#My man with an iron fucking gate around everything important to him

[limpfisted]

While I would prefer to make it so that wyll has more agency over his own narrative

I find it extremely interesting he just CANT make decisions by himself

Like to me, that's a character beat!

Like he can make a decision to sacrifice himself, and to hurt people he thinks "deserve" it, again and again, but by the end of the game, he no longer trusts himself to make that kind of decision

He was wrong about karlach. Who knows how many other "devils."

Given the choice between himself and his father. His father, who WILL most likely have a good after life, and in dnd u know like. After life's exist, and are much longer than human lifespans and wyll is fully cognizant of like. The fact his father won't really suffer when he dies, like wyll will for all of eternity

He doesn't trust himself. He thought he couldn't get out of his pact. He had given up on his freedom. He BELIEVED in his choice. And now... now he doesn't know what to believe. He knows you are his PROTECTOR and his light in the darkness, his light in the dysphoriq and the realization he has been more corrupted by this deal (not just physically. Again. How many more karlachs were there.) And he had learned THROUGH you just how bad his "learned helplessness" is while also mozora drives down the point that he IS trapped, he IS punished, and he still doesn't know what he'll do without her and it's like

Of course he can't fucking decide, man

Thats an impossible choice for HIM. If u look at everything u learn about him. This is the ultimate evil move on mizoras side because she LET you dangle freedom over wyll. His pact wasn't even completely broken. He still had six more months. And u know what? Before he met you, wyll might have just have gone on like this with mizora indefinitely. Never being able to tell people about mizora or his Father. How is he supposed to get close enough to someone, for them to show him what his freedom really means?

You MADE it an impossible choice. Befor3 this adventure he would have simply sold his soul again. No questions asked. Hes had just a taste of freedom, though. Just a taste of personhood. He has friends now. He has people he can genuinely trust who aren't MANIPULATING him or keeping him on a leash

He NEEDS you. He trusts you! You saved him.

He literally. He literally just can't make this decision alone and whatever you choose for him hell stand by

And that's great! That's a great flaw and arc!

If the game had taken this to its conclusion and had like. A scene like astarion at his grave where wyll just takes you aside and tells you. Thank you for choosing for me. Thank you for being MY light. I trust you. I dont know what I'm doing anymore. I'm scared and lost and this is all so overwhelming. All I have had for seven years is mizora. Before that all I had was my father. I dont know how to choose myself and not them. I still don't. But I know I was right to choose to be by your side.

This is a GREAT and IMPORTANT narrative about abuse, about trust, about "heroism."

But there's no... conclusion. The iron throne/steel foundry/wyrm/gortash is this big epic quest 2hich is basically a whole act in and of itself centered basically entirely around wylls life and wylls arc and wyll and his Father (also saving the world, but baldurs gate is WYLLS. No one else can become Duke but wyll.) But wyll doesn't really get the chance to react

Like broe? Honestly. If you just add a bunch of wyll reaction and maybe even something as simple as SOME MORE DIALOGUE TREES, doesn't even have to be like a whole cutscene!. This is a compelling narrative! By itself! You don't really need to change stuff! Wyll is an INTERESTING CHARACTER! Just add some stuff!!!

Me @ larian. If yall don't get theo Solomon back in that mo cap suit right now talking about his trauma as explicitly as astarion got to

He is NOT boring. He is just the greatest victim of the act 3 curse. Help

#ooc #hc

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

or

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif 

-

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

-

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.  

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

-

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

-

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.  

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

-

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

--

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends,  but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.  

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

-

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.  

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

#not at all proofread #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #part 2 coming #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #coming soon #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #pls share #pls give feedback #ok goodnight #I said id get it up #so I did #that's what he said #I hate myself #also I honestly don't love where this is going but maybe ill fix it #lol

[topazy]

Silent bloom

Pairings: Finn Collins/ Reader Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: swearing, and character death

Chapter: 2.03

"They want you. If we want a truce, we have to give them Finn."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Raven asked, stepping forward.

Clarke avoided making eye contact with any of you, "That’s their offer."

"That’s not an offer," you snapped. "That’s a death sentence."

"It’s punishment," Finn squeezed your shoulder lightly as he brushed past you. "For what happened at the village. Blood for blood."

—

Murphy walked towards where Finn was standing with a complex look on his face. "Hey, man. Byrne actually gave me a gun. I guess we really are screwed, huh? Look, we kicked their asses last time. We’ll do it again."

Finn looked at him blankly and said, "A lot of people died last time."

You chewed on your bottom lip as Bellamy and Finn continued talking, completely zoning out. Would the grounders really take Finn as a trade? The thought made your stomach turn. Your biggest fear right now was that someone would betray Finn and turn him over.

Hearing Clarke’s voice, you looked up again, to see Finn and Bellamy walking in another direction.

"Hey," Murphy said, stepping forward. "Any orders for me, princess?"

The blonde glared at him, "stay away from me."

You were surprised at the look of hurt on his face. "Just trying to be helpful."

It was obviously by the venom in Clarke’s voice that she blamed Murphy for what happened in the village. "You were with him at the village."

"I tried to stop him."

"Not hard enough!"

"You know, you want to start blaming people, Clarke?" Murphy stepped closer to her. "He wasn’t out there looking for me, was he? It’s not my fault he went batshit crazy."

He was out there looking for you.

You stepped in between them, stopping this before it went any further. "Enough! Both of you. Clarke, go do whatever it is you need to do. Yelling, and arguing isn’t helping anyone."

You watched Clarke walk away before turning to face Murphy, who looked slightly guilty. "What?"

"I…I didn’t mean it was your fault."

You shrugged, pretending his words didn’t strike a nerve. "Whatever, we have more important things to think about. Like how the hell we are going to save Finn."

"He’s a dead man walking," Murphy raised his hands defensively when you raised your brows at him. "What? I’m only pointing out the obvious."

You looked back towards the fence, and slowly walked towards it as the chanting got louder. You felt a lump at the back of your throat, as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

Murphy stood beside you, "jus drein jus daun, Jus drein jus daun."

"Blood must have blood."

You looked back around to face Abby, and Jaha who were talking to some guards. "You don’t trust them, do you?"

"Do you?"

Murphy scoffed at your comment. Of course he didn’t. Nobody who has been screwed over by them should.

"Well, angel eyes, if we leave it to them, we are definitely screwed."

"Yeah," you agreed. Besides Abby, none of them would care what happened to Finn. "We’re going to need a miracle to happen."

—

"What’s the plan?" You asked, stopping beside Finn.

"The dropship."

Clarke shook her head. "You know that this is the safest place for him right now.”

"It isn't if they're turning on him," Bellmay pointed out. "We can protect him at the dropship until we figure this thing out. Grab your gear and meet at Raven's gate in five minutes. She’s already working on cutting the power to the fence."

Bellmay was right. Going to the dropship would probably be the safest place for him right now. It would also give you time to try and figure something else out.

"Okay," Finn nodded. "But nobody's coming with me."

You frowned, "of course we are. This isn’t up for discussion."

Clarke pressed her lips together. She still didn’t seem convinced that it was a good idea. "We are surrounded by Grounders."

"It will be easier if we split up." Noticing others starting to shout at a Finn you gripped his arm as Bellamy knocked the boy called Gruff out. "We need to go, now."

—

You nervously gripped the gun tightly, praying you didn’t make too much noise as you walked through the forest.

"I know I’ve said it before, but-"

"Shh," you stared at Finn wide-eyed.

He has been mostly silent since you caught up with him, and now wasn’t the time to start talking. You knew by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to let whatever was on his mind go.

"I was scared... when you disappeared. I thought I’d never get the chance to say I’m sorry, and I needed you to know that I love you."

"Finn," you stopped walking and turned to face him. "We have talked about this. None of it matters now, all that matters is getting you through this. We find a way to save you, and then we rescue Monty and Jasper, along with everybody else who the mountain men took." You let out a small laugh, "Who would have thought it would be grounders that saved me from them? "Ironic, huh."

"What were they like, the grounders who took you?" He whispered.

"Eh…good as far as kidnappers go. They gave me clean clothes, food, and water." You let out a sigh, "I was afraid they were going to torture me like they did Murphy."

“You have a soft spot for him."

"No I don’t."

For the first time in a long time, you saw Finn smile, "Oh my God, you have a crush on him."

Him teasing you reminded you what life was like back on the ark before everything went to shit. It made you almost forget when you were in the forest in the first place.

You shoved Finn’s arm playfully, "shut up. I just feel bad for him."

"You do like Bellamy though."

You shot Finn a look, "let’s not."

"He’s a good guy, he’d keep you safe. I’m sure of it."

"And who’s going to keep you safe from me? Because once this is all over, I have no issue raising hell if you don’t stop teasing me, Collins."

"What do we do after the dropship? Where do we go? You think the Grounders will just leave when they find out I'm gone? Is this the best way to help our friends inside Mount Weather? "

You gave him a sympathetic smile, "will figure this out."

The last thing you remember seeing is the horrified look on Finn’s face as a loud yelling came from behind you.

—

You let out a loud groan as you sat up. Looking around, you were confused. The last thing you remember was walking in the forest.

"Y/N," Clarke knelt down beside you. "Take it easy when you sit up. You got knocked out."

Of course you did.

"How’s your head?" Finn asked as he helped you stand up.

"Never been better."

"It will be another neat scar to add to your collection," Murphy shrugged.

You ignored his comment as Finn spoke to you in a hushed voice. "When you went down... I thought you were dead. Because of me."

"Finn," you say softly. "I’m right here."

"I’ve killed so many people."

You shook your head, "things that we've done to survive... they don't define us."

"What if you're wrong? What if this is who we are now?"

Not knowing what to say to comfort Finn, you pulled him in for a hug at the same time that Bellamy rushed into the drop shop. "We got company!"

"Oh fuck. We’re surrounded."

As everyone made their way to the outside of the ship, Bellmay stopped to face you. "I’m glad you're okay. You had me worried for a moment."

"Thanks. But honestly, I’m still worried."

—

"They’re not moving any closer."

"Staying out of range. Probably waiting until it's dark."

Murphy looked up at him, "If we hit them now, at least we'd take them by surprise."

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Murphy's idea made sense. You didn’t like it, but he did have a point. "The problem is, we don't even know how many of them are out there."

Murphy rolled his eyes, "I’m not hearing any better ideas, Daisy."

Raven stepped forward. "We’ll give them something."

Bellamy looked at her, confused. "All they want is Finn."

Raven looked away from the rest of the group, as her eyes landed on Murphy. "Finn wasn't the only one at the village."

"You can’t be serious! We aren’t handing anyone over to the grounders."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Raven, I came here to protect him. You were the one who wanted me to come." A hurt expression crossed over Murphy’s face. "You... That’s why you asked me to come along."

The brunette glared at him. "Enough Grounders saw him at the village. They’d believe he was the shooter."

"Sick bitch!" Murphy spat.

Clarke tried to calm her down. "Raven, you don't mean this."

"You know what they do to people?" you said, stepping towards her. "They want Finn, nobody else. We can’t protect him if we are fighting among ourselves.

Raven ignored what you said and pointed her gun towards Murphy. "They want a murderer, we'll give them one."

Hell no.

You shared a knowing look with Finn, before moving to step in front of Murphy. "Raven, this is insane! Put it down."

"Daisy, move out the way, I don’t want to hurt you. Murphy drop your weapon!"

"Raven, stop this before somebody gets hurt!" You yelled back at her. You knew deep down she wouldn’t actually shoot you, but you weren’t so sure about Murphy.

Ravenstill refused to lower her weapon, "I said drop it."

"Stop! Stop!" Finn pushed her hand down so the gun was no longer pointed in your direction. "We're not doing this. They’ve got us surrounded. The only thing we can do is stay. And defend this place. Murphy?"

"Yeah?"

"Go upstairs with Daisy. You two watch the rear. I'll take the lower level. You three, take the front gate. That’s the plan. All right?"

As Murphy walked ahead, you hugged Finn again, saying, "We’ve got this."

"May we meet again."

"We will." You pulled back from him, "I better go make sure nobody else tries to kill him."

"Yeah. Be careful."

—

When you joined Murphy, he glared at you. "Are you insane?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You stepped out in front of me! Raven could have shot you!"

Taken aback by his yelling, you shuffled uncomfortably. "She wasn’t going to-"

Murphy cut you off, "you don’t know that. Don’t ever do something like that for me again. Ever!"

You turned and faced the other direction, to avoid looking at him. Why was he so upset? You were only trying to keep everyone safe.

Hearing yelling, you quickly made your way towards the other side of the ship. "What’s happened?"

Bellamy looked at you with fear in his eyes. "Finn’s handed himself in."

—

You stood on the edge of Camp Jaha by the gates, squinting. Grounders were putting a large post into the ground. "What is that?"

"It’s for Finn," Clarke confirmed. "They want us to watch."

As others talked about what to do next, you noticed Clarke getting ready to leave. "What are you doing?"

"I’m gonna talk to the commander."

"Okay," you stepped beside her. "I’m going with you."

Bellamy stared at you both. "What else do you have to say?"

You sighed. "I don't know, but we need to try."

Raven stepped in front of you. "Give me your hand. If she won't let him go, kill her. Things will go crazy, and we'll grab you and Finn. Daisy, you and Clarke have to help him. I owe him my life."

Before you had a chance to say anything, Raven slipped a small knife into your hand.

—

As you and Clarke walked into the commander's tent, a grounder stepped forward and pressed a spear up against your chest.

Clarke seemed to know who the grounder was. "We are here to talk to your commander. Let us through."

Looking down, you noticed small drops of blood appearing on your top. The grounder has cut you.

"Let them pass," the commander said before looking you up and down. "You bleed for nothing. You cannot stop this."

As Clarke pleaded with Lexa to spare Finn’s life, you noticed Ada standing guard. When she noticed you walking toward her, she frowned. "You are here to beg for the traitor's life?"

"Finn’s my friend. He did an awful thing, something he can’t undo, but torturing him won’t bring anybody else back."

"He killed Zelda."

"I’m sorry…" you whispered. "It’s all my fault. He killed all those people because he thought they had taken me."

"You can’t save him, blood must have blood." Ada said harshly. "If you try to save him, all of your people will die."

Tears spilled onto your cheek. You turned to face the commander, "can I say good-bye?"

The commander paused for a moment before nodding. You were surprised that she was allowing you to talk to him, but you didn’t have time to overthink it. It was probably because of Clarke anyway. You needed to help him. You couldn’t let Finn die by the death of 1000 cuts.

You rushed towards Finn, and kissed him. "I love you, Finn, I never stopped."

"I’m scared."

You wiped tears from his cheek. "You’re gonna be ok. I won’t let you suffer." You kissed him once again, before showing him mercy. "You’re ok."

"Thanks, Daisy."

Stepping back, the only sound you could hear was your own sobs, mixed with Raven's screams, as you stared at Finn’s limp body.

Season two

#the 100 #the 100 season two #Finn Collins x reader #Finn Collins x you #Bellamy Blake x reader #Bellamy Blake x you #slow romance #slow burn #John Murphy x you #John Murphy x reader #the 100 fanfiction #finn collins #Bellamy Blake #John Murphy #Raven Reyes #Clarke Griffin #bellamy the 100 #murphy the 100 #heda lexa #lexa the 100 #Bellamy Blake/reader #finn collins/reader #John Murphy/reader #Bellamy Blake/you #Finn Collins/you #John Murphy/you #grounders

[interstellargatorskinboots1812]

Tapped Into Your Mind & Soul Chapter 5

WARNINGS: It’s an Alfie fic, so obviously SWEARING.

As always, i am a complete comment whore so PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE drop me a line to let me know what you think of the story so far.

All Things are Subject to Decay and Change

Alfie's red Bentley barges it's way through London- a city of vibrant smog which is helping Arabella feel at ease.  There is plenty of beauty to her in the soot-hazed stone of the passing buildings and even the Londoners who hunch by with sour faces and their misery reflected in the colour of the sky.

She is glad of the car's padded seats which absorb each of his sharp turns and brutal stops.

'It's like a circus round here', she comments with optimism, pushing her head further out of the window. Miles upon miles littered with curiosities - street artists providing depictions of escape on the cold pavement, costermongers shouting their trade and yards of train advertisements pasted onto lampposts in every colour. Alluring as the sound of jazz and the sight of the Charleston might be, London shrouds itself in so much more potential for her than flappers and frivolity. His irked voice snaps her from her thoughts.

'It's fuckin' 'orrible, too many animals in this circus'.

His knuckles are white from his grip on the wheel, intense focus directed to the trams and wagons weaving ahead of them. The car agitates over the metal tramlines, as a brown Hovis truck cuts in front of the car, coercing Alfie to slam on the breaks.

'Oh fucking hell!'. His tone is booming as  he reaches into his pocket , pulling out a pistol to aim at the offending driver. Arabella's mouth slowly drops open, capturing his arm and pulling the gun under the dashboard, obscuring it from view. With narrow eyes she quickly looks around to scan the area.

'Have you lost your mind, Alfie?'

'Treacle, these idiots, they only understand one language.'

'Well, lets not have you arrested on my first night in London, eh?'

A small grunt emits from his throat. He yanks his hand easily from her grip and stashes his gun back into his coat pocket.

'Suit yourself,' he grumbles. The car has been overtook now on more than one occasion, another headache to add to his list. Still, best not to piss her off on her first night  and so he turns his eyes back to the road ahead and daydreams of shooting the bollocks off the Hovis driver.

Twisting an unstrung strand of hair repetitively around her finger, she can't help but think about where they are going. It's going to be her new home for the foreseeable future and given the volatile looking environment of his work place, Arabella isn't holding out hope.

Moments later, the noise level begins to filter away as if they have turned down a road that is miles from any civilisation. Thriving with colourful flora within well tended gardens, regency era town houses stand majestically at three stories and with the fanciest of facades. A short and  stoutly older woman canters down the pavement, before turning right into one of the houses and desperately trying to manipulate two heavy shopping bags in order to open her gate. Alfie slows the car down to a stop and beeps his horn, making the poor woman almost jump to the moon, she briskly turns around.

'Oh, vey Alfie! Are you trying to bring me closer to God?' Alfie opens the car door and takes the bags from her hands, opening her cast iron gate with ease.

'What did I tell you Mrs Goldman, mhm? No lifting and carrying these heavy bags, eh? Ishmael can take you to the market and bring you back.'

'Ah Alfie that poor lad does everything, I don't need him helping me as well. I ask God not for a lighter burden but for broader shoulders'. She simpers at him with a twinkle behind her brown eyes that Arabella did not observe before the lady spoke with Alfie.

'Worryin' about you yeh, will be the death of me! Now, tell me that landlord of yours 'as sorted that broken light fixture?'

'He's getting round to it'.

'So, that'll be a no then?' Alfie furrows his brow, making it crease with line after line and tilts his head to the side. 'You need me to have a word with him?'

Mrs Goldman chuckles earnestly before pinching his cheek between her thumb and forefinger.

'Don't be a Schmuck Alfie, the last time you did that my rent went up to pay for his hospital bill. Now, who is this beauty you're sharing your car with hmm?'' Looking around Alfie's broad shoulders, her gaze falls on Arabella who feels rather sheepish under her matriarch stare. Sighing, he pinches the tension from the bridge of his nose. The last thing he needs is for Mrs Goldman to start shooting her mouth off at her knitting circle and have the whole of the Jewish community gossiping before he has had time to formulate how he can position Arabella into his life.

'It should be fuckin' noted right, that nothing gets past you'.

Catching Alfie unawares, she uses her now free hand to provide a sharp whack to the back of his head, making his eyes scrunch. Arabella's eyebrows curve upwards as she swallows down the urge to laugh.

'This is Arabella Shelby, the sister of one of my close business associates. She's going to be staying with me until she gets settled in London'.

So, that's how he plans to play this. Arabella exits the car.

'Nice to meet you Mrs. . . erm...'

'Goldman, dear'. She shakes Arabella's hand, her light touch and weak grip showing just how delicate she is. Alfie was right, she shouldn't have been carrying those bags.

'Please accept my apologies for Mr Solomons lack of manners, I assure you dear, he does possess them somewhere'. She sends her a wink.

'I'll let you know when the search party I've sent out, actually find them.'

This tickles the grey haired lady who stomps her foot letting out a huge guffaw and patting Arabella on the arm.

'I like her Alfie, she is sharp of tongue as well as looks'. She flashes him a knowing smile, one that makes him shift from foot to foot. Much as he likes Mrs Goldman, he can muster no interest in her insinuating words.

'Right, well as much as I'd like to stand here as if i'm fuckin' not and be insulted, we have to get going. Miss Shelby here 'as 'ad a rather eventful day so, goodbye Mrs Goldman'.

She throws a harried glance at Alfie before returning a polite smile at Arabella.

'Now my dear, just you remember that I am but five doors down and that makes us neighbours. Should this  Mazik get to you, just pop on to my door and i'll make sure you're always greeted with a cup of tea and a listening ear.'

Alfie knew that her words served only to aggravate him. He places a hand on Arabella's arm to lead her back to the car and curses his poor decision making for stopping here in the first place.

'Lovely to meet you Mrs Goldman, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of one another'. Alfie's gentle push to the car, turns into a shove.

'I'm sure we will my dear, and it's Nelly to you.'

Alfie watches to make sure Mrs Goldman enters her house safely.

'Sister of a close business associate? Dread to think how you'll introduce me to people when I'm your wife.'

'Arabella, that woman has a mouth wider than the Thames, best to give her as little detail as possible and save her choking on gossip'.

Crossing her arm over her waist and tucking it in at her elbow, she turns toward her window. With a roll of his eyes, he starts up the car. They don't have to travel far before the vehicle is once again stationary. Straightening  up in her seat, she observes the building in front of her.  All of the houses on the street were identical in their architecture, stressed in uniformity – this one however,  was built with a desire for individuality.  

'There ya go, look. Home, sweet-fucking-home'. He walks around the car to help her out. She is mesmerised by the grand blossom tree that pushes the house into almost obscurity due to it's size, looming over the black front door. Pale pink pieces that have been wooed from the tree by the spring winds, gather under her feet, a reminder of life's fickleness. Concealing herself behind Alfie, her cautious spirit holds an inner negotiation with her resilience as they walk up a black and white tiled pathway.  Inside the warmth of the house engulfs them both along with a nauseating charcoal smell. Her foot suddenly slides on something slippy on the marble floor. Bending down she picks up a folded piece of paper that is lay in the doorway. Alfie's name is written on it in the scrawled handwriting.

'Alright now, let's have a look and see if your suitcase has been dropped off... what's that?'

'You tell me, it's got your name on it.'

The blithe and animated Alfie Solomons she is getting to know  is barely recognisable now as an ashen and turbulent man stands across from her, a wrathful look in his blue-green eyes. Frantically he grapples the paper from her hands and faces away from her to peek at the contents.

'Must be something awfully important'. She says, standing on tiptoes to see over his shoulders. The note buckles into pieces as he folds it in his fist, harshly.

'Who's asking you?' his quick-tempered reply takes her by surprise and she narrows her eyes at him, making him clear his throat.

'It's a betting tip if you must know. As an occasional bookmaker, I do need to keep a sharp eye out for the fastest horses'.

He stashes the note into his deep pocket. They both stand facing one another, Alfie towering over her by a good few inches. Neither of them speaking, just eyes setting fire to the other pair. The door at the end of the hall bursts open and commotion on four paws comes bounding excitedly towards his owner.  

'Oh, 'ere he is look, the behemoth with a wagging tale. Ello mate, did you miss me?' Placing his hand onto his right hip, Alfie slowly bends down to fuss and stroke the solid bulk of his bull mastiff.

His incensed constitution replaced with playful humour by his four-legged friend. As if sensing the presence of a stranger, his dog bolts into an alert position and begins to bark anxiously and warningly at Arabella. Alfie prepares himself to calm down his probably panicked fiancé. He's not expecting the hand that comes to his elbow, pushing him aside as she crouches in front of the slobbering beast, offering her hand to smell.

'Hello, you. I've heard so much about you, don't you know?' She strokes her hand roughly over the top of the dog's head, which he immediately cocks and begins to excitedly wag his tail.  'See, your gruff and tough owner here is a huge softy when it comes to you, he doesn't shut up about you'. Alfie watches on as  she undauntedly makes a fuss, not caring about the amount of froth being drooled onto what looks like an expensive, if not gaudy, coat.

'Well, his name is Cyril and he's supposed to be an all powerful and protective breed, but I will acknowledge that it appears I was fuckin' lied to about that'. He crinkles his forehead as he watches Cyril gracelessly roll onto his back so Arabella can rub at his belly.

'Well I think he's just perfect., i'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire.

'Let's see if you're still saying that when he's all over you at five in the morning because he wants to go out for a piss'.

Arabella looks up at him and shakes her head. 'I can see Cyril here holds all the power in this house'.

'Oh yeh? An how do you work that out?'

She pushes herself up to standing and offers him a condescending smile. 'Because Alfie, power lies in loyalty and I can see how dyed-in-the-wool you are with him'.

'That so? Well, lets see where my loyalty gets him tomorrow when Edna sees these muddy paw prints on her mopped floor'.

'Edna?'

He scratches Cyril behind his ears as he steps closer to her.

'My maid. Lovely woman she is, reminds me of me Mother. You'll meet her tomorrow. Now, do you wanna see your new home?'

****************************************

Arabella piano-plays her fingertips on the dark walnut dressing table, listening to the rain outside as it pelts the windows and drips from the alien roof. She could float half way to heaven as she kicks off her slippers and the plush carpet hugs at her swollen feet. Alfie has spent some of the evening showing her around his impressive home. A big house, one she dreamed of owning as a child with it's polished wooden floors and graceful bannisters. Nothing like her Small Heath dwellings. Is it possible she is beginning to get homesick for a place she isn't even sure exists? One with love and where her soul is understood. However, when he had shown her the fully plumbed copper bath tub, she was ready to say 'i- do'  post haste.

Alfie is steadfast becoming a curious paradox – his abode is a beautiful palace, gleaming with a spotless silence. It's king, all the same is harsh and unpredictable with a flare of intelligence and good looks. Although she is hasten to admit it, he intrigues her.

Until Tommy sorts  the delivery of the rest of her things, all of her is compacted into the small suitcase that she pulls from the bed to put away She puts on her nightie, a soft cream silk slip – although well worn, still immaculate.  After an argument with Alfie regarding sleeping arrangements, they finally agreed that they should be adult enough to share a bed to make their relationship more realistic to his house staff. Standing in front of the floor length, mirror she watches as his mother's locket swings off her neck like a stranger. She pats the soft garment over her stomach - full from a delicious stew his maid had prepared, which she enjoyed alone. Alfie has secreted himself in his downstairs office and she has not seen sight nor sound of him all night..

The sound of smashing glass makes her jump, she can hear the thundering voice of Alfie barking out words she can't make out. Whatever the furore is, it's emanating from the upstairs landing. She quickly steps out of the room and sees the bathroom door ajar. Inside Alfie is desperately trying to wrestle Cyril inside a large fluffy towel. The floor around him is immersed in water and Alfie's shirt is saturated.

'Cyril, keep-the-fuck-still'. His fractious tone echoes off the bathroom tiles as he battles against his dog.

'Alfie, do you need some help?'

'No we've got this under control, ain't we boy'. As Cyril succumbs to submission, allowing his master to begin to towel dry his fur, Alfie looks up to acknowledge Arabella, his eyes immediately give her a once over and he feels the inside of his throat dry up as he spots her legs. Cyril takes advantage of his master's distraction and bounds his way out of the towel, bouncing his head off the copper bath in the process, before galloping his way to Arabella.

'Cyril! Ya daft, mad cunt! Get back 'ere now!' Taking not a ounce of notice, Cyril jumps frenziedly onto Arabella, wet paws pushing away at her.

'Get off 'er now ya demented lad! CYRIL! Fuck sake!'

Uncontrollable barks bite their way back at Alfie who is now tugging at his dog's paws, trying to gain purchase to pull him off her, flattened and trapped as she is against the wall.

'Fuckin' hell Cyril, what are you playing at, get off. . . stop trying to wrestle . . .CYRIL! I'm warning y. . . '

'SIT!' Her voice is loud and stern as she points to the floor with a free hand. Cyril obeys and sits down, Arabella following him to the ground, untwisting the towel from  around Alfie's fisted hands and slowly patting down Cyril's blubbery body. The dog sits calmly, with his head held up majestically as if he is content in being obedient for her.

'Right fuckin' turncoat ya are Cyril. Get one whiff of a woman and you forget about me, eh?' He folds his arms and leans against the door frame, watching as Arabella softly finishes drying.

'It's all in the tone, Alfie. You have to be stern not erratic'. She stands up smugly in front of him.

'S'at so?' He looks her up and down once more, only this time he notices just how wet Cyril has made her and he swallows hard. The light fabric of her night dress is now translucent and he can make out the shape of her ample breasts and the enticing colouring of her nipples. The quick glance he gets before looking away is like a blow to his chest. Her body is certainly holding his interest but he knows he can't take any more of her in. He does not want to look at all, but this was unavoidable.

Clearing his throat and picking up the towel from Cyril, he gestures to her chest.

'You might need this, to erm cover . . . ' She looks down and immediately covers her chest with her arms, taking the towel from him to dry off.

'I'm sorry about Cyril, he can be a right lunatic when he wants to be.'

'They're just tits, Alfie', she says as she notices how he has turned his body away from her.

'No, they're not just tits- they're yours and it's not up to my maniacal dog to expose them because he can't keep bloody still'. He moves past her into the bedroom and reappearing a few seconds later.

'You can wear this if you like, whilst you dry that off. I promise it's clean'. He hands her one of his white shirts which she gladly accepts.

'You're nothing like I thought you would be, Alfie'.

'Yeh?' He moves closer to her. 'That's because, right, true power lies in the unexpected'. They both stare at the other, as if taking notes, before he breaks the chain and walks away toward the staircase.

'Cyril, come on', he pats his leg and Cyril follows, leaving her flustered on the landing. Was it possible that Solomons possessed a more human side that contradicts his reputation? She turns away from the stairs and hurries into the bathroom to change. Closing the door, she notices Alfie's black wool coat hanging from the hook. The coat he placed his secretive letter in earlier. An uneasy feeling washes over her, she always respects privacy, to her far too many people can't live in silence for fear of missing applause from an audience who don't even care. She has to see what has him so vexed though -  if she wants to be ahead of him and her brother then she has to do some necessary digging. Before she can talk herself out of it, she plunges her hand into his pocket and pulls out the piece of paper. As she turns it over she can see that this is not the same note. This is a pink betting slip- after further rummaging, she realises he has moved the note elsewhere.

'Fuck' she says, annoyed. One final glance and she sees what looks like a phone number on the back.. She leaves the bathroom in a hurry, her hand concealing the slip.

TAG LIST: @clintbartoris  @gameofpot @doomwhathouwilt @lokigirlszendaya @inkinterrupted @misselsbells06 @sunshineyourethebesttime​ 

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x shelby #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders oc #peaky fookin blinders #bbc peaky blinders #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #alfie solomons x shelby sister #peaky #peaky fanfic #fanfic #alfie x shelby #alfie solomons fanfiction #peaky fandom

[hwrryscherry]

 The one where the reader meets Harry as Jack

characters: HARRYxREADER!FEM

blurb: Harry is filming Don't Worry Darling in Palms Springs while Y/N is moving in in her new house in the neighbourhood where the movie is being filmed. Turns out the fate wanted to cross Harry and Y/N's way as a box full of books is very intriguing to Harry and Pride and Prejudice becomes Harry's new favorite.

word count: 2.7K

author's note: Heyy guys, it has been SO LONG and honestly I don’t think this is best work yet lol but anyway, I had the worst writer’s block of my life so it was so hard for me to write a single word. Honestly, I felt kinda pressured to write. I felt like I was pressuring myself for that so I had to take advantage of this block and take this idea out of my mind. I want to say something important too; I really want to say that the only story of mine that I’ll keep the face claim is HARRYxMODELY/N, just because I like to use the photos to make instagram posts sometimes. I will no longer describe types of hair as I used to say ‘’long strands of hair’’, it will be neutral for you to imagine yourself in the story. It’s all about you guys and how you can visualize the story and the character, if you want to imagine a face claim that’s cool but if you don’t want to it’s cool too. Feel free to read and visualize, it’s all about you. Thank you for the support on my account and my writing. I’m aware that I’m not the best lol, but I also think that I have so much to learn from you just as I have to teach. I’m so grateful for everyone who reads and like my stuff. Never forget that you’re unique, you’re loved, you’re so golden and treat people with kindness always.

   "Why is it so hot in here? It's fucking December!", you'd think to yourself as you drove your new car through the streets of Palm Springs. The thing is that after you moved from Columbia to reside so many years in New York while you were studying English Language and Literature in Yale, you just got so used with the usual colder weather from NY and it's just a different vibe from California. You had such a hard time to decide what you wanted to do after graduating, though. And after a few weeks and some long conversations with your family, you decided you would go to California. Palm Springs, to be more specific. You decided that because you remembered all the times you went there when you were a kid because your grandmother lived in there before she passed. You remember spending your summer vacation with her and how cool it was. It was in the early 2000′s and there was many kids on your age that lived on her street. You remember playing with them all day and then getting back into your grandma’s house and feeling that cinnamon scent that for some one only her house had. It wasn’t a usual cinnamon scent. It had something special in it. It made you feel so warm and welcomed. You remember helping her to bake the most delicious cookies, brownies and cakes in her kitchen. You remember the kitchen had a yellow counter, but the entire kitchen was white. All very pale and then the cheerful yellow in the kitchen that colored everything. You remember going to play bingo with her and how it made her happy to having you around. You both were so close and you had such a hard time when she passed, but the most important was she taught you so many things during your time together, and you’d never forget those things and her.

    As you drove, you’d remember those streets vaguely. You’d pass through the soccer court you typically used to go with the other kids and spent hours playing in there. You were vibing with the song in the stereo as you started getting closer to your new house’s street. It was Carolina by Harry Styles; you have to admit you’re not the biggest Harry Styles fan in the world, but you were definitely a One Direction fan when you were around 16, but you couldn't be considered a directioner either. You just listened to a few songs and thought it was good. But anyway, this specific song is one that you particularly like. It may have something to do with the fact that you’re from Carolina, of course. But it’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were undeniably good though, a little sexual, but good. It’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were really good though, a little sexual, but good.

    When you turned the right way into the street of your new home, you came across much more than you expected to see on your moving day. There were, as it seemed, paparazzi. Apparently they were shooting a movie right in your street, and it had also many people with many cameras and trailers that probably were dressing rooms. Naturally, you knew that thousands of films were shot in California, that’s obvious. But you didn't expect one to be shooting exactly on your moving day and specifically in your street, let alone that the street would be this crowded since the world is experiencing a global pandemic, ironic. You observed some of the people walking down the street, or should you call it a set? You don't know, but there were many people and many cars, at least they were all wearing masks. It had many classic cars, probably in the 40s or 50s style. They were colorful; vivid colors, though. Colors like yellow, blue and lilac was really present. To resume, the whole street looked like a movie from the 50s and for sure that was the intention because you could notice some extras walking around the set dressed up as 50s people used to.

    As you carefully drive through the street, you’d notice that from what seemed like a divine miracle, there was a vacant parking spot right in front of your house and you can’t help but smile when you see it. The first time you came here to see the house. You were with your family, and that was about four months ago. You just loved the house completely as it had such a different vibe from the place you used to live in New York, and honestly, just the thought of the house made your creativity activate as it had some really cool colored walls and you bought some colored mobile as well. Anyway, you stopped the car right in front of your house finishing the engine and grabbing your mask and putting it in your face as you'd use your hand to get rid of the seat belt and your other hand to open the car door and get out of the car.

    After closing the driver's seat door, you go around the car walking to the trunk where you use the car key to open it. When you open it, you are faced with two cardboard boxes. One was full of books. Books of all kinds, books of period novels, books of suspense, books of investigation and etc. Books that piqued your curiosity and made you want to finish reading it as quickly as possible. The other box was already full of clothes, those last clothes that you would finally be taking home. Your mother has done the biggest job in the moving issue; she was the one who was bringing the furniture and your things while you finished packing the rest of your things to leave New York. You try your hardest not to pay attention to the set of recordings and the people who walked back and forth, at the same time that you tried hard not to make any noise, because if you accidentally disturbed a scene, you would feel extremely embarrassed and would probably not even show up at the gate until the end of filming, but that was not the case. You removed the two boxes from the trunk just before closing it completely. You chose, perhaps, to enter the clothes box first. You bent down taking the box in your arms and walked to the door of the house where you used the key you received from the real-estate agent to unlock it before entering. You immediately noticed that some sunbeams reflected on the living room floor due to the white linen curtain that covered the glass windows. You observed the contrast of the sofa in such a light tone with the lilac wall just behind it. You walked with the box in hand by the door extension to the room where you placed the box on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Returning out of the house, you can see the figure of a tall man dressed in a brown suit crouched in front of the box of your books. He had brown hair and properly cut. It didn't look like he was messing with your books, but he was definitely looking at them and it seemed like he was trying to read the covers of it for some reason. You slowly got closer to the man's body without making too much noise while you analyzed him, you crossed your arms upon your chest as you noticed the book cover he was looking at: Love is a mixtape by Rob Sheffield.

— This one is amazing! — You said, surprising the man that stand up fastly with the book in his hands connecting his green gaze with yours. He was tall, really tall by the way. His suit seemed perfect, just as his hair. He had a black mask on as a protection but the 16 year old teenager inside of you could never mistake those eyes. It was Harry fricking Styles. You considerated being quiet as you, yourself were pretty surprised now, but then you took your gaze to the book in his hand and then back at his face — It's like comparing love to a popular song that we usually search to define love. Just to find out that love is like oxygen, or love is a kind of drug, or a battlefield for some... — You said referring to the book with a tender smile on your face that Harry couldn't essentially see, but talking about a book that you loved caused this on you. And as you talked you didn't notice that Harry had a smile on his face as well. Maybe it was because you completely ignored the fact that he is Harry Styles and he was messing up your books as he's on the set filming a movie, or maybe it was the fact that he loved this book just as much as you did. He'd use to say this is probably one of the books that if he had to read just one book to the rest of his life, he'd chose this one and he usually had so much to talk about this book and so much to put on an argument about it but now he was completely speechless. He was just tongue tied. He was tongue tied about your reflection of one of his favorite books and how it looked so identical to his own personal reflection. He was tongue tied for the number of great books that he always wanted to read that was on that box. He was tongue tied at the owner of those books and her beauty, her intelligence of her voice and her voice as well so he just chuckled. A nervous chuckle as he leaned his head to look at the floor for a second before looking at you and holding out the book in his hands to you that calmly took it from his hands.

— I know! It's one of my favorite books! — Harry'd ultimately manage to say it as he observed you admiring the cover and running your fingers through it as a truly book lover would do — It's very interesting the interpretation you have of it.

— Don't you agree? — You'd interrupt him rising your head to examine at his face. He seemed paralyzed by some way, little did you know that Harry was mesmerized. He enjoyed the informal way you were speaking with him, and it genuinely felt like you already knew it each for years.

— That's the intriguing part. We have the same interpretation! — He'd say serenely, and then running his hand through his hair as he frown a little because of the sun that just hit on his glowing eyes.

— Well...Maybe you're just trying to imitate me to impress me! — You'd joke, with a mocking expression on your face making Harry giggle at your words and your face. It was the sense of humor to him.

— Oh really? And what makes you think I'm trying to impress you? — Harry'd say back with the same mocking tone that you formerly used. He'd observe your face go from playful to thoughtful in just as you to come up with a response.

— I mean...you were the one looking through my stuff, mister! — You say raising your eyebrows as you utilized one of your hands to take some strands of hair out of your face.

— Right... — Harry said with a defeated voice before as he compressed his lips together and moved his suit away from his shirt a little as he places his hands on his waist — I'm sorry about it, though. There was this box hanging here and I guess I was just intrigued! — He said shyly making you start walking towards the box walking closely to him causing him to feel a hot warm from your body as you passed. You'd bend over to grab the box but was stopped by Harry taking the heavy box from your hands — Let me help you with this! — Harry said as he held the box on his arms.

— There's no need for that. It'll ruin your splendid suit! — You'd say gently to him as he was standing up in front of you carefully holding the loaded box. Legitimately, he looked hot. He properly looked like a 50s husband helping with the moving with this outfit — And if you piss off your costume designer because of me I'll die! — You'd complement receiving a loud laugh from Harry's lips that shook his head while looking at you.

— She’ll be fine! — Harry'd argue back, then get a sigh from you before nodding at him as a statement.

— My house is right there! — You'd say using your right hand to point at your house, watching Harry turn his back to you and start walking towards it. You followed him through the door that was already open. Harry looked at the house immediately. It had a good vibe, and he wouldn't deny it. The choice of colors was exceptional, but he also noticed it was not very tidy, which would probably indicate that you were moving today.

— Where do I leave it? — Harry asked, referring to the box as he went farther into the living room.

— You can just leave it on the floor — You serenely said crossing your arms together and watching as he left the box on the floor and turned around to face you, but then deflecting his gaze to the ceiling before staring at your face again.

— It's a beautiful house! — Harry said as he moved his gaze through the room. He observed everything. He likes to observe. He likes to notice things that maybe other people didn't — Just like the owner, if I might say — Harry said cheekily and charming hearing your giggle invade his ears as you started walking towards the box of books that he previously set on the floor.

— The owner says thank you — You said bending down and starting to take the books out of the box and place it on the coffee table beside you as Harry watched your movements. You shyly looked at him thinking for a second and them smiling under your mask — For both compliments! — You said getting your attention back to the books. It's not that you don't want to give him your attention. It's that you genuinely think that he's just being nice, and he's probably not even interested in anything that you say.

— So... I have to go back to the film now but maybe you can give me your number so we can talk about your interpretation of my favorite book — Harry said shyly. His words took you by surprise actually but you couldn't hold back the smirk you had under your mask as you stand up again turning to face his green eyes. You noticed that he had his phone on his hand, hoping and waiting that you'd give him your number even though both of you knew that the book excuse was nothing more than an excuse as he was truly interested in knowing you.

— Well, it depends... — you said slowly as you took a deep breath before actually saying anything — If you agree to read my favorite books too, I'll give you my number!

— I'd be honored! — Harry chuckled after letting a sigh out feeling relief that you asked for something so simple that he'd love to do if that would make you happy — What's your name? — Harry said as he unblocked his phone screen and started to save your phone number.

— Save it as Elizabeth Bennet in there! — You said fastly with a proud smile on your face as Harry giggled and did as you ask and then looked at your face as he put his phone back on his pocket.

— Only if you save my name as Mr. Darcy when I call you! — Harry said knowing that after this, Pride and Prejudice would definitely become one of his favorite books ever.

#hwrryscherry #harry and y/n #harry styles and y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles au #harey styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

[spooderboyandtincan]

You’re Gonna Miss Me

(When I’m Gone)

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

That’s a lie. Utter bullshit. He’s lying to himself. Tony knows exactly why his heart is fluttering in his chest like he’d run a marathon, why his chest struggled to rise like there was twenty pound weight rested on it. 

Though to be fair, when he made an anonymous donation of a meager 50,000 dollars to Midtown Science and Technology, he hadn’t expected Peter’s decathlon team to put in a request to the school board to travel abroad, and he definitely hadn’t expected the school to immediately approve it. He thought they’d use it to replace the sudsy water in the bathrooms they called soap with the real stuff or some shit, not whisk his kid away to Vienna for a whole week where Tony couldn’t even hug him, couldn’t protect him. 

Peter is thrilled, though. Ecstatic. When he’d broken the news to Tony and May, he’d been over the moon with excitement, his round cheeks flushed pink and his eyes gleaming. Even two weeks ago, Tony had felt a deep sense of apprehension kindling in his chest, but with the date seemingly so far away, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind. 

He wishes now that he’d done something. He should have told Peter he couldn’t bear to be without him like he was an actor in a cheesy soap opera (it was true, he couldn’t); tell Peter he needed him on a “mission” that would mysteriously be canceled. Though they’d probably end up taking a plane or a suit to Vienna anyways (despite what he liked to say to Rhodey, he was not at all immune to Peter’s puppy eyes); hell, he should have purposely tripped on the stairs and broken his leg so Peter, sweet, kind, empathetic Peter, would immediately decide to stay by his side where Tony could keep him safe.

He missed Peter when he was at his apartment in fucking Queens, thirty minutes from Stark Tower. He didn’t know how he’d handle having him 4,222 miles away. He didn’t know if he could.

“Damn,” he hisses, pushing himself from his bed with a grunt and making a beeline towards Peter’s room. He dashes in. The sight of his sleeping son (read: lump of blankets) is enough to take his breath away.

Tony had missed him. It had been four hours since he’d tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, and Tony had missed him. Peter was fifteen feet away. 

This trip is going to be the death of him. He’s going to drop dead of a goddamn heart attack before Peter even gets on the plane. 

Tony sinks carefully onto the mattress and rests his hand on the boy’s neck, some deep, parental instinct in him immediately soothed by the slow, steady beat of his pulse. Peter is curled under the thick blue blanket, only his chestnut curls visible which are tinged blue from the Iron Man nightlight on the wall, his breath puffing out in those little snuffling snores that Tony absolutely adores. 

He leans down to kiss his temple, inhales the familiar scent of his favorite strawberry shampoo and is overwhelmed by the wave of infinite love that washes over him. He loves this kid so much it sometimes hurts. 

Leaning back, he smooths his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. He doesn’t want to leave the boy’s side. He doesn’t know if he physically can. Maybe asleep Peter has somehow sensed this, because there’s a small mewl from the bundle of blankets, and two bleary doe eyes flutter open. 

“T’ny?”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, jellybean. Sorry I woke you up.” Peter rolls over with heavy limbs and rubs his eyes with a fist in a childlike motion, yawning in a way that resembles all those yawning kitten videos he’s made Tony watch. 

God, he’s adorable, Tony thinks. His heart is melting. He’s so small, so young. Tony feels an instinctual, almost uncontrollable urge to protect this kid, to wrap him in his arms and keep him from harm for the rest of time. 

Peter is oblivious. “‘S… s’okay,” he mumbles. His hand sneaks out of the blankets and tugs on his arm lethargically, which the genius knows is sleepy Peter language for “cuddle with me.” Tony chuckles fondly and slides under the covers.

He props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at his beloved boy, stroking a finger down his cheek. Peter smiles sleepily up at him from his assortment of pillows. “Hi.”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Hi, Pete.” 

Peter frowns at him then, a sudden change from his drowsy, half-asleep state. “You… you ‘kay? Wha’ time’s it?” He tries to sit up, but Tony hushes him gently with a “Everything’s okay, bud, just a typical 2am visit from your friendly neighborhood Iron Man.”

He smiles, so Tony counts the joke as a win. It’s not one of his best, but hey, forgive him if he’s a little anxious about his kid going to another fucking continent. 

(He refuses to acknowledge that it’s not just being away from Peter that’s stressing him out, it’s the fact that anything could happen to him while they’re apart.)

Tony looks back to Peter, opening his mouth to talk, only to find that he’s completely conked out. He balls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipes the line of drool tracing down the boy’s chin away, finding that a soft smile has formed on his face, the one that only makes its appearance around Peter.

Peter snuggles into him the second he lies down, resting his curly head just over his heart. Tony wraps a protective arm around his back and rubs small circles on his soft blanket hoodie. “G’night,” he whispers, bending to kiss the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest- can hear his soft kitten snores. The warm weight of his body is so comforting that for a moment he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t going to be the end of him. That everything’s going to be okay.

~~~~~

Peter’s starting to regret eating all those waffles for breakfast. He feels shaky all over, like he could collapse or throw up any second. He’d told Tony he was going to pop in the bathroom, but he’s been in there for at least ten minutes, settled back on his heels on the cold, grimy floor of an airport bathroom, trying to breathe properly.

Speaking of Tony, he can hear the man just outside the door, typing on his phone and sipping from a cheap cup of coffee. Peter immediately experiences a hot flash of guilt, realizing that he must have grown worried while he was gone. 

Sure enough, the door swings open and there’s a soft knock. “Pete? Everything okay, bud?”

Peter stands up and unlocks the stall. “Tony,” he sniffles, taking an unsteady step forward. Tony rushes forward and gathers him in his arms

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, Pete. Breathe, just breathe, bud. It’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispers. “I don’t know, Tony, I-I wanna go, but I can’t, I don’t know w-what to do.” 

“Breathe, honey. It’s okay, I’m here, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just gotta take a breath, alright?” 

Peter tries- fails. Tries again, and manages to gasp a breath in. “Sorry,” he croaks, when he can properly breathe again. “Tony, I-I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Nothing to be sorry for, Pete.” After snatching a paper towel and soaking it in the sink, he runs the scratchy cloth over Peter’s face and kisses his forehead when he’s done. “Okay, bubba. You wanna go back out or stay in here?”

“Out,” he replies without hesitation. The flickering white lights above are starting to give him a headache, not to mention the leaky faucet and the freezing tile floors and the faulty air conditioning. Tony leads him out with an arm around his shoulder and guides him to a little nook, where they both plop down on a neon green beanbag. 

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Peter whispers. 

Tony squeezes his shoulder. “I know buddy. I’m sorry.” Unlike a lot of the “sorries” Peter has heard, this one is sincere. Sometimes he forgets that Tony is an orphan too. 

“I- I mean, logically, I know the plane won’t crash,” he continues, “But I guess it’s still hard for me to believe that. Like a- a gut feeling?”

The man nods in understanding. “I know how you feel, kiddo. I was terrified of cars after my parents died- I took the subway everywhere despite the paparazzi bloodhounds.” Tony doesn’t broach the subject of his parent’s deaths often, especially not in a crowded public airport, so Peter makes sure to pay attention. 

“Then, the fear just kinda… vanished.” He wiggles his fingers dramatically. “I started driving without even thinking, didn’t realize I was in a car ‘til I got on the highway. I had to pull over when I did, but since then, I’m perfectly fine with cruisin’ at 80 mph. But,” he says seriously, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think you should listen to what your gut’s tellin’ you, buddy. It’s important to listen to yourself- what inner you is saying.” He pokes Peter’s belly a couple times for good measure, which makes his face scrunch up adorably. 

Peter nods, and really tries to listen to his gut. The pair both go silent in concentration, and then- his stomach grumbles. They both burst into laughter, born more from nerves than hilarity.

“Inner you wants to eat,” Tony snorts. “I think I saw a place with the biggest blueberry muffins of my life by the escalators, wanna stop there?”

Despite eating a huge stack of waffles just hours earlier, Peter wolfs down two of the gigantic blueberry poppyseed muffins, much to the amusement of Tony.

They made their way to the gate, where Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington was lounging, dressed in an ugly red sweater, his long legs stretched in front of him. 

“Peter!” he cried as he spotted them, scrambling to his feet. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I had the wrong date! We’re leaving today, right?”

“Oh, yeah Mr. Harrington, we’re going today!” Peter laughs. He’s used to dealing with his scatter-brained teacher. “I’m actually here early, the plane’s supposed to leave at 1:00.” He gestures vaguely to the big digital clock over his head reading 11:54 AM, EDT. 

Mr. Harrington frowns. “I thought it left at 8 am! You mean I’ve been here for hours in this awful chair when I could have been sipping a piña colada in my jacuzzi?!” He collapses back in his chair and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Peter chuckles, then pulls Tony to a row of uncomfortable seats in the corner of the waiting area. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just watching the various travellers rush past. A little girl, around two or three, comes up and shyly asks for Tony’s autograph, but no one else recognizes the genius. (Thanks to his foolproof disguise of a baseball cap and scarf covering up his iconic beard, the genius claims.)

“So, what are we thinking?” Tony asks after about half an hour. “Do you wanna go?” He secretly hopes Peter will say no, hopes that they can go home and binge watch all of the Star Trek episodes and fill their bodies with junk. 

Peter nods hesitantly. “I think so. I-is that okay? I might change my mind, but- yes. Yeah, I think I want to go.”

 Tony squeezes his hand. “Of course it’s okay baby, that’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know what? That’s great too. Whatever you want, that’s what’s important.” He kisses Peter’s forehead and lets his hand linger for a moment where it rests on the boy’s cheek. “If you change your mind at any point, I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter breathes, slumping heavily against his side.

“Of course, bud. Anything for my Peter.” 

They stop for lunch at a cozy little coffee shop, which is thankfully devoid of fans and paparazzi. Peter orders (or rather, makes Tony order) a small hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream) even though drinking a lot before a non-stop ten hour flight is probably not the best idea. (He can’t help it. He’s nervous.)

When the pair gets back to their gate, they find Ned and his family. The boy’s greet each other enthusiastically, performing their signature handshake, while Tony simply throws up a peace sign to Ned’s rather stunned parents. 

The friends pull out their phones -probably playing one of those ghastly animated games that Peter is always quoting. Tony pretends to look busy on his phone, but really, he’s just trying to distract himself from the terrifying fact that he’s not going to see Peter for a week.

Too soon, the speaker crackles, a crisp voice announcing, “Attention. We are now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria. Now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria.”

Tony’s heart stops. Peter freezes. 

No, they think at the same time. Not yet. 

Peter turns to Tony, panicked. “Hey,” the man says, pushing away every anxiety, every worry away so he can focus on his kid. He sees Ned approach them, but stop when his father places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby, it’s okay.” 

“Tony.” Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist. 

“I know, baby, I know.” Tony kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. “Follow my breathing. You’re okay. We’re good.”

Around them, the members of the decathlon team are rising, but Tony and Peter sit in those unforgettable chairs, clutching each other tightly, not yet ready to let go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whimpers. 

“I know kiddo, me too. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m always gonna be here, okay? If you need me, just call, or text, use morse code, doesn’t matter. I’m always here for you.”

“I’m here for you too,” Peter says. “I- I’ll call you every day.” Peter’s bottom lip is trembling, just barely, but enough for Tony to hug him a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Tony,” he sniffs.

“I love you too, Pete. I love you so much.” Tony’s not crying. He’s not. The restaurant a few stores down is just cooking onions, that’s why his eyes are watering. 

Peter pulls away and grabs his duffel bag, taking a step toward the loading dock. Tony tries not to burst into sobs. Stay, his mind whispers. Please stay. 

Then Peter turns around, eyes full of tears, and slams straight into Tony’s chest, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Tony rocks them back and forth, cherishing everything about his sweet boy. When they finally break apart, Peter says, “I’ll be back before you know it,” echoing what Tony has said to him so many times before he leaves for a business trip. 

Then he smiles a watery smile and runs to catch up with his best friend. Just before he disappears into the loading dock, he turns around and waves wildly at Tony.

Tony waves back, grinning. “I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too!” Peter mouths back, and steps into the dock.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, hastily wiping the dampness from his eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!) 

#chapter 1/2 #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #anxious thoughts #panic attacks #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug #tony stark needs a hug #tony stark has a heart #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #other tags to be added #no st*rker #st*rkers dni #my writing

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

Blank Space

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 2

"There once was a girl known by everyone and no one"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 4,864

Warnings: medium level angst I guess, and language as always.

A/N: writing this was challenging and I complained about this for like half of my mutuals lol. However, I did find the perfect song to mix with the title track obv and it was perfect to show their past. You will learn more about their past in future chapters.

A/N: thanks to @chrissquares for making me beautiful dividers especially for this series and @nacho-bucky for beta reading it all! A reminder to check out the song before reading/during!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

song on Spotify and YouTube

 "You know him? Y/N, why didn't you tell us?" Steve scolded you as you sat in one of the rooms, in front of him, Natasha, Thor, and Tony. This felt more like an interrogation than a talk.

"Is this an interrogation?" you looked him dead in the eyes, you saw him falter.

"It doesn't have to be if you don't lie to us again."

"I never lied to you."

"You held back information." Natasha said then.

"Fine, yes I know him, I knew him." You sighed, remembering the night you met him, before everything went wrong.

You were walking through the park in the night, was it dangerous? Of course, but you needed to clear your head. That was when you saw him, sitting on a bench in the rain. He was different, you knew that the minute you noticed him- it wasn't even the weird attire he wore, but rather the feeling that came along with him, you didn't feel threatened and you have mace in your bag, so you approached him.

"You will get a cold if you keep sitting in the rain, don't you have an umbrella?" he looked at you and you got shivers from his blue eyes.

"No, I will be fine. Thank you my lady for your concern." God was his voice enchanting. Curiousity got the better of you then.

"You saw him on earth and you didn't say anything? He is not allowed to be here." Tony said, his fingers fidgeting with his cuffs.

"I knew him long before the invasion happened, it wasn't near the time when I became an avenger, or on shield's radar at all." You tried to explain yourself to them. You never lied to then, you never thought you'd see him again especially in the tower. "Look it is all in the past, there is no reason to talk about it."

"You were mad when you saw him, why was that?" Natasha glanced at you, you knew she would read you if you lied.

"Well, I knew him for a while. But he is the god of lies, I don't like being lied to. So that says it all." You shrugged it off.

"So you won't tell me where you're from?"

"I told you, I'm from England."

"No you're not, you're a pretty lousy liar you know?" you smirked at his taken aback look.

"I think you'd be surprised."

"Nope, I can already tell- you're a bad liar. Or you might be good, but I'm better." He gave you a curious look as the rain kept falling around you, the umbrella you were both sitting under protected you.

"He never mentioned you, or going to earth at all. When was this?" Thor asked you.

"Around 2009" it was so long ago, you now realized, but it still felt close to you.

"You should take my umbrella." You suggested to the man but he just laughed as you sat beside him. "What? You said that you need to go, and I live closer than you, I'll be just fine without it, the thunder doesn't scare me."

"I am not quite fond of it actually. But you should get home, it is getting late." He smiled at you and you got up.

"Let's make a trade then, you will take my umbrella" the two of you stood now. "And you will give me your name."

He eventually took the umbrella with a smile, his fingers were cold when they lightly brushed yours, and you went your separate ways.

"You have no reason not to trust me, I never saw him again after 2011!" you just wanted them to understand that it is all behind you.

"I never said I don't trust you, but kid why would you hide this from us?" Steve asked you, you were pretty close, he was kind of like a protective older brother to you- ironic since he is pretty reckless and Bucky is saner than him, but he cared about you.

"It isn't important Steve, he is a liar that isn't new to any of us. It's nothing personal or important anymore."

"Kid it seems pretty personal-" Tony started to say.

"Well it's not!"

"Okay fine, but just know that he will be here for a while until we figure out and deal with this hydra shit. Then after that Point Break over here will take him away." Tony was sincere now, you could see the worry in his eyes, you knew he was affected by the invasion the most. "So take my advice, and make sure that it really isn't personal."

You nodded to him.

"You are however more than welcome to throw him in a little nightmare, I'll pay you." He smiled and you chuckled.

"What are you saying Stark? My lady," oh you haven't heard that in a while. Fuck. "Do not give my brother nightmares, however you plan on doing that." He looked you up and down, and it was as if you could read him like an open book, you didn't have to use any of your powers because you already knew exactly what he thought in his head.

"I'll stay away from him. Just make sure he does the same."

You looked innocent, not harmful, the kind of girl you would offer help to with even the smallest stuff- a good girl. That's what they all saw before getting to know you, and maybe that was you before you got these dark powers, you knew you missed the old you but you could barely remember her.

•

 "Are you certain that's what they said?" Natasha asked you from the kitchen table as you made her pancakes.

"I know, it sounds weird but it's Asgardian, they have weird names. Plus I doubt they were lying, they were sleep deprived and I can assure you they have been through a lot of stuff before I started to actually talk to them. Ready?" you looked back at her and she nodded.

You threw the pancake back and by the small 'yay' Natasha let out, you didn't have to turn back to know she caught it with her plate.

"Well, I think I'll go and make them write it down because I am certain we are pronouncing it incorrectly."

"Well I tried! Their accent didn't help at all!" you defended yourself.

"You're still pronouncing it wrongly." You froze, turning around to look at Loki and Thor who walked towards the kitchen. "One would think it was made up by how horribly you ruined the word. How would you know they were truthful after all? What could you have possibly done?"

You held his gaze before deciding to not retort back, you ignored that curious familiar look. He has some nerve to talk. You sat in front of Natasha with your own batch of pancakes, the room was quiet before Thor chimed in to break the tension.

"Are those the cakes from the pan? Oh they are tasty! Would you mind making me and my brother some, Lady Y/N?" Thor was actually nice, how could you say no?

"Of course!" you got up with a smile. "Oh, but I'm afraid there isn't enough batter for the two of you I'm afraid."

You let a small frown take over your face, and you saw Natasha's small smile when you turned to make Thor some pancakes.

"You are a bad liar." Loki pointed out and you didn't have to think.

"I fooled you." Soon enough you turned around to give Thor his pancakes with a smile, pouring the rest of the batter in the sink before sitting down to eat. "Oh and Thor, this is the second warning about what we discussed yesterday, I won't hesitate."

"Very well, however you never did tell me what-"

"It's not important." Thor glared at his brother.

"Brother please be more civil, it's for your benefit." You felt Loki's gaze on you as you ate.

"Do tell me brother, how is it for my benefit?" Loki chuckled.

"Well, you have wronged a lot of people here, and so lady Y/N agreed to not harm you if you stay away. We are here to help my friends!" Thor's booming voice alongside his hopeful smile contrasted his brother's.

You should have known he would test it.

"Oh, and how can she harm me now?" the minute Loki uttered these words you glanced at him for a moment, and the next thing he knew, his heart beat loudly as he fell down from the portal in New York, terrified when he saw the Chitauri around him, one monster opened its mouth and Loki was a moment from dying in its clutches when he heard Thor's voice.

"Enough!" Thor said sternly and Loki was back in the kitchen, disoriented as he took in his surroundings. You only nodded at Thor before you kept eating. Loki disappeared a moment later with a green shimmer.

"I don't like using my powers Thor, but if you care for your brother keep him civil." You said, sorry that Thor had to get offended by it too.

"I understand, but he is here to help right now, mere comments are the least harmful things he could do, there is no need to take it to heart." He put a hand on your shoulder and it was warm enough to get you to agree with him. Stopping hydra should be your top priority.

•

 "I hate it when he does that." Tony groaned at the marking on the ground just outside of the compound.

Thor and Loki were now back at the palace gates, they heard a call, and Loki turned to see Iyllir walking up to him. She smiled at him and he smiled back, grateful for the lack of observant eyes to tell his fake smiles apart from the real ones.

"Prince Loki, what took you so long? You missed our picnic." The lady put her arm through his and he heard his brother snicker.

"How unfortunate. My brother and I still have very urgent business to tend to. I must go to a court meeting now." Loki gently tugged his hand out of hers.

"I thought you said this won't take long?" she frowned at him. She certainly was beautiful, with red hair and grey eyes, always majestic like a lady, and yet he couldn't follow both of their families' wishes.

"Well I am afraid things have changed, I won't stay here for long this visit." With that he went and followed his brother towards the big doors that opened for them and he saw Odin there alongside trusted advisers and of course- the warriors three. And then the meeting began.

Loki sat in his chair, bored as they talked about the mortals.

"Father, I can assure you that as of now there is no need in sending Asgardian forces there. My friends are handling it well now." Thor explained to his father and Loki couldn't help but get distracted.

"Let me help you, Y/N" he asked you, chuckling and biting his lip when you glared at him.

"I can handle it Loki!" you said as you tried to handle the pile of books in your hands so you could get the key for your apartment. He was thankful that you couldn't see his face now as he watched you struggle to balance the books on your thigh.

You let out a small shriek as the books fell out and were about to hit the floor when they just stopped midair, and you looked at Loki only to see him leaning on the wall, arms crossed with a smug smile on his face.

"I bet you liked my help now." You groaned.

"Yes thank you and your stupid magic Loki." You leaned down to pick up the books and stack them again after opening your door.

"If I remember correctly you were, oh what's the word- petrified when you first saw my magic"

"That is a big exaggeration! I was just a bit… startled maybe." You walked into the apartment and he closed the door behind you when you suddenly stopped, turning to him with an annoyed shocked expression, your mouth agape and your eyes wide and not amused. "You knocked my books down!"

You were met with a mischievous grin.

"You hurt my feelings darling, do you have any proof?" you huffed out a breath.

"You are insufferable!"

"You seem to manage so far."

"From what I gathered so far, the group called Hydra there seemed to have a hold of some old weapons of ours, nothing too big yet but we are looking into it to find out if there is more stuff we don't know about."

"And do you really think the mortals can handle this?" Odin asked the brothers.

"Yes father, they are very powerful." Loki couldn't help but agree with Thor, they really did manage to surprise him this time. He never expected her.

•

 "What is this A children's playground? Stop pulling your punches and fight me." You grunted as you tried hitting Bucky again, you've been too distracted lately, your training didn't go too well and you ended up on the mat more often than not. At this point you considered just using your powers to make it seem like you're winning but now you were fighting Bucky, and from the day you met him you swore to yourself that you will never use your powers on him. He doesn't need anyone messing with his mind again.

So long story short you were getting your ass handed to you.

"I'm not a supersoldier may I remind you, so I'm sorry if I am a little tired! Bucky come on let's take a break." You ducked another punch.

"Maybe your mind just isn't with us right now." Natasha helpfully provided as she sat on the side with a smoothie.

"Fuck off."

"No, really, what is your deal with Loki?" at his mention you delivered a kick to Bucky that made him fall on the mattress with a thud.

"Nothing. Is this good enough for you now Bucky?" you reached out a hand to help him up.

"Now that we got you riled up about him, yes- let's go again." He laughed at the glare you gave him. Your jaw clenched as the two of you got into position.

"Bring it on, Barnes." He went in with his left arm now.

"I will, how did you know him? It certainly looks pretty personal and in-" you turned him around and pinned him to the ground.

"Shut up, just fight me." You heard Natasha laugh beside you and in that moment Bucky took advantage and got you on the ground instead. And you went back.

"What the fuck!" you screamed when you saw the figure in your room, Loki stood there, his face scrunched up.

"Sorry, my love."

"We talked about this Loki, you can't just teleport here- especially when I am sleeping!" you sighed when you saw his regretful face. "Don't stand there like a creep, come here I missed you."

He smiled and you closed your eyes, you still saw the green light that lit up the room when he changed his clothes and got under the covers with you. His hand was cold, making your skin prickle but it was worth it when he pulled you to him and the warmth spread between the two of you.

You fell asleep content with a smile on your face at the kisses he laid on your neck.

"Y/N?"

"What?" you looked up at Bucky who sat back on his heels, his brow was raised.

"You kind of spaced out, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm- I'm fine. I probably should go though." you got up. "Bruce probably needs help in the lab."

•

 "You did not tell father about lady Y/N." Thor stated the obvious.

"Don't call her that. Why would I do that? She is of no import." Loki walked towards his chambers, but alas Thor decided to escort him there with preying questions.

"How did none of us know that you spent time in Midgard?" Thor stopped Loki with a hand on his shoulder.

"That was a long time ago brother."

"And yet it seems that you have quite a history, what happened between the two of you? Were the two of you…?" Thor trailed off and Loki groaned.

"Don't insinuate that, there wasn’t anything. We knew each other for a while and then we didn't. Now, if you will excuse me, I'll go to my room. Alone."

Loki shut the door behind him, in his mind he still saw you and your eyes and then the flashes of the battle of New York. The day was tiring; he decided to get some much needed rest, to get you out of his mind.

The day was exhausting; he had to stay back in Asgard. He couldn't put up illusions all the time, it was taking a toll on him, but it was worth it in his eyes.

The palace was now quiet as everybody went to sleep. Loki wanted to rest too, so he snuck out towards the bifrost. Heimdall had already seen him coming, and was ready to open the way.

"Are you going to keep going to her every night, my prince?" Heimdall asked him and Loki let out a smile.

"Yes. Thank you, truly for keeping this a secret for so long." Heimdall only nodded at him.

"If you are going to keep sneaking out to see her, someone will end up seeing you sometime." Heimdall stepped down and came to Loki. "I think I should show you another way to pass through the realms, I think you are mad enough in love for it to work for you."

When Heimdall showed him the way, he thanked him sincerely, it looked impossible at first but soon enough he was there in your room. You already fell asleep. He watched your figure as you rested, your state of calmness washed over him, and then you suddenly screamed at him, maybe he should have tried to wake you sooner, it didn't exactly matter to him much when just a few moments later he was curled up in the warmest bed he'd ever known.

•

 "So you see, this part here it seems to be controlled by the holder of the gun, that must be the Asgardian tech combined with our own." Bruce told you as you gently examined the weapon.

"Damn, how long do you think they had that then? Like, just the time that it took them to develop it…" you thought. There were probably much worse things out there at their hands.

"I'd say at least a couple of months. It's a shame about those scientists." He hesitated to say that and you knew why.

"I didn't know they had that, no one checked their teeth. I was doing my job. It's okay, you can talk about it." You shrugged it off. With a power like yours, you have to get used to using it, you must fit yourself to it… because it certainly won't happen the other way around. But you were fine. You were different now.

Right?

"Well, next time we will check their teeth, to make sure this won't repeat itself. But at least we got some information before that's good right?" you nodded to Bruce and took out the bullets from one of the guns. There was something red, or was it orange, inside it. You examined it closer, moving towards the microscope to try to see for yourself before you ask Bruce about it.

Curiousity killed the cat.

Before you could reach the table, there was a warm sensation in your hand where you held it and then all you knew was that your hand hurt and you hit the floor, the bullet exploding with whatever was in it. Maybe you should've worn gloves.

Oh well, satisfaction resurrected it.

"Bruce, did you see that?"

"Yes Y/N, are you okay?"

"My head hurts but I'm fine, did you know those bullets do that?" you got up a little too fast for Bruce and your head's liking, but you went to the table nevertheless.

"No, they were fine before, you shouldn't have touched them," he fussed around.

"But I saw something-"

"You need to ice your head, tell me or Cho if you feel anything weird. This isn't something we know about Y/N." he handed you an ice pack for your head and told you to sit down, to which you grumbled but obeyed.

"Ah, Y/N, F.R.I.D.A.Y has been telling me that you've been trying to blow up the lab." Tony laughed at you as he entered.

"No, I would never try to steal your job." You shot back and he winked.

"Okay Elsa, I thought you'd like to know that we managed to make sense of some of the files we found in the warehouse and it looks like they have been making trades and dividing what they found."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked him.

"That place we found was only dedicated to create a couple of things, but they have more out there, dedicated to building who knows what." Tony groaned, "We will need to divide and conquer this, we can't waste time and there is no way I am letting those Asgardian warriors come here. Don't blow things up kiddo!" you nodded to him, things were getting worse by the minute. You pressed your hand holding the ice pack harder against the back of your head. You were not looking forward to tomorrow, so you kept Bruce company until you were too tired to push it any longer. You went to bed and magically managed to convince Bruce to go to sleep.

•

 You woke up groaning, you apparently forgot to close the blinds the night before. Going back to sleep will only cause you to oversleep, which will cause Steve to activate the stupid alarm protocol Tony built for him after you annoyed him.

You did not want to wake up to old Captain America songs blasting your ears off.

So you got up and after a short breakfast you reluctantly got on with your duties and important paperwork.

"Miss Y/L/N, you called me? I'm Mike, you asked for an analysis check on some data?" you turned to him then from looking at the board in the small conference room.

"Yes! Hi Mike, thank you. We have some encryptions that probably lead to very specific locations, check radars of isolated places or you know what- scratch that, they could be under our nose in the middle of a city." You looked at him apologetically. "Sorry, I can't narrow it down but we do need those answers as soon as possible. Okay?"

The poor guy looked horrified, his brown eyes were wide and you let out a small sorry when you handed him the big file.

"Yeah, of course Y/N, I will get right to it." With that you were alone in the room once again, going over the information you managed to get from the now dead scientists. This is going to be a long day. You saw it coming and that didn't help at all.

•

"Oh fuck." You cursed when the cold water from the sink touched your palm, it wasn't badly burned but it still hurt you.

You closed the door to your bathroom and turned around to see him standing in your room. Your eyes locked with blue ones, they certainly were familiar even after all this time, but while you could see the hesitation and the other swirling emotions in his eyes you couldn't tell anymore if you could trust what you thought you knew.

"When?" you felt your blood boil, but you knew you couldn't avoid him forever.

"Sometime after-" you hesitated with your words, walking towards your cabinet to put away the first aid kit you had. "After." You settled with that.

"What are you doing here Y/N?" Loki heard his own heartbeats, seeing you here… After all this time and he never forgot you. How could he?

"I'm an avenger now Loki," his name felt bitter on your tongue and you had to swallow to continue. "A lot has changed you know, you don't need to ask all these questions. There is no point to them."

"Oh but there is," at his angry tone you turned around. It was years of bottling the fight that you never had, he never let you have it. "You never wanted this life Y/N! What are you doing fighting out there with heroes or whatever they like to call themselves?"

"They are heroes, they help people. You however seemed to do the opposite from what I remember seeing on the TV." You laughed and shook your head. "I was still there you know, I was right in that same apartment where you left me. And there I saw you on the TV and I didn't even recognize it was you."

"Did you get hurt?" the question startled you.

"No, but it doesn't matter Loki! I am fighting alongside heroes now, I changed since the last time I saw you, this is my place now!"

"Oh darling you can pretend all you want in front of them, but I still know you." He matched your stare now. "This is not your life."

"Well yes it is!" you shook your head when he got closer now, every emotion you never got to express came back to the surface. "Why are you here? Huh? You're the one who left in the first place!"

"I've come here to help-" you stomped up to him.

"You know damn well that is not what I asked." You hated how your voice wavered.

"I did come here to help with the weapons," he continued before you could try to intervene. "And I didn't expect to see you again. But you're here now, and so am I."

"Damnit Loki, we have been through so much together, we weren't dating for only a month or two. A year. We were dating for more than a year and that is a lot." The tears were brimming now when you remembered your theory, that one little theory that ate your heart out, this one theory you found only a few days after. "Or at least here it is. Maybe in Asgard with all the almost-immortal gods a year is insignificant to you- that sure explains it all."

"No, it's not!" he dismissed it immediately and you felt your defenses shattering when he walked towards you. "I know there's pain inside of you, which was caused by me. But I am here now and I can't deny that I can still feel what I felt all those years ago. Just hear me out, we can call it even, just for a little while."

The last time you played this game it left you with a nasty scar. The more that he said, the less you knew what to think anymore.

So you didn't.

You hated the calmness that took over you the moment his lips touched yours, tongue sliding over the other, it left you breathless. You knew it was still love for you, but it was torture, you knew the high will not be worth the pain but he felt too good, too familiar that it made you question that. You didn't know how long has passed, all you knew was Loki, you still fit perfectly with his body which was pressed against you. Time flew by and you didn't know how you got here.

One moment his lips were on yours, the next you were pressed into the mattress, his figure pressing on yours. Maybe this could be good for the weekend… the next moment your legs somehow were wrapped around him and pulled him more into you. His lips trailed down to your throat, making breathy moans come out of your mouth. Your eyes opened and were focused on one spot on the ceiling, when you managed to break out of this delusional pleasure time flew by.

"No Loki, stop." You pushed him off of you. You sat up, curling your legs.

"What? Darling-" he tried reaching out for your thigh but you shook your head.

"You should go, Loki." You didn't look at him. Your hand covered your mouth as you sank into thought.

"Go? Why would I go? I know you feel exactly like I do." You couldn't deny it. You both knew that.

"You left me before Loki, what is the problem with leaving me now?" While you couldn't see him now, you had to get him out of here, so you could think clearly. This was too reckless. "It doesn't matter, this was just a relapse."

He left you there, and once the door shut you broke down, hating yourself for drowning into him again. You knew you were the one breaking your own heart when he took his warmth from the now cold bed. But it is better that you'll break it before he ever gets the chance to do it again.

Tags: @ayybtch  @buckys-other-punk  @chaoticpete   @madcrazy50   @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

#blank space #my writing #1989 #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson x reader #angst #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki angst #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki

[axwalker]

Bad Timing: Kismet

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Alexis O’Brien (MC) 

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is escaping a terrible past. After months of running  she settles  in Cordonia where she meets Drake at the bar where she works and they spend a passionate night together. 

What happens when a one-night-stand turns into unexpected parenthood? 

This chapter

MASTERLIST 

WORDS: 3,890 🙊

POV: Dual 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None for this chapter. In the future, mentions of domestic violence, and explicit sex scenes. 

ALL MY FICS ARE +18 

A/N: I apologize for any grammatical errors. 

I switch between Drake’s and Alexis’ POV several time in this chapter. I hope it’ll be clear enough!

PRESENT TIME Alexis

 After a one-hour bus ride and a 20-minutes walk, I finally find the correct address. When I reach the massive iron gates, I punch in the code Mr. Beaumont’s assistant gave me on the phone and gape as the extensive estate comes into view when I walk through. Acres and acres of super green grass littered with pines surround the massive house in the distance. The closer I get, the more I feel like a foreigner. This might have been my world once, but my new reality couldn’t be further apart from all this luxury. I have fifty dollars left in my wallet, an eviction notice back in my 200 square foot studio, and to top it all, the worst freaking headache I’ve had in my life. Talk about a bad streak. Ironically, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. My life belongs to me; I don’t have to live in constant fear and –most importantly, I’m free. Unattached. I want to do a lot of things with my life, and no one will stop me. That’s worth the worst headache in the world or a few money problems. 

I ring the bell, and a gorgeous woman opens the door. Her deep blue eyes scowl at me when I smile at her. 

“Who are you looking for?” She doesn’t ask as much as she barks the question. 

“Eh,” I haven’t been called shy a single day of my life, but her attitude it’s messing with the positive vibes I had coming up here. “I’m looking for Mr. Bertrand Beaumont from Beaumont Caterings.”

 “This door is for house guests only. The help,” she says the word as if it tastes bad in her mouth, “must go around the house and ring the bell back there.” She’s about to close the door right in my face when two hot guys come to the door. Seriously, what do people eat in this country? 

“Penelope, what are you doing answering the door like a simple maid? Where is Jessa?” 

Penelope rolls her eyes. “She had to leave early. She said she asked you for the afternoon off.”

The older man nods as, the younger one grins at me. “We can discuss Jessa’s schedule later, Bertie. Please, come in, Ms.?” He asks me, still smiling. 

“Ortiz. Alexis Ortiz.” I grin back, instantly liking the man with the kind blue eyes. “I’m here for the catering job.” 

“I’m Maxwell Beaumont. This is my brother Bertrand—the owner and Penelope Brim, one of our party planners.”

I follow them to a huge office and give Bertrand the resumé I printed at the internet place next to my building.  

“Is this all true?” He asks after a quick read.

I nod my head.

“Are you sure, Ms. Ortiz? It says here that you were working as a bartender, a barista, and a waitress in a very exclusive French restaurant, all at the same time.”

Penelope gives me a dismissive glare. “She’s obviously lying. That isn’t even possible. Unless she’s iniquitous.” 

I know better than to interrupt a potential employer, even worse if it’s to correct them, but this woman is grating on my nerves. Plus, I had a lifetime of keeping my head down with Matt, and I just don’t have the patience for this kind of crap anymore. And she called me a liar. Hell no.

“No, Ms. Brim, I’m not ubiquitous.” Maxwell snorts, and I swear the other guy, Bertrand, smiles behind my CV. I refrain from telling her what iniquitous actually means because I do need this job. “I worked as a barista in a Starbucks from 5 to 11 am. Then as a waitress at “Clair de Lune” from 12 to 6 pm. Finally, as a bartender in an Irish pub from 7 to midnight or 2 am, depending on the day. You can call any of those places and see I’m not lying.” Just please, God, don’t ask for my papers.

Maxwell reads the resumé when Bertrand gives it to him. “Do you speak French and Spanish as well?”

I shrug. “I love languages, and I grew up in a house where my mom and grandmother only spoke Spanish. I learned French in school. I had an amazing teacher.” 

Maxwell and Bertrand look at each other. The older brother, a younger, sterner version of Hugh Jackman, clears his throat. “I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Ortiz. Two of our waiters are absent, and tomorrow we’ll be catering to one of the most important events of the year. If everything in your resume is true, you can start training today --paid of course, and start working tomorrow.”

Paid training? Despite my throbbing head, I want to scream with happiness. “Everything is true.”

“That’s settled then. Penelope, please, darling, show Ms. Ortiz the kitchens and the ballroom. You can ask Naomi to train her for tonight. You know Regina, and she’ll want everything to go as smooth as possible.” 

“Right.” Penelope turned at me with an uptight smile. “Come with me.” 

I turn and beam at Maxwell, who’s giving me a thumbs up. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.” 

Bertrand shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet, Ms. Ortiz. Just do an impeccable job.” He glances at my Vans. “And for the love of God, only heels tomorrow.” 

I nod and follow Penelope down the hallway. 

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

DRAKE

 “This is why you ditch your friends who get hitched to a relationship,” I grumble, sitting in my chair. 

“He’s five minutes late,” Liam says. 

Leo shakes his head. “Well, I want a goddamn drink. How come I can’t order one until he gets here?” 

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two are acting like children. You can wait five minutes.” 

“Maybe, but I need something, and fast.” 

“Ah, there they are,” Max exclaims, hands clasped together, staring at us. “My boys.” Jesus Christ. Liam is scooped into a hug and then set back in his chair. 

From over Liam’s head, Max points at me and shakes his finger. “Come here; you handsome Walker bastard.” 

I hold up my hand. “I’m good.”

 “Nope.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to pass up Max’s snuggles.” Before I can move, he swoops to his knees, pulls me into a hug. . . and nuzzles. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Beaumont?” I ask, my voice strong as I try to push him away. 

“You smell like heaven,” he says, chuckling. No one likes to fuck with me as much as Maxwell Beaumont does. Unfortunately for me, he’s one of my best friends, and the bastard is well aware of it. 

“Get out of here.” I palm his face and push him away. 

Leo laughs. “Come on, man, you know Walker is a sour bastard.” 

With another laugh, Maxwell retreats to his seat, unbuttons his jacket, and sits down. Hands-on the table, he looks between us and declares, “I’m in love.” 

Christ. “We know,” Liam and I say at the same time, irritation heavy in our voices. Leo just rolls his eyes as he looks for a waiter. 

Maxwell has only been dating Rashad for a few weeks, so it’s no surprise he’s like this—a hopeful idiot with a relentless smile. Hell, he’s been in love with the man for years. It took him a really, really long time to finally make a move. He adjusts his tie as he says, “You don’t have to be rude about it. I’m just sharing. Isn’t that what this is all about? Sharing?” 

“Sharing? I thought this was about drinking as much as possible and hooking up with a hot waitress,” Leo says, flagging down our waiter. 

When he arrives, I talk above the guys and quickly say, “Macallan, neat.” 

“Dalmore, on the rocks, please,” Liam says, and Leo orders the same. 

When the waiter turns to Max, he rubs his stomach and says, “You know, a hot cocoa would be perfect right now.”

 What the actual fuck? “No.” I step in. “He’ll have an Old Fashion. Thanks.” A little confused and probably slightly disturbed, he takes off as Max complains. 

“Hey, I really wanted a hot cocoa.” 

“Not happening. First, because they don’t serve hot cocoas here and second because we’re supposed to be out drinking, Beaumont. And you fucking love Old Fashions. You order one every damn time. Stop complaining.” 

“Sheesh.” Maxwell unfolds his napkin and sets it on his lap. “What’s up your ass?” 

“Nothing.” I push my hand through my hair. 

“It’s a girl.” Leo smirks, causing Liam and Max to practically jump out of their seats.

“A girl?” Liam cocks his eyebrow. “Surely not Drake --permanent bachelor, Walker. My fucking heart can’t take it.” 

Fucking Leo. “It’s not what Leo is making it out to be.” 

“He met her two months ago, and he’s been thinking about her ever since. Magical pussy right there.”

“I swear, Leo; I don’t care for how long we’ve been friends, next time you talk about her like that, I’ll personally break that shit-eat grin off your face”

The clown raises his arms. “I rest my case.”

 “What?” Max’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. “Drake Walker doesn’t get attached, and he doesn’t duel his friends for a girl.” 

Jesus. Thankfully the waiter brings our drinks at that moment, so I have a second to compose myself. 

“You slept with her?” Liam asks after a swig of Dalmore. He’s been in a stable relationship with Hanna Lee for a year now. Once the most popular guy on school, he now spends his Friday nights curled up with her watching Netflix. I can’t even remember the last time he went out with us. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. The only reason this fuckhead is bringing it up it’s because I went looking for her, and he saw it.” There I said it. Better me than Leo fucking Rys. 

Max and Liam exchange a look, but Max seems too stunned to talk, so Liam asks. “You did what?”

I chug my whiskey and ask for another one. “I don’t know why. I just …” Tired of this fucking conversation, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We had a great time. That’s all.”

 “How come Leo knows about this girl, and I don’t?” Liam complains. 

Max complains too. “Dude, you know I’m the romantic one. Leo over here has a brick for a heart, and Li is too busy. You need to discuss these things with me.” 

“I don’t have a brick for a heart,” Leo says, surprisingly offended. 

“No, you’re just still hung up on Maddie,” I say with a smirk. He shifts in his chair but doesn’t say anything. What does it feel, Rys? 

“So . . . who is the girl?” Maxwell asks. 

For fuck’s sake. I might as well get it over with. “I’m going to say one last time that I’m not interested in her anymore, so before your little hearts starts beating wildly for playing cupid, it’s not going to happen.” 

In a snarky tone, Leo replies, “Well, of course, it’s not. She left the country. Are you that bad, Walker? Because I can give you a tip or two.” He’s so fucking annoying. 

“Oh.” Max sighs, disappointed.  

Leo elbows his brother and says, “He hasn’t slept with anyone since.” 

And there it is. The real reason why Leo is worried about this. He lost his wingman. “I’m not an animal, Leo. It’s not the first time in my life that I go two months without fucking. I’m not you. Anyway, all this is pointless. She’s gone.” 

My friends grew up with me, so they know when it’s time to stop pushing. Max interrupts the silence that follows because nothing makes little Beaumont more uncomfortable than a gap in the conversation. “Everything is ready for the party tomorrow night. The thirtieth anniversary of Rys Corporation will be a success.” 

Liam nods. “Regina talked with Hana this morning. It’s the first anniversary since I took over as CEO. I need everything to be perfect.” 

“What about the staff, Max?” Leo asks, smiling. Having sex at every anniversary party is a personal challenge of his. 

“We actually hired someone today. She’s gorgeous.” He turns his head at Leo. “But she’s off-limits.” Leo smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. “I mean it, dude. Bertrand said he’s tired of looking for new waitresses. Two quit yesterday morning when they found out that the event was for Rys corporation.”  

“Hey, I never lie. It’s not my fault if they think I’ll call them anyway.” 

“Whatever, just don’t mess with her. Plus, I got to talk to her after her training today. She’s super nice. She’s Am--. Wait.” He says when his phone chimes up. “Sorry, boys. It was a text from Penelope. Apparently, the Chablis hasn’t been delivered yet. I have to call Joelle before I lose my big brother over a wine crisis. See you all tomorrow.” He finishes his cocktail and stands up. 

Liam stands up too. “I should go home too. Han arrived today from Hong Kong.” 

Leo checks his phone. “Wait, Li. I’ll go with you. I have a date with this girl I met last night at Kismet. Do you want to come, man?” He asks me. “I’m sure she has a friend she can introduce you.”

I shake my head. “I’ll finish my whiskey and head home. See you all tomorrow.”

It was only one fucking night. Why can’t I get her out of my head? 

It’s maddening. Or maybe it is a blessing. If I’m still thinking about her after one night, imagine how bad I’d have it after several. It’s best that she stays far the fuck away from me. I’m not interested in long-term attachments of any kind.  I don’t want to think about Lexie Ortiz, but she’s infected my brain. The sound of her teasing laugh haunts me.

And I can’t deny it; it was one hell of a night.

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

ALEXIS 

 “This is a single girl’s paradise.” 

“No,” I grimace, trying to clean the spilled tomato sauce from my shirt. “Paradise would be a tropical beach with a hot cabana boy giving us free massages... and an endless supply of piñas Coladas.” Naomi laughs, the sound almost lost in the chaos of the kitchen. Chefs shouting orders, Penelope and Bertrand panicking, plates being dropped—the world of catering is a noisy business. 

“Cabana boys may have hot smoking bodies and virility, Lex, but they lack two essential qualities: prestige and money.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that you’d prefer an old limp dick over a young hard one? Interesting,” I answer, teasing her. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, smart ass. I’m saying I’d take a solid bank account over a solid dick. Think about it—with all that money, he could never fuck me at all, and I couldn’t care less. And I’d be treated properly. Rich guys know how to treat a lady.” 

“Trust me on this, Naomi. Money has absolutely nothing to do with how a man treats a woman.” I should know. “In any case,” I retort, grabbing another tray of drinks, “if you’re looking for old rich guys, there are tons of opportunities out there.” I laugh at the dreamy look on her face, partly because it’s hilarious and partly because I know she’s kidding. After my training last night, she invited me to her house, where I met Theo, her little boy. He’s eight years old and the absolute love of her life. 

“Speaking of fucking,” she says, her eyes sparkling, “did you see the Rys brothers? One of them is taken, but the other two are single and oh so yummy. Especially the tall and brooding one. I’ll kill for those smoldering brown eyes looking right at my soul” 

I snort. “You really should stop reading romance novels, Nao. And yes. I served one of them and his girlfriend champagne earlier, but he was blond and didn’t have smoldering, brooding eyes. I thought they were only two brothers, though.”

“Well, technically, yes. But Constantine Rys --the super-rich owner of Rys Corporation-- adopted two other kids. A boy and a girl. They all grew up together.” She uncorks several champagne bottles as she speaks.

Now that my uniform is clean, I grab one of the Veuve Clicquot bottles and help her pouring the cold liquid into the glasses on our trays. “How do you know all of that?”

“I’m Cordonian, girl. The Rys siblings are almost royalty in this country. The one that is not an actual Rys is the one with the smoldering eyes. He doesn’t work for the company, though. He’s a … a vet, I think.”  

A veterinarian like Drake. My stupid heart flutters when I think about him. 

“Do we pay you to work or to gossip, ladies?” Penelope screams from the kitchen door. 

Naomi and I roll our eyes and grab our refilled trays. 

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

DRAKE

“This is a huge night for Liam,” Regina says behind her champagne glass. Constantine has been telling everyone, especially her, that he’s ready and happy to retire, but she knows him better than anyone. Leaving Rys Corporation and pass the torch to Liam is much more difficult for Constantine than he cares to admit.  

“It’ll be all right, Regina. Don’t worry. Liam is more than ready to handle the responsibility.”

She throws a glance at Liam, who’s standing a few feet behind me next to his dad. “I just hope he doesn’t forget that his personal life is equally important. He and Hana work too hard.” 

I’m about to answer when one of the waitresses distracts me. Her back is turned to me, so I can’t see her face, but there is something incredibly familiar about the way she moves. She’s passing drinks amongst Regina’s friends. I want to go and see who she is, but Liam catches my eyes across the room.  We exchange a look, one that we’ve exchanged several times over our lives. It was Liam and me when we were younger, walking into his father’s office after getting into a fight at school. It was the two of us when we came home late, and his parents were waiting in the living room as we walked in, drunk. It was the two of us when we wrecked Leo’s new Porsche when we were sixteen, and right now, I know he needs me. Constantine is a great father, but he has too many expectations for his younger son. Liam needs a break. 

Regina sees the exchange and smiles. “Liam’s very lucky to have you, Drake.” She is not our biological mother, but she loves all of us as if she was. And she’s more my mother than Bianca Walker will never be.  

A couple of men look at me, and I try to remember if I should know them from somewhere. I think they’re both on the board of directors at RC. As much as I love the Rys, I will never get used to this shit. Socializing and pretending to like a bunch of people that annoy the fuck out of me. Ignoring them, I make my way to my best friend. Liam is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking serious and put together like the CEO of the largest company in Cordonia should. 

“I think it’s going well,” he says as I approach. “Father was driving me crazy with all his advice.” 

“It’s not only the anniversary of the company, Li. It’s also his first one as the former CEO. It’s normal he feels out of place.” 

Liam nods. “I know. I just wish he’ll trust me more.”

“He does, Liam. He’s just nervous.”

 I’m cut short by Liam’s grin. His gaze slides right behind me and lights up. 

“Would either of you like a glass of champagne?” a female, very familiar voice nearly whispers behind me. 

“I’m good,” Liam answers, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “How about you, Drake?”

 I turn around, and my heart skips a beat. Soft curves, tanned skin, and a few freckles across the bridge of her nose. The brightest, most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen. Alexis Ortiz tucks a strand of her rich brown hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. Her eyes widen, and I see she recognizes me but doesn’t mention it. Instead, a faint smile ghosts her luscious lips, and she lifts her chin like she has a secret she won’t tell. A secret we share. Her gaze remains on Liam, almost like she’s afraid to look my way. Finally, she turns to me, and when she does, an adorable blush color her cheeks. 

“Would you, uh, sir?” she asks, taking half a step backward. 

“Would I what?” I press, enjoying too much the way her cheeks turn even pinker. 

“Would you like a drink?” The words leave her lips fast like she wants to pronounce them and run away. I take a step towards her, remembering the night she spent in my arms and how damn perfect she felt. I know I make her nervous because I see little goosebumps erupting on her soft skin.  I smirk at her. “That depends on what you’re offering.”

 I shouldn’t be toying with her, but I can’t help it. I want to keep her talking, to watch her reactions, to see that sweet smile again.  

“I don’t have much to offer,” she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Unless you like champagne, sir.” She emphasizes the last word.

“I like all sorts of things.” I keep my gaze heavy against hers, not allowing her to look away. She fidgets with her tray and swallows hard but never takes her eyes off mine, too rebellious to look away. The longer our eyes match, the hotter my body becomes. She bits her delicious bottom lip slowly, her dark gaze boring into mine. 

“Is that so?” Liam laughs beside me, and I watch her jump like she forgot he was there. Alexis clears her throat and glances around the room. She turns back to us again, this time a practiced smile on her face. The easy grin and soft laugh are both gone. She wants to get away from me, I can feel it, and I understand. She’s working; it wouldn’t be professional. This is not the time or the place to reconnect. Unfortunately for her, I have other plans.

“Gentlemen ...” With a nod, Alexis walks away as fast as possible. She doesn’t look back, but I watch her until she’s out of sight. 

“What was that?” Liam snickers, loosening his gray silk tie. “I thought you were going to jump on her.” 

I rub my thumb over my lip, still surprised as hell.

“That was Alexis, the girl I met a couple of months ago. Now, if you excuse me, Li, I need to go talk to Bertrand.”  

@mskaneko @burnsoslow @gkittylove99 @kat-tia801 @no-one-u-know @thegreentwin @twinkle-320 @forallthatitsworth @kingliam2019 @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @drakexwillow @moneyfordiamonds 

@yukinagato2012​ @alyssalauren​

#drake x alexis #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #tw domestic violence

[florencwrites]

prisoner 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which [reader] will always wait for him, in which dream is no longer dream

(!) blood, torture, emotional trauma (!)

If there's one thing that Dream had taught me; it was that persistence is key. "Stubbornness gets you places." He had always told me, laying in the grass against that same scratchy birch tree several times a week. He'd lay his head in my lap and hum songs while I played with his hair. He'd often pluck the grass and drop it on my knees, or draw little smiley faces on my skin.

He'd never meant for this to happen, for it all to happen. All along, all he had wanted was to be one big happy family, to give all his friends that exact feeling he had never gotten. He'd go out of his way to make people smile. Make them live in harmony, helping with crops and mining, even going as far as spending hours trying to find traces of ancient debris; all to make his friends content. He never wavered in his goals, always trying to convince people to see the best in everyone. Hoping that if he just kept smiling, one day, everyone would be smiling right back at him.

However, lately, his smile had rarely been genuine, really, the only time I ever saw the true glint of faith in his pupils was when we laid against that tree, humming songs and basking in the sun. He was having trouble keeping up his positive outlook, everywhere he looked there were pets dying and friendships breaking up. Houses being destroyed and families torn apart because of stupid things. Items that held no worth, that could never hold any worth as important as family or friends did.

"Stubbornness gets you places." He'd always say when I scolded him for acting like a brat. Unfortunately, the only place it had gotten him so far was in prison. I was reminded of this fact daily, returning to the impenetrable walls every minute I wasn't spending eating, at all hours of the day and night. My sobs echoed through the obsidian, mimicking the wails of the many ghasts that had tried to pass through generations of the dark purple stone. The block seemed to have created itself a connection to grief, mourning even. I pounded on the wall, to no avail I'd realized quite quickly on, until both my knuckles and palms were bloody and bruised, and I did it every single fucking day. I'd do everything to have him back in my arms, anything.

On the lonely nights, the residing heat in the obsidian often brought me warmth. The bubbles in the stone leaving marks on my shoulders. Often the warmth reminded me of him, of his chest pressing against my back. I could feel the ghost of his fingertips scour my arms, the glow of the obsidian on my neck making it almost appear as if he really was right there behind me, softly breathing into my skin. The lonely nights were good.

Because the nights where I wasn't alone, were nights I spent listening to his agonizing screams from deep within the fortress. Nights where the obsidian worked his torturous wonders and elated itself on the reminders of the excruciating pain that was put onto him. The nights where I couldn't physically bring myself to leave until his squeals had subsided, where I choked on my own tears until I could finally hear him sob again. Sobbing was good, sobbing meant that they had left him to be on his own at last, because sobbing meant that he was weak enough to them, and finally; sobbing meant no more torture.

Sam's shoes had been loud against the obsidian tiling, almost loud enough to distract me from the muffled growls that came from underneath them. Bubbling snarls that indicated that no man would be left alive, not when they breach these walls and definitely not when their body touches the water that surrounds it. He had caved, at last. He'd hastily ushered me inside late at night in the hopes of no person seeing the enormous gates open for the first time in weeks. I had clung to his waist, my knees failing me when he told me I was allowed one visit. No talking about it ever, or I'd see the same fate as my 'little boyfriend'.

He turned another corner as I cursed myself for not remembering the path we took, nor the redstone mechanisms he used to get me through the many disappearing doors. "There'll be a change of guards in 30 minutes, I need you outside in 20, got it?" His face was tense, eyes set sternly onto mine. I nodded, my head felt woozy from all the emotions swirling around it during these past few months, along with the lack of sleep, dehydration, and now adding to the list; the thought of finally seeing him again.

The umpteenth contraption boomed from beneath our feet, an almost rhythmic banging from right beneath our feet, slowly making it towards the wall in front of us. Slowly but surely the barricade was lifted, an immediate cry escaping from my lips as I saw the state of him. He was surrounded by iron bars in a cage in the immediate center of the room, the walls surrounding it bearing enough obsidian to guarantee his permanent stay.

My heart ached physically at the sight of him, my body moving itself to press against the bars hard enough to leave bruises on my ribs, dropping to my knees instantly. I reached my arms through the gaps of the confinement, barely not being able to reach where he laid curled up on the floor. He was facing me, however, his arms were shielding his features from me entirely. Tears upon tears flooded from my face as I screamed for him to look at me. He shot up, his pupils wearing nothing but complete and utter terror. He let out a loud shout, telling me to 'please, don't, please'. I wrapped one hand around the iron bars, steadying myself as I softened my voice, "Dream, it's me, baby, it's me."

He was on one knee, leaning his entire body against the barrier on the other side of the room he had fled to on instinct. His head rested on the metal for a second before instantly shooting up to look at where the voice came from. "Don't do this again, please." He pleaded, his voice was desperate, hopeless. "Anyone's voice but hers."

"Dream?" My voice was as gentle and soft as I could possibly make it while also sounding urgent enough for him to realize I wasn't fake, I wasn't some recording they played to demoralize him. "Dream, please."

His body froze at the sound once again, however, this time he turned his body into the bars. His back.

Oh, god, his back. The white tee he had been wearing the day they took him away was barely existing on his back at this point. The fabric was torn all over, showing the dozens of deep gashes beneath. His skin was practically rotting away from the outside, however, some were new. I had heard him, yesterday, I had heard his agonizing cries for release, which is exactly why I was so adamant about staying by the walls all day today. I had heard them do this to him, and there hadn't been a single thing I did or could've done about it. A sudden, almost traumatizingly powerful scream entered the small room we were in, the obsidian jumping at the opportunity of echoing; anything to prolong our agony. "PLEASE, I'M BEGGING, LET IT STOP."

My body choked up at his words, entirely shaking as his misery took its place again in my heart. I sat down, leaning my head against the metal bars as I let myself sob with him. I glanced up at where he sat on the other side of the cell, his hands pressing against his ears hard enough he could pop an eardrum, his body trembling with utter horror, slowly swaying from side to side. His back was on full display as he sat hunched over, some of the gashes tearing open again at the tension of his skin. Trails of blood soaked whatever was left of his shirt, and I couldn't help but wail out again, my heart physically feeling like it was imploding. "What are they doing to you, baby."

His movements stilled, a good few seconds passed. His arms slowly rose to get a grip on the barricade. As soon as he established the anchor, he pulled himself from the floor, slowly turning to look into my dark corner again. "Dream, it's me, please, c'mere." I pleaded, hope filling my eyes that even after three entire months of mental and physical torture, he would trust me. I reached my arms through the gaps, reaching for him as he came into grasping distance. He stood an inch from my extending fingers, almost gazing down at them tauntingly. He hadn't looked me in the eye yet, keeping his focus completely trained on my hands.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from my begging hands and looked up at me. "It's you."

"Yes! Yes! It's me, baby!" I almost cheered, my face pressing painfully hard against the bars, my entire body bruising at the constant impact.

His face was completely frozen, utter shock coursing through his features as he tried to figure out what was happening. "They did this to me."

"I know baby, I know." I nodded, confirming his words for him. Rationalizing that he was okay to not trust me, knowing his friends had betrayed him ultimately. "Please, let me touch you, I need to touch you."

He fell to his knees, ushering his arms through the barms to hug me through them. he held my body tightly as his body silently shook with sobs. "They did this to me." I hummed into his ear in response, knowing how lonely he must've felt, how worthless and discouraged. I felt my hands get coated in his blood as I clung to him tightly, crying together in utter misery. "I just wanted to keep it all safe."

I spoke carefully, my voice barely over a whisper, "What do you mean, Dream?" I rested my forehead against the same cross he did, the gaps between the bars barely not big enough to fit my entire head through. They were just there for decoration, really, the thousands of blocks of obsidian and the torture was what really kept him in place.

I watched him sniffle softly, his eyes squeezed closed almost painfully so, the raspy sounds that left his torn throat were a mere ghost of his normally smooth and silky voice. "I just wanted to keep it all safe," A shuddered breath interrupted him. I was clinging to his words, desperately wanting to hear what no one else had dared explain to me; why he was here. "I just wanted to make them happy, keep them safe." He gripped my shirt as he pulled me closer into his body, the warmth I radiated probably being the first source of heat he'd felt in months, besides from the occasional glow of obsidian. "The things they cared about, keep them safe."

A shaky sob left my lips as I let his words sink into my brain, only now realizing what he had done. His trembling voice made the hairs on my neck stand up, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

"All I wanted was to keep them safe and happy," He paused as a sob left his lips again. "One big happy family."

#dreamwastaken #dream #dreamteam #dream team #dreamsmp #dream smp #dsmp #georgenotfound #sapnap #youtube #twitch #prisoner #prison #awesamdude #fluff #smut #imagine #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #imagines

[leomitchellart]

So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself. 

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed. 

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour. 

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year. 

 - The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand. 

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no. 

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for. 

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead.  Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves. 

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine. 

#Inktober #Inktober 2020 #My two penneth #Jake Parker #alphonso dunn

[alwaysachorusgirl]

Things Remembered

Pairing: Loki x Female reader (who is more than she seems)

fandom: MCU (takes place post-Thor: The Dark World)

word count: 1,921

TW: brief mentions of death, mostly hurt/comfort, some angst, a bit of romance

Notes: My first fan fic on Tumblr! This was inspired by a dream I had where I was wandering through an abandoned Marvel themed amusement park. The imagery was so vivid that the next day I was searching Google to find out if it was a real place. It’s not, but I did learn about a lot of other abandoned amusement parks in the US, Europe, and Japan, and looked at a lot of creepy pictures. Comments/Constructive Criticism are welcome! Otherwise, please enjoy!

I starred up at the chained wrought-iron gates of the old abandoned amusement park. I still wasn’t entirely sure what it was that had drawn me here, but I knew, deep down, that it was important. I had seen it my dreams, or were they visions? I wasn’t sure anymore. Even my memories weren’t reliable. There were the ones that were mine, and then there were the ones that weren’t, but they felt so real, like things that had happened. But if that was the case, why didn’t I remember them happening to me, in my lifetime? It was almost as if they belonged to someone else, in another life, in another time.

I peered through the bars into the front entrance of the park. The building that had once served as the box office was boarded up. Most of the paint had chipped away, and it looked like moss and mold were growing in spots. The roof looked like one strong gust of wind would be enough to tear it off.

I turned my attention to the gate and the padlocked chain that was supposed to be holding it shut. I’d done my research beforehand and knew from various urban explorer blogs that breaking in would be the easy part. I reached up and grabbed onto the iron bars, pushing one side of the gate away from me and the other side towards me. The chain didn’t put up any resistance and soon there was an opening big enough for me to slip between. I was in.

The ground was squishy under my feet from the morning’s rain. The skies above were still gray and threatening to storm. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around me. I gave myself kudos for remembering to wear an old pair of boots. At least my feet would stay warm and dry. I glanced at remains of the park around me and started walking, making a point of staying alert and keeping an eye out for other trespassers.

It wasn’t long before I was approaching what used to be the Grand Fountain. The standing water that was still the fountain reeked of mold and mildew. The old white marble was cracked and crumbling. What a shame, I thought, I used to throw pennies in this fountain. I looked up at the hand painted billboard above the fountain. It was faded, but I could still make out the image of an older, white haired gentleman, with a salt and pepper mustache and glasses. Next to his smiling face were the words: “Excelsior, True Believers!” The man had once been the park’s founder and owner. After he had died the park had been sold to a group of investors. They had promised all sorts of updates and renovations, but none of it had ever materialized, and the park had fallen further into disrepair and debt, until it had been closed for good.

Next, I passed by the bumper cars. I stopped again, sighing gloomily at the sight of it. The cars were all sitting haphazardly in the middle of the floor. Red and gold, purple and green, red, white, and blue, and my favorite, the red and black one; all completely unmoving. It just didn’t feel right, none of this did. I forced myself to turn away and keep moving deeper into the park, closer to my ultimate destination.

A few minutes later I saw it, the Ferris Wheel, aka The Galactus. Painted purple and blue, it has once been the centerpiece of the park. Whatever voice had been calling to me in my dreams, it had been calling me from here. And then, almost as if someone had flipped a switch, the Ferris Wheel lit up and music began to play. It was now or never. I walked up to the entrance of the ride, and that’s when I saw him.

He was tall, with long black hair and a regal air about him. His face was angular and handsome in an other-worldly sense. His eyes, oh his eyes, they were piercing, haunting; I could get lost in those eyes. He smiled when he saw me and held out a hand to me.

“Welcome, my darling, so glad you finally made it. Won’t you step aboard?” He gestured with his other hand towards an open pod on the Ferris Wheel.

“It’s you,” I breathed, “you’re the voice that’s been calling to me.” I was sure I’d never met this man before, but he seemed so familiar, felt so familiar. I trusted him, I felt safe with him. I took his hand and let him pull me up onto the ride’s platform. It was strong, yet gentle. I gazed into his eyes as he lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

“My beloved, I’ve searched for you for so long,” he said, gazing back into my eyes. I followed him into the pod and sat down on the cold metal seat, He seated himself across from me, and closed the door. I heard the click of the metal lock latching shut, and then lurched forward as the Ferris Wheel began to move. My companion quickly reached out and grabbed my arm to steady me. “It’s alright my love, it’s quite safe. I would never allow any harm to come you.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, finally finding my voice. “What’s going on? How do you know me? Why do I feel like I know, even though I’m pretty bloody sure that I’ve never met you before?”

“All your questions will be answered, my love, but first, let me ask you: have you been having troubling dreams? Perhaps snippets of memory that aren’t necessarily yours, and yet, they feel like they are?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Oh, my dear,” he replied with a chuckle, “I know everything about you; who you were before, every life you’ve lived along the way up until now; every time I’ve gotten so close to reaching you, only to have death rip you away from me… tell me, do you believe in curses? Magic? Reincarnation?”

“I…I don’t know…maybe? A little? What does that have to do with anything?”

The Ferris Wheel suddenly stopped, with the two of us now stuck at the top. I had a moment of panic, looking down at the ground, and then back at the dark-haired man. He took my hand and held it between both of his.

“Calm yourself, my love, it’s fine. I just want to talk to you.”

“Fine?!” I cried. “How the bloody hell is this fine? Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“I want you to remember who you really are,” he said, and then, placing a hand under my chin, “Search your mind. Surely, you must remember me; you must remember us, and Camelot.”

“Camelot? Every UK child knows the stories of Camelot,” I told him. “My own memories are...confusing. It feels like there’s a wall around my mind. But there are cracks in that wall, and whenever I try to look between the cracks, that’s when I see things… I see me, living other lives. I have different names and different clothes, but it’s always me.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “I really do feel like I know you. I feel some strange connection with you, and I feel like it’s right there…like the answer is right there where the wall is, but I can’t break through to it.”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “The wall in your mind! Break the wall, break the curse! It’s already falling apart, so in theory, one good wrecking ball should be enough to shatter it. Oh Merlin, you lazy bastard, you let your own curse grow weak with time.” He pulled my face close so that it was merely centimeters from his. “I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to sound insane, impossible even, but I swear that every word is true. Do you trust me?” I nodded, tears starting to fall down my face. He gently brushed one away with his thumb. “Good. The truth is, that in your first life, your real life, you are Morgana Pendragon, half sister to Arthur, rightful Queen upon the throne of Camelot, my one true love, mother of our children, the most powerful sorceress that ever lived. I need you to remember! Wake up, Morgana! Wake up!”

He placed his fingers on my temples and something inside my head snapped. I felt the mental wall shatter and was blinded by a shining gold and green light. My head snapped back. Excruciating pain swept through me and I felt a scream escape my throat. And then I felt myself rising into the air. I heard the rumble of thunder above me and pain in my body was replaced by a strange, yet oh so familiar energy. And I remembered. I remembered everything.

One memory flashed after another: Camelot, Loki, my brother Arthur, and Merlin. Bloody fucking Merlin. His and my brother’s betrayal shown most vividly. That betrayal that had led to the slaughter of my two beautiful sons, and my own death at the stake. Merlin has cursed me while I burned, cursed me to be reborn over and over again, and die young if any inkling of my former life dared to bleed through. But as any well-versed magic wielder will tell you, curses will weaken if not maintained by the caster. Centuries has gone by, and every year Merlin’s curse had grown weaker, and little by little, the cracks had begun to form. And now my bonds were broken. I knew who I was, and I felt my magic flowing through me again as I levitated above the Ferris Wheel.

I was shocked out of my reverie, and thrown out of the sky, when a bolt of lightning broke through the storm clouds and hit me square in the back. I fell, but instead of hitting the ground I was caught but a pair of strong, comforting arms. I looked up to see my lover’s face looking back at me, full of deep concern.

“My love, Morgana, are you alright?”

“Loki?” I inquired, my voice shaking. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, my love, it’s me. I’m here, I’ve got you now, you’re safe,” he answered, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“You found me,” I said, reaching up and caressing his cheek with my fingertips.

“Of course, I found you,” he replied, “I never gave up hope that we would be together again. I swear that I’ll never let anyone take you from me again.” His lips met mine in the most loving of kisses. He was mine, and I was his, and no one would ever tear us apart again. But a question was still rolling around in my brain, and when we broke apart, I looked him straight in the eye and voiced it aloud:

“Loki, where the bloody hell is Merlin?”

 TO BE CONTINUED?

 Post Credits Scene:

Somewhere, on a small Mediterranean island, sat an older gentleman drinking espresso in a café. He was actually much older than he looked, but you wouldn’t think it to look at him. The darkening clouds and a rumble of thunder drew his eyes skyward. The energy in the air around him changed, and his brow furrowed. And then he felt it: a curse, specifically his curse, had at long last been broken. She was awake, and she would be coming for his head…

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki #mcu #loki fan fiction #thor the dark world #camelot #morgan le fay #morgana #merlin

[fuzzyporcupine]

lead me with your hands tied | chapter 6

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

rating: explicit

word count: 13,130

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 6:

The knock at the door had woken him with a start, loud and forceful as it echoed through the tiny room. The light shining in from the singular window blinded his sight, straining the already sleep-addled eyes. It couldn’t have been soon after dawn, and he had no idea who could possibly need to disturb him this early. Levi grumbled lowly as he sat up in the bed, throwing the furs to the side. Bare feet slid onto the stone floor, pale toes flexing on the ground. Dressed in only a thin white shift to cover his nakedness, Levi stepped to the large door. He unlocked it with quick, deft fingers, sliding the thick iron rod out of the latch.

The hinges squeaked painfully as he tugged the entrance open. Levi expected to be greeted by an annoyed Petra, maybe even the frightened servant girl, though the latter seemed highly unlikely given the fright he had caused her. However, neither was standing beyond the entryway. The only people meeting his gaze were the goddamned Royal Guard.

A cold sweat began to form on the back of his neck as a twitchy thumb tucked into a sweaty palm. The men were decorated with fine golden armor and a green silken cloak that wrapped around their wide shoulders. The uniform was customary of the Royal Guard and signified their importance to the court. His eyes flicked down to the long silver swords and black slender rifles strapped menacingly to the soldiers’ sides and backs. Swallowing hard, Levi lifted his gaze back to brave the stone-faced men. He didn’t know what could have possibly warranted the Royal Guard to arrive at his doorstep. Perhaps Eren did tell his father of Levi’s disrespect inside the studio. Perhaps this was a reckoning.

The thought had Levi’s throat tightening.

Regardless, Levi refused to be afraid. Fear was a terrible emotion. One that never seemed to do anything but scramble the brain and cause unneeded anxiety. He’d boarded that feeling up long ago and would be damned if he let it boil back up again.

One of the guards shuffled. “His Majesty requests your presence.” That sounded ominous.

He steeled himself, a pointed chin turned upwards, almost mocking. “May I be dressed or does His Majesty wish to see me prance about in my bedclothes?” If they were going to make an example of him, he’d rather it not be with his cock out.

The man’s gaze narrowed then drifted down to Levi’s bare legs. “Make haste. His Majesty does not like to wait.”

Levi grunted, quietly closing the door behind him as the guards moved to stand against the wall.

Well, wasn’t this just a right old mess?

A thought of jumping out the window and making a run for it briefly fluttered through his mind before he disregarded the idea entirely. He had no notion if the king intended something sinister or just wanted to chat. Levi decided it was not worth snapping his ankles over.

Pulling the shift over his head, Levi made quick work of getting dressed. If the king was truly impatient as the Royal Guard stated, then it was in his best interest to not dawdle.

The men were still standing outside when he exited the room. However, now he appeared to them much more decent - a linen shirt tucked nicely beneath the waist of his darkened breeches.

Without so much as a verbal cue, the Royal Guard began to march towards where Levi assumed the king was residing. He found it a good sign that the men were not dragging him along by the backs of his arms. At least they weren’t yet, anyway.

The grounds were ghostly as he was led through. Empty except for a few soldiers and a murder of crows squawking a venomous tune atop the ramparts. Leather boots sunk deep into the mud, the morning dew softening up the already well-trodden soil. It was impossible to tell which direction the guards were taking him based on the prints left in the dirt. There were so many of them, abandoned from weary horses being led to the stables and drunken soldiers stumbling in late from the tavern. Reminded him of a certain soaked fool whispering vulgar obscenities into his ear.

“I would teach you. If you begged.”

Just the memory of the words had Levi’s jaw clenching. He’d never begged for anything in his life. Not when there had been a knife pressed flush against his throat. Not when a stingy noble threatened to dock his pay. Not even when he watched the colors of Shiganshina toss flames onto everything he loved. Shit would sooner rain from the sky before Levi Ackerman begged of anything from that bastard.

“Through the door and up the stairs.” They’d stopped in front of one of the vast spherical towers attached to the curtain wall. Like a dark cloud on a stormy day, the structure cast a leaden shadow over Levi and the surrounding mud. He was close enough to the stone that if he looked up only brick and mortar would catch his gaze. Attached to the tower was a wooden door. Though not near as strong as the immense iron gate separating the village from the castle grounds, the entrance felt just as menacing. With a jaw still tightened, Levi strode forward and threw open the flimsy door with a hard tug.

The spiral staircase greeted him immediately, grey stone steps coated with a layer of dust and debris. Soft footsteps echoed as he advanced upward, almost loud enough to drown out the obnoxious beating in his chest. By the time he reached the top of the tower, his thighs were burning fiercely and an unattractive sweat had formed above his brow. The men below did not tell Levi where he should head once reaching the top, but it was not hard to decipher. A trio of Royal Guard stood behind the king as the slouching man observed the dwindling village from atop the wall. Levi approached carefully, still unsure if the encounter would end with him thrown from the battlements.

“I see the men have escorted you well.” The king continued to stare off into the distance as he spoke, voice mimicking the tiredness that dragged on the man’s expression. In the morning light, Levi saw the streaks of grey reflecting brightly against the dull brown on top of the king’s head. The war had aged the man, as most wars tended to do.

“They have, Your Majesty,” Levi confirmed.

The king hummed, thin hands gripping tightly around the stone. “I understand my son has proven to be quite difficult to work with.” Levi remained stone-faced and silent. He had no inkling of how to respond to such a loaded question. Should he remain quiet or let the king know how much of a complete idiot the prince was? Either choice seemed likely to offend. “Shall I find someone else more competent?” So, this was why the king sent for him. Not to toss him off the side of the wall or to swing a sword through his neck. But to humiliate him.

Rage rose in him like a tide receding from the shore, thumbnail digging an angry crescent into his palm. Levi’s skill had proven him to be more than competent as an artist. His portfolio saw proof of that. What he wasn’t, however, was a goddamned babysitter, especially to an overgrown child such as the prince.

“No,” he bit out dangerously. The king turned to face him then. “I’m the best damned painter in this entire bloody kingdom. By three months’ end, you’ll be able to see that for yourself.”

Are you fucking delirious?  

That timeframe was impossible. Even with the best of clients, Levi typically wouldn’t have the piece delivered in under six months. And to cut that time in half? He had to be absolutely insane. That had to be it. Or maybe he just longed for death and wanted to feel the cool slice of a blade against his skin. Which might actually happen sooner rather than later. In his anger, Levi had taken several steps closer, prompting the Royal Guard to grab hold of the weapon hilts. The sight doused his anger like water over a fire. “Your Majesty,” he added quietly in the hopes that the soldiers would release their swords with the two words.

The king looked him up and down, an unimpressed stare settled within the wrinkles on the worn face. A hand was lifted and the sound of sheathed steel cut sharply through the air.

“By three months’ end,” the king said firmly. Goddammit, Ackerman. Levi nodded once, fist unclenching by his side. “You may leave.” He bowed his head, turning quickly on a booted heel. Before Levi could reach the archway, the king regarded him again. “And painter?” Levi cast a wary glance over his shoulder to find the man gazing back out again over the village. “Disrespect me again and I’ll have you flayed and dragged through the streets.”

Levi let out a nervous breath.

Of that, he had no doubt.

_______________________

Levi had not been waiting in the studio long before Petra arrived. She brought with her a remorseful expression and news that the young prince was suffering an unfortunate bout of nausea and would not be attending the session.

Like hell he wouldn’t, Levi thought as his feet marched him closer to Petra.

“Take me to his room,” he insisted, voice unyielding as the stone walls surrounding him.

“But, sir, the prince is-”

“Sleeping?” Levi interrupted. “It’s nearly midday, Ms. Ral.”

“Yes, I understand, but-”

“If the prince is well and truly ill I shall send for a doctor. Now, please.” He looked at her expectantly, watching the way a plump bottom lip wiggled in between her teeth. The woman could easily refuse him. He had not been hired to snoop into the prince’s room. Levi was there to paint, and Petra surely realized this. However, he had only a limited amount of time to complete what was seemingly an impossible portrait. One that he was certain would get him killed if it was not finished on time. He couldn’t allow Eren’s wankered morning after to place any undue setbacks on the schedule.

A tight sigh broke across her lips as she murmured, “Right this way, sir.” Levi’s shoulders relaxed as he followed the woman down the winding staircase. Her pace was brisk, hardly allowing him the opportunity to analyze the route they were taking. She said nothing as they ascended the great set of stairs in the foyer. Just continued marching until they had finally made it to a fine wooden door. “The prince is inside.”

His eyes fell to the small iron handle of the entrance and then to the golden keyhole. “Is it locked?”

Petra shook her head. “No, sir. His young Majesty only locks the door when…” She trailed off, cheeks flaring pink. Ah, Levi understood.

“Of course,” he muttered. Levi silently wondered why Eren would even bother with locks considering the scene he witnessed the night prior. “Thank you for the escort.” He raised a fist to the door, giving it two sharp knocks before closing his hand around the handle. Hopefully, the warning would be able to warn the prince of his arrival. If not, well, Levi wouldn’t necessarily be surprised.

“I shall let the guards know to ignore any screaming.”

Levi thanked her with a slight upturn of the lips as he pulled the door open and entered the bedroom.

The chambers were coated in a shadowy grey, the light from the window being held back by a thick curtain. A small table stood off to the side, a basket of uneaten fruit and a bronze pitcher sitting on top of the surface. A writing desk with a battered leg took up residence against the same wall. Miscellaneous papers were scattered everywhere atop the desk, leaving nary space vacant. Across the room, a large bed, about twice the size of his own, was fixed upon a risen platform of solid stone. Green silk cascaded around the poles holding up the canopy. Bundled in the middle amidst a pile of blankets and furs nestled the prince, a mess of brown hair sticking out from the depths of the sheets.

“Gods be kind, Petra. I said leave me be.” The voice didn’t hold quite the bite that he’s sure Eren was hoping, overly raspy from the man’s rambunctious night. Levi stepped closer to the talking lump, boots echoing off the stone floor as he went. He took in the figure moving slightly beneath the sheets, the gentle breathing causing the blankets to rise and fall in a steady motion. With swift hands, Levi gripped the coverings and ripped them from the bed, exposing the body beneath.

“Are you completely mad, you daft wench?!” Eren screamed, hands reaching out to recover the lost warmth. They paused, though, when the prince noticed who exactly had pulled the silken linens from the bed. “What are you doing here?” Eren asked, wincing as he pushed himself up into a sitting position against the plush pillows. “Come to ravage me in my bed chambers?”

“Get up,” he stated plainly, not in the mood for the prince’s teasing.

“Oh, I am up, artist.” Levi resisted the urge to strangle the bastard, biting the inside of his cheek as he marched over to the curtained window. The fabric was pulled back, and Eren threw up a quick hand against the light. “Gods, you’re fucking cruel.”

“Get up,” Levi reiterated, voice almost a growl as it snuck between clenched teeth. He felt like punching something, preferably the prince’s stupid, smug face.

“My, you are feisty today.” Eren grinned up wolfishly at Levi. “Did my father order you to speak so openly to me?”

“Your father ordered me to paint your portrait, Your Highness.” In only three months, he reminded himself. Though that fault fell on Levi’s own shoulders.

Eren yawned loudly, arms stretching high up into the air. The movement caused the man’s nightclothes to shift up, exposing thick, tan thighs. Levi tore his eyes away, a red heat tickling his neck. He silently cursed his embarrassment. Levi had seen a man naked before. Many men in fact. The communal baths were not exactly the place one would go expecting modesty. So, to have such a reaction to this complete pig of a man was humiliating. “I told you,” the prince said in between yawns, “that I would be bedridden today.”

Levi scoffed, mortification long forgotten as he stomped over to the edge of the bed. “I have promised your father a complete portrait in three fucking months. I do not intend to disappoint him.” His tone was dangerously deadly, causing Eren to nervously drop outstretched arms in a covered lap. “I expect you in the studio within the hour, Your Highness.” He turned away, leaving the prince momentarily speechless. Upon reaching the doorway, Levi paused, looking back over his shoulder to find Eren staring back in his direction with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“You’re the Prince of Shiganshina. Act like it.”

#ereri fanfic #ereri #fic: lead me with your hands tied #thespazzbot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot #attack on titan

[mikrowrites]

just an act (two)

Shawn Mendes x Reader

Shawn feels as though his life is falling apart, so he attempts to try and reach out to Y/N before it’s too late.

The song is “you should be sad” by Halsey!

If you want the full hurt of this story, I suggest listening to it on loop while reading this chapter xx

Shawn wanted to pick her.

A thousand times over, he would’ve said Y/N’s name and found her and consoled her, but he couldn’t. And he hated himself for that.

His contract was strict. Convince fans and the world, even his own damn family that Shawn and Camila were dating, to promote Señorita and get a Grammy win. But he was so fucking tired, and he loved Y/N so much.

Shawn watched Y/N walk out of the ice rink, how strongly and gracefully she walked out of his life. He felt Camila’s hand squeeze his tighter, Shawn turning to see his PR girlfriend on the verge of tears. Camila and Y/N were close friends, this had to be killing her too.

He wanted to run after her, convince her to stay, to explain the contract and win her back. But Shawn feared the damage was done.

——————

Y/N let her fingers softly strum against her guitar, sitting in her lonely hotel room. The acoustic was bequeathed to her by Shawn, and when Karen had brought it to her last night she couldn’t bring herself to part with it.

She began to strum a familiar tune, her voice finally crawling up and out of her throat.

I wanna start this out and say

I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice

Just a little bit of regret

Know nobody else will tell you

So there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out

And then I'll be on my way

Y/N began to strum the strings harder, letting the chords dig into her fingertips and her whole body began to shake.

Oh, I feel so sorry

I feel so sad

I tried to help you

It just made you mad

And I had no warnin'

About who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breakin' down

And then ran so fuckin' far

That you would never ever touch me again

Y/N screamed out the last lyric, her voice cracking in the end as she dissolved into sobs, gripping the fret tighter. Tears hit the wood with a soft thump.

She let her head bow over, broken sobs wracking her body. She let the grief and heartbreak consume her one final time as she stared out her wide hotel room window at the nighttime Toronto skyline.

After ten minutes her tears dried, Y/N running her hand along the smooth mahongany of the guitar, before lifting it and gently setting it in its hard plastic case, snapping it closed.

To Y/N, it felt like a burial.

——————

Morning broke in Pickering, Shawn shuffling downstairs, exhausted. He couldn’t sleep all night, much less close his eyes without seeing Y/N. He wished he had know how badly this would hurt, he never would’ve signed that goddamn contract.

Manuel and Karen fluttered about the kitchen, Karen washing fruit as Manny cooked eggs. Aaliyah was setting the table and at the sight of Shawn, she glared and slammed the last fork on the table, leaving the room.

His parents looked up at the sound, but once watching the scene unfold they silently went back to their duties.

Shawn felt a lump grow in his throat, turning and rushing up the stairs. He burst into his childhood room, Camila yawning as she sat up in bed. He had been sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor, refusing to share the bed with her.

“Shawn? What’s going on?” Camila drowsily asked.

“We need to tell my parents.” Shawn insisted. “We need to break this contract.”

Camila sat up, the sleepiness leaving her senses. “I hate this as much as you do, but Shawn... you’re asking me to put my career on the line.”

“I’ll let you come out spotless,” Shawn pleaded, stepping forwards to the end of the bed. “Mendes’ aren’t snitches.”

“Well, you’re about to become one.” Camila sighed, throwing her legs over the bed. “Let’s do it.”

——————

Y/N threw her backpack over her shoulder, hoisting the straps up upon her frame as she lifted up the guitar case. She graciously thanked the receptionist, walking out of the hotel lobby.

As her taxi maneuvered Toronto traffic, Y/N became lost in her thoughts, watching the buildings for the last time.

She smiled at the sight of the coffee shop where Shawn and herself had their first date.

Chuckled seeing the street corner where they first met, when Shawn had found her busking to pay rent.

Stared dreamily looking at the bookstore where they sat for hours, reading (but really catching glimpses over the books).

Y/N was shaken out of her memories by the familiar tune of “Perfectly Wrong” playing on the radio. Ironic, Y/N grumbled in her head.

“Excuse me, could you please change the radio? I’m very sorry...” Y/N mumbled to the driver, who let out a huff but changed it nonetheless.

“Thank you...” Y/N sighed, “Bad breakup.”

The driver looked over their shoulder, their frown loosening. “That sucks kid. Sorry.”

Y/N smiled tightly, looking out the window.

“My girlfriend cheated on me,” the driver continued, Y/N perking up, “and I had to find out by them fucking in my own bed. I was destroyed, and it hurt for a while, but then I found my wife. Thing’s’ll get better. I can tell you that much.”

Y/N finally smiled, genuinely.

“I hope so.”

——————

Shawn and Camila sat across the table from the Mendes family, the boy nervously rubbing his hands. “Before we actually have this conversation, anything that happens, leave Camila’s name out of this. Please. We’re risking a lot, but I’ve already lost too much.”

The family hesitantly shook their heads yes, Shawn running a hand through his hair as he stumbled for words to find out how to start.

“My agent and producer gave me a contract,” Camila spoke up, Shawn whipping his head to her. “Shawn’s agent and producer were present too, he was given the same paperwork. They insisted we pursue a PR romantic relationship to promote our new single.”

“They threatened to leave a stain on our record, that we could be removed from the label if we denyed. We were jumped, and we were terrified.” Shawn continued. “So we signed the contract, because we love to sing, to perform. We signed, because we were scared of what would happen if we didn’t.”

Karen had tears welling within her eyes, Manuel’s face softening.

Aaliyah finally spoke up. “So that kiss...” she trailed off.

“Meant nothing at all.” Camila reassured. “But it cost us the most important thing in our lives.”

“Y/N.” Aaliyah murmured. Suddenly she stood, her chair pushing away with a creak. “You have to go win her back!”

“Liyah...” Manuel began, the girl cutting her off.

“No, you have to! You two were meant to be with each other, you need to stop her from leaving!” Aaliyah cried out.

Karen blinked away the moisture from her eyes, shaking her head. “Honey, that’s—“

“I have to go win her back.” Shawn nodded, looking up at his family and Camila. “I have to go win her back!” He shouted, bursting up as he grabbed his keys, placing a ballcap and sunglasses on his face. Shawn turned to look at Camila, who nervously smiled.

“Go get our girl.”

——————

Y/N sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs outside her gate, the airport chatter dulled by her earbuds. The same song looped through her ears, somehow strangely giving her strength.

But you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, girls and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothin' unless there's somethin' in it for you

Y/N took a bite of her toasted bagel, longing for her guitar that was being loaded onto the plane. She longed to go home, where her mother would say “told you so” and she could finally have some peace.

Shawn never came to (hometown/nearest city), not unless he had a concert. Never attempted to get to know Y/N’s home like she had Pickering and Toronto.

She shook her head, throwing the rest of her bagel away and standing as her boarding class was called, shouldering her backpack.

After a long wait in line, maybe ten or so minutes, Y/N finally reached the front. The flight attendant looked up, her eyes growing wide. “Oh my goodness! You’re Y/N L/N!”

Y/N smiled in surprise. “Oh, um, yes! Guilty!”

“Oh, my daughter loves your Spotify singles! She’s your biggest fan!” The woman excitedly gushed, Y/N giggling. She was a very small singer, not even a part of a label, and meeting fans was a rarity.

“I’m honored, ma’am.” Y/N smiled politely.

“Could I snap a quick photo with you? My little girl will freak!” Y/N nodded, leaning over the desk to the woman as she snapped a photo.

Y/N’s grin fell as she noticed a familiar figure running in the background of the phone screen. She turned, freezing as 30 feet away Shawn stopped in his tracks, panting heavily. She could see past his hoodie, hat, and sunglasses, the incognito look was never very stealthy.

“Is—is that Shawn Mendes?! Oh sweet Jesus, I’m having a stroke!” The flight attendant cried.

The two didn’t move a muscle for many seconds. Shawn took a few steps forward cautiously, gauging her reaction.

Y/N broke into a run, dropping her backpack and racing up to Shawn, throwing her arms around him. He staggered backwards, wrapping his own long arms around her, clutching the back of her head with one of his hands. The two embraced each other deeply, letting go of heartbreak, fighting for another chance.

At least, that’s what happened in Y/N’s head.

She instead hardened her face into a glare, turning her back to him. Y/N scanned her ticket, and without another glance walked past the gate, towards her plane and to home.

Shawn’s shoulders slumped, the man feeling the weigh of everything crash down on him. He stumbled backwards, his whole body shaking as he quickly turned, rushing for a bathroom.

Once finding a men’s room, he ran inside, locking himself in a stall and ripping off his hat, his breaths growing ragged and hard, as if he were drowning in air.

Shawn sank to his knees, grasping his curly hair with his fingers as he slid down the wall onto the dirty tiled floor, tears cascading down his face.

Shawn wanted to rip up that fucking contract, destroy his reputation. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, loud enough she’d hear, loud enough the whole world would hear.

It was all just an act.

To be continued in part 3...

#shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes reader insert #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #camila cabello x shawn mendes

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Gasoline (Favored Ones, Part 20.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter:  “And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw, and behold a white horse.” - Johnny Cash

Part summary: When you arrived to Seattle, it was becoming more and more apparent that the things won’t go as planned at all. Especially when you had Tommy slipping between your fingers.

A/N: So, we’re slowly getting to the more important stuff. How you guys feel about it? 

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, killing, infected, mentions of WLF, angst, arguments, cuss words. 

Word count: 6.7K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy​ @mr-robot-x​

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day first - morning:

The journey to Seattle wasn't as long as you expected it to be. It was barely two days on horseback - if you wouldn't get lost so much. Ellie proclaimed herself the leader of your group and well, it was what it was, he sense for orientation was bat shit bad. You've spent five days in total on the road - and given that you had to hunt and prepare some safe sleeping places, you were quite quick for a group of four people. Hunting was usually Joel and Ellie's thing - he was good with the bow, which you knew perfectly and Ellie learned how to hunt during a winter when she was with Joel.

Joel was a man of many secrets and some wild past, you've known that, but you thought that maybe, Joel just taught the girl how to hunt. Neither of them told you otherwise - that Joel was in pain, high fever with his hip drilled through with iron support protruding out of the ground. You didn't know many things, in fact - you still didn't have an idea that Ellie is immune to the Cordyceps fungus. Sure, you knew all about the chemical burn, tattoo, and once, when she was drunk, she told you about how Joel had to lead her to the Fireflies through half of the United States. Why? She didn't tell you. She just mentioned she was supposed to die there because of some vaccine - you didn't know for what. Sure, logically, you knew that shes talking about the fungus infection, but you never thought about it that much.

You've never asked her. Maybe it was some different decease? Maybe not? But you've never asked her about fungus and infected.

Anyway, while Joel and Ellie set on an evening hunt every day once you found a good spot, you and Dina made sure to check the spot for supplies, to secure the place, take care of the horses and to prepare the sleeping area. Against your wildest expectations, it was quite nice to have them around. You meant such close people whom you saw as members of your family. The old man and Ellie got along pretty well in the end - as far as it came to work and surviving, Joel and Ellie were an excellent team. While these two were the main characters of your group, you and Dina tended to stay put and to follow instructions these two gave you. Sure, you two were enough of a pain in the asses and characters as well, but there wasn't any need for you to express so far.

Nighttime patrols were sure a necessity - so you made pairs. Usually, you had the first patrol with Ellie to check on the surroundings, on which you played card games, and told each other dumb jokes, and Joel with Dina took your place shortly after midnight. So far, it didn't even seem like a revenge trip - it was more of a family-only secluded trip. But as soon as you saw the first cars on 99 leading in the direction of Seattle, you realized how close to the city you were.

What if the WLFs won't be there anymore? What if you'd come late? What if they will be there and you'll find them? How could you be sure that you'll find every person who was at the Baldwin mansion? How long will it take? And how high was the probability of all of you surviving? With a sigh, you tightened your arms around Joel's waist gently, leaning your cheek to his back as you watched the woods and wildlife around you.

"You good?" - Joel asked, quickly glancing at you over the shoulder. You picked your head up, looking at the highway in front of you.

"Yea, I'm fine. I'm just a bit tired, I guess. Hadn't slept much last night." - And it was true - you couldn't fall asleep properly because of the storm raging outside. Bolts of lightning were flashing behind the windows, thunders were shaking the ground and even if you were safe inside the sleeping bag, laying just a few meters from the fireplace, you couldn't fall asleep for shit. Dina, on the other hand, slept on the other side like a newborn baby with a small grin on her face.

"Some nightmares? Your leg? What's goin' on?" - Joel asked and you caught Joel's side tightly when Sadie jumped off of a small edge. While you had this serious conversation, Dina and Ellie were grinning and snickering as they rode at least ten meters in front of you. You grinned at Joel's caring mood, shaking your head after a small moment. - "Hey, you can tell me, you know that, rite?" - The man asked you after a moment of silence.

Sure, you could tell him that the proximity of the city is what is making you nervous, but all you'd get back is a question 'Are you sure that you wanna do this, baby girl?'. And with that, you didn't want to be bothered with. You could describe him the wild dreams you were having about Abby and the other WLFs and how much it was intensifying in the last few days as Seattle got closer. But Tommy was out there. Sure, Joel would agree to turn Sadie back to Jackson, but... His brother was in Washington city. Somewhere out there, alone and possibly dead or taken captive. Joel would go back for you, but you'd tear him apart if you'd make him choose between you and Tommy. At this moment, it was less complicated, because you wanted to find and save Tommy.

"Maybe I would sleep better if you'd come and cuddle me tonight, just a bit, huh?" - You grinned, running your tongue along your lips as you straightened, putting your chin on his shoulder as you watched the profile of his face while Joel kept his eyes on the road. But he let the rein go with one palm to smooth your thigh. And you'd be lying if you'd be telling that your sensitive spot didn't throb at that bit of human contact.

"That's exactly why we don't have patrols together, baby girl." - The man said and put his hand back on Sadie's rein, making her fasten up a bit. At that, you scoffed, mumbling a quiet 'funny'.

"Hey, let's turn to the woods here. Seems like a road and we'll see when it takes us, what do you say?" - Ellie cried in your direction suddenly. The man turned your horse to follow Shimmer and the girls. Both horses needed some rest as soon as possible - the road was long and tricky at times, plus they had to carry two people and their stuff on their back, so the poor animals were tired enough already. The whole group hoped that as soon as you'll ride into the town, there won't be such big need to use the horseback - and you'd be extremely lucky, you'd find some refuge to hide at, where you could make the animals rest a bit as well.

Yet instead of the city, everything you've been greeted with when you arrived in front of the entering Seattle, was a long wide wall with white graffiti on it, saying 'WLF - trespassers killed on sight'. Well, that was great. Joel stopped your horse next to Shimmer, looking at Ellie, who's eyes were already flying all over the place as she looked for a back door.

"Okay, okay. I see something. So, Joel, will you come with me? Y/N and Dina can search through the buildings here and take care of the horses while we figure it out." - The girl asked everyone. Dina opened up her mouth with a furrow, getting ready to oppose Ellie, so you spoke out before the girl. - "Great plan. You two take care of the passage, we'll look around." - You agreed with the girl, already jumping off Sadie's back. Slowly, you petted her neck and took the reins from Joel, watching the man getting down as well.

"You two be careful." - Dina sighed, smoothing Ellie's shoulder before taking Shimmer away as well. You did exactly what you told them you'll be doing. Neither of you could see the man or Ellie, but you still could hear them bickering, so you knew they're alright. Dina seemed to be the ideal person for you to confess about your fears. Joel would turn the house around in instant, Ellie would rant about the whole revenge thing. - "Spill the tea, honey. I know something's bothering you ever since you got up." - The girl asked you as she went through some unlocked wardrobes, taking a look at old work overalls.

"This will sound weird," - "Babe, you've already told me a shit ton of weird stuff and now, when I would be worried about you if you wouldn't be scared, ou think you're too weird?" - The girl answered as you went through some old WLF documents scattered around the tables.

"The closer to Abby we get, the more my heart wants to see Abby suffer, I can't sleep, all I think about is her. I want her to hurt the way I did. But my head... I think this is all a bad idea." - A whisper left you as you watched Ellie climb on the upper side of the gate, Joel being under her to catch her is shed be falling. They were still bickering and yelling stuff at one another, so you knew they're just fine.

"Do you want to kill all of them, or..." - Dina whispered, turning her face at you. But to your surprise, you shook your head almost immediately. You didn't want to kill anyone. Sure, your own goal was to find Abby, clip her wings, and to do her the same shit she has done to you, make her realize that you'll kill her if she comes for Joel... But you didn't want to kill her. What would be the purpose of that? You could make her realize that she should stay the fuck away from Jackson without having her blood on your hands. Unfortunately, Tommy was apparently on the other side of the spectrum. And Ellie was too. Yet Dina seemed to be getting uncomfortable with the topic. - "Y/N... Listen. I know you were a Firefly earlier and that they haven't sent you out, I know you killed only infected... But behind this gate, some bad people won't spare a single second with thinking about shooting at you. I don't want to be an asshole and even if your willingness to spare Abby's life is admirable, but if things go to shit... And they will go to shit... You will have to kill someone."

Dina slowly walked to you, licked her lips as her palms gently smoothed your shoulders. Honestly, killing someone wasn't the first thing that came to your mind when Ellie said We are going to Seattle. It made sense - Seattle was most likely inhabited by various groups and clans, cannibals, and hunters. All you could see was Owen, the woman, and her friends. Those were the people you wanted to see suffer, not killed, but suffering for sure. Yet the reality found its way to you rather quickly as the realization came suddenly.

Given how you reacted to the first kill, could you overcome the feeling of being sick of yourself? In the exact moment when you watched the arrow driving through the man's neck, you thought of yourself as of something else. Not someone, but something. You were disgusting, you weren't a human being if you could consciously kill another man, right? But Seattle was full of worse people than the group you've met near Jackson in summer.

"Listen, I know it's making you feel bad, but... Once you'll get into the adrenaline rush and when you realize that it's either you or them, you'll be fighting for your life as a true survivor. I am sure of it. They should be terrified of you." - The girl hugged you and closed her eyes for a moment, and after that, you left to search the other building. It didn't take you a long time before finding a piece of paper full of codes. - "Well, look at this beauty. You think it can help us?" - You asked Dina, showing her the paper - and just at the moment, you heard Ellie yelling something about code from the other side. As you yelled some numbers back at her, Joel and Dina got the horses ready, making sure you'll get them on the other side too. It was just a small moment when the gate got opened and you had run for it because the gate almost pinched you in.

"That was quite something. Everyone alright?" - Ellie asked, getting Dina a quick hug. It was weirdly terrifying watching you almost getting crushed by a gate. After checking on missing or hurt limbs, you continued your journey further into the city - and it didn't take too long before you stopped in front of another gate. Ellie got to the work immediately - you had the codes, you had a generator... Which didn't have fuel inside - the tank was emptied clean.

"Hey, guys?" - You asked and walked to a tear in the wall, leading into a big plain of green grass, collapsed buildings, and highways. Dina looked at a cupola in the distance, widening her eyes in realization. She pulled out a piece of paper, making you look at it. The paper was talking about some big operation WLFs got going on, about a name named Isaac and... Gas inside a courthouse and some dome. And the dome you were looking at at the moment. And... Then Dina pulled out a map you didn't even know she took somewhere in the process.

"What do you have here, girls?" - Joel asked and stepped next to you - Ellie was still thinking about the empty tank while you two were whispering something, trying to estimate the proximity of the things you were seeing to figure out on which street the dome was located on. And so far, you'd say you and Dina had some good estimations. - "I think we just found ourselves some gas..." - Dina snickered victoriously, waving the map in the air. - "But just from looking at the place, there's a lot of locations to scavage through, I would say." - You whispered, looking at the sights around you. There was a building which looked like... Some fancy one, a few stores, and a big truck in the water which caught your interest. - "We better split now to cover the area quicker."

Everyone gathered around you - and it was officially the first time since the trip started you got to plan something out. - "There's written we are searching for... Serevina Base, which should be... The hotel over there, right?" - You asked them, pointing the pen in its direction to ensure yourself. Ellie nodded quickly. - "But the generator is out, so we need to look for gas. Which should be in the Fedra thing just across the plain," - You pointed your hand in the direction. - "Or inside the dome there. Let's say that each group will take one of the spots and look around them. We'll let our horses out on plain sight in case one of us would get lost. If you do, search for the animal. When we'll be done, well gather around here and see what we'll have, and thing of a different plan. And if we wouldn't get back around dusk, the other group goes to look for them. Huh. Look at me planning." - You grinned at Dina, who just nodded. This was quite impressive - Ellie didn't understand half of what you've said, but Dina and Joel did.

"The game plan will be as follows - Ellie and I will look around the dome, you guys will go for the Fedra base and to the left side of the perimeter, 'kay? If anything goes bad or worse than that, leave the place be and run away. If everything goes well, we should meet halfway in the plain. I'll bring the map with me and we'll mark every usable place we can scavage later, okay?" - You asked everyone in the end, having the whole group nodding. Suddenly, you understood why Jesse was always giving you these speeches before you rode on a patrol. It felt good to hype the whole group up.

Just when you were getting Joel's stuff out of Sadie's saddleback, the man approached you. - "You should do this more often, girl. You're a natural." - He smiled gently, catching your palm in his to hold it for a small while. And you just stood next to him and moved your thumb on his. - "Be safe out there, 'kay?" - Joel asked you, leaning his forehead to yours, closing his eyes for a small moment. - "Make sure Dina won't get hurt and come back." - A whisper left your lips before you pecked his lips, giving him the revolver ammo you were searching for. After that, you hopped on Sadie's back, offering your hand to Ellie. As expected, she hopped on behind you and caught your waist, jolting around before she found the right spot to sit at.

"Is your ass settled, princess?" - A tease came out of you as you jumped to the grass, riding in the direction of the dome. The girl only chuckled, looking around after that.

"It's nice out here, I have to say." - Ellie admitted after a second of watching the wind playing with the grass. You could see a few hinds in the back with a big, strong deer and birds flying above your head. If something, Seattle looked spectacular in the sunlight, especially when the sky was almost cloudless.

"It's something different than Salt Lake and Jackson. Nice change of view." - You agreed, having Ellie humming at your response. Oh, shit, there you go - Ellie sure as her way about to ask some weird fucking questions and you didn't know if you're ready for any of them. - "He's too old for this shit, you know that?" - The girl sighed and leaned her chin into your shoulder.

Of course, you did realize that. Joel wasn't the youngest, that was the way things were. You didn't know what lays in front of you, what to expect of what's going to happen in Seattle. What if you'd have to run for your life? What if you'll have to walk steep hills on foot? Jumping from building to building? Jesus, you stopped your train of thoughts, what am I thinking about? Joel Miller had probably better physical conditions than you, except for some scars and sometimes jolting knees. You kinda forgot about how dangerous can he be since you've started seeing each other - but now, you hoped that all the stories Tommy and Ellie told you were true. He could suffocate a man with his forearm even in his early fifties and that was a thing you shouldn't forget at any time.

"I've never met any guy that would be at least half the tough as Joel is. I mean, maybe not even Tommy matches Joel's level and he had some wild stuff, I tell you that. I'll take care of the old-timer, I swear." - There was this unsettling quiet moment you and Ellie shared when you just trotted towards the building. The city was empty, almost wiped clean. Which was unsettling a bit. You'd expect way more cars in the downtown, maybe some signs of residency, anything... But it looked empty.

"I know... But it still weirds me the fuck out, dude. I won't be pretending I'm okay with this." - Ellie spoke out of the blue, making you freak out a bit. You were riding in the street leading between high glass-concrete buildings, so the only things you could hear were the wind howling and Sadie's stomping. Ellie straightened for a second, laughing at your reaction. - "Jesus, sorry for that."

"You think I'm okay with you and Dina? I mean, no offense, but I'm used to seeing her with Jesse. You two hit it off so suddenly, like, dude, I know you liked her for the longest time possible, but..." - "I see what you're talking about. I guess we'll just agree that were both a bit grossed out, but we're happy that the other one's happy, deal?" - Ellie asked when you turned right and rode in front of the tall dome - and to your surprise, it was a court.

"I think that makes the case rested." - You turned your head to Ellie with one of your eyebrows arched - but the girl didn't get the joke at all. So you threw your hand in the court's direction, having her gasp for air in realization. - "That was a poor one, babe." - Ellie snorted. Both of you jumped off Sadie's back, tying her rein to a nearby lamp to make sure she's visible if Dina and Joel were trying to find you. As a treat, you gave the animal an apple you've carried with you since Jackson and petted her nose before walking back to Ellie. - "And you fucking love the poor jokes I make, angel, so keep the whines to yourself." - "So you don't want to hear any of them?" - The redhaired girl teased you back and you laughed out loud, saying something similar to 'you're fucking gross'.

As you approached the building, you both started to get more and more serious. - "The place is probably filled with infected." - You said what you both had on your mind. Ellie spared you a quick look and tried to open up the door for you, but it was barricaded from the inside. - "Hey, ma'am, don't be scared. We're going to slay it, as we always do." - Your best friend chanted with a total dingus. After that, she slammed the door with her shoulder for the second time, massaging the shoulder afterward. - "We'll have to circle the building, see if there's any other way to get in. I mean, these fuckers got in, we can get in." - Ellie offered you a high-five and you did accept it.

You did find another entrance to the building, through an old window that could be opened up. At that moment, you weren't even nervous. It was a known fact that you and Ellie go on that patrols together because of various reasons - one being you couldn't shoot from a gun and a second one being Ellie clumsy with Clickers.

"See a few of 'em." - Ellie whispered to the vile silence. It wasn't exactly silence - it was inhuman silence filled with cries and clicking of the infected in the building. The good news were that you didn't hear low grunting of a Bloater or a Shambler, so this was a two-man job with which you could get over with pretty quick. - "You wanna do Clickers or Runners first? We have a plan B?" - She asked. You nodded, pointing at a plastic bomb in the pocket of you back. Slowly, you slid the knife out, listening to the sounds of clicking getting closer, and closer to you.

"There's our number one." - You grinned at Ellie and moved around the place. Safety first - Ellie loaded her gun and you did your best not to make too much sound. Clickers had a hearing three times better than a human, true, but it applied only if they were clicking in your direction - and as soon as you were hidden behind something, they knew shit - which resulted in the bitch laying on the ground in the next moment as you felt its blood soaking through your pants. You stopped for a second and watched a crying runner standing just feet from you. As soon as Ellie made sure it didn't see you, she jumped on its back and pushed her dagger into its throat.

Slowly, you maneuvred through the rooms, searching for supplies in the process, killing every infected on sight. True trouble started when you found yourself in the entering hall which had around four infected there. Ellie made sure that her gun is loaded and palmed a brick while you kneeled, slowly taking a bomb and a lighter out of your pocket. For a moment, you watched each other before Ellie threw the brick onto a nearby wall, distracting the infected with inspecting the sound. When you lit up the fuse, you counted to four and threw the bomb in there as well, turning away from the massacre.

When you looked on the spot after the great boom, the walls were burned and painted with blood and parts of the bodies. - "Yuck." - You grunted, looking at Ellie who was waiting if there won't be another infected in the area. But it was looking clear. - "Your bombs never stop to make mesmerized. She offered you another high-five and you accepted.

You, my friend, were looking disgusting. You've come from the patrols in a worse state, sure, but you always grinned when you saw blood on your jeans. How comes that someone like Joel or Tommy rarely got dirty? The must've been using some fucking magic. Your best friend didn't care about her appearance at all, she was looking around. - "Can't see any gas here, but the elevator shaft looks promising." - Ellie sighed and smoothed her cheek with the back of her hand, accidentally rubbing blood all over her damn face. At that, you let a sighed and motioned for her to go first.

"Looks alright down here, come... Oh, fuck!" - The girl cried out and you could hear first gunshots. Seriously, you had never got anywhere as quickly as at that moment. Without waiting around, you took the knife out, getting a runner off of Ellie. When that was over, you got out your gun which you rarely used, loaded it, and tried to hit at least something around you. It was a miracle you both got out of it alive, but the adrenaline rush made you look around with fear. You were still triggering the gun to fire, but the magazine was already empty. Which made Ellie giggle as she leaned her palms to her thighs while watching you.

"Good job, we're clear." - Ellie grinned, making you finally pull the trigger down. You kneeled as well, taking in a deep breath as you started to laugh too. This was a close call and the adrenaline inside your veins hit its all-time top, so as your brain relaxed, you were laughing like crazy. - "I thought you didn't know how to use a damn gun." - Ellie wondered and helped you on your feet.

"I never said I could use it either." - You bickered back, looking around. It was an old garage under the court, the whole place was dark and hard to orientate in, so you both lit up your flashes.

"This was fucking badass, babe. You'll be better than all of us one day... And... Look at this beauty." - The girl put her palms on her hips, smiling at the sight of a gas tank. There was a small red barrel for it too, which was just perfect.

"Go on, give it a whirl. I would prefer to leave this fucking place." - A sight left you as you put the gun back into the holder, making sure it's secured there. With a childish grin, Ellie picked up the small barrel and put it under the pipe, turned the lever, and... - "It's fucking empty." - She sighed, cursing under her breath. Well, that was a bummer.

"Let's hope that Joel and Dina find some. Come on, we can at least scavage a few stores on the way back." - You smiled at the girl, patting her shoulder. As you said, so you did. And you were quite okay with what you've found - enough stuff to make some more bombs, Molotoves, two cards which Ellie was collecting, ammo and some food. Those were good finds.

A few hours later, you met up with Joel and Dina again to share the finds and the intel. To your luck, Dina managed to find some gas in something called a synagogue while the old man securing the perimeter - and they also found a nearby used fireplace possibly used by Tommy. And they found some food and stuff as well. With the fuel, the generator was running in no time and you continued your journey to the Serevina base. You were moving forward slowly and with hesitations, having your eyes opened all the time in search of the WLFs. But the place was just full of supplies, dead bodies, and infected. And as you progressed thought the building, you only found more of these. Until you bumped into that room.

When Dina saw it, she covered her mouth and ran into the corridor to vomit, you stood there in shock, Ellie widened her eyes - just Joel kept his cool as he walked around the crime scene. There were two dead people, both tied up, one of them laid on the ground in gallons of blood, and the other one was tied to a chair on wheels. Whoever did this to them, he had to have a strong stomach and a strong hatred in him.

"Shit." - Dina muffled when she walked back into the room, cleaning her lips and mouth up with the back of her palm. - "The fuck happened here?" - She asked the same question you had on your mind. Ellie and Joel exchanged knowing looks before splitting to look at both the bodies.

"Tommy did this." - The redhead muttered and touched the face of the wheelchair man. Dina shook her head, walking closer to the body to look at it as well. - "This? No way." - The girl insisted. The man was crouching above the other body, watching it with his dark eyes. Ellie took in a small breath. Both the girls spared you a look as you walked forward. You did the same thing as Ellie - your thumb and index finger circled around the swollen jaw covered in old blood as you looked at the contours of his face, taking in every small detail your eyes were able to recognize. After a moment, you let his face go, looking away from everyone. A scoff you let out made Joel turn at you. He knew damn well this was his baby brother's handwork.

"It was definitely him." - You nodded to yourself, putting a hand in front of your lips. - "This is one of the ones that were in Baldwin when it happened." - You nodded, looking back at the people around you.

"And this one, kiddo?" - A raspy question made you aware that Joel is standing just a foot away from you, pointing at the body laid down in the blood. Slowly, you walked to the man, even crouching to take in his face. But soon, you just shook your head. -  "I don't recognize him. What the fuck was Tommy doing here?" - You asked the man. But Ellie was the first one to speak.

"He was using them against each other." - "How?" - Dina asked and looked at the bodies once more. With that, Ellie looked at the man who was now smoothing your back, ready to explain every small detail to you and her girlfriend. She pointed her palm at the body which was laid down. - "Joel told me about this. You ask this guy a question, but you don't make him say it, you make him write it down. Then you ask the other guy. And if the facts match, they're telling the truth. And if not..." - "You fuck 'em up." - Dina finished and Ellie hummed quietly.

Joel knew this method? This gruesome, brutal method? Was he using it on someone? As the man felt your shoulders tense up, he looked at the emotionless expression in your face and he stepped aside immediately, letting him have your own space. Jesus, how much you didn't know about him? Sure, he was a smuggler and he fucked up a few people here and there, what you've heard from Ellie's stories - but until that point, you thought he done it for the sake of her well-being. Guess what. You were wrong.

There was this strange, vile persona inside of Joel the whole time he was by your side - and even though you knew that, it took you by a surprise. How much he had done? How much pain did he cause? What other methods of brutal torturing did Joel know? And the worst thing you realized was that once you'll leave Seattle - you be the same as him. Your stomach was slowly turning upside down.

"This just happened, guys. He can't be far off. Come on." - Dina tried to cheer everyone up, yet it was met with a wall of blank stares. She nodded, again, and everyone got out of the room. You were completely lost in your thoughts as the others were doing the job - Joel's palm in front of your face woke you up from the trance and you hopped behind him. And he knew something's off when you didn't catch his waist.

"Girls, wait for us back there, alrite?" - Joel called out. With that, both of them nodded. Ellie and Dina were shaken as well, but you were looking lifeless, confused, and disgusted. The man breathed out and lowered his head, waiting for you to say something. A word. A cuss. Anything.

"You ain't good, don't tell me you are." - The man warned you just when you were about to ask him why you're not riding forward. - "It's disgusting and I know that, 'kay? But... I swear you don't have to be afraid of me." - Joel whispered, but truth be told, he was too afraid to look at you. At that remark, you scoffed ironically.

"Is this what you call 'I was struggling with surviving for a long time'? Listen, I knew you killed people before, I knew you stole shit from them, smuggled things for the Fireflies and survived a lot of stuff... But... Joel..." - You hopped off the horse again, walking around to somehow gather the shit together before speaking. Your lungs were begging for breath as it got shallow. Ellie watched you with worries in her face, but Dina made the girl turn away. - "It must've been hard for you. And I get it. But this shit? You were doing this... This fuckery to other people?" - You pointed back to Serevina. The man took in a deep breath. He was nervous as fuck - you could tell because his eyes were lingering all around except your face as his fingers played with Sadie's rein. When he was about to say your name to calm you down, you widened your eyes to stop him.

"No. You answer this question. Did you do things like that to other people?" - You asked again, still pointing to the hotel. Slowly, the man gulped and nodded. An unbelievable laugh left your throat. - "Did you do worse than this?" - And again, the man had nodded. Joel started to move his tongue inside his mouth uncomfortably, which made you aware of what he was going through inside. - "And did you ever, at least once, planned on telling me what you've done to others?" - With that, only the hollowing of the wind could be heard. After a moment, the answer was clear. Joel didn't even think of telling you.

Honestly, why should he? He told you he had done some terrible things in the past and you told him you'll not leave his side nonetheless. You told him you didn't care about that. But obviously, as soon as you saw first hints of Joel's true persona, you were starting to back off. Should Joel be wondering why? No. Not at all. It was understandable. But it was still hurting him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Joel. This is some heavy stuff I should've at least had a hint about, don't you think?" - You asked, running your tongue on your lips.

"I told you what I am. You didn't listen to it if you ask me, girl." - Joel got off the horse too to remind you who was the man of the situation. He was also trying to make you back off with his hight and his eyes... These were as dark as an iron-colored sky.

"Am I the one who fucked up people to shreds? Who beaten them until they lost consciousness? Do I look like someone who killed another human person for the sake of business? Huh?" - You answered. Just when the man inhaled loudly, Dina jumped between you, pushing herself in between.

"I know... That this is a private matter of trust... But... Can you leave it for once we find some refuge? You can argue all you want there. Let's just... Go now." - She asked both of you. It took you a moment to calm down enough to hop on Sadie behind Joel, but you didn't catch his waist nonetheless. As you were thinking about what just happened, a loud bang sounded through the street.

You barely knew what was happening - in the pressure, you caught Joel's waist as he lost control over the horse. You couldn't hear anything and you screamed as Sadie ran into a shop window, breaking it apart. The horse was dead in the next minute, throwing you both on the ground under it. It was hard to realize what happened as you felt the warm blood under you as you fainted.

The road just blew up.

#the last of us #the last of us part two #the last of us imagine #the last of us part 2 #tommy miller #tommy the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller imagine #dina something something #dina the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams the last of us #ellie and joel #ellie x dina #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #oh fuck #oh well #and here we go

[edgeofmyniall]

six: no judgement

storypage | playlist | taglist | thoughts

“When you're with me, no judgement. We can get that from everyone else, and we don't have to prove nothing. When you're with me, no judgement”

There were only a few times in Ginger’s life that she felt like the spotlight was on her, and the one that comes to mind at this moment was the first article she read about her and Niall. They were coming home from a music festival outside of Los Angeles, and they stopped at Langer’s to grab a bite to eat. The group was hot and sticky with sweat and the paparazzi happened to snap a picture of Ginger hugging Niall after they had left the eatery. She was hungover and if she was honest, still high off the subtle touches that Niall had lingered at the dip of her back and where she had slept in the same bed as Niall when Stella woke up early to go out for a jog. Ginger insisted on sleeping on the couch since she was the only single person there, but Stella all but forced her to sleep in the bed. Niall woke up sleepily and smiled as he heard Ginger’s soft moans from her getting decent sleep and the way her red curls sprawled across the pillow. In the middle of nowhere, he was home.

Mystery fox pictured cozying up with Niall Horan. Friend or more? The article title had always been in the back of Ginger’s head, but the rumors were debunked when Niall was seen snogging Stella at a Fleetwood Mac concert a week later. She was old news as per usual. 

But here in her room where Stella looks at her accusingly was the most intense spotlight moment.

“You…” Stella tries to blink the betrayal away, but it’s still there in Ginger’s phone- the hard evidence staring her in her face. “were a part of this?” Her question already had an answer, Stella knew that, but her own cousin? “How could you?” Ginger looks at her cousin like a deer caught in headlights. 

“I...tried…” Ginger tried coming up with an excuse, an explanation, anything to make this right. “I told him no,” Ginger’s heart sinks knowing the heavyweight of the lie she executed would carry. “We’re just friends, I swear.” Stella’s brow furrows more and she begins to nervously scratch her scalp right above her ear.

“Yeah, okay. Sure. And friends send pictures of themselves in their underwear? Whadda load of bullshit,” Stella’s southern accent fills the room- the one thing from home she hides until she’s angry. “Get out.”

“Stell…” Ginger takes a step towards her cousin, but in disgust, Stella leans away from her best friend. “I-”

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Stella has a tight grip on Ginger’s phone, and Ginger feels her world crashing around her. The downward spiral she was on came to crashing halt and she was wreaking havoc everywhere she went. Ginger, with tear-filled eyes, turns around and walks down the stairs letting her guilt and regret consume her. Her tears sting her face and she knows it’s her punishment for doing something so stupid, so careless- so selfish. Grabbing her keys, she quietly closes the door and it’s when she climbs in her car, she lets out the sob she was holding in. Her nose became stopped up and her head was hurting as she let the entirety of her sorrow come down her pale skin. She couldn’t stay here knowing that Stella didn’t want to be anywhere near her. She didn’t put up a fight because why fight something you know you’re guilty of. 

The car ride was silent as she sniffled away her tears. She turned into the gated community and nods at the security guard as he scans her code that’s pasted on the side of her driver’s back window. “Tough night?” Ginger’s huffs at the man’s question before she speeds through the small subdivision. The house she was racing to sat in the back and she was there only a few days ago. The white iron gate was closed and as far as she could tell, the house was abandoned- the lights were out and it’s eerily dark for his house to be. She pressed her birthday into the keypad and the gate began to roll away. It was when she was parking in the driveway that the kitchen light came on; she knew he had seen her car through the security cameras. The side door opened and Niall stood in the doorway confused as to why Ginger was there.

“She kicked me out,” Ginger half yelled as she made her way up the walkway. She stopped on the bottom step before looking up at him. All of the courage she had built up on the ride over here vanished when he looked at her. 

“I know,” he said cold and as-a-matter-of-factly. “She cussed me out because of it. Wanted me to know I could burn in hell,” Ginger held her breath and she felt herself wanting to cry again. She had hurt him, she knows that, but for Niall to turn her away too, Ginger would be devastated. Ginger feels the ping of guilt run its course through her body and she lowers her head against the counter. She wanted to be as far away from Niall and Stella so what in the fresh hell was she doing here? “So…”

“Listen,” Ginger sighs before picking her head up, “I know I’m the last person you want to see. I couldn’t even give you an answer, but I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to,” Ginger sniffles and wipes the remaining mascara off her face. There was a moment of intense silence before Niall nodded his head back and moved out of the doorway, “C’mon. Getin here.”

When Ginger stands in the kitchen, leaning on the granite kitchen island, Niall brought her a bottle of vodka and pushed it towards her. “You’re not drinkin’?” Ginger hiccups from the sob fest she gave herself and then pushed the circular tip to her lips and let the stinging liquid burn the back of her throat. The hot alcohol settled in her stomach and she began to warm up. 

“Nah, did enough of that already.” His hands were firmly on the counter as he watched Ginger press the back of her hand to her closed mouth and shake the bad taste out of her mouth. His eyes were rimmed with red and his hair was tousled out of frustration- he looked as if the few minutes he was alone, he had been drinking or crying. Maybe both. Ginger noticed a half-empty glass of iced bourbon and the brown liquor bottle sitting on the counter opened. “Why didn’t ya call?” 

“She…” Ginger lifted the bottle again only to put it down. She needed a clear head. “Stella still has my phone. She’s probably smashed it and burned it by now.” Niall nods his head. “Oh God, what if she runs a story about you to the press? Jesus, Niall, I didn’t...fuck. I’ve ruined your entire career.” 

Niall cups the back of his neck and rubs his tanned skin and laughs slightly. “She won’t. Or she’ll be out of a job. She isn’t that big of a bitch.” Niall looks at Ginger sheepishly and begins to tap his thumbs against the counter mindlessly.  A low hum follows and Ginger follows the rhythmic voice into another dissociative state. She’s concentrating on the condensation water drop that’s forming on the rim of Niall’ glass finally allowing all the questions she should have asked herself in the beginning to jumble through her mind. What had she done? How could she fix it? Why Niall? And why in the hell Stella? Why did she feel anything more than brotherly love for Niall? Why was she so important to him? Because everything Stella is, she isn’t. What would her family think? Her mother say? 

Niall’s phone vibrated and both guilty parties looked at the screen and up at each other when they saw the caller id. Ginger clenched her body and stopped mid-swallow to hang on to each word that Niall was about to say. Ginger held up a finger to her lips, begging Niall not to mention her being here. He nodded and slid his finger across the screen and put the call on speaker.

“Yes?” Niall’s voice was smooth, velvety smooth- almost too smooth for the situation going on. Stella could get suspicious. He leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his head on his fist.

“Where is she?” Stella’s sharp voice cuts Ginger at her core. It was the hurt that Ginger had caused that was blowing up in her face, and she knew it was a defense mechanism that Stella perfected. 

“Who?” Niall was playing a little too cool for Ginger’s liking but she dared not to move or breathe too hard afraid she would blow her cover. 

“You know the fuck who. Where is she?” Stella huffed and Ginger imagined Stella still sitting in her cousin’s bed going through her phone. 

“I don’t know. She hasn’t called me,” Niall’s voice was turning to worry. He was playing the part well.

“Well, she fucking can’t because I have her phone. But she would have gone to you. She has no one else.” “Stella, she’s got people. We just don’t know-”

“Her co-worker? I’ll call her, but if you see her.. I don’t care if she lives or dies at this point. She is the most disgusting volatile person I have ever met and she-” Niall picks the phone up and takes the speaker off. Niall closes his eyes as if he’s disappointed in himself. Was it that he didn’t get the phone to his ear in time or that he continues to allow the erratic behavior to continue? Ginger stands frozen. She’s hurt and feels like crying, but the security guard got the last of her tears. She’s becoming numb to the low blows and hissing words that are spat in her face. Niall catches a quick glimpse of Ginger standing in his kitchen completely emotionless staring at a knob on one of his drawers. “Stella, you really-” Ginger could hear the yelling and the indecent slanders. She knew they would come, but for them to come at her and Niall, she wasn’t prepared no matter how much she thought the entire situation through. It was the silence that made Ginger look up at Niall.

“When did you hang up?” Ginger’s face feels hot and one look at him makes her breathing hard. She feels her chest start to cave in and she knows the tears are coming, but she doesn’t know how to stop them. She feels like she’s drowning in her own ocean of tears and there’s no life preserver or a rescue boat in sight. She’s treading the waters, but the rough waves of other people’s anger and disappointment come down on her pushing her into the water, and she’s swallowing down the salty words that sting her nose and lungs when she could be breathing in the fresh air. 

It was a fluid-like movement when Ginger hit the ground. She felt her knees buckle, but she knew that they never touched the tile floor. She felt the cold air sweep under her as Niall wrapped his arm under her knees and lifted her off her feet. His arm crooked around her back and hse rolled into his chest, hoping that maybe this was a safe place to be. The beating of Niall’s heart was melodic to Ginger. If her world was crashing and burning, this is where she would want to die. Niall carries Ginger to his bedroom- to the one room of his house that brought them together that night. His knee makes a dip into the well-made bed and Ginger rolls out of the embrace as Niall hovers over her. He pushes her hair out of her face, shushing her sobs and kisses her gently on the forehead. It was when Niall left the room that Ginger felt the magnificence of her heartbreak. Her best friend, her sister, her cousin. How could she have done such a thing? How could she have been so gullible into acting in such a heinous way? Her family ties are severed and her mother would be so disappointed. 

“Hey,” Niall’s voice soothes the sobbing. He sits something down on the nightstand and climbs into bed with Ginger. He scoots his warm body over to hers and wraps his arms around her body, pulling her in. The melodic heartbeat eases Ginger and she feels like she has a fighting chance. Niall begins to hum and the rhythm is something of memory to her. Something she heard in her childhood. Something her dad would sing to her. Ginger loses her fight against her crying. “It’s alright. I’m here,” Niall coos. “It’s just me, petal.”

Ginger feels the last tear roll across her under eye and down her nose. She sniffles as Niall kisses the top of her head. Ginger’s head is resting on the inner muscle of Niall’s bicep and it feels as if the way they mold together- the way they fit in one another’s arms was as if they were made for each other. 

“I love you,” Ginger says, her voice shaky and uncertain of the things to come. “More than I ever could have imagined.” It was Niall that was there for her when she needed it. It was Niall that was there to protect her, to pick her up when she felt down, to make her laugh, cry, to make her see things as what they truly were, to make her realize that life is more than pinning for someone who treated you horribly. It was Niall that made Ginger want to believe that love like the movies and books exist, and in their own twisted way, they were living out the greatest love story ever written because Niall was there when no one else was. Ginger’s sudden realization brought on the fact that she had a lot to catch up too. Niall had already fallen hard and fast for Ginger, and she barely held the baton in the race. She was terrified for what was to come, but she knew that the falling would be the biggest jump of her life. 

“Tomorrow, we’re getting out of here,” Niall said, his voice sultry, but Ginger wasn’t paying attention to his words, it was the smile she felt when she said those three words again. 

If it had to be that Ginger would face an entire ocean of judgment and scrutiny because of her decisions, she would be willing to do it with Niall.

Because for her, nothing else mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@oyesmendes​ @klairelavarias @thicksniall​ @dontgiveupthedayjob​ kare38 @verorax​ @stayclose-holdsteady​ @halfpinthoran​

#niall au #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fic #niall horan au #1dff #friends to lovers #1d fanfiction

[castillo-adrian]

A Rainy Day in Paris | Part 1.

Note: Timeline isn’t linear, make sure to take a note of the dates. ♥

December 23rd.  Morning

“We’ve waited six years for this,” the excited snarl was followed by the sound of the fist colliding with Adrian’s cheekbones. “Personally? Me, I’m all for delayed gratification.”

He felt the taste of iron and salt in his mouth. The man in a collared shirt and khakis who delivered the blow was Philippe, and behind him stood three others: Cédric, Agnès and Samir. All of them former GIGN operatives, all of them currently employed by the St. Clair Organization as enforcers and assassins.

Once upon a time, they’d fought literal wars together. Not the mob kind – the real kind.

Now, they were going to kill him.

December 22nd. Late afternoon.

“A friend of mine will be waiting for you in Porto. You can trust him. He’ll drive you to doctor’s appointments and check up on you until Sophia flies out there, too.”

His mother was inconsolable, refusing to leave London, refusing to face the reality of the situation – in order for her daughter to be saved, his son had to give up his life. Perhaps it was merciful that Sophie’s choice wasn’t hers to make – there was no version of the reality where Adrian let his sister suffer for his decisions.

“Mom, I promise, I’ll bring her back.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Mother Castillo sat in the corner, hands clasped around a rosary, praying to the Mother to save both of her children. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face that had still retained its beauty though all the hardships and years she’s been through.

Adrian tossed a few things in his overnight bag, but he knew the only thing he’d make use of would be his passport. He wouldn’t be needing the rest for much longer. “It’s time to go to the airport, mom. We don’t have much time. My plane has to be in Paris at 8.”

He spent the entirety of the car ride giving her last-minute instructions, making sure she’d have everything she needed after he was gone. A part of him wished he had time to say a few goodbyes, but he didn’t want to ruin anyone’s upcoming Christmas, and time wasn’t on his side.

Except Johnathan, whom he filled in with a quick phone call. The man had offered help, but there was nothing to be done. The instructions were clear – Adrian had to go alone, or else his sister would suffer.

"Alright ma, the plane’s leaving soon.” He hugged his mother as they stood in the middle of the Heathrow Airport. Pain stabbed at his heart to be the reason of those tears on her face, for making her say goodbye. Perhaps he should’ve left without saying anything that put her through this agony. What was more cruel? Who could tell.

“Here,” she put the Notre Dame medallion over his neck. “She’ll protect you, son.”

Adrian kissed her on the forehead as his eyes traveled to the information board at the nearest gate that read “PARIS (CDG), boarding”.

December 19th. Evening.

When his sister, Sophia first mentioned her upcoming trip to Paris, Adrian begged her to reconsider. Knowing how badly his former friends wanted him dead, especially after the events of last year, there was no doubt the loyalists would be on a lookout if he or his loved ones ever laid a foot in Paris.

He’d tried to explain it to Sophia, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Do you know just how much I’ve sacrificed, Adrian? Ever since your former friends found out you’re alive, I haven’t been able to go home. Not even once. I had a life there. Friends.”

“I know. I know. But it’s too risky, Sophia. You don’t know what they’re capable –”

“No, you don’t know how important this invitation is. You have no idea how many scientists would kill to be part of this research, how much hard work I’ve poured into getting to where I am. I won’t let your murderer friends get in the way of my career –” Sophia’s voice rose with every next word.

“Your brother is the reason you have a career,” their mother, who had listened in silence up until now interrupted. “You would’ve never been able to afford your 12-year-long education if he hadn’t supported us, and you know it.”

“I’ve never asked for his blood money and I wish for once, for once,  you’d pick my side over his,” Sophia threw the dish cloth on the table and stormed out of the room, frustrated. A minute or a few of angrily packing her suitcase, she barged in back again. “I refuse to pause my life because you’re the most hated man in France.”

“For god’s sake, Sophia. Being a leading scientist at NodThera and living in London is hardly pausing your career...” Adrian groaned, his patience started to thin.

“It’s not about that, Adrian. The research they’re doing at Sorbonne, it’s groundbreaking, I could only get a chance like this once. Why am I even explaining this to you,” she checked her passport and put on the coat, her right foot already in the hallway. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a few months.” The door behind her closed with a thud.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she would be fine. Maybe no one would notice a Castillo had arrived in Paris, or if they did, they wouldn’t do anything about it because that wasn’t the Castillo they had been after.

December 22nd, Early morning.

The second Adrian heard his phone ring, he knew something was terribly wrong, and the unknown number with a France country code made his worst nightmares turn into a reality.

Person on the other end of the call was Cédric. They had his sister, and if he didn’t come to Paris by the end of the day, alone, the only research she’d be good for would be her own autopsy.

There would be no outrunning this one. He had to face his fate, and accept the inevitable.

December 22nd, Evening.

Nostalgia itself had a utopian dimension, one that wasn’t directed toward the future nor the past, but rather sideways. Adrian hadn’t sat in a foot in Paris in six years, hadn’t seen the streets he used to call home, a city he had loved. The country he dedicated his life to serve had become a forbidden Eden he was no longer allowed to enter.

Adrian had been cast out for his sins, and the prodigal son’s return was not welcome. Still, if he had to die today, at least he’d be dying in one place he loved above all – Paris.

The address he’d gotten was somewhere near Gare du Nord, 30-minute-drive from the Charles De Gaulle airport, but he’d asked the driver to take the longer route and go through the 9th arrondissement. One last look...

As the car sped through familiar streets, leaving the familiar landmarks in the rearview mirror one by one, Paris felt strangely foreign, with foreign sounds, with foreign people and no hiding place. A sad realisation hit him all of a sudden – he’d always love Paris, but they’d grown from lovers into strangers.

The destination soon appeared, centuries-old railway station rearing its head menacingly in the distace. He could hear the faint sounds of Vive le Vent coming from somewhere, muddy streets littered with Christmas decorations. Looked like there would be no white Christmas in Paris this year, just rain. Lots, and lots of rain. The streets around the Paris-North were as busy as he left them, people running around with a dash of holiday spirit sparkled on everything. Life would go on, and Adrian was nothing but a disappearing shadow in the city of lights.

He entered a derelict building north the station as instructed. He clocked Sophia right away. Chained to a chair, sweat and tears dripping down her face, scared and terrified. His fault.

“I’m here. Alone. Now let her go,” Adrian addressed the group, hoping Sophia wouldn’t have to be there a minute longer. He raised his hands and took off the jacket. “No guns, no back-up.” They may have been criminals and murderers, but they were military operatives once, too. They still had some moral code, and as expected once they saw Adrian, they cut her loose.

Sophia ran to her brother’s arms. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he hugged her, probably for the last time, “You’ll be okay. Mom’s on her way to Porto, you should fly there right away.”

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” her voice was shaking, she could barely make her words sound audible, “I’ll call the cops, I’ll-I’ll get the help, I –”

“Just go, Sophia. Tell mom I’m sorry,” he let her go and watched as she neared the door reluctantly, but knowing there was nothing to be done.

His eyes were still fixed on his sister when suddenly lights went out and a blunt object hit his head with full force, knocking him out.

December 23rd. Early Morning.

“Wake up, putain,” the icy water and Cédric’s voice jolted him back to consciousness with equal intensity.

“You’re fucking dead, Castillo,” Philippe put a knife to his throat, he could practically smell whiskey on his breath, “like you should’ve been a long time ago.”

“I guess I just want some answers,” Agnes shrugged. Her curiosity couldn’t have been mistaken for remorse. She was just as angry and resentful as the rest of them. They haven’t been close friends the way Adrian and Laure were, but they had served together, at GIGN and at the French Organization. That had to mean something. Loyalty meant something.

Adrian remained silent.

What was he supposed to say? The truth was far too complicated, and there were simply too many factors at play to give them a short, clear answer. Not that it would’ve made any difference. They’d branded him a traitor and there was no undoing that, no changing their minds, no mercy, no truce.

Not when they had another war to fight, but this time on the opposite sides.

#okay decided to split in two parts #2nd part coming tomorrow #para #plotupdate