#drive me home while they’re over which is fair and normal and good but she also won’t let me stay at the library until they leave which is

[redisaid]

The World Will Only Darken Without Candlelight - Chapter 1

The Fox and the Bird

Zelda thinks she’s in for a disappointing summer after she learns that she’s failed to get the highly competitive internship she wanted. That means she has to come back home…back to her father’s renaissance faire to be Princess Zelda for yet another year in a row. Only this year isn’t like all the rest, especially not with this weird new knight who's always following her around.

It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s a Hallmark Channel movie. It’s an episode of Scooby Doo. It’s a modern retelling of Breath of the Wild, but one where everyone works at a kinda shitty renaissance faire.

AKA, in which I fuck up again and start writing a new longfic for a fandom I don't normally write for. Oh, and it's another crackpot modern AU. This will also eventually be Zelink, because I can’t help myself after ToTK.

7040 Words

Read it on Ao3!

Shall we stay inside our shells, As the reaper takes his prey? The world will only darken without candlelight. With you I think I’ll try to get to the other side.

“Purah please. If you’re going to ask me all these questions, can you at least turn the music down?”

Red eyes peered at Zelda over the red rims of her ridiculous glasses. And not at the road. Definitely not at the road.

“Please?” she continued to plead. “And watch the road?”

“University made you so boring,” Purah sighed as she relented, fulfilling both requests by turning down the throbbing bass of her beloved EDM down and looking back to the road just in time to honk at the car in front of her that she’d almost rear-ended.

“I’ve always been rather boring, thank you,” Zelda said in her defense. “And while I appreciate you coming to pick me up, I was hoping to make it home alive.”

“Uh, bad news about that,” Purah said, biting her lip hard enough that Zelda could see it beyond the red streak in her otherwise snow white hair.

“Don’t tell me--”

“--Too late for that,” Purah conceded. “Daddy dearest wants me to bring you straight to rehearsal.”

Zelda groaned, then immediately let out a yelp of surprise as she held onto the handle above Purah’s passenger seat for dear life. Purah was swerving across three lanes of the highway to make the correct exit to get to the castle, and she was making it everyone’s problem.

The castle where Zelda’s father played King over his renaissance festival every summer, and she had been his little Princess Zelda for as long as she could remember. The ruined castle he’d somehow managed to purchase from the historical society decades ago, and had made it his life’s goal to turn into a venue for the ultimate renaissance faire. The best in Central Hyrule, so the newspaper ads always claimed. Really, it was always a sort of thrown together thing, with far more dramatics than polish.

Still, it was good fun, but definitely not how she planned to spend this summer in particular. Not how she had planned to spend any more of her summers ever again, if she could help it.

“He can’t just give me one afternoon?” she asked, even as Purah and her erratic driving had already made the decision for her.

Purah responded to that with as much of a shrug as she could manage while driving. “Apparently not. You know how he gets during the week before.”

“You know he told me he was going to pick me up from the airport? I bet he never had any intention of doing so,” Zelda noted, hugging the backpack that there wasn’t any room for in the trunk close to her chest.

“I, well, uh, I can’t say for certain,” Purah offered to that with a shrug. “He seemed in a hurry when he asked me, so at least I don’t think he planned that. He’s all in a tizzy about this new version of the Champions’ Tournament they’re doing.”

“Urbosa told me about that,” Zelda chimed in. “She said dad hired some new kid who’s really good. But that’s odd Purah, don’t you think? He doesn’t hire new people, especially not to be knights.”

“I mean, he is really good, that new guy,” Purah confirmed and began swinging an invisible sword across the dashboard. “Weird, but good.”

“Purah, no offense meant, but anyone who wants to work at a renaissance faire is weird.”

Purah, with her red-streak in her white hair, obnoxious glasses, little red hatchback that had more bumper stickers than bumper and a trunk so full of cables and costume parts that there was barely room for Zelda’s suitcases in it, just shrugged off this offense.

She’d worked for the faire since before she probably legally should have. This year would no doubt be the same as any other, with her taking charge of getting all the technology up and running--from speakers and lights down to the registers up at the ticket stands and food stalls--but also somehow finding time to create and manage an inventory of increasingly elaborate costumes for the cast. In fact, there had been no room in the backseat for Zelda’s suitcases either, because there was an entire Lynel costume in various states of completion stored there.

Purah shrugged, then offered a biting response, “Not as weird as people born into renaissance faire royalty.”

“Like I’d choose this,” Zelda sighed.

“Speaking of choices, I don’t get it,” Purah said as she turned onto one of Castle Town’s main thoroughfares, honking through her pause at the unfortunate soul who was going too slow in front of her. “I’m assuming you’re here because you didn’t get that internship. Besides me, of course, and maybe Robbie, you’re literally the smartest person I know. Why didn’t they give it to you?”

“I…don’t really know.”

It was an honest statement, maybe the most honest Zelda had been with both Purah and herself since getting into this car.

The director of the internship program had all but assured her that this last round of reviews was a formality. She was a shoe-in, what with her impressive academic credentials and the fact that she aced both rounds of interviews. But the email had come a week before the end of this last semester, saying she had been rejected in favor of more qualified candidates.

Who in all of Hyrule was more qualified than her? She’d worked her entire life to get into this field, with the goal of working for this very program. She’d studied and studied, filled her first three years at Hateno University with an insane course load that would make just about any other student break down into tears. Nevermind that she’d let those tears get the best of her sometimes, but never where anyone could see.

Though she certainly wasn’t proud to admit it, more than a few of those tears were shed that day she got the email. Zelda honestly didn’t remember much of that afternoon. She didn’t want to. She only knew that she managed to call her father in the evening, and he’d booked her a flight home.

Home. Was Castle Town really home anymore? Did she want it to be?

She shook her head to herself, lest she start spiraling in Purah’s car. The passenger’s seat of a cluttered hybrid, with still thrumming bass vibrating her bones, was not exactly the best place for a mental breakdown.

Plus, Zelda had promised herself she wasn’t going to do this. She was just going to have a normal summer. Well, as normal a summer as she could have, working at the renaissance faire yet again.

“You not having anything else to say about it speaks volumes, chatterbox,” Purah noted. “I’m sure your dad didn’t tell you this, so someone’s gotta. You know that you not getting this internship isn’t the end of the world, right? You’re still here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She reached out to squeeze Zelda’s arm, mostly missing and squeezing her backpack instead, with only two fingers making actual contact with the skin just beneath the sleeve of her blue and white blouse.

“I appreciate it Purah, but I’m fine,” Zelda assured her, back to lying again.

“You’re not fine. You’re almost as quiet as the new guy. And he doesn’t talk,” Purah told her.

“At all?”

Purah shook her head. “Nope. Or at least I’ve never heard him talk. Presumably he can. I know your dad interviewed him somehow. But that’s the whole schtick they’re using for him: The Silent Knight. He either just isn’t chatty to an extreme degree or very committed to the character.”

Zelda sighed, finding herself looking out the window as the city made way, buildings and busy streets alike seeming to step aside, opening up to a view of the ruined castle on the hill.

“It sounds like he fits right in with the rest of the Champions.”

“Revali hates him,” Purah stated.

“Revali hates everyone,” was Zelda’s immediate response.

“That’s very true. But Revali especially hates him because he’s this year’s winner,” Purah pointed out.

“You’re telling me that my father hired some new guy for the Champions’ Tournament, and that he’s making him the winner this year? Purah, you’ve got to be joking,” Zelda said, finally letting go of her vice grip on her backpack to turn fully toward Purah, or as much her seatbelt would allow.

While there had always been a bit of a revolving door of cast members in the Champions’ Tournament--the nightly knight show of jousting and stage combat that had been both the centerpiece and grand finale of every faire day--the honor of “winning” the scripted tournament was passed between her father’s four long-time knights. Mipha would win on feats of grace and compassion or from her deft skills with the spear. Cocky Revali would be handed a scenario where only his superior aim and archery knowledge could pull ahead of the other competitors. Daruk would impress the crowds with his raw strength. Urbosa arguably had the most skill with one on one sword and shield combat of all of them, and would get to show off for her win with a dramatic duel.

But never in the history of the faire had anyone else been allowed to win the scripted tournament.

“Look, I’m as surprised as you are, but I think it’ll be a fun change of pace. Maybe that old coot realized he’s gotta make some changes to keep people coming back year after year,” Purah offered with a shrug.

“That doesn’t sound like my father,” Zelda said, turning back to the view of the castle as the colorful banners and bunting that decorated the ruins joined the picture.

They always dressed the place up nice. She had to admit that. Nevermind that it should have remained in the hands of the historical society to be studied, and not made a spectacle of. But Zelda couldn’t really blame her father, or any of the others who made this faire possible every year. She supposed that was a good enough use of the ruins anyway--celebrating the past, when they were once grand and glorious and not crumbling away brick by brick, year by year.

“I guess he knew this kid’s dad?” Purah continued on. “That probably has something to do with it. He apparently was a knight way back. Maybe you’d remember him?”

“We’ve had so many knights, or at least so many strangers I’ve found passed out on my living room couch one morning and had dad explain to me that they were working for him now,” Zelda told her. “I doubt I’d remember which one of those he was.”

“You should write a book about it. Or get therapy. One or the other,” Purah offered.

“Believe me, I’ve thought about both.”

“There she is. I’ve been missing old sassy Princess Zelda,” Purah said with a grin.

Zelda didn’t bother to stifle the groan that followed. “Please don’t start with the princess stuff. I’m not ready for it.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Purah told her as she pointed to the road, and the fact that they were about to turn into the staff parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

“Shit.”

Zelda was really hoping for at least a day or two of some sort of reprieve. Some time to rot in her childhood bedroom. Well, that was still full of princess-themed decorations and accessories as well, so perhaps it wouldn’t have helped. Maybe she should have just stayed in Hateno--found a summer sublease or something, gotten a shitty summer job that didn’t involve wearing a tiara every day.

But Purah was right. It was too late. She was already here.

“Time to put on your crown, princess,” Purah said with far too much excitement as she turned off into the gravel parking lot at the back of the ruined castle.

---

“Oh good, you’re here.”

These were the first words the man known as “King” Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule had to say to his daughter. His daughter, who had just faced the biggest disappointment in her twenty-one years of life. His one and only daughter, who had come home in hopes of finding some comfort.

“You were going to pick me up,” Zelda reminded him.

“Sorry, princess. Things are very busy here,” Rhoam said as he gestured to the dusty tournament grounds. “I don’t know if Purah told you, but your old man had the bright idea to change the Champions’ Tournament around, so we’ve been stuck in rehearsal for the last week. But things are looking better. Even better now that you’re here to learn your part.”

“Don’t tell me you changed that too?” Zelda wondered.

She’d been doing the same bit since she was a teenager. She could probably recite it verbatim right there and now. In fact, she thought about texting her roommate back at Hateno University to ask if she did the entire scene in her sleep. There was a decent chance she did.

“Just a little,” Rhoam assured her with a wave of his massive hands. Zelda wasn’t sure how she turned out as small as she was, with this giant of a man being her father. “You still do the whole giving them the blessing thing, presenting them with their cloth. We made Link’s a tunic, so I don’t know how we’re gonna have him put it on without there being a big awkward pause for him to do so, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Who is Link?” Zelda asked, though she could already guess it was the new knight, she still wanted her father’s version of the answer.

“Oh right, you haven’t met Link. Well, I don’t know if you remember, but you did when you were little. His dad was one of our knights back in--”

“Father, there were so many of them. I can guarantee you that I don’t remember,” Zelda cut him off, lest he go on an entire journey through the last twenty years of the faire’s history.

“Eh, you were little,” Rhoam offered as an excuse. He scanned the tournament grounds over Zelda’s head, looking for something. “As was he. But he remembers you. Where is that boy anyway? Daruk! Where is Link? We’re starting up again in a minute!”

The massive boulder of a Goron on the field shrugged his answer and kept hammering at an actual boulder, no doubt practicing the same old trick he always did, where he’d break the rock to the raucous cheers of the crowd.

“He’ll turn up,” Rhoam said, turning back to his daughter. “He’s a good lad. Very responsible, at least when he isn’t wandering off to Hylia knows where.”

Zelda found herself scanning the grounds for anyone unfamiliar, but she knew most of the faces scurrying around the arena. Mipha was over watering the horses. Revali was very loudly explaining how great he was to some poor stagehand who also looked vaguely familiar. Urbosa was absent at the moment, and honestly had been the first person Zelda looked for. Purah had joined her sister, the slightly more serious Impa, who acted as the stage manager for most of the faire’s various performances.

“I’m sure he’s great,” Zelda offered. “I was hoping to talk to you before we went straight into the faire, though.”

“About the internship?” Rhoam questioned.

“I don’t know, dad. Maybe you could tell me that it’s going to be fine? That I’ll have another chance in the fall? That just doing my best is good enough?” Zelda asked of him, finding her hands balling into fists she went on.

Truth be told, he’d only offered her his disappointment so far. Just general displeasure and a plane ticket home.

His exact words on that fateful phone call had been, “Well, at least I can have you work the faire again.”

“I…I thought for sure you were getting it,” Rhoam offered. “Your mother was in the same program. Did you tell them that?”

“I’m not her!” Zelda nearly shouted, only holding back due to the openness of the royal box on the grandstand where they stood and the fact that there were at least a dozen people and five horses on the grounds. Zelda swallowed the last word like a bitter pill. This was the same battle she’d been fighting since she was six years old. Since her mother died. “Even if I was, I doubt that would change anything. I didn’t make it. I did everything I could and it wasn’t enough.”

“Well, you’ll just have to apply again in the fall,” Rhoam said, sticking to his guns. “I know you have it in you, princess. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to miss a regular semester for it, but hey, shit happens.”

“Shit does indeed happen,” Zelda told him, knuckles so tight now they were going numb. “I don’t know why I bothered asking what you thought. You’ve already made yourself clear.”

“I’m just worried about your career options, not to mention medical school,” Rhoam told her. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, Zelda. You need to be good scholarship material.”

“Money grows on trees when it’s for the--”

“--Now don’t start with that.”

A shout from the field stopped them from fully getting into it, thankfully.

“Hey little guy! The King wants you!” Daruk yelled at someone.

Zelda turned to find that who she presumed to be this Link character, was indeed a little guy. A Hylian like her, as small as her, maybe even a bit shorter, waved back at Daruk and started jogging up the grandstand stairs. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a wolf tail, and his mud-stained blue t-shirt and ripped jeans spoke of a morning spent practicing. He looked the part of a knight, and certainly of someone who worked at a renaissance faire, but in a very much bite-sized package.

“That’s Link,” Rhoam offered instead of an apology.

“He’s…short,” Zelda noted.

“He makes up for it,” Rhoam assured her. “Link, over here!”

Upon closer inspection, once he reached them, Zelda confirmed that Link was indeed a few inches shorter than her. Not absolutely miniscule, but still not exactly the picture of a tall, handsome knight. He had a certain curiosity sparkling in his blue eyes, and overall wasn’t bad to look at. Just…short.

And, just as Purah had warned her, he greeted them with only a wave.

“Link, this is Zelda. You probably don’t recognize her. You had to be, oh, maybe five? Six? I don’t know. It was a long ass time ago,” Rhoam said as his introduction. “But you said you remembered her.”

Zelda didn’t remember him. Her summers were so full of people. Long time employees acting as surrogate parents, guests fawning over the cute little princess, random vendors giving her ice cream and lemonade just to try to get her to smile again.

The tiniest of smiles lifted the corner of Link’s lips before he seemed to suppress it. His face turned to a stony neutral expression again before he turned to Rhoam and nodded.

“You’ll have to forgive the lad, Zelda. He isn’t much of a talker. But we’re playing that up in the show. He’s going to be the Silent Knight. Good stage name, right?” Rhoam went on.

“Fantastic,” Zelda responded, with purposeful flatness that she hoped her father understood to be a complete lack of enthusiasm for this entire thing.

And for the fact that he thought it was a good idea to have Purah bring her straight to a fucking rehearsal.

“Well, since you’re both here, and I see Urbosa over there, I think we have everyone we need to start again,” Rhoam said as he looked over the tournament grounds again before leaning over the railing to shout, his deep voice echoing over the dusty summer afternoon. “Impa! Get me a script for Zelda. Also say hi to her. And everybody else, places for the Champion’s Blessing scene! We’re doing this again from the top.”

And there it was again. The faire once again won out over her and her needs. Zelda knew it would happen. It did every summer. But still, it would be nice to hear from someone besides Purah that the world wasn’t ending.

It still felt like it was.

Rhoam walked off without another word to start doing what he did best, both directing and making himself the star of the show. Link, at least, offered her a wave goodbye as he turned to head toward the stairs again.

“Hey you! Catch!” came a call from below Zelda.

Which was followed by the fluttering of paper, as a script-shaped missile began flying from Impa’s hand straight toward Zelda’s head.

Only for a hand to reach out and catch it before it could make impact, reacting much faster than Zelda could ever hope to.

Link had turned back around in time to catch the rolled up script, and was presenting it to Zelda as if it were some sort of sacred artifact. He even had his head bowed a little.

As weird as that was, Zelda was grateful not to be smacked in the face with her father’s terrible writing, at least in the literal sense. No one could save her from the figurative smack now.

“Thank you,” she offered. “Oh…wait, um. Hold on, I think I remember.”

She signed for thank you, as no one had taken the time to explain to her why Link didn’t talk. She was left to assume. So she assumed that maybe he was hard of hearing? It was a decent enough guess.

But wait, her father had spoken to him. Link had responded to that. Was he reading lips or did he hear him? Oh well. Either way, she’d already made the sign. No taking it back now.

He lifted his head and smiled his little almost-smile again, but did not sign back. Instead, he offered the script more insistently.

“Right,” Zelda said, trying to summon all of her years of practicing her princessy grace to not inject any further awkwardness into the act of taking the script from his hand.

“Thanks for not letting me bean her, Link,” Impa said as she came up the rest of the stairs to meet them. “Rhoam would have had a fit if I gave her a black eye, even if it was with his shitty writing.”

Link nodded to that and then promptly jogged down the grandstand again. He was rather fast for as short as he was, Zelda had to admit.

“I promise he’s cool,” Impa offered as she followed Zelda’s eyes to him. “Well, as cool as someone who doesn’t talk can be. Anyway, how are you?”

“I could be better,” Zelda admitted.

Purah’s older sister was far more emotionally in tune than her, and had known Zelda longer. There was no point in attempting to hide anything from her. She’d been working as the faire’s stage manager since she was still in high school, after all. And now she was what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?

Zelda could hardly believe her own age, let alone Impa’s. She still felt like the same little girl she so often saw herself as in her dreams, riding on Urbosa’s hip and dripping her ice cream all over the colorful silk of the Gerudo woman’s belly dancer costume.

“Purah told me all about it. I’m sorry things worked out like that, but I’m glad you’re here. Me and the rest of the crew will make sure you still have an amazing summer, even if it’s not the one you wanted to have,” Impa assured her, reaching out to pull her into a quick hug.

“Thanks, Impa.”

At least that much she knew would be true. Her father couldn’t be counted on for much, but Zelda hadn’t given her faire family enough credit. They would definitely make this fun, even on the hottest, most crowded, and most miserable of days. They always did.

Still, it wasn’t what she wanted. Or what her father wanted for her. And, in a rare moment of honesty with herself, Zelda thought for just that moment, that perhaps it was getting harder and harder to reconcile those two things.

“People! I said places! Where is everyone?” Rhoam shouted from the field, as if on cue.

---

And so Zelda found herself in her usual spot, on the circle of stone tiles that had been arranged into a mosaic portraying the Triforce and the old royal seal of Hyrule’s ancient monarchy within it. Her father was nothing if not a stickler for having at least some historical accuracy at the faire, and had gone to great lengths to research and restore what he could of the original grounds. This mosaic and its imagery were among those projects.

Zelda blamed that for her true passion. As great as studying for medical school was, and wanting to follow in her mother’s footsteps as a research doctor, her medical textbooks didn’t quite hold her attention like archeology could. The history, the artifacts, the ruins like those she’d grown up around--Hyrule was full of these little windows into the past, just waiting to reveal answers to questions long forgotten. It was fascinating.

Fascinating enough that she’d managed to make it her minor, even though very few classes overlapped nicely with her pre-med track.

Fascinating enough that, at times, she could almost forgive her father for getting lost in the fantasy version of it.

So she did her best to put on her most regal Princess Zelda face as she read from the script, adding a new blessing for Link to his new storyline.

“Hero of Hyrule, chosen by the sword that seals the darkness. You have shown unflinching bravery and skill in the face of darkness and adversity, and have proven yourself worthy of the blessing of the Goddess Hylia. Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight--Dad, really? This is so verbose.”

“We’re well past the review or rewrite stage on this, princess. The faire opens this weekend,” Rhoam shouted down from the royal box, where he’d taken up residence again once the scene started.

Zelda rolled her eyes and continued on, “The sacred blade is forever bound to the soul of the Hero. We pray for your protection…and we hope that--that you two will grow stronger together, as one.” She had to look up again from that one, addressing her father in confusion, “Wait, him and the sword or…?”

“Pretty sure it’s the sword?” Daruk answered, scratching his head. “Honestly I was lost when Impa was reading this part for you too, kiddo. You reading it doesn't make it make any more sense to me.”

“Yes, it’s the sword! This is all based on the legends of the Hero and the Master Sword. Come on people, you’re supposed to be acting out history. You should know it!” Rhoam complained from above.

“Ancient legends aren’t exactly historical, Rhoam,” Urbosa reminded him, then nodded toward Zelda. “Continue on anyway. We need to get you some sunscreen after this, little bird. The heat is vicious today, even for me.”

Of course she was worried about sunscreen. The Gerudo woman had been the closest thing Zelda had to a mother after her own mother died, but that didn’t mean she had to act like it.

Though yes, the summer sun was quite hot already. It made her dread sweating in the heavy fabric of her usual princess costume all the more, but thankfully, for today, everyone was still in casual clothes.

“Right,” Zelda said, taking a deep breath and reaching out again to hover her hand over Link’s shoulder.

The Silent Knight, for his part, was dutifully bowed and on one knee before her, and hadn’t so much as flinched for all of the disruptions. He was so still that not even a single new wrinkle had been added to his dirty shirt this entire time. Was he wearing cowboy boots under those jeans? Of course he was. Of course…

Zelda shifted her focus back the script in her hand and continued on with the increasingly flowery speech, but was finding herself losing steam over the words. Honestly, she just wanted to go home. She wanted a shower. She wanted to order a pizza from her favorite place in town, eat too much of it to the point of mild regret, and then pass out. She’d been up since six in the morning to make that flight. All for her father to just throw her back into this world without so much as a hug?

Really, why did she bother to come back here?

“Gee, this is uplifting,” she heard Daruk whisper under his breath as she droned on.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” Revali snapped back at him with far less subtlety, but still quiet enough not to stop the scene again. His deep blue Rito feathers spread wide from his wings as he went on, “You’re the one who told Rhoam to add all this pomp and ceremony and nonsense to this scene! And if you ask me, the whole thing does seem to be overkill. Really, who in our audience is going to care all that much about this boy?”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Urbosa quietly scolded him as she pushed her long red ponytail off of her shoulder. “That boy has been getting more attention from her father than she ever does. Well, at least she’ll find out soon enough.”

Great. Another thing to look forward to dealing with this summer. And for the other knights to be worried about her for it. Zelda really wanted that shower and pizza more than anything else right now.

But when the words on the page ran out, and her name no longer appeared on the script, Zelda couldn’t help but look down at him. At this Link.

He was just a kid. Well, not really. He had to be at least as old as her, if she was supposed to remember him that is. But he was scrawny and small. Honestly barely believable for winning a tournament over the likes of the other Champions. Sure, the audience loves an underdog, she could almost hear her father saying as much now--but really, this kid?

Zelda, of course, knew the legends her father was referencing in that lengthy speech of hers. They were where her name came from, after all. They were her favorite bedtime stories, back when she was young. Back when things were still okay, before her mother died.

But they were just stories. Stories that were mostly the same, but slightly different in each iteration. There was always a Hero, some bright young man with unmatched courage. He always found or was given some sort of magical sword. It talked to him in some of the stories, shot magical beams of light in others, or sometimes just emitted a soft glow in the presence of evil. And he always saved a princess named Zelda from some evil monster or corrupt king. Every time.

Only Zelda was pretty sure she didn’t want or need saving. Much less from some odd young man who didn’t even have the courage to say hello to her.

Some hero he made.

---

The following day--exactly one late night hot shower and an amount of pizza that Zelda wasn’t proud of later--the temperature was even hotter and the sun somehow even brighter. Her father, in all his kingly compassion and good judgment, had decided that this was the perfect day to impose a full dress rehearsal and costume review on the entire staff.

“No different from last year,” Purah informed her as she inspected her from the blessed air conditioning of the ladies’ dressing rooms. “You haven’t changed a bit, and the dress is still in good shape. Thanks for making my job easy.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Zelda noted as she adjusted the flowing bell sleeves of her princess dress, trying to think of any other reason to delay stepping out into the heat in this ridiculous thing.

But it was no use. She’d be wearing this dress all summer, regardless of the temperature. Purah had made her another outfit a few years back with some leggings instead of the heavy skirts. It was a little better, but she could only get away with that one on days where her father was too distracted to disapprove. He didn’t think it was “princessy” enough, and wouldn’t take her insisting that the leggings were historically accurate fashion for Hylian nobility of the time period for an answer.

“I still have the pants version, you know. I don’t see why daddy dearest doesn’t let you at least do walkarounds in that,” Purah noted with a little frown as she looked Zelda up and down one last time.

She herself was in her full Sheikah getup, honoring her people’s heritage with a sort of pale gray robe that covered most of the red leggings and bodysuit she wore underneath. Unlike her older sister, she didn’t opt for the Sheikah eye symbol painted on her face, but she also had less of a chance of being seen “on stage”.

Honestly, it was all so ridiculous. Her father treated the entire faire as a theater production, or a theme park that warranted a much more expensive ticket price than they could ever hope to ask for. Referring to employee only areas as backstage, calling said employees cast or actors, forcing even the third party vendors to dress up in period clothes--it was all just overkill for what amounted to a pretty average regional renaissance festival.

But there was no telling that to the King.

“Remind me in a few weeks and I’ll see if I can get away with it,” Zelda said. She peered in the mirror of a nearby vanity and adjusted her tiara a bit. “For now, I think I’m stuck in this thing.”

“Sure thing,” Purah nodded, but then moved to step in front of her before she could leave. “Check it there a second. I’m putting us on TikTok this year, and I want to show the people your fit.”

“Purah, I understood about half of the words that left your mouth just now,” Zelda informed her.

Purah, however, was too busy pulling out her phone and grinning at the screen. “Look princessy.”

“That’s been my job since I was six years old.”

“Okay good, so do it.”

Zelda let out a brief sigh, but did her best to pose for whatever Purah was asking of her.

“Now turn or spin or something,” Purah said. “And don’t tell me you don’t know what TikTok is. You’re my age.”

“I’m usually too busy studying to mess around with social media,” Zelda said, repeating an excuse she told her fellow students so often that it was nearly as ingrained into her head as her speech for the Champions’ Tournament.

“That’s a lie. I follow you on Insta, you know. You take really pretty pictures. Boring, but pretty. Now spin,” Purah demanded.

Zelda knew she wasn’t getting out of here without a spin, so she spun. The action made her smile, remembering how she’d spin around with all the little girls who would come to the faire in their princess dresses. They were so excited to see her year after year, even after they grew out of those little dress-up princess costumes themselves.

Still, Zelda could always make guests like them smile. And maybe that was worth sweating in royal blue velvet all day.

“I still have the faire’s Instagram account,” Zelda realized as she finished her spin. “I should probably start posting on it.”

“I’m surprised you dad didn’t ask you to,” Purah noted, tapping on her phone with a little grin that told Zelda she must be satisfied with the footage.

“He still thinks the key to success is advertising in the newspapers, so I don’t think he knows enough to ask. Better it stays that way,” Zelda concluded. “Now, do I have permission to leave?”

Purah was still too busy smirking at her phone. “I’m gonna add so many sparkles to you.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Zelda responded and walked around Purah with no further resistance.

She gathered her own phone from her locker on the way out. Of course, there were no phones allowed on stage when there were guests at the faire, but the rule would not be enforced for the next few dress rehearsal days. It would be a great time for getting enough shots to fill up all the social media accounts for the rest of the summer. That meant a lot of pictures to be taken on top of all of the other wrangling her father expected her to do. But luckily for her, photography was Zelda’s second passion after archeology.

And doubly-lucky, her dress had pockets.

She loved a dress with pockets.

“I’ll head for Goron City first,” she announced to herself as she exited the dressing rooms. “Daruk will no doubt need some help getting his booth in order.”

She had a bad habit of talking to herself. She liked talking. It helped her organize her thoughts. And it wasn’t problematic if no one was around to hear her.

It was only when she’d rambled her way through the end of that second sentence that she noticed her footsteps were echoing. But that wasn’t possible? The crunch of the gravel was definitely bouncing off something. But there were only cloth tents, the gravel pathway, and the trailer that made up the dressing room behind her. Nothing to echo off of, unless…

Zelda stopped and turned, only to find that Link had stopped with her, and remained about five steps back from her.

He was decked out in his Champion’s garb. Her father had decided to scrap the gifting of the cloth to the Champions from the main show and just have them wear the tokens of Princess Zelda’s favor with their regular Champion costumes. Pretty much the entirety of Link’s costume was that token--a tunic of a slightly brighter shade of her royal blue, embroidered in white with his symbol, which was that of the legendary sword.

All very extra, as Purah might say.

The causal knightley look was completed with various belts and pouches. Of course, attached to one that was slung from shoulder to waist on him was a massive purple and gold scabbard, in which his prop sword sat--peace-knotted of course.

It would only come out of that scabbard for the tournament, of course. Zelda had yet to see what he could do with, as the previous afternoon’s rehearsal focused entirely on the opening ceremonies and not on any of the actual stage combat, but apparently even Urbosa was impressed with him, so he had to be decent.

“Hello Link,” she said as she looked him over. “Your costume fits you well. I see Purah’s been hard at work.”

He nodded to this, blue eyes earnest and expression neutral. Not even offering a hint of his opinion on the matter.

Well, that was going to take some getting used to. Especially if he kept just…staring at her like that.

“I suppose I’ll see you at show rehearsal in a bit. I’m going to check on some things and take some pictures for the faire’s Instagram,” Zelda explained, pulling her phone out of her pocket to wiggle it in evidence and waiting for him to give her some sort of sign that she could politely exit this one-sided conversation.

Link nodded again.

The awkwardness of his silence might kill her, if the summer heat and her own anxieties didn’t beat him to it.

Zelda decided that was enough and she could leave, only to hear the dual crunching of gravel yet again.

She stopped.

Link stopped with her.

“Are you…following me?” she asked, barely turning her head enough to be able to see him from the corner of her eye.

Link’s expression changed, only for the briefest of moments again. A look of concern passed his face for half a second, bending his eyebrows slightly downward and scrunching his nose, but it all smoothed back to neutral again.

He nodded.

Zelda turned to face him, not bothering to conceal her annoyance this time. “Let me guess, my father asked you to keep an eye on me? To make sure that I was doing what he asked?”

Link seemed to think about this one for a moment before he nodded again.

Zelda sighed. She wasn’t getting paid enough for this. Actually she wasn’t really getting paid at all. Her father had decided that instead of giving her wages for her work at the faire, that he’d put them into a bank account he would use to help with her tuition. And while she appreciated that, and had been able to save herself from taking much in the way of student loans for it, it wasn’t all that satisfying to have nothing in her own bank account to show for all this work.

She found herself pinching the bridge of her nose. This wouldn’t be the first time her father had assigned one of his employees to keep tabs on her. That had actually been Impa’s first job, but she’d been reassigned to stage management after Zelda became too good at evading her.

But Link. Link didn’t talk. Link couldn’t be distracted with a conversation. Link was new to the faire and didn’t have a friend she could foist him off on.

She was quite possibly stuck with him for at least the rest of rehearsal week.

“Well, come on then,” Zelda said, turning back to head for Daruk’s blacksmith shop. It was set up on the northeastern side of the grounds.

She didn’t look back.

Link, as he would continue to do without fail for the rest of the day, followed without complaint.

#zelda #breath of the wild #zelink #fanfic #the world will only darken without candlelight #i will come to regret how long that title is for sure #are we going to retell every single memory and then have link speedrun botw at the end? #you betcha

[actualtoad]

hi so. i was trying to log into tumblr this morning and got a message that my account had got terminated so im here now

#tumblr couldn’t handle me actually talking to my friends for once???? #idk. i sent them an email. im not gonna think about any implications rn because hopefully i just get it right back #anyway today im stressed because my little cousins are going to be over and i’ve been counting on staying after school and my mom won’t #drive me home while they’re over which is fair and normal and good but she also won’t let me stay at the library until they leave which is #what im most comfortable with and. if i can’t stay for that late i can’t stay at all. and i need to stay at least some #i even have an assignment i need to get done she just doesn’t know about it because i was supposed to turn it in already!! #mostly i just want to see my teacher as opposed to my parents and the kids who hate me #anyway just. yeah so im here now #let me know if you need anything over here #if i have to switch to here forever i guess i will?? it’s kind of supposed to be over #but. yeah. if that’s what it takes i will i guess #thanks for bearing with me. idk why they did that. i hope it gets figured out #me. my post. mine. #delete later

[folkloreguk]

💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend

A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?

words: ~ 4.1 k

disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!

[H/N means 'his (bias) name']

In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.

Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.

His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?

As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.

Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.

There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.

But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?

But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.

Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.

The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.

“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.

“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.

“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.

“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.

“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”

“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.

“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.

“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.

“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.

“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.

“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.

At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.

“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.

“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.

He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.

“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.

“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.

“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.

“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”

The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.

When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.

“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”

“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”

“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.

“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.

“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”

“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”

You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.

“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”

“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.

“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”

“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.

“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.

“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”

“Isn’t that right?” he said.

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”

You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”

“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.

“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”

“As always.”

The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.

“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.

“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”

Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.

As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.

“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.

His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.

You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.

“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”

“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.

“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”

You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.

“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.

“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”

His tone was surprisingly calm.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”

“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.

“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”

“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.

“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.

“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.

#optional bias #optional bias smut #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpoptopia #prism.nw #exo smut #txt smut #day6 smut #cravity smut #ateez smut #nct smut #stray kids smut #bts smut #the boyz smut #sf9 smut #btob smut #got7 smut #ikon smut #oneus smut #onewe smut #seventeen smut #a.c.e smut #n.flying smut #monsta x smut #pentagon smut #enhypen smut

[ohheyitsokay]

trials

this takes place in my ‘poly frontier’ universe

pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco “Catfish Morales, Ben “Benny” Miller and a female reader

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: all fics in this series are 18+, poly relationship, domestic, romantic, and sexual intimacy. strong language, angst with a happy ending

summary: this one is a Santi story - he tries to bring another girl into the relationship, and learns instead how much he loves you

it wont be everyone's cup of tea but I felt like it was an important part of the story

note: don’t hate Santi! I think this is a pretty normal, and the best sunsets come after rain

>>

Santi was the first to branch out. He didn’t mean to – hated himself for it a little, but he did.

This – whatever this is, it’s a ticking time bomb, he told Will. One of has to do something before it breaks all of our hearts.

It was a lie.

They both knew it. But he had the money and the looks and the confidence and he was just hurt enough by the sight of you asleep in Ben’s lap one afternoon that he just… let it get to him.

Brooded and boiled until he was overcome with false righteousness and pure selfishness.

He didn’t look you in the eyes when he told you he was going to try to get another girl. It wasn’t that he was leaving what you all had, just that he deserved a chance at whatever he called balance. His gaze in the other men’s eyes was too bold – the look of a desperate man, terrified of being hurt so causing it on his own terms.

You nodded numbly, shocked in spite of yourself, scolding and scathing voices in your mind telling you not to be selfish. Not to be greedy.

He deserves more than sharing.

Tucking yourself into Frankie’s arms, you tried not to glare or cry and only failed at the latter. Because it’s not the dating another girl that hurt, really it’s not. Polyamory is hard, and it was always an open option. What hurts is his blatant choice to ignore the relationship his has with you, specifically, that he’s ignoring everything you and him have worked for, built with love and time and care.

Rubbing gentle hands over your skin, Will and Frankie and Ben shared looks as Santi stalks away.

Frankie corners him in the garage the next morning. You had slept between him and Will the night before, but they had all felt you toss and turn, all spent a fair amount of time staring at the ceiling themselves. His dark eyes are an insecure that shoots into Frankie’s core – it’s a look he knows, has spent months overcoming. He swallows hard, his words dying in his throat, and he simply shakes his head.

It almost breaks Santi in two, the first moment one of his loves betrays the damage he’s done, but he tells himself there’s no going back.

“Better now than later, when our parents hate her or –”

Frankie’s look stops him and he flinches away.

Will is at the bar he chooses without an invite, knowing where he’d be without having to even ask and they both try not to think of you at home with Ben, probably dripping flames. Santi wonders if it hurts more to watch him flirt, or to do it, but neither of them say a word to each other. In spite of it all, the respect his judgement, respect his choice, and that hurts too.

It feels strange to have others looking him up and down and to look back, smile with lust void of love and soak in the attention.

Before he succumbs to it, Santi wishes Will would come over, slide his hand around his neck and… stop respecting him so much. It would pull him back, but since he doesn’t, the thought dies under the burn of cheap alcohol.

-

She’s lovely, really, graceful like a cat.

Santi has kept her from you all for a few weeks now, keeping his dignity with distance. But now she’s here, in your home, and you should be jealous but instead you just smile sadly at her, and slip off to the kitchen.

He likes… coffee, dark roast, with just a clump of raw sugar. You’re stirring it when you realize they followed you, hovering at the door. The ache of it is less than it was before and they’re happy together, so for his sake, you sit down across from her.

She’s kind, friendly. Knows the gist of the situation, tells you she’ll go at your pace.

And it crashes into you, how he’s pinned you at a time when know one else is home, offering her up to you like a plea, a child who used the superglue to make a gift, never mind the fact that his hands are both stuck to it and burning.

It feels reasonable to have another woman around, to make the numbers less absurd, to – to help you. Her smile is a little shy and she takes you hand and she looks at Santi with such adoration that a knot loosens in your chest involuntarily.

She doesn’t joke about it, any of it, and you almost wish she would. It would be so much easier to hate her if she was shallow, or stupid, or something but she’s not, and when she smiles you almost think you could be friends. You wonder if you could make it work, like they do for you.

Ben and Will come home early, stepping in like the angels they are, planting themselves solid at your side like trees with roots deeper than they are tall. When Frankie comes home, he takes the spot of the two of them as their eyes draw Santi into another room.

“What the fuck, Garcia,” Benny is as hurt as you are by it all, maybe more.

“Shut up Miller.” He’s glaring, filled with venomous satisfaction at how well the two of you have been talking.

“Cant you see it’s for the better?”

There’s silence – neither of them agree, too confused by him to respond.

“Don’t you ever wonder,” Santi tries again, knowing they’re listening because they love him too.

“No.” They spoke in unison, which makes Will roll his eyes. Neither of them hesitate, and something in Santi cracks.

-

You poke holes in the bottom of a styrofoam container with a plastic fork. She’s long gone now, but the date still lingers as you poke at your leftovers and try to unwind each moment of the date like strings of spaghetti.

On the surface it had gone well, you had thought you had fun until you felt a burn of tears under your eyelids.

Closing them you sigh, breathing like you practiced, gentle tides of love and logic washing over a feelings you tell yourself are selfish.

When you open your eyes, your Santi is standing behind her chair, and you almost cant breathe.

He went away for two weeks to help with a mission, and he’s here, one side of his mouth higher than the other. You want to kiss it, but you smile instead, and say, “You missed her by a couple minutes, sorry,” and actually mean it.

“I caught her in the parking lot,” he sits slowly, carefully, and when he reaches for your hands it’s almost tentative. It makes you blink again, how his eyebrows are bending. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t understand what it means, cant predict at all what he says next.

“I broke it off,” his eyes are in yours.

“I don’t understand,” you hear yourself say.

Santi searches for the words, like he had them but cant make them come out of his mouth.

“She’s not you,” he says. “I want you.”

You realize with a start that his hand is trembling, and he says your name in a way you’ve never heard before – like he’s terrified. That’s how badly he wants this, wants.. you. There’s no question in your mind, your eyes answer him.

It’s messy, not like a movie, the way he tugs you up and up and into his arms, the shudder of his broad shoulders and he buries himself into you as much as he can.

Like a hazy, blurry dream, your arms find their way around him, holding him like he’s fragile, another first.

He doesn’t say You’re enough for me, or You deserve the world, or anything dramatic.

Instead he says, “Can I buy you dinner?” And, “I’m sorry,” and “It’s been too long.”

And he says “I love you.”

-

He already asked the others, calling them each on his drive to you. Asked like he was young, if it was okay. Santi knew none of them had fallen in love with her, because even he hadn’t. But he had to ask for their permission as much as yours, to try to win you back.

They were more guarded than you, wary of his passion.

It takes time, and work.

He stays up later than he should talking with Benny about everything and nothing, hands nervously putting together snacks. When the younger man holds you, Santi teaches himself to join, to be held and hold you both. It feels good, which feels like guilt.

He works on that, too.

Frankie and him never talk about it. For weeks he thought his oldest friend had understood, more of less forgiven him without a word. One day they’re out for lunch, and his eyes flicker at the waitress, tucking her hair behind her ear. When he returns his gaze to the man across him, his blood runs cold. It’s been years since he’s seen furious determination brewing in Frankie’s dark, caring eyes, but it’s there now and he hates it. It takes discipline, to watch how he’s perceived as closely as he watched his intentions, but he does it.

It was easier than winning Will back.

“How long has your logic been shit?” Has your heart been in the wrong place this whole damn time?

“I just got on the wrong path, Ironhead.”

“Like hell you did,” his eyes were ice. “You let that happen.”

It would’ve been easier if he punched him. This wasn’t a kiss and make up moment either. The work ended up being long talks while you forced them to drive to pick you up when your car broke down the town over. Forcing words out being so honest it hurt, until has heart and throat felt raw. Making Will understand it was out of his own fears. Showing him how he was fixing it.

And weeks of letting with watch him again, eyes not missing a single touch or flinch or moment between you all. Actions to reinforce his words.

It hurt, but infinitely less than feeling distant from you all to begin with.

-

Will and your Catfish bring it up with you, one sunday afternoon as you tuck yourself between them and let their hands trace your skin.

“How are you doing?”

“I don’t know, Will. Better, I think. I missed him.”

Frankie places a row of warm kisses down the side of your neck.

“He missed you too. It’s Pope, he’s... he’s scared, love.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, yet.”

Ironhead grumbles at your confession, his big fingers squeezing the meat of your thigh.

“You gave him another chance, but you’re holding back. What does your gut say?”

“Unreliable - I’m in love with him.”

His head pops up and he kisses you before half-smiling. Frankie’s hand finds one of his, and they share a look.

“Can we tell you, querida? What we’ve seen.”

“Some objective evidence,” Will kisses you again.

“He loves us.” Another kiss. 

“You.”

-

It’s quiet as Santi flips through his latest files. The evening air is cool, and he should be getting ready for bed but you’re not home yet, and they’re all milling about waiting. You texted them how tired you were, what an awful evening you had.

“It should just be another couple of minutes,” Will says, and Frankie checks his watch. Ben wanders to the kitchen and they can hear him mixing hot chocolate.

When you walk through the front door, they fold you in their arms. Santi holds back, doubt still nagging at his mind. You let him back in, let him take you don't dates, but you didn’t fit together any more. He was running out of ways to communicate with you.

But you slump over, gently pushing aside his files and placing his laptop away before replacing it with yourself. Molding into him you sigh, and almost instantly fall asleep.

You’re small and vulnerable in his arms and the weight on his legs feels like trust.

The air in the room shifts, lighter, more breathable than it’s been in months. Adoring, proud eyes watch, and he wants to cry.

For the first time maybe ever, he’s sure that everything is going to be okay.

-

The bar was mercifully quite that evening, and if made it easy for you to find your love. A small, familiar feeling tugged in your gut as you made your way over to him, eyes on the waitress who was leaning over him with unwholesome intentions.

Then the feeling settled, and was replace with a warmer feeling. She was putting down a tray that had your order on it, and Santi was thanking her, distracted checking your message on his phone.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. “Can we actually get out of here?”

His brown eyes were big, dark lashes catching the low lights as he stared at you. Somewhere in his mind, he thought too protest because your drink just got there, but the words stuck on his tongue. 

“Yeah... yeah of course, baby,” He signaled for the check before standing to draw you in his arms. Saying no to you had never really been an option. 

The two of you barely made it to his truck before your hands were all over each other. You liked the feel of him, pinning you against the metal frame, the desperate way he kissed you.

Pope was saying something about how you looked so fucking sexy, needing him so badly you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t concentrate on them. 

“Pope,” you said against his skin, sliding your hands under his shirt. In response, he only made a soft groaning noise and increases his urgency.

"Santi," you tried again, before your own gasp cut you off.

"Santi - fuck - Santiago!"

The look he gave you was that of a dog, when you held the treat just out of reach.

"I'm yours," you said, pulling his head in to press against your forehead. "And you," you kissed him, hard, fingers gripping his beautiful curls. "Are mine."

"Fuck," you could feel his heartbeat, his pulse, he was pressing into you so hard, like he wanted to blur where he ended and you began. You knew he understood.

"I am," he said into your skin again and again that evening. Not selfish position, a promise and a proclamation: "I'm yours."

"I'm yours."

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

poly frontier taglist:

@grogusmum

#triple frontier #poly frontier #triple frontier poly fic #triple frontier x reader #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #benny miller x reader

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here!

A/N: I can’t always do tags since these parts are long but if you want to be tagged just lmk @thecrazytealady

* Honestly, everything feels so normal

* You’re sitting in the stands of a football stadium as a sea of graduates pass in front of you

* Well it’s mostly normal except for all the stares you get

* “You’ll get used to it” Kate tells you from your right side, you’re not sure when it happened but somehow you’ve become her favorite little member.

* “Sometimes we stare back to mess with them” Irina says from your other side with a teasing grin.

* Irina also seems to really like you, she’s probably you’re favourite

* While everyone else treated you like a child (which in a sense you are), she treated you like an adult

* You hope you can save her if things go exactly like they did in the book

* You’re hoping your close friendship with Edward changes things

* “Oh look there they are now-“

* And right on cue Alice was called first, then Edward

* An entire group of cheers erupt from your section, a few stands above you sits the entire Cullen clan

* Apparently the rest of them have already “graduated”, Alice and Edward are playing a year younger

* You catch him after the ceremony on the -pretty cold- field along with your-

* aunts?

* You’re not really sure what the official family structure is.

* “So what is this, your thirtieth time graduating high school?” You whisper to him after handing him his graduation present

* Some sheet music you know he’s been eyeing and a card that says “you only graduate once”

* You think he’ll appreciate the joke

* “It actually only my sixth” he grins, he so close you can feel a ghost of a breath on your ear

* You notice a couple of boys, adorning similar green graduation gowns staring at you. When you meet their eyes they hastily look away.

* “Hey Edward, what are those guys thinking right now?”

* He follows your line of sight and grins even wider

* “They’re thinking that it suddenly makes sense why I’m not interested in anyone at this school when I’m already dating someone as beautiful as you”

* And if you were anyone else you might have realized how you and Edward look when you’re together to everyone around you

* And it might have been the first sign that things have started to veer of the future you imagine

* But of course you don’t, and you say:

* “Really? You want me to believe two teenage boys used such eloquent language?”

* He laughs

* “I might have picked some.. kinder diction.”

* You both laugh, another private joke that would be referenced for years

* “And where’s my graduation gift?” Alice asks, you hand over a brightly wrapped package, it’s a magic 8 ball and a Chanel scarf, Edward already read Alice’s mind and assured you she would love it.

* “That’s hilarious” she says with a laugh, she hasn’t even opened the package, already seen what’s inside with her gift.

* “Are you coming to our graduation party tonight?” When she notices your confused expression she gives a pointed look to Edward. “You didn’t invite them?”

* Edward rolls his eyes

* “I didn’t think it would be that fun,” he looks to you and explains. “It’s just a party Alice likes to throw to help us fit in better.”

* “It also to commemorate graduating and going to college, which is Infinitely more fun.” She grins, a hand on Edwards shoulder

* He turns his attention to you, his mouth quirked in a lopsided smile

* “Do you want to go?”

* The party scene in Eclipse sure looked fun

* “Sure, sounds like a fun time.”

* It’s decided you’ll drive up with Edward after they all split up, and go to the party with him.

* You’re telling Kate and Irina when they get a look on their face

* “Is that not okay?” You wonder if it’s about Tanya, and how maybe she doesn’t like you spending so much time with Edward.

* “No it’s fine it’s just... will you be alright with all those humans?”

* You had done fine on the stands, but a house party was different, you guess it’s probably easier to eat someone when there are so many dark corners and so many suspects to pick from

* You wrinkle your nose, honestly you don’t get what the big deal is, sure they smell kiiinda nice, but the scent is comparable to one of your deers.

* Also, who knows where these people have been and what they’ve been eating. The thought of eating an alcoholics blood makes you scowl.

* “I think I’ll be fine” Irina laughs, and rests a hand on your shoulder

* “We’ll tell the others, do you want me to bring you a drink later on?”

* You shake your head, you ate a little bit more since you were going to be around so many people today.

* “I should be fine, Edward will probably drive me home, but if not I can always run”

* You always forget you can run faster than a car now.

* “I doubt Edward will refuse the opportunity to spend more time with you.” Irina smirks and you roll your eyes

* You’re both just friends, stuck in family’s where everyone seems to be in a relationship (except for you that is)

* There’s only so much you can take watching Eleazer and Carmen’s pda

* “I’ll see ya later” you excuse yourself to find Edward, who seems to be talking to a group of boys

* “So what’s their deal, are they your cousin or something?”

* “Um... they’re a family friend”

* Looks like Edwards confused about your family structure too

* “They look older are they in college?” Another asks, Edward hesitates, well you are older but you’re not really in school

* “Are you hooking up with them?” Edward winces

* “No we’re not close like that.”

* You decide now is a good time to intervene in the conversation

* “Hey, are you ready to go?” Edward looks relieved to see you

* “I’ll see you guys tonight at Alice’s party” he offers a polite smile before leading you towards his car

* When you’re finally out of earshot, you say

* “You know, I always thought we were the closest of friends” You think he’ll grimace at your teasing but instead he grins.

* “Do you enjoy being the subject of several teenage boys imaginations?”

* “I mean, it’s not-not a little bit flattering.”

* On the drive back to his house Edward takes you through town and points out every mundane landmark like you’re on a safari tour

* “And that is the grocery store I never visit, and next to it is the diner I had to pretend to eat food at during my mandatory “senior breakfast””

* “So what you’re saying is, this is the worlds’ most boring town.”

* “I would say boring adjacent, the town we’ll move to next doesn’t even have a major grocery store”

* He’s definitely talking about Forks.

* You must have killed quite a bit of time with your impromptu tour because when you get to the party it’s in full swing

* You and Edward stand in a corner and play your favorite game

* “Blonde girl in the corner.” He says

* Edward picks someone, and you have to guess what they’re thinking. You’re never right but it’s still funny

* “Hmmmm I’m going to say she’s thinking... ‘This is what all the hype was about? Can’t believe I’m wasting my Saturday night HERE.’”

* He laughs and shakes his head

* “She’s actually thinking about how the object of her affections hasn’t noticed her once, and has been spending all his time with someone else instead.”

* You totally miss the meaningful look Edward gives you.

* You make a face, unrequited love was the worst

* “Well that sucks, I wish there was some way we could help.” Edward only shrugs

* “They’re human problems, for us even if the person we love doesn’t love us back, we just wait a a decade or so, and they usually change their mind.” He grabs your untouched red solo cup

* “I’ll go get us some more drinks.” For a second you wonder if maybe Vampires can drink alcohol, but then you immediately deflate.

* Oh right, the human act, you almost forgot.

* You’re standing by yourself when the “unrequited love” girl from before approaches you, another girl with hair the color of caramel in tow

* “Hey, I haven’t seen you around before, do you got to our school?”

* Any person could see this was a hostile encounter

* anyone except you that is

* “Nah, I’m taking a gap year right now.”

* “Oh?” Miss. Unrequited lights up at that. “Didn’t get into your first choice school?”

* “No my parents died.” You say it causally, but they both freeze at that. So much has happened, colleges and your parents are the last thing in your mind. You notice the reaction though “It’s been a while though, so everything’s fine now”

* You give your best smile and the girl in front of you seemed flustered

* “How do you know Edward?” Miss. Caramel asks, while her friend takes a long sip from her cup.

* “Well- I guess he’s a family friend, but really I met him through Carlisle.”

* “Through Carlisle?

* “Dr. Cullen,” you quickly supply, to them he’s just the local handsome doctor. Not exactly someone who they’re on a first name basis with. “Yeah, Carlisle talked about Edward a lot when I was in the hospital.”

* Before you can scar either of these girls further, Rosalie appears by your side

* “Hey! Glad to see you made it!” She gives you a side hug and turns her amber eyes to the girls in front of you. “Amber, Bethany glad to see you. What are you guys talking about?”

* Both of the girls fall speechless in front of her, probably from her beauty you guess.

* You still get the urge to shield your eyes when you look at Rosalie.

* “Edward.” Rosalie rolls her eyes

* “Of course, the most perfect man alive.” You snort at that.

* “Perfect my ass, I saw him snort drinking yesterday and he sprayed the whole counter top.” Rosalie raises a well groomed eyebrow

* “Really?” A smiles tugging on her lips

* “That’s not even the worst part, do you know he took 43 minutes to clean it up.”

* Rosalie laughs, and the other two look at you with awe.

* “Edward Cullen snorts?” The caramel Coloured hair one, Bethany asks.

* “To be fair I did say a pretty good joke”

* “What was the joke?” Amber asks, and you grin.

* “What did the vampire say to the girl?” They look at each other and shrug

* “What”

* “See you next month” The two girls don’t seem to think it’s good, but Rosalie is dying of laughter

* “He must have hated that!”

* “Oh I’m sure he did, that’s why I said it” Rosalie laughs even harder

* By the time Edward comes back, it’s basically just a two way conversation with you and Rosalie roasting the ever loving crap out of Edward, with two humans eagerly watching

* “One time while we were eating Edward just kept complaining about how “existence is agony and how none of us have a soul” like dude, we’re eating, could you just chill for a second please?” Rosalie says and you laugh

* “I have the perfect Edward impression” you clear your throat and set your face to the best “I’m constipated and existence is agony” face you can manage “I’m an outsider. No one can understand me. No one has thoughts like I do. Existence is agony”

* if Rosalie could die she would have died of laughter, she’s hunched over and every time you think she’ll stop laughing she starts another wave.

* “To be fair, I don’t think anyone has thoughts like mine” You turn to see Edward behind you, he’s actually got an amused smile as he hands you a red solo cup.

* “It’s Henrietta,” he whispers in your ear. “ I figured all the laughing might have made you thirsty”

* “For an outsider like yourself, that’s awfully kind of you.”

* The laughing did make you thirsty, it also explains what took him so long. You wonder if he ran all the way to your house to get you a drink.

* Rosalie doesn’t say anything just grins as she watches you two, Edward’s eyes flick from you to her, and you wonder what he’s experiencing right now

* You’re not going to lie, his narrative of mind reading was your favourite part of midnight sun

* “Do you want to dance?” Well that question came out of nowhere.

* “Sure”

* Queue you and Edward awkwardly waltzing on the makeshift dance floor

* “Who taught you how to waltz?” Edward asks as you step on his feet yet again, you’re glad he’s a vampire and can’t feel pain.

* “You. Right now. I’m learning from the school of life experience.” You grin and he rolls his eyes

* “Here,” he picks you up, and places your feet on top of his. “Better?” You nod and laugh

* “They’re kind of cute right?” Rosalie says to Amber and Bethany, a twinkle in her eyes. Amber sighs.

* “Yeah they are.”

* Rosalie feels kind of bad. She didn’t mean to rub it in her face, but she doesn’t like anyone being mean to you. She already kinda liked you from The game night , and after tonight she REALLY likes you. It’s nice to have someone else on the “roast Edward squad”

* “Oh look, it’s Bradley from the swim team, should we go over and say hi?” Bradly was definitely single, and Rosalie loves playing matchmaker “Sure”

* Edward drives you home at the chaste time of 11:30

* “Did you have a good time tonight?” He asks, walking you to the front door. Ever the gentleman.

* It’s not like a thing alive could hurt you anymore.

* “Yeah it was really fun!” He let’s out a sigh of relief and a nervous smile.

* “That’s good, you’ve been seeming kind of... off lately so I was worried”

* Ah, so he had noticed. You had been feeling off lately. Only four more years with him at most until he moved somewhere far away.

* “Yeah, I’m just a little jealous I guess.”

* “Jealous of what?” His eyebrows thread together. And you sigh.

* “You get to go to college and I can’t.”

* You really are jealous about that, While you’re stuck in the house, Edward will get to move forward and make all sorts of relationships and memories

* His mouth purses, and you feel bad. You shouldn’t have said anything, there’s nothing he can do about it after all.

* “Ah, don’t worry about it, I’m just glad to be here with people who care about me.” That only makes him frown more. But he offers you a small smile.

* “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says and then he does something really unexpected:

* He kisses your forehead, before retreating back to his car. You watch his car wind away down the circle driveway from the porch. A hand on your forehead where his lips touched and a flutter in your heart.

* Man, Edward was so unintentionally smooth, no wonder Tanya was still hung up over him

* Wait, was Tanya still hung up over him?

* Somehow you found her behavior not consistent with someone with unreciprocated feelings

* The days pass on by, Edward’s around more now because it’s summer break.

* Likewise trips to the Cullen residence are also more frequent because it’s summer break

* You oddly enough spend a lot of time with Rosalie, you mostly roast Edward but occasionally you reminisce about human stuff

* “What do you miss the most?” She asks and you think for a minute

* “Probably Italian food, maybe alcohol” She let’s out a moan

* “Oh my god, how good does mushroom ravioli in a creamy Marsala sauce sound?”

* “Good enough to kill for”

* By extension you also get close to Emmett, but in a totally different way

* “Alright hit me with everything you’ve got!”

* “Uh are you sure about this Emmett?”

* You’re both in a clearing about thirty feet apart

* “Yeah, just show me what you’re made of” He giving you a wicked grin, no doubt glad to have someone new to spar with.

* You shrug, he is asking for it

* He doesn’t even make it a foot forward before he crumples to the ground. You’ve been holding back so long, it almost feels good to not have to contain all your body’s grief

* You reel it back in when he taps out. You expect him to look at you like you’re a monster but he just grins

* “You’re really something else kid”

* You even get close to Esme who assists you in drawing up a schematic for a barn, and Jasper helps you build it.

* “I think the door should go here” he tells you

* “But then it would be facing the fence and that doesn’t seem right”

* He scratches his head and you stare at the architect sketch in your hands

* “It’s supposed to be right here” Alice tells you, already searching through the future for the correct placement.

* And of course you and Edward continue your piano cat and mouse game, where you each start a piece and wait for the other to catch up to your playing.

* Maybe it’s because things are going so well that you can’t help but wonder what went wrong with Tanya and Edward

* So one night, when you’re sitting together in the library, you ask her

* “Tanya why do you hate Edward” She sputters

* “I don’t hate him!” You raise a skeptical eyebrow and she sighs “it’s just- it’s embarrassing !”

* She tells you about how Carlisle had told her about his son, and how he was the last to be without a mate, and was very depressed

* “I thought of it like I was doing a service you know, we would date for some time and have a brighter perspective on this life.”

* You can already guess how this story ends, but you ask “So what happened?” She huffs

* “Well he flat out rejected me, told me I wasn’t his type, can you believe that? A forever 17 year old telling ME I’m not his type.”

* Yeah for a woman like Tanya who was every man’s ultimate fantasy that does seem pretty mortifying

* “Is it-“ you meet her eyes “is it okay that I’m friends with him then?”

* Her eyes soften and she beckons you into a hug

* “Of course it is little one,” she kisses the top of your head “and if it ever happens to grow into more than that that’s okay too.” You wrinkle your nose

* “I wouldn’t bet on that Tanya.” She rubs your shoulder

* “Well you never know, and if that happens, and for some reason he’s lost his mind at tells you you’re not his type don’t take it personally, there’s something seriously wrong with that boy.” You laugh

* The days pass by in a blur.

* Edward starts college studying veterinary science, and every day he comes back and teaches you what he learned

* “Sometimes I feel like I’m getting more out of this than you” he tells you as you do his homework

* “It be like that sometimes”

* You start experimenting with other animals blood, mostly chickens, ducks, and geese.

* You also have a moose now so that’s cool

* After many faithful years Henrietta passes away. You stayed in the barn with her all night, and planted a pine tree over grave.

* “All things die in the end huh?” You whisper as you stand over the first deer you befriended, and Eleazer rubs your shoulder

* “Not us” he whispers

* “Not us” you repeat

* You and Edward are lying next to each other in your bed, both of you pretending to sleep

* “What was it like when you turned?” Edward’s the one break the silence. He always is when you do your dreaming sessions

* “It was... nice” it really was, the venom was warm like a blanket, lulling you into a peaceful last sleep. This surprises him.

* “Are you some kind of masochist?”

* “Well what was it like for you?” You roll your eyes. He goes on a long descriptive tangent, but in short: it was absolute agony.

* “Well that’s weird, I wonder if Alec had some kind of special venom or something.” He flinched at the mention of Alec but doesn’t say anything else.

* The days pass on, just as they always have, but something starts to feel off. Both in your household and in the Cullen’s house. Some sort of tension

* You think about asking Edward or Eleazer about it, but decide against it.

* Maybe you’re just being paranoid

* One day you’re getting blood from the kitchen, when you notice the entire coven is sitting on the kitchen table

* Weird, but maybe they do this all the time and you just never noticed.

* “(Y/N) can you come here for a moment?”

* Well crap

* They all ramble over each other for a few minutes, and you only catch bits and pieces of what they’re saying

* “Everyone here loves you-“

* “It won’t be forever-“

* “Carlisle might even get you a blood bag or two-“

* “Enough!” Tanya roars and immediately the others fall silent, she looks at you with warm eyes and a kind smile

* “(Y/N), the Cullen’s are leaving,” ah, so it’s already time for them to go, Tanya explains how the Cullen’s move around more often than your coven does, on account of Carlisle’s job. Well you knew this was coming. It was nice while it lasted

* “-And that’s why we think you should go with them”

* Wait what.

* “You want me to leave?”

* “No of course not!” Irina shouts, wide eyed, she’s sitting the closest to you. “It’s just-“

* “We see the way you look at Edward,” Eleazer says. Oh not this again, how many times do you have to say it. YOU BOTH ARE JUST FRIENDS.

* “Like you want what he has.” He finishes

* Oh

* “We’re too late in the cycle to send you to school, Irina and Kate have already gone, and it will be another ten years before we decide to move.” Carmen says, her teeth digging into the flesh of her lip. “A lot of things could happen in ten years,”

* The Volturi could want you back on ten years

* “so we think you should go with the Cullen’s and get an education and have a normal life-“

* “Normal-adjacent,” Kate interjects, because life was never going to be completely normal for you ever again. Carmen grins,

* “Normal-adjacent life, you’ll get to have friends, and you could study whatever you want, you don’t have to learn secondhand from Edward.”

* “And you can come back whenever you want!” Kate reassures. “If you decide you don’t like it, and that it’s not what you want, you can always come back, we’ll be right here.”

* They all stumble over each other to reassure you that it’s your choice, and if you decide to stay that’s fine too. But there’s only one question on your mind

* “Do the Cullen’s already know about this?” The table falls silent.

* “Yes, they do.” Tanya says

* “And what do they think about the arrangement?” All eyes trail to Eleazer, so he was the go between for your Covens

* “I think they’re all pretty excited, Carlisle wanted you from the start.”

* Carmen sucks her teeth and lightly slaps him on the arm. “What it’s true, you know Esme’s been cross with him ever since she met them, she wants you too.”

* They’re all looking to you waiting for an answer. You’re not sure what the right thing to do is.

* You’re not stupid, you know things have changed from the original story line, you know the Volturi isn’t going to want Bella as much now that they have you.

* But still... you do want an education, a chance to do everything the way you always imagined

* You also kind of want to see Edward and Bella’s love story play out. Especially now that he’s your friend

* Also you think you should really deter him from watching her sleep, that crap was creepy as hell

* You sigh, there’s really only one choice

* “I’ll go with the Cullens’.”

#twilight #twilight imagines #twilight reader insert #twilight headcanon #twilight imagine #twilight saga #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Rosalie cullen #Emmett Cullen #Alice cullen #the cullens #midnight sun #alec volturi #Volturi imagines #superhero—imagines

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 8

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: none? Length: 2.1k Notes: I’m sorry, Cyn, I know I said there would be smut but I was just enjoying the slow burn too much. And I just feel like these two NEED this. Not me nervous to write about his p in her v, nooope. Also, I’m wine drunk and did not spell check this bitch, have fun with that. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series MASTERLIST

The day of the fair had finally arrived and you woke with more than a little excitement churning in your stomach. Multiple meetings at the community center had given you a chance to meet more of the town's population and you'd gained a deeper appreciation for them. Small towns afforded very few entertainments, which had resulted in some of the older kids, driven by boredom, getting into trouble. Minor things like graffiti and trespassing, but the community knew if they weren't careful that things could escalate. So, instead of making the kids feel judged or harshly reprimanded, the town was working towards better programs and facilities to keep them busy.

It was an unseasonably beautiful Autumn day, the kind that carried memories of Summer on the warm breeze. Knowing that cold and snow were just around the corner, these "second summers" made people act a little more recklessly and freely than they usually might. You had a feeling that the crowds tonight were going to be bigger and rowdier than anyone could have hoped for.

Jacquie had stopped by later to offer you a ride to town but you had just sent your baking with her, insisting that you wanted to enjoy the sunshine and bicycle in.

Once you'd entered the main square you were blown away by the effort from the town. Banners, balloons, streamers, and posters were everywhere. A stage for musical acts and a ticket booth had been built and donated by Hank's Hardware, food carts selling anything and everything you could deep-fry were scattered down every road. Carnival games had been set up in rows down multiple, closed-off, streets, as well as people setting up face-painting, balloon animals, and a smaller version of the Saturday Farmer's Market. The high school football field had even been converted to a tiny amusement park with a Ferris Wheel, carousel, and swing ride.

It was still early, and there was still a lot to do before the fair would be open, but the excitement was already palpable. After making sure your pies had been marked down for the auction, you beelined for the water gun race game that you and a lovely woman named Heather had been assigned to operate. 

Too preoccupied with making sure you had the water tanks filled, the pumps were working, and your ticket box was in place you didn't notice how some of the other volunteers were acting strangely, making sidelong glances and meaningful head nods. 

Nothing seemed amiss once Heather had joined you. In fact, you were getting along with her so well the two of you had already made plans to meet for coffee the next day.

Soon, the fair was in full swing. The games booths were a popular stop with families and you were having the time of your life cheering for every child who tried their hand at your game. 

Eventually, there was a natural lull in the festivities as fair-goers drifted from the games towards the food and live entertainment. You were just suggesting making a quick snack run when Heather's phone rang. 

"Sorry, one sec, it's my husband," she grimaced, holding her finger up to stop you from leaving.

In a bid to give her a modicum of privacy, you tallied up the tickets and bunched them into coils for easier counting later. Heather's normally calm voice rose in pitch and urgency, drawing your attention back to her in time to see a look of alarm and annoyance cross her face.  

"What do you mean, burned? Like, burned burned? There's smoke?! Oh, honey, what on earth..." she paused, listening to her husband's voice some more, giving you an eye roll that clearly said 'Men. They're hopeless' and interrupted whatever he had been saying. "Alright, alright. It's slowing down here so I can run home."

Putting her phone back in her purse, Heather turned to you with a huff. "He's burnt dinner, and it sounds like my skillet is toast, too. I'm sorry to do this to you but I need to run to the store and bring dinner home. I've got the only car, so they're stuck."

Assuring her you could manage on your own, you shooed her away and told her to take her time.

Walking backward to wave goodbye, Heather kept spouting numerous apologies and promising she'd make it up to you on your coffee date. Giving one last smile she spun around and immediately ran into old Mrs. Crawley who was being escorted by no other than a very bored and trapped-looking Frankie Morales.

"Oh! Mrs. Crawley! So sorry!" She began, steadying the white-haired octogenarian, "I'm being called home, ditching my post, gotta run, bye!" With that, she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd of people.

Mrs. Crawley had glanced over at you when Heather had mentioned having to leave and was currently shuffling her way towards you, Frankie in tow.

"Frankie, be a dear and help this beautiful lady out while Heather is away."

It wasn't a question but you still felt the need to speak up, giving Frankie an out if he wanted it.

"I can manage-"

"But what about your-"

You'd both spoken at the same time and stopped mid-way through to let the other go first. Mrs. Crawley broke the silence instead.

"My hip is feeling much better, and I think I'll just make my way over to the bandstand," she gave Frankie a meaningful look accompanied by a rather sharper-than-expected slap to his cheek, "alone."

You both watched her walk over to the stage, stopping to wave at Jacquie and Agnes where they were organizing the bake sale.

"What on earth is going on," you thought to yourself while staring daggers at Jacquie from across the street. This had zero effect on her, she was just sending you lewd winks and had the audacity to give Mrs. Crawley a thumbs up. That conniving little-

"Emmmm... hi."

His voice, sounding uncertain and shy, brought your attention back to Frankie. Taking a moment to soak in his presence, you noticed how worn down he looked. "Good," thought the petty part of your brain, but she was easily squashed by the rest of it appreciating the rest of him.

Tight jeans hugging his thighs, the buttons on his shirt working overtime where the material pulled across his back and chest, his hair was long and getting shaggy but when you saw the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap you had to fight the sudden urge to run your fingers through it.

Your eyes traveled up his neck, noting the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and across his face. He'd trimmed his beard, filthy thoughts of how it would feel on your skin flashed in your head.

Finally meeting his eyes with your own, you had to take a breath before replying.

"It's nice to see you, Frankie." Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, drawing his gaze "I guess we should talk-"

You were cut short by rowdy laughter and a crowd of people bustling onto the street, another wave of ticket-holders were coming to try their luck and win the huge teddy bear prize each game boasted.

For the next hour, you were kept too busy to talk more than what was necessary for running the booth. You used the time to gather your thoughts and make a list of what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it, and how you were going to start the conversation casually.

Frankie wasn't sure how he had ended up as Mrs. Crawley's crutch. One minute he was dropping off a crate of fruit for the apple bobbing contest and the next he was walking at a snail's pace listening to the old woman reminiscing about her long-dead husband. 

She was sweet, and he didn't mind the slow meander around the square. No, it was the subject matter that had bugged him. After his divorce was finalized and his daughter was taken from him, which he could see now was the right thing to do at the time, Frankie had accepted the fact that he was alone.

Just him, his trees, and the memories of what he did to end up this way.

Then, you had come along. The first woman to catch his attention in five damn years. It wasn't just your beauty, or your easy smile, or the curves of your body. It was your goodness, your innocence, your ability to worm your way into everyone's hearts and not even know it. 

Listening to Mrs. Crawley and the love she had shared made his chest ache, knowing he'd never deserve it himself he still found himself longing for the same. The first moment he had laid eyes on you, it was like a movie about his life had played in flashes in his mind. The meet-cute at the market, romancing you with thoughtful dates like picnics and driving up to the city’s museums and theatre. Getting married, growing the business, then growing your family. It had all played out in a split second but the impression it had left was immeasurable. 

Then, he'd opened his mouth and ruined the moment. Crashed into your truck and ruined the moment. Spooked and burned you, ruining the moment. Gained your trust, broke down your walls, and then left like a coward in the morning and ruined it.

Shaken by his inward reflecting when Mrs. Crawley was jostled, Frankie froze in place once his eyes were directed to where you stood. You were glaring over his shoulder and refusing to meet his eyes, understandably, yet he still felt his chest contract with the hope you'd look at him and smile. 

The way your gaze had eventually taken him in, once he'd been abandoned by a suddenly spry-looking elder, had flared that longing back into a roaring flame. The sudden need to work the booth gave him plenty of time to plan his speech: begging for forgiveness and admitting to the way he felt. While his mind was busy planning his speech, his heart was bursting at how comfortably and effortlessly the two of you worked with each other, like you’d been doing it for years.

Heather returned, strolling over with a barely concealed smile on her face, not looking at all like she'd just come back from a domestic emergency. This whole town could win an Oscar for their performance tonight, it was mildly humiliating but you knew they were acting out of love.

She thanked Frankie profusely for standing in for her and wouldn't take no for an answer after suggesting the two of you go and enjoy yourselves for a bit. Glancing at Frankie you shrugged your shoulders and made a face that said "why not?". He smiled and nodded back, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder before joining you on the bustling street.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, relishing just being near each other and absorbing the jubilant energy surrounding you.

Frankie bought you cotton candy and you made him belly laugh when you showed him the few bottles of cider you'd smuggled in your bag. Seeing the way his face lit up, how he exposed that delicious neck when he threw his head back, hearing the joyous rumble from deep within, sent a realization slamming into you so suddenly it made you stumble.

You loved him.

You might not be in love with him, not yet anyway, but there was a lightness and a warmth in your heart and he had put it there.

Frankie had grabbed your arm when you had stumbled and when you didn't pull away from his touch, his hand slid down your arm and his fingers wove their way through yours.

Walking like this, hand in hand, you found yourselves at the rides.

"I've never been on a Ferris Wheel," he admits to you, craning his head upwards to stare at the top carriage.

Dragging your eyes away from his neck, again, it took your brain a moment to acknowledge what he’d said. "What?!" You expressed with mock horror, already making your way toward the ride’s gate, "Then let's remedy that!"

"I'm- uh this is stupid," he was barely moving with you and adjusted his hat, a nervous tick you'd noticed, "I'm scared of heights."

This admission stopped you in your tracks.

"Frankie." You deadpanned, gripping his hand and pulling on it to emphasize your words, "You're. A. Pilot."

He groaned and you were sure you could see a blush creeping up from beneath his collar, "I know! I know. It's just that, up there?" He stops with a sigh, gazing at the stars wistfully, "I'm in control. I trust myself."

"Do you trust me?" You ask him softly gripping his hand between the both of yours.

Frankie gazed at your face for a breath, not in a way that made you think he was hesitating, it was more like he was pausing so you knew the full weight of his words.

"I trust you with everything."

PART NINE

TAGS: If you’d like to be added, send me an ask or a message! If you’re on the list please interact, I love getting your feedback, hearing your predictions, and all the “these two idiots!” comments 

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov @trash-dino-5000 @reader-s-cantina @alberta-sunrise @pascal-rascal424 @bts17army @sarahjkl82-blog @grogusmum @radiowallet @vonschweetz @greeneyedblondie44 @diaryofkali @cassandras-nest @silverstarsandsuns @haapeaness @missstef23 @computeringturtle @julesorwhatever @keeper0fthestars @lackofhonor @metahigh @thirstworldproblemss @sergeantbannerbarnes @callsigncatfish @inaturenymph @agingerindenial @pedritobalmando @lord-of-restingbiface @marydjarin @sebbys-girl @apascalrascal @thisshipwillsail316 @bison-writes @absurdthirst @ubri812 @marydjarin @inaturenymph @hyperfixatingmenever @louderrthanthunderr @petersunderoos96 @dobbyjen

#Frankie Morales x you #Frankie Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Morales x Reader #Francisco Morales x you #Francisco Morales x F!Reader #Francisco Morales x reader #Frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #Francisco catfish morales x you #francisco catfish morales x reader #fix'er upper

[hartigays]

Rafebarry Prompt for you! So what about some of Barry’s pals being over at the trailer and they’re all just like “Damn Bro” at seeing Rafe (who’s just living his best chaotic life, being Barry’s housewife/partner in crime) and Barry’s just all smug about it like “Yeah. I’m hittin’ that. Be jealous.”

tw: mature themes (drug use, sexual implications) and some homophobic language (just a comment from some loser tho)

rafe’s bike tears through swampy grass and dirt with a vengeance as he pulls into barry’s front yard, leaving tire marks in his wake.

when he pulls off his helmet, the first thing he sees are people spilling in and out of the trailer. people rafe doesn’t recognize - some of them attractive, even.

which is… infuriating, to put it lightly.

barry clearly hadn’t felt the need to keep rafe in the loop, inviting him over without informing him that half of the cut would be in attendance as well.

like, seriously, what the fuck? rafe had thought - well. he’d intended to come here to pick up some blow, and maybe, possibly, perhaps let barry have his way with him while he’s at it.

barry can’t have his way with him if half the population of north carolina is stacked up inside the trailer. and that’s just. frustrating.

rafe kind of wants to drive his bike straight through the trailer, mowing some partygoers down and end this whole shebang right here and now. but, as barry has made explicitly clear time and time again, rafe is Not Allowed to harm and/or kill people on his property.

it’s sometimes irritating, this whole thing they’ve started. this casual fling that’s maybe not-so-casual anymore considering rafe agreed to be exclusive with barry not even two days ago.

there are just. so many rules, like no maiming, or killing, or… actually, that’s about it. but that’s two rules too many. rafe doesn’t like rules, or being told what he can or can’t do.

barry is just lucky rafe likes him. kind of. sort of. somewhat.

otherwise, barry would be drifting along the bottom of the ocean somewhere, flesh being nibbled away at by fish and sharks and the like.

rafe flings his helmet towards his bike, not bothering to see if it landed anywhere convenient, before storming across the yard and shoving himself through a cluster of people to get inside the trailer.

barry is sitting on the couch, all sorts of people surrounding him, looking like he’s already fucked up beyond belief.

which is also annoying, because he was supposed to get fucked up beyond belief with rafe, then mandhandle rafe into bed to have his wicked way with him. like always.

“ayy, country club!” barry practically shouts over the noice, his accent even thicker and more drawn out than usual. “you made it!”

“yeah, barry, i made it,” rafe snaps, then sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

look, he’s not against parties or anything. actually, he’s quite in favor of them. he just… did not plan for his day to go like this.

rafe wanted barry’s full attention, which is now virtually impossible given the amount of bodies that are currently filling the room.

barry just looks at rafe with glazed eyes, leaning back casually against the couch cushions. “aw, don’t you go pouting on me ‘n shit, rafe cameron. ain’t you always down for a party or some shit like that?”

“a little heads up would’ve been nice,” rafe tells him, his temper rearing it’s ugly head again and bleeding into his voice. “look, can i just get my shit so i can get out of here?”

rafe moves around the coffee table, elbowing a few drunk idiots out of his way as he does. barry eyes him as he comes closer, before suddenly swinging one arm out and wrapping it around rafe’s waist. he ropes rafe in close enough that rafe stumbles a bit over barry’s feet, sprawling right into his lap.

“see, ain’t that more like it, country club?” barry purrs, his lips pressed against rafe’s ear.

rafe feels a shiver rocket down his spine, but also a flare of anxiety.

barry is certainly fucked up beyond comprehension, and they haven’t exactly talked about making their relationship public. rafe has no idea if this is something barry will regret in the morning and end up cutting rafe off.

but to be fair, if barry did wake up and decide to tell rafe to fuck off, rafe would probably just kill him. he might just kill him anyway, just because he feels like it.

and since barry’s inevitable death is hurtling towards them at breakneck speed, rafe might as well enjoy barry’s final moments while he can.

so he lets barry kiss him, full on the mouth, on display for the hundred or so other people milling about the room.

rafe, regrettably, makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat when he feels barry’s tongue dip into his mouth, sweeping across his own.

regrettably, because some fucking weird ass next to barry leans in close to watch. rafe can see the movement out of the corner of his eye.

but barry isn’t deterred. he might be a little encouraged, even, because he deepens the kiss even more, pressing in so close that rafe feels like they could crawl inside of each other and form one cohesive nightmare of a person.

“ain’t peg you for a fag, barry,” the guy comments, his words slurring. he burps after he speaks, and barry detaches his lips from rafe to look over at the source of the noise.

“the fuck you just say to me?” barry snaps, digging his fingers into rafe’s hips to keep him in place when rafe moves to get up, ready to just slit this guy’s throat and be done with it. “ain’t you in my damn house, fuckass? who the fuck you think you’re talkin’ to?”

“hey, man, didn’t mean no offense,” the guy says, raising his hands in mock surrender before burping again. “jus’ askin’.”

“getcho’ dumbass out my house, bro,” barry tells him, removing one hand from rafe’s hips for only a moment, just to shove the guy out of his seat.

the still nameless man just shrugs, gulping down the remnants of his beer before getting up and disappearing into the crowd.

“i think you guys are cute,” a girl giggles from where she’s seated, across from the couch rafe and barry are currently planted on.

barry looks up at rafe, and it’s almost fond and god, that’s disgusting. rafe wants to soak himself in it, let it marinate until it’s deeply ingrained in every fiber of his being.

“sho’ are,” barry agrees with her, still looking up at rafe. he’s got one hand beneath rafe’s shirt now, nails raking over his back.

rafe shudders, wishing he could dissolve every person in this room right this very moment so he can curl up inside barry and make a home there.

“gotta say, ‘m a little jealous, man,” some other guy pipes up from barry’s other side.

rafe looks over at him, one brow arched, finding the guy staring right back as he hits some sort of pipe.

probably filled with meth, based on the state of the guy’s teeth.

classy.

“guess you just gon’ have to be jealous, then,” barry tosses back, not bothering to spare the guy a glance before returning his mouth to rafe’s.

the party comes and goes, faster than rafe anticipated, but that maybe can be attributed to the fact that barry keeps rafe glued to him at all times, practically devouring him every chance he can get, and showing him off to every person who happens to look their way.

rafe will admit, it’s a little satisfying, knowing how proud barry is to have staked his claim. he’s surprised that he’s so okay with barry being so possessive of him, too.

rafe cameron normally does not like the idea of being owned by anyone or anything. at least, he hadn’t up until now.

at this point, he’s pretty sure he’d let barry put a dog collar on him that reads property of barry the coke dealer, without complaint.

now, lounging in barry’s bed, sweat-soaked and panting, rafe sparks a blunt. he takes a long hit and passes it to barry.

“you did this on purpose,” rafe says, knowingly.

barry just grins up at the ceiling like a shark, shrugging as he hits the blunt.

“you’re pretty, rafe cameron. and you’re mine,” barry tells him, passing the weed back. “what’s it hurt to show off a little? you ain’t die or nothing.”

“never said it was a bad thing,” rafe snorts. “just maybe give me a little warning next time you plan to parade me around as your trophy wife.”

“like you ain’t get off on all them people talking ‘bout how jealous they are that i get to have you.”

barry has a point, rafe will admit. not out loud, mind you, but still. in the quiet of his mind, where no one else can hear, he agrees with barry wholeheartedly.

“can you blame them? i mean, look at me,” rafe says with a snooty little sniff, running a hand along his jaw. “you landed yourself a masterpiece. people are gonna notice.”

“you so damn full of yourself, country club,” barry snorts. “imma have to knock that ego down a peg. i been too nice to you.”

“says the guy whose ego grew ten times larger just by being a show-off about his boyfriend.”

barry rolls over onto his side, watching rafe hit the blunt with heavily-lidded eyes. “boyfriend, huh? ain’t we a bit old for that?”

“you literally called me your boyfriend like, fifty times today. do not even- ”

barry shuts him up mid-sentence by taking the blunt from rafe’s hand and putting it out on the ashtray next to the bed, tangling his fingers in rafe’s hair, and pulling him in for a kiss that’s all tongues and teeth.

rafe wanted to finish his sentence, had planned on finishing it, but barry doesn’t give him the chance. not with the way he’s kissing him right now.

within a matter of moments, rafe forgets what he was planning to say in the first place. but whatever, he’s fucking tired, barry feels good and smells good and tastes good. so what if he’s a trophy wife, so what if he may or may not get off on people being jealous that barry gets to date him. to own him.

it’s all arbitrary.

instead of figuring out what he was going to say, rafe breaks away from barry’s lips, fastening his mouth to barry’s neck and biting down.

his teeth sink in deep, and he hopes with everything he has left in him that it leaves a scar.

#rafebarry #outer banks #hope u enjoy! #my fics #ask #goodnightandbillyrobicheaux

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 3/?

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N -Any name (your best friend’s name)

Part 3! Date 2 is going to be underway with this one. Enjoy!

I had to change my pfp and my header cause they were being dickheads so just be aware if you liked looking at the batboys when clicking on my profile lmao <3

Warnings: Swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd, Dark humor.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15)  (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N woke up the next day feeling like she could take on the world, energized, with a new crush, and full of life, a stark shift from how she usually was. She was never normally a morning person and had a severe addiction to caffeine. I mean, the addiction was still there and she still needed coffee before she could go to her 3pm class and meet up with Jason again, but she was happy. She would put on her clothes and pack her bag before even getting coffee.

“G’morning, A/N!”

“Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?” A/N joked.

“Down girl, I’m just peppy today, it’ll probably wear down and it’s probably a once-in-a-blue-moon deal,” Y/N said as she started brewing her coffee.

“You got a date with Jason today?”

“I do!”

“That explains it,” A/N joked again.

“Says the one with a boyfriend,” she shot back.

“He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just hooking up right now, trust me, if he was, you’d know, darlin’.”

“So what did dreamboat ask last night?” A/N asked.

“Well I said ‘What do you want to know?’ and he said ‘We’ll talk about it today, maybe during notes or maybe during our lunch date, we’ll see how i’m feeling.’ so I think that’s good?”

“You kidding? You got that man wrapped around your finger, respect.”

“Shut up.”

“No thanks, I have free speech y’know.”

“Yeah you can say whatever, but I can also use my free speech rights to tell you to shove it, so, checkmate,” you sneered at her.

“That’s fair,” A/N paused and then changed the subject, “Have you heard Brutal yet?” she asked.

“You’re damn right I have, I wonder where that was for me at 17. But to be fair, I would still blast it now at my parents just to make them irk.”

“They would kill you for listening to that song instead of their Christian Rock.”

“Worth it, I’ll die swinging and singing.” Y/N mused.

“It really is Brutal out here.”

“Leave, get out, that sucked, blocked, friendship over.”

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

She walked up to her 3pm class, to be greeted by Jason at the door, with of course, her new knowledge of the tabloids and their minions, she questioned why he’d do this.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“’Afternoon, Jason.”

“I’m trying to give the tabloids a show, don’t mind me.” he mused.

“I’m not surprised, but class is in 5.”

“Then I guess we should sit down and get ready to write at lightning speeds.”

She went to sit down, followed close by Jason. She couldn’t help but notice everyone was staring, but she didn’t care. This is going to be fun, she thought, I’m glad they’re gonna get a fucking kick out of this, she finished her thought.

Class went on as usual, with her scribbling down the notes so quick her arms hurt by the end of it, and Jason just sitting around making sure she wasn’t losing her arms to the writing, and casually laughing at the Professor. Then, the Professor brought up Barry Allen. Dr. Barry Allen and what he does for the criminal psychology people. 

“Forensics go hand-in-hand with criminal psych, normally we can tell, as scholars, from the hitting of the weapon why and who might’ve done it.” The Professor said.

 She saw Jason tense up a bit, and whispered over to him;

“You know Dr. Barry Allen don’t you?”

“He’s my uncle,” he whispered back.

“Well, be sure to tell him I’ve read some of his essays when I wanted to go into forensics instead of criminal psychology.”

“Really? He has essays?”

“Many. Very good writing. 10/10.”

“You’re going to make his week if you keep talking like this.” he mused.

“Good.” you mocked.

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

“So, you’re intermixed with a renowned journalist, a legend in forensic testing and you’re the son of Bruce Wayne?” she asked Jason, she couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but there they were, all cards on the table.

“Yeah, I know this is all new to you but famous people tend to know other famous people.” he joked with her.

“Well that’s fair, I guess I kind of know Clark, I met him once at a office party with my mum.”

“He’d probably remember you.”

“Enough of your family ties, huh? You said you wanted to know more about me?”

“Yes, that, did you tell your roommate to pick up your car?” he asked her.

“I did, why was I meant to do that, by the way?” she asked him.

“Because, we, you and I, Y/N, are going to go for a joyride on my motorbike and try to get away from these,” he lowered his voice, “bitch ass cameras,” he grabbed her hand and started running towards his bike, dodging all the paparazzi who just wanted the snag shot of the two. They don’t even know my name, and they’re going off about this, she thought.

When the two met his bike, she looked over it fondly. This guy really likes his red, she thought, that’s fair, I do too.

“Nice bike.”

“Thank you, Y/N. We can ride this bad boy out to the country and try to escape the cameras, which kind of cuts into the lunch date, but hey-”

“That’s just the life someone famous has to live?” she questioned.

“You’re catching on.”

“I could have been a detective if I wanted it.”

He laughed and sat down on his bike and like instinct, she sat behind him and wrapped her hands on his chest and leant in. She didn’t know how to passenger a motorbike, but he didn’t say she did it wrong.

“You ready?”

“Jason, are you going to kill me?”

“Well if the shoe fits.” he mused.

“I’m ready.”

And off they went.

There was something about the way the bike drove through the streets of Gotham that she loved so much, she had already fallen in love with the restless city and called it home long before right now, but this was exhilarating for her. Somehow driving at 120mph was amazing, it brought out this feeling of freedom, something she hadn’t ever felt back home in Metropolis.

It’s worth it, she thought, it’s forever going to be worth it.

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

Pulling her off of his bike, the two of them laid underneath the tree on the small hill Jason pulled over by.

“Do you think we escaped the pap?” she asked him.

“Probably not.”

“Festive.”

“So, Y/N, it’s your turn to open up about your family. Besides your mum, I already know about your mum.”

“So, my twin sister goes to our rival school, the Metropolis one, I think she’s more of a people person than I’ll ever be. My parents are still together, they got married after they had my sister and I, so I’m a bastard,” she laughed, “I always like telling people I’m by definition a bastard, a lot of them get mad all like, ‘don’t call yourself that you’re a lovely girl’ and it’s just funny to me,”

He laughed, “You call yourself a bastard out of spite?”

“Am I supposed to not? I think it’s funny-”

“It’s pretty funny. I live out of spite too,” he said, almost like he was pulling out a bad memory, but she egged him on slightly,

“Spite who?” she asked.

“Spite God.”

She let out a laugh, and he seemed to let go of whatever memory he had clung onto to watch her laugh. It was clearly a distracting laugh.

“God tried to strike you and you just went ‘Nah mate, go away’? Respectable. I would do that.” she said while laughing.

“That’s exactly what happened, Y/N-” and his phone pinged, he turned it over, it was Dick.

“Mind sharing who that is?”

“I don’t mind, it’s my older brother sending me an article of us today. We really gave them a show holding hands,” he began reading, “ ‘Millionaire’s Son, Jason Todd, Caught Holding Hands with the Mystery Girl.’ “

“One day they will know my name. And it will be a massive article. Like a gender reveal.”

“Like a gender reveal?!” he said back to her, laughing so hard his smile reached ends she didn’t expect it to be able to go.

“It wasn’t that funny of a joke, Jason,” she said.

“It’s a better joke than my brothers and sister could ever come up with, Y/N, and they’ve had Galas to practice for,” he retorted.

“I’ll set it ablaze like the California gender reveal,” she continued with the joke, expecting this to be too far, but this also showed her that Jason liked dark humor, and she did too.

He burst out laughing at this, and she smiled.

“You have perfect teeth, Jason.”

“Is that what you’re focused on?” he asked.

“They are the forefront when you smile, it is hard not to.”

“Romantic,” he mocked her.

“I can be more romantic next date, if you want it,” she said, inclined towards him saying I want it. She was right.

“I want it.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #batfam #batfamily #batbros #dceu #dcu #dc

[thora-jane]

Twin-Way Mirror Pt. ii

Series Summary: You've been friends with the Weasley twins since your first train to Hogwarts, but as the three of you start your 6th year, you start to question if your feelings go beyond friendship.

Summary for Pt 1: After recalling how you first met Fred and George, you finally arrive at the burrow and reunite with your favorite twins.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2,196

female!reader, 2nd person POV

You can remember the first time you met Fred and George clearer than any memory from your muggle life. You had sat down in an empty train car after getting a talk from your parents about how “this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for your poor grades in the past,” and all of the anxiety of having your world blown open was starting to get to you. The train was about to pull out of the station when two boys with brilliantly red hair swung open that door to your coach.

They shoved their way inside and introduced each other without a second thought before making themselves comfortable. One of them made a joke about how quiet you were. 

“Blimey, Freddie, you’d think she’d seen a ghost!”

“Nah Georgie, I think she’s seeing double!”

“How could she be seeing double, you’re the only ugly one here!”

That got you to chuckle, and the two of them got the biggest smiles on their faces. After you introduced yourself, and explained that you didn’t know much about what was happening, the two of them sat beside you and explained everything they knew about their world.

Not long after their world became your world, and Fred and George were with you to explore every step of the way. You were overjoyed when you got into the same house as them, and they were overjoyed that you were one of the only people to tell them apart (George had a few freckles a little ways behind his ear, Fred didn’t).

Much to people’s surprise, for as close as you were to them, your record was far more spotless, having barely served any detentions in all your six years at Hogwarts. You were also one of the few people in their lives they hadn’t tried to pull a prank on. 

You however, also noticed that you were one of the only girls in your year they hadn’t flirted with. Which, you didn’t think should bother you, but something about the way they would try to charm nearly every other girl they shared classes with left some sort of sour feeling in your heart that you couldn’t quite place.

Actually you could place it. You knew exactly how you felt about them, but were too bothered by the implications to think about it. They were your friends. They’re twins. And the very thought of liking both of them at the same time made you feel a tad uneasy. Of course, you didn’t think of them as the same person, yes they both looked the same (and Merlin, was that look special), but Fred was more open, he was the one to initiate the trouble. George however, was a little softer, but that didn’t stop him from tying up all the pranks with the most Weasley-Twin bow to insure utter destruction. And (as much as you hated to know this) the way they flirted was a bit different. When Fred flirted with a girl he wanted the whole room to know, he was loud, he would charmingly tease them from the other side of the room, he’d make a girl freeze up and blush, smiling behind her hands. When George flirted, he would make sure he had the girl’s attention, leaning in close, not breaking eye contact, talking in a quiet voice he knew she would listen to. God, it infuriated you to have to sit and watch either one of them flirt.

You paused, sighing as you realized you messed up a stitch on your current project; a crocheted Lion hat. You promised the boys you would make one and wear it to each of their quidditch matches, you even told them you’d enchant it to roar when Gryffindor scored a point.

Pulling out the past few stitches, you put your hook through the loop and started over again. You couldn’t stay mad at the twins. It wasn’t like they cared for you like that, anyways. And besides, what good was it fussing over two handsome young men not liking you when they were already your friends?

***

You could feel a yawn work its way up your throat and out of your mouth as you looked out the window. Mrs. Weasely had enchanted the car to drive on its own now and she had dozed off behind the wheel a while back. The stars were starting to come out and fields whizzed past your window. Off in the distance you saw a faint light from what you assumed was the burrow. You and the Weasleys had been friends for years, but you had never actually gone to the burrow. You’d been offered to come and visit in the past, but your parents had always insisted you come home for the winter and summer holidays.

The lights approached faster, and soon enough the car began to slow to a stop in the drive by a house that looked like it could topple at any second. Actually, it looked a bit like two or three houses stacked on top of eachother. Undoubtedly held together by strong magic, you assumed. 

Mrs. Weasely awoke with a jolt, “Good heavens, I must have fallen asleep,” She smoothed out her hair, turning around with an embarrassed smile as she surveyed the back seats, “(y/n), could you wake up Ron and Harry?” You nodded, and her smile warmed “That’s a good girl, I’ll go inside and put the kettle on, dinner shouldn’t take too long,” She left the car, and Hermione twisted her way around the front passenger seat to whack Ron on the head with a copy of the paper she was reading.

“Oi!” He awoke with a snort, waving her hand away, “bugger off, would ya? I’m up already!” The two of you girls laughed as you nudged Harry’s side and he lazily blinked his eyes open with a confused whine.

“C’mon, would you mind helping me get my stuff inside?” you asked, getting out of the car and lugging your trunk out of the back and carefully lifting up Eros’s cage. Stroking his beak through the bars and letting out a chuckle, he looked up at you with his large, yellow eyes. “That ride wasn’t too difficult for you, was it?” You asked, not expecting an answer as you opened his cage, “Go on then, all this open sky should be good for us, right?” You smiled as you watched him flutter out of his cage and off into the night. He was a smaller owl (Northern Saw Whet, according to the lady that sold him to you) so his cage wasn’t too much of a tight fit, but the suburbs didn’t provide the best place for him to really get out and stretch his wings.

You turned around to place the empty cage on top of the trunk, half expecting either Ron or Harry to be there and help you. But the two of them were still tiredly stretching out by the car door. What you did notice though, were two tall figures running out from the house, waving their arms excitedly and shouting your name as they got closer.

You dropped your yarn bag and ran towards them, smiling as you collided into a hug with one of them. It was dark, so you couldn’t quite tell which twin you were hugging, but you smiled nonetheless, “I missed you,” You laughed as they messed up your hair.

“I missed you too, we wanted to come pick you up but-”

“-Mum thought we’d burn down your house or something,” The other twin finished solemnly, a few steps behind the first, “We promised to only keep it to any shrubbery in the front yard, but apparently that didn’t cut it,” he sighed, mouth twisting into a smile through the dark, “now where’s my hug, (y/l/n)?” 

You chuckled and held out your arms, but didn’t expect him to take a running start before picking you up off the ground and spinning you around, not really putting you down. You let out a little yelp between laughs as he swung you over his shoulder and started walking back to the house.

“You’re not going to put me down, are you?” You asked as casually as you could, trying to play this off as if it were a normal occurrence. There wasn’t a time when either of them picked you up like a large sack of flour, so you attempted to maintain composure as you were jostled around from your place over his shoulder.

“Not a chance,” He replied with the same nonchalant tone, or at least as nonchalant as one could be with a sixteen year-old slung over their shoulders.

“Fair enough,” you sighed, “I don’t suppose we could go back for my bag?” You asked, craning your neck to look back at the car as Ron and Harry watched you and seemed to visibly groan before Hermione picked up your bag and Eros’s cage, turning to them and saying something before walking behind the tree of you from a ways away, “Oh nevermind they’ve got it. So, how have you two been faring?”

“Splendidly, although it has been rather dull over here with no one to show their support in our financial and entrepreneurial endeavours,” the one walking beside you sighed.

The one carrying you added on, “And we were quite curious about that muggle candy you promised us, I don’t suppose you have any for your favorite twin?” 

“Oh of course, which one of you is George?” you asked, hoping they couldn’t see the smirk on your face.

The one holding you up gave an exaggerated gasp and stopped in his tracks, “You foul woman! Not only can you not tell us apart but you have no favoritism for the one who holds you? I have a good mind to drop you right now!” He declared, letting his arm drop from holding your legs as he lurched forward, causing you to slide from your spot on his shoulder and making you scream. 

You thought you were going to fall, but he caught you again, this time he was holding you in front of him with both arms. For a second, your face was squashed into his shoulder, but once you were able to catch your breath and recover your nerves, he looked down at you in his arms with a devious smirk.

“Only joking, I am George. And as your favorite twin I would never drop you like that,” He gave a joking wink before Fred smacked him on the back of the head. You looked up at him for a moment unsure of if you were blushing, and if the darkness would hide it if you were. 

After a moment’s pause you suspected might have been too long, you stated as calmly as you could, “Oh I never said you were my favorite,” you smiled innocently, “I was just wondering which was which.”

At this, Fred cackled, and George let out a fake roar of rage before he took off running, you still in his arms, “I’ll show you. You creature, I thought you were my friend! Betray me for Freddie?! How could you! After all I’ve done for you!” Fred picked up his own pace, going further and making it into the house much faster than the two of you.

You had to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from falling as he ran past Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who had since gotten nearly to the house. George ran through the doorway sideways, not putting you down despite your protests until he ran to the livingroom and dropped you unceremoniously onto the couch and into Fred’s lap, “There, now you can give all the muggle sweets to your favorite twin, you despicable wench!” He cried, trying to hold back laughter.

“George, I never said Fred was my favorite twin, either,” you corrected, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling.

Now it was George’s turn to cackle as Fred shoved you out of his lap and onto the floor, “Wicked demon! Keep your stupid muggle candy and quit playing with our hearts!” It was then that Mr. Weasely put down his book (not that he had been reading it since the three of you barged in), and leaned forward to ask as politely as he could.

“Pardon me but did you say muggle candy?”

“Do none of you have manners?” Mrs. Weasely scolded from the kitchen doorway, “The poor girl had to pack in a mad dash and sit in a car all afternoon, then you drag her in like barbarians and start poking and prodding about muggle life! Let (y/n) have a moment to get herself settled, my goodness!” She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron before smoothing her hair and smiling at you, “(y/n), dearie, you’d better wash up for dinner,” she turned to the twins and let out an exasperated sigh, “As for you two howler monkeys, you’d better show the lovely lady up to her room. And please,” she added “let her walk on her own two feet?”

#fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #george weasley

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟎.𝟏𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

Monday, 25 September 2017

It was strange to Y/N that she was enjoying herself as much as she was just then in an educational setting. In school, she had never really liked any of the subjects besides English, and here at uni, she got to sit and listen to professors who were truly experts on English literature ramble on about Othello and specific analysis on act 3 scene 3. She loved every single second of it, and was sure she could sit there for hours on end just listening to her professors. At one point she was sure this would all get tiring and she’d hate University, but in that moment, hearing her professor, Richard, talk about things that truly interested her, was such a breath of fresh air compared to what she had experienced previously.

The door to the lecture hall opened, and since the doors were right by the blackboard where Richard stood talking about Othello and the ‘temptation’ scene, all eyes landed on the blonde girl in pink shorts and a white jumper. She smiled at Richard, mouthing a “sorry” before taking the first free seat she could find, which was conveniently right beside Y/N. The two girls shared a small smile themselves before Y/N went back to focusing on the lecture happening in front of her. Y/N was hunched over her notebook, writing something off from the PowerPoint slide displayed on the wall in front of her. She did not know how much time went by, she was listening too intently to care about that, but suddenly, the blonde beside her rested her back against the seat and leaned a little closer to Y/N.

“This is quite boring, innit?”

Y/N looked to her left, and to her surprise, realised that the girl who had walked in late was Chloe. The same Chloe who she had met when she registered a week and some ago. She must have been too caught up in the lecture to pay proper attention to her surroundings.

Chloe let out a small chuckle, nodding in the direction of the PowerPoint before she continued to whisper. “The lecture. I knew we’d be discussing Shakespeare in Introduction to English Studies, but Othello’s just fucking boring, innit?”

“I…” Y/N looked at the PowerPoint for a few seconds, then back at Chloe. “Sure.”

They were quiet for a few seconds, Chloe just studying Y/N, eyes searching her face. “You like Othello.”

Y/N felt a sudden urge to relate to Chloe. Since they had met earlier and since she hadn’t made tons of friends on her course yet, she wanted Chloe to be her mate. If they got off on the wrong foot today, they might never sit next to each other again.

“It’s not as good as Twelfth Night, not as bad as Julius Caesar.”

Chloe continued to just look at Y/N, but suddenly, a smile came creeping over her lips. “Take it you like Shakespeare.”

“I like analysing his work, yeah.”

“More of a Modernism, and sometimes Postmodernism, girl myself.”

“I’m not big on either of those.”

Chloe let out a small chuckle again. “You won’t be taking Postmodernism next year then?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Chloe only crossed her arms and stared ahead, still smiling. For a second Y/N was afraid she might have said something to make Chloe detest her, but the next, she reminded herself that she had to live her truth regardless of what anyone said about it. “Guess we’ll just have to enjoy each other’s company in the core modules then.”

Y/N felt a few butterflies in her stomach at that and could not help smiling back at Chloe when their eyes met again.

“How come I haven’t seen you at any Freshers parties yet?” Chloe asked.

“Been busy applying to jobs and such,” Y/N explained. “Gotta get one as fast as possible ‘cause I need money to live.”

“Ahh, fair.” Chloe nodded. “One of my course mates, Hayden – think they’re up there somewhere –“ Chloe pointed with her thumb over her shoulder, indicating further up the lecture hall. “Has decided they’re going to start an Uno society.”

“Uno?” Y/N frowned. “As in the card game?”

“Yeah,” Chloe laughed. “I’m sure it’ll be nice and all, but they’re very passionate about it. Have yet to come out with me, Thian, and Annalise. Those are my other course mates, by the way.”

Y/N nodded. Was she just incompetent at making friends or was Chloe just very good at it? How had she made so many friends, made a small group by the sounds of it, and Y/N had barely talked to anyone on her course yet?

“Hayden promised to come out this Friday, though,” Chloe smiled. “You should come, too.”

For some reason, both nerves and excitement rushed through Y/N at that. She smiled back. “I’d love that.”

“Wicked. It’s at my Dinwiddy flat.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Uni accommodation at Helmond is a huge piss take, I tell you. I feel like there’s mould everywhere.”

“That’s just UK houses in general. We’ll all die from it one day.”

“It’s literally disgusting,” Chloe said. “Also, one of my flatmates never does his dishes. It’s minging. And it’s started smelling, too.”

“Oh, my days.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad I just immediately moved in with my best mate instead of going through the whole uni accommodation thing. At least I can be assured that they do their dishes and no food’s left on the kitchen counter for too long.”

“Oh, that sounds lush.”

The people around Y/N and Chloe were all starting to pack their things and get out of their seats. Seeing as the two of them were sat by the edge of the row, they had to get up rather fast and let people through. So, that’s what they did. Y/N put her notebook and pencil case in her rucksack and slung it onto her back before she and Chloe made their way out of the lecture hall and out into the hallway beyond.

“There they are,” Chloe grinned, waving as she saw a small group of three standing by the wall a bit further down. “Come say hi.” Though Chloe wasn’t looking at her, Y/N assumed she was talking to her, so she followed her over to the rest. “Gang, this is Y/N, the one I met while we were both registering.”

“Ah, you’ll be Y/N, then,” a man with protruding cheekbones, a strong jawline, and deep set, brown eyes said. The Viet man’s smile lit up the room they were standing in, and it made Y/N’s overthinking ebb. “I’m Thian, pleasure to meet you. Chloe told us she met you, but never saw you since.”

“Proper rude of the universe to keep us away from each other for so long,” Chloe said.

“I’m Hayden,” a smaller person said with the greenest eyes and long brown hair. They too had a smile like Thian’s, but this one displayed crooked teeth, which made Y/N more at ease with her own bottom teeth that were the same.

“And I’m Annalise,” the last one said, her hair dyed an unnatural dark red colour that Y/N absolutely loved. “I think I saw you in a Critical Reading seminar.”

“Oh, yeah, I think we might be.”

“We’ll have to sit next to each other next time!”

Y/N could detect a slight accent, but she could not tell where Annalise was originally from. She suspected Germany, there were tons of international students here after all, but Y/N did not want to assume.

“Guys, we have to plan the first Uno society meeting,” Hayden said, looking at the time on their phone. “It was so nice to meet you, Y/N, but we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

She just smiled. “No, totes get that. I need to get back to my flat, anyway.”

“See you around, then,” Chloe smiled, waving as the four of them walked off.

Y/N walked home to Orsman Road. Though she knew there would be less walking if they took the tube, it would also mean that she had to walk on and off boiling hot tube trains and stations, and she was not about to do that. She was sweating enough in the late September sun as it was, she did not need the tube to contribute to her sweat moustache as well. Instead, she plugged her earbuds in and listened to her most recent playlist on Spotify, humming along to her favourite tunes as she walked.

She stopped by Gregg’s by Dalston Kingsland station, buying herself a sausage roll and an iced latte before walking the rest of the stretch home. Hackney bustled around her, with tons of cars, double deckers, and mopeds driving by, as well as all types of people milling to and from work. The early autumn sun was still a little too hot, but it seemed like most Londoners were soaking up the sun while they could. They were walking by in shorts, tee shirts, and summer dresses, while the only reason why Y/N was dressed in her tee shirt and trousers, was so she would not quite literally go up in flames on the way home.

Y/N arrived at Orsman Road not long after her trip to Gregg’s, and walked up to the flat. She locked the door once she was indoors, checking the kitchen and the living room to see if anyone was there. To no one’s surprise, none of her three other student flatmates were home in the middle of the day on a Monday. She walked up the stairs and to her room, letting her door be open so she could air out a bit more. Her windows had been open all day, so her room smelled fresher than normal as she entered. That just reminded her that she had to buy some scented candles or air fresheners to liven up her room.

Putting her rucksack down by her door, Y/N started looking through the two bags that she had yet to pack out from. In one was most of the stuff she’d put on her desk when she finally bought that, and in the other were loads of decorations that she had yet to bring forth. She started pulling out fairylights that she wanted to hang across her room or over her wall, when she heard footsteps. Out of the door directly to the right once you came up the stairs, came a man with short dark hair and a strong build, thin lips and pale skin. He must have heard movements outside his door, because his eyes landed on Y/N almost right away. However, he smiled at her and Y/N immediately knew who this was.

“You’re Y/N, then,” Mason said, walking over to stand in the doorway of her room. “Mason, your third flatmate.”

“Thought I’d never run into you,” Y/N smiled, making his smile grow.

“Yeah, got here like two days ago, and have been all over the place since. Helped some of my mates move into their flats, been at work, and at rugby practice.”

She nodded. “Busy man.”

“Very busy.”

“Lucky I caught you now, then.”

Mason nodded his head. “Would have eventually. Knowing Nath, he’ll probably end up forcing us all to bond as a flat at one point.”

“Sounds horrific.”

“It was. It will be,” Mason laughed, leaning against the doorframe and pushing his hands into his grey joggers.

Y/N furrowed her brows. “It was? He’s done it before?”

“Yeah, our first year. He made everyone in our flat bond, he especially talked about flat yoga sessions and shopping trips when he was drunk or high as a kite.”

She dropped the fairylights and turned her full attention on Mason. “You lived together your first year?”

Mason just looked at Y/N, blinking a few times. “Yeah.”

“All three of you?”

“All three of us. Me, Nathan, Harry, and like five girls.”

Y/N felt like screaming, but lucky for her dignity and Mason’s ears, the front door opened and closed. Nathan’s singing could be heard all the way upstairs. Instead of screaming, Y/N called Nathan’s name, not caring that Mason saw just how annoyed she was now. Poor bloke had no idea what he’d just said. Nathan strolled up the stairs and looked in Y/N’s room’s direction, his face lit up at the sight of Mason and Y/N together.

“What a view!” he grinned. “What’re you two bonding over?”

“Right now we’re bonding over being your friend,” Y/N said.

“Which I’m sure you’re both honoured to be, yes.”

“And I just heard you’ve lived with Mason and Harry for the last year, but have not told me,” Y/N said, ignoring Nathan’s previous comment.

Nathan looked to Mason, and then back at Y/N. “No, Harry moved in later. He lived in another flat first, hated it, and since him and Mason were good mates, he got to move into our place since one of our flatmates dropped out our first week.”

Not caring that she would smudge her makeup, Y/N ran her hands over her face. “How long did he live there, Nate?”

Silence for a second or two. “Start of second semester till we moved out.”

Y/N let go of a heavy sigh. “Nathan, why didn’t you just tell me?-“

“-I know, I know, I know,” Nathan started, walking into Y/N’s room and sitting down on the floor beside her. “I’m a shite friend.”

“You really fucking are,” Y/N said, swatting Nathan’s hand away when he tried to take hers. “Harry was both of our friend when he lived in Notts those months, and I literally had sex with him.”

Mason took a small step back in pure shock, blinking rapidly as if an eyelash fell onto his eye.

“Don’t I have a right to know you’re living with him?” Y/N asked.

“You do. Of course, you do. I just… I thought I told you at one point, and when I got home and I found out I hadn’t told you… I didn’t know how to break the news.”

“How about just telling me?” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “Instead of hiding it from me like that.”

“Technically, I didn’t hide anything ‘cause I thought I-“

“-Nathan, I’ll literally skin you alive-“

“-Fine, I should have told you,” he groaned, taking her hand this time and holding it tight in his. “How can I make it up to you?”

Y/N thought for a moment, but came up with the perfect solution. “By coming with me when I go out with my course mates on Friday?”

Nathan just looked at her, blinking once. “My punishment is to… go out with you and your mates?”

“Yes. I barely know them, I need moral support. No matter how bad the person giving me said support actually is.”

Nathan looked down at their hands, patting hers slightly. “I’ll come.”

“Thanks.”

He continued to look down at their hands as Mason’s quiet footsteps back to his room sounded throughout the first floor. “I do have a lecture that finishes at 7pm-“

“-You’ll skip that lecture if you so have to.-”

“-Yes, ma’am,” Nathan answered without hesitation, kissing her hand and getting up from the floor. He gave her a small smile. “And I’m sorry. I know I should’ve told you.”

Y/N nodded. “Is there… Is there more you haven’t told me? In regards to Harry?”

Nathan pretended to think for a few seconds, eyes getting big as if he remembered something.

“Nath?”

He chuckled. “No, nothing.”

Y/N hit him on his calf before he walked away. “You’re bloody buying the first round of drinks on Friday.”

“As I should,” was all Nathan said before he danced off to his room. Y/N picked up her fairylights again, trying to get them out of the messy tangle they were currently in so she could finally make this room look like her and her new home.

Friday, 29 September 2017

Y/N was nervous. She was usually nervous before going someplace she had never been before, or to meet people she had never met, but it was never like this. Her nerves were almost always drowned by her natural eagerness to be around people, to be surrounded by friends and strangers. However, this, her first pre-drinks at uni with other people, had her feeling a little too nervous for her own tastes.

She loved parties. Fuck, if she could party every single day, she would. She did not care about the hangover that came the following day, as long as she had a good time the night before. At home in Nottingham, she would have loved to party as much as she had in London, but for some reason, meeting as many new people as she had, made her nervous for some reason. It was weird to Y/N because she loved making friends, but it was different here. She had yet to figure out what about University that triggered this reaction out of her.

A knock sounded at her door and she grunted, which Nathan took as a good enough sign for him to be allowed entrance. He grinned, sitting down on Y/N’s fluffy dark blue duvet cover and looked his best friend up and down.

“Lush,” he said.

Y/N glanced at the mirror in front of her again, running her hands down her sides. Her black ruched detail ribbed crop top fit her perfectly, making her tits look exceptionally good, and the gold necklace and earrings topped it all off. The crop jeans in light wash blue were tightened at the waist by a black belt with silver eyelets, the black lace up boots made her almost as tall as Nathan. Though Y/N had been out on town in Nottingham with this very same outfit, she was unsure about it now. There was a familiar fear in the back of her head; one that had not visited in a while, one that would lay low until it saw fit to paralyse her. Y/N was experiencing only the tip of the iceberg now. The rest would reveal itself later, it would all melt and drown her in nervous ticks and anxious tendencies.

God, she hated how nervous she was. This was not like her at all. Nathan knew this, which was why he picked up on how unusually quiet his best friend was. He got up from where he was seated on the bed, walking over to Y/N and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“What’s up?”

She took a deep breath, looking at him in the mirror. “You remember the party at Jack Lloyd’s?”

“When we were 17?”

“Yeah, and I was nervous to wear that tight-fitting dress? ‘Cause of my stomach?”

“Yes, even though you had no reason to be nervous.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m feeling like that now,” she admitted. “Not as intensely, but it’s there and… I haven’t felt this nervous about being seen in a long time.”

“What do you mean ‘being seen’?”

“When… When you’ve had and still have a hard time accepting yourself, it’s hard to let others look at your body ‘cause you don’t want to exist outside your own head, if that makes sense? Being seen means people will have an opinion, it means they’ll piece together this image of you before even getting to know you. It means them judging you on your looks alone before they get to actually know you.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders a little, Nathan squeezing them ever so slightly. “My confidence is much better now, but I still have those moments every so often when that 17-year-old girl I used to be will come back and whisper something discouraging into my ear.”

Nathan nodded, wrapping his arms around her neck and bringing her to him. She melted into her best friend, taking a grip of his forearms. “I know it’s much easier said than done, but focus on now. You’ve come so far, and though that 17-year-old is part of the reason why you are who you are today, she’s got nothing to do here. 19-year-old Y/N has come so far, she has no time revisiting the past ‘cause she’s going to a party tonight, and it’ll be fucking fantastic, yeah?”

Y/N chuckled, closing her eyes as Nathan planted an encouraging kiss to her cheek. “Guess you’re right.”

“Of course I fucking am.”

She laughed.

“Now, get your vodka, tequila, sourz, or whatever the fuck you’re drinking, and let’s go.” Nathan let go of her and walked to the door, opening it. “You got Chloe’s address?”

“Yeah, it’s Dinwiddy, flat 10.”

“Uni accommodation?”

Y/N huffed, reaching for her purse and putting it over her shoulder. “Did you expect my first-year mates to live anywhere else?”

“Not really. Dunno why I’m shocked.”

Y/N searched through her purse, checking she had everything she needed before reaching for her plastic bag where her drinks were.

“Still remember when I lived in Coopers Court with Harry and Mason. Oh, how time flies.”

Y/N stopped short, narrowing her eyes. “I still cannot believe you didn’t tell me anything about you living in the same flat as Harry your first year at uni.”

Nathan sighed.

“Cannot believe you didn’t tell me he went to Helmond. Cannot believe you wanted us to live together without at least informing me-“

“-Mate, are we done with this?”

“Don’t think I’ll ever be done. You tricked me into this.”

“I did not.”

“What did you think was gonna happen when I found out?”

“We’ve been over this,” Nathan said. “I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal. Harry did not react like this when I told him I promised to live with you my second year, your first year.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, having already heard this.

“In fact, he did not mind one bit living with you.”

“I mind living with him.”

“Clearly, or else we wouldn’t still be having this conversation.”

Y/N tutted, walking past Nathan and down the stairs. “I’ll let this argument be for the time being, but expect me to pick it back up again tomorrow when my mind’s not all over the place. I want to be able to fucking destroy you.”

“Great. Can’t wait.”

Y/N and Nathan started walking in the direction of Dinwiddy, the biggest uni accommodation at Helmond, where most students ended up staying. Parmiter Street was a mere 30-minute walk away, and though they could have easily taken the tube, they both knew that it would be best for them to get some fresh air before drinking. Y/N also wanted to walk off some of her anxiety, though she was fairly certain that would not happen. On one hand she was looking forward to meeting Chloe and the rest of her English Lit gang, on the other, she was nervous. Her nerves came more from fear of experiencing the same blinding anxiety she had when she was younger, for that same feeling of helplessness and bottomlessness that it had brought her. What if it appeared when she was drinking? What if it got worse as she got drunk?

She hated how moving away to London and to University had brought her so much doubt. It was like she had to figure out who she was all over again. Here, it was only Nathan who knew her. Well… him and Harry, but the latter did not count. If Y/N so wanted, she could become a new version of herself. She knew that was something uni offered; finding a new you and shaping it into a person you want to be. There were several things Y/N wished she could change about herself. She had a horrible temper, was a little too loud at times, took many things far too personal, and more. She was unsure how much independence and a new environment could help make her a better version of herself, but she hoped Helmond and London could help her to some degree.

Once they arrived at Parmiter Street, Nathan walked straight onto Dinwiddy campus grounds and showed them the way to flat 10. The brown brick buildings rose five storeys high around them, shaping a small T formation with some benches along the stone path where people could sit on the few occasions when the weather would allow it. Nathan had been there the year before, loads of his friends from his Criminology course had lived at Dinwiddy accommodation and therefore hosted pre-drinks there. Nathan knew his way around, and, sure enough, he showed them right to flat 10. On the right hand-side, the first building, Nathan strolled over to the entrance.

He met Y/N’s eyes, trying to get a picture of just how nervous she was. After all, these were her friends, and had they been home in Nottingham, she would not have been this nervous at all. Nathan was not anxious at all, and he had never talked to – never met – Chloe or any of Y/N’s course mates.

“Listen,” Nathan said, giving Y/N a small smile. “If it gets too much, we’ll just go home, yeah? I won’t leave your side.”

Y/N smiled back, nodding her head. “Yeah. I’ll send Chloe a text saying we’re here.”

“We could just ring the doorbell.”

She looked at him. “Nath.”

“Y/N.”

“What were phones invented for if we’re just gonna ring people’s doorbells? I’m sending her a text.”

Nathan reached forward and rang the doorbell, making Y/N raise her eyebrows at him and take a deep breath as not to throw him against the brick building.

“Yes?” came from the speakers beside the doorbells. It was Chloe.

Nathan nudged Y/N, nodding in the direction of the speakers. She glared at him. “It’s Y/N.”

“Ahh, brill!” Chloe unlocked the door for them and Nathan opened it, letting Y/N enter first. They walked over to the stairs, looking at a sign there that showed them flat 10 at the topmost storey.

“They don’t even have a bloody lift, do they?” Y/N asked Nathan as she looked around.

“Gotta walk, mate.”

“Fuck me,” Y/N groaned as they began their ascent.

“I’d rather not.”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed a bit. They made it to the fourth floor, and Y/N knocked on the door as Nathan breathed heavily beside her.

“Hi,” Chloe smiled as she opened the door, stepping aside to let Y/N and Nathan in.

“Hiya,” Y/N smiled back, feeling her heart beat hard inside her chest. Something about Chloe’s smile, the reminder that she had invited Y/N over, that she wanted her there, settled atop Y/N’s shoulders, making them sag to a comfortable level. “Brought my housemate, hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” Chloe said, turning to Nathan.

“Nathan,” he smiled. “Thanks for letting me come here.”

“Don’t mention it,” Chloe said, closing the door and showing them the way down a corridor towards the shared living space where a heavy bass was throbbing. The fluorescent lights overhead in the hallway resembled those at a petrol station, making Y/N squint as she entered the living room. There sat everyone she had the pleasure of meeting earlier that week. Hayden, Annalise, and Thian were all  around the table with a glass each to drink. Y/N smiled at them, waving her hand as they all grinned back at her. She still felt like she was intruding.

“Y/N, Nathan, do you like sambuca?” Chloe asked, walking over to the kitchen bench to fetch plastic shot glasses.

“Never say no to sambuca, ey?” Nathan grinned, nodding for Y/N to go sit down so he could follow her lead. “We’ll have a shot each of you’re handing out.”

“I am, indeed,” Chloe said, getting two shot glasses and walking over to the table, placing the glasses in front of Nathan who looked absolutely ecstatic.

“Thanks, babe,” Y/N said.

“You lot playing a drinking game?” Nathan asked, getting his drinks out to mix them all together into his paper cup.

“Yeah, we’re playing Never Have I Ever,” Hayden answered. “However, if no one drinks, everyone’s got to take a sip except for the person asking, but the person asking’s gotta take two if no one drinks.”

“Ahh, alright,” Nathan said. “Creative. Love it.”

“This is Y/N’s friend, Nathan, by the way, guys,” Chloe said as she came back over with shots for everyone.

“Oh, yeah, this is Nathan. He’s a second-year, we live in a flat together in Haggerston.” Y/N suddenly felt stupid for not introducing him right away so that Chloe had to. She felt her cheeks heat up, but she refused to look like she felt headless. Instead, she got her vodka and cranberry juice out, mixing it as Nathan spoke beside her.

“We’ve known each other forever, so she moved in with me and my flatmates this year instead of moving into uni accommodation,” he elaborated.

“You knew each other in Nottingham?” Chloe asked, and, for some reason, the fact that Chloe remembered that made Y/N feel all kinds of warm.

“Yeah, been best friends for years.”

“How nice that you got to live together here,” Chloe smiled in Nathan’s direction, then at Y/N.

“It is, isn’t it?” Nathan said, looking at Y/N and giving her a small wink before going back to his drink.

“Right, we need to take advantage of being first-years and get drunk as often as possible,” Thian said. “So, tonight needs to be good.”

“It’ll be good regardless,” Annalise retorted, taking one of the shots from the tray Chloe had brought to the table.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Hayden asked.

Thian nodded. “Pub or club?”

“Don’t really feel like clubbing tonight, you know what I mean?” Chloe asked, the other three coming with exclamations of agreement or nodding slightly. “Pub then?”

“We have a pub right by us,” Nathan said. “Only 30 minutes away and it’s the best one in Haggerston, in my opinion anyway.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose some. “The Stag’s Head?”

“Yeah, it’s always full and they sometimes got live music and everything.”

“We could go there, yeah,” Chloe said. “If everyone’s in.”

“Could we take a bus there?” Hayden asked.

“30 minutes isn’t a long walk, though,” Chloe chuckled. “As long as Nathan and Y/N show the way, we won’t get lost.”

“Don’t count on my navigational skills when I’m under the influence, babes,” Nathan said, making the others laugh.

“We’re better off using Google Maps, he might just show the way to the Gregg’s by Dalston Kingsland where he thinks the entire staff’s got a crush on him,” Y/N said before taking a sip of her drink, laughter erupting again. It felt good, like a pat on the shoulder, and Y/N instantly eased. Maybe she had not lost her old self at all, maybe she could still feel at ease, even around new people.

“They all flirt with me, and who can blame them?” Nathan shrugged his shoulders, whipping his head to the side so his lush, curly red hair dangled at the top of his head, grinning his wide smile and making the lip piercing shine in the fluorescent lights overhead.

The rest of the night went on, and it was easier to talk to everyone as time progressed. Not only because Y/N got more and more intoxicated, but she also just felt better after getting to know them all. Hayden always laughed the loudest, and their laughter was also very infectious, making it hard not to chuckle along with them. Annalise, though she sometimes stuttered over a few English words, was incredibly considerate and would urge Y/N to continue on with her story when others did not hear her. Thian offered Y/N tons of shots and complimented her on her outfit, making it easier for Y/N to feel good and seen, as she had been terrified of back at the flat. Chloe was easily the boss, and did most of the talking, though no one seemed to mind. After all, Chloe had introduced everyone to everyone, so people knew her the best out of everyone.

As time went on, Y/N just felt better. It was easier to talk to everyone and, at one point, she thought she was back at home in Nottingham, introducing herself to strangers at a party. They all made it easy to forget just how nervous she had been. It made her look forward to seeing them in her other lectures and seminars the coming week and all those weeks after that. Maybe these were the people she would spend her time at University with, and that excited her.

Bottles emptied and the volume inside the uni flat had increased massively. It was close to 9 when Chloe suggested they leave, and assured Y/N that she could leave the little she had left of her vodka at her place to pick up another day. Y/N took her up on the offer, insides warm from both alcohol and Chloe’s hospitality.

Nathan showed the way towards Haggerston and The Stag’s Head, arm entwined with Y/N’s for most of the way there. At one point however, Y/N let go of him and ended up walking beside Annalise and Thian, talking about one of the texts they had to read by Tuesday. It was such a mundane conversation, complaining about course work and talking about coming deadlines, that it felt like they had been mates for ages. The chat flowed so easily, the laughter rolled off their tongues, and it just made sense for all of them to be together, walking along the dark London streets in their tipsy states, making their way towards what would hopefully be the first of many trips to a pub.

They arrived at Orsman Road and they could hear The Stag’s Head before they saw it. Y/N had never paid it much attention. She knew she would end up popping by once or twice during her time at uni, but she had not envisioned her checking it out that first week. Nathan held the door open for everyone, resting a hand at Y/N’s back as he followed her indoors last.

The pub was small, but Y/N was sure that it was bigger than it appeared late on a Friday evening. Straight ahead, in a V formation, stood the bar, a wall filled with bottles of all alcohol imaginable behind it, lit up by red light which fit the dark red of the counter surrounding it. Far down to the left, it seemed the rest of the pub disappeared from view, but judging by the stairs Y/N could see, she supposed there was a loo somewhere in that direction, and it also looked to be where one could go to reach the smoking area. People were both sat and stood by the bar as well as booths along the walls. What appeared to be the stage further down to the right was unoccupied by any performers, though a few lads stood there with a pint each. There were no free tables, and this put a damper on the mood quite quickly.

Nathan, however, pulled them all towards the smoking area and they were all pleasantly surprised to see a free table and two benches untouched. Fairylights hung over the outdoor space, from the house and over to the fence on the other side. It lit up just enough, made it possible to see, but not too bright for people to squint when walking out into the night. A few empty pints and a smoky ash tray stood in the middle of the table, but Nathan put the glasses on the brick fence before everyone sat down.

“Alright, I’ll pay for your drink,” Nathan said, smiling at Y/N. “Anyone wanna come to the bar? Y/N’ll watch the table.”

“Ah, yes.” Chloe got up, the rest of the gang following along and walking towards one of the two entrances to the pub. Y/N got her phone out, looking to see if she had any notifications she had to check out, but there were none. She was about to resolve to scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, when she heard a slightly familiar voice.

“Hi there.” Mason sat down on the edge of the opposite bench, a cigarette in hand and a small smile on his lips. “Didn’t know you and Nath would come here tonight.”

“Oh, hiya,” Y/N smiled. “No, we didn’t know where we’d go after pre-drinks. He suggested this place, so we brought some of my course mates with us here.”

“You going out later?”

“No, think we’re just gonna stay here.”

“Yeah, this is a chill place,” Mason said, puffing out some smoke.

“This is my first time here.”

Mason raised his eyebrows. “Is it?”

Y/N smiled. “You think I should’ve come here earlier?”

“More to do with the fact that our flat just loves this place, thought Nathan would’ve at least taken you here already.”

“He did now.”

“It’s my favourite pub around here, and Harry-“

“-Mase!” Nathan exclaimed, grinning as he came over with two gin and tonics. “You’re here as well!”

“Yeah, it’s a Friday night, innit?”

“Hi,” Chloe said, sitting down beside Mason with a wide grin on her face. It seemed like she wanted to introduce herself or to be introduced, but before Y/N could say anything, the conversation resumed.

“Hey,” Mason answered, looking back to Nathan who seemed to be ecstatic to see one of his flatmates. “Hear you haven’t taken Y/N here till now.”

Nathan sighed. “Not like I didn’t want to, just haven’t gotten the opportunity.”

“What’s so good about this place?” Y/N asked, looking from Nathan to Mason.

“Just close, innit? Also, it’s crowded, but it’s not as crowded as most pubs down by Kingsland Road,” Nathan elaborated.

“You lot have a good night, yeah? Need to get back to my mates.” Mason leaned past Chloe, stumping the rest of his cigarette into the ashtray before he got up, walking over to a big group of lads. Chloe stared after him as the rest of the conversation around the table started back up again, Y/N pretended to not see how she was checking him out. It felt like she was intruding on a moment that was not meant for anyone but Mason to see.

“You’re living with him?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah.”

“He’s well fit.”

“Guess.”

Chloe giggled. “You’re taking the rule to not shag one of your flatmates seriously, then?”

“Shouldn’t everyone?” Thian asked, furrowing his brows. “It only complicates everything.”

“How? It’s only a shag. It’s not like you’re gonna fall in love with them,” Chloe said.

“Can’t really control your emotions, though.” Nathan shrugged. “Two of my flatmates last year shagged. He had feelings for her, she just wanted a one night stand. Didn’t end well.”

Y/N put her drink back down on the table after a long sip. “Well, if you’re clear beforehand and make it clear that it’s only for this night and there’s no emotions behind it other than temporary bliss, then that’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Nah,” Hayden said, shaking their head. “It’s an unwritten rule. Don’t shag your flatmates.”

“Is it a serious rule?” Annelise asked, furrowing her brows.

“It’s got serious consequences,” Hayden answered.

“But if you’re both aware it’s only a one time thing, then is it serious?” Y/N asked.

“Babe, sex is complicated. You’re always just gonna be connected in a way, you know?” Nathan said.

“I can promise you I’m not connected to Ollie Lee in any way, shape, or form,” Y/N huffed, sipping her drink again as Nathan laughed, the other joining in because of Y/N’s obvious distaste in this Ollie Lee.

“Was he awful in bed?” Chloe asked, smiling as she looked between Nathan and Y/N.

“No, I was just desperate one night last year.” Y/N rolled her eyes at herself. “Let’s just say that mid-shag he asked me if I had to go to the toilet, and when I said no, he told me that whenever I felt like I had to, just pee on him instead.”

Gasps erupted around the table, and a second later, everyone started howling with laughter. Nathan kept on hitting his thigh, leaning into Y/N and laughing. Though it was a fairly embarrassing story on Y/N’s part, her definite lowest of low, she could not help feeling good about making everyone laugh like this. Looking around at everyone, she suddenly felt very good about herself, despite this being her worst sex story ever.

It was not like Y/N had fucked her way through Nottingham and had tons of stories to tell. In fact, she hadn’t shagged that many. She had had sex with eight people, three of them being women, one non-binary, and the other four men. She had been very vocal about the fact that the best sexual encounters she had had, were with women. They had all been so nice, and though it had never escalated to anything romantic beyond that one night together, they had made Y/N feel the best she’d ever felt. She suspected women just knew what to do, that they cared how she felt and did not solely care about their own release.

The group ended up just sitting around and talking for a while. It was nice to go somewhere outside of the uni setting and get to know some people, this was what uni was all about, or so Nathan had told her countless times. These people were as anxious about making friends and being liked as she was, but there they all were, making friends and going outside their own comfort zone.

At one point, Y/N had finished her drink and went to get another round for her and Nathan. The pub seemed to be even more packed now that it was closer to midnight. Everyone wanted to drink the week away, to forget about their lives for a little while and just spend time in good company. Y/N strolled over to the bar, looking up and down the counter to see if any of the bartenders were free to help her. The second her eyes landed on a familiar figure, she halted.

Harry’s eyes were already on hers as he stood almost right opposite her mixing a drink. He let go of a sigh, looking down at whatever he was mixing.

“You…” she started, raising her eyebrows. “You’ve got to be fucking everywhere.”

“Only ‘cause you’re every single place I usually am,” he said, continuing to make whatever drink he was making.

“Do you work here then?”

He looked over at her, raising one of his eyebrows. “I’m not a hallucination now?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Can’t believe you thought I was a bloody hallucination.”

“Believe it. It’s all Nathan’s fault anyway. I’ll never forgive him for forcing me to live with you for a year.”

Harry let out a dry laugh. “To answer your question: no, thought I’d help out behind the bar to get me adrenaline going.”

“Well funny,” Y/N said. “You got me cracking up, can you tell?”

“Last time I checked, I got you laughing pretty hard, yeah.”

“That’s literally two years ago now.”

Harry finished the drink, putting it in a glass and placing it in front of the person standing just beside Y/N. Her eyes first landed on the watch on his wrist, the nice brown leather, and then her gaze travelled upward. She looked up at the man who was already staring at her, giving him a smile when she smiled at him. Their eye contact was put to an abrupt end when Harry poked the man’s hand holding the drink with the card machine. Y/N looked back at Harry, and then at another man with strong build and big, curly hair who stepped into view beside Harry.

“I’ll take care of her, Kai,” Harry said.

This Kai looked at Harry, blinking once before he met Y/N’s eyes again.

“She’s my flatmate,” Harry elaborated, making Kai study Y/N a bit more closely before he nodded once. He was very good looking, with a broad nose, almond-shaped eyes, and full lips, his brown skin glowed in the dim lights of the pub.

“That new one,” Kai said.

“Yeah.”

Kai smiled then, nodding in Y/N’s direction. “Nice of you to come check on Hazza. It’s always hectic on Fridays.”

“Oh, our other flatmate took me here, I didn’t come by choice.”

Kai’s eyebrows rose on his face and he looked at Harry who barked out a laugh, shrugging his shoulders at Kai as they exchanged a look. Harry walked over to stand right in front of her, signalling to Kai that he could take care of this one. Kai walked off, taking someone else’s order.

“Even feistier than I remember, you are,” Harry said.

She cocked her head to the side as Harry gathered a glass for her drink, already assuming that was what she was going to get. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.”

It left her lips before she even registered she was thinking it. Harry only took a deep breath before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, clearly choosing to ignore her statement. “What can I get you, Y/N?”

“Sex on the Beach, please,” she said. “Two of them.”

“Alright.” Harry started making them right away, signalling to someone that he’d be right with them after this. Y/N looked around her, meeting the gaze of the man who had just stood by her at the bar. He raised his glass in her direction and she smiled back. She definitely had to go talk to him after this. He seemed to be a bit older, maybe five years older than her, but just for tonight, she did not care.

Y/N glanced back at Harry and watched him, fascinated by how fast he managed to make the drinks. “How long have you worked here, then?”

“A year abouts,” Harry said. “Worked in a hotel when we moved to Brum. Tended to work at the bar when the bartender was out.”

Y/N nodded, eyes on his hands as he poured ice, shots, and all types of alcohol and liquids into her drink. “You lived there till you moved to London?”

“Yeah.” They were quiet for a moment, both of them remembering all of the things that were left unsaid between them. All of those words, moments, and memories they had created during those months the two of them had crossed paths in Nottingham.

He cleared his throat as he put the drinks down in front of her. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t much like Brum.”

Y/N took a grip of the glasses. “And why’s that?”

“Dunno. Just didn’t find my footing proper.”

“In the two years you lived there?”

He shrugged. “Guess not.”

Y/N clicked her tongue. “Was it that bad?”

“Nah, I met tons of ace people and Birmingham’s a decent place, but…” He shrugged again. “Dunno.”

“Hmm,” she said, trying to decipher his words and if he was being truthful or not.

“Anyway,” Harry said, nodding to the drinks. “Take that other drink to Nathan – as I’m sure it’s for him – and when you bring that middle-aged man home later: please, be quiet. I have rugby at 11 tomorrow morning.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. “How dare-“

“-Y/N, what’s taking so fucking long?” Nathan shouted as he came up next to her. His eyes fell on Harry behind the bar. “Oh… forgot to tell you Harry works here.”

“Nath, shut the fuck up,” Y/N said, looking from Nathan and back at Harry.

Harry nodded towards the door, silently telling them to fuck off, and they did. They walked back to the rest who were still sitting by the same table outside. Nathan took his drink from Y/N and sat down, but just as Y/N was about to sit down, she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She looked over her shoulder rather fast, blinking a few too many times when she locked eyes with the same man who had been standing beside her by the bar.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a broad smile.

Y/N almost felt herself blush. “Hey.”

“I’m George.”

She smiled. “Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he said, he gestured at the bench where she had just been about to sit down. “Mind if I sit down with you?”

Her smile widened. “Not at all.”

Y/N felt fucking terrible. Her room was too hot, too humid. Body sticky with sweat, limbs aching, throat burning with yesterday’s alcohol, and head throbbing, she opened her eyes slowly before shutting them again, groaning into her pillow. She hated herself for not drinking as much water before bed as she usually did when coming home from a night out. Sitting up, she looked down at the man beside her, racking her brain to remember what his name was. She ran her hands over her face, reaching for her glasses so she could see something, but quickly realising she left her contact lenses in the night before. Her eyes were so dry it hurt to blink and she suddenly realised why her head was hurting more than normal. Cursing herself, Y/N got out of bed with her glasses perched at the top of her head, picking up a tee shirt and some tights, pulling on her fluffy dressing gown before she made her way out of her room as soundlessly as possible.

She stumbled her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. First thing she did was take her contacts out, struggling to do so as the contacts were so dry, her eyes having dried out with them. She splashed water in her face next, then drank the equivalent to the Atlantic Ocean before splashing even more water on her face. She then put her glasses on, realising that she had to let her eyes relax some after what she had just put them through. It took her awhile to gather up the courage to go to the toilet, where she made herself throw up the nausea she was feeling before having a very long peeing session.

Moments of the night before came rushing back to her, and as she sat there on the toilet, she remembered more and more. The name George came to her like out of a fog, and then the details started falling into place. She remembered how he’d bought her more drinks, how the two of them had sat talking all night about nothing in particular. She remembered his hand on her thigh and him leaning into her to whisper in her ear. Then they were in her room, her front against the mattress and his weight on her back. It was all hazy after that, most of it just a mess of limbs and chasing a release that she had never caught up with. Though Y/N usually made it clear that she hadn’t come, she was too worn out to tell George. She remembered falling asleep almost the second they were done. To say she had been underwhelmed was an understatement.

When she was done, she walked down the stairs for the kitchen. Once again, she was left stopping right in her tracks as she walked in. Harry stood by the stove, eyes on the pan in front of him where he was making eggs, a few asparagus and peppers cooking beside the two frying eggs. For a moment, she debated walking back upstairs and leaving Harry to it, but then he glanced over at the door to his right, meeting her eyes right away. He gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning back to his breakfast. God… Y/N wanted to set herself on fire. It’d be better than staying inside a room with Harry alone after years apart.

He wore rugby shorts that reached mid-thigh, a white tee shirt to go with it, and a hairband to keep his hair out of his face. Y/N realised just then that he was getting ready to leave for rugby as he had told her yesterday he would. She could remember him doing rugby when they knew each other three years ago as well, but she didn’t think he’d still be doing it.

The small conversation they had in The Stag’s Head the night before lingered in the air between and around them. That was reason enough to turn and walk upstairs again. But as Y/N remembered who was waiting for her in her room, she stepped into the kitchen. She got two slices of bread and put them in the toaster, getting some butter and milk out of the fridge as she waited. She watched Harry’s back as she filled the kettle with enough water, quickly looking away when he moved to put his eggs on the two slices of bread on his plate. Biting her lip, Y/N got a mug and a teabag, looking back over at Harry as he stood holding his breakfast plate. Y/N took a deep breath, knowing exactly what she had to do.

“Okay,” she said only a second before Harry turned around to face her, mouth open as if to say something. He must have noticed the tension as well. “We need to talk this through. We can’t live together for the next year if it’s gonna be like this. Just gonna put that out there right away.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Y/N leaned her hip against the counter, feeling relieved that she was not the only one out of the two that had thought about how incredibly awkward this was. “You’ve thought about it too?”

“Of course. I’ve been fuming ‘cause Nathan didn’t tell you sooner, and I’ve also found it annoying how I’m the bad guy in your eyes when this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Nate.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I haven’t thought of you as the bad guy-“

“-Y/N,” Harry said, putting his plate down on the counter again. “You’ve been angry at me this whole time. I can tell.”

“My frustration with you has got nothing to do with this situation, but all to do with how you just left without even saying goodbye before you moved away.” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m trying to not blame you for this as well, but you’re right, Nathan’s the one that made this happen, we should be angry with him.”

“So you have been mad at me.”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t it just easier, no matter how stupid the reason, to just find more things to make you angry at a person? To make you hate them even more? Isn’t it just satisfying to find other ways to be frustrated with them?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I am.”

“Anyway,” Y/N continued, getting her bread slices out of the toaster to put butter on them. “Why didn’t we say anything? If we’ve both thought it’s been awkward, I mean.”

“You’ve been busy shagging men 10 years older than you, I didn’t get the chance.”

“Look at you not being frustrated or annoyed with me.”

“I told you to be quiet last night,” Harry said, getting a fork and putting some asparagus and paprika in his mouth. “You weren’t.”

Y/N got the kettle as it finished, pouring some hot water into her mug. “So, what you’re saying is that you’ve been angry with me.”

“Not angry, just…” Harry sighed. “Fine. A little angry last night, yes.”

Y/N smiled. “And he wasn’t 10 years older than me, he’s five years older.” She paused. “I think.”

“Right,” Harry said, eating more of his breakfast. “Listen…” He swallowed. “I think we should just… We should just address it.”

“Yeah.”

They were both quiet, looking at the other and waiting for them to say what they were both thinking. Though it looked like he was about to reach for his bread to take a bite, Harry stopped himself. Instead, he took a deep breath, and said, “It was fucking terrible. That first time…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes before he ran a hand over his face, remembering it all over again. “I didn’t even last a minute. It was mortifying.”

“It wasn’t half as mortifying as you trying to go down on me afterwards.”

Harry let out a small laugh. “Yeah, that wasn’t really…” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, we were both part of it. You don’t have to apologise for that.”

“You hear all these stories about how losing your virginity is supposed to be so beautiful, but it’s not. It’s really fucking not. Especially if you lose it to someone else who hasn’t had sex before, it just makes it double as awkward.”

Y/N nodded. “It was shit. Both of us were shit.”

“Exactly.”

“But I hope you know the reason I’m frustrated with you isn’t because of that.”

Harry looked away, biting at his bottom lip before he said, “Yeah, I know why.”

“Good, just wanted that to be clear.”

Harry nodded, taking his bread slice in his hand, making sure the egg wouldn’t fall off before he brought it to his mouth. “Well, now that we’ve addressed that, let’s just move on.”

“Let’s.”

She gave him a small smile before taking her teabag out of her mug and throwing it in the bin. There was still some tension in the room, but not enough for Y/N to want to set herself on fire like she had wanted to before. Just as she was about to take a grip of her plate and cuppa, the sounds of footsteps made her look up. George, who had been asleep last time Y/N checked, walked by the kitchen, halting as he saw Y/N and Harry standing there in the kitchen. He gave them both a smile Y/N could tell was forced, and then walked straight for the door without a single word or a second glance. Y/N and Harry looked at one another, sharing a look before they both chuckled ever so slightly.

“Cracking bloke,” Harry mumbled.

“Innit,” Y/N huffed, picking up her breakfast. “Have fun at rugby practice.”

“Cheers.”

She walked by him, hoping that her room did not smell of George or anything resembling alcohol or sweat. If it did, she would hit her head against the wall. But, lucky for her, George had left the door open, which had given the room a little bit of time to get the smell of last night out. After putting on her fluffy duvet cover, she opened the windows to let some fresh air in, and left her door open as she sat down in bed with her laptop, tea, and breakfast.

Just as she was about to put her plate down on the nightstand, she noticed something already laying there on top of her books. Adjusting her glasses, Y/N squinted at the object. She put her plate down on her duvet cover and reached for the wristwatch George had left. It was the nice leather one she had seen last night by the bar, the one that had caught her attention first. The digital clock seemed to have stopped working, displaying a random time that Y/N in her hangover state could not tell anyone what was. She was too fucked to even try and understand the numbers in front of her.

She put the clock back on her desk, hoping that she’d run into George soon so she could give it back to him. Or maybe Nathan could stalk Facebook and find him so she could message him there to tell him. She was glad she hadn’t exchanged phone numbers with George as she did not want to meet him again, but right now, she wanted to give him his watch back.

Y/N heard the front door open and then close, indicating that Harry had just left for rugby, and, as far as she could tell, she was the only one currently awake in her flat. The morning was quiet, she felt oddly at peace as she put on Fleabag and sipped her cuppa, and little did she know, this would be one of those rare moments over the last three years that this emotion inhabited her body.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 7th March, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta reader! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @sunflowerstache​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​ 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #1dff #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGIWGOJGI PLS COME TALK !!!!

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (ii)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fem!oc, alcohol consumption, cursing

series masterpost: here

a/n: part two baby! thanks for all the love on part one, it means the absolute world. i have so much love for this story and i hope people are enjoying it :))

Life is settling into a comfortable rhythm.

After spending a good chunk of her young adult life being incredibly studious, Magdalene can finally have the social life of someone in their mid-twenties. Though she’s still spending a fair amount of time by herself in the basements of the University of Denver’s library, Bette convinces her to go out more. Magdalene tries to fight, citing extra work or a good book as an excuse to stay home, but it doesn’t work very often. The pleas of her friend are how Magdalene finds herself currently lounging poolside at Erik Johnson’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

“How’s the new career treating you?” Tyson asks. “I feel like we haven’t seen you in a while.”

Magdalene laughs. “I’ve seen Bette plenty,” she says, “She thinks I won’t take a lunch break unless she shows up.”

“Would you?” the blonde girl questions with a quirked brow.

“Probably not.”

“I rest my case.”

A small crowd gathers around as Magdalene begins to detail the specifics of her job, but she doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as she once would have. In the month or so since graduating school she’s found herself slowly being incorporated into the Avalanche family. It’s almost certainly because Bette and Tyson championed her case, explaining that she doesn’t have much of a support system beyond the two of them, but she doesn’t mind. A few of the guys ask her questions about her work, curious as to why someone would want to spend their life combing through piles of old things. Everyone stays engaged in the conversation until there’s a shout from the kitchen that dinner is ready.

Magdalene shuffles in line behind André, filling her plate with various pasta salads and a hamburger. Once situated with enough food for two meals she returns to the pool deck, sitting on the edge and dipping her toes into the cool water. Bette comes and finds her a minute later and the two of them begin to eat.

She’s still relatively new to the group’s dynamic, but Magdalene can’t help but notice that Ryan is never around. In fact, Magdalene hasn’t seen him since her graduation party. Taking a casual sip of her wine cooler, she asks her friend about the man’s absence.

“Why is Ryan never at these sorts of things?”

Bette shrugs. “Isn’t a huge one for parties. He was supposed to come today, but I guess something came up.”

“I’m not huge on parties,” Magdalene huffs, “But that doesn’t stop you from dragging me to every single one.”

“Unlike you, Gravy gets enough regular social interaction that his absence is permissible. If Tyson and I didn’t take you out you’d talk to your cat more than normal.”

She wants to fight back, but knows it’s pointless. Bette has a point – if it weren’t for her the only people Magdalene would interact with are her boss and her cat. Instead, she grumbles under her breath and changes the subject to the trip Bette is in the middle of planning. It’s coming up in a few weeks, and Magdalene wants to hear a bit more about it before she commits. Despite what she thought about taking time off so close to starting work, it was encouraged by June, but she's refraining from telling Bette that. If it doesn’t sound like she'll enjoy it, Magdalene is banking on being able to use the excuse.

Bette explains that she’s renting a large lake house that is perfect for a relaxing week away from adult responsibilities. The property has kayaks and a hot tub, which pretty much ensures that Magdalene will want to be in attendance. She’ll hold onto that information for a little while longer though, if for no other reason to make Bette squirm a little. At some point Tyson comes to sweep his girlfriend away and leaves Magdalene at the party alone. She makes polite conversation with some other players for a while before heading home herself. Ryan never shows up, despite how much Magdalene hopes he will. At the very least she wants to properly thank him for doing her a favour, though her hoping to see him is much more selfish. He intrigues her and she wants to know more about the tall man with the dazzling smile and a proclivity for wearing all black.

☼☼☼☼

Barn Owl Book Company is filled to the brim when Magdalene approaches the store from the side street it annexes. She should’ve expected it – it’s the first of the month and their newest books are hitting the shelves. However, Magdalene doesn’t exactly have time to wait in line. June gave her only fifteen minutes to run and grab them coffee before they continue the massive task of digitizing a private collection that has just been donated to the university. She estimates it will take almost a month of extended hours to get everything done, and Magdalene believes it. There’s so much to wade through but she knows the end result will be satisfying.

Luckily the café line is fairly short, and Magdalene reaches the counter in a timely manner. “Hey,” she greets the barista warmly, “Could I just grab two medium iced cappuccinos?”

“Anything else?”

“No, that's everything. It’ll be on debit,” she smiles. Magdalene reaches into her backpack to grab her wallet only to find that it’s missing. Shit. The barista has already left to make the drinks, completely unaware that her customer is unable to pay.

Magdalene hears a voice from behind her say, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” She turns around to find Ryan Graves standing there with a book tucked under his right arm.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she mumbles appreciatively. “I don’t know how my boss would take it if I showed up empty handed.”

Ryan laughs shyly as he pulls his card away from the machine. “I get it, everyone needs a little caffeine this time of year.” The barista comes back with Magdalene’s drinks, which she takes with a smile and a wish for a good day. The two of them head towards the exit, and Ryan pauses once they’re on the sidewalk. “Which way are you headed?”

“Back to work,” Magdalene says, nodding her head in the direction of campus. “I’ve got approximately five minutes to get there before June rips me a new one.”

“June?”

“She’s my boss,” she explains.

Ryan nods in understanding. “I’ll see you around Magdalene,” he smiles, turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction.

In a moment of bravery, Magdalene yells at his retreating figure. “Will you? We never seem to cross paths.”

“I’ll be at Bette and Tyson’s this weekend, and I’m counting on your company.”

Magdalene finds it incredibly hard to focus the rest of the afternoon. She keeps thinking about what Ryan said, which makes her a rather lousy archivist. June sends her home just after seven even though they had plans to stay until ten, citing the fact that she’s scanned the same photo three times before noticing. Caligula’s meowing for pets when she gets home isn’t even enough to distract her from the comment. The absentmindedness continues for another day or so, and it’s becoming so bad Magdalene is worried that June is going to fire her for incompetence.

It’s only when Bette calls to invite her over for dinner and drinks that her mind levels out. “I was wondering when I was going to get the call,” she chuckles absentmindedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” is the response Magdalene receives.

“Well,” she explains, “I ran into Ryan at Barn Owl the other day and he paid for my drinks because I left my wallet on the table at work, and he said he expected to see me at your place this weekend. So if you never invited me I was just going to show up.”

Bette is smiling, that much Magdalene can infer by the lull in conversation. “I haven’t got the time to call you yet,” she concedes, “But consider this the official invitation to our house for a small party.”

“Anything we’re celebrating?”

“Nope. Have you ever needed a reason to party?”

Magdalene laughs. “Yes. Need one almost every time actually.”

The rest of the week passes fairly quickly. To make up for her blundering earlier in the week Magdalene offers to work a full day on Saturday, by herself, to get the project back on track. June accepts the proposition eagerly, and Magdalene lets Bette know she’ll be coming directly from work. Saturday rolls around and she spends most of her time getting lost in the past lives of the artefacts she’s dealing with. If someone were to ask Magdalene what her favourite part of archiving is, that’s the answer she’d give. There’s nothing more satisfying to her than holding a piece of history in her hands and imagining all the stories it would be able to tell if it could speak.

By the time she’s put in a full work day and finishes locking up the basement floor her department occupies, Magdalene is pretty sure they’re ahead of schedule on the project. She genuinely feels terrible about her misperformance and hopes June will be able to forgive her. On the way to Bette and Tyson’s Magdalene listens to the Leonard Cohen greatest hits cd that came with her car. The previous owner was presumably a big fan, and over the years Magdalene has come to appreciate the folk singer. She never got to see him in concert before his death but turns to his music when she needs to relax. Right now is the perfect time to listen to ‘Hallelujah’ on repeat because she’s seriously freaking out about the idea of spending the night talking to Ryan. Though she still wants to properly thank him and possibly become friends, something about him makes Magdalene nervous.

There’s no way for her to tell if Ryan is there when she parks in front of the house. She doesn’t know what kind of car he drives, or if he caught a ride with someone. Magdalene debates texting Bette to see if he’s there already but decides against it, knowing she’s an adult who is more than capable of pushing down nerves.

She doesn’t bother knocking and just steps into the respectably sized home. The music is loud enough that no one would have heard her anyways. It’s much more of a party than Magdalene was expecting – Bette invited her for dinner and drinks, not a gathering that could pass as a frat party. There are bodies everywhere, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever catch a glimpse of her friend.

“You seem to be dressed for the wrong kind of party,” a voice chuckles from behind her.

Magdalene turns to see Ryan leaning against the wall, eyeing her business casual attire. “I came from work,” she explains, “And didn’t know it was this kind of party to begin with. I would’ve at least brought a change of clothes.”

“You look terribly out of place,” he agrees. “Can I grab you a drink? The hosts are too busy playing beer pong to, you know, be hosts.”

A giggle escapes Magdalene’s lips at the comment. Ryan seems to have a similar sense of humor to her, which will be beneficial for passing the time if Bette is already on her way to being wasted. “A glass of red wine would be nice.”

Ryan pushes off from his perch and heads towards the kitchen. The crowd parts for the six-foot-five hockey player, and Magdalene follows in his wake quite easily. Knowing the space as well as her, Ryan grabs a wine glass from the cupboard Bette keeps them in and pours the dark red liquid into it. He waits until Magdalene has situated herself on the island before handing her the cup. She takes it with an appreciative hum and waits until he’s grabbed a beer for himself before raising her glass in toast. Ryan does the same, and their glasses clink before each of them take a sip.

“What exactly is it that you do? I bet it’s something super cool and studious, but I seriously don’t know what the hell being an archivist means.”

Magdalene explains her job to Ryan, who is extremely interested. He asks nearly a hundred follow-up questions that she answers sincerely, throwing in a few jokes that luckily crack him up. Conversation moves to his career and then life. Magdalene learns that he’s from Nova Scotia, though he stays around Denver these days, and that if he wasn’t playing professional hockey he’d like to have a career in publishing. Ryan doesn’t press too hard when Magdalene refuses to open up about her family, which she appreciates. It’s a delicate subject that she keeps guarded close to her chest, and a friend’s kitchen in the middle of a party isn’t the place for her to divulge her deepest secrets.

The two of them get refills before exiting the room. Even more people seemed to arrive since Magdalene walked through the door, and the kitchen is no longer an empty safe haven. The music is so loud she can feel the bass thumping in her chest, giving the living room a club-like atmosphere, and it’s too much. Magdalene tugs at the hem of Ryan’s sweater to catch his attention. “Want to go somewhere quiet?”

“I doubt there is such a place,” he yells over the crowd going crazy over some early 2000s hip-hop track.

“Follow me,” she says with a smile, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the staircase to the second floor.

It takes a minute for them to wade through the throngs of people, but it goes much faster once Ryan takes Magdalene’s hand and splits the crowd. A few boys, who don’t look older than twenty-one and almost certainly snuck into the party, notice where the pair are going and shout congratulations. Ryan shoots them a glare so sharp it could cut stone but doesn’t drop Magdalene’s hand. Once safely on the much quieter second floor, Magdalene makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“Are you coming or what?” she asks when there doesn’t seem to be footsteps following her.

Ryan hesitates. “I, uh, can just wait out here while you’re in there,” he stammers.

Magdalene’s laugh rings out through the empty hallway. “I’m not going to the bathroom. We’re going out the window.”

He isn’t sure how that’s any better, but Ryan follows the brown-haired girl into the room. It takes considerably more work for him to fit through the frame, but after some directions from Magdalene he makes it onto the roof. She sits down and pats the space beside her, encouraging Ryan to do the same. They stay out there, discussing anything that comes to their heads, until the party’s numbers dwindle drastically. Magdalene makes sure to properly thank him for both attending her graduation and spotting her coffee money, and she thinks Ryan might blush a little when she offers to get the next round. He asks about her love of The West Wing, and they launch into a long conversation about the show and cast. The sun fades to black and the cold sets in, and Magdalene finds herself wrapped in Ryan’s sweater without asking. It’s only when she notices it’s approaching midnight that Magdalene clues into how tired she is.

“I think I’m going to head out,” she yawns. Ryan nods in agreement and holds the window open for her to slip in through. Once downstairs, Magdalene goes to lift the sweater from her frame but Ryan stops her.

“Keep it for drive home. I’ll get it back next time we see each other.”

Still feeling bold from the alcohol that left her system hours ago, she reaches out to poke him in the chest. “And when will that be, hm? You seem to enjoy leaving our meetings up to chance.”

It’s Ryan’s turn to laugh. “Think you can swing an extended lunch break on Wednesday? I’ll be at Barn Owl all afternoon. Maybe you can join me for a coffee.”

Magdalene likes the sound of that and agrees. She leaves without seeing Bette or Tyson once, but she doesn’t mind. They’d be happy for her blooming friendship – or at least she’s pretty sure they will be once she calls to fill them in on the details.

☼☼☼☼

Wednesday rolls around without incident, and Magdalene is given a full hour to eat instead of thirty minutes. Walking time has to be accounted for, of course, but she should have nearly forty-five minutes to spend with Ryan if she plays her cards right. There’s no crowd this time, and it’s incredibly easy to spot Ryan sitting in the window she loves to claim as her own.

“Hey,” Magdalene greets, “Did Bette tell you to sit here?”

He shakes his head, perplexed at the question. “No, why?”

“It’s just my favourite seat in the store, that’s all. I thought she told you how to gain some extra brownie points.”

“Should I be concerned about the amount of points I have?” Ryan teases, sliding a cup and pastry bag across the table and into her hands.

Magdalene shakes her head, smiling widely. “You’re doing alright so far. Keep up the good work.”

They eat at a comfortable pace, taking breaks to engage in interesting topics of conversation or take sips of their drinks. Ryan insists his life is boring, but Magdalene is enthralled by the stories he tells. It’s completely different from hers and she feels as though she can live vicariously through the tales of walking through the historic downs of the east coast and swimming in the Pacific Ocean on days off in California. After squeezing every story possible from the man Magdalene shifts gears slightly.

“So, are you going on the trip in a couple of weeks?”

“It’s looking that way,” Ryan shrugs with relative indifference, “Nate doesn’t think he’ll be able to come back, something about a development camp he’s running having the dates switched. He’s asked me to take his spot.”

His neutral mood confuses her. When Bette mentioned his probable attendance months ago, it sounded like he was enthusiastic about spending a week with friends doing nothing to swimming and drinking. “You don’t want to go?” Magdalene probes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but sometimes the group parties a little harder than I like to,” he sighs, raising a hand and running it through his hair. That’s something she understands completely, having spent a few too many nights being the sober one out.

“I’ll be there.” It’s Magdalene’s turn to shrug, but the comment holds an incredible amount of hope.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

Was Ryan flirting with her? She spends the rest of lunch thinking about the possibility, and truthfully, it occupies her brain for the rest of the day. However, she keeps her focus and June is none the wiser to the butterflies in her stomach. Work finishes without much fanfare, and her dinner is silent save for the few meows of conversation Caligula offers. It’s late by the time Magdalene falls into bed, cat snuggled into the pillow beside her. On a whim she decides to check Instagram and sees a message request from none other than the man who’s smile has been replaying in her mind. A follow request accompanies it.

Thought that maybe we could quit leaving our meetings to chance and plan something next time :)

He has to be flirting. There’s no other explanation for the witty banter they’ve shared this week, or why he’s reaching out to her on social media. The butterflies in her stomach multiply tenfold as Magdalene types out a reply.

I don’t know, it’s kind of fun being shrouded in mystery. However, I now have the opportunity to stalk your profile ;)

Before she can overthink her use of the emoji, Magdalene shoves her phone in the drawer of her nightstand and rolls over. A slight smile can’t help but appear on her features as she falls asleep, already curious about what his reply will be.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

[tinymilkshakecheesecake]

Blind Date - Cale Makar

This was partially inspired for Devon’s love of complimenting Cale on social media

Word Count - 1.6k

Cale knew he was running late.  The latest mindset book he was reading caught his attention and he didn’t realize it was time to leave until he was already going to be late.  He has no idea why he agreed to this.  “Devon wants me to go out more, but this is getting ridiculous,” he thinks.  Devon and his wife have a neighbor who also apparently needs to get out more and the two of them thought Cale and this mystery person will be attached at the hip afterwards and convinced or bullied (he’s not sure which) Cale into this.  He changes out of joggers, putting on better pants as he receives another text from Devon.  Devon has been repeatedly reminding Cale of the “date” they had arranged to make sure he doesn’t bail.  He puts on his shoes before grabbing his keys and wallet before running out the door, pausing only briefly to check the door.

He heads out of the elevator and pulls up the directions on his phone.  They set them up in a diner that was a short walking distance away from his building.  Not bothering to drive, he leaves the building, heading in the general direction of the diner.  Devon thinks he’ll be safe with the baseball game having already started and the quiet nature of the diner, but Cale isn’t completely convinced.  Devon texts him again, probably reminding him of his “date” to make sure he doesn’t leave the poor girl stranded.  He sees the diner and stops in front of it sighing before running a hand through his hair, a poor attempt to fix the messy strands.  “I really should have taken more time to get ready,” he thinks as nervous energy fills his stomach, unusual for him.  He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself before entering.

---

KJ looks up as the door opens.  A boy approximately her age walks in, waiting patiently for the hostess to greet him.  Sighing, she drops her gaze back to her phone in hopes Kerry or even Devon texts her back with any updates on the guy.  He was ten minutes late at this point and Kerry was getting slower in her responses to her messages.  Glancing back up she sees the hostess leading the guy to her table.  She places her phone away as he approaches, giving him a shot even if he was ten minutes late at this point, noting his red cheeks.

As he pulls out the chair he begins to speak, “Hi.  I’m Cale.  I am so sorry I’m late.  I got caught up in a book and lost track of time.”

“Oh.  It’s okay.  It happens.  I’m KJ by the way.  What book?” KJ asks, surprising herself with her response.

His eyes widen, “Oh, um it's called, Zen Putting, by Bob Rotella. It helps with mindfulness and focusing on the process rather than the result.”

“Do you golf much?” She asks.

“Mainly in the summer, not much now.  Work picks up this time of year but the concepts talked about are applicable to other things.”

“That’s cool.  Have you read a lot of books on mindfulness?”

“Ya.  Actually my dad is really big into mindset and he introduced it to me when I was fourteen.  It helped me a lot and is something I still work on.”  She watches the way he speaks, sometimes almost stumbling over his words but shows interest in it.  They continue talking about anything that comes to mind until his voice begins to show signs of breaking as the waitress appears.

---

Cale looks up as the waitress approaches.  Quickly glancing at the menu, he finds something that is loosely diet approved and would work.  As KJ orders, he finds himself looking her over.  He notices the way she responds to the waitress, eyes kind as she talks to the waitress.  Once they’re done, they resume talking.

“What made you come to Denver?” He asks.

“Oh, they had a good collections program and was interested in that,” she replies.

“Wait really, like museum stuff?”

“Sometimes.  It depends on where because a lot of universities might not have museums but will have collections from other things.”

“That's cool,” he replies.  Their food comes and they continue to talk throughout their meal.  They have a relaxed discussion and Cale really enjoys himself as he notices himself relaxing more throughout the conversation.  Cale excuses himself to use the bathroom.

---

KJ watches the waitress come while Cale, dropping off the check.  She handed her her credit card opting to cover the bill.  Smiling, the waitress takes the card and leaves.  Cale returns as the waitress drops off the card

“Hey, I was going to cover that,” he says once the waitress leaves.

“Too bad,” KJ replies with a smirk, “you can get the next one.”

“Oh, I see how it is.  You expect to see me again?” he replies.  He folds his lips to bite back a smirk but fails.  “Do you want to walk around the park for a bit?”

“Sure,” KJ replies as she grabs her phone before standing, letting Cale take the lead, following him out of the restaurant.  Following him out she reflects on the past hour and a half talking to Cale.  She enjoyed herself and the conversation never seemed to get dull.  She also noticed that he got more relaxed with hints of a canadian accent sneaking out but his cheeks always remained pink.  

The sidewalk widens and Cale pauses for a second to let KJ catch up.  They resume talking.  As before, the conversation flowed and their strides match perfectly.  KJ feels relaxed as they walk by an avs poster featuring Cale.  

---

Cale tenses up when he sees the poster, not expecting there to be posters up of him yet.  

“Did you come this way to see your face,” she jokes.

Cale turns even more red than usual.  “Oh god,” he mumbles.  “I forget how soon posters will go up sometimes and didn’t realize it was that time yet.  It does get annoying to see your face everywhere in case you’re wondering,” he relies with a soft smile.

“I bet,” KJ replies, “I was on the performing arts council in high school and had my face on a banner outside the school for months to help fundraise.  It was horrible.”

Laughing, Cale leads the way to a secluded overlook within the park he frequently visits.  He checks in with himself and notices how comfortable he feels.  Maybe Devon was right, but he doesn’t need to tell him that.  Walking up to the overlook, Cale notices the sky beginning to turn colors.  They walk up to the fence and Cale decides to take a half step closer to KJ, moving into her personal space.  Looking up, She catches his eye and moves closer, allowing him to tuck her into his side as they watch the sunset.  Cale feels himself relax more, allowing himself to enjoy the contact and the view as the sun sets.  

When the sun dips below the horizon, Cale pulls back as he bites back a yawn.  He has training camp again tomorrow and knows he should call it a night soon.  “Hey, where’d you park,” he asks, knowing Devon lived a fair distance away.

“Oh, I took the train,” She replies.

“Oh, I can drive you home if you want,” he offers.

“I can take the train.  It's actually probably easier, especially because you’re tired.”

Cale blushes, “Here, let me atleast walk you to the station.  Is union station the one you’re using?”

“Ya, that's probably easiest.”

“You’ll text me when you get home right?”

“Um, if I get your number I will,” she chimes back at him, causing him to pull out his phone.

“Oh shit. Um, here,” he says as they exchange phones, Cale fighting back another blush.

They return their phones and head back, this time taking the longer path.  They walk in a comfortable silence through the mostly quiet park, passing a few dog owners and couples along the way and exchanging small smiles as they pass.  Once they return back to the buildings, their pace picks up as they return to the normal chaos of the city.  

---

They make their way to the station both lost in thought.  They walk side by side, each in their personal space, but neither one is uncomfortable with that.  They slow down once the station’s sign becomes visible, wanting to savor their last few minutes together.  

They reach the entrance and Cale turns to face KJ, opting to pull her into a hug.  “Text me when you get home, yeah?” he murmurs into her ear.  

His deep voice causes her to shiver slightly.  She nods, inhaling his scent for the first time before pulling away.  They say their goodbyes for the time being.  Cale watches her walk into the station.  He waits a few seconds before heading to his building. He decides to take the stairs, climbing up the flights to pass the time.  He gets to his floor, checking his phone for any missed messages from KJ.  Devon texts him again, probably annoyed at the lack of response.  Ignoring that, he gets ready for bed, replacing his contacts with glasses and packs what he’ll need for tomorrow to kill time. He hears his phone chime and he races across the room to get it, seeing a text message appear. Unlocking his phone, he sees a message from KJ.

Kj: home [insert picture of the inside of a door]

Cale: ty. Let’s meet up again soon. I’ll cover dinner this time

Kj: 👍

Cale smiles as he heads to his bedroom, turning off lights along the way before crawling into bed and placing his glasses on the nightstand and falling asleep.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche

[iamanartichoke]

I wrote a Thing. It’s extremely long. I’d prefer it not be reblogged; I wrote this for my own catharsis and would prefer it not be circulated, bc of Reasons. 

I changed my mind, okay to reblog. <3 

Under a cut for (extreme, did I mention?) length. 

So I got about 12 minutes of sleep last night, as you do, and around 3am or so I found myself - out of sheer curiosity - going down a meta hole of Ragnarok discourse, trying to figure out where this "satisfying redemption arc" for Loki happened. (I mean, there's a lot of things I would like to figure out, but I started there.) Because I could. 

Basically I was looking for meta that went into detail about how Loki was redeemed in a satisfactory way. The ‘satisfactory’  is an important word here bc there is a redemption arc in the film, in that Loki starts off the film as an antagonist (kinda) to Thor and he ends the film as an ally to Thor, standing at Thor's side. In that sense, yes, there's a redemption arc. I didn't find much (and I had no idea how much people just despise Ragnarok "antis" [I really dislike that word] but that's another topic [that I don't particularly want to get into, tbh]) but I did find some. I read what I could find, and I read it open-mindedly, and overall I came away feeling like, okay, there are some valid points being made here and I can kinda see where they're coming from.

But it was a bit (a lot) like -- flat. Idk. The best comparison I can think of is that it’s like if a literature class read, I don't know, The Yellow Wallpaper for an assignment, and some of the students came away from it feeling like it was a creepy story about a woman slowly driving herself insane, and the other students came away from it incensed at the oppression and infantilization of women in the late 19th century -

- and neither side is wrong, but the former is a very surface-level reading and the latter isn't (bc it stems from looking at why she drives herself insane, why she was prescribed 'rest' in the first place, the context of what women could and couldn't do back then, etc; basically, a bit more work has to go into it). 

[Note: I am not disparaging the quality of The Yellow Wallpaper. At all. It’s just the first relatively well-known story that popped into my head.]

In this sense, I can see the argument for Loki's redemption arc, but I don't think it's a very good argument. Not invalid, but not great.

I mean, for example, I think the most consistent argument I found variations of re: Loki's redemption is that Ragnarok shows Loki finally taking responsibility for his bad behaviour and misdeeds. This includes recognizing that his actions were fueled from a place of self-hatred and a desire to self-destruct in addition to bringing destruction on others. That he probably feels awkward and regretful of these things and doesn't know how to act around Thor, but he figures it out by the end, and decides that returning to Asgard is the best way to show that he's ready to make amends. His act of bringing the Statesman to Asgard is an apology. He allies himself with Thor and ends up in a better place, both narratively (united with Thor once again) and mentally (having taken responsibility and made amends for his past).

And setting aside that he had already made amends by sacrificing his life in TDW (and also setting aside that the argument is made that Loki redeems himself in IW by sacrificing himself to Thanos but if that's the case, wouldn't that imply that he hadn't achieved redemption in Ragnarok or else there would be no need to achieve it again in IW? Or, if you think he did achieve redemption in Ragnarok, then what the fuck did he give his life in IW for? What was his motivation there, and why did the narrative not make it clearer? I digress.) 

- setting aside those two factors, I think this is a very fair argument. Loki is fueled by self-hatred, and he does want to self-destruct, and he does want to inflict that pain on others as well (particularly Thor). No lies detected here. 

However, I also need to know where that self-hatred and desire for destruction (toward himself and others) comes from and for that, we need to go back to Thor 1.

Thor 1. 

Loki starts Thor 1 out as "a clenched fist with hair," to borrow a quote from the Haunting of Hill House (that I tucked away in my mental box of Lovely Things bc it says so much so very simply). He's very used to bottling everything up, pushing it down; he slinks around behind the scenes, pulling the strings to this plot or that. He's "always been one for mischief," but the narrative implies that the coronation incident is the first time Loki's done anything truly terrible. And it all immediately pretty much goes to shit, so Loki spends the rest of the movie frantically juggling all these moving pieces while trying to seem as if he's got it all under control, every step of the way. That's how I view his actions. 

But I always come back to that quote where Kenneth Branaugh tells Tom, of the scene in the vault, "This is where the thin steel rod that's been holding your mind together snaps." In other words this is where Loki discovering he's Jotun is just one thing too many. He can't take it. But though the rod snaps, his descent isn't a nosedive. It's a tumble. As the story progresses, the clenched fist starts to loosen, the muscles are flexed in unfamiliar ways (that feel kinda good, after being stiff for so long), and it culminates with the hand opening completely and shaking itself out. All of that repression, that self-hatred, that rage and jealousy just explodes so that, by the time the bifrost scene happens, Loki's already hit bottom. It's not just about proving his worthiness to Odin. He wants to hurt Thor, too; he, essentially, throws a tantrum. (That's right, I said tantrum.) 

(Note: The word 'tantrum’ has negative connotations bc we normally equate it with a toddler stamping their feet and screaming in the aisle when their parent won't buy them the toy they want. But in itself, the word tantrum isn't infantalizing. It's an "emotional outburst, an uncontrolled explosion of anger and frustration" [paraphrasing from dictionary.com]. That's exactly what happens here [and why Tom called Loki's actions a massive tantrum, but people took that to mean Tom agreed it was childish whereas I doubt Tom meant it that way]).

He's been pushed past his limit, and he does bad things. He does really shitty things. He hurts Thor, he hurts his family. I'm pretty sure he knows this all along so this isn't, like, some revelation further down the line that "hey, those things I did were probably kinda bad." He got the memo already. 

Ragnarok 

Fast forward to Ragnarok, and we're introduced to a version of Loki who's had 4ish years to sit with everything that's happened. To sit with it and not do much else. The rawness of it has faded, and now it seems as though it's just become a thing, like when you move through life aware of your childhood traumas and have more or less just accepted them (and you probably share a lot of really funny depression memes on Facebook, which is kinda the equivalent of Loki's play, but that's probably just me). 

Loki has, more or less, chilled out. He seems more bored than anything else; he's been masquerading as Odin for longer than he ever planned or intended to, so he's more or less ended up hanging out, letting Asgard mind its own business, and entertaining himself with silly plays. This is the version that starts out the movie as an antagonist to Thor - a version that is, arguably, in a much different place [and is a much milder threat] than the version who originally did those Bad Things. 

And of course Thor is still mad at him, and of course they're going to butt heads, because that's what they do (and Thor's grievances are genuine, I’ll add, bc it's not really his fault he assumed Loki faked his death, nor can he be blamed for being pissed about Odin).

One argument framed this version of Loki as being a person who is facing the awkwardness of coming out of a dark place, which is fair. If we're going to frame his actions in Thor 1 as a tantrum, then Ragnarok would be the part where the toddler has been taken home, possibly has had some lunch and a juice box, and is now watching cartoons. They're over the tantrum, and would probably feel pretty silly about it if they weren't, yknow, toddlers. They probably can't remember why they even wanted that toy so badly. If they're a little older and self-aware, they might even be embarrassed for having melted down.

Like the word tantrum, this feeling isn't a thing limited to toddlers. I know I've had a few epic meltdowns as a grown ass adult, and I know I always feel deeply embarrassed afterwards - like, want to crawl into a hole and die. I've said things I can't take back. Adolescents and teenagers throw tantrums, mentally ill people throw tantrums, adults throw tantrums (I mean, my god, look at all the videos of Karens having screaming meltdowns - screaming! - over having to wear masks in order to shop at stores). Humans throw tantrums. And usually, after the feelings have been let out and the tantrum has passed, humans feel pretty regretful and awkward and embarrassed about whatever they did and said in the midst of their meltdown. 

I get all of that and agree it's valid and that Loki probably feels it. By the time Ragnarok happens, Loki's had some time to reflect and think hmm, yeah, probably could've handled that one a lot better. The argument further goes that in order to navigate this awkward period, Loki must come to terms with what he's done, acknowledge that some things can't be unsaid or undone, and begin to make amends. Supposedly, some people feel that Loki becomes a better person because he does "own" everything he did wrong and, even though he feels like a jackass (paraphrasing), he sets that aside to become a become a better person by choosing to help Thor and Asgard at the end. 

Thus, the overall arc goes like this. Loki, Thor's jealous little brother, 

throws a tantrum of epic proportions bc Reasons 

continues to act badly and make things even worse (Avengers) 

has to face consequences for his actions (prison sentence) 

ends up with a stretch of time in which he's free to contemplate and chill out 

feels embarrassed and awkward about how he's behaved

sees an opportunity to make up for it and decides to take it 

helps Thor, saves the day, and ends the film a better person. 

Redemption achieved.

None of this is wrong. The film supports it. It's a fair interpretation. But it leaves. out. so. much.

To circle all the way back around Loki being "a clenched fist with hair," and his actions stemming from his self-hatred, you have to ask - how did he get that way? He didn't end up with all this self-hatred on accident. Generally, one isn't born despising themselves, it's a learned behavior. (I realize chemical imbalances are a thing, obviously, as I have Mental Shit myself, but for argument's sake I'm assuming that's not the case with Loki [at this point in time]). 

Where did Loki learn it? From his family, from his surroundings, from his culture. We see examples of these microaggressions in the first, like, twenty minutes of the movie - a guard openly laughs at Loki's magic after Thor makes a joke about it (the tone of the conversation implies that Thor "jokes" like this often) and though Loki does the snake thing, the guard faces no real consequences. Thor doesn't acknowledge that anything went amiss. Not much later, on their way to Jotunheim, Loki's barely gotten two words out to Heimdall before Thor cuts him off, steps in front of him, and takes charge. Loki doesn't look annoyed at this; he looks resigned. 

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, Volstagg decides to make a jab at Loki ("silver tongue turned to lead?") just because he can. The ease with which he makes this comment and the way that no one else blinks an eye at it implies that this isn't out of the norm. And Loki doesn't react, not really. In the deleted version, he delivers a particularly nasty comeback but he delivers it under his breath, without intending Volstagg to hear it. In the final version, he simply says nothing, though his expression can be read as hurt or stung. Either way, the audience sees an example of Loki being walked all over by Thor and his friends and bottling up his reactions instead of standing up for himself. 

Microaggressions matter. They are mentally and emotionally damaging. They hurt. The implication that this is not unusual treatment for Loki means that Loki's probably gone through this for most of his life. It's like the equivalent of being, I don't know, twenty two and you're the friend who has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk isn't wide enough, and it's been that way since the first day of kindergarten. At this point, you're used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when the jabs come seemingly out of nowhere, for no reason other than to make you feel bad.

(I personally identify a lot with this bc I experienced passive bullying in social settings for years. I was the 'doesn't fit on the sidewalk' friend; I hung around with people who'd pretend to be my friend and would be more or less nice to my face, but would laugh at me and make fun of me behind my back for whatever reasons. And often there'd be the random jabs at me, things that would come out of nowhere to smack me in the face, followed by the fake laugh and “just kidding!" so that I couldn't even get upset without being made to feel like I was overreacting and couldn't take a joke. I'd deal with this socially, particularly in middle school when girls are their most vicious, and then I'd go home and, because I was the only girl with a lot of brothers and because boys are mean and because I am who I am, the dynamic was that my brothers would just endlessly roast me to my face and sometimes it was a "just kidding!" thing, where I was the only one not laughing. But that’s beside the point; my point is that microaggressions, passive bullying, and consistent invalidation are harmful and that shit stays with you into adulthood.) 

So, yes, Loki needs to be held responsible for his misdeeds, and it's valid to say that he recognizes those misdeeds and wants to make amends. I have never disagreed with that. But the problem with this interpretation is that it lets every single other character who contributed to Loki's self-hatred and mental breakdown (let's just call a spade a spade here, that's what it was; he was broken psychologically) get off scot-free.

First of all,

Odin is not held accountable for instilling in the princes a mentality of Asgard first, everyone is beneath us but Jotuns are benath us the most, they are literal monsters. He is not held accountable for pitting his sons against one another (even if it was unintentional, he still did it) with "you were both born to be kings but only one of you can rule" being the general tone of their upbringing. He's not held accountable for his favoritism toward Thor.

Frigga is not held accountable for deferring to Odin both in supporting the above things and in keeping the truth of Loki's origins a secret while doing nothing to discourage the "monsters" narrative. 

Thor is not held accountable for his own tendency of taking Loki for granted (he assumes Loki will come to Jotunheim, he oversteps Loki constantly, “know your place,” etc.. He grants his implicit permission for Loki to be treated as the sidewalk friend in their “group,” a group which is loyal to and takes their cues from Thor as Thor continues to do nothing in his brother's defense).

[Note: Wanting Thor to be held accountable for things he's done wrong isn't vilifying him. Acknowledging that Thor benefited from Odin's favoritism and his own place as Crown Prince doesn't negate Thor also being raised in an abusive environment. I don't think anyone's saying that or, if they have, it's not something I agree with.]

Furthermore, 

Odin is not held accountable for his cruelty in disowning Loki (”your birthright was to die” is never going to be forgotten, speaking of people saying things that can't be unsaid or taken back) and in sentencing Loki to a severe prison sentence (life! only bc Frigga wouldn't let him execute Loki) for crimes that are no worse than what Odin himself has committed (around which the entire plot of Ragnarok revolves! Colonialism (and subjugation) is wrong is, like, a major theme [that people rush to praise, even] here). 

Thor is also never held accountable for not trying harder to understand what made Loki snap (fair enough, he didn't have a ton of time after returning from Earth, but certainly he had lots of time to sit around reflecting while Loki was being tortured by Thanos for a year). He knows Loki is "not himself" and "beyond reason" and accepts it at face value; he questions it once and then lets it go. He's fine with assuming Loki's just lost his mind, and isn't that a shame. (I realize I'm simplifying Thor's emotions but my point is that Thor could've tried harder to figure out that Loki was being influenced and/or not acting completely autonomously.) 

Thor is also never held accountable for - if not facing consequences for his own slaughter of Jotuns - then at least addressing why Loki can't kill an entire race even though Thor tried to do that, like, two days ago. (Granted, it’s difficult to understand how Thor got from Point A ("let's finish them together, Father!") to Point B (this is wrong!), but that failing belongs to Thor 1 (which is not, by the way, a perfect movie).

The interpretation that Loki is fully redeemed because he took responsibility for his actions, returned to Asgard, and allied himself with Thor to save their people is all well and good - but, why is Loki the only one here who has to take responsibility for their actions? 

What about all the loose threads in his story? 

For example, how did he get from: 

Point A (believing himself a literal monster, having a complete mental breakdown, getting tortured and further traumatized after that, etc) 

to 

Point B (Hey, yknow what would be fun? I'm going to write and direct a play about how I heroically died to save Thor and Jane, and I'll go ahead and have Odin say he accepts me and has always loved me. I'm going to do these things because Odin never said this in real life and instead of acknowledging my sacrifice, Thor left my body in the dirt, so someone has to validate what I've done right and that someone might as well be me. And hey, while I'm at it, I'm going to control the narrative on revealing myself as Jotun to Asgard, instead of living in fear of it being found out, and I'm going to do it in a way that they have to sympathize with me and revere me in death, bc they never bothered to do so when I was alive. And Matt Damon should play me, also.) 

to 

Point C (Yeah, I guess I feel kinda awkward about that whole tantrum thing, also I should help Thor and support him being king.)

? 

The answers to these questions are handwaved and the audience takes that to mean they don't matter. Furthermore, framing Loki's redemption around an act of service (more or less) to Thor makes Loki's redemption about Thor. Does Loki make this decision for the sake of Thor and of Asgard, or does he make it for himself? It's not super clear to me, and I think arguments can be made for both. Which, again, is fine, but - whatever.

If we're going to collectively agree, as a fandom, that Loki is complex, that he's morally gray, that he's worthy of redemption and therefore arguably a good person who's done bad things, then why is it asking too much to have it acknowledged that Thor (also a good person who's done bad things) played a part in Loki's downfall and has shit to apologize for, too? Bc one can only assume the reason is that you're taking a very gray concept and making it black and white by saying Loki has to apologize and make amends because he is the villain, and Thor doesn't because he is the hero (and it's his movie). And it's lazy.

This is where the crux of the issue lands. There's more than one valid interpretation, yes. And no two people (or groups of people, or whatever) are going to consume and therefore interpret or analyze the source material in the same way. I think I saw a post recently about how studies have been done on this, in fact. But, there is a lot going on under the surface that tends to get overlooked when exploring Loki's redemption arc in Ragnarok, as far as I can see, and that’s why I don’t consider it satisfactory. 

[I did read similar arguments regarding other issues that are often debated ('debated'), like Loki's magic and/or being underpowered, whether or not Loki's betrayal of Thor was the natural outcome of the situation on Sakaar or not, whether Thor actually gets closure with Odin [if he does, how does he reconcile the father he's idolized with the imperialistic conqueror he's discovered? Why doesn't he hold Odin responsible for covering up Hela's existence and the threat of her return, especially as he knew he was nearing the end of his life? Is Thor's "I'm not as strong as you" meant to imply that he acknowledges those shortcomings of Odin's and that he's okay with them, or that he's just overlooking them, or is he not okay with them but didn't have the chance to get into it bc he was in the middle of battle? T'Challa confronted his father on his wrongdoings in Black Panther; could Thor not have had at least one line that was confrontational enough to establish where he stands as opposed to this gray middle? Can someone explain to me how any of this equates to Thor gaining closure? Please?) but obviously I'm not going to go into all of them (well, I tried not to), bc this mammoth post has gone on long enough (I may not even post this tbh)]

- but my overall point to this entire thing is that when I say I'm critical of Ragnarok bc it's flawed, that Loki's arc was neither complete nor satisfactory, that many things went unaddressed and, due to all of these things, I do not think Ragnarok is a very good movie nor a very cohesive movie, this is where I'm coming from. I have not seen anything to change my mind to the contrary. 

But I am not saying that anyone satisfied with it is wrong, or shouldn't have the interpretation that they do. I'm not vilifying Thor in order to lift Loki up, just acknowledging that Thor is arguably just as flawed as Loki without the stigma of being Designated Villain. I think a lot of these arguments get overlooked or dismissed, and that's fine, but it doesn't make the people who do engage with them hateful, or bitter, or trying to excuse Loki's crimes, or feeling like redemption means that Loki's crimes should be erased rather than reconciled. 

And sure, yes, perhaps we are expecting too much and exploring all of these themes (or wanting them explored) means that somehow we think it should be Loki's movie (we don't). Loki is a supporting character, but he's still a character. And the movie itself doesn't have to delve into all these things - no one's saying that. (At least, I'm not.) We just want acknowledgement, from the narrative, that this stuff was an Issue. 

This could have been accomplished with - 

Some dialogue closer to the novelization (and original script), like Thor and Loki both acknowledging the harm they've done one another and their kingdom due to their Feels.

 A single line of Thor confronting Odin, or even asking "Why?" 

A narrative acknowledgement that Odin did both Thor and Loki dirty (”I love you, my sons” isn't an apology, because it doesn't acknowledge either that there's been wrong-doing or express regret for having done the wrong in the first place). 

A little bit more nuance in the way Loki treats his own past (ie, instead of flippantly telling the story of his suicide attempt, maybe - if it must be flippant - talk about getting blasted in the face with Hawkeye's arrow or sailing through to Svartalfheim [And in that moment, I sang ta-daaaa!]) or whatever. 

I recognize that wanting full, in-depth exploration on all of these issues regarding a supporting character is probably too much to ask or expect - but, I also feel like, if you're going to be professionally writing a narrative (or rewriting/improvising, as it were), it's not too much to ask that a little more care be taken in regards to all of the layers that have contributed to said supporting character's downfall and subsequent redemption arc. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want. 

And maybe if there had been more nuance and continuity in how these things were portrayed on screen (ie, if TW had actually done as good a job as his stans think he did), the fandom wouldn't have divided and conquered itself over which "version" of the same character is more valid and whether or not the film did its best to close out a trilogy (not start a new one), to the point where everyone in this fandom space makes navigating it feel like walking through a minefield. 

But, I mean 

(Again, please don’t reblog if possible.) 

Edit: Okay to reblog. <3 

#i tried to format this so that it wasn't just #walls of text #sooo #ragnarok critical #anti ragnarok #charlotte's loki meta #negative loki meta #fandom wank #i wrote this bc i needed to get it out #bc seeing some of those posts last night was rough #both meta wise and 'antis are horrible people' wise #it was cathartic #but i don't want it to be reblogged bc #people are mean #to put it very simply #so there we are #clearly i didn't have much work to do today #i don't know how else to tag this #anti anti anti #if you like ragnarok skip this post #i am criticizing ragnarok in this post #mood gif

[unknown-writing]

Comforting their stressed s/o

Summary: Their s/o has been dealing with familial issues, causing them to break down easily. The boys try to figure out different ways to make them less stressed out

Warning(s): Toxic family members, mentions of depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts(reader), mentions of force throwing up(reader), alcohol consumption

A/N: Been dealing with a lot of bullshit from petty grandparents. I deserve some comfort. Minors DNI

After a while of dating Luffy, you noticed that he was able to sense your emotions of the day depending on the mood you’d wake up in. If you weren’t sad, you were ok and stable. if you woke up /extremely late and sad/..He knew he had to be near you, and protect you from everything that could remotely make you the /slightest/ bit of even worse Sad.

He doesn’t fully get it at first, he tried to just make you laugh, because to him, laughter was the best cure for most sadness that he came across in people. But after a while, it became clear of what you were dealing with, so he started changing his tactics on how he’d make you feel better.

This week was especially hard on your mental state. He could tell that you were walking on egg shells everywhere you went. Your parents had somehow found you living with him and disliked the idea of their Precious Daughter with a bunch of Low Life Pirates. Granted, they weren’t too bad this time around after the last time Luffy snapped at them....Or so he thought. He hadn’t actually realized the way they treated you through different methods.

Every little thing you did would either irritate them, or anger them. Not that you /personally/ cared about how they’d feel. This was your home now, so you made your own rules on how you lived. That is, until they started getting more violent with their words, hitting you where they knew it’d hurt the most. Going after every little wrong thing about you in whispers from behind the crew.

Luffy blinked when he watched you stand up to go somewhere else. You were dead silent, not even a sniffle of a cry would leave your lips. That worried him. “Y/n-san??...” He’d call out. No response. That got him to panic and get up to follow you, telling Chopper to follow him as well. This startled your parents, seeing you just, walk into the ship to get to your bedroom so you could just...Keel over. /You were done/. But, you didn’t hear Luffy or Chopper following you not that far behind

The three of you went into your bedroom, and the two boys stood there. You snapped, falling on your knees to just...Cry it out. You’ve been holding it in for the past week now, you normally didn’t snap like this but, you couldn’t help it. This got Luffy to run towards you and hug you tightly...Very tight, he didn’t want you to hurt yourself or feel alone. His body just moved on his own.

Seeing this, Chopper panicked, leaving the room to grab some medicine to help calm down your nerves, and request some calming tea from Sanji. While he was doing this, Luffy kept you in his arms, holding you in his lap so you felt secure and safe, even if it was for a short amount of time until you stopped crying.

It honestly took him a lot longer to realize what was going on at first. In the beginning of your relationship with him, you had to tell him bluntly of how your mental state worked, and that sometimes, you just needed certain stuff to be repeated until you were mentally safe again.

But this time was different than the others. It seemed like Zoro refused to let you do anything too stressful (without babying you...He learnt that the hard way), so that way it wouldn’t affect you mentally so you could stay stable enough to know what was happening, or so you won’t hurt yourself.

For the last few months, your family was boarded the ship in the guest bedroom. Your mother, father, and grandmother were traveling together but, their small ship got raided by bad pirates and burned at sea so, Luffy had saved them despite your fair warnings that they where “No Good Assholes” or that “They Should Just Drown.” He didn’t quite get it at first.

Until their nagging at certain stuff was starting to get on his nerves. “Why can’t we just throw them overboard!?” He’d sometimes complain, followed by a, “We can throw them overboard on an island! We’re not that heartless!” from Nami. She was right, and got did that drive Luffy nuts.

Zoro didn’t pay much attention to how everybody else had felt with your parents and grandmother. He only focused on you and how you felt, constantly staying close to you whenever you were alone, sensing that you were uncomfortable being alone with them for very long. “Honestly y/n...You eat too much! How are you going to find an attractive young man for a husband if you eat like a pig?” Your mother said one time, which made quite a few of the members go silent.

That was your last straw for you. You stood up, tossed the food at her face, and then stormed off angerly, annoyed with how much they’ve been going after you for every little fucking detail you’d do, finding ways to somehow make you feel small.

“H-Hey! Y/n!” Zoro said while chasing after you, worried that you’d harm yourself after the past stressful few months at sea with your family. He was slightly too late though, as he hears you throwing up the food you’d just ate in the bathroom. That’s It. He was /pissed/.

The crew had separated from the family, leaving them alone with Zoro after he came out, pointing his swords at them, “Thanks to you, y/n had to throw up her food because of your comments towards her. She should not have to risk her health to please you! Now, GET OFF OUR SHIP!” he shouted, tossing them overboard in a blind rage. “Zoro!! We could’ve waited until the next Isla--” “SHUT YOUR YAP NAMI! THEY SHOULD BE THANKFUL I’M NOT KILLING THEM MYSELF!” Zoro cuts off Nami.

After that, Zoro went back to you, seeing that you needed him even more so than ever. He held you in his lap on his bed and allowed you to just, cry it out. Something that he knows you’ve been holding back because of your folks being with them. “I love you y/n..Don’t ever do that again ok? They’re gone now, you don’t need to risk your health to please them anymore...Let alone Us.” He says while you start to fall asleep in his arms.

Sanji knew you had an awkward mental state. He was able to sense anybody’s feelings being the emotional one out of his brothers, but even so, he was way more in-tune to a woman’s than a man (aside from his crew. Because they’re precious to him).

So, he knew that you were really struggling to keep it together ever since your judgmental, and abusive parents had joined the crew (not by choice really). This man tried everything in the book to try and make your experience a little easier to handle, but he knew that these tricks would only work for so long. He felt helpless after a while.

You and your parents were arguing again, for the third time /today/. Quite frankly, they were starting to get on everybody’s nerves. But, something you had shouted at them concerned Sanji, and worried everybody else, “WOULD ME BEING DEAD BE BETTER FOR YOU TWO TO JUST...ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM!?” You snapped.

They went silent, which didn’t add anything better to this argument, if anything, you read that as a strong “Yes It Would.” from them. You stood there and then chuckled, “Fine....Get them off of my ship.” You told Luffy, which made him chuckle and grab them to throw them off the ship and on the Island they were boarding on for food and other supplies as well.

Sanji knew something was up when you just /chuckled/ and then walked away to go back to your room. He followed you there, making sure that you didn’t do anything harmful...Thankfully he was there to stop you from hurting yourself, you held the bottle tightly in your hand, drinking from it, knowing you were a light weight.

“Stop y/n-san...” Sanji spoke as he held your arm to stop you from drinking. This irritated you but, you did as he commanded anyways. Sanji then removed the bottle from your grip, you watched him remove it from you as if it was in slow motion. Only to start sobbing quietly, having forced yourself to learn to cry softly so your folks couldn’t hear you be sad.

Sanji only stayed there to help you let it out, hugging you firmly in his lap on the kitchen floor, he cooed you softly and rubbed your back, making you feel extremely safe after what happened. “I....I-I’m sor--” You hiccupped, only to be cut off, “Shhh. Don’t be y/n-san. I’m here, we’re all here for you.” He repeated, cooing you until you’d fallen asleep in his embrace

#tw// depression #tw// suicidal thoughts #tw// suicidal attempts #tw// alcohol consumption #tw// abusive families #tw// throwing up #tw// abuse #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #one piece x reader

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - John Watson x Reader - Better Late Than Never - Words: 2,679

A/N: This was the prompt: Reader went to med school with John, she liked him but never told him so. John gets deployed and they lose contact. A few years later they meet again because of a case.

"C'mon, Y/N," John laughed. "If you don't study for the test tomorrow, I won't give you the ice cream I bought!" 

"Is it Death By Chocolate?" You replied, raising your head only slightly from it's spot on the floor. 

"Maybe," He replied with a smirk. The two of you were in your dorm, trying to study for the quarter finals. You were in your 6th and final year of med school. You'd met about halfway through your 2nd year and had instantly become close friends. Small displays of affection were normal between the two of you, the type that best friends would share without giving a second thought. John didn't have a clue, but you had developed quite the crush on him. You never told him, though, for fear of messing up the one good friendship you had. 

"John!" You groaned, dramatically sprawling out further on the carpet. "I think my brain has died." You had been trying to remember everything you'd studied and were coming up blank. 

"Hm, I'm studying to be a doctor, not a coroner, but I would say time of death was somewhere between 6 years ago and now," He teased, leaning over you from his nearby perch on your futon. Pretending to be mad, you threw your foot up and kicked his leg. 

"You git!" You exclaimed with a grin.

"Oi!" He replied, dramatically tumbling to the floor next to you. You both lost yourselves in a fit of giggles. You stopped laughing and just stared at him when your brain caught up with your eyes and you had one of your "moments". He looked so happy lying there next to you, laughing his head off. His hair was a mess, his jumper had gotten abit twisted and was creeping up his torso, and his eyes were bright with tears of laughter. "You ok, Y/N?" He asked when he noticed you had stopped laughing. 

"Yeah, just thinking," You replied quickly. 

"Ok, as long as it's nothing serious," He said. "Really, if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me. You've been zoning out more often recently so," He looked away, a bit embarrassed. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, John," You replied, not having the guts to tell him what was really on your mind. 

About a year later, only 3 months after graduation, John called you. You still kept in touch, although you lived in different cities now, and your feelings hadn't changed. John had dated a few different girls but nothing ever worked out. You, though? You had gone on one date but left halfway through when the guy wouldn't shut up about himself and asked if you were splitting the check. John had told you he had applied at a small clinic near his apartment so you assumed his call was to update you on that. "Hey!" You said, picking up immediately.

"Uh, hey, Y/N," He said, sounding fairly upset. "Look, I," He sighed. "You remember that I enlisted a few months ago?"

"Yes," You replied, a lump forming in your throat. 

"I've just gotten my deployment letter. They're sending me to Afghanistan. I leave this Friday." Silent tears streamed down your face and you found yourself unable to reply. "Y/N? Are you still there?" He asked.

"Yeah," You choked out. "Yeah, I'm still here, John. I, well, I guess I should wish you well then." You pinched the bridge of your nose and breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of yourself. 

"Look, I know you're not a fan of the military but can't you at least congratulate me? This is something I wanted after all."

"Is it? Is it really?" You nearly yelled. "You didn't sound all that cheery two minutes ago when I picked up the phone! Besides, how could I congratulate you when all I can see is you getting blown to bits out there!"

"Sorry," He replied immediately. "That, that wasn't fair of me to ask." You both were silent for a moment before John spoke up again. "I'll write." 

"Not with that handwriting you won't, " You replied, falling back into your regular banter. 

"I'll try to make it legible for you," He promised. You nodded, though he couldn't see you, and started crying again.

"Alright," You said. "Can I drive over Friday and see you off?" 

"Best not," He said. "I think it's better for both of us, yeah?" You reluctantly agreed. The two of you chatted for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Shaking off the foreboding feeling that had settled on you, you continued with your day and started planning your first letter to him. 

The first few weeks went well, his letters arriving regularly on Friday's without fail. Then one week it came on Monday instead, the next on Wednesday, and soon two weeks passed without a letter. When you finally received it, he said that they had gotten to a point where it was getting harder and harder to safely send a receive mail. He asked for you to stop all letters and promised to find you again when, or if, he got home. That night you wrote him one final letter but, of course, never sent it. You were determined to move on with life now but you promised yourself to never forget him.

"Good morning, Molly," You said walking into the hospital with her. You'd moved to London and gotten a job at St. Bart's, working in the outpatient clinic. A few weeks after starting there, you'd met Molly while on break. You exchanged numbers and started meeting in the cafeteria if you both had breaks at the same time. In time you met Sherlock. What an experience that had been. He immediately deduced which department you worked in, how long you'd been there, where you went to college, when you went to college and he even figured out that you'd been in love with someone in uni and never got over them. Needless to say, you were impressed. Ever since then he texted you occasionally for confirmation on medical related hypotheses.

"Good morning, Y/N," Molly replied. 

"Have you heard from Sherlock recently? I haven't gotten any texts from him in the past few weeks." Molly chuckled and nodded. 

"I've heard from him. He has a new flatmate. A doctor too!" 

"Wow!" You replied. "Good for him! Let me know next time he comes by so I can meet him. I'd like to know who my replacement is," You teased. Molly giggled and you continued chatting as you walked over to the elevator. As the doors were about to close, you heard someone yell.

"Hold the lift!" You slammed the open doors button and Sherlock ran in. He nodded at you and you let go of the button. The doors started to slide closed again when another person called out.

"Sherlock!" You froze hearing that voice. You tried to get the doors in time but missed.

"Y/N?" Molly asked, worriedly. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost!" You nodded and leaned on the wall, trying to get yourself together. You decided to ride up to Molly's floor and see if Sherlock's friend came up on the next lift. Sherlock kept staring at you, confused, while you sat there waiting. A few minutes later, he came storming in the door. 

"Sherlock! What were you thinking? Why didn't you hold the lift for me? I had to wait for the next one which happened to-"

"John," You gasped, amazed that it actually was him standing in front of you. "John!" You exclaimed, jumping up and running over.

"Y/N!" He replied, a grin spreading on his face. His smile faltered quickly though. "I," He said. "I need to be going. I forgot I had an appointment. Yeah. That's it. I'll see you at the flat, Sherlock." John quickly limped out the door and off to the elevator.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Sherlock said after a few moments. You nodded sadly. 

"Why'd he run off like that?" You asked. 

"Well it's obvious he didn't have an appointment. That leaves two possible reasons for his lying. One he could be-"

"Oh shut up, Sherlock!" You cried. "I know why he left. I-" You cut yourself off, choking back a sob. "Just sod it all! I need to go to work. I'll see you at lunch, Molly." You ran off, down the hall and to the elevator. 

"Molly, I know that look in your eyes," Sherlock said once you'd left. "What are you planning?"

"The perfect set up. Now help me-"

"Molly," Sherlock interrupted her. "I may not understand a lot of things related to the topic of human relationships but I can tell you this, if either of us were to get involved, we may be maimed." Molly nodded in agreement.

Weeks went by and you worked harder than ever, taking extra shifts whenever you could. Your boss finally told you to take a week off to recharge. After much arguing, you relented and headed home for a week. Being alone all day, however, left your mind wandering. Thinking back to what might have been. To occupy your time, you decided to catch up with one of your good friends who lived nearby. You hadn't had the chance to hang out in some weeks but you texted each other every day. When you didn't hear from her yesterday, you worried but figured she probably was just tired. "Maybe she'll have some good advice for me," You told yourself. Knocking at her door, you checked your phone again to see if she had replied yet. Now you were really worried. You grabbed your spare key to her apartment and went in. 

"What do you want?" Sherlock said, answering his phone.

"Sherlock, it-it's Y/N. Can you," You paused, taking a shaky breath. "Can you come down here please? I need your help. Lestrade's already on his way."

"On my way," He replied, grabbing his coat and scarf. "What happened?" As you explained to him everything, he grabbed John's coat and tossed it to him. John was mildly confused of course, but went along. 

"I went in and found her in the bathroom," You told him. "I'm probably missing something obvious. I'm sorry," You cried.

"No, you're doing fine," Sherlock said genuinely. John looked at him surprised as they got into the cab, still not aware of who was on the other end of the call. "We'll be there in 7 minutes."

"We?" You asked. But Sherlock hung up before he answered. 

"Y/N?" Greg said, coming up behind you. "I hate to say this but, we're going to need a statement. Do you want to wait till Sherlock gets here?"

"No, it's alright. Let's get it over with." A few minutes later, you'd told Greg everything you knew and he'd gone inside with the others to investigate. A cab pulled up and Sherlock rushed out. "Sherlock!" You exclaimed running up to him. As you approached, you saw another person getting out of the cab. "Why did you bring him?" You hissed.

"He's my assistant, flatmate and, if I have deduced correctly, a friend of both of us," Sherlock said.

"Look, that was years ago, I don't even know if-" You started whisper-yelling. You got cut off though when John walked up. You noticed he was limping again. 

"John," Sherlock said. "I believe you're acquainted with Y/N. You're much better with people than I am," He stated briefly before going into the apartment.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," John said once Sherlock left. You nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench before your legs gave way from exhaustion. 

"She was a good friend of mine. I don't know what could have happened." John was quiet as he sat down next to you.

"Sherlock will figure it out. If anyone can, it's him," He finally said.

"That is for certain," You replied with a dry chuckle. "So how did you meet Sherlock?"

"Oh, well, you remember Mike Stamford?" 

"From uni? Yeah, I remember him."

"Well, he introduced me to Sherlock. We were both in need of a flatmate and he matched us up." John paused for a moment, brows furrowed. "That sounds much too much like a bad dating ad. Mike got us together."

"Nope, that's worse," You replied chuckling.

"You understand."

"I think so," You finally replied. "So," You paused. You were so desperate to ask him more but you weren't sure if this was the best time. "Oh, well, nevermind. Glad that worked out." You quieted again, staring off down the street. John looked at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Right, yes. So, what have you been up to?"

"Work. I got a job at St. Bart's about 2 years ago. That's how I met Molly and therefore Sherlock." You were silent for a moment before adding one more thing. "I've missed you, John."

"I've missed you too," He admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't write or call when I got back. I-" He sighed and absently rubbed at his leg. "I couldn't. I was scared, if I'm being honest."

"Why? What happened?"

"You know we got sent into a very dangerous area. That's why I had to stop writing to begin with. But then, well, I got shot."

"Your leg?" You asked since he had been limping and rubbing at it. 

"Ah, shoulder actually. The limp is psychosomatic. It comes and goes when I'm particularly worried or upset."

"Oh, I'm sorry," You said, not completely sure of what to say.

"I've been back in London for about a year. I looked you up actually. I found out you were working at Bart's. That's why I ran into Mike that day. I was in a park nearby, trying to work up the nerve to go and see you."

"Why didn't you?" You asked. He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's ok. I should be honest." He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. "I was afraid of what you'd think of me. I didn't come back as some 'war hero'. I'm a washed up medic who can't even walk correctly."

"It's psychosomatic, right?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Sherlock says so."

Well then, you have nothing to fear." He looked at you questioningly. "You know I never cared about the military so I could honestly care less if you came back known as some 'war hero' or not. You're not washed up, just look at you! Out here solving mysteries with the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes! And you can too walk right! You're just too scared to."

"I'm not so sure-" You interrupted him by leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away with a giggle you got up and ran a few feet away. 

"You'll have to come here to get another!" 

"Oh, you devil," He grinned. He got up and walked over to you quickly, picking you up, spinning you around and giving you another kiss. You laughed happily and leaned on his shoulder. 

"See? You did just fine!" 

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" He chuckled. 

"Oh, John," You giggled. "I should have told you a long time ago. I love you, John Watson." He smiled from ear to ear.

"I love you too, Y/N L/N. But a crime scene isn't really the best place to do this at."

"Why not? We giggle at murders all the time?" Sherlock suddenly butted in.

"How long have you been standing there?" John yelled.

"Well," Greg suddenly said, a few feet away and holding up his phone. "This video is already 4 minutes long, so," He trailed off.

"John," You said, not taking your eyes off the two other men.

"Yes, love?" He asked as you reached for his hand.

"Let's get 'em." You then spent the rest of the afternoon chasing Sherlock and Greg around the neighborhood, enjoying their girly shrieks, until Mycroft showed up and put a stop to it. Later that evening, you and John were enjoying some Chinese takeaway back at your apartment.

"I really can't apologize enough for leaving you in the dark, Y/N," John said. "I should have written," He chided himself.

"It's alright, John," You assured him. "Actually, you just reminded me of something. Wait here a moment." You ran off to your room and pulled an envelope out of a small box in your desk. You returned to the living room and held it out to John. "This is for you. It was my last letter but," You paused, blushing lightly. "I never mailed it."

My Dear Captain Watson,

I hope you're doing well. I hope you're staying safe and helping as many as you can. I hope -

Oh what am I writing. John, there's something you should know and I wish I could tell you in person but better now than never I suppose.

I love you.

There. Feel free to never write me back again or return this with a 'Dear John' letter. Well, you know what I mean. I wish I could have said it better or sooner but I was scared to lose your friendship. Now I'm more scared of actually losing you.

John, please return safely. Even if we never speak again. The world should not be without John Watson.

All my love,

Y/N

"Y/N," John said, tears in his eyes after reading your letter. "Why didn't you send it?"

"Well, you had asked me not to write anymore since it was dangerous and," You paused, shaking your head sadly. "I chickened out again."

"Well, I guess what they say is true then." You looked at him quizzically as he pulled you close to him and leaned his forehead on yours. "Better late than never."

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