with is just living with you temporarily, it’s not like anything will amount from this. You picked up the last box in the living room, hoping that just clothes would be in here and not anymore kink toys. I mean… I have toys, too. AW SHIT, I HAVE TO HIDE THEM!

HR’s eyes never left you as you made your panicked exit. He let out a little breath before shuffling over to the box you had been attending to. Immediately, he face-palmed hard when he had opened it with one hand. His face felt impossibly hot at what you had seen. She must think I’m an idiot or something. His mind thought back to when you helped him shop for some new clothes then it had gotten ruined from a meta. His hand fell away from his face, the image of your kind grin imprinted in his mind. I am an idiot, though. A fool.

Once Cisco returned, you three continued unpacking HR’s things for the time he’d spend here. The labs were still in ‘piss-poor’ shape according to Cisco and that he’ll need to consult with Harry and Wally regarding repairs.

“HR, how are you showering?”

“Um, like a normal person?” A dumbfounded look crossed HR’s features as he set the plate of sandwiches down. The novelist had knitted his eyebrows at Cisco. He had taken up to experimenting in the kitchen when he wasn’t writing. The tea and coffee were still brewing in your kitchen.

“No, I mean with how your shoulder is injured,” Cisco snuck an evil look at you, you returned it with a glare, “must be hard handling it alone.” You knew exactly where this dumbass wanted to take this conversation, so you stayed silent as to not get caught in the crossfire.

HR thought to himself for a moment. “Just a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the mild discomforts and pain. I can mostly reach everything thanks to my long limbs. But I think the nice thing is that it’s an internal issue, not an external one. An external injury or wound would require me to really have help with showering that way the area doesn’t get infected or irritated with the contents of soaps.” A laugh fell from his lips, but his mind wondered what his friend was playing at while you were around.

“I’m just saying, if you ever need a hand well,” Cisco trailed off with a smirk, chomping on his third sandwich.

Oh, I see. Devious, but a futile effort. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one I ask for help,” HR teased with a smirk of his own for Cisco to drop his in disgust. A cough escaped you, which had HR’s eyes land on you. Your eyes met for a moment before you deviated your gaze. HR felt hypnotized for a moment. Hm… The engineer quickly recovered from HR’s snide remark.

“Alright kids, I’ll be going now. The labs require some diligent work that I, a capable and distinguished engineer, could only do.”

“Yet, we still have the occasional security issues,” You sipped your tea once the snarky comment was out. HR stifled a chuckle, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at the notion.

“Hey, that’s not fair. They always come up with something new to invade our space by.” Cisco pointed a finger at you, mocking a hurtful expression on his face. It dropped into a sneaky smile. “Make good choices and always use protection, you two!” He breached away before you could throw your cup at him.

***Multiple Days Pass***

Through his time here, you noticed HR fueled to write what’s on his mind in the guest room. You could only assume that he continued his adventure story. Sometimes he would venture out for some coffee or take a walk to give his creativity a break. Keeping that in mind, you gave HR the space he needed as well as all noises to a minimum. You knew he liked the quiet atmosphere to pour his heart and soul into words as he did research for a scene. Pulling your jacket on, you compiled a list of groceries before you stepped out of your apartment. Locking the door, you headed out to the store picking up a few necessities as well as some snacks for HR. Like Harry, the novelist can easily lose himself in his task – which meant that he tended to forget about eating and such. You found a bag of Jitters coffee beans, adding it to your cart of items. Buying some snacks and fruit, you’d leave a note in the kitchen of the snacks when he emerged from his writing cave.

On the way back, you stopped by at Iris’ studio to check up on her. A few groceries for her as well were in hand. Cecile and you did your best to visit Iris. But you can’t deny that you blamed her to a certain extent. Had she spoken up once she had left Savitar’s place disguised as HR, HR wouldn’t have been hurt that night on Infantino Street. Surely, she could have contacted her father or Cisco or something. The transition could have been smoother. HR wouldn’t have been… The journalist was faring; she pushed through the pain and as Barry had told her ‘to keep living’. So, Iris did. She hadn’t been herself since Barry went into the Speedforce – she pushed too much, the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes sometimes. You sympathized; she lost the love of her life. But you almost had too.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, just… taking it one day at a time.” You nodded at her response, a small smile on your face. “How are things with you and HR? I heard of the temporary living conditions.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m in my bubble and he’s in his doing his writing.”

“Right. Nothing going on whatsoever?”

“Iris.”

Iris set her cup of hot chocolate down and raised both hands in mock defeat. “We all saw it. We all see it.”

“See what?”

“How smitten you are for him.”

“I’m not-”

“-Don’t say you’re not. If you weren’t you, Harry wouldn’t have to pry you off Savitar before you clawed his eyes out.”

“…” You just looked into your tea, the honey that settled at the bottom. Iris placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t look at her.

“The heart will want what it wants, (Y/N). Pushing your feelings into a box and denying it out loud won’t change things.”

“I know.”

And my heart wants him, over and over again. Even if he can’t see me.

***

HR tapped his pencil against the desk at a steady pace. His mind wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, on the scene he wanted to set. Instead, it kept drifting further from it. Further towards you: your eyes, your smile, the kindness that you held; the serenity that your existence held as the world continued to turn and chaos had unfolded at each turn. HR didn’t see much of you while he was here, the novelist missed your company. You were here, but you weren’t really here. You were either in your room or at the balcony with a book or on the couch with your Switch. He didn’t want to bother you, but… sometimes HR just wanted to sit beside you and pull you close to talk. To hold you in his arms and ask you about your day, to understand what you were thinking. HR cracked his back in a stretch from where he sat on his bed, being mindful of his injured shoulder. It didn’t hurt as it had originally done a few weeks back. The Wells doppelganger noticed that you were careful to avoid touching him or him touching you. Not even a hug that you used to graciously give him. You were especially guarded with your hands. A rough sigh left him as he threw his pencil down. The frustration was setting in, he was getting nowhere. You consumed his thoughts. HR wondered if you were revolted by him but doesn’t verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t think you’d give him your truthful answer. Maybe she is revolted by me. She did find the cuffs and the blindfold… No, she knew about the cuff stage thing well before that.

The sound of the front door greeted his ears followed by the soft tune of music. A frown made its way onto his face. Might as well take a break. HR stretched once more when he fully stood up, a little noise of relief left his lips. He cracked his back once more before smelling himself. For safe measure, the novelist sprayed a bit of cologne on himself and turned off the candle he had on. He mentally noted to take a shower after dinner since his last was yesterday. He liked the feeling of being clean, to be honest. HR carded a hand through his hair. I need a haircut soon, too. Yeesh, I feel like I’m letting myself go. Once I’m all healed it’s back to proper cuts and the labs’ recreation room. He wanted to go back to lifting weights and doing yoga for body stability purposes – especially now because of his shoulder. HR rested a hand on his chest, the wound had healed completely, but a scar remained. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw the groceries on the table and heard you whisper along with the lyrics. The music was set to a low level that your whispers were audible enough. He watched you sway a bit with the tune.

So please don't break my heart

Don't tear me apart

I know how it starts

Trust me I've been broken before

Don't break me again

I am delicate

Please don't break my heart

Trust me I've been broken before

The guitar tune pulled at his heart, feeling the raw emotion behind the lyrics. He eyed you for a moment. HR cleared his throat to make his presence known, he knew you didn’t like to be snuck up on. However, a little gasp left you from where you were. “You went out shopping?”

You looked up from where you crouched to put away the cereal. “Uh yeah, we were running low on some stuff.” You shut the cabinet and went to the other items you had bought. The music continued to delicately play.

“Need any help?”

“Um, sure. Uh, just set these into the cabinet on the left.” Normal, be normal. He’s not going to eat you or anything. Distance is good. Distance keeps you safe. You didn’t meet his eyes, the eyes that’d pull you in and never let you out – your heart shook with him here and the song that played. You were hoping HR wouldn’t come out while you prepped dinner to have a sort of peace of mind. The next song played before you could stop it-

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt

Come closer, I'll give you all my love

If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything

“I like this song,” HR started as he was finishing up with putting his side of the groceries away. Another guitar-like song that brought out the soft feelings of love and rejection. HR mused to himself if fate had planned this out. If this was some sort of sign or a cruel joke… You had stopped yourself from clicking the button to skip the song at his comment. You don’t know what possessed you to let him indulge in another song that you’ve cried to late at night. “Hey, I can cook dinner tonight. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. I’m not that crippled so I can manage with a few cookware.” HR chuckled to himself, a goofy grin on his face. Your heart leapt in your chest; his grin caused a small smile to pull at your lips. “You can wash up first?”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting his icy blues. You felt your cheeks warm up slightly as the nerves crawled up your spine. “Oh, ok. Cool, yeah. Can’t wait to see what you cook up.” You nodded, ducking your head away and shuffling out of the kitchen with that shy smile on your face. You missed the longing look he had sent you as you fastened your steps to head to your room.

God I love that smile. What goes on in that little head of yours? We used to be so close… before Tracy came into the picture. HR pulled out the spices and the chicken breast. He shook his head and proceeded to prep the food with his one useful hand. I need to consult Francisco.

***

“We need to talk,” HR’s voice broke the silence in the side lab of the Cortex. He had breached to the labs using the Breach Extrapolator after he had showered and such. His damp hair was pushed back in HR’s normal style.

“About what?” Cisco raised a concerned eyebrow at the writer, stopping what he had been doing.

“(Y/N).”

A nervous laugh left Cisco as he went back to attempting to make the necessary modifications to the Speed Bazooka. Tracy was reluctant to help the mechanical engineer after the breakup. “What about (Y/N)?” Cisco put down his screwdriver. “Did you do something weird to her?”

“What? No! I- we used to be closer. We always talked, we’d hang out after a long day here at the labs.”

“Uh huh.”

“And, maybe it’s just me, but things have changed.”

“How so?” Cisco was wondering what conclusion HR was leading himself to.

“Things changed when Tracy came into the picture.”

Cisco made a little ‘o’ with his mouth with a little nod before closing it. He pushed a rough sigh past his lips, he was getting really tired of this puppy love game. “Why do you think that?”

“Francisco, she flinches when I get close – almost when I touch her… Does she hate me?”

“I think you and I know the answer to that one. But I think the real question should be: Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you? Do you love her, HR?”

The novelist tensed a bit. “…” HR pursed his lips as Cisco walked around the table that the speed weapon was mounted on. Blueprints were scattered on one table while the glass board held variables and equations he could not decipher. “What?”

“I said what I said,” the mechanical genius smoothly responded. One look at HR and Cisco knew that he was baffled by his forward words. But they needed to be said. “Now run along and use that head of yours to think about what your heart wants. Barry isn’t going to get himself out of the Speedforce.”

***

Cisco’s words mulled through HR’s mind as he breached back to your apartment’s living room.  Only the lamp light on the side table was on. HR’s eyes landed on you, who laid on the couch with the book you had been reading on the back ledge of the couch. The novelist took off his shoes and set down his bag. He had detoured to the bookstore, looking for the next installment of your current book. The Wells doppelganger had assumed you didn’t buy it yet as it was vacant from your bookshelf. The gentle giant stepped silently closer to you; the dim light cast over you like a glow. There were slight bags under your eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Spotting a large and fluffy blanket near, HR grabs it and lays it on top of you. He remembered you mentioned to him prior that you easily get cold, especially at night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, HR contemplated something before his body moved impulsively. The novelist placed a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips lingered for a few more seconds. Pulling back, HR watched your chest rise and fall.  He turned the light off and stumbled over to his room with his phone light guiding him. He knew what he was going to write. Cisco’s question pestered him enough though.

Do you love her, HR?

HR took one look out his door before shutting it, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he whispered, “Goodnight, my angel.” Only the shadows that lingered were a witness to the fondness laced in those simple words.

***

You woke up with a start, you hand instantly smacking right into your chest. Heavy breaths left you as your nerves were in overdrive. Cold sweat beaded your skin as you gasp for air. It was another night terror – the same one for a few weeks now; a new way in which you caused HR’s death. Swallowing thickly, you screw your eyes tightly shut and whisper the mantra that calmed you down. After a few minutes, you started to regain control of your breathing – the thoughts that ravaged your mind finally ceased like the tides subsiding after a tsunami. You blinked languidly, hating nights like these. They weren’t rare, but they weren’t an uncommon occurrence. Deciding that you needed to step out for some air, you did so with the intent of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Your fingers found the lights for the dimmers in your room, setting it to its lowest setting for you to see yourself out.

Cracking the door open, you were instantly met with the scene of HR passed out on the couch again. He’s been doing that for around two weeks now, the couch his new base of operations. His mouth was slightly open as little snores escaped him. A lovestruck smile crossed your features at the sight. Papers were littered around him, on the ground, and on the tables. Must be the manuscript he’s working on for his final draft. I hope I can read it at some point. Coming back from the kitchen with the water in hand you couldn’t help but stop to admire the sight. You noticed the glasses still perched on his face. Moving as silent as a ninja, you inched closer to pull off the glasses from his face. They’ll break if he keeps them on while he sleeps. Then he won’t see for shit when reading things. You nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted to the papers. One peek won’t hurt anyone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Seating yourself on the ground, you leaned your back against the foundation of the couch. You were opposite to where HR’s upper body was. If there were any telltale signs of him waking, you’d hightail out before he could fully wake up and process what you were doing. Picking up a small stack, you started sifting through them. Your mind became engrossed with the words – the beginnings of the story he had spun about his adventures as to how he came to Earth-1. Then… mentions of an angel eluded you. It couldn’t be Tracy, could it? I know they broke up, but… on the other hand, it doesn’t mean that he can’t say that she was his angel at the time. Like a character development thing leading to their break up?? Well fuck, I don’t even think he’d mention such a personal thing in his book. I know I wouldn’t… would I? I don’t know. A little smile danced at your lips while you read on about the synonymous things regarding Team Flash that you failed to notice HR rouse from sleep.

“Do you like it?” Lethargy intertwined his words. A stunned noise left you as you clutched the papers. You turned to see HR rubbing his eyes before gazing at you.

I could get lost in those eyes if I stared too long.

“Uh, yeah, its- it’s really good,” you stuttered, setting the papers down in your lap. Embarrassment of getting caught gripped you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind you taking a peek. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of in it.” HR shifted his lithe body to sit next to you on the ground.

“Oh.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s not that important, I’ll be ok.”

“If you say so,” HR’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m here if you want to talk.” You nodded at him, whispering a little thank you. HR ran a hand over his knee, he took a glimpse at you who stared at the papers. He noticed what chapter you hand been reading – the angel was making an appearance in the story. The hair at the back of his neck stood while you thumbed the words on the paper back in forth, just lost in your mind. Your hair was messy from sleep, the bags under your eyes were still there. It killed him how you wouldn’t confide in him anymore. But he didn’t push you. You would open up to him if you wanted to or not, even if he wanted you to do so as so his mind can be at ease with knowing what’s going on with you. Cisco’s question sprang up in his mind once more before he licked his lips, his eyes watching you. “I do.”

You gave HR a strange look. I do, what?

“Tracy wasn’t her.” Realization struck HR the more you whispered with him.

“Huh??”

“I heard this voice before I woke up.” The novelist fully turned to you with intense eyes, the enlightenment in them – the fire that burned brightly. “The tenderness in it could rival any tasteful delight in the multiverse.”

“A voice?”

“Mm, it made me think that only a heavenly deity would have such a voice.” You remained silent as he spoke. “I never got to hear that voice since my coma… until now?”

You tensed at what he was insinuating. “Now?”

“How could I forget?”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“How could I forget about you?” The baritone huskiness in his voice made you melt with the way he said those words. You swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies that raged in the pit of your stomach. “The flowers that were left – beautiful, delicate, yet meaningful. You left those after visiting me.”

“…”

She didn’t deny it. “But you never visited when I was awake because of Tracy.”

“She hates me.”

“And I was too blind to see that until I broke up with her, she threw quite a fit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you must have loved her so much that it would be hard to let go.” She was your angel, after all.

“She didn’t even know me. Truly know me.”

“… Did she hurt you?”

“Slightly, but the bruise is gone.” You and he were silent for a moment. Only the sound of a distant car horn was heard from the streets. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“The flowers, the visit…” HR licked his lips as a rough breath left him. His nerves were climbing, but he needed to do this. “Cisco told me what you did to Savitar when you saw him. How angry you were that Harry had to pry you off him – I was so angry.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know then… but I know now.”

“And?”

“Tracy was never the one written in my story – she didn’t care. She didn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face obsessed with coffee. You did.” HR tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully gauging your reaction. He saw how you tried not to flinch away from him. “Do you hate me?” He asked as he retracted a hand from you, happy that he was at least getting through to you.

“Never could I feel such a way towards you.” You hesitated for a moment before testing the waters. You started to explain, “I- the night you were stabbed by Savitar I… I just broke. I pushed Tracy away, I had Barry rush you back to the labs. You were dying, unconscious on the gurney and… I got to work trying to resuscitate you. I had Cisco take care of Tracy while I worked, I needed space to think clearly, but I couldn’t. When- when the others were preoccupied with Iris’ appearance, I used these powers.” It was now or never. “I was desperate. Your life was hanging by a thread- I didn’t think it was going to work, but nothing else was working. You were bleeding so much. But I had to try. I…” Your glassy eyes locked back on his, your hands pulled close to your body. HR understood now why you never tried touching him. Why you are avoiding getting too close. “Cisco found out, he confronted me. But these powers, life isn’t guaranteed. They’re volatile, unprecedented – regardless of how I feel in the moment the balance can tip between giving a life and taking one.” There was a tightness in your chest as your voice cracked, “I’m cursed, I could hurt you.” I’m dangerous.

“I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do,” HR reached a hand out to hold yours. Tension filled your heart as panic started to settle. “You wouldn’t let yourself hurt me. It would pain you too much.” HR squeezed your slightly shaky hand, his other hand still bound by the cross-sling. “My life is in your hands.”

“How can you trust me so much?”

“Because love cannot be built without a foundation of trust.” He placed a sweet kiss on the knuckles of your hand. “And understanding.” He took the other and kissed it, baby blue eyes shifted back to yours with such intense emotion. The adoration that filled the author to the brim for you. Just for you. Only you. The one who saw him for everything and anything that he is. His safe space – the one other thing he wanted to be for you as well. He wanted to eliminate any fears that resided in your heart, the pain and doubt that remained.

“Do you hate me?”

HR cupped your cheek tenderly as he leaned close, your heart wanted to stop as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears. Your half-lidded eyes shut slowly as his lips skimmed over your own. “Never in my life, angel,” the novelist whispered as he captured your lips in a tender and sentimental kiss.

Never in my life could I hate the one who my heart has yearned for.

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 10

The Darkling x Reader

*I’ve changed this part like 5 times so if there’s any inconsistencies I do apologize 😝

In a perfect world, you and Aleksander would have spent the day in his luxurious bed surrounded by his soft silk sheets. You felt an overwhelming feeling to open up to him, to tell him everything that happened to you since you saw him last, nearly a century ago, but life has a way to ruin perfect opportunities.

Wars didn't take breaks or vacations, they got more deadly as time went on and each side got more nervous as more people gave their lives to the cause. A solution was necessary and from your understanding, Aleksander still had the same plan as he did all those years ago he just had a different way to go about them. No doubt Alina was at the center of them.

You had business to attend to too. The first on the list was a meeting with the council. The King and his advisors were to be there to 'greet' you with open arms, but you were sure you'd have to put on a quick performance of your abilities to satisfy their curious minds.

Maybe that's why he gave me the shadows, to ensure my position. You quickly brushed off the thought. It didn't really matter to you why he did what he did. You had your shadows back. He claimed protection, but you knew there was a different reason behind it as well. It seemed too quick and too easy in your opinion but who were you to judge what kind of trust he truly had in you. You felt comfort that you always had piece of him wherever you went.

On a lighter note, you could finally wear a black kefta. The thought itself had you quickly leaping out of his bed and skipping to your chambers in a mere robe through the secret passages of the Palace. You didn't want anybody to see you leaving his quarters, not in the state you were in. You needed to grab a Healer and get rid of those very visible marks on your neck that Aleksander took his time creating. He intended to mark you as his own but jokes on him, you never wanted to belong to anybody but yourself.

Time passed and servents scurried in and out of your chambers, carrying information from here there and everywhere. You were already overwhelmed with tasks and your position wasn't even announced to the Palace yet. You were still the mysterious Grisha that served with the Darkling, not for.

Your vanity was covered in papers and reports in handwriting you had trouble reading and your bed had maps strung across it. Aleksander truly meant it when he said he would get you started right away and share his responsibilities as soon as he got the chance.

When the time finally came, you were escorted to the Grand Palace with Aleksander walking right next to you. The conversation was devoted to work and nothing else, Fjerdan intel, rumors of West Ravka and Zlatan, and upcoming skiff journeys but you didn't mind. You were damn good at your job, having started out in the First Army and then joining the Second Army had given you experience not even the General had, it's what made you the first pick when dealing with plans involving otkazat'sya soldiers, they respected you. I wonder if they will now.

You had spent 3 years in the First Army once upon a time. You came from a wealthy merchant family, a family full of drunks and abusers and cowards. You gave up the feeling of a full stomach and duck-feathered beds for the rations of the army once your mother admitted to you being a bastard and not worthy of the family name. What a shame. Look at me now.

You never knew what you could do, but a slip-up with a Tidemaker had you served to the Darkling on a silver platter. He was meaner then, more unforgiving. Your years spent with him after that had changed him, made him better in your eyes. You fell for him, hard, even though there was so much death and destruction in his wake. When you love somebody, it’s easy to see past all of the nasty stuff and focus on whatever is left of the good and Aleksander still had an abundance of if.

You could still remember his cold stare as he asked you what the hell you were. After pleading with him that you didn't know and his Heartrenderer confirming it, he whisked you away to the Little Palace where soon enough you had become his equal, if not his superior.

'I actually wanted to ask you something about one of the Grisha in the Palace. I seen her with Alina, red-hair, big blue eyes... she wore a white kefta?' You said as you wlaked down a mirrored hallway in the Royal building.

'Oh, that's Genya Saffin. She works for the King and Queen.' He said with an underlying tone of irritation.

'What does she do? She wears a white kefta so I'm just curious'

'She's a tailor. Member of the Corporalki. She should be wearing red, I know. But trust me the time will come' He ushered us both into a guarded room of glitering gold and pearly white walls. So tacky. I could make out the king slumped in an overdone throne-like chair.

'Moi tsar' you and Aleksander bowed much to your distastes. You hoped nobody had seen the brief look of disgust wash over your face as the Lanstov King rose and gave his advisors a raised eyebrow, signalling to you. A man wearing a navy uniform looked at you like a piece of meat ready to be devoured. I'm gonna throw up.

'Deputy General Y/L/N is it?' He took your hand in his own sweaty one gave it a wet kiss. 'You Grisha are always easy on the eyes aren't you?'

You took a step back and cleared your throat. 'Yes, Moi Tsar, it is an honour to make your acquantance' You tried so hard to keep your fists at your sides.

'And what can you bring to the war table, apart from the newest fashion' He let out an obnoxious laugh and his advisors followed. They all looked smug and spoiled. None of them had any idea what the real world looked like and yet had the audacity to sit this council. I'll show them what it means to be powerful.

Aleksander stepped away to the side and gave you a nod. You slowly unravlled your fist and plunged the room into darkness while simultanseoly blowing a strong wind throughout the space, letting papers fly in all directions and the fire go out. You relit it, and every candle in the room. The man in the navy unifrom got the runt of your powers, as you slowly medled with his heart until he breathed a worried laugh 'Stop it Girl'.

But you didn't stop, you carefully stared at the chair the man sat in and pushed it just enough for him to let out a yell. You accidently let out a chuckle that was meant to be in your head. You felt Aleksander move toward you 'All right, that should be enough' He said visibly amused too. You let it all drop.

'It's Deputy General to you' You looked at his fearful face that tried to cover by fixing his jacket and whiping away invisible dust off of his shoulder.

'I must say I am impressed. With the Sun-Summoner and... you, we will have West Ravka and the surroundings begging for our alliances.' He sat down on his chair once again and pointed to an empty one across from him and to the right of Aleksander, who unbeknownst to you had already seated himself.

'Please, Deputy General, do take a seat, we have business to tend to'

****

A painful 2 hours later you and Aleksander walked out of the Grand Palace. You had a headache and your hands hurt from clentching them so hard.

'I'm assuming you sitting the King's meetings for me is off the table now?' Aleksander mused and all you could do was give him a side-eye.

'I think I want to kill him'

'In due time'

You weren't even surprised. If he didn't do it himself you definitely would have taken one for the team. That man is unbearable; like a child in a grown man's body.

As you wallked into your home, Aleksander gently took hold of your wrist and pulled you in the direction of his quarters.

'Come'

Your head was pounding too much to say no so you obliged. The hallways were bare of people, not a Grisha in sight.

You reached his war room doors and walked in after him. He pulled out a map and laid it down.

'I've sent out a First-Army search for the Stag.'

You paused. The headache suddenly gone. Morozova’s Stag. He had tried once before and failed. The weeks following his failure sent him into a frenzy, he questioned Morazovas journals and almost burned them all, but you had gotten to him last-minute. You never doubted the stag to be real. You just never believed he would use it. He's powerful on his own unless- it's for Alina.

You audibly sighed and leaned your back against the table. Alina.

'Does she want it?'

'Does that matter?'

‘Of course it matters!’ You scorned but he stayed silent.

You turned to look at him and whispered 'What are you planning this time?' He had been dropping hints here and there, but so far there was no plan you knew of. 'I can't help you if I don't know the plan'

'No. You're better of not knowing anything. I can't lose you again' you turned you head and looked at his side profile.

'But you need me. I'm powerful, I can lead an army'

'If anything happens you can take over for me then, Deputy.' He cocked a sad smile and left a lingering kiss on your forhead before he left you standing in the war room alone and confused.

Part 11

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal

[uglypastels]

New Beginnings // roommate!au

(a/n) I’m sorry @duskholland for coming up with these aus. the good thing about it is, that I have no self control so here it is, the New Girl!roommate!au :) i’m not gonna say it’s great, and also i’v seen like 5 episodes of the show maybe so it’s definitely my own take on the pilot. hope you like it.

word count: 6.3k

warning: swearing, sexual references (the first paragraph is as bad as it gets), dark humour and mentions of murder, sex trafficking - basically reasons why not to move in with strangers you meet off of craigslist. Please be safe and responsible. but it’s all just fluff and humour. Also, possibly some horrible writing cause i couldn’t bother editing this <3 

“And when I walked into the bedroom I found him in there, completely naked, with some slut sucking his dick… so basically, that’s why I need a new apartment.” You looked around at the three men in front of you, realising you had zoned out a bit there while telling your story. “Sorry, what was the question?” 

“Uhh,” the blonde one, which introduced himself as Harrison earlier, spoke, “Do you have any pets?” 

“Oh,” well that was embarrassing, “No, I mean I had a schnauzer when I was younger and I always wanted to get another one but who am I kidding, nothing will ever live up to Mr Snuzzlekins.” For the love of God, shut up! “No, I don’t have any pets.” You felt your entire face heating up. Suddenly you became very aware of a strand of hair that was in front of your face so you pushed it behind your ear

“Mr Snuzzlekins?” The other one, Tom, laughed with a small smile. 

“My sister named him,” you lied. You were already embarrassed as it was. 

There was a moment of silence where no one knew what to say next, so you decided to break the tension. Awkwardly laughing, you said:  “You know, the funny thing is, I didn’t expect you to be… guys.” That was true. When you had been searching through the Craigslist advertisements there had been a lot of applications for housing but you had ignored most of them because they sounded too much like human trafficking scams or some other creeps looking for a way to get a girl. You had particularly found interest in this apartment, not only because of the actual great (and safe looking) location of the building but also because you had thought that the ad was written by a woman. Not that you didn’t think a woman could murder you, but it did bring a bit more security to you to live with someone of your own gender. 

Well, as you saw three men sitting in front of you, you had guessed that wrong. They did seem nice enough though. Handsome too. You really hoped they weren’t murderers. They wouldn’t do well in prison… also, your death. Not a favourable outcome in the slightest. 

“Why’d you think that?” the third one asked. You had missed his name during the introduction round, but you already felt like you could be good friends with him. His boyish charms made you think he was younger than the other two, though he did have a very small resemblance to Tom. You found it cute how his curls bounced around when he moved his head. 

“Well, the ad, it was phrased… very femini-ninely...” That was definitely too many syllables. Could this interview go any worse? No, probably not. But the guys didn’t seem to mind your momentary idiocy. 

“Oh, yeah, we had our mum write it for us.” Tom explained, sitting a bit more straight up, “We had been trying to find someone else to live with us ever since our friend Tuwaine moved out, but we kind of suck at advertising ourselves, so yeah-” 

“Oh, well that makes sense, yeah.” Their mum wrote it. So they were a family. Brothers? Yeah probably. You didn’t really see how the Harrison guy fit into that since he didn’t look anything like the other two. Shattering blue eyes instead of the warm hazel. Dark blonde hair instead of the reddish-brown. All three had magnificent bone structure that you had to admit, but not in the same way. 

“So, what do you guys do?” you decided to ask. 

“We’re actors,” Harrison said, pointing at himself and Tom. Since you had no heart palpitating reaction when you first saw them, you could probably safely assume that they were still trying to find their break out role. Harrison pointed at the third of their addition before continuing. “Harry is more of a behind the scenes man, photography and directing, that kind of stuff.” 

“That’s… interesting.” You smiled. Were you about to move in with three wannabes? If you were, would it be inevitable that you’d end up paying the rent for all of them because they wouldn’t be able to find gigs? That was a bit harsh. Besides, you could always look for a new place before that happened and move out. And who even said that you could move in, in the first place? “Anything I might have seen you guys in? Or some of your work?” You directed the additional question to...Harry. 

Harry. Harrison. Try to remember that. 

“I’ve had a few roles on the West End, nothing big yet but once I have a role, it’s at least steady for a bit, you know,” Tom said. 

“I’ve mostly been doing headshots for people, so I doubt you’d have seen anything I’ve done.” Harry said. You nodded to his statement. 

“And Harrison has been signed with this fashion designer. You might have seen some ads around town.” Modelling. Not another model to live with. You tried not to let your smile fade. 

“No, sorry, I don’t think I have. But I’ll be on the lookout.” The grin you put up actually reached your eyes genuinely.

“So what about you?” Harrison was the one to ask, not noticing any change in your demeanour. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m a teacher. I know, not very glamorous or anything- and I might sometimes come home with an abundance of ice-lolly sticks- but it’s good fun and it pays well.” You looked around some more around the apartment. As you focused on the spacious living room of the loft, you wondered how these guys could afford it. Were their rich parents paying for it? Was there secretly asbestos in the walls, making rent not even a problem? Were they going to kill you? 

It was a really nice flat. With exposed brick walls and wooden beams at the ceiling, which the guys used cleverly to hang their houseplants from. Even with the large space and the big windows covering the outer walls of the room, it felt very homey. Comfortable. 

“I’m sure you already know, but it’s a really great place you guys got.” Compliments always worked, so that was your way to go to ensure you had a roof over your head soon. Feeling a bit more comfortable now, you decided to get up to walk a bit around the room. The reason for that specific action was unknown to you, but you did it. 

It had been the first day since your breakup that you had actually made an effort in looking presentable. Hair washed and brushed, you had clothes on that had zero Cheeto dust on it. Of course, since these were guys it probably didn’t even matter to them what you looked like but when you still thought you might be living with other women, you were terrified of being denied because of how you looked or something. That could still happen, but they just didn’t seem like the shallow type. And they had seemed really surprised when you appeared at their front door, as if they didn’t expect a girl to show up either. 

All three of them turned their heads as you walked around, following you with their eyes. It was a mix of curiosity and the same fear that you saw in people on competition shows, when they were waiting for the judges’ critique. 

You looked out the window to see the view. It was a lovely lookout on the city. 

“How come your roommate moved out?” Was it your place to ask? You had no idea. They didn’t seem to mind the question, though. 

“He moved in with his girlfriend instead.” Harry was the one to answer. A heart wrenching feeling fell over you. You didn’t know this Tuwaine, or his girlfriend, but a sudden wave of hatred towards them and their happiness overwhelmed you. Why did everyone have to be all happy and in love? It was disgusting. You were sick of it. 

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind living here.” Somehow you managed to speak out without showing any of your feelings through it. You allowed yourself to walk around to the kitchen island. It was recycled wood with a dark varnish on top, making the light from outside shine on it. You could almost see yourself reflecting in it. Were they this clean or had they no idea how to cook? 

“Don’t get me wrong, you seem great, but we don’t really know anything about you yet.” Tom got up and walked up to you. The other two followed his steps. You were now standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, making you feel as if you were a bartender ready to take their orders. 

“There really isn’t much more to tell. I mean, I did just go through a break up, so emotions are uhm… out there. I might be spending the next few weeks watching horrible Hallmark movies, like 4 or 5… a day.” You saw the disgust on Harry’s face and quickly made an attempt at recovery. “But I can do that on my laptop and headphones, so ya know, I’ll be quiet. I’ll be in my room the entire time too, probably, so you might not even notice I’m here.” You tried to sell yourself as un-pathetically as possible. It had come to desperate measures in desperate times. Because, what your (possible) new roommates didn’t know, was that you had already spent the last four weeks looking for a new place, and while there was no luck in that, you had to do with sleeping on the tiny couch of your best friend. 

As if he could actually read your mind, Harrison’s next question was: “So, where have you been living the last few days then? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Not at all,” you said, finding large interest in the pattern of the stained wood. Not looking up at the three men, “I’ve been living with my best friend. She’s great but I just don’t think I'm suited for the life she and her supermodel friends have-” Why did you mention the models? Your eyes shot up to Harrison’s. But it was Harry’s and Tom’s that were wide. 

“Supermodels?” Tom coughed out. You nodded, having leaned in with your elbows on the table, looking rather unimpressed. The way Tom’s hands grabbed for the sleeves of his roommates did not go unnoticed by you. Before you could say anything, he excused himself and the others and they had disappeared into the corridor. Earlier on they had told you that was the way to the bathroom. They were trying to whisper, but weren’t doing a great job at it. You could hear every word perfectly well. 

“What are we thinking, guys?” Tom said, closing the door behind him. When he turned around, Harrison and his brother were rubbing their arms, on the spots where Tom had been a bit too rough on his grip. Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub, while Harrison decided to remain standing,eventually leaning against the tiled wall. There was a bright light in the small bathroom, but the vintage green tiles made it all look much darker. 

“She seems nice.” Harrison spoke up finally. “But I don’t know, she’s obviously a… she. Won’t that be weird?” 

“What do you think, Tom?” Harry asked his older brother, who, even though had been the one to pull them into the bathroom, had not planned on saying much. “You’re the one with experience in living with a woman. So try to cancel out those supermodels for a sec.”

“I don’t know,” Tom bit the inside of his cheek. Before he had moved in with his brother and best friend, he had been living with his then girlfriend, Stacey. They had been together for a while until she had decided that maybe, this wasn’t meant to be after all. Unlike you, though, the apartment had been in his name so he had a place to stay, but he just couldn’t get himself to live alone in a place that was intended on being lived in by two people. So, he moved out. 

“I mean… every girl is different, so I can’t say shit.” 

“I’m really not that bad!” you shouted from the other side of the door, immediately hiding your mouth behind your hands. Now they knew you were listening to their private conversation. The bathroom door opened and Tom’s head popped out. He saw you sitting on the couch. 

“Could you- could you hear all of that?” he pointed back into the bathroom. You nodded, still covering your mouth, scared you would say something else embarrassing. But the guys seemed to be just as abashed. One by one they walked out and came to sit on their basically appointed seats on the sofa. Did they have their own claimed seats? Would you need to be prepared to only sit in one spot of the room forever? Shit, they had all the seats with the window view… 

“So,” Harry said, “when you said supermodels-” but he never got to finish his sentence because Harrison slapped him across the back of his head. You suppressed a small laugh. It didn’t go unnoticed by Tom, who reciprocated the expression. This, in turn, was missed by you. You only looked in his direction a second later, when the smile had slightly faded already. 

“Thanks for saying that whole ‘every girl is different’ thing. Not saying I can’t cook… even if that is going along with the stereotype, but I wouldn’t exactly want to be accepted to live here as a nanny… not that I think you guys can’t take care of yourselves! I mean just look at-” you eyes wandered around them just for a second before coming back on the right track. “- at the apartment. What I mean is- uhh.” 

“Guys are dicks?” Harrison suggested. 

“Yes! No! No, of course not, well some. But I don’t think you guys are. You seem really nice. I’ve just had… experiences with living with other types of guys and that really was not the planned outcome now that I think about it and I don’t know why I can’t shut up now because I have no idea why I’m telling you all this.” 

“Is this Spencer that we’re talking about here?” Tom asked and your eyes shot to his direction, shocking even him. The name had become somewhat of a trigger for you in the last few days. At the last moment, you realised you had actually mentioned his name yourself to them during your introductory story, so that spared you a good bit of humiliation there. You decided to keep quiet. You all did. Great, because this day had not gone awkward enough. Maybe you could sink into the surface of the ground and die there? Then there would be no more reason to find any living space. It would all be over. Yeah, that really didn’t sound too bad even. 

“So, do you wanna see your room?” Harrison broke the silence and his words surprised everyone, even him. You took longer than it should have to comprehend what he had just suggested. 

“What? Uhh, yes! Yes! Oh my god, that would be fantastic. Thank you.” 

“Great,” Harrison clapped his hands on his thighs before getting up. Then he extended one of those hands to you. He led you to the corridor opposite the bathroom, the third door on the left. The door had some scraped paint residue on it and you could see a poor attempt was made at pulling off the scotch tape that held up posters on it or something? It opened up to a room. It wasn’t big or small. The wall color was a nice beige, a bit of a sandy, almost peachy color. You could definitely work with it. 

The guys let you take it in, but also took that moment to give each other death glares, most of them directed at Harrison. 

“What exactly were you thinking?” Tom asked him, this time properly whispering. For extra measure he extended his neck to look into the hallway to see if you were walking out of the room again. 

“Actually, I was thinking about how you had showed up at my door at 2 am when Stacey dumped you.”

“She didn’t dump me. No one was dumped.” Tom denied like always.

“No, you were definitely dumped, mate.” Harry said, not even making an attempt at hiding the amusement in his voice. 

“Anyway,” Harrison ignored the interaction between brothers, “I thought of you and how miserable you were then. She’s probably going through that same thing.” If not worse, he wanted to add, but he also didn’t want to edge Tom’s ego any further. “So, let’s give her a chance.” 

Tom still didn’t seem to be entirely sure. He raised his eyebrow, thinking. He looked once more at the corridor, expecting you to walk out any moment, but you still were in the room. What were you even doing there? The place was entirely empty. 

“Fine,” he gave in, “but if she turns out to be completely psychotic, you’re kicking her out, Haz.” He immediately noticed the wince in Harry’s face. Had he mistimed his words? 

Yes, he had, because you were standing right behind him now. The sight of you made his heart stop for a good second as he went pale. 

“Fucking Christ,” Tom gasped, “if you live here, you’re getting a bell. None of that sneaking around.” 

“Are we talking service, hand, cow, or the kinky cat collar type?” you smirked, knowing you had gotten him completely flustered at your joke. While Harrison and Harry burst out in laughter, Tom didn’t move a muscle. His cheeks and neck, however, had started to turn a lovely rosy colour. He opened his mouth a bit, just to close it up again as he changed his mind. 

_______________________

While you had told them that you would be spending your days crying into a pint of ice cream while watching movies, reality was much more different from that. It was true that you barely left your room, but that was because you were too busy unpacking all your things out and setting up your room. The guys were nice enough to help you bring up the furniture sets and the boxes, which had been lovingly left at the curb of the building by the people from the moving company.

That ordeal had taken up most of Saturday. Your first task was to set up the bed, which Harrison helped you with. You tried to tell him that you didn’t need help, but your words were futile the second you almost dropped a wooden plank on yourself. The flatpacks were easy enough to understand, and unlike what you had done there, you weren’t the worst when it came to building, so all the furniture was set up by the end of Sunday. It meant that you could spend the rest of the week opening boxes and making your room really yours. 

But Monday also meant work, so you only had the afternoons and nights to do it. Together with the fact that you had to leave early for work, meant that the guys really barely saw you. The only sign of your presence would be the music you were playing from your room while doing the unpacking. 

It was the fourth hour of your One Direction sing-a-long that Tom walked into the living room. Harrison popped his head up from his book to look at his friend. He did not look happy. 

“Dude,” he said. The one word already evoked all that Tom wanted to say, but Harrison loved to annoy him. 

“What?” he opened up his book again, pretending not to really pay any attention to Tom. This was made harder when Tom sat down next to him. 

“If I hear What Makes You Beautiful one more fucking time-” 

“Then what?” Harrison still kept his eyes on the words on the pages, not taking in a single word. 

“You have to do something. I can’t take it.” 

“Why do I have to do something?” Harrison closed his book with his finger still between the pages and looked at Tom, just in time to see him narrow his eyes in annoyance. 

“Really? So do you wanna see your room y/n?!” His voice turned higher as he mocked Harrison’s words, following it up by a gagging sound. “You’re the one that got us here. Now, go solve it.” 

“I really don’t mind it. If you’re so bothered, go talk to her yourself.” And with that, Harrison went back to his book. This time actually reading the words. It was enough for Tom to know that the conversation was over. He didn’t even try to argue. He gave Harrison one more glare and got up. While walking to your room, he noticed that Harry had actually been in the kitchen this whole time, listening in on their conversation. He tried to give his little brother a look, hoping for support, but he didn’t get any of that. Harry disappeared behind the doors of a cupboard and Tom went into the corridor, still rolling his eyes. 

When he reached your door, he couldn’t hear you singing anymore. It was just One Direction coming from the speakers. Now, he enjoyed the lads just as much as the next guy, but after a while he just needed it to stop. And coming in in five hours was definitely a while. 

He knocked on the door. There was a sound that resembled you. A bit of a murmur that formed no particular word. It didn’t sound like a denial though, so slowly, in case you didn't want him to come in, he opened the door. 

You were quick in decorating the room. Only a few days ago it was still empty and a bit cold looking, now the walls were covered with posters and pictures. You had used one entire wall just for your bookcase. There didn’t seem to be an order on the shelves just yet, but you left that for the last thing to do since the rest of the room seemed a bit more important at the moment.

The bed was unmade, with several pillows thrown about over it. Behind it the headboard, which simultaneously served as a shelf. Stuffed animals and a few more books were strewn about. Overhead were fairy lights, matching the ones on the doorframe and on the bookcase. Together with the lamp that was on the desk, it was the only light in the room. Since it was dark, it gave the room a warm and cozy atmosphere. 

But the first thing that Tom noticed when he walked into the room was the smell. Coconut? It wasn’t overwhelming, just strong enough to be pleasantly surprising and noticeable. 

You were standing on a small step ladder, which you usually used to reach the upper shelf of your bookcase (high walls gave the opportunity for more shelves, which you could never say no to). You were in the middle of hanging up a picture on the wall as the song from your speaker continued. 

Can we take the same road, two days in the same clothes- 

You were holding on to the frame with both hands, trying to centre it on the nail in the wall, but every time you pulled away, the frame would slant to the side. 

And I know just what she’ll say if I can make all this pain go- 

Tom saw you get fed up with the picture, throwing it on the bed with a groan. That’s when you looked up at him. The dim and soft light was shining just at the angle that when he looked at you, he could see the tear streaks down your face. You had definitely been crying. You were still sniffling a bit when you stepped down to the floor. 

“Am I too loud? Sorry.” you immediately reached out to your phone, which was connected to the speaker, and pressed down the volume. Then you decided to just turn it off completely. Maybe you’ve had enough of it for now. 

“Uhh, a bit, but it’s fine. We like 1D here, so.” Tom suddenly felt like a real dick when he saw the small, apologetic, smile you gave him. You were holding the speaker in your hands as you sat on the bed, staring at it, a bit lost, and Tom wasn’t sure if he was supposed to leave or not. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. You had clearly forgotten he was still there, because you looked up looking a bit frazzled. 

“No.” You said honestly. What would be the point in pretending? You couldn’t fool anyone even if you tried. Misery was the only thing feeling your once Spencer-filled void. Ugh, the sound of his name, even just in your thoughts, made you want to scream. Unconsciously, and a bit to Tom’s amusement, you had grabbed one of your pillows and started to hit your fist right in the middle of it. Your hits were getting harder and rougher. 

“Ever considered boxing?” He brought you out of your haze. You looked down at the pillow, seeing the sad looking indent on the kitten-patterned pillow. Tom took the pillow away from you and fluffed it out to its normal shape before putting it back.

“It’s just been hard, you know,” you said, more to yourself than to him and Tom understood that. He knew what you meant. He had been in that same position not too long ago and seeing you like this did definitely bring back some of those feelings he had tried to suppress back then. 

“Like, I thought he was the one. And I know it sounds so stupid, I don’t even believe in that whole soulmate crap, but he was it for me. For the first time, I could actually imagine myself enduring nine months of hell to have a kid with him, sorry if I’m being TMI.” 

“You’re good,” he said. He also understood that feeling. Maybe not in the exact, child bearing way, but he could resonate with that whole it thing. He had felt the same way about Stacey. He had never told anyone this, and was never planning on telling anyone, but the day before they broke up, he had been out in the city looking for an engagement ring. It had come unplanned. He wasn’t thinking yet about actually proposing. But he had been in town for an audition and on his way home he saw the jeweller. It was the first time he had ever thought of it, and it seemed right, so he walked in and just looked around. 

“You must think I’m so pathetic though. Crying for weeks about some douchebag.”

“Well, you’ve only lived here for five days, so I wouldn’t know about that.” He smirked. You groaned again and fell with your head on a big fluffy pillow. 

“But no,” he said eventually, “I don’t think you’re pathetic.” 

“Thanks.” 

_______________________

Another week had gone by and your mother had somehow found out about your new living arrangement. So, the last 20 minutes you had been sitting on the couch, listening to her yelling. 

“No mum, I’m fine.” you said, for what felt like the 50th time. Right at that moment, Harry showed up in the living room, making his way from a shower to his bedroom, only a towel around his waist. His usually curly hair was a wet mop, covering most of his face. 

“You don’t even know them!” your mother shrieked. 

“Harry, are you going to murder me?” you asked as he walked by, covering the microphone of your phone. Without missing a beat, or looking down at you, he answered with a snappy “Yup,” and walked into his own room. 

“They’re really nice guys, mum.” You told her. It took you another ten minutes to convince her not to come over tomorrow (or ever, in general). The conversation had taken an abrupt turn when suddenly, she invited you to a video call. Knowing that if you didn’t answer it, you would never hear the end of it, you accepted the call. Your mothers face, or better said, forehead, showed up on screen. You tried to cover your chin as best as you could with the collar of your sweater since you were too tired to hold up your phone at a reasonable angle. 

“Hi mom,” you sighed. 

“Where are they?!” she said, looking around as if she could actually see more than what your camera showed. You were going to lie that they had gone out, but right at that second Harry walked out of his room. Thankfully he was dressed, but his hair was still a bit wet. His shoulder was just visible in the corner of your screen and you tried to move to the side, but your mother had noticed him already.

“Who’s that?” Why did your mother always have to be so loud?

“Uhh, that’s Harry.”

He looked up at the mention of his name. You were scared that it would make him uncomfortable if you talked about him to your mom, it was making you uncomfortable for sure, but instead he jumped up at the opportunity and the next second he was leaning on the couch, almost over you, and smiling at your phone. 

“Hi.” He waved to your mother. His quick movements made his hair move around, giving you a nice first row experience of the fountain show coming from it. You wiped the water off your face. 

“What’s your name again?” Your mother asked. 

“Harry, Ma’am. Harry Holland.” He said with a smile. You both knew that when your mother had asked him his name, she meant his full name. She wouldn’t be able to make any deep research, but it was in case you suddenly went missing, of course. 

“How old are you?” your mother went on with the third degree, glaring at your roommate at each question. Harry answered it all with a big and charming smile. You held the camera, hoping the couch could eat you already. This could not get any more embarrassing, could it? 

Oh, it could. Because half way through, your sister had shown up and sat down next to your mom. She didn’t say anything, but suddenly a text notification popped up on the top of your screen. 

Who’s the hot guy?

Your sister was not imbecile, yet she loved to act like it. Of course, Harry saw the text and erupted in a loud laugh, startling your poor mother. As the timer on the call was reaching 30 minutes you decided to say your goodbyes and end the conversation. Harry was still laughing. 

“So… you’re sister…” he said once calming down. 

“Don’t even think about it. She’s 17.” you glared at him and he immediately shut up, which you appreciated. 

“Well, your mom seems nice,” he eventually said. You knew he didn’t mean it in that way, but in the context of your previous exchange, it didn’t sound great. Now you were the one laughing. 

“That is not what I meant!” he shouted out, grabbing a throw pillow and hitting you on the arm with it lightly.

“Jesus, calm down. I know.” You grabbed the pillow from him. You were both in a fit of giggles by then. It took a moment to catch a breath and by that point, your head was actually hurting.  

“So do you think I’m hot?” Harry asked, raising his brow like the cheeky fuck he is. You just rolled your eyes and hit him with that same pillow. Maybe a bit too hard, because it knocked him off balance and when you looked up, he was no longer leaning on the backrest of the sofa. 

“Oops. Sorry.”

_______________________

Something you had to learn the hard way when it came to living with the guys was that you had to lock your doors. They weren’t doing it on purpose, but they had a tendency to forget to knock when walking into the bathroom, or even your bedroom. Specifically, Harrison. 

Usually, you’d consider him to be the more logical of the three, but that didn’t really mean that much. He was just as much of an idiot as the two Holland brothers at times. 

The bathroom incident had happened during your first week of living with the boys. You were taking a shower. The loud water had cancelled out the sound of the door opening so you didn’t know that while you were washing your hair, Harrison had walked into the bathroom. 

In his defence, he thought it was Tom showering, not you. 

You had not been made aware yet of the honourable fifth member of the household: a life size Nicolas Cage cardboard cut-out. So, when you pushed the shower curtain aside, and were met eye to eye with Nick Cage himself, you screamed bloody murder, almost falling in the bathtub. The door opened to horrified Harrison, realising his mistake. He realised it as soon as he heard the screams, which clearly did not belong to Tom. 

But another scream followed, which was shorter and more specific, followed by a “Fuck!” made him feel like something else had happened. It sounded like you had gotten hurt. So, obviously, he walked in to see if you were alright. 

You were, in fact, alright, and seeing him standing there, eyes wide as he saw your naked body, you screamed again for him to get out. He took a second to grab Nick and pull him out of the room, mumbling a few sorrys, and closed the door behind him. 

Flushed, slightly angry, and with a pounding heart, you dried off and got dressed. Unlike the guys, you were never one to parade half naked around the house on your way from the bathroom to your bedroom. 

You walked out, a pile of old clothes in your hands, to see Harrison. He looked like a puppy that might be about to be smacked with a newspaper on his nose. Usually you were very much against that disciplinary practice, but Harrison was no puppy, and you had been scared shitless. 

“y/n, I’m so sorry.” he apologised as he followed you to your room. You were telling him that it was alright, and actually quite funny, but he really wanted you to know that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean to scare you like that or walk in on you naked or linger his eyes on you for that long. 

“Seriously, Haz, it’s fine. Shit happens… just, don’t walk into the bathroom anymore when I shower. Or ever actually, if I’m in there, don’t.”

“Yeah, of course.” 

And he kept to the promise. You didn’t get any other sudden visits in the bathroom, but it was not the last time that Harrison saw you naked. 

You were all going out to a bar one night, and a bit shamefully, you were taking a bit longer than usual with getting ready. The guys had been waiting for a while already, and you were trying to hurry up, but you just had no idea what to wear. Finally you had found yourself a dress that might make you get a bit lucky that night. You weren’t even planning on hooking up, but the attention was appreciated. In your, still not exactly over your break-up situation, it was actually needed. 

In the meantime, the guys were deciding which one of them had to go and tell you to hurry up. It was getting late and they needed their time to get completely smashed. And while waiting for you, getting knock out drunk was definitely not happening. 

Harrison drew the figurative short straw. He thought you were doing your make-up or something, being aware how much time that can take sometimes. He never imagined opening the door and seeing you standing in the middle of your room, only in a pair of panties. You didn’t see him at first because your dress was over your head as you tried to pull it on. Harrison closed the door before you saw anything. But you could hear the thud of the door closing. 

You pulled the dress over your body, grabbed a pair of matching heels and put them on as you got out of your room. There you saw Harrison. His red cheeks indicated that he was the one who had walked into your room. Tom and Harry were standing at the door. They could see you walk out and their eyes had gone a bit wide. Clearly, the dress was serving its purpose. 

Having already gone through this whole embarrassing scenario already, you decided to spare Harrison. You have him a soft smile. 

“Could you help me zip up?” you asked, turning your back and pushing the hair away from the zipper. 

“Uhh, yeah, yeah, of course.” He was so flustered. It was actually adorable. You could feel his hands on you as he grabbed the two sides of the dress and the zipper and slowly, carefully, pulled it up. 

“Thank you,” you said when he was done. He didn’t respond, his face still as red as a stop light. And it didn’t get any better when you kissed him on the cheek. 

It was definitely interesting to be living with them, but you couldn’t complain about a single thing… except for the laundry, maybe. 

The END

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96  @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown  @spiderrrling @lonelyavenger @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what-a-beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @chloecreatesfictions-archive  @fallinfortom @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @rxsydreams @musicalkey @joyleenl @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014 @marvelouspeterparker​ @siriuslyslyslytherinyes @lunalovegoodsgirlfriendyes @bitchydecisions​ @okokimfreakingoutahh @quinjetboi​ @sheranatic111​ @zspideyy​ @lizzyosterfield​ @dahliasbroken​ @parkerlovebot​ @itstaskeen​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @sluttytears​ @lilhoodhippie​ @theliterarymess​ @marlenetough​ @tomsirishgirlx​ @hiiii-i​ @wonderfulfluffer​ @dumbledorrs @hollandstea @roseke​ @outshineallthestars​ @spideyspeaches​ @ieatchildrenfordessert​ 

[mandoalorian]

Smile [Javier Peña x Reader]

Summary: making a desperate attempt to get your boyfriend, Javier Peña, to crack a smile, you’re hit with the spontaneous idea to dress up as him and put on a little show. Thank you @pascalpanic for putting the idea in my head!

Warnings: mention of alcohol, cigarettes, guns, typical Narcos themes (but only very brief) -- mostly just tooth-rotting fluff. 

Rating: 13+

Word count: 1700

Masterlist

You loved Javier -- you really did, but he had his down days just like everyone else. It seemed like, due to the nature of his job and the fact his department had made very little progress in pursuing Escobar, this week in particular had been a tough one for Javier. He’d gone through a whole extra pack of cigarettes and it was only Wednesday, and the bottle of scotch you’d been keeping for your next dinner party with the Murphy’s, had been completely drunk by one suspicious looking mustached man with a wet upper lip. You didn’t say anything to him. He didn’t need you to chastise him or make him feel bad. He needed your comfort, and you needed him to smile.

So that was your mission. To make Javier Peña smile. Of course you didn’t expect it to be easy, but you were determined, and that was enough.

The idea first came to you when you were tidying up after Javi. He wasn’t normally this messy, but you knew he’d been going through some shit at work and so picking up his laundry wasn’t a huge deal. You grabbed the crumpled up pink button down shirt from the edge of his bed and smiled, a gush of warmth flooding your heart. It was your favourite shirt -- hell, your favourite colour to see him wear. He could pull off pink better than any other man you’d ever met.

You went to fold up the shirt into a neat little square, like you’d done with the rest of his clothes, when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror, holding the shirt. You hummed, measuring it against your body and admiring the way the colour brought out a shine in your eyes. You didn’t normally wear pink but maybe it wouldn’t look that bad on you. So, with a quick hum, you pulled off your own tee and pulled Javier’s shirt over your shoulders. As you buttoned it up and adjusted the collar, your smile turned into a grin as you admired the way it looked on you. You just had to show Javier and ask him what he thought. After all, he always loved to see you in his shirts.

You tucked part of the shirt into your dark blue denim jeans, revelling in the way you had accidentally ended up looking like your boyfriend from just putting on his shirt. If this wasn’t going to make him crack a smile, you weren’t sure what would. 

You shuffled out of the bedroom and into the living room, finding Javier lounging on the couch with a cigarette dangling in between his lips. His eyes narrowed as he focused on whatever was on the television. You sighed upon seeing he was watching the news. You had told him to try and avoid the local news because it only seemed to make his mood worse -- seeing all the death and destruction that was happening around Bogotá in particular, by the hands of narcotics. You grabbed the remote control and zapped the TV off.

Javier furrowed his dark eyebrows and his head snapped to face you, but before he could complain or groan about why you’d shut the TV off, his mouth went dry as he took in your appearance. His jaw locked open and his dark eyes flicked up and down your body.

“Ta-da!” you giggled, doing a little spin for him.

Javier folded his arms over his chest, bemused, before stumping out his cigarette and discarding it in the ashtray.

“You look… good.” He mumbled, his eyes not leaving you once. You were just waiting for him to smile. You posed a little, desperate to try and get something out of him before throwing your head back in defeat and sighing. “What’s wrong?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

You looked down at your outfit and thought long and hard. “It’s missing something, isn’t it?” you questioned yourself, avoiding Javier’s comment completely.

“What?”

But before you could even respond, you had already whisked your way back into the bedroom, diving into yours and Javier’s closet looking for one particular thing. There it was. The khaki green bulletproof vest. You omitted a small ‘oof’ when you picked it up, underestimating just how heavy it was, before finding the velcro straps and shuffling into it. You looked in the mirror again, subconsciously raising your eyebrows as you saw just how broad the vest made you look. You tapped your fist into the padding a few times, experimenting just how hard it was. It definitely made you feel safe, that’s for sure, and it brought you comfort knowing that Javier donned this exact vest during his missions and stake-outs.

You padded back into the living room, and--

“Ta da!” you said again, poking your fingers into the bulletproof tac vest.

You didn’t think it was possible, but Javier’s frown only grew as he sunk back into the leather sofa. “Hermosa… what are you doing?” he sighed, putting his head in his hands.

“You don’t like it?” you quizzed, a little sad that he didn’t appreciate your efforts.

“I’m just confused.” he confessed, exasperated.

“Hm…” you hummed, looking around the living room. “Does it need more?”

“What?”

You walked into the kitchen and unlocked the safe. It was where Javier insisted on keeping a gun. You picked it up, immediately not liking the way it felt in your hands, and walked back into the living room. Upon seeing you hold the gun, Javier’s eyes became comically wide and he stood up.

“Is safety on?” Was the first thing he asked, terrified you’d injure yourself in some way or another. You took a second to check the weapon before nodding in affirmation, and Javier breathed a bubble of relief. “Okay. Put it down.” Javier grumbled, his frown framing his face as his clearly unamused gaze followed you across the room.

You tucked the gun into the back of your jeans, just like Javi would, and smirked in his direction. 

Your smile only grew when you grabbed his yellow tinted aviators from the coffee table and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay, I see what you’re doing,” Javier rolled his eyes. “You can stop now.”

You grabbed one of the many take-out menus from the side table and quickly glanced over it, familiarising yourself with the dishes. You cleared your throat and straightened your posture before holding up the menu and doing your very best Javier Peña impression.

With a low, smouldering grumble, you presented the menu in front of Javier and --

“This pizza is DEA. Mark my words, it will get justice.”

In that moment, Javier swore that his heart imploded into an abundance of glitter and colourful confetti. There was something so magical and pure about seeing you stand before him, dressed as him and doing your very best impression. It was a little dumb, a little dorky, but most importantly it was 100% authentically you -- always doing your absolute best to care for your boyfriend and comfort him in the most unique types of ways. You noticed the way his eyes lit up, and although he still wasn’t smiling, you became filled with warmth knowing you had gained some kind of reaction out of him (albeit small).

“I’m agent Peña,” you forced a frown and dramatically pulled off the yellow tinted Ray Bans, hooking them into the v of your pink shirt. “I’m DEA. Partners with agent Murphy,” you clicked your tongue before continuing. “Ese idiota. Hate that guy. Only… not really. Love him really. But… I love my girlfriend even more.” You smirked before walking towards him and sliding onto his lap and pressing your hands against his chest. “Javi…”

“Hm?” he hummed, and you could tell at this point he was deliberately trying to fight it back.

“Smile.” you whispered, nudging your nose against his.

And then, he let go. His perfect plush lips curled into a grin so wide the rare little dimple appeared in his left cheeks and the corners of his chocolate brown eyes crinkled in delight.

“I love you so much querida,” Javier beamed, smoothing out your hand and cupping your face in his large hands. “I’ll always love you.”

And with that, he captured your lips into a typical, heated, Javier Peña kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around your body as he skillfully navigated his fingers to the velcro straps of the tac vest, undoing them carefully to get you out of it. He carefully pulled the gun out from your jeans and placed it on the coffee table, along with his sunglasses. When you pulled off him to catch your breath, he was still smiling, and he pulled the bulletproof vest off your body before haphazardly discarding it on the floor.

“And you know how much I love seeing you in my shirts.” he mumbled, licking a stripe along your jaw and peppering kisses into the crook off your neck. You rolled your hips over his denim clad thigh and his fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of your own jeans, before he hooked his fingers under the hem of the material and dipped them into your panties. 

You moaned wantonly, letting your fingers tangle in his dark locks of hair. “I love you too, Javi.” you whispered before pressing your lips against his once more.

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[admiringlove]

scent, coffee and turtlenecks.

+synopsis: hq boys and their scent, their coffee order and the turtlenecks they wear.

+genre: fluff lol; headcanons.

+characters: akaashi keiji, miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurō, sugawara kōshi.

+warnings: literally just fluff man, unless you cry because of cute stuff.

+author’s notes: inspired by @neonghxst​ on tumblr!! go check them out, they have a great blog and i love their writing <3

— AKAASHI KEIJI. 

he smells like the first rain of the monsoon. the petrichor, the atmosphere, the sole comfort it brings you by being in his arms. it reminds you of being in the rain for the first time. his arms are firm when he embraces you, yet somehow he holds you as if you’re the most fragile thing in the universe. his scent is addicting; sometimes you never want to let go of him, and you fall asleep in his arms as he’s typing up an essay for literature. he’d smile down at you, pressing a loving peck to your forehead and carry you to bed. you’d sleepily mumble against him, “keiji you smell nice. cuddle me please” of course he doesn’t resist against it, because how can he? you look adorable. being in his arms are like being an elysian—pure heaven for your mortal heart.

definitely addicted to caffeine. but he’s one of those people that calculates up a schedule so he’s making sure the caffeine is working hundred-per-cent. he orders something strong in the mornings—like a hot vienna coffee in medium size and that’s it. no sugar, because this man likes his coffee bitter. and if he’s pulling all-nighters, then cold brew all the way. everyone at the café likes him a lot; his aesthetic and his orders match up perfectly(too bad he’s yours though).

man has a lot of turtlenecks. he’s the type of person that collects them in different colors. but not something too flashy, because he is simple and elegant. he has a range of grey’s and a few beiges, some pumpkin and whites and blacks. he even has blue(his closet is basically a color wheel of turtlenecks). to be honest, you don’t know how he fits so many clothes into his wardrobe. he basically is a autumn/fall wear model in making. it’s the season he gets the most compliments from strangers(because this man wears turtlenecks even in summer).

— MIYA ATSUMU.

smells like pine and sandalwood. his scent feels like home. whenever he finishes a game and wins, he’ll run to you(who’s in the stands) and he’ll engulf you first. the scent will overcome you, the crowd behind fading away as you feel like you’ve arrived home after a long trip and simply want to rest for a bit in the comfort of your own bed. the blond will throw you the dashiest smile in front of the public, but the softest one in private. nights with atsumu are filled with his homey scent on the couch, as you read to him and he falls asleep in your arms or your lap. you’d peck him, and he’d say, “yer sniffin’ me again, aren’t ya?” only to get poked in the eye by you after. “i don’t sniff you!” you’d yell at him as he falls onto the floor after you harshly get up and go to the bedroom, but he’d follow you and lay in bed with you and embrace you, the aroma coming over you again as he says “i know ya like my cologne, dummy. i like your scent too. c’mere so i can hug ya.”

his orders are neither too bitter nor too sweet. he probably is one of those people that tries everything on the menu first before deciding what he likes. he’ll later decide on a mocha latte with the slightest chocolate drizzle on top. he likes the small bitterness and the twist the chocolate brings to the drink. it’s steamy, and it makes his throat clear up. his heart rate slows down a smidge and he just sits there and sips on the drink till he’s calm, cool and collected. it’s a drink that makes his day better for sure. and for cold drinks, atsumu would go for an iced caramel macchiato. it just clicks with him for some reason. 

he has a good collection. by this, i mean that he’s a king of knowing what looks good on him and what doesn’t. he knows what exactly to pick —whether it be a sleeveless olive green turtleneck, or a beige one with an overcoat. he’s cocky, and he knows he looks good. man is definitely a king of accessories and wears the proper amount of necklaces, rings, or whatever he thinks will go with his outfit. definitely winks at you when he catches you stare at him for too long and tells you to take a picture. 

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

he smells like mahogany teakwood. it’s captivating and comforting at the same time. he wakes up before you in the mornings, so when you wake up, you’re immediately engulfed by this strong yet soothing scent. he’s holding you in his arms and stroking your hair ever-so-softly, and you let out a small whine which let him know that you’re about to wake up. and when you open your eyes, he throws you a softened smile that screams, “good morning” or “i love you” and a thousand diiferent affirmations at the same time. you run your fingers through his hair, looking up with one eye closed as he mumbles, “we have to get up for class”, and your nose scrunches at those words as you pull him closer and letting out a muffled, “i’d rather stay in bed with you for eternity”.

his order isn’t too bitter, but it’s enough to keep him awake. if he’s going for something cold, it’s going to be a dark roast cold brew with sweet-salted caramel cream. it’s a little bitter—but it manages to make him stay awake through the night to finish up an assignment or two. and if it’s a hot drink he prefers, then he definitely goes for an espresso macchiato. it makes him feel at home when you’re not there by his side. 

he’s definitely the type of person that tries everything for fun. you’re laughing in the background as he pulls on a neon yellow turtleneck, the only problem is that he’s actually rocking it. he looks amazing even in the most craziest choice of clothing. although you always buy him many different shades of red(he has a lot of red in his closet—maroons, scarlets, pumpkins, you name it), he looks good in almost anything. he always makes you laugh by buying abnormal things then putting them on in front of you to check if it looks good or not—and most of the times, it does.

— SUGAWARA KŌSHI.

he smells like a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. it reminds you of winter mornings, when the two of you used to go to high-school hand-in-hand with small to-go coffees that you’d have. suga is definitely the type to snuggle into you every chance he gets after getting to know that you like his scent. it’s cute to him, and he makes you feel comfortable. every time the two of you are alone, he will inch closer and closer to you, finding solace in the fact that just his presence makes your mood lighten up. he’ll hold his hand out in front of your mouth so you can press a kiss to his knuckles, he’ll kiss your forehead and get dangerously close to you(so close that you’re practically a tomato), and he’ll mutter, “hey, come here. i wanna hug you” as you stand there with a really big blush. you’ll mumble, “you smell nice, ko” and his confidence level just rises up by fifty percent.

he’s bougie. he gets a hazelnut bianco latte, just something about it reminds him of the same winter mornings he shared with you. the way you prayed at the temple for his well-being when he was sick, or the way he stayed in his bed for days and you were sitting next to him for most of that time. it’s an over the top and extra drink, but it makes him comfortable and gives him a sense of nostalgia. for a colder preference, he gets a pistachio frappuccino. it’s soft and delicate, and the taste is really elegant. 

he prefers sweaters, but his go-to color is grey. suga would look good in almost anything, but he likes sweaters and woolen vests more than turtlenecks. although, if he has to choose a color to wear, then he’d choose grey(you name it, whether it be steel grey or a nice shade of pewter). he looks amazing in an abundance of shades of greys and even black—pair it with a scarf and dickies, and he looks like an angel on earth. you always compliment him, and he always ends up looking away while blushing like a high-school kid in love(well, you can’t blame him. he was one at some point).

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[oogaboogasphincter]

A Magpie, a Goose and a Sparrow Walk into a Found Family Trope (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: A nightmare caused by trauma he endured before and on The Green haunts Ezra one night, his fear bleeding into reality. Under the fog of sleep, he hurts you, thinking you are the monster that is endangering you, Cee and himself while on your next trip. He apologizes by doing something that terrifies him: opening his heart up to another person.

Word Count: 10.7k+ (holy shit i deeply apologize for putting my readers through this agonizingly long junk)

Rating: M (mature) just to be safe (some pretty intense themes but i don’t think there’s anything too explicit)

Warnings: non-fatal manual strangulation and bruises from it, swearing, sexualization of two adults, mild references to sex, mild allusions to sexual arousal, discussion of trauma and its effects, Prospect (2018) spoilers, some argument, hair braiding, one (1) ✨neck✨ kiss, one use of (y/n), sprinkles of that sexual tension we all love, a resolved ending!

Author’s Note: first off, thank you SO much to @martinsmomo​ for this request!💜💕 this was so creative, i hope i did it justice :). second, AHHH!!!!! my first piece ever!!! i haven’t written anything on my own time for my own enjoyment since i was like 13, which may or may not be apparent by my comma splices, repetitive sentence structure/word choice and disagreeing verb tense💀. the thought of i have no idea what i'm doing never left my mind while i was writing this, but i just tried to go with it and have fun :). ALSO, i had so much fun reading all of the lore about the world that Prospect (2018) takes place in. Here is a link to a pamphlet about a lot of stuff that is featured in the movie, which i used while writing this piece. i highly recommend you check it out! i tried to stick to as much canon stuff as i could, but 🦋The Blue🦋 is something that i made up. also this is not beta��d, i just wanted to throw this into the void and see what happens✨. i also also want to point out that in no way am i trying to romanticize or sexualize domestic violence. i know that the subject matter in this piece can be triggering, and even though the violence wasn’t intentional and it’s resolved through love, i don’t want it to be misconstrued as something that it’s not. with that being said, i hope you enjoy it! :)

gif by @anakin-skywalker​

A grunt stirs you from your deep slumber. Your eyes open easily, a treat that you weren’t given often due to the dryness of the pod’s recirculated air. The inside of your shared galactic chamber is as dark as your mind; no illumination to shine on your thoughts and wake them up or to show you how Ezra is doing. You know the grunt had come from him, as the only other passenger was his adopted daughter, Cee. You turn in your pilot’s chair, looking over your shoulder to try and make him out through the impossible darkness.

Parcel-Class Planetary Drop Pods were designed to fit only two travelers, however the three of you had decided to embark on your next journey together. To save on costs, your partners opted for a model without cots. Being the gentleman that he is, Ezra insisted that you and Cee sleep in the pilots’ chairs. He had thrown a few blankets on the cold, flat floor and had proudly announced, “Sleeping quarters fit for a king!”, eliciting pitiful laughter from you and Cee.

Now, your eyes can’t find the sad bundle of warmth that is his sleeping figure. He is a restless sleeper, and every time he made a noise that was more than a good-natured hum or a soft swish of rearranging his blankets, you would wake and turn to make sure that he was okay. You would do the same for Cee, but she was a fantastic sleeper. Not too deep, not too light, and never made a peep. You turn back around, giving up on trying to spot Ezra in the dark, when you hear another grunt.

This one is louder than the last.

You turn back around yet again, your own blanket falling off of your chest and into your lap. Eyebrows furrowing together and eyes squinting, your pupils strain themselves to find any shred of light to let you see. The noises increase in abundance and volume. Ezra’s sleeping fit has transformed from a halfhearted rustling to an aggravated clamor in less than a minute. Your eyes stay on the dark patch of space where you know his “bed” is situated while Cee arises from her sleep. Her chair lets out the slightest creak as she follows your gaze and attempts herself to see what all of the commotion is about. She asks you, “Is he okay?” Ezra answers her with an irritated growl through his teeth. You say to her, “I don’t know, I can’t see him, should we-”

Your suggestion of waking him up is cut short as two hands wrap around your throat. The hands twist your head to face forward, and you’re greeted with Ezra’s sweat-slicken face. Instinctively, you grasp at his forearms in an effort to ease the constriction of your neck.

Cee screams, “Ezra, let go of her!” 

He defies her command and puts one of his knees in between yours on the seat of the pilot’s chair and leans closer to you. The brown eyes that you had grown to love now bore into yours with unwavering menace as the pads of his fingers press harder into the sides of your neck. His palms are flush with your larynx, threatening to crush it. You want to let out sobs of heartbreak, but are unable to. He’s restricted your actions to only being able to watch him attempt to strangle you. Your fingers aren’t able to get a grip on his limbs due to his angry sweat and your panicked claminess. Your mouth hangs open as his is shut tight, his jaw muscles stuttering with intense rage. He starts to growl through his teeth again, but a flash of light turns it into a howl.

His entire body falls back, his hands losing their purchase on your neck. You suck in a harsh breath and lean forward as Cee grabs your hand and pulls you out of the pilot’s chair. In her other hand she grips a Boscelot Frontiersman: the source of the light that had extracted Ezra’s shriek and drilled its way into his thigh. He sat on the floor in front of your chair and laced his hands just above his injury, throwing his head back and wincing. 

Cee puts some feet in between the two of you and guides you across the floor to the other side of the impossibly small pod. Hoarse coughs begin to rise from your surprised larynx, accompanied by trembling of your entire body. Cee, still holding you by your arm with one hand and the Thrower in the other, yells your thoughts at Ezra, “What the fuck was that for?!” She flicks the lights on, allowing everyone to see each other’s face for the first time all night. 

Ezra stares at the two of you in disbelief. Both brunette and blonde strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes depressed from the subsiding adrenaline, his whole body drenched in distressed perspiration. You and him lock eyes, even through your flailing about as you continue to choke on air and delicately place your own hands over where his just had you in a vice grip. He knows what he’s done as soon as he sees you. He begins to cry and opens his mouth to start an apology that can never be adequate, but Cee hurls a field kit at his head. It hits him and he takes the blow without complaint. His devastated eyes keep to your bloodshot ones as he opens up the kit and starts to treat his justified wound. Cee stares at him with aggravation, and so do you, but her expression is void of confusion. 

You are confused as all hell. What could have possibly made him do that? He seemed to be having a nightmare, but that didn’t give him the excuse to nearly strangle you to death. 

Your coughs and stress start to dwindle as all of you sit there, not saying a word, the only other noise in the room being Ezra opening and closing medical supplies. He squirts a sanitizing solution over his wound, hissing, and then he takes out a Patch Gun. This sets your heart racing. The strangling was unpredicted and almost successful, would he get up once he was healed enough and try to do it again? You push yourself back against the wall and keep your widening eyes on him as he sprays the medicated foam into the hole the Thrower had burned through his trousers. He squeezes his eyes shut, winces intensely, and then fails to keep a painful wail inside his chest. You’ve seen him treat himself before, and usually his next step is to throw more than the recommended amount of pain relievers into his mouth and chew on the tablets, redirecting the pain from his injury to his mouth. He doesn’t do that this time.

Instead he throws the used Patch Gun to the side, closes the field kit and pushes it Cee’s way. He breathes your name out of his mouth, causing you to retreat further into the wall. You bring your legs to your chest and wrap your hands around the back of your neck, resting your elbows on your quaking kneecaps. Burrowing your face into the cavity you’ve created, you start bawling. Pain sears your throat, and is only intensified by your sobs, but you can’t help it. You’re absolutely terrified. Ezra says your name again, genuine with care, in an effort to get you to look at him. You shake your head once and continue to gasp into yourself. Cee startles you by touching your shoulder, and she quells your worries, “He won’t do it again.” 

Her five simple words plant a seedling of peace in your heart, but it is nowhere near close to blooming. You don’t look up as she gets up and goes over to your pilot chair and grabs your blankets. Her footsteps return to you quickly, and within moments her warm, calm hands are draping the fabric over your shoulders. She rests her chin on your shoulder, moving with your heaves. A softening tone takes over her beautiful voice as she murmurs “It’s okay”s, “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s into your blankets. Before you know it, your body succumbs to the overwhelming desire to heal mentally, emotionally and physically with sleep. Your trust in Ezra may be broken right now, but you know that Cee will watch over you. Despite her lack of size and experience compared to Ezra, you know she has the upper hand on him intellectually. He may be full of wondrous prose, a never-ending vocabulary and sharp wit, but Cee has had him in the palm of her hand ever since they met. You can sleep knowing that she can protect you and herself, if need be.

You peek out underneath your arm to qualify to yourself that Ezra is in no shape to attack again. 

He sits where he landed when he fell, slouching with exhaustion. His eyes sparkle with tears of regret, his eyebrows quirked in a way that reads “There aren’t enough ways to apologize, but I’ll try every one until you forgive me.” You close your eyes, lay your head against the wall and beg the Sandman to bring you all a night of peace as you rest until the Sun comes up. 

The pale blue morning light penetrates your eyelids and alerts your brain that it is time to get up. You awake to find Cee and Ezra sound asleep, her in her pilot’s chair and him in his “bed”. You are still huddled up against the wall, opposite to Ezra, and look upon him with a wary gaze. The fear he inserted into you last night makes your nerves feel like static, but at the same time you can’t help but be relaxed by his presence. It’s obvious he didn’t cause any more damage during rest of the night, so maybe his eyebrows were telling the truth: that he is sorry.

The muted sunshine washes his complexion out and dulls the warmth that his chestnut locks hold. It makes the blonde patch in his hair and the arc scar on his cheek glisten cerulean. His expression is relaxed, eyelids fidgeting under the controls of REM sleep. 

The sound of Cee’s alarm clock distracts you, and moments later her hand reaches out and pushes the ‘stop’ button. Awakening limbs appear above the back of her chair, accompanied by a yawn. Your eyes dart to Ezra. He’s still asleep. She turns to you first and smiles, “Are you alright?” You nod once, return her smile, and you both turn to the slumbering man. She says, folding her blanket, “He’s fine. Calmed down after you fell asleep. He said he had a nightmare that you had turned against us. He said he wants to apologize but understands if you don’t want to speak to him.” You sigh through your nose, glancing over at him, “That’s okay. I think I would like some time away from him though. Just to process things, y’know?” Cee turns to face you, “That’s what I figured. I told him that.” You look at her and nod once. 

She gets up and stretches again, folded blanket still in hand. She puts it on her seat and looks up at you excitedly, “Want to come look for aurelac with me today?” 

“Definitely.”

Her face lights up with a wide smile and you mirror her reaction. Getting up and dropping your blankets to the floor, you go over to the compartment in the wall that holds your equipment. You take out what you’ll need - suit, helmet, air filter and a few Slurry Packs - and close the latch. The door slams shut harder than you intended, the resulting crash jolting Ezra awake.

A shy, apologetic smile graces his face as he meets your eyes, and you return the expression. You were still tightly wound, but were ready to start dispelling the fear, and that began by being cordial with him. His smile fades when his eyes lower to your hands and take in what you are holding. He gets up off the floor and inquires, “What do you have all that for?” His expression is neutral, but you worry that you will anger him by telling him what your plans are.

He had made it very clear since you joined him and Cee that he did not want you to prospect. He had told you that it was too dangerous of a task in itself, let alone the implications that came along with it: bartering, lying, gambling, stealing, killing. He didn’t want you or Cee to be subjected to any any of the horrors that accompanied prospecting, but Cee had been stubborn about her desires and had proven her abilities. She was great at prospecting, possessing an attention to tedium and an unwavering sense of calmness while performing the task. For a man who seeps with wisdom, Ezra wasn’t all that good of a prospector. He had the tendency to lose patience and cripple under pressure, which sometimes led to compromised digs. 

“I’m going to look for aurelac deposits with Cee.” You nudge your head in her direction and she smiles at Ezra. He waves his hand dismissively, “That’s all fine and dandy,” now pointing a lazy yet warning finger at you, “But don’t you dare let prospecting dance upon those beautiful brain waves of yours.” His comment irritated you. You had never shown any signs of true disobedience to his wishes, besides the casual sigh of boredom or the bratty roll of your eyes. The words also set your heart aflutter. As you try to hide your blush and bury your annoyance, Cee says to him, “We don’t be doing any prospecting if we can’t find any aurelac.” His head tilts in agreement. He pads over to you and gingerly puts a hand on your shoulder. He had sensed your irritation and repeats his mantra of why he doesn’t want you prospecting, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Your anger became fiery again. Shoulder jerking to flick his hand off, you jab at him, “Because I’m safe in the confines of the pod?”

He points a finger at you again, this time accusatory, “That was purely an accident. Do not take it as anything but.” 

Cee commands, “Both of you, stop, now. I’m not dealing with this all day. It was an accident. An inexcusable one, but an accident.” 

Your and Ezra’s eyebrows had shifted to take on the same irate slope, however you both decide to just let it drop. You visibly signal your concession by dropping your shoulders and Ezra reflects you. He spins on his heels to open his own equipment hatch, and you turn to the wall yours is on. You all face the walls and change into your suits, a ritual of trust and time efficiency you decided on when the three of you agreed to work as a group. 

Once dressed, you exit the pod, Ezra being first and Cee being last, and embark on your daily journey. The Sun had retreated behind some dark grey clouds. The sky was a royal blue, the ground was greige and the dark foliage that surround you drips with dew. You were stationed on the Blue Moon, an orbiting moon in the Bakhroma System. This place wasn’t highly traveled like its permanent sister (the Green Moon), due to the popular aftermath of the Aurelac Rush. Although Cee and Ezra had been there and left, many people in the galaxy still went to try and scoop up some valuable remains. Unlike The Green, The Blue wasn’t known for its abundant aurelac deposits, which is precisely why your partners chose to come here. 

Their original plan was to travel to The Blue with just themselves, but while on a stop to Puggart Bench you had entranced Ezra while Cee tried to scope out her old friends and catch up with them before she set off on another mission. Demonstrating your eagerness to explore the galaxy and your expansive knowledge of it, Ezra decided to add you to his partnership. It didn’t hurt that you also tried to express your attraction to him, complimenting the rugged floater on his impressive vocabulary. He had complimented you on your willingness to listen to his ramblings, and it had been love ever since. Neither of you had come out directly and said “I love you”, and you hadn’t partaken in any physical affection, but your yearning for each other could not be more understood. His adoration for you only deepened when he saw how you interacted with Cee. Being closer to her generation than Ezra’s, you were able to connect with her like contemporaries. However, you were far enough away from her age group to the point where Ezra couldn’t act as a father figure to you. This duality made you irresistible to him.

Back to the present, you gaze at the back of his helmet intently, waiting to see what his plan of action for the day is. The Green requires visitors to wear air-tight suits and breathe through air filtration systems at all times because of harmful spores that float in the atmosphere. The Blue’s spores are far less harmful, and helmets can be taken off for 45 minute intervals, but the three of you only took them off when the confinement of the helmets became a little too much. The glass window of Ezra’s helmet swivels to you and he asks, “Split up, hourly check-ins, reconvene for lunch?” 

As you’re thinking of your answer, you notice his eyes dart repeatedly up and down your body. You can tell by the way his mouth is slightly parted that he isn’t assessing your body language to predict your response. He’s thinking about all of the ways he would devour you for apology’s sake. 

You look to Cee in the middle of your answer, “Sure. I’ll go with Cee today.” She smiles at you and turns to him. His mouth closes and he looks down to fiddle with his radio with thick-gloved fingers, “I’ll be on channel one.” Cee says, “Okay,” and beckons you to follow her as she sets off on a worn path. You and Ezra look at each other one more time before you turn in opposite directions and begin your divergent treks.

Catching up to Cee by jogging, your steps slow to match her pace once you are by her side. There’s silence between the two of you for a little while as you weave your way through trees of varying heights, eyes keeping to the ground to spot humps in the dirt. Humps gave away the location of aurelac deposits. A couple of slips were shared between the two of you as you climbed over hills and shuffled through valleys, the forest floor littered with puddles. What The Green has in vegetation, The Blue has in water. There were multiple lakes, some touting depths that are only achievable by advanced marine technology. Rainstorms are common, but they never grow to something like a hurricane. Everything was doused in a blue hue, whether it was the air, the water or the plants. The spores in the air resembled stagnant raindrops, peculiar in the way that they seemed to stay in their place in the atmosphere. 

Cee broke the silence, “So, are you okay?” You know exactly what she is referring to and answer, “Yeah. Still a bit shaken up and confused, but other than that I guess I’m fine. I can feel bruises where his hands were.” She turns around to look at you and you lift your chin for her to see. She grimaces and says, “Yeah, you can see where each finger was and everything.” You look down, feeling disappointed that the event even happened. You ask her, “So he had a nightmare about me?” You watch the back of her helmet as she nods, “Yep. He just said that he thought you were going to endanger the three of us. He didn’t say in what way, really, just that you were a threat.” You take a moment to process the information and then fire off another question, “So, I have nightmares too, but I don’t act on them in real life. So why did he do what he did? Is there, like, an underlying feeling of distrust that he has for me, or...?” She started shaking her head halfway through your last sentence, “No, no, not at all. It’s just that The Green was so traumatic that I can understand just how vivid nightmares about it can be. And even though I don’t know much about what he went through before I met him on The Green, I’m sure prospecting was just as dangerous as it is now. I wouldn’t be surprised if at one point, or at a million points, someone that he trusted backstabbed him. But it’s nothing personal against you at all.” You nod and take in her words, trying to reassure yourself that you can trust him, even though he had done everything he could to prove you otherwise the night prior.

Cee stops and turns to you, chuckling, “If anything-”

A short sound on your radios cuts her off, and Ezra’s voice comes through the speakers, “How are you little birds coming along?” 

Cee answers, “Fine. No deposits yet. What about you?” She grins at you, not forgetting to finish her comment as soon as he leaves the two of you alone. 

“Nothing. I’ll be shocked if we stumble across any hint of a deposit today. Like every day. Over and out.” 

You look at her, eager to hear what she has to say. This only widens her smile, and she rolls her eyes as she begins, “Like I was saying.” You both laugh as she continues, “If anything, you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. I’ve never seen his eyes light up so much at anything like they do when he looks at you.” You blush and look down at your feet shyly. She gives you a playful shove and knocks you out of your butterfly-ridden trance. Her tone changes serious as she sighs, her pitch dropping a little bit lower than normal, “You really don’t have to worry about him hurting you or me. He’s just fucked up from our time on The Green. I am too, but I experienced it in a slightly different way, and deal with it differently too. I mean, I lost my father, but he killed two other people. It got us out of there, but that’s probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life. And since it was recent, he’s still trying to figure out how to handle the whole thing. I’m not making any excuses for him, because he didn’t have any reason to attack you, regardless of any dream, but he seriously wouldn’t do that under any other circumstances.” She puts an assuring hand on your shoulder and smiles. You smile back and nod once in understanding, saying, “I believe you.” She pats your back, and you both turn to continue on your walk. A few moments pass, and she lets out another laugh. You teasingly ask her with a smile on your face, “What is it now?” 

“I mean, it’s obvious that Ezra’s been through some shit, because the guy’s fucking weird as hell.” Your helmets are filled with your cackling as thoughts of the strange man play out in your head. Cee jokes, “I mean, little bird? His confusing speech pattern in general? Someone who talks in crosswords is either an ancient person who is trying to be clever in their last days because that’s the only form of strength they have left or just some asshole who finds enjoyment in verbally tricking people.” Another few moments of giggling pass before she ends with, “And what’s with the drawl?” She turns to you, the injuries in your throat burning from laughing so hard, “Have you ever heard someone else, in the entire Bakhroma System, talk like that?” You shake your head while wheezing and she says, “I haven’t either. So how did that weirdo even get here?” 

The surrounding forests may be quiet, but the inside of your suits are filled with the joyful laughter of two friends who continue on their merry way to find some aurelac.

What yesterday lacked in aurelac, it made up for in emotional gains. You had spent the rest of the day with Cee, strengthening your tender bond, exploring the terrain that The Blue had to offer. Ezra kept to his promise and checked in on you two hourly, making sure that you hadn’t run into any other travelers or went too far off the grid. Your group hadn’t crossed paths with any other citizens of the galaxy since you landed, which didn’t surprise or disappoint any of you; the three of you needed some peacetime for regrouping. 

You start today by scanning the pod’s dashboard of lights to make sure nothing is out of order. Because of his contempt to the idea of you prospecting, Ezra had assigned you to be the pod’s programmer. Pods were cheap to rent, so they were justifiably subject to malfunctions. Given that Cee and Ezra were tasked with mapping out The Blue and harvesting aurelac, you obliged to take the responsibility of operating the astronomical vehicle. The other job you had been given was keeper of the harvested aurelac. Once in its containers, you were to check on the gems every day and make sure that none had cracked during transport. The problem is that you haven’t had any luck at finding such valuables. It has been documented that The Blue does contain aurelac, but that it is extremely difficult to find. However, the average gem on The Blue is thrice the size of that which The Green holds. So the size and abundance differences are a lawful tradeoff. 

While you’re analyzing a digital screen on the dashboard, an expressive yawn escapes a man’s mouth. You twist to see Ezra stretching his arm out, eyes and nose scrunched in delight at the wringing out of his muscles. A smile graces your face as you take in his exaggerated display of awakening, and he mirrors your smile when he opens his eyes. His arm relaxes at his side, and a raspy morning voice greets you, “Hi.” You smirk at his unadorned statement and say back, “Hi.” He holds your gaze for a moment before turning to pick his mechanical arm up off the floor next to him. After losing his arm on The Green, his prospecting abilities fell drastically. He had to take out a loan to pay for the artificial limb, but it would restore his talents, so it was a fair deal. That’s why the three of you had gone on this mission, rather than building your friendship on Puggart Bench: to harvest aurelac to repay the loan.

Cee grabs both you and Ezra’s attention as she wakes with a start. Getting up and out of her pilot’s chair, she merrily folds her blankets and marches over to her equipment hatch. You and Ezra share a look of bewilderment, and he questions, “Good morning?” She flips around to you both, forgetting that you were in the pod with her. She cheers, “Good morning!” Reading the two confused expressions that watch her, she explains, “I want to go and look at this area that we missed yesterday. It has a lot of hills, so maybe that’s an indicator of more deposits. I was going to look at it yesterday, but then we came together for lunch, and I completely forgot about it until now.” Noting that she is the only one in the pod that is anywhere near awake, she asks both you and Ezra, “Is it okay if I go by myself?”

Memories of the last 36 hours flicker in your head, discomforting your nerves. It’s not that you don’t trust Ezra, but you don’t trust Ezra. The outburst that he had the other night frightened the shit out of you, and you’ve been wary to interact with him at all, let alone without Cee present to diffuse the situation if it got too tense. The fear he had shoved upon you was still fresh, but the excitement in Cee’s face and your tiresome brain convinced you that it would be okay. Maybe during this time alone you could patch things up with him. Him and Cee had given you a general rundown of what had happened on The Green when you first met, but you could prod Ezra about the details. Hopefully you could uncover some explanations to his night terrors. 

You look over at him to gauge his reaction to her proposition, and he’s staring at you with puppy-dog eyes. His mouth is turned up in a soft smile, and you can’t help but grin at the way his hair is still unruly from his sleep. Suddenly you feel a pleasant heat between your legs, and you can’t tell if it’s just your body waking up or the overwhelming desire to pepper a million kisses over the sleepy man’s face. Refusing to admit to yourself that the latter is the true culprit of your wetness, you shake your head slightly to rock you out of your trance and say to Cee, “Yeah, that would be fine.” Ezra’s smile at you widens before he turns to Cee and inputs, “I concur. Like always, just be sure to watch your surroundings carefully. You’ll find us here when you return.” She nods once and turns to her equipment hatch, signaling you and Ezra to turn to yours as well to give her some privacy as she changes. Once changed, she closes her hatch, puts her helmet on and departs, “I’ll be on channel one. See you guys later!” You and Ezra both give halfhearted waves, still too tired to formulate any meaningful words. The door to the pod closes behind her, and you are alone with Ezra. 

The anticipation of being alone with him made you more anxious than how you feel now, letting your eyes fall to the man still on the floor. He’s already looking up at you, the lazy smile still pulling at his cheeks. The desire to invite yourself into his bed, wrap yourself in his blankets and limbs in order to match the warmth that is flooding your genitals, and doze off into a lustful nap tries to take over your mind. You fight it with everything you have and make your way over to your pilot’s chair. Positioning yourself so that you’re facing Ezra, he simply asks you, “Hungry?” You nod your head and he reaches behind himself. His hand reappears with a Bits Bar, tossing it to you. The only sounds that fill the pod are the crinkling of the wrappers and your respective chewing. Although you’re both preoccupied with eating, Ezra’s silence is deafening. He tended to drop his confusing lingo when talking to you, since he wasn’t trying to trick you. He hadn’t had the courage to reveal his true feelings to you yet, which will be so poetic and heartfelt it will make you sick to your stomach, so he stuck to simple statements. He wanted you to note the difference between his conversations with you and other people, so he made it a very clear point to forgo his prose and expansive vocabulary. He wanted you to note that he revealed his truest sentiments to you and tried his best to hide them from others. 

The peaceful nature of the morning encouraged you to bring up an irritating topic with him, “I only want to prospect because I want to help you guys.” He tries to keep his eyes on his food, knowing that looking into your eyes will ignite his possessive and protective nature, “I know that. And it doesn’t matter how many motives you come up with, birdie, there will never be a time when you’re in my care that you will prospect. That’s the extent that I will let this conversation fester to.” His dismissive demeanor infuriates you. You fire back at him, trying not to let your tension leak into your voice, “I’m not Cee. You are not my parent or my guardian, you’re my partner. So there’s no social expectation that I have to submit to your desires.” His irritation grows, entertaining his fingers by folding the wrapper, “That is technically true. But a good partner will never put their partner at risk. And I have deemed it risky for you to prospect.” His retaliation sets you off. You didn’t want this to turn into an argument, but you also don’t want to back down from this. Your eyebrows crease together in frustration, your arms cross and your mouth sets itself in a frown. 

He looks up from his distraction and becomes infuriated by your look. Now he’s pissed. He begins a verbal knife fight, “Maybe if you had experienced what it’s like to have a shitty partner, you would appreciate my efforts to protect you.”

“I’m not ungrateful.”

“In a way, you are. You abandoned everything you had on Puggart Bench once you met me and Cee. You had friends, a nice family, a stable living situation, a good education. Don’t blame me for a position that you put yourself in.”

“First of all, that’s how it looked to you. Second, a good education in prospecting! Maybe if you weren’t staring at my ass every second of every day, you would have asked me what I was studying. I can probably prospect better than you can.”

“I’d find pure, mocking enjoyment in seeing you try to harvest. I would bet my life that I can prospect better than you can, even with my impediment!” He motions to his mechanical arm.

“You wouldn’t have the impediment if you weren’t so fucking devious! And don’t even get me started on the arrogance, or the fucking pretentiousness!”

Your overheated exchange comes to a halt when the pod’s door opens. Cee climbs in, and you and Ezra try to mask your fury for each other as much as you can. She acknowledges the two of you and says, “Just need an air filter.” The atmosphere turns awkward as you watch her get what she needs out of her hatch. She’s leaving as soon as she came in, and you hold up a parting hand and say, “Be safe. Have fun.” She tilts her chin at you, and Ezra chimes in, “Be safe, Sparrow.” She exits, disappearing into The Blue.

Her interruption quelled the fire that burned between you and Ezra, subsequently drowning you in a wave of guilt over your words. Ezra’s looking down at his hands, shadows keeping his expression unreadable. You uncross your arms in defeat as you feel tears gather on your bottom eyelids. Opening your mouth to apologize, Ezra puts his hand up and directs, “Don’t apologize.” You protest, “But-” He cuts you off, “Don’t. Apologize.” You audibly sigh and sit back in your chair, not facing him anymore. You wish you could just kiss him. It would shut the both of you up and finally bring your shared, passionate feelings to the surface. Instead you opt to stare at the program board in front of you. How sexy. Such allure. You roll your eyes at your own naivety. 

Both of you sit and replay all of the moments that led you to the peak that you sit atop, questioning how to safely start the descent. You decide to break the silence with a neutral topic, “Why do you call her Sparrow?” Staying turned away from each other, Ezra answers, “Well, now that I have two little birds in my life, I have to distinguish them.” Your heart glows at his comment, but it’s not enough to wipe the somber expression off of your face. 

“Why Sparrow though?”

“She’s adaptable. She’s been able to keep a sane mind while traveling through Puggart Bench, The Green, The Ephrate, The Blue. The presence of others doesn’t deter her from her work, yet she’s not aloof to their existence.”

His musings entertain you. Your anger begins to become a thing of the past as you get off of your chair and sit down on the floor a few feet away from him. Being on a literal level playing field only increases your ease. 

“What are you?”

He smirks, “A magpie.”

“I should’ve known.”

You share a bit of laughter before he explains, “I’m intelligent in trickery. I take pride in my illusions, but that’s not all I possess. Once I find my mate, I become protective of them, sometimes to the point of absurdity. A magpie male and female share the brunt of building a nest; as all great relationships should split the responsibility of reconciliation equally.” Regarding his last sentence, he raises one eyebrow at you. You stretch your legs out so that the soles of your shoes touch his.

“Magpies mate for life.”

You break your eye contact. You have grown shy from his pointed allusions, so you playfully fiddle his feet with yours. A moment passes before he says, “You’re a snow goose.” Confused, you look up at him, “A snow goose?” He nods enthusiastically, “Yes, a snow goose.” You shake your head, giggling, “I’ve never heard of those.” He leans forward with shock, “Really?” “Yep.” He shakes his head once and stands up to open his equipment hatch above you. He pulls out a book and sits back down, this time beside you. All About Birds. You assume the birds are alphabetized as you watch him flip the book open about 4/5 of the way through, and he presents you with a page: “Snow Goose”. Amused by the fact that he wasn’t lying, you let out a laugh. He laughs with you, “My Goose needs to brush up on her avian animal knowledge.” A minute has to pass before the cackling subsides. Then he paraphrases, “Snow geese are another adaptable bird, preferring to travel in packs. They roost mainly in bodies of water: marshes, ponds, the like. Ringing true to stereotypes of the general breed, they are very territorial of their property once they claim what is theirs. Snow geese have a brilliant white coat, which I equate to your magnificent aura. They are similar to magpies in that they mate for life.”

You look up from the book and are greeted with chocolate eyes glazed in infatuation. Thighs and arms pressed together, you turn to rest your chin on Ezra’s shoulder. Flickering eyes go back and forth between his eyes and his lips, signaling to him that if he wanted to kiss you, you wouldn’t object. He inserts, “Snow geese also don’t lack in paying homage to their reputation of being loud bitches.” You gasp and lay a swat on his chest as he chuckles away at his poking. After he has had his fill of laughing, you return to your resting place on his shoulder and let out a sigh. 

A few quiet moments go by before you look up at him and admire the handsome, irritating, brave, stubborn, loving man who are you enamored with. You reach your hand up and comb your fingers through his hair once, twice. He leans into your hand as you continue to brush his locks, “Ezra?” He hums, eyes closing rapidly from the lulling pleasure you’re giving him, “Mm-hm?” You whisper, “I’m sorry.” A stark contrast from earlier, he allows your apology. He opens his eyes and they’re dripping with honest remorse and helpless romance, “I’m sorry too.”

Yesterday didn’t amount to what you had originally planned to accomplish, but it was still a good day. Despite all of the insult hurling and badmouthing, you and Ezra ended the day on a nice note. Getting to the bottom of his nightmares could wait for another time. You both had needed a day of fun together to put aside your hostilities before you embarked on discussing trauma. Cee had returned without a problem, hands void of aurelac but filled with notes of The Blue’s landscape. 

You wake up, startled, All About Birds slipping off of your lap and onto the floor. You had sliced it out of Ezra’s dormant fingers after he had fallen asleep, your curiosity piqued from his earlier paraphrasing. Cee’s awake and bustling about in the pod, trying to find something, anything, to eat that isn’t a Bits Bar or a Slurry Pack. As you lean over to pick the book up from the floor, you catch Ezra’s eyes on you. 

He’s standing at his equipment hatch, doing some much needed cleaning up. He’s a traveler who believes in organized chaos, that putting things in their “right” place takes up too much valuable time. 

You smile up at him shyly and as you sit back upright with the book in your hands he says, “Did you find any specimens that better suit us?” You shake your head, “No, you were pretty damn spot on with your choices.” He flashes a smug grin, one that paints your face pink with amusement. Cee plops down in her chair with a huff of defeat, unwrapping a Bits Bar. Ezra hears her and says, “(Y/N) and I will take today’s assignment, Cee. You’ve warranted yourself a break after your ingenious expeditioning yesterday.” She says, “Good, because my legs feel like jelly.” The three of you laugh and you get up and rush to your equipment hatch. With your and Ezra’s friendship on its way to restoration, you were excited to find what the day would hold. The two of you get dressed in a flash, and you tell Cee before putting on your helmet, “We’ll be on channel one, like always.” She sticks a thumb up from behind her chair, and with that you and Ezra are on your way out of the pod.

The rays of the Sun today are periwinkle, streaming through small gaps in the overhanging vegetation. The air is tinted royal blue, the trees shimmer with teal sparkles, the soil a shade of navy. You inhale deeply as if you can smell the fresh air through your air filter, imagining a place where you could be with your gang without all of this clumsy equipment, without giving up the majesty that this landscape has. 

Ezra snaps you out of your daydream, “Where to today, Snow Goose?” 

You pull out a map from a pocket on your back and scan it, looking for any uncharted territory. “Let’s go west today. There’s a big chunk of land that we haven’t documented yet.” 

He nods and begins your quest by turning to the left and walking. You follow him, folding the map and keeping it in your hands. Little conversation is shared between the two of you for the first bit of the journey and the silences aren’t awkward. The majority of your time is spent looking up, admiring the scenery as the Sun comes up and illuminates more of the land. Different hues of blue are unearthed as light reaches deeper crevices: the underside of leaves show turquoise veins, the inside of a hollowed tree trunk boasts a purplish-blue hybrid. The puddles on the ground vary in shape, size, depth and color, and are scattered about the ground in an oddly methodical fashion. 

After a while of marveling at the sights, you regret getting dressed so quickly. You hadn’t brushed your hair properly, and the braid you had put it in was loose. Rubbing against your helmet with all of your head turning, the braid had fallen almost completely out of his shape and it was threatening to combine with your sweat to mold to your face. You instinctively put your hands to your helmet to try to push it out of your way, but you are met with glass resistance. Ezra, peeking over his broad shoulder to make sure he hadn’t lost you, notices your frustration, “Let me help you with that.” You furrow your eyebrows at him and wave off his help, “No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with it.” He shook his head quickly and spins on his heels, looking around and spots two conveniently placed tree stumps, one behind the other, that will accommodate te his fantasy. He gestures to them, “Have a seat, Goose.” 

You stand there, not wanting to indulge in the dream. This was just as much of a dream for you as it is for Ezra. He watched you, everyday before you went out of the pod, braid your hair and willed that one day it would be his hands that would twist your smooth locks. And everyday you braided your hair, you would envision him standing behind you, concentrating hard on his handiwork, his hot breath cascading down the back of your neck, his knuckles grazing your back. Ezra starts walking over to the stumps and motions for you to follow. 

You obey his command and sit down on the seat in front of his, scooting back so that he doesn’t have to reach very far to touch you. A depressing gasp fills the air as you detach your helmet and set it in your lap. Ezra’s gloves appear over your shoulder, “Can you hold these for me?” You were already turned on enough by the thought of him braiding your hair, now he would be braiding your hair with naked fingers and you got to hold the battered material that guarded those impossibly large hands almost everyday? Yeah, this is an illusion. You wait to wake up from your slumber. but are reminded that this situation is very real when Ezra’s fingers reach around your head to brush the sweaty hairs out of your face. His touch is gentle, unlike from the incident a few days ago. Now that you aren’t fighting for your life, you can take in the small, romantic details that you didn’t notice before. The pads of his fingers are rough but not scratchy. You see his fingernails, neatly trimmed and free from any sort of grime. How he pulls off that sorcery while being a prospector, regardless of the gloves, you will never know. 

You tense as his fingers glide over your bruised neck, collecting your hair and bringing it all to your back. He holds your hair in one hand while the other stutters on a bruise. He senses your unease and strangles out, “I’m sorry.” You grip his gloves a little tighter, trying to fight your tears from spilling, and shake your head slightly, “It’s okay.” You’re ready to move past it. It’s important to remember that it happened, but you’re ready to rebuild your relationship. Like he jabbed at you the other day, leaving Puggart Bench had been tough for you. You worry that your leaving left behind permanent scars that would impact the relationships you had there. Ezra and Cee feel like the only friendships that you can count on to last. You need them. 

Knocking you out of your despair, Ezra pulls your hair to one of your shoulders and rests his chin on the other. He turns his head so that his breath spills across your bare neck. He runs a finger lightly across a bruise and asks, mouth millimeters away from your skin, “May I?” You nod, and he plants an imperceptibly light kiss on your neck. You let a tear dribble down your cheek, wiping it away as quickly as it ran. 

A thought enters your mind: my god, his lips are soft as fuck. The combination of the softness with the tickling of his patchy facial hair was heavenly, if not orgasmic. You giggle at your own thoughts* (*thots), intriguing Ezra, “What is it?” You decide to be transparent, “Nothing, it’s just that your mouth is soft as fuck.” A hearty laugh erupts from his chest, “Now I don’t want to put an end to your seductive observations, Goose, but I want this to be an innocent affair.” You smile and sit up straight, letting him know that you are willing to drop the flirtation. For now.

His fingers separate your hair into three sections and he says, referencing the other day, “As a treaty to our battles, I would like to clarify that I don’t think you’re ungrateful.” A soft smile graces your face and you input your own treatise, “And I don’t think you’re arrogant or fucking pretentious. You are a little devious though.” 

He chuckles, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be the scoundrel that I am, now would I?”

You shake your head no. No, he wouldn’t be the scoundrel that you are not so secretively in love with. As you sit there, enjoying the limited amount of time you are allowed with your helmet off, the details of your dreams prove to be true: you can feel Ezra’s concentrated breath warm the nape of your neck, his knuckles tap your suit when he twists your hair a certain way. You yearn for the day that you will be able to touch each other, feel each other’s true weight and texture, without the suits getting in the way.

“So, if you’re so good at prospecting, why don’t you tell me how you do it?” 

His tone is playful and your situation could not be more peaceful, so you decide to indulge him, “Well, first you have to find a deposit, which is usually indicated by a lump in the ground.”

He verifies your first step, “Uh-huh...?”

“Then you want to pour a solution into the deposit’s hole. You don’t want to pour too much though, or else it could cause an explosion.”

Ezra’s hands stop. You turn and ask him, “Is everything okay?” He nods, his eyes first staring off into the landscape and then refocusing once they land on you. He continues to involuntarily nod as he says, “That’s what permitted Cee and I to escape The Green. She threw an entire pint of solution into a deposit. Nearly blew the entire place to bits.” 

You feel rude when you realize that your mouth is hanging open in shock. You close your mouth and words about his time on The Green tumble out of his, “I am devious, indeed. But there were people--beings--there that would make me look like an angel. I take responsibility for killing Cee’s father because he tried to hijack my stash. A man’s work is no petty thing, Goose. I ended up having to kill two others there, in the end. I overestimated our luck after the first one, thinking that it would’ve been a simple escape. I killed the other mercilessly. You see now, Goose, the dangers that I encountered on The Green alone. I would never be able to forgive myself if I allowed you into harm’s way, and you became a tragedy.” 

You reach a hand out and cup his face, which he leans into. He still holds onto your hair, your braid halfway done, and you say, “I was ungrateful, and I’m sorry for that.” He shakes his head once, taking your hand from his face and kissing your palm, “Now you see why I wanted to strangle you in my nightmare. I dreamt that you were someone else, some other thing, that was threatening to drag our trio back to that wretched land.” You both breathe out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Even though it was nervous, you are glad that the both of you are taking some steps in the right direction. 

He clears his throat and sits up straight, “Now, after you dodge an eruption, what is the next step of prospecting?” 

You face ahead and let him continue your braid as you speak, “Next you want to remove the husk from the deposit, and cut the cord that connects the two. Then you want to remove the inner membrane from the husk.” 

He quizzes you, “And what’s inside the inner membrane?”

“The aurelac gem.”

“Correct. Continue.” 

“Then you want to cut out any blisters, but if you cut too carelessly you could puncture it, which will release acid. If that happens then the gem ceases to be worth anything.” 

“That’s where my expertise usually falters.” 

“Finally you want to remove the gem from the inner membrane, douse it in fazer solution, and you have your stone.” 

He tests you again, “What is the purpose of the fazer solution?”

“To stabilize the gem and increase its clarity. Higher clarity grants higher payout.”

He pats your shoulder twice and ties your hair off with the hair tie you used for your loose braid, “Fantastic job, Goose. Couldn’t have explained it better myself.” He stands, walks around your stumps and holds a hand out to you. You take it, even though you were perfectly capable of getting up yourself. You got to hand him his gloves, and he stops you, “Wait a minute.” Both of his hands come to the sides of your face and push a few stray hairs behind your ears; the finishing touches to his masterpiece. You can tell he did a good job without having to look at it, since it didn't feel too loose or too tight, and the problem you had before was now solved. His tongue darts out and runs the edge of his bottom lip before he takes a step back, throwing his hands up, “Voila!” You giggle, eliciting a smile from Ezra wide enough to make the skin around his eyes crinkle in happiness. You hand him his gloves, which he puts on before you both secure your helmets back to your suits. 

Ezra checks in with Cee, “Everything alright, Sparrow?” 

A few seconds pass before she answers, “Yep, just listening to my music. Everything alright on your end?” 

“Affirmative. We’ll be staying outside for lunch. Over and out.” 

Ezra’s eyes gaze into yours for a brief moment before they move past your shoulder, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You ask, “What?” before turning and following his stare. A patch of undisturbed soil, littered with lumps. In his rush by you, Ezra grabs your hand and pulls you along with him as you run to the potential aurelac deposits, laughing at his enthusiasm. He halts at the brink of the field, choosing which one he wants to dig up first. You suggest, “Why don’t we start from the outside and work our way in?” He nods, “That’s a great idea,” and drops to his knees. You stare at the mound in front of him as you sink down to the ground, pulling out your map. You mark where this field is located as he preps his harvesting tools. Once he’s prepared, he sighs and takes your hand, “Do you want to help me, Goose?” 

You nearly spring to your feet with excitement, “Would I ever!” 

He beams at your reaction and begins the process by clearing the dirt away from the mound to reveal the deposit. “How about for this first time, you just hand me the tools?” You nod, taking this as slowly as he wants to, “Whatever you’d like.” He grins as he cuts a hole in the deposit, knife already in hand. “Solution,” he requests. You hand him the bottle and he does the honor of pouring it over the deposit. A white steam emits from the hole, and he reaches in and grabs the husk. “Let me cut this cord, you can do the next one.” You agree and watch as he cuts it with his knife. He places the husk on a flat patch of land and requests his next tool, “Scalpel.” You hand him a Ralon Crusader Laser Scalpel and watch him work.

Laser scalpels are primarily used for precision work, like this step and the removal of blisters, while any generic knives will do the job when cutting the cord or opening up the deposit. 

You watch as he makes an incision in the husk, handing you back the tool once he’s done. He wrangles the inner membrane out of the husk and holds his hand out. You know that he wants the scalpel back, and you give it to him. He flashes you a smile for your readiness, but then hands you the scalpel back. You take it, confused, and he says, “I’d like you to cut the blisters off of this one.” 

Your pupils narrow and your muscles grow tense. You know the steps of prospecting backwards and forwards, but you had never carried out a lab experiment, let alone prospected aurelac in the wild. Ezra lays a gentle hand on your forearm, “I have eternal faith in you, Goose.” You move toward the membrane and turn the scalpel on. Ezra holds it steady for you as you go to remove the blister. There’s only one, which is a slight relief. You plunge the scalpel into the membrane, thinking that the skin would be thicker, and a hiss greets you. You pull back as the membrane deflates and an amber liquid seeps from it, the hissing never stopping. Your mortified eyes look up into Ezra’s and you immediately apologize, “I’m so sorry, Ezra, I thought that-” He raises a hand, “It is not a big deal in the slightest, Goose. I’ve never come across a prospector that didn’t puncture the membrane, or fail to mix the fazer solution correctly the first time.” He senses your lingering humiliation and grabs your shoulders, turning you even more towards himself, “Really, it’s fine.” You want to melt into his hands, crawl into his lap and just hide there until you feel better, but you know that you have to move on. 

He points to the mound behind you, “Let’s try that one.” You stay on the ground and move the tools with you, while Ezra stands and walks over before he squats. You hand him the knife, watch him repeat the process and hand him tools as he needs them: slice the deposit, squirt in the solution, remove the husk, sever the cord, open the husk, take the membrane out. He looks to you, “I want you to try again.” Turning the scalpel on, its vibrations feel more vigorous against your heightened nerves than they did last time. Ezra assumes his position of securing the slippery pod, and you begin cutting. Again only one blister, you circle the blemish with the blade. Once the circle is complete, Ezra reminds you, “It’s easiest to pull it off with your fingers.” You follow his directions, turning the instrument off and setting it to the side. You pull on sticky flesh, and the part that you cut comes off easily. Ezra sighs, “Incredible.” Sliding his fingers in between the membrane and the aurelac, he pulls the rock out and discards the pouch. He calls for the fazer solution, which you hand him and watch as he washes the gem with it. Another hissing sound can be heard, much quieter than the one that came when you punctured the membrane. He holds the aurelac up to the blue Sun, and both of you observe, amazed, at how the light shines through the gem. Aurelac is an amber-hued stone, sometimes with ripples in the color, encased in a foggy crystal. The blue light complements the orange shade of the gem exquisitely. 

Ezra turns to you, eyes bright with satisfaction, hands muddied with gristle, “Superb job, Goose!” He leans into you, helmet shields touching and reaches forward to kiss your glass. You smile and laugh with him in gratification. You can’t wait to harvest the rest of the mounds with your partner. 

A warmth you have never felt before bestows itself to you this early morning. It flourishes in your heart and subsequently pumps through your body, reaching from the crown of your head all the way down to the soles of your feet. It stretches from your ribs to the ends of your fingertips, running in cycles back and forth. The cause of this pleasure was not from the large aurelac haul you had pulled yesterday, but from the man that you harvested with. Ezra’s arms encircle you, heavy with sleep. You’re swaddled in his blankets with him, the depths of sleep tempting you to fall back down to their level of subconscious. The Sun hasn’t risen yet. 

You had crawled into Ezra’s awaiting lap after Cee had fallen asleep the night before. It wasn’t that you felt like you had to hide your feelings from her, but the dynamic still made you feel a little bit awkward, even with Ezra’s reassurance and Cee’s encouragement to pursue him. You would feel more comfortable if she were to wake up and find the two of you in your designated sleeping arrangements, and not in an amorous yet innocent entanglement of limbs. 

You can practically feel a rainbow sprout from your chest as you look up at Ezra, finding delight in his relaxed expression. His hair is messy not from the tossing and turning of a restless night’s sleep, but the enamored strokes of a yearning partner’s fingers. The whirlwind of malachite butterflies in your stomach nudges you away from sleep. You press your hands into Ezra’s chest, where they have been resting, and turn to nuzzle your nose into his collarbone before you start to slip out of his embrace. Gently lifting his arms off of you in an effort to keep him asleep, you fail. He cups the side of your face and rubs his thumb back and forth against your cheek a few times before he lets his arm fall to his side. He gives you a smile of understanding, allowing you to leave him only because he will dream about holding onto you for forever once he drifts off again. You give him a playful boop on his nose before you stand and trudge over to your pilot’s chair, sinking down into your own cold blankets. You try your best to recreate the heat you just deserted by bundling yourself up tight, but it’s not the same. However uncomfortable, you quickly succumb to the temptation of sleep. 

The true morning gives rise to an energetic group of prospectors. Still joyful about yesterday’s collection, you, Cee and Ezra are enthusiastic to stroll around The Blue again and see what else could be in store for you. Stretching in your chair, Ezra grabs your raised hands and leans over the back of your seat. You look up into his eyes and he greets you, “Good morning, Goose.” You smile and tease, “Good morning, Magpie.”

Cee blurts out, “Finally, you give her a nickname too!” You and Ezra laugh as he releases your hands, and you turn to face Cee at her equipment hatch. “I like Magpie too. Very fitting,” she raises an eyebrow at Ezra and he shoots you a wink. You get up to fold your blanket, Ezra glides over to his own equipment hatch, and Cee says, “You know, I say you guys last night.” Your face instantly beats red, and Cee notices, “No, it’s fine. It makes me happy to see a couple that can get over obstacles and love each other through it all.” You still feel a bit embarrassed, but shrug it off. 

A word she chose makes you question Ezra, “Are we a couple?” 

“Of course. We’ve always been partners, haven’t we?” 

Suited up, the three of you enter The Blue. After your daily assessment of the land (beautiful, as always) you turn to Cee and wait for her direction. She had mapped out the majority of the Blue Moon the day that you and Ezra stayed inside the pod, so you trusted her guidance the most. Ezra asks, “Where to today, birdies?” Cee analyzes the map before pointing to an area, “This block was filled with hills. It didn’t look like there were many deposits, but then again I’m not the best at spotting them.” Eager to start, you ask, “Which way do we go?” Ezra glances at the map, points to the right and commences your expedition, “This is the way.” 

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