#everyone who has read all of these gets a metaphorical kiss on the forehead today. love you <3

[90s-belladonna]

Okay so walk with me I need KiriXReader part 2 for the Sero fic where it's reversed unrequited and Jiro tells him reader used to like him before he chose Mina. I need that fluffangst

The Fantasy I Dreamed Of: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

My first fic back!!! it's inspired by Light by Ateez bc that song is simply too swoon worthy

part 1 (you don't really need to read it tbh)

word count: 4630

“You probably think I’m a weakling. I promise I’ll be fine soon. I’m so sorry.” I let out in between sobs. Today’s work-study mission has been particularly debilitating. It wasn’t the broken ribs or the bruises covering my body, it wasn’t even the busted lip, those were all things recovery girl had fixed quite easily. The one thing a forehead kiss from the old woman couldn’t fix was my mind. Thankfully Mirko and I had been able to rescue everyone, however, the victims had been women and children, something about seeing children hurt like that had taken a toll on me. I knew I’d be fine, I just needed to let it out. The rabbit hero had noticed my distraught state after the mission as well, only saying I needed to toughen up if I ever expected to make it as a hero. An observation that had only rubbed salt on the metaphorical wound.

“I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort. All I was thinking was that pretty girls should never cry.” His words sounded sincere, and I was sure that if I were to look up I’d be met with his warm gaze. “Maybe she was right, I’m not cut out for this.” was all I could answer with, my mentor’s words still running through my mind. “HEY!” the redhead’s angry voice boomed through the open space. I couldn’t hold myself back and instinctively looked up to see what had caused the sudden shift in his energy. Sure enough, his soft gaze met my teary face.

“Cry as much as you want, in fact, I encourage it, you’re only human after all, but please never talk down on yourself like that again. (name)… you’re amazing. You’re everything.” His voice was breaking, a complete one-eighty compared to his previous brawny voice. I felt the need to defend my own self-loathing, to explain how I was right to believe I was a failure as a hero. “Kirishima I-“ “You’re the best of us. If someone as kind-hearted as you isn’t cut out to be a hero then who the hell is? So cry. Do what you feel you need to do to deal with your feelings but don’t look down on yourself. You’ll be an amazing hero someday, you’ll see. I believe in you.” His voice was still shaky, but his message was clear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you worry.” I cried out, my eyes filling with tears once more. The glossy look in his eyes made my chest ache. Why do I always make everyone worry? Kirishima is upset because of me…

The boy in front of me instantly became a nervous mess, he searched for something to help wipe my tears with only to find nothing. So he did the only thing he could think of at the moment and took his shirt off and handed it to me. “Here. I just put it on after dinner so it’s clean I promise!” His sweet attempt at comfort made me smile against my will. “I’ll get it dirty… Kiri, I couldn’t.” I explained only for the redhead to shake his head. “Bakubro taught the other guys and me how to do laundry properly so I can wash it. Don’t worry, you need it so use it.” He spoke and flashed a toothy grin my way. 

“You really are the sun huh?” I absentmindedly let out. Kirishima always lit up my days, He was always there to pick me up when I felt defeated, and was always there to share moments of joy with me, how could I not see him as the sun? A bright and powerful light. Maybe Killua was on to something when he said Gon shines so bright that sometimes he had to look away, I understand what he meant perfectly now. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be (name), for as long as you need me to be.” he let out as he took a seat next to me on the large rock I was sitting on. Perhaps I hit my head too hard during today’s fight with the villains, but that sounded like a confession of sorts.

When I skipped dinner and snuck out of the dorms to have some alone time to cry out my feelings I never expected Kirishima to come find me, but then again I should’ve known better. Kirishima was always there to rescue me from myself, like a true hero, my hero. “Did you eat?” I questioned the boy, who seemed surprisingly fine despite his lack of a shirt. “Why? You’re offering to take me out?” He joked causing me to laugh. “Sure Red. But let’s go Saturday, our curfew is soon so we should get back to the dorms so you can eat something.” I reasoned. Yet the way he looked at me with those wide bright eyes could’ve convinced me to stay out with him all night, basking in the moonlight. “Saturday! It’s a date then!” He confirmed with a nervous smile as he stood up and offered me his hand to help me stand up. 

“Fatgum is going to be so mad at you when you show up sniffling to your work-study tomorrow.” I giggled as we walked back to the dorms. “Nah, he adores me! Also, I’m crazy strong I won’t catch a cold you’ll see!” The redhead joked back. “Kiri… you literally have goosebumps on your arms, you dork.” I instinctively ran my hand over one of his arms, hoping the friction from my skin would help warm him a bit. The unexpected action caused him to blush, I figured it was due to the proximity and how out of the blue it was for me to touch him like this. “I’ll be fine. Getting sick isn’t manly.” He defended with a smile. “Sure it isn’t Red.” I whispered back. The whole point of caressing his arm with my hand was so that my body would warm him up, yet why was it my body that felt as if it was on fire?

Minutes went by and we were finally out of the clearing and closer to the dorms. “Those assholes who hurt you better hope they never get out of prison or they’ll have to deal with me.” Kirishima suddenly spoke, his gruff tone distracting me from my thoughts. “Honestly don’t worry about it, it wasn’t that bad, you should see how some of the other heroes and their interns ended up.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his concern, he was always so sweet. “(name).” He earnestly spoke as he made a sudden stop and turned to look my way. “I’ll always worry about you. I know you’re amazing and can handle yourself, I just hate seeing you hurt. And I hate that someone would lay a hand on you.” his voice was soft and his gaze was piercing as if he could see right through me. 

“It’s part of the job Kiri. I’m going to get hurt sometimes, and so are you, we all will.” I reminded him only for him to shake his head. “Then I’ll work hard as a hero. I’ll work so hard so that villains like those you fought disappear and you never have to get hurt again.” That was all he said, his voice was determined, not a single doubt behind his intentions so all I did was nod. Everyone knew that when Eijiro Kirishima set his mind to something there was no stopping him. I had to get my emotions under control because why the hell was my heart racing because of the way he looked at me? 

Sure enough the following day the redhead was sniffling, although not fully sick it was obvious that it could develop into a cold if he didn’t take care of himself properly. “Wow, you’re really going all out here. Do you think you’ll finish and still make it in time to your work-study?” Jiro asked as she watched me toss some corn in a pot, the last touch for the chicken soup I was making for Kirishima. “Yeah, I’ll be fine Mirko’s agency is nearby anyway.” I spoke as I transferred the tea I had made for him into a thermo. “Wow (name)… what’s all this?” Sero asked as he walked into the kitchen. “Kirishima walked her back to the dorms last night and now she feels guilty that he’s sick so she’s trying to take care of him.” Jiro explained, she was still annoyed at the boy for having broken my heart earlier that year, not that he was aware of my old crush anyway. Thankfully I was over it now and could act normal around him and Mina, I was glad they never found out, their friendship meant the world to me.

Sero gulped, surprised by my attentiveness toward the redhead. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time, I wasn’t aware that he was shocked I could care so much for someone other than him, in the same capacity that I once worried for him. Unbeknownst to me he had recently begun wondering if maybe he and Mina were better off as friends, his mind kept circling back to me and the way I would look at him as if he hung the stars, a look he realized was no longer reserved for him. He was well aware of how toxic it was to want someone else while being in a relationship, especially when the girl he was pinning for was a good friend of his girlfriend. Yet he was selfish, all he needed was a push, a confirmation of my feelings, to fully pursue the relationship his heart suddenly longed for.

“Are you sure Kirishima will be into that?” The ravenette questioned, no real concern in his tone but jealousy filled his heart with every passing minute. “Why wouldn’t he?” Jiro scoffed in defense. “Yeah, why wouldn’t he? He loves food.” I spoke as I turned back to face my two friends. “Well.. you know what he’s like, maybe he’ll think it isn’t manly to be taken care of by a girl. I don’t know.” Sero defended awkwardly causing Jiro to roll her eyes. “Damn. You really know how to hit where it hurts huh Sero.” I replied as I began to second guess my actions and turn the stove off as the soup was now ready. All I wanted was to keep him healthy. “Anyone would love to have (name) take care of them, she’s the loveliest!” Jiro defended, a scowl taking over her usual indifferent demeanor. “Hey no that’s not what I mean I was just… you know bringing up how Kirishima might not be into that!” The sable-eyed boy argued as he placed his hands up in defense.

“Be into what?” The redhead asked as he walked into the kitchen area, his blonde best friend standing next to him. “(name) made you tea and soup so that you won’t get sicker. Sero here thinks you won’t think it’s manly to be taken care of by a girl.” Jiro explained as she gave the ravenette a death glare. “That’s ridiculous. Shitty hair loves food, and (name) is the one who sucks the least at cooking out of all you extras!” Bakugo defended causing me to smile. “Katsuki you like my cooking?” I asked out loud, excited at the compliment from the grumpy boy. “SHUT UP!” the blonde yelled back, but I could see the blush on his cheeks. “(name), thank you. You didn’t have to but I appreciate it, I’ll make sure to finish everything!” the beaming redhead assured, only to correct himself when the blonde next to him cleared his throat. “We’ll finish everything I promise!” With his toothy smile in full display, Kirishima sure was lovely these days, or maybe he always was.

“Why would you worry her, that’s not cool.” Jiro asked Sero, truly appalled by his weird behavior, usually he was the most laid back and understanding out of their friend group. He and I had always been the best of friends who constantly encouraged one another so she couldn’t understand why he was being so negative with this situation, and honestly neither could I. “I was just looking out for (name)’s feelings, but I’m glad it all worked out.” He clarified, only to be met with a sadistic chuckle from Bakugo and a scoff from Jiro. “You don’t have to worry about (name)’s feelings. That’s what you’ve got Mina for. I’ll take care of (name) and whatever she’s feeling.” Kirishima spoke as he gave Sero a stern look, the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. “It smells amazing! Is (name) cooking?” Denki asked as he too entered the kitchen. “Not for you dunce face!” Bakugo growled causing me to laugh. 

An hour later I was dashing out of the dorms in my hero costume, eager to get to Mirko’s agency, only to be stopped by someone grabbing my wrist and turning me to face them. I was instantly met with none other than the loveliest ruby eyes. “Let me walk you?” Kirishima pleaded. However, I couldn’t help but be distracted by the knitted sweater and scarf he was wearing on top of his hero costume. “You covered up?” I wondered as I took in the complete difference in appearance. “Yeah, our date is tomorrow so I didn’t want to risk getting sick and having to miss it. I’ll have to take off the sweater for patrol but I wanted to try and be in my best health for you.” He admitted. I couldn’t fight the smile back that was caused by his confession. I wasn’t sure what we were yet but I was certain of one thing. Kirishima… he likes me… and I like him.

“I- umm” I shook my head, unsure of how to respond, my body felt as if it were on fire, but it was a surprisingly comforting feeling. “Fatgum’s agency is on the complete opposite side of Mirko’s.” I stated, my eyes never leaving his. I noticed his smile drop a bit, and realized he must’ve thought I was rejecting him. “But… we should walk together as much as we can, and maybe once our patrols end we could… I don’t know text each other and meet up to walk back to the dorms… together?” My suggestion seemed to do the trick as his eyes went wide again as he nodded in agreement and interlocked our fingers. Once again my body was on fire, a feeling I was beginning to enjoy. It was warm, just like the moments we shared.

unbeknownst to me someone else had overheard our conversation and was left wondering how things could have shifted so much and when this development began. Sero had been convinced I held feelings for him so he couldn’t for the life of him understand why I now looked at Kirishima, not like he hung the stars but as if he were the center of the universe, my own personal sun. He felt betrayed by his jealousy, we were his friends so he should be happy for us right? and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened had he realized his feelings earlier. 

When Saturday finally rolled around the onyx-eyed boy watched in jealousy as Kirishima and I left for our date, he couldn’t help but grow even more spiteful as all our friends complimented us for finally getting together, he couldn’t help but wonder how different everything would be if that was him holding my hand instead of the redhead. Sero hated himself, for being a shitty friend, for being a shitty boyfriend, for being jealous instead of happy for us, and most of all for being too late in figuring out his feelings. He had concluded that the way I looked at him was just because he was my one of best friends not because I held any romantic feelings for him. He felt like an idiot for assuming I ever liked him, especially after seeing the way I looked at Kirishima, it truly did not compare to any of the ways I ever looked at him, that’s what finally made it click for him. He was filling his mind with nothing but fantasies.

“What the hell is your problem? You can’t at least act like you’re happy for our friends?” Jiro questioned the ravenette moments after Kirishima and I left and everyone else had dispersed. “Kirishima has been in love with her for so long, and she looks so happy. Sero you’re normally so cheery what’s going on?” Momo asked as she tried to diffuse the tension, it was obvious to her that Jiro was close to snapping. She and Momo had been the only two I made aware of my crush on Sero earlier that year, however, Kirishima and Bakugo had figured it out on their own as well at some point. Jiro had held a grudge towards Sero ever since he started dating Mina, she wanted to be happy for her friend but she saw that the boy’s feelings were purely superficial and that he was confusing a friendship connection with a romantic one. She also hated the way he had made me cry, even if he wasn’t aware that he had broken my heart. 

“You’ll hate me if I tell you.” was all the boy managed to say as he walked out the front door. Clearly, the answer wasn’t good enough for Jiro as she chased after him. “ I promise you nothing could make me hate you more than I do right now.” She said as she grabbed him by the shoulder, effectively stopping him from walking away. “I like her okay! I tried to fight it off. I did. But it’s impossible not to fall in love with (name)… she’s amazing.” he finally admitted. Jiro was well aware of his feelings as she had always been great at reading people, she just wanted to hear him finally admit it to himself out loud. “and what about Mina?” she questioned, still concerned for her other friend’s feelings. “I love her, she’s gorgeous and she makes me laugh and she makes me so happy. I just… I think I love her like a friend after all. There was always something that (name) possessed that lured me in but I ignored whatever it was because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and Mina she was just like me and insanely beautiful so I thought maybe I liked her and was just confused by (name) because I’d never been such good friends with a girl before her. Ever since Mina and I started dating I’ve realized it was the other way around. Now I’m more confused than when this whole thing started. I just… I don’t want to hurt either of them but I can’t help being selfish.” He finally admitted through teary eyes.

Jiro couldn’t help but sigh, she knew this was coming. “Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.  Mina and (name) are both too good for you, you’re an idiot for playing with their feelings like that. But you’re still my friend so I’ll give you some friendly advice. (name) used to like you, yet she still helped you with Mina because she valued your feelings and friendship above her own, she was never selfish with you so you need to be a good friend and be happy for her. She finally found someone who loves her for who she is, she deserves to have one of her best friends in the entire world be supportive, that’s you, idiot. Stop being selfish and tell Mina what you’re feeling too, maybe you can work on it as a couple or just break up and find people better suited for you two. Either way, stop treating other people’s feelings like toys.” Her revelation had caused Sero’s eyes to widen. He’d finally realized that all along what he wanted was within reach yet he pushed that possibility away all on his own. “I’ll be a good friend from now on.” Was all he said as his mind began to race about all the wasted possibilities of a future with me, a future where he could’ve been the one to go on dates with me, the one to hold my hand, and the one I looked at with absolute adoration. 

“I invited you out, I should’ve paid.” I argued as we walked back to the dorms. We had been out since noon and now it was nearing our curfew. Time seemed to fly by when I was with Kirishima, life felt lighter and brighter when I found myself in the company of the beaming boy. “nonsense, a lady should never pay on a date. My moms would kill me if I let you spend a single cent on me.” The boy answered with a chuckle. “Smart ladies.” I quipped back. “Yeah, they’re the best!” The smile never left his face, he truly was the sweetest boy ever. His thumb caressed my knuckles as we held hands once again. The sign of affection had quickly become something we did instinctually as if our bodies longed to be together. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” He wondered out loud. “mmm… I’m going shopping with the girls early in the morning but I should be back a little after two. Why?” I answered as I turned to face him. Even in the moonlight, he shines so brightly.  “I thought maybe we could take a walk by the zen gardens. The plum blossoms are in full bloom so I wanted to take some pictures of you with them. I know it sounds kinda cheesy bu-“ “It’s a date!” I eagerly interrupted him, just glad he wasn’t sick of me yet. He looked at me once more with ecstatic wide eyes and raised brows, the excitement evident on his face. There was a certain comfort and warmth in knowing someone you liked also liked you. 

As we entered campus my heart couldn’t help but ache at the thought of having to say goodnight, Kirishima’s presence was addicting, I wished to bask in it forever. “I don’t want today to end. It feels like a dream.” The boy suddenly said, almost as if he could read my mind. My (color) eyes once again found themselves meeting his ruby ones. The intensity caused me to take a deep breath, he was perfect. His shimmering gaze was suffocating in the best possible way. He was simply captivating. “Eijiro Kirishima. You’re the fantasy I dreamed of for so long. Be my boyfriend.” I absentmindedly let out. I think he also realized I didn’t mean to say that out loud due to the shock on my face when I realized what I had just asked and the way he had let go of my hand and stopped walking altogether.

“Of course. I’ve always been yours (name), you’ve been my starlight for so long. No one else even exists to me.” The sincerity behind his eyes couldn’t be feigned, the way his voice carried so much weight I knew there was no doubt in his mind that this is what he wanted, that I was what he wanted. “I’m sorry for asking you out I’m sure it wasn’t very manly to be asked out by a girl.” I couldn’t help but let my insecurities get in the way I handled the situation shine through, it was a flaw I was working on. However, Ejiro just shook his head. “Nah. What’s unmanly is waiting around and taking forever to ask you out simply because I was too nervous that you might say no. What you did was very manly. I’m happy, next time I’ll be the one to take action so that you won’t have to I promise!” The boy beamed once again before wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing my forehead. He had a way of making the smallest bits of affection feel as if they were part of a fairytale. 

As we made it back to the dorms we still couldn’t find ourselves parting so he decided to walk me to my room despite his being on a different floor. Neither of us wanted our time together to end. It was like in Cinderella as if once the clock struck midnight everything would disappear. I knew better though, and so did he but we’d been apart for so long that now that everything was out on the table we couldn’t help but want to be together as much as possible. However, we both powered through it and he walked me to my room and kissed my hand before hugging me goodnight. 

About half an hour had gone by when I heard a knock on my door. I figured it was one of the other girls needing to borrow a product they might’ve run out of, only to be met with none other than  Kirishima on the other side of the door. “Kiri? Did you forget something in my purse?” I asked the redhead as I looked back inside my dorm to see if I could spot the purse I had used earlier that day. “uh no I just…” He nervously started, his hand reaching for my face, caressing my cheek causing me to meet his ruby eyes once more. “I love you (name). I don’t think I could sleep well tonight if I didn’t tell you.” he explained. His confession had been sudden but still filled me with joy, love was a powerful word but I knew that he meant it and all the weight it held from the way he looked at me.

“Kirishima…” I started, only to be interrupted by him. “You don’t have to say it back. I know it’s soon so you might not still feel that way about me but I needed to tell you. I want to be honest with you about where I stand.” He explained, although I could tell he did want something. “I acknowledge your feelings. I’m not sure If I’m there just yet, but I think I could be in the future.” I thought perhaps my honesty would defeat him but instead, he flashed his bright smile my way. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait as long as it takes. No pressure really!” He explained once more. 

“Kiri, that’s not it right? What else is it you needed?” I wondered as I could sense something else was making him nervous. “You know me too well. I was wondering if maybe… May I kiss you?” pink began to dust his cheeks, as if he also wasn’t expecting to ask me such a daunting questing. However, I didn’t have to give it a second thought so I just nodded in consent. Almost instantly I felt the hand that had been caressing my cheek travel towards my hair and his free hand pull me by the waist as his lips crashed against mine. Strangely enough, the kiss made me feel protected as if nothing could ever hurt me. His lips were surprisingly soft and the kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the taste of vanilla. Time seemed to freeze. Yet I knew if our kiss went on any longer it would border on a make-out session. Although his intensity had me tempted. “Goodnight starlight.” He whispered as soon as he pulled away, giving me a final kiss on the forehead before walking away. My heart was beating out of my chest knowing no one would ever compare to Eijiro Kirishima, not a single fairytale could have prepared me for him.

☆ Master List

☆ Oneshots

#kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #red riot x reader #red riot x y/n #red riot x you #eijiro kirishima imagines #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima fluff #bnha #bnha manga #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #class 1a boys #hanta sero x reader #kyoka jiro #katsuki bakugo #momo yaoyorozu #hanta sero #mina ashido #red riot x self insert #bnha x self insert #mha x self insert #hero x reader #friends to lovers

[arc-el-ion]

sup, today I present to you all another request : ryuji and makeup! The idea is that since outside of the track team, all of ryuji’s positive influences have been female, he loves makeup. Aaaaand is therefore awesome at it.

extra pic at the bottom bcs i thought it looked cool

#ryuji sakamoto #persona 5 #persona 5 fanart #pegoryu #this was so much fun to make #yesterday marks the first day in a WHILE that I didn't post but y'know what I think this makes up for it #i dont even wear makeup but i do think its pretty and i hope i got it down right #oh and i love nail polish so much so it evens out i think #ryuji at the bottom casually explaining how his mom let him play with her makeup when he was young #bet his dad would hate it and bet ryuji loves it even more bcs of that #fuck you ryuji's dad no one likes you booooo get off the stage #on the other hand ryuji's mom is very valid round of applause everyone #everyone who has read all of these gets a metaphorical kiss on the forehead today. love you <3

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 3: Roses Are Falling

Read on Ao3

-

Steve’s hand was sweaty in Billy’s as he pulled him through the crowds in the fairground, ducking and weaving between the people milling about. 

Billy let himself be dragged, staring at Steve’s ass in his little denim shorts. 

It had been one week since their date at the diner. 

A week of Billy showing up to the rodeo, watching Steve compete in his event, and making out with him behind the arena. 

It was fun, sneaking around together in the blazing summer heat. 

He had even brought Max a few times, letting her wander around with some chick her own age she met. Apparently, her dad works at the rodeo or someshit. Billy wasn’t listening when she explained. Steve had been across the arena, taking off his flannel shirt and trading it for another one of his slutty little crop tops. 

It was a gorgeous show. 

But Max was somewhere eating her body weight in funnel cake while Steve took him into a tent labeled Employees Only. 

There was an eclectic group of people sitting at the long tables in the tent, all greeting Steve as he pulled Billy through to a group of younger people sitting together at the end of one of the tables. 

Steve pushed Billy onto one of the benches, perching right on his lap like that was totally fine. Like it was easy for Billy to just. Keep his dick in check. 

The girl sitting across from them sighed heavily, raising one eyebrow at Steve. 

“Shut up, Robin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she was still giving Steve a very pointed look. 

“You don’t have to.” Steve slumped back against Billy’s chest, no doubt petulant. 

She shook her head, finally addressing Billy. 

“I’m Robin.”

“She does barrel racing,” Steve leaned back, muttering the information into Billy’s ear. His breath was hot against Billy’s skin, and Billy had to fight down a shiver that crept up his spine despite the blazing heat.

Another girl was sitting next to Robin, a pretty brunette with doe eyes to rival Steve’s. She seemed vaguely familiar. 

And then it clicked. 

“Aren’t you in the pageants?”

She laughed softly.

“My name’s Heather. And yes, I’m reigning Miss Rodeo USA, so I’ve been with these guys and will be until the next girl is crowned. It’s been a good time.” She glanced over at Robin, bumping their shoulders together. Billy raised one eyebrow at Robin, catching her eye and making her flush slightly. He shot her a quick wink. 

Steve shifted in his lap, putting one arm over Billy’s shoulders, winding his fingers through his little ponytail. 

“So, Billy,” Robin tried to move the conversation along, rolling her shoulders back. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All bad, I hope.” 

“Nah, just, I feel like I know you quite well know. Like, really well. Like better than I ever wanted to know a guy-”

“Okay, yeah, Robin. We get it. Thanks.” Steve squirmed slightly in Billy’s lap, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears a bright red color. It was cute. Billy didn’t realize when Steve’s cheeks went all pink, that, other, places of him flushed too. He wondered how far down that rosy tint on Steve’s cheeks went. If it was all over his chest, if it leads down to his-

Nope. Not going there right now. Not when Steve is sitting on Billy’s lap, and they’re in fucking public. Absolutely not. No thanks. Billy’s fine. 

Robin squinted at him, and he tried to keep his face as blank as possible. 

Steve sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his head. 

“I’m getting a pop. Anyone else?”

Robin waved him off, and he was gone with a roll of his eyes. 

“So, you’re the poor San Diego bastard. My condolences.”

Billy squinted at her. 

“Not sure what you mean.” 

She took a deep breath, looking at Heather briefly. 

“Look. You know this little fling is just that. A little fling. Steve, he kinda, does this. Finds someone in every place we’re stationed, and has a month-long something with them. He loves attention but he’s too scared of commitment to do anything else. And honestly, I’m saying this all for your sake, because I’ve seen people get attached. He’s gonna eat you alive, and then he’s gonna leave, and it’s easier for you if you know that going in.”

Robin’s words settled like a fucking pit in Billy’s stomach. 

Because, yeah. He, like, kinda figured that. He knew their time was limited. Knew that Steve would slip through his fingers. And really, that was fine. Billy thinks he’d be the exact same way if the roles were reversed, that he would be constantly moving from one person to the next, never getting lonely, but never getting deep, either. 

He understands the whole commitment-phobe thing. Kinda takes one to know one. 

So he gets it. 

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like shit to have it put. So plainly.

“I’m sorry. That was probably too harsh but, you seem like a nice guy, and Steve doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not trying to hurt people, he just, definitely uses the whole traveling rodeo thing to his advantage.”

“Nah, I get it. Really, I kinda figured it out. He said he likes to make friends wherever they are. So, it’s fine. And I think sometimes harsh can be alright.” He doesn’t wanna make Steve’s friend feel bad. 

And really, he did know what they were doing and what this was about. It just sucks having it confirmed by someone else. And put. So plainly. 

“I’m really not trying to be mean. I just kinda wanted to prepare you. If this is gonna be something that hurts, maybe it’s best to get out now.” Robin had very pretty blue eyes and freckles all over her face. She seemed warm, and the way she was staring at him was with so much concern. 

“Thank you. I get it, honest. I’d probably act just the same if I were him.”

“If you were who?” Steve had returned, slapping a can of root beer on the table in front of them, taking a seat pressed as close as possible to Billy, lifting up his arm to slide underneath it. 

“Quit being nosy.” Robin reached out to muss up Steve’s hair, poking him in the forehead. “What are you two doing today?”

Steve shrugged, taking the bait and moving on. 

“Wander the grounds. Maybe hang out at my place.” Billy’s interest piqued. He had no idea Steve had a place. “Might sneak out and go for a drive or something. You got any preference?” Steve leaned over the table, resting his elbows on top, placing his face in his hands, turning to look at Billy. 

“We could kick around here. I gotta drive Max home later so we should probably stick around.” Steve grinned at him. 

“Well, c’mon then. You’ve got plenty to see around here.”

Billy felt like Steve has already dragged through the entire grounds, he doesn’t know how there’s more to see. 

But it turned out there’s a lot more. Because Steve’s place, as it turns out, is one in a huge crowd of trailers. 

It was kinda out of Billy’s wildest imagination. Like what he’d picture an old-school traveling circus to be like. 

People were milling around everywhere, Steve saying hi to almost everyone they passed. Animals were being led to and from the large arena and the makeshift paddocks that were set up in the open grass. 

It was like nowhere Billy’s ever been before. 

Steve led him through the maze of trailers to a smaller version of an old school Airstream near the back of the lot, still hitched up to the back of a much larger, and very nice-looking, RV. 

Stevie Harrington was painted in curling dark green letters on the rounded metal door, a little cow munching on some grass painted below it.

“That your art?”

Steve snorted.

“ God, no. Robin did it for me a few years ago. That’s why it looks good.”

The hinges on the door squealed when he pulled it open and led Billy inside. 

It was hot in the airstream, and Steve turned on the solar power to get a small fan moving air through the place, propping open the door and the tiny window above the table.

“Home sweet traveling home.”

“Damn. This ain’t too bad of a setup.”

It really wasn’t. Sure, it was small, but it was perfect for one person. A tiny kitchenette faced the minuscule bathroom. The far sides of the trailer were taken up by a dining area, a table with booth-like seating, and a queen-sized bed taking up the opposite side, a small closet smushed between the bed and the kitchen.  

It was immaculately clean, not totally what Billy had expected from Steve. The bed was made, an old-looking, worn-out stuffed horse placed neatly in front of the pillows. 

There were pictures pinned up on little string light clothespins on the wall the bed was shoved against, and Steve even had a few posters over the booth seats. 

“It’s kinda nice. I saved up for a while to buy it. It’s kind of a lot being trapped in an RV with your parents, let me tell you. I’m still hooked up to theirs, and when we move I ride with them, usually, but at least I’ve got some space to myself.” Steve looked down at his feet. “Plus, I kinda figured, this is about as close as I’ll ever come to living on my own.”

“I really do like it. You’ve made it real nice in here.”

Steve looked back up to him, smiling proudly. 

“We don’t have to like, hang out in here. I just thought I’d welcome you in. To like, say, you know, if you’re ever around but don’t wanna hang out doing the same rodeo shit all the time, we could, like, spend some time in here.” Steve’s cheeks were going red. 

And Billy was fairly certain he knew where this was going. 

So he took the metaphorical bull by the horns, and wrapped his fingers in Steve’s literal belt loops, and pulled him close enough that their lips could touch. 

And apparently, Billy was right. Because Steve kissed him back immediately, and fervently, sliding his arms over Billy’s shoulders and pressing into him enough to move Billy back a few steps until his knees hit the bed, and he fell to sit on it. 

Steve wasted no time climbing on his lap, kneeling straddling Billy, pressed together as close as possible. 

Steve broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily and Billy attached himself to Steve’s neck, leaving wet kisses in his path down the long column of his throat. 

“God, fuck. Can we-”

“ Yeah. Yeah, Baby,” Billy was breathless as he replied, getting both hands under Steve’s ass and flipping their position in one fluid motion, getting Steve on his back, his legs wrapped around Billy’s waist. 

“Get the door.”

Billy pressed a long sucking kiss to Steve’s neck before pulling away, slamming the door closed as Steve drew the blinds on the window above the bed and turned on the air conditioning unit in the ceiling.

“It’s gonna get super fucking hot in here if we fuck.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Steve laughed at Billy, rolling back to lay properly on the bed, taking his stuffed horse and tossing it on the table behind Billy. 

“I don’t want her to have to see this.”

“Fine by me.” Billy was back on him in a second, pushing his hands up Steve’s shirt, yanking it off him as fast as possible. 

Steve was so fucking gorgeous. 

He had a light tan all over his body, with definite paler parts where his shirts usually sit. 

And he was fit. His muscles weren’t as bulky as Billy’s, but he was obviously strong. 

Billy leaned over him, tasting the salt on his skin as Steve began fumbling with the buttons of Billy’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders so roughly one of the shoulder seams groaned, threatening to rip. 

Billy took that as his cue to pull away from Steve again, shedding his shirt and kicking off his shoes, helping Steve out of his little short shorts. 

He was wearing this excellent pair of boots, deep red with white embroidered stitching covering the boot. 

Steve leaned forward, moving to pull off the boots.

“Wait, no. Leave ‘em on.”

Steve looked at him.

“You call me a hick all the fuckin’ time, and now you’re here saying you wanna fuck me in my boots.”

“It’s hot. You’re like the chick from Footloose .”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Hot is hot, Steve.” 

Steve huffed a laugh, putting his leg back down, letting Billy settle between both of them. 

“So, are we gonna talk about the girl in an eighties movie, or are you going to fuck me through this mattress?”

“Alright, bossy. You got lube?”

Steve huffed, poking Billy’s chest until he moved off him. 

Steve sat up, crawling to the end of the bed, digging through the laundry in the hamper for the bottle of lube. 

Billy stared at him. 

Mostly, he was just staring at his asshole. It was so perfect and pink, and looked buttery and soft. 

And Jesus, he really just wanted to lick it, to get his face buried between Steve’s cheeks and go to town on the pretty pink furl of muscle. 

And, well, what’s stopping him? 

Absolutely nothing.

He got up, following Steve’s path until he was behind him, taking each cheek in one hand. 

Steve froze where he was digging through the laundry, Billy’s breath puffing between his cheeks. 

“What are you-” 

And then Billy licked up his crack, his tongue dragging all the way up from his balls, flicking once against his hole. 

“ Billy .” Steve spread his legs, pushing his hips back into Billy’s face, wordlessly asking for more. 

So Billy gave it to him. 

He opened his mouth, licking all around his rim, pressing his tongue just slightly inside, sucking on the soft pink flesh, making Steve’s breath hitch and whines pour out of his mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Billy responded by pulling back, and spitting on Steve’s hole. 

Steve was taken by surprise, if his soft gasp was anything to go by. He dropped his head against the bed, biting onto the blanket. 

Billy just kept going, using his lips and tongue and teeth, opening him up and getting him wet. 

“Fuck, Billy, please just fuck me. I want you so bad .” Steve’s voice was pitchy and breathy, muffled in the blanket. 

He was grinding his hips forward and back, pressing himself against Billy’s tongue. 

Like he wanted nothing more than he wanted Billy’s tongue in his ass right then. 

And Billy certainly wasn’t complaining, not at how fucking nice and soft his asshole was against his tongue, how he tasted kinda clean and kinda musky at the same time. It was heady and Billy would happily spend the rest of his stupid life with his face buried between Steve’s cheeks. 

Something smacked against the top of Billy’s head, and he pulled away briefly to find a bottle of lube on the bed, the one that Steve had no doubt tossed over his shoulder and accidentally accosted Billy with. 

“That fuckin’ hit me in the head, you piece a’ shit.”

“I don’t care,” Steve whined, pushing his hips back even further, spreading himself out more and more for Billy to hungrily take in. “Just finger me and fuck me !”

“Bossy.”

Steve huffed, shifting his head around until he could look back at Billy, his brows pinched in a little scowl, giving Billy a dirty look that was equal parts adorable pout and sexy scowl. He looked like the grumpiest little slut. 

And Billy indulged him, squeezing out a big glob of lube, meticulously coating his first two fingers with it. 

“I know what I like, and I get what I like.”

“Jesus, I thought all them girls were the rodeo queens. Not you .”

“I’m the queen of getting my fucking way. Now for the love of God, put your fingers in me.”

And Billy couldn’t do anything but indulge him. 

He began with just one finger, sliding it slowly and deliberately down to the last knuckle. 

Steve sighed as Billy’s finger entered him, relaxing his upper body into the bed, somehow canting his hips up even more, his back arched as much as Billy’s ever fuckin’ seen. 

So Billy took a chance, pumping his finger in and out a few times, pulling it nearly all the way out, only to replace it with both fingers. He moved slowly, simply fucking Steve with his fingers for a moment, watching Steve as he crooked his fingers downward. 

And Steve moaned, and it was like he became a puddle. All his muscles relaxing and unwinding as Billy curled his fingers, pressing deeply against his prostate, rubbing tiny circles into the small bundle of nerves. 

“God, Bill. That feels so fucking good,” Steve said through a throaty moan. Billy was slowly moving his fingers in and out of Steve, pressing down into that wonderful spot each time he was buried all the way to the knuckle. “Add another. Please, I want you in me.”

Billy had to palm himself to relieve some of the pressure of his own dick, flushed red and oh so painful where it was hard against his stomach. 

But he did as Steve told him to do, drawing out his two fingers to press in a third. 

There was something of a shift in the sticky airstream. As those three thick fingers sank into Steve, it was as though both boys agreed to move faster. Steve began pushing his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers, matching the steady pace Billy had set with his hand. 

Billy was tugging his fingers in and out, pushing into Steve’s prostate with each movement, the lube creating a squelching noise as they picked up the pace. 

And finally, Steve had enough. 

He moved his hips forward, sitting back on his heels to look at Billy over his shoulder. 

His face was flushed, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, his pupils blown wide, making his already dark eyes seem nearly black. He tossed Billy a condom, and Billy caught it against his heaving chest. 

Steve’s breath caught as Billy ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, looking like some kinda fuckin’ animal, rolling it onto himself with a practiced hand.

“Billy, I fucking want you-”

Billy cut him off by pressing himself against Steve’s back, kissing him harshly as he felt him up, his hands roving, touching every bit of Steve he could possibly manage. 

Steve had his own mission, reaching awkwardly behind him to take Billy’s stiff cock in hand, fumbling slightly as he lined up the flushed head of his dick with his slicked-up hole, teasing himself before urging Billy to push on in. 

Their lips lost touch from one another the second Billy began moving his hips forward, their moans mingling in the space between them. 

“God, fuck, Stevie.” Billy could hardly control himself. He so wanted to let loose, start fucking wildly into the tight heat of Steve’s body, take him as hard and fast as possible. 

He let his hands drop down and settle on Steve’s hips. He could feel the firm muscles tensing under his hands, like Steve was barely keeping himself from rocking back to fuck himself harder and faster on Billy’s cock. 

And that’s what pushed Billy over the edge. 

He pushed Steve forward until he was back in position, face down, ass up. His hands gripped Steve’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and Jesus, Billy hoped to fucking God Steve had dark marks in the shape of Billy’s fingers for days and days. And he let himself go for it. 

Steve was making these breathy, punched-out noises, like with every harsh thrust of Billy’s hips, all the air in his lungs was being forced right out of him. 

Billy was slamming them together, pulling Steve’s hips back as he surged his own forward, pulling out almost entirely each time. He was relentless, taking Steve like a goddamn animal right there on the once neat bed. 

Neither of them was going to last long, they both knew it. 

Billy had taken so much time opening Steve up with his lips and tongue and fingers, Steve wouldn’t even be shocked if he came completely untouched, falling apart with only the attentions Billy has granted to his hole. 

Until Billy reached around him with his left hand, still gripping Steve’s body with his right. 

He took hold of Steve’s leaking cock, brushing his thumb over the slit to collect some of the glistening precum, drawing his hand tightly down the shaft, moving at an agonizingly slow pace compared to the buck of his hips, keeping Steve on the edge of something, making everything way too much and definitely not enough. 

And there was nothing Steve could do. 

He felt fucking helpless as Billy pounded him. It was taking all his energy not to just melt into the mattress at this point and let Billy have his way with him. 

But Billy was getting close, too close to keep this game up for much longer. 

He sped up the movement of his hand, his fist beginning to pump faster and faster over Steve’s aching cock. He wanted him to finish first, wanted to watch as Steve writhed and moaned about. 

It didn’t take long. Less than a minute of Billy jerking Steve as quick and rough as he was fucking him, and Steve was spilling out onto the blanket below him, nearly yelling out while his hips convulsed and his fingers twisted until he had a white knuckle grip on the blanket. 

Billy could only just hang on, fuck and jerk Steve through it, only letting his grip on his cock go a little slack when Steve finally relaxed a bit below him. 

Billy pulled out, snapping off the condom and taking his dick in hand, finishing himself off all over Steve’s lower back, watching his thick cum drip down the slope of his ass. 

“ Fuck. You’re so hot,” Billy said, totally in awe. Steve was even hotter than normal wearing nothing but his bright red boots and Billy’s spunk. 

Billy took a cloth from the tiny bathroom, getting it a little wet to wipe the cum off of Steve as he lay stretched like a cat on the small bed. 

“Thank God I don’t have to ride tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit, let alone get in a saddle.” He threw a wink over his shoulder at Billy, bending his knees to let his feet kick up behind him, crossing his ankles in the red boots. 

“We should make the best of our good fortune, then. I’ve got a few more rounds in me.”

“Billy Hargrove, you fuckin’ devil .”

#yikes writes #show pony #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #rodeo au

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

I like your writing so much !!

Can you please write something where Harry is sick and Draco takes care of him?

45. There's no me without you

Prompt- feeling their temperature | Thank you so much for requesting this, I tried to give my very best, however I'm pretty sure the ending didn't turn up that great.

| Harry is diagnosed with a terminal disease | ANGST | HURT COMFORT |

" you called for us ?" Draco asked as he sat down with harry in the chairs in front of the desk.

" how is my favourite couple doing ?" The healer asked with a gracious smile

" mind me, but it's sound's a bit- well- like there's some bad news " harry pointedly almost slightly worried.

The healer's head bowed, in disgrace of not being able to conceal " before I tell you this, please don't be mad. You know I'd do anything to help you as much as I can "

" you're scaring us Ms. Carnballer " draco's fingers automatically held Harry's hand in a tight grip unknowingly

She sighed, pushing the files towards the couple " after the accident of last week, you had required a full body scan and the results came in today "

" wh- what's does it say then ?" Draco's voice quivered, not even being able to read the words on the parchment

" it's my regret to inform you, harry suffers from a terminal disease, plaganeisis. It's somewhat very familiar to muggle..."

But harry was already falling. All the voices were fading and all his vision fading. He knew something was ought to go wrong sometime, but this soon, he didn't expect. His mind rapidly rushed to all the promises he would break, all the promises of spending his forever with draco, only his forever was now limited.

" Mr. Potter, are you listening ?"

" harry, honey " draco violently shook Harry's body on the chair which has gone into unconscious paralysis.

"huh?" Harry voiced

" I said, you're not so severe. But the disease is ought to spread. I- maybe you should take some time and relax yourself. Why don't I just talk to Mr. Malfoy right now ?" She asked sympathetically. Normally harry would've denied and requested to stay but his mind was spiralling into fading into consciousness to unconsciousness, so harry nodded and slowly left the room and waited outside with his thoughts.

Harry didn't talk to anyone properly for an entire week after that, even to his friends who stopped by his place to console him. It was as if the death seemed nearer than it already was. All he thought for days was about his numbered days and leaving draco so broken beyond his comprehension. If harry cared only Little about himself, he would sneak a peek at draco and stare at him looking out of the window, sadly until he'd turn to harry with a smile. It broke his heart to even think about draco after him. They'd only been together for 3 years, in which they had hurriedly married last year, but they had never regretted that decision until very this moment, harry wondered how would it be to let him go.

" I think you should break up with me and find yourself Someone who isn't dying " harry had said one day on the dinner table

Draco only looked at harry strangely, not responding or eating. Harry only remembered hearing draco's cries late in the night when he assumed harry was asleep. He wanted to make his pain stop, but how could he.

This was until harry met with the healer once again.

" harry, I need you to understand that your death would only be nearer if you're thinking it's near. Keeping yourself motivated right now would seem very hard right now but you have to understand that you're hurting other people around you with forcing them to leave you because you think it'd hurt less. I've told you this before and I'll tell you this again, you can prolong your life for as long as your body wants. If you're forcing yourself to surrender yourself to death, you'd be dead very soon but if you don't, you'd Maybe live another 10 years "

" it will hurt, I know. Leaving everything broken. But make the most of it right now,as much as you can. Draco needs you right now and so do you and you have to remember that " Ms. Carnballer softly smiled at harry from the opposite side. It was then when harry realised, he's not dead, not yet. He's still alive. He still is.

And that very night, harry entered the house with a cake, called over his close friends and spent his time, relished it, till he could. It was an improvement and his friends were very happy to see that but that didn't stop them from giving him a sympathies, pity hugs, hugs for longer than usual. For once harry didn't mind, even if it was somewhere Breaking him inside.

" what was all this ?" Draco furiously asked after everyone had left

" what ?"harry asked confused.

" what was the point of all this ? A reminder that you're dying soon ? " Draco's eyes glimmered with sad tears or anger, that was yet to be figured.

" draco-"

" no- you can't Just barge into the house with a damn cake and call over your friends and spend the night as if nothing has happened. Or tell me I should find someone new. do you even realise how horrid I felt when you told me to leave you and find someone who would never be anywhere equal to you and-" but then he broke down onto the chair behind him, heaving violently as he covered his mouth to not release the screams, the sound of pain.

Harry's heart broke to see Draco like that. In the process of turning on the switch, he forgot that if there was anyone in the world who would be most effected by Harry's death, it would be him. And harry had never understand, nor probably will understand how draco must be feeling.

Harry kneeled down in front of draco, his eyes swimming with tears leaking with water to pour. He took the hand that covered draco's lips and kissed them softly, leaving a droplet of tear over his fist.

" everything is not fine draco, it would probably not even be and we can't change that but now more than ever I need you and you need me. You more than me, this will probably be the last moments I spend with you and I don't want to spend that time fighting with you. I want us to fight together. You're right, I didn't realise how I was imposing on you to find Someone new without even thinking because I assumed it would be easier for both of us and now I clearly know it's not. I can't change what's about to happen love, but we can spend each and every moment making memories that will never leave you. I don't want to see you in pain, ever.. I love today and I will love you tomorrow and I will love you from my grave but we both need to understand that. Will you spend my numbered days with me ?" Harry's voice was soft as honey,as if he wanted to conceal both of them from the already bitterness of the situation but again that Infact what they should be doing.

Draco nodded sobbing, kissing harry for the first time in a while because harry allowed to.

" let's make it count, yeah ?" Draco sighed, theirs forehead against another

" yes " harry replied with closed eyes. Maybe it made it all better.

The next few months, harry's condition only became worse. He started losing weight like heavy bricks, his face sucking in, his fingers shaking even to pick up a cup, his eyes becoming home to sunken eyes with dark circles. Harry had lost that innocence on his face and metaphorically his eyes were losing their lively look and if even so they pretended everything was fine, they both sobbed when the other one wasn't around, draco crying more mostly because he felt helpless.

" you have to help me Ms. Carnballer, I can't- I don't want to lose him. I'd much rather die than lose harry. He's the only thing in my life that makes sense. Please- please I beg you " draco sobbed harshly, pleading, begging.

" it's my immense regret-"

" I don't need sympathies. I need to help harry. I don't want him to die. There must be something, anything we can do to save him. please, I'm literally begging " draco cried.

Ms. Carnballer leaned into her chair, sighing. It was painful to see draco like this, even for her even though she saw people like that everyday but none so desperate like him. Draco looked like he hadn't slept for days, he hadn't, he hadn't eaten properly. In taking care of harry, he had forgotten to take care of his own self. That wasn't his priority.

" I will tell you truth draco, the researches are in progress. There's no cure as for now but if I must say, there must be cure. Nature would never create that It can't find a cure to. I can't promise how Long it will take to find a cure, I hope soon but all I can give you right now is hope. I can prescribe stronger medicines but that's the most I can help "

And with that Draco's helplessly and angrily went home, finding harry out of the bed.

" harry, you're not supposed to get up" draco signed as he put his bags on table, roaming around to find harry. And he did find harry sitting by the window.

" how are you feeling ?" Draco asked as he went closer to harry

" do you want me to tell you the truth or the same lie I tell you each day " harry had been crying and draco knew this by his rough voice.

Draco sighed " let's get you back into the bed. I'll make the dinner-"

" no. Draco. I'm tired. I'm tired of seeing you tiredly coming home each day, making dinner for me, telling me everything will be fine one day when you and I both know it won't be. Stop wasting your time on me. I'm meant to die and I will die " harry told Draco nonchalantly

" wh- I thought we had this conversation and we were done with this Absurdity " draco furiously threw his hands in the air.

Harry turned to Draco, stepping down from the window, standing still.

" you are wasting your life draco. I can't see that. In taking care of me look what have you done to your own self. When was even the last time you shaved or ate a proper dinner or went out with friends or just watched a movie and fell asleep on the couch without a care in the world. You think I don't watch you. I watch you like a hawk draco and I can't let you do this to yourself. This is brutal, harsh, painful to even watch " harry threw

" painful?" Draco scoffed " what do you know about pain harry. You tell me you don't want to hurt me, that you can't see me in pain but everyday you reach new heights of hurting me. It's hurts me everyday to watch you lose yourself little by little. It's brutal and harsh that after everything you will leave me alone to spend the rest of my life alone. I miss being myself but now all I think of is how can i take your pain away. It physically hurts me that I can't do anything to save you. It's cruel and brutal of the world to take you away from me when you're the Only thing that makes me want to live another day and when you're gone, how would I even possibly survive. I cry nights away because I can't stop your pain. After everything you've been through in your life, this isn't what you deserve and it's hurts me to every single core of my soul, my body and my heart. I'd much rather prefer death right now " draco yelled crying.

" If I am such a burden draco, please for the love of Merlin leav-" but harry had started coughing harshly. His body doubled over and in instincts, draco helped him to the couch and fetched water, calming his throat immediately.

Draco started crying rapidly, it was as if large crystal balls were dripping down his eyes and they didn't cease at all " I don't want to fight you. I don't- but I'm so hurt. I'm in pian harry, Maybe less than you but it's just- I can't lose you" draco took Harry's hands in how own, drawing circles over his hand.

" I know draco, I know. I wanted to-"

" no harry. It should be me consoling you yet everytime its you consoling me. There is so much wrong with this, but I don't want to console you because I can't stand losing you. I won't survive a day without you harry. I can't. I don't want to " draco sobbed. Harry gave Draco a sad smile, engulfing draco into a hug and kissing the top of his head.

" well I am Always the better one so " and draco finally chuckled, for the first time in months.

It occurred him that night when harry had fallen asleep, after checking his temperature for any signs that if nobody is going to help save harry, draco will do it himself.

And that very night he apparated to Hermione's place.

" I need help "

" about time " Hermione smirked as she led him into her study and they discussed all night about Harry's condition, anatomically the part of his body affected the worst and how can the spread possibly be stopped. Until Draco disapparated for the first time relieved before harry woke up.

It was another 1 month of brainstorming when one night, Hermione found it.

" it's the bone marrow "

" what ?" Draco confusedly asked

" the spread is only through his blood, right ? And bone marrow is the major manufacturer of helper stem cells in the body that would bring up his immunity. It's not the problem with the cells draco, its the bone marrow. Because harry is sickening, the strength of the production of-"

" the helper cells is reducing and if we just know how to fix that then the leukocytes and his platelets count would increase, thereby his body can fight itself "

" yes "

They both remained silent for a long time, until Hermione finally called Madame pomfrey from ages ago knowing she was the Only one who still performed old school magic for treatment of some very vital disease.

" Hermione, remember in second year when harry broke his arm ?" Draco asked suddenly

" what ? Of course "

" remember gilderoy instead of fixing Harry's arm, basically vanished his bone ?"

" of course. If we could reintroduce finer bone marrow-"

" without the aftermath of graft, harry would become healthy because his body will not reject it "

" call ms. Carnballer immediately "

And Ms. Carnballer agreed .

" of course, it was the muggle theory we failed to apply " ms. Carnballer said In a bit suspicious voice

" but ?" Both of them asked

" it seems too easy. I mean no wonder it might be the solution to it but if just seems so simple. If it were that simple, why couldn't wizards had thought of it before? It just seems as if this will have some drawback "

And then it hit them, it was a little too easy. After discussing, draco headed home with Ms. Carnballer telling him to wait for until she was sure of it.

Only time ran out. Draco was half an hour late than usual today and harry hadn't even woken up, even though he would've normally woken up..

Draco kneeled down next to harry, trying to wake him but harry gave no response. He was still breathing but his heartbeat was falling down little by little. In between panic attack, draco immediately dialled up Ron and Hermione.

" we need to immediately go to st. Mungo's"

And they didn't need more notice. They immediate disapparated to their place with Ron warming up the car and Hermione helping carry harry to the car.

" it will be fine. Everything will be fine " Hermione reassured him but draco had lost every shred of his sanity and was dripping all wet with tears.

" I can't lose him Hermione " draco cried as he held harry closely to himself with Ron almost flying the car

" you won't draco. He's a fighter " Ron assured.

Nodding, draco held harry more firmly to himself, whispering " I love you " and " please don't leave me " In Harry's ear. Ron and Hermione only shared looks.

______________________________

" would you at least try ? " Draco begged Ms. Carnballer

" I-"

" please. It have. 88% chances of Saving harry. Please Ms. Carnballer " Hermione countered.

Ms. Carnballer sighed " the hospital won't be responsible for anything that could go wrong, you must know that "

Draco froze. Anything that could go wrong. Those word's screamed in his head but then there was the faint memory running alongside in his head " it's us against the world. We will try till the end "

" do it " draco confirmed. Hermione looked at him for any hesitation. Met with none, she agreed.

He will not lose harry. He will not.. he can't ?

2 hours in the ward, Ms.carnballer finally came out..

" so ?" Draco asked worried out of his mind

" I- regret- harry is suffering from amnesia as of now " she told sighing heavily

" what do you mean amnesia ? It can't be possible" draco wanted to pound on her but ron held him back.

" it's anterograde. He knows everyone, mostly , but some memories might be lost " she weakly replied

Draco almost fell into Ron's grasp, his tears forming instantly

" can I meet him?"

" you can but don't try to pressurise him or anything. I request you "

Draco heavily nodded, biting off his lip in order to release the horrendous scream boiling inside him.

They all followed into the ward was in. Harry was staring out of the window when Draco approached him a little closer.

" harry ?" Draco asked softly, controlling his tears.

" malfoy ?" Harry turned his head with a frown to draco. It was all it took for draco to understand, he didn't remember them..but he wanted to try.

" you don't remember us?" He asked

" what do you mean ?" Harry asked.

Draco immediately turned around to ron and Hermione, who consoled him.

" he doesn't remember us" draco weeped.

" oh goodness I didn't expect you'd cry like a baby " harry chuckled

Frowning In tears draco turned around " what ?" He sniffed

" I could forget you, like you'd let me " harry raises an eyebrow at Draco comically

" what do you mean? She just told me you got amnesia- I don't believe you "

" alright. I got married to you last year on 31st October, at Malfoy manor. Ring a bell " harry quipped

" but she just- you told her to lie? Didn't you ?" Draco narrowed his eyes at harry

" of course. It was fun " harry laughed softly

" you fucking arsehole. You almost gave me heart attack " draco sneered

" but it didn't happen, so we're all good " harry shrugged

" tell me I can break his face " draco looked at Ron

" I'd agree with you unless he looked like this and unless I knew about this " Ron shrugged

" Ron!!! I wanted to say that " Hermione hit him on the shoulder

" you were in on this ?" Draco looked back and forth between both.

" you'd think otherwise. Of course we were in on it. Harry I'd give you a 2.5 for acting. That was shit " Ron raised an eyebrow at harry

" you tell me that when your wife cries like a damn baby " harry rolled his eyes

" I don't understand?" Draco's face filled with confusion after confusion.

Ron and Hermione shared a look before Hermione spoke up " let harry explain, we'll wait outside until your little war would be over "

And they walked out.

" come and sit " harry patted next to him, making some space for him.

In all anger draco narrowed his eyes at harry but at the same time he couldn't be more glad to be with this harry again "you better have a nice explanation " and sat down next to harry on the bed.

" so this happened last week. I woke up in the middle of night and I wanted to look for you but I couldn't find you, I assumed you must've gotten busy with something but when the next night same thing happened, I talked with Ron and Hermione about that. I was really worried for you and I just wanted to know if you were okay. I initially went to them to talk to them about taking care of you, looking after you mostly when I'm gone and told them the whole disappearance thing. It was then Hermione told me that you were trying to look for a cure. I can't tell you how proud I was and am of you. I really am. But you were doing it secretly and I wanted to maintain that until last night, Hermione, rang me and told me that you've got it. And you fell asleep outside for a while, great thing to do while you're husband is in a ward fighting death. They came in and asked for my approval on whatever it was that you guys came up with, of course it would have some drawbacks as Ms. Carnballer said but I wanted to go through with it just as much as you-"

" you did ?"

Harry frowned, taking draco's hands in his own " draco, it's not my choice to die. But if i were given one, I'd never want to die and leave you. There no you without me, nor me without you. Of course the amnesia idea was Mine to scare you. Hermione called it dumb "

" it was dumb " Draco chuckled softly

" look at me draco " and he did

" I've never regretted anything in my life than these last few months because of the pain you've suffered because of me. Even if I were to die Draco, I- I don't know what Would've happened. I'm really sorry for everything-"

" hey, you don't have to apologise. Remember I promised to take you in sicknesses and in health. It doesn't matter harry whatever happens, I'd always take care of you. I just can't lose you. These last few months had been terrible and I never want to go through something like that ever again " draco smiled shyly as he kissed Harry's hands in his own.

" and he won't" a voice interjected behind them..

" ms. Carnballer ?" Draco turned slightly to get a good look of her

" you've fought valiantly harry. The cure that your husband and miss Granger came up with had Little to no side effects, which probably won't show up until very late in life "

" what sort of side effects ?" Draco asked

" you don't have to worry about the disease falling back in again. Side effects however may include slight pain for over a couple of months in the bones and probably anemia, tiredness. You'll have a bit of fitness problem at some point in your life harry. You will have to look out for any illness for the next two years very carefully though. And that's about it "

Harry and Draco looked at each other in relief..

" we did it then ?" Draco smiled

" you did it " harry diligently said

" you've officially fought death, hm, let me see my record, 6 times. That should go in the Guinness world book record " Ron joked as they walked in after that

And the room again filled with laughter.

In the end some fights are worth fighting for.

It is my immense regret for being so incredibly late at delivering the request this late for the inability to probably provide what you expected. Also regretful for not being able to do a stand alone prompt. (Also plaganeisis is no disease). Happy reading. I tried my best.

Requests open

Day 44- how to get away with murder| Day 46- old habits

#drarry #harry potter #drarry incorrect quotes #draco x harry #harry james potter #hp fandom #drarry prompt #harry potter fanfiction #draco is gay #draco malfoy #drarry ao3 #drarry drabbles #drarry ask #drarry angst #drarry au #drarry fic rec #drarry ficlet #drarry fic #drarry fluff #drarry fandom #drarry stuff #drarry domestic #drarry ship #drarry is canon #harry potter fic #draco malfoy fic

[dreamii-yume]

hello! can I request a spicy dream of jamil and leona finding out that their s/o trying to escape with the help of a random student (not twst main characters) they are friends with?

Warning!!!

Even though Yume proof-read this Sinfic like crazy, I’m sure there’s still a lot of misspelling and wrong grammars that I overlooked! I usually use MS Word to check some wrong things in my Fics but since my Laptop died out haa~ (*´Д｀*) Yume gotta improvise now.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Since Jamil’s birthday just pass like SO long ago,  I hope you don’t mind that I chose to do only him in this request~! Sorry Darlings! But we gotta simp for him for another time!

I TRIED to finish this Sinfic before Jamil’s birthday but aahh…Online class held my ass back (´Д` ) Jamil, I’m sorry it’s late, I love(?) you but I only ask for one thing and that’s to not make Kalim cry anymore, ya hear me!? .°(ಗдಗ。)°. 

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Locked and confined by a dangerously in love Jamil, Darling has to really use her creativity to escape! Fortunately or unfortunately, there was finally someone willing to help her out! But I wonder if it’s really that simple~?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Pulling you closer, you did your best to clasp your lips against his in hopes to bring him a satisfying experience. Your mind felt hazy and your mouth quavered as your tongues interacted with each other. The only thing that was on your mind right now was to just focus on this kiss, ignoring the dread and spark of uncomfortableness crawling up your skin.

“Mm...You’ve gotten better.” This man, Jamil finally let go, dragging his tongue across yours for an unnecessary moment. With a red, embarrassed face, you felt as if you’ve shrunk down as your lips trembled slightly. Jamil looked down at your kneeling figure on the bed with a smirk, the golden shackles tightly secured around your ankles suited you abnormally well. “I guess that’s just expected from you. Good job.”

Of course you did good, you knew damn well how much he was going to hurt you if you didn’t. 

As much as you preferred to say such response, you chose to stay quiet instead and looked down. His hand stroked your hair, petting you like some kind of an obidient dog he trained. Well, in your current situation, that metaphor doesn’t really feel that far off actually. You jokingly but morbidly thought that it’s just a matter of time before he decides to put a collar on you and calls you pet names rather than your own given name. You shivered at the thought, you wish it could just remain a dark joke but something tells you it’s a sign from the future. 

“...Do you know what day it is tomorrow?” You looked up at him with tired eyes, dark circles were already forming around. Still, you tilted your head, trying to jog your memory for what he could be talking about. It was tough, you don’t even know the exact date of what today is. “It’s kind of a special day for me, just so you know.”

You blinked as Jamil smiled at you, his hand slowly moving from your head to caress your cheek. You gulped nervously as he looked down at you, he was challenging you to guess what he was talking about. “...Huh...” You let out a single sound of confusion, blinking repeatedly. “Wha...?”

However, with that kind of response, Jamil’s smile turned upside down in disappointment. You flinched as the hand on your cheek tightened and began glaring at you, enough to cause a spark of panic to run down your spine. With your disoriented self, you internally searched all the remaining files located in your brain, which was not very much to begin with and yet, you can’t quite figure out what this special day seems to imply. Your heart beats faster as Jamil’s expression darken the more you stay quiet, you’ve spent enough time with this guy to know how much of a bad news that is.

“...B-Birthday...!” You blurted out in pure instinct. You weren’t sure of it, it was a guess that you only formulated based on the time that you knew before getting confined in this room. You knew it’s risky to leave something like this to luck, but right now, you have no other choice but to believe in yourself. “I-It’s...It’s your birthday, r-right…?”

Jamil stared at you for a while, his eyes staring deeply within your soul, something that made you break in cold sweat. You were prepared to whatever hell this guy will bring you once he confirmed your answer was wrong, but it still doesn’t change the fact that it still scares you. However, Jamil eventually gave you a smile and grabbed your chin to bring you closer to him. “Correct~” He whispered and never in your life had you felt this thankful for your luck. “…And do you know what will happen during that day?”

Just when you thought that your game of Verbal Russian Roulette was cleared, another question pops out from his mouth. This time, the answer could be anything, what will happen during his birthday? Obviously, Kalim will never pass off the opportunity to throw a feast that can feed an entire kingdom just to celebrate his best friend’s birthday. That was the obvious answer, but Jamil has a different look in his eyes that awakens the overwhelming doubt in you. You don’t know the answer, why was he making you guess in the first place, it’s his birthday, isn’t it?

With a nervous gulp, your face paled and looked down before shaking your head slightly. “…N-No, I don’t…” You admitted, voice suddenly felt weak, despite feeling really strong in your head. 

To your surprise, Jamil just chuckled and you felt his hand tuck a strand of hair behind your ears, slightly fixing your appearance. “That’s fine, it’s not like you would know it in the first place. I was just teasing you.” He said with a smirk and you couldn’t help but to glare at him slightly. He sounded like he was being playful by those words but you knew this guy was deriving off sick pleasure by seeing your panicked form. 

Jamil then grabbed you by the chin, pulling you close to him just enough to land a gentle kiss on your cheek. It still made you squirm in discomfort but gestures like these were still better than those times where he’s feeling aggressive. He then leaned into your ear, his voice has the natural ability to make you shiver from head to toe. “Tomorrow...is the one day that I would be considered as the number one priority.” He said, you could feel his hand stroking your thighs and it was making the little hairs stand on its end. “It’s a special day where everyone would be heeding all my needs.”

“...And that includes you.” You didn’t know what he was trying to get out of this. You so desperately wanted to bitterly state to him how the day didn’t need to be his birthday for you to obey him. He already had you following every of his beck and call, forcefully so. “That’s why, tomorrow...”

“I want to make you mine. Let’s become one, (Y/N).” Jamil finished, you couldn’t see him from your current angle but you could practically feel his lips twisting into a smirk. “A special event for a special day. Don’t you think that’s wonderful?”

You didn’t respond, even if your heart felt like it stopped beating for a while as you could feel yourself paling instantly. You kept your emotions calm, probably because you were at a loss of how to react, but a single strand of sweat drips down your forehead. It was enough to scream just how much distress and panic you were feeling inside your mind. 

You didn’t know if Jamil detected it or not, but regardless, he chuckled once again. He pulled away from you, his fingers brushing against your face for another uncomfortable second. “I have to do something now.” He said as he stood up from the bed, leaving you to stare back at him with a gulp. “You don’t have to think of anything else, I’ll take care of you so, stay in this room as always.”

“I’ll come back soon, my Little Diamond.”

With a final chilling smile, Jamil waved at you slightly before fully exiting the room, leaving you to think in your accordance. Your eyes lingered at the structure of the door for an unnecessary amount of time, your head in shambles. Then, a minute passed by, the ticking of the clock was becoming louder and louder until it was downright deafening. Your mouth that was left ajar in shock began quavering and without any particular reason of why, your hand clutched your chest, wrinkling your sleeping dress. You began to breath heavily, you tried to control the panic but your heart rate was sky-rocketing that it feels like you’re going to get suffocated, your mind slowly getting light-headed.

Jamil just dropped the weight of reality on your already fragile self that it was difficult to keep the tears from pouring out of your eyes. He said something so concerning and walked away like you’re just going to accept something like that. It almost feel like he’s just pulling a prank on you, to see you panic like this because he knew how terrified you would be once a situation like that had befallen on you. It would’ve been fine if it was a joke, you wouldn’t even get mad and even praise him for sounding so convincing, but the man you’re facing here is someone named Jamil Viper. This man who had forcefully hid you from the world for who knows how long now, the man who had made you do things that you weren’t willing to do, the man who didn’t hesitate to bruise and scar you if you go so much as to talk back against him.

You knew more than anyone else that this man was not one to pull such a joke like this.

You scooted back towards the headboard of the bed, your body was trembling so badly that the thick, fluffy blankets you desperately wrapped around you was doing nothing. The air conditioning in your room wasn’t even blowing that strong, the temperature has nothing to do with how much you were shaking. Yet, you buried yourself in the blanket, hoping to just shrunk down in a molecular level and disappear. You were scared, what else were you supposed to feel? The thought of being forever bounded with someone like Jamil is just…Frightening.

It’s not like you were a stranger to his touch either, his hands had already travelled around your body and reached places that your mother told you as a child to never let anyone touch. It started out with suffocating hugs and forceful kisses, you could still feel how tight he gripped your jaw at that time. His hands came next, you felt them caressing every little part of you, from your thighs to your stomach then, to your breasts. You remember how you couldn’t stop crying that night, unfamiliar of a man’s touch as Jamil’s whispers haunts your ears. The feeling of his hand kneading your breast and the other stimulating the wetness of the flower between your legs, it all filled you with shame up to this day.

Your virginity was the only thing that he never dares to steal just yet and for a moment, you thought that he may just be the romantic type to wait until marriage, but this night, you were stand corrected. It feels like you’re going to break down with just his little inappropriate touches that leads to momentary orgasms, how much more would it damage you when he finally stuck his seed inside you? The thought made your heart drop for a second and you quickly clasped your hands in front of your mouth. You could’ve swore bile had piled itself in your throat right there but thankfully, nothing came up.

You moved your legs slightly, closing them in anxiety but flinched at the sound of the chains clanging together. You pulled the blanket off your ankle, staring at the golden shackles decorated with dazzling rubies, it was beautiful but you wished Jamil placed that beauty in some other accessories out there. It was pleasing to look at but you hated these shackles, you can’t get used to the sound of it at all. It was like it was mocking you about how utterly hopeless your situation is, that you could never ever escape from such a life. In which, in a sense, makes you even more depressed on how true it sounds like.

Don’t get yourself wrong here, you really did tried your best to escape this hell of a room you’re in. There was a window giving you a fair share of sunlight but it was on the opposite side of the room and these shackles were stuck to the wall and could only go so far until the bathroom. There’s also the possibility that the room you’re in might be on the highest part of this place, you just can’t see Jamil making the mistake of putting you in a low place if he so badly wanted to keep you in here. You would want to try other various things to get off your binds but the moment Jamil sees a single trace of you trying to damage these chains is another opportunity for him to mess up a part of your body. You shivered and unconsciously scratched your throat, the lingering feeling of his hands were still on them. 

Aah, you don’t want this, you never wanted this, whatever did you do to your past life to deserve this? You didn’t want to sound like a whiny child but at this point, you were running out of options. As expected, you’re just no match for someone like Jamil, was this why he chose you in the first place? You played almost all tricks in the book and the remaining ones doesn’t seem so likely to work and the one thing that still makes you, yourself, is going to be taken away tomorrow. You’re so exhausted that you just want to sleep forever in this soft bed, but at the same time, you didn’t want to give up just yet, not when you already made it this far.

…But that still raises the question, what else can you do…? You have…no more valuable moves to play.

It’s checkmate.

You shivered at your own thoughts, no, that can’t be it. There has to be something else you can do! Something, something, something…! Once tomorrow comes, Jamil will finally take your virginity and that would absolutely seal your fate. That is the last step that bounds you forever with that guy and you…You don’t want that! You definitely need some kind of plan before that could happen, you need to be free or else, you’ll-

“Excuse me.”

In the midst of your breakdown, a knock on the door had you letting out a small yelp but at the same time, saved you from falling deep into your own desperation. You turned to the door in fear, only to quickly breathe the most relieved sigh you could possibly make as it opened for a different person and not the person you were dreading to see. It was just a Scarabia student who you happen to be familiar with, since he’s really the only person you’re able to see. The student who holds the job to bring you food when Jamil would be unable to. “The Vice Dorm Leader seems to be really busy right now so, I was instructed to bring you dinner.” He informed as he carefully placed a small table in the middle of your bed.

“Ah, thank you…” You said as you sniffled whilst he placed the plates of food in the table. He took one small glance at your appearance and you could already tell how guilty he looked like as he quickly looked away with his eyebrow slightly scrunched together. Your eyes softened, you always considered the Scarabia students as the nicest students in Night Raven College, probably influenced by their happy-go-lucky Dorm Leader. It’s just a shame how loyal they are with Jamil as well, considering how they know about your current situation but never really talked about it outside they’re dorms. You don’t blame them though, you knew they weren’t bad kids who doesn’t care about what will happen to you in this room, you knew that they were questioning Jamil inside their minds too.

This guy finished placing all your food on the tables, drinks and all, ready for you to eat without any problem. You give him a slight smile but you didn’t touch the food just yet. Bothered by his own conscience, the guy couldn’t help but open his mouth, seeing how utterly depressed you are. “Um…It’s not my place to say this but…” He started, taking a deep breath. “…Whatever our Vice Dorm Leader did this time, I’m sorry…Just please stay as strong as possible.”

You looked at him with your eyes slightly widen, his unexpected words somehow raised your heart up. He smiled at you slightly but quickly realized what he just said, covering his mouth. “Ah, that’s bad, I forgot I’m not allowed to interact with you for more than three minutes.” He said in panic before waving at you and turned his heel. “I’ll be going now…! Goodbye-“

“Why?” The guy stopped in his tracks and widened his eyes when he saw your teary eyes. “Why are all of you putting up with this?”

“Hey…Don’t you think this is wrong? Why are you all still following Jamil like this?” You looked up at him with an upset look. You felt bad confronting this one student whose only job is to bring you food like this, but you just found your mouth moving by itself. “It’s wrong, isn’t it? This isn’t fair for both you, me, and everyone else so…Why?”

“A-Ah...Please don’t cry...! Um...!” The guy scratched the back of his head, clearly hesitating whether he should just bolt out of the room or answer you right here and now. “…We know it’s wrong, but…It’s not like it’s that easy to go against our Vice Dorm Leader like you said…” 

“Even if we want to help you, we can’t…That puts us in the dangerous risk instead, considering what the Vice Dorm Leader can really do.” He explained, biting his bottom lip. “Our Dorm Leader is kind and really believes in our Vice Dorm Leader too so, we don’t want to cause him any more trouble than he’s already receiving.”

You pursed your lips together and wiped your frustrated tears. “Y-You’re right…I’m sorry for lashing out on you like that...” You apologized, no matter how desperate you are, you just don’t think you can live by the thought of endangering a bunch of innocent lives just to escape. You looked up at him as your vision clears up, your mind throwing away any irrational thoughts to leave space for critical thinking. That’s right, a bunch of innocent lives are in stake here but this guy...This guy can...

You slowly widened your eyes as a spark of hope came knocking at your door. There is still another way after all! “T-Then…! Would you listen to me!?” You suddenly yelled, startling the poor guy. “You alone is fine!”

The guy looked at you in bewilderment. “H-Huh…!? Are you saying that your gonna sacrifice me or something because that’s…!” He panicked but you quickly shook your head and hopped off the bed.

“No! Of course not! That’s not what I meant!” You said as you walked towards him and grabbed both of his hands, looking at him sternly. “I meant that the others don’t need to get involved, you alone can help me escape!”

“L-Like I said…”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to worry!” You leaned closer to him, your determined eyes were all fired up for the first time in a while. The poor kid didn’t know where to look as his face turns red and the hands you were gripping was beginning to sweat as well. “I’ll definitely come and protect you!”

“The more people I ask for help, the more risk of Jamil finding out, that’s why I only need your cooperation for this mission.” You said. “If we could pull this off and I successfully escape, I can come and look for help. 

“There’s no way I’d just leave you guys to face Jamil here just in case he goes berserk.” You said in a giggle, rendering the guy vulnerable to your touch. Finally, you looked up at him with a pleading but determined look. “That’s why...Would you please hear me out?”

The guy gulped down, nervous of the next words he was going to say. On one hand, he knew that he should just refuse, seeing how he doesn’t even know whether he’ll be able to pull whatever plan you have. But looking at the fire in your eyes, he really do feel sympathetic of your situation and understood your desire to be free. Even he doesn’t want you to live like this but he’s powerless on his own. 

“I-I get it...” He hesitantly said, unsure eyes couldn’t hide just how many doubts was lingering in them. “But if it goes down south, I’m pulling out, okay?”

You lighted up with a huge smile of appreciation. “That’s fine! I won’t let you be in harm’s way!” You swore as you let go of his hand. “Let’s be quick, Jamil might come back soon...!”

“So, listen carefully to what I have to say...”

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

So...Remember how during Jamil’s birthday, in one of his Birthday crumbs, I mentioned that I got so hornii and accidentally spilt wine on my laptop...?

Uhh...THAT’S IT. THAT was the reason why my laptop broke down (´；ω；`) Yume being so stupidly hornii became her own downfall lol Be careful not to make the same mistakes I did, Darlings! Stay hornii but responsible hornii, ya feel!? (＞人＜;)

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #jamil viper #yandere jamil viper #yandere #scarabia #sinfic #Spicy Dream #Yume forgot to tag again~! hooray!

[hotchley]

PLEASEEEEEEEEEE tell me theres a scene in bby Hotchner where they’re in public and Emily has to carry him like he’s her kid (bc honestly that’s the most realistic thing, they look super similar

(This was gonna be a whole fic, but my head is empty and I want to answer this because the visual is so cute, so here goes nothing. Also, if anyone would like to draw this, please feel free and I will love you forever. This also got slightly out of hand so please ignore how poorly placed the keep reading is but yeah)

And I low-key hate it because I feel like I didn’t really fulfil the prompt, but we’re going with it! (Again)

tw: very light implications of past child abuse 

It’s one of those days where he was restless. Rossi didn’t blame him. They were forced to spend the entire weekend indoors because of the horrific weather- he was not about to risk another cold- so he had a lot of pent up energy.

It eventually resulted in everyone giving each other identical looks because they love Aaron, they really do, but it’s very distracting and difficult to watch him running around everywhere and just being in awe of everything.

Emily stood up and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, he saw it was her and grinned. He’d never admit to everyone because he loves all of them, but Miss Emmy is one of his favourites. They look very similar, so he can pretend she’s his real mom.

Although, he’s learnt now, that family is more than blood and parents are the ones that care for you and love you unconditionally, so really, his new family are all his parents.

“Come on child, l’m taking you to the park,” she said.

Aaron’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes. Because you have way too much energy and you need to burn it off. Also, you look very nice today and I would like to be able to tell everyone that you’re a mini-me.”

“I dressed myself today. Mr Dave isn’t very fond of me doing that, because apparently I choose strange things, but I told him that it was because I wanted to look like all of my favourite people,” he said with a smile.

“Well I think you look very fashionable. Are the mismatched socks inspired by Dr Spencer?”

“Yeah! And the slippers are inspired by you because you always wear the shoes that you want wherever you go,” he explained.

She smiled. “Well come on mini-me. To the park we go!”

Aaron ran ahead of her. She smiled. Maybe she would never have kids of her own, but this, this was good. And nice. And it felt like she was finally getting a chance at loving a child without fearing the worst.

Three hours passed. It was three hours of Aaron burning off forty-eight hours of pent-up energy. He went on the swings- he liked it when Emily pushed him because she was always less cautious than the rest of them- down the slide. He even ran around with some of his other friends.

Emily was just glad it was the ones whose parents believed he was her son from a previous relationship. It should have occurred to her before that they needed to agree on one story, but they hadn’t, and now some parents believed it was her son whilst some believed he was Derek and Spencer’s adopted son. 

The whole thing was a mess.

“Hey child! We need to head back now. It’s going to start getting dark soon,” she called out.

Aaron came running over. He seemed much more relaxed now.

“Did you say goodbye to your friends?”

He nodded. “Can we come again tomorrow? With Miss JJ and Dr Spencer and Miss Penny and Mr Derek and Mr Dave? Because I like going with you, but I also want us all to go because it’ll be so much fun!”

Emily blanched. That was not a situation anyone was prepared for. “I- we’ll see kid. Okay?”

Aaron pouted, but nodded. “Okay.”

Something seemed off, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She shrugged, and carried on. Children were really strange. It was when they started getting closer to the building that she picked up on what was going on.

She turned around and Aaron was dragging his feet along the road, clearly tired from his time at the park. He was fighting to keep his eyes open and every step he took seemed to lead him one step closer to sleep.

Emily ran back over and crouched down. “Child, are you tired?”

He shook his head, but the yawn he let out completely undermined him. Emily raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. 

“I’m not tired. I have so much energy that I could... listen to Dr Spencer and then tell you everything he said!”

“I won’t make you go for a nap,” she said.

“Okay, maybe I am tired.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, and she lifted him into his arms. For his age, he was both small and incredibly light, so lifting him wasn’t even a problem for Spencer, who they all joked was the weakest.

Well, the others joked. She didn’t believe there was any evidence so suggest the opposite.

He let out a yelp when his feet left the ground, but on instinct, he wrapped his legs around her waist and his arms around the neck. After a moment, he buried his head in her neck so he was essentially clinging to her like a koala.

Emily liked carrying him, and Aaron enjoyed the feeling of being picked up. Not having to walk was nice, because it meant he could close his eyes and just not worry about anything. Also, Emily’s hair smelt like peach and oranges, which was always a pleasant thing.

He held onto her, and by the time they reached the elevator, his grip had loosened significantly because he trusted her to not drop him, and that was something that Emily took very seriously.

Hotch had fallen asleep at some point, and she wasn’t about to wake him up. As they had been walking back, several people had given her soft smiles when they saw the child in her arms. One elderly lady had said that her son was the most adorable little thing she’d ever seen. Another parent had shushed her children because the little boy was sleeping.

“Hi Em,” Anderson said when she got in.

She shook her head slightly and tilted her head towards Aaron. Not that Anderson knew it was Aaron. At least, as far as she knew he didn’t. He had given them all strange looks recently. Ones that suggested he knew something. 

“Oh is he sleeping? So sorry. You know, he looks exactly like you, it’s almost eerie.”

“Grant, he has half my DNA. Of course he looks like me.”

“I mean, he does look more like Agent Hotchner, but sure. Whatever you say,” he said with a smirk.

Emiky’s jaw dropped.

“Like I told Agent Jareau, I’m more than just a pretty face. And this is where I get off. Bye Agent Prentiss. Bye Aaron!”

When Emily looked down, Aaron was staring at her with wide eyes. All the movement had made him wake up, and he did not look impressed.

“You woke me up,” he said.

“I’m sorry child. Would you like me to put you down?”

Aaron shook his head and tightened his grip. “Like it when you pick me up. Everyone thinks I’m your kid then.”

“If you like it, then I won’t let go,” Emily said. She meant it literally, but also metaphorically. She would never let Aaron go until he was ready. There would be no more darkness in his life.

“Good,” he said.

She entered the bullpen and a few of the other agents gave her fond smiles as they realised the child in her arms had his eyes closed. He was a cute kid. The resemblance to Aaron Hotchner was uncanny, but they were almost sure that was a coincidence.

When Dave saw Emily and Aaron return, he smiled slightly. When he realised that Aaron’s head was buried in Emily’s hair, he grinned. His job was going to be a lot easier.

“Hey little one. Did you have a good time at the park?”

Aaron nodded. “Miss Emmy carried me back as well. And she didn’t drop me at all!”

Dave’s smile wavered slightly. “That’s lovely to hear Aaron. Is Miss Emmy allowed to put you down now? I’m sure she wants to keep holding you, but I’ve missed my little one.”

Aaron nodded, and Emily passed him over. Dave kissed his forehead and Aaron giggled slightly.

When they got home, Aaron wouldn’t stop talking about how much fun he had at the park with his friends, and also about how nice everyone was. Dave smiled and responded at all the right moments. Never once did he try and cut the boy off, because he finally seemed comfortable enough to speak.

Aaron wouldn’t complain when Dave sent him to bed. And after they had made sure there were no monsters in the bed, closet, or outside in the hallway, he climbed into the bed. When Dave sat beside him to put the night light on, he didn’t flinch away.

“Mr Dave?” he said just as he was about to leave.

Dave turned around.

“I love you. And Miss Emmy. A lot.”

“We love you too kid.”

Aaron smiled, and fell asleep, dreaming of parks and being held. And feeling safe.

#baby hotchner au #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds #david rossi #tw child abuse

[lesbian-fabray]

Quinn Fabray Sits In Her Parked Car

This is the first fanfiction I’ve written in years. It’s essentially my take on what would have happened if Quinn had never got in her accident and Finn and Rachel went through with the wedding. It’s a little long, I think. I hope it’s not awful.

Also, I’m surprisingly kind to Finn in this.

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

Quinn Fabray sat in her parked car, trying to discreetly change into that god-awful pink dress. She had no idea why she was about to subject herself to this.

Because Rachel’s happiness is more important that how you feel, Quinn.

She sighed and reached for her phone to text Rachel.

“Here. Am I too late?”

*Buzz*

“No. Hurry”

Quinn swallowed down the hopes that that two word answer provided, and exited her car, entering the Lima Justice of the Peace. as fast as she could without outright sprinting. She navigated the winding hallways, finding the room where Rachel stood with all their friends. It took Quinn a second to realize Finn was there.

She stood there, just watching the exchange. The couple seemed to be pleading with each other, both of them tugging on opposite ends of the metaphorical rope of whatever this was.

Quinn made eye contact with Santana, whose face was contorted into some sad, knowing look that Quinn couldn’t read. After glancing between Quinn and Rachel a couple times, Santana looked up at Finn.

She has a feeling that somehow, whether it be today or twenty years from now, the boy would get hurt because of that tragic unspoken thing between the two girls she was looking at. She briefly wondered who would be there for him when shit hit the fan. It was with a deep sadness that she realized that she realized she wouldn’t be able to be there for him, because she understood what existed between Quinn and Rachel and could never fault them for that.

Unable to handle the wave of empathy washing over, Santana cleared her throat.

It was that sound that broke Rachel out of her unspoken battle with Finn. She blinked and her eyes drifted over to Quinn.

The girl Rachel saw in front of her was not the Quinn she was familiar with. This was a Quinn she had only seem once before, when the two of them stood, dressed in bejeweled gowns and sporting intricate up-dos, in the bathroom on the night of their junior prom. This Quinn was small and pale. Her eyes, that often gave away exactly how she felt around Rachel, were now glassy and had quite obvious walls up behind them. Her shoulders were no longer pushed back to create that handcrafted elegance that followed the blonde. They were instead curled forward, giving the girl the appearance of a small kitten found in a drain pipe. This was a Quinn only reserved for Rachel. 

Locking eyes, both girls fixed their expressions, Rachel being far more successful than Quinn. The ex-cheerleader gave a small nod and Rachel sprung into action, grabbing Finn’s hand and ushering the entirety of the wedding party to where the ceremony would take place.

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

When Rachel drifted out of her sleep, she found tears on her face and her husband of six years sitting next to her, a concerned look on his face.

“Rach, what’s wrong?”

Rachel had no idea how to answer that. There were so many things wrong. There was the fact that Rachel had known for six years that she had made a mistake, There was the reality that she’d have the life she had dreamed of if she hadn’t said those two words all those years ago.

The thing that was wrong right now was her dream she had just had.

How was she supposed to tell her husband that, for years now, she’d had the same recurring dream, that was really more like a memory, of Quinn and that single tear that rolled down her face before she got up and left.

Rachel’s pretty sure Quinn didn’t even look at her for the rest of the year.

“Nothing, really. Just a dream. A nightmare.”

Finn relaxes a bit, placing a kiss on Rachel’s forehead, and takes a look at his phone to check the time. He gets up out of bed and turns around, catching her eyes, She raises her eyebrows slightly. “I should probably start getting ready for work. Burt is gonna kill me if I’m late again. Do you want to get Chris ready for school or do you want me to take care of it?” Rachel blinks and wipes at her eyes. “Uh, I’ll take care of it.” Finn flashes that grin that should fill her stomach with butterflies and remind her why she married him, but it doesn’t. It hasn’t for years.

As Rachel makes her way to her son’s room, she allows herself think about her life more than she has in years. She never wanted to stay in Lima. New York had been the plan, and maybe one day it could be again. She had meant to stay a year to sort out Finn’s future plans, but then they ended up having Christopher and moving into a small home, and by then, New York wasn’t reasonable. Now, Finn ran the tire shop with Burt and Rachel taught music to elementary schoolers.

It wasn’t all that bad though. Rachel loved her son more than anything, and her job was alright. It helped that Sam taught at the school too. Even though she felt so removed from who she thought she was, she wasn’t alone. She figured that could be good enough.

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

Quinn really had planned on being herself after she got out of Lima. The thing about promises like that is that, when you make them to yourself, there’s nothing to stop you from folding.

The intention had been to be true to herself, but once she got to New Haven, she got so scared. She tried so hard, but she relied on safety nets because she didn’t know what else to do.

That was how she ended up dating Noah again, and now, four years in, she couldn’t escape it.

She had allowed herself little moments over the years, but nothing more. There was the moment at Mr. Schue’s wedding with Santana five years ago, the moment with Tina all the way back in Lima three years ago, and the moment with Santana and Brittany when she visited last month. Those were just the moments that stood out to her. The past six years have been filled with little moments with any girl that seemed like she could make Quinn forget for a night. It didn’t matter if they were old friends, girls from her classes, or strangers she met in bars when Noah was away on business trips. All Quinn needed was a couple of drinks, skin to touch, and brown hair to get lost in.

It was then, when she risked falling into thoughts she’d rather not think, that Quinn sat up in the bed she hadn’t left all morning. Maybe that’s because she didn’t want to get up and risk searching for a moment like she always did when Noah wasn’t home.

The two of them lived in a small house in California, where Noah had been able to expand his pool cleaning business. Quinn had never seen herself in California, but she honestly had never thought of herself in a place where Rachel wasn’t.

There was that dangerous name again. Quinn couldn’t risk that one.

She reached for her phone and saw a single notification. A text from Noah.

“I mailed them, Q. Can’t believe we’re doing this. I love you. I’m so excited to take this step with you.”

Quinn felt the blood leave her face. She knew that she was marrying Noah soon. She felt she owed it to him, and figured that it was something she needed to do. But the invitations being sent out meant her friends would know.

Rachel would know.

That thought alone was enough for Quinn to want to remove her brain from here head and never put it back. But since she couldn’t do that, she flopped back down on her bed and pulled her covers up over her head, hoping to forget what her life was, even if just for a little while.

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

Rachel wishes she had been alone when she opened that envelope, but she wasn’t.

Her son watched with a confused look on his face as she dropped the piece of mail on the table and covered her mouth. With shaky hands, she opened it up and scanned its contents. As she takes a moment to breathe, she feels tears streaming down her face.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?”

It took a second for Rachel to realize her son asked a question. Temporarily wiping away her tears, she turns towards him and smiles as big as she can.

“Nothing, sweetie. I just got reminded of someone I haven’t talked to in a while. Do you want to go play in your room?”

Christopher smiles and runs off to his room, Rachel shouting a quick “Please don’t run!” after him.

She stares at the invitation on the kitchen table and gets lost in memories of the day that changed her life forever.

When Finn comes home, Rachel doesn’t know how long she’s been crying. All she registers is Finn picking up the invitation. She almost misses him saying “Are you okay? What’s wrong, babe?”

Almost.

She’s only able to choke out one syllable.

“Quinn.”

She sees a certain sadness on his face. A sadness that understands and doesn’t judge.

A sadness representative of what everyone who knows the girls understands.

Finn is not the angry, selfish boy he was in high school.

Instead of lashing out with words or attacking a chair, he simply kneels next to Rachel’s chair and wraps his arms around her, nuzzling his nose into her hair. His tears were silent and slow. More importantly, they weren’t tinged with rage. They were simply composed of the knowledge he couldn’t fill the Quinn shaped hole in her heart. But he’d known since he saw Rachel’s eyes meet Quinn’s when the blonde showed up at the Justice of the Peace. He knew he’d be okay eventually.

It’s so hard for him to hear the pained sobs Rachel makes as she seems to burrow into his chest. 

“I know, Rachel. I know it’s hard.”

She shakes as she cries.

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

Quinn thinks it’s odd when Noah tells her that Finn and Rachel RSVPed separately.

Puck knows why. He knows he and Quinn would be going through what Finn and Rachel are if they were in their position.

Because of that, he makes the admittedly selfish choice of not telling Quinn. He fears he might run out of time with her soon, so he holds on.

He knows it’s wrong.

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

The divorce was hard.

They decided to try and explain the truth to Christopher to the extent that an almost-six-year-old could understand.

At the same time, the divorce was easy.

The first night back with her dad, Rachel sleeps through the night for the first time in months.

LeRoy Berry understands the divorce. He’s done it. He knows there’s something Rachel won’t tell him, but that is okay. She’ll take her time.

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

Quinn Fabray sits in her parked car. There’s a big Glee reunion going on inside because everyone’s here for the upcoming wedding.

Her upcoming wedding.

She knows Noah is waiting inside, and she knows it’s wrong to want to leave, but she’s terrified to see him and Rachel. And Finn.

Quinn looks down at her pink dress and everything feels a little too familiar.

She decides to go in.

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

It’s the third time Rachel sees the Quinn that’s reserved just for her, but this time it’s different.

The first two times, it was momentary. But this doesn’t feel momentary. Rachel looks her over and sees the bags under Quinn’s eyes and the way she’s slouching more than Rachel’s ever seen her slouch. 

It’s as if she never left this state after the wedding. Rachel never got the chance to patch her back up, so she never returned to normal.

In this moment, Rachel can only think back to the day everything got bad.

She thinks back, not to the wedding, but to the hallway. She was high off of the Regionals win and was so sure she was about to make the right choice. She felt that, if only one choice could ever be right, it would be that one.

She thinks of Quinn’s question and of how hopeful she looked. She thinks of how crushed Quinn looked the second after she answered. She thinks of how fast Quinn hid that.

She thinks of how her answer wasn’t true. How she wouldn’t know it wasn’t true until she saw Quinn walk out of the Justice of the Peace.

Rachel looks at the Quinn in front of her. The Quinn that’s almost unrecognizable now that that Fabray certainty is gone.

“I wasn’t.”

Rachel watches as, even in this hollow state, Quinn’s eyebrow raises in her signature gesture. A gesture that demands an answer.

“That day. The day things went wrong. I wasn’t just singing to Finn.”

Quinn’s features soften in front of her eyes. Rachel’s heart pounds as the blonde reaches out and grabs her hand for the first time in almost seven years.

“Thank you.”

In that moment, those two tell each other everything without saying a word.

That night, Rachel sleeps more peacefully that she ever has in her life. She knows there’s plenty of loose ends and unanswered questions, but she doesn’t care.

She knows and Quinn knows, so Rachel feels like it’s worth everything.

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

That night after she goes home and talks with Noah, Quinn knows peace for the first time since she was seven. She knows there’s work to do, but now that she has a chance at a future where she can just be Quinn, she breathes.

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

Quinn Fabray sits in her parked car. As she looked out from the parking structure, she sees the apartment building she calls home.

It’s not much, but it’s enough for them.

She thinks about how Rachel is in New York, the city she is meant for, and how she’s there with her.

She thinks about how Beth, now twenty, comes to visit every couple of months.

She thinks about how Christopher probably has Rachel on the phone with Finn and about how they’re all probably arguing about him wanting to go to school somewhere in Europe.

She thinks about how Delilah is probably bouncing up and down because she can’t wait to tell her moms about her very first day of kindergarten, but she won’t talk about it until Quinn is home.

Most importantly, she thinks about how she’s finally happy and how she has a family. She needs a minute to privately feel what happiness means to her, so Quinn Fabray sits in her parked car.

#glee #glee fandom #quinn fabray #rachel berry #faberry #faberry fanfiction #quinn fabray fanfiction #rachel berry fanfiction #finn hudson #santana lopez #noah puckerman #i hope this is good

[bettydice]

I didn’t expect you to be lonely (too)

Xicheng, Modern AU, JC&WWX reconciliation, E-Rated 

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 7

The night after their date, which was both a disaster and the best date he’s ever had, Jiang Cheng can't sleep. He keeps thinking about Lan Xichen’s shaking hands, the kiss, the kisses that followed, about not casually, about Wei Wuxian dating Lan Xichen's brother. About how if they're not casual, then he'll have to get over himself and at least be able to be in a room together with Wei Wuxian, or Lan Xichen will just be another person suffering from this stupid situation.

If they're… If they are something now. If it lasts. He wants it to last. Which is another thing keeping him awake. How much he already feels for Lan Xichen. How his brain has no problem providing him with… Domestic scenarios. That eventually turn into not so domestic ones. But he’s too tired to do anything about his arousal, so his brain instead comes up with scenarios where Lan Xichen tells him he regrets everything about yesterday and does not want to see him again. Those are… not fun.

Eventually, morning comes. Jiang Cheng stays in bed. He has nothing to do today, he’s tired, and there’s nothing waiting for him in his kitchen except for dirty dishes. So, he grabs his phone and watches some cute bunny compilations on YouTube. After the fifth video he does feel better, so when Wei Wuxian’s daily selfie arrives (Wei Wuxian holds up a very large mug of coffee, winking at the camera), Jiang Cheng doesn’t even get angry or sad. He actually has to smile.

He immediately gets up, gets dressed, doesn’t open the door to his kitchen, and takes the bus to his sister’s house.

Jiang Yanli doesn’t even question why he’s there, simply sets the breakfast table for one more person. Jin Zixuan also doesn’t question him, simply makes him some really strong coffee. After breakfast, he's handed Jin Ling, so his sister and her husband can do some chores, which suits him just fine, because Jin Ling is perfect and amazing and the only one who understands him. He's also a little tired and grumpy today - relatable - so Jiang Cheng ends up on the couch with Jin Ling napping on his chest. Which, alas, means he can't move because he'd wake his precious nephew. With Jin Ling’s reassuring weight keeping him glued to the couch, Jiang Cheng has no choice but to close his eyes.

"A-Cheng. Are you asleep?"

"Mhm."

"A-Cheng, wake up."

When he pries open his eyes, he sees his sister, sitting in the armchair next to the sofa, smiling at them.

"I can't move," Jiang Cheng explains.

"I understand." Of course she does, A-Jie always understands.

He does try to assume a sort of sitting position, so he can better look at her, making sure A-Ling still stays in prime napping position. She has That Look on her face, meaning she wants to Talk About Things, but won't necessarily push him.

"It's really nice that you stopped by today," Jiang Yanli says, and without calling in advance to make sure Wei Wuxian definitely won't be there goes unsaid but not unheard.

"I missed my nephew." Jiang Cheng looks down at A-Ling and smiles. He can’t see much more than one of his chubby cheeks smushed against Jiang Cheng’s chest, and it’s adorable.

"And he missed you." Jiang Yanli smiles and leans forward, so she can gently stroke A-Ling's head. "Did you have a good week?"

Jiang Cheng has to think about Lan Xichen and his kisses and his smile widens, grows impossibly soft, before he quickly tries to wipe it off his face. His sister notices it, of course, as evidenced by her slightly raised eyebrows." Yeah… It was good. "

Jiang Cheng hesitates, because he's not actually sure whether he wants to tell his sister about… All of that. For one, she's paying for his sessions. And it still doesn't feel quite real. Ten days ago he felt horrible and lonely and now Lan Xichen kissed him and is attracted to him and said "slowly, but not casually", which… Does this mean they're boyfriends? That's too quickly, isn't it? But they're not dating, because they both hate dating, but they’re not casual, so the logical conclusion…

"A-Cheng?" Apparently not the first time she's called his name.

"I think I have a boyfriend," is not what he wanted to say and yet his stupid mouth fucking betrays him. Jiang Yanli looks stunned for a few seconds - understandable - then a warm smile spreads over her face. Jiang Cheng lifts his hand, before she can say anything. "I'm… I'm not sure I want to talk about it. It's obviously a recent and surprising turn of events and who knows if anything will actually come of it, you know how I am with relationships, they end before they can start - "

"It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything, if you’re not ready yet."

Jiang Cheng gives her a grateful smile. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but…

"How are your massage sessions going? How many have you had yet?" A seemingly random change of topic, but considering…

"Oh… Those are… Good. Relaxing." Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at his sister who looks so unassuming and innocent… Fuck. She knows. Jiang Cheng's face immediately grows hot. He doesn't know why he ever even tries to keep a secret in this family. "A-jie, how did you.. It's not… He is…"

"As I said, you don't have to talk about it. But you can. You can always talk to me. About anything."

She doesn’t mean it as a reprimand, but Jiang Cheng immediately feels guilty. He has been … many things, these past few months. Has sometimes been unfairly angry at his sister, because she still meets with Wei Wuxian, because Wei Wuxian didn't abandon her, too. Has visited less, and not only because he didn't want to risk bumping into his brother. Hadn’t wanted his sister to know how poorly he was doing, to realise how shitty everything in his life was going.

"I know. Sorry, A-jie."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Just… For being an idiot."

His sister’s smile stays warm, but her tone is a little stern when she says: "You're not an idiot." She leans forward and gently strokes his forehead. Just like she usually does with A-Ling. Just like...

The door opens and someone enters the room. Jiang Cheng turns towards the wall, mortified. Since his sister isn’t home, it must be Wei Wuxian.

“Fuck off.”

Wei Wuxian does not, of course, fuck off. Instead, he comes over and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“I really liked your poem. Which is saying a lot, because I barely made it through without screaming. Horrifying subject matter.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t answer, just squeezes his eyes shut and tries to get his tears to stop falling with the power of his mind.

“You described that dog in such vivid detail, I thought I’d have a heart attack!”

Is Wei Wuxian here to make fun of him? He knows it was just a stupid little poem that can’t compare to getting first place at that stupid science fair. Isn’t it enough to hear that from his mother - does his brother have to rub it in, too? He knows he’s pathetic, crying about this like a little boy.

“Huaisang was raving about it all afternoon. He really liked the… meter you used. Whatever that means.”

Jiang Cheng wipes his face and turns around. Just enough so he can see his brother out of the corner of his eye. “He said that?”

“Yeah! He also said ‘I didn’t realise Jiang Cheng was able to create such beautiful metaphors, I think I’m going to put him on my list of people I’d allow to give me a blowjob.”

Jiang Cheng groans and fully turns around, so he can throw a pillow at his brother. “He didn’t say that!”

Wei Wuxian easily catches the pillow and grins. “It was implied! Anyway… I thought, maybe you want to write some lyrics for Yiling Laozu? I feel like our metaphor game is really lacking at the moment.”

Jiang Cheng frowns. “If you’re just taking the piss…”

“I mean it!” Wei Wuxians reaches out like he wants to wipe Jiang Cheng’s tears, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he starts stroking Jiang Cheng’s forehead.

Jiang Cheng feels… like his tears are going to return. He frowns even harder. “I’m not a fucking baby. Stop that.”

“Aw, but that’s where you’re wrong! You’re my baby brother! Sweet little ChengCheng!”

“Fuck off!”

Jiang Cheng tries to shove Wei Wuxian from the bed with his foot, but Wei Wuxian tackles him instead, wraps his arms around him and squeezes him. Coos into his ear in a disgustingly sweet voice: “My talented Didi! My precious A-Di! Just a tiny, tiny baby with the heart of a poet!”

Jiang Cheng complains loudly and tries to free himself. But he can’t help but laugh.

"Wei Wuxian sends me a selfie every morning." Once again, his stupid mouth does things without his permission.

"Does he now." Jiang Yanli doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the fact Jiang Cheng’s word vomit jumps from possible boyfriend to Wei Wuxian’s selfies.

"He wouldn't do that if he didn't want anything to do with me… Right?"

"He wouldn't. He misses you.” Jiang Yanli, still stroking his head, hesitates, before she says: “Maybe you can consider it… an opening?"

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes for a while, as though that would help him sort the emotional chaos in his mind.

"Wei Wuxian is dating Lan Xichen's brother."

"Yes."

"Are they… Is it serious?"

Just like Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian never had relationships. But not because he was inherently unlovable or scared everyone off with his frown, or anything like that. He used to get crushes all the time that fizzled out just as quickly, said it would be too selfish to be tied down, everyone should be able to enjoy the wonders of being with Wei Wuxian. Though his brother also got way less action than he let people assume.

"Oh, they're… definitely serious." Jiang Yanli laughs.Jiang Cheng opens his eyes again. He wants to ask more, as though now he's fed the monster in his chest scraps of Wei Wuxian’s life, it has realised it’s been starving and craves more and more.

In comparison, it actually seems safer to talk about Lan Xichen. "Lan Xichen might be my boyfriend. Possibly. Hopefully?"

Jiang Yanli, once again, doesn’t comment on the topic change. She does pull back her hand and sits upright, a curious look on her face. "Might?"

"So, we went on a date and we concluded we both dislike dating but like each other and… And he said we should do this ‘slowly, but not casually’. And we… Well, the date ended very… It was nice. So. What do you think?"

He resolutely stares at a spot just above Jiang Yanli's shoulder, refusing to acknowledge his burning face. He's just hot because he's trapped under his nephew who is in the 93rd percentile of weight for toddlers his age. Jiang Cheng’s not sure what it means, but he chooses to believe that A-Ling is stronger and better than 92% of toddlers. And louder than 99%. He’s very proud of his nephew.

"It does sound as though you're both interested in pursuing a relationship with each other."

"So you don't think it's too early?"

"Too early for what?"

"Just… Thinking about him like that."

"You did already like him when you were a teenager."

"What the fuck?” Jiang Cheng does look at her then, mouth open in shock. ”How did you… Nie Huaisang told you, didn't he?"

"He didn't have to." Jiang Yanli tries to hide her smile behind her hand, but Jiang Cheng knows it's there.

Jiang Cheng is just… going to move past this. "But I didn't know him back then. I've not even known him for two weeks and already..."

I'm in love with him. It's not like it's not like him. Jiang Cheng doesn't fall for people often, but when he does, he falls hard. It's just that until now, none of them (none of the two people he’s liked like this before) had ever liked him back.

"Sometimes, two people just fit well together."

Jiang Cheng immediately wants to say "Nobody would fit well with me, I only have sharp edges" but his sister would disagree immediately. And… He can't deny it does feel like they… They just fit, somehow. Even if Jiang Cheng often feels like he doesn't even fit his own skin, like his life doesn't fit him. Spending time with Lan Xichen had been easy from the beginning, the only complications being the issues Jiang Cheng brings into every interaction with another human. And bunny pee.

Jiang Cheng can't help but laugh at the memory.

"Whatever is happening between you two... I'm happy for you. You deserve to be happy, A-Cheng, no matter what you think." Jiang Yanli puts her hand on his shoulder, so he can’t help looking at her. Jiang Cheng does, even though his eyes are burning. His sister looks… intense. The way she looks when something is truly, deeply important to her. "You also deserve to find out that A-Xian doesn't hate you. That he loves and misses you. That he's just as scared he's lost you forever. One of you just has to be brave so you can both realize you still love each other."

Jiang Cheng is saved from having to give a response that's not just crying hysterically, by a very… specific sound coming from his nephew, followed by a very specific smell. Followed by A-Ling waking up and crying, loudly.

"Do you want to take care of this?" his sister asks, resigned to the fact he definitely won’t want to do that. Luckily, there's a solution.

"Jin Zixuan! Hey, come here! Your son is crying for you!" Jiang Cheng yells, sitting upright and carefully holds A-Ling away from his body.

Jin Zixuan does immediately come rushing into the living room, only to frown as soon as the smell hits him.

"Would you mind, A-Xuan…?" his sister asks with the sweetest smile and, of course, Jin Zixuan grabs A-Ling without any complaints, only sends a dark look in Jiang Cheng's direction, who smirks at him.

Jiang Cheng spends the entire day at their house. He helps his sister cook, takes A-Ling to the playground, takes another nap with A-Ling during the afternoon. When hehe falls into his bed at night, his mind feels much quieter and he can sleep peacefully.

Jiang Cheng’s next appointment isn’t until Tuesday, but they exchange a lot of messages in the meantime. Lan Xichen sends him pictures of the bunnies, of his plants, and of his meals. Jiang Cheng, who has neither pets nor meals worthy of taking pictures, suddenly finds himself going on a lot of walks, so he can send Lan Xichen pictures of trees and artsy shots of leaves in puddles. Lan Xichen told him to keep the scarf, so he wears it every time he leaves the house. It keeps him warm.

Now, standing in front of Lan Xichen’s door, Jiang Cheng suddenly feels nervous. They agreed to not mix business with pleasure, so to say. It will be just a very normal session. But Lan Xichen already invited him to stay for dinner after and Jiang Cheng enthusiastically agreed.

It's not a date, because they don't date, but… Will they kiss? He wouldn't mind more kisses…

Lan Xichen greets him with his usual smile and they stare awkwardly at each other for only about ten seconds before Lan Xichen asks him to come inside. He smiles when Jiang Cheng takes off the scarf.

They do manage to keep the session professional, except for one little moment. When Lan Xichen wraps Jiang Cheng in a towel and tucks in the edges, he also tucks a stray hair behind Jang Cheng’s ear. They share a soft look and a smile, then Lan Xichen clears his throat and leaves the room after turning on the music.

Later, they prepare dinner together, and his nervousness earlier turns out to be unfounded. It’s easy for them to just switch into… Jiang Cheng calls it ‘Boyfriend Mode’ in his head, though he’d never say it out loud. Lan Xichen is a very tactile person and Jiang Cheng finds he’s a person who… craves touch. Sometimes their hands will brush against each other, or Jiang Cheng will lean against Lan Xichen, or Lan Xichen will put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s waist or the small of his back. It just seems to come naturally for them and… He never knew or expected it could be this easy.

They kiss. It is simple, like their other touches. Lan Xichen is stirring the pot, while Jiang Cheng tells him about a cute dog he saw during one of his walks. Their eyes meet, Lan Xichen smiles, Jiang Cheng returns the smile. Lan Xichen leans towards him. They kiss. Short, but very tender. Lan Xichen smiles again, his whole face lights up and they kiss again, a little longer. It feels… like a habit. As though they’ve been doing this for a long time, as though they will be doing this for a long time. Which doesn’t mean it’s not also exciting. It makes him feel hot, but in a way that’s soothing… Like drinking hot cocoa after walking through the snow.

During dinner, Lan Xichen asks him about his weekend and Jiang Cheng tells him about the time he spent with A-Ling, which reminds him of the conversation he had with his sister. Jiang Cheng’s first instinct is to ignore that reminder… but Lan Xichen said honesty is very important to him. Jiang Cheng should be upfront. They need to talk about their families and how they want to tell them sooner or later anyway, if this is... And considering their brothers’ relationship… He doesn't want to be responsible for Lan Xichen getting in situations where he might have to lie to his brother or conceal something from him.

So Jiang Cheng spends the rest of the meal trying to mentally prepare himself for yet another conversation about their relationship, possibly about feelings, too. He’s had so many of those in the past few weeks. Maybe all the conversations he’s avoided over the past year can’t be pushed back anymore, and are now trying to break through all at once. Maybe it’s him being selfish… he knows he needs to sort out his life if he wants to be with Lan Xichen. Or maybe… when he cried in front of Lan Xichen and felt safe and understood instead of humiliated… maybe that helped him to stop running away from conversations that scared him.

"Lan-laoshi…There's something I wanted to talk about with you."

"Ah, maybe drop the laoshi when we're... like this?" Lan Xichen chuckles lightly, as he closes the dishwasher. Then he sits back down at the kitchen table and smiles warmly at Jiang Cheng. “What did you want to talk about?”

"Right, I can do that… anyway, I should tell you… I told my sister. About you. Us. This." Jiang Cheng takes a sip from his water, so he stops adding unnecessary words. "I hope that's okay? We didn't really discuss whether… and things are a little complicated right now anyway, with our families… "

Lan Xichen's eyes widen a little. He looks surprised, but not concerned. "Oh, of course. I don’t mind at all."

"Have you… have you told your brother yet?"

"Ah… Wangji knows that there is someone, but… “ Lan Xichen cocks his head, then says softly: “I understand your relationship with Wei Wuxian is somewhat tense at the moment, so… Would you want to tell your brother yourself?"

Jiang Cheng can't help the bitter laugh that escapes him. "I'm not talking to my brother at all these days."

"Oh, I didn't realise… That must be difficult, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's my fault."

Right. Lan Xichen doesn't know. Once he knows, he'll probably be disappointed in him. Maybe get second thoughts after all. He really shouldn't have told his sister, it's too early, too fragile, Nie Huaisang knows too… Soon, they'll both know when Jiang Cheng gets rightfully dumped and…

Lan Xichen rests his hand warmly on top of Jiang Cheng's. His eyes and his smile are just as warm. The gesture is both a reassurance and an invitation. Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to talk about it, doesn’t have to say anything, but he could.

And he really can. He could… tell Lan Xichen anything. Show him the worst parts of himself and… Even if it changes his opinion of Jiang Cheng, he wouldn’t make him feel worse than he already does.

It's not really a conversation that can be avoided, is it? So he should just go ahead and get it over with.

“I do want to tell you… it’s just…” Jiang Cheng sighs and drags a hand over his face. “I’m not sure I can do… I’ve never… So I don’t know how I would… I might be a mess.”

Lan Xichen simply smiles, nods, and says: “Alright.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jiang Cheng is sitting on the couch, a pot of tea is on the table in front of him, and the bunnies are exploring the living room. Lan Xichen places a box of tissues on the couch table, before sitting down next to him. Jiang Cheng can’t help but laugh at that.

He’s never actually tried to put into words what happened, because Jiang Yanli knows what happened. He assumes Wei Wuxian told her, anyway, and the rest she must’ve guessed correctly because she knows them so well… And he’s been ignoring anyone else who could ask about it. So now he has to find words to give to Lan Xichen, has to tell him about how horrible Jiang Chang has been, can be, when he wants to show him anything but.

Jiang Cheng is too scared to look at him while he talks. Scared to see the very moment Lan Xichen switches from sympathy to judgment. He doesn’t want to see Lan Xichen’s eyes when they start seeing him the same way Jiang Cheng sees himself.

He tries to stick to the facts: After Jiang Yanli moved in with Jin Zixuan, they sold their family home.Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were going to get a flat closer to uni together. They found one; Jiang Cheng paid for the deposit. A week after the move, the day before their moving in party, Wei Wuxian told him he was moving in with the Wens instead to help take care of A-Yuan, since Wen Ning’s hospital stay didn’t seem to be a short one. Jiang Cheng got angry. They had a fight (Jiang Cheng barely remembers what they said) that ended with Jiang Cheng telling Wei Wuxian he’s free to leave. Specifically told him to ‘go the fuck away and stay away’. And Wei Wuxian listened. In the past year, they’ve seen each other two times: Jiang Yanli’s birthday and Jin Ling’s birthday.

Saying it out loud, hearing it out loud…

“So, in conclusion: I’m a fucking asshole. Now you know.” Jiang Cheng laughs, a bitter sound, and his fingernails dig into his palms. He still can’t look at Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen… doesn’t say anything. But he takes his hand.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. Will this be followed by ‘I didn’t realise this is the kind of person you are’ or ‘You’re right, I shouldn’t be doing this with you’? He knows Lan Xichen won’t actually say either of this, but…

“Wanyin… would you look at me?”

Jiang Cheng really doesn’t want to, but… Lan Xichen said his name so carefully, so gently… He opens his eyes and turns his head.

Lan Xichen’s eyes are still kind.

Jiang Cheng’s heart draws tight, so tight it hurts. And then… it softens.

Lan Xichen smiles. This is not unusual. After all, he’s very generous with his smiles. Jiang Cheng still finds himself surprised.

“You must have been very hurt.” Lan Xichen squeezes his hand when he says this. Which is good, because Jiang Cheng can focus on that instead. On the warmth of his hand, his elegant, long fingers covering his. Instead of… How Lan Xichen picked this to focus on, after everything he said.

Did he make it sound like it was Wei Wuxian’s fault? He’s been hiding behind his anger and blame for so long, maybe that has influenced his telling of the events. Maybe Lan Xichen got the wrong idea. “I… Yes, but… that’s no excuse. He was just helping… he was doing the right thing, even if I… and it’s been so long, so I should really… I should have apologized a long time ago, I’m the one who messed it all up.”

“Are you waiting for him to make the first step?”

He can’t hear any judgment in Lan Xichen’s voice. He’s not saying ‘this is your fault, so you should be the one apologizing’. He’s simply asking about Jiang Cheng’s feelings, because he thinks they matter. Though there’s nothing simple about his feelings.

Jiang Cheng has verbalized this part many times. Has said ‘he abandoned me, he should be the one who apologises’, and variations of it, to his sister. But deep down it’s not what he actually thinks. Because Lan Xichen’s eyes are still kind, because he’s holding his hand, because there’s no judgment, because he doesn’t expect him to answer a certain way… Jiang Cheng tries to be honest.

“I think I am. He’s always… Whenever we fought, he was always the one… Well, he didn’t apologise, but he just went back to teasing me, went back to normal… He knows I just get angry, no matter what I actually feel, he used to know that… I thought it’d be the same this time. But… So, maybe he doesn’t want to make up.”

Tears burn in his eyes and he’s not sure it’s even worth the effort trying to hold them back. They’ll spill sooner or later, just like these words are spilling from his mouth, now that he’s allowing them to. He’s still looking at Lan Xichen’s hand. At both their hands, resting on Lan Xichen’s thigh. Lan Xichen’s thumb strokes the back of his hand, so Jiang Cheng continues.

“If I went to him, he would come back. He’s always… I know he would. But I don’t want to be an obligation or a burden for him. I don’t want him to feel pity for me. If he doesn’t want to… And I understand, our relationship has never been easy. We always existed in comparison to each other and I know he held himself back sometimes, to make up for my lacking… I had thought, with my parents gone it would be - which is a horrible thought - but I thought it would get easier, gentler. But I guess I’m still me. So… I understand. And if he thinks I hate him, he’ll stay away. He seems happy with his life, so…”

Jiang Cheng is crying now, can’t even be bothered by it. And there’s still more words waiting to burst out of him, finally freed after a year of living only in the darkest corners of Jiang Cheng’s heart. Lan Xichen still isn’t saying anything, just listens to everything, holds his hand, shares his warmth with Jiang Cheng, so he doesn’t feel cold while baring himself.

“I can’t help it though, I’m still… I’m still angry. Not just at myself, at him. He said we’d always be brothers, would always be together… I know it’s childish, but he shouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. If he was able to just leave like that, he shouldn’t have… They were my friends, too, I could have helped! He just made his choice and left! And fine, if he’s happier that way… Fine! But then he sends me his stupid selfies, every fucking day! Who does that? Why would he… He should just stay gone, if that’s what he wants!”

He draws in a shuddering breath and sinks back against the couch. There. He’s said everything he’s been holding in. He feels… He doesn’t know what he feels. Drained? Relieved?

Though there’s one more thing, one last thought that wants to escape: “I miss him so much.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Jiang Cheng, who is avoiding Lan Xichen’s eyes again, grabs a tissue and wipes his face. He’s thinking about making a ‘funny’ comment about how the tissues did come in handy after all to break the silence, but Lan Xichen is quicker: “Can I give you a hug?”

Jiang Cheng turns to look at him and… He doesn’t know what to make of Lan Xichen’s expression, his voice. There’s understanding and sympathy, but he also looks… sad, maybe, and it feels like he’s asking to be hugged just as much as he’s asking to give a hug. Jiang Cheng nods and immediately, Lan Xichen lets go of his hand, wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. Jiang Cheng returns the hug tightly, buries his face in Lan Xichen’s hair. Tightens his hold whenever Lan Xichen does the same.

The hug is maybe one of the best he’s ever received. Lan Xichen hugs without restraint. Doesn't hold back, doesn’t feel embarrassed about wanting to hold someone. Doesn't feel embarrassed about seeking such closeness.

Jiang Cheng feels warm and safe and… liked. Even after everything he just said. So he keeps holding on to him until Lan Xichen eventually draws back. He doesn’t fully let go of Jiang Cheng, he only pulls away enough to smile down at him.

“Thank you for telling me. That can’t have been easy.”

“Uh, well, thank you for listening. And it… well, actually it ended up being too easy. Sorry, I just kinda barfed up all those words.” Oh fuck, way to ruin a moment.

However, Lan Xichen simply laughs, before he turns more serious again. “Do you want to hear my thoughts? Or do you just want to rest now?”

Oh… He is exhausted. But simply the fact Lan Xichen gives him this choice is enough to makes him want to keep talking. “I’d like to hear what you think.”

Lan Xichen turns a little, so they can look at each other more comfortably. Jiang Cheng also adjusts his position, until they’re facing each other. Lan Xichen takes Jiang Cheng’s hand again, while the other rests on Jiang Cheng’s knee.

“I don’t think you’re an asshole.”

Jiang Cheng grimaces at such an obvious lie. Lan Xichen chuckles and lifts his hand to smooth out Jiang Cheng’s frown with his fingertips. “Don’t frown, let me finish talking.”

He rolls his eyes a little, but stops frowning and nods.

“I think your anger is very understandable. Your hurt, too. It’s easy to look back at this moment and see everything that went wrong, what you could have done better. But back then you were shocked and hurt, so you lashed out. It doesn’t matter if your brother had good intentions, or did ‘the right thing’... that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be upset how it affected you.”

Lan Xichen casually wipes away a tear that escaped Jiang Cheng’s eye and continues talking.

“It seems you’ve carried around this moment since then, have thought about it every day, have regretted it every day. And every additional day you weren’t talking made what you did worse in your eyes. So with every day that goes by, trying to fix it becomes even harder. But I don’t think it’s impossible, not at all. What you told me just now… you could tell it to Wei Wuxian.”

Jiang Cheng, who had been stunned into silence by Lan Xichen’s words simultaneously piercing his heart and soothing it, adamantly shakes his head. Probably frowns again. “ Fuck no. I can’t talk with him about this… I’m not good at talking about my feelings.”

“Oh?” Lan Xichen seems to be holding back a laugh. “But you just did it. Very well, in my opinion.”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“Well… because you’re you. And Wei Wuxian and I… we never talked about the painful stuff because we knew it would end badly. And even if I would manage to talk about it without getting angry or saying hurtful things… Getting him to talk honestly about his feelings would be just as difficult.”

“Maybe he’s been thinking about this as much as you did and has his own regrets.”

Jiang Cheng's first instinct is, of course, to disagree, but… Lan Xichen has said so many things he wants to be true, has said things that felt true… “Yeah… maybe.”

“I know confronting the issue is scary. But maybe it’s more scary to think this… hm… this limbo you’re in will continue? You’re regretting, you’re missing him… but you’re also still hoping. I think so, anyway.”

“Yeah…” Jiang Cheng rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah… maybe… “

Lan Xichen looks at him fondly, eyes crinkling. He caresses his cheek again, wiping a few more tears in the process. Jiang Cheng would like to hug him again, would like to kiss him, to bury himself in his warmth. But he realises he really needs to blow his nose, so he does that instead of any of those much nicer things. “Ugh… sorry. Somehow I always end up crying all over you.”

“Ah, last time it was my turn, now you again… it can be our thing.”

Jiang Cheng gives him an incredulous look and they both laugh. “No thank you, that sounds exhausting. I’m sure we can think of something less emotionally draining.”

Lan Xichen hums, clearly amused and presses a kiss to the back of Jiang Cheng’s hand. “True, that would definitely be preferable. But… just for the record… I do not mind. Thank you for trusting me with this. I know how difficult it is to show someone… the parts of yourself you’re ashamed of. It’s something I’m still struggling with. ...As you know.”

Lan Xichen seems embarrassed, which Jiang Cheng cannot accept, so he lifts their hands and presses a kiss to Lan Xichen’s hand this time. “I do trust you. And I… you’re much better at all of this, of course, but you can trust me too, with stuff like that. I’ll try to be… you know... Uhm, anyway, I think I do feel catharsis now! So maybe that’s just our thing, haha.”

“Mhm, definitely sounds better than emotional devastation. Though I suppose they often are closely linked.”

They share another smile, and Jiang Cheng once again thinks how much he’d like to kiss him. But once again, he doesn’t. He suddenly becomes painfully aware of the dried tears on his cheeks, so he excuses himself to go wash his face. He returns to Lan Xichen sitting on the floor between the bunnies and joins him.

This time, Cloud doesn’t pee on him. Lan Xichen still drives him home later and they kiss in the car.

There’s an underlying tenderness every time Lan Xichen touches him. Jiang Cheng only hopes his own touch feels the same. But this kiss… It’s really… They’ve been good at kissing from the start. But this time…It leaves him breathless.

It’s a kiss like their hug earlier. Without embarrassment. Without the need to hold back or hide any feelings. Even though Lan Xichen would have every reason to be cautious.

Once they’ve caught their breath, Lan Xichen invites him over for Thursday afternoon. No massage this time. Just a walk, then tea and cake at his apartment after. Jiang Cheng agrees, obviously. Even if he had class or something, he’d probably still agree. After a kiss like that…

Later, he finds himself in bed with a notebook. It’s a present Wei Wuxian got him - made for him - for his 18th birthday. It has Jiang Cheng’s poems, in beautiful calligraphy… and with illustrations by Wei Wuxian. He even drew a dog for him.

Wei Wuxian… probably misses him, too.

Maybe they can be better brothers after all this. Maybe Jiang Cheng can be a better brother.

The thought of contacting him is still terrifying. But… it feels like the terror becomes smaller.

So, maybe soon…

#the untamed #mdzs #xicheng #Jiang Cheng #Lan Xichen #cql #modern au #JC actually talks about his feelings #To Meet You verse #betty drabbles

[dnvrsmedia]

Hi I have a request for you! Maria Hill x fem, avenger reader and reader gives Maria her jacket at the party in age of ultron. Maria then kisses the reader after the fight with ultron and admits feelings

No More Waiting

Maria Hill x fem! reader

request: above

warnings: pretty much straight fluff, but there is action/ violence in this (nothing gory!)

AN: MY FIRST MARIA FIC!!! i’m so happy that y’all came through with these requests! this was definitely fun to write so tysm!

Parties weren’t really your scene, but your long term crush, Maria basically begged you to come. You could never tell her no, so here you are now. You decided that today would be the day that you actually let your hair down (metaphorically and physically) and had fun for once. Being someone who works with the Avengers can get highly stressful, so this’ll be good for you.

You get ready about an hour before the party. The closer you get to being done, the more nervous you get. You hear a small ‘ping’ and look at your phone. A smile erupts on your face soon as you see the contact name. Maria must have known how nervous you were going to be. The text read.

maria <3:

just breathe, y/n. ik we’re gonna have a good time! i’ll see you soon <3

You let out a sigh and sent her a quick text saying thank you. You put on your black, floor length dress with a high slit on your right leg. You haven’t worn this dress in years, so you figured it’ll fit the occasion. You put on your jewelry and grab your purse. Before you leave, you take your pistol with you (out of precaution) and head to the area of the tower where the party was being held.

It was ten thirty when you arrived, so the party was already in session. You walked in and was quickly greeted by Tony.

“Y/n! you actually came what a pleasant surprise!” Tony pulls you into a hug. “You also look great! Maria is gonna have a stroke when she sees you.” He smirks as your face goes beat red.

“You know, I hate you sometimes.” You joke and move further into the party. You notice that Nat is at the bar making drinks and walk right towards her.

“Why are you making drinks? Is Tony going so broke that he can’t afford a bartender?” you quirk with a smirk on your lips. She looks up at you and lets out a small chuckle. Nat and you have been best friends for the longest time. She’s actually the one who introduced you to Maria. Nat walks around the bar and hands you a drink. You raise you eyebrow questioning what she made for you. She just rolls her eyes and tells you to drink it.

“You look great, Y/n. Has Maria seen you yet?” She smirks over her glass.

“Why is everyone asking me that!” Your face heats up once more.

“Asking you what?” A familiar voice calls out and wraps her arm around your waist. You look up at her and she gives you a toothy smile.

“Nothing don’t worry about it.” You murmur and take a sip of your drink. You have a feeling that you’re gonna need a lot more of these by the end of the night.

The party goes on for a few more hours until it’s just you, Maria, Helen, and the rest of the avengers. You and Maria were suck to each other the whole night. You’ve never seen her let go as much as she did tonight. She also gets a touchy once she has had a few drinks in her. Not that you’re complaining at all! You absolutely loved her hands on you at all times tonight.

Right now you’re cuddling into her side as her arm is around you. You never realized how cold it would get in the compound, so you didn’t bring a jacket. Every now and then you would shiver slightly. You didn’t want to get up and lose the contact with Maria, so you just took it.

“Hey,” you hear her softly try to get your attention. “You’re shivering y/n. Here, take this.” She lets go her arm around you for a second to shimmy of her coat and put it over you. Blushing seems to be a common theme for you during the night, because she has you buring hot from her sweet action. Before you could say anything, a horrible screeching sound booms through the room.

You all turn your head to see a robot standing in front of the elevator. Maria instinctively pushes her behind you and reaches for her gun. You do the same and slowly grab your purse. A battle breaks out after Ultron finished his speech. Maria quickly grabs you and takes cover behind the couch. Robots fly in from left and right. It’s starting to get hard to keep up with them. Some how in the midst of fighting, you get away from Maria. You get distracted trying to look for her when one robot blindsides you. You hit your head pretty hard as you get thrown to the ground. Right before the robot was going to shoot you, Steve’s shield flies in and cleanly decapitats it’s head. Soon after, the fight is finally over.

You groan as you try to sit up when Maria makes a b line straight towards you. Before you knew it, she cups your face in her hands and plants a kiss on your lips. This kiss was gentle yet with a hint of anxiousness and longing. The two of you separate and she immediately starts to freak out, trying to see if you’re hurt in any way. You then pull her by the nape of her neck, and kiss her to shut her up.

“I’m okay, Maria.” You mumble into the kiss. She pulls away and leans her forehead on yours.

“I’ve had feelings for you since the first time we met. I just saw you on the floor and I knew I couldn’t take the chance to wait any longer. Let me take you on a proper date. What do you say?” She looks into your eyes.

“Hmmm lemme think about it.” You joke as she rolls her eyes at you. “Of course, Maria. I’d love to.”

#marvel x you #marvel request #marvel x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem reader #maria hill #maria hill x you #maria hill x natasha romanoff #maria hill x reader #tony stark #tony x reader

[simsadventures]

Yours Forever

Summary: You enjoy the summer with your boyfriend, Captain America, who, sometimes, need assurance that you’ll love him no matter what

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS!, the warnings will be before and after the smut, so that those who aren’t comfortable reading, won’t have to), semi-public sex, jealousy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2402

A/N: This piece was written for the loveliest @the-soulofdevil​, who requested a one-shot for my 500 Followers Celebration, and her song of choice was either Love or Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey, and I kinda combined the two of them (I got carried away, I’m so sorry if it isn’t what you expected love). Also this is my first Steve fic, so be gentle with me. Hope you’ll enjoy it guys.

Masterlist

Steve has been home from a mission for about a week, and you couldn’t get enough of him. It was mid-July, so you could spend most of your time outside, either beside the pool at the compound, or just wandering through the streets of New York, and especially Brooklyn.

Steve loved to show you around his once own neighbourhood, his stories revolving mainly around places where he got beaten up. You would always caress his cheek, letting him know that you were there and that even if he got shrunken back, you’d still want him and kick the asses of those guys.

Steve was always a little worried, that most women wanted him for his looks, once he got enhanced, and that nobody really saw through it. It was a huge struggle at the beginning of your relationship, because whenever you’d compliment his physique, he would always go into this defensive state of mind, and would be pissed for pretty much the rest of the day. You didn’t understand it, because, sure, his body was a blessing and you couldn’t look at it without your knees going a little soft, but other than that, you loved Steve for who he was, and not for what he looked like.

It was only when you found out what the problem was that you sat him down and talked sense into him. It was that night that you and Steve made love for the first time. Until then, you always fucked, but that night was a breakthrough in your relationship, and something shifted to the better. There were still moments when you had to remind Steve of why you actually loved him, and today was one of those days.

You were in front of the compound, being too lazy to actually get up and leave the comfort of what you now called home. Although you weren’t part of the team and were actually a nurse, Steve insisted that you were most protected there, that even if he wasn’t around, there were still other people who could take care of you, and there was also FRIDAY. You tried to tell him that everyone knew where the compound was, even the bad guys and that you were much safer in your old apartment, but Steve wouldn’t have it. He was probably the most stubborn man you’ve ever met.

You were laying by the pool, a big part of the team surrounding you, enjoying the free day they had. Earth didn’t need its saviours for a while, and they all couldn’t get enough of the summer in the city. You were in your bikini, absorbing as much of vitamin D as you could, trying to store in for autumn and winter, where you knew you’d need it. You just hoped it would work. Bucky was sitting behind you, chatting with you, both of you completely relaxed. You laughed at one of his jokes, throwing your head back. The guy was cheesy as hell, but his heart was golden, and you were glad Steve had him back in his life.

After a while, you looked up, your hand shading the sun from burning your eyes out of your head, looking for Steve. You could see him standing by the nearest wall, shadow on his face, both literal and metaphorical. You frowned a little and called his name to get his attention. You only got a wave of a hand as an answer, and you thought it was even odder. You knew he was excited to see you on your new bikini, white with golden circles all over it and with little gold beads on the straps. But he seemed to not care about your attire at all.

You excused yourself to Bucky, who just cocked his eyebrow, looking at his best friend. “Go easy on him, Y/N. I think he’s jealous that you’ve been talking to me the whole time.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, James.” He just made a gesture like you-wait-and-see, and let you go discover what was bugging Steve.

The closer you were getting, the more you noticed how rigid his whole body was. He was standing there like a sculpture, moving and perfect, with a very serious face. He was beautiful, just in his blue swim trunks reaching only his mid-thigh. But you couldn’t enjoy the sight too much, because he’s pissed off, and maybe sad face wasn’t fitting the image.

“What is it, baby?” You asked meekly when you reached him and tried to touch him but almost jumped away from your touch, the wrinkle on your forehead only deepening.

“Nothing, go back to having fun.” He mumbled, now pouting like a little child. Was it possible that he was jealous, just like Bucky said?

“But I’m not having that much fun when you’re not around.” You stepped closer to him, but this time keeping your hands to yourself, although it took all your willpower to do so.

“Yeah, you and Buck looked like you were having a terrible time, laughing like crazy there.”

You sighed, and even though he wanted to protest, you flung your arms around his neck and made him look at you that way. “Are you really jealous of your best friend, Steve?”

He closed his eyes, and you could see there was a fight behind his eyelids. One side won, the better one for you, and he let his hands grip your hips.

“It’s just that… I don’t know. Bucky has always been the one getting all the girls, and if there were two of them, they still wanted him and never me. And I’m just worried that you’ll see that he is the better man and leave me.” He whispered the last part of the sentence because tears were forming in his eyes. Your poor shy boy from Brooklyn.

“Baby, look at me, please,” you pleaded gently, and Steve obediently opened his eyes. “I love you with all my heart. Yeah, I was laughing with Bucky, but that’s about it. I laugh with you, I cry with you, I fall asleep with you, and so much more. And I’d do all that if you were the skinny boy again, because sure, the body of yours has its advantages, especially in particular area, but other than that? I care about what inside, and you’re the best guy.

I don’t care about your looks if we’re thirty, or two hundred. I’ll love you no matter what Steve. When we’re both old and wrinkly, I’ll love just as much as I love you right now, and maybe a little more, because you’ll have put up with me for ages by then.”

Steve was looking at you intently, drinking in everything you said. He couldn’t believe his own luck to have someone like you beside him. He knew it was stupid of him to be jealous, but sometimes, he just couldn’t help himself. Just like he couldn’t help himself now, finally seeing through his sadness and fear of losing you, and seeing what you were wearing.

“What areas are we talking about?” He said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk playing on his lips.

You had to laugh at that. “That’s the only thing you heard, you perv?” He wiggled his brows, and you just shook your head. He was in a better mood, and that was the goal. He leaned down to be on your level, his hands flying to your head and he kissed you with so much passion that you thought you’d faint right there. From the shy boy standing in front of you just second ago, he transformed into this dominant man, ready to devour you and show you who you belonged to. And you loved both versions equally, even if each of them with a different bodily part.

You let him take what was rightfully his, putting no obstacles in his way. You opened your mouth willingly, letting him explore it with his tongue. When he felt you were running out of your breath, he moved to give your neck the same attention he gave to your mouth. You were standing impossible close to each other, and you could feel his member pushing against your leg, getting some sort of friction.

Warning: smut ahead

You moaned softly, which only spurred Steve forward. He loved hearing the little noises coming out of your mouth, and he wanted to hear more. You, on the other hand, was very much aware of the environment in which you still were, his team-mates all around you, and because a lot of them were super-humans, you were pretty sure they could hear your every ragged breath.

Steve didn’t understand why you were pushing against his shoulder and wanted to continue with the activity at hand, but you pushed a little harder this time, calling his name as well.

“What? I’m having fun, sweetheart!” He said with a small pout which you couldn’t help but tried and kissed it away.

“So am I, Steve, but your buddies are all over the place and not for nothing, but I don’t need all of them seeing my bare ass, or worse.” Steve seemed to have thought about it for a second before he picked you up as if you weighted nothing, threw you over his shoulder and marched towards the door leading inside.

When he felt like you were far enough from the prying eyes, he let you stand up on your own. You looked around, seeing you were still in a very much public place, in a hallway. It was not the main hallway people would use when leaving the pool, but still.

“Can’t we go to our room?” You squeaked, but Steve wasn’t listening anymore. He was pushing the top of your bikini away, revealing your boobs. He growled at the sight of them, your nipples standing erect from the kissing session you and Steve had mere seconds ago. He didn’t waste any time, and sucked on one of them, while his fingers played and tugged on the other one. You involuntarily arched up against his touch, wanted more, even if you wanted it in the confines of your own private room.

Steve could feel the change in your body, the will to fight him about the place leaving your body, being replaced by sheer lust. That was the exact moment Steve waited on. He released your nipple with a pop and looked at you through his lust-hooded eyes. He smirked at you, and you knew what was coming, and suddenly you couldn’t give to fucks about someone finding you two. You just needed him, and he seemed to be as eager as you were.

He released his painfully hard cock from his shorts, rubbing it against your leg, as he kissed you again, conveying all of his emotions in this kiss. You could feel the love he was pouring into it, and you were drunk on it. He pulled only to put his forehead against yours. “I love you so much, Y/N. And I always will, I promise. Even if we’re now young and in love and it might seem like a plain promise, but I mean what I say. And anyhow, I’m basically an ancient guy now, so…” he trailed off, and you smiled up at him.

You gently grabbed his cock, rubbing your hand up and down his length, and from the hisses and silent curses falling from Steve’s lips, you assumed he enjoyed what you were doing. But you still wanted more. You pushed your panties away, not wanting to waste time pulling them down, and put your legs a little wider apart, for Steve to have enough room to operate.

Steve obviously got the message, as he grabbed your right leg and locked his arm under your knee, opening you even more. Then it was just easy for him to slide home. You were so wet, not only from the physical touch but also from all the confessions, that he didn’t need to prepare you at all.

He slid in with one thrust, revelling at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. No matter how many times you two slept together, he would always be little too large for you, and you’d still need a little time to adjust to his magnificent size. Steve waited patiently, until your hips bucked against his, giving him a sign that you were ready for all he had to give to you.

Steve didn’t hesitate and started thrusting into you mercilessly, both from his own horniness and from the possibility someone could walk in on the two of you.

He knew exactly how to make you undone in minutes. All he had to do was thrust deep enough to hit your sweet spot, and massage your little bundle of nerves, and you’d be gone in no time. For him, it was just the feeling of your velvety walls when you came that always did it for him. He always had to make sure you came before him, so he could marvel at the sight of you, in the highest state of pleasure possible.

And it really took him not even 10 minutes, before you were silently whispering his name, chanting it like a prayer, your face contorting in ecstasy. That was all it took for him to feel the wave of pleasure rolling over him so hard his toes curled and he gave a few sloppy thrusts before he was coming deep inside your pussy. He was breathing hard into your neck, both of you sweaty and sticky from the activity and the humidity in the hallway.

Warning ending

You could hear voices coming from the other hallway, and you snuggled a little closer to Steve as if to shield yourself from any visitors.

“You two done? We thought we’d play water polo, but we’re missing two players.” Bucky hollered at you, and your cheeks were suddenly burning, and you knew they were bright red.

Steve just laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah, give us a sec, and we’re with you.”

“Sure, just be so kind and have a shower first.” You could hear the smirk on Bucky’s face, and you rolled your eyes.

“Asshole,” you muttered, earning a chuckle from Steve and a loud Ouch from Bucky. Damn them and their enhanced hearing.

Marvel Taglist

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#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #captain america #shy steve #insecure steve #fluff #fluffy steve rogers #smut #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #oneshot

[professorspork]

fic prompt + daily queenly duties

Well, this one definitely got away from me a little bit…

—-

The day starts at dawn. Not with an alarm, but nevertheless, like clockwork–

“Ouch! Ah, jeez–”

Kristoff opens an eye to watch Anna hop around on one foot, holding her stubbed toe in both hands as she inhales sharply and tries to keep from crying out any further.

“Did you kick the chair again?”

Realizing she has an audience, Anna puts her foot down and attempts to look regal and put-together. It’s a losing battle; her hair is all over the place and there’s still a bit of drool on her chin. It’s adorable.

“…No? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I keep telling you to move it.”

She shakes her head. He watches as she brushes out her tangles and ties her hair in a bun–as his wife fades to the background and the queen emerges in her stead. “If I move it Olaf can’t climb up to read us a bedtime story, and you know how much he loves that. It’s too heavy for him to move by himself.”

“We could always move it after he’s done.”

“Well then I’m comfy and I don’t want to leave bed.”

“I could move it.”

She smiles at him, winsome. “The bed’s comfy because you’re in it.”

He sees his chance and gives it his best shot–lifts up the covers to show his bare chest; the inviting spot on her side of the bed she’s just vacated. “I’m still in it now, y'know.”

Her nose scrunches as her face can’t decide whether to be playfully disapproving or to flirt right back. “You’re a terrible influence, Kristoff Bjorgman.”

“Yes, but I’m your terrible influence.”

Unable to suppress her grin at him any longer, she leans over the aforementioned chair just long enough to peck him on the lips, then disappears behind her privacy screen to change.

“What’s on the docket today?” he asks. On the other side of the divider, the vague outline of her silhouette disappears under layers of fabric.

“Oh, um. Open petitions this morning, and then a sit-down with the Stonecutter’s Guild. I guess some of the young apprentices are freaked out ever since meeting the Earth Giants because they’re worried all rocks have feelings? Which: they might, honestly. I’m going to have to ask Elsa–remind me to send her a note before breakfast, okay? Oh, and then tonight is the solstice pageant.”

“Can’t forget that.”

“Don’t be mean!”

“I’m not,” he laughs. “I’m genuinely looking forward to it.”

Queen Anna emerges from the other side of the wardrobe. “Well, good. Alright, I’ve got to check in with the castle staff and get my day going. I’ll see you downstairs?”

“Of course.”

-

Only she doesn’t, because by the time he actually makes it to the dining room he learns she’s long gone–she’s skipped breakfast to go deal with some issue at the fjord, two ships double-booked for the same dock and each refusing to yield to the other.

Sounds about par for the course.

Shaking his head, he wanders down to the kitchens for a sandwich or two, scribbles out a note for Elsa, and heads out to the dell where Gale likes to gambol and play most mornings. Anna’s better at finding Gale than Kristoff is; more than once he’s caught her laughing at him for talking to a stiff breeze that was simply that, and nothing more. It takes up more of his morning than he’d like, but eventually he feels the telltale tickle under his chin that he’s in the presence of the wind spirit.

“Hey. I know Elsa’s coming down tonight, but Anna’s got a question that can’t wait until then. Do you mind?”

Gale blows his hat right off his head, which he takes to mean don’t be silly. Or possibly how dare you, I’m very insulted, but hopefully not. Like he said: he’s not as good at this as Anna.

“Thanks,” he says, and he opens his palm to let the gusts carry his note away. He watches until it’s disappeared past the treeline, just in case.

He heads back to the castle, arriving just as the sun hits its zenith. Anna hates these short winter days, he knows–doesn’t like the idea of the dark outweighing the light. The solstice will be good for her; every day from here on out a little brighter than the last.

Open petitions are in full swing in the front hall–he lingers in the back for a bit to watch Anna work. Long gone is the single throne and long queue of Agnarr’s day. Elsa rethought the space about three times during her reign, and Anna’s made further changes, since. Now the dais contains a few overstuffed armchairs, and a side table for tea. Anyone who comes to speak to Queen Anna does so in comfort, and on her level. They… chat. Like friends; like equals.

When she wraps up the inquiry she was working on–some sort of misunderstanding about a dowry, and a young couple pretty desperate to give back what sounds like the world’s most ornery goat to the bride’s father–Kristoff strides to the front of the room.

“Sorry folks, just gonna call a quick recess, okay? Ice Master privilege, sorry, I’ll give the Queen back in just a minute.”

Before Anna has a chance to protest, he escorts her out the room and into a side hall.

“What are you doing?” she asks, unable to quite keep the laughter at his antics out of her voice. “I still have like a half-dozen people to see.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Which is why I figured you could probably use a pick-me-up.” With that, he takes the wrapped sandwiches from this morning from his satchel.

Her shoulders drop in relief at the smell of the fresh-baked bread; she immediately snatches one from his hands and starts scarfing it down. “Oh my gosh, I’m starving. How did you know?”

He knows because it’s his job to know. Anna takes care of Arendelle. Kristoff takes care of Anna. It’s as simple as that.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, feistypants.”

“Duty called,” she shrugs, unapologetically talking with her mouth full. “And hey, that’s ‘Queen Feistypants’ to you.”

“Apologies, your Majesty,” he teases, dropping into a low, ostentatious bow. His hat falls off with the movement, but when he goes to pick it up, it dances away from his hand.

“Wait, what? Oh, for–Gale!” he groans, and snatches at the air as the wind plays keep-away with him. “C'mon, give it back.”

Anna slaps her forehead. “Oh no, I was supposed to ask–oh,” she blinks as Kristoff’s parchment falls daintily into her hand, Elsa’s reply scribbled on the back. “Thanks.” She scans the note quickly. “Well, apparently there’s some sort of knocking test you can do to see if a rock has the spirit or not; Ryder can come down and teach it to the guild members. That’s easy enough.”

Kristoff raises an eyebrow. “Ryder has to tell these kids 'only dead rocks don’t knock back?’”

“They’re not dead rocks, they’re never-been-alive rocks. Totally different.” She polishes off the last of her sandwich and–when she gives him a plaintive, puppydog look–the last few bites of his, as well. “Okay, I’d better get back to work. Catch up with you tonight; thanks again, love you!”

And then there’s a quick kiss and she’s gone, like the whirling dervish she is. Or maybe that’s just Gale, chasing along behind her.

-

He’s at loose ends for the rest of his day–an ice harvester doesn’t tend to have as much to do, in the winter–and decides to ride out and meet Elsa halfway. Sven brays happily at the opportunity to go full speed, and before long they’re racing through fresh powdery snow. Just for the thrill, just for the fun of it. It is in these moments–bitter wind stinging at his face, the world whooshing past him in a rush–that Kristoff thinks he best understands the two women who make up his family. The freedom of speed and cold air and ground under your feet. The joy of going as fast as you can, because you trust your own legs to carry you. Or, y'know. Sven’s legs, as the case may be.

Anna’s the one who’s good at metaphors. He’s just along for the ride.

He hears them approach before he sees them–Ryder shouting out a Northuldra call-and-response song, a children’s rhyme about reindeer. Elsa’s voice chimes in on the refrains–hesitant, tremulous, happy. Like she’s still not quite certain she remembers all the words, but she’s so pleased to be included she can’t help but try anyway. It brings a full-toothed grin to Kristoff’s face, unbidden; he dismounts as they crest the ridge ahead and come into view.

“Kristoff!” the two shout in messy union, then immediately engage in a race to get to him first. The Nokk leaves Ryder in the dust; in moments, Kristoff’s got an armful of ex-Queen as Elsa jumps down into his arms.

“Hey,” he laughs, “I missed you, too.”

“What about my Kristoff hugs?” Ryder pouts as he catches up. Elsa squeezes Kristoff just a little bit tighter.

“Get your own. This one’s a family heirloom.”

“Imagine if I played that card every time you hugged Honeymaren,” Ryder teases slyly, and Kristoff bites back a laugh at the way Elsa turns bright, bright red. She lets him go and draws herself up to her full height, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders. All he sees is Anna pulling the same maneuver that morning, and he can’t help it–the giggles escape, despite his best efforts.

“That’s quite enough of that,” she grumbles, re-mounting her horse. “We should get going or we’ll be late.”

Ryder settles for a fist-bump, in the meantime, and the three of them turn and make their way back towards Arendelle.

-

It seems like the whole town has turned out for the solstice pageant, the amphitheater down by the fjord filled with the buzz of proud families waiting for the kids to begin. Anna’s saved a whole passel of seats toward the front–piled high with cloaks to stop other people from sitting there. As though people might edge in on the Queen’s saved seats.

Kristoff feels his heart melt for her that much more.

Elsa and Anna do their usual song and dance at being reunited, prompting good-natured eye-rolls from everyone around them, and then the lights go down and the curtains come up. They hurriedly fall into their chairs as the schoolmaster comes out on stage.

“Hello parents, friends, and families! As you know, the children have been working hard on our little revue these past few weeks, and they’re very eager to share it with all of you. Enjoy!”

All the students shuffle out, holding hands. And there, standing among them, is Olaf–clearly scanning the crowd for their friendly faces. Anna lets out a whoop, and he positively beams at them.

Kristoff crosses his fingers. “Here we go,” he murmurs under his breath.

Olaf had been begging for the chance to go to school for ages now–but after he learned to read, they kind of ran out of excuses not to let him. The other children are more than used to his presence, and he loves coming home every day with new facts to share with all of them. Honestly, he’s thriving–though he had been heartbroken not to get the part of the Spirit of Summer to Come in the solstice pageant, cast instead as, perhaps predictably enough, a snowman.

Olaf nails every single one of his lines; at one point, Anna elbows Kristoff in the ribs, eyes mirthful, and he realizes he’s been mouthing along with them the whole time. After the final song, they all jump to their feet and cheer. Elsa puts her fingers to her lips and whistles loud, just the way Kristoff taught her.

-

The rest of the evening is a blur–Olaf dangling between Anna and Kristoff’s hands as they all walk home; Elsa and Ryder talking over each other at dinner in their eagerness to share all they’re learning about Ahtohallan; a lively game of Twister that Anna wins easily (Olaf being disqualified after detaching his arm to reach left hand blue). Ryder and Anna make plans to meet back up with the stonecutters first thing the next day, as Anna will be swamped the whole of the afternoon with trade delegation meetings. Kristoff has to all but drag her away before she can promise away what little free time she has left to making final adjustments on plans for the New Year’s ball in the coming days–“that’s tomorrow-you’s problem,” he reminds her, and she lets herself be led away by the hand.

And then finally, at long last, it’s just the two of them. 

This, perhaps, is Kristoff’s favorite moment of the day: when Anna takes off her crown, lets down her hair, and curls up against him. Just Anna, no more, no less.

“I’m e-e-exhausted,” she yawns, burying her face in his shoulder, and he drops a kiss onto her forehead.

“Just one more queenly duty for the day,” he chuckles, before calling out “Okay buddy, we’re ready!” towards the door.

The quiet sound that had served as background noise throughout their nightly routine, of Olaf counting to one thousand on the other side of the door, goes quiet. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m only at eight hundred and thirty four.”

“Come on in, Olaf,” Anna laughs, and he does–dragging the book they’ve been reading behind him. On little snowball feet, he makes his way to the bed and, as Anna knows he likes to, clambers up onto the bedside chair before perching on the armrest.

“Are you ready?” Olaf asks, his eager smile pulling a little to one side, just like Elsa’s does. At their nods he begins: “Chapter Eight: The Enigma Becomes Doubly Mysterious. The child had laid her head on a stone and fallen asleep…” They gasp in all the right places as Jean Valjean realizes Cosette’s gone icy cold in the snow and cannot be roused; when the chapter ends on a cliffhanger, they even let him read on, until they know Cosette is safe. “One more?” he asks hopefully when he reaches the end of chapter nine, but he takes it with grace when Anna shakes her head–finishing their ritual by giving each of them a hug and lugging off his book, closing the door soundly behind him.

“I still feel like giving him that book was probably a mistake,” Kristoff chuckles.

“The schoolmaster says his vocabulary is improving too fast for us to hold him back.”

“Yeah, but Les Miserables?”

“He’s tough; he can handle it,” she says with certainty, and, well: the Queen has spoken. Who is Kristoff to argue?

Out of habit, his hand drifts up; he traces a delicate line with his pinky from the top of Anna’s forehead to the tip of her nose, once, and then again. Her gaze goes dreamy and disoriented, her blinks growing longer–and then her eyes narrow and she frowns, shaking him off. “Hey, quit it.”

“Quit what?” he teases, but she’s sitting up now, climbing into his lap to straddle him, and–oh.

“One more thing to check off my to-do list before bed,” she murmurs into his mouth, and oh, that’s awful, but–

Somehow, he just doesn’t have it in him to complain.

#this is so much longer than i thought it would be #i hope you enjoy! #they are MARRIED i am INTO THEM BEING MARRIED #fic what i wrote #frozen #frozen 2 #kristanna #Anonymous

[thejollyroger-writer]

Mixed-Up Metaphors, Messed-Up Makeup

a/n: this is the post-revival Gilmore Girls AU that nobody asked me to write (except Devon), written specifically for her birthday. so, @shireness-says​, this is for you. happy birthday, friend. 

Summary: Rory is pregnant, lost, and looking for something deeper to tie her to Storybrooke. (surprise: it’s Jess Mariano)

Rated G // 7K // also on ao3

(Thanks to @hollyethecurious​ and @let-it-raines​ for helping me figure this out and giving me someone to chat with about writing it, since I obviously couldn’t go to Devon this time) 

WEEK TEN

Jess Mariano never asks anything of her. Some days, Rory can swear that he’s the only person who wants nothing from her. And it is simply for this reason that she invites him to sit with her in her office as many days as he’s allowed, after meeting him for breakfast at Luke’s. Because, unlike everyone else in Stars’ Hollow, Jess seems content sitting in the corner of her office, reading his next book or tapping away on his laptop, working on his own novel, or on something else. 

Sometimes, when she knows she is going to have a particularly boring day, she asks him to come with her. Usually, she does not, and it is just another unspoken agreement for him to show up a few hours after breakfast, toting a to-go bag and a cup of coffee.

Usually, they sit in almost-silence, one of them playing some music softly in the background, every once in a while asking a question about word choice or the order of a sentence, or Jess reading a sentence or a section from that day’s selection. 

And then, the morning sickness starts. Usually, she is able to control it before she leaves to meet him for breakfast, hoping that he doesn’t realize her change in appetite. 

(He does. He just doesn’t say anything.) 

It’s not like she doesn’t want to tell him. Hell, there is the slight possibility that the baby is his anyway, after one of the few nights they spent together when she came back to Stars’ Hollow, nights that they have wordlessly decided to completely ignore but that sometimes still happen when she finds herself in his arms late at night, sometimes even forgetting how she got there. 

She just… doesn’t know how to tell him. Because what if it’s not his, which is just as likely? It’s not like she needs anything from him, expects anything from him, even if it is his. Though, she knows deep down, that no matter what the case is, if she told him that she wanted him to be a part of this child’s life — which she does — he would do it. 

That’s part of the reason she lo —

She cares about him so much. 

These are the thoughts swirling through her already-chaotic mind when she feels her stomach begin to churn, a feeling that she can sometimes control. 

This does not seem to be one of those times. 

Jess, of course, notices the change in her almost immediately — the way she is breathing, the redness of her face, her straighter posture, the moments of fear that pass through her eyes when she fears she may not be able to control it. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, finally breaking the thick silence that has fallen around her. In her chest, her heart pounds wildly, hard enough for her to feel it in her stomach, and all she can do before pushing herself out of the office chair and crossing the room, hoping to at least make it into the bathroom, is shake her head, trying to combat the tears that always come with her failing gag reflex. 

Shit. 

“Do you want my help?” he calls, and though she did not hear the pounding of his boots against the fake hardwood, he sounds much closer to the cracked bathroom door than his usual perch. 

“No!” 

(Didn’t people always say that they loved being pregnant? How is that the case when she has been starting every morning by losing the contents of her stomach? When she has felt nauseous non-stop for the last eight weeks? She thought this was supposed to be fun.) 

Her bathroom stay is short-lived, at least. (On the bright side of getting sick all the time is her stomach’s — the baby’s — ability to pick and choose what it wants to keep and what it wants to get rid of, and this morning is only seems angry about the apple she ate on her way over here. 

Ironic.)

She gives herself another minute to calm down, to splash cold water on her hands and her face and try to get her heart rate back to a normal human’s number. She’s so overwhelmed by making herself feel better that she almost forgets that he’s waiting for her outside the door, silent and patient and — why does he have to be like that? 

Slowly — oh my god, so slowly — she opens the door to the bathroom, as if putting off the action will somehow stop the conversation she knows she is about to have. (Maybe if I spend enough time in the bathroom, he’ll just… leave, she tells herself, but even as she has the thought, she shakes her head with the ridiculousness of it.) 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. She can’t even bring herself to look at him, putting all of her attention instead on her feet as they cross the worn-down floor back to her desk, left, right, left, right. 

And then… he still doesn’t say anything. He sits, silently, in his chair, and she can feel that his eyes never leave hers. But he says nothing, which manages to drive her absolutely insane, stuck with only her own thoughts and the pounding of her heart and that stupid rattling pipe in the corner, the cars on the street outside, the chattering of passerby, her blood rushing through her ears, that damn pipe — 

“I’m pregnant,” she says finally, the words practically exploding out of her. 

Silently, he nods, but she doesn’t miss the slight widening of his eyes, the gentle parting of his lips. 

She can swear that her heart actually stops beating. What if this is too much for him? What if I’ve just totally screwed up absolutely everything, and he’s going to pack up his things and leave, leave the office and leave Stars’ Hollow and never talk to me again— 

“Okay.” She almost doesn’t catch the word, barely more than a breath on his lips, but it is the brightness of his eyes that really catches her attention, suddenly, all at once. “Are you okay? What can I do to help?” 

She is useless against the way her jaw falls slack. “What?” 

He narrows his eyes at her, as if he doesn’t understand her confusion. 

“I mean, you’re sick, right? Is there anything I can do? Do you need some water, something to eat? Do you have a stash of Saltines somewhere?” 

She’s… 

Speechless. Shocked. In awe. Dumbstruck. Without words. 

Alright, so maybe with words. But certainly not the right ones. 

He’s… has he always been like this? Has he always cared so much? 

She knows the answer, though she also knows that she’s been trying to avoid the same knowledge for almost as long as she’s been back in Stars’ Hollow. Honestly, (though, really, she hates being honest with herself), it shouldn’t surprise her as much as it does, his heartwarming, caring demeanor, his immediate jump to help her, to be there for her. 

If there wasn’t a large wooden desk between them — if she even had the energy to jump up in the first place — she may have even found herself quickly crossing the room to kiss him. Maybe. 

For now, though, all she does is smile, reaching down to open the bottom drawer of her desk, where she pulls a water bottle and a pack of saltines from. 

He smiles back — warm, genuine, glad that she seems to be content at the moment. “Good,” he says, his attention moving back towards the book resting in his lap. “Let me know if you need my help.” 

It’s a loaded statement, and even as his eyes begin moving across the words on the page, Rory sits in her chair watching him, slowly eating a few saltines from the open pack. Does he know just how much that one question could mean? How many of those meanings did he actually mean? Is she overthinking this? 

Of course she’s overthinking this, and she knows that — and something about the shadow of a smirk that grows on his lips, his eyes still on the book as he turns the page, makes her pretty sure that he knows she’s overthinking it, too. 

WEEK 16

She’s been trying to ask Jess for help for two weeks now, since she decided this is something she wants to do. She just… doesn’t know how. Will he even want to do it? Will he be mad at her because she wants to do it? 

What will her mother think?

What will Logan think?

She’s taken to spending most nights with Jess in the apartment above Luke’s instead of back in her old bedroom, constantly under the watchful eyes of both Lorelai and Luke. Jess asking her if she’s eaten today is caring, done in a much less agitated tone, while all she gets at home is nagging and food shoved in her direction. 

“It’s almost as if your mother has forgotten what it’s like to be pregnant,” Jess tells her very helpfully one night after she came to the apartment with her laptop, her pajamas, and a brown paper bag full of vegetables that she knows her mother never ate while pregnant. 

“Well, I need her to remember,” Rory had huffed, falling backwards onto the couch, her hands on her stomach — a poise she’s found herself in more often lately, with the small human growing inside her just starting to make itself more obvious. 

At the moment, Jess has settled in at his spot at the counter, tossing together some sort of chicken stir-fry with ingredients that he found in the back of his freezer and the pantry. Rory never would have guessed just how much he liked to cook, especially wouldn’t have assumed that he’s so good at it — but she supposes it’s also something she’s never been able to take for granted, since everyone knows Lorelai is certainly no master chef. 

Can you help me with something? The words are on the tip of her tongue, begging to be released as she watches him expertly cut the chicken breasts into strips, a few strands of his now-longer hair falling away from his forehead. 

(She’s not sure how she feels about his hair, though she does appreciate the fact that he looks older, unsure of whether it’s because of the hair or the stubble or just his overall older-feeling aura. She hasn’t mentioned anything to him — it’s certainly not her place, as his… 

What are they, anyway? On the nights when her loneliness has been the strongest, she’s spent the night sharing his bed with him, not complaining when he rolled towards her in the middle of the night, wrapped his arm around her stomach, his breath on her back. But they haven’t discussed it, Rory not even sure that she wants to. Would it ruin the content feeling that washes over her when she walks into the apartment, when he smiles at her from across the room, when she secretly wakes when he does, much earlier than she needs to in order to help open the restaurant, and feels the hitching of his breath when he realizes that he has once again unconsciously wrapped himself around her?) 

“It’s hard to concentrate when you’re staring a hole through my head,” he says finally, not even raising his eyes from the cutting board as he breaks the almost-silence of the apartment. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, but he just smiles. 

“Obviously you’re thinking about something.” 

It’s not a question, she can tell that much. He’s not really asking her to divulge whatever she is obviously thinking about, but she takes it as an invitation nonetheless. 

“I think I need to tell Logan.” 

This makes him stop working, set the knife down on the cutting board, turn his eyes up to meet hers. “Yeah?” 

She just nods. 

“If that’s what you want to do, I’m not going to talk you out of it.” 

“He’s going to want to know if it’s his.” 

Just as the words pass through her lips, she realizes that this very subject is something they haven’t discussed yet. Jess takes a deep breath, stepping away from the counter. For a moment, Rory fears the worst, that he is going to leave her with her spiraling thoughts — but instead he washes his hands in the sink before walking to her, reaching out to take her hands. His are cold, a side effect from the chicken that the hot water didn’t manage to wash away entirely, but Rory doesn’t really care — just the feel of them in hers warms her from the inside out. 

“He has a right to know that,” he says, trying not to let his own disappointment reach his face, Rory can tell somehow. 

“Do you want to know?” The question falls from her lips without her permission, but once it’s out, she almost feels a sense of relief. 

He squeezes her hands. “For me, knowing changes nothing. I’m here for you, for this one, for as long as you’ll let me, but the genetic makeup means nothing in relation to how I feel about you. You have to know that.” 

“He’s going to make me find out.” 

Now, it’s not affection that passes across Jess’ face, but something much darker. “Rory, he can’t make you do anything. If his desire to have anything to do with this kid’s life is dependent upon a genetic test and not—” 

“I kind of want to know, though,” she admits to someone beside herself for the first time. 

Jess nods. “If that’s what you want, then I’m not going to stop you. Make the appointment, I’ll go with you.” 

WEEK 20

“Now what do we do?” Rory asks, holding the paper loosely between her fingers. 

“It’s up to you, you know that,” he says, his voice as gentle as the hand placed on her lower back. She knows that he said he won’t be upset either way, knows that it doesn’t change the way he feels, but she can tell that he’s at least a little let down. 

“We decided that if it confirmed Logan was the father, I would tell him.” 

“It’s your decision, Rory,” he says, his voice soft, caring — more than he has the right to be. “Seeing the results of the test don’t change the fact that it’s still completely up to you.” 

I love you, she almost says. The words tickle the tip of her tongue, which she quickly clamps between her teeth, almost hard enough to draw blood. It’s not the first time she’s had the thought, but it is the closest she has come to actually speaking the words. 

It doesn’t help that they’re still avoiding the subject of what exactly they want from each other. Okay, maybe avoiding isn’t the right word, because Rory is pretty sure that he’s not doing it on purpose. What she thinks he’s doing instead is giving her space, time to think, not pushing her by asking what she can only hope spends as much time on his mind as it does on hers — but it’s also, simultaneously, driving her absolutely insane. He wants to be with her, he’s made that obvious enough more times than she can count — has been doing so for almost as long as she’s known him — but has always let her take the lead, always made sure that she was the first one to make the move. 

She just… doesn’t know how to do it. She does know that this moment specifically is not the time for it. 

“He still deserves to know.” 

Jess just nods. Takes half a step back from her, his hand still ghosting against her back, so light that she would forget it was there if not for the intense heat that he is always letting off. 

“Then let’s call him.” 

The words set a weight on her shoulders that she doesn’t know what to do with, make her back hurt a little more than it already has been, somehow. 

“I need—” she says, her breath suddenly much harder to catch than moments before. “I need to sit down,” she manages, maneuvering through the kitchen and into the living room before plopping herself down on the couch. 

“Do you want some water?” 

She just nods, hoping that he is paying enough attention to catch it. Either he does, or he just gets her a glass anyway, appearing beside her what feels like moments later with it in his hand.

I love you, she almost says again, but what really comes out of her mouth is, “I can’t do this.” 

“Of course you can,” he responds, resting his hand on her knee — again, gently, with more care than he needs to, and, again, somehow radiating heat, even with her own body heating with her inability to catch her breath.

“No. No. What if he— what if he refuses to stay out of it? What if he insists on coming here, on leaving his pretty little princess fiance and his high class life and moves to Stars Hollow just to spite me, just because he insists he deserves to be around when it’s very literally the very last thing I want?” 

“Rory, listen to what you’re saying. This is Logan we’re talking about, a man who never compromised anything for anyone—” 

“But he’s changed since you last—”

“Changed enough to leave behind everything he knows, his entire holier-than-thou world, to move to this shitty little town?” 

“Jess!” 

“I’m serious! When was the last time he has ever sacrificed anything for anyone, done something for anyone other than himself?” 

She takes a breath, coming slightly easier now, and releases it slowly. Then another. 

“He has no right to be here with you in the first place, Rory,” Jess says finally. “He wouldn’t change his plans for you in college and wouldn’t leave his fiance for you now. He may fight to see this kid every once in a while, to at least not be barred completely from its life, but in every other sense of the word, it’s ours, okay?” 

This is the first time he’s said that. Said anything even remotely like that. Every other time it’s been hers — her baby, her decision, her comfort. It may not be the words she’s been wanting to say, the questions that have been keeping her up at night, even when she’s wrapped in his arms, but it’s something. And even that feels huge. 

Nodding, she takes another breath and pulls her cell phone out of her back pocket. She places her other hand on top of his, still resting on her knee. “Let’s do this.” 

He answers on the second ring, moments after Rory realizes both that time zones are a thing and that she has absolutely no idea which one he’s in. 

“Rory?” He has the audacity to almost sound excited to hear from her. 

“Hey.” For a moment, it’s all she can muster, thinking about just hanging up instead of going through with the rest of it. Her fear must be painted across her face, because when she turns to Jess, he just ticks one side of his lips up in a smile, squeezing her knee gently. 

“Is everything okay?” Logan asks, at the same moment Rory manages, “How are you? Did I wake you up?” 

“No, no,” he says, “I’m in New York right now, weirdly enough, and I was--I’m gonna be honest with you, I was just thinking about you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Are you okay?” he says again, after a beat passes. 

“Well, no. I mean, yeah, but— listen, Logan, can you—can you just let me talk for a minute? Please?” 

“Uh, yeah. O-okay, sure.” 

She sighs, loudly, through her teeth, which she’s sure Logan heard on the other end of the line. She doesn’t really care. 

“I’m pregnant. Five months. There’s a chance that it wasn’t yours, that it— happened after I got home, but we did all the tests and stuff and it — well, it is, it’s yours, and I just felt like you had the right to know, even though I don’t want or expect or— whatever — anything from you. I’m staying here, with—” somehow, her brain makes the snap decision not to mention Jess. “In Stars Hollow, at home with my family where I’m comfortable, and you don’t — there’s nothing you have to do, I don’t even — you don’t even have to come meet it when it’s born, but I just thought that you should know.” 

Silence. Long, devastating, heart-pounding silence. 

When he finally speaks, it’s quiet, though Rory has the feeling that it’s to hide the words from someone around him and not because he’s been rendered speechless: “And you don’t… want to be with me?” 

“God, Logan, seriously?” She half-wishes he could see the way she rolls her eyes at his question. Maybe he can even hear it in her voice. Jess lets out a breathy laugh. “You’ve spent years not choosing me, not even believing that I could be your first choice, you’ve hurt me more times than I could count, have chosen yourself and others over me since we were young, and you think this is suddenly going to erase all of that? Finally, I’m doing something that makes me happy, doing something for myself, I’m with someone who accepts my decisions and wants what’s best for me, for the baby, and not for himself — do you even know how to do that?” 

Silence. Again. 

“You’re with somebody else?” 

She sighs. That’s the part he’s caught up on? She wants to be surprised. But she can’t. “Yes.” 

“If you hadn’t done the tests, hadn’t decided to figure out if it was —  would you still have called me?” 

“No.” 

Silence. 

“How did you expect me to respond?” 

“I told you, Logan, I’ve learned not to expect anything from you. We just felt like you had the right to know.” 

“Mm-hmm,” he hums, enough anger behind the sound that Rory can feel it in her bloodstream. “And who is we? Do I have the right to know who will be raising my child?” 

She expected a few things from this phone call. She expected to be overwhelmed. She expected Logan to ask her a few questions. She even half-expected to get upset with him. But what she didn’t expect was anger. 

“You know what? No, I really don’t have to tell you that, do I? I really don’t have to tell you anything, actually. I’ll make sure someone contacts you when it’s born, because you have the right to know that, I guess, but until then? Goodbye, Logan.” 

It’s one of those moments that she wishes phones still had the ability to slam, because angrily pressing the little red “end call” button doesn’t adequately portray just how angry she is at him. Tossing the phone onto the couch next to her makes her feel a little better, though not quite enough. 

“See,” Jess says after a moment, taking his hand off her knee just to wrap his arm around her shoulder. “I knew you had it in you.” 

It’s as if the phone call has awakened some sense of fearlessness in her, and between the adrenaline rush and her new-found freedom, she feels unstoppable: 

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” 

Watching the collection of expressions that pass across his face manages to pull a smile to Rory’s face. 

The stuttering that follows, even moreso. 

“I just — I wanted you — to make sure — I didn’t want—” 

“Jess,” she says, turning her shoulders to face him more head-on, and his words stop when she places her hand against his cheek. “Please, just stop talking.” 

First, he smiles, stretching the arm he has laying across her shoulder to run his thumb across her cheek. And then, finally, he does it. Softly, sweetly, gently — everything he has proven himself to be over the past few months. Everything Rory needed him to be. Everything. 

WEEK 21

“So, I, uh, talked to Logan a few days ago,” Rory says, stirring the sugar into the cup of (decaf) coffee sitting on the table in front of her. 

Lorelai almost loses the sip that is in her mouth, covering her face with the back of her hand, eyes wide. “Rory! You can’t just drop a line like that on someone with a mouth full of coffee.” 

Rory lets out her own laugh, taking another bite from her plate of chocolate chip pancakes. “Sorry! But look, I— I just thought you should know. Man, what was the last thing I updated you on? Did I tell you that we decided to do the paternity test?” 

“Uh, no!” she says, her eyes growing wider still. “How did you not tell me this?”

She shrugs. “I mean, I probably decided to wait until we got the results to tell you, I guess, so now—”

“Wait, wait, let me guess,” she says, holding her hand up between them. Rory rolls her eyes, but gestures for her mother to continue. “If you had to call Logan, then I’m assuming that means Jess is not the father.”

Rory sighs, and, taking another bite of her pancakes, nods. “Bingo.” 

“And how does Jess feel about all of this?” 

Heat rushes to her cheeks, but even that doesn’t stop the smile from forming on her lips. 

Her suddenly-trembling lips. 

“He says it doesn’t change anything,” she says, trying to swallow the lump that’s risen up her throat. “That he still, you know, wants to be with me, wants to help raise the baby, but, I mean, it had to have at least brought his spirits down a little.” 

“It’s a true sign of his feelings, though,” she says, as if it’s not something Rory’s been obsessing over since… 

Since when? Since they got the test results in the mail? 

Since they decided to get the test done in the first place? 

Since she told him she was pregnant in the first place? 

She knows that all of these are wrong, though. She knows that she has been obsessing over Jess’ feelings since the first time she saw him when she came back to Stars’ Hollow. 

“Can we change the subject? Please?” she asks, just in time to hear the door at the back of the restaurant open. By now, it’s a sound that she would know anywhere, followed by the knowing pound of Jess’ boots against the hardwood floors. 

“Your grandmother wants to throw you a baby shower,” Lorelai says, trying her best to ignore the way Rory’s eyes follow Jess through the restaurant, but the way she smiles as he approaches the table, as he presses his lips against her forehead, still pulls a smile to her face. 

“Did you hear that, Jess?” Rory asks. “Mrs. Emily Gilmore is going to throw us a baby shower.” 

“When?” 

Lorelai finds herself surprised by his lack of a sarcastic comment — though, she supposes, maybe he has grown up a bit. 

“That’s what we were about to figure out, actually.” 

“Well, she wants to have it on a Sunday, she says it’s more proper that way.”

“Is she going to let us be in charge of the guest list, or is she going to want to invite her friends?” 

“She seemed to sound like she wanted you to make all the decisions, maybe let her feel like she’s in charge of a few things, and she’ll foot the bill.” 

“Good ol’ Emily Gilmore,” Rory mumbles, taking a sip of her coffee. “But yeah, that sounds — I can do that, I’ll give her a call later.” 

 Between Emily’s other proper Sunday events and the few that Jess has to spend in video calls with the publishing company — the agreement he was able to bring them to after the weekends on the road became too much for him (for Rory, really) — they decide on a Sunday two months down the road, Emily being surprisingly lenient with Rory’s wanting to have it at the Dragonfly Inn, and to have it catered by Sookie. 

(“Whatever you want, dear, it’s your baby shower,” she kept saying, though Rory could almost hear the passive-aggressive smile that she knows was spread across her face.) 

WEEK 24

“Would it be weird if I read to him?” Jess asks one night, Rory’s head in his lap as they both type away on their laptops, Jess’ current favorite indie British band softly playing from the speakers of his. 

Instead of answering the question, Rory asks one of her own: “What makes you so sure it’s a him?” 

He shrugs, pausing his work to place his hand on Rory’s ever-growing stomach. “I just have a feeling, you know?” he says, spreading his fingers wide. 

Rory can’t help but smile. 

“I mean, I don’t think it would be weird at all. I’m pretty sure that’s even one of those things that — I don’t know — that you’re supposed to do?” 

“But, I’m talking about, like, Ginsberg. Plath. Frost. Short stories from the New Yorker. Atwood.”

“You can’t just read, you know, normal baby things, huh?”

“All we’re going to be able to do once they understand what we’re reading is read nursery rhymes and Dr. Seuss. Let me enjoy something exciting while I still have the time.” 

“What, you’re not a big fan of Fox in Socks? What about Guess How Much I Love You? The Very Hungry Caterpillar?”

“Rory, come on, I’m serious.” 

“Yeah, me, too!”

For a moment, they just stare at each other. I love you, she thinks again, less surprising every time she tastes the words on the tip of her tongue, but she’s still biting them back. Jess has let her take the lead for everything else, she wants to give him this one. Instead, she decides on, “Oh, my god, you’re impossible.” He smiles first, though, and she is quick to return it. “But fine, yes, okay. If the thing you want the most is to start introducing this baby to American beat poets early, then I suppose I won’t stop you.” 

They start with Frost — “He still rhymes, you know,” Rory teases him as he pages through his worn copy of Mountain Interval to find what he’s looking for — but Jess has only made it through the first few lines of “Birches” before Rory finds herself nodding off, both exhausted and lulled by Jess’ reading voice: 

“When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay

As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them

Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning

After a rain. They click upon themselves

As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored

As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.”

But even with Rory’s eyes closing, with her quickly approaching unconsciousness, he doesn’t stop. He even goes back to his work for a while after the second poem, letting her sleep soundly next to him on the couch until he finds himself unable to keep his eyes open, and he rouses her only to move her to the bed. 

 After a week of Frost, next comes is Plath: “The Moon and the Yew Tree,” “Letter in November,” “The Munich Mannequins.” Unlike Frost, though, Plath does not put Rory to sleep. 

 For a few days, he reads pieces of a story from the New Yorker called “The Largesse of the Sea Maiden” — a piece that he was, ironically, supposed to write a review for but hadn’t yet found the time to focus on enough. Rory doesn’t particularly like it, but she does feel the little person inside her more often when Jess reads, though it’s not to a point where he can feel it yet, even with his and pressed against the taut skin of her stomach. 

 And then, finally, Rory lets him start Ginsberg. “A Supermarket in California” — “What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the streets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.” Somehow, it just works so beautifully with his voice, really makes her feel Ginsberg in a way she never had before. In a way she never really needed to, honestly, but one that she certainly isn’t upset about. 

“Cia Dope Calypso”: “In nineteen hundred forty-nine / China was won by Mao Tse-tung / Chiang Kai Shek's army ran away. / They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday. Supported by the CIA. Pushing junk down Thailand way.” 

“Cosmopolitan Greetings” — Rory’s favorite, if she ever needed to have one — “Stand up against governments, against God. Stay irresponsible. Say only what we know & imagine. Absolutes are Coercion. Change is absolute.” 

It’s a week before she lets him break out Howl — and she doesn’t tell him right away, but she can already feel the baby ready itself for their almost-nightly poetry slam, as if they already know what is about to happen. She made him agree that they would split Howl into three nights, three sections, the way it is supposed to be, but that doesn’t stop the hypnosis that takes over as soon as he cracks the book open. 

“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, / dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, / angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, / who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,” he says, his voice picking up every syllable as if he wrote the words himself, and Rory is caught. 

There’s no going back now, either with Ginsberg or with Jess. 

“... who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull…”

“... who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo…”

“... who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago…” 

“... who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music, who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology…” 

“... who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles…” 

And then, it happened. 

One kick. Jess isn’t even sure that’s what he felt. 

“... who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation, who drove cross country seventy two hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,…” 

Another. Okay, he’s more sure now. Especially as it happens again.

“... who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes—” 

“I don’t know, Jess,” Rory says, stopping him from continuing, and though he isn’t sure why she stopped, he’s very sure that what he’s now feeling is the movement of the baby. “I think maybe they like Ginsberg as much as you do.” 

But his mind just keeps going back to that last line he read. Instead of responding, he reads it again: “who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,” — and, yes, the baby kicks again. 

An almost-violent movement, pushing some of the skin of Rory’s stomach around with the movement, but she doesn’t seem to care, her attention focused solely on the smile that continues to spread wider across his face. 

“Not only that,” he says, setting the book spine-up on the arm of the couch so he can run the fingers of his other hand through Rory’s hair, not daring to move his hand from the spot that the baby seems to be targeting, “But I think they may have just chosen their name, too.” 

“What? Allen? Certainly not Ginsberg, that’s how you destin a child for a life of torture—” 

“No, no, none of those,” he says, shaking his head. “Besides, I may have a feeling that it’s a boy, but that doesn’t mean the name choice needs to be so certain.” 

“Jess, just tell me what you’re thinking.” 

“Denver.” 

Surprisingly — really, he certainly didn’t expect it to happen again — he feels the push against his hand, the movement of the baby just as he says it. 

“Denver,” she repeats — and they do it again. 

She smiles. “Do you need to finish reading the poem, or can you just kiss me now?” 

WEEK 30 

“So, Rory, can you tell us about Denver?” She’s actually a little surprised that the question comes from Miss Patty and not from the prying mind of Emily Gilmore. “How did you guys come up with the name?” 

Of course, she had the thought a moment too soon, and this is when her grandmother decided to speak up: “How they picked a name without even knowing the gender is beyond me.” 

“Mom,” Lorelai says, turning towards Emily with her eyes wide. 

Jess rolls his eyes, doesn’t even try to hide it from the other guests at the shower. 

Lane laughs from her seat on the other side of Rory. 

“It’s from a poem,” Rory says, trying to ignore everything else going on around her, her hand on Jess’ knee. 

“Now there’s a surprise.” This time, it’s Paris with the sarcastic comment. 

“A famous poem?” Liz asks from across the room, where Jess was sure that she wasn’t actually paying attention, sitting on her cell phone. He’s surprised, but thankful that she actually seems to care. 

“Depends on who you ask,” Jess says truthfully. 

“You guys can’t just pick a normal name from a normal poem, can you?” Paris asks — and this time, Rory rolls her eyes. 

“Why, what’s the poem?” Luke asks, his patience cut short by the collection of women (plus Christopher, who everyone knows is far from his favorite person) around him. 

“It’s called Howl,” Jess answers. 

Paris scoffs. 

Jess rolls his eyes. 

“Seriously, Gilmore?” Paris asks, completely ignoring Jess’ pointed glare. 

“What?” Emily and Rory ask at the same time, but in very different tones. “Is there something wrong with that poem?” Emily asks, already judging Jess before she’s even given the answer. 

“No,” Rory and Jess say together. 

Paris rolls her eyes. “I wish I was surprised.” 

“Lorelai,” Emily scoffs, turning to her daughter as if there is something she can do in this situation. 

“What? What could I possibly do that would make you happy about this? They’ve already picked out the name.” 

“It’s just not the most appropriate for children, that’s all,” Paris adds, possibly seeing that argument that she almost started. 

“What, you expect me to start reading nursery rhymes before the kid can even understand what I’m saying? I would think you would be smart enough to know that’s wrong, Gellar.” 

“Maybe I’ll just start calling you Ginsberg.” 

“What does that mean?” Emily asks, either trying and failing to whisper to Lorelai, or knowing exactly how loud her voice is.

“It’s the poet, grandma,” Rory answers. 

"Maybe you should just read us the poem, honey," Liz suggests, rather unhelpfully. 

"Good idea," Like agrees. 

"That's a terrible idea," Paris (unhelpfully) argues. 

"Well, is it long?" Michel finally speaks up, simply enjoying the banter from the sidelines to this point. 

"It's published as a novel," Rory tells them all. 

Jess, of course, has to argue for Ginsberg. "Yeah, but not, like, a full-length novel." 

"That doesn't mean you need to read it at the baby shower," Lane agrees. 

"You're naming your child after this poem, the least you could do is share it with us," Emily argues.

And that's how Jess wound up reading all of Part One of Howl at the baby shower. 

When he's done, no one speaks for a moment. 

Emily is, of course, the first to speak. "Well, that was awful." 

"Mom!" "Grandma!" 

"I mean, she's not wrong," Luke — unhelpfully — agrees. 

"For once, I agree with the man," Michel — unhelpfully — adds. 

Thankfully (Rory supposes), that's the most chaotic part of the shower. 

 As people start leaving, Luke pulls Jess aside away from the crowd, stopping from loading the new gifts into the trucks parked by the side door to the Inn. 

"What are you doing?" He seems angry, which confuses Jess. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Why haven't you asked her to move in with you yet?"

Jess is, to say the least, a little flabbergasted. "Is that what you want?" 

"Come on, Jess, you know this isn't about me. It's about you, it's about her, and it's about this baby." 

"I mean, she hasn't said anything about it." 

"Listen, I know you're letting her take the lead on everything, but sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith." 

Jess runs his hand through his hair — a little shorter than it's been recently, at Rory's request. He's only gotten compliments about it in the two weeks since it's happened, though, so he's assuming Rory isn't the only one who prefers it this way.

She's the only one that matters, though. She always has been. 

"What if she doesn't want to? If she thinks it's too much?" He almost doesn't ask the question — because it really is the main reason he hasn't asked her yet, despite all the times he's wanted to. The fear of denial. 

Luke almost laughs. "Then she'll continue to spend every night with you above the restaurant while still refusing to believe that she's not really living with us anymore." 

Jess contemplates this for a moment, silent. It's not that he doesn't want her to move in, doesn't want to raise the baby together, hopefully affording something more exciting than the apartment over the restaurant in the near future. 

Is it really what's best for the baby? 

"It would be easier to take everything there now than to have to move it all later," Luke comments, then slides his hat back over his slowly-greying hair. "I'll just leave you with that thought." 

But there's nothing more for Jess to think about, looking across the room to where Rory is standing between her mother and Paris, a smile spread over her face and her hands over her growing stomach. 

In just a few large strides, he crosses the room, pausing for a moment to let Sookie snap a picture of them with Lorelai's cell phone. "Rory, can I ask you something?" he asks, gesturing for her to walk with him. 

Smiling, she nods. "Of course. What's up?" 

He just goes for it. Rips off the band-aid in one fell swoop, or something like that. 

"I think it would be easier if we just took all of Denver's stuff to the apartment." 

"But there's more room for it at the house." She doesn't pick up on what he's trying to say. (He's not really surprised.) 

"We can make room for it." 

"But why?" 

"It would be much easier to just have everything in one place, don't you think?" 

"Some of my stuff is at the house, though." 

"Then we move what you need to the apartment, too." 

Finally — finally — she seems to understand, a huge smile spread across her face once the realization gets to her. 

"Yeah, okay," she says cooly, trying to hold herself together.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls au #literati #jess mariano #rory gilmore #baby gilmore #literati au #post-revival au #except I ignore half of the revival anyway #there's one more scene that's not written yet #but today is (ironically) my baby shower so I can't promise it'll be finished #so this is what you get

[period-dramallama]

A skim read of jean plaidy’s St Thomas Eve

For @thalassodromid bc this is our Niche

General thoughts on quality (TLDR)

-First off, I should give this book something of a pass because it was written 60+ years ago. Historical research, like science, Marches On.

-I skimmed it because i was not loving the style. There’s very little description, the pacing feels like This Happened And Then This Happened. With this story, you should have a sense of the stakes, the tension. It lacks atmosphere.

-This book really didn’t spark much emotion in me. I was heartwarmed and amused, but never frightened, horrified, fascinated or upset. I felt no panic when Meg got the sweat. 

-Honestly i was so bored I started wondering if maybe this is too difficult a story to tell, because i came in loving these historical figures and wanting content. How bored must the unobsessed reader be?

-Show don’t tell, Jean! Don’t tell me everyone’s very upset, show me them upset. Don’t tell me Meg loves Thomas, show their bond. Don’t tell me everyone loves Thomas for his honesty, show me him helping his neighbours.

-To be fair, there’s a lot to get through in 260 pages.

-I just love how historical fiction pulp novels have Book Club questions at the back. It just feels rather cocky, imo. Like you think your book is Deep enough for me to sit and ponder the characters. Like there was a question that was something like: “do you prefer Katherine of Aragon or Anne Boleyn” which was kind of hilarious because the whole book it was Poor Loyal Old Ugly Katherine and Six Fingered Anne Boleyn Is A Minx And Wants Thomas More Dead

Pet peeves

-at the beginning of the book, it says “Secretly Henry VII was unbothered by his wife’s death” or something along those lines. Given that Henry VII locked himself away after Elizabeth died and his mum had to step in and rule because he stopped functioning, this left a bitter taste in my mouth. Henry VII in this book is a Mean Evil Miser so of course he can’t love or be loved by a Good Woman.

-John More jnr being described as the family dunce. To be fair, maybe the book came out before we knew he was a translator too, but STILL. Don’t put John down to raise the girls up. He is valid too. 

-the language is what my old tutor would call ‘mock Tudor’. I think it was expected at the time that you had to try and make the language authentic- The Blanket of the Dark and the Man on a Donkey both use Tudor language. It really made the dialogue annoying. Lots of ‘tis and ‘twas and it was this close to beshrew me verily and hey fucking nonny nonny. Every time Alice said fuckign ‘Tilly valley’ I went AAAARGGGH. JUST HAVE HER SAY THE WORD ‘NONSENSE’. There’s a happy middle, imo, between too Tudor and too modern, and it’s quite a broad middle, you can move around a lot in it, but there are limits. 

-SPEAKING OF ALICE. Her character introduction was so good- first described as ‘an authoritative feminine voice’ *chef’s kiss* she stops a fainting Jane from being trampled at Henry’s coronation, accompanies her home and cares for her while simultaneously lowkey roasting her interior decoration. But then she becomes a bit of a caricature. When Meg gets the sweat she nags her for going near anyone who might have the sweat. The book club questions say ‘there’s more to her than meets the eye’ THEN SHOW ME MORE THAN ONE SIDE OF HER. Also Thomas loves her even though she’s ‘rude and stupid’ but Meg doesn’t understand why. Grr. 

-”mistress middleton will hear you [2 year old John] crying and box your ears” NO NO NO NO NO!

-also i get a 1950s Spanking Children Is Good Parenting vibe because Alice hits the Morelings with a slipper if they don’t study, and Tm’s described as too much of “a coward” (literally the word coward is used) to hit his children other than with peacock feathers.

-Utopia being described as an ideal state...it’s really more than that. I don’t like the idea that Meg and Thomas were okay with religious toleration but then Thomas became Consumed With Hate and he says “well religious toleration would be great in an IDEAL state...”

-Meg being horrified by heretic burning. Maybe the evidence of her views wasn’t yet available and so social mores of the 50s meant that writers and historians assumed that Of Course Being a Delicate Woman She Would Have A Natural Desire For Peace And Mercy. Grr.

-Too romancey. To be fair, Jean Plaidy wrote a lot of historical romances so maybe that’s just what she’s comfortable with (and these are historical figures that never get a chance to shine) but between Meg and Will, Clement and Mercy, Joan and Thomas, Giles and Cecily... it’s a bit like Pearl Harbour in that it’s hard to care about the cute romance when men are getting burned alive in the background. A good historical romance is more like Titanic: the lovers are directly connected with the Big Historical Events ongoing. Skip!

-in this book, Mercy thinks to herself that Meg would have Tm sign the oath, but Mercy would prefer tm to do as his conscience dictates...that feels like the wrong way round.

-Erasmus and Thomas More speaking in English...Doubt.jpeg. 

-Thomas More muses on how Complex men are because there’s Proud Cold Thomas Howard who is Soft for Simple Launderess Bess Holland...yeah given the multiple colossal power imbalances in that real-life affair, I’d be very surprised if it never strayed into abuse.

-baby Meg is a lil too precocious.

-dying Joan tells Meg to look after her father, no Joan stop I love you but don’t give a six year old responsibility, I don’t care if she’s six but acts eleven, looking after TM is Alice’s job not Meg’s. 

-Tm using the phrase ‘our little secret’ with Meg. The context is not abusive, but the phrase is so weighted, it’s like referring to something as “a final solution”: the famous meaning is too horrifying to feel comfortable with that combination of words in any context at all. 

-Joan’s younger sister being described as beautiful and flirtatious, and the whole bit about More fancying the younger sister but going for the older out of honour. The book says that More’s fascination with joan’s sister is the reason he realised he couldn’t be a priest. Given Joan’s 16, her sister’s 15 at the oldest, possibly 14. So a 26 year old can’t be a priest because he’s lusting after a 14-15 year old girl who is attractive and who has been flirting with him. Squick. 

-also no mention of erasmus at the end of tm’s life. Boo. I think a dude in the tower would think about his BFF of 30+ years who he hasn’t seen for 10+ years 

Good bits

-It’s obviously unintentional, but given how the word ‘gay’ has changed, i gave a little cheer every time a character was described as gay. Cecily and John are both gay, Thomas More is very gay, and later in the book wishes he could go back to being gay again. Loving the accidental representation 

-”a boy who is not worth the tossing” i have a dirty mind ok

-Joan getting something of a personality! She even feels insecure because she’s a normal person stuck in a family of geniuses.

-George Boleyn is described as being ‘a bright boy’ and later the girls joke that if they meet him they’ll probably fall in love THIS SO REFRESHING. Otoh, Mary Boleyn is slutshamed and Anne is a scheming minx so the double standard does spoil it a little. 

-Thomas More makes puns! At one point Alice says “more’s the pity” and then immediately says “don’t you dare make a pun out of that. i know u will. DON’T I AM NOT IN THE MOOD FOR PUNS” Granted, Plaidy stresses that his wit is never cruel or mocking (Doubt.jpeg) but i think this is maybe the funniest More. 

-It acknowledges the heretic burning! Not bad for 1950-something. At the end there’s a sort of Hm Thomas More Is A Complex Dude How Do We Approach Him page from H8′s POV.

-More’s father getting all misty-eyed when his son becomes Chancellor

-Henry VIII kissing tm’s forehead

-the flogging of the mentally ill upskirter being depicted

-Wolsey not being a caricature but a worldly and practical man. He’s explicitly described as “not a bad man”

-”He [TM] was no Erasmus, who, having thrown the stone that shattered the glass of orthodox thought, must run and hide himself lest he should be hurt by the splinters” not a very fair way to depict Erasmus (as he spent a lot of the last decades of his life arguing against Luther and trying to mediate between religious factions, esp in Basel) However, I like the metaphor

-Meg talking about how she and her sisters will always compare men unfavourably to their father... understandable.

-More explaining why Heretic Burning is Good Actually is done well

-Meg pointing out that More and Erasmus both criticised the Church, only it’s a bit half-baked because More never experiences any doubt or crisis over it. 

-Meg being torn between the Lutheran and the Catholic men she loves is at least some conflict and stakes when it finally shows up.

-Alice standing trial for dogknapping on page 195. A Big Lipped Alligator Moment, and I’ve no idea the source (i doubt Plaidy would make it up completely, it’s so out of nowhere) but it’s fun. It feels like one of More’s ‘merry tales’

“[Erasmus] read aloud to Thomas when he came home; and sometimes Thomas would sit by his friend’s bed with Margaret on one side of him and Mercy on the other; he would put an arm about them both, and when he laughed and complimented Erasmus so that Erasmus’ pale face was flushed with pleasure, then Margaret believed that there was all the happiness in the world in that room.” my emotions! my emotions! my ship is sailing, i repeat, the ship is sailing!

-”Meg, this is one of the happiest days of my life. it is a day I shall remember on the day i die. i shall say to myself when i find death near me: ‘the great erasmus said that of my daughter, my meg.’”

-”So the King likes verses!” said mistress middleton, her voice softening a little. 

“Ah, madam,” said Thomas. “What the King likes today, may we hope Mistress Middleton will like tomorrow?” Do I smell... flirtation...

-”His face was pleasant and kindly, [Alice] concluded....She would like to feed him some of her possets, put a layer of fat on his bones with her butter.” Does this version of Alice have a feeding kink I definitely think, in this ‘verse, Tm and Alice are 100% having sex.

-John Colet’s in it, though described as tm’s confessor (who i think was actually grocyn or linacre)

-Alice clearing a path for a fainting Jane with “Stand aside, you oafs.” alexa, play X gon give it to you. 

#historical fiction #warning: very very long post

[ladyhistorypod]

Episode 12: The Lady History Library

Sources:

Zora Neale Hurston

National Women’s History Museum

Zora Neale Hurston Digital Archive, Chronology

Zora Neale Hurston: A Biography of the Spirit

Further Reading & Listening: The Dead Ladies Show (podcast), Wrapped in Rainbows: the Life of Zora Neale Hurston (audio book), The death and rebirth of Zora Neale Hurston (article/podcast), 

Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou’s Website

Time

Biography

National Women’s History Museum

The Harlem Writers Guild

Poetry Foundation

Mary Shelley

Literary Hub

History Channel

Encyclopedia

Biography

Poetry Foundation

British Library: Mary Shelley

British Library: Mary Shelley, Frankenstein and the Villa Diodati

University of Central Missouri

Somerset Live

Attributions: image of Maya Angelou, Book Page, Maya Angelou at Hillside Courtesy; William J. Clinton Presidential Library 

Click below for a transcript of this episode!

Archival Audio: Our story is about a library. Although this library is a new one, it is not much different from most. And the people you will see might be your own neighbors.

Alana: You guys we did it. (Laughing)

Lexi: Yes!

Haley: Guys, I was in the car going to my in-laws or like what my mom calls my in-laws because I don't know what to do– like what do you call your boyfriend's parents when you live with your boyfriend?

Lexi: Your boyfriend's parents.

Alana: Hey Riddle Riddle has a word for this. SOPAS. Significant other’s parents.

Lexi: Oh yeah!

Haley: I like that.

Lexi: That's good.

Alana: Your SOPAS.

Haley: We’re not, like, married but then I don't know like I feel like saying oh my boyfriend’s parents. And we heard it like on the radio and all the tweets just came rushing in and we were getting gas and I did like a little dance in the car.

Lexi: Awww.

Haley: And when we were driving up I kept clapping and saying thank you out the window to all the Biden/Harris signs and then hissing at all the Trump/Pence and I think I heard me. But like, come on.

Lexi: I was walking on the beach, and people were driving by with American flags honking and every time someone honked everyone would cheer. And then this guy came by in a Biden/Harris tee that he'd cut the sleeves off of so it was very like 1980s muscle tank and he had a little horn on his bike and he was talking and he was going “woo! Woo!”

Alana: That is so Biden.

Lexi: And then there was one guy who gave him the middle finger and everyone who was like around the area of the beach, like it's Covid so people like weren't like close together but people were like around each other and everyone just looked at that guy like. You’re the asshole.

Alana: There was like just tons of honking and it was a lot of fun. And then I was trying to take my Shabbat nap and there was still honking.

Haley: What I want to know like immediately, and I say that sarcastically because we have a lot of other fish to fry, is where his like presidential library is going to be. Because that's like law. In the fifties Congress passed a law that every US president has to have their library. My guess is that Trump’s is going to be in like Florida. Like right next to–

Lexi: You don’t think New York City?

Haley: No. I’m being fully serious when I say it's Florida because I don't think New York.

Lexi: Mar a Largo Presidential Library?

Alana: Yeah probably.

[INTRO MUSIC]

Alana: Hello and welcome to Lady History; the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. Today I'm joined in the Lady History library by Lexi. Lexi, what's the best grade you've gotten on a paper about a book you didn't read?

Lexi: Well I have to tell you something, Alana. I have never not read a book for school. I am a kiss ass. I'm a loser. I never had–

Alana: Haley is doing the big L

Lexi: L. on her forehead. I know. I was called all sorts of names. Brownnoser, ass-kisser… My number one teacher relationship was with the AP literature teacher. I read every word of Light in August. I read every word of One Hundred Years of Solitude. So, sorry to disappoint you but–

Alana: You’re blowing my mind right now. 

Lexi: I read all of Crime and Punishment word for word.

Alana: Our other librarian is Haley. Haley, what do you think is the most overrated book in the straight white male literary canon?

Haley: Anything from Shakespeare.

Alana: I love you so much Haley. I also don't like Shakespeare.

Lexi: There's a theory that he might be three women pretending to be a man.

Alana: And I'm Alana and I believe everyone has two favorite books; their intellectual favorite and their actual favorite.

Lexi: One hundred percent true.

Alana: So this is my post intro banter; what is your intellectual favorite and what is your actual favorite. Intellectual favorite is like your favorite that you had to read for school, and then like your real favorite.

Haley: That's assuming I like, read books in high school. Okay, let me–

Lexi: I’m the opposite.

Haley: Like, let me– okay, I'm like on the spectrum of dyslexia. My mom may come after me, she doesn’t listen to the podcast, it's fine, she's in denial about it. But I have a really hard time doing pronunciation in my head and pronouncing words. It just, it happened. I didn't really start reading until the second grade. So going into high school, I had to do the standardized testing. I got a one on the English and then like a four on the science? Because those were like the two that worked. And they thought I was like the stupidest person in the world. Like they couldn't like. Brain fathom that I didn't think the same way for reading grammar and like reading books because they were like “did you– what happened? You got a four on science.” And I just, I did not read like it was never– and I read books on the side. My mom would like see me reading like Harry Potter, Hunger Games, all the YA books of the time and not reading school books. And it was just like out of disdain. But I think if I had to pick out of like the five I actually read was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest because I knew I would watch the movie with Jack Nicholson and I actually like the book. And then fun book, I don't have a favorite fun book, I just have a genre. Like that cheesy romance novels.

Alana: Oh yeah.

Haley: Not the ones about sex, but just like the girl finding the guy… the single mom like figuring life out. Anything from like Jennifer Hyde, Jasmine Guillory, those books are my jam because I know that like I'm so distant from them. Just like in retrospect and I don't have those type of human emotions. I’m like “oh. That’s– that is a fantasy.” That is my fantasy type thing. Like I think I can like see a pig fly or just like Harry Potter's wand come shooting at my brain cells, but like girl falling in love because she met a guy at the bookstore? That sounds fake.

Alana: I want to point out. Haley is the only one of us who’s in a romantic relationship right now.

Lexi: I think that says something about if you have too high expectations… you’re gonna be single. (Laughing)

Haley: Remember, I thought like my longtime boyfriend was gay and in a relationship the man he was sitting on the couch with.

Lexi: So, okay. My favorite intellectual book is probably One Hundred Years of Solitude, and people always like “why the hell do you like that book… like incest… like what's wrong with you?” I just think it’s really well written. Like, I think it's very visual in how it describes things and it's like full of like visual metaphor and now I sound like an asshole the way I’m talking. Like I love books.

Haley: No, I am so happy you said that because I tried reading that book. That was never recommended in school, but after finishing school and like learning to love to read through like summer vacation and then also college, I found one of those buzzfeed list of like a hundred books you had to read in school and I've been trying to like pick them off. And I've tried to read that book like two to three times and I can't get past page 70, and I don't know if that's just me or that's like the book. But it's probably me. But now that you’ve said this I'm gonna start it again.

Lexi: I think it takes a certain kind of person to enjoy it, but it's a very good book. And then my fun book– that's hard because I love lots of fun books. Like I want to say The Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by Caitlin Doughty but that's not really fun, that's actually quite intellectual. Oh, now I sound like more of an asshole! I can’t not sound like an asshole this episode.

Alana: Today on Lady History: Lexi’s an asshole.

Lexi: I'm a literary snob. But no, this– this’ll redeem me. My all time favorite book like of all time is called the Perkin Papers, and quite frankly I don't know if it even still exists, like I don't think you can buy a new copy of it because the copy I have is from the 1930s and I found it at an auction in a box when I was five. But it's gotten me through some rough times.

Haley: That is the most Lexi way of finding a motherfucking book if I’ve ever heard one.

Lexi: I go to a lot of weird places to find books. So my favorite smart person book, or my favorite high school book is Frankenstein which oh my god sneak peek foreshadowing. And then my favorite actual, my actual favorite fun book is either Good Omens which I read before I knew the show was coming out by the way. I am not a bandwagoner. Not that there's anything wrong with being a bandwagoner but I am not a bandwagoner. Or an Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green and the sequel, A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor. But I think that Hank Green's books are beautiful depictions and explorations of humanity and social media.

LEXI’S STORY STARTS HERE

Archival Audio: This little song is a story. The young lady thinks that it's time for them to get married, in fact if she thinks they just have to, and the boy doesn’t want to marry. And so this song’s about it. (Singing) Tilly, lend me your pigeon. He caught me with mine. My pigeon’s gone wild in the bush. My pigeon’s gone wild. My pigeon’s gone wild in the bush. My pigeon’s gone wild.

Lexi: I have two things in common with Zora Neale Hurston, any guesses on what those two things are?

Alana: You love the bison at the zoo.

Haley: You both have owned birds.

Lexi: I don't think either of those are true of Zora Neale Hurston. But, those two things it is is that she was a trained anthropologist and she went to a college in Washington DC.

Alana: Okay my guess was that you both lived in DC for– my actual guess was that you both lived in DC for a while, and I know that sounds like “eheheh that’s what I was going to say” but that is, like, what I was going to say.

Lexi: No I believe that you would have guessed that because I think it's like… People reference her around DC because she spent some time there. Although she didn’t spend that long there. Anyway and then the funny thing is you both also kinda had that come with her so. Haha.

Alana: That's true. 

Lexi: We all have those two things in common with Zora Neale Hurston. Now I will begin. So, let's jump into her story… book, get it? She's an author and also Haley says that a lot of times so it’s not that unique that I said that. Zora was born on January 15, 1891 in Notasulga? I might be saying that wrong. Notasulga, Alabama. And like many other young Black women in her era, both her parents had been enslaved. And when she was very young her family moved to Florida and settled in Eatonville, which is one of the first towns in the United States to be incorporated by African-Americans, so she grew up in an area with a lot of African-American leaders.

Speaker 2: There, her father became mayor and pastor at the local church and her mother Lucy Potts Hurston died in 1904 and her father remarried. Zora and her stepmother did not get along, and so the young girl went to live with other family members, spending a lot of time with her brother in her brother's homes. In 1914, she moved to Memphis and began working as a nanny for one of her brother’s children. And she then became a maid and moved to Baltimore. In Baltimore, she eventually became a waitress and decided to go back to school, studying at night. And on September 17, 1917, Zora at the age of 26 enrolled at the Morgan Academy. She graduated with a high school degree a year later and moved to Washington DC where she began working as a manicurist and continued to work as a waitress. That fall she entered Howard University and in two years she earned an associate's degree. Zora co-founded The Hilltop, which is still Howard's student newspaper to this day. She then moved to New York City. Zora, through a scholarship she earned, attended Barnard College. There, she declared herself an English major, but was also passionate about anthropology, studying under the famed “founding father” anthropologist Franz Boas. Also while in New York, she befriended notable Harlem icons such as Langston Hughes and Countee Cullen. She became a part of the Black cultural movement, joining many other Black writers living and working in Harlem. At the end of her college career, Professor Boas encouraged her to collect Black folklife in the south. This experience shaped future work. As both an anthropologist and author, Zora dedicated her life to the preservation and promotion of Black cultural studies. She did not only study Black culture and African diaspora in the United States of America, but also visited the islands of Haiti, the Bahamas, and Jamaica; studying religion and reporting her findings in US newspapers. In addition to producing ethnographic work for her research, she also used her studies of Black culture, religion, and folklife to inspire her fiction writing. She also collaborated with Langston Hughes on her writing. Her most famous work, Their Eyes Were Watching God, is notable for breaking barriers as one of the first fiction novels to explore the experience of a Black woman in America. Today, the novel is used as an educational tool in high school literature classes and college anthropology and American studies courses. If you have not read it, do yourself a favor; go pick up a copy from your local bookstore or library. It was the book that inspired me to pick Zora for this episode and it's one of the works that inspired me to study anthropology in college because when I read it as a junior in high school I was like this is really interesting I need to know more about this lady and how she got all this information to make the story. And I found out how she did ethnographic work and I was like “that's a job?” So anyway, that’s really cool. Zora wore many hats, and anthropology and literature were not her only passions. She also taught drama at the North Carolina College for Negroes, which is now the North Carolina Central University and she worked as a consultant for a movie studio, Paramount Pictures. In the 1940s, Zora lived on a houseboat that she called Wanago. And also in a controversial hot take zero oppose the Supreme Court ruling in Brown V. Board, believing integration would actually result in assimilation and destroy the cultural transmission of knowledge between Black teachers and Black students, which I guess makes a bit of sense. At the time, integration meant a lot of Black students went on to have white teachers and a lot of Black teachers were no longer teaching. And cultural representation in education really matters because sometimes without specific cultural understanding, meeting students’ needs can be really hard, and we still see this problem today. So obviously I don't believe in school segregation, but I think Zora’s point could be used today to support hiring diversity and hiring teachers who reflect diverse communities where they teach. Zora was married three times, but it never lasted long. I think they were all like a year, but honestly they’re such a footnote in her life it's hard to find resources on these guys. Through her lifetime, Zora was largely ignored by mainstream white literary critics and she had a large following in the Black community. She was usually underpaid for her work and she lived poorly for most of her life. Towards the end of her life, despite being an accomplished author, she was evicted. She suffered a stroke in 1959, and in old age she was forced to enter the St Lucie County Welfare Home where she was cared for until her death of heart disease on January 28, 1960. Because she had no money or close relatives, she was buried in an unmarked grave and her funeral was held through donations collected from her friends. When Alice Walker, the author known for her book The Color Purple, found out Zora’s grave was unmarked, she decided to do something about it. In 1972, she found Zora’s grave and commissioned a marker for it. The marker reads “ZORA NEALE HURSTON / A GENIUS OF THE SOUTH / NOVELIST FOLKLORIST / ANTHROPOLOGIST / 1901–1960." And yes, she got the birthday wrong, but that's okay because she did an awesome thing recognizing her. Though in life, Zora’s work was overlooked, in death she became an icon, and is considered one of the best writers of her time. Today many modern authors consider her an influence on their work. Her folklife recordings and manuscripts are held in the Zora Neale Hurston archive at the University of Central Florida and can be accessed online through their website or the Library of Congress. Her hometown, Eatonville, Florida, honors her with the Zora Neale Hurston Museum of Fine Arts and the Zora Neale Hurston Library; two fitting tributes to her passion for arts, culture, and literature. And, so I know I said that the reason I picked her was because of Their Eyes Were Watching God, and that's true but that's only half true. Another reason I love Zora Neale Hurston is that when I worked at the zoo there were two bison at the National Zoo, and there's always bison at the National Zoo because the first animal ever exhibited at the National Zoo was a bison and every time there's always two, and one is always named by Howard University and one is always named by Gallaudet University because they’re two universities in DC, and the students vote through a poll to name each of the bison that represent their school. And this started as a tradition because the bison is the mascot of Howard. They are the Howard bison, so that's how this tradition started. And usually the Howard students pick an alum of their university to be the bison's name, and so while I was working at the zoo, the bison named by Howard students was named Zora and she was named after Zora Neale Hurston, who got her associate's degree from Howard University. And that's pretty cool, but unfortunately I just found out recently that Zora passed away March 7, 2020 from an leg injury. And when big animals like bison and horses get leg injuries, they can't really recover. They have to be humanely euthanized, which really stinks. But they do have two new baby bison at the zoo that just got named this July.

HALEY’S STORY STARTS HERE

Archival Audio: History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again. Lift up your eyes upon This day breaking for you. Give birth again To the dream. Women, children, men, Take it into the palms of your hands, Mold it into the shape of your most Private need. Sculpt it into The image of your most public self. Lift up your hearts Each new hour holds new chances For a new beginning.

Haley: So, like Lexi said, I always say let’s crack open that story book, and that’s exactly what we're gonna do today for Marguerite Annie Johnson or Maya Angelou. I'm gonna try a new way of quote “storytelling” for just in general huge historic heroes by telling a couple of quote “short stories' ' rather than like one long telling of their life-icles.

Lexi: Vignettes.

Haley: What?

Lexi: Vignettes. Like if you ever read the book The Things They Carried– oh my god Lexi’s a literary snob. It's a book told in vignettes.

Alana: Vine was also short for vignettes.

Haley: And I thought it was fitting to do it for our author ladies because like short stories, haha so funny. And especially our author, Maya, has written 36 books and some of those actually include cookbooks, so throwback to our previous episode. So, story number one I've titled quote “I love the uniforms.” So Maya had spent some time in San Francisco, and she was actually the first female African American cable car conductor. So for those of you who are not familiar with San Francisco's cable car, they’re the classic almost like trolley-like vehicles that make a bunch of noise when you hear them. And they're mainly downtown SF to go up and down those massive eff off hills, and they’re a huge tourist attraction at this point. And the secret is, guys do this if you're ever in SF, past corona, all that good stuff. It's fourteen dollars to like ride it. But if you get one of those like day passes included, then that's– like that's what you have to do. You have to make sure the day pass you get or if you're a local because a lot of them use it for their transportation of like if you're on top of Knob Hill you go down the hill or up the hill to get to really where like the financial district stuff is… all the big businesses. and in our like monthly pass where you pay like eighty dollars for it you get like unlimited trolley car… or, cable car… I always called it the trolley. I don't know why, but Robert and other locals would yell at me saying “it's the cable car. The trolley is something different.” They all look the same to me and I'm still gonna get lost either way. Anyhoo, sixteen year old Maya wanted this job and even said on like an Oprah Winfrey talk show, “I loved the uniforms,” hence the title. And it was her mother who actually said that she should go to the city office and get the job if she wanted it so badly. And when she went to the area like where the cable car conductors got hired, she was noted to be reading Russian literature. And she wasn't first hired or even allowed to like apply because of her race. Because surprise surprise, America wasn't woke and it’s still not woke. But she read her Russian literature, like the boss girl she is, and was hired. When she like, she didn't get the application actually before being hired. She was under the legal age so she actually wrote that she was 19 like the badass she was. and as a conductor her mom would also join her. And like she's currently conducting at like the butt crack of dawn at four AM and her mom would kind of go behind a trolley car. And the trolley car isn’t like a closed vehicle. It’s not like a bus or train where the doors close. You can just hop on and you'll see people hold onto a pole and stand on the outside, and cars come like within inches of you. You can't even have like a backpack or something. Like you have to like hug yourself to this pole, essentially. I've almost gotten hit once or twice. Also for cars going by, there are special lanes, if this was like the same back then as well. There are special lanes that these cable cars can go through. Regardless her mom would trail Maya’s cable car and Maya said quote “with her pistol on the passenger seat.” So I love that. I don’t– like I just– ugh. Juicy. And she worked there for about a semester before deciding to return to school. Second story, I'm calling it “getting pen to paper.” In the 1950s, African American writers in New York City formed The Harlem Writers Guild to essentially support Black authors in the publication process and affirm them as the beautiful writers they are. And the Guild is still around today, the link is in the show notes, of course of course. And she was one of the early members and during this time she began to write I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, an autobiography of her life that was published in 1969, And many claim to be her most famous book. This is now where like my memory is kind of getting fuzzy because I read a lot of her books, and a lot of her books– or, most of her books are autobiographies or what she actually created as a genre during this time as autobiographical fiction. And that’s basically taking parts of your life and adding some elaborate essence to connect it more, make it more juicy. And this one I think is the one that took like thirteen years to write. Like she kinda wrote it along with her life and also included some earlier parts. So she just like took truly the most time and it really paid off. And she also during this time in the Guild continued to explore art forms in poetry, dance, music, and even like writing and directing films. So we get just her really explain herself as a writer. And lastly, we have story number three, which I have called quote “On the Pulse of Morning.” And On the Pulse of Morning was the title of the poem she read for Clinton's presidential inauguration in 1993. That's why when Alana was like “hey, let's– let's do a quick nod of the election,” I was like “haha! I got this.” She was the second poet ever to read an original work at a presidential inauguration. The first was Robert Frost at JFK's in 1961. And the poem itself shares themes of inclusion, change, and the role of the president, and like the responsibility it comes with, but also like the role and responsibility a citizen has, which are all things we should just remember right now, 2020. And she was chosen because she grew up in Stamps, Arkansas or like a lot of her childhood was in Stamps, Arkansas, which was rather close to where Clinton was born. And he said that her writing really resonated with him. For example, he was quoted saying ”When I read I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, I knew exactly who she was talking about and what she was talking about in that book.” And that references how Clinton's grandfather managed a grocery store that was in a predominantly African American neighborhood. And actually for this spoken word poem, was recorded and she ended up winning a Grammy Award in 1994. It was apparently like an amazing amazing thing. I don't have enough time to go searching on the YouTubes for it because I was researching another gal because we're recording two episodes tonight. But it was noted to be almost as like a theatrical performance. She just exuded that power and greatness and dug deep into her roots of being a dancer and performer. Before I finish, because I have my three short stories, I would like to note that Maya at times had a very difficult life with racial injustice, physical and sexual assault, loss, and just– the list goes on. But I did not want to pick stories on that because even in her a lot of her books she would focus on the positives and say how she took the bad and turned it into something good. And each three of those stories had a little nugget so dig deep into what I said and pick out positive from the not so positive; the bad, if you will. And I would just like to share my favorite book of hers which was published in 2013, a year before she died, and it's Mom and Me and Mom. And she also died at age 83 so she lived quite a life. One of my favorite quotes of hers is “If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude.”

ALANA’S STORY STARTS HERE

Archival Audio: She's beautiful, she's evil, and she'll do anything for love. Never been a movie like Lady Frankenstein.

Alana: I'm so excited for this. My lady for today is Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, née Wollstonecraft Godwin; the teenage girl who invented science fiction and my O.G. goth queen. You may have seen some internet history lessons that you should of course take with more salt than the Dead Sea and I will note those when they come up, but sneak peek I have wonderful news about them. Mary was born August 30, 1797, that makes her a Virgo. Her parents were William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft– yes that Mary Wollstonecraft, the author of A Vindication of the Rights of Women. Side note, I think we should do an episode on pre-first wave feminism feminists and I am calling dibs on Mary Wollstonecraft. They'd only gotten married that March scandal noises, gasp, shock and awe, possibly because William what was this radical anti marriage philosopher freethinker, and then his lover– not my favorite word, but anytime I use the word lover I am referencing Hadestown– was pregnant and it was a propriety thing. Although Mary Wollstonecraft had already had another daughter from a previous affair with an American businessman and I don't think they were married. Yeah, that's the real shock and awe. There is so much shock and awe, scandal in this story. Get ready for it. Just a week and a half after Mary was born on September 10, her mother died of complications from the child birth. And those complications can basically be summed up with 18th century doctors didn't wash their hands. And William Godwin made it very clear to Mary that she was a monster who had killed her mother. Literary scholar Sandra Gilbert has argued that Frankenstein is a projection of her own life. A quote unquote “monster” trying to have a relationship with the parent whose life it ruined. William remarried their neighbor Mary Jane Clairmont who had two kids of her own. And then William and Mary Jane had a son, so now Mary has four half and/or step siblings. Her stepmother vastly preferred her own children. Mary and her stepsister Claire would go on to spend quite a bit of time together but we'll get into that in a bit. Mary found solace at her mother's grave at St Pancras Church in London. She learned to write her name by tracing the letters on the tombstone, and that's only like the third most goth thing about her. But nobody talks about this one. I just think– I think it's like cute goth. Like kawaii goth. She would just like to hang out there and read or whatever like it was her spot. Normal kids have treehouses, Mary had her mother's grave. She published a kids’ book at the age of eleven called, I'm gonna butcher this pronunciation, but it’s not spelled like French so I guess this is on you Mary that I'm gonna mess this up. Mounseer Nongtongpaw; or, the Discoveries of John Bull in a Trip to Paris. It was her father's publishing company, so just a skosh of nepotism there, but it's still cool that she was eleven and published. In 1812, when she was fourteen, her father sent her to Scotland to live with some family friends, the Baxters, at her step mother's request. One of my sources said that Mrs Godwin felt quote “threatened by Mary” who had become the quote “beautiful image of his first wife” which. Mm. I do not like. Do not like. Mm. Okay. But you know what? Whatever though, because Mary is thriving. She feels good, she's away from her wicked stepmother, she's made friends with the Baxters’ youngest daughter Isabel, and she's like healthy and just like thriving. She's, she's living her best self. That November, she briefly visited home and this is potentially– it's kind of disputed by scholars, but this is potentially the first time she met, heart eyes emoji, Percy Shelley but he was still married to his first wife Harriet. Percy had come to study under Mary's father, but they were immediately smitten. In 1814 William Godwin brought his daughter home like for permanents because he wanted her to start earning her own living. But I think if Mary actually met Percy before in 1812, I like to imagine him just being like “hey, Mr Godwin, you know what would be really cool? It would be really cool if Mary were here. Don't you think I would be really cool if Mary were here?” But I… like I don't know if that's what happened. But this is where Percy and Mary have definitely met, and they read together and they have intellectual discussions. He’s very impressed by her parentage and her intellect, and they started their affair and they're very much in love. Mary takes him to her favorite place, her mother's grave, to profess her love for him. This is also where Percy asks her to marry him. And this is our first internet history lesson. You may have seen that Mary Shelley lost her virginity on her mother's grave. Most scholars say yeah. That happened. That's true. Because it was a very– it was a place of emotional growth for Mary. Percy later said that having sex with Mary was his real birthday. I hate this man.

Lexi: It seems like they all had a lot of problems.

Alana: I hate this man. I hate him so much. And we're gonna get more into why I hate him so much, but, okay. Percy supposedly gave Mary's dad twelve hundred pounds, which is now over eighty four thousand pounds, which is over a hundred and ten thousand dollars, in exchange for him to allow Percy and Mary to run away together. Mr Godwin took the money and said no. But Mary and Percy ran away to Switzerland anyway. And Mary's dad doesn't speak to her for two and a half years. I want to point out, Percy is still married to another woman at this point, who was pregnant and they already had a child together.

Haley: I was just about to ask that.

Lexi: Yeah.

Alana: They're still married. Mary’s stepsister, Claire, who I mentioned, comes with them as a translator. But it's possible that Percy was also having an affair with her and they were a throuple. Percy was like all about free love and probably would have been one of those dudes on Bumble who's like “ethical non monogamy.” I'm looking at Lexi because she knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Lexi: I’m like envisioning a meme where it's his profile and he’s got like books, book emoji, cigarette emoji. He’s real edgy.

Alana: Oh yeah, totally. There is also evidence that Mary had affairs too, so this is like 19th century polyamory. Claire did eventually leave their household when Mary's jealousy kind of like physically made her ill. It just like she sank into this deep depression that magically got better when Claire moved out. They’re constantly on the move because Percy owes a lot of people a lot of money and he has to keep running away from creditors. Like, he– he gave someone a hundred and ten thousand dollars for permission to do something he was gonna do anyway. So, hm. Not great.

Speaker 1: Here is what everyone is waiting for, the writing of Frankenstein. This is a very famous story that they've done on Drunk History which was very funny to watch a drunk person try and say Wollstonecraft Godwin. I died laughing for ten whole minutes. And there’s an episode of Doctor Who about it, and side note the Thirteenth Doctor is chef's kiss A plus amazing, it's a whole new show and I love it. So 1816 was the year without a summer because the Indonesian volcano Mount Tamboro, I hope I'm pronouncing that right, had erupted the year before and covered basically the whole planet in a giant ash cloud. I am being dramatic, but my point is it was dark and gloomy and rainy the whole summer across Europe. So Claire’s back, and she’s pregnant with Lord Byron's– yes, that Lord Byron’s– child. And Lord Byron is staying at the Villa Diodati in Geneva, and the three of them meet him there and they're all hanging out. Are they having orgies? Maybe. Byron and Percy had been talking about Romantic– capital R. romantic, as in the 19th century cultural movement, those kind of ideas about death and magic and life and ooky spooky stuff. And so they start a ghost-story off. And this is where Mary begins Frankenstein. It wasn't all written in that night. I feel like that's a misconception, that she wrote all of it that night, but that was just like the idea. Most of it was actually written in Bath when everyone went back to England. And it wasn’t off-the-cuff either. Like Mary had a really hard time coming up with her idea. Percy and Mary finally got real married in December of 1816 after his first wife Harriet committed suicide. Apparently she was pregnant with another man's child, but honey have you seen what's going on here? I think you would've been fine. But Percy was denied custody of their children and he believed he might have a better chance of getting custody if he were quote– massive air quotes– “settled down.” This didn't work, but Mary's dad starts talking to her again, so that's nice. And Mary had a huge role in Percy Shelley's legacy, probably because some of survivor's guilt. He drowned in a shipwreck with two of his friends off the coast of Italy in July 1822 while Mary was recovering from a miscarriage that almost killed her. When Percy's body washed up, he was only identifiable by the Keats poetry in his pocket. Percy was cremated on the beach and his heart did not burn. That's true. Modern doctors say it probably calcified from a bout with tuberculosis earlier in his life. One of his friends took the heart and kept it and only gave it to Mary after her constantly bugging him. Which leads us to our second internet history lesson. Did she keep Percy Shelley's heart? Yes and no. When Mary died in 1850, her family definitely found his heart in her desk wrapped in the pages of his final poem, Adonaïs which is like a really sweet love poem. You should read that. But read Frankenstein first. Did she actually carry it everywhere? Uncertain. Maybe, but they definitely found it in her desk so she definitely had it. We're– we're not really sure where it is now. I don't know how that's possible, but I have conflicting sources. It's possible that it's with Mary or with their only child who had reached adulthood Percy Florence Shelley. They’d had a bunch of kids who either died super young or only lived like a few days. Mary is primarily responsible for the posthumous collection of Percy Shelley's work. So that's like all her. It’s like in her writing credits that she edited all of these collections. After Percy died, Mary turned down several marriage proposals because she quote “wanted to be Mary Shelley on her tombstone” which is really sweet. Side note, thank you to 19th century people for writing down all your feelings in like journals and thoughts and everything and then keeping them. I love that we know what you were thinking because there was no Twitter for you to document your whole lives the way that I do, although of course if you see me on Twitter, no you don't. This is where the stories about her usually stop after, Percy died. But, Alana, you said that she died in 1850, Percy died in 1822. What on earth did she do with those 28 years? I am so glad that you asked. First of all, she wrote a bunch more, thank you very much. Five more novels that weren't Frankenstein were published in her lifetime and at least twenty short stories. While she was no longer the radical she had been when she was with Percy, she took it upon herself to protect the women in her life. Claire, who lived with her on and off, obviously who I brought up a couple times. She lived with and supported the wife and children of one of Percy's friends who had also drowned. She helped her childhood friend Isabel, Isabel Baxter, from before, get out of England when she had a child out of wedlock. So she was protecting her, her friends. Mary died of brain cancer in 1850. Her son and his wife had her parents’ bodies exhumed and she's buried between them in St Peter's Church in Bournemouth. There are plans for a Mary Shelley museum in Bath, just up the street from the Jane Austen Centre and very much in the same style of like employees in period clothes and family friendly. The most recent article that I found about it was from June and one of the people in charge of it said that it would be finished by the end of the year slash early 2021, and that tourism would pick back up by then, but it's November and the U. K. just went back into lockdown, so I don’t think that schedule is still what’s happening. But, once travel is a thing again and once that Mary Shelley museum is open I think Lady History field trip to Bath. Shout outs to some professor at the University of Central Missouri for putting their study guide or test for Frankenstein as a PDF on the university website. The timeline of Mary's life on the first few pages was very helpful. I hope it wasn't a student who cheated, but the url is like UCM dot EDU, so… I just– I love Mary Shelley so much. I used– I made this joke in high school when we were reading Frankenstein that I think I am Mary Shelley reincarnated. Like if reincarnation is real, I would buy that. Like I'm only half kidding. But if reincarnation is real, which I don't know. I don't know if reincarnation is real. I know hell is not real, that's for sure. I also think it would be cool to be a ghost. Anyway… Lexi why are you laughing at me?

Lexi: It’s just very you.

Alana: Yeah. Anyway. So that is the story of Mary Shelley, the teenager who invented science fiction, and if you think it was some like, Isaac Asimov or whatever, who I literally saw in a meme once. If you think a man invented sci fi you are incorrect.

Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on lady history pod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review or tell your friends,and if you don't like the show keep it to yourself.

Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra, you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, Garageband, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us next time, on Lady History.

[OUTRO MUSIC]

Haley: Next time on Lady History; we're going to be discussing some ladies whose lives were unfortunately cut a little too short.

#womens history #feminist history #literary history #mary shelley #maya angelou #zora neale hurston

[getalittleclosey]

under 50k larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 100k

100k+

☆ the beginning of everything by thedeathchamber 31k

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

--

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

☆ to kill the mess we’ve made by misandrogyny 43k

And when he's finally standing, Liam fussing over him, rubbing his hand at the red mark blooming on Harry's forehead, does Harry learn two things:

One, he wasn't actually hit that hard, and Tommo--or Louis, rather--is just as pretty when Harry is staring at him head-on and,

Two, Louis is the Adidas model he's going to be working with on today's photo shoot.

(or: AU where Harry and Louis are both models, and they decide being friends-with-benefits is a great idea. It isn't.)

☆ heart open, bloodstain on my sleeve by silkbombs (mulberrygrey) 36k

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry admits, one hand coming to rub the back of his neck, “I stared at you for a good while before I finally got the guts to come up to you. You looked so pretty sitting there, with your little ankles and your pencil in your mouth, so enthralling… art in front of art.”

Louis’ not sure what to say, so he just kind of sits there, eyes bugging out as he stares at Harry.

“I mean, like you’re not an object!” Harry rushes out, babbling.

“I just, there’s something about you that’s so captivating, and maybe it’s the way your eyes are like a watercolor painting of the sea, or how delicate your hands look when you draw, but I just wanted to get to know you. It’s not like I pick up random boys at art museums usually, I swear. Not that I’m trying to pick you up! Unless you want to be…God, fuck I’m sorry this is so awkward now. I can go, um, if you want."

--- Or, the one where Harry's the long limbed, gangly, sweetheart who just happens be a high profile art thief who conducts heists for a living and Louis' the loud, pushy art student who just happens to steal his heart.

☆ a king beside you by stylinsoncity 26k

When the aliens invade, the last thing Louis expects is to fall in love.

☆ the boys of summer by afirethatcannotdie 45k

“I mean…we’re gonna have to sneak around anyway, yeah? Like, with that whole rules thing that I guess we’ve decided to ignore. Might make it a little more fun this way.”

AU. In which Louis is a reluctant sports coach, Harry's a fellow counselor who wears tiny yellow shorts, and camp rules say they're forbidden to date.

☆ don’t let the tide come and take me by kiwikero 29k

The aquarium in the lobby has been there as long as Louis can remember, and so has the merman inside. That is, until the day Louis loses his job and decides to set the creature free.

They set off on a road trip to the sea, learning to communicate more and more each day. Their destination is LA, but the closer they get and the more Louis gets to know the merman, the more he dreads having to say goodbye.

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

☆ introduction to dynamics by juliusschmidt 29k

Louis Tomlinson is the outspoken omega in the 'Introduction to Dynamics' course Harry wishes he didn't have to take. He's nearly certain to present as a beta, after all. Things will be simple for him.

☆ saved tonight by objectlesson 31k

Harry is the world's most persistent seduction-baker, a questionable dog-sitter, and Louis's biggest fan. Louis hasn't written in years, is trying to pass loneliness off as cynicism, and absolutely hates his fans. It's probably destiny.

☆ once upon a dream by objectlesson 27k

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

--

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

☆ rivers ‘til i reach you by embodied 29k

Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer. AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

☆ life was a song, you came along by rainbowninja167 38k

It's embarrassing how long it takes Louis to recognize his own song. Niall had sung it as a bright, hopeful love song, and that’s honestly how Louis had always assumed it should sound. But this new voice, slow and rough, stripped of any backing instrument, has infused the lyrics with just the tumultuous mix of fear and defiance that Louis can remember so clearly from the night he wrote them. It’s not a comfortable thing, to feel like someone is singing all your secrets back to you.

Louis is a songwriter trapped in a lie that could ruin his best friend's career. Harry owns a record store, distrusts everyone in the music industry on principle, but loves Niall Horan's newest album. A modern retelling of Singin' in the Rain.

☆ learning to eat by photo41 29k

Celebrity chef Louis Tomlinson has a problem. He’s opening his first restaurant in 9 weeks, and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s ‘standoffish’ and ‘rude’ and ‘quick to temper’. Whatever. He ends up saddled with an annoying, happy-go lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. His tv presenter and pop star best friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting Julia Child?!

Kitchen AU where Harry helps Louis re-learn how to eat. (METAPHORICALLY)

note: just to clarify this is NOT an eating disorder fic don’t worry

☆ runner on third by kikikryslee 40k

As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was. “Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it. Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?” “I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?” “Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.” Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?” “Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?” “I’m his teacher.” “You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed. Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year. --- Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

note: there are four fics in this series that total to 60k

☆ roots by cherrystreet 43k

There aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous. He’s spent the past couple of years on and off various stages, filled with screaming fans, all chanting his name, loud and adoring. He’s done countless interviews, some even on live, national television, never faltering over his words, answers meticulously planned out, smooth and steady. He’s signed countless autographs, taken just as many photos, and even when he sat in his label’s studio, waiting to see how high up on the charts his single made it, he didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable. It’s all been unbelievably fun. No, there aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous.

Enter Louis Tomlinson.

☆ once upon a dream by thedeathchamber 33k

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

aka. the Medium/Criminal Minds-inspired AU no one ever asked for.

note: there’s a 24k sequel for this!

☆ the melody you never heard by bananasandboots 30k

It's one last adventure. One last chance to be young and carefree. One final weekend before they take up their internships, their corporate positions, before they enter the real world, fresh out of university. Niall's his best mate. Liam's been there for him since they were lost, little freshmen, trying to find their ways through an overwhelming first year. Harry can't disappoint them, even if it means enduring four days with Louis.

Louis, who he does share a history with, a history he's never told anyone about, not even Niall, a history he hasn't brought up in three years because it's stupid and embarrassing and confusing.

Or, the one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

☆ born to make you happy by objectlesson 26k

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

note: i literally had to take a break and reread this cause i love it so much

☆ close to nowhere by angelichl 35k

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

☆ adrenaline by reveries_passions 38k 

“Harry Styles,” Nameless Boy who now has a name says. Louis is too busy having an internal crisis to realize the boy has just introduced himself as Harry Styles. Harry Styles, only son of Des Styles, PhD, Dean of Harvard Medical School. Harry Styles, known by everyone and their grandmother. Harry Styles, star rower. Harry Styles, youngest enrolled student in graduate school at Harvard University. Oh my god, Louis thinks, mortified. I just slept with Harry Styles. As he reaches out tentatively to shake the boy’s hand, another thought hits him. Oh my god. Harry Styles is gay.

~

louis tomlinson, college dropout, up and coming dj, and gay activist, is the notorious owner of exclusive underground gay club, adrenaline.

harry styles, med student by day, partier by night, child prodigy and seemingly heterosexual son of harvard professors, is the youngest and arguably the smartest student at harvard medical school.

or: a one night stand wasn't supposed to become the greatest love story of the 21st century.

☆ bloodsport by tofiveohfive 40k

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—”

Louis stops when he hears a chuckle.

He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation.

“‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

☆ the haunting of louis tomlinson helloamhere 31k

“I'm not afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

Every single magnet unstuck itself from the fridge and fell to the floor in a clattering cascade.

“I'm only a little afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

*** OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

☆ can i not like you for a while? by larryshares 43k

louis tomlinson is awful. harry is just as difficult, and they're both terrible to each other. it makes being in the same acapella group together quite complicated.

☆ delight in masques by kassio 28k

Popstar Louis Tomlinson has been pulling one over on the mortals for years. In the five years since he put on a human illusion and tried out for the X Factor, none of them have realised that he’s one of the Fair Folk – a cat shapeshifter, to be precise – and he’d like to keep it that way.

When he returns to the X Factor as a guest judge, the last thing he expects is for some half-Siren fool to use magic on the judges. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Harry Styles does. Now Louis has to track down some rogue changeling before he exposes them all. Even worse? Apparently, Harry doesn’t even know what he is.

(An urban fantasy adventure, set in the world of - but not crossing over with - the October Daye book series. No need to be familiar with those books; I just want to give credit where it's due on a lot of the worldbuilding.)

☆ no love like your love by rearviewdreamer 43k

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.  

note: i love vegan harry styles

☆ for neither never nor ever by fairytalelights 29k

Then Harry looked down. A newspaper was on the steps in front of him, looking new, like it had only just gotten delivered but no one had bothered to carry it inside yet. That, in itself, wasn't unusual. The unusual thing was the headline, Chernobyl - Half a Year Later, and the date in the corner. 5th November 1986. He looked up to stare at the girl in the doorway one last time, before he did the only logical thing his body knew how to do in this situation. He bolted.

or, the one where Harry travels through time and has to come to terms with losing everything he's ever known. Louis might be the only thing that feels real.

☆ worth dying for by whoknows 45k

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

☆ listen to your heart by lovelarry10 35k

Are you kidding me right now?

I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.

Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?

You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…

*****

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

☆ another day gettin’ into trouble by whoknows 26k

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

☆ all the right moves by cherrystreet 32k

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

☆ play the odds by alivingfire 26k

Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis.

Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend.

Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

#fic rec #mine #larry stylinson #one direction #apparently i really love objectlesson #cause they have fics on every list i think #30 of these! #fic masterpost

[alphawave-writes]

Sigrold week 2019 Prompt 1) Beginnings/Universe

Read it here or find it on ao3. You can support me by asking about my commissions or buying me a ko-fi

-

It begins with a touch. Just a simple stroke of the fingers on the back of his hand. It’s accidental, not on purpose, or at least that’s what Siebren tells himself when he glances up the wrist, arm, shoulder, and finally face of Dr. Harold Winston. It’s the last one that draws his attention. Siebren does not pretend to understand the finer points of human emotion, but even if he hypothetically could, there was no way he could truly interpret the expression Harold gives him at this moment. It’s multi-faceted, prismatic, utterly indescribable and gorgeous all the same time. But like a black hole, he wants to know how it forms, what causes its formation, why it appears to him now, when they’re all alone in the Commissary.

“Sorry,” Harold says as he takes the seat opposite Siebren.

“I-It’s fine,” he gruffly responds.

There’s a few seconds of silence where there’s nothing to be heard but the hoots of the gorillas in the distance and the whirr of the vending machines. Siebren takes off his gloves and folds them neatly together before pocketing them.

Harold stares at his hands, his eyes widening microscopically. His own hands fidget in front of him, clenching and unclenching. Another curious reaction.

“Did I ever tell you I learned palm reading?” Harold asks.

Siebren can’t help but chuckle. “Which stereotype are you living up to now? The American one, or the Chinese one?”

“Hey, I never said I believed in it, or that I’m any good at it. Just that I know a bit of it.”

“That was far from what I was suggesting. The universe is so vast and mysterious that I would not be surprised if there is an inkling of truth to it. However unlikely that may be.”

“Just give me your hand, big guy.”

Siebren does, and regrets almost instantaneously. Harold’s hands are surprisingly soft to the touch, and the caress of his fingertips sends shivers down his spine. His cheeks redden, his breathing becomes unsteady, and the universe begins to fade away.

Siebren feels a lot of things for Harold Winston. Admiration, for one. Companionship is another. It’s so rare that he finds someone he can consider his intellectual equal. But what he feels right now in this moment is something else entirely. It’s gentle and warm, not unlike the slide of Harold’s thumb over his life line, then his head line, and finally his heart line. Heat blossoms from Harold’s touch, traveling up Siebren’s arm only to dissipate within his chest.

Harold hums quietly, biting his lip in thought. Was it just his imagination or did Harold’s lips seem more kissable today? “So,” Siebren cleared his throat in the vain hope his thoughts didn’t transfer to his voice, “w-what does it all mean?”

“Well, if I remember this correctly, your life line says that you will be mostly healthy, although you might get into a serious accident later in your life. Same with your head line. Which probably means it might be the same accident that will affect your body and your mind somehow.”

“That’s a little morbid,” Siebren frowns.

“It’s a little better here. Your heart line says you’re rather passive in your love life, but you are willing to sacrifice a lot for love. That being said, you are more career-centered,” Harold suddenly smiles. “I’ve got the same line myself on my hand.”

“I wouldn’t know if I’d call myself passive.”

“You’re in a relationship?” Harold asks.

Siebren shakes his head. “Single, I’m afraid, and have been for a long time. If I must be honest, I have yet to be in a relationship one would call ‘steady’.”

“So I was correct,” Harold grins.

“Probably,” Siebren can’t help but smile. “Although I’m not sure about the sacrifice thing.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right person yet. I did your right hand after all. Right hand is supposed to show you what your future holds.” Quieter, Harold says, “Perhaps you might find a love worth sacrificing for.”

Siebren stares into Harold’s chocolate eyes. There’s something to his words, something hidden beneath the layers that he does not recognize but that he wants regardless. He wants to decipher it, wants to know what it means, wants to hold Harold in his arms and press his lips against that incessant stubble and be one with the universe.

The thought startles him, not because of its suddenness but because it feels like a natural progression of events. Despite his experiences, this fluttering in his throat feels normal, and necessary. His eyes trail down to Harold’s long chin and bare forearms and firm hands, ordinary things that seem extraordinary in the context that is Harold. They’re soft to look at but they’re deceptively strong, hardened over time. A fitting metaphor for the man it belongs to.

Harold suddenly smiles. “What is it?”

Siebren tries his hardest not to smile too widely. “Could you teach me?”

“Sure,” he says. He offers his own hands to Siebren.

As Siebren caresses Harold’s palm tenderly, Harold patiently teaching him the basics of palmistry, the heat settles comfortably in Siebren’s stomach, making him feel like he is being embraced by the universe itself. Harold is the one to bring this feeling to the surface, this strange but wonderful sensation that Siebren wishes to last forever.

It’s the first time he feels this way, but it won’t be the last. Not by a long shot.

It begins with a sound. Not a normal sound, but not a frightening sound. Harold is walking along the hallway when he hears Siebren chatting to some of the cleaning staff, who are hanging off his every word. Siebren has an uncanny knack for being profoundly poetic about space and the universe. Not many of the astronauts appreciate it, possibly because of their extended stay on the moon, which might be why his captive audience—who usually only have brief stints on Horizon—are so utterly enraptured. Even Harold himself is not immune, pausing in his step so he can get drawn into the story.

He hears it again, and Harold understands what that sound is. It’s a laugh, almost a cackle. Excited, brash, abrasive. In another context it might have sounded cruel or mean, but here in the company of others, it sounds…pleasant. Very pleasant, in fact. So pleasant that Harold gets the strange urge to pull that sound from Siebren’s lips and make him laugh again.

Siebren turns to Harold and gives one of his rare smiles. It’s soft, smoothing out the harsh lines of his face. Uncharacteristic but it suits him beautifully.

Harold smiles. “Telling them about the magnificent universe?”

“The universe is magnificent. Those who think otherwise are fools with narrow minds.”

“Compared to wide minds.” Harold points at Siebren’s large forehead.

Siebren puts a hand on his forehead and rolls his eyes, continuing his story. He continues his conversation about moon dust, and the mysteries of gravity, and the many subtle ways he has manipulated it to suit the Horizon One lunar base. It might sound like boasting, but there is genuine interest and heart in his words.

Harold lets the meaning of the words drown out, focusing instead on the sound of Siebren’s voice. Siebren is a passionate man, but there’s something almost romantic about the way he talks right now, like he is speaking of a lover that’s in another country and not of the mysteries of the universe. He speaks in hushed, low tones, teasing out every sentence, a heavenly song from mortal lips.

Harold knows Siebren can be passionate, but it hasn’t truly computed until now just how passionate. He loves every aspect of his work, and he wants the world to know that he loves his work. There’s a sparkle in his ocean blue eyes and it reflects the beauty of everything around him. For a brief moment, Harold wishes Siebren will look at him like that, like he is the centre of the universe, the answer to his question, the thing Siebren wants.

He blinks, and the cleaning staff are gone. Siebren’s stopped talking, his lips pulled into a knowing smirk.

“Earth to Dr. Winston. Or should I say, moon to Dr. Winston?”

Harold shakes his head quickly. “S-sorry. Just spaced out there.” With a grin, he adds, “in more ways than one.”

Siebren’s grin gets wider. “I always knew you were out of this world.”

“I’m over the moon that you think I am.”

There’s a few seconds where Siebren’s face scrunches up and his lips thin before he bursts into laughter. The sound is melodic, melodic. Utterly enrapturing.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“It’s fine. You just didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.”

“That is a good one,” Siebren chuckles. “I am stealing that one for my own use.”

“Didn’t your mother tell you that stealing is bad?” Harold teases.

“I don’t think mijn moeder can do anything about it. We are on the moon.”

Harold giggles quietly as his body feels weightless. He’s taken away from gravity, pulled into the orbit of Siebren’s dazzling stare. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way, and usually it scares him, because every time he’s the first one to feel it. All his past relationships failed because they did not feel the same. Perhaps it’s ironic and sad that he should feel this way, up in the stars, away from everyone. But Siebren is no ordinary man. His eyes reflect the beauty around him, and in that moment, Harold’s reflection never looked so sublime. For once, Harold feels safe and secure, like Siebren will take care of him regardless of whether his feelings are returned or not.

It's the first time he feels this way for Siebren, but it won't be the last.

It begins with a kiss. Soft, desperate, eager. Objectively, it’s not all that good—Harold's stubble roughly grazing over Siebren's chin, the tentativeness to move their lips—but it’s the emotions that make their kiss so beautiful. In this moment they are but a singular entity, their kiss catalysing a chemical reaction that merges their bodies into a new, wonderful substance. Their wordless thoughts combine together, a swirling vortex of love and want and need and fear and worry.

When their lips part, they both let out a soft breath, blooming galaxies into formation. The world has disappeared. The Earth and the Moon and the stars and the Sun are nothing. All that exists in their universe is Harold and Siebren and the space between them.

“Harold,” Siebren whispers.

“I love you,” Harold says, even though they both know it is absolutely unnecessary. Siebren knows Harold loves him, just as Harold knows Siebren loves him.

Siebren holds Harold's cheeks tenderly. "I love you too. Does that mean...?"

"I want to be with you," Harold whispers. His fingers card into Siebren's scalp, making Siebren shiver in content. "I want us to be together."

"Then why don't we? We can be together. Just the two of us."

Harold leans forward and kisses Siebren again, taking them both back to that black void. With their caresses they recreate the stars, the asteroids, the galaxies, and the planets. With their affection they breathe life to Earth. With their sighs the universe expands and grows organically, chaotically, exactly as it should be. Earth glows, crystal blue waters amongst soft green trees and swirling white clouds, highlighting the contours of their faces.

With their kisses, they have created a new world, a new beginning, a new stage in their relationship. From now until eternity, they shall be one.

#Overwatch #Sigrold #Sigroldweek #Sigroldweek2019 #Ah I can't believe Sigrold week is here! #I am so excited you would not believe #Or maybe you do believe because I am apparently the 'master' of Sigrold #Not that I think I am but I'm definitely one of the most prolific so I've got that going for me #Some prompts will be normal others will be AU #You just gotta stick around and see XD