#this was when the fireworks were still quite far away

[miniaturebuccaneer]

Kira was not a big fan of the fireworks the other night (neither was I)

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

duos silices ad ignem

Just a Rollo fic I wrote based off of this post

I write Reader/Yuu as female

Also my writing may be a bit biased but I refuse to write Deuce as nothing but a sweetheart even in an angst fic

“You’re ‘used to it’?” Rollo repeats incredulously, looking at you as though you’ve gone barmy, “Oh you poor thing. I can’t blame you for becoming numb to the absurdity after spending every day swimming in it.”

You open your mouth, ready to dismiss his words and defend yourself, but you find the words clogging up at your throat, refusing to leave. The stoic Student Council President continued to look at you, concern overcasting his features, so you swallow thickly as you feel your heartbeat in your ears and mutter that you think you hear Professor Trein calling you before making a much too hasty exit.

You’ll admit that initially, yes, the concept of magic terrified you. Why wouldn’t it? After spending a lifetime without it and then being thrown into the both metaphorical and literal lions’ den with no support whatsoever was the stuff of nightmares. Especially when you consider your first overblot, where everyday was the physical representation of out of the frying pan and into the fire.

But you learned to see the beauty of magic, learned to see how it can help and heal, how it can mend broken bones in seconds instead of months, how it can protect you and make you soar. 

Though why do you feel resentful? Why do you feel that tang of bitterness when you’d see someone wave their pens and have an entire room spotless in a blink of an eye? Why does it cause such discomfort to witness a meal magically prepped to perfection? Why does watching your classmates using spells to play around in class and make their life easier fill you up with so much dread?

You love magic so why do you still flinch?

‘Maybe,” your mind supplies, “it’s because they’re so used to it. They’re so lackadaisical about throwing around spells because it comes to them without a thought. To them it’s mundane. To you - well, it’s proof that you don’t belong here, that you’re not yet home.”

Later on you find yourself sitting in isolation on a bench, far removed from the festivities of your peers, as you watch them produce fireworks with seamless flicks of their wrists, laughing gaily with every spark and flicker.

Why was it that a complete stranger could see you, hear your unspoken thoughts, much better than an entire castle full of people that you’ve spent months with? Why was it that this wiry, unfeeling, looming presence was able to piece together what was laid out in front of him much better than the people you brushed with death with to save?

Was it pity? The thought should have filled you with offense, that this person you just met is treating you with such infantilising condescension. How dare he patronise you without even knowing what you’ve done, what you’ve lived through, how you’re barely holding on to the tattered shreds of your sanity before it slips through your fingers-

How dare he be so right.

Maybe it is pity, maybe his patronising words were warranted. Maybe, just maybe, you’re so desperate that you’ll take it, that you’ll take anything if it meant someone would look close enough to see that you’re not okay, that you want out.

You’re left alone with your thoughts now, as you watch your schoolmates with a blank look, your eyes fixated on their high spirits but not quite seeing them. Your thoughts that liked to remind you of how small you are, how insignificant against the might that was magic, how easy it was for you to sign away your life to Azul with a simple signature, how eye contact or a few words was all it took for Jamil and Ruggie to own your mind and body, how Vil cursed your food without a word to you nor a care in the world.

How completely breakable you are in this twisted world of vices and villains.

Even the other first years, who are considered the least powerful in regards to magical capability, could end you as fast as lightning flashes.

You think back on the scars that coiled and burned along your skin, how the foreign slivers of jagged discolouration were littered along your body, a sadistically twisted storybook that mapped out your past, present and future torment. The deep reddish-purple lesions and inky black cracks that spiderwebbed your once young, innocent and untouched complexion were nothing more than a perpetual reminder of all that you’ve lost, all that’s been taken from you in this world. That you weren’t who you once were and you can never go back to being her.

(“Deuce,” you whispered to your friend late into the night. Ace and Grim were contentedly dozing away on the mattress you’d placed on the floor of Ramshackle’s living room, leaving you and Deuce the only ones awake on your couch, the dim light of the television bathing you in opalescence and and the tinny sounds it played turning into white noise. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice just barely a mutter but you heard it loud and clear. “Have,” you took a breath and looked down at your twiddling fingers, “have you ever looked at a mirror and saw a stranger?”

“Yeah, I have,” Deuce replied. Your head cants upwards and you see his blue eyes piercing through the darkness, “it was right after I heard my mum crying on the phone to my grandma. I didn’t know who I was. I just knew I didn’t want to be who I saw.”)

But it’s okay now because they are your friends.

That’s the mantra you chanted as you surveyed everyone in front of you. 

Riddle who called you pathetic who didn’t hesitate to make a mockery of you who attacked you with both his words and his thorny rage, diligently listening to an NBC student explain the history of Fleur City.

They are your friends

Deuce who was your best friend who you trusted with your life who you can’t tell any of this to and Epel who’s a victim like you who wants out like you who’s still destined to hurt you like everyone else, talking animatedly about their magical wheels as they eat their candy apples.

They are your friends

Ruggie who can control you with one word who still has the fangs and claws of a predator who you still don’t know if you can trust, munching on as many baked goods as he could.

They are your friends

Azul who’s sadistic and manipulative and uses and takes for his own benefit who happily made you homeless and still has everything despite all that he’s done who’s predatory eyes burn you whenever he’s near, looking for your next weakness to exploit and Jamil who used and kidnapped and manipulated you who hypnotised you and ripped away what little control you had whilst playing pretend as your friend who took pleasure in your suffering were surveying the stalls, asking the vendors questions about their wares. For some reason, the thought of joining them felt like acid crawling up your throat.

They are your friends

Rook who’s an enabler just like everyone else who watched on as his housewarden cursed your food and tried to poison and kill someone who can easily hunt you down and find you no matter where you are or how well you hide, laughing along with everyone’s merriment and spouting out verbose french poetry that you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

They are your friends

Idia who took Grim from you who unlike everyone else was an actual genuine friend before he overblotted who played his part just like everyone else did, looking like he found Nirvana as he was surrounded by stray cats and kittens.

They are your friends

Silver who you don’t even know yet who could still be part of this twisted ploy to cause your downfall who could hide a person as sadistically corrupted like everyone else, napping on a bench near Sebek who hates your existence who hates that a human would dare to breathe the same air as his liege who doesn’t even hide his contempt for you who was watching Malleus who’s never there who never helps who just does what he wants and you can’t say anything because who are you compared to him with his usual starry-eyed worship.

They are your friends. They’ve changed. It’s alright now, You easily washed away the red of their sins so everything’s all good. You’ve moved on - forgive and forget, right? Sure they hurt you but it’s all water under the bridge. They won’t hurt you again. So why, why- 

Then why does your stomach feel like lead now. Why do your eyes sting so badly, pinpricks dotting the edges of them as you feel the telltale drip of water run down your cheek.

All you want is to survive

But how do you survive in a world that wants you dead?

Apart from Ace, Deuce, Grim and the ghosts that haunt your dorm, not one person looked at you and saw you as someone other than the magicless prefect who stops overblots and cleans up messes that they had nothing to do with. Not one person who’s hurt you had stopped to think that you were someone who could feel hurt, that your feelings matter, that you don’t fight death every other second because you want to but because it’s the only way you could survive in a place where you have been abandoned. 

Shakespeare was right. There are daggers in men’s smiles. In every predatory grin, in every saccharine leer, in every simper that coiled and tightened around you like a serpent, with its poison-laced fangs prodding at your carotid, just waiting to strike.

You feel him before you see him, his lanky figure joining you in your shadowed refuge. Without a word, he sits down beside you.

“Do you believe in fate?” you ask idly, your stare never once wavering from where you watched Professor Trein who’s in on it who, just like every other adult, has failed you who never once punished anyone except you and your fellow students, “that things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it because that’s just how things are meant to be? That the people who do bad things just get to do those things and everyone’s supposed to live with it because that’s how the story is written?”

He regards you for a second and then turns and looks straight ahead with a gaze like steel, “I believe in justice. That without it, humanity is doomed to live in a delusion of peace. I believe that the only way to be truly free from the sins that swarm and bite us, that follow us around like a plague, is to take the reins ourselves and use our power to free us from them. The past is just a tragic history but the future has several names: for the weak, it is impossible; for the fainthearted, it is unknown; but for the valiant, it is ideal. And once the gavel of justice has done its duty in punishing the wicked and freeing the innocent, even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”

You feel a cold, thin hand placed over yours and you let it rest there. It was grounding, comforting.

Maybe, it’s about time you stop being a victim of the narrative and take control of your own story. You’ll rid yourself of your tragic ending and fashion a new happily ever after.

In NRC, you found horrors beyond your comprehension.

In Rollo, you think you’ve found your guardian angel.

[d0llcuries]

ICE-CREAM FOR TWO

pairing(s): reiner braun x fem! reader

summary: you hated him for dragging you to marley, for every stolen chance at freedom. you expected the feeling to be mutual as you rented him for four long years but it wasn't. what better way to address this than ice-cream!

author's note: uh, i guess i write for aot now. blame my cousin and her insistence on getting me addicted to this stupid show for the possibility of inaccurate writing. i love reiner pls send requests for aot 🤲🏽

the market cradled you today in a way almost cruel, with its heat and grit pressing close, air thick with burnt coffee, iron on the breeze, syrupy traces of cotton candy and caramel inviting you into the hic et nunc, although you didn’t want to be. you hated this noise, this heat, the whole crowded mess of voices folding together like waves. you hated how it almost felt like home. you hated how you could almost trick yourself into calling it that if you tried hard enough. a mirror showing something soft, distant, something that could’ve been yours in some other life. no matter how warm the market held you, the truth settled somewhere beneath it all. this land is borrowed, marley is not home, and no amount of rose-tinted glass could change that.

under a washed-out sky, baskets burst with flowers like muted fireworks, children racing in loops, dogs tangled and nipping at their heels. you thought about reiner before you saw him. he was sitting across the square, shoulders hunched as if he were carrying every brick and stone of marley on his back, the same as he’d carried those in paradis. he looked like he was far away, somewhere only he knew how to reach. you still saw that ghost of the soldier you thought he was back then, before everything came apart.

you’d told yourself you wouldn’t go near him, wouldn’t let him know that, after all this time, you’d never quite stopped noticing him. you wonder why you think of him so much, why he takes up all this space in your mind even when he's not near. it was strange how close you were and weren’t, your lives spooled together and then split, moth-eaten like old twine.

but then gabi’s voice broke into your thoughts.

“hey, yn! can you buy us ice cream, please? come on, it’s not far! the ice-cream stand's like.. right around the corner, and i haven’t had any in soooooo long!” gabi stretched out the ‘so long’ ensuring that you felt every inch of the ache that came from a whole season without the taste of frozen sugar. she practically sang, her sticky hand finding yours and pulling before you’d had a chance to respond.

before you knew it, you were standing at the old ice-cream stand, faded to a dull blue, the wood bleached and splintering under too many hot days. the vendor, an older man with sunburned skin and tired eyes, barely lifted his gaze as he rattled off the list of flavors available.

while you hadn’t chosen this home, you chose these people, or maybe they chose you in some inexplciable way. the days of resentment, the times you’d longed to be anywhere but marley, softened over time. gabi, falco, and udo, each of them with their bright, trusting faces had managed to bring out a warmth in you that you’d forgotten was there. you hadn’t planned to love them, but they’d worked their way into the little cracks between loneliness and anger, without effort or warning. it felt like love. you loved them.

“please, please, please?” gabi’s voice tumbled out, each please more insistent than the last. you pressed your lips together, trying to chase away the smile that wanted to break free, but there was no stopping it. the vendor cleared his throat, glancing at the line of customers that was growing behind you, and that pressure paired with gabiʼs nagging commenced the immediate collapse of any resolve you’d held and any remaining choice you had.

“alright, alright,” you murmured. “three, please,” you said, “two caramel swirls… and a chocolate.”

you pull the coins from your purse, and slide them across the vendor’s counter, a quick glance past the crowd where you know reiner’s somewhere out there, not close but close enough. you dig back into your purse, pull out enough for an extra ice cream, and place it on the wood. “and one more, vanilla.”

the vendor didn't blink. he handed you the cones with a practiced indifference, the soft edges already drooping in the heat, melting faster than they should. gabi snatched hers right away, giving a quick “thanks!” but not really looking at you. she didn’t need to, her appreciation was in her wide-eyed grin and the way she immediately started devouring the cone as if she’d waited years for it. udo took his with a quiet “thank you,” glancing at the cone like it was the first good thing he’d seen all day. falco gave a small nod, not meeting your eyes, as if the simple gesture was too much kindness to take all at once.

you glance at the extra cone in your hand, and you think about the boy—no, man—you had brought it for.

your gaze flickered to the square, and there he was, his silhouette made of pale, ghostly gold and all the fragments that cling to it. the blond of his hair catches and curls like a match struck in silence as he rests on the bench with moss staining its feet in a green kiss. “stay close. don't wander off,” you murmur to gabi and the boys, a mother’s instinct in a stranger’s affection. the market seems to swell as faces blur into patches of color and shadow.

usually heʼd be the one buying them the sweets, trailing behind like he belonged to the children, not the other way around. he’d slip coins to the vendor, barely seen, to make sure the kids stayed kids, get them something sweet to carry home sticky on their fingers. his presence made the kids feel safe. that was his gift to them.

he didn’t see you, not at first, lost in whatever he’d wrapped around himself, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes focused on something far off, his expression pulled into that mask of solemnity that’s so familiar it hurts. there’s a ghost of a frown in his brow from spending too much time thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. it was only when you were close enough that he looked up, startled, it was clear he wasn't expecting to see you. there was a tension in him, he sort of resembled an animal caught between choices, wanting to flee but rooted to the spot.

“i thought you’d want one,” you said, holding the cone out. it wasn’t often that you spoke to him this way, or at all. not about something as simple as ice-cream.

he stared at it first, then up at you. for a heartbeat you thought he might actually refuse it, let the ice-cream coat your hand with melted stickiness just to spite you for they way you resented him for the past four years.

“they give that to you for free?” he said, his eyes drifted somewhere just beyond the market stalls, like he was only half-invested in the jab.

something in his tone snagged, left a thin, invisible cut. he had every reason to say it, you supposed, but it still bruised in a way it shouldn’t. “no,” you shot back, trying not to let his offhand remark knock too hard against the satisfaction you’d felt just moments ago. “i bought it for you.”

with a breath soft as surrender, he looked up at you, and you could feel it, the way he saw you, had always seen you, from the days you were both cadets stumbling through ranks and routines. he’d always thought you were pretty, even when thought you didn't interact often.

the word devil was supposed to define you. reiner was trained to see you that way, to let a thick wall of prejudice stand between you both, forged over years of lessons and oaths. in marley, they pressed that word into people like you, used it to shape you into something repulsive. it was easy to believe it as a child, to see you through the war-stained images they painted, to think of you as something marley’s soldiers had been trained to conquer and devastate. but somehow, that wall never felt as solid with you. he tried to keep it up, you could tell from the way his gaze would shift from warm to cold so quickly, his jaw setting hard as if he was gripping some old lesson, forcing himself to remember why he wasn’t supposed to care. and you hated him for it as much as you didn’t. it was like he had stolen every sense of belonging from you, yet kept a fragile piece of it alive in himself, offering it back in little moments you refused to trust.

he’d always figured he’d have to wait, maybe forever for that forgiveness, if it came at all. for four years, he’d held onto the hope that one day you might look at him without that burning hatred in your eyes. over time, he’d let that hope slip through his fingers, learning to live in the shadow of what he thought he’d ruined.

but now, standing here, he felt something he hadn’t dared to let himself feel in a long time. the way you looked at him was different—not hardened or distant, but softened, like there was warmth in you meant just for him. it was subtle, but it caught him completely off guard, a look that lingered a little too long, the edges softening just enough for him to see something he’d once believed was lost.

he wanted to say something, anything, to reach out, but he found himself rooted, afraid to break whatever delicate understanding hung between you. he’s always been so careful with you, so mindful of your boundaries. your gaze didn’t waver, and he felt it like a quiet ache, as if, finally, there was a chance your view of him had changed.

he took the cone with hands that were larger than you remembered, rough and scarred and cracked in places. in his grasp, the small offering looked absurdly delicate.

“thanks.”

you settle on the edge of the bench beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, but not quite touching.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he said, his voice subdued, as if he was suppressing emotions that he couldn’t articulate.

“i wanted to,” you reply simply, the words soft but steady, a quiet confession hidden in plain sight. it’s not much, just a simple act of kindness, but it feels like more than that, like a tentative step toward something new, something neither of you quite knows how to name.

“i’m not good at this,” he admits after a long pause, the unexpected confession falling between you. he doesn’t look at you, eyes locked on the melting drip tracing a path down his knuckle.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “good at what?”

he’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that the hum of the market seems louder, pressing in from all sides. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant. “being close. to anyone.”

you shift slightly, your knee brushing against his leg. it’s so slight it could be an accident, but it’s not. “well, you’re here now.”

he looks up at you then with an unconcealed reverence that makes your heart lurch in your chest, eyes softening around the edges, holding that mix of confusion and hope that makes him look almost boyish. “yeah, i am.”

the silence stretches, but this time it’s warm, inviting. you can see him wrestling with something, the way his jaw tightens, loosens, the way his thumb traces a line across the wood of the bench as if trying to ground himself.

“it’s strange,” he starts, eyes flickering to yours before darting away again, “this..” he nods to the space inbetween you, “feels like more than i deserve.”

your gaze lingers on him, and you swallow back the pool of savila resting on your tongue. “maybe we’re both not good at this,” you whisper, a shy honesty threading through your voice. “but i think we could be.”

he blinks. “you think so?”

“yeah,” you say, the word barely more than a breath but heavy with everything you mean. “i do.”

and for the first time in years, he lets himself believe it.

[butim4you]

(This is not proffread and i just started writing so it might not be that good, hope you like it <3)

Chishiya x reader

You took a deep breath but then Hissed at the sudden pain it brought you. You had been helping your friends take down the King of spades...You had atleast two or three gun shots. Two in your chest and one in your leg.

Usagi had just left the alley way to find arisu even with her leg being stabbed..Kuina was laying on the ground focusing on her breathing beside Ann. She stares at your attempt to stand. You got up but quickly had to hold on to the wall as your leg almost gave out.

You only had one leg to get to Him...When Arisu had reaveld that He would show the way Chishiya was if you helped them, you didnt have a choice..Wobbiling out of the alley you look up to see Arisu carrying Usagi bridal style and he looks worried for her. Hearing footsteps Arisu looks up at you.

"Which way..."

You said weakly. Arisu remembered what he had said. He nodded at the way since he couldn't point with Usagi in his arms. You didn’t even consider saying 'thanks' or 'bye'. You just started walking...Or more so, you tried your best to walk. He could be anywhere....You had no idea what you were thinking. You would probably not even find him. You walked quite the way to find niragi leaning back against an Abonded car.

You had always had a problem with niragi. He saw a figure covering the sun from him, and he opened his eyes and looked up at her. He knew you were looking for chishiya. Stupid people...stupid love.

"Niragi.."

You addressed him, and he scoffs and looks off to the side. He understood you were in a bad condition.. He could easily take you over now if it wasn't for his own pain. He coughs and avoids your e/c Eyes.

"Your prince is waiting over there."

He stares in the direction Chishiya sits, Hes a bit far away from them. Far enough to not hear their words. You stare at him before limping towards the way he told you. You were met with a sight of Chishiya sitting down, leaning back against a car resting.

"Shiya.."

You feel a wave of calmness hit you and you let go of a breath you didnt know you were holding. He hears your soft voice that was like a whisper. He could hear your hurried footsteps but also the dragging of your injured leg. His calm eyes open as you did your best to sit down beside him. A loud wince was heard from you and he quickly examined your condition.

"Your hurt."

He stated softly, Inside he Felt bad for not protecting you and he wished he could wrap up your wounds. But you smile so sweetly at him.

"You are too, y'know?"

You already understood Niragi was the reason for his injuries. He felt you lean into his side that wasn't injured. And he leaned back against you. He gave the side of your head a kiss and just sat there with you. Neither one of you had the energy to do anything else.

Time moved like seconds as you two sat there, Before you knew it you heard the fireworks and saw the beautiful colors in the sky.

"Shiya...They did it..."

Chishiya smiles and nods, The Loud voice then was heard from the sky...'Your now allowed to pick either to stay here as a citizen or Leave to go back to the real world." A woman's voice said that sounded made up said.

You look up at him, and he stares up into the sky.

"I wanna leave.."

He said with a small smile as you copied his words. You even heard Niragi say he wants to leave from afar. Your hand that is intertwined with his gives him a squeeze. He looks down at you with confused eyes as you look scared.

"Shiya, Promise me that you will go look for me in the real world again...? Please..."

He still has that confident glint in his eyes as he kisses the side of your face.

"I promise, Y/n.."

Then everything went black.

___________________________________________

Chishiya stares at the unfimilar man in the bed beside him.

"What the fuck are you staring at?"

The man rasped, half of the man's body was covered in bandages.

"I heard your heart also stopped for a whole minute.."

Chishiya said with his normal face, He felt like he had forgotten something important..

"So what?"

The man spat, seriously not caring a shit. He sighs.

"Do you feel like something in you changed?"

He doesnt really know why he is asking. A part of him feels missing...more then before.

"Not really...Guess I just look flashier now. What about you?"

The man chishiya already knews name was Niragi suguru. What happend now again...?

"...I lived a useless life..but now..im gonna make up for it..."

The way chishiya said that so casually made niragi laugh but he stops when he hears their room door opening, A woman stood there. She looked like she's here for the same reason as they were.

"Ah, im sorry! This is the wrong room.."

Chishiya looked over at her and examined her closely...Then your eyes met, he felt his missing spot getting filled once more as he heard you say his name nickname you gave him.

"Shiya...?"

Not you randomly remembering his nickname and saying it out loud.

[o-sachi]

Summer Festivals ‧₊˚ ⋅ childhood friends series (Request)

ଳ somehow sparks still fly long after the fireworks display ଳ character; karasu tabito (blue lock) ଳ tags; floof, afab reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Yes, I decided to make it a series because why not?

Of all the times it could happen, your stupid sandal decided to break now—when you were right in the middle of enjoying the annual summer festival of your hometown. It didn't help either that you were starting to feel feverish. Sweating while being cooled by the evening summer air simultaneously was a combination for disaster it seemed.

To make it worse, Karasu Tabito had to carry you back. He wasn't obliged to do so. You offered to simply trudge back home with a broken sandal and a prayer. But as soon as you told him and HIori that you weren't feeling good—he insisted that he accompany you instead.

You weren't quite sure what was heating you up, the oncoming fever or the concern that the usually nonchalant man was showing you.

You unknowingly tightened your arms that were clasped around his chest. It seems like it snapped him out of whatever train of thought he had.

"Ya doin' fine?" he asked. He hoped you were because your house was still far away.

You wanted to say yes, but absolutely everything made it not fine. For one, you felt like shit—both because of the fever and because Karasu now has to miss out on the festival because of you. But you were dejected since you looked forward to this festival. There was something alluring about its atmosphere, the food, and activities.

Oh, and you wanted to watch the fireworks display.

Thinking too hard, you hadn't realized that you failed to give him a response. "Hey, speak up."

You sigh. "I don't wanna seem like too much of a bother but... no, not really."

His expression softens, but it's not like you could see it. "Yer fever gettin' worse or what?"

"No... I'm okay... I just wanted to see the fireworks I guess."

"Fireworks huh?" he repeated.

"Yup. But I can always go back next year."

He slows his pace and next thing you know he was gently putting you down from his back. The two of you had traveled a good distance away from where the festival was held. You were in the grassy clearing that led to most of the houses in the neighborhood. You rarely stayed here mostly for the fact that there was absolutely nothing to be done here. The place was just trees, grass, and stones—one of which you were sitting on at the moment.

He places his hands on his hips and turns to look at you. "We're pretty far, but I'm sure ya can see the fireworks from 'ere."

A look of surprise appears on your face as you made eye contact with him. After having him carry you for that long—you didn't think he'd indulge you with your request.

"Thank you... and sorry you have to view it from afar."

He chuckles a bit before looking back up at the empty night sky. "Ya know—it's not really 'bout how amazin' the fireworks are. I mean, I know it'll be," he pauses.

A pensive sigh escapes his lips.

"...It's more 'bout the person ya see it with."

HIs words only served to make you flustered. You were sure he knew what he may have implied with what he said. And it made you nervous with how confidently he said it too.

You lost the strength to look at him—choosing to glance at your feet instead... at the sandal that put you in this predicament in the first place.

Karasu took your silence positively, however. He was well aware of how easily flustered you can be.

"I always see the fireworks with Hiori," he adds.

Since Karasu had to carry you back home, Hiori was left to enjoy the festival alone. He would have come with you, but his mother insisted that he wait for them so that they could all go home together. It was the least that he could do for opting to hang out with the two of you instead of his own parents... apparently.

You could only offering a sobering apology for breaking their yearly tradition to which he simply shook his head.

"Nah, I'm sayin' that I'm sick of that guy." He says that with the utmost affection, but more so because he was trying to tell you something.

"I'm telling Hiori," you managed to joke back.

He turns to look at you with his usual lazy smile and with his hands up in defense. "Hey, now... are ya really gon' snitch on me after carryin' ya all the way 'ere?"

You laugh. Of course, not. He has done more than enough for a guy who's supposed to be just a friend.

However, your banter was cut short with a loud bang. The two of you look up at the sky in unison and sure enough—the once dark sky was filled with a plethora of colors.

Your hometown might be incredibly simple in all aspects, but they never seem to go easy on the fireworks. Despite seeing this display every year since you were a kid—it never failed to leave you in awe.

"Ain't this beautiful?" you ask, thinking that he was looking at what you were looking at.

But you'd be wrong because his eyes were on none other but you.

You hadn't even noticed that he sat down beside you or that he was looking at you directly.

"Yeah. It's pretty darn beautiful a'ight."

The softness in his voice juxtaposed the blaring sound of the fireworks. You were expecting a more enthusiastic response and not such a subdued one.

You turned to look at your side where he was now sitting. You were unexpectedly met with a small smile and delicate gaze. It was an expression he spared to no one else but you.

All this time you knew him... you had never seen such a face on Karasu.

It was gentle, kind, and almost affectionate in a way that it had your heart thumping at the same time the fireworks would go 'pop'.

"You're so silly..."

"Yeah? Ya don't hear me blamin' ya for doin' this to me, don'cha?"

The fireworks were slowly dying out and you had missed its finale because you were staring intently at something else.

Now that the gaudy noise was gone, all you could hear was your heart, your combined breathing, and the crickets. The silence nor the impromptu staring contest felt awkward.

It was just you and him—existing.

That being said, there was no need for you to start the conversation again or break the ice because... as you've established—the stillness of the moment felt comfortable.

But for some unconceivable reason, you leaned in. You had offered your lips to his and he was in no position to refuse—not like he'd turn down when you gave it to him so kindly.

You pull away, wanting to keep it innocent and sweet. His gaze was more intense than ever.

"Should prolly bring ya to more fireworks displays huh?"

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[g-xix]

☁️Return from Sri Lanka | ArthurTV

The sound of keys slotting into the door - the metal on metal you'd usually clench your teeth in anger upon hearing - alternately kindled explosions within your stomach, like little kernels popping into bubbles of elation and excitement as the keys turned in the apartment door.

Instantly you were up on your feet, throwing the duvet one way and skidding around the corridor in fluffy socks that would've almost definitely had you slipping over the hard floors, if not for the ecstatic sprint that carried you to the door.

The moment the door was pushed open - just far enough for you to catch a glimpse of a person behind it - you'd already jumped to close the gap.

Knocking the air out of him, you launched past the threshold and wrapped your arms around his middle, knocking the air out of him as you buried your head against his chest. With a huff of exertion upon having the wind knocked from his body, Arthur felt his waist being completely squished by your grip as you bundled him in a nearly bone-crushing hug - yet still the surge of oxytocin urged him to wrap his own arms around your shoulders, reciprocating your love as he felt the same smile blooming across his lips. All too happy to find himself within your arms all over again.

"I missed you, baby..."

You knew that it'd be straining when Arthur told you that Chip had asked him to go to Sri Lanka for a week for a video. And yet you hadn't considered quite HOW straining it'd be until day four hit, and you were spooning ice cream into your mouth at three am and watching Arthur's old videos on a phone screen under a blanket, sniffling and waiting to see a typing... notification to pop up with Arthur's name the subject.

Yet the feeling of Arthur's white cotton tee-shirt against your cheek, radiating his own body warmth through the thin material made everything feel complete again. The feeling of his arms pressing you into his body, curled so domestically perfectly and holding you so tightly that you could feel each defined muscle of his pecs to his lower abs through the shirt against your own body took your mind away from those lonely nights and filled you with such a sense of solace and wholeness that Arthur was with you again. 

"I can tell"

You laughed into his shirt, letting your forehead rest against his body as you took a deep breath to calm your whirring mind - the sole thought of Arthur and nothing else ricocheting around your brain - though Arthur's unforgettable scent simply filled your lungs with the deep inhale, only further fuelling your Arthur-centric thoughts. 

"I missed you too, gorgeous..."

That scent of pine and familiar cedar flooded your senses and filled your lungs, filling your circulatory system with nothing but nostalgia and fullness at that accustomed aroma you'd missed so much whilst he'd been gone.

You could feel every individual molecule of your body tingling like a firework, ready to explode into millions of colourful glittering specks as you pulled away from the hug - hands still attached to either elbow so that you could look up and admire your boyfriend live in the flesh, for the first time in what'd been a long week for the both of you.

"Fucking beautiful."

He was the one who said it, but you were the one who felt it as you took your sweet time looking over Arthur's face, savouring every sweet minute detail as though you were memorising a picture you never wanted to forget. 

Jet-lagged, scruff grown out into a fuller stubble, hair messy and sticking up in all directions - he was still the most gorgeous man you could ever imagine to lay eyes upon. His skin had a golden glow to it from the time he'd spent abroad - his pupils blown out and still demurely doe shaped, lips still their perfectly irresistible pink, illuminated with the warm white lamp which only highlighted the subtle curve of his triceps peaking out from beneath the white 'manwhore'  shirt, as you'd dubbed it. 

"I don't think I've ever been happier to see somebody in my life."

"Would you believe me if I said that's exactly what I was just thinking?"

You never realised what the phrase music to my ears meant until that moment, Arthur's voice calming every jumpy nerve within your body with his mellifluously husky voice. His voice sounded like honey being grated. So smooth, as though it belonged in a symphony - and yet gravelly and rough like a sandpapered morning voice. That harmonious juxtaposition that completed itself to make the sweetest sounds that could lull you to sleep whilst also simultaneously get you on your knees in seconds.

Not that giving head was concurrent in your mind as you basked in Arthur's presence lovingly for the first time in what you realised was undeniably too long.

"You don't understand just how happy I am to be home with you," Arthur sighed contentedly, letting his arms slacken and his backpack drop to the floor, warm smile on his face as he stepped through the door and locked it behind him, too.

You couldn't have been happier to have him back.

Seeing his gorgeous face, smelling his delectable aftershave, hearing that grated-honey voice - you'd mentally ticked off how each sense was stimulated by Arthur - and yet just one final one was needed noting, and lucky for you, Arthur had already beaten you to it.

You squealed as Arthur's hands found your hips, easily sweeping you off the ground and pulling you close to him instead - your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist as he lifted you up. 

His lips crashed into yours, a fucking frenzy of fireworks and passion igniting a wildfire within your core, his soft and cocoa butter flavoured lips moving so desperately against yours that you felt no shame in the way you bit his lower lip back - chasing his taste, his touch, his everything as your lips moved synchronously against one another.

Your hands running through his fluffy brunette locks, only spiking and messying them up more, his hands supporting your weight by sitting shamelessly on your ass - there was undeniable yearning between the two of you as neither backed down or separated even as you struggled for oxygen.

Only when Arthur's lashes tickled your cheek, you couldn't stop yourself from breaking the kiss to let out a laugh, almost unbelieving that Arthur was back already.

"God, I missed you."

"Let me make it up to you then..."

"Harry Potter marathon until we fall asleep, together?"

"My gosh, I missed you too."

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

Ahh ATV fluff, we love to see it‼️‼️‼️ Hope that's fulfilled your goofy lil atv dreams for a while everyone :]]

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[effy-writes]

Fizz x Fem! Reader: Happy Day

requested from my friend :D

You and Fizz grew up together, but not in the circus. You were always in the audience and grew fond of him. He always noticed you, and ever since you became a regular he would search for you in the audience.

About age 7 he came up to you after the show and started talking. Getting to know your name, which ring you're from, (he was shocked that you were born in the Lust ring), etc. Eventually you guys would hang out before and after his performances just about every day.

When you guys were 16 he gave you flowers and finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

Blitzo and Barbie always made fun of you two. Barbie found it sweet, saying that Fizz deserves you, but Blitzo was definitely jealous.

The day the fire happened you were hanging out with Fizz in the tent celebrating his birthday. Until this day you believed you should’ve been the one to get injured. Fizz wanted to save your life.

Before the fireworks went off he pushed you far away where only he would get the impact. The sides of your body were in white, but you didn't lose arms or legs like you should've.

The following months was definitely traumatizing for the both of you. You stayed by his side everyday until he got better, and during those times you would always apologize and saying you should be the one in that bed, not him, but Fizz loved you. He wanted to sacrifice himself so you wouldn’t be injured, or even worse killed. He didn’t want to lose you.

Once he got better you tracked down Asmodeus and asked him if he could make Fizz mechanical arms and legs so he would be able to perform again.

Right when Fizz got acclimated to his new arms and legs he went straight away to Mammon to audition, and he was a sensation.

So popular that he got his own sex robots, servant robots, he was the most popular jesters all throughout Hell. You were never jealous, but you were definitely afraid of him getting hurt again.

As years went by you could tell that Mammon has been draining Fizz. You always told your boyfriend that you're worried about him, but he shrugged it off and kept telling you that he's okay. You asked Fizz if he could try working at Ozzie's since you worked there and they were hiring. You hoped that Fizz would stop being underneath Mammon’s wing by him working there, but he was still underneath his wing.

Once Blitzo (now you learned it's Blitz) got into your live’s again you were kinda hesitant, but saw how clearly Fizz needed his best friend back. It did cheer him up a bit, but he was still stressed out about being the perfect clown.

It was that time of the year for Fizz to audition again, and this time you actually put your foot down. You called Blitz to go with you to try to convince Fizz to not do this thing again.

So now the two of you are trying to get Fizz to quit but he didn't.

Until finally the end of the audition he literally said, "I quit."

Ever since then you can see the light back into his eyes. He gained some weight, has a new wardrobe, and is always singing and dancing with you.

"Fizz, I'm tired." You playfully whined as he spins you, "I just want to take a nap with you."

"Oh come on, you don't like dancing with me?" He teased.

You placed your hands on his shoulders as you two swayed left and right. "I love your dancing, and I'm glad youve been happier since Mammon, but I'm SO tired and I really want to take a nap with you." You smiled.

"Okay, okay, fine." He fake pouted.

"How about after this nap we go out to eat at Ozzie's hm?"

"The place where we work at? Let's eat somewhere else."

You climbed on the bed and got underneath the covers. "Like what?"

Fizz laid down beside of you, resting his head on your chest. "How about...Hearts?"

"Sure."

Instead of going to sleep, the two of you kept switching sleeping positions. First you were on your back while he was on his side hugging you, then you turned over to where he was big spoon, then vice versa. The two of you kept laughing whenever the other person would move.

One moment he was on his back while you were in-between his legs with your head resting on his stomach.

Finally you crawled up to where your head was on his chest with him rubbing your back in circles. He looked over at the penis shaped alarm clock and the time read 3:50. He gently shook you.

“Hm?”

“It’s almost 4. Were you wanting that dinner?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled.

“Then get ready.” He shook you a little harder to wake you up.

“Okay, okay fine.” You groaned. “Wanna match our outfits?”

“Of fucking course! Don’t we always?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The two of you picked out your outfits together. He wanted to wear something purple, so you happily obliged, even if you didn’t wanna wear something with that color. You knew it made him happy.

You guys made your way to the restaurant by taking a fancy limo that offers champagne. As you looked over at him you saw him with that big smile of his that you missed for the longest time.

“Do I have champagne on my face?” He wiped his mouth.

“No, silly. I’m just admiring you.”

“Am I that handsome?” He joked.

You snickered, “Very.”

The dinner felt nice for you two. You let him talk about so many things as you listened. Not superficial things, but things that were deep inside of him. You didn’t realize how much he changed before, during, and after Mammon.

The moment you guys got home you got in your pj’s and planted back onto the bed. Fizz pulled you in closer to where he was big spoon.

“I’m so happy to be with you.” You couldn’t help but to smile.

Since he can’t feel your hands he wrapped his tail around your tail to make it like you’re holding hands. “I’m happy too.”

[broken-spirit101]

Snatched Away: Yandere!Akaza X GN!Kidnapped!Reader

Sypnosis: You're a demon slayer who was captured by Akaza one fateful day... and he's a lot more than who you thought he was.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, description of injuries, teasing (937 words)

"What the hell do you want?" You shouted at the basketball who had been pestering you for the last 40 minutes.

It had been two days since you were kidnapped by none other than the Upper Moon Three, for reasons unknown. Ever since he had first seen you, he had grown obsessed with having fights with you: a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. The last time he had a fight with you, you had already been injured after returning from a solo mission. After fighting with him, your injuries only increased. He insisted on you coming to his house, and since you refused, he knocked you out and brought you there anyway.

Who could stop the mighty Upper Three?

You definitely weren't skilled enough to do that. The maximum you could do is keep up a 10-minute fight without getting overly exhausted.

"Aw, come on. Are you too scared to train with me?" the demon whined. You thought it was a nuisance. "I'll consider if you tell me why I'm here." "Because you're cute. Isn't that reason enough?" he said, knowing it would trigger you. You threw a pillow at him from your bed. "Ouch. Not elegant."

It had felt like Akaza had been following you before he'd kidnapped you. You would meet him once or twice a week at a minimum, "accidentally". Or so he said.

"My, your concussion still hasn't healed," he leaned closer and held your chin to check if the bandaid needed to be changed. "Maybe you should rest. I guess we could train tomorrow." "Please die," you muttered after pushing him away.

The only thing keeping you away from escaping during the day when Akaza wasn't here was the locked doors and windows.

The windows had literal metal bars on them and a metal door stood at the entrance.

Why would a demon need such security in his home? How annoying.

At least he looked good.

"Aw, are you angry? How cute," he mocked. "Nope, I'm having the time of my life," you replied sarcastically.

"If you're getting bored, I could take you out." Akaza leaned against a door. "In a fight, right?"

He didn't reply.

"In a fight, right?" you repeated.

Here you were, snatched away at night, forced to come out of the house to touch some grass after 2 days.

"The moon is beautiful today, isn't it?" Akaza said, smiling. "No," you groaned. "Why are we even here?" "It's a blue moon today. I thought I'd show you."

He had brought you to a field lush with grass glimmering in the blue moonlight near a lake. You sighed. There was no chance of escaping if you were with the Upper Moon Three, so you might as well enjoy it.

"Jeez, what a pain. Whatever, I'm fine being here." "You're one tsundere, aren't you?" "A tsun- what?" "Never mind."

You sat down on the grass in the chill autumn air as the wind rustled in the leaves. Akaza sat down beside you. "The fireworks are starting soon," he said. "There are fireworks?"

"Of course there are. Did you forget that the fireworks festival is today?" "Oh. I guess I did," you pouted. "A blue moon and fireworks. It's a pretty coincidence." "So you agree that you like being here?" "No."

It was Akaza's turn to sigh now. "As I said, what a tsundere," he whispered to himself. "I heard that."

Just then, a golden-pink firework exploded in the sky. Another two green ones followed. "It's begun," you said. "Yep. Finally."

The huge array of colors in the sky danced like fireflies. The sound of the fireworks was loud even so far away miles away, drowning out any possible noise. They crackled in the and swirled around the stars and the moon, creating picturesque patterns in the night sky.

Akaza's eyes remained glued to the sky in deep thought, almost as if he were feeling a deep sense of nostalgia or déjà vu, you couldn't quite figure out. Although he did look breathtaking with his full attention to the fireworks, you didn't want him to notice you gazing at him so you averted your gaze.

"Why did you look away? I was enjoying you staring at me," he smirked, looking back at you. "S-shut up. I wasn't looking at you." "Yeah, right."

Fifteen fireworks exploded all of a sudden, create a huge boom and loud crackling. Your eyes were glued to the glowing sky. The fireworks reflected stunningly in the lake, making the scene seem like something out of a movie.

You sat in silence for the next 20 minutes, the fireworks glimmering in the sky filling any quietness between you both.

As the fireworks came to an end, Akaza let out a loud, dramatic yawn and stretched his arms above his head. He turned to you and said, "Phew, that was exhausting. Did I actually watch some measly fireworks for half an hour?"

You couldn't help but snort at his over-the-top reaction. "What, are you too cool for fireworks? I thought you were supposed to be the Upper Moon Three, the feared demon!"

Akaza raised an eyebrow and gave you a wry smile. "Fear me, peasant! I am the mighty Akaza, and I demand respect and admiration from all those in my presence!"

You both burst out laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. As you continued to laugh, you realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Akaza than you initially thought. Maybe, just maybe, he was just like any other guy, with his own quirks. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to like him.

Map

[maple-the-awesome]

You Sacrifice Yourself for Them Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Legend, Sky, Time x GN Reader

Requested by anonymous: HIIIII OMG I JUST WANRED TO SAY i lovelovrloveloveeeee the way you write so much!!!!!!! ur recent loz post had me kicking and squealing in my sear hehehe T_T could i request a scenario with the chain in a situation where the reader sacrifices themselves to protect the boys? im imagining things begging the enemy to take them instead, protecting them from a hit or even something funny like taking the blame for a mistake they made!!! id love to see some angst from you!!!!! THANK U AND HAVE A GREAT WEEK!!!!!💖💖💖💖

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

Shit. Shit. Shiiit.

This was not how this day was supposed to go. This was not how this dungeon was supposed to go! The group calls him 'Veteran' for a reason. He's done more dungeons on his own than the lot of them combined. He's quick on his feet, able to complete the most complex puzzles like child's play, and barely breaks a sweat against the foes that lurk in every damp shadow. Anymore, dungeons are easy (too easy, maybe, compared to some of the rougher...emotionally draining parts of his journeys). 

This was supposed to be just as easy. He had no shame in bragging or flexing his skills, yet all that has officially flown out the window in a way that one could deem quite literal, actually. A quick whiz of air and an echoed shatter that would've reminded him of the wonderful sound of broken pottery if not for how horrifying it was in true comparison. No, that sound was far from exhilarating, especially paired with the image of you falling sideways like a lifeless doll, pieces of tile bouncing off your head and exploding in the air like fireworks trailed by crimson. 

Legend isn't sure if he managed to catch you in time. He probably did, but in his panic he feared you might've hit your head on the floor as if that's not exactly what already happened to knock you out in the first place. Damn floor tiles! Usually they're just embarrassing annoyances when prepared for them, but that's the problem: he wasn't. When those dangerous squares came flying at him at a blurring speed, he expected to take on the hit, not for you to shield him with your own body. What in Hylia's name were you even thinking?!

For what feels like hours but is really only a few seconds, Legend's mind runs rapidly with petrified thoughts: Are you dead? Did he just let you die for his sake? It's supposed to be the other way around if anything! He's the world's punching bag, not you. You're…too special for any of that…

"Hylia, t-that hurt..." Legend snaps out of it only when you groan, barely able to open your eyes against the blinding light of the torch - the only light in the room - which has long been abandoned behind both of you. 

"Are you kidding me?! Are you stupid or something?! What the hell were you even thinking doing that?! Do you know what could've happened if you got hit hard enough or at the wrong angle?! You could've been given a concussion, put into a coma, o-or -"

"- But it could've ruined your pretty face."

Legend’s words choke in his throat as he stares at you as if you've suddenly grown several heads...that or he has just now realized you're the biggest idiot in Hyrule, who knows? Clearly, you're still in a daze yourself, head wobbling around as you blink rapidly with pupils dilated wide. Maybe the whole concussion thing can't actually be ruled out quite yet.

"...Stupid..." Legend mumbles under his breath with a click of his tongue as he looks away from you, "...What about your face then?"

"Awww. You think I'm pretty, too?" 

He huffs instead of answering, carefully helping you up before draping your arm over his shoulders and pulling you securely against his side where he can better keep you from stumbling off into something or, Hylia forbid, trip face first into the ground, causing more damage aside from the goose egg already bruising your forehead and the line of blood dripping down it, "We need to get you to the Traveler. ‘get you fix up.”

"Huh? But what...what 'bout the dungeon?" 

"We can come back later. The treasure at the end probably isn't worth it anyways if floor tiles are what's guarding it."

You hum distantly, dropping your head directly against his without any notice to the way this makes his cheeks flare unwillingly, "...Hey Legs?"

"What?"

"Can you please not tell anyone I got beat up by pieces of floor?"

Legend snorts and pretends to think your question over, "Hmm…In light of you saving my life, I guess I can keep that promise."

"Thanks, bun."

"You know, on second thought, maybe I won't."

Sky awoke in a pleasant mood that was only made better upon remembering his current whereabouts. He had a wonderful dream about being back home during peaceful times, and while disappointed to leave such a relaxing feeling, at least he found himself still in that cozy little inn the Chain decided to stay at for the night. What was better was that it appeared to be rather early. The sun was barely shining through the window, only barely peeking over the village roofs, and the room itself was silent aside from the sound of some snoring which confirmed that the rest of his roommates were still fast asleep, thus Sky figured there would be no harm in dozing off for a few extra minutes until he hears someone else get up for the day…That was his plan, anyways…

"...Hey Sky?"

"Mmm?"

"You, uh, know there's only ten minutes until eight, right?"

In a blink of an eye, Sky shoots straight up, suddenly not feeling so tired. Rubbing his eyes and bearing through his new headache, he's horrified to confirm that you must be right. The window is now glowing in a bright gold, showing a bustling little village outside. You, yourself, are already dressed in your tunic, hair done and ready to go. Legend and Wind, who had been your other roommates last night, must follow the same status seeing as neither of them nor their belongings are here anymore. It's just you and Sky.

In an instant, he leaps out of bed, nearly tripping yet recovering as he hurries to find his own belongings which seems a lot harder to accomplish in his panicked state compared to any other day. You, meanwhile, replace his spot upon the bed, sitting down there with an apologetic look, "I would have woken you up sooner, but I wasn't sure if you were purposefully sleeping in."

"You're alright - uh, thank you for waking me up at all," Sky backtracks when he remembers he had folded his tunic under his bed, kneeling down to grab it along with the rest of his belongings stuffed under there, "Where's the Vet and Pirate?"

"Already at breakfast. Wild dropped by a little while ago to say that it would be ready soon. I'm sure the others are already digging in."

"Crap."

"I'm sure there'll be enough left for us regardless. He always makes so much whenever we stay somewhere with an actual kitchen..." Despite Sky having worn an undershirt to bed, you still feel the need to awkwardly look away as he pulls the rest of his clothes overhead, "You must have a real talent for sleeping because the rest of us woke up to a loud 'thud' and cursing...'don't think Legend will be taking the top bunk at the next inn we reach."

Fully dressed, Sky's first order of business should really be to rush downstairs instead of testing his luck with angry companions, but he takes the time to spare you a glance instead, "Why haven't you gone downstairs yet?"

The question, once thought of, weighs heavy on his mind. You just said that you awoke with the others, however you chose to stay here and risk getting in trouble yourself for tardiness rather than joining them. 

You merely shrug as if it’s of no concern, "I figured I'd wait for you. Like I said, I didn't know if you were purposefully sleeping in and I would've felt worse if I fully gambled on that, leaving you to sleep until noon and suffer Time's wrath."

Sky fidgets and stares down at his feet, although when he opens his mouth to say something, you're standing again while pushing him towards the door, "But let's not push our luck too far, alright? Time was pretty adamant about getting out of here at a decent time."

Yes, he was. He had made a strict point of that last night which is further emphasized by the fact that he is already standing at the bottom of the staircase by the time you both appear at the top of it. It appears that he was just about to make his way up to scold you, but since you've so kindly met him halfway, he can do that from here, "I assume there's a good reason for sleeping in yet again, Skyloftian?"

Sky gulps under the Old Man's glare, prepared to take on whatever punishment that will soon follow seeing as he's officially reached his limit of making the entire group late, however as quickly as he begins to dread the thought of taking on an extra watch for the night or doing a supply run with his own rupees, you're beating him to an explanation, "It's my fault, actually. I had a rough night and didn't realize what time it was until Sky woke me. If he hadn't waited for me, he wouldn't have been late so don't be too mad at him, okay?"

"That's not -" Sky's head whips towards you in surprise, however he falls silent when you give him a look that commands it.

Time hums, glancing between the two of you without much sign that he believes your lie. He has no reason to considering that Wind had already mentioned you were up and at 'em this morning. Perhaps if you had crossed his path earlier for this conversation, he would’ve been more inclined then to point this out, forcing you to confess the truth, although it’s five minutes till eight now meaning he'd be wasting time none of you have to argue not to mention he really doesn't care so long as everyone’s ready to go.

"Well, since you're both technically down here before eight, I'll let it slide this time," He narrows his eyes at you both, taking some sort of pride in how you each bow your heads shamefully, however that's the extend of it before he turns his heel, "But it's up to you to savage yourselves breakfast before Wild packs it up and I still expect you all to be out in the lobby by eight sharp, not a second later even if it means you have to go without a starting meal for today."

"Yes, sir!"

"I'm okay. Worry about the Old Man first."

"Clearly you're not fine. Your arm -"

"- I've had worst -"

"- That doesn't matter. You're still injured."

This argument isn’t going anywhere. Anyone in the group could see that, but are they brave enough to point it out? Considering the fact that they all stand by in awkward silence, probably not.

The last battle was a tough one which may be a bit of an understatement considering Time and you both walked away with some serious wounds to show for your victory. Time had been knocked in the head by a Moblin club, thrown backwards where he then laid unconscious for several moments only to awaken with a gash in the club’s former place, although still a far less visible injury compared to yours. You didn’t miss the way Sky kept gagging when helping you back into camp, unable to so much as glance at the terrible result of a Lizalfos sword slicing through your arm. Provided the extent of these soon-to-be scars, everyone would expect (and hope) that the two of you would be eager for Hyrule’s healing magic, however they were quickly proven otherwise. 

“So? I’ll live.”

“Not without medical attention.”

“I’ll take a potion.”

“I thought you didn’t have any left?”

You curse to yourself before sticking your nose into the air with a stubborn change of subject, “You know, last time I checked, a head injury is a lot more serious than a simple cut!”

Time ignores your claim, feeling his face grow warm in irritation (or maybe that’s due to the fresh blood dripping down from his hairline), “You call that ‘a simple cut’?”

You merely shrug, readjusting the crimson cloth you currently press to the nasty slice that parts your skin directly down from your shoulder into your bicep. It no doubt burns like the fires of Death Mountain which you don’t hide despite your persistence in turning down any aid. Your face is scrunched into an expression of pain, a hiss leaving your hips whenever you move the cloth or your arm in any way, yet you still meet Time’s eyes with no sign of budging.

“Twilight, tell him he’s being ridiculous!” 

The poor farm boy leaps in place when you both end up turning his way. Although not another word is said by either of you, he understands that voiceless command of Time’s stone cold glare: he isn’t to say a word - not a word - that could be taken as a form of agreement towards your cause. He’s to be a good boy and point out that your arm isn’t going to fix itself, thus you should be the first to be tended to by Hyrule. Of course, he cares about your wellbeing and would definitely side with his mentor and his intimating ways if not for how the older male sways side-to-side with the wind, clearly struggling to maintain himself as the effects of a serious concussion start to take its toll on him.

“...(Y/n)...does have a point..." Twilight mumbles, gulping when Time’s glare darkens.

Thankfully for him and all the others who stand by with their heads down, including little Hyrule who’s been stuck between you both too fearful to make a peep, Warrior has finally had enough of this, officially having no problem taking charge with his annoyance made clear through his stern voice, “The longer you both argue about this, the longer you both go without medical attention, so please, for the love of Hylia, will one of you just swallow your damn pride and let Hyrule do what he needs to?”

There’s no instant reaction, neither of being too eager to see Warrior’s very valid point, however after glancing at you once more and noticing how tightly you’re holding onto your arm, Time sighs at long last, resulting in a chorus of others to follow, “...Fine. I’ll go first.”

This satisfies you, allowing you to relax your muscles and focus on keeping that cloth pressed to your arm while Hyrule begins working his magic to fix Time’s own injury, although as always, the Old Man has to have the last word, shoving his pouch towards you with a grumble, “At least take a red potion in the meantime. It should dull the pain.”

Thankfully, you don’t argue as he feared you would based on your initial hesitation. Instead, you huff, but ultimately dig through the pouch to locate the bottle which you pop the cork off of dramatically, “Fine.”

[burreauxinfinity]

In honor of my eras show (post concert depression is real.. experiencing cincy n2 is the highlight of my life.) being this week and the 4th ofc! ❤️🪩🎆

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm and I'm a house of cards

You're the kind of reckless that should send me runnin'

But I kinda know that I won't get far

And you stood there in front of me, just close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see what I was thinkin' of

“Y/N! C’mon!” you heard Tee call to you from the water. You were sat on the edge of the boat sipping on your drink of choice and choosing the next song that would play through the speakers. Tee, Ja’Marr, Sam, and of course Joe along with their respective girls were in the water while you had chosen to dry off instead - after all it was getting late and you had swam earlier. The early July sun cast a perfect orange glow over the lakehouse you and Joe called home during the offseason. The two of you had been together for years now, meeting during his Ohio State days.

You laughed. “No chance, the water is too cold. Any of you want another drink?” you asked as you finally looked over at them.

Joe swam over to the edge of the boat, pulling himself up. He grabbed a towel as he spoke, the orange glow highlighting his blue eyes. “Wouldn’t mind another one.”

Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really somethin'

You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be

I'm on my guard for the rest of the world

But with you, I know it's no good

And I could wait patiently, but I really wish you would

A short time later you were curled up in one of the chairs on the patio, sitting on Joe’s lap with a blanket draped over you as you roasted marshmallows. It wasn’t quite dark enough for the fireworks the boys had gotten yet. Though you had insisted it probably wouldn’t end well, it was the Fourth of July and of course Tee and Ja’Marr couldn’t be swayed.

Joe ran his thumb along your waist, rubbing small circles absentmindedly. He was engrossed in a conversation with Sam, something about Travis Kelce. Ja’Marr butted in.

“Buds all talk, 3-1 and all he can do is run his mouth,” he looked annoyed but Joe just laughed, his smile growing. You were captivated by him still somehow, the way his smile trickled into his eyes and those smile lines. You just smiled softly, finally tearing your eyes from him and laid your head back on his chest as you finished your s’more as the boys continued to talk.

Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

“Guys did you really need this much?” you let out a laugh as the boys set up their fireworks. They’d lined the dock with them and although you joked, you loved fireworks so you weren’t complaining.

“Too many options, we couldn’t decide,” Sam chuckled.

“He’s right.. Fuck it go big or go home right?” Tee shrugged as he set the last firework into place.

“No, I think she’s right honestly but.. Go for it,” Jess, Sam’s girlfriend, laughed beside you.

Joe took his place next to you on the patio finally, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. You leaned into his body, the subtle smell of his cologne filling your senses. Tee and Ja’Marr stayed down to light the fireworks and make sure your house stayed uh.. standing and not on fire while Sam rejoined Jess.

I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild

Just keep on keepin' your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right

And lead me up the staircase, won't you whisper soft and slow?

I'm captivated by you, baby, like a firework show

As the fireworks went off, lighting up the sky and the water below, you glanced over at your boyfriend. His face was lit up, fully engrossed in the fireworks. You could swear that even after years together, his gorgeous smile and ocean-blue eyes seemed to draw you in. You seemed to fall more in love with him everyday and as you sat there now, with the people both of you loved most at your home, enjoying this holiday - you couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything else.

Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk (Ah-ah), take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

And the sparks fly

Oh, baby, smile

And the sparks fly

[stobinesque]

A Cure for All That Ails You 🥪

For Lex's Spicy Six Summer Challenge! Thanks so much for putting this together, @thefreakandthehair! rating: T | wc: 6k | cw: none | tags: Stobin, Fluff, Post-season 3 prompt: “How did you go through life so far without knowing how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?” I took inspiration from the recipe in this post when writing the fic. I have also been informed by my partner that reading this may, in fact, make you want a grilled cheese, so there's a recipe handy if you need to sate your hunger afterwards. [ READ ON AO3 ]

Light slants in through the window at too sharp an angle, and Robin blinks away the blurriness from her eyes. Her head is bent at an awkward angle, tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck. He’s snoring loudly in her ear.

Robin pushes herself upright on unsteady elbows. Most of the achiness in her muscles has faded by now. The worst of her injuries had been some whiplash, and the persistent ringing in her ears from the fireworks.

She looks down at Steve—his bruises are still healing, a mottled yellow-green painting his eye socket and cheekbone. That’s the least of it. She knows there’s worse hidden below the blanket from the cracked ribs he’d gotten up from the Russians.

It’s been five days.

Robin stares down at her hands where they’re folded in her lap. She squeezes them into fists. Stretches them wide. Tries to convince herself that she can connect sight and sensation to the fact of her body’s existence.

It’s been five days.

She’s alive.

Slotting herself back into the world that she’d known before she plummeted into the depths of the earth has felt impossible.

Though maybe that’s because there’s nothing left to slot herself into.

No school to return to, yet. No job to speak of—its remains a pile of rubble at the outskirts of town. No friends who know what happened.

No old friends, anyway.

There’s Steve.

He doesn’t quite feel like a friend though. He’s something…more. Something that exists beyond her understanding of what friendship or even love used to be. She’s never had a sibling—never wanted a sibling—and neither has Steve, so neither of them know enough to gauge if the weird, intense bond that’s sprouted between is sibling-like in nature. But it doesn’t feel like something so simple as that. She feels at once like she chose him, and like he was a gift to her from the universe.

It’s been five days. And he’s already the most important person in her life.

Robin sighs, and squeezes her eyes shut again, listening to the echoing silence of her house. It’s Tuesday. Her parents had taken the first few days after Starcourt off to help take care of her and Steve. Not that they were necessarily a huge help. But they’d made soup, and helped Steve with his bandages when needed. And it was just…nice to have them around. Their presence was grounding. Not so much because they were an especially calming pair, and more because their existence was so fundamentally at odds with the remembered atmosphere of the bunker and the tunnels, that seeing and hearing them made it almost impossible for Robin to forget where she was.

But today is their first day back at work, and the silence feels tangible. If she closes her eyes for too long she’ll be back in that cell, hands tied together, while a man spits sludge at her and asks what she knows; threatens to hurt her little friend if she doesn’t give up the intel he needs. Never touches her, never hurts her, but speaks with a glint in his eyes and a leer on his face that sets her teeth on edge and makes her stomach flip.

It’s been five days.

“Steve.” Her voice is hoarse, desperately scraping up her throat. She wants to hold his hand— rain bearing down, staring blankly at joined hands, linked fingers as her heart races—“Steve.”

Steve’s head rocks back and forth, and a small whine escapes him as he stretches and blinks against light. “Robs?” he voices is soft and slurry; it almost makes her smile.

“Morning, sleepy head.”

“Mmph.” He sits up, squinting heavily as he stares at her. His hair is all mussed, sticking up in every direction, and a thump of fondness beats in her chest, because she’s pretty sure that there aren’t many other people who get to see Steve “The Hair” Harrington without his signature coif. Maybe she should feel bad that she’s having such a stereotypical straight girl thought about it, but it’s not like she’s happy he’s in love with her or anything, it’s just…he’s hers now, and the way he’s trusting her like this makes her think that maybe she’s his now, too.

She’s never been another person’s favorite person before.

Her parents like her, sure. Love her, even. But she’s pretty sure she’s not their favorite person. She’s too anxious. Too loud, in the wrong ways, and never quiet in the right ones. She thought at one point she was Barb’s favorite person, but then Nancy came along and you can’t exactly ditch someone as easily as Barb ditched her if they’re your favorite person, right?

God, she needs to think about literally anything else right now.

“I’m hungry.”

Steve’s stomach growls the moment she says it. He scrubs a hand over his face and glares into the open air, like he’s offended his body has physical needs. “Me too, apparently.” He pushes himself upright, looking around the room. “‘time is it?”

Robin glances over at her clock. “Eleven.”

“Ugh. I want to sleep forever.” Instead, he pushes himself up and to a standing position. “C’mon, let’s go make some breakfast.” He reaches out a hand to her, and she accepts it with a decisive nod.

“That sounds like a great idea. Although I’m really more in the mood for lunch fare? At the very least something heartier than breakfast. Well, not heartier, because really a good breakfast should be pretty hearty since you’re eating for the first time in several hours and your body needs the extra boost. But, still, breakfast foods are so limiting, you know? Like, why are pancakes only a breakfast food? And eggs? I guess eggs can be an anytime food, but they’re usually a breakfast food, and for some reason there are some types of egg preparation that are extra especially breakfast-food-only. Like, who’s ever had an omelet for dinner, you know?”

“Robin.”

“Yeah?”

Steve stares at her for a beat, and for a second her heart rate kicks up—like going on some dumb little monologue about breakfast food is going to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and makes him realize he doesn’t want such a weirdo for a friend.

He smiles. “I love you.”

Robin thinks she should balk at that. He’d just confessed to having a crush on her five days ago. She doesn’t want them to go on with him carrying a torch for her that she’ll never be able to accept.

But… Well. Robin’s not exactly an expert on romance. Even less an expert on reading people. But she thinks she’s figured out the secret code to Steve Harrington, and he’s not looking at her with tortured, lovelorn puppy eyes. He’s looking at her like she’s the sun. Like she’s some miraculous thing. But there’s nothing romantic there. He’s not staring at her mouth, or her chest. He’s looking at her like she’s nothing more and nothing less than the best thing he’s ever seen, and like that would be true no matter what she looked like.

She shakes her head. Smiles. “Love you too, dingo.”

“That one’s new.”

Robin shrugs. “Just possibly watching you take a bunch of punches to the gut from Russian spies made me feel like ‘dingus’ was a tad unfair.”

Steve laughs. “I’m flattered, but you can call me dingus all you want.”

“Okay then, dingus. What’s for breakfast-lunch then?”

“I think that’s just called ‘brunch,’ Bobs. But, um��how about soup and grilled cheese?”

“Only if you’re cooking, or want cold cheese on toast.”

Steve stops in his tracks and turns to stare at her. “Robs…do you not know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?”

Robin shakes her head, feeling her cheeks warm a little. She’s more than capable of fending for herself when it comes to food. Can even cook a couple of staples. And she’s great when it comes to baking, and recipes with highly detailed instructions. But grilled cheese always felt like one of those kinds of things that are deceptively complicated. Like the fact that it’s supposed to be so simple is exactly the thing making it so hard. She was certain if she ever tried it’d come out a half-burnt, half-unmelted-cheese mess. “No…?”

“How did you go through life so far without knowing how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?” Steve looks genuinely distressed by this newfound knowledge.

Robin shrugs. “Never seemed important, I guess. Never really liked them when my mom made them, so I never bothered to figure out how, even once I realized that you can make them with cheese that isn’t glorified plastic.”

Steve gives her a despairing look. “Please don’t tell me your only experience of grilled cheeses have been ones made with Kraft singles.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you!” She says brightly.

Steve looks to be on the brink of tears.

“Hey…it’s okay, Steve. I promise you can pop my good-grilled-cheese cherry!”

Steve’s expression, if anything, grows even more pained. “Please, for the love of God, do not put it like that.”

Robin just grins at him, watching as he opens her fridge to take a look around. He rummages around for far longer than seems necessary for sussing out ingredients for a grilled cheese, but maybe he’s just taking stock of the contents for later? He comes back bearing all the cheeses currently residing in the Buckley fridge (sans the package of Kraft singles): a sharp cheddar, pepper jack, muenster, and swiss. He sets them down on the counter in front of them “Okay, pick one to three of these.”

Robin throws him a skeptical look, but points to the pepper jack and the muenster.

“Beautiful, okay. Now, lets see…” Steve sweeps his gaze across the kitchen, taking stock of the cabinets. He makes for the narrow one crammed between the stove and the sink, pulling it open to reveal the small stock of spices. He moans in disappointment. “I’m taking you grocery shopping after this. This is pathetic, Buckley. What do you all even eat?”

Robin shrugs, feeling a little self-conscious. “Mostly pasta, and sometimes roasted veggies, I guess?”

Steve turns to look at her, and his gaze is a little too sharp. A lot too knowing. The semi-judgmental look drops from his face, and is replaced by something more…tender? “Okay, yeah, me too, until I figured out how to cook for myself. My parents weren’t really into the whole ‘family meal’ thing.”

Robin shrugs. “Mine either.”

Steve looks surprised. “Really? But…I don’t know, they seem like they’d be into that kind of thing.”

Robin snorts. “What makes you say that?”

“Your parents seem to actually like spending time with you.”

“Do they?” Robin’s never gotten the sense that they hate being around her or anything. But sometimes she feels more like an inconvenient stray they took in than their kid.

Steve shrugs; stares down at his feet. “More than mine, anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Something tells me that’s not a high bar to clear.” Robin doesn’t know much about Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, but the fact that it’s been nearly a week since their son almost died and she’s seen neither hide nor hair of them speaks for itself. “But, no, my parents think that family meals and the ‘standard nuclear family’ are capitalist propaganda designed to create corporate drones who will destroy the planet. So. No family dinners. I don’t think it ever occurred to them that the reason some people do it is to have an organized reason to spend time with their family.” Robin tilts her head, considering. “Then again, they aren’t really into ‘organization’ in general.”

Steve nods with a small frown. “So…we both have fucked up parents, but in directly opposing ways?”

Robin hesitates. “I don’t know if I’d call them ‘fucked up,’ but they’re definitely not what you’d call functional parents, no.”

“Well, it’s a travesty that you’ve made it through 17 years on this planet without a proper grilled cheese, so I’m going to do the best I can with your meager offerings, and then we’re going to go shopping so that you’re armed to the teeth for any future grilled-cheese-making expenditures you may wish to embark on.”

Robin raises an eyebrow and shoots him a look. “I think Dustin’s rubbing off on you, buddy.”

Steve blinks and visibly plays back what he just said. “I don’t know where any of that came from,” he whispers in a joking panic.

Robin pats him on the shoulder. “It’s alright. Comes with the territory of befriending someone with an obnoxiously large personality.”

Steve grins at her. “Looking forward to it.”

Robin’s heart turns to goo and the smile she shoots back at him feels like it might split her face in two. “Me too.” Robin places her hands on her hips and turns to stare at the spice shelf. “Now, what exactly do you think we’re lacking on the spice front?”

“Robin, I don’t think we have time for me to list every single thing this cabinet is missing.”

“Fine, then tell me the things you wish were in it right now.”

Steve sighs. “Red pepper flakes, for one—although I guess if we’re using pepper jack for this it’s less important. It still makes me despair for the food you’ve been making before now that you don’t have it, though. And, uh…I guess herbs other than oregano and basil? Those are fine, but some variety would be nice, you know? Where’s the sage? The thyme? The rosemary? I guess we can go with oregano for now, though.” He pulls the jar from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. “Other than that I guess this is all we need for now— Oh!” Steve grabs the container of black pepper from the cabinet and adds it to his pile of ingredients. He keeps staring up at the cabinet, hands on his hip, and a small little frown on his face. "I’m still definitely helping you all stock up, because even if you’re just eating pasta and veggies you should still be using more spices than you’ve got here.”

Robin stares at him. “Steve Harrington…are you a cooking nerd?”

Steve’s head whips around and he stares at her, mouth agape. “No? What? Take that back right now!”

Robin crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. You are, aren’t you? You taught yourself a bunch of cooking tricks and have them all memorized. You can launch off onto little rants about flavor profiles and culinary technique, can’t you? I bet you have cookbooks stashed under your bed, or something.”

Steve fish-faces at her, waving an accusatory finger in her direction. “I’m…you…how did you know that?”

Robin laughs, delighted. “Genuine guess. But you do? Oh, that’s delicious. Becoming friends with you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The Steve Harrington lore is long and varied. You should be studied for science.” She throws her head back with a pleased cackle.

Steve is just staring at her, dumbfounded, a light dusting of pink on his face.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve shakes his head, and his eyes lose a little of the glassy quality they’d gained. “Nothing.” His hand reaches up to pinch at his nose for a second before falling away. “I just…do you mean that?”

“Do I mean what?”

“That being my friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

Robin blinks at him slowly. “Yeah? I mean the how of it wasn’t ideal, but even without the Russians we were already on our way here, right? The trauma just sort of…fast-forwarded it.”

“I…” Steve looks around the kitchen like he’s looking for an emergency exit. “Yeah. I guess.”

Robin feels her face fall. “Do you…do you not feel the same?”

“No! I mean, yes!! I just…” Steve rakes a frantic hand through his hair. “I’m not, uh, used to people liking me that much. I guess.”

Robin frowns. “What are you talking about, dingus? You were literally Hawkins Royalty!”

Steve huffs in frustration. “Yeah, but that’s not…being popular isn’t the same as people liking you, you know?” She doesn’t. Or, maybe she can guess, based on what he said in the bunker. But it still seems…wrong, somehow. Like everything she understood about the world is backwards.

Steve keeps talking, before her thoughts can spiral away from her. “Sure, I was popular. But my only actual friends were Tommy and Carol, and they…I mean, they weren’t bad friends, I guess? Terrible people, sure, but they were actually pretty…I mean, for all the fucked up shit…they always had my back?”

“Until you wanted to stop being a douchebag, you mean?”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah. I think they were…all three of us, really, were trapped in our own misery too much to let other people’s happiness pass without punishment. So I don’t think they liked when I tried to find some of my own.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

A part of Robin wants to ask What about Nancy? the question poised at the tip of her tongue. But he said himself that he’s not in love with her anymore. Robin’s not sure how much she believes that, because he seems pretty smitten whenever she comes up in conversation—not that it’s happened a whole lot in the week since The Bathroom. Then again, that’s also sort of how he talks about her, and Robin’s reasonably sure that his crush petered out about as quickly as it appeared. Once the drugs were out of his system he admitted that he hadn’t really thought of her like that until Dustin had suggested they’d be good together, and after her bathroom confession he realized that while he did love her, it wasn’t actually romantic.

She doesn’t know anything about how Steve and Nancy broke up, though. Doesn’t know what baggage is or isn’t there—maybe it was just a regular teenage break up; goodness knows she doesn’t trust the Hawkins’ rumor mill as far as she can throw it. But she does know that he didn’t offer any caveats to his initial declaration—I’m not used to people liking me—and Robin's not going to go around shining lights in dark corners unless he does so first.

Robin’s stomach growls.

“Okay, sappy hour’s over. I’ve got to eat something stat, or else I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Steve shakes his head like he’s shaking loose cobwebs and leaps into action. He’s not finished gathering ingredients, though, apparently. He bustles around the kitchen until he’s added the butter bell, a few cloves of garlic, a loaf of bread, and a small jar of honey to his haul.

“What the fuck.”

Steve points in her direction with the spatula he’s materialized out of nowhere. “Just trust me, Bobbin.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Last time I did that I wound up trapped in an elevator to a secret Russian base.”

“Ouch.” There’s a genuine grimace of pain on his face.

“Too soon?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries.” Steve turns to the stove, where he’s already unearthed and deposited one of the two frying pans in the house. “Now, let’s get started. First things first: the butter. The goal is to make the outside of the sandwich as tasty as the inside of the sandwich, so you’ve got to find a way to imbue the bread with flavor.”

Robin nods along. “Sure. What’s that got to do with butter?”

“You’re killing me, Buckley,” he says with a beleaguered little groan. He gestures to the frying pan. “First we’ve gotta imbue the butter with some flavor, so that the bread can soak it all up—which is part of why I wanted pepper flakes, but we’ll just have to make do with herbs and black pepper, I guess.”

Robin watches as Steve takes what seems like an obscene amount of butter and plops it into the pan, followed by a small handful of the oregano, a couple shakes of pepper, and a pinch of salt. “Okay, so now we’re going to turn the heat on—at low, we don’t want to burn anything—and we’re just gonna let that sit a bit until the butter melts and we start to smell the oregano on the air.”

“So…we just stand here and watch?”

“You can stir a bit to encourage the butter to melt a little quicker. But otherwise, yeah. Leave it alone. Let the butter and the heat do their thing together.”

“And then what?”

“Well, that should take about a minute or two, so now we can work on assembling our sandwiches. Sadly, you’ve only got Wonder Bread. Next time I’ll pick up a loaf of sourdough or something from Giant Eagle.” Steve waves the spatula through the air. “Or maybe we can make a quick loaf together.”

“Ugh, I hate baking bread.”

“…you know how to bake bread, but not how to make a grilled cheese?”

“…yeah? Baking makes sense. It’s just instructions.”

“I…yeah, okay, that makes sense.” Steve pulls a couple slices of bread from the bag, and starts spreading honey onto each one. “So what’s wrong with baking bread?”

“It’s sticky, and kneading the dough takes so much time, and it’s never the right consistency. I prefer, like, cakes and stuff. Brownies are perfect. Cookies are okay.”

“So: batter over dough, got it.”

“Exactly.” Robin joins Steve in spreading honey onto two slices of her own. “So, why the honey?”

“The sweetness adds some depth of flavor. Honey, butter, and cheese is a flavor profile without compare.” Steve stares in the direction of the pan. “Oh, shit, I forgot the most important ingredient! The garlic. Okay, drop what you’re doing. I should have thought to say this when I was talking about the herbs! The whole point is you want to get all your aromatics going at once, and what is garlic if not the world’s single most powerful aromatic? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing. But that’s okay, we can salvage this.” Steve grabs a couple cloves of garlic, a knife and just fucking…smashes the garlic with the flat of the blade.

“What the fuck…” Robin whispers to herself.

Steve just keeps moving like he isn’t getting up to absolute kitchen-wizardry, peeling away the papery skins from the cloves and tossing their mangled forms into the pan.

“We can give that another minute. The oregano might crisp up, but better to have crispy herbs and garlicky-butter than perfectly toasted herbs and sad, garlic-anemic butter.”

“I’ll just have to take your word on that, dude.”

Steve grins at her. “See, you do trust me.”

“Against my better judgment.” Robin deposits the second honeyed-bread slice on the plate in front of her. “Okay, what next?”

“Cheese!” Steve shakes out a few slices each of the pepper jack and muenster, layering them onto two of the four slices of bread spread out in front of them as the kitchen starts to fill with the scent of herbs and garlic. Robin’s cooked with garlic before, but usually she just chops it up and dumps it into the pot or pan along with everything else, so she’s never had the experience of smelling it on its own. She’s shocked by how much the scent makes it smell like a whole gourmet meal is already close to completion. She thinks back to every time she’s ever been over someone’s house while their mom was cooking and said something like wow, that smells great, Mrs. Johnson, and wonders if the only thing that’d actually been on the stove at that point was some garlic and herbs.

Robin shakes the thought from her head as she realizes Steve’s been monologuing. “…at this point you’ll want to turn the heat up a little.”

Robin nods again like she’s been following along this whole time. “Sure. Okay. Sandwich into butter, that makes sense.”

“Not sandwich time quite yet. Not a closed one, anyway. We want to be able to watch the cheese reach its melting point.” Steve drops two open-faced bread-with-cheese not-yet-sandwiches into the pan side by side, before reaching to turn the knob on the stove up to ‘5’. “Now we wait.”

Robin leans an elbow against the counter, staring intently at the sizzling pan. “How long?”

Steve shrugs. “Until the cheese starts to melt, or until it feels right. Some cheese melts more quickly, and some breads toast faster than others. You’re kind of aiming for the middle point of melty-cheese and golden-toasty-bread.”

Robin nods, and stares into the pan, fixated. Her grandmother’s voice floats through her head—a watched pot never boils, sweetheart. Robin knows it's an idiom, but she’s only ever had it said to her when she was literally watching a pot, waiting for it to boil. But Steve’s doing the same thing, watching as the garlic in the pan turns golden and crisp, and the butter bubbles and pops, and the edges of the bread begin to brown up.

Out of nowhere, she wishes there was music playing. She misses dancing around Scoops with him after close.

“What’re you humming?”

“Huh?” She hadn’t realized she’d been making any sound.

“The little,” Steve twirls a finger through the air and starts humming back at her, and Robin almost starts laughing.

“Apparently I was humming That’s What Friends Are For.” It had been on the songs on the closing mixtape they’d made together, but at the time she’d mostly added it as a joke.

Steve smiles at her, and it’s soft and cheesy, like the sandwiches sizzling away in the pan. He picks up the melody from her, extending a hand for hers.

“Steve, I’ve got two left feet.”

“Yeah, I know that, Robs,” he says, long-suffering, and takes her hand into his anyway. He resumes his humming, and yanks her into a little slow dance, spinning her around the kitchen like they’re two newly-weds, or care-free teenagers at the prom, blissfully unaware there are portals to hell beneath their feet. Except they’re better than that: two best friends dancing in the kitchen together after saving the world, while one of them teaches the other how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

Robin takes over humming some of the lines when she thinks the song switches over from Dionne to Elton or Stevie—which she can’t quite bite back a snort at, when the thought drifts through her mind—and they carry on like that. They’re probably not really following the progression of the song, because neither of them are actually singing, but Robin has snatches of the lyrics running through her head as she concentrates on not stepping on Steve’s feet, and letting herself be dramatically dipped at odd intervals.

Steve hums the melody that Robin thinks matches up to knowing you can always count on me, and she finds herself leaning her head against his chest. His arms come up to wrap around her, and she burrows herself into his embrace. There are stupid little tears welling up at the corners of her eyes, but it barely even phases her. She feels no need to reach up and dash them away before someone can sniff out the sign of weakness. It feels silly, almost, to be so worked up about dancing around the kitchen in her sock-feet with this boy she’s barely known for a month, tentatively liked for a few weeks, and has loved for all of seven days. But that’s where she is, and she doesn’t think there’s any place she’d rather be.

Eventually Steve’s voice tapers off, and he slows them to a stop in the middle of the room. She stares up at him, her vision still a little blurry with tears. Steve’s looking down at her like she hung the moon, and leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. It sends the new tears spilling over, and she collapses back into him. “I’m so glad you made it out of there, dingus,” she says into his chest, right over his breastbone, his heartbeat thrumming against her lips.

“Yeah, me too, Bobby.” He squeezes his arms around her tight.

“…do you think the grilled cheeses are done now?” Her voice is still muffled from her face being buried against his chest. For all that she’s been swept away by emotion, she’s still really hungry.

“Mmm, well, it’d be hard for them to be done with only one slice of bread, but they might be ready to close and flip.”

Steve gently disentangles them and shuffles back over to the stove. The cheese does seem to be nicely melted now, and Steve hums in satisfaction, closing each sandwich with the other two honeyed slices of bread, before taking up the spatula again, and flipping each one with a little flourish. Robin cuts her eyes at him “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

Steve smirks. “Are you not?”

“Remains to be seen, Harrington. You might be all flair and no substance. The proof is in the pudding.”

“Well, they should be done in another few minutes, so you’ll get a chance to taste for yourself.”

The bread of the cooked side of the sandwich facing up at them is nicely crisped. Buttery and golden—almost brown in the center, and along the edges—and Robin can feel her mouth watering. She won’t say it until she knows for sure, but it certainly looks like one of the best things she’s ever tasted. She wants it in her mouth immediately.

“Cooking involves so much waiting,” she whines.

“So does baking.”

“Yeah, but unless you’re making bread, all of the waiting happens at the end. With cooking you’ve got all these mini waiting times: you’ve got to wait for the water to boil, or the pan to heat. You have to wait for something to cook the right amount before adding the next thing. You have to wait for the actual thing you’re cooking to cook enough on one side and then you’ve got to flip it and wait that same amount of time for it to cook evenly on the other side. It’s maddening! I don’t know how you do it.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitch. “I guess I’ve never thought of it like that. And it’s different with something like this, because this is pretty low on prep work. But with most things you always have stuff you can be doing during the waiting times. You have vegetables to chop, or you can get a head start on washing the dishes you used. If whatever you’re making involves having two pans or pots going you can time it so that you’re always doing something in at least one dish. And a lot of stuff involves active waiting. Like, you’ve got to stir the pot every now and then, or you have to slowly add something to the pan. And, I don’t know, I kind of like the pace of it. Having to keep track of all the little variables. It’s soothing.”

Robin squints at him. “You’re a weirdo, Steve Harrington.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! You’re a tiny little weirdo, who managed to convince the entire populace of Hawkins that you’re a cookie-cutter little rich boy. I’m almost impressed.” Robin pokes him in the chest. “You’re a weirdo, and a nerd, and a dork, to boot!” She’s grinning so wide again her cheeks ache. “And you’re my favorite person.”

“Well you’re my favorite person and you are also a weirdo, so there!”

“Stevie, I think we all already knew I was a weirdo.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” Steve picks up the spatula again and carefully shuffles the sandwiches from their warm, buttery home. “Stuff your face so I don’t have to hear you yap any more,” he says. There’s a touch of faux-annoyance in his tone, but there’s no edge to it, and Robin can see a smile just as wide as her own plastered on his face.

“Okay, gimme the goods, Harrington.” She makes grabby hands at the chipped plate he’s deposited the first sandwich onto.

“Alright, alright, hold your horses.” Steve hands the plate to her, finishes scooping his own sandwich from the pan, and turns the heat off. He stares down at the plate in his own hand with a considering look. “I think we can skip the soup; I’ve already spent too much time talking your ear off about the grilled cheese. If I have to walk you through making soup, we’ll be here all week.”

“I know how to make soup!” Robin squawks, a bit offended.

Steve casts another despairing look at the spice cabinet. “See, somehow that’s worse.”

Robin sticks her tongue out at him. “Rude.”

Steve holds up his free hand in surrender. “Hey, I’m just of the opinion that if people are taking the time to make food for themselves it should taste good.”

“You've had soup here before!”

“Yeah, and I’ve also been concussed all week!”

“Rude!” She shouts again. She flaps her hands in his face. “And, I’ll have you know that my French onion soup is amazing!”

Steve narrows his eyes. “I cannot accept that. There is no thyme to be found here.”

“What is your obsession with thyme?”

“It’s not an obsession! It’s a spice cabinet staple!”

“Ugh, whatever. Let’s eat before I murder you out of sheer hunger.”

“I don’t like the link you’re making between those two concepts.”

Robin pats a hand on his cheek as she walks past him to the tiny table tucked against the kitchen wall. “Don’t worry, babe. The giant meat monster put me off of cannibalism.”

“Thanks,” he mutters after her. “That’s so comforting.”

Robin folds herself into one of the vinyl chairs at the table, and Steve drops into the one across from her. She picks the grilled cheese up off the plate with careful fingers, grease immediately welling up from the soaked bread and running down her fingers.

It smells…divine, actually. The bread is perfectly crisp, and she can smell the garlic wafting from it. She leans forward to take a tentative bite, careful of burning herself, and can’t bite back the full-throated moan that pours out of her. Garlic and honey break out across her tongue, followed by the heat of the pepper, and the fatty goodness of the cheeses. “Oh my God,” she groans, fully ignoring the etiquette of waiting to swallow before talking as she speaks around her mouthful. “I’m in love with you,” she says to the sandwich, and she thinks she’s going to cry. There might be actual tears welling up again. This sandwich is better than most orgasms she’s hand—and sure, maybe she doesn’t really know what she’s doing with herself on that front, but up until this moment she also didn’t know what she was doing when it came to making a grilled cheese sandwich, so it feels like a totally reasonable to comparison.

“So…you like it, huh?”

Robin’s head jerks as she tears her gaze away from the sandwich and looks over at Steve, who has a giant, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh, shut up, asshole.”

“I’m not the one practically orgasming at the table, Bobs.”

“Am not.”

“You definitely are. I’m flattered, really. I didn’t realize my prowess extended this far.”

Robin flaps a hand in his face. “Ew, disgusting! Stop that!”

Steve throws his head back and cackles. “Oh my god, the look on your face!” He reaches up to wipe away a stray tear, and tilts his head back down to shoot her a fond look. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you like it.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but smiles at him anyway. “Yeah, thanks for making it, dingus.”

Steve smiles right back. “Anytime, dingo.”

Robin takes another bite. In this bubble of space, with a song on loop in her head, a smile on Steve’s face, and the taste of the world’s best grilled cheese on her tongue, Robin thinks that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be alright.

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Word Count: 5,269

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Bilbo decides to follow Thorin’s example and decides to visit Erebor, but somehow the trip doesn’t go as planned and he’s going to be very, very late.

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Mention of bodily Injury and description of injury, he is hurt, maybe blood, continue with caution and care.

Note:

Listen to me, I’m still trying to find my style when writing and I spent a really long time on this to make sure it was okay, if you see anything that might be confusing or something that is so horribly wrong don’t hesitate to tell me, I value criticism and wish to grow my writing ability. Also I kinda really struggled with the last bit but I think it’s okay-anyway, till next time.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Bilbo sat at the edge of his garden, his pipe in hand. The smell of his sweet tobacco wrapped around him in ribbons as he blew smoke rings. Bilbo watched as faunts chased each other down the road towards the marketplace that was being prepared for the coming festival.

For as long as Bilbo could remember, each season Hobbits from all over the rolling hills of the shire would come far and wide to see the festivities of Hobbiton. His favorite festival has truly always been the summer festival.

If Bilbo closes his eyes, often he could remember the bright colors of the fireworks, the food and games he’d once enjoyed. That isn’t to say the autumn festival wasn’t lovely in its own ways.

Bilbo always remembered how the rolling hills took on shades of tan and brown. And how the farms begin to grow crops as colorful as the leaves that fell. The autumn festival was always so full of warmth and fun trinkets and full of rich food.

Bilbo hums to himself, pulling himself from the distant memories of his childhood. He watched from his bench as wheelbarrows were filled with squashes and other crops, and then wheeled off to the market stalls.

He closed his eyes as a burst of crisp air nipped at his nose. Bilbo loved the smells the festival would bring. He couldn’t ever forget the smells of pies and grand foods as they wafted through the air, warming anyone who caught a whiff.

Bilbo sighs softly ‘shame’ he thought to himself fluttering his eyes open once more, ‘Thorin would have loved the festival’. Bilbo hopped up and tapped out his pipe before heading inside, the sweetness of his tobacco following him as he went.

‘Thorin’s tobacco,’ he smiled to himself, ‘Always smelled earthy, and bitter then lemons…I never did like that cheaper stuff, but I suppose it matches him.’ Bilbo thought as he moved through his cozy home.

He could hardly stop himself as his thoughts kept turning to Thorin. The memory of the dwarf’s deep, gravelly laugh, the wrinkle in his cheeks, the twinkle in his piercing blue eyes. That last thought made Bilbo’s heart ache and twist in a strange way.

‘What a silly dwarf,’ Bilbo mused, ‘Coming all the way to the Shire just to see me.’ He shook his head, a fond smile finding his lips. ‘He’s so proud of his kingdom, I’ve never seen anyone so proud of something. Not even Hamfast, I wonder how things are in Erebor now’

Bilbo paused, looking out the window, he could see the trees, how their leaves began to turn yellow and fall as the wind shook them softly. ‘It’s been months since Thorin visited…Perhaps it’s time I returned the favor.’

The thought buzzed in his mind, like a fly in the ear, it grew stronger with each passing moment. Then he grinned like a fool. ‘visit Thorin, huh? I suppose It is about time I saw the Lonely Mountain with my own eyes.’ Bilbo thought as he quickly shuffled away picking up some parchment on his way to his writing desk.

A raven Thorin had sent to Bilbo sat not far from him, the bird ruffled though his feathers, cleaning them gently. “Hello, Hugin,” Bilbo greeted the young raven as he began to write rather quickly.

Thorin had gotten quite fed up with the amount of time Bilbo’s letters seem to take. So much so that on one particular night he found a raven tapping on his window with a note.

Bilbo had taken to taking care of this young raven, as Hugin more often stayed in the shire near Bilbo. It was his job after all to carry letters for the hobbit.

Thorin had written a quick note explaining to him how a Raven carried quicker than most other creatures, and Bilbo agreed with that, seeing as how mail carriers can take as long as they liked with such things.

By now the young raven had stopped his ruffling and hopped a bit closer, tilting his head to look at Bilbo. “Hello, Master Baggins. Are you writing to the Mountain King again?” Hugin asked and leaned forward curiously to watch Bilbo’s pin.

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, feel up for flying?” He asked, Bilbo ticked his tongue and scribbled something out.

“Always, Master Baggins!” Hugin flapped his wings in excitement and then tilted his head once more, “I am the quickest of the ravens! I’ll get there faster than the fastest of horses!” Hugin ruffled his feathers up and clicked, puffing up proudly.

Bilbo smiled, this raven often reminded him of Kíli. He has always been the one to immediately volunteer to do things. Kíli was never one to like being left out of things if he had any say in the matter.

‘Thorin never seemed to like that about his sister's youngest son.’ Bilbo couldn’t help the Sudden twist to his heart, it had only been a few months since Thorin’s visit, yet to Bilbo it felt like years yet again.

He looked down at his letter quickly, he sighed before a fond smile found his lips on again. ‘His parting for his journey back home was so, bittersweet…’ he thought as he finished his letter quickly, before waving it a little to dry, folding it up, and sealing it with a wax stamp.

“Well then” started the hobbit, after a seemingly long moment of silence. “you better get to flying. This needs to reach Thorin as fast as possible.” Bilbo held out the letter and looked to the raven as he finished speaking, his smile still tugging at his lips

“What’s it about?” asked the juvenile raven as he took the paper quickly.

“Nosy little bird, if you must know, I’m warning Thorin that I will be visiting very soon.” Bilbo said with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

The young raven made a noise-one Bilbo had come to know as one of excitement-Hugin hardly waited another beat as he flew out of the window giving Bilbo barely enough time to open it.

Bilbo smiled excitedly and closed his window and sat down a moment silently ‘I truly hope Thorin won’t mind’ he hummed at his thought and began organizing his desk.

Once it was somewhat straight, he began to get up and straighten some more things around his smial ‘it is such short notice’ Bilbo made his way to the kitchen to make tea as he continued with his thoughts. ‘I hope he has time to prepare-‘

He paused, then his eyes widened, he gasped and put a hand to his head “wait, what am I doing I have to prepare!” He said out loud to no one, and just like that he was off.

He abandoned his tea pot as quickly as he had grabbed it and he found himself quite basically running around his burrow to pack. Bilbo knew that really, he should wait for Thorin to tell him that he got his letter, though Bilbo had a feeling his letter left little room for discussion on whether or not he was coming.

And before Bilbo realized anything he had on his blue coat he had gotten from the dwarfs, the cloak Thorin had given him draped over his shoulders held by a familiar clasp, and Sting strapped on his belt.

He remembers when Thorin gave it to him ‘he was so adamant that I take it’ Bilbo thought to himself as he put extra clothes in his pack. ‘Said he didn’t want me to get cold…’ he smiled a little more at that thought.

Thorin had walked Bilbo all the way back to the shire after they had settled after the battle for Erebor. Gandalf had offered to take him at first, seeing as Thorin was a little busy but when the king under the mountain heard Bilbo was heading home he had raced to catch the hobbit and offered to take him instead

Blibo found his cheeks warming up slightly and his face tugging his smile till it lit up his face. He pressed his hand to his cheek gently and sighs ‘Thorin is such a sweet friend’ Bilbo could feel his smile drop slightly at that thought.

Bilbo focused on the world around him once again, Bilbo blinked slightly in surprise as he found himself out of the rolling hills he calls home and on a shaggy pony already on his way to Bree. He smiled once again as he felt his excitement bubbling up within him.

After a few days of traveling Bilbo suddenly remembered why he had not visited sooner, Bilbo grumbled as he wiped his nose with his handkerchief. He never did like riding ponies; all the hair and dust did something foul to his allergies.

Bilbo huffed as he thought to himself. ‘Miserable, quite miserable. Oh, why did I think this a good idea?’ he thought dourly.

He huffed again. “I blame Thorin for this,” he muttered as he blew his nose. “Coming to see me in the Shire, bringing such fantastical stories.” He grumbled to no one but himself.

The Hobbit groaned and stared up at the sky, he couldn’t see much of it but what the trees allowed to filter through their leaves. It was getting a tad but cloudy. He huffed, if it rained, that would truly put the topping of this fowl afternoon.

He was beginning to miss his home, his warm hearth, his books and maps, his armchair- ‘it’s not too late’ Bilbo’s mind supplied to him, ‘you can go back tell Thorin you had changed your mind.’

But then his thoughts turned to Thorin once more, of his blue eyes, of his warm smiles, the ones he only reserved for those rare occasions, of his company, how Bilbo’s heart flips and skips every time he sees Thorin. And he shakes his head, chasing the thoughts away.

“Come now Bilbo” he chastised himself “you are a Baggins, of Bag End, you can do this, you have once before you can again!” He held his head a little higher as he spoke to himself.

But before he could do much more thinking or talking to himself, he sneezed, Bilbo groaned and wiped his nose once more, ‘I can not wait for when I stop sneezing’ he thought, ‘irritating business really’ he thought once more.

It seems the world was against him doing anything really, as his mind was interrupted by the sound of hooves behind him and he turned to face the noise. a beautiful white mare came to view and an awfully familiar gray clad wizard.

“Gandalf.” Bilbo greeted kindly, despite his foul mood and stuffy voice. Truly, that the moment he wanted to tell the wizard to kinda sod off, but alas, he was still a Baggins and manners seem to run in his blood-especially when it comes to the gray wizard.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf rumbled, “what in Middle-earth are you doing this far from the Shire?” Gandalf spurred his horse to pick up beside the Hobbit’s pony.

Bilbo hummed and smiled at the wizard. “I was about to ask you something similar, Gandalf. I am going to visit my dwarfs.”

“Your dwarfs?” Gandalf mused, raising a bushy brow, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Are you now? Alone? Do you truly think that’s a good idea, my dear hobbit?”

Bilbo shrugged, trying to appear as if this wasn’t the least bit nerve-racking. “Thorin did it. I don’t see the issue.”

Gandalf chuckled softly,“Thorin is a well traveled warrior and a king. And while you’ve faced orcs, goblins, and a dragon, I dare say, you seem to struggle with dusty roads and grumpy ponies.” Gandalf said, his tone teasing and riddled with mischief.

Bilbo bristled slightly but kept his voice as polite as one can be to such an irritating wizard, “I’ve managed quite well on my own so far, thank you very much! I can handle this journey as well as anyone else!” Bilbo all but yelled in reply.

Bilbo could see as Gandalf’s smile softened a small amount into something bit more genuine, “Oh, I have no doubt about your capabilities, Bilbo Baggins” said Gandalf, his tone remaining as teasing as before. “But I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun. Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t get into too much trouble.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, but Gandalf interrupted, “And I’m sure Thorin wouldn’t mind if I tag along. In fact, he might insist upon it.” Gandalf said, sounding a tad more serious this time.

Seeing the glint in Gandalf’s eyes, Bilbo sighed, knowing good and well it was futile to argue. “Very well, if you insist.” Bilbo said.

Gandalf’s grin widened. “Oh, I do insist. Now, let’s be off before you change your mind and decide to return to the comforts of Bag End.”

Blibo widened his eyes and gave Gandalf a look then he turned away and huffed, ‘this will be a long journey indeed.’ He thought grumpily.

The days seemed to pass a tad bit faster than Bilbo thought and he had found himself not entirely upset over Gandalf’s presence.

Often during the night, when they would camp, the wizard would tell him stories of far-off lands and ancient times. other nights, often the more longer feeling ones, they would sit in comfortable silence, smoking their pipes, blowing smoke rings that would blend into the crisp night air.

The days came to Bilbo much faster than before, as they rode through lush valleys and over towering rocky hillsides. Sometimes Gandalf would point out places he thought the hobbit may find interesting and share snippets of history.

Bilbo began to suspect it was because Gandalf was trying to negate Bilbo firm complaining for the 70th time this trip, even then Bilbo couldn’t help but feel wonder as they rode

Bilbo had passed through these lands before, more than a year ago now. And it seemed to be the same dusty roads that stretched on for what felt like centuries. But, as Gandalf continued to talk about the landscape, it began to feel like so much more.

He began to ache a long time ago now, but whether it was from sitting on his pony to long or shiver the colder temperatures, he did not know.

As the cold settled across the lands he and Gandalf traveled, Bilbo couldn’t help but to worry about Hugin. And with how fast it felt the winter was approaching, he feared the worst. For not only Hugin but Gandalf and himself as well.

One could starve, or freeze in conditions like this. Then when the nights he’s longer, Bilbo would often find himself each evening, gazing up into the darkening sky, hoping to catch maybe a glimpse of Hugin even if it was pointless to do so.

“I hope Hugin is okay…and that Thorin received my letter,” Bilbo muttered, as they settled down to rest near the warmth of a fire. “It’s been a few days and Hugin should be there by now but I can’t stop thinking that maybe he isn’t, maybe he’s freezing somewhere…”

Gandalf looked at him over the rim of his pipe. “Ravens are resilient creatures. If anyone can make it through these conditions, it’s a raven.”

Bilbo nodded and relaxed at Gandalf’s words, ‘he’s right’ Bilbo thought, fishing his one pipe from his coat and lighting it ‘though he seems to be more often than not most days’ Bilbo thought with a huff.

On one particularly cold day, as they were making their way through dense forested trails, Gandalf suddenly slowed his horse to a halt and raised a hand to stop Bilbo. “What is it?” Bilbo whispered, feeling a slight worrisome unease creep into his stomach.

Gandalf’s eyes scanned the trees, before he spoke. “We’re being followed.” Gandalf said as he turned his head some more.

‘Being followed!?’ Bilbo gripped the reins of his pony tightly, ‘of course we are! Of course we’re being followed!because nothing can go right for long can it’ he thought to himself as he struggled to push his panic away.

Bilbo snapped his eyes to the tree line and whipped his head around trying to catch a peek of anything in the shadows of the forest. “B-By whom?” He asked, trying not to sound afraid

“Orcs,” Gandalf said quietly. “A small band, I believe. They’ve been tracking us for a few miles now.”

Bilbo’s hand instinctively went to Sting. “W-What do we do?” Bilbo asked worriedly as he looked at the wizard. “Gandalf!” Bilbo whines as Gandalf sat quietly for a moment too long in the hobbit’s opinion.

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled with a familiar spark of mischief, one Bilbo strangely found comforting. “We give them a surprise they won’t soon forget.” Gandalf said.

Suddenly, Gandalf spurred his horse forward, and Bilbo scrambled to follow not wanting to be left behind. They rode hard and fast, the trees blurring past them as they made their way off the path deeper into the forest.

Eventually, Gandalf seemed to find where he had wanted to take them, they stopped in a clearing, and Gandalf dismounted swiftly. “We make our stand here,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

Bilbo faltered slightly. “O-our stand- what- but, but Gandalf! I- what if-!“ Bilbo stuttered desperately trying to reason with the wizard.

“Bilbo Baggins,” thundered the wizard, “Where did all the courage go from all those days ago? Had you truly no faith?” Gandalf asked, the start of angrier lacing his words.

Blibo shrank a bit into his saddle as he was still sitting on his pony, “I-of course I do Gandalf!-” Bilbo said quickly.

“Then get off that pony my dear Bilbo, and draw your sword.” Gandalf said harsher then he probably meant to as he turned his attention back to the forest around them.

Bilbo’s eyes widened-he nodded quickly as he scrambled off his pony, drawing Sting and positioning himself beside Gandalf. They waited in tense silence, Bilbo twitched at every noise or sound.

Suddenly, the forest erupted from its silence to a more chaotic noise as the orcs burst into the clearing, their weapons gleaming in the diminishing light of the sun.

Gandalf raised his staff, a blinding flash of light emanating from its tip and sending the orcs into a more unorganized frenzy.

Bilbo moves on instinct as he lunges himself forward, his sword clashing glinting in the light as he strikes down the nearest orc.

The battle, if you can call 6 Orcs attacking such a thing, was over swiftly and soon the clearing was quiet once more. Bilbo looked around making sure it was safe.

Bilbo stood panting, his heart beating hard in his chest, it shook his hands as he still held Sting. When Gandalf patted Bilbo's shoulder gently he jumped and looked up at the wizard, a proud smile was on Gandalf’s face.

“Well done, Bilbo. You may have the spirit of a Took in you yet.” Said Gandalf jokingly before a much more soft smile found its way on the wizard’s face, “your mother would be proud.” Gandalf nearly whispered to the hobbit.

Bilbo grinned as pride settled in his stomach. He nods softly and let out a relieved chuckle, “I-thank you Gandalf, though I doubt she’d Like the idea of her sun running around fighting Orcs” Bilbo said softly

“Nonsense my dear hobbit!” Gandalf replied, a smile pulling on his face as his eyes twinkled with that knowing mischievous look, “she’d be quite proud. Now let’s get going before all light is lost, we do not want to lose the road.”

“R-right yes!” Bilbo said as he sheath Sting and quickly got on his pony before following Gandalf back to the path.

Gandalf looked down at Bilbo as he came to step beside Gandalf, the wizard chuckled and shook his head. “Fret not my dear boy” Gandalf chuckled in a teasing tone, “soon, we will soon find ourselves in much more hospitable surroundings.”

Then, no more than a day later, seemingly spurred on by those very words themselves, their luck seemed to turn against them as the weather worsened and rain began to fall.

It was a cold, unrelenting drizzle that soaked through their cloaks and made the roads slippery as the ground became mud. Bilbo huddled deeper into his cloak that Thorin gave him.

Even in the abysmal conditions he couldn’t help but think of Thorin, ‘He had begun to grow his beard back out again’ his mind supplied, seemingly looking for a distraction from the freezing cold rain that pelted him.

As his pony trudged on though the thick mud he began to wonder how long it had grown since the last time he had seen Thorin, ‘he truthfully looked quite dashing’ Bilbo thought as a bit of warmth found his face as he thought of his kingly dwarf. He was shook from his thoughts when his pony whinnied skittishly. She had slid in the mud.

He looked off the side of the path and at the sheer drop below him and then to Gandalf, even the wizard’s horse had been struggling in the mud. He opened his mouth to call for the wizard but before Bilbo could say a word to Gandalf, his pony suddenly reared back harshly, it threw Bilbo off.

The wind wiped in his ears as he tumbled down a steep hillside. Bilbo desperately tried to stop himself as he crashed into various things he couldn’t really make out.

His head hit harshly on a rock and he wasn’t really sure of anything else anymore except for pain that shot through him, a sharp, explosive agony that left him gasping desperately for air he couldn’t seem to catch as he rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

He struggled to push himself up; his mind struggled sluggishly as pain radiating through him with each movement. When he tried to breathe, fresh waves of hurt coursed through him, worse than the last.

Bilbo was faintly aware of his legs shaking. When Gandalf’s voice called from him he tried to understand the words tumbling for the wizards mouth as he made his way to Bilbo

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut as his vision tilted and his legs buckled under him, when he opened his eyes again his vision was swimming violently.

Bilbo blinked trying to clear his vision, ‘Thorin,’ Bilbo thought desperately as he clawed at the earth. ‘I’ll be late; I need to get up,’ his brain supplied to him, he let out a whine as panic gripped him.

He was going to be late? He didn’t want to be late, he wanted to be with Thorin- ‘maybe, maybe he could make the pain go away- make it better’ he thought to himself

Thorin always makes him feel better, always makes him feel happy. He liked feeling happy. He liked that Thorin makes him feel happy.

Bilbo faintly could make out Gandalf’s voice over all the thoughts crowding in his head. His vision blurred again as his heart beat pounded in his head making catching his breath so much harder.

Bilbo whined and closed his eyes, he let out a short sob as the pain riddled him. He didn’t want to be late. Thorin would be so sad if he was late.

He clawed at the mud beneath him, it began to feel slightly warm as he dug his hands into it, it squished between his fingers leaving a strange feeling between his fingers.

‘I can’t be late, can’t, Thorin,’ he thought desperately as he pushed himself harder to move. A sob wracked his body harshly as a hand took his arm and scooped him up.

Warmth wrapped around him as the hands pulled him close, Bilbo let a whine tumble from his mouth, he clutched onto the cloth his face was pushed against.

His mind was struggling as it began to foggy over, but each jostle and fresh waves of pain sobered his mind even only slightly. He felt like he needed to throw up as a headache pounded harder than before. Bilbo felt himself being moved onto something tall and the world around him was a blur.

Bilbo felt his mind give as he squeezed his eyes shut when the world around him moved dizzily, things began to feel fuzzy and distant, then all at once it stopped and he felt like he was floating.

The first thing Bilbo could remember after a long while of floating in only darkness was that he felt warm again. He cracked his eyes open dizzily, finding himself on something soft and warm.

He rolled his head to the side weakly, trying to make sense of anything. He could make out blurry figures moving around him and could hear noises and voices, foreign to him, he could almost recall one of the voices though, it felt familiar, it sounded familiar.

Bilbo felt someone touch his arm, and he let out a loud whine, before he weakly kicked his feet to try and get away from the unknown blob.

He couldn’t make sense of the sounds and voices around him. He pulled his arm away as a cold thin hand took it.

‘No’ he thought- or did he say that out loud, maybe he did as the blobs stopped trying to grab at him ‘Thorin, I want him, please’ a sob bubbled up in his throat.

He grasps at whatever was beneath his hands he whines again, he wanted Thorin, he wanted Thorin, Thorin would make all the pain disappear and maybe hold him till he felt better again.

Bilbo couldn’t stop the loud, hiccupping sob that pushed its way up his throat. Bilbo started shaking violently as his pain began to grow worse.

When Bilbo blinked his eyes open a familiar shape moved over him-Bilbo grabbed for them desperately, like a child would with a blanket.

The face of the person became much clearer, “Gandalf '' he heard himself cry out, he let out another sob but this one was laced in relief. “Get him-plea-ase g-get him!” Bilbo could hear himself beg as he gripped the wizard’s cloak.

“Bilbo, calm down, my boy. You are alright,” Gandalf said quietly. He pressed a hand to Bilbo’s head as he took the hobbit’s smaller hands in one of his.

“You’re hurt. You need help immediately,” Gandalf said. His voice was calm and soothing and Bilbo couldn’t help but to calm down, even if it was only a little bit.

He squeezed his eyes shut, Bilbo shook his head and sobbed, “Please, Gandalf… Thorin, please-please”

Gandalf’s voice sounded pleading as Bilbo felt him squeeze the hobbits hands gently, “Bilbo-” Gandalf tried to say before Bilbo interrupted him.

“Ple-please, Thorin, please! I need him-Gandalf, please!” Bilbo's voice shook and he opened his eyes and pleaded to the wizard.

Gandalf froze then his face fell into a serious look. “I will do what I can, Bilbo. I promise.”

And that was that. Bilbo couldn’t recall much after that, his memory either being too blurry or his eyes being too full of tears to really take anything in

Bilbo had no idea how long he was in that state of mind, drifting in and out of it like a leaf lost to the raging waters of a river.

On one particular occasion when he could, he could hardly make sense out of anything around him till Óin walked in quickly, Bilbo's mind lurched suddenly, sending a shot through him that mhm feel more awake then he had in a long time

Bilbo looked at Óin as the older Dwarf looked at him with enough clear worry that made Bilbo’s stomach turn knots and flip. Bilbo reached out to him.

Oin took his hand gently, “laddie, your going to be alright I’m here now, let get you patched up how's that sound?” His voice was quiet, like he was trying to offer comfort to the hobbit.

Bilbo hiccuped and tried to fight crying again and he reached up to hug Óin. Óin quickly scooped the hobbit into a hug.

“your alright lad, your alright…” Óin mumbled into his hair as he hugged the hobbit and for the first time in a long while Bilbo began to relax.

When Óin released Bilbo he immediately began to dart around the room gathering things or preparing others at a speed that was almost surprising to Bilbo.

Bilbo watched Óin work with amazement, and in a matter of minutes Óin was beginning to clean Bilbo up. Bilbo stopped Óin as the healer was cleaning him up. He needed to know.

Bilbo interrupted Óin as the dwarf began to open his mouth to ask what was wrong, “W-where's Thorin? D-did he get my-my letter?” Bilbo asked weakly as he let Óin go.

Oin made a face that told Bilbo he didn’t hear him, he repeated himself again a little louder when had Óin asked him to. 

“Aye lad,” Óin said as he nodded, he took a rag to Bilbo's head causing the hobbit to flinch and the dwarf to give him a look. “Thorin got your letter lad, don't worry” Óinsaid as he got back to cleaning the wound on Bilbo's head.

“When we got Gandalf’s letter. Thorin was worried, so he sent me ahead.” Óin tossed the rag into a bowl, he moved to dig through his bag pulling a needle and thread out and coming back over. “Came as fast as a pony would ride, even had some help from the mirkwood elves surprisingly enough”

“Wh-what are you going to do with that?” Bilbo asked shakily, Óin looked at him with a look one might give the village idiot.

“'What do you think I'm going to do lad?” Óin asked his voice laced with mirth, “You have a good gash across your head, I need to sew it up before it gets infected” Óin said as he threaded the needle.

Óin huffed and moved closer now before taking Bilbo’s head “It looks like they've just been wrapping it up, hmph, that's a good way to get an infection, and one is already trying to take hold” the dwarf huffed as he began to stitch up bilbo’s head. Bilbo flinched and whined as he did.

Óin continued stitching, his movements quick and efficient. Bilbo eventually stopped wincing and Óin finished his work. He then checked Bilbo's arm and the smaller injuries before bandaging him up.

“I think you'll be alright lad- though it seems you may have a small fever, but it should break in a day or two” Óin told him as he patted the hobbits arm comfortingly. Bilbo nodded at Óin’s words and began to relax,

“A-And when will the others be here…?” Bilbo asked him. Óin hummed in response.

“Not sure lad, not sure when they left after I scramble to come here.” Óin said he got up and began to pack and clean things back up. “Though they can’t be too far behind, maybe in a day or two.”

Bilbo nodded at that. Óin pointed at him and puffed his chest a bit as he glared at the hobbit- but Bilbo saw no real malice behind it. “You worry about getting some rest lad, I’ll wake you if they show up.”

Bilbo chuckles and nods softly; he had already started to feel a tad drowsy, so he doesn't have to wait far too much longer before he nodded off, with dreams of lonely mountains, distant places and of his friends.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I’ve finally finished this second part, and I’m sorry it took so long to do but as I have said before unfortunately it’s not everything I wanted to write, I split it up for my own mental wellbeing. That means I’ll be making part three and if you like this and part one, then keep an eye out for three. Now to @ people, because for some unknown reason you people want to know when I’m being a heathen.

@bllbabaggins @m4yh4ps

[tooxmanyxships]

Can you write a "5 times they kissed drunk + 1 time they kissed sober" fic about brocedes, please?

Back to my roots ✨

Brocedes (and Maxiel ❤️) are the first pairing I ever wrote for in the F1 fandom

1.

It's not really a kiss.

Not when their lips don't even really touch each other.

It's more like a headbutt gone a bit different as they're play wrestling on the bed, trying to get the remote.

They just had their first beers and are on the brink of being completely sloshed. Not used to alcohol at all.

But it's Nico's lips that unintentionally brush against the corner of Lewis' mouth.

For a minute it's tense and awkward, but then Lewis just pounces on the blond again and it gets forgotten just as fast as it happened.

2.

This time it's Lewis, now a little more used to the use of alcohol but still very foolish, who 'makes the mistake' of getting his face a little too close to Nico's.

It's Nico who took them out to the club though.

It's Nico who dragged him onto the dancefloor and forced him to 'show off his moves'.

They're laughing and dancing together carelessly, until another guy on the dancefloor stumbles into Lewis, who nearly loses his balance if it wasn't for Nico grabbing him.

He isn't even aware that he faceplanted into Nico's shoulder until he has to lift his head up.

He keeps his face close as he whispers a thank you into Nico's ear, but doesn't make a move to pull back just yet.

It's just a brush of lips against an earlobe, can hardly be classified as a kiss, yet it very much is.

He pulls back and acts like nothing happened.

They just dance the night away.

3.

It's a stupid truth or dare.

They're both competitive, so neither of them were gonna back down from this.

But of course Daniel was the one giving out the dare and Nico was on the receiving end of it.

At least he covered up the dare quite nicely.

"I dare you to kiss your biggest rival."

The sniggering around them betrayed what he tried to kept hidden.

Who was he kidding? Everyone knew Lewis was his biggest rival.

But no one knew about the feelings underneath.

So what if they stare at each other for just a little too long before Nico finally moves forward.

The kiss is very chaste and has no fireworks going off or anything. Maybe it's the alcohol that keeps it from happening. Or just the chasteness of the kiss.

He doesn't know if he imagined it, but Lewis seemed to be chasing his lips when he pulled back.

That was definitely the alcohol talking.

Daniel and some of the other drivers who were there at the party started complaining that the kiss was too short, but there was no way he was doing that again.

He distracted them by yelling it was his turn to give someone a truth or dare.

Oh they were all gonna feel his wrath.

4.

It's some celebratory party with the whole Mercedes gang. Celebrating the 'who cares how many' wins from Lewis.

Niki forced Nico to come, otherwise he wouldn't even be there.

Their competitiveness is chipping away at their friendship.

It's chipping away at Nico's heart.

But Niki can be quite convincing, and a stubborn little fucker, so here he is. At the party.

He doesn't even greet anyone before he's at the bar and has a drink in his hand.

He keeps on drinking, telling himself it's a way to keep himself busy and not constantly look for Lewis in the crowd.

Turns out he doesn't even have to look. Because he suddenly feels a tug on his arm and he doesn't even have to turn his head to know who it is.

"Nico!" The other man slurs and Nico can tell he's as far gone as he is. "Come dance with me, man!"

"No, thanks."

His words seem to be ignored because all he hears is a scoff and then he's pulled from the barstool and dragged onto the dancefloor.

Lewis' hands are on his hips, moving them to the beat of the music.

Nico rolls his eyes, slaps Lewis' hands away and starts moving himself.

Lewis watches, licking his lips, before starting to move along to the music as well.

They always worked well went they out together. Their fights on track completely forgotten, at least for a little while.

The slight problem with that was that suddenly all senses of self control were abandoned too and the preverbial 'line to cross' got crossed as they practically started grinding against each other in the middle of the dancefloor.

God. Every time.

But this time a bigger line gets crossed when Nico suddenly feels lips against his own and all he can think is 'push him away' but his arms and hands fail to do so.

And again, it's over before it began, because Lewis pulls away before Nico can completely comprehend what happened.

He even moves away from him too and Nico doesn't know how to feel when he sees Lewis already dancing close with someone else.

Acting like nothing happened.

Maybe it was for the best.

5.

"Why did you leave?"

The words are slurred and Nico watches how Lewis has to hold himself up against the wall.

"I had to. I couldn't do it anymore, Lewis."

"Do what? Be my teammate?"

"Everything!" he wasn't nearly as drunk as Lewis. "This whole year broke me!"

Lewis blinks, "Will you miss me?"

Why were they doing this in the hallway of a hotel?

"Of course I'll miss you."

Shuffling. Lewis moving closer. Their bodies almost touching.

"Let me show you what you'll be missing."

Before Nico can even come up with some kind of response, he's silenced by lips pressing against his.

There's even tongue involved this time and Nico can taste the alcohol on Lewis' tongue.

There's a pathetic sound coming from one of them, both of them will say it was the other man who released the sound, and then the kiss is over.

The spell is over.

Lewis already stumbling through the hallway to get to his own room before Nico has even opened his eyes.

They really, really needed to stop getting drunk around each other.

+1

"I didn't think I'd ever see you here again."

Nico looks up, pushing the last few papers in his bag.

"I wasn't really sure about doing this at first either."

"What made you come back?"

You.

"I obviously like the sport and I like talking about it."

"You've always liked talking. Only not to me. Not anymore."

The blond sighs, "I could say the same thing."

"You left."

"I had to."

"I wish you'd stayed."

..........

"What?!"

"I wish you'd stayed, Nico." Lewis steps into the media room where Nico had been the last one left when Lewis leaned inside the doorway.

"Why?"

How could he say that? Why now?!

"Because I can never get another teammate who's able to push me like you do."

"George is pretty competitive with you."

"It's not the same."

"Lew---"

When did Lewis get so close?

"He will never make me want to do these two contradicting things at the same time."

Nico frowns in confusion. He's really lost here.

"Which two things?"

"Pull my hair out is one. And this----"

Lewis reached out to cup Nico's cheek. Nico was too shocked to move away. Or maybe he just didn't want to.

There was no alcohol involved. It was sober lips on sober lips.

A sigh left Nico's lips as Lewis pulled back.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with a smile.

"That was two."

[convexicalcrow]

Cub admired the skulk spreading across the land surrounding his base. It sung softly, contentedly, eager to be given so much food. There was also a note of mourning, given it was outside and in the sunshine, and away from the protection of the Warden, its one and only defense mechanism. Ahh well. Can't be helped. Not that Cub wanted Wardens spawning all over his base though. He could easily live without that. The mobs and phantoms were more than enough for him to deal with, thank you very much.

He did find it strange no one had really confronted him about it though, given his history. Surely at least some Hermits might be a little concerned to see him spreading skulk everywhere, but no! Not even Scar seemed to care anymore. He was glad to help it spread! It led to Cub feeling a little on edge, half expecting someone to call him out on it, but no one ever did. He often wondered why.

Not that he had much time to spare worrying about these things. He was way too busy with the fireworks factory. There was so much to do, so many fireworks to produce. So much skulk to harvest and bring to the surface. So many goat horns to send out to people through the mail. What other Hermits thought about the skulk wasn't his problem. If Scar didn't care, then he was happy enough.

He did wonder a little about how far this might go. This seemed… more intense than his previous encounters with the skulk. This wasn't just hiding catalysts all over the place and hoping for the best. This was literally ripping up the grass and putting skulk there instead. Tearing apart the natural landscape to corrupt it instead. He kept on going, though. Every time he went to harvest it from the ancient city, he felt the skulk's eagerness as much as their sadness. There was no life down here. But up there, above, on the surface? Where mobs still came and died and could feed them so well? Yes, that's where the skulk needed to be. Right there, where the food was.

Cub often found himself dazzled by the light from the blocks at night. The sparking stars were so hypnotic. He would gaze across the landscape and see nothing but skulk and it mesmerised him. It was that moment when he felt the skulk's mind touching his own. A whispered, 'thank you', a small tendril brushing his leg softly. Things that left him staring oddly into the distance, as if in a stupor he needed to be woken from.

He gazed at the soul flames dancing in the night air as they lined sections of the new pathways. He loved the colour of them, loved how brightly they shone even though they emitted less light than regular torches. If he was feeling brave, he swiped his fingers through them, a silly magic trick that was meant to prove his fearlessness over fire.

Scar laughed it off. Scar always did. He didn't care about the skulk spreading. Didn't care that Cub sometimes seemed a little distant. Didn't care about the stains on his fingers because the man was positively covered in dyes to begin with. If there was real skulk there, Scar wouldn't have seen it.

It wasn't difficult to goad Scar into a death loop, either. The number of times they simply messed around with loaded crossbows filled with fireworks, shooting at each other making both a huge mess as well as dying repeatedly, the skulk loved it. Cub could always tell. There was this soft singing he heard that he could never quite identify. Something soft, but otherworldly. Something joyful. The skulk liked it when they died, so of course they kept doing it.

Death after death after death, fireworks shimmering and breaking all over the place, respawns kicking their butts as they kept coming back only to die all over again. It was a lot, but it was working. And it was fun! The skulk spread happily, almost independent from Cub's efforts now. In his head, Cub had an idea of how far the skulk should spread, but that was out of his hands now, and he was sort of quietly aware of that. It wasn't up to him now, it was all down to the skulk and what they wanted.

And if they wanted a home of their own, if they wanted to take over a dark cave somewhere, well. Cub wasn't about to stop them. That would be counter productive. The skulk must spread, after all.

[musicoftheheart]

57 jegulus for drabble :))

thank you!

prompt: “Teach me to fight.”

word count: 629

It had started four months ago. Sirius had just ran away, leaving Regulus alone. Mother bore down on him harder than ever, and Father drowned himself in his bottles more often than not. It was hell, quite frankly, but there was perhaps one light in the darkness of it all.

James.

Though Regulus struggled to come to terms with it, Sirius must still have cared enough about him to send James stalking around the school grounds, following him like some sort of bodyguard. And as much as part of Regulus wanted to snap at him, tell him to piss off and run back to his brother, having James around was a small comfort in his days.

Somehow, even on the days where Regulus skipped classes to hide someplace secret and mourn the loss of his brother from his life, James still found him. He never judged, he just… held him. Stroked his hair, whispered soothing words in his ear, and hugged him. It eventually became a disappointment on the few nights where James wouldn’t find him, though Regulus never learned why he didn’t; he’d guessed by now that James and his friends likely had some sort of spell or something to find people, because they’d started getting caught pranking far less often, so it couldn’t have been that Regulus was getting any better at hiding.

Tonight, they both were laid under the stars, up in the astronomy tower. It was one of Regulus’ favourite spots to hide when he most missed his brother. With his head in James’ lap, he sometimes even fell asleep there. It was peaceful, and James never complained, so Regulus didn’t try to fight his exhaustion when he did.

This time, though, Regulus was wide awake. His eyes were fixed on his brother’s star shining brightest in the midnight sky, and it had him thinking, just as it had last night, and the night before that.

”Teach me to fight,” Regulus said suddenly. James’ hand stilled where it had been stroking through his curls.

”What?” asked James, laughing in slight astonishment.

”You heard me.”

”Okay,” he conceded, “but I don’t understand. You’re a really good duelist, Reggie.”

Regulus shifted slightly, trying not to blush under the praise. “I.. I know. I just— You’re a Gryffindor.”

James blinked down at him. “I’m not seeing your point here, love. Treat me like an idiot?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, now actually blushing. “Gryffindors are… brave. I want to— to be brave. I want to stand up to my parents, like Sirius. I want to fight instead of running or hiding like I always do.”

”You don’t alwa—“

”I’m hiding from Sirius,” Regulus pointed out. “And I hide at home behind a stupid mask of obedience. I’m… I’m hiding from you,” he added in a small whisper. “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

James paused then, eyes raking over Regulus in a way that was both uncomfortable yet hopeful. Eventually, he asked, “What are you hiding from me, Regulus?”

Regulus swallowed. In a sudden surge of courage, he burst upwards and locked his lips against James’. Sparks like mini fireworks seemed to explode in Regulus’ chest, bursting like all those months of slowly falling for James had been building up in him until he couldn’t keep it under control any longer. He felt hands tugging through his hair, holding him up in place until finally, James pulled back, panting.

”Come stay with me, for Christmas,” he breathed, looking so beautifully blissed out and wrecked that Regulus had no other option than to agree, uncaring of how angry his mother will be.

”Yes.” He nodded, resting his forehead against James’. “Okay. Yes.”

“You’re already so brave, my love,” James whispered, pecking another short kiss to his lips. “My little lion.”