#they came and fixed it thursday but now it's clearly going out again. only goes up to warmish. hate it here

[adelle-ein]

the ongoing battle to keep my hot water on

[koushisatori]

if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us

kyoutani x gn!reader

genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort

warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication

word count: 5.4k

note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)

In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you

You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you

He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury

Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary

Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship

cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you

So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely

But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,

on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,

Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!

So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday

Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them

You don't get a second alone with him until school ends

you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance

There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit

he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return

''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him

''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''

''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features

all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag

''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you

You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''

''Tsk'', he moves to leave

you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket

from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)

once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )

Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause

you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes

Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)

If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer

Which is easier said than done

The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning

you still had hope left

You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off

The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system

It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved

as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship

that's the conclusion your brain came up with

You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself

knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series

once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping

you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)

In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)

after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips

he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him

(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)

Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions

after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)

If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful

Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown

Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]

For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…

The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you

break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now

so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type

You: No.

You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?

You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn

Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?

Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.

''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.

Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.

While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.

The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.

His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.

''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.

After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?

What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.

After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.

From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year

Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.

Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.

At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.

Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.

There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.

Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.

To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.

She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-

''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.

''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.

After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.

All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.

After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.

For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.

It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.

You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''

As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.

''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''

Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.

''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.

Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.

You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.

''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.

Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.

''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.

Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.

[ghostdrew22]

i am such a fucking sucker for the “hold my jaw with your hand and tilt my face upwards so that our eyes meet because i’m shorter and you’re taller and we can both feel the tension as you look down at my lips and then back up again quickly before the moment’s lost” cliches so can u maybe write something like that for Draco and Slytherin reader please

Five || Draco Malfoy

I REACHED 100 FOLLOWERS THE OTHER DAY (AND I FUCKING MISSED IT LIKE A DUMBASS BITCH BUT I’LL DO SOMETHING IF I GET TO 200) THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! <3

I did get a bit carried away with the banter but it’s only because I seriously love this trope and the build-up is the best part, anyway I hope you like it and  I hope the ending made you happy! <3

Thank you for this request, I honestly had so much fun writing it, it’s adorable!

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!fem!reader Warnings: swearing and major cockblocking, I feel like it’s quite fluffy but if there’s anything you think I should add let me know <3 Summary: Y/N and Draco have been desperately trying to relieve the tension between them both but someone always has to get in the way.

WORDS : 1955

Fred Weasley is your best friend.

Fred Weasley is, also, a massive piece of shit.

Not that you don’t love him because of course you do, he is your best friend after all.  

Buuuut, that doesn’t mean he’s without his flaws. For example, he’s got a disgusting habit of getting in the way of your romantic endeavors, especially when they involve Draco Malfoy. And it’s not even because Fred’s into you, because he’s definitely not, but it gives him an odd sense of pleasure to watch your jaw clench when he interrupts one of you and Draco’s ‘moments’, as he likes to call them. It’s his hobby.

“Y/N…” Fred whines as he tugs on your right arm.

“No.”

“Please?” He pouts and you roll your eyes as you pry his hand off of your arm.

“No, I told you that I hate watching your practices.”

He gasps dramatically and places a hand on his heart. “Because you don’t love me?”

“Because it’s so bloody cold that I almost freeze my toes off every time.”

“You can wear my jumper.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“And the Slytherins are practicing with us today.”

“I know, I am one dumbass.”

“So you’ll come?”

“No Fred, let it go for fucks sake.”

By now you ought to know that you can never win an argument with Fred Weasley, but it’s nice to pretend. After a further 5 minutes of arguing he’d somehow gotten you in his jumper, pulled you down toward the Quidditch pitch and left you sitting by the bleachers while he walked down to the field to join practice.

“Bloody hell.” You mutter to yourself as you watch the ginger skip down to join his teammates. You hear a chuckle erupt from your left and turn to find Draco approaching you.

“So we’re wearing Weasley’s clothes now?” Draco raises his eyebrows at you as he stops to stand right in front of you.

You laugh and shove his chest playfully. “We’re not doing anything but I’m relishing in the warmth of Fred’s jumper. Nothing warmer on planet earth.”

“My arms beg to differ.”

You laugh and shake your head. “You’re such a nonce, go practice.”

“I think I’d much rather stand here with you if I’m being honest.”

“I don’t blame you.” You shrug, “I can’t imagine anyone who’d prefer the company of a sweaty Quidditch team compared to me.”

“Cocky.”

“But with reason, no?” You raise your eyebrows with a playful smirk.

He doesn’t respond but instead clenches his jaw to wipe away the smile that was begging to surface.

When his eyes finally turn back to meet yours there’s an atmosphere of tension that envelopes you both once again. You can’t tell how long the two of you stand there staring into each other’s eyes, it could be seconds, minutes, hours. But it all fades away into nothing when his blue hues travel down to capture the sight of your lips, and you have to swallow hard to reconnect with planet earth again.

His fingers grace the space beneath your chin softly, pulling your face up so that he can stare directly down into your eyes because Merlin, he’s so tall. And you think that this is it, he’s going to kiss you, because why wouldn’t he when his lips are so close that you can practically feel the air expelling from his lungs coming into contact with your face.

His lips barely brush over your own when,

Fred fucking Weasley happens.

“Oi, Malfoy! We’re all waiting down here for you so that we can get started.”

You groan in frustration as Draco lets his hand fall and a heavy sigh escapes him.

“I’m coming.” He responds curtly, frustration clearly lacing his voice, and Fred resists the urge to smirk from behind you both - he fails.

“Hurry up then!” Fred responds and you send Draco an apologetic look.

“I hate him, I want you to know that I actually hate him.” Draco says simply.

You laugh and shake your head, “Go on.”

“Weasley:1 and Malfoy:0.” Fred says to Draco when he finally reaches the bottom of the stands.

“You’ve got a load more than 1 at this point.”

“I know but I like to refresh the score every week so that you feel the weight of my power, you know?”

Draco doesn’t respond.

But Fred does get a nice taste of grass when his face comes in contact with the ground because Draco tripped him.

“You git!” Fred exclaims as he jumps off the ground and starts to chase after Draco - who’s running off with a mischievous laugh and a glint in his eyes.

~~~

Blaise Zabini is Draco’s best friend.

Blaise Zabini, like Fred Weasley, is also a massive piece of shit.

“Y/N, please pass me that.” Draco mumbles as he stirs the cauldron. You oblige and grab what he was gesturing to before passing it to him. Your fingers run over each other for just a moment and you can’t help that small smile that finds its way onto your lips.

“We studying together after school today?”

Draco turns to you with an apologetic look and you sigh, “I’m so sorry Y/N, I’ve got detention.”

“What did you do to get detention this time?” You ask with a roll of your eyes and he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Promise you won’t be mad.”

“I’m already mad.”

“Y/N…” He whines and you roll your eyes again but sigh in agreement.

“Fine, I won’t get mad.”

“You know the flag pole out front?” He raises his eyebrows at you as he finishes up with the potion and sits comfortably in his seat beside you.

You nod hesitantly, “Yes…” 


“So, Blaise dared me to-“

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t take anymore of Blaise’s dares?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, yes, but this one was too hard to resist. He looked at me like I wouldn’t do it!”

“You’re a pussy.”

“I guess I am what I eat.” He says with a smile and you feel the air leave your lungs.

You look up at him with the intention of clapping back with something smart. But how can you possibly say anything when he’s looking down at you like that.

Merlin, if this boy doesn’t kiss you-

“Sorry, don’t mind me, just passing through.” Blaise says as he steps in between you and Draco to grab your notebook off the table. You’d told him earlier that if he needed help then he could borrow your notes, but you hadn’t meant that he could borrow them right as you were about to get a kiss from the Slytherin Prince.

You peer your eyes at him and notice a faint smirk on his lips. oh. He was not just passing through, he was cockblocking and he was cockblocking you hard.

He turns to leave with your notes and, without even thinking, you and Draco both spread your legs out. Blaise, fixed intently on the writing in front of him, doesn’t notice what’s happening until he’s already halfway toward the ground.

In retrospect he had it coming. He’s been working with Fred for weeks now to keep you and Draco from finally locking lips. Was it objectively deserved? No. Did it feel good? Hell fucking yes.

But Snape seemed to think that it was out of order, and that was how you got yourself a front row seat in detention, next to Draco.

“I’m surprised Fred wasn’t in detention.” Draco mumbles as the two of you finally leave the detention classroom.

“He reserves Thursdays for detention.” You respond and Draco laughs. “To be honest, I was half-expecting Blaise.”

“Oh no way.” He shakes his head as the two of you walk down the hallway. “His mom will kill him, and me for that matter, if he gets another detention this year.” Draco adds with grimace.

“Why you?”

“I’m usually the one who ropes him into stupid shit.”

You giggle, “No surprise there.”

“Uncalled for!”

“Considering your track record it was 100% called for!” You exclaim as laughter continues to shake you about. You don’t even notice how far ahead of Draco you are, until he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you back toward him.

Your face almost collides with his chest and you let out a yelp at the sudden movement. When you move your head up to look at him and ask him what he’s doing, you find that words escape you completely.

“Y/N.” Draco whispers as he brings his face down to yours.

“Draco.” You whisper back with an inquisitive smile.

“We’re alone.”

You turn your head a bit and observe that the hallway is, in fact, completely abandoned. “Holy shit, it seems like you’re right.”

He smiles down at you, “I’m tired of dancing around this, I want to kiss you.”

“Then do it.”

His lips are inches, inches, away from your own when some random first year stumbles into the hallway, whistling about like he’s auditioning to be fucking Mickey Mouse. You’re so frustrated that you don’t even know what you’re saying until the words have already left your mouth.

“If you do not leave right fucking now I will hex you so badly that your unborn grandchildren will feel it.”

The student’s eyes widen and they immediately turn back the way they came from.

“Well that was-“ Draco starts but you cut him off as you grasp the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss you.

Maybe all the tension was worth it, because wow.

Draco sighs happily against your lips as his hands find home on your waist. It’s almost too perfect, like the two of you are doing a dance that you’ve rehearsed over and over again. The kiss goes on for so long that you completely lose track of time, almost forgetting that you need oxygen to live.

But then, once again, Fred fucking Weasley happens.

Except for once, he’s too late.

“Oh for fucks sake, no!” Fred groans as he steps into the hallway and you grin as you pull apart from Draco to face him.

“Suck on that, Fred!” You exclaim as you stick your tongue out at him.

“Weasley:3. Malfoy:1.” Draco adds.

“Actually…” You start as you stare into Fred’s eyes and use your hand to bring Draco’s lips down to yours. “Malfoy:2.”

“3.” Draco adds as he pecks your lips again.

“4.” You smile widely.

“If you don’t stop I will dye both of your heads red.” Fred says with a playful glare.

“I say do it just for the hell of it.” Blaise shrugs as he joins the conversation from out of nowhere.

“That includes you Zabini.”

“What the fuck, why?” Blaise asks in disbelief and you and Draco struggle to hold in your laughs.

“You didn’t do your part in preventing this!”

“Excuse me but last time I checked this was a two man job!?”

“Well, thanks to this one man’s failure,” Fred starts as he pushes an accusatory finger into Blaise’s chest, “We all have to suffer the wrath of Draco and Y/N’s sappiness!”

“How was it my failure when it was your turn to watch them?”

Draco chuckles and your eyes immediately leave the two arguing boys to find Draco’s. He smiles goofily down at you and you smile back. “We should’ve picked nicer friends.”

“As if anyone else would put up with us.” You respond with a smirk and he nods.

“Fair.”

That familiar tension from before is back, except now with a hint of something else- assurance perhaps? The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a while before those blue iris’s find the curvature of your lips again and you swallow hard with the growing anticipation.

“5?” He asks breathily and you merely grab the back of his neck to capture him in a kiss.

When you finally pull away all you whisper back is, “5.”

<~>

Everyday I wake up and wonder, why am I a dumbass bitch? University of Kent just offered me conditional acceptance but I don’t think they’re going to accept me because I have NOT met the conditions, and it’s literally just because I have one braincell that can’t do math.

Anway, if you have any feedback on whether I should do a fluff or angst sequel for ‘Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass’ then please let me know <3

love you all,

your favourite shitshow, jean <3

[specialagentsergio]

baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

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

tell me what you thought here!

[watchmegetobsessed]

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

-

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ malt whiskey on ice ] 

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader (there’s an error in the header but i’m too lazy to edit it now i’m sorry)

word count: 2k words

@ah-kaashi​: dinooo im having chuuya brainrot hours right now ಥ⌣ಥ can i request a short fic of chuuya meeting bartender!reader at a bar and eventually starts pining for them? and he only goes to the bar to see them (ahh my heart) he probably would confess to the reader whilst drunk, thanks to his low alcohol tolerance :"

summary: chuuya has a crush on the cute bartender and tries to ask her out. unfortunately, drinking alcohol calms his nerves way too much

a/n: i’m--- i’ll just have a really long list of works under ‘chuuya nakahara’ at this point. also ahhh i hope you like this kei and sorry it took too long but i had so much fun writin this !!

“chuuya-san!”

chuuya could never get tired of hearing your bright, cheery voice greeting him as soon as he entered the bar, especially after a long and hard day. he smiles at you, fold his coat and leaves it on the counter beside him along with his hat.

“a good evening to you too, y/n,” he says.

“having your usual?” you asked, already getting out a glass.

“yes please.” 

chuuya knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t help but do so as you prepare his drink. the fact that your humming easily puts a smile on his face reminds chuuya how much he has fallen for you.

“here you go,” you serve his drink up with a warm smile. “malt whiskey with ice.”

“expect some refills as usual later in the night,” chuuya joked.

“as long as i get to make sure you’re still able to drive home,” you chuckled. the bar was less than half-full tonight, something that chuuya was very much thankful for. you were an amazing bartender and you always interacted with your customers. chuuya was even amazed at how you could hold a conversation with anyone and remember all the stories that people would tell you.

but sometimes, he kind of wanted you all to himself. 

chuuya had been mulling that thought over for quite a long time: asking you out on an actual date instead of coming here every single night and looking at you longingly from across the counter. he did think he had a bit of a chance and you looked like you genuinely enjoyed talking to him and seeing him. but you were like that with everybody too.

“so, what’s been going on with you lately? finally finish that mission you’ve been stressing out on?” you asked while drying glasses behind the counter. chuuya smiled, dragging a gloved finger through the rim of his glass.

“well, if you’d really like to know...”

...

“you look like you’ve seen better days.” 

“huh?” chuuya blinked out of his thoughts to see the new bartender regarding him with a concerned expression. 

“you’ve been staring at your drink for the past... ten minutes...give or take,” you explained. “people do tend to stare at their drinks quite a bit but when it hits ten minutes that’s kind of raises an alarm for me,” you chuckled. “the ice even melted in your drink. want me to fix you a fresh one?” 

“ah, no. but thanks for the offer though,” chuuya smiled. “shame to waste good alcohol.”

“i hear you,” you shrugged with a smile. “so, wanna tell me what’s been going on?” you asked. “bartenders do make good listeners.”

chuuya raised an eyebrow up at you as he thought about what you said. “um, it’s kind of a long story and i don’t think i’m ready to get into it now,” he confessed.

“that’s fair,” you nodded your head. chuuya was grateful to you for giving him some space. actually, now that he thought about it, he was grateful to you for always greeting him with a smile and asking how he was, even when he came in with the sourest of moods. he knew it wasn’t easy to be a bartender, especially one whose clients were from the mafia.

“how about you though?” chuuya asked. “um, anything special happen to you recently?”

you looked genuinely surprised at the question which made chuuya think that people never really asked about you. “you know, no one’s ever really asked me that,” you chuckled. “but... it’s nice. thanks, nakahara-san.”

chuuya doesn’t know why, but his stomach was practically doing backflips when you said that. have you always looked this cute when you laughed? how come chuuya never noticed that?

“please,” he says. “you can call me chuuya.”

...

“you never chicken out of anything. come on, you can do this,” chuuya grits his teeth, remembering not to accidentally crush the bouquet in his hands. right after finishing his mission early, he headed to the nearest flower shop to buy some flowers for you. as much as he wanted to give you red roses, he thought it would be a bit too much and didn’t want to accidentally scare you. instead, he settled on some pink peonies that he dearly hoped you would like.

chuuya decided on going to the bar before your shift just to give himself some time to relax. except, when he sits down on the counter, the bartender, an old man who chuuya knows very well, eyes the bouquet in his hands and flashes chuuya a knowing smile.

“do you think they’ll say yes?” chuuya asks, very aware at how nervous he sounds.

“i think it’ll be very interesting,” the bartender says. chuuya groans at how ambiguous that sounds.

“can i have my regular? please?” he asks. the bartender raises an eyebrow at him. “it’s just for the nerves,” chuuya reasons.

he was right in thinking that the alcohol would help with his nerves. except, it works a bit too much.

...

you always give your reflection a once-over before leaving for your shift at the bartender. the bartender’s uniform isn’t exactly your nicest outfit but you try your best to spruce things up by putting on some lip tint and brushing your hair. you’re not even sure if chuuya will be coming in, he is a busy man, but you apply your lip tint carefully in the mirror and wish for luck.

when you finally leave the employee’s changing room to start your shift, your heart jumps up in your chest when you recognize the familiar hat. except, when you come closer, you find that chuuya is slumped over the counter with an empty glass and a bouquet of flowers at his side.

the sight of the flowers brings a lump in your throat but you push that aside momentarily as you tap on chuuya’s shoulder to check on him.

“chuuya-san?”

“hrrrmmm,” he groans but doesn’t move an inch. you tap him on the shoulder again and call out his name, much louder this time, until chuuya finally raises his head. 

his cheeks are flushed pink, no doubt from the alcohol, and his eyes clearly look as if he’s straining to focus as he squints at you. it’s unbelievably cute and you let out a chuckle. 

“it’s not like you to get wasted on a thursday evening,” you smile before your gaze lands on the bouquet of flowers again. “i... see you were planning to ask someone out.”

“huh? yeah,” chuuya drawls, nodding his head slowly. “s’pposed to ask this person out... was waiting for them.”

“and then you ended up drinking too much,” you sigh. “i mean, i keep telling you your alcohol tolerance isn’t that great.”

“wanted to be less nervous,” chuuya whines slightly as his head drops back again. you reach your hand out to hold him back from pitching forward and slamming his face onto the table.

“oh my god, let’s get you sobered up at least before you meet them,” you sigh. it was a thursday night and no one else was at the bar. it probably wouldn’t hurt to step out for a while, wouldn’t it?

you’re practically dragging chuuya behind you to the employee’s room and sitting him on the couch you have there. except, once he sits down he immediately flops on the couch and curls up on his side. you’ve rarely seen the mafia executive look as vulnerable as this with his hat barely even on his head, his red locks framing his sleeping face, and his curled hands under his cheek. chuuya looks just like a little kid and you smile to yourself as you brush a lock of hair out of his face.

you already knew he was a mafia executive when you first met him here, at the bar, and was understandably quite scared of him at first. ‘he’s just a paying customer, like everyone else,’ you reminded yourself before putting on a winning smile to serve him. 

little did you know, you were going to absolutely fall for him. chuuya was always kind and courteous, even tipping more than generously whenever he came in. but what struck you about him was that no matter what, even if he was having the worst of days, he would always ask how you are. as a bartender, you were used to being the one listening instead of being listened to. the fact that chuuya always asked about you and even remembered your ramblings made you smile.

part of you wondered if you had a chance with someone like chuuya. ‘but i guess not,’ you thought sadly, gently laying the bouquet of flowers on the side table. as soon as you did, chuuya shot up from the couch.

“ch-chuuya-san!” you yelped slightly in surprise. 

“flowers... where are they?” he slurred, blinking around at his surroundings.

“here,” you smiled, placing the bouquet on his lap. “that person’s lucky, you know? to receive flowers from you.” 

“yeah...” chuuya smiled. “y/n sure is.” and before you could fully process what he said, chuuya flopped back down on the couch.

“wait, what?” you squeaked. you turned to chuuya and shook him awake. “did you just say y/n?”

“yeah... you know them? works here, always smiley, looks hella cute,” chuuya chuckled before looking at you with the tiniest pout on his lips. “do you think they’d go out with me?” 

you’re astounded and let out a small laugh. “i... i think they would chuuya. just ask them, alright?” 

“alright,”  chuuya nods and yawns before curling up on the couch again. you, on the other hand, are beside yourself with giddiness and it’s taking you all of your self-control not to wake him up. instead, you leave a glass of water and some headache medicine that you keep in your bag and return to your shift.

...

chuuya wakes up a few hours later with one of the worst headaches he’s ever had and his mouth feeling like sandpaper. also, he has no idea where he is. 

he sits up, blinking at his surroundings as he struggles to remember what happened before he practically blacked out. ‘i was in the bar. i got a drink, and then...’  

chuuya’s gaze lands on you, curled up on a nearby chair with your jacket draped across your torso and suddenly he remembers what exactly he was doing at the bar in the first place. “shit, shit, shit,” chuuya curses and sits up. he actually got blackout drunk before even getting the chance to talk to you and now you had to take care of him. chuuya hated to admit that his alcohol tolerance was low and now it seems he’s suffering the consequences for it.

his luck takes a turn for the worst when the noise stirs you awake.

“chuuya-san? you’re awake,” you yawn sleepily.

“fuck, i... blacked out, didn’t i? y/n, i’m so sorry it must have been so troubling for you,” chuuya immediately apologizes.

“it’s alright--” 

“like, i came in before your shift and i thought drinking would settle my nerves a bit before asking you out and--” chuuya abruptly stops when he realizes what he accidentally blurted out loud. the look on your face says it all though.

“i... “ he starts and stops again. then, he realizes that the flowers he bought are still on the table. so, he picks it up and hands them to you. “i, i really like you, y/n. if you don’t hate me after all this, would you consider going out with me?” 

there’s a smile on your face when you take the flowers for him and chuuya takes it as a good sign. and then you say, “you know, you said a lot of things while you were drunk.” 

chuuya feels his face flush and lets out a groan. “oh god, like what?” 

“we can talk about it if you like,” you shrug. “i’m... i’m free on saturdays, after my five pm shift.” 

chuuya feels his heart leap in his chest and says “i’m free this saturday too,” a bit too enthusiastically, earning another laugh from you. he’s still feeling that euphoria when you stand up and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“also, you’re really cute when you’re drunk.” 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain​​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​ @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel​​ @kac-chowsballs​​ @violentfarewll

[sugurus-slxt]

are you tired of this? - Iwaizumi

Type: angst (happy ending)

Warnings: cursing, mentions of mental illness

Note: Y’all are married in this story and um I’m not so if I mess up well I sincerely apologize

Hope you guys enjoy the story

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thursday [11:15 p.m.]

“I just came home a little late what’s the fucking problem?” He shouted at you for the second time tonight. “I didn’t say there was a problem Haji. I just wanted to know what came up,” you spoke softly trying to keep a calm composure. The truth was your insides were shaking, every possible bad thought that you could think of hurtled at you over and over. You were just worried something had happened to him, your anxiety had calmed since he came home but it seems you had made one wrong move and here you were. “And I already told you the boss needed me to do some extra paperwork to take in some new trainees,” he spoke harshly but a bit calmer than before. He pinched his nose bridge between his fingers. “I’m not having an argument with you right now, forget it. I’m going to shower,” he turned to walk away from you but you grabbed his hand.

He turned to face you, “What!” He exclaimed loudly making you nearly jump out of your skin. “The dinner i-its getting cold… umm do you want me to heat it up?” You asked hoping he’d calm down, but it seems tonight was different he just got even angrier. He grabbed your wrist tightly, “What the fuck do you think? Dammit all you do is worry and cry! Now you don’t even have common sense. Sometimes I wonder why …” he stopped, words dying in his throat. Tear welled in your eyes; it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was going to say. Forgetting the pain of him squeezing your wrist, you shouted at him for the first time tonight, “Say it! Say it Hajime!” He stood mouth hanging open, not one word. You couldn’t hold back the tears that streamed down your face. There wasn’t one emotion but instead too many, everything you’ve bottled tonight had busted like a dam.

You tore away from his grip, every inch of anxiety, depression, panic, all the emotions were pouring out of you in tears, sobs and every word you cried out next. “What! You don’t know why you married me? Huh? Is that it Iwaizumi? Well I’m so sorry I worry about my husband ok? I’m sorry that I can’t control when I get depressed. I’m sorry that every day I pray for you to return home safe. Tell what else you wonder about me! Tell me!” You pushed him as hard as you could. “Do you really wanna know what I think because I don’t think you can handle it,” he asked in a scarily calm tone. You knew you weren’t prepared for what came next but your emotions clouded your judgement. Neither of you meant anything you said, you knew that. Well you hoped because you know you hadn’t meant any of it. Every fiber in your body loved this man but tonight you weren’t backing down even if it meant you’d get hurt. “Go ahead!” You shouted pushing him again.

“Dammit stop pushing me! I’ll tell you but don’t blame me because you asked for it,” he never backed down. He knew that would be best right now but he didn’t care today was hard and he was just mad that you couldn’t get that. “You cry too much. You worry much. You get things wrong all the damn time. Something as simple as cleaning the house can end up in a disaster. I am always fixing you fucking messes. Not to mention you are so childish. For fucks sake grow up. Sometimes I wonder why I married you yeah ok because I’m so sick of this,” he stopped, he wasn’t shouting but his tone was angry as he belted out everything he though was wrong. “Haji- I,” you didn’t know what to say. Everything had gone numb. You thought that he didn’t mean it, but he seems so serious so calm. It was scary, it was as if he knew he wanted to say this for a while. May he was tired of you, tired of this, was he going to leave you. He continued but his voice softened, “Sometimes I just want to scream. I get off all of my steam hitting that punching bag till it breaks but nothing helps like letting it out but I’m not mad. I really am not. I'm frustrated and I’m tired. So tired angel. So fucking tired” He hung is head looking at the ground and you looked at him but you just couldn’t see him clearly, the tears blurring your vision as you asked the scariest question of them all, “Are you tired of this? Tired of us?”

He just gave out a sad chuckle and you caught it somehow, in the moment you caught it, the tear that fell on the ground. You’ve never seen him cry. This was different for Iwa and you just looked at him as he sat leaned against the wall. You tried drying your tears and went and sat cross-legged next to him on the floor, looking at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. The silence was deafening but it didn’t stay like that for long.  “Tired of this? Yes Tired of us? Never,” he said softly. Your head shot up, “So you’re not leaving?” He turned and wiped the remaining tears from your cheek and smiled with his tear stained face,” I could never leave you” He smiled it was warm and genuine.  

“I wouldn’t rather do any of this with anyone else. Even if we are fighting. It's ok to make mistakes. It's ok to cry. It's ok to be sad, to be worried or to feel to not do anything. I know this isn’t easy for you. In fact I wasn’t even mad at you tonight, I was never mad at you to begin with. It’s just… ” He says cupping your check and stroking it with his thumb. Your wide eyes held anticipation, “T-thank y-you for saying that. And thank you for b-being honest with me. Even if you said it didn’t make you mad, I- I still want to try for you but Haji I know there’s more so p-please tell me,” you pleaded stuttering in between.

He moved his hand from your cheek and rested them on his knees as he turned to look straight ahead. “I was mad at myself because I always seem to mess up. I –I promised to make you happy, keep you safe and healthy but it seems like I always cause your despair or make your bad days worse. I make you cry, I don’t spend enough time with you. Babe you’re a trophy wife but I don’t think I’m you’re trophy husband. Hah maybe I should have let shittykawa have you all those years ago. I’m sure he’d always make you smile. Gosh… that beautiful smile. B-baby I-I’m so… so …sorry,” he broke down sobbing into his hands. You couldn’t believe it, all this time you thought that you were hurting him and always messing up but he was thinking the same. You huddled closer to him placing the words together on you head.

“Now you listen to me and let me finish o-ok H-haji,” he raised his head to look at you, tears still spilling out of his eyes, you bent forward and kissed them away and he smiled just a bit. “I love you. Only you are ok. Sure I cry, sure I worry and yes it’s about you but it’s because I love you. I’m going to do that no matter how the day turns out. God dammit you could be with me and I still worry because I never want to lose you. My depression and anxiety are always going to affect me but I always rest happily at night because you wrap me in your strong arms and tell me just what I need to hear. You make me feel like the most special girl in the world. Not a day goes by that there isn’t at least one happy moment for me and that is because of you Haji. And never give me to Oikawa. I will kill you myself if you do,” both of you giggle a bit, “You are the only one for me. The only one can make me happy. You are perfect for me in every way possible. I love you so much,” your cheeks are flushed and eyes puffy but you smile not because he needs it but because even now you’re happy with him. He bends over pulling you into a tight hug, “Thank you. Thank you. Gosh I love you so much. I’m supposed to be making you feel better but still thank you,” he buries his face in your nape. You whisper, “You already did.”

You both sat there for a bit just enjoying each other’s warm embrace. He finally rises up and lifts you along with him. “Let’s go take a warm shower together. We can eat dinner and maybe watch a movie. Maybe cuddle too. No definitely cuddle I think we need that. Ok with you baby?” He looks down at you for a response, “Of course I’d never say no to cuddles but don’t you have work tomorrow?” You ask heart-warmed by his gestures. “Nope. Not anymore. I’m taking a day off. I’m spending it with you. I’m gonna make you smile all day and we can talk about everything but tonight just enjoy each other,” he said kissing your forehead. “If you’re sure. I’m so lucky to have you. I love you so so much,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. His lips molded against yours perfectly, moving in sync. You break the kiss, hiding your red cheeks in his chest. “Hmmm. Six years and years with me and you still get flustered. How cute?” he chuckles to himself. “Hey it’s not my fault my husband is practically a Greek god.” He sets you down and pulls you into a hug, “And yes I’m sure. I’m just as lucky to have you, I love you my goddess.” You both spend the night just bathing in each other’s company and love.  

You guys can leave me suggestions or request. I hope you enjoyed it. :)

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[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (3)

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Next week is a fuuuuun chapter. The drama really spices up, I promise. I’m very excited! :))) 

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Again, just alcohol consumption

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

Sadie’s apology tour continued through the week after her visit. It started with her buying breakfast for you the morning after and it didn’t end until you practically begged her to stop saying sorry.

“Sadie, it’s over,” you grumbled into the phone that Thursday night. “Everyone has nights like that. I’m not mad at you.”

“Well, I’m just worried that you’ll never let me visit again!”

“Definitely not for a very long time.”

“You bitch!” she exclaimed, sending you into a fit of laughter that she joined in with just moments later. After the laughter settled, she sighed softly. “You did thank Pierre, right?”

Your silence answered the question for her.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered to herself. “I cannot believe you couldn’t put your stubbornness aside for one night!”

“It wasn’t me being stubborn,” you defended. “It was me being thrown off guard by a man who is otherwise an asshole to me and not knowing how to react to his kindness, fake or not.”

“I don’t think you know a thing about him.”

“And you do?”

“I know plenty,” she said. “More than you do, I can tell you that.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Try to get to know him yourself.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Fine, then I’m going to try to DM him on Instagram so I can send him a thank you,” she grumbled. You sat up straight on the couch, on high alert. 

“You absolutely will not.”

“Then thank him for me,” she barked. “Like a normal person.”

---

Pierre was in a mood and he couldn’t pinpoint where it even started, though he had a feeling that his goal drought was only making it worse. They’d been away for a week and while he didn’t mind roadtrips most of the time, the hotel beds on this one were exceptionally uncomfortable and his missed shots were haunting him at night.

It gave Seth and Josh an excuse to drag him out the day after they returned home.“You need to get your mind off work,” they’d said. And though he protested, he still ended up with his feet sticking to the ground beneath him. 

His mind was elsewhere, like it had been all week, and as it wandered, it ended up back to you. 

Whenever he thought about the night of Sadie’s incident, he found himself getting more and more agitated by your attitude. It shouldn’t have surprised him, and yet…

“YN’ll be here soon.”

A groan ripped through his chest at Josh’s words. You were the last person he wanted to see after a shitty week on the road. 

“You invited her?”

“You know what?” Josh asked. Pierre raised a brow at him. “I’m not even going to entertain this argument with you tonight. And that goes for her too. Tonight, we’re all friends.”

Seth laughed into his drink while Pierre fixed a glare on his teammate. Josh didn’t waiver for even a second.

“I’m getting a drink.”

The bar wasn’t as crowded as it usually was, but Pierre didn’t mind a bit. In fact, he liked it better this way considering the mood he was in. He didn’t feel like being bothered and he wasn’t in the mood to mingle. He wanted to drink away his stress in the booth in the corner with only Josh and Seth to entertain him. And, well, you.

The bartender recognized him as he approached and brought him his usual, though Pierre could tell he’d put a little more liquor in it than normal. 

“Did you watch the games?” he asked, eyes narrowed at the man behind the counter.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Listen, man, you’re one of the best. Don’t stress.”

He left Pierre alone then, but the Universe had different plans.

“Duber, is that you?” 

He knew that voice.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Standing in front of him was his date to last year’s Cannon Ball, Taylor. He thought he’d never see her again, not after the few hours they spent together, but here she was with a little more lip filler than she’d had then. She placed a manicured hand on his forearm with a smile and Pierre knew he wasn’t getting out of this any time soon.

---

“Are you still mad at me?”

Those were the first words out of Josh’s mouth when you showed up to the bar. He was seated beside Seth, who was sporting a shit eating grin because somehow he’d managed to avoid your wrath.

“No, but you’re lucky I had a week to cool off because if I’d seen you the day after, I would’ve killed you.”

“I told you Pierre’s not a bad guy,” Seth said, elbow nudging into your ribs as you sat on the other side of him. Your eyes cut to him, daring him to open his mouth again, but he kept it shut.

Josh watched you search the bar and realized, shockingly, that it was Pierre you were looking for. 

“He’s over at the bar,” he spoke, lifting a finger to point him out. His back was turned, but over his shoulder you could see the blonde hair of whatever girl he was with.  “I’m pretty sure he’s with that girl that used to stalk him last year. The one he brought to the team gala last year.”

His body language was all off, you could tell from the moment you laid your eyes on him. His shoulders were squared and he wasn’t even leaning into the girl in front of him, though she didn’t seem to mind a bit. Her fingers tracing up his biceps as she spoke to him. You finally got a look at her face and the memory of her hit you.

“Oh, shit,” you whispered, leaning over to talk to Josh. “I remember her.”

“Yeah, the one that got so drunk he had to carry her home and make sure she got into bed.”

You nodded as the night came back to you. Sure, she was super drunk, but that wasn’t what stuck with you. The thing that stuck out to you about that night was the way Pierre treated her.

Last season, your feud with Pierre was at its worst last season. Whenever he stepped into a room, you had to leave it. Even when Josh asked you to be his date for that event, you almost said no just because you knew it’d be nearly impossible to avoid Pierre. The boys broke you down though, as usual, and you accepted the invite after telling Josh he owed you one.

He so clearly invited her for the sex he’d get at the end of the night. They spent the entire pregame at Boone’s apartment with their hands all over each other and she even went as far as pinching his ass in front of the entire group on the way to the Ubers.

But, even if she was just a fling, he made sure to open all the doors for her and he held her purse when she had too many things in her hands, and even when she didn’t. He spent thirty minutes at the beginning of the night out on the terrace taking pictures for her Instagram. He even stopped drinking when he realized that she was taking advantage of the open bar because, as he told Seth, “I don’t want her getting too sick.”

And, while that night shocked you then, it didn’t any longer after seeing the way he handled Sadie. 

“He just mouthed help,” Seth said with a snicker. You looked up and caught the last moment of a helpless look from Pierre. Josh chuckled on the other side of Seth, neither one of them in a rush to help their teammate out.

“Well, are you gonna help him?”

They answered with a harmonized, “Nope.”

You watched him a little bit longer as Seth and Josh carried on beside you. And then it dawned on you. This was your chance to make it up to him. You’d save him from a girl he wants nothing to do with to make up for helping your sister out. Finally, the issue could be put to rest. Hopefully. 

“Do you guys want drinks?” The boys relayed their orders without a question and you slipped away to the bar, feet dragging in Pierre’s direction purposefully for the first time ever. 

You stepped up to the bar just a few paces behind him and placed your drink order with the bartender. As you waited, you inched over to the 6’ 3” hockey player and ran your fingers up his back. Your touch had him standing at attention immediately. He turned his head, eyes widening as they met yours. You smiled sweetly as you curled your fingers around his bicep and said, “Hi, Luc.”

“Hey,” he said, swallowing thickly. He couldn’t possibly be hearing you right. Luc?

Your eyes cut to the girl in front of him as you tightened your grip on his arm.

“Do you mind?” you asked, though you clearly weren’t going to give her a chance to answer as you steered Pierre towards you and boxed her out of the conversation. 

Goosebumps rose along his skin from your touch and he was praying that you wouldn’t notice, or that you’d at least ignore it if you did. 

“Thanks.” 

“Consider us even,” you spoke with a shrug. “That’s for keeping Sadie alive last weekend.”

“That was no problem,” he said. “You didn’t have to make it up to me.”

“No, I did,” you grunted. The bartender returned, placing your drinks down in front of you while you signed off on the receipt. “I didn’t say thank you, so consider this my thank you. Now we can drop it. Forever.”

---

It was 11:30 p.m. when you gathered your things and stood from the booth to wish everyone a good night. Pierre knew it was coming. You’d been looking at your phone for the past twenty minutes, the conversations around you background noise to the plans you were making. You said your goodbyes. A hug for Josh and Seth, a wave in Pierre’s direction, and then you were gone.

Pierre only stayed another thirty minutes. By the time midnight rolled around, he was drunk. His teammates clearly had a game plan because he wasn’t even thinking about his on-ice performance anymore. When he exited the bar, he found you still standing against the outside walls. Your jaw was set, arms crossed over your chest, clearly perturbed by the fact that you were still waiting for Charlie. 

“What are you still doing out here?”

His eyes were glassy and he stumbled over the sidewalk as he sidled up beside you and leaned against the bricks.

“Charlie’s not here yet,” you answered. He noticed your frustration, arms crossed over your chest as you glared out at the street in front of you. He lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be here thirty minutes ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you dating him? Or is it just a booty call type of situation?”

“Can you stop talking about him?”

He continued anyway, pushing himself off the wall to step in front of you, “Why do you go home to him all the time? I mean, it can’t possibly be the sex. Every guy in there, including me, has eyes for you. You could have whoever you want, I bet.”

“Close your eyes then,” you spat, stepping to the side so you could have a clear view of the street again. He rolled his eyes. Even his compliments were shoved to the side. There was no getting through to you. He leaned back up against the wall as you began speaking again. “And, just to be clear, we’re still not friends. You must be delusional to think that I want to talk to you about anything going on in my life, especially my sex life.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Good,” you quipped. “I don’t want to be your friend either.”

Your eyes lit up as Charlie’s car pulled up to the curb and you were practically jogging over to it before he even parked. You slipped into the passenger seat, pecking his lips quickly in an effort to get him to drive away before seeing his neighbor. You were unsuccessful.

“Is that Pierre?” Charlie asked, leaning across the center console to get a better look at his neighbor. He called his name from the open window and Pierre came walking over with a swagger in his step. He ducked down, elbows resting against the bottom of the window, and crowded your space purposely. “You heading home?” 

“Yeah, trying to call an Uber.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just get in!”

Your head whipped around so fast that you were surprised you didn’t have whiplash after, but the frantic look that crossed your face wasn’t even registered by the man in the driver’s seat and within seconds, Pierre was sliding into the backseat.

You were silent for the rest of the ride home, listening to the boys talk about hockey. Just hockey. While you checked your make-up in the mirror, you wondered if he was annoyed by the hockey talk. Josh and Seth always hated it. Your eyes cut to him as the thought crossed your mind and you found him already looking at you. 

You immediately closed the mirror. 

The elevator ride up to their floor was painful. You were eager to slip past Charlie’s front door and get away from Pierre. They exchanged a little more small talk as they fumbled with their keys and the locks. Pierre opened his first and smiled wickedly at the two of you before slipping into his apartment. 

“Have a good night, you two,” he said. “Keep it quiet, alright? I have an early morning.”

And then he was gone, disappearing behind his apartment door, before you could talk back.

[elen-aranel]

Golden/Alone

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For: @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I am aware that today is Thursday; this was longer than I expected! Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: violence, references to violence, drug use (kind of), minor character death WC: 7.3k words Tag list: @jusvibbbin - to be added to my Pike x Reader Taglist please let me know <3 A/N: The Engineer is back! And why does she go on away missions? WHY? I genuinely had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy!

“If I were piloting, Number One, I would have flown us through the eye of that storm cell. We would have gotten here quicker,” Chris jokes to Number One as they unstrap themselves from the co-pilot and pilot’s seats, respectively.

“And that is precisely why I was flying and not you, Captain. We may have been slower, but I got us here in one piece.”

“Lieutenant, back me up here. My flying was great in that speeder on Eloma.”

“You kept us ahead of our pursuers, yes sir,” you say with a smile.

“And staying ahead of pursuers is not a valuable skill in an atmosphere like this one where we are not being pursued,” Number One states with some finality, as she presses the control to open the back of the shuttle and extend the ramp.

You are on Caylara, for what you hope will be a boring mission. The captain and Number One, along with security officer Ensign James, are here to open negotiations for Caylara to join the Federation.

You are here because of the atmosphere – it is notoriously difficult to traverse. You can’t transport living things through it, unless you want them to be merged, dead, or both, and even flying through it is a challenge because of the electrical storm layers. There are windows of time when it’s safer, when shuttles and communications can get through, and windows when they can’t.

At Louvier’s instruction you had prepared a shuttle (and a backup – you don’t like to take chances) to travel through the atmosphere. Standard procedure for Caylara was to have an engineer accompany the shuttle to perform any repairs needed on the ground. You had tried to argue your preparations were good enough that you wouldn’t be needed, but Chris had seen straight through you.

“You find diplomacy boring and you don’t want a repeat of Eloma. That’s what’s really going on here, isn’t it?” His mouth had twisted into that smile you found irresistible, and even though you pouted, adopting your best puppy-dog expression, he had just laughed. “It’s all right. I won’t make you go to the reception. I won’t even make you wear your dress uniform. You can stay with the shuttle.”

You hang back as the captain and Ensign James pass you, Chris brushing his hand against yours as he passes. You smile a little, and get your tricorder out – you need to check to make sure the shuttle didn’t get damaged and will be all right to make the return trip. You look down the ramp as you scan, seeing the Caylarans for the first time as their delegation greets the away team.

They are very tall. You estimate the shortest is well over two metres and they tower above the away team, even over Ensign James who is tall for a human. But given the slightly lower gravity of Caylara their height isn’t surprising, you think. They have skin varying from very pale through to olive toned. Their faces are smooth but they have scales around their hairline extending down to the rest of their bodies. Well, their hands, at least. They are wearing long robes.

Your tricorder beeps as the away team starts to move away; there seems to be a charge buildup in one of the EPS controllers, but that’s all and it’s an easy fix. You pop the relevant panel and discharge it, without shocking yourself for once, and replace the panel.

Then there’s nothing left to do but wait. The reception is due to last two, perhaps three hours – short enough that you’ll be able to make your return trip through the atmosphere with time to spare before the current window closes.

You’ve brought some reading, of course, but first you want to get to the bottom of why the EPS controller picked up a charge. You take it as a personal insult, really – you were sure you had accounted for everything from the data you were given to prepare. However, when you compare the preliminary data with the scans the shuttle took as it went through the atmosphere you can clearly see the discrepancies. You’re puzzled for a moment – but of course you had enhanced the sensors to the latest specs when you adapted the shuttle, and you don’t know how old the original readings you were working with were. You almost wish Chris had piloted you through the storm cell; then you would have more data to work with.

You busy yourself combining the shuttle’s readings with your existing model, and calculating how much it was off by. After some time you are pretty sure you’ve got to the bottom of where the charge came from, and you modify the shuttle so that it doesn’t happen again.

You also think you may be able to make predictions with your new model, and perhaps refine your timings for the atmospheric windows. The Caylarans know the timings pretty accurately, but you aren’t at the stage of sharing data on that level as yet.

You run a new set of scans, and frown – there’s only ninety minutes until the window closes. You compare with the original estimates and—

Hang on. When did it get so late? You were supposed to be on the way back by now.

“Shuttle Hubble to away team? Come in please?”

Silence.

“Shuttle Hubble to Captain Pike?”

More silence.

Silence when you try to call Number One and James, too.

“Enterprise to Hubble. Come in, please.”

“Shuttle Hubble here, Lieutenant Spock. I was just about to call you – I have lost contact with the rest of the away team. They should have been back here by now, but they aren’t.”

“I have also tried to contact the captain but to no avail. Three unknown craft have appeared in the system, and have locked weapons on to us and the planet. They are not responding to hails. I have placed the Enterprise on yellow alert and raised shields. We cannot get a sensor lock on individual life signs through the atmosphere, and—”

“They’re firing some sort of energy weapon!”

“Taking evasive action!”

“Lieutenant, I—” Spock sounds uncharacteristically strained as he’s interrupted by what sounds like an overloading console.

“I understand. I’ll look for them. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Enterprise out.”

That’s it, you think.

You’re on your own.

You take a deep breath: what do you need? Communicator. Tricorder. Emergency medkit.

Phaser.

You put the medkit in a backpack, and since there’s space you add a water bottle and some emergency rations. You clip the tricorder to a utility belt, and holster the phaser, set to stun. Your communicator goes in your pants pocket; you’ve got your usual tools in your jacket.

Then you remember your terrible luck with communicators, so you grab a spare and shove it in your backpack. That should do it. You can’t carry the kitchen sink and you don’t have time to keep second guessing yourself.

Okay. Plan: find the away team, bring them to safety.

You exit the shuttle and shut the ramp – you don’t need strangers damaging it.

You take in your surroundings next. The shuttle has landed in the grounds of a large building, elevated on a hill in the middle of a city. It’s only three or four storeys high, but quite wide, and you think it extends back a long way. There are decorative metal accents spaced at regular intervals – lightning conductors, you realise, as you head toward the most important looking doorway – you see burnt grass at their bases. This building isn’t tall, but it is the tallest around; the atmosphere must affect Caylaran architecture, you think.

There’s no one around, which surprises you; shouldn’t there be guards?

You push the door and it opens with a whisper. Inside is the most ornate room you have ever been in. The walls are gold coloured stone, there are dozens of columns in mottled golden marble, and there are decorations finished with real gold leaf everywhere. There are bronze statues and hundreds of warm coloured lights. The ceiling is as decorated as the walls, and the whole effect is beautiful. Imposing. Stunning. Overwhelming.

But again, no one is here. You get your tricorder out, but you can’t resolve anything. Perhaps something is blocking the scan? You look at the stairs. The steps are high, designed with Caylarans in mind, and go up before dividing. There are flights down, too. There are corridors to the left and right, and you have to take a moment to weigh all your options. The largest doors are ahead, though, up the main staircase and over. Perhaps that’s where you would take guests that you wanted to impress?

You think back to what you read on Caylara in your mission briefing as you climb the stairs. Their head of state is Crown Princess Nanren, but although the title remains the same, a princess many generations ago passed laws to end the hereditary monarchy. Now a new crown prince or princess is elected for life when the previous one dies, and you think they have an elected senate too.

Beyond that, you don’t really know anything, you think as you reach the top of the stairs. You cross the landing, trying to stay aware of your surroundings. And as you look down the stairs, you lock eyes with the first person you’ve seen.

A guard is sitting on the ground next to the doors. He’s armed, and the stairs in front of him show signs of having been fired on. But he’s slumped back, his green-blue swirled eyes staring up at you.

“Why’s it so dark? I can see you in the dark. Why did you bring the dark with you? You shouldn’t—” he tries to lift his weapon, and you draw your phaser, but his head lolls and he closes his eyes, dropping the weapon in front of him.

That was unsettling.

You proceed slowly down the stairs, but he doesn’t move again. You kick his weapon away and get your tricorder out. You’re not a medic, this isn’t a medical tricorder, and you don’t know much about Caylaran physiology, but you do have field medic training and you can see that something is terribly wrong. You scan him, and then the air. It seems like there are traces of a molecule around that your tricorder program flags up as having features in common with known hallucinogens. It didn’t flag up on your general scan so it’s probably dissipated enough that it won’t affect you, but still you wish you’d put on an EV suit. There’s no time to second guess yourself now, though.

You put the tricorder away in favour of the phaser, and you gently push the next door open.

If you thought the foyer was large, this room is even larger. It’s all gold again, and should be as beautiful, but it looks like there’s been a fight in here and furniture is in haphazard piles on the floor. It makes you think of playing forts with your cousins in your grandparents’ house as a child. You’re not a strategist but you can easily see that these piles aren’t much better than that – they provide barely any cover.

You pick your way over gilded chairs and past carved wooden tables inlaid with gold, keeping an eye out. About a quarter of the way into the room, under a table with two chairs on top you see a Caylaran. She looks young, wearing what looks like it could be a staff uniform – it’s a plain warm toned brown dress with an embroidered hem, far less fancy than the delegates who had welcomed the others of your team. She’s staring straight ahead, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. She pays you no attention as you kneel down by her.

“What’s your name?” You ask, softly.

“My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen. My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, then the Genai are going to kill me.”

She smiles broadly as she finishes her little song, still staring vacantly straight ahead, and you shudder. You shake her shoulder and she blinks, slowly, but she doesn’t move.

You straighten up, thoughtfully, wondering what the Genai are. Some sort of bogeyman, or an alien race? Not that it matters.

Next you find a pair of guards, asleep, holding hands. You move their weapons out of sight and continue through.

But then you find a dead Caylaran. He looks like someone important, but his red robe embroidered with a golden floral patten has a scorch mark right in the middle of his chest. You’re not sure if that killed him, because there’s a pool of blood beneath him too. Either way, you think as you close his grey-purple eyes, he probably didn’t deserve whatever it was. You take a moment to pay your respects before moving on.

You don’t find any more dead bodies in this room, but you find several more Caylarans, either sleeping or talking nonsense. One male asks you where your flowers are, and tries to give you some from a fallen flower arrangement, but most of the rest are just scared.

You think they probably have good cause, as you push another door open. You pick it because the largest number of guards were close to it, so you figure it probably leads somewhere important.

It leads on to a stair well, small but lavishly decorated with tapestries, depicting Caylarans standing in outdoor scenes, sometimes with animals you don’t recognise. They deaden the sound of your footsteps as you climb the tall stone stairs.

Then two things happen: you pause as you notice one of the hangings is moving a little at the bottom, as though in a breeze. And then you hear voices above you.

“She’s not up here,” says a female voice, annoyed. Lucid.

“Well she’s definitely not down there.” The second voice is male. Defensive. “I’ve got a message from Alara. She wants us to look again.”

“Fine. But I want it noted for the record that this is a waste of time,” the first voice says, sounding suddenly quieter – she’s probably passed through a doorway.

“Like anyone cares, Nerela,” the second voice says. You risk a peek up the stairwell. You don’t get a good look as the second person disappears through the door, but they are definitely not Caylaran – he has blue skin.

You lean against a tapestry. There are aliens here, separate from your away team. There are aliens in orbit, too. The odds are good that they’re the same species. And “she” must be the crown princess. But what are they planning?

Regardless, you still need to find your people. It’s been half an hour; you could get back to the shuttle faster if you went straight there, but there isn’t much time left in this window.

You eye the tapestry again. You’re definitely not going to follow the aliens, and this breeze must be coming from somewhere. You push it aside.

This door is the first plain thing you’ve seen in the building. It stands slightly ajar – hence the breeze – and it’s painted beige to match the stonework, but otherwise it’s featureless. It swings as quietly as all the other doors when you push it, but it has some kind of bolt on the other side. Interesting. You try to work it, but you can’t. You think of the tools in your jacket; you could probably figure it out, but no. There’s no time. You push the door to, making sure it’s as shut as it can be, and continue.

You must have entered the service part of the building, you think, as you walk along a corridor. This is functional and plain, like the door. You feel a little more comfortable here; if you’d been interested in fancy, you would have joined the command track. Or Diplomatic Corps. You get your tricorder out again, but it doesn’t show you anything still and you didn’t expect it to. But then you approach a door, and hear whimpering from the other side.

You have your hand on your phaser as you push the door open. It’s dark compared to the rest of the building; there is a small window but there’s not much light coming through the Caylaran atmosphere right now. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust, then head toward the whimpering.

The room is small; some kind of office, perhaps? There’s a desk in the room, and behind it—

“Number One?” She’s crying. Number One is sitting on the floor crying, hair a mess, dress uniform dirty, cradling Ensign James in her lap.

You can barely believe it, but you squat down, reaching for your tricorder. You can see James breathing, at least. You look around, but Chris isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Number One?” You scan them both. They both have traces of the drug in their systems, but a lot less than the guard you scanned earlier. As your eyes adjust you can see though that James has hit his head; there’s blood in his hair and on Una’s uniform. He’s also been hit by a energy discharge, but to the side.

“Una? What’s wrong?”

“I failed everyone. I didn’t protect my captain. What first officer doesn’t protect her captain? They’re going to throw me in the brig. They’re going to court martial me. I lost my captain, and he’s dead, I—”

Suddenly you’ve had enough. You slap her, hard. “Number One!”

“Lieutenant! What did you just—”

“Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, I—you—” You breathe. “Are you all right?” You strip your backpack off for your medkit. You’re going to need to try to bring Ensign James round.

“I—I’m not sure. I don’t know what happened; everything was normal and then suddenly it wasn’t. I was so scared, Lieutenant. It was—I can still feel it. But it doesn’t feel like me.” She shakes her head, eyes still a little wide, and you pass her the water bottle. She takes a drink as you inject Ensign James with a hypospray. He starts stirring immediately, which is good, but you still think he needs a proper exam to rule out any brain problems.

“Una, you’ve got fifteen minutes to get back to the shuttle with Ensign James. There are alien ships attacking the Enterprise, and I’ve seen aliens here too. I think they may be called the Genai. You go down the corridor, down the stairs, through the big room, through the foyer, and out. Do you think you can do that?”

“Back to the shuttle. Genai.” She shakes her head again, blinking a few times. She squares her shoulders. “Yes, I think so. I can. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find the captain. You can tell the computer to run on autopilot, if you need to – I updated the climate model, so the computer should be able to handle it.”

Together you help Ensign James to his feet.

“Do you have your communicator still?”

“I don’t,” James is still groggy as he pats himself down.

“I do,” Number One brings her communicator out and opens it. “Number One to Enterprise, come in please.”

Static.

“I think there’s a blocking field throughout this building. The tricorder isn’t working for some things either. You’d better get going.”

“Good luck, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks. You too, Commander.”

You put your medkit away as Number One and James leave. You’re relieved that they’re both okay, and you’re confident in Una, now she recognises her fear isn’t hers.

Back in the corridor you check the door to make sure Una shut it. You push it, but it’s locked. Weird. You could probably unlock it, but you don’t want to go that way anyway.

You turn your back on the door and continue along the corridor. Number One had said the captain – had said Chris – was dead. But he can’t be. She wasn’t, and you think she only had blood from Ensign James on her uniform. But... what if he is?

If he is, you do your duty as a Starfleet officer first. Find his body. Survive. Get out of here. Then mourn him second.

You pass three locked doors on the corridor, but the last opens to more stairs. Still functional, but just going down this time. You go down, listening, hand on you phaser.

Back on the ground floor – you think, but it could be a mezzanine level – there are several rooms that are open.

You go into the first one, hand still on your phaser. It’s a bedroom, and there’s a Caylaran male cowering in the corner, wearing the service uniform.

“Have you come to end it?” He asks, staring past you. You don’t answer, but your heart aches; you think he means his life. The next room is empty, bed neatly made up.

You listen at the door to the third room, and you think you hear breathing. You push the door open slowly. You don’t see anyone at first, but as you head into the room you see the edge of a gold robe, protruding out of what must the en-suite. You think you’re getting a feel for Caylaran fashion, and this is easily the fanciest thing you’ve seen so far. The robe is made of gold fabric, whereas all the others you’ve seen have been colours embroidered with gold. This one has gold and silver embroidery, and multicoloured gemstones picking out the centres of the flowers.

“Crown Princess Nanren?” Your pitch your voice low. Gentle. You remember how Chris spoke to you on Earth in the past, when you were panicking, and try to convey that calm, that confidence, to her. And in that moment you know you can no longer focus on looking for him. If this is the crown princess, more hinges on you looking after her.

“Crown Princess? I’m a Lieutenant from the Enterprise. From Starfleet – the Federation. I’m not a dream or a nightmare. I’m here to help. Will you come out?”

“The Genai are here. They’re going to kill me. I—I can’t—”

“We will find somewhere you can call your people. I will look after you. We will call in your people and they will deal with the Genai.” General Order One doesn’t apply here, you think. Not if the Genai are already interfering. Not that you care about diplomacy anyway. You’ll do what’s right now, and face the consequences later.

“I don’t—Why aren’t they here already?”

“I don’t know, Crown Princess. But we will figure it out. Please trust me.” You put all your belief into your tone, all the hope you still have left... and she steps forward.

She looks every bit the princess. She is tall, even compared to the other Caylara you’ve seen, and her dress is as exquisite as you expected from the tiny part you’d seen. You wonder, briefly, how many she has like that and how many months, perhaps years, it took to sew. She has a gauzy golden cloak hanging behind her, also embroidered, and her dark hair is braided and pinned up into an elaborate style. The only things that are not Princess-like about her are her purple-blue swirled eyes. They are wide, and anxious.

You recall your briefing notes, and bow. “Princess,” you say, staring at the floor.

“Arise,” she replies, and there’s the ghost of a command tone there. Good.

You straighten, looking up at her again, and pause. This is not how you dress if you might need to make a run for it.

You exhale, surveying the room. It’s a bedroom – a staff bedroom.

“Princess, I can get you out of this, I think. But first... you need to change.”

You find staff robes in the wardrobe that fit her, even if they’re a touch short. And sensible shoes. You have to sit her on the bed to take her hair down, but, you reflect with a little smile that she can’t see, taking her pins out is not unlike taking tiny components out of a circuit board.

“You get used to it, you know,” she says as she stands after you’ve finished. “The pomp and ceremony. The robes. People expect it of their princess, and you get used to it.”

“They are lovely,” you say, following her gaze to where her robes are hung up. “But we should get moving. Where can we call your people?”

“That sort of thing is in the wing on the other side of the Room of State,” she says. Right. The other side of that big room. Of course. And there’s a locked door between you and it.

Even so you retrace your steps. She’s much faster up the stairs than you, and you think bad thoughts about differing alien physiologies. But then, she would find the chairs on the Enterprise a bit small, you think. And the beds.

Soon you’re on the corridor with the door at the end, and you finger your jacket’s zipper as you get closer – it’s time for you to brush off your lock-picking skills. You hope the lock is easy like the ones on Eloma.

But the princess pushes the door and it opens with a whisper.

You can’t say anything. But you thank your lucky stars for small favours.

“Let me,” you say, as you approach the bottom of the stairwell. “If anything happens, go back the way we came.” You look the princess in the eye and she nods.

You crack the door open the tiniest bit, and you hear a voice.

You turn back to the princess, reach out and take her hand. You know it isn’t protocol but you squeeze gently, feeling the scales on her skin and a ring round her finger, hoping the touch will keep her calm.

You push the door open again.

“—everywhere. Yes. Me personally. I don’t care what you—yes I know scanners aren’t working. I wish you hadn’t got voice comms back. But she’s not here; she must be on your floor. Fine, Nerela. She could be in the south wing. No don’t come down here, you idiot. Go round. Ugh. Put Yaima on. Yes tell Nerela she’s being a pain. No, they’re still with our vessel, so she can’t be in the garden. It’s the storm cycle; of course we can’t—To the East, yes. I’ll see you there. But tell Nerela she’s done after this. No I don’t care. Alara out.”

You hear footsteps stalking down the room, getting closer. Your heart is in your mouth, one hand on your phaser, as you hold your breath. The steps falter slightly... and then they continue. You stay frozen until you can’t hear them anymore, then you give it a minute after that before you move the door.

The Room of State has changed since you saw it last; almost all the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, apart from a chair cushion in the middle of the floor; that’s what made Alara miss her step.

You take a step forward, and the princess follows, still holding your hand. She gasps, and you follow her gaze; at the end of the room are rows of Caylarans, lying on the floor. You look around, but the coast seems clear. You take your tricorder out one-handed, and you scan them. From here you can pick out their life signs – they may be unconscious but they’re still alive.

“They’re okay. They aren’t dead. Probably stunned with an energy weapon.” You feel the princess relax, and you drop her hand. “We can take care of them later. You need to show me where to go.”

She nods, and you follow her across the room and through the door on the other side. You have time to check on the way across: Number One and James aren’t there. Neither is the captain.

The stairwell on the other side is like the first, except this has paintings rather than tapestries, and your footsteps are louder as you climb.

“I don’t know who any of them are,” the princess says, looking at the paintings on your way up. “I suppose I should, but... they’re not my ancestors, I suppose. Just... predecessors. In a way.”

You resist the impulse to shush her.

On this stairwell a painting opens to the service corridor. You take the lead going through, but the corridor is empty. And when the princess shuts the door, you hear its lock click.

You walk along the corridor, listening carefully, but you can’t hear any signs of life. You have to hustle to keep up with the princess, but you push a couple of doors as you pass them. They’re both locked.

The stairs down at the other end of the corridor carry on further than they do on the other side, and your calves are beginning to ache when you reach the bottom. Your discomfort doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It’s cooler down here, and you think you must be underground. Some kind of bunker.

“My real office is in my suite. My ceremonial office is downstairs, but this”—she opens the second door you reach—“is for emergencies.”

The office is dark as you go in, but she presses a control and it lights up. You close the door behind you and look around. Unlike the other rooms off the service corridors, this one is lavish once again. The wallpaper has gilded highlights, and the desk is made of a golden brown hardwood and is intricately carved. There’s no window since you’re underground, but the light fittings are made of bronze and remind you of the statues in the foyer. You realise the room is probably this nice in case the princess needs to do an emergency broadcast – her surroundings will still look the part.

The princess sits at the desk, pressing her palm to a sensor. A computer apparatus lifts up, and she enters some commands. You walk round the desk and stand a little way to her side, as a Caylaran man appears on the screen. His expression is blank, confused.

“Is this some kind of joke? At such a time? Using Princess Nanren’s—wait—”

He frowns, tips his head to one side.

“Your highness, is—is that you? The Genai—we were sure they’d killed you. That’s what they said. And the blocking field is on so we couldn’t scan—we had no idea—I—” He closes his eyes and bows his head.

“I am so sorry, your highness. I didn’t want to risk your people on a dangerous mission with no intelligence if you were already dead. But I should have trusted in you, and not believed the Genai without proof.”

Staff robe or not, Crown Princess Nanren straightens up and looks every bit the princess once again.

“Arise. Guard Leader Daymen, I am glad to see you. Please do not apologise; the time for analysing our decisions and learning from this situation is not yet here. First I must survive, and you must take back the palace. The Genai are still here; they have a vessel in the garden and people throughout the palace. Our people have been drugged; most are in the Room of State, but there are likely others dispersed through the palace.”

“They have three vessels in orbit too, I think,” you say, quietly.

“They have vessels in orbit too, although”—she presses a control, and a little data window appears—“they won’t be able to send any reinforcements through the atmosphere for a few more hours. What do you need to retake the building?”

“I will bring my guards now, highness. If you could turn the blocking field off it would make things safer, but—no. You are the most important. Enact the safe-room protocol, and remain where you are until we secure the building.”

“I may be able to lower the blocking field. But I shall keep safe. Do you have any news of our Federation guests?”

“Their shuttle left before the window closed. I was unable to talk to their ship at that time, but...” his expression goes thoughtful. “We use a limited range of communication frequencies. The Genai in orbit could have blocked them.”

You nod to yourself; the Caylaran frequencies had been in your briefing, and they were very different to Federation ones. The blocking field in the Palace was wide-band, but it would take too much power for a block like that over a bigger area. Much more sensible to just block the Caylaran frequencies.

“Thank you. May the skies protect you, Guard Leader.”

“May the skies protect you, highness.” He bows once again and cuts the connection.

“Lieutenant, thank you for all you have done for me so far. May I ask this last favour?”

“To take down the field? Of course, your highness. What do I need to do?”

She slides a ring off her finger and hands it to you. It’s a very narrow band of gold with a small red stone set on it. It’s big for you, though, so you slip it on to your thumb.

“You can use that to gain access to the systems. The security office is down the corridor to the right.”

“Lock the door behind me, your highness.” You smile as you turn to go.

“May the skies protect you, Lieutenant.”

“And you too.” You go through the door, closing it behind you. You hear a loud thunk a moment after you do; it sounds like more than a lock – probably blast doors. At least she’s safe, you think. Even if that means you’re alone.

You wonder about Chris, and where he could be. You have to hold on to hope, don’t you? You can’t think... no. You mustn’t. Instead you think about what he would do in your place. You think he’d be cautious. You’re nearly at your goal, but if you don’t succeed people could get hurt if the Caylaran Guard can’t tell who is who, or where they are. You’ve heard people complain about security officers being trigger happy; you think it’s probably the same for the Guard.

And you’re in a strategically important part of the palace; you don’t know how many Genai there are but they’ll probably find this area eventually. You draw your phaser, and make sure you walk quietly.

There is only one door left between you and where the corridor splits, when you hear a voice. The door opens a little, and you freeze. The voice is familiar – one of the Genai.

“—last time, no. I genuinely, and I am completely sincere on this, do not care what Alara thinks. Not even a tiny little bit! She missed this entire section! Yeah whatever, Yaima, you go tell her what I said. But when I find the Queen—Crown Princess, whatever, and she doesn’t, she’s the one that’ll get fired, not me! Nerela out!”

The door slams open, and Nerela stomps out. It’s her or you, but you are ready and she is not. Her black eyes widen as she sees you, and her weapon is in hand, but before she can aim you shoot. She grunts as she falls back, stunned.

Happily, Genai are shorter than Caylarans, although Nerela is wearing high heeled boots which make her look taller. You drag her back into the room she came out of, take her weapon and communicator and leave her lying in the recovery position. You shut the door behind you and it clicks a second later.

You shake your head; the doors are one mystery too many. You put Nerela’s weapon in your phaser holster, and tuck her communicator into your belt. Then you head to the right, toward the security office.

The first thing you notice as you push the door open are the screens. Dozens of them. The second—

“Chris?” He’s frowning, pointing a phaser at you. He looks at you like he can’t believe his eyes. Like you’ve stepped out of a nightmare.

“Chris it’s me. I’m real. I’m really here.” You take a careful step through the doorway, keeping eye contact with his bloodshot blue eyes, letting the door close behind you.

“You don’t need to be afraid any more.” You think about what Number One had said. “This fear... it isn’t really you.” You stoop down and put your phaser on the floor. You take Nerela’s weapon and put that on the floor too. And as you do, something clicks into place in your mind.

“Chris, you’ve been helping me, haven’t you? Locking doors to keep me safe? To help me get where I needed to go?”

“I’ve been so... afraid. I—I needed to keep her—to keep you safe.” He relaxes his grip on his phaser a little, and you reach for your tricorder.

“You were drugged, Chris.” You scan him. “Number One and James are safe, they got a lower dose than you.” A much lower dose, you realise, looking at the numbers. “I sent them back to the shuttle and they returned to the Enterprise. I’m going to end all this, get us home. But I need you to stop pointing that phaser at me.”

He looks at his hand, holding the phaser, then back at you.

“But is she—are you real?”

Your heart melts for him. You haven’t said these words, but you’ve felt it for a while. And—you worried, you genuinely worried, that you would never get to say them. This may not be the moment you planned, but he has to believe you.

“Chris, I love you. I’m real.”

“I—” he drops the phaser, and it clatters to the floor. The next thing you know you’re in front of him, arms around him, holding him. You can’t think; you can speak. You just hold on, letting your body feel his warmth, his solidity. You may not have been drugged, but you had been so afraid

. After a moment he puts his arms around you, too, and you just stay there for a moment more. Holding him. Letting him hold you.

As much as you’d like to forget everything else right now, you still have a job to do. You pull back, take hold of his hand, and look at the security console. You can see feeds of the Room of State, the foyer, the other rooms you’ve been in, and other places, too. Beneath the monitors is a schematic; this is how Chris was locking and unlocking the doors, you realise. But how did he have the credentials to do so?

You look at the desk and see a ring like the one the Crown Princess gave you, nestled in a groove.

“How did you get that?” You ask.

Chris frowns. “I was in that big room, but I was so afraid. I came through the door. Went upstairs. Along the corridors. Looking for somewhere safe enough. I got here and the Caylaran... we struggled, he tried to shoot but I took his weapon.” You follow his gaze to an energy weapon on the ground. “Then he ran. And I stayed. I could see everything. Not get caught out. And then I saw you.”

You squeeze his hand, and work the controls with your other hand. There is a glyph that looks like a shield; you turn it off. You check your tricorder – finally you can detect life signs. Both Caylaran and Genai. As you do, Nerela’s communicator chirrups to life.

“Nerela? I swear, if this was you—! You have the worst timing! The Caylaran guard are here. Put the blocking field back up immediately. That’s an order! Nerela? Nerela, answer me! Ne—”

It lapses into static for a moment. Then silence.

“The Guard are here, Chris. As soon as the atmosphere clears we can go home.”

*

When you return to the Enterprise you go to the captain’s quarters. You know he won’t be there, but you need the sense of his presence. His smell.

Chris had to stay on the planet to complete the original negotiations and help deal with the Genai; the drug’s effects had faded by the time the atmosphere was passable again, and you’d got some water and rations into him. Spock came down and stayed, but you had only left Chris because he ordered you to.

You have a shower, put on one of his sleep shirts, and curl up on the sofa under his throw blanket to write your report.

*

“Sweetheart?” You wake up to Chris kneeling in front of you, hand on your shoulder. His hair is damp and he’s out of his uniform. Your brow creases for a moment – you don’t remember him using that endearment for you before.

“Chris,” you say, stretching. Pushing the throw away, and leaning into his touch. “You’re back.”

“I am.” His mouth quirks into a smile. “There was a lot to sort out; it seems the Genai and the Caylara have a dispute over a world on a system between them. The Genai thought if Caylara joined the Federation, we would take their colony from them. They thought if they disrupted the negotiation and killed Crown Princess Nanren, either we would give up, or the Caylarans would be too afraid to continue.” He moves his thumb along your shoulder.

“Spock put the fear of God into the Genai in orbit. I’m not sure how,” he adds, at your incredulous look, “but they and the Caylarans have requested mediation. And now the Genai want to work towards joining the Federation, too.”

“I wish they’d chosen to talk to us first,” you say, frowning. Thinking of the dead Caylaran. “These breakthroughs always seem to come at such a cost.”

“They do,” he says, gathering you into his arms. Holding you against him.

You stay in his arms for a while, just breathing. But eventually he pulls back, and moves to sit beside you.

“You were amazing today. You’ll be getting a commendation, but Crown Princess Nanren wanted me to convey her thanks, too. You saved her life.” He reaches into his pocket, then leans forward and fastens a chain round your neck. It’s delicate, golden, and from it hangs the ring that she had lent you for the computer. That you had given back before you left. “She wanted you to have this. But she thought a necklace might work better.”

You shake your head, taking hold of the ring. “Saving her was as much you as me, Chris. Locking those doors.”

He looks at you, thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I—I have never felt fear like I did today. Now I look back at it I can tell it wasn’t real, but at the time, seeing you on those screens, moving with purpose, helping our people and the Caylarans... you gave me hope.”

He pauses, blue eyes meeting yours. Hand reaching out to touch your face.

“When we were down there... I remember what you said to me. I love you too.”

You lean forward, meeting him for a kiss, gentle at first but it goes passionate almost immediately, both of you pouring your feelings for each other into the connection between you. You didn’t know it could feel like this, you think, before he pulls you into his lap and thoughts flee away.

*

“Lieutenant, I want to thank you.” Number One says, sitting at her desk. “I was not myself down on Caylara, but you did yourself proud. You saved us.”

“You’re welcome, Commander.” You smile. “I’d say any time, but right now I’d be happy if I never left the ship again.”

“That being said, if you tell anyone—”

“If I tell anyone you were crying, I can expect to spend the next month of duty shifts degaussing the transporter with a microresonator?”

“Oh that’s a good one. I must remember that. Yes. You will be degaussing, Lieutenant.”

“Understood.”

[vcg73]

FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014.  I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.  

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.  

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

 Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

 Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard! 

 He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

  Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday?  My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there.  What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

   Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

 Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.  

Burt was less lucky.

 Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us!  Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

 Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

 Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs.  Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty.  Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

 Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.  

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

 Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right?  Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

 Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

 Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

  Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

 Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this.  Just remember everything I taught you.  You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

 Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.  

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.  

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

  Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

 Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

 Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

 Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima.  He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

 Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though.  Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love.  May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

[bibliocratic]

For your writing prompts, I’ve always found that the phrase “for you” has a certain gravity, so maybe something with that? :3

This was such a good prompt, which is my only excuse for why this is three days late and barely counts as a drabble at all.

jonmartin, post-S5 domesticity and parenthood

“He was showing me another room he's made it to on his game,” Jon offers as an explanation as he ambles back into the living room. “Some sort of creepy dungeon, lots of what I can only presume are zombies. He can turn into a dragon now with this magic cloak thing, it's all very sophisticated.”

Martin, whose knowledge and ability with video games both started and ended with having a go on someone's Game Boy Colour one rainy school break, makes a supportive, 'showing-interest' noise as he feels around for the remote before finding it wedged under his thigh, muting the sound of a gritty BBC drama he is clearly not enamoured by. He shuffles over to make room on the sofa. Disturbing the cat, who jumps off his knees, casting a betrayed gaze upon the offender before she haughtily goes to commandeer the high-backed chair usually taken up by Jon.

“Dragons are one of the few things that haven't turned out to actually exist, and tried to murder us.”

“Oh, don't be like that,” Jon smiles as he drops down next to him.  Martin's got a beer out of the fridge now Lewis has gone to bed, and Jon leans forward to snaffle it from the coffee table, takes an  slow sip, winces at the flavour and puts it back down on its coaster. “Swimming's at ten Saturday, isn't it? Still haven't fixed his goggles.”

“Half past, they had to move the rota round for some other thing,” Martin says distantly.  In the background, someone on the TV has their mouth bared in shouting, and some grim-dark poorly shaved detective is holding a gun.

Martin's shoulders are set tight. He's twisting his wedding ring round and round and round, fidgety and unsettled all evening, and now he's leant forward with his elbows on his knees, half-way through a beer on a Thursday night even though he can get funny about drinking in the house on a weekday.

“You want to talk about it?” Jon asks quietly.

Martin frowns, but doesn't ask how he knows. His palm opens from clenched to fold their fingers together, his touch chilly from the condensation on the bottle.

Jon waits for him.

Martin clears his throat. He sources out the remote again and flicks the TV to standby, the dour detective vanishing morosely.

“I'd like to talk to you about something,” Martin replies eventually. “And I know that we're not going to agree on it, but I want you to at least – hear me out, alright?”

“Alright,” Jon says carefully. A frown has rooted on his own face, but he pushes the curious simmer to a lower heat and tries to be patient. “Alright. What – what do you want to talk about?”

“What happened last week.”

“Martin...”

“Let me finish,” Martin says, his tone slightly sharper. He doesn't shout, never in the house. The only time Lewis sees his dad raise his voice in anger, he's belligerently got his hands in the guts of the boiler, pride the only thing stopping him call a plumber, or else he's stubbed his toe against the side table he always manages to catch.

Jon lets out a heavy breath.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine – we – we can talk about it. You know what I think.”

“Yeah, well, I don't.”

“It was an outlier. It doesn't mean there's a conspiracy.”

“I can't see why you're downplaying this. It was a threat, and you got hurt.”

“A few bruises from the fall. Look, Daisy and Basira handled it. They were – they were a lone Hunter. It wasn't anything organised, so I don't see the need to twist myself in knots when it won't happen again.”

Martin scoffs dismissive. “Last I counted, we've had three 'it won't happens again' in the last ten years. Face it, we've been lucky. This one got too close.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Jon says, deliberately calmly. Martin'll get to his point eventually, but he'd rather cut through whatever he's been stewing in for the past several hours.

Martin throws up his hands.

“I am suggesting that we consider the very real possibility that something like this might happen again. Something worse than some mangy Hunter or clueless cultist. These things out there.... there's more than one of them who'd see a former Archivist as a threat, Christ, I just want you to take this seriously...”

“I do take – ” Jon's voice spikes before he exhales hard and lowers his tone again. “Of course I take this seriously. Of course I worry. But if someone came here, if anyone came here, I'd – I'd Know....”

“Knowing didn't stop you from getting hurt,” Martin insists.  “It – it doesn't make you invincible.”

“I've never thought that...”

“We need to prepared, is all I'm saying. Your... the knowledge you get from the Eye, it's so much, it's so much less than before. So what if it's not enough, what if it tells you something too late or not at all?”

“Martin, I'm not going to get myself worked up over maybes.”

“Maybe you should!” Martin snaps.

They are both bullishly quiet for a moment before Martin holds his hands up again.

“Alright,” he presses on, lower pitched than before. “Alright, then lets deal with facts then. Fact number one: there are – there are forces out there that want to see you come to harm.”

“Martin.”

“Am I correct?” Martin repeats. His gaze won't leave Jon's. His temper's made his neck and throat go blotchy, but he's pressing his hands down too hard on his knees to stop their tremors.

Jon meets his eyes.

“Correct,” he says. Because it's what Martin wants to hear, because it's what Jon tries not to think about when the night-time drags loud and sleepless, and every noise he cannot account for takes on the guise of malevolence.

“Fact two,” Martin continues. “There is the possibility – no, no, listen to me, Jon – there is the chance, however small, that those forces, those people, could come here.”

“So what, we should install more locks? Buy more fire extinguishers?”

“This isn't funny,” Martin says waspish.

“I'm not laughing,” Jon replies dogged.

Martin lets out another aggrieved noise. He takes a moment, steeples his hands against the lower half of his face.

“That Hunter,” Martin says slowly. “Had our address on them. Knew where we lived. If Daisy and Basira hadn't sorted them out, they would have come here, and tried again. And if it can happen once, then it could happen again. A-and some of those people, the ones that serve their gods a-and want to make a name for themselves by going after an Archivist – ”

Here Martin's voice catches thready, the centre of his terrors finally excavated.

“I can't – I can't protect you from that, Jon,” he confesses. “I can't protect Lewis from that. And if someone comes here, what if you can't either? You're not – you're not exactly in the game of e-exploding people any more.”

“Been trying to give it up,” Jon replies. Martin's laugh is a little wet.

“Sets a bad example anyway.”

Jon rubs the skin of Martin's hand. He doesn't know what he can say to make this better.

“I would like to propose an idea,” Martin says. Softer now. More tired. “and I-I want you to hear me out.”

“OK.”

“Whatever it is.”

“You're not exactly inspiring confidence.”

Martin gives him a Look.

“OK,” Jon says, rubbing his thumb over Martin's knuckles. “OK, I promise. Whatever it is, I-I'll at least listen.”

Martin nods, and though his lips are pinched, he squeezes Jon's hand once gratefully. He separates them, and gets up, going over to his shoulder bag slouched by the door. He'd been vague, earlier this week, when he'd gone out on an 'errand'.  Jon had assumed it was something to do with their anniversary in the next few weeks.

Martin takes out a thick clump of folders from the stomach of the bag. Jon's heart drops when he sees the green-ink stamp of an imperious owl on the front of the beige folders but he says nothing.

“I have been thinking,” Martin says, planting himself back down. “About back-up plans. Last resorts, you know.  If someone does come here, if they're more than either of us can handle, if we can't keep our son safe.”

He passes Jon the folders. They're stuffed wide with statements, corroborating evidence, photographs, police reports, newspaper snippets attached with paper clips. Jon reads the introductions of a few statements as he flicks through, feeling not a little unmoored by the way this conversation has progressed – Statement of Dai Williams, regarding a library in Blaenau Gwent; Statement of  Michalis Charalambous, regarding an unusual wedding present – and something aches in him like a barely-forgotten hunger, twinges like an old wound.

Near the top of the pile,  there's a photograph, blown up to A4 size, of a book. The backdrop of an unremarkable desk, the cover itself blue backed, scuffed and foxed with age, the silver title decorated with florid curlicues: The Shipping Forecast and Other Nautical Curiosities. There's no author.

“What's this?”

“It's a Leitner,” Martin says. Not briskly, but straight-off the bat.

Jon pushes down several reactions with difficulty. Martin knows how he feels about Leitner. Martin wouldn't bring this to him, knowing what histories have left their scars on him, and beg for Jon to listen to him if it wasn't important.

“Go on,” Jon says, and nothing else.

“This book is currently in Archive Storage, where it's been for the past twenty or so years,”  Martin continues. He's to-the-point now, direct, and Jon appreciates it.  “Those are copies of all the statements I could find related to it, or people who have been in contact with it, and it makes up a fairly consistent picture of ownership and exchange for at least the past hundred and fifty years, records get a bit patchy before that.”

“Which Power?”

“The Lonely.”

That makes Jon look up. Martin's jaw is set for an argument but his voice betrays him.

“Tell me,” he says.

“The statements are all mostly the same. The book gets found or left as inheritance or in library donations, and some poor sod picks it up. Specifically, what happens is it renders people invisible when they read it.”

Jon blinks.

“... you're taking the piss.”

“No. Practical research did some basic experiments to test it before it was boxed up properly, they've – there's notes there, if you want to read in detail, but basically, you read a few lines of it, and you and whatever you're holding can't be seen. It wears off after a while, depending on how much you've read. The researchers went up to about a page.”

“There's a catch, obviously.”

“It's addictive to some people. Some of the people in the statements can use it once, get the heebie-jeebies then never touch it again, some of them can't shake the urge. The – er invisibility is more tempting to those vulnerable to the Lonely, or so the hypothesis goes. They read a little more, a little more and then, they're just gone.”

“So it's dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“Then why? Why show me this?”

“If someone comes here,” Martin says, “If it's – if it's the Vast o-or the Desolation or even th-the Slaughter, we can't fight them. We can't, OK, we-we have nothing that we could fight them with. So we can't fight them, and we can't outrun them, and I don't think hiding under the bed and hoping they leave is going to do much either. The best we can hope for is that we have a few minutes grace courtesy of your magical eyeballs. And that would at the very least give us time, to get Lewis somewhere safe, get out of harm's way, to go to Daisy's or something.”

“And your great plan is that we use a Leitner to what, turn invisible and sneak away unseen?”

“I'm asking you at least consider it.”

“I have considered it and it's – it's a Leitner, Martin! You know how I –  They're not toys, they're dangerous!”

“I know that! Of course I know that. But so is being unprotected! We wouldn't be using it for – it would be a last resort, nothing more. You can read the statements and the reports. I've read them all, over and over again, I-I've checked and doubled checked. As far as I can tell, the turning invisible is a temporary state.”

“For the right people. What about you?”

Martin does not meet his eyes.

“I wouldn't be using it.”

“...What.”

“I wouldn't – I wouldn't be able to,” he says. Quieter, self-conscious. “Much as I like to think that I'm – no. No, it'd be, it'd be too much of a temptation.”

Jon's tone has slipped flat and hard.

“So you're suggesting an escape plan that, what, doesn't include you?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Jon – ”

“No!” Jon wants to get up, to stand, to shake Martin by his ridiculous shoulders, because how dare he, how dare he. “No, how can you even ask me that?”

“Because I need to,” Martin urges. “Because it's not just us. Because if the worst happens, I need to know we have some way of protecting Lewis, that you could use that book to make sure he's safe.”

“And leave you.”

“I'm not the one they want.”

“I don't remember them being all that picky about hurting whoever was in their way,” Jon bites back, and he knows he's louder now, that his eyes are getting wet and his face hot. “You can't know that.”

“No,” Martin replies honestly. “No, I-I can't.”

Jon rubs at his eyes. The anger's boiled over and out of him at a dizzyingly come-down from furious. He listens, wondering if they've woken Lewis, but he doesn't hear the squeak of bed-springs. There's a wind picking up outside, and the cat twitches in sleep.

He doesn't feel angry any more. Just sick and scared.

“That's not fair,” he swallows, looking at the damp-blurred image of his husband's face. “That – that's not fair, to ask this.”

Martin's moved closer. Places his hand back over Jon's.

“I know,” he murmurs, and he sounds sorry, but that doesn't help either of them.  “I know it's not. And if there was – was any other option, I wouldn't even think of suggesting it. But I'd, I'd like you to think about it. Please. For me.”

Jon leafs through the folders in his hands without taking any of them in. Martin strokes his back soothingly, and crowds in too close, not close enough.

“I'll read them,” Jon says eventually. Wetly and unhappily. “ The statements, reports, I-I will. For you. And if – and only if they seem legitimate – I'll come with you and have a look at the book myself. And that's all I can promise you.”

“Thank you,” Martin whispers, and presses his lips to the thinning crown of Jon's hair, Jon leaning back slightly against his chest. He clears his throat. “Basira's all for performing some more clinical tests on the book, if you wanted some more concrete validation.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jon says, feeling too tired to enquire further.

They linger on the sofa for a while after Martin shoves the folders back into his shoulder bag.

“I better put the dishes away,” Martin says.

“Leave them. I'll do them in the morning.”

Their bedtime routine is closer and quieter. Usually Martin goes up first, and Jon watches the newspaper review or the tail end of a documentary, but tonight he trails after him as Martin checks all the plugs and double-checks all the locks.

Martin pokes his head into Lewis' room, even though they said their goodnights hours ago. Jon can't begrudge him the anxiety.

“Kicked all the blankets off as usual,” he reports back as they knock elbows in the bathroom, Jon's mouth full of toothpaste, passing Martin a water glass to take his statins. Martin dutifully swallows the pill before reaching for his own toothbrush. “He sleeps like you, arms flung out all over the place.”

Jon doesn't deny it.

Jon gets into bed first, and fusses with chargers and alarms while Martin gets into a t-shirt and boxers. He gets the light and Jon follows the sound he makes as he approaches the bed in plunging darkness, the disturbance of the covers. Jon immediately curls against his shape, tucking himself tight and buried against his chest.

Martin doesn't comment on how clingy Jon is, how he knots their legs together, clutches him over-tight. On how hot the bed is going to get, on how his arm will go numb quickly from the angle. His own arms come around just as fiercely. He tells Jon goodnight, that he loves him into his hair, and Jon whispers it back into the dark and the heat, and knows it's true to the bones of him.

Neither of them sleep all that much that night.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Hi okay so I was hoping you could do a headcanon where Fred has a crush( or is dating) a hufflepuff ( or just a really sweet and caring person) and honestly just so much fluff

I gotchu

Fred with a hufflepuff reader

Warnings: Gets deep as hell my dudes

Note: Set in non voldy au

You were this little spark of a person

You were so sweet and outgoing that even Draco didn't hate your ass

Oh you were sarcastic as hell

But you were adorably sweet

Even the portraits knew you by your first name and they loved seeing you

However you never really interacted with people until they interacted with you

So Fred and George had only heard of you

But they never actually talked to you

Well actually, George had talked to you numerous amounts of times

See he actually reads

So he goes to the library for more than a nap (Fred, that definitely was directed at you)

So when you’re there George does talk to you. 

When George does talk to you his internal thoughts are “Oh. Oh Fred would love her.”

So he constantly brings him up to you. 

Finally one day Fred had enough of listening to George say “Dude, I’ve met your best friend” and he walked over to the Hufflepuff table and asked who the hell you were.

You rose your hand and then pointed. 

“You must be Fred!” You said. 

Fred nodded. “So you’re the girl everyone seems to know.” He said, sitting next to you.

“Indeed. George talks about you all the time.” You said.

“When do you and George talk?” Fred asked. 

“We see each other in the library alot, plus we have potions together.” You admitted. 

“Oh--” “Y/n, Draco’s done it again.” A girl whined. “Another fight? You’ve got to be fucking joking.” You sighed before getting up.

Fred out of curiosity followed you and saw students fighting.

Cedric and Draco to be exact. 

“I swear to God I’m going to beat your ass Malfoy--” 

“Both of you, stop” You said standing between them.

“Move out the way--” “Not until you give me a reason to let this continue.” You said calmly.

“He called a fucking first year by a slur again!” Cedric said. 

You turned to Draco who was glaring at him

“Draco. Side bar.” you said

You basically used psychology with Draco asking if it was “Internalized anger being used on others to get a result he wanted because he couldn’t do that himself” and Draco ended up having a mental breakdown because it got deep

Fred gaped and George walked over. 

“She use psychology again?” George asked.

“Yeah and it worked?” Fred said confused.

“Wait did you just say AGAIN!?”

So funny thing. 

This is a regular thing to do with you 

You knew people, you knew how to talk to them and you saw how their mind worked

There were very few people you didn’t understand but you were almost like a little psychologist in the making as you talked people through their emotions in a healthy way.

 If we’re being 100% honest here, you were the closest thing to a guidance councilor for students.

You understood people, you could understand their actions 

Fred began to notice you more, you were always with other students when he did, talking them through things. 

Then he caught wind of some strange bonding sleep over thing happening. 

He went to it just to figure out what the fuck it was

and it was really strange what you were doing

It was like a group therapy session with cookies and games.

“Fred? What brings you here?” you asked. 

“Wanted to know what was going on... And this is weird. Helpful clearly. But weird.” Fred said. 

“Mmm. Makes people closer and limits the real fighting amongst the students. Why do you think Draco’s here?” You asked. 

“Does Sprout know about this?” Fred asked. 

“She made the cookies and cocoa.” You said. 

“ARE THE HOUSE ELVES IN ON THIS TOO!?” Fred gaped. 

“And the portraits.” You nodded.

“What the fuck?”

So he sat through this and my god it got DEEP

Neville admitted that sometimes he felt alone and often pondered what would happen if he just disappeared

Harry (Yes he also came to this shindig) admitted that he honestly hated being recognized easily for accomplishments and honestly doesn’t like that people see him as just that

Draco added onto that saying he honest to God hated it when people said his last name rather than his first because it makes him feel like he’s constantly living in his father’s shadow

House elves were listening and making notes of the students who might need the extra support while occasionally chiming in with their own personal issues

Then it got to Fred and he just sat there baffled by the vulnerability of everyone else spewing their darkest secrets. 

“Fred? Want to say anything?” You asked

“Not... Particularly?” He said.

You nodded and talked people through things, validating all of them and making them feel safe

Lot of crying

A LOT of crying

“Y/n... Do you want to say anything?” Draco asked. 

You shook your head. “Nope I’m good. My life is good.” You shrugged. 

“Everyone has their problems no matter how big or small.” Neville quoted.

“Using my own words against me. Dick.” You teased making him smile. 

You sighed though and finally spoke 

“I feel the constant need to fix other people’s problems because I don’t want people to have to feel the same existential dread I do.” You admitted making Fred gape

“Wow... Y/n, are you okay?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah I’m okay. I just get depressed sometimes. It takes a lot of energy carrying some of the things that I do.” You admitted. 

“We’re all here for you... It’s literally the least you could so after helping us.” Neville said. 

You smiled and looked at the students who nodded and agreed. 

“Thanks guys.” You said. 

“I feel like we need to do something to cheer us up or something.” Hermione said. 

You looked over. “Hermione when did you come in?” you asked

“Like thirty minutes ago after Luna got finished.” Hermione admitted. 

“Have anything you need to talk about?” “Nope I’m good.” She said giving you a thumbs up.

“Mmm. Fred, you’re the master at cheering people up, what should we do?” You asked.

He rose a brow. “Uhm... Well shit uhhhh.” He paused for a moment thinking

“Stress bake?” A student suggested. 

“We did that last time” Another student said

“Ooh we could prank Filch’s office.” Someone said

Fred looked over at them 

“Mm... How many of us have any problems with Filch?” You asked. 

Nearly all hands went up.

“Yeesh.” You winced. 

“The only other teacher we don’t like is friggin’ Gilderoy.” 

“That’s Quirrell’s substitute right?” 

“Yeah he’s an ass.” Harry snorted.

“Yeah, he’s a narcissist.” You agreed.

“Oh I have an idea!” Fred gasped.

“Hmm?” You asked.

“Who wants to help me sneak hair dye into Gilderoy’s shampoo?” Fred asked. 

“I’m down.” You nodded. 

“Good luck!” Luna said as both of you left

You grabbed hair dye from a chest in the Gryffindor common room 

You ended up dying Lockhart’s hair blue because according to Fred he needed some “Ravenclaw pride”

You two were walking while Filch was on the other side of campus and talked

“So how often do you have these sleepovers?” Fred asked.

“Every Thursday night.” You said

“Wow.” Fred said.

“What?” you asked.

“Does it usually get that deep?” Fred asked.

“Oh yeah. But it helps because the house elves get to see who need extra support y’know. Like who needs cookies after exams, or who needs to hear ‘You’ve done a good job this week’” You said

“Smart.” Fred nodded. 

“Y’know Ron and George have come to this before.” You said

“Really?” Fred asked.

“Both of them said you always know how to make people smile.” You said with a smile

“Huh.” Fred nodded mindlessly

“They also said you could be a pain in the ass at times.” You added before walking into the common room.

“Did you do it?” Draco asked

“The trap has been set. Who wants to paint shit?” you asked

“Yes please!” 

So you all ended up painting and laughing with each other

Fred was beginning to understand why you were so loved by everyone

You all had fun that night and Fred was slowly beginning to actually like you

like... Like like you

Fred would smile and laugh with you when you sat with the Gryffindors

He was now going to the library 

He told you not to tell anyone he was there because “it would ruin my reputation” 

You would smile and laugh at that comment 

He did come to the Thursday meetings and usually acted as the comedy relief for the night

btw your prank on Lockhart worked

He screamed like a little girl

P R I C E L E S S

even Snape almost laughed at seeing that fucker walk around with blue hair.

Fred loved seeing that smile, hearing you laugh or hell watching you breathe was mesmerizing to him

You loved seeing him interact with the students and actually act as another therapist type person in the group

If someone in the group had continuous harassment from another student and talking to that student didn’t help, Fred would prank their ass

When you went to Hogsmeade it was a blast

You and Fred seemed to get closer and George was realizing “Oh... Oh they totally like each other”

You met Harry’s Mother who was there for something: LILY LOVES YOU.

SHE THINKS YOU ARE THE PERFECT CHILD

She asked you to look out for Harry because he does look up to you and you nearly cried that you became that good of a role model.

So you got cold at one point and of course Fred bundled you up in his scarf

He wrapped it around you himself and smiled at you

Your heart did a thing and you were like “Oh. Oh fuck I like this guy”

So you started acting a little weird around him

Ten times more jumpier that’s for sure

He said hi behind you in your ear once and you literally threw your book and it hit George

You nearly fell in the lake because he flirted with you

You almost smacked Snape by accident after Fred implied you were gorgeous 

During one of the Thursday meetings one of the others noticed you acting odd when Fred sat close to you.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Draco asked

“Yeah! I’m good, everything is alright here!” You squeaked out

Fred rose a brow and noticed you were bright red.

“Y/n, are you sure you look like you’re losing air or something.” Fred asked. 

“I’m okay--” 

Fred felt your forehead and noticed the redness get worse and it dawned on him what was going on

“Oh my God, YOU LIKE FRED!” Ron gasped

“Wha-- N-nooooo” You lied

“So you don’t?” Fred asked

“No I do-- Wait fuck!” you whined as you became a blushing mess

“I ship it” Cedric coughed out making Neville snort

“Shit shit shit shit shit-- this was not supposed to happen this way” You whined.

“Can we talk alone?” Fred asked.

 “Oh God.” You whined as he helped you up. 

You two went to the kitchens because you didn’t want Filch to find you.

“If you’re going to reject me please just say it now so I can promptly toss myself into the OVEN AND BURN” You begged

“I’m not rejecting you Princess.” He assured

“What?” “I’m saying I like you too.”

You gaped at him and pulled a stool to you before sitting.

“Are you good?” Fred asked. 

“Holy. Shit.” You gaped.

“So... Do you want to date--” “Yes.” You nodded enthusiastically

Fred chuckled and you blushed looking away before Fred extended his hand to you.  

“Shall we?” He asked.

You took his hand and he pressed a kiss to your hand making you nearly die 

“By the way I am totally kissing you later, just so you know.” Fred added 

You guys came back and the whole group was watching you two.

“Well?” Harry asked

Fred said nothing, pulling you to him and kissing you making the whole group go insane

You were a stuttering mess for the rest of the night

Fred was never seen away from you outside of his classes

He was always there with you, smiling and whispering sweet little things in your ear. 

You would smile and kiss his cheek, telling him that you were so glad he chose you

You totally stayed with him during the summer

Molly loved you 

fourth year started 

Remus was now having to be a substitute for Quirrell because his dumbass got sick again

Remus FUCKING LOVED YOU

You were so smart and so kind it was awesome as hell

You were lowkey his favorite student though

you all had more people coming to you on Thursdays and it began to get kind of crowded 

You went to Mcgonagall like “Can we just make this an official club or something that uses the Great hall at night”

To your surprise it went through and now on Thursday nights you slept in the Great Hall

You all would have a blast and plus you and Fred were ICONIC

You two were like the mom and dad of the group

Let someone talk shit

Let them

Fred would fuck their world up REAL QUICK if they didn’t listen to you

Now that Harry was able to go to Hogsmeade you got to meet his family when they met up with him

Lily was excited to see you again

Sirius LOVED you and Fred, Peter thought you were literally the greatest human who lived and James LOVED YOU TO PIECES

You absolutely loved them and actually spent Christmas with them 

The meetings got super fun at times

Deep

but fun

You absolutely adored everyone in the group and Dumbledore did notice a drop in students fighting both verbally and physically

Remus sometimes supervised the meetings and noticed you always listened to the problems

Occasionally you’d ask Remus if he had anything he needed to talk about

He always said no

You slowly began to put together that he was a werewolf though

it became crystal clear after he had to intervene during the boggarts lesson and you saw his boggart

You waited till it was just you and him and you asked how he was feeling 

He realized you knew and you assured him that you wouldn’t say anything

He admitted a lot to you to be honest

He told you how he was attacked as a child and he told you he was always terrified he’d hurt someone he loved

You became determined to help him or any student that might need it and uhm

Became an Animagus 

Mcgonagall registered you don’t worry

You could turn into a dog btw, you were like Sirius except your fur was white

Fred was surprised that his girlfriend was this wizarding BADASS

You literally became known as the “white wolf” and it was kind of epic

You actually did help Remus out occasionally

You were kind of sad when Remus left but you and Fred ended up staying with the Potters for the summer 

Remus was so excited to see his favorite person

Fun fact: because you could turn into a wolf the Marauders called you “Pup” and it was adorable 

Fred loved seeing you geek out over books with Remus 

In his head he just knew already you were the one

The triwizard tournament went down with Cedric being the champion for Hogwarts 

Cedric admitted to the group that he was TERRIFIED of this competition so you were all cheering him on

The other school did have a couple of students who checked out the group

The Durmstrang students were not a fan of emotions so not many of them stayed

The Beauxbatons however had a ton of students who did stay

That’s when the group discovered Fred also spoke French?

 According to Fred “There was a book, I was truly bored because Y/n wasn’t out of class yet and I wanted to know the hype over books”

To which Draco gaped and asked “So you learned FRENCH!?”

You teased him and said “Well shit, and you do that while I’m gone for like an hour, I wonder what would happen if I left you for a week” 

 he pulled you into his arms and said “DON’T YOU DARE”

You got really close to Fleur and Gabrielle especially though

You taught them how to speak better English and they taught you French

That fucking dance class came around and the group quickly discovered: YOU CANNOT DANCE

“It is not my fault my chicken legs have like zero coordination” you whined against Fred

“Wellllll technically--” “Shut it.”

Fred of course asked you to go to the Yule and your response was “Babe, I’m dating you, it’s implied that I was going with you but I appreciate the conformation” 

 You came downstairs that night and HOLY FUCK

Fred nearly dropped at the sight of you 

He actually almost cried actually

You kissed him and told him he looked handsome

He was whispering adorable compliments all night to you 

George and you danced at one point and he told you “Y’know, you and Fred might not be married but you are definitely like a sister to me”

You almost cried 

Fred gave you a promise ring later when you were alone and you nearly broke down crying because you truly loved this boy 

You two being inseparable after that

Cedric was fREAKING OUT later because of the last trial

you calming him down

You watching it with the last group

“Honestly this whole competition has just been the audience waiting except for the dragons... It’s quite boring.” Draco yawned

I mean... He wasn’t wrong

Cedric won 

You were so happy for him and he was super hyped that he won 

But he did something strange

He gave the money to Fred and George

“Cedric we can’t take this--” “I owe it to you guys, please just take the God damn check before I go all Hufflepuff on your ass”

You and Fred going to the Burrow for the summer and having the best time

You meeting Bill and him telling Fred “She’s the one for you man”

Charlie also meeting you and saying the exact same thing 

Fred sitting down and talking to his parents saying “Look. After graduation I’m proposing to Y/n, any objections?”

Arthur and Molly being COMPLETELY ON BOARD

Going to school and having a good last year 

The group having dance parties occasionally to get the feelings out

You did do a strangely cathartic exercise with them of taking cheap plates, writing your darkest secrets on them and then LAUNCHING IT AT THE WALLS

Everyone being kind of sad because you and Fred were leaving after this year and they weren’t ready for you to go 

Placing Neville and Luna as the next two to take over the group after you two graduated

Molly mailing you Christmas sweaters before you came for the Christmas break

You waking up on Christmas morning and sitting in front of the fireplace with Fred while he had his arm around you

Dancing in the snow with him just because you feel like it

Accidentally calling Molly mum and her hugging you telling you to just call her that from now on

Lot of crying when you finally did graduate

lot of it. 

You going back to the Burrow and Fred listening to you talk about how “The future’s in our hands now, we can literally do anything” and him doing something

He proposed

You cried

Said yes, but cried 

You and Fred got married that summer and the group all went

Ron told you he was glad to have you as an older sister and you SOBBED

Ginny told you the same thing-- you also cried at that

You helped the boys open the joke store and worked there until you completed a psychology degree

You became Hogwarts’ guidance councilor

Then you found out you were pregnant after nearly puking on a student

Fred coming to the school because he heard you got sick

Damn it, he was taking care of his wife

“Baby, are you okay!?” He asked. 

“Uhm... Yyeaahh about that” 

You told him

He cried

He was kissing your face and telling you that he was so happy

You have a daughter: Adelaide Molly Weasley 

She is a damn daddy’s girl that’s for sure

But my god does she love her uncle George 

Taglist: @amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho

[courtofjurdan]

One Chance part 8

Jurdan College AU - previous chapter

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*This chapter was not suppose to come out like this out all, but what I wanted to add didn't seem right without this piece sooo I hope you enjoy!! Feel free to give me prompts on what you would like to see!! *

Warning: mentions of sexual and physical abuse

She woke Wednesday not feeling her best. She went to her first class at school but ended up leaving after that. She didn’t have the energy or will power to continue her day. 

 She had to call her lawyer and let her know that she wouldn’t be able to make it in person to their meeting. But, she did let them know she could do it over the phone. Jude didn’t want to push things back. She just wanted to get it over with. 

And that’s exactly what they did, they went over every detail on the phone in preparation for tomorrow. Jude was stressed about it. She was nervous. What happens if it doesn’t go as planned? 

Cardan called her at lunch, worried because he didn’t see her again in her other classes but she let the phone go to voicemail. She didn’t want anybody to know she felt bad. You know, she has to put up that good front. 

But, Cardan took matters into his own hands. Instead of going to lunch somewhere, he goes right to Jude’s door. 

He knocks and says, “Hey Jude, are you in there?”

Jude rolled her eyes, but tried to be a good friend and kept her groan of annoyance quiet.

“Yeah, come in.” She said in a weak-ish tone. 

When Cardan walked in Jude was in her bed wrapped in her blankets.

“Are you okay, Jude?” He walks over to her and sits on the edge of the bed. He was clearly worried. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He didn’t quite believe her.

He put his hand on her forehead and cheeks to check for a fever. When that was okay, he said, “You look pale. Are you sure you're okay? Have you eaten anything?” 

“Well I’ve been nauseous and I have a gigantic headache, but I’m okay. It’s probably because of the recent stress I’ve been through. And no, I haven’t felt like eating.” Jude’s heart broke to see this side of Cardan, concerned. 

Cardan got up, walked outside her bedroom, and looked around the small dorm room and saw bread and a toaster. 

“Would you eat some toast if I fixed you some?”

Jude nodded. 

Cardan quietly left and Jude was trying extra hard to focus on the noises so she could make sure he was actually fixing toast and not snooping.

All of a sudden Cardan yelled, “Do you mind if I fix some for myself?” Jude flinched at the loudness of his voice.

“Yeah I don’t mind.” 

Soon enough he comes into her room carrying two plates of toast and two cups of orange juice. Jude sits up and Cardan lays the tray on the night stand beside her. 

“Here is your food, Princess.” Cardan says playfully.

“No, no not princess, Queen.” 

“Yes, Queen Jude, forgive me.” 

They both started laughing at each other. Jude patted the empty space beside her for Cardan to sit on so he wouldn’t have to eat standing up.

He raised his eyebrows and said, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not going to make you stand there and eat while I’m sitting here eating.” 

He walked around the bed and sat down with his back against the headboard. 

They ate in silence until Cardan looked at his phone and realized the time. 

“Oh Jude, our next class starts in ten minutes.”

He hadn’t realized how long he had been with her. They ate and watched a show on Netflix on Jude’s phone and the time went by fast. 

“Oh ok. Well, thank you for checking in on me. And for taking care of me.” Jude said while a blush covered her cheeks. 

“It was no problem, really. Even though you don’t feel well, I still enjoyed it. It was a nice, silent company.” 

He was about to walk out of her bedroom door when he turned around. 

“I’ll call to check on you later, get plenty of rest and if you need me - and I mean need me for anything- call me. I promise I’ll come.” 

“Okay, Cardan, thank you.” 

He just nodded his head at her and left. He was quite pleased with the impression he made today. He gets to his one chance back, and by God, he is not going to ruin it. 

Taryn called Jude about an hour after Cardan left. He must have told her I wasn’t feeling well. Or maybe she asked about me? Which would be surprising since Taryn has never given two scents of care about me. But, hey, people change, right?

“Hey Jude, Cardan told me you weren’t feeling well. Are you feeling any better?” There was so much sincerity in Taryn’s voice. 

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling much better. The headache is still lingering but the nausea is much better.” 

“Okay that’s good. I’m going to stop by and see you later if that’s okay.” 

“Yeah, Taryn that’s fine. Well, I’ll see you later.” 

“Bye.” Taryn hung up the phone.

That’s weird. Taryn wants to hang out with me, instead of Locke. She never wants to do that, like never. Maybe she misses me. I doubt it. She is probably wanting something and is being nice to me to get it. Jude is always scheming about things. Always thinking. 

Not too long after that Taryn walks in and sees Jude in the bed, sitting up. She looks much better since Cardan has been there but she is still trying to fight off the headache that still lingers. 

“Hey Jude, how are you doing?”

“Much better. Do you need anything?” Jude said quite sharply. 

Well she just cut to the chase. Her wanting to know things fast is getting the best of her.

“Umm, I came to see if you needed anything. I thought I would be nice company, instead of you being lonely. Why would you think I wanted anything?” 

Jude clears her throat before she says, “Well you chose to come over here rather than hang with your precious Locke.” 

Jude saw sadness in Taryn’s eyes as she said, “Have you not noticed?” 

Jude just raised her eyebrows in response so Taryn continued, “Me and Locke aren’t together anymore.” 

Jude put the biggest smile on her face. “Well it’s about time.”

Taryn stood up and started to walk away. She was hurt by the way Jude showed no sympathy to her. Hurt that Jude didn’t care. 

“No wait I’m sorry, Taryn.” Taryn stopped and turned to Jude so Jude continued, “Why did you break up?” 

“He thought it was acceptable for Valerian to violate you. He knew of the plan and he let it take place. He could have stopped it. Could have told somebody. But no, he didn’t. So not only did he lose his friend, he lost his girlfriend.” There were tears running down Taryn's cheek now. 

Jude couldn’t believe it. Taryn broke off the relationship because she obviously loved Jude more than him to know there was a boundary. There was a line. And Locke crossed his line. For Taryn, he lost his chance. 

Jude had been so caught up in herself that she didn’t even realize they weren’t hanging out anymore. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice her sisters own pain. Not just sister, twin. She felt kind of guilty.

“Taryn, you did that for me? You broke off your relationship basically for me?” Jude was shocked.

Taryn nodded and sat back down on the bed. Jude drew her in for a hug. It was her turn for Taryn to cry on her shoulder. Taryn did it for her, it was time to give the same thing back. 

Taryn ended up staying for a couple of hours and they watched a movie and ate popcorn. They both could say that they really enjoyed the presence of each other. They missed times like these. Missed this bond. 

Cardan texts her during the movie to check up on her. 

C: Hey, feeling better??

J: Yeah I’m feeling much better. Taryn is over. We’re watching a movie.

C: Okay, enjoy your movie. Text me if you need me. 

J: Yes, sir. 

Jude could just see him rolling his eyes at the “yes sir” she gave him. 

When Taryn left and she was alone, she had to call one person. She knew the news that she had to tell would benefit him to know. It was no other than the Ghost. 

“Hey.” Ghost said softly.

“Well hello Ghost, I’ve got something to tell you?” Jude was trying to keep her voice cool and calm but she was just so excited. 

“Please, amuse me.” 

“Taryn is no longer dating Locke, that means she is up for grabs. That means I would take your chance while you got it.”

“You have got to be kidding me, you called me for this?” His voice was a little shaky, probably nerves.

“Of course I did. I’m not stupid I know you probably already know because you observe everything quite well, but I’m here to push you further. There is no other possible future brother in law I rather have than you.” Jude said in a quite sarcastic, cheery voice, but he knows she means it wholeheartedly. 

She could basically hear the eye roll from him, “I’m flattered, Jude, but I can’t.” 

“And why is that? Are you crushing on someone else? Woo wait, do you have someone else?”

“No, no Jude, I have nobody, I just can’t talk to her. It might be too early to ask her out. She probably is still hurting, or what if she rejects me? That’s so embarrassing.”

“So what? Are you just going to wish from a distance? And let me tell you, she is ready. The quicker Locke is off her mind, the more I don’t have to worry about her going back to him.” 

“I don’t know, Jude”

“Great, it's a plan. Tomorrow you will ask her to come to lunch with us.” 

“Uhh, Jude-” Ghost began.

Jude interrupted, “No buts.”

She heard Ghost groan and an even bigger smile spread across her face, “fine, fine, I’ll do it. 

“I know you will.” 

“Goodnight, Jude.”

“Night.” 

Jude went to bed that night feeling victorious. She was so excited to see how this pans out. She is pretty sure it will go great. 

It’s Thursday. The day Jude has been waiting for. She has to go to court for the Valerian situation. She is not feeling too bad. She just has this gut wrenching nervousness in the pit of her stomach. But, that’s to be expected. 

Jude does go to her morning classes first though. All her friends know what today is for her so they try to calm her as much as they can but Jude is defiant in help, but they do try. 

Before they left school to eat lunch, Jude pulled Ghost to the side. 

“Okay, When she walks out those doors, you're going to go ask her.” 

“JUDEEEE.” Ghost groaned.

All Jude did was smile and watch. When Taryn walked out the school building, going down the stairs, Jude nudged Ghost forward as if to tell him to go. And that’s exactly what he did. 

When Taryn was walking to her car, the ghost stopped her halfway in the parking lot. 

“Hey - Hey Taryn, would you like to go eat lunch with us?” You could hear the nerves in his voice.

 Then he motioned to his friends by the Bomb’s car. Jude looked and waved. 

“Did Jude put you up to this?” Taryn asked looking at Jude then back into his hazel eyes. 

“Umm no not really. I’ve wanted to ask you but you were with…. and then I didn’t have the nerve to ask you after so now she is just encouraging me.” Well that is not where he wanted this to go.

But his fears finally vanished when she touched his upper arm and said, “Yes, Garret, I would be delighted then to eat lunch with you.”

They all had a really good time. Ghost had the biggest smile on his face and the rest of the gang didn’t miss it. They knew he was beyond happy. Unfortunately Jude’s happiness came to an end when she looked at the time and realized she had to go to the Courthouse.

Jude gets to the courthouse and she sees her lawyer. They set her down up front. About five minutes later, Valerian, a police officer, and his lawyer walk in and sit on the other side of her. 

Valerian is in handcuffs, and is wearing the ugliest orange jumpsuit. He looks mad, really mad. He is giving her a stare of pure death, but Jude gives him the purest smile, trying to hide all the nervousness she is feeling.  

The judge starts with why he is here and goes over the details that she has read upon. They then asked Jude to come up front and sit, and tell her part. She shows them the pictures of what valerian had done. 

Valerian lawyer tries to downplay everything. The lawyer knew he would be serving time, but he was trying to lessen it.

Unfortunately for Valerian, fortunately for Jude, his lawyer wasn’t good enough. Or Jude’s lawyer was just too good because the judge went over the information again and she proceeded to give Valerian his sentence. 

“You are guilty.” 

Valerian would be spending the next couple of years in prison for sexual abuse, and physical abuse. Jude was happy. Happy that she didn’t  have to see that face for a long time. Maybe prison would change him. 

She gets back to her dorm and it is about 5 o’clock in the afternoon. She calls Cardan and tells him everything. Cardan is proud of her. Proud that she put her foot down. Proud that she went through with the whole ordeal. Proud that she won. 

Next Chapter

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________________

I hope you enjoyed!! The next chapter I will be revealing something BIG!!!

Taglist:

@newwifeyy | @aelin-queen-of-terrasen | @afexiss | @mi-mavencalories | @roseygirl25 | @spideygirlstuff | @deargreenbriar | @b00kworm | 

[got7-markjinson]

All I Want For Christmas is: Thursday [Jinyoung]

Pairing: Reader X GOT7 Jinyoung Genre: Fluff; Word Count: 2k+

Summary: Grumpy Ticket booth seller Jinyoung just wants to be left alone. But found someone who he wants to be with.

[All I Want For Christmas: is a GOT7 collab]

A/N: I’m sorry this came in late. I got sick these past few days. This one’s also short but I hope it’s enough for the holiday drabble! ^_^v (Happy birthday to me, too!)

**

If you would tell young Jinyoung how he would grow up to be, describing the current adult Jinyoung to him, he wouldn’t have believed you. And young Jinyoung believed in a lot of things.

As the youngest of the Park siblings, Jinyoung was coddled. His parents make sure he gets the gifts he wants for Christmas, setting up everything to make it look like Santa has placed it nicely on his socks the night before.

Him reaching adolescence is a different matter. As the only male heir of the Park family, expectations were high. And that meant he needs to grow up quicker.

Choosing to move into the city since he got into college, it seems that nothing goes well for him though. His grades were mediocre at best, and he never even got a stable job after graduation.

Not living up to his family name, he always makes excuses to miss going home for the holidays. Anything would be better than having them ask how he is and have him blatantly lie every time that he’s doing great! That their only son is NOT always stuck in between jobs and is DEFINITELY doing what he loves.

Which is why he’s here. With a few friends from college, he has signed up for the White Miracle Market.

Of all the places he could’ve setup, he chose to man the ticket booth for the Daily Christmas shows. It suits him, he doesn’t need to produce anything. He doesn’t even need to pitch for sales, as the posters for the daily shows are already setup on the website and posters are plastered on all the corners of the market since day one.

The little interactions he had with the holiday visitors would only amount to questions from “What day and time would a particular show be up?” or “How much for a group ticket?” and an occasional “Is there a student discount?”

Most of the time, he would just tap on the schedule and price list clearly printed and plastered on the glass in between him and the visitors. He clearly doesn’t know why people don’t check first before asking. Does the holiday call for people to think he would be accommodating? Does his face look like he wanted to talk to them? He couldn’t tell.

Hell, even with his friends are showing up every now and then invading his booth.

Just the other day, Jaebeom crashed, sharing his concerns on being stuck on a special order from his toy making shop.

“We only know one other person who’s an expert on this crap.”, Jinyoung tells him. Crass and unfiltered as how he usually talks.

With a defeated sigh, Jaebeom replied, “Yeah… it’s time for me to go to her.”

Her? Jinyoung was thinking of Yugyeom but he guessed Jaebeom just thinks what he wanted to. Maybe it was the girl from the crafts shop that he has been crushing for a while. And maybe Jinyoung doesn’t care if he was misread. As long as it would make Jaebeom leave him to his booth in peace.

“I just don’t get it,” Bambam complained to him on another occasion. “Most women love me. I’m handsome and charming. How was she so put off by me on our first date?”

“Let me put it this way.” Jinyoung thinking a visual representation would help pulled out a ticket and pen and drew two lines, “This line is the group of women that are interested in you. And this line right underneath is the group of women you’re interested in.”

“I don’t get it.” It was clear Bambam doesn’t, looking at his blank eyes.

“They’re parallel lines, Bambam. They never meet.”

“So?”

“So, you’re fucked,” Jinyoung stated, matter-of-factly. Maybe in this language Bambam would finally understand. “Now, go away.” Instantly shoving Bambam out of his space.

And today, another uninvited guest just waltzed in on his booth, screaming loudly, “Jinyoung! She outsold me… AGAIN! Could you imagine this face? Being outsold?”

“I clearly remembered you’re selling chocolates and not beauty products, Jackson.”, Rubbing his temples with his fingers, he tried to call out his inner peace. He literally just talked to him a while back on overstepping boundaries when he and Youngjae had a fallout. He thought there wouldn’t be another issue with Jackson for another week or so, but Jinyoung must have been asking for too much. But this is really testing his patience. He clearly shouldn’t be thinking of murdering his friends for disturbing his personal space.

“I am! But still! This face should be able to sell anything!”, Jackson huffed, “If you wouldn’t be so selfish and buy some of my chocolates, my sales would’ve done better, y’know.”

“That’s it! Get out, Jackson!”, Jinyoung finally lost it. It was the final straw. Him? Selfish? After all him listening to his friends’ petty woes. Barging into his space like it’s their own, without care that he would like to be left alone. It’s not like he’s Santa Claus. Right, they have a resident Santa Claus, why not they go to him instead?

He put out his “STAFF ON BREAK” sign early to take a breath. Away from the space, and hopefully escape from his clingy friends. He went behind the theatre of where his booth was strategically placed beside of.

Even if he sold the tickets, he never has personally watched any of the shows so this is the first time he would go here. He was expecting the theatre to be empty as the shows usually starts late, but he was surprise to hear voices coming from the stage. He went closer and saw that there was only one person there, changing voices to play different parts of the play.

It was surreal. You looked like a painting standing there with your makeshift costume, your hair disheveled from moving around on all the edges to perform each act alone. Beads of sweat on the corner of your face twinkle from the bright lights of the stage. He was in awe.

You turned around and paused mid-sentence on one of your lines when you got startled to see another person there.

“Oh! Sorry to disturb your practice.”, he uttered.

“No. It’s okay.” You breathed in relief. And then offered a chuckle, “I just got a little jumpy. Maybe I had too much coffee this morning.”

You smiled when you recognized him and involuntarily, he smiled back.

“I knew it! You can smile, too!”, you joked.

Jinyoung was caught off guard, and he gave a puzzled expression on his face.

“You’re Jinyoung, right? The one from the ticket booth?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You just always looked so… professional.”, you were looking for a better word than that. “Passive.”

“Oh.”, Jinyoung realized his face does show his lack of enthusiasm when he sells tickets. “Yeah, I just don’t think I mingle well with people.”

“Would you like to read lines with me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well… It might help you practice things to say to people if you read lines. Right?” You say, hoping that lame excuse would hide the fact that you just wanted to get to know him. That you wanted him to stay longer. God, you have been crushing on him for a while and you need to seize your chance! In fact, you even auditioned for one of the Christmas shows ever since you bought a ticket from him last Christmas, wishing to see more of him. “That is, if you’re not busy of course.”

And that’s where it started. Jinyoung usually didn’t take notice of the show titles and when it’s held. But now, he gets excited on Thursdays. The days you perform.

It has been the usual afternoon that you’re rehearsing on the empty theatre with Jinyoung. He sometimes reading the lines with you, but he mostly just observes. However today, he was quiet and as you ended one scene and walked towards the audience, you see him asleep on one of the seats. You smiled to yourself and quietly walked down out of the stage and sat beside him.

Cupping your face with one hand, you just looked at his steady breathing. You whispered. “Jinyoung…”, you reached out to fix a strand of hair out of place and continued with your monologue. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I really wanted to tell you something...”

You cleared your throat. “I actually liked you. A lot.”

Internally, you were cursing yourself for feeling so embarrassed confessing to a person asleep. But right now, this is the only thing you can do. You continued “I thought I’m okay with just looking at you from afar but… But since I have been spending time with you these past few days. It makes me want more. I’m scared you won’t like me but it’s okay if you don’t like me back. I just wanted to say this in person. Maybe… Maybe this Thursday I’ll be brave enough to tell you. Wait for me, then. Okay?”

You quietly left the theatre. And slowly, Jinyoung’s eyes fluttered open.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe someone like him would be liked by someone like you. His heart clenched, his body warmed, a certain happiness he has never thought he would have washed over him. He needed to tell it to you first. How you make him feel. That you changed the way he looked at things in this supposed to be hell of a holiday. That a loser like him would ever find this happiness.

Thursday came again.

But as he watched the show, he was surprised when your role was being played by someone else. The show ended with no signs of you. He waited. Until all of the audience and actors were gone. Until the theatre was empty. But there was no you.

He couldn’t have dreamt it all, could he? Were you ever real?

Days gone by that he hasn’t seen or heard from you and he doesn’t know what to make of it. He had never made attachments before, so he doesn’t know what he feels right now, and it just makes him lose sleep.

One day, Jinyoung woke up late, not that he was usually excited on coming to work for the holidays, but he was usually on time. One might say that he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Feeling cranky and a little naughty when he passed by the chocolates stand on his way to the ticket booth.

“Don’t you want to try a line or two on me?”, he mischievously asked the lady owner of the chocolate stand opposite Jackson’s.

“I don’t play that dirty,” came the reply.

Jinyoung was amused and then picked up several bags of chocolates from display with a yell from Jackson from behind “Oi, Jinyoung! What the hell?! Get over here!”

After shoving the money into the seller’s hand, he let out a quick, “Thanks for this. Not only will I have something to get me through the hell that is my shift, but I got to piss off Jackson, too.” Before running off to escape from Jackson.

Jinyoung laughed to himself as he seated inside his booth, seeming pleased with his prank on Jackson until he saw the calendar on his desk. Thursday. It was Thursday once again.

He sighed. And with a knock on the glass, a voice asked. “How much for two tickets for the 10 AM show?”

“I’m sorry but there’s no shows at 10 AM.” he responded, confident on the schedules as he memorized them by heart. As he uttered the words, he looked at the early bird ticket buyer.

He was speechless.

“Did you miss me?”, you say.

Without a word, he ran outside the booth to look at you face to face, only to see you in crutches. But it didn’t stop him from hugging you, which is so unlike him, at all. “God! Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry.” You say as you breathed his warmth. “I was clumsy, and I slipped, and I fell, and I broke my leg.” You chuckled at the events. It sounds funny as you were saying it out loud.

This time, he laughed with you, “You what? How could you have done that?”

“I know. I don’t know.”, he pulled away and is now looking at you with clear eyes, whisker-like wrinkles underneath and a wide smile on his face. This is the most beautiful he has ever been.

“Don’t you ever. Ever. Leave. Without telling me again.”

“Listen, Jinyoung. There’s something I actually wanted to tell you before.”

He put a finger on your lips to stop you and he shook his head. “I wanted to tell you something first.”

He dropped his hands and took yours, “I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot. If you let me, I would like to get to know you more.”

“I would like that”, you replied with a grateful smile on your face.

He enveloped you in a hug again, the warmest of all the hugs in the world.

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.14]

Chapter:  Aquila

Summary: Lunch dates and art shows 

Warnings:  It’s kind of a sad chapter which is so unusual for Astrophile and I feel bad about it, okay??? Ends happily, though.  Or the promise of happiness. 

A/N:   That much closer to the end lovelies. 3 more chapters to go!  Send me love because I’m needy, okay??

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Y/n has been in a funk since that day. 

That terrible, awful day she never wants to speak about. The day she realized Bucky really is only her friend and all the handholding at the zoo was merely friendly, and the flirting was only playful banter she mistakenly took for flirty teasing. She’s aware how laughable the thought of forgetting the entire day is and just how foolish it was for her to think they were anything other than friends.  It’s not as if he has changed the way he has treated her; his actions towards her have stayed the same since they met. Maybe he’s a little more comfortable and a bit more sure of himself around her, but nothing has changed between them. 

In the three months, two week and five days they have known each other, nothing has changed to make her think that his heart was longing for hers the way her heart wanted to belong to him.  

Though she supposes the more significant issue, Bucky’s been dating someone else and never bothered to mention the woman to Y/n.  She thought they were closer than that. She believed he would at least subtly drop a hint that he had started talking to another woman. All those nights they spent talking on the phone he never once brought it up and now grabbing his hand the way she did felt incredibly inappropriate. But she could have sworn that night on the phone when she was drifting off he called her babydoll. It must have been the sleepy twilight playing tricks on her. 

Natasha told her as much. She said there was no way Bucky was seeing someone else and she didn’t know about it, more importantly, there was no way he was seeing someone and let her into Ori’s life. Someone was playing a trick on her. Natasha told her, you’re the only woman he would allow in Ori’s life like that. He keeps his dating life separate from her. It was nice to hear, but it didn’t mean all that much in the end. Ori’s the brightest little girl Y/n has ever met; she wouldn’t put it past her to have figured it out regardless of Bucky’s intentions. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Barnes?” Tony asks as his arm drops behind her on the back of the dark blue couch in her office. After having refused to meet Tony for lunch for the third time this week, he came by with tacos from her favorite place and flipped the open sign to closed. After he purchased the books of all her customers that were currently waiting and politely asked them all to leave. 

And added on their way out, the owner is actually very nice, and I promise not to kick you out when you come back, and you all better come back. 

Y/n narrows her eyes in suspicion as his question tumbles around her head. Tony shouldn’t know anything happened between her and Bucky. The only person she mentioned it to was Natasha so Tony shouldn’t be giving her that know-it-all smirk right now. Tony sighs through her silence and points to her calendar on the wall behind them.

“You erased movie night with Bucky from Thursday. We’ve been talking for two hours now, and your phone hasn’t gone off once. He called you more when we were dating. So what happened?” 

Her eyes lingered on the faded pencil, and little pieces of pink rubbed off eraser; she learned long ago to never write anything down in permanent ink.

Long ago, when the books she read still had pictures on every page, and she was just beginning to learn of the stars, black ink and curly script taught her nothing should be written in ink. It was a conference. Just a simple lecture. It was only supposed to be four days, and then they would be home. Her parents had promised five years old her they would be back in four short days, but they never made it to the conference, and they never came home. The ink on the calendar in the kitchen wouldn’t come off no matter how hard she tried. 

It’s been pencil from that moment on.

“I don’t know,” Y/n says with a shrug and pushes her plate away from her, leaning in to Tony’s side. She couldn’t force herself to eat another bite. She doesn’t have the stomach to eat a plate full of anything right. Tacos or not.

“I thought maybe…” Y/n let her voice trail off and the conversation still, she didn’t want to admit what she thought.   

“You thought what?” Tony urges, bumping their knees together in an encouraging nudge. She looks up from where she’s leaning on him and gives a small shrug, “I thought maybe he was asking me out on a date, so I was excited. It was dumb.” 

Tony shakes his head and presses a kiss to her forehead, “I’ll tell you one thing, the two of you are made for each other, you know that?” 

She slowly sits up and pulls her legs under her, confusing yet curious gleam in her eyes. “What does that mean?“ 

He chuckles and pulls her plate towards him, stealing a bite of one of her untouched tacos as he casually suggests, "Bring him to my wedding." 

Y/n blinks and blinks again. She clearly didn’t hear that right. She shakes the fog away and swiftly drags the plate away from him before being her interrogation, "I’m sorry your what?"

Tony reaches for the dish, but she deliberately keeps it just out of his reach. Tony huffs in defeat and abandons the tacos. 

"Did I not mention I told Pepper…Well, I actually blurted it out in an argument, but I told her that I might be absolutely, unequivocally, in love with her, at least I think so. Never been in love with anyone but her so I don’t have a lot to compare it to and for some reason I can’t figure out she said she loved me too. Happy? Can I have the tacos now?” 

She snorts and passes the plate back over so it’s within his reach once again. It did seem a little fast, but it’s Tony so part of her wasn’t all that surprised. 

"And that means getting married right away? You don’t want to just date and see where it goes?” 

Tony sets her plate back on the table and wraps both of her hands in his. 

"Y/n, I’ve loved her for half my life. When you wait as long as I have, you really don’t want to wait anymore. Though Pepper does want to wait. A year. She’s actually in charge. I pretend it’s me. Don’t tell anyone I said that. She settled on next July.  Bring Barnes with you and maybe by the end of the night, one of you will finally admit how you feel.” 

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at how giddy Tony sounded. Perhaps waiting wasn’t the right choice every time. She has always waited until she was one hundred percent sure the decision she was making was the right choice, ensuring she wasn’t making any mistakes, double-checking, and triple-checking. Maybe she waited too long and checked those little boxes too many times. She should have said something the moment she knew she felt something for Bucky. On the balcony with the peach-colored sky in front of her and delicate whispers in her ear because pinky promises weren’t the only thing exchanged that night.��

There’s no point in dwelling on all that now. Whatever they had was over, if they ever had anything at all.

"I’ll be there. Not sure if Bucky will come with me. Things are weird now. I tried to talk to him, but I felt funny knowing he has someone else. Plus, his girlfriend might not like the idea of him going to someone’s wedding as my date, Tony.” 

Tony furrows his brows and shakes his head, a look of thorough disbelief written on his face.

“Good grief,” Tony sighs dramatically. 

“Just ask him, will you? He will go if you ask him. I don’t think anyone could keep him from being your date and I am pretty sure this fake girlfriend you’re talking about doesn’t stand a chance next to you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I’m never wrong. It’s a curse really.” 

Fake girlfriend? Yeah, okay. Y/n wants to tell Tony he is about to be wrong for the first time in his life and can join Natasha on the losers bench. He didn’t see the look on Ori’s face when she asked for that book. Whoever the woman is, she’s important to Bucky and to Ori. Just because he has a girlfriend, doesn’t mean they can’t be friends though. They were friends when she dated Tony, so why should this be any different? Bucky held her heart then too, she only couldn’t see it at the time.  

If Y/n asked him to go to Tony’s wedding as a friend it didn’t have to mean more than that. Friends do favors for friends all the time, and this was just that. A simple favor because it could never be more than that. They would probably never be more than friends, and she would have to be okay with that. She drops her head back onto the headrest of the couch in her office and spots the clouds through her small window and she can’t help but wonder what Bucky is doing right now. 

--------

“You grumpy because she canceled on you?” 

Bucky sighed and tipped his head back on the deck chair and looked up at the clouds. Too early for stars, but he wonders where Y/n is and if she’s looking up at the same clouds. Was he grumpy because Y/n cancelled on him? Sam usually didn’t ask questions he doesn’t already know the answer to, but Bucky isn’t so sure he knows the answer to this question. No. No, he’s not– Okay, maybe a little. In truth, he just misses her. He misses talking to her until she falls asleep and their video chats and her laugh and lemon pancakes. 

Yeah, they still talk every day, but it’s different, strange. She’s distant and off, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. So if he is grumpy at all, which he isn’t, that’s why. He doesn’t know how to get them back, and he has no idea how to fix this.

“Nope,” Bucky finally answered, faint but curt. 

“Man… you’re in love with her. Can we just cut the crap and figure out where you went wrong so we can make a plan to fix whatever you did,” Steve nudges Sam’s arm and shakes his head, silently telling him to go easy on the teasing. He’s known Bucky his entire life, and he’s never once seen him this tore up because of a woman he likes. 

“No, I’m not,” Bucky counters.  “Besides, even if I was, I don’t want to bring some woman into Ori’s life just so she can bolt on her.” 

Steve puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder to stop him, but Sam shrugs it off. Now, he’s pissed and he’s done with whatever game Bucky is playing. 

“First of all,  she is not just some woman. You’re upset and hurting so you’re saying some dumb shit right now. I’ll let it slide. Second, Y/n didn’t bolt on Ori. She’s still spending time with her. You just said Nat took her to the bookstore yesterday. Y/n is spending just as much time with Ori as she was before, and peanut has no idea what’s going on. You’re mad she’s not spending time with you.”

Bucky has nothing to say to that because Sam is right. He’s jealous and sad and misses her more than he wants to admit to anyone – himself included. If he doesn’t admit it, if he doesn’t say it out loud then it’s not real, and he still has time.There’s still the illusion he has time with her. 

“Have you tried talking to her and asking what happened?” Steve asks, much gentler than his other half. 

“Yeah, I text her. ‘Bout twenty times, and her replies are weird and stiff. You think I just stopped talking to her completely? I tried, okay?”

Sam rolls his eyes and grumbles under his breath, “For the love of…” He sits up and meets Bucky’s eyes speaking slow and clear, “Have you talked to her in person? Spelled it all out?  Because I swear the two of you need it in a flashing neon sign written out plainly for you both to see.” 

Bucky shifts in his chair and looks down at the empty bottle of water in his hand. Of course, Bucky has thought about driving to the bookstore. He thought about asking her if he did something, or said something to make her drop their night together. He’s thought about it at least a hundred times since she cancelled and every time he’s made it to the front door he stops himself because if he went there only to have her tell him to leave he doesn’t think his heart could take it. 

“She cancelled our date,” Bucky is quick to remind them. “I’m not going to just show up at her bookstore and be a creep when she obviously doesn’t want to be alone with me.” 

 “Your what?” Sam asks, a bit too eager. “She cancel;ed your what?” 

Bucky looks up to find Sam and Steve grinning at him and being set on fire would be a less painful death than this. He chucks his empty bottle of water at the couple who separate long enough to avoid the harmless plastic.

“Shut up. I hate you both,” Bucky stands up checking his phone before slipping it back into his pocket. No new messages. No missed calls. No replies. Not that he expected any. “Alright,” He cleared his throat of any lingering emotions. “Ori has that art show tonight. She’s submitting her fireworks in a jar and parents are supposed to put in their votes for the best artist so I’ll catch you jerks later.” 

“You bringing Ori over after her thing tonight? Just because you’re missing out on your date doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get to see our niece!” Sam shouts after him. Bucky doesn’t bother turning around, simply raises his hand and lets it drop back by his side.

“Yeah, Yeah. Be here around eight.”

Because a night alone was just what Bucky was hoping for. 

-----

Bucky stood next to Ori’s spot at the table her class was assigned to. Apparently, their classes were given animal mascots and her class was the Panda Class. Her table had a big Panda drawn on the bulletin board paper lining the tiny table. Bucky was helping her set up until about ten minutes when he was told by a certain curly-haired little girl that he was, truthfully, doing it all wrong and he should wait there to make sure everyone finds her spot. He has no idea what she is talking about. Bucky thought he put the poster board in the right spot and he’s the only one coming, so Bucky’s not entirely sure who he is supposed to help get to the table. 

Probably best he doesn’t ask, she gets her stress management from her Uncle Steve.

He spins around to check out their competition while Ori works, and there are a few pretty impressive displays. There are several pieces of artwork with bubblegum wrappers and another with melted candy turned into glass and Bucky’s a little worried about their changes. Not that fireworks in a jar aren’t the coolest, most original projects in the room but the parents had to vote (and yeah, Bucky thought that was pretty fucked up when they sent the flyer home) and Bucky knows adults aren’t always fair.

Now, Bucky isn’t proud of this, but for a brief moment, he thought about taking Natasha up on her offer to make sure Ori wins. He wasn’t sure what that would entail but knowing Natasha someone’s pigtails would be clipped by the end of the night. The idea of his bright-eyed girl leaving in tears had his hackles raised, but that wouldn’t be the best way to teach Ori about the real world, losing and earning your wins– Or that’s what Steve said anyway. 

“Daddy!” Ori squealed. “She’s here! She’s here!”

Bucky frowns as Ori rushes by him heading for the front doors of the cafeteria turned art gallery. Who the hell is Ori talking about? Bucky turns around in time to see Y/n hugging Ori against her, beaming like she does anytime she sees Ori. Y/n let Ori take her hand and leads her through the crowd, heading right for him. She looks anxious, maybe, or it could be the crowds. Y/n doesn’t like big crowds. Bucky’s not sure if he’s the reason behind her nerves, but she definitely looks nervous and so damn beautiful. 

Y/n stops in front of him letting Ori run back to the spot with her nametag written in glitter, leaving the two alone for the first time in far, far too long. Bucky catches a whiff of her lemon lotion, and that almond body spray she uses and his heart stutters back to life as if he hasn’t been living without a single beat since he lost her.

“Hey, December.”

Bucky grins for the first time in five days.

“Hey, Beck.”

Previous // Next 

[red-winters]

*Batfam fic-recs

*Some are Tim Drake Centric

**Some links are not working in mobile (and ONLY mobile) for some reason? And some titles that were bolded in the original post are ALSO not displaying on mobile correctly. Idk what to do about that, but you can still look up the fic, I guess.

The Bat’s Crest - livierambles

Note: I will always keep recommending this fic. It’s epic, thrilling, and hilarious and sometimes angsty. Also, everyone is confused, including the ones doing the confusing. Maybe especially the ones doing the confusing. Also, some Tim and Damian bonding, which is always nice.

Summary: Tragedy strikes the hero community when Bruce Wayne commits a crime so heinous even the best start asking for blood. However, as the heroes try to recover from the hit and carry out justice for their friends, a random assortment of people start acting oddly, including the current Speedy Tim Drake, a child hostage in Gotham, and a young man from an unremarkable circus amongst others. All of them seem intent on saving Bruce Wayne from the grasp of the Justice League for no apparent reason, going as far as betraying their previous allegiances.

Unknown to the Justice League, these people are equally confused. Clearly they're stuck in another dimension, but how do they get back? How did they even get here? Who else is stuck in this world? And how long will Tim's patience last? Back home, the Bat was a planetary symbol that struck fear in the hearts of criminals. In this new world, it has no meaning, save for the handful of stranded souls.

In the Shadows - Kieron_ODuibhir

(shortened) Summary:

“I’m not like you.”

The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.” 

Chirp - AmariT

Summary: Every piece of the signal Tim unlocked revealed more locks, and by the time he broke through the last one, he was already mentally rehearsing his many upcoming talk show appearances. 'Yes,' he told the interviewer, 'it was difficult for me, a ten-year-old genius, to break open the worldwide alien conspiracy. That's why it took a whole hour.'

When the crackling audio started, he expected some weird alien language. Maybe squawks and high-pitched squeals mixed with musical woofs. Maybe they wouldn't talk at all, and images would beam directly into his mind. Maybe they'd talk in practiced English with a Midwestern drawl like their other resident alien.

Instead he heard a low, guttural voice growling out of his computer speakers. "Robin," it said. "Are you in position?"

A Better Cage - Mangaluva

Note: I was absolutely DELIGHTED to see a Young Justice Crossover with the Justice Lords (Earth-50) from the animated Justice League series, which is near and dear to my heart. I admit I haven’t really had much time to hunker down and read this, but even skimming, it’s an intriguing piece of work. Also, Justice Lords.

Summary: Wally's grateful to have woken up at all, really. He just doesn't know what to make of the world he's woken up in. At least they want to find a way to his world as much as he does, if not exactly for the same reasons...

Common People - AmariT

Note: The Bat boys are all Bruce’s blood sons, but it still feels very much like a found family. I haven’t really read everything in this series, but I feel the author has an amazing grip on all the characters. Lovely and heartwarming.

Summary: His whole life, Jason’s mom had told him his dad was Bruce Wayne, but he’d never been dumb enough to actually believe it. They lived in a rundown, one-room apartment in the worst part of town, and in every single picture he’d ever seen of that rich bastard he was wearing a suit or sipping champagne worth more than everything they’d ever owned.

But if he wasn’t Bruce Wayne’s kid, then what the hell was he doing sitting outside the man’s office in Wayne Towers?

Red Robin and the Hood - momoejaku

Note: Haven’t read this in a while, but it made an impression. Though it’s a fic set during the Red Robin arc, it very much is about both Tim and Jason. Plus, it fleshes out the Pru and Z a bit more, too.

Summary: Bruce Wayne is dead. Superman brought back his body, and the family mourned him, holding a quiet funeral in secret so that the legacy of Batman could live on. But not everyone has been able to put him to rest.

Reeling from the loss of Bruce, his identity as Robin and his trust in his family, Tim Drake sets out on a personal quest that will take him across the world to prove what he knows in his heart: that Bruce Wayne is alive.

Though intending to make his way alone, Tim reluctantly accepts help from his predecessor, Jason Todd, who knows from personal experience that death is not always as final as it seems.

Together, they are Red Robin and the Hood.

Liminal Spaces - Calamityjim

Note: Skimmed this only since I’ve been busy, BUT it does look well-written, and I’m always a sucker for alternate dimension/dimension travel intervention-type of fix-its. It’s a very specific trope.

Summary:

Bruce's habit of collecting strays is not limited by dimension.

Or

When Young Justice Batman comes across an angsty, seemingly abandoned by his Batman Tim Drake, he decides to step up to the plate and parent the crap out of him.

Little Bird’s Vengeance - KatHarkness-Katara

Note: Crossover with Avengers. Awesome fic with Tim and Jason and some Outsider POV (via the Avengers) of these dimensional stragglers. I think Tim’s team shows up in the later chapters, too. If you’re reading on mobile, it’s still very much worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version.

Summary: Why is life never simple? Red Robin's ended up worlds away from home once again, and now what's he to do? What do the Avengers want from him; do SHIELD have another agenda; and is there any way back? Pre-New 52. No slash. Rated for inevitable language/violent themes.

A Displaced Red Robin - dragonprincess1988

Note: Worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version. Well-written fic! EMOTIONS! I love them. Younger Dick Grayson is adorable, Tim is a competent fixer-upper for other people but not so much himself. He’s kind of angsty and making YJ Dick want to keep him (and YJ Bruce, too, if you read between the lines). On the plus side, seems like he’s making good friends with Young Justice Roy. This fic was written before certain episodes of YJ came out, though, and the fic reflects/will continue to reflect that. Still, I give it five stars.

Author’s Summary: Tim gets transported to the cartoon Young Justice world, and he's not sure he knows how to deal with it. Attention: If you want to know about Artemis or people from Tim's world the final note on my profile is for you. Also, a special thank you to angel-gidget over at Tumblr, who made the wonderful cover art for this story.

The Till-then From the Ever Since - Keiron O_Duibhir

Note: Fandom classic. Definitely a must-read for Batfam fans, in my humble opinion.

Summary: It began, or seemed to begin, with Jason.

Usually that would have meant something in the order of fire and explosion and probably at least one gunshot wound, but for once (as Tim said, sourly), it wasn't actually Jason's fault.

The Wayne Family Ghost - pupeez4eva

Note: Please read this. Especially if you’re sad or anxious or just have time. I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s my go-to cheer-up fic. Absolutely hysterical.

Summary: In which Bruce realizes that having a legally dead son, who regularly hangs around the family, might be slightly problematic. 

Bloodline - chibi_nightowl

Note: Complicated family dynamics, this time centering around Tim, Selina, Bruce and, surprisingly, Damian. Jason and Dick make an appearance as supportive big bros, too. It works. Take a read, it isn’t that long.

Summary:

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.”

Tim blinked. “My what?”

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

Talon!Tim AU Series by keeptogethernow

Note: Found family, from a different angle. Cool fic and well-written.

Summary of Tso’ape Mumbichi, first in the series: Ten years ago, two people made a deal with the devil--unlimited funds in exchange for their child. And now it's time to pay up. But there's no way to ensure that the child will cooperate.

Shutterbug Series by goldkirk

Note: Exactly what it says on the tin! Found family.

Summary:

Tim Drake is thirteen, runs the famous BatWatch blog that has spiraled hilariously out of control, has absentee parents that suit his purposes just fine, is training himself to run the streets at night, and is doing absolutely peachy, thank you.

Alfred and Jason disagree, and get Dick and Bruce involved in figuring out their weird next door neighbor kid’s life. Everything goes uphill from there.

Thursday’s Child - anthalogia

Note: Well-written and has found family and Tiny!Tim? Automatic win.

Summary:

He’s not the first child with nowhere else to go that Bruce Wayne has taken in. Dick Grayson was the first and the most high-profile – because no one would have thought Bruce Wayne was interested in ever raising a child, let alone the orphaned son of circus performers – but Jason was maybe just as much of a shock to society for being a street kid who came out of seemingly nowhere. Tim Drake is ordinary by comparison – his parents died in a plane accident. He can’t think of anything very special about him except that he met Bruce a few times when his parents hosted parties to keep in touch with Gotham society.

Or, tiny Tim Drake is adopted by the Waynes a little earlier than scheduled.

We’re Not Driving (How did we get here?) - TimTheToaster

Note: Short and sweet, a little angsty, and then very sweet.

Summary:

Tim stared at his phone, as if that would change what was on the screen.

Dick Grayson @FlyingDGrayson

It took some doing, and in some cases a little blackmail, but we've finally got the whole family together for a movie night! #WayneManor #movienight #familytime #schedulingisanightmare

15 minutes ago

Take It Back Now Y’all - TimTheToaster

Note: And Tiny!Jason has made his appearance. Also, Tim, I am begging you to please take care of yourself—ah, Bruce has made his appearance. Interesting. Also, I gotta say this author is good.

Summary:

There was absolutely no way this sunshine was from Gotham in April.

Not possible.

Which meant, Tim was no longer in Gotham, in April.

(In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Takes a Little Time, Takes a Lotta Twine (To Get Us Back Together) - TimTheToaster

Note: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, beginning of reconciliation, and brotherhood. A satisfying, cathartic moment during the Red Robin arc to soothe your heart.

Summary:

Tim was in Gotham.

Tim had pretty specifically been avoiding thinking about Dick as much as possible for the last few weeks.

For the last year, really. No need to open that can of carnivorous worms.

Dick had other plans.

Everybody’s Heard (Bird is the Word) - TimTheToaster

Red Robin Era ANGST, but like, deliciously well-written. Also, protective Dad Bruce is always epic. Light bashing of Green Arrow and BC, though. But considering the situation (in this fic), kind of warranted.

Summary:

5 times Batman heard other heroes talking about his wayward brother,

And 1 time they were talking about his son.

A Choice to Make - scorbusfics

Note: fresh and interesting premise! Cool world building, too.

Summary: They have to choose. Dick and Bruce have to choose one person each to save, and one to disappear through the door.

“Send one of us,” Dick says fiercely, not for the first time. His face is dark and angry and desperate, eyes flicking from brother to brother. “Send one of us instead. I won’t choose.”

“Neither will I,” Bruce says.

But Tim knows.

Secret Places - RenaRoo

It’s ANGST, but the author knows how to use it well. Also, Jason’s line at the end killed me. Damn.

Summary: Tim Drake goes missing. The search to find him begins.