#the mere thought of a possible deep friendship scares the shit out of me

[master-dellamorte]

Goddd I am super anxious (almost avoidant) for a friendly meeting we planned like two months ago. This is insane

[lokisprettygirl]

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 36 here/ Series Masterlist

Chapter 37

Summary : Loki reminds you of the time you were made to forget.

Warning: 18+, Smut HUGE Canon divergence (Just me making shit up), timey wimey stuff topics dealing with cheating and falling out of love, infertility, discussion of pregnancy

Since you met Loki things have been strange to say the least, turns out Stephen hadn't invited him to his birthday party for no reason, there was a threat looming over everything in the name of a mad Titan named Thanos but they fixed it, Avengers did, and Loki was one of them now. His popularity had increased since then, he was a hero, he was the one who knew all about Thanos and helped Avengers come up with a plan, he finally had his chance at redemption and you had a feeling he'd forget all about you slowly once he realizes what earth had to offer to him but he didn't.

After the war with Thanos had ended, he was there at your door bruised and hurt, his eyes were teary, for a moment you thought he'd kiss you but he didn't. You had no idea how hard it was for him to resist.

After tending to his wounds-even though he didn't need it, you grabbed a towel and passed it to him and you had no idea why his eyes welled up when you ruffled his hair and asked him to wash his hair. Maybe he didn't like it when you told him that he looked like a pine tree.

The more time you spent with him the more he felt like a dream come true, he was soft and precious but he was also protective and fierce everytime he was in public with you, he wasn't afraid to be seen with you, he treated you as if you belonged to him in every possible way and you didn't know how to feel about that.

He was famous now and you didn't understand why he'd choose you of all people but the way he looked at you at times made you feel as if you were loved so deeply by him but why would he love you that way? It has merely been two months since he knew you.

There was a celebration at the Avengers tower and he wanted to take you with him, you weren't his girlfriend, not yet, so you felt really nervous about it, however you didn't deny the offer, you just wanted to be around him as much as you could, you wanted to cross all the lines of decency and devour him but something held you back, maybe it was fear, you feared that he'd lose his interest in you once he had you in that way.

You had been in the same situation a plenty of times before and you didn't want to ruin this friendship you had built with him so you stayed quiet and kept your feelings to yourself.

---

Loki knew he had to tell you the truth sooner or later but he wanted to wait for the right moment, he wanted to gain your trust, your forgotten memories would feel too much at once and he didn't want to scare you away from him or make you feel as if he'd harm you or manipulate you in any ways.

That night at the tower as you accompanied him to the celebration he took you to his room, the room you both had been in countless times in other realities but you didn't remember, that's when he showed you his real self, his jotun form.

He just wanted to see how you'd react when you weren't really in love with him in the way you were before but the moment you hugged his giant blue body so tightly and showed no sign of discomfort, whatever miniscule amount of insecurity he had vanished as well.

You were made for him, just for him and he'd never let you go again.

"Happy birthday darling" you smiled as you heard his voice on the phone, so deep and raspy, his voice was one of the many countless reasons you were awake at night these days with your fingers playing with yourself.

"Thank you mister..you said you'd come see me but I don't see you here" you mumbled softly, you were in the kitchen making a cup of tea for yourself, you weren't really enthusiastic about turning 37 but having a new friend in life, a friend that actually cared about you was nice, you had no idea how you'd get over him if someday he'd leave you as well.

"You'd see me if you come to the door" as soon as he said that you leaped towards the door and there he was, in a fancy suit while you looked your usual homeless self. That was another thing you didn't quite understand, he never made you feel as if you had to pretend to be something you were not in front of him.

"What's the occasion?" You asked him as you looked at his fancy self so he smiled and walked closer to you to kiss your forehead.

"It's your birthday and I want to take you somewhere"

"I have to get ready?" you groaned so he cupped your cheeks and kissed the top of your head this time, his soft little kisses always made you yearn for more.

"You can come with me just the way you are love, you look beautiful" he mumbled in your ears as he kissed your cheek, you felt your skin tingling, one of these days you were going to cross all those boundaries you had confined yourself in.

"I'm not going out like this lo" he chuckled as you said that, you asked him to sit down on the couch as you went to the bedroom to change.

He liked this new place you had now but he didn't like it as much as he liked your old tiny apartment. He missed that place and if he was going to tell you the truth, it would be right there. That's where he had ended up the first time, that's when he had seen the prettiest girl in all of existence.

The place that had changed the course of his life should also be the one to change yours.

Once you got ready he teleported you both to your old place, just outside the door.

"Are we here to see Mrs Geller?" You chuckled as you asked him so he shook his head and took out a key to open the apartment you used to live in for what felt like ages ago.

"Why do you have the key?" There was a look of confusion on your face so he smiled to assure you, he hoped he wasn't coming across as a deranged killer.

"I own it now"

"You do?"

"Yes sweetheart"

As you entered the apartment you couldn't believe your eyes, you had left this place when you got married to Stephen, other tenants arrived and left in the meantime so you were surprised to see it look the same way you used to keep it, the furniture and by furniture you meant that ugly little sofa was still there, it even had the tiny little bed you had bought for yourself which surprised you because you had a feeling the other tenant had replaced it..

"I used to live here"

You turned around to look at him so he smiled,

"I know..do you trust me?" he asked you as he approached you so you nodded almost immediately. You trusted him with all your heart.

"What's going on lo?" You asked him softly, you did feel a bit apprehensive of the situation but it wasn't because of him, deep down in your heart you knew he'd never hurt you.

He hesitated before speaking, trying to find the right words to convey what he needed to say. "I need to tell you something important," he finally began. "It may be a lot to take in, and I know it's not easy, but it's something that happened to us, to me and you"

He looked at you with a mix of nervousness and excitement , not wanting to overwhelm you

"What do you mean? I don't understand" He cupped your cheeks and placed his forehead down on yours, his thumbs grazed over your cheekbones gently,

"Have you ever felt as if you were missing something, a part of your life that you couldn't remember?" He asked you softly and he could see the conflicting look in your eye,

"I did..all my life but more since I got older..i ..what's going on lo?" You asked him, suddenly feeling extremely anxious about what was to come..

"This is going to feel a lot at once my darling, but I need you to put your faith in me" Before you could say something else his fingers grazed over your temples and you finally recalled everything you had forgotten. Was it really forgotten or you never ever lived it at all? You couldn't figure it out just yet, he wasn't wrong it did feel overwhelming.

You saw it all, you went back to 2012 and you were here in the kitchen threatening him with a knife and then you remembered everything that had happened between you two after that. The friendship that bloomed, falling in love with each other..visit from Stephen and other Loki, reversing the timeline and then losing him again and then again, you suddenly had all those memories including the life you had lived in the past few years.

Your head was threatening to explode so you took a step away from him, he could tell that you felt scared of the situation and were trying to rationalize it, that's why he had to remember you because this would have been so much more difficult if he didn't.

"Princess"

You broke down into a fit of cry as he addressed you like that, the memories hit you like a wave in that moment and you weren't sure if you wanted to hold on or get swept away in it. It was like being pulled in two directions at once - you wanted to hold on to the memories and not forget, but at the same time, the pain and heartbreak that came with those memories was almost too much to bear. You weren't sure if you wanted to cling to the past or let it go, but either way, you knew that this moment would change everything.

"What is going on" you gulped as you questioned him, voice choked on your own tears, that was all you could manage to say to him.

Seven years you had been separated from him, for seven years you had to suffer just so the world could go on and be the way it was destined to be.

"I know it's a lot to take in sweetheart"

"You bet it is..i ..I don't...Oh god" you felt dizzy and he was immediately by your side to grab a hold of you, he'd never let you fall again "How did i…how could I forget you like that? Lokiii ..how couldn't i remember you..whyy didn't i remember you?" you whimpered as you looked up at him.

If you loved him so deeply then how did you forget?

"Because that's how it was supposed to be my love.. none of this was your fault" he placed his forehead down on yours and allowed you to cry because he knew after this he'd never ever make you cry like this again.

When you didn't remember him you felt so hollow and it all made sense now but now that you did remember him you couldn't fathom how you had gone seven years without him. It felt impossible.

"Please tell me we are going to be okay now, please I can't..I can't do this again baby" the pet name rolled off your lips so naturally that it didn't even make you flinch, all of a sudden you felt as if the life you had been living in the past seven years was an alternate reality that has never happened to you,

"I'm never ever leaving you again..I gave you my word didn't i? I'd tear apart the multiverse if it means I'd get to have you by my side"

He assured you and as he felt your arms around him everything was back to how it was supposed to be. He picked you up in his arms and walked towards the bed to lay you down on it, your face looked swollen from all the crying and he found it so adorable, as he took his jacket off you thought he was going to make love to you but as soon as he laid down next to you and snuggled himself against you, you knew he just needed to hold you in his arms. And you needed it desperately too.

That's how you both stayed there for what felt like hours even though it's barely been minutes..

"Lo?"

"Mmm"

"Who made you remember? Did she come?" You asked him so he looked at you and his eyes were filled with tears,

"She didn't have to make me remember" he propped himself on his elbows as he rubbed his face with his hand,

"What do you mean?"

"My memories weren't erased, i wanted to remember" you sat up on the bed as he said that, he had a feeling this would make you upset.

"Why? Why did you remember?" You asked him, you were shocked to say the least,

"So I could make you remember me when the right time would come..i didn't want to live without your memories.. didn't want to take a risk . I wanted to make sure I'd end up here with you" your eyes teared up so you crawled towards him and hugged him tightly,

"You remembered? How did you..god lo" you couldn't understand how he went seven years this way, waiting for the right moment to come back to you, you don't think you'd have been so strong and able to do the same and maybe that's why you had to forget him.

As you pulled away you kissed him as lovingly as you could and he pressed his head between the crook of your neck to suck on the soft exposed skin, your eyes fixated at the kitchen area and it felt surreal.

Time had come full circle.

Being here with him in the apartment where you had seen him the first time felt unreal, it felt like a dream but it was your reality, a beautiful reality that you'd get to live now.

"Do you want to do this?" He asked softly, always needing your consent even though his fingers were already fiddling with the zipper of your dress, instead of answering him with words you took his shirt off and that was all he needed.

He laid you down on the bed and he didn't even need to do much, you were already dripping wet for him so he waved his fingers and there was a condom in his hand,

"It's old..I sure hope it won't rip sweetheart"

You chuckled as he said that before your eyes teared up as you remembered something.

"It's ok..I can't..ummm I'm not really fertile" you gulped as you told him that but instead of a frown or worry there was a smile on his face,

"You are perfectly fertile my love"

"No you don't understand – with Stephen ..we tried ..i–" he placed his finger on your lips as you began to stutter.

"Shhhhh don't remind me of the fact that he got to touch you like that"

"I'm sorry..I'm sorry..did you ummm..did you sleep with other people?"

"Nooooo.."

"You haven't had sex in seven years?" Your eyes widened in surprise as you questioned him, sure he remembered you but he was a man, with needs, how did he not give into the temptations?

"You really think I'd betray you like that princess?"

"Lokiii..i wouldn't..god i love you" you wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer to you to kiss him, a gasp escaped your lips as he slipped his cock inside you at the same time, building up a slow rhythm he kept his eyes on you, reeling in every second of this glorious moment..

"Haven't you noticed something?" He asked you so you looked at him intently,

"What?'

"You haven't aged a day since you turned thirty?"

"I have..I'm older now lo" you giggled and norns he had missed all of this so badly he still felt as if he was in a dream.

"You feel that way but you don't look so" your eyes flickered in confusion as he said that, "That last day..the last time we fucked against your wardrobe, I did something to you.. without your permission and I'd apologise but I'm not even apologetic about it"

"What do you mean?" You smiled as you questioned, nothing he said would faze you anymore he had figured but he needed to come clean.

"I didn't use contraception that night, you remember?"

"Mmm" you mumbled as you tucked his hair behind his ears,

"I took you as my mate, not just as a god but as a Jotunn. We are a different species altogether, destined to have one partner for life, one to wed and mate with until death do us part. I planted my seed within you, it's waiting to be flourished whenever you'd become ready to be the mum, and from that moment on, you became my chosen one, unable to have another man's children"

Your mouth stayed open as you processed the information, that's why you weren't able to get pregnant even though your body was completely healthy "I'm sorry I made that decision for you, you can choose to leave yourself out whenever you desire princess, I'd never ever force you to be with me"

"Shutup ..lo" you flipped him underneath you as he said that, your hips rolled back and forth as you began to ride him slowly. Was this supposed to make you upset? You didn't know, Maybe you'd have felt so if it was some other man but you knew loki would never ever do anything to hurt you "You could have just told me lo"

"You wouldn't have remembered"

"I know..did you do it to stop me from aging? Holy shit am I immortal now?"

"Not immortal..you'd just age the same way I do"

"Thousands of years…together?" Your eyes teared up as you looked at him so he cupped your cheeks and as his thumb grazed over your lips you sucked on his digit and an indecent moan escaped his throat,

"Forever my love, you'd be mine forever..that's not why I did it though" you looked at him confused as he said that, "It was atrocious enough that I had to watch you belong to another man for those years, there's no way I'd have allowed him to breed you in such a way"

You smiled as he said that, he was so possessive and you loved that. As you made love to him all night, you still felt as if you were in a fever dream where everything was going your way and you were living the life you had always desired but for once life was on your side. For once time was your friend.

It all made sense now, you were destined to be his forever, that's why you had felt so lonely all your life, feeling as if you were missing a part of your existence, now you knew he always had it with him.

"I dated Mark Johnson" your eyes widened as you remembered that, before you married Strange you dated this other doctor for a while, he was nice but he wasn't the love of your life, none of them were.

Everything made sense now, you gave Loki the fake name in the first timeline because you were supposed to date a man with the same name in the future, the future Loki you met in the first reality one was this same Loki that was underneath you at the moment who went to the alternate reality to warn him of his own future.

"Marry me darling..I can't take it no more..I need to tell the world you belong to me" he asked you as he pulled out a ring out of nowhere, you remembered the ring, it was the same one he had given you before, but this time you knew he belonged to you the way you belonged to him, he had waited and he was only yours for seven years.

All the fears, the trauma, the insecurities you had vanished in that moment. You knew you'd marry him for the reasons this time.

You remembered what Loki had told you, your loki, this loki, he knew.

"So will we really get married in the future?"

"In six months of meeting each other"

It all made sense now.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Note: Just one more chapter left/ more like an epilogue.

Taglist

@annoyingsweetsstranger @mcufan72 @nixymarvelkins @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @eleniblue @violethaze @anukulee @ladymischief11 @12-pm-510 @wolfsmom1 @whylokiissocute @pics-and-fanfics @daddylokisqueen @olivertwistrabbit @blog-the-lilly @prettylittlepluviophile @vanilla-daydreaming @somewiseguy @yaaamadaa-blog @dragonmurray @elthreetimes @gruftiela @thenotoriouserg @greep215 @yallgotkik @janineb86 @sflame15-blog @nyxlaufeyson @lokidokieokie @purplekitten30 @nikkig496-blog @frozenhuntress67 @qardasngan @rosecentury @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @hrefna-the-raven @jennyggggrrr

@cosniffee @lotsoflokilove23 @oreo-cream @aesonmae @salvinaa

[bunnykawa]

i’m better than you! (oikawa x f. reader)

summary: If there was one thing Oikawa hated more than geniuses, it was your boyfriend.

a/n: thought about oikawa with a glock and it had me feeling some type of way. so here’s 6.2k words of what’s been in my head. also if you love iwa-chan, i’m deeply sorry. (btw someone replied to my last fic saying they were gonna move to the states with iwa-chan and...yeah that was funny cs this was sitting my drafts) 

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, implied character death, mentions of blood/gore, GUNPLAY!!, violence, noncon/dubcon/rape, little bit of exhibitionism?, mentions of cheating, brief mentions of stalking, abusive language/cursing

Oikawa didn’t know when it started.

It could’ve been the first time he ever saw you in school, so quiet and shy, with a pink tinge across your face when you glanced in his direction. Or it could’ve been the first time you spoke to him, with a little tremble to your lips as you struggled to form the right words that would leave a lasting impression. Maybe it was when he started noticing you were always attending his volleyball games, cheering on your school with a big stupid grin on your face.

Or maybe it was a mixture of all these little moments that made Oikawa feel what he felt. It didn’t matter what started it. All Oikawa really knew was that he was so in love with you. 

You ended up spending so much time together and blossoming such a beautiful friendship that others didn't expect to happen. It was a dream for him—seeing you smile and laugh, not caring about how you looked. And when you would tease him, it would make him laugh rather than upset him. Yes, he loved you for that. He loves everything about you. From the way you fiddled with your fingers when you had nothing else to do to your weird outbursts when you get excited. You were nothing like the girls who threw themselves at him in hopes of getting his attention. 

Often times, after you would hang out, Oikawa would pull down his pants in the privacy of his bedroom and desperately fist his cock until thick spurts of white would shoot onto anything that he was able to steal from your room from all the times he came over to your house. A picture, a shirt, his favorite pair of panties that smelled so deliciously like you, one of your socks that he wrapped around his length as he fucked his hand—absolutely anything he got his hands on that once belonged to you—was enough to have him dizzy with lust, desire, and love.

You became everything to him. If he was ever able to hold you close with his own fingertips, he would be able to die happily. He would even suffice with just a sniff of your hair while you’re actually awake instead of when you’re dead asleep in the middle of the night and he sneaks into your room through the window you always forget to lock. You couldn’t know that, though. Not like he would have been able to make a move on you so soon to make you completely his anyway.

But he would do anything for you. You were his best friend after all.

So when for the first time ever in your close friendship, you suddenly show up to his house unannounced with tears running down your cheeks and shamelessly throwing yourself into his arms, Oikawa was frozen in place for a second. 

“He cheated on me, Tooru,” you sobbed into his chest. Oh...all he could do was hold you close, bring you inside, and kiss the top of your head lovingly as your shoulders shook.

“It’s okay, Princess. Let it all out. I’m here,” he cooed.

And, wow...you smelled so good when you were awake. So sweet and pure. Absolutely beautiful...

So why the fuck would he cheat on you? 

Oikawa was angry. He was so angry he could laugh at how incredulous the situation was to him. How could he willingly treat you like shit?

After letting him take you away so easily, so Oikawa was forced to resort to pretending that he wasn’t devastatingly in love with you. After being forced to trust him with your heart, convincing himself that he would never hurt you. After having to deal with the fact that every single moment that you shared with Oikawa, that made him fall so deeply for you, was also shared with him. After hearing you scream his name at every single volleyball game you ever attended instead of "Go Tooru!"

It was true—you really were nothing like Oikawa’s fangirls. You didn’t love Oikawa like the fangirls loved him. Never yearned for Oikawa like how his fangirls did. 

You loved Iwaizumi, the former ace of Seijoh and the target of most of Oikawa’s sets. And you broke poor Oikawa’s heart every single time he witnessed a loving moment between you and Iwaizumi. He didn’t understand. He was taller, maybe even more cuter, just so much better than Iwaizumi. So why didn’t you choose him?

That’s how you ended up here; shivering in fear on Iwaizumi’s bed as he sat on the swivel chair he usually kept in his bedroom. Iwaizumi's hands and feet were tied together and the ghost of a blue bruise was forming on his right eye. The rest of his face was slightly swollen and there was a smudge of dried blood under his nose. Whenever you glance up at him, he was staring down at his hands in guilt, shame, and maybe anger and pain. But he made no move to try to get out of his restraints. It was no use.

Can we talk? Come over soon.

You received that text from Iwaizumi's number, assuming it was him. Anxiety-ridden and curious, you came to Iwaizumi's house, wondering what he could possibly say after hurting you so bad. The door was unlocked so you let yourself in, but you didn't expect a shirtless Oikawa—your best friend ever since you met him—to be sitting on the couch looking as relaxed as ever with Iwaizumi's phone in his lap. The little dry splatters of crimson liquid that kissed his skin were easy to notice.

As he led you to Iwaizumi's bedroom, your heart was pounding. And when you saw Iwaizumi in such a disheveled state, you were frozen in fear. Oikawa forced you to sit down on the bed, and you would've started screaming for help—you could've, but a metal handle sticking out of Oikawa's pocket caught your eye.

"God, I fucking hate you. Ever since you got with (Y/N), you’ve made it so hard not to rip your skull apart.”

Oikawa was standing a few feet away from Iwaizumi. A million thoughts ran through your head and every single one of them was wondering how this happened.

When did your best friend become so violent?

And when the fuck did he own a gun?

"I know. I made a goddamn mistake," Iwaizumi grunts in pain, "It's over now. We're not together anymore so-...so you don't need to be doing this dumb shit."

Oikawa laughs loudly, "That's not the point, Iwa-chan! The point is you hurt her." He's clenching and unclenching his fists in anger.

"I said I fucking know!" Iwaizumi barks. He was breathing heavily, his chest was rising and falling deeply.

Oikawa's face forms into a deep scowl. Suddenly, he pulls the black pistol out of his pocket and strikes Iwaizumi's cheek with it, making him jerk his face to the side, before pressing it against his temple. Blood drips from the side of his mouth from the sudden impact.

"Tooru," you whimper. You were shaking so bad, trying hard to stay as calm as possible in case he would try to turn the gun on you. The sight of blood made you feel sick. This whole situation was disgusting.

"You're lucky I haven't blown your brains out for stealing my girl. But hurting her, too? I should fucking shoot you right now." Maybe Iwaizumi was scared, just like you. One pull of the trigger and he would be gone in an instant. But he also looked so furious, with his jaw clenched and his eyes ablaze.

"Then shoot me, Shittykawa. Fucking do it," Iwaizumi taunts him, "Let (Y/N) see how fucked up you are. Traumatize her."

Oikawa pulls away and presses the pistol underneath his own chin in thought, before he carelessly waves it around as if it was just a toy. Every single time he moved, you jumped in your seat and your heart beat eratically. He was unpredictable. "Fuck that, I don't wanna kill you in front of (Y/N) yet. I'd rather blow her back out than blow your brains out first."

His words send a fearful shiver down your spine and makes your skin crawl. You’ve never seen this side of him before—never even expected him to be like this.

Iwaizumi growls, "You're sick."

"I'm not sick, Iwa-chan. I'm doing what's right for my girl," he said firmly. He spun the weapon between his fingers.

"She's not 'your girl.' She was never your girl!" Oikawa and Iwaizumi continued to argue, as if one of them wasn't holding a gun capable of killing everyone in the room instantly. “If this is what you consider right, then you’re just a fucking psycho!”

Why did you have to be here? In between this mess?

You cover your face with the collar of your shirt, crying and trembling with your heart threatening to pound until it jumps out of your chest and leaves you dying. The thought of someone just... getting their life stolen in the hands of someone else right in front of you was destroying your mind. Somehow, even if this was all Oikawa's twisted idea, it felt like it was your fault. 

"Tooru, I don't wanna be h-here. I... I don't want you to kill him..." you hiccup through your tears. Without you noticing, he slowly walks towards you so that he's directly in front of you, watching you break down. “I wan-wanna go h-home.”

"Put the fucking gun down, dumbass," Iwaizumi warns him.

Looking up from your shirt and desperately brushing away the tears as they fell, you're faced with the muzzle of the barrel pointed straight at you, only a mere few inches away from your terrified face. Behind the pistol was, of course, the man you thought would always protect you.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi snarled, "Don't you dare fucking hurt her. Are you crazy?"

"Shut up, Iwa-chan! Since when did you ever care about her like I do?" Oikawa snaps at him. You stay focused on the shiny barrel of the pistol.

You could die right now. Right in front of your ex boyfriend and your soon-to-be ex best friend. Bleeding with your brains on the mattress you once shared with the man you spent a whole year loving.

All because of Oikawa.

"Why, Tooru?" you ask in a cracked voice, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oikawa smiled at you, "I'm gonna make this right, okay? I won't hurt you. I just...follow what I say, okay, Princess?"

“I don’t-” you gulp hard, trying to find your voice, “I really don’t understand any of this. I-...I hate this. I don’t wanna die. Tooru, I’m so-...I-...nng?”

The muzzle is delicately pressed between your lips suddenly, nudging your soft lips apart and cutting you off mid-sentence. You inhale sharply as you stare into Oikawa’s brown eyes, surprised and terrified of his sudden action. It throws you off guard, your body going rigid at the thought of dying at this very second.

What would your parents do? Is anyone even gonna find you? Will Iwaizumi survive? Since when did Oikawa hate you so much that he wanted to stick a gun in your mouth?

“Suck.” 

Wait, what? 

The fear on your face is instantly replaced with bewilderment. Suck? What does he mean suck? You stare at each other, the confusion evident on your face, but Oikawa couldn’t stop smiling evilly. 

“Suck on it, Princess,” Oikawa coos. Is he being serious? Even Iwaizumi, ten feet away and tied up, is looking at him as if he was an alien.

“You heard what I said, (Y/N). I won’t hurt you if you listen to me.” When you don't move, he pulls the gun back only to cock it. Your breath hitches in your throat as he places it back on your lips. "Put those sweet lips around my pistol and suck on it. Make it pretty.”

“What the fuck?” breathes Iwaizumi, gawking at Oikawa’s odd demand. 

With the sound of Oikawa cocking the gun fresh in your mind, and fueling your desire to live, you hesitantly wrap your lips around the gun. You start sucking on it, flicking your tongue against the underside of the barrel and slowly bobbing your head around it as you maintain eye contact with Oikawa through your blurry vision. It wasn’t cold, surprisingly, but the feeling of the metal in your mouth made you wince. You’re squeezing your eyes shut, ignoring your tears and trying to think of the weapon as something else.

Oikawa says nothing, his gaze never leaving you while you take his gun as if it was his own cock. The only thing flashing through his mind is that this view is absolutely perfect. Your saliva leaves a thin coating on the barrel every time you pull your head back, just to nibble on the muzzle and swirl your tongue around it, only to let half of the barrel disappear into your mouth again—and it leaves a satisfied feeling in his lower stomach seeing you attempt to submit to him so you could live. 

Slowly, he starts pushing it deeper into your mouth, almost to the back of your throat, and you recoil before he can reach that point, grabbing onto his hand that was holding the gun with both of your weak hands. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts in a disappointed tone, “I wanna see you take in more, Princess.” Instantly, you force yourself to relax your throat to let him invade the rest of your mouth. You hold your breath as he hits the back. You’re still trying to bob your head along the weapon, relying on your nose to give you the air that you need.

There was something really fucked up about this whole situation. A red tint is flushed across your face when you glance over at your ex boyfriend, watching you intently. He’s disgusted, that’s for sure—but when you look up to make eye contact with Oikawa, he’s far from disgusted. And it’s easier to tell, because when you trail your gaze to his lower half...

He’s rock hard—bulging from beneath the fabric of his sweats, sweet smile on his perfect face, absolutely no shame in his erection from getting his pistol sucked.

Iwaizumi always knew he was fucking weird.

But there’s an odd, yet familiar sensation, in your lower stomach—a warmth that you know all too well that only happens when Iwaizumi touches you—that makes you clench your thighs and flutter your eyes shut. Looking up at Oikawa, there’s no doubt that he knows what you’re feeling. A small smirk finds its way across his lips. 

Iwaizumi didn't know you were fucking weird, either.

Yeah, that’s what’s fucked up about this situation. Why was this turning you on, too?

Oikawa suddenly pulls the gun away, leaving a thin string of saliva following your lips to the harsh metal for a second until it disconnects. He leans in, making you hold your breath, and his lips find yours.

Soft—that’s the first thing you think about when he connects your lips. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs. 

So, you do. He feels foreign to you, strange even, and you feel quite awkward kissing him when you never even thought about kissing him before. You were beyond flustered. Despite being in such a stressful situation...he’s gentle. The tip of his tongue trails along the opening of your lips. As a habit, you part your lips and allow him to enter your mouth. 

You’re still scared. Your heart is beating so fast. Your breathing is labored from the anxiety sitting heavily on your chest.  But Oikawa is strangely calm. In fact, if he wasn’t moving against your lips right now and lapping at your tongue with his, he’d be smiling and laughing at Iwaizumi’s face. I’m kissing your ex girlfriend!

And Iwaizumi couldn’t do anything except stare. 

You push your hands against his bare shoulders to pull away. “Tooru, stop it,” you gasp out, “Hajim- Iwaizumi is right there.” You didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t even wanna see him in the first place after coming home to find him with another girl.

With his face close to you, he harbors a blank expression. “So, would you rather...do something else?” You pause for a second, remembering that he has a gun that’s a few inches away from you, and you reluctantly nod your head. His expression changes—a small smirk and softer, relaxed eyes, an indication that he definitely has something else in mind. Regret starts to fog your mind, but you also can’t help but be curious.

“What are you planning, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi asks in an irritated, strained tone. He even sounded a bit...jealous? Was he actually jealous? You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side to shoot Iwaizumi an evil smirk.

“I’m gonna fuck your ex girlfriend, Iwa-chan. Right in front of you.”

~

You never thought you'd be in this position.

It's hard to fully take in the situation when you literally feel like you're about to pass out from anxiety and all you want is for everything to be calm. At least go back to the way it used to be or how it should be—spending the rest of your time with Oikawa while eating tubs of ice cream and watching movies until you pass out together.

Instead, you're shaking like a leaf while straddling his thighs, fully exposed, soft skin pressing against his. Oikawa is completely bare, too, and while you always admired his athletic ability and perfect body, you didn't wanna see him like this. Not at all. Especially when his finger is still lazily sitting on the trigger of his pistol with it still pointed towards you, challenging you to do something so he can pull it.

It's that mischievous glint in his eyes that make you tense up the most. You want to be angry. You have every right to be, you think, but it's so difficult.

You're trying to cover up your body with your arms, holding onto the small amount of pride you have left, but it's no use when Oikawa is constantly looking you up and down. At the same time, you're trying to avoid looking down—his cock was sitting upright, hard and pulsating and...bigger than you thought he would be.

Way bigger.

"You can give it a little lick, Princess. If it'll make it easy for you."

You bite your trembling lip, shaking your head side to side, "I don't...I don't feel like it, Tooru." Oikawa moves to place his free hand on your waist, trailing his finger tips up and down, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Just try it, baby. I won't bite," he muses, "Or would you rather I-" He picks his gun up higher. That small, annoying smile seemed to never leave his face because he knew the power he had over you at this moment.

"No," you quickly interrupt him. A chuckle vibrates in his chest at your response.

"I think I need to take care of you first, hm?" Before you can disagree with him again, he's sitting up to grab your hips. He flips you both over so he's above you. He opens your legs and lifts them up so your thighs are pressing against your stomach, exposing everything to him. You’re embarrassed, covering your face with your hands. 

“Let’s see your face, Princess. Don’t hide,” he insists, “You’re so pretty. I wish I could’ve seen you like this sooner.” You have no choice but to let your hands fall from your face. Oikawa looks so happy. In the corner of the room, Iwaizumi is muttering something under his breath with a flushed, bruised, and bleeding face. 

Oikawa runs his fingers along the skin of the underside of your thighs before placing his palms on each. He was still holding onto the weapon. It’s pressing against one of your thighs. Why did everything feel so cold? 

You flinch when he leans down towards your heat to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe up your slit. Oikawa stifles a groan at the taste of you. This was what he wanted since the first time he met you—an opportunity to make you his. He wraps his lips around the little sensitive nub at the top of your cunt and sucks on it. 

“T-Tooru,” you softly whine in uneasiness. You’re not sure if Oikawa can hear the distaste dripping at your mouth, but he keeps sucking and lapping at you as if you were the last thing he would ever eat. “I really don’t like this, Tooru. This is so embarrassing...”

He looks up at you, locking eyes with you as you silently beg him to stop. He removes one of his hands from your thighs to probe at the entrance of your pussy with his thumb. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear the familiar slick of your wetness and he spreads it around with the pad of his thumb. “You don’t seem to be that against it, (Y/N).” 

Of course you’d be wet—he’s licking and playing with your cunt. When would he understand that?

You gulp nervously, “I don’t want this, Tooru. Please.”

He hums to myself, seeming to be deep in thought as always, before he mutters, “Oh, I know what you want.” You’re confused for a second, but he moves his other hand to hold the pistol at your entrance and...what the fuck?

What the fuck?

“No! Tooru!” you gasp, moving to sit up. Oikawa quickly pushes you back down by your chest. He’s pushing the gun inside you, slowly, but surely—and you feel every single rough patch and texture on the barrel, breaking through the rings of your cunt. “No, no, no!” You’re trying to reach for him, to stop him before he continues, yet he’s able to hold you back with one arm and pushes the pistol inside your pulsing heat, stretching you with the hard metal. It’s an uncomfortable stretch because of how stiff it is. You can already feel the trigger guard pressing at your asshole from how much he filled you up.

You swear Iwaizumi whispers a “holy shit” from his place.

“This is what you wanted, hm? You wanted to get fucked by my pistol?” Oikawa coos in a sickeningly sweet tone. You’re shaking your head, bracing your arms against the bed sheets and chewing on your lip. No. This can’t be happening. “I saw how you reacted when I let you suck on it, Princess. Bet this sweet pussy was already dripping the second I put it in your mouth. I never knew you were so dirty.” He wanted to laugh. The view from between your legs was incredible. He’s glancing at Iwaizumi, who is trying very hard not to look.

“That’s not true!" you gasp. Oikawa continues to pump the gun in and out of you with slow and deliberate strokes. You hate that you feel every single ridge and dent. He leans down to give a few licks at your clit. You’re suppressing a moan in your throat, because this shouldn’t feel good. Every single time he snaps it back into you, you’re gasping for breath. The walls of your cunt are clenching around the thick barrel and it’s hot—you’re heating up from the unfamiliar object forcing its way inside you, forcing you to react. Forcing you to take it in even if your brain is screaming for mercy.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Oikawa mutters, “You’ve been mine since the beginning. I just let him have you.” This time, you’re biting down on your fist as he continues his assault. This wasn’t the Oikawa you met and became best friends with; this was an absolute monster. Maybe this was who he was the whole entire time—a liar, a master manipulator, a delusional psychopath who couldn’t understand the chemicals behind truly loving someone. 

But that doesn’t matter right now because fuck—the consistent strokes of Oikawa fucking you with his pistol felt good. The tiny moans you’re letting out proves everything, even as you try to hold them back. It’s so hard to stop your hips from bucking against the hard metal, even harder to stop that stupid fire burning in your pelvis. God, you’re about to fucking explode.

It doesn’t feel good, you’re trying to convince yourself. This is assault. This is rape. This doesn’t feel good. You’re not turned on, you’re just terrified if he pulls the trigger—

“Let it out, baby. The gun’s still fully loaded,” he whispers against your lips with a smirk, suddenly lifting himself up to press his forehead against yours. His words were ringing loudly in your ears, reaching every single nerve in your body. You part your lips in shock, your legs are shaking violently against your chest, and your eyes are finally rolling back into your head. A loud moan erupts from your throat, high-pitched like a scream. Quickly, he connects your lips and forces his tongue inside.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

It almost hurts with how tightly you’re clenching onto the gun still inside you. But it’s one of the best feelings that you’ve ever felt because you’re cumming. You’re actually cumming. Your pussy is hot with so much shame, but you’re still gushing juices, soaking Oikawa’s hand.

You’re cumming on a fucking gun.

The room is silent as you’re coming undone. Iwaizumi is dazed, obvious from the look on his face as he’s staring at the place between your legs and the wet spots soaking the sheets. Oikawa stands upright on his knees, and you notice that his pelvis is wet from your juices. How embarrassing. How utterly fucking embarrassing. He’s pulling the gun out of your cunt and raising it up to his face, examining how your cum is running down to the handle. 

Oh, that’s really satisfying. He could take a picture right now, but he didn’t want to waste anymore time. 

"Cumming just from my pistol?" Oikawa chuckled, "So fucking dirty. I love it. I could get you pregnant right now. Pump you up with my kids, would you like that?" 

“Fuck’s sake, Shittykawa. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi speaks up all of a sudden. Oikawa simply scoffs at the other man before pulling you closer to rest your thighs against his hips. 

You wheeze, completely out of breath, “No, Tooru. I’m done. I need to leave.” With the palms of your hands against the mattress, you weakly try to pull yourself up and away from Oikawa’s grasp. 

“I said I was gonna fuck you, didn’t I?” Oikawa hums, pulling you back against his hips and placing his tip at your entrance. You wanna move away, and you really try to by moving to scoot away from him, but you feel so weak. He’s still holding onto his disgustingly wet gun—wet from you. Has he even put it down at all? 

"I never break promises," Oikawa sighs, with a big smile on his face, "And you’re so beautiful, (Y/N). How did I ever stop myself before? I should've taken you even if that fucker was still with you."

You’re trying to protest. You’ve been trying all night, but Oikawa is so persistent with wanting his revenge—revenge that you never even wanted. But he’s also thinking that this is it—this is the stepping stone of becoming the object of your affection. Not Iwaizumi, the man you loved and who cheated on you. Not anyone else. Just your best friend.

His hands are gripping onto your hips as he arches your back for his hips to meet yours. It’s another uncomfortable stretch as he pushes passed the fleshy walls of your pussy with his throbbing cock. You’re already wet—he has no struggle sinking into your pussy—and the squelching sound your wetness makes and the sharp whine that you let out in response to his movements are music to his ears. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re tight, Princess. I thought Iwa-chan was fucking this pussy every night before.” 

It seemed like Iwaizumi wasn’t in the room at first, even if you were hyper-aware of that fact and it made your whole body become flushed. If you could hear his thoughts right now, he would most definitely be thinking that this fucking sucks. There’s a crack in your voice when you let out a low moan at Oikawa finally sheathing you on his cock. 

“How is it? Bigger than Iwa-chan?” he teases you. He pulls back only to dive deeper into your wetness. The feeling of his cock sliding against your walls makes you tremble. You’re so sensitive from how he fucked you with his gun less than five minutes ago, it’s a surprise that you haven’t passed out from the extra simulation he’s giving you. 

“Shut up,” you groan, looking off to the side. When Oikawa is comfortably settled between your folds, he leans over you to brace his hands on either side of your head. Instinctively, you wrap your small hands around his biceps as he slides in and out of you, squeezing desperately. 

Oikawa cocks his head to the side. “You don’t want to admit it, huh?” He suddenly snaps his hips sharply against yours, jerking your whole body upwards. “You don’t need to say it. I know how you feel, anyway.” It fucking hurts. His cock is longer, thicker, and going deeper than his gun was.

“How would you even know how I feel, Tooru?” you ask in a shaky tone. The anxiety never seemed to go away. Maybe you kept quivering because of your new-found fear of the brown-haired man above you, or maybe it was because you can still feel Iwaizumi burning a hole through you—he probably realized how much he hated you because if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be sitting tied up in his own home witnessing his friend rail his ex girlfriend.

Oikawa knew, though, that it was because you couldn’t fight the way your nerves were responding to how he touched you.

“Because if you didn’t like this, you wouldn't be under me right now,” he says lowly. With his hands gripping the sheets next to your head, he forces you deeper into the mattress with his body weight. The gun next to your head would’ve made you nervous, but you were too focused on the way Oikawa’s cock was drilling into your pussy like he was trying to leave an imprint of himself there for you to remember forever.

Every time he thrusts into you with all his strength, you’re gasping and moaning, gripping onto his biceps that flexed so deliciously as he filled you up completely. Your body was betraying you, writhing beneath him, basically begging for him to give you more. To make you cum one more time from just his cock.

“You really think this is funny, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi growls. You tense up at the sound of his voice—the anger dripping in his tone. “Basically raping my ex girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa purrs, “It’s so...satisfying.” He’s building up his pace, and pretty soon he’s pounding into you with such a force that you’re struggling to let out moans and end up up letting out breaths of air and whiny squeaks. “Especially since she likes it so much. Right, (Y/N)?” Your eyes are rolling back at the sensation—you’re not even trying to deny it at this point. No matter how fucked up or disgusting you look right now, you couldn’t escape Oikawa and you couldn’t stop your pussy from sucking in his cock hopelessly like he belonged inside you.

“I fucking hate you.”

The area on your pelvis is undeniably hot now. Sweat was appearing on your skin despite being fully naked and exposed to the cold air in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Oikawa is consistently snapping his hips into yours while you’re trying to control your own hips from trying to buck into his. Trying to hold onto what little sanity you have left before you’re ultimately forced to let go on his veiny cock.

Oikawa is your best friend—was your best friend, you don’t even know anymore. Fuck, he’s evil, giving you a warm, welcoming smile with a gun laying next to your head and ravaging your insides at the same time. This isn’t normal. But damn did this feel so fucking good.

You’re crying now, the tears running down your cheeks in a steady stream. Fuck Iwaizumi. Fuck Oikawa’s gun. Fuck the insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, and guilt that you’ve had inside you for the past few weeks after your failed relationship, crying into Oikawa’s lap every single time. Fuck everything. 

Only his name is forming at your lips, accompanied by wails of pleasure. You’ve never felt like this before, not even with Iwaizumi, who you thought would be the only person making you cum until you’re stupid. 

“F-fuck, Tooru,” you manage to gasp out. All your muscles are clenching involuntarily. It only makes Oikawa groan, your pussy unbelievably squeezing even tighter around him, pulling him inside you.

“Are you okay, my baby? You gonna cum all over my cock?” 

Your head is spinning and you just want it to stop. All you’re thinking about is how roughly Oikawa is fucking into you and the pleasure he’s bringing in waves washing over you. He’s not even touching your clit—the base of his cock is just hitting your swollen nub every time he thrusts inside of you, letting tiny shocks run through you.

“This is my pussy now,” he growls, “I’m gonna fuck this. I’m gonna stretch out this little cunt every day and you’re gonna let me, right? You’re gonna let me fill you up with my cum, too?” 

Let go, every sensor in your body is screaming.

"C'mon, Princess. Tell me. Tell Iwa-chan how much you love my cock inside you. Tell us how much you wanna be filled with my cum," he grins as he shoves his length into you roughly. He nudges your head to the side and attaches his lips to the soft skin on your neck, sucking and biting at the area. You arch your back off the bed and you don't hold back anymore—you're chanting his name, finally, begging for him.

"Tooru-mmm, please," you plead, "Fuck me, please! I'm...I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum, Tooru!"

Then Oikawa lifts himself up, bracing himself on one of his arms before bringing his gun against your lips again. You don't hesitate to stick your tongue out, letting it in your mouth this time. God, he could fucking cum at the sight of you willingly sucking on his pistol, swirling your tongue over the metal surface. He won't shoot, he just wants to see you submitting to his gun and his cock like he's a king.

It's taking everything within you to not pass out from violently twitching and spasming on his cock, letting your juices squirt all over him once you open your mouth to cry loudly. His gun is still pressing into the base of your throat, so your scream drawls out into a choking noise. Oikawa is letting out a string of curse words—your juices are coating his skin and spraying all over his cock.

Your thighs feel so sore, and you're a sputtering mess as he pulls his gun away from you. It's covered in your saliva. Oikawa is lifting himself up, panting heavily, observing the erratic movement of your chest and the red flush of your body. He doesn't bother to pull out of your convulsing cunt. Why are you still trembling like that?

But it's okay. Oikawa is so happy, so pleased. You were such a good girl—he knows for sure that you finally accept him and want him.

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sang with delight in his tone to catch Iwaizumi's attention. Damn, you completely forgot he was still there.

Oikawa is finally upright on his knees, leaving you sweating on the bedsheets. Iwaizumi looked up, cringing in disgust and fueled with anger and envy from watching Shittykawa himself take your body so relentlessly as you were cumming beneath him. Oikawa lifts his arm, pointing the shiny metal weapon towards the other man in the room. He was still throbbing inside you, enjoying the feeling of you still twitching gently around his cock from your orgasm. With half-lidded eyes, you look up at him weakly, suddenly admiring his toned, muscular body and the sweat glistening on his abs. You're not sure if he came inside you, but the wetness escaping your hole and the feeling of his length twitching, too, is more than enough proof that he probably did.

"What do you want now, you fucking asshole?" Iwaizumi snarls.

The words that come out next are so snarky, filled with hate and arrogance. "Just wanted to let you know that I’m better than you," Oikawa sneers, "And I don't shoot blanks."

He finally pulls the trigger. The sound of a gunshot is piercing the air and Oikawa jerks slightly from the recoil. Then it's completely silent. Your thighs are still shaking, you’re still struggling to find your voice, and your brain seems to be focusing through the haziness. He leans down to give you the sweetest kiss, as if to say that everything will be okay now. The smell in the air was suddenly pungent—a mixture of sweat, sex, gun powder and...blood? Holy shit.  You're screaming now.

Holy shit, Oikawa.

[foli-vora]

more than words - pt.1

A/N: I’ve had this in my head for forever and a half so it feels good to finally sort my thoughts and random notes out. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual acts/sexual refences (no smut yet but it’s coming so this is strictly 18+)

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

Wednesday nights were pizza nights. A rule established in the early stages of your friendship with Benjamin Miller – a loud mouth, golden hearted ex-spec ops mess of a human being. A chance meeting one stormy day on the freeway, led to something you weren’t expecting – a friendship, and a solid one at that.

“– she damn near tried to suck the life out of me!”

“Jesus Ben, there are kids a table over.”

“So? They shouldn’t be eavesdroppin’ on conversations that don’t concern them.” He grins lopsidedly at your scowl of disapproval, ripping off a mouthful of pizza and humming as he chews it, head swaying to the faint music playing behind the bar. “You’re payin’, by the way.”

You snort quietly, “Don’t I always?”

He recoils, blinking in playful surprise. “Excuse you? I paid last…” he trails off, eyes rolling to the wall as he thinks but a frown soon pinches his brows. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you and I appreciate you.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you signal for another round. “Anyways, reverting to our previous topic before you got carried away with your blowjob story.”

He makes a noise, snapping his fingers as he tries to rush chewing and swallowing his mouthful. “So,” he starts, “I’ve got a friend…”

You groan immediately, letting your head lull back. “Ben –”

This wasn’t anything new. Benny took it as his own personal mission to fix you up with anyone he thought could give you a good time and treat you well. Friends, colleagues, Hell – even his brother at one point. Will was lovely, by all means, but not your type. Both you and Will had agreed you were not a match in the slightest early in the evening, enjoyed a night of beer and pool, and then went your separate ways.

Although, now that you thought about it, Ben hadn’t mentioned setting you up with anyone for a long while. Not since before his mysterious trip.

You still didn’t know anything about it, other than he and some old work friends went on an apparent ‘vacation’. It was more than that – you knew it, and he knew you knew it, but you didn’t push the topic. Instead of interrogating him, forcing question after question on him, you let it go, sensing it was something he really didn’t want to talk about.

He had returned from that trip a few months ago, heavy with exhaustion and usually bright eyes dull and weary. You tucked him into your bed, and left him. He slept for hours. It wasn’t until much later that evening that you crept in to see how he was doing, and found him thrashing silently in the sheets, sweaty and incoherently mumbling, face pinched and puckered in pain. You didn’t wake him. Instead, you knelt beside the bed, softly stroking along his forehead until his erratic movements and breathing calmed. You didn’t bring it up.

“I know, I know,” he threw his hands up in defence with a small grin, “but I think you’ll like this one.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“No, I mean it this time. He’s a real good guy – one of my closest. I think you guys would really hit it off. I haven’t tried to set you up before because he was with the chick but she upped and left him alone with the baby and –”

“Sorry, what?”

“What?”

“He has a baby? Like a… like a child?”

Benny frowns defensively, “You’ve always said you want kids!”

“It’s still a huge commitment, Ben.”

“Jesus, I’m not walking you down the aisle! Just meet him and see where it goes. If it ends in some good sex, you say ‘thank you Ben’ and we move on. And if it ends in something more, you guys take it slow and buy me wings as a thank you.” He shrugs, looking thoroughly impressed with himself, and reaches for his beer, polishing it off in one swig.

“And what if it ends in bad sex?” You challenge, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward to eye him critically.

He scoffs, “Woman please. I know my brothers. You’ll be in good hands.”

You take a moment to thank the waitress as she stops at your table with your beers. She lingers just a little on passing Ben his, an act he didn’t miss as he shoots her a wink and a honeyed, thanks sugar. She smiles, cheeks flooding with colour before she turns and waltzes off towards other customers, swinging her hips as she goes.

You’re expressionless when he finally turns back to you, “Sugar?”

“Shut your mouth.”

Façade cracking, a snicker falls past your lip and you chuckle. “Alright,” you concede, “you’ve got my interest. What’s his name?”

“Fish.”

… what?

“Come again?”

“Francisco – we call him Fish. Catfish, actually.”

“Your age?”

“Bit older.”

You sigh deeply, rolling your head on your shoulders in thought. You were curious, no doubt about it. Despite never being able to make anything last long-term out of the list of men Benny had set you up with, none of them were bad guys. They were all kind, funny and incredibly respectful. One great thing about Benjamin Miller was that he had an impeccable taste in character.

“I don’t know, Ben –”

He slips his phone from his pocket and swipes away at his screen before wordlessly handing you the device. It was a photo, taken from one of Benny’s many weekend trips into the wilderness. Your eyes are dragged from the incredible background of snow peaked mountains and lush green forests to the man standing beside Benny, tucked under his arm. Average build and height, a well-loved trucker cap hiding dark hair. Warm brown eyes, crinkled from a large dimpled grin between dark patched facial hair.

Benny, seeing the sudden spark of interest, grins around his beer bottle. “So, I’ll slip him your number?”

You tighten your jaw and hand his phone back, sniffing impassively as you reach for your beer. “If it means you’ll leave me alone, then fine.” You mutter coolly, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

+

“Wait, wait – you have a best friend and it’s not one of us? I’m cut, Benny. Cut real deep.” Santiago Garcia was curious, to say the least. For years, he had known the youngest Miller and he had never mentioned anyone beyond their little circle or their families. “She cute?”

Benny huffs a chuckle, leaning across the pool table and lining up the final ball. “Hell yeah, she’s cute.”

“Where you been hiding her?”

“She moved away – only came back late last year.”

Santi hums, “Ironhead – she cute?”

Will half smiles, dragging his attention away from the pool table to shrug. “She’s alright.”

His bait works. Benny snaps it up – hook, line and sinker. He stands abruptly from his shot, cue just skimming the white ball, and points an angry finger in his brother’s direction, “I won’t take that shit. She’s a damn angel and you know it.”

Will chuckles to himself before returning his attention to Santi. “Yeah, she’s cute. Show ‘em.”

Benny briefly steps away from the pool table, opens his phone and brings up your Instagram profile, throwing it to Pope and letting him scroll through your feed.

“How come you’ve met her and we haven’t?” Pope aims his question at the older Miller brother, currently bent over the table and pocketing the black ball.

He half shrugs, straightening. “He set us up. It didn’t work out.”

Santi’s face puckers into a teasing glower, and he pouts at the younger Miller. “So, what? You set everyone else up and just leave me to die alone? What’s that about, Benjamin?”

Benny holds his arms out in obvious exaggeration, gesturing deliberately to himself. “You’ve got me.”

Frankie quietly sips his beer and watches in fond amusement, content to stay in the background and away from the bickering. Like Santi, his interest had been piqued but he was somewhat nervous about the situation. He already had feelings of apprehension returning to the dating scene after the shit show of a year he’d had, and those feelings tripled when it came to potentially dating someone close to one of his longest friends. He hadn’t dated in years. He was rusty. What if he disappointed you and Benny ended up kicking his ass? It could get messy real quick.

“I don’t know, man.” He finally pipes up, crossing his arms comfortably across his torso and reclining in the bar stool after peaking over Santi’s shoulder and at the screen he was lazily scrolling through. Ha. Way out of his league. “This kinda shit never works.”

“You sayin’ she’s not good enough for you?”

Frankie shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“I’ll take his spot. Give me her number.” Santi holds a hold out, clicking his fingers impatiently when Benny merely rolls his eyes. Pope grins, settling back into his seat and elbowing Frankie softly. “I think you should go for it, man. She seems great, and you need to get back out there.”

“I can’t, I’ve got Mena –”

“And Mena’s got her tío. Go for it. You’re just looking for excuses – no seas cobarde.”

Frankie chews on his lip as he gives it a bit of thought, wondering what’s the worst possible case scenario that could come from it. A busted lip? His self-image in ruins? Scared off from dating for the rest of his life? All things he could live with.

“… alright.”

Immediately, Benny perks up from setting the pool table with a large grin. “Yeah?”

Fish sighs, long and drawn out as Pope playfully pokes his side. “Yeah. Give me her number, I’ll message her now.” Before he freaks and changes his mind.

Maybe he was just thinking too much. What’s the worst that could happen?

+

Tags: @anu-simps​

[jiminrings]

Lunchbox lovers request:

So I would love to see a sit down talk between yoongi and mc. Just so like mc can sort her feelings out about everything, and like get advice about forgiving Kook. Idk, I just want those two to have a chat between besties.

-🐞

cold senior!y/n x stem major koo masterlist :D

yoongi will be on y/n’s team — always

“what do you want for dinner?”

yoongi had the best afternoon nap anyone could ever possibly have

it was a mid-afternoon nap actually and something about it just hit different this time

there’s days when it’s extremely warm y’know? not hot, but like uncomfortably warm

it was that uncomfortably warm afternoon when everyone’s collectively feeling sleepy?? turn the airconditioning on to its coolest and sleep without a shirt on and be surrounded by a pillow on both sides......?

yeah that afternoon nap awhile ago really put yoongi on a happy mood

he’s not asking what you want for dinner because he slept good :D

excellent afternoon naps aren’t the only things that make him this way!! lol you could also count days when he receives a random gift out of nowhere and the days when you replace the toothpaste instead of him

but really, whether or not he gets these instances, he genuinely just asks you what you want for dinner so he could either cook it or order it

“what do you want for dinner?” yoongi nudges you from your spot on the couch, about to invade your personal space again and lie down on your lap before you get to cooking

you only hum in response, your best attempt at returning his affection coming in the form of tussling his hair

“we already have dinner, yoongs.”

omg that’s nice then

“you already cooked dinner? even while i was still asleep? wow, look at you,” he praises you abundantly, attempting to pinch your nose when you dodge him

.... that’s the thing though

yoongi watches you visibly freeze when you were doing anything in the first place besides watch your show in a still position

“i didn’t.”

oh

if your dorm was already silent, it became even mORE silent now

if you didn’t cook, then that means-

“jungkook brought dinner.”

yoongi finishes for you and it’s the far worse equivalent of two mothers bringing their own turkeys for thanksgiving

the show you’ve been rewatching is white noise at this point that you can’t recognize anything in this room besides yoongi

it’s been two weeks

that’s literally half a month

two weeks ever since jungkook’s been pouring active effort into working for your forgiveness and normalcy with him out of his own volition

alright maybe you’ll just focus on the gray streaks in yoongi’s new hair <3

and maybe he’ll just focus on the blue stain on your pink pajamas because he put them in the same load when they were newly-purchased <3

yeah but no you can’t do this forever

he can’t do this forever

you and yoongi can’t do this forever

the two of you can’t keep dancing around each other whenever the mention of jungkook pops up because the two of you have two dRASTICALLY different perspectives

right now, yoongi’s just awkwardly laying on your lap and he’s can’t even look up ay the ceiling

“do you wanna talk about it now?”

you end up caving by asking him first, a sigh of relief from holding it in which makes him relieved because he didn’t want to initiate that

“yeah, let’s talk,” he pulls himself up and he’s now looking at you with much embarrassment, “can we even have this conversation while completely sober?”

yoongi’s really rEALLY looking for a distraction to help ease this discomfort in his chest

okay you get where he’s coming from

“you mean you wanna share a joint with me while we have a long-overdue conversation?”

you chuckle at the mental image of yoongi seeing literal stars and freaking out about it, probably crying while he chats to you

“mhmmm. would probably calm our nerves. o-or maybe just mine, atleast.”

to be honest, he doesn’t even have quite a clue on wHY he’s nervous!! it’s the two of you and you’ve always been comfy with each other

that’s the whole foundation of your friendship — you’re fully comfortable with each other and the two of you find it difficult to be this comfy with anyone else

if he really delves deeper into it though, yoongi would know that the reason he’s so nervous for this conversation with you is because he doesn’t want to fight with you

you’d only have occasional tiffs and arguments ever once in a while, but never a fight!!

he’s not assuming that your conversation would turn into a fight, but that possibility scares him still because what if he loses you?

:(((

and if the two of you do fight, it would be over a junior named jungkook who broke your heart and probably insulted you to your core

he doesn’t want to romanticize it either, but if the two of you do fight, yoongi would want it to be something entirely else

he’s willing to have a fight about being messy and how it frustrates you so much

he’d pick a fight over his clingy habits and how it sometimes makes you feel insecure

he’d pick a fight over how he wants to be your number one best friend so bad that it’s beyond unhealthy he’s making it a competition

he’d want a fight over him being a lil insecure of seokjin at times because the two of you get along so well and know much mORE things than he ever could and he can’t always be included in the inside jokes

what yoongi doesn’t want is to fight over jungkook.

“that sounds nice,” you agree because maybe you too are feeling a little antsy, “but we could do that after.”

he nods, his hands curled to his lap that he only meets your eyes now

“okay.”

oh my god

what now

everything’s put out of the way and it’s now the part when you actually tALK

“are you mad at me?”

you take the first approach and it’s already heavy right from the start, the question weighing especially hard in your mind the past few weeks

“what? no. i could never be mad at you,” he answers just as quick and precise, “i’m mad at him.”

“and i understand that.”

you really do know where yoongi’s coming from because after all, you’re the receiving end of all of jungkook’s words at the time

but that’s the thing!!!

that’s tHEE thing that bothers yoongi the most

you have this feeling of guilt because you feel like you’re betraying yoongi in a way

“then why are you letting jungkook in again?”

it’s as if it’s a double-edged sword and merely entertaining jungkook would be a stab in the back to yoongi, even if you don’t owe him anything

“because i understand him too.”

yoongi deadpans at that, a tired sigh falling instinctively from his lips but his mind’s more awake now

“god, seriously?” he shakes his head and outstretches his hands to hold your shoulders in place. “y/n you are the most lovable person i know. you believe him when he told you otherwise-“

“i-i know it isn’t true. it’s not true when it comes from jungkook.”

your voice wavers but it’s not the only thing that’s coming in waves, your resolve blurring even more when you see yoongi fighting back his own tears

“but when it comes from me i-“

“it’s not true either.”

all that yoongi does is take you to his chest the moment your body feels limp with the sigh that escapes you, a knowing body of tears coming next

your parents’ divorce is the furthest thing from fresh but the impact it placed on you renews without warning, the thoughts coming in waves

they were sure to reiterate over and over again that it wasn’t your fault, but god the way that they never even bothered afterwards made you think otherwise

“i-i just feel like a placemarker and neither of them came back for me, y’know? don’t get me wrong, i love my aunt to pieces and she’s family and-“

your faint sobs rack your ribs and yoongi can feel them, a relief that your face is buried to his shoulder so that you wouldn’t see him cry

“jin and i are your family too.”

they are but deep down, you know it’s a whole other ball game

“b-but that’s because you’re unrelated to me. i don’t remind any of you of the other. i’m not your daughter.”

it really wasn’t as harsh as how your words cut out, but it just breaks yoongi’s heart to know how difficult is must have been and is for you

you mumble when you calm down enough, playing with a loose thread on the cardigan you’ve gifted him on his birthday this year

“jungkook didn’t know that sore spot. he couldn’t have, but i’m not defending him either, yoongi.”

you mean it with full sincerity and he’s trying to digest your words as best as he could before his bias gets the best of him

“it’s on him for being horrible to me, but it’s on me for relating what he said to what i felt a long time ago.”

yoongi opens and closes his mouth, but before he does, you’re lifting your head up to interrupt him

god he’s aLSO crying

“use the sleeves to wipe your snot, dumbo. it’s not even that expensive!!” you chuckle when you urge him to do so, making him both frustrated and sheepish because his goddamn snot interrupted you

you lean on his shoulder and stay that way, this time being a rare occurrence in which you cling to him like a koala

“and i know that he shouldn’t have said those things to me either way. i do.”

yoongi nods at that, capturing his point fully

he insists on patting you on the forehead, drawing circles and definitely not a penis as he drawls his words

“he can’t take back what he said, y/n.”

“but that doesn’t mean he can’t redeem himself, yoongs.”

you offer him a timid smile, turning into a bigger one when you know just the right approach to satiate him enough

“jungkook taking accountability is the bare minimum, though,” you chuckle when he nods eagerly to the point he gives himself whiplash, “which is why i’m being smart and haven’t fully forgave him yet.”

…

…..

yoongi sighs when the two of you spend the pause in silence, speaking in all honesty

“i don’t know if i can forgive the little shit.”

“you don’t need to.”

you say just as genuine, a reassuring smile on his face to ease the focused knot on his brows

“you don’t owe it to me, yoongs. i know what you’re thinking.”

you really do

he tends to look at you in high regard even when you tell him that he shouldn’t, and it leads to him with the mindset that he really should appease his best friend at all times

“i eventually will,” he admits quietly. “just not now.”

“that’s okay too.”

it was supposed to be another bout of silence but yoongi actually breaks this time, blurting out words once he felt that the coast was clear

he just needs to get this off his chest before this heart-to-heart moment dwindles

“i don’t want to sound weird, but you’re like, my platonic girlfriend, y’know? my soulmate in a very platonic way, but no one says either that your soulmate has to be in a romantic sense and-…”

you exclaim in relief, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you jolt him by the shoulders

“god, finally. i’ve always wanted to tell you that i feel the same. you’re my soulmate, i’m pretty sure. my very, very platonic boyfriend i live with.”

yoongi sighs, stares, then fiNALLY heartily laughs in relief

everything’s out of the way :)

“we’re good. we always will be.”

you’re about to get up to fulfill yoongi’s suggestion earlier, being cut short when he gently pulls you by your forearm when you stood

“i’ll always be on your team — you know that right?”

yoongi means it with his whole heart, just one more reminder he wants you to reaffirm in your mind for the night

“i’ll always be on yours too, yoongs.”

[asset35-maya]

.When the party’s over.

>REINITIALISING…

>ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

>WIRELESS CHARGING: 69%

>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: STABLE

>24H FILE RECOVERY: 45%

Nines slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on his side and everything around him was quiet.

>ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

>THREAT ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS…

Layers of fabric covered his body and something soft and warm was pressed against his face. Eyes still shut, he nudged it gently with his nose and it emitted a low vibration.

>2% THREAT DETECTED: FELINE SUBJECT

The cat sprang upwards and hopped off the surface that Nines was lying on. It was ostensibly a bed, but Nines didn’t own any furniture apart from a couch and work table. The logical conclusion was that he was not in his own apartment.

>RUN LOCALISATION PROGRAM: Y/N?

>Y

>ERROR: PROGRAM FAILED TO EXECUTE

>ERROR: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTION

Nines had no absolutely recollection of his whereabouts or how he had arrived. He had not been compromised as his system health was stable, so there was probably another reason for being completely disoriented. It was voluntary.

He had gotten the android equivalent of blackout drunk.

It was not the first time and he feared it would not be the last. Such were the hard-partying ways of his friends and colleagues. They were all terrible influences. He loved them dearly, but they were terrible.

At 6PM every Friday, Chen and Miller would start things off rather innocently. “Hey there’s a new brewery downtown.” Or “My bartender cousin just hooked us up with a thirty percent discount!”

From there it wouldn’t take long for the DPD’s resident frat boys Connor and Gavin to gather a steady crowd of officers and check out the venue. If the vibes were good (which they almost always were), Sixty would get wind of things. Then the rest of the frat house would descend and total chaos would reign until the break of dawn.

SWAT Unit 32 was famous for its particularly destructive brand of revelry. Skinny dipping in private swimming pools, scaling skyscraper rooftops and causing media scandals were all par for the course. The day after Captain Allen’s birthday, the DPD crew spent the entirety of their bonuses to repair the collapsed ceiling of the Eden Club.

Nines couldn’t remember how he exactly he was coopted into the madness. Probably peer pressure. Connor insisted that he try thirium alcohol. Sixty said that he would regret being a loser and not joining them. Gavin had just held out a hand and double-winked. That did the trick.

One night blended into another and soon Nines had worked up quite a reputation of his own. He was the Casanova of the homicide department. The handsome devil… the hunter… the sex god. People would actually come by his desk and congratulate him on Monday morning.

Nines hated it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same thing over and over. Perhaps it was the appreciative clap on the shoulder from Gavin the morning after Sixty posted photos of a high-end Traci model giving Nines his very first lap dance.

Life at the DPD was the epitome of work hard, play hard. It seemed like one big party but deep down Nines knew they were all just slaves to their compulsions. He wondered whether it was because they needed to celebrate every demon they vanquished or whether they needed to wipe the troubling memories of doing so.

In Nines case, there were definitely things he needed to kill within himself. Some were nightmare inducing crime scenes, but some were memories so heart-wrenchingly sweet that he thought he might self-destruct if he were to dwell on them too long. There were things he couldn’t have and things he needed to erase from his brain.

Something touched his face gently.

>PERIPHERAL OBJECT DETECTED: HUMAN HAND

>THREAT ANALYSIS: NON-COMBATIVE

The hair on his forehead was brushed aside and fingers ran over his features. A thumb swept over his bottom lip and caressed his cheek.

Nines couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and come face to face with his most recent conquest. He lay still, frozen with regret as the hand continued to stroke his face.

The hand travelled down his neck and fell upon his chest. Nines caught it abruptly. It wasn’t even the month-end and his savings were badly depleted. He couldn’t afford round two. He retracted the synth skin down to his wrist and prepared the electronic payment credentials.

Fingers merely intertwined with his.

“Just take your money and go. I’ll tip extra if you delete everything from your hard drive.”

“What the phck are you talking about?”

Nines eyes flew open. Steel blue met storm green.

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD

“Fuck!”

“Wow that’s flattering.”

Nines pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a vain attempt to remember what had led to this absolute, unmitigated disaster.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Gavin looked affronted.

“You ruined our housewarming for one.”

>MEMORY ARCHIVE SEARCH: housewarming, Gavin

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “G.REED” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:33 18 JULY 2040: Assholes. Party at our new place. Next Friday. From seven till LATE. Bring booze, bring bitches. Nah. Actually, don’t. Our landlord’s a bastard and we already got three noise complaints.

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “CONMAN” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:34 18 JULY 2040: Yeah we should keep this one PG. Bring food if you wanna eat. This mf can’t cook and I don’t care to. See y’all!!

Oh right. Fuck. Gavin’s housewarming. Gavin and Connor’s housewarming. His two closest friends who were somehow even closer to one another. Nines hadn’t realised until it was far too late and there was nothing for him to do but smother the bitterness with his favourite coping mechanisms: android alcohol and paid sex.

The circumstances definitely explained the state he was in, but things still didn’t add up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did we… did we…”

“No. Nothing happened between us. You were completely shitfaced. I just put you to bed to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling, struggling to put the pieces together. His system offered him no useful prompts. The fermented thirium had done its job of code corruption extremely well. He looked back down and met the green eyes focused on him with deep concern.

“What did I do?”

“Sixty has videos, but I don’t think you want to see them. God, Nines… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m really sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to ruin your night… and Connor’s.”

“He’s fine. He and Sixty moved the crew to Hank’s place. Which is what we should have done in the first place… there’s really no point throwing a party in this shoebox and telling people like Tina Chen to be quiet. Honestly if it wasn’t you it would have been her bringing the house down. Good thing they had all of Michigan Drive to tear up. Hank’s neighbours can sleep though a bombing.”

“What did I do?”

Gavin put his hand back on Nines’ face, his expression unintelligible. The human touched him often enough, but never like this. Never so intimately. Nines forced down the twisting sensation in his torso. He couldn’t get his hopes up. This was pity.

Nines braced himself to hear the worst. He prepared for the shredding of all his dignity and the collapse of his falsely extroverted and confident identity.

What came though was a soft press of lips to his forehead.

“It wasn’t pretty and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but I think it was a long time coming… I’ve never seen you so emotional before. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything all this while.”

“Gavin, please.”

“I’m going to focus on the positives, because really… there were a LOT of negatives. Oh boy. You… uh…”

“Gavin.”

The detective dipped his head and looked away.

“Phck, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed…

You told me you loved me.”

Nines closed his eyes. That was it. He should quit his job and move to another state. Hell, he should go to Cyberlife and request a factory reset on compassionate grounds.

“I’m so sorry. I… I should leave.”

He made to sit up, but was pushed back into the mattress. Gavin curled into his side.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“What?”

“You threw up on my plants and smashed Connor’s RA9 sculpture, buuuut you’re good.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around Nines and edged closer until the android was forced to turn on his side and reciprocate.

“What do you think, genius? If a guy like me doesn’t throw a guy like you out of the house after all that… what does it mean?”

“That you have a high tolerance for toxic friendships?”

“It means I want you to stick around, dipshit.”

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP RATE FLUCTUATIONS. OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

“You mean you like me?”

“Of course I do! I always have, but it never seemed right to bring it up. We’re actually really good friends. I didn’t think it would be possible when we first met but we have so much in common.”

“Bad habits for sure.”

“Come on, Nines. We’ve had a really great time together. Some of my best memories at the DPD are with you. Don’t ever quote me on it but you’re a phcking amazing partner. Can’t believe you thought I had something going with Connor when it’s always been you.

So yeah, I do like you. And I’m willing to try… I dunno… being with you. Like for real.

Stop drinking like that, though. I know I’m a hypocrite but you really scared me last night. I lost my Dad and I nearly lost Hank to the bottle. You might be this super advanced android, but that liquid courage shit is a death trap, man.”

>SYSTEM ERROR: THIRIUM PUMP AT MAX FLOW RATE. PUMP OVERLOAD. REDUCE PRESSURE IMMEDIATELY!

Nines nodded quickly and blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Gavin grasped the android’s chin and tipped his face down gently. Their eyes fluttered shut simultaneously and their lips met.

>SYSTEM RECOVERY MESSAGE: THIRIUM PUMP FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED

They broke apart after several golden moments and Gavin hugged Nines tightly under the sheets.

“What am I supposed to say to the others? I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye ever again.”

“Are you serious? You got nothing on the insanity that bunch is capable of. Sixty thinks he’s hot shit with his blackmail material, but I got receipts that’ll glue his mouth shut for decades. Anyway, that’s what friends are meant to be like. You have dirt on each other but you’re not meant to use it.

The same applies to us too, by the way. Don’t feel like you gotta be… apologetic about what happened last night. Yeah, you better replace my fancy new plants but I’ll never judge you for what happened. I want you to know that I’ll always be in your corner, Nines.”

Nines hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand though Gavin’s hair, marvelling at the fact that he could now do so whenever he wanted. He didn’t say anything in response, and just settled for cuddling closer to the human.

>>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: EXCELLENT

[remsmoonlight]

— title : don’t leave me lonely

— word count : 3 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : when the protective instinct that runs deep within daryl you can’t take how much of a child he treats you, only when words spoken in anger do you both see the truth.

— warnings : swearing, one instance of blood description, vague mentions of daryl’s past and just some general angst

I've heard you're taking requests, soo, Could you please write something with Daryl and 20+62 from prompt list?

Thank you in advance and have a nice day ❤️

        ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested   ? yes !     /   requests are open   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 prompt list : 20. “Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?” &&             “ After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

Pale grey pavement is being painted with the blood of the walkers you had to slaughter in order to survive, to make it back to your family. You dare not speak a word, already predicting a storm awaiting to drench you in its anger that currently forms within the man you slowly began to love. You can’t pinpoint exactly where you began to have these thoughts, experience these feelings, as it hasn’t been an easy road. Loving him is not uncomplicated, the image he shows the world is harsh, though his actions speak louder than his words.

You’re stuck following him and Aaron, the man sparing apologetic glances back every few metres. He has nothing to apologise for, he was simply a bystander to a very awkward encounter between the two.

“ the hell y’doing out here? “

For a moment, your world stops. You hadn’t expected to see anyone out in the secluded area of the greenery that surrounds Alexandria, the whole idea of going from fighting for your life every day to pretending the world isn’t dead is not a pill that is easy to swallow. A potentially horrid coping mechanism, but you have to remember what it’s like out there, to not be protected by steel walls. To pretend you still have to sleep with one eye open, if anything was to ever happen to anyone you love because you allowed your guard to be demolished by a faux safety you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself.

A timid smile arises on your expression, almost apologetic. You shrug in response to Daryl’s question.

“ y’got no brain now? “ stomping towards you, his eyes burning with outrage and alarm, he doesn’t trust this new situation with you in it.

“ not here, Daryl. “

Trouble has a way of finding you, the unfamiliarity of everything touching the fear that he prays to stay dormant within the walls of Alexandria. At least with you confined to the area he can see clearly, he doesn’t have to imagine the worst possible outcomes to prepare himself for the inescapable of what always happens.

He can’t lose you, he can’t tell you either.

Eyebrows raise in shock over the suddenness of his heated words, never once had he spoken to you in such a way. Even on the rare occasion he was genuinely annoyed with something you had done. You force your features to stay neutral, not wanting a war in front of Aaron, considering you haven’t known him for long.

A mirror image is the displeasure that has stewed within you, the very same of the Dixon man you had shared the road with. Who does he think he is? You ask yourself, that outburst was for no reason and you know it. It’s times like these that confuse you and your feelings for him.

Though you hear no footsteps behind you, you can feel Daryl’s presence stalking you closely, but you pay no mind. Not in any mood to talk, afraid for what you will say in anger.

A temper is something you control, though there are moments it wants to smash down your walls.

With a heavy breath set free into the air, you turn the handle of your home open, leaving it open for Daryl as you know it’s going to be a conversation he will wish to continue. For a rather quiet man, when he wants to, he can say a lot.

Turning to face him, you wet your lips to say something, hoping to calm him before the situation gets out of hand. Hoping to get an idea of why he is so irate, though your expression hardens ever so softly as you realise that he’s most likely going to continue on the tirade he began outside of the walls. Your heart thumps against your ribcage, almost rattling your entire being with anticipation. Being able to hold your own in conflict is something you are able to do, but it doesn’t mean it leaves no scars to litter your soul.

“ okay, so what was that out there, Daryl? “ your words are soft, almost to the tune of a whisper as you question him. Hoping to understand his point of view.

“ y’really gotta ask that? “

Your lips purse, you merely blink in his direction as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Your heart is full of hurt as he treats you as nothing more than a stranger with the heat that coats his furious words that he hauls in your direction.

It confuses you incredibly how the day has gone to hell so swiftly, but you warn yourself about that. Assuming once dawn breaks that the day will bring something good for once, and not news of another tragedy. Even protected by the stereotypical image of a cookie cut American household can’t hold off death. No matter what, it gets its day.

“ yes, I do! “ you raise your voice, fighting the urge to close the distance. Knowing that he’d mistake it as you being on the offensive. “ I wasn’t doing anything except walking! “

“ yeh, an’ that’s what concerns me. “

A pause.

Nothing but the noises from the residents of this small town can be heard, the silence so deafening it almost obliterates your confusion. The room is so quiet that you even doubt that the two of you are even occupying it, the house feeling more and more cold with the seconds that slug by, it feeling that there’s no life to breathe a new warmth into it. Never has it felt so bare to be in that in that very moment than with the two of you ready to cut deep.

This is what he's pissed about? Before you even realise, you snort from disbelief. It’s something so small, so insignificant you can’t even believe it. Their new found safety has affected the group in many ways, but this has to be one of the strangest as you openly stare at his tense form.

“ seriously? “ you ask, refusing to believe he’s pushing this so intensely for that very reason.

“ y’finding that funny? “

“ yeah, because you’re acting like you’re my damned father. “ pointing a finger in his direction, you pace for a few fleeting seconds.

A closeness between you both has long since been acknowledged, but you’ve never divulged to him the true extent of your emotions. Sometimes you think he’s aware of what you feel, though late at night when you’re alone you realise that it may be better if he doesn’t. You wish you have the confidence to even share it with him, although the thought that blares in your ears warns you otherwise. Your heart couldn’t take another heartbreak, opting for his friendship rather than a cold shoulder born out of awkwardness.

Sometimes you’re sure he’s staring at you with a longing glint in his eye when you’re not paying attention, however you often chalk it up to hope. Never are you one to follow the signs, not wanting to be wrong. Your imagination cannot be crushed if it doesn’t have confirmation.

Hope can be cruel as it can be kind.

“ someone’s gotta, I can’t remember all the times I’ve had t’drag your ass outta trouble! “ his crossbow thuds as it’s dropped without a care, his face reddens as it twists and contorts. You haven’t seen him show this much rage since the Greene’s farm.

The day you first met him is permanently burnt into your brain, being half starved and dehydrated you thought you were hallucinating him. Unable to walk, your limbs weighed a ton under the exhaustion you felt under the punishing Georgian sun but there he was. Surrounded by the rays as if he was your very own guardian angel, but that idea had been put straight to bed as soon as you saw the outbursts from him to the other members of the group.

With the months that passed, you had trouble saying that was the same man you knew today. Less prone to rage, clearer about doing anything in his power to aid his family, though you can’t help but wonder if the old Daryl wants to break through the progress he has made so far.

“ and I never asked for that, Daryl. Why are you acting as if you’re my keeper? “

“ fine! it ain’t my problem if y’wanna be a selfish bitch. “

Causing hurt to the people he loves comes easy to Daryl. To wound deep when he’s scared is all he has ever learnt, to show love and affection was never afforded to him as a child, not even when he silently begged for it. Now, he was physically and mentally scarred, even these days were they still plaguing him like a never relenting ghost. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he hates seeing pain in your eyes, but he can’t convey his worry without fury over the idea of losing you.

He can’t imagine having to live a life where you’re not cracking a joke at the worst possible moment, or your selflessness that will surely one day cause you more harm than good. His breathing increases at the thought, his fists clenching, willing him to stay in place and not barge through the door without a second thought.

“ se - selfish? Daryl, you’re making sense! “

“ y’don’t care about anyone but y’self. Doin’ shit like that by y’self is only gonna get y’killed. All y’think about is you, not anyone left behind. “

“ after everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you? “ the fire you had once now leaves nothing but dying embers, defeat coating your words as tears shimmer in your eyes

Daryl doesn’t know how to react at your proclamation, the inner battle to stay in the lounge now lost. His mind is unable to warp the idea of you even entertaining the thought of becoming more than friends, never did he dream that the shield he’d built around himself could injure him more than the outside elements could.

Before he even realised it, he’s leaning down to pick up his crossbow and heading straight for the door. Paying no mind to you taking his departure as rejection and not self preservation.

“ if you think I’m gonna come back, I’ll make you wait a long time! “ you call out before slamming the door.

Hands are brought to your stomach, as if to stem the bleeding from a wound made deep into your torso, though it can’t curb the internal trauma you feel from Daryl ripping himself from your presence. You knew it was a bad idea to tell him your feelings, yet you could hardly stop yourself in the war of words between the two of you. Nothing is a big enough wish than to stop the pain that ignites your entire self, threatening to consume you entirely. Only now do you understand the true extent of your love for him, previously thinking it was little more than a crush, though this feels more. Especially mourning what could have been.

You retreat to your room, not even leaving to share dinner with your family. Afraid not if Daryl would show, but rather your ability to hold your composure when you feel as if you’re glass who’s moments are counting down by the second to shatter into nothing more than sharp fragments that will only slice others to ensure they bleed, to ensure they feel as bad as you do.

“ come on, you’ve got to get some air. “

A series of knocks interrupt your sleep, followed by the voice of who you recognise as belonging to Carol. You ignore her, not wanting to face anyone just yet. The trauma on your heart is still too fresh. However it matters not to Carol, for she simply does not take your silence as an answer, but rather as an invitation as she opens your door.

“ just leave me alone, please. “

“ the others are worried about you, so am I. “ she speaks, concern written all over her face as she steps forward closer to your bed, her frown becoming more and more prevalent.

“ let them be, I just want to sleep. “

“ you don’t have to talk to anyone, come down after breakfast. Just get some fresh air. “ Carol gently requests with a half smile blooming onto her features. If anything is certain, she wants to see you and Daryl work through the fog that currently locks you both away.

Leaving the bed, you groan to yourself. You’re not sure how much time has passed since Carol departed, but it has been long enough for your family to have also left the house to either explore more or two engage in their jobs. It’s something you send a silent thanks to the sky for, all you desire is solitude, with the sun etching its warmth onto your face. Opening the door, you see people going about their business with little regard for you, though you’re sure some of them must have heard the commotion the previous day.

You pay little mind to them though, more concerned on piecing together the broken pieces of your heart than anything else.

Sleep never once visited Daryl, never did it carry him off into a peaceful slumber. Though he can’t help but feel as if he deserves it, as payment for having to be the cause of the damage to you, being the reason you sobbed harder than he’d ever heard you. He’d waited outside that door, pushing himself to make things right, but never did the courage arise. Leaving him lonely once again.

Fuck this he curses himself mentally, this is going to be the one time an opportunity for happiness does not pass him by. Not once more, that was the last time he’d be nothing more than a witness.

Astonishment transforms his hardened expression as he comes to a stop, realising you’re already sitting on the porch next door with a blissfully peaceful air surrounding you. You don’t realise he’s there just yet, your eyes closed as you take in the sounds and smell of Alexandria, a distraction to what you feel. Daryl briefly wonders how he should go about patching things between the two of you, the situation an alien one to him. Fingers reach towards the cigarette packet concealed in his trouser pocket, with the barest of shaking from nerves.

Bringing it to his lips, the smoke is what alerts you to his being closing the distance. You can’t prevent the draining of colour from your face, not prepared from yet another interaction with the Dixon man so early in the morning.

“ I - uh, wanna say sorry. ‘Bout yesterday. “ Daryl apologises, with a regretful tone colouring his words with the most vibrancy he can muster.

Your gaze slips to the floor, watching the grass move ever so slightly with the breeze that wanders through. To forgive is in your nature and you sorely want to extend that forgiveness to him, but to do so after that exchange is a difficult thing.

“ thank you, I suppose. “ you shrug, your hands tying together as you try to make up for a lack of words.

“ I ain’t expectin’ y’to forgive me or nothin’, I just want y’to know. “

You sigh to yourself, you know in your heart he means what he says, you hate that you’ve been this mad at him.. at each other this much, even for a few hours. People and bonds are a rare blessing in this world, and you know it’s better to keep them close than to allow them to burn in the fire of hatred and impulse, to leave them nothing more than ashes ⎯ remnants to revere of an age that has since past.

“ Daryl, I do forgive you. I’m just trying to figure out how we move past this. “ you reply with sorrow, your eyes closing, a crease intensifying between your brows. It hurts to even speak into existence.

“ those things you said yesterday ... did you mean them? “

Bewilderment forces your eyes open, your head snapping to meet his figure that still stands. Here you are preparing yourself to move past Daryl, no matter how hard that would be, and he’s asking you questions about what you said.

“ you’ll have to be specific, I said a lot. “

“ it needs sayin’? “

Daryl can’t help but feel put on the spot as your sight bores into him with a forceful amount of strength, scrutinising him with the need to find an answer he’s not yet sure of.

“ yes, it does. “

“ was y’serious about.. bein’ in love.. ? “ with me is the silent end to the sentence that lays peacefully on his tongue as he leaves it out, the invisible presence of it painfully clear to the both of you, knowing that while it wasn’t included, it was there regardless.

“ when it comes to things like this, I don’t lie. “ you rest your head on your chin, a small yet anxious smile fighting to break free onto your features.

Why do I have to be a nervous smiler?

Daryl doesn’t answer, instead he moves to sit beside you on the porch. Closer than ever before, it’s not something that goes unnoticed by either of you, and like that hope is once again reignited within your core. Even small steps like this are significant, physical affection with other people is still something that has not changed all that much with him.. Though, you’ve seen moments on rare occasions, witnessing it before he can even stop himself.

“ so, we boyfriend and girlfriend now? “ you joke, laughter allowing the grief to peel away from your heart, allowing it to flutter in the air at the thought of the potential between you.

“ shut up. “ mumbles Daryl, although there’s a small grin that is peaking through his expression as he allows it to be set free, even though the full picture is still hidden under the grime and the hair that has long since overgrown.

But, you find you wouldn’t change a thing about that. It being part of his charm. You can’t help but find yourself full to the brim of excitement of what can grow between you, with the possibilities endless.. no matter how hard things can and will get, you will have each other in a new way that you’ve never before and that? It’s a heavenly picture you want to cut and pocket away in the confines of your heart.

[liberty-barnes]

Done Wondering

Jock!Tom Holland x Female!Reader

Highschool AU

@danicarosaline requested: Hi pretty!! i saw your requests are open so may i please request a jock Tom x reader! Tom is a big softy and the captain of his football team and reader is a tough ‘not taking shits from anybody’ type of person? Like Tom gets in an argument with a team mate and he’s being all nice and calm about it but reader thinks his team mate deserves a good punch in the face so she punches him and it shocks the entire team and Tom himself even though he expected it!!

Warnings: F L U F F, not sure that the football talk is 100% accurate, all I know about American football is that Tom Brady's a quarterback, their jerseys are cool and apparently I'm supposed to cheer for the Pats? (yeah, that's my dad's fault), B99 references (i fucking love that show), cursing, a bit of violence ig

Word Count: 2.3k words (why can i not write short things?)

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: so sorry it took so long to get this out! also, i got waaaaaay to invested in this... oopsie

Masterlist

You ran across the field as people all around you celebrated with only one goal in mind: kiss your boyfriend.

You and Tom had been dating for almost seven months now, to many people's surprise. The entire school thought you'd be together for a week tops, but you surpassed all their expectations by becoming the longest standing couple in junior year (not that it was hard, high schoolers change partners like discardable gloves). 

Tom was one of Sunset High's best and brightest, loved by the teachers, captain of the football team, and the object of many's affection.

You, however, were nothing like that. You hated sports (everyone knows art's better anyway), social interactions were your personal little slice of hell, and everyone was too scared to approach you since you threatened to gut Charles after he accidentally forgot to give you back your pencil.

All in all, there was no way you two could stay together.

There was no way you could even make a friendship work, let alone a romantic relationship.

But then there was that fateful summer night...

Your mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as you rocked in the park's nest swing. The stars looming over you were the only thing keeping you from spiraling, and after an hour of watching them, the peace in your mind was crumbling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

You sat up on the swing and looked to your right where stood a sheepish-looking Tom.

"It's okay, I should probably leave anyway..."

"No! I mean, it's okay, you were here first I didn't mean to disturb you."

You cast your eyes down until he spoke again.

"You go to my school, right? (Y/n)? We were in the same English class in freshman year."

"Yeah, I think so... I'm surprised you remember me, we didn't have any classes together last year..."

He huffed out a laugh and leaned against the support beam, hands in his pockets.

"It's kinda hard to forget someone like you. You stood up to the teacher on the first day after he yelled at a kid and spent the next year having actual coherent debates about the books that most of the class never even read, let alone understood. You're kind of amazing."

You ducked your head once more to try to cover the blush on your cheeks, biting your lip.

"Thanks."

He nodded and took a deep breath, then sat in front of you and pushed so the swing was rocking softly, always catching it before it hit his face.

You giggled a bit and sat criss-cross applesauce, back straight, your mother's words permanently etched into your brain.

"So, what are you doing alone in the town's most secluded park at midnight?"

"Oh, you know, questioning my life choices, freaking out because in three weeks we're going back to school while simultaneously feeling stir crazy after having nothing cool to do all summer, regretting ever being born, the usual. What about you?"

"Getting crushed by everyone's expectations, feeling constricted cause I have to set a good example for my little brothers, freaking out cause I have no idea what I want to do with my life, the usual."

A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Do our lives really suck or is it just the teenagers in us that dramatize everything?"

He huffed out a laugh.

"I don't know, tell me your story and I'll let you know."

You scooched to the side and patted the now empty spot on the too-small swing so he could lay down next to you. Looking at the stars seemed like a better idea than looking at him.

"I never really liked school, people are jerks, cafeteria food is disgusting at best, I have no friends -not that I care about that, I'm better off alone. Still, it's better than being home. When my father isn't working in his study, he's berating me about getting better grades, even though I'm a straight-A student, not that he cares enough to actually know that. My mother's usually either gossiping with her other rich friends or telling me to correct my posture, dress better, act like a lady, it's infuriating...

"My older brother, the only person in that family that I genuinely like, left for MIT today, so I guess I'm just now realizing that I'm really... alone. I'll have to suffer through my father's lectures about getting high grades and act like someone I'm not so my mother doesn't take away everything I love until I "learn to act like a respectable woman". Jake used to get them to lay off me, but now he's not here. Sometimes I wonder why they even adopted me if I'm such a bad daughter. It just sucks."

You felt his hand twitch next to yours and his eyes on your face.

"Your turn."

He took a shuddering breath before speaking.

"My parents are amazing, they really are, they only want what's best for me, but sometimes it's a little much. They constantly remind me of going to training, doing my homework, studying for tests, and even though they always say it's okay, I see the disappointment in their eyes when my grades lower even by a single point.

"My little brothers look up to me a lot, and they're always telling me how much they want to be just like me when they grow up. I know they mean it in the best possible way, but it's just that much more pressure. I just... feel the need to always be the best at everything. The best football player, the best captain, the best student, the kindest person in that school, most helpful... it's all a bit much."

This time, it was you who were looking at his profile while he gazed at the stars.

"It's okay to feel overwhelmed, Tom. It doesn't matter that they have the best intentions, they're still putting too much pressure on you and you deserve the chance to relax."

He turned towards you and for the first time that night, you realized just how close you were.

"You're not a bad daughter just because you have different interests. I, for one, think you are a strong and independent woman who doesn't need to change because of some mere peasants. You're a queen... You deserve someone that'll treat you as one."

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him.

"Wanna make a deal?"

You nodded tentatively, though at this point you'd probably agree to murder someone as long as he kept looking at you that way.

"I'll be your friend, give you something to do whenever you need it, save you from your asshole parents and remind you of just how awesome you are every day..."

"And in return?"

"And in return, you'll say stuff like what you said before when I get too stuck in my head, save me from my so-called friends when they're being jerks, and come to every practice with me so you have something to do and I have someone to make silly faces at."

"I'm pretty sure there are a thousand girls in that school that would kill to have you make silly faces at them."

"Maybe so, but they aren't you. A lock of your hair is worth more than all of them combined."

You bit your lip and smiled.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"Cool."

He pecked you softly on the lips before he lost his nerve, quick and fleeting, feather-light but strong enough to leave fires in its wake. You pulled him back and gave him a slightly longer kiss before setting your head on his shoulder and going back to stargazing, now with someone to keep you company.

Three weeks later, you walked into school hand in hand and haven't let go since.

"Tommy!"

You jumped into his arms, ignoring the smell of sweat and how it would probably cling to your clothes.

"You did so good baby!"

He kissed you straight on the lips, not minding his teammate's wolf-whistles, having grown used to them already.

"I had a pretty good motivation."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm, my girl told me she'd bake me cookies if I won this match, and I really like her cookies."

"Sounds like you have a great girlfriend."

"The best."

You kissed him again and he smiled when he felt the fabric of his spare jersey adorning your figure.

"Yo, Holland!"

You forced apart by Teddy's call, one of the newer players. Since you went to every single practice, you knew that Teddy was being an ass lately, always wanting the glory, never passing the ball to his teammates. If it weren't for Tom's skill as captain of the team, he would've cost them most matches, including this one.

"Why didn't you pass me the ball?"

"Pardon?"

"That last play, I was free and you passed the ball to Harrison even though he almost lost it. You should have passed it to me, we almost lost because you want to make your useless bestie feel included!"

"Johnson was closing in on you, if I'd passed it to you, we would have lost for sure. Passing it to Harrison bought me the time I needed to get out of danger. It was purely strategical, you would know that if you paid attention to your teammates instead of playing all on your own. Haz is an amazing player and I don't treat him differently just because he's my best friend. I'd like you to apologize to him, please, it's not kind to insult your teammates."

You admired the fact that he managed to remain calm and collected throughout the whole conversation, looking like the embodiment of 'I'm not mad, I'm disappointed'. You, however, were not having such an easy time keeping your cool, hands firmly clenched at your side.

"The hell it was! You just feel threatened by me because you'll never be as good as me, so you never pass me the ball, it's ridiculous!"

"Okay, buddy, you need to back the hell off and close your mouth before I punch it shut."

His eyes flickered to you and he rose a brow mockingly.

"Oh, your little slut's standing up for you know? I always knew you were a chicken, guess my theory's been pro-"

You cut him off with a punch to the nose, smiling when you heard the satisfying crack of his bones and his howls of pain.

A collective 'ooh' came from the crowd, and they took a few steps back (excluding Tom of course, who was only looking at you with wide eyes).

"What the fuck?"

"I warned you, didn't I?"

You smirked evilly as Teddy was pulled away by the coach to check his injury.

"You're a bitch!"

"Baddest of them all, sweetheart. Have a fun time at the hospital!"

The whole crowd had gone silent by the time you turned back around, seemingly satisfied with your vengeance.

"What?"

You tilted your head in confusion at the awestruck looks on the team's faces.

"You broke his nose!"

"Uh-huh."

"With just your hand."

"Uh-huh."

"Since when are you so violent?"

You were actually kind of offended at that.

"I know that I bring you guys snacks after practice, but do none of you hear when I threaten other people? It's a daily occurrence."

The rubbed their necks sheepishly.

"Well, you see..."

Haz started, seemingly measuring his words.

"You're kind of like Rosa from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. No one actually knows what you're capable of, no one thinks you'd actually kill someone, but we're also kind of too scared to test you, so we just... wonder."

"Well, when you're done wondering, go take a shower so we can go celebrate, I'm hungry."

They all scrambled away in a chorus of 'yes ma'am' before you turned back to Tom with a smile on your face.

"You didn't have to punch him, you know?"

"Yeah, but I've been wanting to for weeks now."

He huffed out a laugh and kissed your forehead.

"How're your knuckles?"

"A bit sore, but I'm pretty sure that if we put some ice it'll be good, the rings took most of the impact."

You wiggled your hand, showing off the array of rings covering your fingers in what you deemed to be an aesthetically pleasing way.

"I love you, babygirl."

You kissed him, smiling into his lips.

"I love you too. Now go, shower!"

You patted his butt and laughed at the look he threw you, standing next to the field while you waited for them to get out.

Their coach came to stand next to you and you smiled at him, having taken a liking for him. He was a good teacher and treated the team well.

"Coach Jeffords."

"(Y/n)."

"What's the verdict?"

"Nurse says it's broken but we'll only know the full extent of his injuries after he gets examined at the ER. He's on his way there as we speak."

You nodded.

"You'll be pleased to know that he's been taken off the team and suspended for a week for unruly behavior. His parents aren't going to press charges since they feel it's deserved."

You smirked evilly.

"I'd advise you to watch out for Pembroke. He's starting to become a nuisance. If he keeps it up, he might be next."

He nodded, fighting back his smile even though you knew damn well he agreed.

"I'll do my best."

"And I'll do mine."

"(Y/n)! Ready to go?"

You nodded in goodbye at the coach and walked over to a freshly showered Tom, interlacing your fingers.

"Always."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo @beananacake @yoinkyourheart @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual​ @mendes-marvel​ @shawnsnovel​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ 

ACTORS/RPF TAG 

@bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ 

TOM HOLLAND TAG 

@tomsirishgirlx​ @dreaming-lia​ @markleehee​ @juliebean247​ @gypsystuf​ @quechulitaaa​ @theoretical-theo​ @bubblegumbarnes​  @sofiaconlaz​ @underooling​ @hannahholland1811​ @bellaaa321-blog​ @parkerpetertingle​ @emily-louise-hynes @clara-licht​ @ekelly2015​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @quaksonhehe​ @danicarosaline​ @arts-ismything​ @peachyafshawn @tutuabby28​ @sovereignparker​ @tokhalaxoxo​ @cathwritestragediesnotsins​ @incorrect-things​ 

[alexwritesfiction]

hear my heartbeat? (just focus on that)

words: 2370

genre: fluff, angst, mlm friendship

tw: a bit very sad hmm

a/n: i love this idk why. i really shouldnt be writing so much angst holy hell. please read it!

—

in which michael can't sleep because if nightmares and ashton helps him.

—

Michael hated sleeping. He couldn’t even think about it. Just the thought of closing his eyes sent shivers down his spine. He used to love sleep. Heck, that was all he did back when he could. But things change, especially for him they did. He started to play in a band. With his best friends, no less. And he couldn’t have been more elated.

He needed to sleep, he craved to. Every night he’d lay down, terrified but with a bit of hope that maybe, just maybe he’ll sleep. Maybe, he won’t wake up in the middle of the thrashing and sobbing.

All he could do was hope, and he was running out of it at an alarming rate. For the past couple of shows he’d looked horrendous, as if his eyes had been painted red. He didn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. Didn’t feel like himself anymore.

He kept feeling worse and worse every day. It only doubled whenever he was struck with the realization that he should be happy that he even made something out of his career.

Lord, if Ashton could hear him right now, he would’ve no doubt broken down. And Michael couldn’t afford that. He needed Ashton to stay strong the way he was. He lived vicariously off him.

He thought Ashton didn’t know. But then again, he was the band dad after all. It was his job to protect his family. Where the band is, home is.

Today they were going to be playing a show in Copenhagen. The venue they were staying at only had two rooms, which means they’d have to share one each.

Sure, they’d shared rooms before, even beds, all four of them. But, this time, it was different. This time, Michael was different.

This scared him further. If he didn’t sleep alone, they’d know. He couldn’t bear the thought of having a nightmare while one of his bandmates was sleeping beside him. He could picture the disappointment on their faces. They’d hate him for not being okay. He was supposed to be fine. Michael had always been the chill, happy go lucky guy. The soft one, but strong. Oh, how untrue it was.

He may have been fine from the outside, but he just about was erupting like a volcano inside. And the lava ruined him every day. It was like he was the sun: bright from the outside, but just a big ball of black in the inside.

“C’mon Mike, we got to go,” Calum’s voice bounced off his door and he knocked. Michael currently sat in his stage clothes, trying to calm himself down as he curled into a ball. There was some shuffling outside the door, and then it burst open.

He looked up to see Ashton barging in with a wild look on his face. His face fell as he saw Michael curled up. But Michael, ever the tension diffusing machine, stood up faster than light and flashed a bright smile at him.

“Let’s freaking rock the stage tonight!” Michael grinning, hopefully throwing Ashton off track. He couldn’t let him know. But he could see it in Ashton’s eyes that he did. The look was gone as fast as it came, Ashton returning a soft smile.

Michael smiled gratefully, walking out the door, only to be held back by his arm as Ashton pulled him back and crushed him into a hug.

Michael inhaled sharply. He felt safe in his arms. He could breathe a bit better, even though it might just be a casual hug. His arms tightened against Ashton and then slowly tried to pull away. He knew that if he stayed like this any longer, he’d cry. And tears were weak. They weren’t manly. Especially not just before a show.

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know,” Ashton whispered in Michael’s ears, his voice cracking a bit at the end. Michael trembled, recognizing the words he’d said to his band whenenver one of them had felt bad. Michael took it upon himself to cheer them up. If only he could do that to himself.

“Ashton,” Michael said. Because what else was there to say, really. Nothing made sense in Michael’s mind. Other than Ashton.

“Boys, we really do gotta go!” Luke yelled from somewhere.

The hug just ended like that. Ashton held Michael to an arm’s length, scanning his face for any sign of weakness. He knew Michael was sad, but one thing he didn’t know that Michael had one of the best poker faces. And right now, the most heart-breaking thing was that he wanted to die, but his smile said that he couldn’t be happier.

Ashton, finally satisfied, nodded at Michael, signalling at him to go on stage. Michael heaved a sigh of relief. He just merely got out of that one, he thought. If he gets paired with Ashton to sleep on the bed, he would be doomed. He could feel it.

But he couldn’t risk messing up on stage. So, he stood and thought of how rainbows were magical and how kittens could make his heart melt. And when he finally felt ready to go, he did. And he rocked it.

---

He’d messed up. Bad. One of the best shows and it was his fault it messed up. He ran down the stage and to the backstage, ripping the guitar off his chest. Hot tears streamed down his face as he fell near the washrooms. Sobs wracked his body. His bandmates came after him, yelling his name.

“Michael, it’s okay",” the hushed him, standing tall over him, and peering down with pity in their eys. Michael hated pity. He didn’t need pity. He needed to just let it out.

Next thing he knows, he’s being lifted and engulfed into a hug by his best friends. This only made him cry harder. He should’ve stopped, should’ve calmed down. But he just couldn’t. The emotions kept erupting, the lava kept erupting and Michael wasn’t in control of his poker face anymore.

He heard Ashton say that he’d be rooming with Michael tonight, and he was so caught up in just breaking down that he was powerless.

“Let’s go” Ashton stated, and Michael barely nodded, wiping his endless tears with his long sleeves. One could have said he looked adorable even while crying, and Michael would have laughed at them. Right now, he could just imagine Ashton giving him a lecture on how to get better or think positive. But that's never helped. Still, he was determined to not let Ashton down. He was the one person to have cared for Michael even in the darkest times, when Luke and Calum and Ashton rose to shine and Michael was overlooked.

They reached a door, and a man, possibly a bodyguard opened it up, eyeing Michael up and down like he couldn’t believe someone could be so wrecked. he had disgust in his eyes, and Ashton noticed it too.

“You’re fired. Go home” Ashton said in his taking-no-shit voice. The man spluttered before rapidly nodding his head and looking at Michael one last time before walking away.

“Stupid freaking humans,” Ashton muttered, and Michael couldn't have agreed more. He giggled in between his crying, and it sounded like a frog wailing due to his croaky throat.

And then they both were laughing uncontrollably at the atrocity of it all. Michael didn’t know how much more he could cry, so he started laughing, and Ashton joined in until they were in peals of laughter, just laying on the bed,

Ashton laid back down, head on the pillow, Michael using Ashton's stomach as a pillow, and it didn’t feel awkward. Not one bit.

They calmed down after a few minutes, the hazy tension returing. Michael braced himself as he heard Ashton take a deep breath. His stomach bloated beneath Michael and he chuckled.

“You can't sleep, can you, Michael?” Ashton asked, his voice reflecting that he already knew the answer. Michael just chose not to answer that question. Ashton already knew, there was no point in saying anything. Except one.

“Go on, tell me how I should get better,”

Michael hadn’t meant for the words to come out so bitter and he sat up straight as hurt flashed in Ashton's eyes. But he recovered quick. He knew Michael hadn’t meant those words.

“I- I'm sorry – I didn’t – I didn’t mean that-” Michael struggled to explain, his hands flailing in different direction, once again on the verge of crying.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Shh. It's all right, Michael.” Ashton sat up and rested Michaels hand to his sides.

“I know you,” he breathed, and with that, Michael confirmed his suspicions. He was shaken for a second. He did not know why. Why was he so affected? He already suspected Ashton knew.

Michael’s mind was a hurricane, and it was spinning faster and faster. He couldn’t think of what to say to Ashton, how to handle this situation. That got to him, his ability to diffuse tension suddenly not acting.

“I can't sleep, Ash,” he said brokenly. Ashton locked eyes with him like he wanted to tear down the mask in his eyes and pull Michael out of whatever hole he falling into before it was too late. Michael already thought it was too late, but Ashton believed it never was. He hoped it was true.

It all comes down to hope, Michael thought, everything always comes down to hope. He hated that word now, with every fibre of his being.

He wasn’t aware that tears had started falling again, he just stared like a pale dead body at Ashton.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” Ashton said suddenly, surprising Michael with his words. He didn’t believe Ashton. How could he not hate someone so…sad?

Michael truly was a contradiction of himself. He could believe Ashton had his back and that he hated him simultaneously. That’s how he worked.

“I love you, Michael,” Ashton whispered into the dead silence of the room. His hands reached out to Michael’s cheeks, wiping away the drops that showed his weakness. Michael couldn’t hold himself in, he flung his weight onto Ashton, almost attacking him. They both fell back onto the pillows and Michael held onto Ashton for dear life.

Ashton sighed, softly rubbing Michael’s back until his tears dried and he could pass out from exhaustion. But Michael couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, not when he’d cried so much.

Ashton had closed his eyes when Michael shifted his face from his stomach to look up at him. Ashton hummed in acknowledgement as if to say that he’s still there. Just…there. For him. And weirdly, that was all Michael needed to feel confident in telling him what he was about to.

“Hey, Ash?” he poked Ashton’s cheek repeatedly. Ashton didn’t respond, mocking him for being cute.

“Ash, Ash, Ash,” he kept chanting, finally cracking the curly haired boy up and making him pop one eye open. The tension that had been there had been dissipated as soon as cheeks were poked.

Michael had a soft smile on his face as he gazed up at Ashton. He blinked a few times, realizing they hadn’t even had the time to change their clothes. He still felt comfortable. Nothing other than Ashton could make him feel that way right now.

“Yeah?” Ashton murmured, raking his hands through Michael’s hair, which oddly felt like heaven.

“I can’t sleep,” he repeated his sentence from earlier, making Ashton confused. Why would he say that again?

“You already said-” he started, Michael cutting him off almost instantly.

“I have nightmares.” He stated. He felt Ashton inhale sharply at this. Ashton could never have imagined the extent of his acute insomnia. His hands stilled in Michael’s hair.

“God, Michael,” he stammered, “when were you gonna tell us?” Ashton asked, quietly as if the prospect of Michael keeping it to himself had hurt him. And it had, but he couldn’t focus on himself right now. this was about Michael, and he would be damned if he didn’t help him.

“Probably never,” Michael said truthfully, still lying on Ashton’s stomach. He grabbed Ashton’s hands from his hair and held them preciously between his own.

“There’s so many things I want to say to you right now, Mike. I just don’t know if I should say them now.” Ashton explained, and Michael understood perfectly. He’d known that feeling all too well.

“So, don’t,” Michael chuckled.

“Come here,” Ashton said in a voice that left no questions. Michael crawled up and lay his head on Ashton’s chest. He could feel a steady thumping beneath him and sighed and he put a hand over Ashton’s waist, cuddling up.

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.” Ashton said after a few seconds. And he did. He paid attention to ever heartbeat, the feeling calming him down. He felt like the volcano had erupted and now it was just calm, like a boulder had been lifted off his chest. He knew it would last, but he couldn’t bring himself to get away from Ashton. He believed then that Ashton was the one he could go to without hesitation.

Michael smiled, his eyes unconsciously fluttering close. Ashton peered down after a few minutes when he heard small snores. And he saw the best sight he could’ve seen, as Michael slept cuddled up to him. Slept because he felt safe. In his arms.

Ashton couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and he had to do a double take before finally letting a grin spread on his face. He adjusted the pair of them so that they held hands, Michael on his chest with his other arm on Ashton’s waist, and Ashton’s hand resting on Michael’s head. He fell asleep too, in a while, the thought of Michael still on his mind.

If someone had seen them now, they’d have seen a couple. Two boyfriends sleeping. But it went far deeper than that. They were best friends. Brothers, more accurately. And neither of them could care enough as to what anyone thought they were.

Because that’s what they were, in the simplest words.

Michael and Ashton.

read it full on ao3 here :)

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[curious-menace]

Arkham Scarecrow SFW Alphabet

im really enjoying writing arkham scarecrow. maybe ill do something similar to my random riddler headcanons posts with some scarecrows

long post under the cut

 A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Uhhh, the short answer is no. Jonathan is almost wholly incapable of what most people would term “affection”. His idea of loving is not using you for his experiments, only giving you small doses to build up your immunity( not that that will stop him from enjoying watching you panic). Jonathan leans heavily on gifts and words of affirmation as his language of love ( assuming he can even feel that emotion). He calls you  “my dear”  and “my darling” or once “my pumpkin” if he had too much to drink. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Jonathan would make a good friend if he could ever be wrangled into admitting it. He’s a complete bastard, but he's a loyal bastard. He always goes above and beyond for his friends but it's always in a “aw shit. My favorite idiot needs help AGAIN?!” begrudging , kind of way. You probably met in university/college and if you've stuck with him this long he’d be hard to get rid of.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He never asks for cuddles and is pretty touch adversed as a rule. Sometimes though, He simply plonks himself in your space and expects you to know what he wants. Usually it's gentle backrubs/strokes like you would with a child. Sometimes he just wants your warmth to sooth his aching body. He’s heavier than he was in Arkham asylum but still very underweight so you shouldn't have too much trouble moving him into a comfortable position.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Absolutely not. I'm not convinced this man owns more than his books and the burlap sack on his back ,never mind a home. He has plans to take the cloudburst on tour, to go cross country and then across the world spreading fear. That would be a little difficult if he had gotham mortgage sending him nasty emails every other day about missed payments. While he can cook and clean, I doubt you'd want to eat anything he made. Ignoring his filthy hands, he's probably laced it with fear toxin or a lethal amount of hot sauce.

His homemade cleaning chemicals are pretty stellar mind you. They can get blood, piss or tears out of anything. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Scarecrow really is a ride or die kinda guy. If you've wormed your way into his life then he’s going to do literally everything and anything to keep you in it. He’s not above making you dependent on him for safety just to keep you around longer. He’s not a total monster to the people he cares about mind you. If you really didn't want to be with him, he’d let you go….eventually.

I'm not sure he fully understands the concept of a “breakup”on his end. He gets that you don't see eachother anymore but I don't think he quite grasps that it's not because one party is dead. There's a 99% chance he’ll use you for his fear toxin experiments as a way of kicking you to the kerb. If you wake up in a ditch with a text that says “we’re through” you should consider yourself lucky. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I canon arkham scarecrow as having been engaged at one point in his life, possibly around the time of origins. I can imagine his partner gave him a “me or the fear toxin” ultimatum which has led to the man you know now. Despite how he looks, how he speaks and acts, he’s still open to the idea of a partner. He’s a loyal man who can't stand backstabbers, he’d appreciate someone like a spouse/husband/wife to have his back. If he decided he wanted to get married he’d propose almost immediately. It might be more of a business or thesis type proposal with lots of talking rather than flowers and wine and you're likely to be married as soon as you said yes. 

He has a tiny pumpkin ring saved for the occasion. Something like this (image credit https://www.banggood.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s gentle, in a creepy way unsurprisingly. He was a little stronger than the average man before the incident with croc, all that cardio and fighting with batman made him a skinny legend amongst the rogues for how well he could fight. Now? He couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. Mostly he's calm and soft, especially when you wouldn't expect him to be.  He can still be an emotionally manipulative person but chances are good you're smart enough to see right through him. Calling him on his bs is actually a good way to endear yourself to him. He likes a challenge and he loves it when people think they can outsmart him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hmm. yes and no. Scarecrow is severely touch adversed, but...It's not like with Riddler; Edward is on the autism spectrum and genuinely gets overstimulated by a lot of physical contact, he doesn't usually enjoy it unless under specific circumstances. Scarecrow WANTS to be hugged and held on occasion, but the mere thought of someone in his personal bubble sends his hackles up. 

When he first woke up after the asylum, he clung to you like a lampent. Scarecrow gives and recieves hugs like someone who needs them to breath.Your warmth soothes the aching pain when even drugs couldn't . By the time of Arkham Knight he’s grown cold and distant. His hugs are few and far between and unusually half hearted even when he initiates them. Maybe he’s just preoccupied with batman.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I doubt he’d ever say the words ``i love you” but he’s absolutely going to quote love poetry at you, recite lines from his favorite literature  “shall i compare you to a summer's day” and all that. That’s far better than a simple “i love you” right?

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jonathan is sort of one note when it comes to expressing frustration. Coffee machine not working? Melt it down into fear toxin vials. Line at the grocery store? Gas everyone out of his way. He doesnt get mad, he gets even. He’s not a super jealous person, he’s probably the most secure in himself out of all the rogues in Gotham bar Selina and ivy. But when something does hit his jealousy bone just right? LORD HE IS TERRIBLE. 

Unless you were the instigator, you are 100% safe but the poor soul who made the mistake of flirting with you will never see the light of day again.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He can't really kiss to be honest. He lacks a lot of lip tissue and tongue dexterity for deep smooching. He’s quite happy to give you little pecks on the cheek but anywhere else will get sloppy and he's not a fan of that. Jonathan has actually started to bump you with his head like a cat in lieu of kisses. Rare as it is, when he wants kisses he has a tendency to nuzzle into the crook of your neck or rest his head on your shoulder. He likes to be kissed on the cheek , forehead and top of his head. Most other places are covered in scars and lack the sensitivity to enjoy it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He likes to scare kids. It's not as malicious as it is with adults, he just likes to yell boo at them, smiling as they scream and giggle and run away. It's probably the most innocent he’ll act around other people. He still doesnt like them per say but he’ll tolerate them in small doses. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Scarecrow , like most rogues, is not a morning person. He doesn't sleep well and he is hella grumpy when he first wakes up. Expect to watch him shuffle around his hideout like a zombie, still wearing a quilt and his dressing gown as he complains about everything from the weather to the loud creaking of the floorboards. You should present him with food and coffee and then retreat to a safe distance until he’s fully awake, otherwise he’s liable to turn on his grumpy old man routine on you. If he's feeling particularly sore or needy, he’ll ask you to help change his bandages and dressings .

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It really depends on what he feels like in the moment. Sometimes he’ll leave you at home while he goes out to cause general mischief, sometimes he’ll bring you along as a look out. Sometimes it's a low-key night at the hideout reading and sometimes it's a caffeine fueled frenzie of experimentation and lab work with you as his trusty lab assistant.  He doesn't sleep well at night, the aches keep him up. If he were ever to actually go to bed he might find that you make a great pillow.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As much as he resents people having the upperhand with information, it's hard not for people to see his past. His scars are so easily visible, inside and out. He doesn't talk about his past unless prompted. But if you do he’ll quite happily answer all your questions; he’s not afraid of discussing it. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Jonathan is a very patient man, not just when it comes to revenge.It takes quite a lot to make him fly off the handle and he cools off again quickly. That's not to say he doesn't hold a grudge like he’s being paid for it, only that it's more of a simmering anger rather than a boiling one.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers most things about you, he has an excellent memory. But that being said he never lets on that he knows these things. He likes to hear you talk about the things that interest you, even if you've told him about it before. Watching you wax lyrical about your chosen subject makes him feel close to you. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I don't know if it's a favorite or even a positive memory but when he first woke up from surgery after croc you were lying beside him. He was understandably confused, maybe even afraid, but seeing you there brought him great comfort. He didn't know what was happening because of all the meds, but as long as you were with him he was confident things would work out for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He means well, you should always keep that in mind  before you snap at him. He brought you to the arkham knights HQ to protect you from his plans, he’s given you micro doses of fear toxin to build your resistance and by the time of arkham knight you can hardly move for the amount of guards he has following you around. He’s overbearing bordering on controlling but I think it's because he simply can't admit the thought of losing you scares him, even just a little. You aren't a rogue, you don't know Batman like they do. He just needs to keep you safe from batman, from the police and from the ugly world outside.

Given how weak he’s been viewed practically all his life, I believe he’d resent the accusation he needed protecting. deep in his mind he knows no one man is an island. He appreciates little helps even if he won't say it. He doesn't need protection per say but If nothing else, after being injected with his new toxin, he's going to need someone who’s corpus mentis in his corner for court and medical proceedings.  

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

His idea of a perfect date is you two working on your respective projects in comfortable silence, maybe a trip to the museum if he feels like the exercise. Obviously that suits some people down to the ground, myself included, but he gets that it's not for everyone. He’s probably ok with you planning the activities provided you warn him beforehand. 

Given everything he’s been planning for batman, things like important dates and even everyday tasks have a tendency to get lost in the fray. He's not doing it on purpose, He’s glad to celebrate these things with you if you remind him, He's just got his priorities in a funny order.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He shuffles his feet when he walks and is one of those people who always has conversations in doorways. You can never be sure he isn't aware of these habits and is doing them on purpose. He also used to smoke quite heavily but has since given it up due to his throat and lung issues.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It's sort of a mixed bag with him. On the one hand he knows he’s ugly, that's the point. You're MEANT to be scared looking at him, he’s leaning into it. But on the other hand his “look” is a carefully maintained visage; if it slips it might lose the intended effect. He might not be as scary to look at or worse, people might look at him in pity. It's not ordinary vanity or narcissism but yes, he is concerned with maintaining the way he looks 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The concept of feeling whole is somewhat lost on him; He’s clearly missing a few screws even in his most lucid moments. That said even in the depths of madness brought on by his toxin, he still notices your absence. Still incredibly distressed In his cell in blackgate, he can often be heard crying out to you for comfort  but is lacking the wherewithal to understand why you're not there. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Given that he has pretty extensive facial injuries, eating is pretty difficult for him. He used to really enjoy bagels and cubanos from gothams many deli’s. His favorite was a kosher deli in The Cauldron, before Joker ruined it. They’ve since rebuilt and while he can't eat many solids anymore , he still enjoys their matzo soup and smoothies. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Like most of the rogues, he absolutely can't stand bullies.He also can't stand physically aggressive people; if you're going to even TRY and intimidate him maybe you could use your words like someone with more than 2 brain cells to rub together, rare as that is in gotham. Back when he was a psychiatrist he hated people who were chronically late. Not his patients, most of the time it wasn't their fault  due to executive dysfunction or traffic, but people who kept HIM back and made HIM late were the bane of his existence. 

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Crane is a back sleeper who snores because of his damaged septum.He knows he makes a noise akin to a flip flop in a lawn mower but there is literally nothing he can do about it besides sleep on his stomach. He squirms around a lot in his sleep so even if he starts on his stomach, he’ll be on his back snoring like a dead horse in no time. The only thing that could keep him frontwise is if he were to sleep on you and have you hold him in place. 

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 15. Snowmen

A/N: So I had in mind something light and funny, some payback for past hurt if you will. It turned out to be quite deep in the end though and I really don't know what happened. But I feel like it was, good..?

Setting: The forest between Hogsmeade and The Shrieking Shack

Characters: Severus, James, Sirius, Peter, Remus, Lily (their 5th year at Hogwarts)

Word count: 1724

Warnings: Bullying, Retaliation, Past hurt, Broken friendships, Some funny stuff too

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

They had been taunting him, for so long. Snowballs, leg binding jinxes, ice under his feet - it just went on and on. Severus was at his wit's end by the middle of December. Everywhere he went they seemed to be, no matter where he tried to hide they seemed to find him, despite his best efforts to not let it bother him he was fuming. No matter what, the Marauders always seemed to get the last laugh. Well, not today, he thought as the visit to Hogsmeade was reaching its end.

He had found a jinx, intended for joy he presumed by the notes in the margin. But he had other plans for it. They were always four against one - but not this time. No, this time he would have backup. Just one more, he thought as he looked around at the four snowmen he had spent over an hour making. Just one more and I'm set, he thought again with something that resembled a wicked smile of hope.

He knew they would come, knew they were looking for him, knew they wanted to get one last laugh out of the Hogsmeade visit. He had known before they ever even went on the little trip. So he had planned and planned, hoped he'd be able to get some revenge that wouldn't get he himself into too much trouble. Hopefully, no trouble at all if he could help it. They always get away with the foulest of shit so why shouldn't I?

Just as he put the last head on the last snowman so they outnumbered the Marauders he heard snow being crushed under many boots. It was time. He hid behind a tree a little ways away from where he could see it all. He tensed when laughter reached him, James's laughter. An evil sound that made him shiver.

"Oh, what's this? Someone's built snowmen," Remus said with a curious voice and chuckles were heard. Severus looked at the Gryffindor boys as they walked closer to the snowmen. He kept his wand ready.

"Would be a shame if they were to, get destroyed, wouldn't it?" James chuckled and Severus saw the evil gleam in his eyes. It made his stomach turn.

The Marauders stiffened as the snowmen looked at them with evil grins of rocks and twigs. Their long arms reach for the snow around them and in an instant, they started throwing snowballs at the boys who seemed chocked. They got pounded by snowballs and Severus could barely contain his laughter as they fumbled around while trying to cover their heads. It was glorious.

Sirius laughed, Peter snickered and Remus seemed tired of his friends' shenanigans.

"Don't destroy them," Remus said but the others just laughed as they walked closer with determined steps. Severus flicked his wand and used nonverbal magic to make them come alive. With a single purpose. To throw snowballs at people.

James stumbled and fell backwards, Peter ran around like an idiot while Sirius skipped around in an effort to avoid as many slinging snowballs as possible while Remus - a bit more calm and collected - seamed to be the only one who even thought of using magic to shield himself from the onslaught. Not that it was enough. The snowmen surrounded the boys and snowballs came from all directions.

Severus saw Remus roll his eyes as he aimed the wand at the snowman closest to him. Fire burst out of his wand as he said 'incendio' but Severus had been clever. A fire repellent charm laid over the jumping snowmen and the look on Remus's face was unforgettable as his magic did little to no damage on the snowball-throwing snowmen.

Severus snickered as he peeked out from behind the tree.

"Do something!" James screamed.

"Like what?!" Sirius hollered back with a pissed off expression as his curly hair got whiter and whiter. Severus had to cover his mouth so as not to laugh out loud and reveal himself.

"Anything!" James screamed back as he crawled around in the snow on his hand and knees.

"It's not working!" Sirius shouted out.

"I damn well noticed!" Remus smeared back and they gathered in a lump in the middle of the snowman circle.

"Run for it!" James said with a frantic voice as the snowmen inched closer, the snowballs hit harder and they seemed at a total loss for what to do.

"Now?" Peter piped up.

"Now!" James declared as they all barrelled out of the circle, the snowmen instantly hot on their tail with bouncing jumps.

Severus laughed out loud and crumbled to the ground as the chaos ran away with shouts and ducking heads. He knew the spell would only last for about another minute but by Merlin did he hope they got thoroughly wet and cold in that time. Almost a shame they don't know it's my handy work, he thought as he wiped away tears of laughter from his eyes.

"I should have declared myself so they'd know I'm the one who got them hunted by snowball-throwing snowmen," he sighed out as he rose from the crouched position.

"Oh don't worry, they will."

Severus whipped around at those words, that voice. His eyes were met by an angry-looking Lily and he paled somewhat by the sight of her.

"Really, Severus? Snowmen throwing snowballs?" She crossed her arms over her chest and Severus shrugged. Even if it felt a little less fun now that Lily was angry with him.

"You could have at least added some snow spewing dragons while you were at it," she snickered out and Severus's eyes widened as Lily's face turned from sour to sweet. A little grin etched over her lips.

He chuckled as the idea formed in his head, the vision of dragons spewing snow while hunting the Marauders alongside the bouncing snowmen.

"Sorry to say I'm not that great a snow sculptor," he chuckled out as his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"You're, not mad?" he asked carefully. She blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes.

"I don't agree with the behaviour but all things considered you did payback in a good way, I suppose," she said on a chuckle, "I know they are mean to you and I'm sorry for that, but you shouldn't stupe to their level." Severus arched a brow at her words.

"But dating one of them is fine?" Lily's face hardened at that.

"Who I date is none of your concern."

"I know, and who I throw snowballs at with the help of some snowmen is none of your concern."

They glared at each other, Lily offended and Severus angered.

"You really know how to ruin a good time," he muttered as the joy he had felt mere moments ago disappeared.

"You really know how to ruin friendships," she countered with and her words stung. More so than any words ever said by the Marauders.

"It wouldn't be so hard to be friends if you weren't a bully lover," he bit out as anger rose in him. And hurt, hurt from her betrayal and all the times she just stood by as he was tormented for merely existing and being different. She gasped at that and fisted her hands by her sides.

"Well if you weren't so insecure you would have known I loved you as a friend despite it all!"

"Despite what?! Despite being bullied? Abused? Terrorised? Hunted by bullies you so dearly love?!" Severus roared with pounding heart and heaving breaths. She glared at him with a shake of her head as she apparently had no words to retort with.

He sunk to the ground. The joy from his retaliation had gone away and left was only self-loathing and fear. For he was truly scared Lily's words would be true, that he would be miserable and alone. Why did I have to say that? She was trying, by Merlin... He thought but his feelings were to hurt by her. She had cut too deep with her betrayal and even if she wanted to be friends again he could not forgive her for all the years he had cried and all the pain he had gone through every time she just let them bully him. Without a chiding word at them or a helping hand for him. All is not meant to be forgiven. Everyone does not earn forgiveness. He thought to himself as the memories flooded him with pain.

She walked past him and turned her head.

"They'll know, I'll make sure of that." Severus sneered at her.

"Go ahead, tell them. Let's see what happens after that. Who knows, perhaps this time they'll do it properly and finish me off. Wouldn't that be quite something?"

"At least it would be better than spending your life miserable and alone, 'cus that's what you'll be in the end, Snape," she said with venom in her voice, "I tried to be nice to you, just a moment ago. And look what it got me. Insults."

"There would have been no insults if the words weren't true." She huffed at that and stomped away without another word.

He wanted to forgive her, to move on and leave the past in the past but how could he do that when they were at every turn with their utmost efforts to make his life hell. When she held James's hand and laughed at his jokes despite the fact that James was a horrible person. How was he supposed to let it go and move on when he was hurting so badly? How was he supposed to tell her that the bullying was nothing compared to her indifference of his pain? How was he supposed to smile when it felt like a lie?

Perhaps he would indeed vanish one day and be rid of the whole ordeal that was life. Perhaps he'd just melt, like snow in the warmth of the spring sun. Perhaps he'd just stop living like the snowmen who, by now, was just snow, twigs and rocks again. Perhaps it would be so. But there was a chance that life had something else planned for him and he would hold on to that thought until the very end, even if it turned out to be mere dust in the wind of the storm that was unfulfilled wishes throughout eternity.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

Tags: @lizlil @snapefiction  @morphineisouthoney​ @setsuna-meiou31​ @snapefiction​

[Dec:2020]

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[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E8; Chapter Eight, The Mind Flayer - [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An unlikely hero steps forward when a deadly development puts the Hawkins Lab on lockdown, trapping Will and several others inside.

A/n: y/n and max bonding time !! ☺ we love and support healthy female friendships in this fic 😚

||3rd Person POV||

The rickety wooden door to the Byers shed is ripped open, and Hopper tugs at the pull chain bathing the shed in a dusty yellow light. To his left stands Mike and Y/n who accompany him, and he shakes his head with a decisive nod.

"Yeah, this'll work."

The young Henderson girl can't help but sigh at the irony of this room being the setting of the interrogation with the monster that took over Will. Given this was the very place he was taken. Y/n had not found out this particular detail until weeks after his full recovery. He had shared this with her on the same day she had shared her powers with him.

How drastically everything had changed since then.

And deep down she knew, things would only continue to change. It was a feeling of absolute certainty deep in her core. She knew it to be true just as sure she was that the sunset in the evening and rose in the morning; Nothing would ever be the same again.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The shed had been empty in a matter of minutes thanks to Hopper. After the details of the plan began to cement, Y/n lingered behind for the majority of this allotted time to help the man clear the room of all its contents, though she was soon called inside to help Mike and the others prepare.

Nancy and Steve now stood alone in the shed, having been tasked with the job of covering the shed's walls. For several minutes they worked in an amplified silence beside the constant ripping of duct tape and sharp thuds from the staple gun.

Nancy was the first to break this silence.

"Hey," Steve stepped down from the stool to reload his staple gun, and he turns to meet the girl's gentle smile. "What you did, um, helping the kids... that was... really cool."

"Yeah," he mutters, breaking away from her tempting gaze and returning to his work on the stool. "Those little shits are real trouble, you know?"

Nancy nods, fighting a smile as she returns to her roll of duck tape. "Believe me, I know."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Outside and just around the corner of the yard, Lucas and Dustin finished emptying the contents of the trash and kneeled down to the grass to examine its contents for any useful materials for the walls.

Not unlike Nancy, Dustin decides to take advantage of the brief calm before the storm to reconcile with the boy beside him.

"Hey," Dustin eases. "I'm... I'm sorry about Dart and all. I guess I just thought that he was my friend."

Lucas does not fail to notice Dustin's dry scoff at himself at his own realization.

"I was wrong. I broke the rule of law, so if you want your girlfriend to take over my spot in the party, I understand."

Lucas laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "She's not my girlfriend."

"I saw you two holding hands in the bus, Lucas."

"She was just scared."

"Maybe," Dustin nods sadly. "but I could feel it."

"Feel what?"

Dustin looks at his friend sincerely, finally understanding what Steve had told him about.

"The electricity."

With that, Dustin balls up his findings of newspaper for the shed and rises to his feet, heading around the house. Lucas sits in careful contemplation at his words, unable to shake the swarm of thoughts they had brought.

He merely sighs, and returns to work, his head and heart buzzing.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Max and Mike sit in silence in the kitchen. Mike with his head in the cupboard as he fishes for supplies and Max beside him on the floor stitching together strips of cardboard with duct tape. She smiles fondly.

"I get it now," She says.

Without turning around, Mike throws back a grumbled response. "Get what?"

She quirks a brow, still a hint of an understanding smile. "You know, why Y/n's your druid? El too, I get why she was your mage."

The sudden and unexpected mention of El is what breaks Mike's attention away from his task, and he looks over his shoulder at Max pointedly.

"What?"

"Well, the whole 'Y/n saving our asses in the junkyard' show was kind of a tip-off," she begins jokingly, but it stops when she notices the warning in his eyes, and she softens. "Lucas. He told me about her. El, I mean."

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have." Mike spits back.

Max listens unsurprised at his hostile attitude towards her, though it doesn't change her offense at his venom.

"And just because you know the truth, it doesn't mean you're in our party. You do know that, right?"

A rather light thump comes from down the hall, followed by a small string of hushed cursing. It grabs their attention only briefly before they dismiss it altogether, knowing they weren't the only ones rushing around in preparation.

"Y-yeah, I know," Max visibly deflates, returning her attention to the carboard in her hands, and scoffs sadly. "I mean, why would you want a stupid zoomer in your party anyway?"

Mike stifles a glance in her direction but returns to the cupboard in an attempt to move on.

"I'm just saying, El?" Max continues gently. "She sounds like she was really awesome."

"Yeah, she was," Mike concludes, closing the cupboard doors and collecting what he had gathered. "Until that thing took her. Just like it took Bob."

Mike rises to his feet, managing to cast one more cold glance at the girl as he heads for the back door, leaving her all alone.

Max frowns, feeling yet another prick of defeat and anger from the boy's stubborn ways. Bitterly, she rips another strip of tape from the roll, finishing off another tube of cardboard for the leg of the stool meant for Will.

It was tedious work, going to the extreme of disguising a chair but necessary according to Joyce and the others closest to Will. They couldn't risk a single identifiable object that could possibly clue in Will as to where they were. And that included a simple stool that had belonged to the Byers for years.

Max sighed when she heard the shuffling of footsteps behind her, and without looking she casts a sour look over her shoulder towards who she believed to be Mike.

"Forget something, maybe another insult? Well, you haven't told me how annoying I am in the last ten minutes, so naturally, you must be dying inside,"

"Well, I wouldn't say annoying. Persistent, maybe, but that's hardly an insult," chirped a familiar voice that certainly wasn't Mike.

Relieved, Max saw Y/n approach the kitchen table, her arms overflowing with cardboard and newspaper that threatened to spill. Quickly, she dispenses them on the existing pile on the table.

Max cracked a smile that lasted only seconds and returned to her gaze to her work. "Thought you were Mike," she mumbled.

Y/n's gentle and light-hearted demeanor melted into that of empathy for the girl. She sighs, wondering how she could possibly ease the tension in the room and settles on grabbing her own squares of cardboard. She joins Max on the kitchen floor. The two begin to work in silence for a good few moments when Y/n softly speaks up.

"I don't know if you know this, but, I used to be the outsider of the group,"

Max says nothing, but she looks up from her finishing touches on the stool to look at Y/n, her interest piqued. Y/n is still fixed on her own pieces, and she reaches for a patch of tape, her eyes meeting with Max casually and briefly.

"When Dustin and I moved here in the fourth grade, I had a hard time making friends. I had some, back in y/h/t, but moving was kind of hard on me, and over time I lost touch."

Max was now watching Y/n studiously, more or less a bit surprised at how similar it sounded to her own experiences.

"Dustin had more luck socializing here than I did, and... I got pretty lonely." She grabs another strip of cardboard and tape. "Eventually, he started bringing his new friends over. Like, all the time. It only reminded me of how lonely I was, and, even though I knew he wasn't trying to, it felt like Dustin was rubbing it in."

Max frowned softly, unable to imagine the kid would want to do something like that. And she had only known him a week. Nevertheless, she stayed silent, listening closely.

A weak and almost non-audible chuckle escaped the Henderson girl.

"I was always on the outside looking in," her voice quieted sadly, her brows knitted together in a frown. "They had their own inside jokes, games. Their own secret language, everything. Stuff even I didn't have with my old friends. And for a long time, I was just 'Dustin's sister'."

Unable to bite back her curiosity, Max finally spoke, now completely invested in her story. "So what changed?"

A ghost of a smile flickered across Y/n's face, clearly recalling a warm memory she hadn't thought of in a long time.

"Will," Y/n finally looked away from her work and met Max's gaze. "He fought for me. He helped me stand up to them, specifically my brother. The others were way easier to convince, it was Dustin that put up a fight."

Y/n sighs softly, dispelling the weight settling on her heart. She looks at her new friend determinedly, Mike's harsh words to Max she had inadvertently overheard ringing in her ears.

"I know it's easier said than done, believe me," she begins. "But try not to let Mike get to you."

Max halts at her words, gaze now focused on the tile floor, and she glances at Y/n through her peripheral vision.

"He's in a lot of pain since El left," Y/n mumbled, the ever-present weight of guilt on her shoulders from her secret immediately grows ten times heavier, and she can feel it sitting on her lungs. "She meant a lot to him, to all of us really. But Mike took it the hardest... My point is,"

She took a deep breath and looked back at Max until she returned her gaze.

"We all want you in the party. We all really like you. And even though Mike is still working through his feelings, doesn't mean he won't come around. Besides, he doesn't solely determine who's in and who's out, no more than Dustin, or any of us, really."

A mischievous grin curled at her lips as she recalled what the boys had told Max on Halloween. She spoke with a hint of a mocking tone, trying her best to imitate Dustin that day.

"After all, our party's a democracy, and the majority voted that you could stay,"

The girls shared the briefest of seconds with their gaze locked on one another as their smiles grew. The silence was broken almost immediately as the two burst into fits of laughter, and each girl felt a great deal lighter than their current situation had previously allowed them.

Gradually the laughter died down, but their smiles remained, allowing the warmth of each other's company to keep them distracted for as long as they could.

"Thanks, Y/n," Max said, earnestly, almost feeling silly for letting her guard down, but she couldn't help it. Instead, she embraced it. "I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Max. And hey," Max looked back up curiously, her brow arched. "For what it's worth, I do mean it. We all want you in. And after all that's gone down in the past hour alone, well..."

Max felt the warmth in her chest grow at what the girl said next, and between her moment with Lucas on the bus and now, she couldn't recall a single moment since she had moved to Hawkins she had felt at home. Had felt accepted.

"Mike's wrong. You're one of us, now,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jonathan rips another blanket off the clothesline and looks to his mother.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"He knew who I was," Joyce croaked, heart heavy. "He's still in there."

There's a solid passion in her voice, and Jonathan can tell she's forcing her words over a swollen lump in her throat, but he can't blame her. He's had one himself all night. And it only grows when he hears what his mother has to say next. And by the sound of it, the last bit seems to be her assuring herself.

"It's going to work," she proclaims. "It has to."

He nods solemnly, deciding he has no other choice but to believe in their plan. With a sigh, he reaches up over his head, scissors in hand, and begins to gather every last scrap of string he can harvest.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

With all the supplies now collected, everyone gathers in the Byers shed; disguising the floor and walls in sheets of tarp, cardboard, newspaper, and tinfoil, a budding sense of hope blooming in everyone's hearts. Not a single square inch is uncovered, even the sheds two posts are completely cloaked as are the chairs Max and Y/n had disguised. They sit in the center of the shed, one pushed up against each post, and a set of outdoor lights have been moved inside and hung to face where Will is to sit.

The small wooden shed had now been completely transformed and would have been practically unrecognizable to anyone who hadn't contributed. Exactly as everyone had hoped.

Jonathan was the one to retrieve Will, and as he carried his limp brother in his arms, a very similar thought to Y/n's had crossed his mind. How peaceful Will looked as he slept. It was the same little boy who used to crawl into bed with him when he'd have a nightmare. The same little boy who'd fall asleep against his shoulder as the two of them hid away from the screaming matches that took place when Lonnie was still around.

It was his little brother that he loved so much.

And the fact that that would all change as soon as he woke up, it would be another inescapable dagger to the heart. But it was something he was willing to face if it meant they were one step closer to getting Will back.

Will collapses limply into the chair he is placed in, and Jonathan has to keep one hand on his shoulder to steady him as they bound him to the chair. The clothesline he had cut down was now coiled tightly - but not too tight of course, though Jonathan can not help but worry if it was a wise choice of binding - around Will's ragdoll form and the post he sits against. The back pair of the chair's legs are woven much tighter against the post, ensuring Will is unable to scoot away should he break free.

For an extra measure, the wire stretched even farther than the boy's torso and wound around his wrists and ankles as well. Lucas hooks up the extension cord and connects it with the lamp, and it comes to life. The shed is now fully immersed in a sickening and even blinding, white light that is mounted across the room facing Will. The new source of light adds an even more chilling touch as it now enunciates the sickly color of Will's skin.

The boy is as white as a sheet, his dark brown bangs that dangle over his eyes create a stark contrast against his skin. It is not in the least bit assuring to the state of his condition, but they know it is a necessary measure. It's harsh intensity made it near impossible to see who or what was beyond it.

In this case, it was five figures packed in behind the lamp, each of them gazing at the boy with racing minds and beating hearts: Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, Mike, and Y/n.

She protested at first. Not because of nerves though she couldn't deny she had them, but worried he would refuse to talk if she were present. It had taken quite a great deal of convincing on Mike's part, but he wouldn't back down.

"He needs to see you, Y/n."

"Mike, our goal is to get him to talk to us. He wouldn't even look at me last time I was here and that was before the Mind Flayer completely took over."

"He's still in there, Y/n. I know it. And I think you know it too."

She sighed and looked away breifly shaking her head.

"I don't know about this, Mike." His pleading look does little to shake her certainty. "I'm telling you, he won't open up if I'm here. The Mind Flayer despises me, I know it."

"But we're not trying to talk to the Mind Flayer, we're trying to talk to Will. And I'm telling you, that Will is nuts about you. He tells you everything. He trusts you. Will trusts you. That's what we need right now."

Her gaze wanders beyond Mike and towards her unconscious friend worriedly. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek as a side effect of her growing worry though she has to remind herself to stop. A sharp exhale breaks through her and she looks back at Mike, uncertainty laced in her voice.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not a minute later Joyce and Hopper had returned from the house where they had finished preparations with the others. The rest of the party, Nancy, and Steve stayed behind, all of them spread out amongst the kitchen where Hopper left a walkie. The other one grasped tightly in his hand should something go wrong and Joyce had fetched the bottle of ammonia Mike had dug out in during his chat with Max.

Now here they stand with nothing left to do but wake Will. Hopper cuts through the newest silence first as he glances at everyone, his gaze landing on Joyce.

"Alright, you ready?"

Without taking her eyes off her son, Joyce nods firmly.

"Yeah,"

Hopper steps forward, shaking the contents of the ammonia bottle around as he holds it at his side. Even though he towers over the small boy, he can't help but grow anxious and fearful of Will knowing what he is about to awake. Regardless he steps foward, kneeling beside his small sleeping form and unscrews the cap.

Everyone watches intently from across the room, and Y/n timidly shrinks back further beyond the post in hopes of not giving herself away too soon.

His eyes barely leaving Will, Hopper tips the bottle and douses a small handkerchief and he brings it to Will's nose in great apprehension.

At first nothing happens, but that changes in a matter of seconds as his head whips up unnaturally fast. He lets out a chilling gasp and his eyes rip open to reveal his once kind hazel green irises were now a cold, and dark brown that were now filled with hostility.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dustin stands rooted at the kitchen window, his uneasy stare fixed on the closed shed in the yard. His mind is filled with a variety of scenerios as to what his sister and the others could possibly be experiencing. It's almost too much to handle and in this fleeting moment Dustin finds himself experiencing what he realizes to be not even a sliver of what Y/n normally goes through.

He takes a deep breath, attempting to put his mind at ease and leaves the window. He sheds his hat, anxiously running his fingers through his curls as he begins to pace. Nancy watches him pass as she leans against a nearby wall, her attention returning once again to the walkie on the table, ready to answer it should the occasion arrise.

Steve stands in the living room alone, an iron grip on his bat as he gets a few practice swings in. Like Nancy, his growing anxiety has manifested itself into its own unique form, and much like Dustin he finds himself unable to sit still. The same could not be said for Max and Lucas, who now sat up against the hallway walls across from one another.

Max looks up at Lucas, her fingers still mindlessly fiddling with a fray on her jacket sleeve.

"If he finds out where we are..." she begins. "will he send those, dogs, after us?"

"He won't find out." Lucas insists.

Max nibbles at the inside of her cheek before speaking in a timid voice.

"Yeah, but, if he does?"

Lucas meets her eyes with a furrowed brow, and for a moment she senses all hope inside him had flickered out when he spoke. And his very words struck a bolt of fear into her heart, chilling her blood raising every hair at the inevitable danger she had found herself in.

"Judgement day,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · What you can do to help the Black Lives Matter movement. Don't ever give up!! Links in the comments below as usual

All white and non-black followers/readers of mine, I implore you to take a designated amount of time out of each day devoted to educating yourselves on this matter and how to be a better ally. Here are some books that can help with that:

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

"For white and non-Black people who feel they don't know how to start having these conversations, Oluo has generously provided a resource about how to be honest and thoughtful in examining not just racism in the world, but also white people's own role in it."

How To Be Antiracist by Ibram X Kendi

"Rather than figuring out how to fix things within our pre-existing systems, Kendi uses the power of memoir to reimagine a society that is not free from racism, but also actively working against racism at all times."

[Link]

And finally, below is a completely free Google doc full of free pdfs written by black activists:

[Link]

+++

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[kayteewritessteve]

Beautifully Unfinished - 3/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 2,380 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

High School.

You stand off to the side of the large stairs, that lead up to the front doors of your new school. Unable to stand still, your whole body buzzing from both excitement and fear.

Today is a huge day in your life, it is not only the first day of grade 9, your first day of High School, but also the day you finally get Steve back. His parents had divorced long before you knew him, and every summer he’d have to go stay with his dad, for the entire break.

So you’ve just gone 2 full months without him, which is not okay, not even in the slightest. But you figure you’ll never be able to go long periods of time without him anymore. Not since he’d ran into your life like some damn knight in shining armour, and then continued to protect you ever since. Though Buck ended up also becoming your knight in shining armour in a roundabout way, as he always had to protect Steve when he’d foolishly step up to defend you.

It was a domino effect really. That whole first year of knowing them, all of grade 7, you’d get picked on for being the new kid. Which always meant Steve would step in, and then Bucky would have to do the same.

Then finally at the beginning of grade 8, everyone started to leave you alone, and therefore Steve and Bucky finally got a much needed break. Everyone either gave up on bullying you because you finally weren’t the ‘new kid’ anymore. Or they just learned that Bucky would always finish the fight, so there was just no point in even starting it to begin with. Either way, you were just happy for the outcome. For finally being left entirely alone.

Steve’s dad had ended up being deployed over the summer months between grade 7 and 8, so Steve hadn’t gone to visit him. And instead spent the break with you and Buck. And it was the best summer you’d ever had, the three of you had only grown more inseparable during that time.

So this summer was strange, it honestly would have been a complete write off had it not been for Bucky. He’d done everything in his power to keep you entertained and outside, enjoying the time off and the heat. It had started to feel a little like he was smothering you, actually. And you had this weird suspicion that he knew of your feelings for Steve, yet he never brought it up, not once. And you’d never voiced them aloud, as very last thing you ever wanted was for anyone to find out, but especially not Steve.

Oh God, that would just be mortifying if he ever learned the truth. If he ever figured out you were basically head over heels in love with him for the past 2 years. That is the exact reason why you are currently standing here, impatient and antsy, as you wait for Steve to meet you in this very spot. Bucky too, obviously, but you’d been around him all summer, you are sick of him at this point. Steve is the true reason for your fiddling and anxiety levels, at this moment.

A strong set of arms wraps around your waist, and scaring the Jesus out of you. You gasp as the arms lift you up and spin you around, and it only takes you a moment to realize who they belong to.

“Bucky! Put me down this instant!” You squeal as you continue to spin, having attempted a stern voice but obviously failing miserably. However, the moment the words leave your mouth, the spinning stops and you feel a rumble on your back. He is laughing at you, that little shi—wait a tick, that doesn’t sound like Bucky’s chuckle...

“Guess again, Doll,” a deep, amused voice rings in your ears. Their lips sounding just mere inches from your skin, and the breath fanning your neck confirms that thought.

Your mind blanks at the voice. You don’t recognize it so who the fuck is behind you right now?! Your feet hit the ground and you snap around, ready to give this weirdo a piece of your mind. How dare some stranger touch you! But the second your eyes land on the solid chest in front of you, your whole body freezes.

Your eyes slowly lift up to meet a piercing set of blues that you would recognize anywhere. Your throat goes dry, as your mind tries to come to terms with what you are currently looking at. It’s obviously Steve, but holy fuck, what the hell happened to him!?

You involuntarily step back and give him a full once over. Your eyes hungrily taking in every new detail. What the hell happened to your best friend?! It has only been two months! Yes, in that time you’ve changed a lot as well, you’ve grown an inch taller, your face matured just a little, and you’ve finally filled out in all the right places. You can thank puberty for that. But Jesus! Steve looks like he has had a full body swap. He is tall, stupidly tall, and he’s bulked up. And by that you mean he looks like a damn Greek God now.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck. What the hell are you supposed to do about your feelings for him now!? Shit. You’d loved him when he was small, sickly even, back when he was a large personality and heart trapped in a small package. But now, now his outside matched his insides, and that is entirely too much for your brain and heart to handle.

“Y/N?” He quietly says, sounding unsure. “It’s me, Steve,” he adds, as if you hadn’t already figured that much out on your own.

You shake your head, plastering the fake nonchalant smile on your lips, the one that you’ve become so good at doing. You’ve mastered this exact smile by now. Having to use it every time he’s done something thoughtful, or said something sweet. As you didn’t want him to know just how much those little moments, words and gestures all truly meant to you.

“Thanks Tips, I never would have figured that out without you telling me,” you joke a small chuckle bubbling out, causing that deep rumble in him, again. And your knees almost go weak at the sound, swallowing thickly as your eyes fully meet his. And now it takes everything in you to push your loud thoughts of attraction down, feigning friendly intrigue instead. You weakly gesture to his whole form, “So, ah, what the hell happened to you?”

He smirks and glances down at himself, your eyes doing the same. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction to give him another full once over, drinking in how he now looks. And fuck! How is it possibly for someone to be this attractive?! Why must the boy you love, now be even more appealing?! Someone upstairs must be fucking with you! This has to be a joke!

You’d loved him inside and out before, his large heart and immense kindness taking you completely by surprise, and causing you to basically melt into a puddle of admiration and disbelief. How someone could be as utterly amazing and completely awe inspiring as him, was insanely unfair before.

But now, now in this ridiculously attractive body, it was downright illegal. It shouldn’t be allowed for one person to be so damn perfect!

He chuckles, and the deep sound again messes with you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes flick up to his once more. Instantly seeing the amusement in his blue orbs, he clearly saw you fully checking him out. How utterly embarrassing.

He shrugs nonchalantly now, as if his change was nothing major, as if it had just happened over night and he hadn’t really even noticed it till this exact moment. “Dad is big on being healthy and exercising. He got me into it over the summer, and this was just the outcome.”

You go to reach out involuntarily to touch his chest, but halt the action and quickly drop your hand as you clue in to what your hazy mind was just about to have you do. You were just about to feel him up, just about to allow your fingertips to graze him as if to fully check he is real. That he is actually standing in front of you currently, and that this isn’t just some insane trick your mind is playing. Like you’d made this all up and he is just a figment of your imagination.

But wait, he’d picked you up, he’d already touched you, so you know this was all real. He is actually here, standing in front of you.

That last thought trumps all others and you jump towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Which proves to be way more difficult now with the height difference. “Holy shit, Stevie,” you happily squeal, your mind only focused on one thing now. The return of your best friend. “You’re finally home! I missed you so much!” You smile widely as you feel his now insanely large arms wrap around you again, his face tucking into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

“I missed you too, Y/N. So much,” he murmurs into your skin, his breath causing goosebumps to form instantly.

After a moment someone clearing their throat beside you forces you both to pull back and release from the embrace. Looking to the side you see Buck, standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and one brow raised as he glances between the two of you. He gives you a smug look, like he knows exactly what you are thinking currently. Giving you the distinct impression again that he knows about your true feelings for Steve.

You don’t even have a chance to give him a pleading look before he unfolds his arms and smiles at Steve, “welcome home, Punk!”

They move towards each other and share a bro hug—ya know, the type of hug guys share. The one where they each loudly clap a hand on the others back before promptly separating and taking a step back. Yeah, that kind of hug.

“Thanks, Jerk,” Steve chuckles again as Bucky gives him a full once over.

“Jesus, Stevie,” Buck shakes his head, widening his eyes slightly. “What the hell did your dad feed ya all summer, fucking steroids?”

Steve throws his head back, laughing loudly at your friends feigned shock and dismay. “Nah, just a bunch of protein, meat and veggies. Ya know, the good stuff.”

“Guess we can’t call you Stevie anymore,” Bucky jokes.

“No, screw that,” you quickly pipe up, your eyes meeting Steves as you smirk, “he’ll always be Stevie to us.”

He smirks right back, “that I will.”

You all spend a few more minutes catching up before you head into the school. It only takes a few weeks to get used to his new Steve. Which isn’t overly surprising as he is still entirely the same guy on the inside. So all you have to come to terms with is his new exterior.

But that isn’t really the hard part, no, you getting used to his new looks is nothing in comparison to having to get used to his new attention. Every girl, and some guys, in your school now notice him. Most of them damn near throwing themselves at his feet.

You spend most of grade 9 in a jealous rage that you have to try desperately to play off. Using the excuse of just being angry that no one paid any attention to him when he was small, but now they were all just being superficial, and he deserved better than that.

Bucky clearly saw right through your bullshit, but luckily Steve didn’t. He appreciated that you cared about him enough to glare at the stupid girls fawning over him. He laughed when you mumbled insults about them under your breath. He’d smirk when you’d say some of those insults to their faces. Yes, it was rude to insult these girls, but they didn’t deserve him. Not before, when he was small, and definitely not now, that he was big.

But then again, you clearly didn’t deserve him either. Or at least you never felt like you did. Which meant you never once told him of your feelings, and instead dated other guys during high school. Trying to get over your feelings for Steve, over this ridiculous love you had for the guy.

The day he came to you, finally telling you he’d started dating a girl, was the first time your heart truly cracked. But you’d plastered that same fake smile on your lips and congratulated him. You’d pushed your feelings down the second you’d heard the true excitement in his voice. He was happy, but just because you weren’t the one causing that happiness, didn’t mean you weren’t excited for him.

You’d managed to make it through the entire school day, and got home before you broke down and cried all night over a tub of ice cream. You’d eventually passed out, your eyes puffy and red.

Then the rest of the week had gone the same, faking that you were fine all day and then crying yourself to sleep. After a while, the pain numbed and you became used to seeing him with someone else. The years quickly flying passed and before you knew it, it was grade 12.

Steve had had a few girlfriends over the years, just as you’d had a few boyfriends. He’d never really liked any of your boyfriends though, just as you’d never really liked any of his girlfriends. So whenever you both hung out, it was always alone or with Buck, which was one small thing that you were thankful for. He never forced you to be around his girlfriends, and in return, you never forced him to be around your partners.

Because if they ever had, they’d probably all instantly notice your reactions to Steve’s presence. Something he, himself, never noticed, as you’d always been this way with him. But anyone else who witnessed it, usually could tell instantly about your true feelings for the guy.

Cause every time you’re with him, somehow you forget to breathe.

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

@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt

[artificialqueens]

Paper Boats, Pining, and the Sublime (Sashea) - Estuary

Summary: Sasha loves spending nights out with her best friend, Shea. Tonight is no exception. She wishes she could stop overthinking.

A/N: This is my first fic. It’s a a fluffy, pining piece and I hope y'all like it.

        Laughing loudly with little concern for slumbering tenants in nearby apartments, Sasha Velour and Shea Couleé meandered through dimly lit streets, part walking, part skipping, and part stumbling.

        "You’re sure that you know where we’re going? We’re nearing city limits,“ Sasha asked as Shea paused to ponder whether to make a right.

        "Yeah! But you have to promise you won’t bully me once I explain why we went there.” Shea replied, turning back from her decision-making to smile at Sasha.

        "You know I can’t bully you, Shea,“ Sasha hiccupped, remnants of drinking slurring her speech, "You would destroy me.”

        "You’re right bitch, but I’m still making you promise.“

        "Cross my heart.”

        Sasha knew there was another reason she couldn’t really bully Shea, one outside of Shea’s potential retaliation roasts. A reason related to how Sasha could find no real flaw in Shea. A reason that could not be acknowledged nor acted upon lest Sasha risk her friendship for rejection. A reason that was Sasha’s crippling, painful, constant love for Shea Coulée.

        Sasha was rational, she prided herself on it. She knew Shea wouldn’t want to date someone like her. Someone overly serious, anxious, and academic.

        Shea dated uber confident, runway-walking, impeccably styled women. Intimidatingly stunning women. 5-feet-long-legs women. The kind of women you could hear approach you on the street just from the sound of their clicking stilettos on cement.

        It wasn’t unusual that an amateur street photographer would ask to take Shea and her supermodel of the week’s photo. To ask to document them in all their glamour and elegance.

        When Shea and Sasha went out for Friday night drinks, it needn’t be said that there were no photo proposals.

        It was simple, really. It wasn’t that being a bald, unibrowed, peculiarly-dressed woman was bad. Sasha liked how she looked. It’s just that Shea didn’t like that. Shea didn’t want someone who looked like a statement. And she certainly didn’t want a pseudo-intellectual with a penchant for doubling down on and over-explaining said statement all the time. So there wasn’t any need to make a move. Any proposition would be laughable at best and friendship-destroying at worst.

        Despite all of that heart-crushing rationality, Sasha did allow herself some small indulgences. For instance, Sasha allowed prolonged mutual eye contact, as long as she looked away first. She could rest her head on Shea’s shoulder during a movie, as long as Shea was appropriately preoccupied with the film. On a few rare occasions, Sasha placed a delicate kiss on Shea’s hand in a show of silly, exaggerated cordiality.

        Nonetheless, Sasha’s general rule of thumb was that as soon as any of her actions couldn’t be waved away with the excuse of being an ‘affectionate friend’, it had to stop.

        She didn’t need to think about how the glittery, red mark of her lipstick on the back of Shea’s hand made her chest feel fuzzy and warm.

        Shea suddenly tossed her hair and announced: “Oh my god, my hands are so cold."

        "I told you that you should bring your gloves.” Sasha chastised, remembering her text message warning.

        "Girl, don’t look smug over my pain.“

        And before Sasha could begin to think about what she was doing, she reached out and grabbed Shea’s right hand with her left and earnestly shoved their joined hands into her jacket pocket.

        "T-to warm you.” Sasha stammered. Fuck. Sasha didn’t stutter. More importantly, Sasha didn’t grab her friend’s hands given the slightest opportunity and shove them into her pocket like some kind of middle schooler. Shea had to see Sasha’s inner turmoil.

        Shea smiled—is she smiling? Sasha’s frantic mind paused to wonder—and simply squeezed Sasha’s hand. They walked on, and as Shea chattered about the ins and outs of her most recent collection, Sasha became increasingly aware of how Shea’s hand stayed firmly wound with her own. By the third minute of Sasha’s internal count, she swore that her left hand was dripping with sweat. Shea’s hand had to feel warm now, if not a little gross. The cold air had to be preferable to Sasha’s clammy fingers. But Shea did not let go.

        Sasha never held hands like this. Typically whenever she held hands, the sweaty palms belonging to her and whatever partner she had at the time would clasp much like two business people finalizing a deal. It was practically an extended handshake. It held all the intimacy of accidentally brushing hands with a cashier. In private, Sasha didn’t hold hands much at all.

        But not right now.

        Deep within the pocket of Sasha’s fleece, each of her and Shea’s fingers carefully interlaced, weaving together. It felt as if she each needed as much hand-to-hand contact as possible. Like Sasha needed it to breathe. Like Shea was rooting Sasha other to the ground. Like if the moment Shea’s finger slipped from Sasha’s hand, she would vanish, gone like a puff of smoke.

        "Sasha!“ Shea gasped, shaking Sasha from her introspection. "We’re here.”

        Sasha looked up, suddenly noticing the transition from concrete sidewalk to a grassy slope. Further beyond, the grass hill transitioned into a sandy bank where the water of a slow-moving river gently lapped.

         "Shea, it’s lovely.“

        "I’m glad you like it. This place means a lot to me. When I was young, I’d race like, little paper boats here with my friends. When I got older, I’d come just to sit, like the river could drown out my thoughts. Emo shit.” Shea gave a small smile at the last part of her admission.

        "I wouldn’t bully you for emo shit, Shea. I’ve been there,“ Sasha promised, recalling Shea’s earlier worries. Sasha grinned, imagining an elementary-school Shea, tottering by the banks of the river, which then morphed into an older, rebellious, sadder Shea. It contrasted so strangely with the vibrant, glamorous woman she was now. Glancing at Shea now, with her plum-colored smile and twinkling eyes, impeccable style and life, it became all the more challenging to see her as an angsty teen upset with the situation she seemed to always make the best of.

        "I have something for us to do. While we’re here, just if you feel like it.” Shea reached for her purse, fumbling with the zipper as the long, lacquered nails of her left hand clacked against the metal fastening. Shea finally tugged open the bag after a long struggle of attempting to hold the purse steady and yank the zipper open with only one hand. Sasha warmed internally upon realizing that Shea’s right hand remained interwoven in Sasha’s own, regardless of temperature or how much easier it would be to open a purse with two free hands.

        "Girl, I know it’s kind of childish, but I brought,“ Shea paused and unearthed two sheets of lined paper, folded into quarters.

        "Binder paper?”

        "No! Well, yeah, but I thought we could make boats and sail them. I have markers too.“

        There is quite a lot of debate on what it feels like to die. Sasha had read much of it in fascination in a philosophical tangent. A specific side of the discussion assumes that it would be quite painful. Regardless of how correct that position really was, when noted bad bitch Shea Couleé eagerly held up two pieces of lovingly creased binder paper, Sasha felt for a split second that she was in so much pain that she had to be dying. The cavity in her chest could not fit her heart as it swelled and grew. Shea Couleé, the pinnacle of presentation, confidence, was nervously presenting her friend with a child’s crafting activity that she had grown up with. Sasha’s face lit up as her chest tightened, her free hand took one of the papers as her head pounded. As Shea’s beautiful hand slipped from her own to hand her markers from her purse, Sasha’s throat closed up, gummy with her overwhelming love. Sasha felt like her hands were full of sand, desperately trying to keep it from seeping through the cracks in her fingers. Like love was seeping through the cracks of herself. Sasha couldn’t allow that.

        After guiding Sasha through the basics of boat-folding, Shea insisted that she keep her design a secret to "prevent copying,” and turned away, covering the Sasha-facing side of her boat with her hand. Shea focused so intensely on coloring designs that Sasha was free to semi-covertly steal glances at her friend and shove her rising emotions down her throat with little fear of being caught.

        Shea had taken her to her teenage refuge. Shea had invited her to take part in an activity fondly embedded in her childhood. Shea held Sasha’s hand. And Shea had not let go.

        It felt like she couldn’t breathe. As she admired Shea’s furrowed brow, her unwavering gaze, the faintest hints of smile lines, Sasha felt like she had to look away. It was too much.

        Sasha remembered a word she learned in an Art History class. Sublime. Something sublime is not merely beautiful. It is not gorgeous. It is so stunningly magnificent that it terrifies you. It shakes you to your core. It scares you because you cannot even begin to comprehend how wonderful and immense and powerful it is. The depth and power of the ocean were sublime. The Grand Canyon was sublime. And above everything, Shea was sublime. She was so powerful and intelligent, beautiful, and deeply sweet that nothing else in Sasha’s life would ever compare.

        "Shea?“

        Turning, Shea responded, "Yeah? I finished my boat–"

        "Shea, I have to say this now. And if it ruins our friendship, I’m so sorry.” Sasha stated quickly, loathing how the slight quiver in her voice made her sound childlike.

        Leaning forward, eyebrows raised, Shea just stared.

        "Shea, I’m so… scared.”

        Shea’s eyebrows raised even higher than before. That’s not how I should have phrased it, Sasha winced at her own words. She slowly met Shea’s gaze, took a deep breath, and then continued:

        “Every time I’m with you, I’m terrified. I don’t know if anyone feels like this, or if anyone is supposed to feel like the way I do when I’m around you. I love you so much because you are so impossibly wonderful.

        And upon saying this, Sasha felt her words speed up and begin emerging of their own voalition, becoming more and more certain as they materialized in the night air.

         "You are like, the, the incomparable expanse of the universe, and when I’m next to you, it’s like I’m sitting next to all the stars in the sky, and I’m so scared. But I never want to be brave again if it means I’ll be without you. I love you because you’re so confident, and I love you because you’re kind, and I’m in love with you because you love a river and paper boats, and you share all of that with me.“

        Sasha closed her eyes and exhaled very deeply, trying not to focus on the deafening silence after her mammoth, rambling, declaration of love. But as her breath left her mouth, it caught on someone else’s lips. Lips that then pressed against her own, firmly, insistently. Lips belonging to one Shea Couleé.

        Sasha’s hands eagerly fumbled for Shea’s waist and pulled her closer, reveling in the kiss and cursing her fingers for obviously trembling.

        The kiss felt so good.

        So much of Sasha’s life lived under the contradiction of celebrating her style and uniqueness but still internally feeling that it made her unworthy of love. So she had to shove it down. To repress it and restrain it. But in one swift movement of her lips, Shea took the crumbling remains of the wall holding back Sasha’s love and obliterated it. Sasha’s love just burst, expanded, surrounded. Sasha wanted to just bask in all of it and to bask in how Shea felt the same way.

        "Look down,” Shea whispered against Sasha’s lips. Despite feeling slightly reluctant to stop kissing so soon, Sasha followed Shea’s instruction. Her eyes widened as she saw a paper boat placed on her lap. The paper boat had a pink heart on the side and large, bold blue letters that said: I love you.

        "Really?“ Sasha gasped, holding Shea’s waist even tighter.

        "Obviously.”

        "Shea, it was rhetorical,“ Sasha gently stroked Shea’s long, thick hair off of her face. "But, you brought me here… with the paper… to tell me you l–”

        "Yes, now shut up you goddamn egg,“ Shea laughed, hushing Sasha with another kiss, pushing her back against the slope of the hill, cradling her head.

        Now, it’s almost always true that parties involved in an event or occurrence are typically biased when referencing the incident. It is absolutely true that Sasha is biased when looking back on this particular event. But when describing that kiss on the hill, Sasha would say that it was positively sublime.

[wish-upon-a-sapphic-star]

Love Letters - Part 1

Read it here or on ao3

~

Dear Sirius,

I know you’ll never see this, but... I think I’m in love with you.

It’s not something I can control. It’s not even really something I was looking for. One day I was just minding my own business and then suddenly you were the only thing I could think about. Your laugh, your smile... they appear in my head unbidden and I go weak at the knees. 

I think that’s why they call it falling in love, because... it really was unintentional. I must have stumbled somewhere, and then I was falling too fast to stop myself, and I hit the ground hard and now I’m too dazed to think about much of anything other than you.

I blamed you for it for a long time, you know. Or, well, you don’t know—that’s kind of why I’m writing this—not that you’ll read it anyway so I don’t even know why I’m writing this—but I digress. I was so mad at you. I went from functional human being to hopeless lovesick idiot, all because you were just... there. You spread light everywhere you go and you made me stop wanting to live in the dark, and I was so, so mad at you for it. For making me want more than what I have—what I allow myself.

I don’t blame you anymore, you’ll be happy to know. I mostly just blame myself for what I’ve become. Our friendship is lovely, and then I have to go and be the douche who wants to change it. Great job, Remus. Great fucking job.

I’m sorry, is what I’m trying to say, I suppose. You never asked to deal with this. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. If I could stop loving you, I would. God, if I could stop loving you...

It doesn’t really matter. I can’t. I’ve tried. Every time I stop thinking about you my mind just drifts back. Every time I think I’m over you, you smile at me, and my heart does that stupid fluttery thing and I’m head over heels again.

It’s just so impossible not to love you. You bring warmth wherever you go. If I’m sad or scared you’re there, and you can make things okay again even when they shouldn’t be. Your voice is a rock I can rest on, a sound that keeps me here, keeps me alive. Your laugh is a melody that I wish I could replicate. Your embrace is more like home than anywhere I’ve ever been, and—fuck it—you smell fucking amazing. (Please don’t take that in a creepy way. I have a heightened sense of smell, it’s really hard not to notice. I mean, you literally sleep in my bed sometimes. Oh dear God that made it more creepy, didn’t it. Oh God. Okay. Okay, I’m just... I’m just going to pretend I didn’t say any of that.)

I just... I love you. I love you too much to ignore. Look at this. It’s the middle of the night and I should be studying, but no, I’m writing love letters in my fucking Charms notebook. You make me write love letters, Pads. Love letters. What have you turned me into?

You smile at me and my heart skips a beat. You wink at me and I just stop having thoughts entirely. Even just the slightest brush of your hand and it feels like I’m on fire, like you’ve enchanted me.

I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you. You make me want to scream it from the rooftops or something else embarrassing and excessive, and I wouldn’t even fucking care because I love you too damn much. 

But as much as part of me wants that... I won’t. I love you too much to ruin what we have now. Maybe it makes me a coward, but I’m not ready to face that part of myself yet. Not outside of this notebook.

That doesn’t change the fact that I love you. There are so many horrible things in this world, but you... you’re one of the good things. One of the few absolutely wonderful things.

I sometimes think life isn’t worth living, but then I think of you, and I can’t imagine not living. You give me breath. You give me a reason to want to live. Not just survive and slog through the days, but really, truly live.

I love you. I don’t know how else to say it. I don’t know what to do beyond it. I’m just in love with you.

Love,

Remus

P.S. Please love me

Don’t read that. I never wrote that. That never happened.

P.S. You are literally everything to me

P.S.

No. No post scripts. Note to self: Post scripts = bad.

Remus tossed his quill aside, rubbing his temples. It was late, and he hadn’t studied at all. They had a test in two days and he wrote a love letter instead. A fucking love letter. Bloody idiot.

A love letter. He wrote a love letter. And he had no intentions of sending it either! He just wrote it and wasted time for absolutely nothing.

Remus gathered his things from his bed and quietly stepped onto the floor, setting his quill and ink on his bedside table and tossing his notebook into the Charms pile. The Marauders collectively kept all their notebooks together, organized by class, that way they all remembered which notebook was which and nobody (James) would lose their notebook in their own individual chaos. It was a bit of an odd system, but given everything they had done together Remus had never even considered it strange in comparison.

He clambered back in bed and pulled the blankets over him, berating himself. A love letter. That was how he used his time when he should have been studying. He had written a fucking love letter.

He was hopeless. Utterly fucking hopeless.

~

Somehow every single one of the Marauders overslept, sending them scrambling to put clothes on and rush to class the next morning. They grabbed their notebooks and sprinted, taking every shortcut they knew, and it was just enough to get them there mere seconds before Professor Flitwick started his lecture.

Remus flopped into the seat next to Peter and rested his head on his notebook. Charms was usually somewhat of a drag, but without food? He had been there half a minute and he already wanted to leave.

Peter tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. You hungry?”

“Starving,” he whispered.

“Here.” Peter held out a chocolate bar.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, take it. I literally keep it for you.”

Remus smiled his thanks and tried to eat the chocolate bar as discreetly as possible while also eating it as quickly as possible. Given the looks he got from some of the other students, it was safe to say he failed. Not that he cared. He just appreciated how thoughtful it was that Peter kept chocolate around for him.

Upon finishing the chocolate, he flipped open his notebook, dipping his quill in ink. Professor Flitwick had just said something about the test... What was it...

Remus looked down at the page before him. The right side was blank, but the side on the left... that wasn’t his handwriting.

His stomach plummeted to his feet. That wasn’t his notebook. Someone else had his notebook. In his rush he must have switched with one of the others and now they could read his love letters. 

His hands started shaking as he glanced down again. He would recognize that handwriting anywhere. Which could only mean...

Sirius had his notebook.

He looked over towards Sirius. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t taking notes, and it looked an awful lot like he was reading whatever Remus had written.

Fuck. Shit. No, no, no. It was all crashing down. It was all fucking ruined. His heart was hammering in his chest, palms sweating. Sirius knew. Sirius knew, and Sirius would hate him, and Remus was fucking doomed.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut. There was nothing he could do about it now. He just had to get through class and face the consequences afterwards, as horrible and terrifying as they were certain to be.

He took a deep breath—which did nothing to help—and looked back at Sirius’ scrunched, jagged writing.

His eyes widened, reading the words over and over again, checking if he was hallucinating or if it was all just a dream. But it was real. What Sirius had written was real. It was real. It was actually real.

His heart stopped, the words failing to process.

Dear Remus,

I know you’ll never see this, but... I think I’m in love with you.

~

Part 2

[babypinkboobear]

Stars Who Listen

Chapter 4: They Listen to Friendships

The food in Bright Moon was so much better than the ration bars Catra ate when she was in the Horde. They had these things called “Chocolate covered Croissants” which were quite possibly the best thing Catra had ever tasted. For some reason she was only allowed to eat them in the morning though, Adora said she didn't get why either. Catra mostly just liked food that didnt come out of a package though. Which meant anytime there was food in front of her, Catra ate, as much as she could. Adora too. It's like they were scared the food would disappear.

“Guys, slow down! The food is not going to disappear if you take more than five minutes to clear your plate,” Glimmer said, clearly exasperated that her friends hadn't broken this habit yet. 

“Glimmers right,” Bow said, laughing, “It's not going anywhere”. They both knew that neither Catra or Adora had any plans to break this habit, ever. Adora had eaten like this when she first came to Bright Moon, so they assumed it was some kind of leftover Horde training. 

Catra glanced up, mismatched eyes flickering between Glimmer and Bow as she finished chewing what was in her mouth. “You don't know that, Arrow Bow. It could disappear at any moment or Sparkles could poof out of the room and cover it in glitter and ruin it,” She laughed as she said this though. Adora had missed Catra’s laugh.

 Of course Catra knew this was bullshit. Her and Adora both remembered the days when they wouldn’t quite eat fast enough and the older kids would steal their rations. They went hungry a lot when they were younger. Adora always used to share her rations with Catra if hers got stolen. Adoras rations only got stolen a few times, and the kids who stole hers always ended up in the medbay for a few days. They had been attacked by some animal with sharp claws. 

Catra had no clue what may have done it. It definitely wasn't her though. Nope, definitely not... Okay so maybe it was her, but she’d never do that now. Of course she wouldn't, she was a better person now, a kind, forgiving person. Didn't mean she regretted it though. They had stolen from her best friend. 

“ Ha I finished first, I win Catra!” Adora said, standing up, “and on that note, I have to head out to help Adare, Glimmer mind teleporting me there? We can go out into the hall so we don't ruin Catra’s food with your glitter” she said, before leaning down to kiss Catra goodbye.

“I love you, Catra. I should be home around dinner.” 

“I love you too, be careful”

“Always am”

“Promise?” Catra whispered.

“I promise” and Adora walked out into the hall, Glimmer on her heels.

Catra returned to her food. She didn't like being away from Adora, especially so soon after such an uncomfortable conversation. Hopefully, she got to stay with Glimmer and Bow. or maybe she would go hide in her and Adoras room with Melog. 

Out in the hallway, Adora was telling Glimmer about her and Catras conversation. It's quick and to the point. Adora asks Glimmer for one favor. 

“Don't leave Catra alone. She needs you and Bow to be there for her.”

~

Catra finished eating before Glimmer came back. She didn’t know if she should stay or leave, but when she stood up Melog basically slammed her back into her chair. She figured she should stay. Bow glanced up when that happened, laughing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still fucking giggling.

“I'm fine Arrow Boy,” Catra replied, pseudo-irritation in her voice. She broke soon after, giggling along with him. “I guess Melog wants to hang out with you and Glimmer.” 

“Yeah I’m sure it's Melog who wants to hang out with us, ms. I-think-they-react-to-my- emotions.” Bow said, taking another bite of his food. He glanced at the door, clearly wondering what was taking Glimmer so long. He glanced back at Catra, “How much you wanna bet she got lost?” 

Glimmer poofed into the room. “Sorry guys, I got lost!”

Bow winked at Catra, and she had to cover her mouth to hide the giggles. Apparently it did jack shit all because Glimmer immediately said, “hey what's so funny” but she was clearly not in the slightest upset at Catra laughing. Her and Bow shared Adoras love of Catras laugh, it was nice to see her laughing so freely.

“Whatever, Bow do you mind coming with me to my room for a few minutes. Catra why don't you go change, we were thinking of going swimming. Sound good? We’ll grab you on our way back down.” Then she grabbed Bows arm and poofed out. A very common occurrence with Glimmer.

“Don't spend too long making out!” Catra said to the empty room, standing up and beginning the too long trek back to her room. Oddly she didn't mind swimming. Its water sprays she hates, and deep deep water. She stuck to the shallower end of pools, but she did enjoy them. Catra had grown used to Glimmer's bossy-ness, she didn't mean to be rude, she's just really hyper and gets excited easily. She felt lighter walking to her room, she was honestly happy that Adora had confronted her. It felt nice not to lie. Like a massive weight had been lifted off her chest. She just hoped there weren't many other princesses at the pool. She wanted some alone time with Glimmer and Bow. She wasn't sure when she had gone from merely tolerating their presence to actually enjoying spending time with them, but she was very glad she had. They were some of the best friends a girl could ask for. They had seen her at her worst and still came back, and she didn't feel like she owed them as much. Like with the other princesses she had to pretend to be happy-go-lucky like the rest of the rainbow squad, but Glimmer and Bow knew she was a bitch and still stuck around. It was nice.

Melog nudged her, and she blinked herself back into the real world. She had been doing that a lot, getting lost in her thoughts. She didn't remember the walk to her room, but here she was, in front of those absurdly ornate doors. She walked in, grabbing a bathing suit that was basically a sports bra and spandex bottoms, but it was white and gold. Adoras colors. She had been wearing Adoras colors a lot lately. It was like being surrounded by the woman she loved all the time, she loved it. She also grabbed a pool cover, a lacy thing that served no purpose, but Glimmer said she just had to have one. It was white and gold and it was Adoras. Hers was dirty actually because she had been swimming pretty often, which was funny considering before coming here the only time she would swim was during those awful training scenarios. They forced the horde kids to almost drown for hours at a time. Those were Catras least favorite training ‘simulations’. They were not simulations, they were very real. She had watched kids have to be given CPR and taken to the medbay on multiple occasions, so no not simulations. 

A massive poof of glitter brought Catra out of her thoughts. She had done it again, disappeared into her head. She had no clue how long she had been staring out the window.

“Are you ready to go swim! I'm so excited!” Glimmer was bouncing off the walls as usual. She had relaxed a ton since the war ended. If she wasn't actively doing her ‘Queenly Duties’ she let herself have fun. Catra was happy to see her happy (so was Bow of course, but he's her boyfriend so it's expected). And Catra actually was excited to swim.

Glimmer's suit was a pink and purple bikini with hearts all over it. Clearly a nod to Bows classic crop top. Bow was in swim trunks and when the sun hit them just right they glittered pink and purple, again with the whole wearing the significant others' clothing/colors. Catra was learning that it was a tradition in Etheria, one she hadn't been exposed to in the horde but one she loved nonetheless.

Glimmer moved to teleport Catra and Bow to the pool, but as she was about to grab Catras wrist she stopped, one hand hovering over Catra’s wrist, her other holding Bow's hand. “Actually let's walk” She said, and Catras heart filled with happiness. This is why these were her best friends.

The walk to the pool was slow and peaceful. She felt light as air, like she could float away into the stars and die peacefully. She loved it here, knowing her girlfriend loved her and was safe, knowing she had friends who cared for her even after everything. They chatted about everything and nothing all at once. And Catra was happy.

~

“So I looked at the guard and said how did the picture end up in jail?” Bow said, clearly containing his laughter, “It was framed!” 

Glimmer visibly cringed, glancing at Catra with a look that screamed this is the man I have chosen to be with. Catra giggled, jokes weren't really a thing in the Horde, unless it was at the expense of someone else. She actually really liked Bows jokes, she always laughed at them, and at glimmers face when he told them.

“What? It's funny,” Bow said, a tad bit insulted. He really thought Glimmer would laugh at that one. 

“Nothing babe. It was totally funny. Catra laughed!” Glimmer said, laughing at Bows offended face. He really was the cutest.

“Yeah but i wanted to make you laugh,” Bow said, pouting. Glimmer kissed him in sympathy.

“Gross guys, seriously do you really need to do that right now?” Catra groaned, splashing water at the two. She missed Adora and they didn't need to rub in the fact that her girlfriend was off being She-ra and not here holding Catra. She quickly realized that splashing those two was not a good idea, because Glimmer and Bow decided to splash her back. “Hey, two on one isnt fair!”

“You started it,” Glimmer said.

“What are you, 12” Catra said, “You started it, blah blah blah, you run Etheria with that childish attitude?” Catra knew she was being snarky, but they had splashed her, which she fucking hated. 

“Break it up ladies,” Bow said, nudging Catra, “you did start it though”. 

Catra was about to absolutely destroy her best friends in a splash battle as revenge when Perfuma and Scorpia walked in. Catra sank until only her nose and eyes were above water. She loved scorpia but things had been so awkward between them ever since their falling out in the horde. She’d just make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible, so she wouldn't have to deal with it. If they just stayed on the other side of the pool-

“Hello Glimmer, Bow, Catra,” Perfuma said, with her stupid voice that managed to sound like flowers speaking, how can something sound like flowers speaking that doesnt even make sense. “How are you all on this fine afternoon?” She asked.

Catra didn't understand why she sounded so formal all the time. It made her feel… weird. Nobody in the horde spoke that way.

“ We’re good! How are you?” Glimmer said, sounding way too happy to have someone join their little group. Catra didn't want her friends to be stolen away by Princesses who didn't even like her.

“ I am doing well,” Perfuma said. 

Scorpia sat down on the edge of the pool, Perfuma between her legs, back leaning on the side of the pool. Catra stayed silent as their conversation carried on. She heard Scorpia say hi to the group. Sounding far happier than she ever did with Catra, which is no surprise. Hopefully they just didn't interact with her. She could just stay quiet till they left, and not have to talk-

“Catra! How have you been?” It was Scorpia, of course it was Scorpia. The stars must hate her today. Adora’s not here and now she has to talk to all these princesses and deal with Scorpia, who she loves and hurt so much in the past. And her chest is tightening, fuck, not here please not here. She can't breathe, She needs to get it together, she can't do this in front of them. Her eyes are watering, she's crying, she can't breathe. Fuck. 

“Catra are you okay?”

“What happened?”

She didn't know who was saying what.

“Is she okay?”

“Catra, what's going on”

“She is having a panic attack.” 

That was Perfuma. Her voice was distinct. Someone was grabbing her hands. Pulling her into their chest. Another was stroking her hair. 

“Catra, sweetheart, I need you to focus on me okay? We are going to breathe in for 5 seconds, hold our breath for 5 seconds, and breathe out for 7 seconds okay. We are going to do it together. I will count for you alright?” It was Perfuma talking again. She was the one stroking her hair. So that means either Glimmer or Scorpia was hugging her. Fuck.

“Breath in for me okay? 1,2,3,4,5 and hold. 1,2,3,4,5. Now exhale, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7. Again”

She didn't know how long this continued for. Eventually her tears dried and she could breathe again, she could speak again. And then the apologies came. One right after the other. They were barely understandable, mumbled into the chest of whoever was hugging her. And then she tried to pull away, to run, like she always did, because she's a coward and everyone would be better off without her. She’d leave and they could go back to their happy conversations and, and, and, fuck! Someone was behind her. 

She glanced up and around, trying to make sense of where everyone was. Trying to find an escape route. Glimmer was hugging her, Scorpia on her left, Perfuma on her right, that left Bow behind her. She was boxed in. She couldn't get away. Fuck. 

“Im fine guys. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry,” Catra was trying to deflect. Everyone knew this. 

“Its okay if you aren't fine though Catra. You can talk to us. We love you and we hate to see you sad,” Glimmer said softly. Scorpia and perfuma nodded in agreement. 

Bow rubbed her back lightly, “She's right Catra, you can always talk to us. You aren’t a bother”. 

How the fuck did they know exactaly what she wanted to hear. But they must be lying. She hurt them so much.

“We have forgiven you Catra. Nobody is angry with you. We all think you are amazing” was this bitch a mindreader. How the fuck did Perfuma know what Catra was thinking. She couldn't do this. She needed to get away.  She was pushing past them. Fuck, she should stay. Listen, but she can't, they must hate her. They have too, because if they don't hate her then.. She must be the only one who hates herself. And she couldn't deal with that. So she was going to leave before she started to believe their lies.

She managed to get past Glimmer, hopping out of the pool and grabbing her towel. “I think I’m going to head to my room guys. I'll see you at dinner”. And she was walking out. 

Perfuma is the one who made chase, she grabbed Catras wrist and pulled her to a stop. “Catra, if you would like to talk sometime, about what you are going through or why you were upset, I am always here”.

“I appreciate that Perfuma, but I’m fine. Really. I think I’m probably just tired”. Catra tugged her wrist out of Perfuma’s grip and definitely did not run away. No she walked calmly, because she was just tired. 

Glimmer glanced at Bow, Scorpia, and Perfuma. Catra was too far away to hear the plan they made to make Catra accept their help and love. And also to make her talk to them.

(2700)