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averykedavra · 3 years

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“don’t overthink it” stfu and watch me: an analysis

this card, in the beginning of the episode, sets the tone for this episode. and it makes sense! such an unofficial video, which was very last-minute, doesn’t necessarily need a ton of context. “wherever it would hypothetically make sense” is the place of this episode in the timeline.

thomas told us that, so if we take that at face value, this could possibly take place at any time in the timeline. he also told us not to overthink this. but uh. shut your fuck.

now, of course, this episode couldn’t possibly take place before the crofters episode. and since logan is shown still eating his jam, most people have reasonably assumed that this episode is chronologically right after crofters the musical. it may have been months in real life, but the tss timeline is separate, so it’s reasonable that this could be a post-crofters video.

and what would that mean? crofters the musical was released in april of 2018. deceit had been revealed two episodes prior, but lntao and the svs debacle was far yet to come. at first, this matches the video. it’s just the core four being friends! and they seem to get along a bit better than they would after pof.

but. “whenever it would make sense for this to happen,” as thomas said. does immediately post-crofters the musical really make sense? the more i looked, the more i found that it could be more complicated than that. in fact, i found some evidence that didn’t match up at all.

it’s likely that this all anecdotal evidence that doesn’t matter, and that i’m overanalyzing this and incorrect, but fuck it. it’s not that deep, but i can convince myself it is. here’s why i think this episode wasn’t that early on in the timeline, and my theory on what really happened.

my first hint was the whiteboard. patton doodles on the whiteboard while logan is talking, and it’s adorable, and i made a post listing all the things he draws. lots of puppies, hearts, and cute little smiley faces. and janus, peeking out from the side and saying “boo.”

which does make sense, technically? deceit did exist by crofters the musical. and he’s shown in a very sneaky, negative way, at least to some extent. he’s definitely not holding hands with the others. so that seems to line up. but then:

in one corner is remus, labeled “smelly.”

and that doesn’t add up. because remus hadn’t been introduced yet. remus was not canonically part of tss at this point. so how did patton know about him?

obvious answer is obvious, of course, and it’s that patton could easily know about remus before dwit. all the sides recognize him when he shows up for the first time.

logan: ah. it’s the duke.

of course, it does the beg the question why patton would include two dark sides but not the third, if there is a third, but that’s a realm of pure speculation. things still kinda seem to add up.

but they’re off just enough for me to dig deeper. why would patton, who barely knows janus canonically and long before dwit, include them on the board?

and then i saw this:

that’s a video game controller, drawn in green.

and again. could be a coincidence. but to me, it felt like a nod to the events of pof, with the video game theme and the green marker, a la his frog transformation. add that to remus and janus’ presence on the board? it’s beginning to look a bit more possible that patton knows more than he’s supposed to.

“whenever it would make sense for this to happen.” but it’s making less and less sense for this to happen when i thought it did.

could this video reasonably be after pof? it seems ridiculous, because the sides get along way better than they should after pof. shouldn’t roman and patton be feuding? shouldn’t virgil and patton be more snappish?

except this video, despite the lack of arguing, is extremely confrontational in other ways. they end up yelling by the end! all four of them! and their ideas, while not outright hostile, are still in contrast. more so than it appears at first.

virgil jokingly includes roman in his ad, while roman chooses logan, and logan chooses patton, and patton chooses virgil. virgil isn’t hostile to roman, besides calling him a nerd, and roman genuinely seems interested in talking to logan. but virgil is extremely on edge with patton, especially at the “kid” comparison, and bristles during the whole scene.

and that lines up with their current dynamic! virgil and patton are currently super tense, which started in embarrassing phases after virgil became uncomfortable with patton babying him. patton stopped calling him kiddo after that. embarrassing phases is after crofters the musical.

return of the jam? no use of the word kiddo, and tension when patton treats virgil like his son.

and! and yes, roman and patton don’t argue, but they don’t talk, either. roman doesn’t put patton in his ad. he chooses logan instead. virgil--who is on good terms with roman after pof--talks with roman, and logan works with patton but barely acknowledges him, acting like he wants to impress patton. these dynamics fit easily into the post-pof situation, or at least, a reasonable imagined consequence.

and.

roman: how does it feel to want?

a joke, maybe, a throwaway line. but it makes me think.

janus: everything has a purpose. and you're denying yours. you want that callback so bad, and it will crush you if we miss it.

selfishness versus selflessness.

thomas: i want to go to the callback... and now i want to lie to my friends, so they don't hate me for not supporting them. i’m a liar.

selfishness versus selflessness again.

thomas: i don’t know when i’m going to know what i want again.

flirting with social anxiety.

roman: i so, so badly want this. i’m desperate for it.

flirting with social anxiety.

roman: you wanted to go to that callback more than you wanted to support your friends. the blame falls to me. if you are missing that do-gooder drive, i think it's because i'm in the driver's seat. and i'm an awful driver.

putting others first.

and, uh, i’m pretty sure i see a common thread. roman mentioning “wanting” like that? roman being so focused, in the jam episode, on “giving the people what they want?” roman consumed by this narrative of give and take? roman in a car?

okay, the last one’s a stretch, but my point still stands! this fits into roman’s characterization! this episode could have been after putting others first!

and then that begs the question: where’s janus? if him and patton are friends in-timeline, why isn’t he here? well, i made a post awhile back about the sunflowers and quote in patton’s house, which i chose to believe meant it was janus’ house.

and yeah, it’s a ridiculous theory, but also? if this is post-pof, it would actually make sense for patton to be in janus’ room. or to subconsciously put reminders of janus around him. the ads are about what they want, right? what they’re comfortable with? if patton and janus are friends now, or at least on better terms, it makes sense that patton would include a hint or two of janus in his ideal scenario.

oh, and there’s one more drawing on the whiteboard i want to point out. as patton is rushing to scribble down logan’s words, more doodles are added to the whiteboard. including this:

of course, it’s hard to tell, but to me that looks like a face with swirling eyes. drawn in yellow. and maybe it’s just representing patton’s overwhelmed feelings--but maybe it references something else entirely.

my first thought? it reminds me of hypnosis or mind control. and if it’s referring to janus controlling patton, why would patton draw that? except: this is the imagination. maybe patton doesn’t control everything. maybe roman does.

roman, who after the events of pof, could reasonably believe that janus manipulated or controlled patton.

and the yellow eyes aren’t the only hint at janus! an interesting thing throughout the whole video? everyone’s extremely blunt. i can’t name a single time someone blatantly lied in the whole video. and yes, it’s super short and fluffy, but that’s still notable! the closest thing to a lie? logan’s line near the end.

patton: we have to say the thing!

thomas: oh! yes, we do! Logan?

logan: i don’t even know what you’re talking--crofters. the only jelly i will put in my belly.

cute moment, right? but logan starts to lie, then cuts himself off before he finishes the lie. like he doesn’t want someone to hear, or he isn’t allowed to lie. throughout the whole video, no one ever completes a lie.

“but,” i hear you cry, “isn’t the whole thing technically a lie? since they’re creating false realities?” well, yes, and also no. to use the series’ definition, acting is not lying, because everyone involved knows that it is a false story. this episode mirrored the am i original episode, in which creating scenarios fell under the realm of “brainstorming.”

which, again, was canonically roman’s idea. and roman’s power to do.

roman: i ask you this, thomas: allow me the chance to really prove myself! grant me full creative control!

thomas: you're my creativity. you have all the creative control.

virgil: no, he’s talking about full-on daydream mode.

the crofters episode is extremely similar to daydream mode. @limitededitionsanderssidesblog even pointed out that roman is the only side who has no animated transition between his ad and the others, showing that he is in more control of the imagination than the others are.

except logan begins the daydream sequence, not roman.

roman even acts upset about this later on, when he takes control of the brainstorm to try his own advertisement. “i’ll show you how it’s done,” he tells virgil, “like i was meant to from the start.” why was he meant to create an advertisement from the start? and then, why didn’t he? why didn’t roman start the imagination sequence?

or maybe he did, and we just didn’t realize.

every conversation the sides have with thomas is, in actuality, imaginary. thomas is sitting on his couch with his eyes closed, like janus pointed out. so there’s a certain level of suspension of disbelief that every episode starts out with. they conjure stuff, create scenarios, interject in the shape of text boxes--you just have to get used to it.

but there are these small details, if you look closely and discount the imagination factor, that don’t add up.

logan starts out the episode eating a jar of crofters jam. (disgustingly, i might add. my man cannot eat jam correctly.) he eats almost the whole thing, then shows up in the next frame with another jar of jam, uneaten.

as logan talks, patton scribbles on the board and tries to write things down. the whiteboard, like i said earlier, gains a few doodles as he continues. we don’t see him pause to doodle at all. we barely see most of the colored markers that he’s used. and he starts with a doodle-covered whiteboard, despite the ad only just starting, but seems to write everything by hand.

nobody is driving roman’s car. it backs up when roman wants it to, and accelerates when he wants it to, but he isn’t the driver.

virgil is relaxed, but he has deep, deep eyeshadow.

logan is excited when there will be more logansberry, but he just finished eating some, and he can summon more. it’s reasonable for him to be excited, but the chronology falls apart if this is close to crofters the musical.

everyone knows what everyone else did in their ad. thomas is aware of everything, but is able to call crofters and negotiate with them while not paying attention. all the sides change the scene at will. in am i original, they all participated at once, and only roman could change it back.

thomas calls crofters in like three minutes and confirms the offer. he doesn’t show up in the imaginary ads. he doesn’t try to stop them from arguing. it almost feels like he doesn’t exist at all.

and on their own, each of these can be easily explained. together, well, they probably can still be explained. but. these little inconsistencies fueled my growing theory.

this episode takes place “whenever it would make sense for it to happen.” it’s after crofters the musical, except it might not be. it’s an am-i-original-style brainstorm, except it doesn’t work the same. all the sides are friends, except they aren’t.

“whenever it would make sense for it to happen”? well, what if it didn’t happen at all?

there are so many little inconsistencies in the timeline. there are so many odd background details. there are so many questions, because if we don’t take this fluffy unimportant video at face value, it becomes harder and harder to understand it. it’s a short ad for jam. and in-universe, it makes no sense.

except it’s an exploration of imagination. it’s roman’s world. and roman, the brainstormer, the creative side, can make anything look like it really happened.

patton: you try to come up with a perfect commercial when you’ve got an extreme teen to deal with.

virgil: pat, none of that was real.

what if roman made the scenario up from the start? what if roman never had to start or end the imaginary segments because all of it was imaginary? because he was in control the whole time?

this episode makes the most sense after pof. roman may have placed swirly eyes on patton’s whiteboard. roman wanted his own jam. roman wanted a comforting, happy scenario, where all his friends got along and liked him. roman has control over the imagination.

but why would roman drag the other sides into it? they aren’t all fake, since they interact without roman there--right?

characterization is a tricky, tricky thing. and to me, none of the sides acted extremely out of character. but patton disagrees vocally with logan, logan is dorky and excited, and virgil is so confident that he reminds me of roman in points. none of those are ooc necessarily. but they’re interesting.

and this entire episode is wish fulfillment for roman, in a way. it’s all about putting up appearances. it’s about doing what the people want and making them like you. it’s about an almost too perfect video where everything ends up fine even when things slip out of control in the middle.

don’t you think that would be roman’s perfect refuge? his own jam, his own ad, and even when the sides irritate him, it all comes back to him in the end. no consequences. just roman, on his own.

because fuck it. what if roman imagined the whole fucking thing?

“whenever it would hypothetically make sense for what’s about to happen, to happen.” the episode itself comes with a justification. it isn’t really canon compliant. it doesn’t fit with the timeline. but it has echoes, echoes of the world and the universe it’s trying to forget about.

roman gets so frustrated when the other sides mess things up. he was meant to take control from the start, he says. the episode ends suddenly. the episode is short and sweet and, in a way, too good to be true.

it’s not hard to imagine roman retreating to a fake scenario after pof. going full brainstorm mode with imitations of his friends and giving himself everything he’s wanted. and i think it’s sweet and sad that he didn’t just give himself a jam. he gave all of them a jam. he made a world where all his friends were happy.

a world where all his friends were happy with him.

and i know this is basically the plot of all i want is serenity. but shut your fuck. i make canon and canon is mine for the taking.

it’s a wild theory. it’s probably not true. but given all the strange contradictions and deeper implications of this episode, it’s at least a theory i can back up with evidence. i can convince myself of it, and that’s good enough for me.

the return of the jam doesn’t take place in canon, in or out of the tss universe. it’s a fluffy side adventure in roman’s head, where he keeps everyone from lying and tones down the fighting and makes up a video where he gets what he wants. roman doesn’t need to start or end each scene. he’s directing the whole fucking play.

and where does he end up at the end of the episode? unconscious on the floor, smiling to himself, saying that he’s got his own jam.

it’s almost an identical position to dwit, when remus knocked him out. and based on roman’s sleep-talking, we know while he was unconscious, he dreamed. he can make things up in his own head. he can indulge in a fantasy or two. he can create detailed, personal brainstorms that nonetheless fall flat in important, logical ways.

i’m not saying that roman did make this whole episode as a comfort after pof. i’m not saying that he did imagine a scenario where he finally got his own jam. i’m not saying that he did imagine his friends happy, joking, and supportive. and i’m not saying that he did fail to fully imagine that, because he lost control, because he couldn’t convince himself.

i’m not saying any of that.

but i’m saying it’s a pretty fun possibility.

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miss-smutty · 3 years

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Forbidden - Chapter 2

Summary- Jess couldn't stop thinking about the guy she'd met in the coffee shop, he was drop dead gorgeous, mature and everything she's always wanted but how would she find him again when she didn't even know his name?

Word count- 3.1K

Pairing- Prof!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, slight smut talk

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 13th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

Chapter 1

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again.

If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates?

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

"Morning, you feeling any better?" Ellie was awake before me as usual, she spent hours getting ready in the morning and was now sat at her desk finishing her make up.

"I suppose, can't beat myself up forever can I?" I was more the get up and go kind of girl, I could never understand why she'd take hours getting ready just to go to class but I suppose you never know who you're going to bump into.

"No you can not. Not when there's literally thousands of guys here to take your pick of."

"Psh!" I finally pull myself out of bed after thinking about the thought of possibly bumping into my hunk again I changed my mind about making myself a little more presentable.

"What d'ya mean psh?" Ellie turns to look at you, her mascara wand in her hand and only one eye made up, she looked ridiculous. How could you take her seriously looking like that?

"I mean I'm not interested in these childish boys anymore El, I want a man."

"Fuck me, you spoke to the guy for two minutes and already you're acting like you've lost the love of your life." Wow, that hurt a little.

"I didn't say I was talking about him although it would be nice. I just meant I'm sick of playing all these childish games and never knowing where I stand. Don't you get sick of being the one who always falls deeper? Getting messed about and then being the one who's left hurt?" I joined her at the desk, putting on a little mascara and eyeliner. "I want a man who knows what he wants and treats me better. Don't you?"

"Well shit, when you put it like that I can't argue with you. It would be nice, hey I wonder if Mr Aussie has a brother?" She waggles her eyebrows at me, making me laugh. "I gotta go babe, what class you got?"

"My first Comms class this morning." I did not sound excited at the prospect because I really wasn't. I'd put it off in freshman and sophomore years but thought I better get it over and done with before my senior year.

"Oh really? I didn't know you'd taken that class. I heard a load of seniors talking the other day and apparently the Professor is drop dead gorgeous. I was thinking about taking it up too just to see what all the fuss was about."

"Well that should make the class a lot more interesting, maybe it isn't going to be as bad as I thought."

"See, every cloud and all that. See you tonight, fancy the bar?" She shouts over her shoulder as she walks towards the door.

"Sounds good, see you later."

I looked over my outfit I'd already chosen for the day, just some jeans and a plain t-shirt and realised it wouldn't do. Not when there's the prospect of a hot Professor to impress. My wardrobe desperately needed an update, especially now I was focused on finding myself a man and not one of these easily pleased college boys, that were happy with anything as long as I showed a bit of leg and tits. I settled with some tight black jeans with a black, lace-rimmed, cami body suit and a cute little cream, cropped blazer to finish it off. It made me feel confident when I checked myself out in the mirror and if I do say so myself I looked smoking hot. I checked the time on my phone, realising I was going to be late I quickly ran the curling tongs through the ends of my long blonde hair before grabbing my bag and rushing out of the door.

In the hopes of catching the eye of this new professor I'd completely forgotten about the hottie from the coffee shop, which was probably a good thing, it's not like I'm ever going to see him again. I kind of wished I would though, especially when I was looking and feeling this great but hey, on to bigger and better prospects.

I thought that being late would mean I'd be stuck with a lame choice of desk in class but luckily the back row was practically empty and I could hide in the corner of the lecture theatre. I laughed to myself when I realised that practically all the girls were occupying the front desks, obviously they'd heard the rumours too.

I pushed my hair behind my ears and fumbled in my bag for my pen and notepad, when I glanced to the door and caught the eyes of a student I hadn't seen before. I couldn't deny how attractive he was, with his bright blue eyes and floppy hair, oh and that smile. Wow! He smiled brightly at me as he made his way to the back of the class, his eyes glinting, shining like diamonds as he ignored the whispers from the girls at the front. The whole row of desks were free so when he chose the desk right next to me, my stomach fluttered.

I kept my eyes on my notepad, doodling on the front cover so as to avoid that eye contact with him again. I could see a cheeky glint in his eyes and I'd learnt from experience what that meant, trouble. I wasn't ready to get myself back into a situation like that again.

My eyes shot to the front as I heard the room erupt into wolf whistles, the girls at the front giggling and whispering to each other, I rolled my eyes at them, how embarrassing.

Then I realised what all the fuss was about and my heart almost stopped beating, thudding against my chest at an alarming rate. How is this even possible? How the fuck could he be a professor? Surely he's not old enough. Oh fuck.

I sank lower in my chair, willing the ground to just swallow me up or maybe if I got low enough I would escape his notice. No such luck, his eyes scanned the class and when they fell on mine, his face lit up with anger? No not anger. A hunger. His eyes scanned my body, falling over my hair and down to my cleavage. I felt hot under his gaze, was I blushing? Sweating? Oh god, I've never wished for class to be over so much in my life.

My professor was the guy I'd been shamelessly flirting with in the coffee shop. I don't understand how this could be real, I know I wanted to bump into him again but this is such a cruel twist of fate. I'd never even suspected him to be a professor, he was so damn thick and muscly. The clothes he wore were so stylish and he looked way too young to be a professor. He must be so embarrassed that he'd been flirting with a student, I definitely was embarrassed that I'd been flirting with a professor.

I was so panicked, I didn't have a clue what to do in this situation. Squirming in my seat, trying to look anywhere but at the Professor but I could feel his eyes on me as he prepared for the class to start. People were still whispering amongst themselves and I risked a glance in his direction, that made me bite on to my lip to stop myself from screeching. His eyes were still on me, subtly glancing up from the pile of paper he'd just taken out of his bag, his eyebrows furrowed as he studied me. He certainly didn't look embarrassed infact he looked downright feral and the thought of it made my pussy clench, so much so I had to cross my legs under the table.

"I guess you're obsessed with this new Professor too, huh?" The guy next to me leant across his desk to whisper and fuck me if I wasn't imagining it but he was Australian too. Like have we just suddenly had a huge delivery of hot Australian guys arrive at the University? This was just downright unfair, how was I meant to cope?

"No, what makes you say that?" Why did I ask that question? Like it wasn't obvious how much I was sweating and squirming in my seat. Luckily he didn't have time to answer when my eyes were drawn back to the professor as he stood at the front of the class with his hands casually in his pockets and cleared his throat to get our attention.

If I wasn't mistaken, now he looked angry, the muscles in his neck more prominent as he glared between me and the guy next to me.

Was he angry that my attention had been taken away from him and was on another guy? Or because we were talking when we should've been paying attention?

"Now I've got your attention, we're going to use our first session to get to know each other a little better. You'll be doing quite a lot of speeches so it's best if you feel comfortable with one another. I'll start by introducing myself." That sexy accent makes me sweat even more, nevermind the fact that his eyes keep finding their way back to me. "So, I'm Professor Hemsworth and I'm originally from Melbourne in Australia." His eyes meet mine again, a knowing look in them.

"G'day mate." Some idiot from the back shouted, making everyone laugh and I couldn't help but join in a little. Professor Hemsworth smiled at the joke, his eyes creasing in the corners and his smile growing wider when he looked to me and saw me giggling.

"Yeah, very original. Alright, alight, settle down now." His voice is so commanding and authoritive, it's such a turn on. "So, I haven't been here for very long and I'm still getting used to how different things are here. The weather for one." He earned a couple of laughs from people. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, he was so mesmerizing. The way his face animated as he spoke, his eyebrows raising and lips curling.

"I was going to ask you all to go easy on me but that's not going to happen is it?" He got a couple of head shakes and sympathetic looks from the girls. "No, I thought not. Well now it's my turn to torture you. I'll start alphabetically, stand up and tell everyone something about yourself." I swallowed back my fear, this is the reason I'd put off this class until now and as if it wasn't hard enough talking in front of a whole class I now had to do it in front of Professor Hemsworth too.

"Claire Abbott." Fuck. He'd started, at least my name would be one of the last ones.

"Hi I'm Claire." The tall blonde at the front stood up, twirling her hair around her finger and giggling like a child. I rolled my eyes at her and caught the Professor smirk in my direction. "I erm… I don't know what to say?" She looks up at the Professor questioningly.

"Just anything about yourself that we might find interesting, the first thing that comes to mind." He replied.

"Well I own four horses and I'm the cheer captain." I rolled my eyes again, scoffing quietly and Professor Hemsworth had to hold in a laugh as he looked in my direction.

"Talk about predictable." The guy next to me leaned over to whisper to me again.

"Totally." I laughed back at him and when I looked back at the Professor he was glaring straight at us again, his face set sternly.

"You two at the back, we'll wait for you shall we?" Professor Hemsworth said sternly, everyone turned around to look at us but I barely noticed, I was too focused on the way his stern voice made my cunt flutter when he called me out.

I didn't speak for the rest of the class, although I had the urge to, just to hear the way his voice sounded when he was angry. I couldn't concentrate on what the other students were saying, too focused on watching the way the Professor's face changed everytime he looked my way, which was pretty often, to my suprise.

"Jake Hudson." In my peripheral, I saw the guy next to me stand and when he did, Professor Hemsworth's eyes narrowed.

"Hi I'm Jake." He pushed his hands in to his pockets cooly, glancing at me as he did. "I'm also from Australia." He looked at the professor slyly, a smirk forming on his lips, laughing at the other students shouting G'day mate. "I was forced to move here but I'm glad I did because I've just met the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." The class burst into rounds of whistles and cheers as Jake sat down, smiling at me cockily. I could feel my cheeks blushing, I was flattered, he was absolutely gorgeous but hadn't I sworn of boys my own age?

Professor Hemsworth looked even more angry now as he loosened his tie a little, that black tie that draws my view down, like a arrow pointing straight to his cock. I tried to keep my eyes down on my desk, doodling in my notebook so I could avoid that hungry gaze, anxiously waiting for my turn. What the hell was I going to say?

"Jessica Watson." Shit. I stood slowly, trying to give myself more time to think, I couldn't stand everyone's eyes being on me especially the Professors and Jakes.

"Hey, I'm Jessica." I smiled nervously, tucking my hair behind my ear. "These last couple of days have been pretty eventful for me." I looked away from the chalk board so I could search Professor Hemsworth's face. "I'm living the life of a romance novels heroine and I'm excited to see what the next couple of days bring." I sat down keeping the gaze of the professor, I'd forgotten I was in a room full of people until I heard the ooh's and ahh's and my cheeks turned scarlet. The Professor's eyes glowed with heat as he watched me sit down before shaking his head and turning back to the class. Jake also caught my eye as I sat back at my desk, my cheeks still burning, he smiled at me, the kind of smile that crinkles your eyes. I felt kind of bad that he probably thought I was talking about him when in fact I was talking about our professor.

"I hope we all feel a bit more comfortable with each other now, some of you shared some pretty revealing things." He looked at me again. "Some of you, not so much." He raised his eyebrows at a group of guys. "I'll have a schedule for you all next time I see you, anybody that has any questions can see me after class, everyone else is free to leave." His eyes scanned me as he turned around to sit at his desk, I watched a couple of girls approach him predictably.

"Are you going to the party at our frat this weekend?" I had to reluctantly pull my eyes away from the Professor while Jake spoke, so he was a Alpha Kappa, not surprising really.

"Yeah, I think so. My roommate mentioned it."

"Oh good, I'll see you there then. Jessica." He smiled, standing from his seat.

"Jess." I corrected him. I hated being called Jessica, it was so formal.

"Well Jess, I'll see you around." He winked at me as he pulled his backpack on to his shoulder.

There were still a couple of girls taking up the Professor's attention and I wasn't sure yet whether I wanted to sneak past or wait to speak to him. I thought about it for a minute my fingertips drumming against my desk when the girls left and he was alone. As soon as the door closed, his gaze was on me and I could hear the silence in the room like a ringing in my ears. We stayed like that for a couple of seconds, staring at each other, no one saying a word until her cleared his throat. I blinked a couple of times, realising how stupid I must look before getting up from my seat and packing my things away.

"Did you need to talk Miss Watson?" I could hear amusement in his voice as he sat back on his desk casually, his arms folded across his chest.

"I erm…" I walked towards him, my legs feeling like jelly all of sudden and trying not to fall down the stairs. "I wanted to apologise, I had no idea you were a Professor." I said as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I didn't know what to do with myself but I was nervous about getting closer to him. He made the atmosphere feel tense, like if I was to reach out and touch him I would burn my fingers so I stood awkwardly at the bottom of the steps.

"There's no need to apologise Miss Watson, I also had no idea you were a student but I was hoping to bump into you again. Funny how things work out isn't it?" He cocked his eyebrow at me, still looking amused as he watched me squirm. When he said he'd been hoping to bump into me again it made me feel more confident, like I wasn't imagining the way he'd been looking at me for the last hour.

"I think fate can be rather cruel Professor Hemsworth." I smiled at him as I finally closed the distance between us, watching his eyes flare with hunger when I called him Professor.

"Oh really? Why is that Miss Watson?" His eyes narrowed, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as I got close enough to touch him, I didn't though. I didn't dare break that boundary, not yet.

I smiled at him through my lashes, biting on to my lip. "I was hoping to bump into you again too, only now the thought of what could've happened will have to remain a fantasy." Wow! I was not expecting that, did I sound like a slut? Shit. I looked back up at him and caught him gulp, that hunger in his eyes shining, his pupils blown with lust, he loosened his tie even more and I caught a glimpse of his smooth chest and chickened out. The tension was way too much and I was about to do something I was going to regret, I could live with being a huge tease instead.

"I better get to my next class, we can't have anyone thinking I'm your favourite now can we?" I smiled to myself when I noticed the muscles in his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. Turning to leave I looked back over my shoulder and his eyes were glued to my hips, watching them sway as I walked and I realised I had him exactly where I wanted him but was it worth the risk?

#smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #chris hemsworth x oc #chris Hemsworth x ofc #chris Hemsworth series #thor series #thor smut #thor x you #chris Hemsworth #chris hemsworth fic #chris hems x you #chris hems x oc

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cant-think-of-anything · 3 years

Text

Artist AU

Kamala sighed when her phone went off once more. Pulling her arm free of Eugenia, she reached over to silence it before the notification caught her eye.

“Who is it?” Eugenia asked.

“Alastair posted on TikTok. He usually never does. It isn’t even privated.”

Tapping her screen, she watched as her friend complain for a solid sixty seconds about the homophobia of not having a boyfriend to inflict his endless doodling on. Snorting, she tossed her phone to Eugenia.

“Shameless.” Her partner muttered before forwarding it to her brother.

“Alastair’s going to murder you for that,” Kamala laughed, tipping her head onto Eugenia’s fluffy hair.

“Let him try.” A hand snaked up to play with one of the stars dangling from her ear.

“He couldn’t do it from Paris anyway. You’ll likely receive a very passive aggressive text and lose his trust for maybe a day or two.”

“Paris?”

“He went there for some piece study or another- why do you have that look in your eye?”

Eugenia made a grab for her phone again, her face glimmering excitedly. “Where in Paris?”

“Near the Louvre, Eugenia-”

“Right right, but Thomas is in Paris. And if Alastair is as desperate as he was in that TikTok...”

“Oh dear. Should we really be doing this darling?”

Shaking her head Eugenia began typing out a message. Kamala wanted to be mad, she really did but sometimes it seemed like an impossible task. And who was she to deny her partner such joy? Crossing her legs she sent a message of her own.

K: Hey, do you remember that bookstore you were telling me about?

A: yes

K: Well, could you buy something for me? I need to give my professor a gift.

A: you’re paying me back.

“Well he’s a delightful person to text,” Eugenia said, resting her head on Kamala’s shoulder to read their messages. Kamala spied the address she had sent to her brother.

“Well they’re headed to the same place. We’ve basically ambushed them.”

“Lovely isn’t it? I’ll make sure to warn Tom, god knows he can’t go into this unprepared.”

~~~

Thomas loved his sister. He really did, but forcing him to leave his hotel room in the middle of the night and make an excursion to a vague bookstore for a random gift seemed very random, even for them.

Sighing he knelt next to the bookshelf sifting through the dusty papers before he heard the distant chime of the door, admitting a new customer. Glancing at his watch he frowned. The store was quite obscure; and it was an odd hour of the night. Before he could he could glance at the door, his phone went off.

“Eugenia- were there really no presents in your general vicinity?”

His sister’s laugh sounded through the device. “Not the present I want you to find.”

“What does that even-”

The customer- the only other customer in the store was standing in his aisle.

“Oh.”

“Did you find him? He’s the guy-”

“From the video- yes, yes I know.” He whispered furiously into the mic.

Thomas was unlikely to ever forget that video. He had replayed it quite a few times but he certainly hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t looked at the username so the man really was a mystery but the face was unmistakable. It was mostly obscured by waves of dark hair, long enough to tuck back but it hung loose now. For being so deep into the night the other man was dressed quite well, the faint glint of his earrings visible in the low light of the store.

“Hello?”

Nearly dropping the phone, Thomas snapped his eyes away, praying both that the man hadn’t noticed and that the flush on his face wasn’t visible.

“I’m going to murder you.”

“That’s the spirit! Don’t screw this up!” The line went flat.

A hand tapped on his arm, nearly making Thomas jump.

“Oh- sorry.” The man was standing directly in front of him now. An unplaceable accent coated his words. His face was decidedly even more breathtaking in person, sharp angles and dark eyes. Thomas stared at the light fixture before it became too evident that he was staring.

“I just needed the-” The man gestured somewhat awkwardly to the shelf between them. “My friend sent me to buy something…”

Thomas nodded wanely. “Eugenia?”

He glanced up sharply at that. “No, not Eugenia. Their girlfriend- you know Eugenia?”

“Unfortunately,” Thomas said, still averting his eyes. “I don’t think she needs you to buy anything.”

Understanding dawned on his face. “I see.”

“Right” Thomas began in a rush “We can just pretend this didn’t happen Mr…”

He shook his head. “Alastair.” Before he could be interrupted he added. “Thomas. I see now. Well if the girls worked so hard to get us here I see no reason to dismiss that effort.”

“Wait what?”

“She sent you the TikTok didn’t she? This is why all my videos are private.”

“Shame they are.” Thomas said before he could stop himself.

Alastair’s eyebrows flicked up. “Well if you saw the TikTok I assume you remember what I wanted.” He gestured, boldly tilting his face up.

Feeling his face heat up, Thomas held out his arm, silently reminding himself to not be as harsh when berating his sister for setting him up in such a fashion later. Long fingers wrapped around his forearm, considering before he felt the cold brush of a marker start to trace lines across his skin.

“I suppose not everything Eugenia plans ends in complete disaster.” Alastair said, tracing the beginnings of a rose.

“Just usually,” he responded, eliciting a laugh from the shorter man. “Would you like to meet up tomorrow? I don’t quite know my way around yet.”

Alastair's smile seemed to almost illuminate the store when he responded “I would love to.”

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno @luceliaxx @eugeniaslongsword @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

#tw murder mention #alastair carstairs #kamala joshi #eugenia lightwood #thomas lightwood #joshwood #thomastair #tlh

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writingsfromhome · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing II

A/N: I’m just about finished the whole series and I’m excited for you to read this! <3 Sorry for the late upload, I started a new semester and had zero time to write but I worked on this all weekend. I’m curious to know if your opinions on Harry change after this part, the next part’s going to be packed but this is an in-between. Thanks as always for reading <333

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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

I lay awake in bed, staring at the blank ceiling before my phone’s constant buzzing forces me up. A couple voicemails, and a single text from Harry: GM, call me if you need anything.

I stare at it longer than I should, the audacity to think we were fine enough to text me so casually. But there was some small solace in knowing he took the extra step to let me know. Ugh; my head injury was more serious than the medic diagnosed. I throw my phone on the bed and head downstairs where I’m surprised to see him gone. It was only 8am and I needed a coffee, otherwise I would not make it through the day. When I see the pot of coffee half full, I stop in my tracks. Harry made coffee before he left. I touch the pot and it’s still warm, he couldn’t have left that long ago.

I open the dishwasher that I’d loaded last night only to find it empty. I stand straight, hand on my hips--had he unloaded the dishes too? How did I not wake up to the noise? How did he even know where everything went?!

Maybe he wasn’t such a dense detective after all, the thought makes me smile. I look around the room and notice he’d tidied up from last night, and folded everything away on the couch he slept on. I take my coffee to the couch and without thinking, hug the pillow to my face and inhale. The strong scent of his aftershave sends a sharp and painful jolt to my memories. What the hell was I doing?

I drop the pillow and settle on my kitchen table, responding to some emails while I make a game plan for the day, shaking off the claustrophobic feeling I got thinking about going back to work. I finish the last of the coffee and start moving, shower, dress appropriately, pack my laptop...I just had to keep busy so I wouldn’t have time to think about it.

***

“We’re here for you, whatever you need,” the regional manager lets me know during the meeting. I’d learned post-trauma policies the bank had. I was sorry to know them, I really just wanted to put the whole thing behind me. I tell her that. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. We do require you to go to at least one counseling session, your employees have got to go to a group meet with a licensed therapist so you can all discuss this and get over the awful event.”

“I see,” I chew my lower lip. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about the way I jumped at every little thing and stared down each and every stranger on the tube on my way in today. I felt crazy. Maybe I did need a shrink. “I’ll include that in the memo I guess. Thanks again for all the support and the resources-”

“That’s my job, our job.” She motions to the man sitting beside her who hadn’t actually said much the whole time. We talk for a little while longer, and by the time they leave I’m exhausted. But I make the trek to the hospital to visit Cole like I told him I would.

***

The weekend flies by: I take the train to visit my dad up north and let him take care of me like I was a kid again. It was nice to unwind, I thought, I should visit my dad more often.

But come Monday, I’m back in my pantsuit ready to get on with my life. I try not to think about Thursday too hard but it’s difficult when first thing that morning, a therapist shows up for a group session. Most of my employees look anxious to be here, but I watch their shoulders relax as they discuss what happened. Watching everyone bond brings a lightness to the heaviness that sat in my chest: it was good.

“Ms. Y/L/N? When can we schedule a one-on-one?” The therapist stops me at the end of the session.

“I think this session helped a lot,” I put on a big smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

She smiles politely, as if she expected this, “It’s a requirement for back-to-work. I have time right now if you’d like, I’m not seeing another employee until lunch.”

“Um,” I look to where everyone mingles, comforting each other and breaking off into groups. If I had to talk about it in order to work, and work is the only thing to help me get my mind off of it...I guess I had no choice. “Let’s do it now.”

But an hour later and I’ve mostly just talked her ear off about Harry showing up, how awful my luck was that he would be the lead detective on the case, how much damage he’d done to me. How he appeared on one of the worst days of my life again.

“It’s almost a sign,” I ramble. “Like...what are the odds?!”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” She asks, looking like she knew the answer.

“No,” I scoff. “I hate him. He broke my trust!” And my heart.

“Those are feelings,” she says wisely.

“Well sure, yeah, I have negative feelings towards him. Why wouldn’t I?”

She pauses, a very pregnant pause. “It’s been almost 4 years right? Usually, those feelings start to...dissolve into a more neutral ground when you...receive closure. You take time to grieve, to sit in the wound in your heart, but then you pick yourself up and try to heal. It seems like you’ve just told yourself you were healed and got on.”

“I am healed,” I insist.

“Just like you started this sessions by letting me know you were over the trauma that happened to you a few days ago?” She asks. I avoid her gaze. “When I asked about Thursday, you said you were ‘over it’ and you just wanted to focus on work but you’re not giving yourself closure. Likewise, with Harry. You haven’t found closure even after all these years.”

I stare at her, she’d sliced right into a vulnerable part of me--I’d led her there, I realise. It was something I knew all along, I just didn’t want to point at it alone.

“You’re right...I feel like I never got closure.” I confess. “How? I just want to know h-how he could’ve left me for another woman after all those years together--as lovers and as friends? He was there when mum...he was there through hell. And then he put me through hell.”

“I’d like to believe Harry showing up on a...hellish day is a sign like you say. But maybe a sign you need closure. Talk to him, ask him what you need to know in order to close that chapter of your life.”

I exhale, the idea of it making me feel claustrophobic. She wanted me to open myself up to him again and invite him to hurt my feelings? I try to ask her more but she looks at her watch. We’d gone over.

I thank her and walk out with a weight on my back that feels bigger than the one I went in with. I thought therapy was supposed to make me feel lighter.

***

I’m hiding behind my desk as the footsteps get closer and closer to the door. I clutch the knife in my hand and-

“Y/N!”

I jump up out of sleep, and open my eyes to my office. I stare at the table in front of me where the papers I used as a pillow are rumpled.

“Y/N? You have a call on-”

“Adam,” I look at my assistant. He’d been really quiet today and I was worried about him but there was so much to catch up on I hadn’t had the chance to talk to him. “Sorry I...haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry Y/N...the detective’s on the line he insisted he talk-”

I roll my eyes and answer the phone, motioning for Adam I’d be okay. He hesitates at the door before closing it tightly behind him.

“Y/N?” Harry’s breathless voice answers irritably on the other line.

“Harry? Why are you calling me at work?” I ask, still sleepy from the nap. Is this about the case?”

“No it’s about your things at the station, it was processed--we couldn’t find anything useful so we’re returning this batch. And I think some of it belongs to your staff? Did you want to pick it up or should I drop it off to yo-”

“I’ll pick it up,” I wanted to make it clear that Harry in my space wasn’t going to be a normal thing. “I’ll head out in a bit, can I just collect it at reception?”

“They’ll buzz you through to me, I’ve gotta go-”

“Just leave it with reception...” I say to dead air. He’d already hung up. Damn.

***

“I’m here for some things, it was taken for evidence?” I say to the woman at reception.

“You’ll have to be more specific love,” she raises an eyebrow. “A lot happens here.”

“The bank rob-”

“Ah, Harry’s case. I’ll buzz you through-”

“No I thought maybe I could collect it here uh-” I look for a nameplate. “Serena, listen, I’m in a rush so is there any way for you to get it-”

The phone ringing cuts me off. She holds up her finger and I stand tapping my foot. She rolls her eyes at whoever was on the other line, motions that they were chatty and points to the glass doors. I sigh, I guess I was seeing Harry. I think about my therapist and cringe, I couldn’t.

When I walk in, I scan the room for Harry but I don’t spot him anywhere. I walk awkwardly until someone asks if they could help but they point to his desk and tell me I could wait there.

“I’m actually here to pick up some evidence, couldn’t you just give it to me?”

“He’s the lead officer, he’s got to sign off--”

“Fine,” I hated the bloody bureaucracy around here. I go to where he points and sit in Harry’s chair, ignoring the looks from people around me. I toy with the pen and doodle on an empty paper. Y/N was here I write and smile, it was juvenile.

“Y/N! Sorry! Nobody told me you were here.” Harry shows up a few minutes later. He opens the bottom drawer and takes out a nondescript cardboard box. If I knew if was down there I would’ve left a long time ago. “Just need you to sign this.”

“Okay,” I sign where he points and reach for the box. “I’ll grab that, thank you.”

“Can I walk you out?” He fiddles with his phone.

“Will you take no for an answer?”

“Nope,” he’s all teeth when he smiles. I sigh and walk in front of him. It’s weirdly silent but I notice he was typing on his phone when I look over.

“Well...g’night then.” I say at the door but he pushes it open and walks out with me.

He finally puts his phone away and asks. “Are you alright? Have you gone back to work?”

“Yeah,” I chew at my bottom lip, nervous. “We’re really sticking together, trying to get through it.”

“That’s good. That’s how it should be.” He waits a beat. “We’ve been trying to catch the robbers, they hit up another bank so it’s hell inside. That’s why I was so busy.”

“Another?” My heart plummets, and my palms feel slick.

“Yeah but we’re working as fast as we can. So...uh, did you need anything from me before you go?”

“I...” I think about the therapist’s words and chew my lower lip. I try to work up the courage. Fuck it, I realise. I had nothing to lose. “I do...actually.”

“Oh,” he looks surprised. “Good, what’s that?”

“I want to talk, about us. I...I need like, closure Harry. I think I deserve an explanation about...” I trail off as I notice him staring at me blankly. “What?”

His blank expression settles into confusion. “What’s more to explain Y/N. I’ve told you everything, I-I dunno. I thought one day we could get together like old friends, but it’s obvious you’re still upset with everything and I don’t know what more I can say? I said everything in that letter but if-”

“The letter?” I ask sharply, cutting off his chatter.

“Yeah, the one I wrote you after we...after you moved out?” When I don’t react he continues: “I dropped it off at your sister’s the week after you cleaned out your things? You didn’t...read it?” He looks hurt, if that was possible all these years later.

“I...did. Obviously I just...had some questions.” My heart races; what letter? He wrote me a letter?

“So what do you want to ask?” He looks at me curiously, concern etched in his brows. “I would like to talk actually-”

“Now’s not a good time,” I cut him off again. I had to know about this letter first. I can’t believe I walked into this blind. “I’ve actually had a long day, this is--we can do this another time, okay? Thanks for...walking me out.”

***

The first thing I do when I get home is call my sister. I can sniff her guilt a whole country away.

“Y/N, you were heartbroken! Y-you didn’t need to have it broken all over again reading his stupid letter! I was looking out for you!”

“That wasn’t your call!” I raise my voice. “I’ve been...I haven’t had closure all this time! I thought he didn’t even care enough to try to explain it to me and you knew he sent a letter this whole time?”

“Well when he showed up to the flat I wasn’t about to-”

“When did he come to the flat?” I wanted to strangle my sisters and her protective instincts.

“After you moved your things out. He wanted to see you and I knew you were a mess, I told him you never wanted to speak to him. I was looking out for you babe I-I didn’t even realise I was keeping you from closure I just...I didn’t want you hurting. Don’t be mad.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, she was right. It was Harry who hurt me, and I shouldn’t take it out on her. “I know. I know. I’m sorry for yelling I just-I wish I could read that letter.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I should’ve given it to you once you moved out...I still have it though. I think I tucked it into my old yearbook. D’you want me to...”

“Mail it? Yes, as soon as possible please. I need to know what he wrote.”

“What if you just get hurt all over again?” she asks.

“I’ve been hurting, I don’t think his outdated explanation will hurt any more. Just please mail it the first chance you get okay?”

I was so close to it, I think. I had to get that letter. I needed closure. I deserved it. And just knowing I could get it, it’s almost like I was waking up in a dark tunnel I hadn’t realised I was in this whole time. I knew where I was, and I could see light on the horizon.

H POV:

The last time I had a full night’s sleep was on Y/N’s couch, this case was a lot bigger than we thought. It wasn’t just a robbery at one branch, these same people have hit up two other places in the last few days and they were good. The worst part was they weren’t afraid to use a gun.

“Chief,” one of the constables comes up to my desk, where I’d been staring at footage for the last hour. “There’s been um, there’s a problem-”

“Spit it out,” I say, eyes still on the screen.

“The evidence you released on Monday...blokes down in evidence can’t find the SIM from the scene...we think they accidentally left it with that batch.”

I look up from my screen and I can practically see the sweat breaking out on his brow as I stare. If that was important evidence, we’d misplaced it at the height of an investigation. My arse would be on the line too--it was my name on the authorization letter.

“Don’t panic until we’re sure it’s not with the evidence we gave out,” I get up and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking into it right now, don’t let anybody know it’s happened.”

I grab my jacket from my chair and root in the pocket for my phone but Y/N’s number goes to voicemail. I curse. I look at the time, it was 6 already. I had a feeling she might kill me but I would have to drive to her place, I hoped she didn’t leave the evidence at work...after all I did tell her to return it to her employees...I have the brief thought of asking her in the morning but I remember my arse on the line and walk quicker.

“Woah, someone’s in a hurry,” Detective Cole comments as I rush past her. “Not even a hello.”

“Sorry,” I flash her a smile. “Urgent!”

“Need any help?”

I pause long enough to turn around and answer. “Normally I would say yes but I’ve got to do this.”

“Don’t let me keep ya,” she smiles, I notice Serena eyeing the both of us suspiciously as she packs up for the day. She was always trying to convince me to ask her on a date, but I was done with dating coworkers after I made the mistake of marrying one and breaking up quickly thereafter in the past. I’d changed careers quickly after that.

Y/N’s POV:

“Oh my god,” I stop in the middle of my bedroom as my sister reveals her big news over Facetime, an ultrasound held up to the camera. “Oh my god!”

“I know!” She squeals.

“I-I-you’re pregnant!” I was shocked, I didn’t even know my sister was trying for a third kid. “You better give me a bloody niece this time!”

My sister laughs, one hand on her belly. I should’ve known, I realise, she’d been cryptic the last few times we talked, dropping clue, but I’d been so wrapped up in other things I didn’t pick up on them. “It wasn’t even planned but Y/N, it feels right. The boys are stoked--they want a sister too.”

“I am so happy for you and Stu,” I let out a whoop. “I wish I could hug you! I’m going to book some time next month and come see you--this is big! Did you tell dad?”

“Not yet, don’t say anything--oh,” a cry bursts out from somewhere on her end. She rolls her eyes and tells me she would call me back. But I get a text to say there was an accident with a toy truck and a jug of OJ, she would call me back later in the evening when everything was settled.

I throw my phone down on my bed and sit on the edge in my robe, I’d just come out of the shower to my sister’s call. I was over the moon for her, but it was times like these I felt like an awful person. Because as I think about her happy news, I put my hand to my own belly and imagine what it would’ve been like to be the one calling family with good news. The familiar ache in my chest comes back, once upon a time I did have good news for a short period of time.

It was a few months before Harry and I split, I’d skipped a period and went immediately to the pharmacy. I’d decided to wait for a week before I would tell Harry because he was stressed from work. He was always stressed at that job, but I wanted it to be perfect. I’d spent the whole week stopping by nursery stores, browsing baby books, even buying a few onesies and the cutest booties I couldn’t put down. I picture the baby--mine and Harry’s, wearing them.

But the day I’d planned to tell him, I’d woken up and knew instantly something was wrong. I never told him, I fought with him that day instead...I couldn’t even remember over what. I held the awful burden on my own, packed the future I couldn’t have into a little box and shoved it under the bed. A few months later, Harry and I were over. That future was as fragile as the paper-thin wings of a butterfly, one that would never take flight.

I do what I did on my darkest days, I root underneath my bed and pull out the box.

I still had it; it was morbid, holding on to a future that was deader than dead. But I hold it in my lap, and run my hands over each piece of clothing. I imagine just for a moment what I could have had, they would’ve been 3 and I would’ve been a mum. My chest tightens, and I squeeze the items closer.

H’s POV:

By the time I get to Y/N’s, I’d stress-sang so many 90s hits that most of my nervous energy had streamed out the car window. I gather myself, clear my hoarse throat, and knock; ready to be beheaded. When there’s no answer, my nerves return. I knock louder, and try to peer through the frosty window.

“Harry?” Y/N opens the door in a flourish, looking fresh from a shower. I try to block the visuals that spring to mind, my mind blanking as I try to remember what I had to say. “Hello? Harry? Why are you here?”

“Uhm,” I shake my head. “Urgent business--the evidence I gave you on Monday, please tell me you still have it?”

Her eyebrows furrow, “You’re knocking on my door at nearly 7 for evidence you returned to me?”

“It’s urgent,” I look around out of habit. “Y/N, we may have accidentally given you something with the evidence we were meant to keep--please I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I’m not messing with you, this is my head on the chopping block--I need to know if you have it.”

“For fuck’s sake Harry,” she opens the door wider. “Just...come in.”

“You have it?” I step in eagerly and close the door behind me, basking in the warmth inside. It was a chilly spring evening.

“I haven’t touched it since I brought it home, I threw it somewhere in my room.”

“Didn’t it...have your employees’ personal items in it?” I ask cautiously.

“It’s not like they’re eager to have reminders of that day!” she snaps and I back down. She turns in a flourish of her robes and walks upstairs. She doesn’t say anything so I follow her up, drinking in every detail I can about her new life as we pass through.

She’s headed into her bedroom when her phone buzzes. I recognize her sister from the contact photo that takes up the screen. She glances at me, and back at the phone, making a decision.

“It’s beside the dresser, don’t make a sound or my sister will come here in record time to rip your head off.”

“I take it she doesn’t like me,” I try to joke.

“She’s not the only Y/L/N sister that doesn’t like you,” she puts a finger to her mouth and takes the call into the other room.

Maybe I should stop cracking jokes with Y/N, I think. It was clear she still hadn’t forgiven me. I was surprised she still held on as vehemently all these years later.

I head into her bedroom, a tidy and plain room. Compared to what I’d seen of her main floor, her bedroom looked like it belonged in a hotel. I spot the box almost immediately resting between a laundry hamper and her dresser. I pick it up but on the way back, the box on her bed catches my attention. The lid is half on, and I know I shouldn’t but something almost possesses my hand to nudge the lid aside. I stare and what’s inside the box sends me reeling; like I was seasick, but with both feet firmly on the ground. The feeling punches me directly into a past I’d abandoned. A future I abandoned too.

When Y/N finds me a few minutes later, I’m holding the shoes from the box in my hands. She stops beside me. I look to her and her face is frozen in fear, before it shuts down into anger--no, fury.

“What the fuck are you doing going through that?” she snatches the shoes out of my hand and picks the box up.

“Y/N,” I say gently. “What...what is all this?”

“Did you find your stupid box? Just--” her eyes search the room frantically and settles on the evidence box on the bed. She picks it up and shoves it into my chest. “Take it and go Harry, I don’t want t-to talk. To you. Please just--” her voice breaks.

“Okay I’ll go I just...” my heart feels heavier than lead and I want to say the perfect thing to her but nothing comes out. When she shoves me I scuttle out. I hear the sob that escapes her as soon as I exit into the hallway, I almost turn to go back in and offer comfort. But I couldn’t comfort her, not since the day I gave up on her. I walk to my car, not even relieved to have the evidence. I don’t know how long I sit in the car and think about the contents of that box: folded in neat piles were baby onesies, bibs, and a pair of tiny shoes. Remnants from a broken past, a broken promise.

I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t heartless despite what Y/N thought. I know what my selfish actions did to her, I know how I’d fucked her up without meaning to. But it’s only now that the weight of it settles entirely on my shoulders. How many years has it been, and that small box of new onesies stayed under her bed. Her room might’ve looked sterile and fresh but its corners held heavier burdens than I thought were possible. A new feeling of shame blooms from within me, and it stays like a bad aftertaste.

***Y/N POV:

I was going to read that letter, find my closure, and burn everything from my past ceremonially in a bonfire, I think as I watch the trees in my backyard rustle with the morning wind. It had been a few days but I couldn’t even focus on him finding that box, the humiliation of watching him look up at me with confusion and pity...it was enough he’d broken my heart, but now he felt sorry for me too. I focus back on the greenery while my fingers toy with the letter that’d come in the mail, a few years late.

The envelope looked worse for wear but it was still as sealed as the day Harry had written it. I hesitate, trace my fingers over my name on the front. A memory comes rushing to me, Harry in my dorm writing silly things on my post-its and sticking it in places I wouldn’t find until he’d left. Like under my covers, or inside my closet door. They would be silly like

Y/N smells like farts

or cheesy like

have a terrific day

. I usually tossed them, other I’d tucked between classroom textbooks. I wonder what happened to them.

Finally, I work up the courage to slide my finger under the seal and break it open. Two pages fall out, his distinct writing halfway between cursive and chicken scratch covers both pages. I read:

Y/N

You’re probably wondering why you’re reading this--I don’t think I deserve your consideration for even a moment let alone for enough time it will take for you to read this. Yet I want so badly for you to read this, to just know I didn’t mean for this to happen to us. And I know you think I’m the one who did it to us, but I need to explain.

You always told me I was good with my words, that maybe I was an artist in another life--a poet you liked to say. But every time I try to find the right words to say to you, English may as well not be my first language. I should have tried harder, should have found the right words for months but I kept putting it off until it was too late.

You are and will always be my best friend first, Y/N, I know I’ve broken your trust but I care about you deeply. I just wasn’t happy. And that had to do with the road we were going down together, not you. I’m deeply sorry for the words I said that day, for how I’ve made you feel these last few months. I guess, ultimately, I was being selfish. And I don’t have an excuse for that. I fucked this up but I wasn’t happy and I was taking it out on you, and on us. I used the things we couldn’t have as an excuse, but I’m not happy where I am in my life. And that’s something I need to find; I need to figure out what I really want.

I can only hope we’ll circle back to each other one day, in the future, when we’re in better places. But I don’t think we were right like this, maybe it’s bad timing, or maybe there’s a blanket over us much too heavy for us to find comfort under. I’m sorry for leaving us like this and for breaking your trust but I need to do this.

Know you’re perfect as you are, right now, there’s absolutely nothing about you I would ever change. I, on the other hand, have a lot of changing to do.

I wish you nothing but the best, you deserve the whole bloody world Y/N, but I don’t think I can give that to you. I hope one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. For now, know I love you and I’m truly sorry.

Harry, xx

My finger brushes over the last line, I take myself back to the Y/N and Harry four years ago--and it’s not so hard to do. I lived there more often than I’d like to admit. But I picture us, I picture Harry sitting down to write this. How might I have taken this if I read it all those years ago? I picture myself dissolving into tears--maybe my sister was right in not showing me.

I also imagine I would have known why, and maybe I wouldn’t be where I was right now if I’d had that closure.

But even all these years later, the tears stream down my face as if it were just yesterday Harry handed the letter over to my protective sister. There was so much hurt and heaviness, looking at it from the perspective I had now...I see a glimmer of truth in Harry’s letter. We’d worked wonderfully as best friends, and our intimacy was comforting. But we were also two people being pulled in two directions while clinging onto what we thought would keep us happy. It didn’t mean I forgave him for what he did, how he did it. But I finally understood why.

All this time, I asked why--I wondered if there was something I could’ve done to have fixed it before he left. I see now, he’d wanted an out the whole time. Nothing would have fixed us except time apart. I still felt like shit, but this epiphany made me feel closer to the closure I needed. The light on the horizon grows a little brighter. We’d just had bad timing.

***

I feel bright and chipper Monday morning; a sunny morning and a weekend of closure could do that to a woman. I bring along with me a box of treats; it had been a week since the horrible robbery. We’d put some precautions in since, had the therapist stay a few more days, a few of the employees decided to transfer and as sad as I was to see them go I knew it was the right thing for them to do to feel better. As for myself, I forgot about it most of the time. But it would creep in every so often and freeze me up.

I spoke to the company’s therapist once more after Monday, she’d asked about Harry and I had told her about the letter. She was intrigued but quickly changed the topic to how I was feeling after the events of last Thursday.

“Y/N?” Adam walks into the staff room as I finish the note to accompany the treats. “What’s all this?”

“Treats to cheer everyone up! Not that sweet fried dough is going to erase everyone’s PTSD...” I try to make a joke but Adam’s face is tense like it’d been since that day. “Adam I’m teasing...have you um, have you talked to someone one-on-one?”

“Me? Why?” He jumps. “I’m fine, I’m alright it’s mostly out of my head anyway.”

“Hm,” I look him up and down. “I don’t believe you but I’ll let it drop...for now.”

He fidgets with his hands, “Anyway I came in here to let you know the detective on the case called first thing about returning some evidence-”

“I can’t pick that up.” I say finitely. “Do you have room today? Maybe take an extended lunch and pick that up?”

“From the station?” he stutters.

“Is that where he said it was?”

“Uh yeah, yes. He wanted you to pick it up.”

“Well DCI Styles won’t get what he wants for once, you’ll pick it up at lunch okay? Just keep me posted.”

I go back to my office with a coffee and get a crack on with my work. I check for any updates on the client from last Thursday but I continue to receive the automated email that their office was closed for the week. It was weird, but I just make a note to follow up later on.

After lunch, Adam appears shaken, with the evidence. I instruct him to leave it in the staff room and send out an email, making sure to remind them that they didn’t have to go through it if they didn’t want to. I would keep it there until it was cleared out, even if that took the month. I think about my scarf in there, the one used to tie my hands. I wanted to burn it, never see it again. I send Adam a quick email to remove it from the box and dispose of it.

H’s POV:

“This just doesn’t make any sense,” I comb my fingers through my hair, as if it might trick my brain into seeing the pattern here. “This same group’s hit four places total, and yet Y/N...the HSBC was the first. There’s got to be a connection there, it’s here but I just can’t see it.”

“Harry,” Detective Cole puts her hand on my shoulder briefly before moving it away. “Maybe you need a break, I don’t think I’ve seen you go home the last few days and your shirt’s a bit...ripe. Maybe take the rest of the day off?”

I sniff myself, she was right. She shrugs with a I had to say it look.

She was right too that I hadn’t gone home. I did almost nothing but focus on this case, not only because it was growing bigger by the day and I had pressure from upstairs. But it was a welcome distraction to the new guilt that seemed to jam every other area of my life.

It was almost like I was reliving a timeline, going back three or so years ago. It felt like Y/N and I were freshly broken up, and I was trying to pick myself back up from it. Except that’s not the way it went all those years ago--I’d moved on, quickly then. But now, time was catching up. Or maybe it was karma.

“Earth to Harry?” Cole waves her hand in front of my face. “You really should go home.”

“Yep,” I scratch my stubble. I should shave too. “I’ll just drop by evidence before I go.”

She looks like she was going to say something but she gets up from the chair beside my desk, and walks back to her own. I sigh, sifting through the files on my desk to take home with me. My notepad underneath shifts and I spot Y/N’s familiar writing: Y/N was here. I run my finger over it and smile, remembering how she had written that on the baseboard of every flat or dorm room we’d left. And just like that, the guilt and shame take the memory’s place. How the fuck was I supposed get past this and focus, I think.

I shove my files into a bag and head out. Evidence tells me there wasn’t a lot on the sim card but they were still trying. I ask for an email if anything comes to light, and go home where I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.

i meant to take a short nap, but I wake at 4am and my mind’s buzzing with so many thoughts that I have nothing else to do but get up, eat a mashup of breakfast and last night’s dinner. With nothing more to do, and 6am creeping up, I decide to get in my car and drive while the roads were somewhat clear.

Driving helped me think sometimes, on my worst case after my promotion, I’d gotten on the road one night and driven all the way to Leicaster. After a night’s rest in a hotel and the drive back home, I’d cracked the case. But this time, with my thoughts racing, I end up driving to Y/N neighbourhood on autopilot. Maybe because she was on my mind, the guilt a constant companion since that day.

I park on the other side of her street, and watch her front door from the rearview. I don’t know why I was there, it felt ridiculous and creepy. Yet, I couldn’t leave. Maybe I could offer her a ride to work, I think. But I know she would decline because she didn’t even come in herself to collect her evidence. She’d sent her awkward assistant instead.

Her door suddenly opens, and a strange man walks out. She leans on the doorframe and laughs at something he says. He leaves a kiss on her cheek and walks away. She shouts something after him and he turns, saying something back that gets her laughing. My heart races, seeing her face in the distance wrinkle with laughter. I remember all the times I could get her to do that, effortlessly. The guilt returns tenfold.

He adjusts his coat, turning back around and she watches him fondly for a few seconds longer before closing her door. I’m suddenly irritated, immediately suspicious of this bloke. I watch, unblinking, until he turns the corner out of sight. Who was he? Her boyfriend?

I look at the time on the dashboard, 7:08am. I sit, indecisive for another half an hour. My thoughts churn: the robberies, the motives, Y/N, the worn out box with baby clothes, her male guest who’d spent the night, the look on her face when she’d woken up after her concussion and saw me: disbelief, anger, and sadness.

I get out of the stuffy car and walk across the street where I hesitate outside her door. I knew I was crossing a line, pushing a boundary she put up by not picking up the evidence herself. She’d made it clear what she wanted, but I never denied that I was a selfish bastard. I raise my hand, and knock.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #detective!harry #dci!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #writingsfromhome #fic #au #harry styles x reader #oop this took a while to get out #but i'm so excited for pt3 #:)

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zombie-honeymoon · 2 years

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Did this for this months event from the Creative Lounge server. Thanks for putting this together!

Everything is under a read more for length since there's a lot of stuff here.

1 - Favorite Trope Alternate Universe- Modern Setting. I have 47 fics posted that use that tag. Modern AU’s are my absolute favorite to write.

2 - SO Much Research That would be Honeymoon at the Clown Motel. I’ve done so much research I spent the night there recently. It’s haunted, can confirm. Something locked me in the bathroom and was walking around the room at night. I’ve researched a lot of strange, morbid things for this one, too.

3 - Smallest Thing You Made Chapter 4 of my Naruto three sentence fics, coming in at just 52 words.

4 - Created During a Weird Rush of Energy Anything from before winter of 2020. But more specifically this fic: Hitchhiker from Hell. No idea how I managed to write the whole thing before posting it and actually finishing it in such a short time, (it was written in only like a few weeks) but I did! I wish my writing energy and inspiration would come back…

5 - Uncommon Fanwork I knit and made some things inspired (colorwise) by my favorite ships and characters. Here’s a link to the fingerless gloves, and socks I’ve made. The yarn I used for the socks reminded me of Hidan in a subtle way and I just finished the second sock over a year later… And here are a couple of moodboards I’ve made for Suna and Takigakure, and here is one I made for my Hitchhiker from Hell fic.

6 - Biggest Thing You Made So far it’s my Honeymoon at the Clown Motel fic, it’s the longest with 25,847 words and counting.

7 - No Beta, No Regrets Most of my fics are not beta read, though I’m not sure about the no regrets part.

8 - Successfully Wrestled into Submission Smoked Sugar. It was supposed to be just a one shot, then I was going to end it at chapter three but felt bad for Kakuzu and Hidan so I wrote a final chapter for it. That final chapter was written and rewritten several different times and all of them were very different. It wasn’t an easy chapter to write but it got done. Finally.

9 - Made my FBI Agent Nervous Have to go with Honeymoon at the Clown Motel once again for this one fjfdkd

10 - Was Supposed to be a One-Shot/Doodle Long Distance Love. It was just going to be a drabble but I decided I really needed to continue it.

11 - I Invented this Rare Pair So, I wouldn’t say I invented the pair, but I did make the ship tags on AO3 for them- HidaKisa, KakuHidaKisa, Jashin/Kakuzu (but Hidan is Jashin… so) and of course Hidan/12 Foot Skeleton (they are deeply in love you guys)

12 - One that Haunts My Dreams (finished of un) It’s pretty much all my posted wips. Host, I so wanted to finish this one… I probably never will. Intarsia, this one haunts me, too… I want to work on it but never seem have the inspiration to.

And lastly are Long Distance Love and Honeymoon at the Clown Motel. These two definitely haunt me, they should have and could have been finished by now, and are the most likely of all my wips to get finished (excluding the three sentence fics, which are just for fun and I feel no pressure or haunting from them which is very nice).

13 - Lastest-Minute Finish There’s more than one that came to mind and I find it amusing they both have Sasori in them and he hates being late. First one is Muse. This one sat in my google docs for a very, very long time and until I decided to finish it for an event. It was late for the prompt day but that’s ok.

The second one is Bold, or Incredibly Stupid. I wrote it for MultiSasori Month for the Mortician AU prompt but was pretty late getting it finished so I ended up using the Free Day prompt instead.

14 - AU/Crossover No One Asked For

I feel like no one asked for a fic where Hidan was de-aged to five years old and taken care of by Kisame and Itachi but I wrote it anyways. It was actually really fun to write. At least I made sure he was old enough to be out of diapers fsdlkjds.

#fanworks bingo #kakuhida #kisahida #kakuzu #hidan #sasori #itachi #akatsuki #akatsuki fanfiction

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noctualilith · 3 years

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Our Past Got Us Here

We all love the Harvard FinnLo pining, but after the amazing and painful art Haz posted today we needed an extra dose of fluff to balance the feels. Co-written with the amazing and eloquent @ais-for-alex , the characters and universe by queen of the hazelhoots @lumosinlove

The box with the ominous title Harvard in blood red sharpie should have been heavier for all the memories it carried, Logan thought as he hefted it on his desk in his new room. He was all moved in with Finn and Leo, unpacked and fitting seamlessly in their space just as he did in their lives… but for this one last box.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that whatever he unearthed was firmly in the past now, and his present was so much lighter and happier than anything he would find in there.

He heard Finn and Leo moving around in the apartment and he knew they were there for him if he needed them. He knew Finn saw the box and suspected what was inside, if the way he was lurking close to his door was any indication. He also knew that this was his task first and foremost - to unpack the past and claim it fully as his own, with all the good and the bad it brought. This was where he met Finn. This was where he fell for Finn. This was where he carried the burning flame of all he felt for him, held it close and hid it away from everyone including himself, until it burned him from the inside. He could still feel the hot rush of shame and hurt he was so well used to pushing back under and avoiding at all costs.

Opening the box would mean coming face to face with it for the first time after years, no more deflecting.

He was ready. He was home, their home, the three of them together and he was ready.

He pulled the lid off the box and was met with Finn’s warm gaze staring at him from a treasured photograph lying on top, the two of them only a few weeks after Logan got to Harvard, throwing him back into a memory that cut with precision right into those places that hurt the most. Years ago, he had packed that box in a state of numb resignation, putting away his heart piece by piece, alone in his room back at Harvard because Finn had left him for a dream and it hurt too much to see the reminders all around him. He had been crying too hard by the time he placed that last photo in the box, Finn’s smiling face blurred by the tears and hidden away when he closed the box and tucked it away. Now the feeling roared to life in his chest, loud and hungry for a resolution.

He wasn’t ready.

He must have made a noise, or maybe Finn had a sixth sense for when Logan needed him because the next thing he knew were his arms wrapping him in a hug, the safest place on Earth as far as Logan was concerned.

“Lo, baby, we’re okay.” Finn murmured into his hair as Logan hid his face in his neck, breathing him in. They were okay, they were great, but there were still some things unsaid between them, an unspoken agreement to leave that box unopened for another day.

Well, it was open now and waiting for them on the desk innocently.

Logan took a breath and lifted his head, searching for a kiss and the reassurance that came with it. He wasn’t alone, with Finn thousands of miles away, both of them silent and hurting. He was here, with his boys, allowed to touch whenever he wanted. They were good at reminding him of that, too. He needed that reminder now.

“Tell me.” He knew Finn would understand what he was asking for. Logan wasn’t good at talking, but Finn could read him like an open book after all those years. Logan only realized how much after he stopped pushing him away and allowed himself to love and be loved exactly how he’d yearned for.

“We’re okay. I love you. I’m never leaving you. Leo is never leaving us. You moved in with us and everything is finally as it should be, because being away from you feels like I’m missing a part of myself and fuck, I’m done with that. Do you know how important you’re to me? I’ll spend the rest of our lives telling you, Lo.” Finn was cradling his face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips after every declaration.

Logan’s hands were grasping at the fabric of Finn’s hoodie - Leo’s hoodie, actually - and that brought an unbidden smile to his face, helping the words hit home. Finn, in Leo’s hoodie, in his room. He didn’t have to do this alone, do anything alone, ever again.

“I know, mon amour. It’s just-- we haven’t really talked about-- I know I wasn’t in a hurry to unpack all that and you probably weren’t either but I want to, now. I think I need to.” He gestured to the innocent-looking box, watching Finn step closer to it and look inside, emotions playing across his face. He knew what it represented, of course he did. He probably had one just like that at some point, or maybe his was still unpacked too.

Finn reached into the box and picked up the photo from the top, the same one that Logan could barely look at just moments ago. He held it out to Logan with a wistful smile. “Let’s unpack this one together, what do you say?”

“Yeah, I’d really like to do that.” Logan’s voice was shaky, but he was determined. They’d probably end up crying, he could already feel the hot press of tears behind his eyes just thinking about all the memories that they were going to bring to light, but he wanted them all. He wanted to touch them, to put them up on his walls and see them every day without hurting for their past selves. A story of how they got to here and now, of how they lost each other and then found each other again. How they found their missing piece and built a home together.

He took the photo from Finn, their fingers brushing and unfailingly sending sparks across Logan’s skin. It’s been like that since he could remember, Finn’s touch like a brand, whether accidental and forcedly platonic for the longest time, or purposeful now but no less exciting with the promise of forever. It made him feel brave, so he cast around for the tape and tore a piece to stick it to the back of the photo. First one for the wall. First memory to unpack.

“You remember this one?” he asked Finn while he picked a place for it, pressing it to the wall and making sure it held. “I loved you already, when we took this photo. I was trying to convince myself that I couldn’t, but I did.” He heard Finn behind him suck in a breath, but he stayed quiet, letting him speak. Logan turned a bit, just enough to reach his hand back, wordlessly asking for the next photo, sticking it to the wall without looking at it first.

It was a photo of the two of them at a party. At the party.

“Lo--” Finn started behind him, already gearing up to tell him they could do this another day, Logan could hear it in his voice. It’s happened often enough. Logan was sick of it, of swallowing the pain and the tears and hiding in the safe topics of their everyday life, like what to get for dinner and who should drive.

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted Finn, softly but with determination, still looking at the photo. He felt Finn pressing himself along his back, one arm coming up to drape over his shoulder, his hand pressing over his heart. There was another photo of them, just like this, a favourite of Logan’s and currently in Finn’s room, another piece of his heart captured forever. He leaned back into the embrace, drawing strength from the unwavering support. Now, then, always, Finn was by his side no matter how often Logan pushed him away. He was done pushing him away.

“I shouldn’t have done that, at the party. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” Logan felt the first tear roll down his face, felt Finn’s breath stutter in his chest.

“I’m sorry too. You weren’t the only one not talking about it, you know? It’s on me, too. And we’re better now, aren’t we?”

Logan nodded wordlessly, breathing through the swell of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him when he thought about that night. A miracle turned into a secret and sitting heavy and unaddressed instead of being treasured as it should have been.

Finn spoke for the both of them, needing to acknowledge in words what happened. “That was our first kiss, Lo. I still remember it, like it happened just yesterday. I loved you already, when we took this photo. I couldn’t believe what happened after. I’m glad it did.”

Logan turned to him at that, surprised. “You’re glad? I blamed it on being drunk and then never talked about it. It might as well not have happened at all! Our first kiss was a lie and I can never change it. How--” Finn pressed a kiss to his lips and stayed there, interrupting his rant and waiting for him to kiss back before pulling away again, keeping their foreheads together.

“I’m glad because we’re here now. We’re talking about it now. It was real to me, Lo. I was afraid then, too. I’m not anymore, you’re not anymore. We found each other. We found Leo. That’s what matters.” Finn’s eyes were swimming in tears but he was smiling, and Logan couldn’t help but kiss that smile right off his lips. “You’re right. That’s what matters. Gimme the next one. Let’s talk about all of them.”

The wall was slowly filled with memories and their weight was lifted from their unspoken past word for word as they remembered each moment for the good and the bad. So often Logan had felt close to crumbling under the guilt, but Finn was right there holding him close and offering him absolution with each new piece out of the box, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Beside photos, there were other things too. Movie tickets, four of them from the same movie they kept going back for. A receipt from a dinner at a roadie, just the two of them, where Finn doodled stick figures playing hockey while they waited for dessert. Crumpled notes that Finn would sometimes leave stuck to Logan’s door, sometimes a shopping list, sometimes an inside joke. Logan kept them all.

FInally, the box was empty and the wall was full. Logan felt exhausted but his heart was lighter than it had been in years, brimming with love for his boys and gratitude for the road that brought him here. He and Finn stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the room, looking at the wall, tears drying on both their faces.

“I want Leo” Logan spoke into the comfortable silence, pulling on Finn’s arm, suddenly eager to have them both close, to bask in the reality of having them, of being loved by them. “Come on Harz, let’s find him.”

Finn reeled him back in for one more kiss. “Love you, Lo.”

“Love you, too. Love Leo. Want Leo now.”

“Yeah, me too. Come on, he’s in the kitchen.” Logan was already squirming away and Finn let him pull them from the room and towards the kitchen where they could hear the clatter of utensils. He did the hard work and now he wanted his rewards. He wanted his boys close.

Hand in hand, they padded down the hall towards the kitchen, towards their missing piece, towards their future, leaving all the guilt and the hurt finally where it belonged; in their past.

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

Leo brushed a bit of flour from his hands. He suppressed the urge to wander into Logan’s room where he knew his partners were unpacking more than just the old boxes beaten by years of hiding in the closet. Those old boxes that carried memories of Finn and Logan’s days spent so close to each other but separated by an ocean of feelings that fit between their dorm beds.

No, Leo had to let them unpack together. Finn and Logan needed to be the ones to pull each memory from the moth eaten cardboard. They needed to be the ones to hold them close to their hearts and feel, and once the hurt of all those years past had been aired away they could finally hang those memories on the walls to look at without that bitter hurt anymore.

Leo would wait though, he would wait for them to emerge from the solemn confessional of Logan’s room, he would wait for them to be ready, he would wait until they wanted him there to pull them back together. He would wait for them forever. Luckily though he didn’t have to wait forever. Leo turned as he heard their footsteps padding closer to the kitchen.

“Hello, my loves,” he said as Finn and Logan peeked their heads in to see what he was doing.

“Mmm,” Finn hummed in greeting and came up to press a soft sweet kiss to Leo’s lips. Out of the corner of his eye Leo saw Logan hop up to sit on the counter. When Finn finally pulled away his lips were pulled into a gentle smile and his eyes as warm and sweet as melted chocolate. Leo sighed at the sight, but turned to Logan who was softly kicking the cabinet doors where his feet dangled from the counter.

“Hi baby,” he whispered, slotting himself between Logan’s knees and running his hands soft against his thighs. Logan sighed and wrapped his legs around Leo’s waist pulling him in closer.

“You all unpacked?” Leo asked so softly for a moment he wasn’t sure Logan had actually heard him. But he saw that look in Logan’s bright green eyes that meant he was thinking, choosing his words carefully before he tried to speak. So Leo waited, he reached up to lightly trace his fingers against the scratchy stubble on Logan’s jaw as his partner gathered his thoughts. Leo felt Finn settle in behind him, pressing his chest flush to his back and rest his chin on his shoulder. He turned his face inwards pressing closer just to place a kiss to the soft skin on Leo’s neck.

“Yeah,” Logan finally answered with a sigh, he turned his face to nuzzle into Leo’s palm. “It was- it was hard,” he whispered, then looked over at Finn still resting his head on Leo’s shoulder and smiled softly. “But as hard as it was to live through, and remember, I don’t think I would change even a minute of it.”

Leo gave him a bit of a puzzled look at that, why on earth wouldn’t he change it if he could? Why would he be willing to live through that pain? Logan chuckled lightly at his confusion and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth.

“Mon amour, I would live every minute of it again and not change a thing, because mine and Finn's past is what led us to you. And you know what? Thinking of it like that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Leo couldn’t help the sheen of tears that glazed his eyes, or the sniffles as he reached forward to pull Logan fully into his arms, holding him tight like he couldn’t bear to leave even an inch of space between them.

“We love you so much Nutty,” Finn whispered, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, “you make it easier. God, you make everything better.”

“Guys,” Leo sighed at the feel of them pressed so close against him, “this wasn't supposed to be about me.”

Logan reached out to cup his face, his eyes bright and sure as they gazed into Leo’s own, “sweetheart, it’s about us, all three of us, together. Our past, and yours, they were stepping stone to get to this exact moment.”

“Leo,” Finn said softly, he pulled away slightly and turned Leo to look at him so his back was now pressed against Logan's chest where he was still sitting on the counter. Logan twined his arms around Leo’s torso as Finn tilted his chin just so until he couldn't look anywhere but those chocolate eyes. “It’s time we all moved on from the past, ok? Instead, lets focus on building a future, one for all of us, that we’ll get to spend the rest of our lives cultivating.”

Leo swallowed hard, Finn's words seemed to crawl into his heart mending cracks and fissures he hadn’t realized were there. His words put to rest that horrible feeling that crept into Leo’s mind in the dead of night, in those moments he was all alone with no one to soothe away the fear, that he was the odd man out. That one day Finn and Logan would realize that they didn't need him, because they already had a foundation to build on.

“I love you guys so fucking much,” he breathed, and felt Logans arms tighten around him. Finn smiled and leaned in, pressing closer gently until they were so close they were breathing the same air.

“D’accord, d’accord,” Logan mumbled into his shoulder, he breathed in deeply then continued, “no more sad for tonight.”

“I think I can get on board with that,” Leo said with a chuckle.

“Same,” Finn agreed before finally pulling away.

Leo grinned and padded back to the other side of the kitchen where he had left ingredients for dinner strewn across the counter, “Well, do you guys want to help me make dinner then?”

“Le, my precious Peanut Butter, I need you to understand this;” Finn said seriously, “just because we have grown emotionally does not mean our skills in the kitchen have improved in the slightest.”

“Well yeah, and they never will if you don’t let me teach you,” Leo teased, snagging a dish towel and snapping Finn in the thigh.

Logan laughed at Finn's pout as he rubbed the welt now forming and jumped down from the counter, “Alright Nutty, teach us your ways, impart your vast cooking wisdom upon us.”

Leo rolled his eyes at their dramatics but set them to work nonetheless. Finn was tasked with peeling potatoes, with a stern warning from Leo about slicing off his finger. As he was prepping the meat, Leo glanced over at Logan who seemed to be having far too much fun smashing the crackers to make a breading. He couldn't help but grin as he felt warm affection rush through his veins, like he had injected pure love directly into his bloodstream. Leo couldn't wait to feel this for the rest of his life, to build and grow with them, and love them for as long as humanly possible.

It wasn't long before their kitchen was filled with laughter, and banter, and music played over the bluetooth speakers. The three of them worked in tandem, until the delicious aroma of home cooked food was wafting through their apartment. And so what if Finns mashed potatoes were a bit soupy, and what if the veggies Logan chopped were a bit uneven, it was something that they created together, Leo wanted to savor every bite.

#lumosinlove #coast to coast #sweater weather #inspired by coast to coast #inspired by sweater weather #coast to coast fic #sweater weather fic #O'Knutzy #Finn O'Hara #Logan Tremblay #Leo Knut #FinnLo #Harvard pining but with comfort #domestic fluff #needed fluff after that art Haz hit us with today #here is our humble offering

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huebris808 · 3 years

Text

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry.

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years.

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!”

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why?

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place…

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr…

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…”

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

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

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

#madness combat #Madness Project Nexus #Dr. Hofnarr #Tricky the Clown #MY WORKS #MY FIC #happy madness day these old dudes are gay. [Vine Boom] gay as hell. [Vine B

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monstersandmaw · 3 years

Text

Male vampire x male character - Part Three (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is going to be a four-parter, folks! And here's 3866 words of Part Three for you. Angst ahoy, but you know me, ok, so trust me. Here we meet Alec's little brother, and you'll find out why Sebastien was so jumpy and weird about the Twayblade name.

Part One, Part Two

Alec’s ‘one night stand’ with Sebastien turned into a whole month of of ‘one-night-stands’, and culminated in Sebastien asking him to dinner the following weekend - a pattern which repeated itself every weekend after that.

Sure, the sex was probably the most incredible sex that Alec had ever experienced in his entire life, but what he came to enjoy even more was the time they spent over meals and cups of tea in the intervening time, talking about everything from history to politics to video games and books and everything else besides. Sebastien talked about literature a lot, and Alec sketched him and illustrated his conversations while he spoke.

“You could really make something of yourself with talent like that,” Sebastien had murmured once as Alec had doodled a quick rendition of the Victory of Samothrace on the back of a coffee shop receipt one afternoon in the park.

“Meh,” he shrugged without looking up. “I’d like to, but I’ve got a steady job now, you know? I’m not going to throw it all away just because some gallery might take my work and I might make something of a name for myself, you know?”

Sebastien sighed. “Talent is such an overused word, and great art is rarely based on raw talent alone, but with your dedication over the years, you’ve really honed what natural abilities you have into something exceptional, Alec. I think you should make a go of it at least.”

Alec had flushed, and Sebastien had been distracted by the rising colour his cheeks long enough to abandon that train of thought in favour of kissing him silly on a park bench, and Alec hadn’t much minded.

At an Iranian restaurant near Alec’s place one Friday, four weeks after Halloween, Sebastien leaned on his elbow and popped a fragrant and decadent zoolbia into his mouth, and Alec watched, oddly fixated by the way his fingers held the little fried treat. His eyes, dark and warm and inviting, blinked slowly and he offered Alec a slow-dawning smile that stole his breath.

“We should go to the museum again,” Alec he blurted, thinking back three days when they’d spent their lunchtime meandering around the Italian Renaissance gallery together.

“Mmm?” he asked, licking his fingers in a way that made Alec’s jeans tighten and his throat close.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I mean, I know you’re not sick of me waxing endlessly about quattrocento art just yet…” he said, sipping his delicious cup of tea and trying not to choke on it as Sebastien’s ankle skimmed up his leg beneath the table.

“No,” Sebastien admitted. “You’re right. I’m not.”

With the bill paid by Sebastien this time, after Alec had bought them lunch the previous day, the two of them left the cosy warmth of the restaurant and stepped out into a bitter November night. “Oh fuck it’s cold,” Alec swore immediately, drawing up the collar of his coat.

“You want to head home?” Sebastien asked, a hand on the small of his back.

Unconsciously, Alec leaned into it and smiled up at him. They’d not yet been to Alec’s apartment, and he found himself more and more reluctant to let Sebastien in now that he’d seen the stunning penthouse that he called home. “If you’re sure? I think your wardrobe has more square footage than my entire place though…”

“Alec,” he purred, taking Alec’s hand in his and squeezing his fingers. “I —”

“—You’re freezing,” he commented, interrupting whatever Sebastien had been about to say.

“I don't tend to run hot,” he conceded, “But neither do I feel the cold much. I’d like to see your home, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He leaned in close and kissed the junction of Alec’s jaw and neck for a moment, his lips lingering, tongue just lapping at his skin and sending shivers down Alec’s whole body, shorting out his brain for a heartbeat or six. Sebastien raked his teeth over Alec’s pounding pulse point and he went still, frozen in a paroxysm of pleasure and, oddly, a strange thrill of fear he couldn’t quite place. Instead of pulling away when he recovered himself, however, he tilted his head further to one side, offering himself to Sebastien’s mouth, and the other man moaned decadently, deepening his attentions.

Sebastien’s hands found Alec’s belt and he tugged him sharply closer so that their hips met. Alec tried not to grind himself against Sebastien — they were still on a public street for goodness’ sake — but desire was washing through him in pulsing waves and it was becoming harder and harder to think rationally. That wasn’t the only thing that was becoming hard either, and he let out a harsh grunt before forcing himself to step back with a sheepish grin.

When he looked up at Sebastien, he found that the slightly taller man had frozen and was breathing hard, eyes closed, lips pursed together as though restraining himself from something.

“You ok?”

“Fine,” Sebastien hissed, still not opening his eyes.

Alec frowned. Sebastien looked like he was in pain of all things. “You sure? You look —”

“I’m fine!” he snapped through a clenched jaw. “Let’s go. You’re right. It is cold.”

The short walk to Alec’s apartment passed in tense silence, with Sebastien keeping his eyes locked downwards on the pavement, though he did deign to hold Alec’s hand. He couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he’d pushed things too far in public, given how proper Sebastien tended to be, but then again, Sebastien was the one who had deepened the gesture by practically mauling at his neck for three minutes straight back then.

Alec’s apartment building wasn’t fancy at all, and it certainly didn’t have a doorman, and once they’d stumbled in through the hallway with the busted light fitting in the ceiling, Alec smashed the elevator call button only to find it dull and non-responsive. “Damn,” he cursed. “Out of order again. Stairs?”

“If needs be,” Sebastien said with a gracious smile.

“This would never happen over at Buckingham Palace,” he quipped back, and Sebastien cracked a smile at Alec’s silly nickname for his apartment block.

“Exercise will shake all that dinner down,” he conceded.

Alec twitched his eyebrows in agreement and held the door open to the stairwell for him. As he passed by in the confined space, Sebastien stopped and leaned in, taking Alec’s jaw in his cool hands and kissing him gently, reverently, on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I was rude back then.”

Alec shrugged, feeling awkward at the sheer, heartfelt tenderness in the gesture.

“I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

“I like it when you’re rougher with me,” he smirked. “You should know that after a month of fucking me senseless.”

As if Alec’s words had hit him like a sledgehammer to the nuts, Sebastien rolled his eyes and grimaced, but he did laugh. “You do seem to like a firm hand, granted,” he said. “Let’s get upstairs shall we? Before I take you right here, and I’m not sure how sanitary this situation is…”

Alec needed no more encouragement, and he didn’t even get to give Sebastien the fleeting, one-minute tour of his tiny flat before the man was on him, kissing him blind and backing him into a wall hard enough to knock the wind from him. Sebastien came alive in moments like that, when he could kiss him and lavish attention on Alec, and the latter was not about to stop him.

It wasn’t long before Sebastien’s wandering lips found Alec’s neck again, and as Alec gasped, fists balled into Sebastien’s shirt collar, he felt the sharp prick of teeth quickly followed by the generous suck of a love bite in the making. His knees went weak and he nearly staggered as a huge rush of endorphins swam through his mind, leaving him limp and wobbly all over. Well, almost everywhere.

“I want you,” he gasped, and Sebastien lost no time in locating the tiny bedroom and tossing him onto the bed, stripping them both with startlingly attractive efficiency. Alec barely managed to yank a bottle of lube and a box of condoms from his top drawer before Sebastien was spreading his legs and laving his tongue up over the curve of his balls.

“Oh fuck me,” Alec exclaimed as Sebastien’s slick finger slid into him and he hissed at the intrusion. A moment later, he was lying with his head flung back into the pillows while Sebastien slid a second inside him and began to do just that with his fingers until Alec was finally ready — and more than desperate — for Sebastien’s cock.

Sebastien had a beautiful body, all lean, corded muscle and slender lines, and as he got more and more aroused, his deep olive skin seemed to glow almost supernaturally. He was perfection incarnate. Bernini couldn’t have carved him, even if he’d been given a lifetime to try. Alec was no Bernini but he’d still love to sculpt him.

Sebastien chuckled sweetly and crooked his finger, sending a jolt of searing pleasure through Alec so hard his vision whited out for a moment and his back arched. “I’m flattered,” Sebastien murmured, placing open-mouthed, messy kisses down Alec’s leg as he spontaneously bent that knee up.

“Shit, I said that out loud…” he laughed, still vague and giddy with the sensations sparking under his skin.

“Mmm,” he smiled, lowering his face to Alec’s inner thigh and kissing fervently all up his leg to the crease of his thigh and hips before smoothing his leg back down onto the bed. His breath fanned out across Alec’s sensitive skin and he quivered and bucked, causing Sebastien’s curled finger to brush his prostate again and he yelled.

“Please…”

Moments later, Sebastien entered him at last and stilled, allowing him to adjust to the new intrusion.

When he fucked him like this, Sebastien seemed to take on a new energy, becoming something almost more primal, and Alec lived for it. The expression on his face as he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the heat of Alec’s body closing around him, taking him, drawing him in, was something he would never get used to, no matter how many times it happened. He was certain of it.

“You’re so tight,” Sebastien grunted, easily shifting Alec’s hips up a degree or two and adjusting his own angle so that he could thrust into his prostrate with every stroke.

Alec’s words failed him as immense pleasure ripped through him, building and building. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he barely managed to grunt as Sebastien somehow picked up the pace and began to pound into him with renewed vigour. The man seemed utterly devoted to Alec’s pleasure, as if it was the only thing driving him.

With an utterly inhuman snarl, Sebastien opened his mouth and whispered, “Come for me.”

The sheer weight of command in his voice tore through Alec and he came instantly, untouched, painting his torso with ropes of his release and wrenching Sebastien’s own orgasm from him by sheer force a second after.

Sebastien curled forwards with a hiss, hips spasming as he released, and his lips found Alec’s neck again, and then his collarbone. In the daze of his own peak, Alec thought he saw a flash of red in Sebastien’s eyes again, but he was out of sight too quickly for him to believe what he’d seen. Instead, he found Sebastien kissing his hammering pulse while he finished. Finally going still, Sebastien slumped atop him, breathing hard, his white-blond hair spilling everywhere and tickling Alec’s stubble. He was too tired to care though.

When he woke, hours later, he realised groggily that it must be the middle of the night. Sebastien was curled up beside him, obviously having found the tiny bathroom to clean up, and he was now spread out beside him on his small, lumpy mattress as if this were a palace and he a prince, not some tiny, shitty apartment in the rough bit of town.

Something about the way Sebastien slept still freaked Alec the fuck out. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and when he had laid his palm on Sebastien’s chest on their first night together, the man had gasped and jolted awake like the living dead, sucking in air like he’d been underwater for hours. This time, he refrained from touching him, and instead stared at his inhuman beauty. There wasn’t a mark or scar or freckle on him, and his darkly tanned body spread out over the white sheets like a bronze sculpture arranged in a gallery for the adoration of thousands. And yet he chose Alec to be his only supplicant. Something lurched in his chest and he smiled bashfully, blushing, although there was no one to witness it.

Awake, Sebastien looked maybe thirty, thirty five years old, but asleep, he looked far younger; closer to eighteen or nineteen perhaps, with an innocence around his white-lashed eyes and the natural downward curl of his beautiful lips.

Unable to resist touching him completely, Alec kissed him and rolled over, drawing the duvet up around his ears and sinking back into a deep, dreamless sleep. His whole body felt heavy and satiated in a way he’d never experienced before with anyone. Something clenched in his heart; this felt right somehow.

But nothing is fated to last forever, is it?

Alec stirred groggily, unwillingly, the next morning, becoming aware of a rapid-fire knocking on the apartment door. Grunting, he kicked back the covers and fished for a pair of boxers and a shirt from the floor beside the bed. Sebastien slept on, apparently not having moved at all since the previous evening. Did he have sleep apnoea or something? It was something he’d have to bring up after he’d sorted whatever this was. It wasn’t natural for a man to sleep like that.

Like the dead.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled, stumbling across the apartment and peering though the peephole in the door. Twitching back in surprise, he opened it. “Theo?”

His little brother’s bright, sunny grin beamed back at him. “Hey bro,” he chuckled jovially, stepping in as if he owned the place and shooting him a cheeky look back over his shoulder. “Brunch?”

“Brunch?” Alec frowned. “Since when do you do ‘brunch’? And since when is it brunchtime anyway?” He glanced at the clock in the kitchen and his eyebrows rose. It was well past eleven o’clock.

“Late night, I see,” Theo snickered, eyeing Sebastien’s shirt which was still on the floor outside the bedroom door, currently ajar from Alec’s hasty exit.

“Shut up.”

Theo’s grin doubled and his blue eyes glittered. Like Alec, he had the unusual combination of dark hair and blue eyes, and like Alec he could be described as ‘roguish’ at times. Now though, it bordered on downright Puckish. Looking not his actual twenty-one years but somewhere closer to sixteen, Theo shook his head.

“Brother mine, when will you —” he snorted but then stopped and his expression fell, shattering from playful to horrified in a heartbeat before he rapidly attempted to cover it by turning towards the bedroom. “Is he still here?” he whispered.

“Yeah, so keep the jokes to a minimum, would you?” Alec snarled. “What did you want anyway?”

But Theo had changed completely. Gone was the ebullient Labrador puppy and instead a tense, alert, wary young man stood before him.

“What the fuck’s wrong?” Alec hissed, heartbeat ticking faster like an over-wound clock.

And Theo spun and then froze as the door to the bedroom opened and Sebastien appeared on the threshold.

Theo’s lip curled into an ugly snarl and Sebastien regraded him steadily, apparently unfazed by the unexpected hostility.

“The younger Twayblade, I assume,” he said with such ice in his usually warm tone that it shook Alec into stunned silence. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“You’re shitting me,” Theo whispered, horror thickening his tone.

Alec blinked and looked from Sebastien to his little brother and back again. Never in all his years of dating men had he felt so uneasy around a family member. “What’s going on…?” he finally croaked.

“That’s what — who — you’re sleeping with?” Theo practically spat out.

Cold, defensive vitriol bubbled up inside him and he might actually have lunged for his brother had Sebastien not crossed the room in three rapid strides and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I take my leave,” he said quickly.

“Not so fast, fang-face,” Theo sneered and Sebastien froze. “Get away from my brother.”

“Or what?” Sebastien said in the quietest and steadiest of voices.

“What the fuck is going on!” Alec blurted into the tense silence that followed Sebastien’s taunt.

The other two blinked, and Sebastien sighed. He met Alec’s eye as he asked, “You really didn’t know at all, did you?”

“Know what?” Alec snapped, rage rolling through him. “Do you two know each other or something? What am I missing here?”

“I think this is a family matter that you need to work out between you,” Sebastien said, voice still tinged with frost. “Alec, you know where to reach me if you decide to continue what we’ve shared this past month.” And with that, he turned and walked from the apartment.

“Wait, stop!” Alec yelled after him, but he was gone down the stairwell and Theo was at his side, tugging him back into the apartment. “Fucking explain yourself!” he snapped, rounding on his brother.

“You’d… better sit down.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

Theo stared him down, meeting blazing sapphire stare with blazing sapphire stare. “Sit. Down.”

The tone of his voice shocked Alec into doing exactly that, and he sank numbly down onto the saggy old couch in the living room without a word.

What followed next was like something from a movie.

“The Twayblades are an ancient family of monster hunters,” Theo said gently. “Father’s not in the military. Well, he is, but it’s not a normal unit or anything. That’s just a cover.”

“And mother?” he asked mechanically, the information-dump that Theo had just heaped upon him not sinking in, but floating like scum on the surface of his churning mind.

“She’s one too. And Ellie.”

“Ellie hunts… monsters?” he asked. “Like… what… the Boogeyman? Bigfoot?” Incredulity made his tone flippant, but something in the calm sincerity of his brother’s eyes told him it was true, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Dracula…?” Theo added darkly.

“Dracula.” And then the penny dropped. “Wait. ‘Fang-face’. You’re saying you think my boyfriend is a vampire?”

Theo levelled him with a look from where he was leaning against the windowsill, arms folded over his chest in a manner eerily reminiscent of his big brother.

Now as Alec regarded him, he saw the harsh young man that this little kid had become. The puppy fat had melted into a steel jaw and a hard gaze, and his body seemed coiled for action at any moment. He had the body of a soldier, Alec realised with plunging horror. He knew Theo worked out — he was apparently a personal trainer and nutritional coach for celebrities in London, but even that seemed to have been a lie after what he’d just learned. Apparently the Twayblades actually hunted monsters — he and their parents and their older sister Ellie. Alec and Angie had been left out because they were apparently not ‘hunter material’ whatever that meant. Maybe it meant he was a monster fucker instead. He almost laughed.

“Theo, come on… I can’t believe any of this,” Alec said, leaning back into the sofa and pressing the heels of his palms to his aching eyeballs. All he’d wanted to do this morning was to wake up and maybe have Sebastien fuck him into the mattress a few times before breakfast until he was wrung out and softly buzzing like they had every weekend for the last month.

Now he was having some bizarre fairytale forced at him and he was supposed to believe it like it was some kind of sick joke. But he did believe it, and that was what scared him most of all. It wasn’t a joke. Theo showed him videos his father and he had captured on some of their ‘hunts’, exterminating a poltergeist here and eradicating a revenant there, and in the end Theo phoned their father on speaker, opening without preamble, “Dad, Alec’s dating a vampire.”

“Do you have proof?” was their father’s instant, chilling response. No ‘I'm sorry, what did you say, son?’ or ‘What’s all this nonsense?’. No. He went straight to the heart of it. With a stake.

“Just walked past the sucker leaving the flat.”

“Ancient?”

“No, thank goodness. Maybe just a century at most?”

“Can you eliminate him without alerting Alec?” their father asked, at which point Alec’s heart cracked.

He leapt to his feet and blurted, “Fucking what?”

After a heartbeat of silence, their father sighed. “Unfortunate. I had hoped to keep you and Angela out of this.”

“You’re telling me it’s all real?” he asked, goggling at Theo who held the phone out on speaker between them like it was a live grenade. “You’re all insane!”

“Tell me something, son,” his father said flatly. “Have his eyes ever flared red during a moment of passion? Does he seem to fixate on your neck? Do you find yourself willing to do as he wishes without question?”

Theo interjected quickly, “He’s not compelled. His eyes are clear.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” their father scoffed. “Theo, you know what you have to do. Kill it.”

“‘It’?” Alec shot, eyes bulging, and Theo did have the grace to cringe. “Kill it? You’re going to kill him? He’s a lecturer at the university, Theo. You can’t just fucking kill him?!”

“He might be under the guild rules…” Theo said. “He might be a blood bank user, not a live-feeder… I’ll look into it first.”

Alec’s knees turned to water but he kept himself upright through sheer force of will.

“Fine. But don’t hesitate. And don’t make concessions just because Alec might be compromised.”

Theo nodded and hung up without farewell. “Look, Alec,” he grimaced. “I’m… I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t come here to —”

“— to kill my boyfriend?” he growled, taking a step towards his little brother. To his credit, Theo did actually take half a step back in the face of Alec’s confused, hurt, betrayed ire, holding his hand palm-up.

“No. I came here to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but —”

“—Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out!” he roared, jabbing his index finger at the door and pulling out his phone.

Theo surprised him by nodding and leaving, shutting the door behind him with a click and leaving Alec standing in the centre of the living room, chest heaving, phone in hand, ears ringing.

As his brother’s footsteps disappeared down the stairwell, he unlocked his phone and dialled Sebastien’s number.

Three rings in, Sebastien answered.

“It it true?” Alec asked without preamble.

After a long inhale, Sebastien answered. “…Yes.”

Sorry for the cliffie!! More soon, but it’ll hit Patreon first, then Tumblr. Don’t let me forget, either!

Part Four

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #vampire boyfriend #exophilia #male vampire #male vampire x male human #male vampire x human #mlm #mlm exophilia

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thetransguard-archive · 4 years

Note

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck.

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all.

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that.

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.”

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

#the old guard #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #lykon #kaysanova #joe x nicky #usercacau #usershan #userlyde #userkayla #tuseradriana #anonymous #ask #reply #OOF what did i just write........... i dont know <3 #maybe i have backstory for all of them. maybe. what about it #my writing #mine #the ghost au

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goodlucktkachuk · 4 years

Text

Frantic -- Matthew Tkachuk (Pt.2)

a/n: And by popular demand we have part two. Hope you guys enjoy!

Part One

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

Instantly a smile covered your face as you pressed confirm. Your instagram was nothing of scandal, mainly paintings or doodles, a few pictures of you and Emily, and some vacation photos from last summer in Muskoka that you knew Matthew will enjoy. When Mitch reentered the room he shot you a puzzled look.

“What’s got you so chipper mini?” He teased, using the nickname your mom affectionately gave you when you were four and in a phase where you followed Mitch everywhere.

Chuckling, you shrugged your shoulders, “Emily sent me a really funny video of Nick in a facemask.” He laughed at the thought and the topic was dropped.

Around 1am, Mitch was blacked out on the couch next to you so you took the blanket you had wrapped around you and you tried to place it as softly as possible on your sleeping brother. After turning off the TV, you headed into their bathroom to borrow Steph’s makeup wipes. As you stared at yourself in the mirror for the first time that day and you could really see how tired you were. The all nighters of homework and the rush and fall of going to games had started to catch up with you. You quickly slipped into Mitches closet and grabbed one of his old London hoodies and a pair of boxers. Once you found yourself in your pajamas and the warm embrace of the guest bed you flicked your eyes on your phone once again.

*Matthew_Tkachuk has sent you a message*

Intrigued by what the boy has to say you slid over the notification and unlocked your phone.

Matthew: first of all, what the fuck? Had I know it was you I wouldn’t have said what I said

Y/N: what?

Matthew: You didn’t think to mention that you're a mini marnie princess?

Y/N: why does it matter matty? Not like I live with him anymore. I’m an adult now Matty

Matthew: You’re still Mitches kid sister Y/N! I can’t just brush that off

Your chest ran tight after hearing him call you a kid. You knew you were younger but didn’t see the big deal about it.

Y/N: Oh give me a break, I’m 19, I’m all grown up now Tkachuk

Matthew: prove it, move this to snap and put your money where your mouth is ;)

Your heart fluttered in your chest but before you could enjoy it you found yourself mentally scorning yourself. This was your brother's old teammate and a family friend. Hell, you and Tayrn were attached at the hip everytime you two were together. There was too much history. Even though everything in your mind screamed no you found yourself accepting his proposal anyway before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning you woke up to find there was a sticky note placed firmly on your forehead. Pulling it off slowly, you flipped it over and it read ‘Went out for lunch with some of the team. Text me when you wake up’ The fact he couldn’t have just texted you that made you roll your eyes. You slowly lifted yourself out of the bed and started your staggered walk to the guest bathroom.

The sight in the mirror this morning was actually pretty cute. Your braids were slightly a mess from the night before but it went nicely with how Mitches sweater fit you and how his boxers hung off your hips. You snapped a picture of you throwing up a peace sign and posted it on your story with some witty caption about stealing Mitch’s clothes and looking better in them before hopping in the shower.

After departing from the warmth of the shower you changed back into your jeans from the night before and kept the sweater on. You ordered yourself some food and pulled out your laptop to get some school work done. Before you dove into art history and marketing techniques you opened a snapchat from Matt.

It wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He was sitting in a restaurant somewhere in a nice polo shirt. You could see half his face and his curls were pushed up with a red bandana. You stared at it for so long that you almost forgot to read what it said. ‘Snazzy hoodie you got there mini marnie, too bad it has the wrong name on the back’

You followed suit with your response, only sending half your face with a smirk plastered to your lips. ‘See Marner suits me so much better than Tkachuk so I think I’ll stick with this one!’

Matthew smiles at his phone. He was at a team lunch with the Flames and a few Leafs to catch up before they had to head back to Calgary. It was nice to see all the boys again, especially Mitch even though he had a different Marner on his mind. The lunch was overall pleasant even with all the dirty looks he had got from Auston any time anyone mentioned Y/N. As hard as it was for him not to spew endless chirps, he knew if he ever wanted a shot with you he knew he had to bite his tongue.

Deciding taking photos wasn’t the smartest way to hide what he was doing he texted you back instead. “Ouch Y/N that one hurt a bit. Hopefully in a few years you’ll change your mind ;)”

Y/N: In your dreams, Tkachuk. The team already has me destined to be with Aus so you gotta get in line.

Seeing those words made a fire erupt in his body. He knew you were probably just joking around but the idea of Auston getting to hold you made his blood run cold. Maybe that friendly warning wasn’t in the best interest of Y/N but Auston being selfish.

Matty: Auston has nothing on me sweetheart.

His words stopped you in your tracks. You never thought the juvenile feelings you had for Matthew would ever be reciprocated but here he was playing the game right back.

Y/N: I don’t know Matty, I’ve seen what Austons packing

As soon as Matthew read your text he slammed his phone down with a ‘Fuck’ that was a bit too loud making all the guys look at him.

“What’s your deal?” Johnny asks, confused at his sudden outburst.

“Nothing.” Matthew says before he picks his phone backup and answers his text.

Matthew: I’m sorry what?

Before you answered, your mind drifted back to the previous summer. Mitch had invited the team and their girlfriends up to your cottage for one of the long weekends. It was a really fun weekend filled with drinking, boating, bonfires and even more drinking. On the last night there, Auston had a bit too much and proceeded to take off his swim trunks and run full force into the lake. Thinking it was hilarious, a few of the other boys followed suit. Unfortunately, because of where you were sitting when this happened, you saw a bit more of your brother's teammate than you would like to.

Snapping back to realted you messaged him back.

Y/N: you read what I sent

Matthew: tell me how good he was and then let me show you something better princess.

A mad blush crossed your face at the thought of Matthew showing you what he could do. You pushed those thoughts out of your head and began work on the lecture notes you were avoiding. Trying your best to push the thought of him having his way with you out of your head.

A few hours passed and the boys all crashed into Mitches apartment. Mo, Jake, and Zach set up shop on the bar stools across from you as Auston draped himself over your shoulders. Mitch leaned over the edge of the counter, all of them talking over each other. You missed having a house full of players all having fun. Matthew texted you again and you quickly turned your phone over before anyone could see it but you weren’t fast enough. Hearing your phone go off and seeing Auston look over your shoulder, Jake shot him a look to which Auston just shook his head and they both frowned knowing it was Tkachuk. Still typing away on your computer, Aus reached down putting his hands on yours and the pressure alone messed you up. As you went to scold him Jake interrupted you.

“So Y/N did you hear the Sandman and his girlfriend broke up?”

“I didn’t actually, I thought they were gonna get engaged?” Not looking up from your screen you tried speaking with as little interest as possible.

He shrugged his shoulders then continued “Guess it didn’t work out” He took a slight pause while Auston nodded at him “Maybe you two should go out. Mitch mentioned at lunch you aren't seeing anyone.”

“I’m not sure dating another leaf is a good idea.” You responded still trying to feign interest.

“I think that would be a great idea.” Aus chimed in from behind you.

“I don’t remember asking what you thought, Auston.” You bite back.

You could cut the tension between you and Auston with a knife. After about a minute of no one saying anything, Mitch clapped loudly to catch the group's attention before he spoke.

“Alright boys I think it's time for some Modern Warfare” The boys all nodded and headed towards the living room.

Auston leaned in close, whispering in your ear before going to meet the others, “It’s cause he’s young right? I know guys my age are more your speed these days.”

You flinched slightly, “I don’t know what you're talking about” You tried to say as smoothly as possible.

“If you say so, pest.” The last word basically being spat at you with a hostility you had never felt from him before. He finally let go of you and headed for the living room.

With that comment you had had enough and excused yourself to head back to your apartment. On your way down to the lobby knowing you were safe from the watchful eye of Auston and Jake you decided to answer Matthew.

Matthew: Y/N? Did I say something that's going to get me in trouble?

Y/N: Sorry, got distracted by some homework. Since when is Matty Tkachuk afraid of causing a little trouble ?

Part Three

#matthew tkachuk #matty tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey #calgary flames #flames imagine #auston matthews #mitch marner #toronto maple leafs

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sarahlevys · 3 years

Text

One Person's Guide to Coping with AD(H)D in the Workplace

Howdy! This is a non-exhaustive overview of a few things that I have learned to put into practice to cope with my ADD in the workplace.

For some background context, I have ADD but do not currently manage the condition via medications due to some side effects that negatively affect my quality of life. Currently, I hold an executive leadership position at the company I work for, and manage individuals with ADHD. I use ADD to describe myself because that is the name that was given to me when I was diagnosed.

I don't intend to speak as a sole authority on this subject; I've just been asked to provide ideas and thoughts on this by friends. The coping mechanisms in this post are by no means not intended to be the only coping mechanisms that exist.

Your Mind is Different

I've learned to accept the fact that I will easily get side-tracked, distracted, and have days in which I simply cannot focus on things during the time in which I either want to focus, or have been told (by supervisors, bosses, my own internal guilt mechanism, etc.) that I should be focusing on.

All of this is okay! My mind rarely, if ever, works on command when it's time to do something that I'm not intrinsically motivated to do, like work. And sometimes, even when I *want* to do the thing – like a hobby or something I genuinely enjoy – I can't focus. All of that is still okay.

Be gentle to yourself. A coping mechanism that works one day may not work another day – or even later, that same day. It's okay to multi-task, to lose focus, or to get hyper-focused on something you should or shouldn't.

Allow yourself the grace to not always use a planner, a habit tracker, or similar.

Some Things to Try

You'll note a common theme in all of these: these don't always work for me all the time. Trial and error is totally okay!

Focus:

If you find yourself itching to do something else at the same time as something you're working on – e.g., check your text messages – go ahead and do it. Sometimes, if I don't let myself give in to those impulses, they build up in my mind until my focus on what I'm 'supposed' to be focusing on gets shot to all hell.

That said, on those moments where I settle into 'the zone' or 'flow,' I am sometimes I'm able to go ahead and shut off whatever might pull my focus. Roll with it and do whatever's right for you in the moment!

In meetings, depending on the stakes of it, I might play a bit of sudoku or doodle; doing something that's low pressure, even for a few seconds, can often help me feel like I've 'multi-tasked' or 'slipped into something else' long enough to refocus on the meeting at hand.

Taking notes during a meeting, especially by hand, also can feel like multi-tasking, even if I'm not.

Standing up during a task or call often helps me focus. (Sometimes it doesn't!) Either way, even if it's just for a little bit, I still am usually happier for being able to physically fidget or stretch more than I would in a seated position.

Listening to music while I work helps me feel like I'm multi-tasking, even if I'm not – but I know this doesn't work for everyone! And like everything else, some days it works for me, some days it doesn't. I personally prefer music with lyrics, but I know others who don't.

Give Yourself Breaks:

Sometimes, when I'm moving really quickly – e.g., if I'm going through a lot of tasks, going from meeting to meeting, or trying to think and do a lot – I feel myself getting short of breath/tense. Breaks are really helpful to me!

Focusing is hard work! Try to give yourself at least one 10-15 minute break in both halves of your work shift.

Allow yourself the space to also zone out for a few minutes here and there, too.

Sometimes, even just walking around my home is enough to refresh my brain.

You might have success with the Pomodoro Technique: https://pomofocus.io/ This involves trying to work for 25 minutes, then taking a 5 minute break regardless. Repeat this for as long as desired – typically it'll be done 4 times (for 2 hours), followed by a 15 minute break.

Thinking Through Things Before Sending Them Loose:

My biggest struggle! I'm a big blurter, both out loud and via text/typing.

My first plan of attack is to, once I've typed through something, to pause before hitting send. I'm a fast typist with +100WPM, and I have to literally (sometimes out loud!) tell myself to not hit send right away so I can slow down and read through what I'm saying before I do hit that send button.

When communication is handled verbally, I physically try to weigh each word as I speak it, and focus on hearing each word before going onto the next.

I have learned to accept the fact that I will often trail off and lose my train of thought, and I will admit that out loud to whoever I'm speaking to – even if they're a client or someone important – so I can buy myself a little more time to sort things out. Being open about this takes pressure off of me.

Resist the Urge to Speed Through Work:

My other big struggle!

If you feel comfortable, speak to your manager about fail-safes and review processes that currently exist in your work environment. At my job, we've created internal processes that always involve someone else reviewing your work (no matter who is executing the task) so we have built-in failsafes.

If you do take a task quickly, for whatever reason – e.g., if it's something comfortable to you, or you're running out of time – speak to whoever you're doing the work for in order to make sure your work is reviewed, or to buy yourself more time to review your work before you hand it in.

Talk to Your Supervisor:

Ideally, you have the kind of relationship with your supervisor where you can explain that: 1) multi-tasking doesn't always mean that you aren't paying attention, whether you're actually multi-tasking or chasing something that'll give you the feeling of multi-tasking; 2) single-focus is hard. Even if they don't necessarily change anything about your operations processes, having that awareness goes a long way.

You may even consider talking to your other team members about this; I sometimes can come off as impatient or rushing when i don't need to be, and I've also talked about how I often go off-topic or off-track and people know that about me.

If you get a lot of same-day tasks that can pull focus from what you've planned to do today, you may want to talk to your supervisor about requesting a minimum of one day's notice for your work or to request communication when a same-day task is being sent your way.

Create Control For Yourself:

A big part of my instance of ADD is needing to control everything so that I know exactly what's happening at all times and nothing's going to distract me more than i already innately am. I've learned to (somewhat) let go of the control thing, but of course being able to do that means being aware of when it's popping up.

With this in mind, I try to be mindful of when I'm feeling tense or out of control – a bit trigger for me is when a bunch of unexpected meetings or communications crop up, for example – and to pay attention to how I'm feeling and what I can do to solve it, or to roll with the punches.

I've found that taking the time to think about the next day and set up my planner for the following day in the afternoon before signing off, or after work has closed, and then reviewing that again in the morning of, really helps. Of course, I don't always remember to do it. But when I do, it really help!

Organize Your Work & Find Low-Pressure Accountability:

The way that I organize my tasks for each day differs based off of the day or my mood. Sometimes I organize them by priority, sometimes by the amount of time that I think it'll take me to do something, sometimes by client, etc. Be flexible!

At my work, we do a daily check-in with the whole team where we say what we plan to do that day, and I've found that group accountability to be really helpful. That might be something your manager might be interested in providing to you (e.g., a quick message in the morning to let them know what you plan to do).

That said, accountability can sometimes feel like too much pressure if you don't always do everything on your list. Ideally, you can talk with your supervisor or even a trusted co-worker to set up an environment in which it's okay for things to roll over or for priorities to shift depending on how a day is going.

Find a Flexible Way to Organize Yourself:

Paper journals/planners and I don't mix; when I forget to use it, the empty pages give me guilt, and the permanence of pen also makes me anxious since things in my mind are so fluid.

With this in mind, I prefer digital means since I can rearrange and move things around. I personally use an iPad Pro and a Pencil to take notes in digital note-keeping software, but this can be cost-prohibitive. If you struggle with paper methods of organization, consider using note-taking software or even Google Docs to create a plain-text bullet journal so you can move things around.

That's all I've got! Please let me know if you found this guide helpful, and what other coping mechanism or ideas I should add to this (with credit to you!)

#ADD #ADHD #coping mechanisms #mental health #ADD coping mechanisms #ADHD coping mechanisms

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blizzardfluffykpop · 3 years

Text

Senior Math

Summary: If there is one rule to high school, it’s you don’t miss PTG parties.

Do or Not Series

Slice of life and fluff

Word Count: 2,517

Kino [Hyunggu] X Reader

[Mentions: Seungkwan and Moonbin as best friends and Myungjun, Jinwoo, and Jinho as close friends]

The days grow longer, and I know summer is just around the corner. This summer is different since this is my last year in high school. It feels bittersweet to watch it all go, to start anew and leave my childhood behind. I doodle in my notebook during math class since senior math sucks. I should have taken college prep. But at least all the funny kids and my friends are in this class. That is the plus side, but when Mr. Davis yells that there are thirty problems for tonight. I want to curl up and die. Can graduation come any sooner? But at the same time, slow its roll? Like there is no happy medium, and oh god, isn’t prom coming up? I completely forgot about that function, a good thing that it’s not for another month.

I start working on them just as the bell rings, and I hear the books slam close around me. Good thing we get to come back up here for another period. Or I would have it out with Mr. Davis. Seungkwan and Moonbin meet me at my desk. “Let’s go bitches!” Seungkwan yells at least Mr. Davis is out. I don’t need detention. He might force me to stay extra days, and I am not cool with that. We laugh, link arms, and rush down to the best period of the day.

When we get our food Moonbin draws in closer to us, “Did you guys hear?” I let out a ‘hmm?’ and Seungkwan waits expectantly, “That PTG is throwing a party?” We gasp, “No way,...” There is only one group that can throw a party. And when they do, they set the whole school ablaze. “This year it’s only by invitation. Since what happened last year.” Oh yeah, a few people got a day in the cell for being drunk and or hosting a party with underage drinking. Seungkwan whispers hastily, “How did you hear?” Moonbin smirks, “Myungjun invited me, and he said I could invite you two, and that’s it.” We exchange a look, and I look down at my food. “I don’t know,...” Seungkwan nudges me, “Come on! It’s our last year! Let’s live it up!” While I’m not one for parties, I can’t say no to the two puppy dog eyes directed at me.

Moonbin picks up Seungkwan and me with the radio blasting, and Seungkwan goes, “What if I car surf?!” I gasp, “Well, what are you waiting for?!” He grins, and on cue, the Beach Boys come on. He climbs up through the passenger window and up to the roof. Moonbin and I laugh, and Seungkwan is screaming. Out of joy, I’m not sure, but he hops back in pretty quick. “(Y/n)! It’s your turn!” My eyes nearly pop out of my head, but I can’t help but shrug and roll the window down. I sit on the window hole and pull myself up onto the roof. When I feel the air under my arms nothing, and everything feels real at the same time. As I spin around and act like I’m riding the waves going down and low and up high. When he comes to a red light, I lay down on the roof and take in this feeling of euphoric anxiety. I’m a senior, and these are some of my last high school experiences. Soon these memories will all be distant and only exist in my dreams. I shake those thoughts off and slide back in through the open window. Moonbin goes, “Grab the wheel, Seungkwan, it’s my turn.” My eyes nearly pop out of my head, again, as Seungkwan takes over. He has a hang of it as Moonbin jumps up on top, and I can hear his laughter. He seems to be enjoying it more than us. “Do you know where PTG’s house is?” Seungkwan lets out a hum and goes, “Roughly?” Moonbin yells, “Turn right!” *let’s go surfing now everyone is learning how, come on and safari with me*. Seungkwan turns right, and we pull up to the house in a matter of moments. Moonbin flips off the car, and Seungkwan and I laugh, “You would think he’s drunk already.” I tell Seungkwan, and he laughs. We exit, link arms, and brace ourselves for a fun night.

Wooseok opens the door and invites us in, and the music is already thumping through my soul. We make our way in and find Myungjun and Jinwoo smoking and talking amongst themselves. The three of us grab a drink and join them. “I didn’t expect to see all three of you.” I roll my eyes, “Yes, Jinwoo, sometimes I like to enjoy myself.” He smirks, “I was talking about Seungkwan, but hey.” I shake my head and laugh as the five of us get up and walk around after they put out their cigarettes. We see Jinho, and he grins at us, “Ahh, my favorite five.” Seungkwan goes, “Have you seen Hyunggu?” He scrunches his nose before his eyes come alight. If there is one member to visit during a PTG party, it’s Hyunggu. Not only is he good at party games, but he’s also pretty attractive. It’s not that I have had a major crush on him since eighth grade and the whole group likes to tease me about it or anything. Ever since I let it slip in my Sophomore year, they have teased me about it.

Maybe it was from the times when I went over to his house to do a school project. And we stayed up the whole night talking and sharing music. I could never forget the feeling of him telling me his favorite song and turning it up on his speakers. Luckily his room was in the basement so his parents couldn’t care less if his music was loud. Or it was the way we snuck glances at each other as we texted each other in class. Or the way he carried himself, so freely yet reserved. You wouldn’t know he was loud and funny until he was around his friends. It was something I adored about him. After a while, we stopped texting each other, and things went back to how they used to be with me, watching him from afar and wondering what a relationship with him would entail. And him, looking handsome as ever, until one day we no longer shared classes. But I still catch glimpses of him in the hallways, and my heart beats a little faster each time.

Myungjun elbows me, and I nearly want to hurl him across the room. I wish I had detention with Mr. Davis to avoid this. No, those end by five, and this party didn’t start until seven. I follow the five of them up the stairs. When we reach his room, my jaw nearly drops to the floor. He has pink hair now,... No one should look that good in pink, but oh god, how he does. I close my jaw back up as I hear, “Now, what we’re gonna play tonight!” We all hoot and holler. There are at least twenty people in this bedroom. “Is seven minutes in heaven!” That’s when I see the post-it notes getting passed around. I shrug and write my name down at worst, I end up with someone I don’t know. Or I end up with an ex, but hopefully, I end up with one of my friends. At least I can talk to them and fake a few moans and hair ruffles to get a good laugh.

“ALRIGHT! All the names are in the bowl! Let’s see who we pull!” He pulls the names out and goes, “Myungjun! And!” We all give a drumroll, “Jinwoo!” Moonbin and I boo, “They’re already dating!” The two of them laugh, “Jealous?!” Everyone laughs as they go hand in hand into the closet. “Maybe I am,” Moonbin says, which makes Seungkwan and I laugh. “Good thing there’s a lot of closets in this house~.” Jinho tells us, and I blink at him, “You mean there is a chance that everyone is gonna go.” “Everyone who put their names in the hat.” I shrug, “Should have expected that. It’s been a while since I went to a PTG party.” Jinho smiles, “We all know who you’re hoping to be with~” I glare, “You guys are awful. We all know who you want, Jinho.” He squints, “Who?” We all let out, “Bomi.” He gasps, “Be quiet! She might hear you!” He waves his hands in front of himself. We roll our eyes, and Wooseok joins us on the bed, “Hey guys!” Seungkwan ruffles his hair, “Good evening, any luck?” He groans, “No, hopefully, my name gets pulled soon. I’m tired!” We laugh at him, and Hyunggu pulls out the next name, “Moonbin and Seungkwan!” I whine, and they shrug, they follow each other into a closet, and I lay back on the bed, “Well, now it’s just us three.” Jinho’s name gets called with Bomi’s immediately, “Just you two, actually!” He says with a skip in his step, "Lucky!" Both Wooseok and I whine.

When Moonbin and Seungkwan return they are shocked to see me still lying there, all by myself. Seeing as Wooseok got paired up with a name I didn’t quite catch. “What did you guys do?” I ask teasingly, “To be honest, we were playing, 'would you rather.'” I shake my head, “Yep, that’s my best friends. They have the opportunity to leave something in a closet behind, and they play ‘would you rather’.” They laugh, and Seungkwan goes, “Yeah, no, I’d much rather kiss a frog.” Moonbin ‘ribbits’ in return, and I laugh. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “So how many people are left?” I shrug, “Like ten?” Bomi and Jinho never returned, and we can only assume what they are doing right now.

“And last but not least, is (Y/n) and I!” I gasp, “You heard that too?” They both smirk and nod. I get up my nerves shaking me to the core. And there is Hyunggu not too much further in front of me. He grabs my hand and leads me to the farthest door. When he shuts the door, he goes, “You know I always thought you were super attractive.” My chin drops to the floor for the second time tonight. “I always thought the same about you,...” The light that seeps in from under the door barely illuminates our shoes. But it’s not like I needed more detail. I already memorized his outfit, and god, he looks way too good in soft cardigans. I take a step closer and reach my hands up to his face, I cup his cheeks, and he grabs my arms and pulls me up against him. And like in my dreams, we’re making out. His lips are so soft against mine. My hands leave his cheeks, and I snake my hands underneath his cardigan and pull him closer. His hands find their way into my hair and play with it. I let out a little moan, and I feel him smirk against my mouth. I smirk back and push him back against the wall and bring my hands up to his shoulders. Holding him against me, and when the door to the closet opens, it feels like it’s too soon. No, this is just like my dreams. I wake up before we end up together. Because I know when I walk out of this closet, kissing Hyunggu will be no more than a figment of my imagination. Although it’s the best damn makeout session, I have ever had. I hear the gasps, “I told you he liked (Y/n)!” Seungkwan says and hits Moonbin upside the head. Did they bet on this? I wouldn't put it past them. We slowly untangle ourselves from each other. He smiles at me, and we walk out of the closet.

I hear moans from the farthest room on the left, and I realize that we assumed correctly about Bomi and Jinho. Good for them, I think to myself as I part from Hyunggu. What does this mean? Are we going to pursue something, or are we just going to let this memory fade to dust? I find myself laying my head against Seungkwan’s shoulder and sipping from a new solo cup. “Do you think he meant anything about that? Or was it just the heat of the moment?” Moonbin rubs my shoulder, “The only way to know is to ask.” I groan, “That’s not the answer I’m looking for.” Seungkwan groans, “It’s the only one we can provide.” I groan, “I know!”

That Monday, he comes strutting into Mr. Davis’ fifth-period class. I feel Moonbin kick me under the table, and I look up to yell at him. When I catch Hyunggu’s eyes and he waves, and I wave back. Ugh, this is suffering, but I’m happy about it. How does that make any sense? Mr. Davis dismisses him and tells him he’ll have the grades in by Wednesday. The pink blur makes my heart swoon as he walks out with a pip in his step. I need to do something about these feelings, does he like me or not? I need a daisy,… Which leads to me cutting out a daisy instead of doing homework and ripping off the paper petals. I end up on ‘he loves me’, and I take that as a sign of hope. When the bell rings, I link my arms with my two friends, and we head to lunch.

We sit at our table idly chatting about prom and the end of the school year. When I catch sight of the pink blur, yet this time, he’s standing across from where I’m sitting. I raise my eyebrows, and he smiles, “Hey,... Can I talk to you about the other day?” I shrug, and Seungkwan pats my thigh and wishes me luck. I follow him outside of the cafeteria, and he smiles. “I,... uh,... like you.” I gulp and rub the back of my neck nervously before I confess, “I like you too, Hyunggu.” His eyes light up, and he asks, “Would you want to go out with me?” I grin and nod, “Tomorrow at 7?” I nod again with a bigger smile on my face, and he walks me back over to my lunch table. When he leaves, the two of them look at me expectantly, and I tell them everything.

The date went fantastic we went to a café together before we went to a house show. We jumped around to the music and laughed between sets. And a week later, I asked him to prom. He was blushing like a bright red cherry, and my face was just as red as he agreed. During the first slow dance of the night, I asked him to be mine. Who would have known that Hyunggu liked me back and that we would end up dancing the night away in each other’s arms? Not me, but I'm so glad we're together now.

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captainjanegay · 3 years

Text

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: I was pondering whether I should leave the dance recital for later or just go with it and I decided that I had no idea how else could this third chapter go, so here it is! I hope you'll like it and as always I wanted to thank you so so much for all the love and kind words :') They all make my heart melt and make me actually excited (even though still anxious) about posting next chapters :') Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, liked or reblogged this fic, it means the world to me ♥

I was worried this one is going to be shorter but I've added some last minute Natasha content because who doesn't love Natasha content? I certainly do. Enjoy and see you all next time ♥

Chapter 3

(4.4k words)

Bucky is nervous. It feels almost as if he is the one who’s going to dance in front of all those people in less than an hour. Although he thinks it would be less anxiety-inducing than watching Alex's performance. It’s not like he doesn’t believe in her. If there’s one thing that Bucky is sure of, it’s that his daughter is talented and brilliant and that she’s going to be amazing. He just knows how important it is to her, so he wants everything to go perfectly. Which is why in the last two minutes he has sent at least four messages to Clint to make sure he won't be late.

Each time Clint told him to fuck off and not be a dick. There’s still over thirty minutes left before the recital starts and objectively Bucky knows Clint would never miss something that’s so important to Alex. It doesn’t stop him from worrying, though.

With a sigh, he slides his phone into his back pocket and looks around the lobby. Not that many people are around yet and Bucky is not that surprised. Besides the parents, there are rarely any other people coming to those things. Sometimes not even all the parents do. Alex probably has the biggest support group even on the smallest events. And Bucky doesn’t even need to drag anyone forcefully. They’re just lucky enough to have plenty of supportive friends in their life and thinking about it makes Bucky really emotional sometimes.

The door opens and Bucky’s eyes skip that way automatically. The man that walks in is tall and blond-haired, dressed in an old-school brown leather jacket and a scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck. He hovers by the door for a few moments and looks a bit lost, scanning the lobby.

“Steve?” Bucky says and the man’s head turns towards him quickly.

When Steve's eyes land on Bucky, a big smile blooms on his face.

“Bucky, hi!” Steve says, walking over to him.

“You came.” Bucky points out with a smile. Steve made it clear on a few occasions that he will, but actually seeing him here is still a bit of a surprise.

“Of course. Didn’t want to let Alex down. Or you, but mostly her,” the sincerity in his voice warms Bucky’s heart. Steve rubs at his neck in a nervous gesture and reaches to his messenger bag. “I’ve actually— You’ve said how important to her it was so I— I’ve made a little something for her, I hope that’s OK?”

Surprised, Bucky looks down and sees that Steve is holding an open folder. Inside, there’s a drawing made with coloured pencils and when Bucky sees it his breath catches.

It shows Alexandra in full ballerina gear, with a big fluffy tutu and a little tiara on her head. There’s a huge smile on her face and her eyes are sparkling in the spotlights. She’s caught mid-pirouette. Even though it’s just a drawing, it’s so dynamic Bucky half expects her to start twirling across the page. Around her there is a confetti of musical notes and roses being thrown her way, some of them scattered on the stage in front of her. It’s so beautiful Bucky’s fingers twitch forward to touch the drawing but he quickly catches himself.

“God, Steve—” he starts but he has no idea what to say next.

“I just— I don’t know, I wanted to have a little gift for her? The dancers are given flowers after their performances, but I— I don’t know, I can just—,” Steve mumbles.

When Bucky finally tears his eyes away from the drawing, he notices that Steve has an honest to God blush on his cheeks and he’s still rubbing his neck in that nervous gesture. A sudden urge to wrap this amazing, kind man in a hug overwhelms Bucky. He manages to stop himself. Instead, he puts his hand on Steve’s bicep and squeezes lightly.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t even— My god, it’s amazing. Alex will go crazy when she sees it. I bet she’s gonna make me hang it somewhere,” Bucky lets out a chuckle. “And I’ll gladly do that, it’s really wonderful.”

A shy smile appears on Steve’s face as he closes the folder and carefully tucks it into his bag. “It’s nothing, just a little drawing.”

“Maybe for you but she’s gonna be over the moon. And I can’t believe that you really came and did this drawing and— You’re amazing, Steve.”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks only deepens. He looks down, refusing to look into Bucky’s eyes and he opens his mouth to say something.

But before he gets the chance, there’s some commotion on the other side of the lobby. When Bucky looks that way, he sees Clint and Scott arguing about something, the former holding a phone in front of his face. Walking calmly behind them are Hope and Cassie, both with similar tired yet fond expressions on their faces.

“Hi guys, you’ve made it!” Bucky greets them with a smile.

“We did! Clint kept rushing us cause apparently you’ve been bugging him for the last hour not to be late,” Hope says giving Bucky an one-armed hug.

“I—,” Bucky stutters. “It wasn’t an hour. Besides I wouldn’t if I knew he was picking you up.”

“Of course it was an hour and of course you would, Barnes. Don’t lie and pretend you're not a crazy person,” Clint says, looking up from the phone.

Clint’s eyes skip from Bucky to Steve, who moved half a step back and is watching the commotion with a polite smile on his face. When Clint looks back at Bucky, he wiggles his eyebrows with an awful smile.

Bucky never wanted to smack him so badly.

“You won’t introduce us?” Clint asks.

Sending him one last hateful look, Bucky glances at Steve, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Here’s Scott, his fiancee Hope and his daughter Cassie. And this idiot is Clint, sorry about him. Guys, this is Steve, a… friend, we’ve met recently.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Steve says with a smile.

“Wait, what Steve? How is James making friends, I didn’t know he could do that?” comes a voice from Clint’s phone, making Bucky groan.

“We’re just as surprised, Nat.”

Clint turns his phone around, showing the screen with Natasha’s slightly glitchy face on it. She quickly scans the new surroundings and her eyebrows shoot up when she notices Steve.

“Oh hello,” she greets with a signature Natasha smile, kind but slightly wolfish and possibly intimidating to strangers. "I'm Natasha."

“Um.” Steve sends a confused glance Bucky’s way, but says. “Nice to meet you too, Natasha. I’m Steve, the new friend. Apparently that's an achievement for Bucky.”

If Bucky felt sympathetic for Steve for being ambushed by his friends, he’s not anymore. Instead, he groans again and ignores the small smirk that Steve sends him and Natasha’s “I like this one!”.

“Can you all just shut up and proceed to the hall, please?” Bucky gestures towards the door across the room. “Since we’re all here already and the show is going to start soon we can as well take our seats already.”

When they don't move, Bucky ushers them forward, waving his arms as if they were a flock of chickens. Sometimes it feels like they are. Eventually, they do move and Bucky sends a small smile towards Steve who hangs back waiting for him.

"So, um—," Steve starts, looking at the small group in front of them before glancing back at Bucky. "Your wife couldn't come?"

Steve's voice is conversational so he seems surprised when Bucky halts to a stop.

"I'm—” Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. "I don't have a wife."

"Oh." Steve looks both confused and embarrassed now. "I'm sorry, I didn't— I just assumed, since Alex mentioned her mum a lot and— sorry."

"Oh no, Bucky's single," Scott says, apparently hearing the little exchange.

"And desperately ready to mingle," Clint prompts helpfully, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

It feels like Bucky has been doing nothing but groaning in distress during the past few minutes. "I'm not desperate—"

"I'm the mum!" comes Natasha's chipper voice from Clint's video call and he kindly turns the phone around. "Not the wife, though. James's too insufferable as anything but a friend. And likes men too much for that."

"Tasha, for fuck's sake," Bucky says loudly, getting a dirty look from some random mum who overhears him.

He pointedly doesn't look at Steve throughout this whole exchange. Why do his friends hate him so much? He doesn't deserve to be treated like this.

"Can we just—" Bucky takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, "not talk about this and to the performance, please. It's starting soon."

It's Hope who stops this madness and decides not to ignore Bucky's obvious discomfort. With a smile directed at both Steve and Bucky, she takes Scott by his elbow and turns him around, pushing Clint slightly towards the hall. They don't object. Bucky has never been more grateful for her.

It's not until a few minutes later when they are all seated in the hall, surrounded by the quiet murmur of different conversations before the show, when Steve leans closer from his seat next to Bucky's.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Steve says quietly.

Bucky chances a look at him. The lightning is dim but the distance between them is small enough for Bucky to make out the dark blush dusting Steve's cheeks.

"It's not your fault my friends are idiots," Bucky jokes to lighten the mood. "Should've worn ya' before I've invited you."

Steve laughs at that. "Still, though. Shouldn't have just assumed things."

"It was a perfectly normal assumption to make." Bucky points out. "Really, don't stress about it. It's all good."

For a moment, Steve doesn't look convinced but eventually he nods and smiles. Bucky reciprocates the gesture. For a moment they just look at each other but their attention is soon drawn towards the front of the room. Some more lights above the stage appear when the owner of the studio walks in with a smile, asking everyone to take a seat. Her introductions are pretty standard and she keeps them short. Soon enough, the main show begins.

It’s really entertaining, even considering the fact that the age of the performers varies between 4 and 12 years old. They’re dancing in many configurations, the smallest dancers mostly in big groups and Bucky smiles the whole time, watching their — sometimes still clumsy but oh so cheery — dancing. Two of the oldest kids perform an amazing pas de deux to the music from Sleeping Beauty. They dance to a lot of contemporary music and loads of Disney songs, to Steve’s great delight. Bucky only shakes his head with a disbelieving smile when he hears Steve singing along to A Whole New World under his breath. Feeling Bucky’s eyes on him, Steve only shrugs and laughs quietly.

Alex is in two group dances and she has her own solo performance. She’s brilliant in all of them. And it’s not just Bucky’s biased opinions, because the hall erupts in loud applause when she finishes her solo with a bow and a huge smile on her face. Watching the concentration on her face, mixed with the absolute joy of dancing makes Bucky teary-eyed and by the end of her last performance he doesn’t even try to stop the tears. All the pride he feels, threatens to tear him apart. He would be the proudest even if she sucked but the fact that she manages to awe everyone in the room makes it all so much better.

After the recital is over, some of the guests leave to wait in the lobby but Bucky and his friends stick around in the hall, moving closer to the stage. Soon enough, Alex bolts from backstage, still in her dress and everything and launches herself into Bucky’s arms.

“You were incredible, my love!" Bucky says, hugging her tight and kissing the side of her face. “I’m so proud of you! You made me cry real tears, you were so beautiful.”

“Thanks, papa,” Alex laughs, leaning away a bit to look at him, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Soon enough, she gets whipped away from Bucky’s embrace by Clint who starts spinning her around the room, both of them shrieking loudly. They earn some disapproving looks by doing that, but they couldn’t care less. Bucky only watches them with a fond smile, laughing and getting emotional again when Alexandra notices the huge bouquet they’ve bought just for her. She talks briefly with Natasha - the video conference was on during the whole performance so even though Nat couldn’t be here in person, she could still watch the whole thing. Natasha apologises for not being there but promises to make it to the next recital that is supposed to happen around New Year’s Eve and she points out how proud she is every two words.

Bucky lets everybody congratulate his little girl and shower her with the love she deserves. He’ll have plenty of time to do that at home. So he takes a step back and stands next to Steve.

Steve, who waits politely, probably not wanting to interrupt as he just watches it all with a smile on his face. But when Alex’s eyes finally land on him, matching big smiles bloom on both of their faces.

“Steve! You came!” Alex exclaims, bouncing closer to where Steve and Bucky are standing.

“Of course I did,” Steve says and he crouches to be on Alex’s eye level. “You were incredible! Thank you so much for inviting me, it was so worth it. And I have a little gift for you.”

Hearing that, Alex starts bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement and she watches as Steve retrieves the drawing. The moment her eyes land on it, she lets out a small gasp. Just like Bucky did before, she moves her hand as if she wants to touch it but stops, afraid to ruin it. When she looks up at Steve, her eyes seem a little watery.

“It’s for me?” she asks and when Steve nods, she carefully takes it from his hands. “I love it! Thank you so much, Steve!”

With that, she wraps her small arms around Steve’s neck. The movement catches Steve off guard, almost enough to make him lose his balance and Bucky laughs at the surprised look Steve sends him.

“You’re so welcome, Alexandra,” Steve says eventually, rubbing her back. “I’m happy you like it. Thank you again for inviting me.”

“Papa, look!” Alex yells, moving away from Steve and proudly showing Bucky the drawing. “It’s me!”

“It is!” Bucky agrees, hugging her close one more time. “It's my wonderful little ballerina!"

***

After the performance, they all decide to go to a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Steve tries to flee but both Clint and Hope — which comes out as a bit of surprise to Bucky — nag him to join them. He sends a look at Bucky, probably hoping Bucky's gonna back him up.

He doesn't. Instead, both he and Alex send Steve their best puppy dog eyes saying that they'll love if Steve came along. Steve is not able to resist such power.

Bucky's not sure why he insists so hard on Steve coming with them, not really knowing what to expect. It turns out he had nothing to worry about. Steve fits right in with their little group. The evening is very nice and they all feel comfortable in each other's company. Bucky's a bit afraid at the beginning, when Clint starts asking some pretty nosy questions and is being his horrible self. Everyone except Steve has gotten used to it and they know that Clint is the best friend one can have but for some reason, he sometimes hides it quite well. But Steve doesn’t seem to be judging or getting annoyed in any way. Quite the opposite. It also turns out that under all of Steve’s gold-heartedness hides a little asshole with witty comebacks and good-natured jabs at whoever tries to mess with him. He can totally keep up with whatever Clint’s up to at any given moment.

It's enough to say that Clint absolutely loves it.

They don’t stay at the restaurant for too long. They can’t since Alex is tired after all of today’s excitement. She tries very hard to hide it, though. Fortunately for her, Bucky knows her better and he saves her from crossing the line between happy and miserably exhausted. No matter how nice the evening is going so far, they should go. So for the sake of Alex’s pride, Bucky says he’s getting tired and the two of them are probably going to head home. It's not even a lie. Considering he's only 29 and it's not even 10 p.m. it's kind of sad that he really does feel a bit sleepy. Alex tries to protest but it’s weak, which only proves Bucky’s assessment of her energy levels was correct. Of course, everyone else jumps to their feet almost immediately. They exchange hugs and thank-you’s and more congratulations for Alexandra and finally some goodbye’s as they all go in different directions.

The short walk home wakes Alex up a bit. And because it's still her big night, Bucky lets her stay up for a little longer than usually when they finally get home. They cuddle on the couch and watch How to Train Your Dragon together, while sharing a bowl of ice cream. Of course their private little celebrations can’t start until the drawing from Steve is safely put away in Alex's room with promises that Bucky will hang it tomorrow.

About halfway through the movie Alex drifts off to sleep, curled safely on Bucky's lap. He takes a few extra minutes stroking her hair, trying not to think too much about how big she's getting or that soon she won't be so happy about cuddling with her papa anymore. Eventually, Bucky picks her up gently and carries her to her room. He finishes the movie and gets himself an extra scoop of ice cream before he heads to bed.

The next morning Alex almost drags him out of bed, rushes him through breakfast and almost pushes him out of the door. All that because he promised they're gonna shop for things they need to put the portrait from Steve on the wall. Bucky is not even mad. It is a gorgeous piece of art and he's really happy that Alex is so thrilled with it.

A few hours, some drilling and vacuuming tons of dust later, he snaps a picture of the drawing hanging proudly on the wall above the chest of drawers in Alex's bed. He attaches it to a message.

To: Steve Guess who got bullied into an IKEA trip at 10 in the morning on a Saturday just to buy a frame? Saturday, 12:30 A.M.

From: Steve Sorry? :) Saturday, 12:31 A.M.

From: Steve I'm honoured she likes it so much, though. Saturday, 12:32 A.M.

To: Steve I bet you're not sorry at all, you jump out of buildings for fun, you can't be trusted. Saturday, 12:37 A.M.

From: Steve I did NOT jump out of a building, stop saying that! And what happened to "you're amazing, Steve"? Saturday, 12:40 A.M.

To: Steve ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Saturday, 12:41 A.M.

***

After all the emotions from yesterday, Saturday passes in a nice yet uneventful way. Alex falls asleep on her feet at barely half past seven, but it’s no surprise that the tiredness has finally caught up to her. She doesn’t even try to argue when Bucky suggests she should head to bed earlier. After tucking her in, he lays down on the couch for a second, promising himself that he’ll do the dishes before heading to bed. Suddenly, it’s past 10 P.M. and he’s mindlessly watching some late-night reruns of Say Yes to The Dress. He’s not even surprised at this turn of events.

The noise his phone makes blasts in the quiet of the living room, making Bucky jump. He’s in such a rush to turn off the ringing that he drops the phone on his face, accidentally answering the incoming video call.

“Hi, dimwit. Did you just drop your phone on your face again?” He hears Natasha’s amused voice.

“I’ve never dropped a phone on my face in my life, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky answers as he rubs his aching nose that has taken most of the impact.

Natasha only rolls her eyes at that. “My girl already asleep?”

“Yeah, went to bed before 8 p.m. and i bet she’ll sleep in tomorrow. She was positively exhausted today.”

“I’m not even surprised. She deserves some rest though, she was so brilliant last night,” Natasha says with a sad smile. “I hate that I couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tasha. She understands,” Bucky tries to convince her. “Besides you’re gonna be here for Christmas, right?”

Natasha is not reassured. She thinks she hides it well enough for Bucky not to notice, but he’s known her for too long. She sighs but then answers with a small smile. “Yeah, I will be home for most of December. I’ll need to go to Cali for a bit, as always, but I should be back for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Bucky smiles. “We miss you here and you’ll be just in time to see Alex in the Nutcracker, you know that one’s even more important to her.”

“Can’t wait. She’s gonna outmatch me sooner than I’ve expected.”

“She will and I don’t even feel sorry for you. She’s just so incredible. Like with your skills and my brains and also my good looks she’s destined for great things. I feel kind of bad for other kids,” Bucky chuckles but he only half-jokes.

In response he gets a raised eyebrow from Natasha. “I think you’ve meant my skills, my brains and my good looks and your—,” she waves her hand towards him dismissively. “I mean, I’m sure there’s something, we’ll figure it out at some point. Maybe it’s your love for Say Yes to the Dress, who knows.

“I’m—,” Bucky tries to defend himself but the grin on Natasha’s face tells him it’s a lost fight. He didn’t expect Natasha to recognise the background noise of his TV but then — it’s Natasha, so he should have. “You’re so full of shit, Romanoff.”

“I’m not. You are though,” Natasha says and when Bucky sends her a questioning look, she explains with a cheeky smirk. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me you’ve found yourself a new, smoking hot friend!”

“You know what, I don’t have to put up with this, I’m gonna go to bed,” Bucky sighs, but he makes no move to actually hang up.

Natasha only laughs triumphantly. “Oh my, why are you so defensive all of sudden? I didn’t say anything bad, did I?”

“You’re something bad in general, so I’m always prepared. Why are you all so obsessed with Steve? I have to put up with Clint already, so please, leave me alone.”

“We just care about you! And since you’ve been stuck with just us for ages, we’re excited there’s someone new, kind and handsome in your life!” the grin on her face makes Bucky groan out loud. “He seems nice and I hope you’ll be able to get to know him better. In a lot of ways.”

“See? This is exactly what I meant. I can’t believe I’ve been friends with you for so long.”

Another laugh escapes her mouth but her eyes soften when she looks back at him a moment later. “Really, though. You can’t be alone your whole life. And don’t bullshit me saying that you have Alex, you know that’s not my point. You’re just a huge softie who needs someone to make heart eyes at, it’s basically in your blood.”

Bucky chuckles in disbelief, not sure how this conversation got to this point. “What are you even talking about? I’ve known Steve for way too little for you to say all this. I’ve seen him in person twice. Twice, Natasha.”

“I’m not saying it has to be Steve, I know you’ve just met him. It was just a side note, completely unrelated to Steve. If anyone’s making a connection here, it’s you. So maybe you should think about that.” Natasha looks at him pointedly and when Bucky tries to chime in, she doesn’t let him. “Also on a completely unrelated note, Steve seems like a good guy, if you think about dating. And if you think about casual, he’s also smoking hot.”

“You’ve already mentioned that,” Bucky points out. “And you’ve only seen him via video chat.”

“Well, he is and it was clear even through Clint’s shitty camera.”

It’s hard to disagree with that. Even though Natasha is insane and he is not going to date anyone in the near future, let alone Steve whom he barely knows. He can objectively agree that Steve is unfairly attractive, though.

“Before you go all defensive and mean again — I just want you to be happy, James,” Natasha says. “And maybe having around someone who’s not Clint would be good for you.”

Bucky shakes his head with a chuckle. “You might have a point. But dating is not really on my priority list and I don’t think it’s a good time to change that now.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Natasha groans. “I really hope it won’t turn out that our daughter actually inherited your brains, because you’re an idiot.” She takes a deep sigh and changes the topic. “But let’s get to the important things now — is it just me or the dresses he shows this Caroline chick are getting uglier and uglier?”

“Oh God, I know, right? I don’t think I can handle another one of those monstrosities.”

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