#told him i needed a break after training for months doing manager things and not getting manager pay

[famewolf]

it is me, the fool, trying to figure out if i should call my boss tomorrow, on my day off no less, and officially tell him to remove me from promotion consideration ... or will i finally have the nerve to do it on wednesday and in person

[yoursweetwife]

Synopsis: chess game didn't end the way Ratio wanted it to, but he's definitely not complaining.

Warning: kisses, fluff, a little shy reader, self-confident Ratio, female reader

"Do you want a rematch?"

Ratio looked up from his book and looked at you calmly, as if he was ready for this question. You were standing right in front of his desk, your face inches from his. Sometimes you forgot about your personal space (although who is he to talk about it?).

"That's right, this time I'm going to defeat you!"

You spoke excitedly and started giggling. Ratio couldn't deny that it was a pretty sight, but he needed to keep himself in check, thanks to his excellent self-control.

"So," a loud bang echoed through the huge office and the book ended up on the table. "I see mistakes don't teach you anything."

Ratio grinned and waved his hand. A chessboard appeared not far from the table.

"The rates are the same as before. Any wish of the winner."

You looked defiantly at the man in front of you. You may not be as good at chess as Ratio, but days and nights of training should do the trick. You've managed to take his strongest pieces before, so there's a chance that you'll win today, right?

"Mistakes help us achieve perfection, even you weren't always a chess master.

You said, sitting down on the chair in front of Veritas.

"Over the years of my life, I have honed my playing skills to perfection," he put one foot on the other, not breaking eye contact. "it's going to take a lot more than a few months of amateur play."

Did he just call your game amateur? Did he even know how much time you spent training? You smiled irritably, trying to remain calm, although, judging by Ratio’s teasing look, he saw your emotions perfectly.

"I'm starting."

Your hand moved towards the pawn. Veritas has been watching you closely.

"Yes, it's better that way."

It is unknown how long this game lasted. The students and almost all the teachers went home, but you two didn't care.

A drop of sweat trickled down Ratio's forehead, his hand lingered over one pawn, then another. He couldn't help but see your progress, that's what he likes about you, your tenacity and desire.

For the first time, he felt such a huge adrenaline rush from just playing with someone. He glanced at your tense face. Your gaze never left his hands, waiting for the long-awaited move.

After Ratio's move, you saw the gap he left for the King. Without giving your opponent time to think, you "ate" the King.

"Checkmate, Veritas."

Ratio's gaze did not leave the King's figure. His wide-open eyes expressed shock and bewilderment at defeat. Did you really just beat him?

"It can't be..."

You didn't pay attention to the man's confusion and continued to celebrate your little victory. Finally, you will be able to carry out your little plan.In an instant, the chessboard disappeared. You looked at Ration in disbelief. Veritas turned away, as if considering something.

"Veritas?"

You gently called his name, an action that is only allowed to you.There was a slight blush on his cheeks after you called him by his first name.

"Defeat is defeat, you can ask for anything you want."

You instantly perked up and smiled shyly. Your body ended up in front of a seated Ratio, who was intrigued by your strange behavior.

Your eyes met.

"Kiss me."

Ratio looked at you like you were an idiot.

"Kiss you?"

"Why are you asking again!"

Your face has turned incredibly red from embarrassment. You were sure you were ready for this!

"Idiot, how can you ask such a thing."

He closed his eyes, trying to put his thoughts in order. No matter how absurd it may sound, but Ratio had the idea of kissing you for a long time, but he did not know that today he would have to face his worst fear face to face.

"Compared to what you told me to do, a kiss is just a flower."

Veritas's heart was beating against his chest with great speed. He wanted to listen to his rational side, which says to stop it, but the soul wants to continue. This may be the only chance to get closer to you than standing next to you.He sighed and looked at you seriously.

"So be it, I will fulfill your wish."

A soft sigh escaped your lips when Ratio abruptly pulled you in. He really decided to kiss you! Your lips met each other. The feel of his soft lips on yours made you relax and put your arms around his neck. To your surprise, Veritas's arms wrapped around your waist, gently stroking it with his big hands. You behaved almost like a couple...

Veritas moved your face away from his. The scientist couldn't see himself, but he could tell with certainty that his face was a mess, just like yours. The sunset outside the window, heavy breathing, heartbeat in time and your red faces created an atmosphere of romance in which you wanted to stay. Just like your lips, painted with strawberry balm.

You smiled sheepishly because of the intense attention of the golden eyes. Still trying to put your thoughts in order, you moved away from Ratio (you couldn't help but notice how his hands were trying to hold you back). You weren't an expert in romance, but there's no denying that there's something between you and him.

"Ah, a simple kiss on the cheek would be enough..."

Ratio snorted and stared at you.

"Be glad you got it. If all your next wishes are the same, then I won't let you win anymore."

Lie.

You both understood that.A smile spread across your face.

"Then I'm waiting for the next game."

With that, you left the office, slamming the door. Ratio did not scold you because of the loud sound, left to himself, instead he continued to stare at one point and reflect on this situation.

Veritas could tell for sure that from now on, your relationship will be different. Not that he was against it.

[saradika]

— BLEED FOR ME | part ii

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 3.4k

haunted hoedown prompts: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+ 1 to be revealed!)

tags: vampire!au, drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, mentions of death, shared memories, light angst

He fills the doorway, as silent as he was downstairs.

Lingering there as you try to keep your breathing under control. A second where you wonder if he saw, if he suspected - your hands clasped together on your lap to stay the tremor.

Preparing for his wrath.

Not ready for the way he waits, his low voice asking for your permission to enter the room.

For the way he comes quietly to you after - the glove that finally reaches, touches. Tipping your chin up again, like she had.

So carefully, a knuckle curved under your chin. As if he’s afraid you’ll break.

His helmet tilts, the smallest movements as he takes you in.

“You don’t have to do this.”

The Mand’alor’s voice is low - soft and distorted through the helmet. Not what you were expecting, but the words make your blood turn to ice.

Don’t have to do what? Your stomach churns as you think that he did see you - the twitch of your hand as you wonder if you could manage, if you could reach-

“I chose you,” His voice breaks the silence again. “But if you’re unwilling, I won’t feed. If it’s money you need, I’ll see that you’ve taken care of. I’ll find someone else.”

It’s so entirely unexpected. A nervous glance sent his way - and for a second, you wished there were eyes to meet. An opportunity to truly read him, for why would someone so heartless offer an alternative?

But you need him to take it. To take you - his armor shed and his defenses down, so you can put an end to this.

You deserved it, didn’t you? Revenge on the man who had stolen your home from you. The cozy life you had led, in the little cottage at the edge of the village.

It’s just a pile of stone, now.

Too much time had been spent getting to this moment for you to accept his offer, even as tempting as it is.

Because you couldn’t live here, surrounded in this finery. Playing a pet, while they depended on you.

The ones who had found you. Choking on smoke and half-dazed at the edge of the forest. Helping you up from where you were slumped against the base of that old, oak tree.

Swept until their wing after the destruction. There had been no place left for you, as the morning dawn creeped into afternoon.

You had barely escaped with your life.

And soon after, the plan was formed. If you could take down their leader, the rest would fall. Their whispers reeking of vengeance, sinking its talons into your skin.

Convincing you that you deserved it, didn’t you?

Uncertainty has kept you awake, in those days as you had thought it over. Because things could be rebuilt. The world was a vast place - you could start over.

But then they told you that this happened, often. That the vampires would crush small towns like yours, looking to feed. Leaving behind only silent memories and ghosts.

That is what got you. And it’s that thought turned into a knowing, a certainty.

You can’t let that happen to someone else.

Days of training turned into weeks, and then months. Then, a year.

Because it had to be you - there was too much history for any of the Slayers to do it. They’d be recognized a mile off.

Learning how they fight, until the weight of the silver dagger on your hip brought comfort.

“Wait until he’s distracted.”

“Do whatever it takes, just make sure-”

“Make sure you don’t trust him.”

“Not a single word.”

And finally, it had been time. You had three moons - until the winter solstice. After that, the vampires would keep inside for the Long Sleep, and not be seen until Spring.

If you did not complete your task in time, then you’d be trapped with them. If you succeeded too late, you’d freeze in the cold before you got far.

The sharpened piece of wood had been shoved into your hand, this morning.

“Run this through his heart.”

“Rip off his head. Burn him.”

“Trap him with the sun.”

Their advice hummed beneath your skin, as you had approached the castle. Your plans had been a heavy weight in your stomach, twisting with the unease at what you have to do.

To offer yourself up to a vampire was no mere feat.

But when that vampire was a Mandalorian, encased in that shining armor, it was all but madness.

It was no secret that he sought blood. That offerings were brought to him, almost always turned away.

No one could sate his thirst. He had paid no mind to the others that were ushered in with you. You had wondered if he could smell your deception, clinging to your skin.

But he had chosen you.

And if this is how you had to pay them back, you would.

Your head shakes, as you make your decision, "I… I am willing."

There's a second of silence, as if he wants to press. As if he's not sure, himself.

But then he's carefully tugging off the rust-tipped gloves, lowering himself onto the ottoman near the desk. Leaving the leather to rest on his thigh armor as his hands come into view.

You hold your breath.

But there’s no sharp claws, no blood caked under nails, no fur or scales.

It's just a hand. Tanned skin and human, as far as you can tell.

It eases some of the apprehension, though your heart still races from almost being caught. At the thought of this next part - the pain of the bite and the fire in your veins.

You had been told to be brave. To grit your teeth and work through it - that it was something you'd have to learn to bear, if you were to get close to him.

But the thought of it, that anticipation, has your muscles strung tight. It takes more effort than you'd like to admit for your head to tilt to the side, for you to bare your neck to him.

He takes your wrist, instead.

A large hand wrapping around, his thumb pressing against the place where your pulse pounds. Something hot and electric arcing through you at his touch, though his skin is cool against yours.

"Thank you." The Mand'alor tells you, and there’s a depth to his words as he's lifts the edge of his helmet.

Just to his nose, and no further. He's human here, too - a pretty curve of lips framed by dark facial hair. Your eyes linger, realizing this is a sight that near-none had seen. Curiosity sparking, until those lips are parting.

And the two sharp fangs come into view, instead.

It has you tensing, as his grip tightens - that thumb smoothing over your skin. Almost soothing in its movement, though you can't comprehend why.

"Just a pinch." He murmurs, "You'll be alright."

You huff a breath at his words just as his head dips down to your wrist - and then, he's biting down.

There's a sharp ache as his fangs pierce your skin, and you wait for more. For the feeling of being sliced open, the burn of the venom, for your bones to crack beneath his teeth.

But, none comes.

Just the sensation of pulling, the buzz of his mouth against your skin as he groans, deep in his chest. The sound sends heat to your cheeks, it feels too intimate a noise for someone you just met.

For someone so cruel.

The pain was no more than the accidental prick of a finger against a dagger. That brief pain soothed by the continuous sweep of his thumb. A strange sort of contented drowsiness passing over you instead, tempting you to close your eyes.

And then, you do.

There's flashes. The pulse of lights that glitter like stars, mimicking the beating of your heart. A snapshot of images, flickering briefly in your mind.

Some, you recognize. Your old bedroom, the garden outside. Tulips swaying in a summer breeze. A second later and it's tilting - crumbling beneath your steps.

There's a child, their eyes round and black. The flash of something black, crackling with a bright light. An ocean, beneath the ground - dragging you under.

A sensation of being lifted. The warmth of your cheek pressed against ice. A soft bed of grass, the bark biting into your shoulder.

The pulse in your throat drops down, down, down. Settling somewhere low, between your thighs. Your breath feels trapped in your chest, and when you let it loose, it's a soft moan-

You gasp, then - and your eyes are opening. He's pulled away, fingers smearing red across his lips - the peek of a pink tongue as he licks them clean. Hiding himself away again under the mask, as your wrist lies limply in your lap.

"You did well," He tells you, "I know that was a lot. It will get easier."

The images are still flashing in your mind. Ones that you know well blending with others. Had you been sleeping? Was more of your memory from that night unlocked?

There's a soft pressure against your wrist, and you jerk. Coming back from your thoughts, looking down to see him swipe a cream across puncture marks that were still raw and oozing.

An opened jar sits on the table, indentations in the pale salve where his fingers had been. Your mind feels hazy as you watch the way he works it into your skin - as the residual bit of throbbing wanes, the deep marks seeming to lessen before your eyes.

"They'll be gone in the morning." He tells you. There's a rough edge to his voice that wasn't there before, as he pushes himself up. Leaving the salve where it is, as his hands disappear behind the gloves.

Extending one though, to help you up. A little wobble to your step as you take it, as you let him guide you to the bed. It's soft beneath your touch, the mattress dipping as you sink back into it.

"Would you like anything?" The Mand'alor asks, "Food? Water?"

You feel... drained. Which is a humorous little thought, in your exhausted mind. A small smile, an echo of that low, thudding pulse as your legs push together, as you stretch.

"No, I'm just-" A yawn splits your face, coming from deep in your chest, "Sorry, just tired. It was a long journey."

It's easy to play the willing companion now, when you're fighting exhaustion. Your shields down with the promise of sleeping in a real bed, knowing you're not strong enough to fight tonight.

Tomorrow, you can try again.

"Of course." He stands at the foot of the bed. In your current state he almost looks awkward, with the cocked tilt of his hips. Looking as if he's ready to bolt, "I'll have Fennec bring you food when you wake."

Fennec. It must be the woman you met earlier. She had never given you her name.

Your nod is slow, a cracked open eye fixing on his helmet. In the light of the hallway he doesn't seem quite so big as he did before. Still broad, but you're no longer fearing what lies beneath.

"I'll be back tomorrow night." He tells you, "Not to feed, but to check on you."

You don't answer this time, already toeing the line of sleep. Missing the way he lingers for a long moment in the doorway. Before the heavy wooden door is closing, and you're left alone to dream.

Leaving you to wonder, as your eyes close - as you slip beneath the blankets, curling up. You knew he'd keep you alive. How else was he to feed?

But you never anticipated this, this...

This kindness.

You keep waiting for that veneer to crack - for that monster to be released. But it never does.

There is breakfast, the next morning. Then, lunch.

The skin on your wrist is smooth again by mid-morning, almost as if it never happened. A seamstress in your room by the afternoon, her eyes glittering as you’re measured for new clothes.

“You can’t be seen with the Mand’alor with only these,” Vera had all but giggled, a manicured finger flicking towards the small pack of clothes you had brought.

Too plain. Too worn.

You dress in soft linens now, in shades of crimson and slate. That brass rack along the wall filled to the brim with new finery.

Intricate beadings and rich fabrics and when the Mand’alor visits you that night, he’s quiet.

And with the new clothes, soon you do not look so out of place when you wander the empty halls during the day.

Unable to sleep while the sun is shining. Refusing to board up your pretty windows, to mimic a semblance of night.

You live stubbornly between two worlds. Out of sync from the rest of the castle for your first week. Bidding a good morning to Fennec as she eats her dinner. Skirting around her shadow - a broad man in dark green armor.

He no longer startles you, like he did in the beginning. Another Vampire Lord from across the sea, though there seemed to be no end to his visitation.

His eyes were always dark, always watching. He did not wear the helmet as the Mand’alor did - you would watch each expression flicker across his face, before it flattened.

A different kind of mask worn.

It has you curious, in spite of everything. Even though it takes you a few more days to pluck up the courage.

“Did Boba chose you, too?” You ask Fennec one evening.

Morning, for you now, you suppose. You have been trying, lately. The bread soaks into the dregs of your soup, as you swirl it along the bottom.

“In a ways.” She smiles. That rough edge softening over the days you’ve been here - her hackles lowering when it becomes clear that you were a little different than the others.

That you were the same you as you were before.

If only she knew in what way.

“It wasn’t like yours. And it was years ago.” She continues - an elbow digging into the wooden table, a palm cupped under her chin, “I was dying, and he found me.”

It’s not what you were expecting, the hunk of bread lying forgotten in your bowl.

“I suppose you could say he saved me.” A shoulder raises, and then drops, “I’d mistrusted someone. Slipped up, and found myself nearly gutted. No one could survive a wound like that.”

You don’t think you’ve take a breath since she started speaking - there was so little you knew about vampires. Only what you had been told, the bit you had gleaned from the books in your room.

“Boba found me, and he gave me a choice.”

“But,” You blink, “But you’re human, still?”

She ate, like you did. Did not stand with the same eerie stillness, not even taking a breath.

“He did not change me.” Fennec confirms, “But his blood healed me. And I’ve followed him since.”

“I did not… I did not realize vampires cared that much for humans.” You admit with embarrassment.

She gives you a knowing look, one that you do not understand. But a voice joins yours, low and laced with humor.

“We were all human, once. And you have not seen her on the battlefield, ad’ika.”

She smirks, as Boba fingers tap against the table, where he’s come to lean.

“Yes, it’s not my charming personality that has you keeping me around.”

He huffs a laugh, and there’s something like camaraderie between them.

A friendship.

It leaves you more confused than ever.

It’s morning, when he comes next.

The gentle knock at your door startling you awake. Most of the castle was asleep by now. You’re still trying to reset your internal clock - thinking that by now, you should be making an effort.

Not expecting him to be outside, as you pulled your robe a little more tightly around yourself.

It's been four days since he last fed, though you've seen him often in that time. The dip of his head when he passes you in the corridors. Watching him from the plush seats in the throne room - his helmet just barely tilting your way when he's not being spoken to.

You wonder if he's been watching you, too. If he thinks you will bolt - if he harbors any suspicions.

"Forgive me for not thinking of this sooner." He tells you, as you step aside to let him in, "I should have been doing this from the beginning."

"Doing what?" You frown, as you move to the bench by the window. A spot you've occupied the last two visits, preferring the wide bench to the narrow wooden desk chair.

"You're still getting used to this. Visiting you as the evening falls isn't helping you adjust." The Mand'alor explains, as you tug up the sleeve of your robe, baring the skin of your wrist.

His suggestion is thoughtful. As time has passed you've grown stronger, more used to the feeling. No longer sleeping right away, able to fight that sense of drowsiness.

It extends to the during, as well. If you concentrate hard enough, parts of those visions that flashed behind your closed eyes come into focus. And if you try really hard, the images fade to just sensations.

You couldn't explain if, if you tried. It certainly hadn't been something divulged during your training. In fact, a tiny part of you wondered if any of them even had knowledge of being a companion. Everything so far has felt... off.

Distorted by a degree, as if the road you were traveling had split, but still followed their path.

"You are the Mand'alor," You shrug, trying to brush off his consideration, "I am bound to follow your wishes."

He makes a sound, a low hum. It's as close to a laugh as you've heard, as he lowers himself to the bench next to you.

"I think we are past titles, seeing as I've tasted you." His voice is low, rough behind the helmet, "You may call me Din, when we're alone."

There's a heat in your cheeks at the innuendo, though he can't possibly mean it that way. His hands are already bare, fingers pressing against your skin. Feeling how your pulse had jumped at his words.

His helmet tips higher, this time. Resting on the bridge of his nose, his full lips on display.

It’s still too hard to watch - your eyes closing as he bites down. A small inhale of breath in anticipation, but you’ve gotten used to the impact.

Your eyes fighting to stay open this time, to stay in your own head. Unable to help risking a glance, then.

At the wash of red against full lips. The scruff of his jaw, the patch of hair missing - you imagine your thumb pressing against it.

Wondering if his face would feel like face, or it would be cool marble, like his hand.

His throat bobs, with the softest groan.

It’s natural, you tell yourself. You’ve groaned while eating the freshly-baked bread in the kitchens. Though it’s funny to think of yourself as the meal.

Idle fingers play with the edge of the heavy curtain, slipping through the fringe.

It’s then that the thought hits you. How distracted he was, at this moment.

How it’s morning.

How the whole castle is asleep.

Your fingers pinch down on the tassel. Testing the tension as you eye your desk, across the room but no more than a quick dash away.

All it would take is the slightest tug.

The morning sun would pour across his bare neck, the lower half of his face. Burning him, enough of a distraction that you could go for the stake. Fit it between his ribs, in that soft spot under his armpit.

You inhale a breath, to steel your nerves.

At the movement, his fingers stroke against your wrist. A means to soothe you.

And you find…. that you can’t do it.

Not right now. Not yet.

And this morning marks the beginning of that funny feeling that starts in your stomach. An unease, though it feels like you’re drowning in it.

Is it from wearing his colors? Is it your visions, or the echoing thud that tipped towards something carnal?

Is it because the thought of your revenge was so much easier when he was nameless?

Or is it because you’re still not sure what stayed your hand?

It’s not something you can think about, now.

You just need to play your part.

thanks so much for reading! 🥀💕 if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!

(tags: @dameron-grant-spector, @sugadolly, @writingsofestella)

[kentocalls]

umemiya hajime | captain an idea that wouldn't leave my head. vauge military!au, sfw.

it's no secret captain umemiya trains solo into the late hours of the night. why you thought he'd not be here is beyond reason. or maybe the pain medication. you're favoring your injured knee as you steady yourself, admiring your captain as he moves so effortlessly.

he's a close combat specialist, skill second to none.  joined the cause so young it makes you embarrassed to be just two years shy from his age. he's such a decorated thirty something captain and somehow you managed to level your skills to be recruited to his team.

vice captain hiragi  had warned you, captain umemiya does not take injuries lightly, don't do something reckless. the vice captain would always let you sneak off and start training after injury early. granted, he'd stick you on desk duty for a whole month as punishment but he never stopped you from working out.

in your spacing out, umemiya notices your lingering form near an incline bench press. with 55lbs loaded. he normally, wouldn't care if subordinates train late; understands the need to work off tension, especially  after an extensive extermination job. but you? the one his eyes undeniable glue to?

"what are you doing out of bed? shouldn't you be icing that knee and resting?" his voice stern, not the usual playful tone he keeps during daylight. putting away his training blade as he approaches you, body gracefully light despite the weight of his presence.

"some light, rehabilitation?" you smile, soft and sweet. that usually works on vice captain hiragi. 

"rehabilitation, already? not sure the doc put that in your chart for another 3-4 weeks."  he watches closely, looking for any evidence of discomfort, knowing full well your left knee hasn't been the same for a few weeks. and the last extermination job had you taking a nasty fall. no amount of stretching, massage or light runs are going to aide the recovery. 

captain umemiya reviewed your charts personally, the best thing to do is rest. you gotta go slow, take a break. all things hiragi told him you hate doing.  she's restless if she's not helpful, reckless if she has something to protect. and you did protect him after all. that nasty fall was his fault. what kind of captain is he?

you stumble when attempting to sit up from the bench press. the captain's eyebrows furrow, "really shouldn't be doing any of that."

"and what about you? thought it was lights out for everyone on base, captain." stay formal, it's so easy to slip and act like you're friends. captain umemiya has that charm about him, none of the military formality seems to last.

he puts his hands up, offering a grin and "touche."

"couldn't sleep so i thought i'd get extra taining in. don't think i'll be getting any rest tonight though."

"too much paperwork again?" concern etched on your face, you don't like when the captain stresses. especially on paperwork, you've been lucky enough to catch a sight of his pretty face wearing glasses, staring into 12pt font forms with a glare so deadly, it sends shivers down your back now. 

he exhales, looking you up and down, "again, you should be in bed, solider."

"what's on your mind captain?" 

the last extermination, the fact that he wasn't fast enough, he has to travel to HQ to report on the damage. and you. he'll be gone for seven days and knows your mandatory best rest won't happen.  he doesn't trust you to actually rest, without him to supervise you're going to push back into training and risk a worse injury. 

he already feels guilty for dragging you into the fight, your platoon was supposed to keep guard of the rear, not provide additional support. but the extermination priority escalated and you were the closet solider with the strongest rank. 

the attack, you tripping and being pelted with debris....well, it isn't a sight his mind seems to let go. 

"hey...this isn't your fault, captain." you point at your knee. "it's been creaking like an old rocking chair for weeks. it was going to flare up, i was bound to trip."

"i should've moved faster. you got hit and i couldn't do anything ot prevent it. i should've seen it coming." he wears guilt like an expensive, delicate coat. too careful to place it anywhere but on his own shoulders.

you see now why vice captain hiragi told you to be careful. it wasn't for your sake really, it's for your captain that dotes on everyone in the platoon. 

"we can't control the world captain. you used you best judgement in that moment, we completed the extermination and prevented damage to the city. please, this injury is not your fault. don't put that on yourself."

you see his jaw clench, frustration and exhaustion bleeding into his face. "but it is," his voice firmer, "i know when priorities escalate to wait for reinforcement, i lost my cool and we both...as was captain, it was my responsibility to protect you."

"we worked as a great team captain. we won."

but sweet, doting captain huffs and defaults. why is he having such a hard time brushing this off? you've had worse injuries and vice captain hiragi has never looked like this...almost ... sad.

he almost returns to his normal self, that soft gaze, eyes on your knee, "won't change the fact this happened on my watch..."

"no, the fault is actually mine, captain?" voice firm, a bit annoyed, why does he look at you like that?  "i could've been faster and better aware of my surroundings. i should've taken the first yers up on practicing."

"it's not your fault, you did your best and that's all i asked for. but--"

"if you say its your fault one more time captain, i will" you look for the most menacing object you can reach for, "throw this medicine ball at you." it's an empty threat, he'd probably dodge it easily.

he laughs, finally.  but that pit at the bottom of your stomach doesn't go away. it's been there for months. the way captain umemiya's eyes look at you... you've tried to deny it but it's different. you don't know if it's your adoration of him, the way he's completed so many successful exterminations, captured back land from the invaded monsters. he's so...different.

you shouldn't think of him like that. the way his lips are probably not the softest but against your own, maybe--

"if you push yourself too hard you'll run the risk of aggravating your knee. it'll take even longer to have you back on the field, i don't want that solider."  solider. he's putting distance between you two, isn't he? yeah, you definitely shouldn't think of him like that. 

you're genuinely sad as he removes and restocks the weight plates from the bench press. it's not fair how cute you look to umemiya, so he busies himself with cleaning up, anything to avoid looking at your face. he can play off his protective nature as looking out for the team and you, professionally. that this is for your benefit. has nothing to do with the overwhelming concern that is totally normal for a captain to have. "you gotta trust me on this one, its for your own good."

and yet, you always have your eyes on him, so keen about the tension he's holding, the way you know his eyes trail back to your bandaged knee with guilt. "captain?"

his beautiful velvet sleepy blue eyes meet yours, "hmm?"

"it's really....bothering you a lot? what happened?"

umemiya nods, hesitant to share the depths of guilt and dread he's stuffed down. seeing you fall and not get up, your teary face in the emergency medic facility... if he was strong enough, fast enough, smart enough....

your still unbalanced as you walk over ot him, the need to pull him out of his spiral stronger than remembering you're not friends nad he's your captain. don't touch him, don't speak informally. 

"i don't  blame you for this. nor does the platoon, nor HQ. and you got me outta there quick, you even yelled at a charge nurse to get me pain meds and held my hand when they moved the ligaments back into place. you were by my side the whole time, even though i know you hate hospitals. which makes you the absolute best captain, okay?  so thank you, i mean it. i'd follow you into any extermination captain umemiya."

your words of gratitude and loyalty lift some of the emotional baggage, his eyes searching yours, how do you have so much compassion, care and consideration for him? why? your willingness to stand with him after he got you hurt? 

and maybe he hasn't imagined your lingering glances, maybe the way your breath hitches when he's close isn't out of fear...maybe the way your eyes dart to his lips at the most inappropriate moments aren't in his head.  

"and you'll stay by my side, even after all this?" what is he saying, he's your captain!

your smile is that big goofy one you gave him the first day he met you, infectious. as you literally move to his side, he finds himself loosening the cage around his heart "lead the way captain!"

finally, you get to see captain umemiya's  pretty pretty grin, "oh no, that contagious smile." he chuckles.

"we're all gonna get infected! evacuate the base."  playful, silly, light.

"infect us all, hiragi deserves needs the positivity." 

you mock salute, "aye aye captain!" moving a bit too quickly and off balance. like umemiya  isn't going to point out how uneven your hips are, your gait is far more telling of the pain that your face tries to hide.  "get to bed."

"i will later, captain, promise."

"am i gonna have to throw you over my shoulder and haul your cute butt into bed?" what is he saying, why is he being so friendly.

you roll your eyes at him. HIM, your captain. oh you don't believe him do you? he starts to walk toward you. "could always carry you bridal style, make sure everyone see's me do it too. make a lesson for the whole platoon"

"i can walk back to the room just fine, captain." you are NOT blushing. maybe, it's the late hour, maybe it's all the feelings he's been hiding for weeks.

"oh i know," he's walking closer, "but i'd be doing you a disservice by not properly escorting you back to your room right? what kind of captain would i be then?"

"you don't have to carry me...holding my hand is enough." that. oh, isn't that a bit too...initiate? too close? he didn't expect you to suggest something so innocent and somehow more personal. 

ah, crap, you messed it up didn't you? the playful banter, you're not the best at reading things and your own feelings for captain umemiya have never been hidden well according to your platoon member suo. shit, you always do this, going one step too far ahead. captain umemiya is a sweet guy, talented, friendly, playful. h-

you both speak at the same time 

"sorry, i didn't--"

"sorry that...made me nervous."  he's scratching the back of his head, the tips of his ears dusty red.

huh? THE captain umemiya hajime  being nervous to hold your hand? you tilt your head in confusion. but he's...held in such high regard. shaken so many hands, held so many peoples hands... he takes out monsters for a living and somehow is nervous to...hold you hand? your brain does not understand how that is even mildly scary to him. 

umemiya watches your face, gosh you're so easy to read. he's always liked that about you. despite being a highly lauded military situation, you don't hide your confusion. "yeah, i know, the great captain umemiya hajime can exterminate a whole 20ft beast by himself but holding a cute girl's hand? scary."

what cute girl? what's he talking about? "you need, practice? i can help you practice. then you'll be ready to hold that cute girls hand." you reply so earnestly. if you can help him in anyway, you're going to do it. 

his eyes widen at your offer,  did you not catch the hint that the cute girl is you?  do you not realize, you're the only girl in the room? "you wanna practice, hand-holding?"  his tone is half bemused.

you hold your hand out, wiggling the fingers, "take it, practiceee, my hands are extra soft." what are you doing, what are you doing, be still your beating heart because clearly you've lost your god damn mind.

your hand is small as fuck compared to his, umemiya eyes the outstretched hand with consideration. he's actually going to do this, with you?  

he's held so many hands in his life, and yet none jolt through him like this. like you're plugged into a 14V battery. 

"see, nothing to be nervous about." you give his hand a light squeeze. "that cute girl is gonna be so swooning over you in no time captain!"

you're the cute girl stupid, he wants to say. totally convinced lieutenant tsubaki was right, he's going to have to spell out his feelings in a letter, email, text and phone call for you to understand. he's doesn't inject himself training plans or doctors appointments for everyone.

he's suddenly aware of the calloused palm and fingertips from years of handling assault rifles, and electric blades. your skin feels so delicate, smooth, unharmed. the way your fingers intertwine with his look pretty. 

"feels nice, yeah?"

"i guess." he squeezes. "your hands are way softer than i thought they'd be."

"of course, tsubaki told me to take care of them now, otherwise they'll be like kaji."

umemiya chuckles at that, knows exactly what you're talking about "yeah, his are as rough as sandpaper, aren't they?"

"they are captain, they are. despite all my attempts to get him to use lotion too. he rather suffer with dry hands." 

"you tired to get him to use lotin? i admire your spirit." so you are entirely reckless like hiragi told him. kaji is someone most avoid and approach with extreme caution.

"well once i knew how dry they were," you move a hand to your cheek, "gosh i can still feel his hand, it was like getting hit with a sharp rock, i thought my skin would bleed. but once i knew, i had to intervene." 

his frown is instant, his brain is stuck on the fact that at some point, kaji's hand has made contact with your face. and it was not friendly.  "your hands are kinda rough too..."

you pull his hand up, examining the rough rigids with your own delicate fingers. you keep your nails neat and short, it seems umemiya does too. you're tracing each of his fingers when he barely whispers,  "yeah...occupational hazard and all..." 

you smile up at him, "i can bring you my favorite hand cream. it shouldn't be too hard to heal these", you still trace your fingers softly over the palm of his hand, "definitely not as bad as kaji"

umemiya's heart is running a marathon, he's trying to stop the shivers running down his spine. you're looking so tenderly at his hand, in such awe and care. he should end this, he's your captain, you report up to him. and yet, he doesn't want your touch to stop. 

"yeah? think it's possible for this old things?"

"not old captain"

"fine, well seasoned," you click your tongue at that, he corrects himself with a, "aged like fine wine."

"not even seasoned."

"what? am i still in the pinnacle of my youth?"

"maybe."

"okay, then what's that make you? a toddler?"

"hey!" you push his hand back. 

"just an observation. you look like you're barely able to walk." 

you're feeling playful, "oh and somehow i was recruited by the great captain umemiya hajime for his super duepr elite extermination team. a job many have applied for an failed."

"well i know you'd be competent and reliable. maybe i have a soft spot for toddlers."

he's making you pout with that, you should be happy he's back to that normal, playful side. but you don't like being teased, you don't like how much his laughter makes your heart dance.

"what? don't like being called a toddler? how about little one or baby girl then?"

he..what? oh, maybe he doesn't know. he started his military career pretty young and all, you've never heard about him dating before you joined either, it's only natural you help and correct your captain.  "that's a team of endearment captain, call that cute girl whose hand you wanna hold that."

god you're so frustrating. umemiya could convince platoom member sugishita and sakura to form a beach vollyball duo before he gets who the cute girl is through your head. 

"i'm just teasing."

"oh, were you baby boy?" there! ha! you...you just called your CAPTAIN baby boy. abort abort abort. clearly the pain medication is on overdrive (it's not you forgot to take it) and your feelings of him are not being contained.

he chokes on air, what .....he uses your laugh as a cover while he tries to reclaim his composure, despite his own cheeks burning.

it is amusing to see him flustered.  he's almost boyish now in a way you haven't gotten to see before. it makes you want to steal this moment, keep it all for yourself.  all because of a teeny tiny baby boy remark.  oh god, is he going to say you acted out in subordination and force you on desk duty? 

but it's funny right, it was a joke right? 

you can, joke with your captain?

he runs a hand through his hair, messing up his bangs. "you're enjoying this a bit too much aren't you."

"its a rare sight, you can't blame me if i want it all for myself." can you STOP talking.

the fuck are you trying to give him a heart attack for? you can't say things like that so readily. you wanna be the only one to see him like this? flustered and embarrassed and... "well consider yourself lucky."

"oh, i am so blessed." stop, right now, you need to stop talking.

he laughs, two can play this game. he takes a step closer, bodies nearly touching, brings your hand to his chest, placing it over his heart. the thin material of his shirt does little to hide the rapid beating underneath. "feel that?"

is that...you push against his chest, is that normal? oh my god he looks red in the face too, "...captain are you...are you okay do you need water?" you know he's known to overexert himself. holy crap is he in pain?

"hmm...i think its something serious." oh shit, and you missed all the signs! you gasp in alarm, eyes looking up at him with worry he knows he was someone good and kind in his past life. to have you care for him so easily. 

he leans in close, whispering "i think you make me a little nervous."

"me?"

umemiya nods, eyes on you, bringing his free hand to rest at your him, touch firm, careful. when did he get so close? you can feel the wall behind you scrapping your elbows, when did you back into this?

"you make oh so nervous cute girl."

"captain umemiya..." his name rolls off your tongue like silk. he claims the distance between you two, body pressing against yours, one moving to wrap around your wasit, breath warm against your ear "call me hajime."

anyone can walk in. anyone can see this and..."captain umemiya hajime."

he shakes his head, "no, just my name."

the look he has is so intense, "captain hajime"

he shivers at the sound of his name dripping from your lips, voice honey sweet and soft.  "yeah, like that. just drop the captain, say it again." 

you're blushing, your captain! your crush! the one you've admired for years, here, like this, burning desire in his eyes, for you. it can't be, can it?

ever observant, umemiya picks up the nervousness, one of his hands wanders up to your cheek, gently caressing it with his thumb, "just a name, nothing to be nervous about."  

god, you're the cutest fucking thing. doe-eyed and blush cascading down your cheeks and neck. his eyes meet yours with "say it. my name."

umemiya inhales so sharply,  he's leaning so close to you, waiting, eager, "hajime"

trapped, happily, between the wall and his broad frame, he leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. "again" he whispers, voice thick with need.

you swallow hard and whisper "hajime."

he leans forward, captures your lips in his, urgent, commanding, needy.

surprise hits you because if this is dream, never let it end. you've wanted him so bad and this, please let this be real. a tiny whimper before his demanding lips pull you back to this moment, back to him.  you relax into the kiss. it has him moving your against your mouth with even more intensity. has he always been this passionate about you?

umemiya presses into you harder, pushing you further against the wall, hands roaming over your body, hungry. and you're equally starved for him, pulling him in, crowding into his space. 

a hand in his messy hair, you swear he's growling, fuck, more more more. umemiya, caught in the moment, moves one hand around the back of your thigh and lifts -- you flinch and let out a gasp of pain. 

FUCK, that's your left leg right? 

umemiya breaks the kiss, "sorry, are you okay, did i make it worse?"

this man is too beautiful and you need to breathe, you push at him with no effort, he loosens his grip and moves back. "i couldn't... tell..."

"i'm so sorry, i got carried away. i didn't mean to hurt--"

"hurt for just a second, nothing...nothing serious." with smile you're dispelling all his worry, all his tension. the late hour catching up with both of you now. 

reality settling back, the fire gone. you're in the training room, door wide open.  "let me walk you back, yeah?"

he's scratching the back of his neck, doesn't want this to end but, shit, he's unsure. his position, his presence, what if it's all in his head, but your hand on his face, thumb on his lips and eyes looking up at him like that

"you'll hold my hand?" but you make no motion to move away from him, pull him back into you, lips finding his again.

yeah, it's not in his head.

[harrygoeswest]

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

~~~

Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place. 

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for. 

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal. 

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…” 

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan. 

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

~

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

~

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.” 

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake. 

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

~

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it. 

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

~

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you. 

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

~

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

~

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console. 

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that. 

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

~

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor. 

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?” 

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

[captainsophiestark]

Dogfight Football

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Top Gun

Day 3 Prompt: "Okay, show me."

Summary: Hangman gets hurt during Dogfight Football. Lucky for him, he's dating a navy doctor.

Word Count: 1,715

Category: Fluff, humor, little bit of angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I scowled as I scribbled in my notebook, trying to prepare for an upcoming test by making flash cards. All my friends and my boyfriend were outside on the beach playing something called 'Dogfight Football', but I was holed up here, at a table in the back of the Hard Deck, trying to memorize medical terms and procedures.

Stupid fighter pilots.

Being on temporary assignment at Top Gun at the same time as my boyfriend, Jake Seresin, was supposed to mean we got to spend more time together. And I guess we'd gotten to spend a little more time together, but I'd built it up in my mind as something much more romantic and exciting than navy training. I really should've known better, but I'd been on a ship in the middle of the ocean treating various illnesses for everyone on board for months. The romantic fantasy had been one of the only things getting me through.

At least I had tonight to look forward to. Jake and I were going to a fancy restaurant off base for dinner, then out somewhere to dance the night away. Neither of us had to report for duty until the afternoon tomorrow, so we could ditch some of our usual healthy habits.

I'd finally managed to finish my flash cards and block out most of the noise from outside when someone came bursting through the back door of the Hard Deck. I looked up to find the cause of the disturbance and found Coyote, one of Jake's best friends, staring at me.

"What happened?" I asked, shooting out of my seat immediately. Coyote looked stressed, which never happened unless something was actually wrong.

"Hangman got hurt," he said. I rushed to the bar and grabbed my med kit without hesitating, even as Coyote continued. "He was trying to pull a stunt on a touchdown in the game, and there was some pit or something hidden by the sand. I'm not totally sure what happened, but he went down hard. I think it's something with his leg."

I shook my head, cursing every last reckless aviator on that beach as I followed Coyote out the door.

"He wouldn't be the first one to fall into a literal sand trap and hurt himself. Let's just be glad he didn't break his neck showing off."

Once we got outside, I could see Jake clearly, laying in the sand not too far from the surf. The rest of the Top Gun fliers were gathered around him, and the fact that he hadn't forced himself to his feet to play it cool around them told me he was really,��really hurt.

I started running as soon as Jake was in sight, cutting through the aviators and dropping to my knees as soon as I was in range of Jake. He looked up when he saw me and tried to smile, but it ended up being more of a grimace than anything else.

"Hey, Baywatch. Come to check on me?"

I snorted. "What did you do?"

"I was trying to do a flip."

"Oh my God."

"I've done one before! But when I landed, the sand just gave way, and my leg..."

He trailed off, wincing, one hand holding his leg and the other clenched in a tight fist in the sand. Nothing looked broken from here, but with his hand in the way, I couldn't be sure.

"It hurts," he said, voice a strangled whisper so that only I could hear. Jake looked at me, face tight with pain, and my heart squeezed seeing him like that. "It hurts a lot."

"Okay, show me," I said, falling into the cool calm that overtook me in emergency situations. "I need you to move your hand and show me where it hurts, alright?"

Jake nodded, then gingerly removed his hand to rest it with the other one in the sand. Coyote and Maverick had moved the others a little further away after I'd arrived, so we had some privacy. Jake groaned and barely stifled a scream as I reached out to gently touch his ankle, shin, and knee to asses. To his credit, his leg didn't move an inch.

After a few more painful minutes of assessment, I sat back on my heels and looked at my boyfriend. He looked back, body slightly less tensed but his teeth still clenched.

"So? What's the verdict, doc?"

"The verdict is you're insanely lucky," I said, turning to dig in my medical bag. I pulled out what I'd need to splint Jake's ankle, then got to work as I continued. "It's not uncommon for people to break their legs, bad, from falling into pits hidden by the sand. You, fortunately, didn't fall hard enough or twist enough or find a deep enough pit to quite break your leg. Instead, you've got a bad sprain. It's definitely not good, but based on what I'm seeing now, I think you'll have an easier time with this level of sprain than if you'd broken something."

Jake nodded, then winced again as I tightened the brace on his ankle. It wasn't good enough to last for long, but it would keep his ankle immobilized while I found a way to get him to my office where I had supplies to actually treat him more long-term.

"You're gonna be okay," I said, leaning over once I'd finished working and kissing Jake on the forehead. "I'm sorry you got hurt. Stop doing dangerous things to showboat with your friends."

Jake huffed a laugh and gave me the same overconfident, cocky smile that I'd seen a thousand times and slowly fallen in love with, albeit slightly more strained than normal.

"I can't make any promises about the last one. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Always. And you're going to hate what comes next, so... I guess just remember that it's part of what happens when you insist on doing beach-flips in a game."

"What do you-"

"Rooster!" I turned to call to the tall aviator, who'd wandered a little ways away with everyone else. He turned and started walking back as soon as he heard me.

"What's up?"

"I need your help getting Jake to my truck," I replied. Rooster grinned, and I heard Jake groan from behind me. This time, I didn't think it was from the pain.

"Sure thing. Happy to help."

"Can't you get anyone else," whined Jake as Rooster made it to us. I put my hands on my hips and stared him down.

"Rooster's the person on this beach who'll have the easiest time lifting you and carrying you out to the car. I love Coyote and everyone else, and I'm sure they'd figure it out if they needed to, but Roos is gonna be able to just do it."

Jake grumbled, and I caught Rooster with a shit-eating grin as he leaned down and picked Jake up. I just sighed and shook my head at both of them as we headed back up the beach.

"This is ridiculous," said Jake, renewing his protest as we neared the rest of the Top Gun class. "Just put an arm around me and help me up, I don't need to be carried-"

I whirled around, hands on my hips and a scowl on my face. I'd heard Jake twisting around like he was trying to get Rooster to put him down, and if he wasn't careful, he'd get dropped and hurt even worse than before. Both men froze on the spot as soon as I glared at them.

"Jake, grow up," I said, no more room for argument in my voice. "You can't walk. If you move your ankle around or put too much weight on it, you could make it much, much worse. Which is obviously bad for a lot of reasons, but would ground you from flying for who knows how long."

Jake huffed and crossed his arms, but he didn't have any comeback to that. I stared him down for another few moments, until Rooster shifted and cleared his throat.

"Hey, he's not as light as he looks, so-"

"Shut up, Chicken."

I just sighed and continued leading the both of them up the beach. I shot a few glares at Jake's peers as we went, reminding them with just a look that if they started messing with Jake, I had more than enough dirt on all of them to bury them in return. Phoenix was the only one to smile back at me in response.

By some miracle, we made it up the beach and through the Hard Deck without Rooster dropping Jake or Jake punching Rooster. Roos helped me get Jake into the passenger seat of my car, then I chased him off with a quick 'thank you' before he could give Jake any more shit. Once he was gone, I paused a second to sigh and catch my breath, then climbed into the driver's seat.

"So... what now?" asked Jake.

"Now, we go back to base so I can treat you properly and get you a real ankle brace. Maybe some X-Rays, we'll have to see. Painkillers, though, for sure."

Jake nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Then, after a second, he spoke, more quiet and serious than usual.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me. Seriously. And I'm sorry I messed up our date night, after we'd both been waiting for it for so long."

I sighed, then turned to Jake with a lopsided smile.

"I've always got your back, Jake. I'm your wingman in life, remember? And don't worry about date night. If you're feeling up to it, we can still go to dinner. If you're not, we've still got the evening to ourselves. I'm sure we can find something fun to do, just the two of us."

Jake chuckled. "I like the sound of that."

"Hm. Just hang in there, flyboy. We're almost back to base, and then we can get you feeling better."

"I almost hate to ask, but... what's your plan for getting me out of the car and into the doctor's office?"

I hesitated, chewing my lip before turning to Jake. He winced at just the expression on my face, because he knew me well enough to know he would need to.

"...How would you feel if I recruited a certain Vice Admiral to carry you?"

"Fuck."

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

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

[vickyvicarious]

If Jonathan has been suffering from brain fever which has apparently symptoms of delirious ramblings and no memory of who you are and where you live, does that mean that he had lost his memory even BEFORE he arrived at the station?

Because Sister Agatha said that he was asking for a ticket at Klausenburg station. But he never said a ticket to WHERE.

They assumed he was English from his manners and language, but he never said he wanted to go to England. "the guard was told by the station-master there that he rushed into the station shouting for a ticket for home." Home to where? Where is home? He evidently couldn't tell, he could just say home.

So did he climb down the walls and run across the Carpathians while actively losing his memory?

Ooh, this is a really interesting possibility. I have always kind of assumed that he didn't experience the worst of his brain fever until he broke down/was in the hospital. Then, a combination of his memories/attempts to talk being disregarded as delirium, and his body breaking down, and PTSD (and also maybe all those religious symbols burning the vampire infection out of his blood) - those were what led him to forget, to dismiss whatever he did remember as just delusions. He knew that he couldn't afford to linger on the memories for multiple reasons (they caused him to panic, they caused others to call him crazy) and just blocked it all out together with actually forgetting. He chose not to seek further because whatever the truth, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to deal with confirming that he had actually gone mad, or opening up the possibility that he hadn't. So he didn't read his diary. He was out and he wanted to move on.

But he already felt like his brain was on fire before he left. What if he was losing memories/coherence as he fled? What if everything else started to disappear, what if he only barely managed to hold on to a couple of concepts that were of the utmost importance to him? So he knows he has to get home. He knows he can't stop until he does so. He knows the way to go roughly (knows to travel West, knows to take a train) but can't explain it, can only wildly call for someone to send him home without being able to give any details on where that is. He knows the urgency but can no longer remember why, just that he is terrified and he cannot stop. (Until he has no choice, until he's forced to do so. And then, once he does stop, he loses himself entirely. The linchpin has been removed; without being able to go home he no longer can move at all, can't say who he wants to find there or where it is. With the urgency forced away he loses even his sense of time. At least for a while.)

And the one other thing he knows, the thing he's spent months doing. He knows he must protect his diary. He travels with it in his coat pocket, where he can reach in and feel it at any moment and reassure himself it's still there. When he's put in the hospital he never tells anyone about it. Maybe he asks Sister Agatha if it is still there, or maybe he can't share even that much, maybe he only asks her to keep his clothes in the room with him where he can see them. He protects it even from himself, he allows no one to read it or to touch it or to ask him about it. He doesn't even remember exactly why anymore, he just knows whatever is inside is terrifying and deadly important. He knows it is secret. He knows it has to be kept safe at all costs. And while he can't bear even to face it himself, even after he has started to recover, he absolutely cannot get rid of it either. And so he gives it to the one person he knows with absolute certainty will never break his trust, who can be allowed to open it at any time because she can be trusted with all of himself and everything he knows or once knew, who will never make him face it again unless he absolutely needs to do so. He gives it to the one person he knows will protect it without question. He gives it to Mina.

[dragonflylady77]

i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?” 

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. ��Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

[yelenasdiary]

ive got an angst request! reader grew up with yelena in the red room and they were inseperable, and ruthless assassin partners and have always been there for each other but after they graduated, yelena went on to become a subjugated widow while the reader was sold by dreykov to hydra to train with bucky to become a winter soldier, and she gets the super soldier serum. years pass and she escapes, becoming an avenger but she eventually goes on the run after the accords and meets back up with yelena and nat during black widow and helps them take down the red room. even more time passes and yelena and reader become girlfriends and even better partners than they were before but then she survives the blip while yelena is dusted and theres a bunch of angst as natasha tries to pull her basically sis in law out of a slump as they both grieve yelena together but when given the chance to bring everyone back, reader ends up being the one to take on thanos in the end and slight of hands the stones off of him and snaps to destroy him and his armies. it ends with nat comforting yelena as they sit at readers grave. ive got a fun idea for part 2 if your interested in reader somehow surviving the whole thing but still having faked her death.

It Was Always The Plan

It Was Always The Plan

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Super Solider! Reader

Summary: After losing your girlfriend to the blip, you struggled to cope. Natasha lends a helping hand while you plan to take down the superhuman who took her away from you. 

Angst | Some Fluff | Slight Language Warning | Grief | Character Death | Depression | 1.3K |

AC: Thank you for sending this & in great background detail!! It’s unknown (well to me anyways) if Alexei and Melina survived the blip so I’ve added a little extra detail, I hope you enjoy this x As for a part 2, I’m not sure if we’ll do one but we’ll see.

Year 1 - 

Natasha placed a mug of hot coco in front of you before she took a seat across from you. It's been a struggle, but she finally managed to get you out of bed, even if it was just to sit at the table and have a hot drink with her. A few months ago, you lost your girlfriend, Yelena, to the blip. At first you didn't think she was turned into tiny pieces of dust, given that she was on a mission at the time, and you just assumed she would contact you when she was safe. But when Natasha tracked down Yelena's last whereabouts, it became clear that the blonde was gone, just like half the population. 

Since Natasha told you what you feared, things have been dark and cold. Life just didn't seem enjoyable. You missed Yelena, deeply. But under the grief, you were angry and wanted nothing more than to destroy the one person who took the best part of you away, Thanos. 

"Is there any plans yet?" you looked up at Natasha, a question you'd ask her once a week and every answer was the same, "No" she replied softly with a light shake of her head. Every no that left her lips made your heart break once more. You tried to be mindful that Natasha was also hurting, losing her sister isn't easy but it was clear that Natasha was dealing with the grief in her own way. 

Every day she'd come by your room and check in on you, encourage you to come to team meetings, go for a walk or just simply come join her downstairs for a hot drink as you are right now. There were times where you allowed yourself to break down into tears while Natasha comforted you, something next to nobody has ever seen from you besides Yelena. 

Year 2 – 

As time went on, things didn't exactly get easier, but you learnt to cope with it in different ways. Natasha was the one who really pulled you out of the darkness of your room and continued to keep an eye on you which in many ways helped you both grow closer in more of a sister-in-law way and you almost felt like Yelena was still here. 

You trained daily in the gym, attended team meetings, went on small missions when needed but in your own free time was when you found yourself trying to find ways to reverse Thanos's  snap. Whenever you came up with something that you thought might be useful it always led to a dead end, and you were back to square one. 

You also continued the work Yelena was doing with Melina before the blip, saving other widows. With the blip, it made it harder to track down some widows as they were also blipped but those who you and Melina could save brought some comfort and you only hoped that when (and if) Yelena would come home, she'd be glad that others were saved during this hard time. 

Year 3 – 

By now, dealing with loosing Yelena and the others was leaving the emptiness within your heart even deeper and for most, life when on. Mission came and went, Widows were still being saved from Dreykov's control even though he was dead, and the world moved on, like human nature. 

Each night you found yourself seeing Yelena in your dreams or remembering good times you had with her. Memories from Red Room to meeting up with her again after years, you could still feel the way she kissed you before she left for a mission and the way you loved having her fall asleep in your arms. She made you feel like the world was in your hands, just the two of you in this world that almost made no sense to either of you. 

You missed the way Yelena would tease you for almost everything, only for you to tease her back. You missed everything about her that eventually you'd fall asleep with tears rolling down your cheeks just wishing she'd walk through that door and apologise for being away for so long. You thought about how she'd tell you that her mission when wrong and she was taken and finally was able to escape or that she was out at sea and couldn't contact you. 

But every scenario you played out in your head made you feel stupid for thinking that Yelena would let you and her family go this long without hearing from her.

Year 4 – 

"You hit training pretty hard today, are you okay?" Natasha asked as you entered the compounds kitchen drenched in sweat. You nodded and smiled softly, "just making sure I'm ready" you replied before grabbing a cold bottle of water. 

"Ready for what?" Natasha questioned. 

"You know, for when we finally find Thanos and bring them home" you explained with confidence which only grew to Natasha's endless worries on you. Each day you showed that you were okay with how things were, that you were finding a way to cope but just like everybody around you, nobody was okay, not truly. 

Everybody was doing something to try and fix things.

----

When you saw Scott rushing to Natasha's office you felt something that felt like it was slipping away, hope. The look on Natasha's face when she came to see you hours later only confirmed what you and everybody else had been hoping for.

"We have a plan" Natasha looked at you with a soft smile, a sparkle of hope in her eyes made you smile, "let's bring her home" you replied. 

The only thing on your mind when it came to fighting the superhuman who took away your true happiness and the rest of your loved ones, was them. Nothing else mattered to you but making sure Thanos would pay and you were determined to make sure he knew that he messed with the wrong team of Avengers. 

You'd been training yourself up for this, taking the gauntlet from the purple enemy knowing exactly what you were going to do next. 

"Time's up big boy" you smirked as Thanos turned around an faced you, his gauntlet on your hand boiled his blood. "You don't understand!" he spat. "No, you don't understand! You took the one person I love more than anything from me! You took my friends and family! There's no forgiveness for that in my books!" You looked him directly into his eyes, raising your hand up slightly. 

"Y/N! NO!" Natasha yelled as she ran towards you, "that wasn't the plan!" she added as you looked to her. 

"This was always the plan, Nat" you smiled softly. "I know you'll take care of her" you added before your eyes looked back at Thanos and snapped your fingers together without a second thought other than knowing Yelena and the others would finally be coming home. 

----

Every single day since Natasha brought her to your grave, Yelena would visit you. She'd bring some of your favorite snacks and just sit with you until she felt okay again. Natasha was never too far, always ready to be a shoulder for her sister to cry on.

"You idiot" Yelena shook her head as she placed a kiss on your gravestone, "you were supposed to be here, waiting. Not like this" she added. 

Most interactions started off like this, first Yelena would show anger and hurt but soon it would change to how much she misses you and talking to you about the things she wants to do to keep your memory alive, letting you know that she'll never let anybody forget who saved the world. Then Natasha would come sit with her before the two of them shared their favorite memories with you. 

It would take some time for Yelena to adjust, like you did. But she knew she had everybody she needed around her, even you and Natasha would be the one to make sure that Yelena would never forget about you, not that she ever would.

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[thetarttfuldickhead]

It’s seems unlikely that Roy will have time to get up every morning to train with Jamie now that he’s been made manager, but since neither of them feels quite right if they don’t spend absurd amounts of time together they’ll meet up for breakfast after Jamie’s early morning work-out at least three times a week, and then go into work together.

As they spend more and more time hanging out without the excuse of training, though, Roy gets a little particular about keeping things extra professional in the work place: there’s no beating the favouritism allegations, not truly, but when at Richmond he tries to keep it at the Jamie is our best player and my special project and I am going to be extra hard on him-level rather than the Jamie is my best friend and I’m furious about how much I love him-level.

And Jamie’s good with it, too, being all respectfully Coach and doing as he’s told and carefully not giving Roy any lip while they’re on the clock. But because this is Roy it gets a little bit ridiculous at times, potentially leading to interactions like this:

A regular morning a few months into the season, Roy and Jamie arriving just in the nick of time, chatting and grinning as easily as you please when they saunter into the dressing rooms with just a few minutes to spare. Jamie goes to his cubby, Roy steps into his office – only to come right back out:

“Oi, Tartt! Training starts in five minutes, why the fuck haven’t you changed yet?”

As the room around them hushes for a moment, Jamie’s face is a study in confusion turning to incredulity to fucking really, man? “Sorry, Coach,” he says, and there’s just the tiniest hint of snark in his voice. “Bloke who gave me a ride here took ages finishing his toast ‘cause he couldn’t stop nattering on about this play his niece put on last night.”

At that, the rest of the team decide that this is just Roy and Jamie being Roy and Jamie again, nothing to worry about, so they go back to tying their shoelaces and what-not. Roy, however, takes a step closer, waving his finger in Jamie’s face.

“I’m not interested in you fucking excuses, Tartt. Part of your job is being here and ready on time, so don’t go fucking blaming others if you can’t manage that, do you hear me?”

Jamie just looks at him. Roy looks right back, not breaking, and eventually Jamie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, Coach. Won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Roy nods slowly in that angry way of his, and then he stalks back to his office.

Jamie looks to Sam, probably, and they do their whole little thing of can you fucking believe it and you signed up for this, my friend, so you better suck it up.

Shaking his head at this coldhearted (but fair) lack of support, Jamie turns to Cockburn as he begins to hurriedly change, confiding: “The play was dead good and all, but not like I wasn’t there to see it myself, right? Didn’t really need a scene-by-scene breakdown of it, did I?”

(And then after training they leave together again to go have dinner with Keeley, probably.)

[nekkomaa]

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I finally managed to finish this chapter without hating it!!! If you notice any errors please let me know, I know very little English and so I end up translating everything using an online translator, and you know sometimes there are errors...

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word counts: 1.435

The job was simple: break into the house of one of Markrov's henchmen, get any clues about their connection, and hopefully more clues about the human trafficking that had been going on for months. However, the job proved complicated when he had to deal not only with the guards but also with a woman, well, he was told that the guy had a wife, but he didn't expect her to be in the house.

The job was supposed to be simple. So why instead of just two in the car were there now three?

He actually considered the idea of killing her, leaving her in the house and making it look like some kind of ridiculous accident, just to confuse them and give them more time to act. But he felt sorry, Simon never liked killing women, he didn't even know if you were lying to them or not, but Ghost never minded killing women, not if they were involved in anything illegal.

You could well be in on it with your husband, and he wouldn't know until it was too late. Deep down your instincts tell you that you're just an ignorant woman who doesn't even know about her own husband, which would explain some of your behavior, but Ghost doesn't usually give people the benefit of the doubt, he's more of a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy.

So why is he taking you along? The only answer Ghost has come up with at the moment is that you could be of great help, a decoy perhaps. If this were a kidnapping, he could even use you as a bargaining chip, to find out how much the husband would be willing to pay to get his beautiful trophy wife back, but everyone knows that her husband wouldn't pay a penny to get you back.

As soon as they arrived at the safe house the first thing they did was tie you properly to a chair, they knew you wouldn't be able to escape even if they let you loose, not with two trained men of their size, but it was good to be safe. Ghost barely looked at you, he prefers not to memorize too many faces of people who will probably end up dead, he already has enough people to haunt his dreams, he doesn't need one more.

As soon as Ghost removed the tape from his mouth, he was ready to leave, anything not to be in the same room as you. He wasn't too surprised when you didn't scream, I mean, he realized you were a clever little thing the moment you decided to collaborate with him, maybe deep down he expected you to scream and shout at the top of your lungs even though you saw you were in the middle of nowhere and knew it wouldn't do any good, he kind of expected any reaction from you, just so he could be rude without feeling so guilty. He doesn't even know whether or not you were involved and aware of what your husband was doing.

“I thought she'd have some resistance, you know screaming and all.” Soap seemed excited by the discovery, a little too excited, but Ghost had learned to ignore strange comments and actions during his time in the army, after all, none of them had a good sanity, not even him.

“I think she understood that no one will come even if she screams.” Ghost just turned and left the room, heading for the room he would be staying in, he would leave you for Soap to deal with, meanwhile he would find out more information in other ways.

Soap appeared at the door a few minutes later, saying that you had fainted, overwhelmed by everything, Ghost just nodded and told him to try again later.

And then Soap was in charge of trying to get more information out of you when you were awake. Ghost felt he'd already had too much interaction with you, and let's face it, Soap was great at getting people to open up, so he was an infinitely better chance. Even though he initially failed, Ghost still believed that Jonny could achieve something.

“Why can't we have a clean safe house for once in our lives?” Soap complains as he throws himself on the bed and dust rises, he coughs a few times trying to shake the dust away in a failed attempt.

“We're in a safe house, not a vacation home Jonny. At least this one has furniture.” Ghost's voice comes out sarcastic, he doesn't take his eyes off the computer, grumbling when something doesn't go as he expects.

“How long is this going to last?” Soap rambles to himself, not really caring whether Ghost listens or not.

“Preferably as little as possible.” He answers back and lets out a strange sound, a muffled, croaking laugh. “I found something you might want to read.” Ghost passes the computer to Soap, the small print on the screen showing something interesting.

The night was colder than he thought it would be, probably because winter was approaching. Ghost stood guard in the early hours of the night, Soap was passed out on the dusty bed in the bedroom, at least this safe house had some comfort, in the last few missions the safe houses had nothing more than just the bathroom sink and the shower, of course, only cold water.

He busied himself going over the information he had about the mission. It was routine, something he was used to and something he could relate to now, if he let his mind wander to any other thought than the mission he knew he would lose himself in a spiral and Ghost couldn't let that happen. Not while he still had a mission to finish, not while he was still on that mission.

He wouldn't give you anything more than a few glances, just to make sure you were still in your sleep/fainting state. It would be tedious for anyone else to sit up half the night watching someone else, without much to occupy themselves, but Ghost doesn't really care, too used to babysitting at night to care that much.

It's actually kind of pathetic now that he thinks about it, the fact that he's watching you. A weak, untrained woman, tied to a chair and passed out. You'd never get out of that house without one of the two of you noticing, Ghost could be mistaken about you, you could be a clever little mouse playing dumb, but he still doubts you'd be able to get rid of the ropes holding you down without making a sound.

He's only awake to keep people out of the house, that's the truth. You're no danger to him. Too fearful, not even able to take the pressure of a few questions and already fainting.

Ghost remembers somewhere in the back of his mind that you're just a civilian, and as far as he knows you have every right to cry and faint out of fear and exhaustion, he sometimes forgets that people aren't like him, that most people aren't in the army.

And in a corner of his mind comes the nagging voice reminding him that for all he knows you might actually be being held in private. But again, it's just an assumption, not confirmed information. He found almost nothing about you in the files, your name was mentioned once in a file, but it was so vague that it could easily have been forgotten.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the thought and snorts, he'd rather not think about it too much, if he knew that bastard was holding you against your will he certainly wouldn't spare his fingers when he finally managed to catch the lowlife. Ghost simply hates violence against innocent, unarmed women. He also hates the memories that come with that thought.

A heavy sigh leaves his lips, he would definitely kill for a cup of tea or an alcoholic drink right now, anything to slow down his mind and relax his tense body. But well, unfortunately there's nothing in this house apart from drinking water, and if they're lucky, some kind of canned food.

The sound is very low, but it's still noticeable if you're paying attention. Ghost looks away from the window and sees you looking around, your gaze unfocused and lost, surely it would take you a few seconds to fully regain consciousness.

That's when Ghost knows it's going to be a long night. Maybe he'll wake Soap up and let him deal with it.

[hotchnerxo]

Aaron Hotchner x Reader!soldier

While being in Pakistan Hotch falls in love with one of the Seals. The feelings are mutrual but Aaron has to leave again and the two try to be in touch but it is difficult.

Reader leaves Pakistan 4 month after Hotch and didnt tell him.

A surprise visit at the BAU chances everthing and brings them together.

This was so much fun to write! And I would absolutely love to write a whole series out of this!!! Thank you so much for the request. Hope it is to your liking! (Also this was longer than I at first intended)

~~

A year prior, you had agreed to run a task force in Pakistan. It was your first solo operation managing it all, and although nervous, you were more than capable of handling it. It is after all what you’ve been training for for a long time. 

Few months into the operation, you and your team got another helping hand from the FBI, a team leader from a special unit, Aaron Hotchner. 

At first, you were a bit worried, having an experienced leader join your team. Would they want to overtake your operation? Would the FBI try to get too involved through him? But instead, your nerves melted soon after meeting up with the man. His intelligence and true will to help were stronger than any of your previous doubts. 

What you did not expect happening, was getting so close with the man. Him and you worked great as a team and grew close during his time with you. Professionalism has always been important to the both of you, but working so closely together for a long time, you got to know him on a more personal level. 

Four months ago, he got a call that ended his time with you. He couldn’t tell you much at that moment, other than his team needing him back in Quantico. And you know his team is his family and he would do anything for them. But he promised to explain it all once the task force is over. 

“I’ll hold you to it” you had told him as he stepped into his vehicle and rushed for his plane. 

Now, 4 months later, you find yourself at the Bureau, delivering the remaining paperwork of your now-ended task force. You’ve barely made it back to the country, still in uniform and all, but on your way out, you notice a sign on the elevator: Behavioral Analysis Unit. And before you know it, you find yourself on the sixth floor, rather than the garage. 

You make your way through the glass doors and hear a playful banter from the kitchenette on your right. You hear familiar names pop up in the short conversation, letting you know that it’s Hotchner’s team. 

“Excuse me” you interrupt softly and the banter quiets. The four agents on their break turn to look at you and straighten up seeing your uniform. “So sorry to interrupt you on your break” you try to sound relaxed and calm, you’re not here for professional matters “I’m trying to find Aar-, I mean Agent Hotchner” you clear your throat, your confidence diving as you notice two of the agents share a look “Am I in the right place?” 

“Yes, ma’am” a dark haired woman smiles politely and points you in the direction of his office. You thank them and head towards the office at the end of the bullpen. 

His curtains are open and seeing a familiar man behind it almost makes you stop on your feet. But with determination, you remain calm and keep on walking. 

Although his door is open, Hotchner hasn’t yet noticed you at the door. You take a couple of seconds to admire him in such deep concentration. You take a moment to admire him. His dark hair is in neat order, although a few strands have fallen to his forehead throughout the day. Instead of his military uniform, he’s in a form fitting suit. You had gotten so used to seeing him with a beard or at least a stubble, now seeing him clean shaven is strange. But you can’t deny your clear attraction to him. 

“I need that report on my desk first thing in the morning, Hotchner” you put your best ‘Unit chief’ voice on as you step into his office. The man’s eyes dart up to you, but the look softens immediately as he recognizes who it’s coming from. You can’t help but smile, seeing him again after months of being away. 

“Hey!” He greets you and walks up to you from behind his desk. You spread your arms for a hug and he seems more than happy to wrap his arms around you. Somehow, you’d forgotten how tall he is. And as he’s now so close to you and you feel his strong body against yours, you forget how to breathe momentarily. 

Once you separate, seeing the fond smile on him makes your knees buckle and you have to force yourself to focus. 

“What are you doing here?” he breaks the silence, still in slight disbelief to see you in his office. 

“Finally back in town, case’s over” you explain. Even after he’d left Pakistan, he had checked in on the task force every now and then. But he’s been so packed with work recently that he hasn’t had the time. “I really wanted to see you, it’s been awhile. And I’m pretty sure I’m owed an explanation”. 

“You are” he admits, his gaze dropping down momentarily. But only seconds later, he looks back at you, as if he can’t keep his eyes off of you. 

There’s a moment of silence, but you feel a laughter bubble in you. The man in front of you seems completely oblivious to what you’re trying to tell him. The man is extremely smart, but you know he’s had to put up a lot of walls for himself. 

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask more directly, hoping for him to catch up on your thought process. “I’m very jet lagged, I think a shower and a nap would do wonders really” you feel yourself rambling on beside your point “But would you have time for dinner tonight? To, you know, catch up”. 

“I’d like that” he voice is almost down to a whisper “Would 1900 work?” 

You smile at his wording. “Only if you let me drive”. 

“Not a chance!” his laugh makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight “I’ve seen how you drive. I’d like to live, thanks”. 

“What are you saying, Hotchner?” you try to act offended, although failing miserably. 

“What I’m saying is that I’ll pick you up at 7”.

[nobigsecrets]

(I Don't Believe) It's That Simple

Fandom: 9-1-1 Relationship: Eddie Diaz & Tommy Kinard Rating: T Words: 2,478

But this? Is coming from a different place. It's also clearly running deeper than random curiosity, it's something that Eddie has already put some thought into—and something dawns on Tommy. Is Eddie questioning?

"Hey, Eddie," Tommy says, as softly as he can manage to pull Eddie back out of his head. "Where's this coming from? You think you might be... not straight?"

Or: Eddie and Tommy are having a conversation.

Read on AO3

"So, how did you know?" Eddie asks, apropos of nothing.

Tommy's brow furrows as he's trying to make sense of the question. They're sitting in Eddie's living room, after they'd first played basketball and then watched basketball on TV while eating takeout and having a couple of beers. The game has long since ended though and they've been silently nursing their latest round of beers for the past few minutes. He tries to recall what they were talking about last. A call the 118 had taken a few days ago, he remembers, Evan had had to rappel down a bridge and it had been stupidly risky. But apparently Eddie's thoughts had taken some turns Tommy can't quite follow—

"How did I know what?"

"Buck told me—" Eddie starts, then has to put his words into the right order before he continues. "He said he knew he was bi the moment you kissed him. Like you handed him a puzzle piece and he immediately knew where it was supposed to go." Eddie takes a swig of his beer and turns around so he can better look at Tommy, who's sitting at the other end of the couch. "So I wondered, how did you know?"

"Mmh," Tommy says and then asks back, "how did I know Evan is bi? Or how did I know I'm gay?" It's been too many beers over the course of the evening and he can't quite read if Eddie's sudden interest is sparked out of random curiosity—or something else.

"Oh, uhm," Eddie says, somewhat unintelligible and clearly the beers have left an impact on him, too. "Well, both. I think. What I meant is how did you know you're not straight?"

"I always knew," Tommy readily admits, marveling at how easy it sounds when in reality it had been anything but. So for accuracy he adds, "but for the longest time I pretended that I didn't."

Eddie makes a confused face for a moment. "So you, uh, dated women? Like, before—?”

"Yes, I did hook up with women," Tommy admits and sighs, he's not exactly proud of his past. "It was before I came out to myself. I lied to them and I lied to myself, pretended it was what I wanted even though it never felt right."

Tommy knows it was a shitty thing to do. He now also knows it was driven by self-preservation for the most part and therefore explainable. Not excusable, his mind adds automatically. But his therapist had been adamant about driving that point home, that there were reasons for why he did what he did, that he shouldn't blindly take all the blame for it on himself.

Eddie nods like he understands. It takes a moment before he comes out with the next question. "And did you ever have a girlfriend? Like, something long-term?"

"No, not really," Tommy says, "only ever a few months before I broke it off." And that's one thing the Army offered that he's actually still grateful for. Being on duty, getting deployed, it was an easy excuse to get out of anything that came close to being called a relationship. "The longest I've been with a girl was through basic training and a few months after that. Maybe half a year? I couldn't do it, it was—“

Tommy breaks off, looking for a way to explain how stifling it had felt but he doesn't need to bother because Eddie offers, "It was like performing a role and you played it because it was expected of you."

"Yeah!" Tommy agrees, surprised by how precisely Eddie's words hit the mark.

Eddie murmurs something that Tommy doesn't quite catch but that sounds a lot like "go figure" and now Tommy takes a closer look. Eddie looks tired, but he's looked like that ever since Chris left. It's the actual reason why Tommy is sitting on Eddie's couch this late at night. But Eddie also looks anxious. He's worrying at the label on his empty beer bottle with his thumbnail, peeling off the paper in tiny pieces.

Tommy knows Eddie has started therapy. He knows—via Evan—that Eddie thinks it might be helping. But this? Is coming from a different place. It's also clearly running deeper than random curiosity, it's something that Eddie has already put some thought into—and something dawns on Tommy. Is Eddie questioning?

"Hey, Eddie," Tommy says, as softly as he can manage to pull Eddie back out of his head. "Where's this coming from? You think you might be... not straight?"

Eddie takes a deep breath. He puts the empty bottle on the side table. "I don't know, man," he says, looking over at Tommy before running both hands over his face. When he looks back up, he seems more determined.

"I did a full Buck the other day," he says and a small, affectionate grin briefly flashes over his face. "I overheard something Hen said to Buck and I didn't want to butt into their conversation, so I went and looked it up on Wikipedia. And then I read the whole article on bisexuality. And then I found out about all the other sexual identities I didn't even know existed."

Eddie shoots a quick look at Tommy, hesitant and vulnerable. Tommy can clearly see he's heading somewhere, that there's something that’s s been stewing in him, something he needs to get out and Tommy waits him out patiently.

"I read all kinds of stuff, you know, and I read about—" Eddie continues and now he's taking a deep breath, bracing himself for the part that he actually wants to share. "Did you know you can be sexually attracted to someone but not romantically? Or the other way around or not at all?"

"That's—“ Tommy says and wrecks his brain. He can vaguely remember someone explaining this at a meetup of the queer LAFD group he sometimes joins. Split-attraction... something, he thinks. It's not what he'd expected Eddie to say if he's being honest.

"It's got something to do with asexuality, right?" Tommy shifts his position from where he's lounging in the corner of the couch, turning more towards Eddie and scooting a little closer.

Eddie looks relieved that Tommy apparently knows what he's talking about. "Yeah, that," he confirms. "It said on the web that you can be asexual or aromantic or a mix of both—it's a spectrum, evidently."

"And you think you're somewhere on that spectrum?" Tommy asks in a way he hopes is reassuring as much as encouraging.

"Yes. No. I don't know. But man, it kinda makes sense to me." Eddie says and the way he's torn up about this, the doubt Tommy can hear in his voice, it sounds painfully familiar.

"I mean, I do like having sex. Seeing a beautiful woman, it works for me, you know. But I suck at relationships, it's like... like I said, a performance. Always has, even with—" Eddie stops abruptly, biting his lip. He looks away for a second before he catches himself.

"I once had an actual panic attack over being stuck in a relationship, did Buck ever tell you that?"

"He did not," Tommy says with a small shake of his head. He's got to fight back his curiosity because it sounds like that's a story he'd like to hear about someday. But he sure as hell won't ask for more than what Eddie is willing to share right now.

When he'd picked up things with Evan again after their first failed date, Tommy had promised himself to go slow, to do right by Evan in a way no one had ever done right by him. But then it turned out Evan neither needed to go slow nor to be handled with care and they'd been able to set their pace together. It had been a pleasant surprise after their initial bumpy start.

With Eddie though, Tommy recognizes the same hesitation, the same kind of uncertainty, the same fear of failing to meet other people's expectations—or his own expectations for that matter—that had plagued himself for so many years. He's glad, and honored, that Eddie asked him about it. Tommy thinks that if he'd had someone back then, someone he could've trusted, he might have come to terms with being gay so much earlier. But the first openly queer person he'd ever met, or at least had come into closer contact with had been Hen—and by that point he'd dug himself so deep into the closet that he barely remembered there was a way out. He doesn't want anyone to go through the same pain, not if he can help it—

"How can I be sure that I'm not just confused?" Eddie asks now, taking Tommy's momentary silence as encouragement to go on. "Like, how do I know it’s because I’m... aromantic and not just because I’m crap at relationships? I mean, maybe I'm just a shitty partner.” Eddie stumbles a bit over the word; like it's a pair of pants that's one size too big and doesn't fit quite yet.

"Well first of all, I don't think you'd be a shitty partner because I know for a fact that you're a great and loyal friend," Tommy says and he's glad to get a small—if pretty self-conscious—smile in response. "But to answer your question about how you know—you basically just said it yourself: it makes sense to you. That's all that matters."

"That's all that matters?" Eddie repeats, eyebrows raised and oozing skepticism. "I don't believe it's that simple."

"It really is that simple." It's a fact Tommy's had to learn the hard way but it's something he now believes in one hundred percent. "You are the only who knows how you feel. What works for you, as you put it. No one else can tell you that. So no one else gets to decide. If there's a label that makes sense to you, if you feel comfortable with it, claim it."

Tommy can almost see the gears turning inside Eddie's head as he's thinking things over. He waits him out patiently and reaches for the beer bottle he deposited on the coffee table earlier. Coffee would probably be a better fitted drink for this conversation, he thinks as he takes a drink of the lukewarm beer.

"The idea— well, the possibility of just not wanting a romantic relationship with someone, it... it felt like a relief," Eddie admits. "I don't like going on dates. It feels all staged and, I don't know, fake. Most of the time. I'd rather be hanging as friends, you know. Like with Buck, with you guys." Eddie gestures towards Tommy, apparently wanting him to know he's included. It's sweet.

"But then I think a family is everything I ever wanted. Being married, having kids, the way it's supposed to be. I never pictured my life any other way. And I think of Chris—and it all feels incredibly selfish."

"And did you ever give yourself the time and space to picture your life any other way?" Tommy asks and carefully places his still half-full beer bottle back onto the coffee table, very much aware that his next question is a delicate one. "Chris' mom, she was your high school sweetheart, right?"

Eddie looks up sharply and Tommy is ready to apologize and take a step back, he knows the woman has left a sore mark behind, but then Eddie's face softens and he nods in agreement.

"Shannon," Eddie says. "Yes, she was. And we had Chris when we were 19. We didn't have much of a choice back then. At least it didn't feel like we did."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Tommy says and he means it. He remembers being that age, being pressured into making decisions that will affect your whole life—while being offered no real prospects of a future. "That's why sometimes we adopt what people expect us to do as our own expectations.

"Look, when I was growing up and through my time in the Army, I told myself I couldn't be gay—because I'm not interested in... I don't know, arts or fashion or fancy shit like that. I like typical guy stuff, always have. Engines and sports and fighting. I didn't fit any of the clichés about gay men. So I fell between places. I wasn't straight in the way people expected me to be and I wasn't gay in the way people expected gay men to be. It took me years to figure that one out. It takes time, Eddie."

"Yes, I guess that's something I need to untangle," Eddie says. "Shannon and I, we fucked up. And then I tried to do right by her by marrying her. Plus it was the only way I knew how to appease to my parents. And I... I always tried to tell myself it was what we would've done anyway. But now I don't think it was what either of us really wanted at the time." He sighs and rubs a hand over his face and hair, but now the gesture is more thoughtful than anxious. Eventually, a small grin steals itself on Eddie's face, "See? It's not that simple after all."

"Alright, I relent. It can be messy until you get there," Tommy says, glad to see a tiny challenging glint back in Eddie's eyes. "But once you stop lying to yourself, once you stop trying to be who other people want you to be, it really is that simple."

"I'll take your word for it!" Eddie scoots forward on the couch and reaches for his beer bottle, pulling a face at finding it empty. It's a clear signal that he's done talking for now.

"Let me know how it goes," Tommy says and then finishes his own beer in a few gulps.

"You want another one?" Eddie gets up from couch and starts to collect the empty bottles.

"No, I'm good," Tommy says, getting up from the couch, too. "I should get going anyway. It's late." He takes half of the bottles and helps Eddie carry them into the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure." Eddie puts the empty bottles on the counter and motions for Tommy to do the same.

"Tell Buck I said hi. And that I'm sorry for keeping you this long," he says as they're walking back into the living room and towards the front door.

"I'm sure he won't mind." Tommy stops with his hand on the door handle, "but just so you know: I won't tell him what we were talking about. That's your job. If and when you're ready."

"Understood," Eddie agrees and then pulls Tommy into a quick hug, patting his shoulder twice for good measure. "Thanks for listening, man."

"Sure," Tommy says with a smile. "Thanks for trusting me with this."

[clangenrising]

Month 9 - Leaffall

Goldenstar paused at the edge of the edge of the nursery, tucked against the wall so as not to be seen from inside. She took a deep breath, then let it out, and then stepped inside. 

“Smokyrose?” she ventured. “Have a moment?” 

The queen lifted her head from where it was laid on her paws and said, “Sure. Come in.” Goldenstar stepped closer, head ducked respectfully. Despite being the leader of the Clan, she still looked up to Smokyrose and she had done her wrong. She perched gently near the edge of the queen’s nest, curling her tail around her paws. 

Tucked closely against their mother’s belly, Fogkit and Slatekit slumbered gently. Goldenstar couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to Ghost. She couldn’t imagine how painful that must be for Smokyrose. For a moment they met eyes and shame flushed through Goldenstar. She’d been caught staring. 

“Smokyrose,” she said gently, “I owe you an apology.” Smokyrose looked down at her kits and said nothing, so Goldenstar continued. “You’re right. You deserved to know and I should have told you as soon as I found out.” 

Smokyrose swallowed. “How long have you known?” 

“I found out the night Aldertail came to camp,” she said. “From what Scorchplume told me, it sounds like there are two tiers of cats in the city with Kittypets at the top and Street Cats at the bottom, and Ghost is the cat in charge of the Street Cats. She likened him to a Deputy.” She swallowed tightly, knowing this probably wasn’t something Smokyrose wanted to hear right now, but she had a feeling not hearing it would be worse. 

“I see,” said Smokyrose in a nursery-soft voice. Gently, she shifted her hips, causing Slatekit to mewl gently in her sleep. Goldenstar sighed, looking over the kits. She hoped things wouldn’t be nearly as tough for them as they were for their mother. 

“I don’t know much more than that,” Goldenstar said. “Scorchplume might, but she doesn’t like to talk about it and she seems to have good reason.” 

“She should have told me,” Smokyrose said.

“I know,” Goldenstar replied. “She said she didn’t want to upset you but I know that doesn’t make it better.” 

It was Smokyrose’s turn to sigh. “I can understand that. I hate that it doesn’t make me feel better.” 

“I’m sorry,” Goldenstar said. “Just… Try and go easy on her… for me?” She knew Scorch was dealing with a lot of judgment in the Clan already and when they had talked the other day, after the confrontation, Scorch had confessed that she and Yarrowshade were fighting too, although she wouldn’t say over what. Goldenstar knew she could probably ask him about it but was trying to resist the urge. If Scorch had wanted her to know, she would have said something. Besides, she had to focus on preparing for the Gathering on top of training her new, very eager  apprentice. 

Smokyrose considered the request with a conflicted expression. “You care very deeply about her, don’t you?” 

Goldenstar’s throat labored for a second before she managed to say, “Yeah… I think I might be falling for her.” A smile pulled at Smokyrose’s lips which was both relieving and embarrassing. 

“That’s wonderful, dear,” she said and seemed to mean it despite her underlying sadness. “I’ll do what I can to forgive her. But please, next time you learn something about Ghost, I need to know.” 

“You will,” Goldenstar affirmed, “I promise.” 

“Thank you,” Smokyrose sighed in relief. 

“I’ll let you rest, now,” Goldenstar said, getting to her feet. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Don’t you worry,” Smokyrose smiled. “You’ve got enough to deal with already and I have plenty of cats willing to help.” 

“Alright,” nodded Goldenstar. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you,” Smokyrose said. Goldenstar nodded again and then turned and left the mediator in peace with her newborns. She groaned. Time to think of how to break the news to the other Clans.

[natriae]

Chapter 2: Ya know who Sunarin's livin with

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masterlist

warnings: profanity

Your whole life you were told that you would either love or hate your job, and you would know pretty fast. You never quite understood how someone would know so quickly if they loved or hated their job. Every job has its pros and cons and training for a job sucks. Even months after working for JVA, specifically MSBY, you still don't really love nor do you hate your job. It pays your bills and you have freedom for the most part. You get to travel the world, and get paid for it. So you wouldn't ever complain, but it would probably be more enjoyable had you not had nine flies swarming around you at all times. Meian is the only break you get. He maintains his social media presence and always brings in new fans.

And if we're talking about bringing in new fans you guess you shouldn't completely hate on the MSBY 4 - as they like to be called. They brought in a significant amount of fans right off the bat which not only increases their pay but yours too.

There was a small knock on the conference room door that held everyone's attention. At the moment you were in a meeting with the MSBY team, the team's manager, coach, and Kuroo Tetsuro. Kuroo was leading the meeting to discuss future promotions when the season began, however no one expected the meeting to be interrupted after it had just begun. Kuroo let out a gruff 'come in' , clearly irritated that he was interrupted mid opening speech (even though no one was listening). The white fogged glass door opened to short black hair and sharp eyes that could be recognized anywhere. He really had to come right now? Out of the corner of your eye you notice Atsumu sitting up in his seat wondering if he's seeing things right. Suna Rintarou walked right into the meeting with no shame. He gave Kuroo a curt bow and put your bento right on the table in front of you.

"you're welcome." he whispered into your ear. He gave a lazy smirk to Atsumu and a quick nod of his head before leaving the room. Do they know each other? More than just two players on the court?

You turn towards Atsumu to find him already looking at you. However, his face isn't the usual soft boyish expression. His jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together clearly confused and a little mad. Instead of holding your eyes he turns and looks down at the table. You should probably talk to him once the meeting is over.

Oddly enough that day instead of Atsumu chasing after you. It's you chasing him out the door. The two of you clocked out for the day ready to go to your cars and here you are running after him and yelling 'Miya'.

"Miya, please wait! I've been trying to talk to you all day." You exclaim as he exits the stadium's doors. You watch as his back tenses before he reluctantly turns around to face you. He moves the heavy gym bag slung on his shoulder before giving you a fake smile. Finally catching up to him you give him a face of confusion. Trying to figure out why he's been acting like such a dick today.

After the meeting Atsumu left without saying a word. Normally he tries to crack a joke or at least talk to people before ultimately leaving the room. Then later you tried to get him to talk to you while he practiced, but he kept using the excuse that he needed to get ready for the starting season, or that the coach wanted him to get better. Which you knew was a lie. The last thing the coach wants is his team to be overworked. Which is why you're stuck here flipping the roles around for the first time in 8 months.

"Miya, why are you acting like a dick today," you snapped while lightly pushing the larger man's arm. You watched him look down and shake his head as he clenched his jaw in anger.

"it's nothin'. None of yer business," He retorts. He lifts his shoulders up as he maneuvers his gym bag once more. He turns around and begins to walk towards the door, but stops when you start again.

"Okay, yeah it's none of my business, but I have shit to do and questions to ask you for my job, and you made it extremely difficult, so now it is my business if you like it or not," fuming your face flushed with anger. Not only did he make your day harder, you were stuck in traffic this morning, spilled your coffee on yourself, an intern opened their door and hit your car, and you have had the most pounding headache all day. The only thing you needed was for your coworkers to cooperate with you.

He pauses and leans his head back before putting it back into place and quietly says, "it's just issues with me and samu…goodnight," Solemnly the over six foot setter exits the stadium without a word. He heads straight to his car and goes home. Not even waiting for you to get into yours.

The glass door slides harshly against the metal as the MSBY setter enters the much too small establishment.

"ya don't look too happy," the younger twin comments as he wipes down the wooden counter separating him from the customers.

Atsumu makes his way to his spot at the restaurant. Next to him there were two small framed pictures hanging one above the other on the wall. One of him, Osamu, and mama miya outside what would become 'Onigiri Miya", then the one below it him and Osamu on the MSBY court. Atsumu fresh out of college sporting his MSBY jersey and Osamu next to him with tired eyes from late night at the restaurant. The photos definitely helped share that this was an authentic family run restaurant, and that Miya Osamu would serve you food with love. Like right now, Osamu already had made Atsumu's favorite Onigiris as the blond twin settled in his seat.

"So what's got you so grumpy," Osamu starts while eyeing up his twin.

"Who says I'm grumpy," Atsumu retorts, cocking his head up and scrunching his eyebrows together. He watches as his brother's eyes squint slightly and his head leans to the side. Already saying 'really 'tsumu' without even opening his mouth.

"well fer starters yer not shoving my amazin' Onigiris down your throat. Secondly, ya walked through ma door like a bird just pooped on ya!" The younger brother shouted. His eyes now open wide not caring if the other customers could hear him fighting with his brother. It's their Miya charm. When you come to Onigiri Miya you're likely to get food and a show of the twins fighting with each other. If anything the customers are used to this and mind their own business. "So, either tell me what's wrong, or get the hell outta here," Osamu finishes cocking his head in the direction of Atsumu's apartment.

Atsumu takes a deep breath before speaking. Instead of attempting to crawl over the counter the older twin, for once, actually stays put and gravelly asks, "do ya know who Sunarin's livin' with?"

"Yeah, some girl from college," Osamu responds, shrugging his shoulders lightly before turning around to begin working on another customer's order.

"don't ya think it's weird he's livin' with a girl," Atsumu croaked. Before he knew it a mug with hot water was placed in front of him. He took a sip of it to moisten his neglected throat as he waited for his brother's answer.

Even though he wasn't facing Atsumu anymore he continued the conversation recalling how they shouldn't question Rintarou's actions at this point.

" Come on, when's the last time we've actually had to worry about Rin…not like posting bad videos of us, but like his other life choices. He has our best interests in mind,"

Atsumu knows he's right, but there's still this nagging feeling in his heart. He knows if he just talked to Suna things would be fine, but what if things aren't fine. It's not like he likes you. He just wants you to be safe, and sometimes Suna does things without thinking. Yeah, that's what it is, he doesn't want you to get roped into Rin's bad ideas. Leading to you losing your job. He would never openly say it, but he loves working with you, and wouldn't trade you for the world.

You walk into your shared apartment to see suna lounging on the couch, phone in hand, and a random cartoon on the tv in the background. This isn't an unusual sight to see him in, but usually it's later in the day you see it. On a normal day you and suna would be pulling into the parking garage at the same time, going into the elevator at the same time, and entering the apartment at the same time. Suna immediately goes to the couch while you get changed. However, today Suna's coach gave his team a rest day after their hard work, so he was able to start his laziness early.

After changing you begin to work on a small dinner for the two of you. A way to thank him for bringing you your lunch. While you chop up the ingredients you hear a few creaks of the floorboards before long, lanky arms are wrapped around your torso. You've known Rin since college and since then he's always been really touchy with you, but in a sibling way. Jokingly trying to punch you or keeping you close when he sees someone who is eyeing you the wrong way. So you weren't uncomfortable by his hug, just confused that he's not about to give you a knuckle sandwich.

As quick as he hugged you he just as quickly unwrapped his arms and headed to the fridge.

"Hey, no eating. I'm cooking dinner right now." You scolded the dark haired man. He gave you a nasty face before grabbing a drink and watching you cook from the island. "What was that hug about?" you questioned. You slide your knife down the cutting board successfully landing all the vegetables into the sizzling pan.

"can't friends just hug each other," he responds in a mocking tone. You don't need to turn around to know he's making a 'matter of a fact face', but you do, and you see it, and you give him your best 'duh' face with a roll of your eyes. That was one reason why you think you and Suna got so close. You reminded him a lot of his sister and he felt like a big brother to you. You would subconsciously care for each other like siblings, and fight like them too.

With a light laugh Suna continues talking after taking a sip of his soda. "Sorry, miss grumpy pants," you quickly flick some of the boiling sauce at him with the spatula then hearing a loud 'ow' come right after, "okay, you looked sad and like you needed a hug so I gave you one," he muttered out. Seemingly embarrassed by his kind emotions. You lightly shake your head before you tell him that you did with a small thank you. He gets up, pats your back, then begins grabbing plates to set the island with. One set up for each of you.

You were glad you had Rintarou. He always made your day better no matter how irritated he made you. That night your headache finally disappeared as the two of you ate your food and spoke about your days. People's jobs are just one part of their lives, but having a safe home is much more important.

any pics of the boys are of the stage actors 🤭

taglist: open!

@thisbicc @lovley212 @kyowdani @jacelikespp @bubblewordsofsodapop @chytheshyestguy @kuroosluthoe @littlemochi

[shi-daisy]

Spring Beast and Silver Queen

Day 6 and here we have the second otp! Like Tamcien (or Feylincien) and Neris own my heart but Neslin has so much potential that I wouldn't mind them being endgame in a Canon. So here's a little oneshot for them with some Fairytale tropes. Hope you like!

@tamlinweek

Tamlin Week 2024- Day 6- Fairy Tale AU

Spring Beast & Silver Queen

Nesta walked onto the decayed manor, it was just as destroyed as the rest of the court.

Lucien might be the only one to come here out of genuine care, but if the mild mannered redhead couldn't do more than this that meant the High Lord was all but dead inside. She understood. Nesta felt the same way.

She found Tamlin sleeping. The male was in his beast form, like that day when he came to their cottage and took her sister. There were times she wished that hadn't happened. Now, she just wished she'd ran when she had the chance.

It didn't matter anymore. It was either Spring or a lock up on Night, and she'd take her chances with the wilted flowers.

Nesta came into the room slowly. A bird that slept on Tamlin's mane woke up, and left out the window, sparing her one last glance.

She kneeled on the floor and gently patted the man. He was alive, just deeply asleep, and he looked so very weak.

'Guess they've broken us both.' She thought.

Who had once been a monster to her now looked so very defenseless and sad Nesta felt compelled to be kind. Maybe being here wouldn't be so bad, at least Tamlin wouldn't bother her about her drinking if the empty wine bottles were any indication.

She didn't know why, but Nesta decided to plant a soft kiss on the beasts forhead, and wait for him to wake. Nesta didn't have to wait long.

Tamlin turned from beast to fae form in a flash, and when his emerald eyes fell on her their bond snapped.

***

A deep silence fell upon the room as he sat up and stared at Nesta who was equally surprised and stunned.

"I...Think you know what this means."

"Yes..."

"Wait! Why are you here, Lady Nesta? Is this another strange dream?"

"Afraid not. I'll explain."

She told him of her downward spiral, of her sister's betrayal and the choice she was given. It nearly made his magic spiral in a rage.

"Stay here I'd that's what you want. I swear I shall protect you." Tamlin managed to say.

"...What about the bond?"

"If you keep it, they cannot take you away. Once we're certain they won't hurt you, then you may do as you wish with it."

It hurt to say, to denounce something he'd once wanted, despite knowing of it worst sides thanks to his parents, and yet...he wanted to prioritize Nesta's free will. It was clear she needed it.

Especially when her frown turned into a slight smile. "I appreciate it."

Baby steps, in time they could be friends.

***

Lucien had come to visit. After she explained the situation the redhead not only returned to stay with his partners but he cut off all ties to Night.

"We will help you rebuild this court!"

That was all they needed to let the Band of Exiles become part of the Spring council.

The Spring Library was a marvel after it was cleaned and she took to devouring every book she could. It helped fix the court and bring back the population.

In a few months things were already looking up, and Tamlin wouldn't stop thanking her. "Lucien did most of the administrative work. Vassa is in charge of diplomacy and Jurian is training the sentries. Why are you thanking me too?"

"Because if you hadn't arrived that day. I wouldn't be here right now. Your silver flame is what kept me holding on and made me rebuild what I shouldn't have left crumble. Thank you."

His gentle hand on hers gave her pause. Despite the slow friendship they'd cultivated and the bond that kept her safe, sometimes Nesta doubted a man like him could want her if it wasn't because of the mating bond. Still, she didn't want to break it. Her safety was at stake but also...she didn't want to hurt Tamlin further.

Nesta felt a tear slide down her cheek, but it was soon wiped away as Tamlin kissed her forehead. "You don't have to say anything. If I have to wait forever I shall. You're worth waiting for."

Worth. She hadn't heard that from anyone.

"There's a lot I still must deal with, but when I do. I'm certain you'll be who I want to spend my time with."

"I'm honored to hear that."

***

Tamlin often thought that beyond any person music would remain his ultimate love. Perhaps that would've been right, as he played his fiddle before the Calanmai celebrations and everyone danced with joy.

Then she stepped into the scene wearing the long sleeved silver dress he'd gotten for her and the glass shoes he'd seen her eyeing at the boutique.

Nesta was a delightful dancer. He knew she loved music as much as he did when she organized all his sheets and instruments with great care, probably more than the books.

Nesta danced beautifully for him, and he didn't remember the last time he'd played that well. By the time the song ended and she stopped dancing, Tamlin had picked her up in his arms and they shared a kiss.

"I love you." Nesta said, and he couldn't help but cry.

"I love you too."

No other Calanmai had left him as breathless and full of joy

***

Eventually they came for her a little over week after their bond was sealed and their frenzy over.

Nesta nearly barbecued the entire inner circle when they tried to get close to Tamlin. He'd wrapped them in thorned vines.

"We are mated. We are happy. We won't bend to you if you're trying to get the crown. Leave!" He said.

Cassian glared at her and Nesta regarded him with indifference, she had the man of her dreams right by her side and wore a crown of roses rather than chains of stars. The only ones she'd mourn for were her sisters, but she was free and she wouldn't apologize for it. Let the. Make their choice for themselves.

And they did. Because when shadows took her to the House of Wind and she was locked in its tower, Nesta could hear a battle far away in the Velaris palace. By now she'd realized Morrigan was the traitor and that Feyre had joined her, but she couldn't wait for them to rescue her. She had to get out herself.

Rhysand had brought her back to fight for Night's side. She wouldn't and so he locked her up. But he forgot she had power and she had read enough to figure out the end of the tale.

Nesta used her power to create thin threads of silver. They grew from her hair and she made sure to tie them onto the balcony rails. It wasn't enough to reach the ground safely, but she wouldn't need to. She saw a figure of green and was aware he High Lord came to save her.

With rope of hair in hand she jumped from the balcony of the tower and safely mounted Tamlin, who was now a dragon.

"My silver flower"

"My fiddler lord."

They flew away as the Obsidian castle in the distance was swallowed up a black hole in the sky. Both of them were worried until the event passed and the castle was nothing but rubble left away.

After landing they spotted Lucien in the distance with the healers. She saw Feyre and Mor with them, out cold but alive.

Tamlin and Nesta both breathed a sigh of relief. Then they looked at eachother. Nesta smiled at the sight of her mate, her beloved and the man who'd come to her rescue.

Tamlin pulled her close, holding his savior, his queen and his beloved.

Nesta kissed him, using words he'd once said to someone else yet were never returned until now. "I love you, thorns & all."

"And love you, my queen Nesta Acheron."

Two birds flew over them as they shared a kiss, into their happily ever after.