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stereogeekspodcast · 4 months

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[Transcript] Season 4, Episode 1. FX's Shōgun Review

Ron and Mon chat about the latest adaptation of James Clavell's novel, Shōgun. We've seen the first episode of the FX mini-series, and we have a lot of thoughts, especially in comparison to the 1980 version. What works, who works, and would we watch more? Find out in this episode.

Listen to the episode on Spotify.

Hello and welcome to a new episode of Stereo Geeks.

Today we are reviewing Shōgun, the latest adaptation on Disney Plus and FX.

I'm Mon.

And I'm Ron.

So here's a brief summary of the new show from FX.

It's an original adaptation of James Clavell's novel.

It's set in Japan in the year 1600 at the dawn of a century-defining civil war.

Lord Yoshi Toranaga is fighting for his life as his enemies on the Council of Regions unite against him when a mysterious European ship is found marooned in a nearby fishing village.

For those of you who do not know, James Clavell's novel is loosely based on the experiences of a real person, Sir William Adams.

He was an English sea captain and adventurer, and his exploits in Japan are what inspired the book and many of the events that take place in it.

There was also a previous TV adaptation of Shōgun.

This was in 1980, and Richard Chamberlain was playing the European pilot, John Blackthorn.

This first episode of the 2024 series is called Anjin, which means pilot in Japanese.

It's kind of a double meaning because it's the pilot episode, but it's also about the pilot.

Let's talk about this very first episode.

It felt kind of protracted to me.

There were a lot of plot points, but I feel like they were just doled out like candy.

And I understand that you want to set up a lot of this world.

And for that, you need to introduce everyone in the first episode.

But I think what I struggled with a little bit was that events kind of kept happening, but they weren't directly connected with what had happened before.

And I also feel like the reactions of some of the characters, they felt so outsized.

And I felt like there wasn't enough time in the show where they'd experienced these events and these other characters for them to have such extreme reactions.

I think the pilot episode suffers from something that most pilot episodes do.

And that's the fact that it's very much a setup.

It has to introduce all these characters.

It has to also introduce the vibe, the feeling, the sets, the intrigue and the plot.

It's a lot.

Even in 70 minutes, it's a 70 minute pilot episode, and there's a lot to put in there.

So some of it does feel disjointed, especially the reactions and the emotions.

I really did feel like there were some missing emotional beats.

But as the show goes on, I'm assuming it's going to fix that issue.

But as a pilot, I have to say there are some strong points.

The beautiful landscape, the amazing sets and costumes, the political intrigue especially.

Where I really struggled was that when the show is concentrating on, I would say the protagonist because he's mentioned in the summary, right?

So Lord Yoshi Toranaga.

He is played by Hiroyuki Sanada.

When the show is concentrating on him and the political intrigue that he's facing, because a lot of it has to do with the decisions that he's making or not making.

I was invested in that part.

The moment it moved away from him, I was like so not invested at all.

And the biggest problem for me was John Blackthorn.

Now, if anybody has seen the previous Shōgun, and I'm pretty sure people who have read the books will know that he is the actual protagonist.

Who we've got here is not protagonist material.

We can already see John Blackthorn developing into the character who will be such an integral part of this story.

He finds himself on the shores of Japan, he's already trying to learn the language, he's asking different people the translations for words so that he can speak directly to the Japanese people.

So I really like that because language is a huge barrier and a lot of people just put that barrier up and like wave that flag, oh, I don't know the language, it's fine.

So I really like that they're showing, yes, it's important to know the language to actually communicate with the people that you are now living with.

What I will say though, it's so frustrating that Black Thorn keeps on calling the Japanese savages over and over again.

Listen, the first time when the Japanese characters, they refer to the white people who have landed on their shore as barbarians, it was like, huh, look, other cultures call other people rude words because they don't know who they are and what they're like.

But we also know that the Japanese folk in Osaka and around these areas have already faced the Portuguese.

So, they're probably talking about them in this derogatory fashion from experience.

Now, Black Than, from what we see just in the pilot, he doesn't know who these people are.

He's just decided and he calls them this very pejorative term.

He just comes across as a racist.

So, for me, as soon as he kept on and on saying that, my interest in this man just plummeted.

So, this is not going well for somebody who's supposed to be leading the show.

And now we come to the main problem.

Cosmo Jarvis, I've never seen him before.

I know you have.

He's an underwhelming performer.

He's just trying so hard to channel Richard Chamberlain.

And he has no presence.

His performance is tonally off.

Like, if you watch him, in comparison to everybody else, it's like he's in some kind of rollicking pirate comedy.

And, you know, we've just seen one of his colleagues being boiled to death.

So really, like, I don't know whose choice that was to make him seem completely disparate from the rest.

And his acting in general, for me, was just one note.

What are your thoughts?

First up, I will say that that boiling scene was way too graphic.

In the 1980 show, it was only implied.

And that was disturbing enough.

I had to look away over here.

In fact, in the previous show, the lead up to that scene is actually kind of more disturbing because of the politics of the European team and how they kind of just let one of their guys get sacrificed for no reason.

But yeah, moving on from that, I don't want to think about it.

As you were saying, when we were watching the show, shows live and die by their protagonist.

And Cosmo Jarvis as John Blackthorn, he's too bland.

And he's just got one expression.

I saw him in Netflix's adaptation of First Version.

The adaptation was not great, and he was not great either.

I was really surprised to see him in this show, because he is, as you said, technically the lead.

He keeps doing this thing where he's giving breathy insults, and that does not a personality make.

And I keep comparing him to Richard Chamberlain in the 1980 show, who was so vivacious and so expressive.

This is kind of graphic, but the maturation scene.

In the 1980 version, it was a moment of such vulnerability for Blackthorn.

But in this episode, it's just a blink-and-you-miss-it moment.

Even though the camera is actually focusing on Cosmo Jarvis' face, he has no expression.

This is a moment of profound humiliation for this man after he was trying to humiliate somebody else.

And I remember when we were watching the behind-the-scenes of the 1980 show, Richard Chamberlain had said that, I think they used beer or something like that.

And despite knowing what it was, he still felt humiliated.

Yeah, so I don't remember anything from the previous Shōgun.

We lived in the same house, and there was just the one TV, so I don't know what I was doing, but I was not paying attention.

That scene was brand new to me.

I was like, what is happening?

And he was like, oh, they're just going into it.

I'm like, what?

So yeah, I mean, again, when you're talking about this guy who's supposed to be the lead of the show, and then you go to Hiroyuki Sonada, who in the pilot makes me think he's the actual lead of the show, and I'm really hoping that they go with that angle.

I don't know.

Look, Sonada is a veteran.

We've seen him in so many things.

He's always got this commanding presence.

And in this show especially, what I like is it's almost a real reversal.

He's not just in a position of power.

His position is also under threat.

He's a little bit vulnerable, and there's a lot of people asking a lot from him.

You can see all that.

The weight of his family history, which we don't know about, is bearing down on him.

His duty to his people is bearing down on him.

And the battle for the Shogunate, that's definitely on there.

And you can see all this, how it plays on this person's mind all the while he's trying to be calm and respectful and honorable.

All these layers through this very subtle, quiet performance, and then you got Cosmo Jarvis being so weird.

I think one of the main reasons why we're watching this show is because of Hiroyuki Sanada.

Having seen some of his previous performances, a lot of them in science fiction films, this is such a fascinating role for him.

Because Yoshi Toranaga in this show is not a man who is comfortable.

He is literally moments away from death.

He doesn't know how it's going to happen.

He knows it's going to happen.

But there are people on his side.

He just needs to make a decision what his next steps are going to be.

It will involve bloodshed.

And he has already said in the very first episode, he does not want more unnecessary death.

The funny thing is that this is a role that seems to belong to legends.

Because in the 1980 show, Toshiro Mufune, he played Toranaga.

And he even corrected the anachronisms of the Japanese dialogue, because the dialogue as it was written in the script was modern Japanese.

Now, from what I read, the Japanese actors, especially Mufune, did not actually have the amount of time on set as the actors from America and the UK.

So he did not come across as the protagonist in the 1980 show, whereas Hiroyuki Sonada, I think, will get to be a larger presence in this one.

So alongside Sonada, we also have Tajonobu Asano.

I almost didn't recognize him because he is so scary and menacing and evil.

In fact, I'm a little bit scared to watch too much of this show because I feel like Asano's character is going to bring all the violence and gore and I don't know, the salacious stuff, because that was all, you know, connected to his character in the first episode.

But again, wow, what a performance.

So we last saw Tadanobu Asano as Hōgun, one of Thor's Warriors III in the Thor trilogy.

At first, when we meet Asano's Yabushige, he's like the big fish in the small pond and he's throwing his weight around.

He's telling his nephew what to do.

He's, you know, getting people boiled.

Oh God.

But the moment Torunaga's people arrive and they immediately put him back in his place, Yabushige becomes a coward, like an obsequious coward.

Yeah, I'm intrigued to see more of these characters really.

Okay, so I really want your opinion on Anna Sawai as Mariko.

I have a very vague recollection of the previous Mariko.

Again, I don't know what I was doing.

I was not watching the show.

So in this one, I don't know.

I am unconvinced by her as this character.

She's going to go toe to toe with John Blackthorn.

She's very essential to this story.

But honestly, when you see her, she comes across looking like a child.

I don't know how old she is, but she's very petite and very young looking.

We've just recently seen her on Monarch Legacy of the Monsters.

Her character over there is barely out of her teenage years.

So I've already got this preconceived notion of her being really, really young, and she's given a pretty important role.

She has no presence, especially commanding presence.

I mean, there's a scene she's sharing with Hiroyuki Sonata, and I'm like, there's a difference.

There's a difference.

I'm unconvinced.

But what do you think?

Anasawai, she's apparently 31.

She just looks very, very young.

She's actually a bilingual kiwi.

She's had a singing and acting career in Japan, so she's got the acting credits.

Now, in the 1980 show, Shimada Yoko, she was absolutely incredible as Mariko.

She ended up being the first Asian actress to win a Golden Globe because of that role.

And the funny thing is, Yoko was not fluent in English.

She took the role and had to work with a dialect coach.

And I remember in the behind the scenes, she was talking about how he would pull her tongue out to help her pronounce better.

I'm actually interested in seeing what Anna Survive brings to Lady Mariko.

I have noticed that, you know, when you have veteran actors and some of the younger actors, there's a difference in the presence on screen.

I don't know if there's any way to fix that.

Unfortunately, Shimada Yoko passed away in 2022 under very sad circumstances.

She had multiple organ failure because of cancer, but she was all alone and nobody came to pick up her body.

It was very unfortunate.

In fact, there was an investigation that's still continuing to find out what can be done about elderly people who are dying alone in Japan.

Sorry to bring the mood down, but her performance in the original Shōgun was absolutely incredible.

She was such a powerful presence.

I just remember there are going to be scenes later on of Mariko and John Blackthorn, and she's trying to teach him Japanese.

And in the 1980 show, those scenes were so quiet, but it really helped build the chemistry between these two characters.

That is going to be a hugely important part of this show.

You know, this is why I wanted us to chat about this on Stereo Geeks.

I was like, you're wasting all this incredible knowledge and all these memories by chatting about it off the mic.

Okay, so that's interesting.

So the only other point about characters I'll mention is there is what I can only call a Min Min A woman.

Min Min A is a Bengali word, basically like this whining, I don't know.

There's a very specific way.

As soon as you see her, you'll know what Min Min A means.

She has one scene.

She is so annoying.

I know what they're doing with this person.

They're trying to show us that there's this sultry woman who is actually so cunning and she's going to be very important and integral to overthrow something or gain power, I don't know.

She was just so irritating that whatever they were doing with that scene, which I'm sure some people might like and find titillating, I was like, she's so irritating, I can't.

Anyway, so that was my only other point about the characters.

I think you are right.

I don't remember everything about the 1980 show, but there is a courtesan who plays a pretty big role.

I don't know whether it's with Yabushige or with the other characters, but at least over here, she's been introduced as part of Yabushige's group.

I know it's not correct for us to keep comparing this show with the 1980s version.

This is an original adaptation of the novel.

Now, you and I have not read the novel.

We do not have the courage to go through that much.

It's a tome.

Also, if the violence on the screen is so disturbing, I don't even want to know what's in the book.

Yeah, exactly.

So I guess the only other thing we can talk about is the story.

Story-wise, I think there's a lot going on.

The main part which I have mentioned I really enjoyed was the political intrigue of the Council of Five Regions and how they're working against Lord Yoshitoronaga.

There's also the part where Blackthorn, he's now a captive in this land.

What does it mean for him?

How does he survive?

We also have the religious battle, the Portuguese Catholics versus Blackthorn's people.

He's English, but he's representing the Portuguese Protestants.

So there's that part.

All that is very interesting.

We also get to see a lot of Japan in 1600s, and it looks very beautiful, but it's also very violent.

It is at the end of the day, the battle for the highest title, which is the Shōgun.

I'm also very interested in the politics in the show.

Look, every time there is a regent in charge and a very young ruler, you know there's going to be drama.

And when there are five regents, four of whom don't like the other guy, Toranaga, and they're all quarreling amongst themselves anyway, there's going to be even more drama.

That stuff is definitely my jam.

Yeah, but we also know that romance is going to be a huge part of this show, and I am already wrinkling up my nose at the thought of it.

That's true.

I mean, we know that Mariko and John Blackthorn are going to have a romance at some point, and that's probably going to happen sooner rather than later.

I'm in agreement with you that I don't want to see the romance.

I'm not really interested in it.

Just give me the politics.

Does the Shōgunet actually happen?

Is Torunaga going to win?

This is the stuff I want to know about.

But I do want to add one thing.

In the 1980s show, Damien Thomas played Father Alvito.

We haven't met him in the first episode.

I believe he is going to appear soon.

Here's a little fun fact.

Damien Thomas, when he took the role, he didn't know the Japanese language at all.

But by the time he was actually on set, he was fluent.

The problem is that by the time they did the behind-the-scenes documentary, I think Thomas had passed away, so he wasn't there to talk about how he learned the language so well.

I just remember the scenes of Damien Thomas's Father Alvito sitting in front of Toranaga and translating English, Japanese beautifully.

Whoever steps into the shoes of Father Alvito, they have a huge task.

Good luck to them.

Alright, so that's our review of Shōgun after just the pilot episode.

We are intrigued, but a little bit cautious.

Let us know what you think, and if you're in it for the entire 10-episode ride.

Ron: You can find us on Twitter @Stereo_Geeks. Or send us an email [email protected]. We hope you enjoyed this episode. And see you next week!

Mon: The Stereo Geeks logo was created using Canva. The music for our podcast comes courtesy Audionautix.

#stereo geeks #podcast #fx #shogun #hiroyuki sanada #anna sawai #cosmo jarvis #tv review

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

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Take Me Home - Part 1

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 6K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Eventual Smut. 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: @littlelioncub43 you asked to be tagged in this mess so I’m sorry in advance for *gestures wildly* whatever this is.

Series Masterlist

Part One

It’s 11pm on Friday night, and you know you need to be up at dawn but you can’t sleep. Part of the problem is your roommate having very loud and enthusiastic sex with her latest Tinder date, but that’s not really the crux of it. Your mind is racing, thinking through all the possible things you could have screwed up or forgotten to do. The rational part of your brain knows that everything is all set for the adoption fair tomorrow. You’ve been planning it for months and your many extensive checklists (which have been a source of both amusement and irritation to your coworkers) have covered everything that needed to be done, but you still second-guess yourself. You’ve worked at the shelter for over two years now but this is the first event that you’ve been totally in charge of. You need it to go well—not just for you, but for the animals. You scratch your mutt Badger behind his right ear, in that spot that makes his back leg shake a little, and you ask him, “I’m gonna do good, right bud?” But he doesn’t have to answer—you know he’s your #1 fan.

The sun has only just started to brighten the sky when your alarm goes off, and you groan as you throw off the covers and shuffle to the bathroom. Badger is still sprawled out on your bed, and he gives you a look that says that not even the promise of breakfast could get him out of bed this early. He’s still lazing around by the time you’re dressed, but he’s got no choice—he needs to eat and go for his morning walk early today because you need to be at the park by 8am to set up.

As you put on his harness and leash, Badger looks at you with the big brown eyes of betrayal. You know he takes comfort in routine—that the first few years of his life were awful in ways that you will never fully know—and you do your best to keep his daily schedule pretty consistent. But today you’ve got to find forever homes for other dogs and cats just like him. If he knew, he’d understand.

When you and Badger return from your walk, your roommate Mal is brewing coffee in the kitchen.

“Made you a to-go cup,” she says, handing you your travel mug. “Good luck today!” You take it from her with a grateful smile as she scratches Badger behind the ears. “You need me to feed him? I know you’ve got to get going.”

“That would be great, yeah,” you reply, taking a sip of your coffee. It churns in your stomach, which is roiling with nerves. “I’m freaking out, Mal.”

“It’s gonna go great,” she says. “You’ve been working so hard. You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Assume the worst.”

You sigh because she’s right but you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing it. “So,” you say, “is your guest still here or did you kick him out?”

She laughs. “He’s gone. The dick was good, but it wasn’t stay-til-morning good.”

“I’d take anything at this point,” you tell her and she shakes her head.

“Don’t say that. You deserve only the highest quality dick, especially after dealing with your piece of shit ex for so long.”

You don’t want to talk about Brad and it rankles you a bit she’s brought him up, especially this fucking early when you’re already half losing it. It’s been almost a year since he broke up with you for another woman and you’re still not over it. Well, you’re over him, but not the many insecurities he left you with. You’d only dated for a few months, but in that time he’d managed to break you down and leave you a shattered version of yourself—not that you were the most confident girl to begin with, but over the course of your relationship, Brad had turned you against your own body and mind. He made you feel clingy and needy and crazy, made you feel like your body was nothing but a compilation of flaws to be tolerated. He made you feel like a charity case that no one else would ever want to take on.

You’d been on a few dates since the breakup, and one of the guys you’d actually really liked, but you never got past the third date. You’d allowed him up to your apartment for a nightcap and a makeout session, but even though you wanted more, you’d stopped him when he tried to undress you. You couldn’t bring yourself to be naked in front of him, to let him see all of you—all those pieces that Brad had convinced you were ugly. Your date was sweet about it, told you that he would take things as slow as you wanted, but you ghosted him after that.

You weren’t ready. You didn’t know how you ever could be, at least not without a bunch of plastic surgery you couldn’t afford. Every time you look in the mirror, all you can see are the things you want to fix—your nose, your breasts, your tummy, even the size of your labia (which you hadn’t even known was a thing until Brad came along and made you feel like even your pussy was hideous). You’d never had any complaints before, but now these imperfections are all you see, and the idea of exposing yourself to a new man for judgment is just too terrifying.

Of course, Mal doesn’t know any of this. You’re too embarrassed to tell her why you’ve stopped going on dates and haven’t been laid in forever. You think that, if you tell her, she’ll just say nice things to make you feel better about yourself (because that’s what friends do) but none of it will actually be true. Because you know what your body looks like—you don’t have perfect tits or a tight body or a pretty pussy. You’ll know she’ll feed you that “all bodies are beautiful” bullshit, but that’s easy for her to say because she’s fucking gorgeous and has men lining up to get a piece of her.

“I gotta go,” you say. “Can you take Badge for a walk around noon?”

“You got it,” she replies.

You blow Mal an air kiss as you freshen up Badger’s water and turn on the TV for him. For whatever reason, he’s obsessed with HGTV, so you throw on House Hunters International as he settles in on the couch.

“Wish me luck, Badge,” you say as you head out the door, but he’s fully engrossed in some annoying couple’s tour of an Italian villa.

As you head out, you wonder (as you often do), whether Badger’s inexplicable love of House Hunters is a not-so-subtle hint that your apartment is a piece of shit. He’d be right, of course, and you’re working hard to save money for a house so he can have his own yard. But you just can’t afford it yet—not on your shelter salary. Your parents have been bugging you to find a better-paying job but you just can’t leave. You absolutely love what you do. These days, it’s about the only thing that makes you feel good, so obviously you’ve turned it into your entire life. It’s often emotionally challenging and it’s always hard work, but it’s so rewarding. You feel good at the end of the day. You feel like you’ve made a difference. You’ll never find that kind of satisfaction working as a mid-level manager at some company that doesn’t give a fuck about you and contributes nothing of substance to the world.

You’re the first to arrive at the park, which is good because the problems start almost immediately. The table and chair delivery is late, and when it arrives you discover they forgot the tents, which are an absolute must so the animals can stay out of the sun. Two of your workers, Jack and Betsy—an adorable couple who volunteer at the shelter together and make you want to puke with how in love they are—call in sick with the flu. When the sound system shows up, it’s not working properly and you are hopeless when it comes to technology. Things are absolutely falling apart around you, but at least the decorations look cute and there’s some good buzz going on your socials. You were able to get a few of the local businesses on board to promote and support the fair: the pet store donated a ton of supplies, some of the local restaurants are sending food trucks, and you even managed to swing a partnership with one of the smaller pet insurance companies trying to build their social media presence (and they donated almost all the money you needed to cover the event costs).

All of that means that attendance should be good, and the more eyes you get on your little cuties, the better chance that they find their forever families today—and that’s all you care about, really. The fair starts at 10 and the animals start to arrive at 9:30. That, at least, goes smoothly. You and the volunteers get everyone set up in their pens with their adorable little pictures and bios displayed in front. Of course you want every single dog and cat here to find their family today, but there’s one dog in particular that you absolutely have to find a home for.

Jax is a 4-year-old German Shepherd mix who was brought in about 2 years ago in absolutely horrific shape. It was only your second week of work and you’d never seen anything like it. He was found by an older couple, dumped on the side of the road like trash. The poor thing was skin and bones and so weak he wouldn’t have been able to walk even if his front leg hadn’t been completely shattered by who knows what. The vet took one look at it and knew it had to be amputated immediately. But even through all of that—and the months of rehab that followed—Jax has always been the absolute sweetest, smiliest, goodest boy. You don’t understand how he hasn’t found a home yet, and you would have taken him in a heartbeat if Badger was good with other dogs.

As you approach Jax’s pen, he stands up on his back two legs and flashes you that big smile of his. You take a look at the sign with his picture and bio, which you made a point to create yourself, and everything is as it should be. You decide that today is the day—you will find this dog a home if it’s the last fucking thing you do.

“It’s gonna happen for you, Jax,” you tell him, tossing him a treat that he catches in his mouth. “I can feel it.”

The people start trickling in at 10:15 or so, and you’re initially discouraged by the turnout, but by noon it is absolute chaos. There are people everywhere, over 20 of the animals have applications in already, and more and more people keep coming. You briefly check the event hashtag on Instagram and see a fuckton of pictures from the event, and the insurance company, Purrs & Wags, has already started adding them to their story. You search the feed for any pictures of Jax but there aren’t any, and when you look over at his pen, he’s all alone—just smiling at everyone who walks past.

It breaks your heart. It really does. Everyone wants a puppy or some young adult with no major issues. But that’s not how it works—with people or pets: no one is perfect, everyone has flaws and baggage and scars (emotional or physical), but they deserve to be loved just the same. You’ve basically given up on finding it for yourself, but you won’t give up on it for Jax. It makes you so fucking angry sometimes, like right now when you have a thousand other things to focus on. You decide you need a break and you sneak off behind one of the food trucks to have a smoke.

The cigarette takes the edge off (and you’re going to quit soon, you swear), and when you return to the fair, you see a man kneeling down in front of Jax’s pen. You rush over, practically sprinting because you have to make sure that this man, whoever he is, knows exactly how special the dog in front of him is. Not many people will stop to greet a tripod like Jax, and you know before you meet him that this man has a good heart.

You stop about ten feet from Jax’s pen to compose yourself and then saunter over.

“I see you’ve met Jax,” you say to the man. “I think he likes you.”

The man stands up and turns around and he’s much taller and broader than he looked from a distance. He looks at you nervously from behind his glasses.

“Uh, y- yeah. I think I like him, too.”

You introduce yourself and reach out to shake the man’s hand and he wipes his palms on his khakis before taking your hand in his.

“I’m Dennis,” he says. “I, uh, I work for P&W.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, slightly disappointed that he’s probably just here as a company rep and not interested in adoption. You need to keep it professional though, keep it all off your face. “I had no idea they were sending someone! Thank you guys so much. We would never have been able to do this event without your help.”

“I didn’t have much to do with it really.” He stares at his feet as he replies. “I work in legal, but I wanted to check it out. I’ve been wanting a dog for a really long time, I just could never have one…”

He trails off and sticks his hands in his pockets. You know there’s a story there but it’s none of your business. All you care about is that he’s here now and he is, in fact, interested in your boy.

“Listen.” You lean in toward Dennis like you’re sharing a secret. “I shouldn’t say this, but Jax is my favorite. You won’t find a sweeter, more fun-loving dog in this place.”

Dennis shuffles his feet and turns his attention to Jax’s bio. “It says here that he’s been at the shelter for two years?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Most people can’t see past the leg, but he’s perfectly healthy and he gets around great. I can barely keep up with him, honestly. And he’s just the happiest, most affectionate little guy. I really hope we can find a home for him today.”

Dennis looks at a smiling Jax, and when he reaches inside the pen to pet his head, Jax gets up on his hind legs and does a little spin. Dennis smiles wide at Jax, and you see his face absolutely light up, but when he looks back at you, he’s all nerves again.

“So, uh, w- what exactly do I have to do? To adopt him, I mean.”

Your heart is practically bursting from your chest and you know the excitement is written all over your face. You want to jump up and down and squeal and wrap your arms around this man and give him the biggest hug ever, but you have to keep it professional.

“OK,” you say, trying to keep your cool, “well first I need to ask you a few questions so we can make sure you boys are a good fit for each other.” Dennis looks crestfallen but you don’t want to lose him now. “Don’t worry,” you assure him. “I’m sure that you’re gonna make a great doggy dad. It’s just a part of the process.”

Dennis nods as you give Jax a scratch on the head. “Be right back, buddy,” you say, and then you take Dennis over to one of the tables.

“So first thing, what’s your current living situation. House? Apartment? Trailer?”

“House,” he says. “Got a nice big backyard. All fenced in.”

“Perfect,” you say. “And how many people are in your household and what are their ages?”

You see Dennis look down at his hands and you can’t help but notice the slight indentation on his ring finger—the ghost of a wedding band perhaps?

“It’s, uh, it’s just me,” he says softly, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Well,” you reply, looking back at Jax smiling in his pen, “I don’t think it’ll be that way for long. So, what are your hours like at Purrs & Wags?”

“Usual 9 to 5,” he says, “but I can work from home sometimes, too.” His leg is bouncing and he’s got his hands clasped in his lap. “That’s what I’ll do when he first gets home… I mean, if I can bring him home. I don’t want to assume-”

“Dennis,” you interrupt, “relax. I still have to process your application and go through the motions, but I’m confident that Jax has found his forever home with you.”

“Yeah?” Dennis asks, and you can see his blue eyes start to water.

“Yeah. I’ve been waiting a long time to find someone special for Jax, and I always told myself I’d know them when I saw them, and when I saw the two of you together, I just knew.”

Dennis lets out a huge breath and takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “God, I don’t know why I’m crying. You must think I’m such a loser.”

“I don’t think that at all,” you say, on the verge of tears yourself. “I think that you’re a kind person with a good heart and that you and Jax are gonna make each other really happy. That’s what I think.”

“Thank you,” he says, sniffling a bit. “So what next?”

“Well, usually I would need some references, but since you work for P&W I think it’s safe to say that you’re someone who cares about the well-being of animals and understands what pet ownership actually entails, especially the costs involved.”

“Oh, I have lots of money,” he says, and then he shakes his head and mutters to himself, “Jesus, Dennis. Get it together.” He looks back up at you. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant to say was-”

You laugh because he’s all red in the face and just so adorably flustered. For the first time, you’re really looking at him, and it occurs to you that Dennis is a very handsome man.

“I get it,” you say. “You’re in a good position financially to take care of Jax.”

“Yeah, that sounds much better. Let’s just pretend I said that.”

Dennis rubs his hands up and down the thighs of his khakis and you notice just how massive he is—his thighs and his arms are fucking huge and practically bursting through his clothes. He’s dressed like a total nerd with his pink polo shirt tucked into his pleated pants, but you can’t help but think to yourself this guy is ripped. His face isn’t hard on the eyes, either. Between his pretty blue eyes and those insanely long lashes and that plump, pink bottom lip he keeps biting…

No. Stop. You have a job to do. Operation Find Jax A Home is in progress and you can’t let the weirdly attractive man sitting in front of you throw you off. You see Dennis staring at you and realize he’s asked you a question you didn’t hear.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was… uh… I just got distracted for a second there! My bad. What did you say?”

“I asked when I’ll be able to take him home.”

“Oh! Well, barring any complications, you’ll be able to bring him home in a few days.”

“And do, uh, do you need to do a home visit? I heard some places do that.”

“We do sometimes, but that’s mostly if there are young children or other animals involved, or if the applicant lives somewhere that might not be dog-friendly. Why, do you want me to come over?”

You freeze as soon as the words leave your lips. Why the fuck did you just say that? What is wrong with you?

You laugh it off. “Sorry, I.. I have no idea why I just said that! Let’s pretend that I didn’t?”

Dennis smiles awkwardly at you. “I wouldn’t mind. I mean, if you need to check it out. For Jax.”

Now you can feel your cheeks heating up and you have absolutely no idea what to do. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this around a guy. You don’t do flirting, because what’s the point? It’s not like it can really go anywhere because you won’t let it. Still, you don’t know what it is about Dennis, but he’s got you all kinds of worked up, and for what? All this nice man wants is to adopt the world’s sweetest dog and here you are acting like a complete fool. But really, who gave him the right to walk around in a shirt that damn tight with his pecs busting out and biceps that look like they could crack walnuts.

Oh my GOD. Jax. Focus on Jax.

“So, um, I’m gonna get your paperwork started and the whole process going and we’ll be in touch in a few days. If you can just take this form and fill out all your info and the best times to contact you, then you’re all set.”

He takes the form from you and you try not to stare at the veins in his massive hand or how small the pen looks in it. You look over at Jax to distract yourself and when you see him intently watching you and Dennis, you give him two thumbs up.

“Here you go,” Dennis says, handing you the paperwork. “That’s my cell number. You can call anytime… or, I mean, anyone can call anytime. So if I have questions, do I just call the shelter or-”

The words come out before you can stop them. “You can call me if you want.”

“Uh, ok,” he says, and he sounds a bit taken aback. “Yeah. That would be great. I mean, because I know that you and Jax… you’re like his mom basically.”

You smile at him but you’re screaming inside because you have no idea who this person is that you are being right now. You don’t just give random guys your number. Dennis isn’t even hitting on you. He wants a dog not some woman who hasn’t been laid in so long she’s practically feral at the sight of a dude’s arm muscles. God, you’re so fucking pathetic and desperate. No wonder your ex left you.

You write down your cell number and hand it to him before you can think yourself out of it. The whole time your brain is screaming what the fuck are you doing you don’t even know this guy, but you do it anyway. He has a gentle, non-threatening way about him. Of course, that’s what they say about date rapists and serial killers, but you can’t think about that now.

You can see his hand shake a bit when he takes the slip of paper from you and it’s obvious that you make him nervous, but as he walks away you tell yourself that it was a perfectly normal and professional thing to do. Jax is your baby and you want to be involved every step of the way. It’s nothing more than that.

But you know that’s a lie, because over the course of the next few days, you can’t stop staring at your phone and wishing that Dennis would check in. You even think about texting him to update him on his application process even though there really isn’t anything to say—everything is progressing as it should, there’s no real reason why you’d need to contact him. But you can’t stop thinking about him and you don’t know why. He’s attractive, sure, but there’s something more there that you can’t put your finger on. You think that maybe it’s because he just looked lonely and so terribly sad. It’s a look you know well. You wear it every time you’re alone.

***

Dennis Googles you the second he gets home from the adoption fair. He only knows your first name, but the shelter website has your full name in your bio and a picture of you with Jax that makes his heart skip a beat. He fell for Jax first, but you were a close second. He’d never seen such a beautiful woman before, but it was your kindness and your spirit that had him gone for you almost immediately. He feels a bit like a stalker as he scrolls the shelter’s Instagram looking for pictures of you, but there are a lot of them and he just can’t stop. Each one is more adorable than the next. You’re that perfect combination of cute and sweet and sexy and Dennis is practically drooling like one of the shelter dogs just looking at you.

He finds your personal Insta but you’ve got it set to private. He almost sends you a follow request, and if he were a braver, more confident man, he would. But Dennis does not feel brave or confident; Dennis feels like the most worthless, pathetic loser than has ever walked the earth. He knows you’d never look twice at a guy like him, that you were only nice to him (and… was that flirty?) because you wanted to find Jax a good home. And that’s ok. Dennis was happy just to spend that half-hour in your presence. He knows you only gave him your number so that you can stay in the loop on Jax, and he shouldn’t use it unless he has to.

But he wants to. He wants to call you and ask how Jax is doing and how your day was and what you did and what you ate for breakfast and if you want to have dinner with him. He won’t do any of that, though. He’ll just sit on his couch watching ESPN and pining for a woman who probably laughed at him the second he walked away.

Dennis is slogging away at work on Wednesday afternoon when he gets a text notification. No one really texts Dennis anymore. He doesn’t have any friends—not since the divorce—so his heart soars thinking it might be you with a Jax update. That bubble is burst instantly when he sees that he’s got a message from his ex-wife. These days she only texts him when she needs something (or occasionally when she’s drunk and feeling cruel). It’s too early in the day for her to be drinking, so he assumes (correctly) that it’s the former.

I need you to come fix the dishwasher.

That’s it—no “please” or “sorry to bother you,” just a demand. He’s not surprised, but he knows he’s going to do whatever she says because he always does. It’s not because he still has feelings for her, though; it’s because it feels good to be needed, even if it’s just for manual labor. He texts back immediately.

Ok. I can come over after work tonight.

I have a date tonight. Come in the morning.

Dennis agrees because it’s pointless not to and he doesn’t want to get sucked into an argument with her. He hates confrontation; he just wants to be nice to people and have them be nice back, but that’s not how the world works. The world is full of cruel people who hurt people because they think it’s fun. Of course his ex couldn’t resist telling him she has a date. Just like she couldn’t resist telling him how many guys she fucked while they were still married because of how terrible he is in bed and how unsatisfied he left her. What even is a “bad penis”? Dennis still doesn’t know, but apparently he has one.

He’s been too terrified to put himself out there again since his wife left him. The fear of rejection and the deep insecurity about his sexual prowess (or lack thereof) is just too much for him to overcome. His therapist says that it will take time to build his confidence back up, but Dennis never had any confidence to begin with. He can’t remember the last time he felt good about himself. He works out for his health, but he doesn’t feel good about his body—how could he when there’s one thing (the most important thing, some would argue) that he can’t fix?

He sighs and pulls up your number, and it’s not even about you in this moment—not really. Dennis is just lonely and sad and he wants to hang out with his (hopefully) soon-to-be dog. With Jax, there’s no judgment. He won’t look at Dennis and think what a pathetic loser this guy is, what a joke. Dennis finds something like inspiration in Jax because he could easily have come out from his trauma afraid of the world and ready to lash out at any moment; he could have let it turn him nasty, but he didn’t. He just let it roll off his back and stayed the happy gentle boy he was born to be. Dennis doesn’t look at Jax and see a broken dog; he sees a creature far stronger than he is. He needs some of that strength today, and Dennis’s palms start to sweat as he sends you a text.

Hey, this is Dennis from the adoption fair. I’m not sure if this is allowed and if not that’s totally fine but I was wondering if I could stop by the shelter today and see Jax, maybe take him for a walk? If not I understand.

Dennis tries to return his focus to work but really he’s just waiting and hoping to hear back from you. It’s two torturous hours before he hears that longed-for ding.

Hi Dennis! So sorry. I was in a staff meeting and just got your text. You can absolutely come by and take Jax for a walk! He would love that. When were you thinking?

Dennis barely finishes reading before responding.

You just tell me when and I’ll make it work.

How about 5:30?

I’ll be there.

Great! See you soon :)

Dennis spends an inordinate amount of time staring at the smiley face at the end of your text, thinking of your actual smile and how he gets to see it in a few short hours. The workday has never felt longer and he cuts out a bit early to head over to the shelter.

When he walks in, he sees a woman at the front desk who is not you talking to a man holding the world’s smallest Chihuahua. They are so wrapped up in each other that they don’t notice him standing there. Dennis is used to that, though—being invisible. He clears his throat and the woman turns to him.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! How can I help you?”

“My name is Dennis Baker and I’m here to see-”

“Jax! Oh, you’re Jax’s Dennis! We’re all so excited for Jaxy to get to his forever home. But wait, you’re not taking him home today, right? Because-”

“He’s just here for a visit,” you say, popping around the corner and smiling at him. “Gotcha day is on Saturday.” You turn to him. “I was going to text you you’ve been approved but I figured since you were coming by, I’d tell you in person.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Dennis says, and he feels his throat tighten.

He tells himself goddammit Dennis do not fucking cry in front of her again and he manages to keep it together, focusing instead on how pretty you look. He’s only ever seen you in your work clothes—a black shelter t-shirt and jeans—but you manage to make it look like you’ve just waltzed off a red carpet somewhere. He finds himself wondering what you’d wear for a date but he stops just short of thinking about what you’d look like in nothing at all.

He hears you say, “Dennis?” and he snaps back to the present.

“Sorry,” he says, “I was just... I’m just happy.”

“We are too. So, you wanna take your boy for a walk?”

“I’d love to,” he replies, and the question just comes out. “Are you gonna come?”

You smile at him and it’s like sunshine after a rain. “Of course. He’s my boy, too.”

Dennis paces as he waits for you outside. He knows he’s going to have to make conversation with you and there are so many things he wants to know about Jax, but he also wants to know about you. For example, are you single and willing to go out on a pity date with a pathetic anxious loser? He knows he’s not going to ask you out, but he lets himself think about how he would do it and the things he would say if he were a different type of man—one with the balls to just go for what he wants.

Your sweet voice rings out. “Here he is!”

Jax practically drags you out the door as he runs toward Dennis and jumps up on him. Dennis catches his front paw in one hand and pets his head with the other.

“Hey Jax! Hey buddy! You wanna go for a walk?”

Jax barks his approval and Dennis hears you laughing.

“That’s a big ol’ yes,” you say. “He really does love you, Dennis. It’s like he already knows you’re his dad.”

“I can’t wait to get him home. I’m so happy this worked out.”

“Me too. You have no idea how much. We’ve been waiting for you for two years. Where the hell have you been hiding?”

“Well,” Dennis says, focusing on Jax’s smiling face because looking at you is like staring directly into the sun, “my wife… shit, no, my ex-wife… she doesn’t like dogs so I could never have one. We just got divorced a few months ago so… yeah… here I am.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say, but then you drop the social niceties. “Actually, fuck that, no I’m not. If that’s what got you here, then it was supposed to happen.” Dennis watches out of the corner of his eye as you shake your head, and when he finally looks at you, you’re slightly apologetic. “I’m sorry, that was… aggressive. But who doesn’t like dogs? You’re better off without her.”

Dennis laughs and looks back to Jax, lifting his back leg to piss on a tree he’s deemed acceptable. “I like your logic,” he tells you. “It’s a much better approach than me feeling sorry for myself all the time.”

You ask him, “Are you dating?” and Dennis is a bit shocked, not by the question itself but because he isn’t used to bluntness that isn’t laced with cruelty. You backtrack before he has a chance to answer. “Wow, that is totally none of my business! I should shut up now.”

“I’m not dating. I… uh… wouldn’t even know where to start with that.”

“Well, Jax is a total chick magnet,” you say. “I mean look at that face. One trip to the park and you’ll be swimming in ladies.”

Dennis lets out a nervous chuckle. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Why?” you ask. “You’re an attractive guy. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble getting back out there.”

Dennis shoves his hands in the pockets of his khakis and smiles at you but he can tell it looks like more of a grimace. He’s uncomfortable with you now, because you’re just saying that to be nice. You must be. You couldn’t possibly be attracted to him or interested in him beyond the adoption process. You’re way the fuck out of his league, and even if you weren’t, he knows he’d only disappoint you in the end. It’s cruel of you, he thinks, to tease him like this. Maybe you’re not the nice sweet girl he thought you were.

But then you ask him “Do you want to get a coffee or something?” and your tentative voice and the hopeful look in your eye tells him that maybe you’re actually for real. “There’s a place about two blocks up that’s super dog-friendly and…”

“I’d love to.”

PART TWO >>>

#dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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londonalozzy · 3 years

Text

Stop Pretending (TFATWS)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: The reader thinks she's doing a stellar job of keeping her feelings for a certain soldier buried deep inside. Turns out, all it takes is an observant new friend to begin the unraveling of her most precious secret (Spoilers for TFATWS)

Masterlist

Word: Pretence

Definition: A way of acting that is intended to deceive people.

Example: Saying that he's just a friend when he's really the love of your life.

Your POV

Being caught in the midst of war is something that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) know all too well. As a war vet, former shield agent, and now Avenger I'm used to being centered amongst conflict. When the fight begins within me though, a battle between what I want and what I think is right, how will I react? Will I listen to my heart, my head, or will the winner be chosen for me?

Delacroix, Louisiana.....

I love my sleep, always have, always will. It's not necessarily the comfort of the bed, the quiet or even the rest. It's the fact that I'm at peace when I sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, so anything that will put that off for as long as possible I savor.

I wish it were the same for a certain super soldier in my life. I look forward to going to bed, everything calms down then, and for most people it's the same. For Bucky however, it's when everything starts, the nightmares, the terrors, the seemingly unending darkness. If only I could take his pain away like he has with mine.

For the last few weeks, my life had, for want of a better word, been hectic. Hectic to say the least.

After the eventual defeat of Thanos and the loses we endured as a result, I thought naively that life might calm down a bit, that I'd have time to breathe, to live. How wrong I was.

It all began with John Walker being announced to the world as the new Captain America.

I was baking cookies with Morgan in the Stark family kitchen when it came over the radio. As that latest turn of events sunk in, my first thoughts were of Bucky, what that would do to him. Not even an hour later I had said my goodbyes and was on my way to help him get the shield back.

Since then even more had happened. We'd regrouped with Sam, busted Zemo out of prison which in turn ruffled the feathers of Ayo and the Dora Milaje. We came face to face with Morgenthou and the Flag Smashers, and finally witnessed the man who thought he could even compete with Steve, make himself judge, jury and most significantly executioner.

After that went around the world we knew we had to end it sooner rather than later. It couldn't get much worse than Captain America becoming a murderer. We got the shield back, which was a fight all in itself. Handed Zemo over to Ayo, to try and recompense for the distrust we'd instilled in the people who'd helped us so much. Then we travelled to stay with Sam and his family in Louisiana whilst we waited for Karli's next move.

This is where we found ourselves now, in the eye of it, the calm before the storm.

Waking up in the Wilson households guest room, I was greeted to the golden hue of the rising sun penetrating through the single glaze windows, and the melodic sounds of gulls on the hunt for their morning meal down by the docks.

Actually, no that's not right. What I could hear was most certainly not birds, and it was definitely not melodic. What were those boys doing?

Quickly and quietly I threw on the first clothes I could get my hands on and made my way downstairs towards the noise. What caught my attention when I discovered the source, was not the two youngest Wilson boys playing with our newly reacquired shield in the living room, but the super solider who was blissfully ignorant to it all, sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of them. I don't think I'd ever been so happy.

"Right you two, if you're determined to play Avengers all morning then I suggest you re-assemble in the back yard. You're gonna wake Bucky up," I whispered out in one breath, stepping between the boys, then placing my hands on their backs and tip toeing them towards the door.

"So what if we wake him up? It's gone 10am," Cass questioned in protest, pulling on his sneakers and jacket.

"Exactly! Which is why if you do as I say, I will make you the biggest plate of waffles for breakfast that you've ever seen."

The boys eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream with it? Mum never lets us have ice cream for breakfast, and I'm sure there's a tub of Stark raving hazelnuts in the freezer," AJ clapped in muted excitement. "Oh, for God's sake.....Yes. You can have whatever you want if you get out of this house now and keep the noise down."

Once the boys were outside, I made my way over to the kitchen, stopping on the way to lean over my favourite senior citizen and make sure that he was still peaceful in his slumber. He'd never looked so relaxed, so at ease. It was a brand new Bucky I'd never seen before, a Bucky that had my heart pounding for him even more than it normally did. Not that he knew any of that.

Half an hour later and up to my elbows in waffle mix, I failed to notice my new friend and host Sarah making her way to my side at the counter, the huge smile on my face not going unnoticed. "What's got you grinning like the Cheshire cat, like I need to ask?"

"Bucky's sleeping. Isn't it amazing?" I spoke softly, bouncing up and down on my feet as I did so.

"And why is that?" She couldn't looked more confused if she tried.

"In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever woken up before he has. If his nightmares don't keep him awake all night, they normally have him up before the crack of dawn. I don't think I've ever seen him so still."

"Good answer," Sarah nodded in a hush, understanding why this meant so much to me, but not done yet with her morning interrogations, "Now on to my next question......"

"I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Sleeping Beauty over there follows you around like a little puppy dog. He hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars or something. It's pretty obvious how crazy he is about you, so when are you gonna stop pretending that you're not head over heels in love with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Wilson," I smiled forcefully, making out like the waffle maker deserved my attention way more than the conversation I was being made to have.

This was all Sam's doing, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd tried to have this conversation with me on multiple occasions and I shut him down every time. He obviously hadn't given up like I thought he did, and decided to draft in his sister. He is seriously gonna regret it when I find him.

"Sure you know what I'm talking about. Sam sees it, I don't even know you that well and I see it. The only reason Bucky doesn't, is because he doesn't believe he could ever be that lucky. You're a smitten kitten." These Wilson's are all as annoying as each other.

Knowing I wasn't getting out of this one, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her right into the corner of the room, trying my best to keep this convo as private as possible. "Look, I'm not pretending.....I'm ignoring. There's a difference."

"Care to explain what that difference is?" Sarah spoke softly, but with a sarcastic air.

Turning to look over my shoulder at the subject of our conversation, making sure he was still safely in the land of nod, I decided to just be honest. Sarah was much like her brother. Once she wanted to get to the bottom of something she wasn't about to give up.

"I love Bucky, more than I've ever loved anyone...and that terrifies me," the rawness of finally being honest making my voice shake, and tears come to my eyes. "Nat was like my sister, and she's dead. Tony was the closest I've ever gotten to having a Dad...and he's dead too. Then there's Steve, Vision, God knows where Wanda is....Everyone I love, either leaves or dies. If I admit my feelings for Buck then I face the risk of losing him too."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? He's not going to die because you love him (Y/N)."

Silent tears were falling now. I was revealing my deepest fears to a woman I'd only known a few days, and I'm not underplaying it when I say it was like a colossal weight off my chest, a release I didn't know I needed. "Believe me...I know, but I can't take that risk. I can't lose anyone else, especially not him."

"Let's just say for a second that you're right, that there is some higher power somewhere, set on destroying everyone you love. Do you really think ignoring your feelings is going to make them disappear?" I didn't know what to say to that. "Natasha and Stark died so that everyone could continue living, and (Y/N) you're not living as long as you keep this to yourself. They wouldn't want that for you."

"But what if I lose him?" I whispered with a choked sigh.

"Then at least he'll die knowing how you felt about him. After everything he's been through don't you think he deserves to know there's someone out there who loves him like you do?"

"Of course..."

Sarah's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smirk, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to tell him the truth."

"Why do all you Wilson's have to be so clever?" I voiced in mock irritation, pushing her away from me and acting like I was annoyed she had gotten one up on me.

"I don't know," she thought aloud and with a cheeky grin, grabbing a plate to start piling on the long forgotten waffles, "I think it might be the sea air or something."

"Nah, it's in the genes," I chuckled quietly, grabbing my jacket and deciding it was time to get this conversation wrapped up. "I'll go find Sam and the boys for breakfast. Clear my head a little bit."

"You promise you're gonna tell him?" Sarah stopped me as I went to push the door open.

"I'll think about it."

3rd person POV

Once (Y/N) was out of ear shot, Sarah couldn't help but start jumping up and down in excitement, clapping her hands loudly as she did so. That went even better than she thought it would, and she was so proud of herself. Sarah Wilson could now add matchmaker to her resume.

"Coast is clear Barnes. You can open your eyes now."

(Y/N) had no idea what she had metaphorically walked into just minutes earlier, entering that very revealing conversation with her overly inquisitive host.

What drew Sarah to come down that morning was the sounds of both the front porch door opening and the smell of homemade waffles wafting up the stairs. As she entered the kitchen she was met with two sights. One being (Y/N), facing the counter and looking very smiley, the other being a wide awake super soldier who was just laying on the couch and staring at her, the sole object of his affection. Sarah could work with this.

Every time (Y/N) turned back in his direction, Bucky would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep again. He had never slept so soundly, so peacefully, thoughts of (Y/N) and his new friends filling his nightmare free dreams.

He'd initially woken to (Y/N) ushering the boys outside because she was afraid they would wake him up. He didn't want to disappoint her by proving her right. Besides, he liked just watching her move around the kitchen, completely unaware he was observing her the whole time. He had no idea about the conversation that was just about to happen.

After (Y/N) had left and Sarah had confirmed so, Bucky sat himself up, his body shaking with adrenaline and a look of complete shock fixed on his face. Had he definitely woken up, or had the whole thing been a part of his dream? Did (Y/N) seriously just admit that she was in love with him?

Bucky didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say as he looked up at a smug Sarah from his spot. All he'd ever wanted was for (Y/N) to feel the same way about him as he did about her. Now he knew that she did.

"You're welcome by the way."

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pinencurls · 4 years

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“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

- - - -

It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert.

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him. . . . . .

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni.

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme.

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room.

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.”

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun.

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party.

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates.

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend.

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.”

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders.

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests.

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes.

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask.

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note.

“Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours.

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door.

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever.

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced.

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am.

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table.

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?”

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..”

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?”

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair.

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case.

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid.

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them.

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?”

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar.

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host.

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.”

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time?

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?”

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night.

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar.

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls.

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold.

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet.

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.”

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?”

“No Elle, of course I don’t-”

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet.

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.”

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?”

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee.

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . .

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.”

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.)

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.”

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself.

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?”

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table.

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.”

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-”

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.”

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?”

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room.

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?”

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode.

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?”

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus.

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides.

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head.

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended.

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both.

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick.

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following.

“Harry?”

“Ellie?”

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes.

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick.

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing.

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing.

“Oh- H, Sorry!”

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage.

“I’m so sorry Harry I-”

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!”

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little.

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different.

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me.

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back.

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . .

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.”

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily.

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy.

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry.

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into.

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter.

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night - incidentally beside Harry - I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock.

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him.

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies.

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again.

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?”

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.”

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile.

“What’s wrong?”

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts.

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.”

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up.

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one.

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.”

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?”

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?”

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket.

“I know exactly what you mean, H.”

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm.

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again.

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides.

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit.

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago.

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore.

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant.

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser.

“Then stay.”

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.”

. . . . .

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway.

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end.

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face.

“And you’re almost six foot!”

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.”

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough.

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.”

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again.

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks.

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry.

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again.

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm.

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine.

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side.

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before?

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa.

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen.

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.”

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention.

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.”

. . . . .

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all.

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already.

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all.

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden doors of Blondies.

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner.

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?”

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him.

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly.

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.”

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say.

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.”

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften.

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure.

“How do you mean?”

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-”

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.”

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry.

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all rather unsuccessfully.

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?”

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?”

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’”

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing.

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’”

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much.

. . . . .

Unknown Number

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago.

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone.

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up.

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.”

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all.

. . . . .

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!”

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?”

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?”

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends.

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years.

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?”

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.”

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us.

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.”

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech.

. . . . .

The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.”

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me.

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.”

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.”

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood.

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.”

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens.

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats.

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition.

. . . . .

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..”

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.”

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?”

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?”

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me.

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection.

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter.

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits.

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed.

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-”

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.”

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips.

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little,

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.”

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed.

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?”

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?”

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.”

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open.

“That’s the plan, love.”

. . . . .

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed.

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this.

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me.

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble:

“Breakfast?”

. . . . .

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed.

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes.

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner.

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares.

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!”

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him.

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.”

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands.

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion.

“What’ve got yeh bag for?”

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on.

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-”

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.”

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space.

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-”

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.”

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm.

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start.

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road.

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums.

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.”

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road.

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.”

. . . . .

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented.

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?”

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?” She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.”

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.”

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed.

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.”

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth.

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said.

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine.

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine.

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction.

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes.

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him.

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me.

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing.

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo.

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend.

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.”

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact.

Meet me at mine x

Harry

Okay - what was that about?

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?”

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.”

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec” before the line goes dead.

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly.

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me.

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.”

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?”

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.”

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me.

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.”

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange.

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a time I thought I could lose him.

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair.

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket.

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.”

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly.

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?”

“Eleanor would have a field day.”

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again.

“Oh yeah?” He teases.

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.”

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him.

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.”

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh…”

“Really..she’d be right about that?”

“I’m pretty sure-”

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep.

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.”

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder.

“I like you too H….just a little bit.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear.

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession.

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs.

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.”

. . . . .

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!”

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand.

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun.

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north.

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him.

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer.

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest.

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group.

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him.

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy.

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear.

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction.

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!”

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going.

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips.

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done.

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?”

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven.

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces.

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.”

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object.

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven.

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand.

“Yes dear?”

“What was that?”

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-”

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?”

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.”

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin.

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?”

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little.

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter.

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second.

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?”

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

#Harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #stellarboystyles3years #“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”#dani's masterlist #dani's writing #fan fic #harry styles #nick grimshaw #reader #idk #what do u even put in tags #christmas vibes?#friends to lovers

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punz4lyfe · 3 years

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MisPokonceptions: That bad “Pikachu lost to a Snivy” argument

TLDR: This argument is bad and easily refutable and people who still use it don’t even know what they’re talking about.

Okay, show of hands, who has brought up an iconic win on Pikachu’s belt and/or tried to discuss how powerful Pikachu is, only to get immediately shot down by some asshat saying that Pikachu isn’t really all that powerful because “hE lOsT aGaInSt SoMe LeVeL 5 sNiVy”?

These people are everywhere. Polls, predictions, anipoke discussions, versus debates, power scaling discussions, Reddit, Youtube, Twitter, literally anything that could remotely involve anipoke topics. And even to this day when Pikachu has done so much more since that one outlier, people still like to use this argument to try to justify the most blasphemous claims like those like Dawn’s Piplup or Goh’s Cinderace would be able to defeat Pikachu as well just by that one lose. Truth is, people who use this horrible argument don’t actually know what they’re talking about and are unaware of how easily refutable their stance is to the point they just look like nonsensical children who believe they’re right and no one else. And just how easily this argument can be refuted? Let’s see:

1. Context

Pikachu was literally fucking depowered by the legendary Zekrom in the same episode prior to Ash and Trip’s battle, you ignoramuses. He was not at his best and this sudden turn of events caused Ash and Pikachu to panic, which didn’t allow them to be in the best mindset for the battle as well. It honestly really baffles me that people barely bring up that point of the episode up which directly led to Pikachu’s lose. And yes, despite the typings, Ash has relied on Pikachu’s electric attacks to take down Grass-types before. That’s how he defeated and captured Bulbasaur and Treecko in the past. Arceus, it’s like people just purposefully pinpoint to Ash and Trip’s battle instead of the events that happened prior because they’re too afraid to look like utter fools.

2. Levels in the Anime World are non-existent

There have been many retcons in the anipoke history. One example would be Pokemon like Butterfree and Beedrill leaving behind their cocoon forms after evolving in the original series where episodes nowadays portrays their evolutionary process no different than any other Pokemon. Another would be trainers always be needing to weaken Pokemon before capturing, even if they seem significantly weak, but Journeys kinda has proven for that old concept to be moot, huh? Levels are one of those other retcons.

Quick question, when was the last time levels have been canonically name-dropped in the anime? The latest examples I can think would be in the Original Series at best, such as when Meowth declared Pikachu’s power to be “beyond its evolutionary level” or the time where Oak and James were quizzed on what move a Slowbro would learn at Level 46. In regards to all of anipoke’s latest series, levels don’t necessarily be a thing anymore. In fact, what usually grants a trainer and their mons a win usually depends on their strategic approaches as well as experiences.

I mean, just think about it, do you really think it would take Ash’s Cyndaquil an entire trip at Johto to reach Level 14 to evolve into Quillava at Sinnoh, especially since Cyndaquil already knew moves that its species would normally learn at levels beyond 14 in the games like Flame Wheel?

3. One fucking lose doesn’t taking hundreds of more impressive wins

Get real, guys. So a literal depowered Pikachu lost to a Snivy. And now you’re vaguely implying that same Snivy can take down a Dragonite, a Regice, and a Froslass and tie with a Latios?

Now anyone who still tries to use this argument REALLY look like fools. Hope they got their clown makeup win.

4. Context.... AGAIN

People who use this argument apparently did not watch the rest of the Best Wishes series after the first episode.

Let’s look into things. The next time Ash had Pikachu battle Trip was in episode 10 of the series, where it was revealed Trip had evolved Snivy into Servine between appearances. While Pikachu still lost, if you even understood a semblance of Trip’s character and motive (in that he has a huge regard of respect for Alder since his childhood and wants to match him battle), then it wouldn’t hard to believe that Trip is a hardcore trainer who wants to reach at least close to Alder’s level as soon as he can, so Servine’s second victory isn’t THAT bullshit as it is. Plus, you can literally argue that Zekrom, through anime bullshit, probably depowered Pikachu completely at the start of the series considering Pikachu lost to a fucking Panpour few episodes prior. Besides, the second battle ultimately wouldn’t mean a thing in the long run for what’s about to come.

The very next and last time Pikachu faced against Servine was in episodes 103 and 104 where Servine was now a Serperior and Pikachu should very well be back in his prime. And Pikachu ultimately won. Yeah, your whole “Pikachu LoSt to Snivy” argument doesn’t look so good anymore now, does it? (not that it looked good in the first place)

And 5. Additional Wins

As of now after And and Pikachu’s rivalry with Trip had ended, Pikachu has taken down a Mega Lucario owned by a gym leader who had previously scored a 100-win streak, a Metagross and Tyranitar owned by probably Kalos’ strongest regular trainer, a Hariyama owned by an Island Kahuna, a Mega Gyarados owned by one of Kanto’s most creative and well-versed gym leaders, a Nihilego who’s a freakin’ Ultra Beast, a Zoroark despite handling a Silvally prior to their match, and a fucking Tapu Koko... ordered by one of Alola’s strongest trainer... with a Legendary Z-Move... despite having been weakened by Kukui’s Empoleon prior...

The Snivy argument literally holds no weight anymore.

#pokemon #anipoke #pokeani #ash ketchum #pikachu #best wishes #trip #snivy #servine #serperior #zekrom

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melodyalanaroster · 3 years

Text

To answer some Fanfic Questions...

So, this is my response to @broxklynn‘s post... I decided to make this its own post... So that It can be properly answered.

1. How and why did you start to write? Is there some kind of story behind it?

I started writing in general when I was in elementary school... Back when I just had a Platform 9 3/4 journal, not many friends, recess, and a desire to immerse myself in the world of Harry Potter. I enjoyed writing, and even joined the Writer’s Club in High School (but I eventually left to join Anime Club and Divergent Thinking Society). As for writing MCL fanfiction, I began writing Sam’s and Alana’s stories as early as when I first got into the fandom, back in 2013. Alana’s story started out as “A Fresh Start”, had a one shot called “When I Wake”, then turned into “Let The Dawn Be Broken”, and is now “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. The final product barely has any hints of the first 3... In fact, Sam’s story, “Fighting Darkness”, has been completely debunked due to what I’ve decided to canonize in “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. Writing MCL fanfiction has been a major help in distracting me from the depression that was caused by family issues, severe abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, my mom’s disease and her death, as well as working at several shitty jobs. Writing has helped me escape reality and keep myself sane enough to not be a black hole of hate, anger, and sadness to my friends and boyfriend.

2. What do you struggle the most with your writing?

There are 2 major things I struggle with... 1 is Timing. I often set deadlines for myself that I never meet and it makes me so frustrated that I miss them... There are currently things in my drafts that were meant to be “Holiday Specials” for Valentine’s Day and Halloween 2020 that are still unfinished... It makes me feel like I’m letting my readers down, when its more of me letting myself down... The other thing is Inspiration. Because I hate my job, I often think about Alana’s story in an effort to not be completely consumed by the fact that I do hate my work... Due to that, I often come up with ideas for my story that I think are FANTASTIC for my story... But, by the time I get home, I’m either in too much pain or too tired to write, or I’ve forgotten the ideas...

3. What is your favorite genre to write?

I love writing Romance with a bit of Slice of Life and a hint of Action/Adventure...

4. Slowburn or “Flame”/PWP?

Slow burn any day.

5. How do you overcome writer’s block?

If I absolutely can’t write... I work on other stuff I need to do... Typically, something around the house, or something online I need to do... I also look for cool stuff to add to wish lists... I’ll occasionally play videogames or read comic books... In an effort to subvert writer’s block, I like having multiple chapters in my drafts at once. If I’m not in the mood to work on one chapter, I can work on a different one.

6. What kind of thing you dislike the most, when reading a fanfiction? (for example: particular plot, grammar mistakes)

One thing that makes me upset (and it makes me madder when I do this) is misspelling... Especially when it looks like its almost blatant... You have autocorrect, USE IT! Or when a fanfic is so awful, yet the author acts like their work is a gift from god... I don’t mind a “bad” fanfiction... Hell, the concept of “My Immortal” is so bad that its hilarious... But Fifty Shades did a lot of damage and E.L. James acts like she’s bigger than Jesus... Seriously, she wrote Twilight fanfiction, changed some minor details and names, people who have no knowledge of BDSM ate it up, and she acts like she’s a “Sex and Relationship Guru”...

7. What’s the biggest issue for you, when writing a Beemoov fanfiction?

The biggest issue for me is finding out when to allow for Beemoov’s writing and placement to take place in my story. I don’t like a lot of the events of UL and LL, so I’m often finding myself in a position where I have to watch video playthroughs and go “Okay, how can I omit this character, but keep this scene?”. I’ve had to do that A LOT with Alexy and Rosalaya.... Although, to a certain extent, I’ll often cut their scenes out altogether. I really hate what Beemoov did to them. They were great characters in HSL, but became utter shit in UL and stayed shit in LL. To make up for Beemoov’s writing style, I’ve created my own characters, added in old characters (like Kentin and Armin), added in bits from the manga (like Viktor, Severina and their fathers), and gone off on my own storyline. The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster is close to MCL at times, but often veers off onto its own road.

8. Have you ever created a character based on person in real life? (celebrity, someone that you know, etc)

YES!!! A LOT of characters in my story are based on real people! Alana’s step-father, Nate Films, is closely based on Nathan Fillion. A lot of her family members are based on members of my own family, just changed a bit to fit the story. Lynne Roster, Alana’s mom, is what I had always dreamed my own mom would be... Hell, Alana’s cat, Sylvester, is based on my own childhood cat, Luna.

9. How do you feel about your own characters? Do you think of them as your babies or have rather love-hate relationship with them? (And, do you have favorite one?)

I love most of my characters. I do hate 3 in particular... But, you’re supposed to hate, or at least not respect, them... That’s why I poured my hatred into them... Those 3 are Carol, Kai and Azrael. Carol has aspects of my abuser in her. You’ll see more of her when I finally post the HSL related chapters... And understand what I mean... Kai is based on one of my real life cousins that I’ve not been happy with for years (the one who my bf has deemed “the family failure”). You mainly see him in the Cousin Mels chapters, and in the Christmas Special... Azrael is the one who is seen the most in the UL chapters, and she is a main adversary for Alana. She is the one who broke her the most, the one who ended Alana’s relationship with Nathaniel, the one who truly traumatized her. As for ones I love... The one I love the most is Alana... I know, she’s a reflection of me, so that’s kind of vain... But, she’s a part of me. When I do finish her story and am at the point where I need to say “Goodbye”, it will hurt....

10. Enemies-to-lovers or friends/bestfriends-to lovers?

Definitely friends/best friends to lovers. I also like toying with what happens when best friends turn to lovers, but circumstance parts them and one moves on...

11. Is it easy for you to get inside your character’s head? Can you empathize with them? Is there’s some similarities between you and your main character?

It is VERY easy for me to get into Alana’s head... Like I said in #9, she is a reflection of me. She looks and acts like how I’d like to in a lot of situations... Her life is more interesting, traumatized, and more well off than mine... But, she is still me in major ways...

12. Who has been the biggest supporter of your writing?

Definitely my boyfriend. He doesn’t really understand the game itself... But, he likes how happy it makes me and he respects how much of my heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears that I’ve poured into writing my story. He loves listening to me read passages from it to him while I’m working. He gives me advice and his opinion is highly valued... My family knows I’m writing a large story, and have seen some of the images that I’ve gotten commissioned, but they don’t really know or care about the game. They do respect the fact that I am writing. They love the fact that I’m slightly following in my mom’s footsteps in that regard (she wrote 3 books and several poems). My online friends have been very supportive as well! I’m constantly updating them on what I’ve worked on each day in my Discord Server and the words of encouragement always help.

13. How do you handle criticism?

Not well. Due to the abuse and family issues mentioned in #1, for a good amount of my life, I’ve gotten nothing but harsh criticism... So, now that I’m away from all that, at 26 years old, I’m just now getting to a point where I’m starting to take it better... But, I’ve got a long way to go.

14. Do you like giving your characters trauma? Why/why not?

I hate sounding like a sadist... But, I’m going to anyway, so fuck it... Yes. I have done awful things to Alana over the years. In A Fresh Start, she got sexually assaulted and ostracized. In When I Wake, she gets into a car crash, put into a coma, and in her dream state murdered by Francis in front of Nathaniel. In Let The Dawn Be Broken, the plan was for her to end a war. In “The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster”, her childhood cat dies, her mom gets sick, she gets abused by Carol, her best friends get ripped away from her for a bit, she gets sent to a country halfway around the world alone, she gets assaulted and ultimately turned into a weapon of mass destruction.... I’ve even thought of killing her mom off at one point... But decided against it...

Now, granted, A Fresh Start and Let The Dawn Be Broken never saw completion, but happy endings were planned for them...

I do this, all while giving Alana happy endings in each story because “If Alana can go through utter hell and make it through, then so can I.”... I know, I’m “god” in that regard and I can control how Alana’s life is.... But, the fact that in my writing, she ends up standing tall, happy, with everything she wants, after everything she goes through does make me feel better....

15. Are you proud of yourself? When you look at first piece you wrote and compare it to the latest one?

Yes. If you look at A Fresh Start, you can tell it was written by someone fresh out of High School. There’s no real depth to it. Let The Dawn Be Broken isn’t much better... But, The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster has become my magnum opus. It is the largest piece I have EVER written, and will probably remain the largest piece I write. I am very proud of what I have created... And when its last word is written, and I am ready to get it made for it’s place on my shelf, I will feel very bittersweet about it... That being said, my original plan for a sequel involving Nathaniel’s and Alana’s daughter, Aurora, has been discarded. I don’t believe Aurora could ever have as much of my heart that her parents do...

And there you have it! Some insight into my world, writing, and history!

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wastelandcrown · 4 years

Text

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 7: you matter to me (the terrifying tales of the grimm monarchy)

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Mr. and Mrs. Grimm’s A+ parenting, panic attacks, unconventional sibling problems/dynamics, very brief disappearance (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! All feedback is very welcomed, I didn’t have anyone to beta so *sighs loudly*. This chapter is kinda angsty and opens up some fun new plot relevant strings. I also want to make it clear that I will be demonstrating Roman putting in work to fix his mess ups in later chapters as well! He’s got some loose ends to tie up, and he will do so.

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, Creativitwins

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @a-soul-among-the-stars @sweet-razz-tea @the-cactus-lord @genderlessfish

Janus’ eyes move to Logan, they seem to communicate without a breath between them. Logan takes nothing but his phone with him when he heads into the hall, but it’s far too late. Remus is nowhere in sight.

Roman takes a shuddering sigh, places his head in his hands, and leans against the makeup counter.

“I’m-I’m sorry-I don’t-I don’t know what that was-”

“Yes, you do.”

The room feels so uncomfortable, the tension could be cut with a knife. Roman knows Janus well enough to know his glare cuts sharper than any weapon could ever. Especially to him. His face stays firmly planted in his hands, hiding from the truth he’s been avoiding for far too long.

“Roman, look at me,” Janus orders.

He listens and keels back in shame at the look of anger and disappointment on his friend’s face.

“Tell me the truth, why are you doing this?”

It’s a good question. For all it’s worth though, he doesn’t know. Which seems like the cop-out of the century, but truly...he has no clue at the moment. That, however, is not an answer Janus will accept and not one he will accept of himself.

With a deep breath, he thinks “Alright, Roman. Be honest. Why are you doing this?”

Within moments he gets it and it is the easiest conclusion he’s ever come to. The twins have always had a very sturdy dichotomy. Remus was a messy and wild child growing up, while Roman was clean and polite. When they played, there was always a good and just prince and an evil conniving duke. There were good marks and bad marks. Good ideas and bad ideas. Clean and messy. Good and evil. Something nice and something terrible. Even in the eyes of their parents. It didn’t matter to them as children, Remus even seemed to enjoy it on occasion. Looking back, he only ever liked being “bad” when he got to choose it. When they played in their yard and there was a choice between swimming in the pool and scooping water onto the grass to “drown the bugs”, he was the happiest child in the universe. When the school called their father and told him that Remus had been in another fight, he looked like someone had ripped his soul from his body. It didn’t matter the reason he was fighting, he was “bad”. Roman had always thought the merit of the fight was dictated by why you were fighting in the first place, but apparently, he was wrong.

The dichotomy they played into was fun! It was! For a while, at least. Then Roman began being berated by everyone around him for acting similarly to his brother. Then Remus was the new social outcast months before they hit middle school. Then it wasn’t fun anymore. Being “good” was stressful and lonely. Teachers, classmates, friends, family, everyone equated “good” with perfect. Perfection is a hard burden to bear alone and twelve years old. Roman’s mind drifts to when they split up. When the dichotomy became less of a two-person game played for fun, and more of an ugly sweater from an aunt that they had to wear to every formal event. It was hard, it was always much too hard. It hurt him. Recently, he realized the much heavier burden of being “bad”. The stress and loneliness must be tenfold when everyone beats into your brain that you are the perfect example of the “Evil Twin” trope. Even your own brother. Your twin.

“Everyone told me,”

They had been a pair once.

“‘Roman, you’re such a good kid, you’re good at everything.’”

They were a good pair. Even now. He’d worked with him just a month ago to put something together and it was amazing.

“‘There is nothing you can’t do!’”

A few months ago, he was doing something he hadn’t thought possible and making amends with his brother.

“To them, I was independent and self-sufficient,”

He wasn’t either of those things, not then and not now. He had always been a pair.

“I was perfect. I had to be.”

The catch is that he gave up the only person who didn’t care if he was perfect.

“I thought it was true, I-”

The catch is that now his actions dawn on him fully like a wave over the shore.

“I needed them to be right.”

His breath shakes, “Who am I if I’m not that?”

The wave of grief and guilt crashes into him, and all he can think about now is how much he wants to take back every single mean thing he’s ever said about his brother. He feels the sea of emotions that he’s held back take him in and drown him with ferocity. Janus sighs as Roman stares at him through watery eyes.

“Roman. You were doing so well with Remus.”

He’s right, Janus is always right about these things. Two months ago, he had been doing so much better. He and Remus were still bickering in public, but it was fun to him. Though when Remus had “glue-and-feather’d” his makeup bag, he had thrown a little fit, he laughed about it later. Remus had laughed with him. It was light and fun. May, June, and most of July were the most fun he’d had with Remus in years. They’d spent time together, helped each other with chores, ridden to the theatre together. Little, minuscule things. Things that made such a tremendous difference in Roman’s confidence.

“What happened?”

The same thing that always happened. His mother came home

There was always something different about his mother. When he and Remus had befriended Janus in elementary school, they met someone else's mother for the first time. He realized the day he had met her what made his mom so different. Lillian Devine, or as they called her Mrs.Lilli, was quite possibly the strangest woman they had ever met. The first time they saw her, Janus had seen her outside the school and made a beeline for his mother’s arms. She took him up into her arms, gave him a spin, and hugged him tightly. Roman doesn’t remember much from being that young, but he can remember the first moment he felt jealousy was when Lillian took Janus into that hug and loudly announced that she missed him. Only gone a day at school, and she missed him enough to announce it to the world. He remembers going home to a very big, very empty house. He was grumpy, clutching Remus’ hand like a lifeline as their nanny ushered them into their room and told them she would collect them at dinner time. When she collected them, Roman asked if she had missed them. She said, “I’m not your mother, am I?”.

His mother was different. When she came home, she would offer Roman a hug and give him a big kiss on the cheek. Every time, even the most recent. Like clockwork. Roman, sometimes accompanied by Remus, would wait outside the door for his mother’s car to arrive. She would exit and her heels would clack along the stone pathway. She would kiss him on the cheek when she got up the steps, offer him a quick hug, then begin to speak about her latest adventures in Paris. If Remus stood with him, she would give him her coat. Roman would always take it from him, hang it up, and follow his mother wherever she went. Recently the thought of their mother handing Remus her coat made Roman want to puke.

They’d had dinner together one night in July. On her most recent visit, she told stories of her new revolutionary fashion line. He told her all about the newest theatre show. Remus made an effort to sit with them, and it was a labour for Roman to look at his mother when he spoke instead of Remus. He was there for all his anecdotes but he would still hang off of every word just to find something to prod at. Remus stood, and his mother’s words echoed in his brain.

“Remus, dear,” His mother begins in her shrill voice, “If you’re not going to eat with us, at least go and shower. Your smell is unbecoming.”

He latches onto that conversation, that’s really when the downfall started.

“Mother, that was quite rude…” He says softly, keeping his eyes on his plate.

“Sometimes you have to tell the truth, my darling.” She laughs then, and Roman wants more than anything to get up and chase his brother.

“Speaking of your theatre production,” He turns his attention back to her, “Your father is thinking of coming this year.”

All thoughts of defending his brother leave his brain entirely. His mouth dries and he feels the onset of excitement and pure panic. At that moment he is consumed by selfishness and tries to push away the panic and think only of this dream come true.

“He’ll be happy to hear you got the lead again,”

“But Mother, I told you, I’m only-”

“Yes, the understudy. You’ll change that, won’t you, my darling? I didn’t raise you to get second place, did I?”

He was good. What he was doing was good. He couldn’t disappoint his mother, let alone his father. Truth be told, he barely even spoke to the man except for their short and brief calls on the major holidays. He hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years. He’d outgrown the excuse of him being busy but hadn’t outgrown the fire that a visit from his father lights inside him. It became even worse when after two feeble attempts to be rid of Logan, his father called him. Unprompted, unscheduled, and entirely without cause. He buzzed when he picked up the phone.

“Roman.”

“Hello, father.” He can barely contain the happiness buzzing around in his throat.

“I have made time in my schedule to come to see your stage performance at the request of your mother. She has told me you landed the lead role again, I can’t say I’m not impressed. This is the sixth year in a row she has asked me, you know. I hope there is some merit to your casting director’s choice.”

He can barely keep himself sat down, the urge to jump around is so intense that he nearly dies. “Oh, certainly! I won’t let you down! Oh! And neither will Remus, he’s entirely spectacular in his role this year, I really think you’ll love-”

“I am not attending this production to see your brother. I trust you won’t let me down, because unlike him, you are not a failure. I will see you then, goodbye.”

In one fell swoop, his father had crushed his mood and strengthened his resolve.

“My father is coming to the production. He called me himself to confirm.”

“The man who talks to you on average thirty minutes a year is coming to our show? Please tell me you’re joking.” The shock is evident in Janus’ voice as he searches Roman’s face desperately to ensure he’s lying.

“I’m not. My mother, she-she told him I got the lead. He told me-He told me that he was impressed with my track record. Then I-Well I started talking about Remus’ spectacular performance and he...He said he wasn’t coming to see Remus and that I-” Roman is on the verge of tears, he feels the urge to crumble like a war-torn kingdom.

Janus places a hand on his shoulder, meant to be a comfort, “That you what?”

Tears track down Roman’s face as he sits and slumps over to physically display his guilt, “That I’m not a failure like him, so I won’t let him down.”

“I am internalizing so much anger at the moment, please give me a second.” Janus takes a deep breath and screams angrily out loud. Roman takes it as initiative and screams as well, but much more wet and sad.

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“You didn’t think to tell anyone any of this?” Roman shakes his head and sniffles.

Janus mutters to himself, “Right. Of course, you didn’t. You fool.”

“We all know you’re not an absolute prick Roman. You’d obviously just pick on Logan for no reason you’re totally not super stressed or something.” He recoils at that, Janus’ face falls.

“I’m just-Roman-You can talk to me,” Janus speaks with an air entirely too soft for him.

What gets Roman’s attention is the tired and slightly sad, “Lord knows that neither of you does enough.”

“I’m here for you, even if you do some very morally shifty things. Especially if it’s all because you’re all stressed out and your daddy issues are taking centre stage in your mind.” He sits beside him now, taking Roman’s hand in his.

“I know how passionate you are, and I can tell that this isn’t how you want to do it. So, you don’t have to. You have...lots of things to make up for and apologize for. But there is still time. As long as you mean it, and you want to do better.”

Weakly, he mutters “I do.”

“Then find a way to apologize and fix it the way you always do.”

“And what way is that?” He asks with a soft smile, to which Janus chuckles under his breath.

“Facing every and all challenges with courage and honesty. Obviously,” Janus raises a thumb and wipes the tears from Roman’s cheeks with a genuine smile.

So it was settled then. Roman needed to apologize. To everyone. He was already thinking of ways to express his sorrow and regret properly, his brilliant brain spitting out lavish and somewhat laborious ideas. Janus can tell from the way the passionate light returns to his eyes and he smiles. There is work to be done.

The door slams open and an entirely too panicked Virgil stands in the doorway, “Janus-”

Work to be done later. Virgil’s breath is coming in whooping waves, his body is shaking, makeup smudged from anxious tears rolling down his face. Janus moves with purpose, approaching Virgil like a particularly protective guardian. Virgil grabs the fabric of his hoodie and tries to breathe.

“That’s it, Virgil, you’re alright,” He coos, gently placing a hand on his head.

“We can’t-” Virgil speech is messy and laboured, “We-We can’t find Remus-He’s-He’s not picking up his phone-I’m-We-”

Roman’s blood runs cold. Remus has done this before, sure. But it’s always been silly and fun and not motivated by weeks worth of stress and terrible feelings. Roman knows his words were the cherry on the cake, and nearly slaps himself for still being sat there while his brother was who knows where.

Roman grabs Remus’ bag from the floor, opening it to find his phone. There are almost fifty missed messages, most of them from a contact labelled “The Sexy Kind Of Spider” who he can only assume is Virgil.

“His phone’s still here,” He sifts through the bag some more, “Along with his jacket and his car keys.”

“Well, I’d say he can’t have gone far, but we all know how crafty Remus is,” Janus says with a drained expression on his face which only inspires Virgil to clutch his shirt even tighter.

There’s a fire in Roman now, an urge to find his brother’s newest hiding spot and somehow make it up to him. He slings the bag over his shoulder and approaches the pair.

“No need to fear, Virge! I’ll find Remus and bring him back to us as quickly as I can!”

Virgil only nods in response, prompting Janus to gently ruffle his hair. Roman leaves, knowing that the Virgil situation is in very capable hands. On to finding his brother.

He sends a quick text to Thomas debriefing the situation, playing it off as a “typical Remus situation”, and leaves the building. If Remus had been outside the theatre, he certainly wasn’t anymore. Potentially unfortunately from Roman, a certain nerd was out there looking instead. When they made eye contact, Logan approached. He looked...frazzled. Much more so than Roman had ever seen.

“There you are. I was wondering when you would come help. Remus is missing and hasn’t answered his phone.”

“He left it here, but I’m going to go and look for him.”

Logan mutters something under his breath about the inefficiency of something-or-other, but Roman does not have the time to care. Him and Logan talk for another minute, Logan even gives him his number to call when he finds him. Logan says he’s going to get more people to look, Roman only nods. He’s focused in, there’s hope for a new start still and he’ll be damned if he loses it to Remus randomly disappearing forever. He piles into his car with Remus’ bag and starts his search.

Hope turns to fear after the third hour with no signs of his brother. He had checked his house, all the old spots Remus used to love, their whole neighbourhood, Janus’ house, every department store near the theatre. Nothing. It was like a magician cast a spell to make his brother disappear. He’s on the verge of panic. His hands are shaking like a bitch and his breathing wavers with each word he mutters to himself to ease his anxiety. He has to pull over into the parking lot of the convenience store near his home. It wouldn’t be safe for him to drive anywhere anymore. He wonders for a moment how in the hell his brother disappeared so quickly. He only had about thirty minutes on foot ahead of them, how had nobody found him? He almost cries sitting at the wheel. What if he’d been kidnapped? Murdered? Taken for ransom? Wait, that’s the same as kidnapping, isn’t it? God, it didn’t matter now! His brother was gone. For nearly ten minutes he lets the situation hit him hard. Tears roll through his body and he sobs. If Remus was gone forever, what would he do? What could he do?

A worker from the store comes out from the front. They see Roman and Roman sees them. Roman couldn’t care less that they now look incredibly uncomfortable. They move to the back of the store and from Roman can see, they’re talking to someone. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know why he’s watching. He’s still crying like a baby. The thought of having lost his brother to the universe is still making his head pound. The worker gives whoever they’re talking to a smile, walks back inside the store, and from the till inside they give Roman a reassuring smile as well. He gives them a thumbs up. He takes a deep breath. He needs to pull himself together and find-

When Remus turns the corner from behind the store, Roman goes for the door handle before he can think. The sight of his shivering, tear-stained, obviously upset brother has him moving. He rips the door open and scrambles out. He trips over the edge of the car door and it doesn’t even matter. His palms and knees scrape against the concrete, ripping the skin on his hands and hurting his knees. He doesn’t care. It stings and he doesn’t care. The second he’s on his feet again he bolts at Remus and throws his arms around his chest. His head is firmly locked between Remus’ neck and shoulder, he’s grabbing at his shirt like a lifeline. His breathing is erratic, the tears are back now and back with a vengeance. His knees are shaking. He hadn’t even recognized how terribly and horribly scared of losing his brother he even was. Feeling it now was like the first breath of autumn air in your summer lungs. Remus stands there, just stands there. For a moment, the buzzing of his mind recognizes someone saying his name. Then there are arms around him. He’s being squeezed within an inch of his life. He doesn’t mind. He will never mind again.

All Roman’s scared voice can squeak out is a loud and cracking, “I’m sorry!”

They stand together in the chilly late-august afternoon air, in full sight of any neighbours or employees at the store, for five minutes. They sway slightly. Remus doesn’t say a word. Not one passes through his lips. Remus pulls away, only to take Roman’s hand and drag him to the car.

“C’mon you crybaby, let’s go home.”

Roman just nods and doesn’t comment on the tears on Remus’ cheeks. Remus takes the driver’s seat and Roman piles into the passengers’ side. He holds his brother’s bag in his lap, he squeezes it tightly. The drive home is only a few minutes, but Roman’s breathing calms enough to the point where he can rationalize texting. Janus, Logan, and Virgil all get a very simple text, but it’s enough to explain the situation.

‘Found him. We’re going home. He’ll call you in a bit.’

They pull into the driveway, shuffle into the house, take off their shoes. It seems weirdly unreal. It’s like Roman has entered some twilight zone where he and his brother get along. A twilight zone that Roman hopes to make a reality. Like he’s an upset kid again, he takes his brother’s hand and remains resolute in not crying again as he leads him through their empty house. The maid is there, she sees them pass. She doesn’t say a word. She watches the obviously upset twins make their way down the hall and into Roman’s room. Remus lets Roman take him by the shoulders and sit him on his bed. They stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Roman takes the first step, “You scared me, Remus.”

Remus looks away, “I didn’t think you’d care, really…”

“Of course I’d care! Remus, I-I always cared! And I meant it when I said that I am truly sorry!” He’s crying again, and frankly, he feels a little stupid.

“I kinda figured when you ran at me crying like a crazy person,” His brother picks up the end of his blanket and wipes his face with it, “You’re crying a lot today.”

“I’ve had a quite terrible afternoon, I think a little emotional distress is warranted.” He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, Remus smacks the blanket gently across his cheek.

Remus ushers him in again, nudging his head against Roman’s stomach and wrapping arms around his back. Roman stands between Remus’ legs and holds his head like the precious thing it is.

There’s a shudder of a breath from each of them. Both of them are so painfully aware of how long it’s been since the last time they sought out each other for comfort like this. There’s something so familiar in it. The warmth that Roman remembers from a childhood spent at each other’s sides. They used to be so close that they shared a bed by choice. He spent nights asleep and calm holding onto his brother. This feels like that. Something so personal and so old. Remus starts to cry again and it’s a messy sob that makes Roman’s ears ring. He squats down to look Remus in the eyes, taking his hands in his.

“I didn’t mean it, Rem. I don’t think you’re a failure-I-” Remus cries harder, he does his best to wipe the tears with his fingers.

“You-You mean much more to me than I’m sure I've let on in recent years.” There’s a tenderness and honesty in Roman’s voice that feels good and right.

“Mother and Father have been driving me insane, pressuring me to say and do things that I frankly don’t believe in.” The feelings he’s sharing now are lightening something in Roman’s chest, and from the look on Remus’ face, his words are more than on the right track.

“Not anymore. I promise to you that from now on I am going to do everything I can to make up for the terrible things I’ve done.”

Remus smiles at him, teary-eyed and covered in snot. It’s not gross to Roman, not right now, because Remus looks better.

“Can you start by getting me some water?” Remus’s hoarse voice coughs out, Roman is on his feet and goes to the kitchen as quickly as he can.

With two glasses in hand, he hurries back. He stops at the door. Inside, he hears Remus talking. He’s on the phone with Janus, who sounds more than upset. He goes in, gives Remus the glass, and turns to leave for privacy reasons. His brother grabs at his wrist and tugs him back. He sits beside Remus and they drink their water. He keeps his mouth shut and listens to the ways in which other people love his brother. Janus is angrier than anything else. The heart-palpitating rant that ensues is wildly emotional. He talks about how much the incidents of this afternoon scared everyone, goes off on tangents about the risks of running off and not telling anyone, tells him with the most love in his voice that he was worried about him. Remus promises not to do it again, Janus only sighs in a loving way. Janus brings up his talk with Roman, emphasizes his support of both of them, and lets Remus be on his way. Virgil is next, and he’s quiet. The call is full of little silences, Virgil takes breaks between sentences. Stops mid-word to take a breath and keep his wits. He tells Remus that he scared him. Tells him that he cares about him, no matter what. That he loves him and wants the best for him. He doesn’t use those words exactly, but Roman reads between the lines.

They’re fairly average calls considering the circumstances and their relationships. Roman sees Remus hesitate as his fingers ghost over the call button under Logan’s contact. He’s saved as “Boobear” with a blue and green heart. It’s by far the most normal of the names on his list. It’s by far the sweetest as well.

“Something wrong?” He asks, and Remus gives him a shaky smile.

“I’m worried about what he’s going to hate me now or something,”

It’s almost the stupidest thing Roman had ever heard. He might not get along great with Logan, but he’s not blind. The little nerd is wrapped tightly around Remus’ finger. He’s seen Remus hang off of Logan and say all kinds of crazy and vulgar things, only to get a small reprimand or occasionally an annoyed-but-loving smile. Remus can spout off in a rant about nothing in particular, only to have Logan hang onto every word and provide commentary and factual corrections. There is nothing in the world that could shake away the Logan Lark who was smiling and dancing in a field with his brother only a month ago.

“With the way he looks at you,” Roman chuckles, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this made him love you more.”

Remus blushes furiously, and instead of dignifying Roman with a response, he hits the call button.

Logan picks up the second it goes through as if he was waiting by his phone for Remus to call him. The intense emotion in his voice makes the twins do a double-take. He’s normally so straight and narrow. Measured. Collected. There is an air to the typical Logan that has vanished now. Roman wonders why he couldn’t show this side on stage more often.

“Remus? Please tell me this is you.”

To cover up his anxiousness, Remus flirts terribly, “Heya hot-stuff, what’re you wearing?”

There’s a relief filled laugh on the other side of the phone, “There’s my answer. Are you alright?”

“M-hm! You’ll never guess who made me feel better with a shit ton of groveling!” There’s an air to Remus’ voice that conveys humour.

“Remus.” Logan sounds so serious, Roman watches Remus sigh and roll his eyes at the care.

“Yeah, Logie. I’m okay. I mean it.”

Logan speaks again, that same serious voice, “I’ve been worried all afternoon.”

“Yeah...”

It’s quiet for a second, there’s a tension of the unspoken affection the pair have for each other floating in the room.

“I feel this is as good a time as any to tell you that I don’t think you’re a failure at all. You-I...In truth, I find you quite interesting to be around. You...You are...immensely talented in my humble opinion. I...While I understand we haven’t been friends for long- I hope it is not presumptuous to say that we are friends-But our relationship is...important to me. I enjoy your company and all you do for me. It...It is a true pleasure to be in your company, Remus. I-”

Despite the blushing on Remus’ cheeks, he softly mutters “You’re ranting again, Lo-Lo.”

“My apologies,” Logan nearly whispers out, there is affection seeping from his voice, “However, I meant everything I said.”

“I think you’re the shit too, babes. Sorry for worrying ‘ya.” There’s that affection again, Roman has never heard his brother sound so affectionate.

There’s another pause, Remus speaks again “I’ll make it up to you.”

“If you make a sex joke at a time like this-” Logan scolded, they could almost see his grimace.

“No, I mean it,” Remus laughs, “We can do something together. To make up for it.”

“I’d like that.”

Roman looks to his brother, the phone, and then his brother again. To him, it sounded as if Remus had just asked him out on a date, but he knew well enough that Remus and Logan were probably too dense to understand the implications.

“I’ll uh-I’ll talk to you ‘bout it later then, kay boobear?” Remus asks while staring at Roman, confused about the ‘oh-my-god-you-totally-like-him’ look he’s getting.

“Alright. Goodnight, Remus.” Logan’s voice drips honey and roses as he wishes him goodnight, there is so much Roman can hear wrapped up in that simple sentence and it’s a wonder to him.

“Goodnight.”

The call ends and Remus lets out a dreamy sigh.

Roman winds back and smacks Remus with a pillow in excited fervour.

“You did not tell me you were that in love with Logan!”

“Wha-You asshole!” Remus takes the pillow and smacks him back, “I am not in love with him!”

“Yeah right! That was the gayest conversation I’ve ever heard!” He nearly shouts, getting up and grabbing more pillows from the collection at the head of his bed.

“We didn’t even say anything juicy!” Teases Remus, grabbing pillows at lightning speed, preparing for what he knows is coming.

“It was in the tone! And don’t say juicy like that you dolt!”

Remus hits Roman with a pillow to the face. With an excited cackle, Roman launches an attack, throwing as many of his numerous pillows at his brother as he can. There is an all-out war within seconds. Both boys are shrieking and laughing. By the end of the pillow fight, they’re breathless and more joyful than they have been all day.

“How do you feel about a sleepover?”

Good. Remus feels very good about a sleepover. That night while laying in Roman’s dumb red sheets, cuddling up to his brother in the way that little kids do, he feels happy. Really happy. Genuinely happy. Logan had told him that it was hard to love somebody when they didn’t act as if they loved you back, and he was right. The smartass was always right. Now though, he felt it. His brother had cared, ran for him like he was the only thing that mattered to him in the world. He loves Roman. Apparently, Roman loves him too. His brother hugs him closer in his sleep. That’s more than enough for his brain to quiet tonight.

Addendum; August 20th -

Remus went missing this afternoon. It worried me greatly, but he turned out alright. Things between the Grimm twins seem to be better. On August 21st, they arrived to practice bickering but holding hands. They both appeared near ecstatic all day, needless to say, it was tiring. There will be no more need for the “Roman Incidents” section of this notebook.

Circled in red pen, written largely at the bottom of the page, underlined three times over.

Note: Investigate your true feelings for Remus Grimm.

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #intrulogical #creativitwins #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #i love tHEM #next chapter is intrulogical AND rociet....#i can write two things: over-dramatic dork loves different kind of over-dramatic dork and BROTHERS WHO CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER #ALSO THIS IS NOT SHIP FOR REMUS AND ROMAN I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH #the little addendum from logan <3 #hes taking back his fic TODAY

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Text

a simple romance — tsukishima kei

1.5k words | genre/s: fluff, 80s!au | warning/s: — | pairing: tsukishima x fem!reader

↪︎ in which you and tsukishima celebrate a simple anniversary for your simple romance

a/n: kinda plotless and just mindless word throw up because im a homeless romantic who’s whipped for tsukishima, plus it’s my 500 follower special ✋🏻😌

you and tsukishima always had quite the simple romance. the only factor that was not exactly simple was that it was tsukishima who confessed first one september day. it was early in the morning the moment the sky bled its onyx night sky into an orangey-dawn.

you had barely left the safe confines of your home when the tall blond that waited outside your door in the crisp autumn air had nonchalantly confessed. usually it was him and yamaguchi waiting for you, but you figured he made his best friend walk ahead in order to be alone with you.

it was quite surprising, really. you assumed that all you were to tsukishima was nothing but a friend, someone so annoyingly bearable that he only let you stick around because you made him bentos once in a while. and in a surprising turn of events, you accepted his feelings and the two of you have been dating primarily on the low.

having your relationship known wasn’t exactly your main priority and neither was tsukishima’s. especially considering that if his volleyball team found out, they wouldn’t leave you alone for a second without bombarding you about why you would end up with someone as salty as him. the funny thing was that you often asked yourself that as well, but with how simple your romance was, there was nothing more to answer that question besides the fact you liked being with him. so you digress.

granted, since your relationship was more or less a secret besides only yamaguchi being aware of this fact, you and tsukishima often had to see each other in away from the sight of others. most of the time is was behind closed doors, but sometimes, sometimes, very early in the mornings you two would have a sweet rendezvous somewhere behind the gym before spending the rest of the hours before school starts on the field.

with you being a member of the track team and tsukishima being in the volleyball club, the field seemed like the only plausible reason why the two of you would be there. every friday morning you two would come early just to run around the track with the cool morning breeze and the tweets of songbirds tweeted among the peaceful silence.

you and tsukishima walked upon school grounds with water bottles in hand and your walkmans in the other. you had recently gotten a new one for your birthday, the latest 1984 Sony Walkman that was progressively better in sound quality than your boyfriend’s old 1982 model, to which he stated, “how much better can it be when your music taste is trash?”

you rolled your eyes and ran ahead of him. he gets quite annoyed when you do that as he isn’t necessarily the fastest runner. the only reasons why he does these morning runs is to be with you, so you ditching made him put on that cute pout you can’t resist. besides, you would reward him with a heated make out session behind the gym or the storage closet in return.

ten laps around the track was all you two ran, occasionally making small talk on the most existential topics on whether or not aliens exist or the stupid hypothetical questions about a zombie apocalypse—to which tsukishima would tease you and say he would feed you to the zombies. but it wasn’t to say that sometimes waves of comfortable silence wouldn’t fall upon you two. you concluded that no matter what, you would always find yourself in this type of tranquil silence with tsukishima. you had even forgotten your boyfriend’s stares of admiration, rather, you didn’t actually know if his gazes were of malice, indifference, or adoration, but whatever it was you hoped it was something good.

despite dating for a year now, you still couldn’t tell the difference, but you knew deep inside your gut that was accompanied by the same butterflies that all he means is nothing but love. and you wished to show that love as today was your anniversary.

and to which tsukishima thought you couldn’t get more breathtaking than the last time you had been at each other’s companies just yesterday, it seemed he had been proven wrong. you were teeth stark against the moonlight, divulged in night torn howls of winds and slick with honor. even at your worst, with skin frayed with abrasions and scrapped knees, tsukishima still found light within your fondness. and right now, you were filled with ichor of charming homemade raptures. your boyfriend couldn’t fathom how beguiled he was for a girl he hadn’t thought of more than an add on to his friendship with yamaguchi.

after your run, you two found yourselves resting upon the bleachers near the baseball field. you rested your legs atop tsukishima’s as he fiddled with your walkman. your headphones were now rested over your boyfriend’s ears as he listened to your curated mixtape of songs you specifically listened to on your runs with tsukishima. the songs that you burned on it were special to you and him and to you and him only. the songs that reminded you two of your first date during the night when you breathed out against the late night’s mist, inhaling the stars as you and tsukishima walked hand in hand through the city—of his quips of banter, his wisecracks of pleasantries, even his annoyingly amiable witticisms that would often put you in your place of not being as clever as your boyfriend—had a special place in your heart.

your gaze, warm in admiration as you looked upon his handsome features, took him in like a breath of fresh air. he was bobbing his head lightly to the music. it made a smile melt upon your face as your thoughts were scattered by the wind (a mere light breeze) as you exhaled your silk promises. your bare knuckles grazed over his as your hand lifted to his face, running your hand through his messy blond hair.

within seconds, the mixtape clicked to an end to which tskushima kissed your palm messing at his hair as he sat up. “this is actually good,” he mutters. “perhaps your music taste isn’t as bad as i remembered.”

“that’s funny considering most of my past music taste was from you.” you jested with a smirk on your lips.

he scoffs playfully, pecking your lips quickly. “yeah right, the majority of your mixtapes were nothing but queen and abba.”

“please tell me you’re not trashing queen and abba,” you rolled your eyes and feigning offense, “they’re literally iconic.”

“if you added some mötley crüe or tears of fears, maybe it would be better.” tsukishima smirks, making you huff. “but it’s fine as since it is our anniversary today, i figured i would be nice.”

“do you want to give our gifts now?”

tsukishima nods as he smiles, “so i can listen to it throughout the day.”

your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, “how’d you know i was going to give you a mixtape?”

“mere intuition,” your boyfriend jokes, causing you to shake your head as you reached into your backpack’s front pocket. “i actually burned you one too.” tsukishima did the same as the two of you faced each other once more with mixtapes in both your hands.

your fingers brushed each others briefly as you two traded gifts. and despite contact between the two of you hadn’t been scarce, there was still that same spark and radiating warmth that would consume you two.

both had cute notes attached to it as you had both read it.

FOR MY LOVE: the first mixtape of yours that isn’t complete rubbish and the first mixtape given to you for your new 1984 Sony Walkman that you won’t stop talking about. i don’t have to worry about you liking these songs because i know you will since i know you so well. i’ve also come to notice that you like to mix severely opposite genres on one tape i.e fleetwood mac and metallica like an absolute monster. so i did that on this tape for your sake. i love you, idiot. —tsukishima kei

FOR MY BLONDIE: even though you hate listening to mainstream music, i couldn’t help but put on the latest from michael jackson, madonna, and some city pop because who else would i scream these songs until my throat is raw with? but besides that, i added some more of your favorites like twisted sister. i can’t wait for you to make fun of this mixtape because i know deep down it’s going to be one of your favorites because it came from me. i love you, dickhead. — l/n y/n

you two sit in silence for bit, doing nothing more but being in each other’s presence and embrace. letting the world before you continue to move as you looked at the tape’s songs. you were immediately struck with the feeling of the nostalgic nights with tsukishima, laughing in the dark at two in the morning of messing around and reassuring pats on the back. you two were quilted blankets and moonless nights, of warm sunspots on a cloudy day, and cherry blossom petals falling upon your hair without noticing. you were tsukishima’s cure to boredom and lack of sleep. you two were each other’s everything.

it was your simple romance.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima oneshot #hq tsukishima

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maemi324 · 4 years

Text

Black Coffee

Hey there friends! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Today i come at you with a new piece for a new My Hero character! Well new to me writing him. Here we have....Villain Deku! Inspired by this tiktok! https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJUywn9t/ it just screamed Villain Deku to me. This is my first time writing him, so if he seems a little OOC, that’s probably it. Here are some songs I listened to while writing this 1. headless waltz- Voltaire 2. Don’t go by the river- Voltaire 3.House of Myth, Such horrible things, Gorey Demise, Grave Robber, Greatest Show Unearthed, Aim for the head, Buried Alive- Creature Feature 4. Spooky Halloween Mashup, Syndicate: Underground- Cover by Peter Hollens. Warnings: Robbery, Guns, violence, let me know if theres more I need to tag please! Only edited by me, so I’ve probably missed some stuff! With that! Let’s get into it!

Dawning light streamed in through the windows, the scent of coffee heavy in the air, steam from the hot drink you made rising softly. Soft music flowed through the room, other employees taking the chairs off the tables and whipping them down.

You sipped your drink, your eyes barely staying open as you leaned against the counter. It was far too early to be awake. Pain flashed through your mouth as you reluctantly swallow, your tongue protesting not only being burned but the now cool air that touched it.

It was too early for your own nonsense.

As the sun rose in the sky customers began their daily migration to the bean and leaf juice they all craved. Thankfully it was still rather early, only a handful showing up, and even fewer deciding to take a seat and enjoy their purchases.

“I can help whoever’s next?” you call out, closing the cash register and looking up to the new customer with a bright smile.

Bright viridian eyes stared back into your (e/c) colored ones, ones that you hadn’t seen in a very long time, since middle school in fact, his green hair cementing just who he was. Recognition dawned in his eyes.

“Y/N?” “Midoriya?”

A surprised laugh bubbled up, catching you by surprise, “I haven’t seen you in months- years even!” a short glare from your manager got you ready to enter in his order. Taking a peek behind him you saw that the line had lengthened considerably. “Y-yeah, it has been quite a while hasn’t it?” He stated his order, as you typed it in and gave him the total amount. He must have been pretty tired still as he stared into your eyes. You waved a hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daze as his face flushed a deep red, frantically digging his hand into his pockets to fish out his wallet- where had the damn thing gone- oh it was in his hand already.

Even after all these years, Midoriya was still just as much of a spaz as he’d always been. He moves to the drink pick up location, leaning against the counter as you made his drink. “I wish I had more time to talk, but with the line growing…”

“Well What if I came back later today? Or tomorrow?” You prepped the cup, adding a drizzle of caramel to the sides, offering him a kind smile

“Yeah, I’d like that,”

You handed him his drink and sent him off with a wave. A disgruntled Karen decided to ring the service bell as you hadn’t jumped back to take her order.

Why did it have to be a Karen?

Unfortunately you were unable to see him later on that day.

However, just as you turned the sign from closed to open that next morning, you were surprised to see those same bright eyes aimed at you.

“Well, you’re here quite early” you teased, opening the door for him as you walked in. It would be a while yet before people came into the little shop. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes looking tired with circles under his eyes, “It’s been a long night,” He laughed off your look of concern, “Just work, nothing too terrible! I just thought I’d swing by earlier before I had to get back to it”

Your coworkers paid no mind as the two of you walked to the counter as you made him and yourself a drink, taking a seat at one of the tables. No one was here and wouldn’t be here for a good half an hour.

“So tell me, how have things been? Is your mom alright?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah she’s doing fine, still at the same place! She’s retired now actually” “Oh, good for her! I hope she’s enjoying it” you sipped at your coffee, thanking just about everything that you didn’t burn your tongue in front of him.

“But what about you Midoriya? Last I checked you were wanting to become a hero?” While it would have been hard to be a quirkless hero, It wasn’t impossible. It probably wouldn’t get you ranked in the top five or even the top twenty, but so long as you were a good hero, what did rank matter?

His eyes shifted from contentment to something a bit more sad, a deep sadness that surprised you. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, a hesitant laugh served as a cover. “Well, I did try, but eventually I just gave up. It just hit me that no matter how much I worked, I’d just be in the way of the pros. I could do some things sure, but...it’s not...it wasn’t enough. So I took a step back and found myself getting into computers, fixing them up, making sure they’re running properly. It’s...It’s nice”

You place a hand over his, an overwhelming urge to comfort him raced down your bloodstream. His hand jolts at the sudden touch, but he doesn’t bat your hand away. “I always believed you’d make an incredible hero” it made you feel guilty that you hadn’t been there for him when he clearly needed someone, anyone even just to listen to as his one and only dream crashed around him.

“I know you did, I appreciate it (Y/N),” he offers you a more content smile, “But I’m happy where I am now, really! Plus if I was a hero, I might not have met up with you again”

You let go of his hand, though not before he gives it a gentle squeeze, picking up your drink and taking another sip.

“I’m glad to see you're happy though, you said you were fixing computers?”

“Yeah! It’s not a big thing really, just a little repair shop. Clients bring me their various electronics, I clean them and fix them up! It can be really challenging sometimes, especially when it’s an older model! I swear I’ve seen some that I could have sworn were from the early nineties!”

You listened as he rattled on about his clients, his eyes lit up, a subtle blush on his cheeks as he talked with his hands. More than once you had to back away from getting a straw to the eye, but you hardly minded.

It became a regular thing, He’d come to the shop at various hours of the day, typically right at opening, on your break, or right as the last customer shifted out the door. You always had his favorite drink ready for him, though you had to fight him to keep him from paying. You didn’t mind after all, paying for his drink. He somehow always managed to sneak in the exact amount into your pockets or purse before he left, leaving you to discover it when he was far and unable to take it back.

The ass.

The more you met up the more open he became, you both talked about work and your grievances there. Now you were talking about anything and everything, TV shows you’d recently watched, movies you were excited to see, stupid stories about Karen's getting owned was a personal favorite.

However His favorite happened to be the news. He was still hero obsessed as he’d always been. However, there was a more...critical insight into it.

“Ugh” he huffed out, turning his attention from the TV, though muted, the subtitles were still on. It was currently showcasing Endeavor, how he rescued some civilians from a collapsing apartment building, from a disgruntled worker who had turned to villainy when kicked out of their apartment. They decided to take revenge on the landlord, though it quickly turned to chaos as the entire complex crumbled.

“What is it?” You paused from chewing on the straw to take a sip, “ is it Endeavor?” You knew damn well it was, but it was better to let him process through his words. “Yes! Look at him, smug as can be. He doesn’t even care about those people he rescued, He’s shown no comfort towards them, not even a glance to the children he’d saved. He acts as if he’s too good for them. A real hero would be reassuring, give a sense of calm to everyone involved in a rather tragic turn of events” he sipped at his drink angrily, nearly choking on it as you patted his back.

“ You mean a hero like All Might?” you offered, knowing that the hero had a special place in his heart.

Instead of the perky response you would have expected, his lips turned to a thin line, staring into a far off place beyond the TV.

“Yes....just like All Might”

Figuring he was still going through the appalled emotions from Endeavor, you didn’t press the matter, turning to focus on something else, his latest client, or even a Karen you had encountered earlier that morning. He took your bait readily, eager to listen.

It took you awhile to notice, but during your lunch breaks, on the days he didn’t come in early, he would always be watching the news. He’d rip them to pieces with a barely concealed snarl. He’d rant and rave, while keeping in mind the other customers. He talked about the villains even, and how they were people as well, forced into unfortunate situations, where were the heroes then?

As much as you would have liked to stay in the hero worshiping normalcy, the more he went on the more you began to realize, heroes were actually rather corrupt. You could feel yourself becoming angry alongside him. Why did they do that? What about the people they were rescuing? What about these so-called villains?

You shook your head from your thoughts, looking down to see your next customer that afternoon, a young girl no more than ten years old just out of school and looking to buy a snack and a small drink.

You sent her off on her merry way, happily sitting down at a table and munching on her snack. Checking your watch, you realized it was time to take your lunch. You sat down at your usual booth and waited for Izuku, sipping at your own drink.

The bell by the door went off, your eyes instinctively looking to see who had entered. Time slowed down as three men came in, guns at the ready and masks pulled over their faces. The first had a black mask, the second having a red one, and the third having a white one.

“Alright! Nobody moves, and no one gets hurt!” the first one shouted, as horrified shrieks went off in the small shop. “Put your hands up and go over there!” he motioned with his gun to collectively gather in a corner. You obeyed along with everyone else in the shop.

The second one aimed his gun steadily at the barista at the register, “No! Not you, you’re going to fill this with all the money you have!” He threw a bag over at the barista who shakily picked up the bag where it had landed, tears running down her cheeks.

The third held out a bag to the gathered group, “ Put anything valuable in here! Watches, Jewelry, Money, Phones, all of it!” He shouted, an elderly woman shakily began taking off her earrings, another gentleman taking his wallet out.

The young girl stared with wide eyes, tears falling rapidly down her cheeks, face red as she tried to be quiet, but her hiccups would not allow her. When red looked over at the little girl, her wails increased tenfold.

“Hey! Shut up before I give you a real reason to cry about. You don’t want that do you?!” he shouted, taking a step forward the girl took an extra step back as she put her arms out in front of her to protect herself.

“I said QUIET!” he raised his hand.

Your body moved on it’s own.

You took the hit for the young girl, your cheek stinging from the impact. That didn’t matter, not over the safety of the little girl, the roar of your heartbeat thumping against your cheek.

“What the hell?!” “Just leave her alone! She’s a little girl, she’s just scared!” You held your arms out, effectively blocking her from view. The elderly woman took the girl to her side, watching for the slightest movement from the robbers.

“ So you want to take her punishment? Is that it brat? Fine,” He shoved you down to the ground easily, glancing over to the young girl, “Take this as an example of what happens when you disobey me!”

You couldn’t hear anything, your sight blinded as well as his foot collided with your stomach, sending you rolling across the ground. He pinned you down as he punched you, over and over again, arms, stomach and your face, seeing stars as your head hit the ground.

Izuku...Izuku please....

You didn’t know what you wanted from him, whether it was to save you from the pain somehow, or to not show up at all in fear he’d try something heroic like you did.

The shop doors burst open, a cloth or tape like substance shooting out from someone you couldn’t see, wrapping quickly around the robbers, dragging them to ram into one another, the shock of it making them let go of the guns they held so tightly onto. You faded in and out of consciousness, even though the sounds of battle continued on.

It was all a blur as you slowly came back into reality, sitting in an ambulance being checked over by a nurse. The other heroes who had arrived stood before you, scolding you for your actions.

“What were you thinking?! You put yourself and the girl at risk! They could have made you watch as they hurt her!”

What was I supposed to do, let her be beaten?

“There were so many other things you could have done! Next time think through your actions before you do anything!”

What could I have done? You fail to mention what else I could exactly do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

But you didn’t say that. You took the abuse as the nurse began to shoo them off, proclaiming that they’d made their point, nothing more could be said. It wasn’t long before the nurse gave you your results. You were a bit battered but otherwise alright, you’d bruise like hell but you amazingly didn’t have a concussion. Once you were home you were to Ice the bruising spots. With that they sent you with your things back home.

Upon entering your home you changed out of your clothes, something bubbling under your skin. It felt so up close and in your face you couldn’t decipher it. You changed into some incredibly soft shorts and tank top, wincing as you moved to change.

The silence was too much in your apartment, with shaking fingers you called the only person you could.

“(Y/N)?” “Izuku..” something in you snapped as you heard his voice, a sharp gasp turning into a sob. “(Y/N)? What is it, what’s wrong?” “I...Can...can you come over? Please? I...I don’t think I can over the phone” “What? Yeah, Yeah of course, I’ll be right there!” You gave him your address and hung up after that, flopping onto your couch and hugging a pillow.

It only took him twenty minutes to arrive, but it felt like forever and a second simultaneously. The swift knock at your door startled you out of your blank and racing thoughts. He was dressed in casual clothing, some jeans and some random white button up, a thin green vest over top. Your vision blurred as he stepped in at your allowance, going head first into his chest as you sobbed. He grunted from the impact, but wrapped his strong arms around you regardless. “ Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m here” he cooed softly into your ear, “ Here, let’s go to the couch alright?” You nodded but didn’t let go. You shuffled your way to sit on the couch with him, only parting to readjust his hold.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop today,” you sniffed, resting your head on his shoulder, “ There was a little girl there...she was so scared, she was crying. The...one of the robbers got angry at her, which made her more scared. So I...I took the hit for her”

He lifted your face gently, examining the forming bruise. His frown showed his worry, but he didn’t comment on why you ran to this girls side, “ I was wondering about this black eye I see” You nodded, continuing your story, “Yeah...He didn’t like that I’d taken the hit for the girl...so as an example he beat me up. I don’t remember too much after the ‘heroes’ arrived.” you spat.

“But the heroes arrived and saved everyone, that’s good right?” he prodded. If you had been more aware, you would have heard the underlying tone in his voice. He didn’t really believe the heroes had done well, not with how you spat their name as if it was venom.

“They told me i was stupid for putting myself in front of the girl, that I should have done something else! What else was I supposed to do? My body moved on it’s own! They could have tortured the girl to get a rise out of me, or hurt the both of us…” As you said those words, another sob tore from your core. “Maybe they were right, maybe I should have just...I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t think of anything faster.”

Izuku cut you off gently cupping your face in his hands, thumbs softly brushing away stray tears. Your eyes refused to meet his.

“Oh darling, look at me,” hesitantly you looked into his eyes, filled with concern, determination and...something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was so soft...so powerful. “You’ve done nothing wrong, you are perfect darling. Without you, that girl could have ended up beaten, or worse!”

The endearment was new, but not unwelcome, his words wrapping you in a soft blanket of safety.

“You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, everything about you, you’ve done nothing wrong. So please, don’t apologize” You leaned forward to hide in his chest as his words brought a fresh wave of tears. He gently rubbed your back, taking care if you so much as winced to move his comforting circles.

“It isn’t right that they lectured you. You had just gone through a traumatic event, you needed reassurance, kindness. You aren’t trained to be a hero, you acted on instinct. An instinct that hardly anyone else in that room had. They acted so wrong to you” he whispered, “Those ‘heroes’ are what's wrong with the hero society as a whole. Things need to change”

“But I don’t know how to do that, or where to even start” you whined, your hiccups slowly dispersing.

“Join me”

Wait...what?

“Join you...I don’t...I don’t understand…” You look up at him, searching for any hint that it was a badly timed joke. You found none.

“When I told you I worked with computers....I wasn’t lying, but only technically. You see, I work with this group, as a hacker. We’re going to show the world what these heroes really are, and the need to fix them. The roaches will have nowhere to hide, not from the public, and certainly not by the hero commission”

That was...quite a bit to process. He was a Villain?! All this time?!

You were shocked, your heart sinking to your stomach. “Why...why didn’t you tell me?” You knew why the second you said the words...but you needed to hear if those were the same words he’d say back.

“If I’m being honest darling...I was scared. You were always so kind, so soft hearted, to learn you were talking with a villain? Plus, it wasn’t like I could just...tell you in the shop right?” the corner of his mouth lifted up into a slight smirk, though it quickly vanished.

You thought back to today, how angry the heroes had made you. How many others did they tell the same thing when they were just trying to help? How many children paid the price? How many people?

But the feeling of fists landing on you echoed back in your rapidly increasing heartbeat. You couldn’t do that again, not against a villain, not against heroes, not against anyone!

“I...I’m not cut out for villain work Izuku, you see what happened to me! I...I couldn’t go through that again...I don’t want to go through that again”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, warmth blossoming from the spot. “You don’t have to, just...supporting me is enough, more than enough” he took your hands in his, gentle circles rubbed into them. “You wouldn’t have to quit your job, or move, or anything, just knowing you support me? It fires me up, I have to do this, for you, for everyone, to right the wrongs that have been done. What do you say?” his green eyes were lit up in hope.

Your hands squeezed his, “I do.”

#my hero academia #bnha #my hero academia Izuku Midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #izuku #izuku midoriya x you #bnha reader insert #bnha reader #villain deku #villain izuku #reader insert #maemiwritesBNHA

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lihimsidhe · 3 years

Text

Full Review: https://youtu.be/nMBgmV3QMwY

Summary

Stories Untold is a sci fi psychological horror adventure game released in 2017 by the studio No Code Lt and published by Devolver Digital.(1) Adventure games are characterized by exploring, puzzle solving, and narrative interactions with game characters. (2) The ‘adventure’ label hails from the 1st known adventure game Colossal Cave Adventure developed during the 1970’s. (3). In Stories Untold the player will do mostly 3 things: enter text into a writing prompt and hope what they entered progresses the game forward (text adventure), click around the environment to find interactive elements and utilize these elements in a specific order (point and click), and do some very light exploration.

Stories Untold’s origins lay in Ludum Dare; an event where game developers around the world challenge themselves to make a game from scratch in just a few days aka a ‘game jam’. (4) House Abandon was the product of such a game jam. (5) House Abandon would prove to be so well received that it is the very spark that would grow to become Stories Untold. (6). House Abandon became just one of the four stories featured in Stories Untold.

Each story has the player assume the role of an unidentified person using various electronic equipment ranging from locations that include an abandoned house, a laboratory, and a remote radio station in a blizzard. There is a fourth chapter but to explain its location and tasks can easily wade deep into spoiler territory.

It’s very difficult to reveal if this game attempts to execute on a specific message or not without spoilers. So treading as carefully as I can I will say that yes there is a message to be found here. A tragic takeaway that can hit hard for some players who put in the work to leave no narrative stone unturned.

Analysis

Disclaimer: I’m not a fan of puzzle games, or puzzles in games. They too often devolve into ‘guess what the developer was thinking’. More on this in a bit. Back to the regularly scheduled program:

The development studio behind Stories Untold, No Code Ltd, describes the game as the following:

“Four Stories. One Nightmare.

From the prototype 'The House Abandon' comes the critically acclaimed, and BAFTA winning, 'Stories Untold', the latest madness from No Code. Four short stories, tied together in a complex web of psychological-horror, intense visuals and genre-bending adventures.” How does this game execute on these selling points? Let’s address the last line first: genre-bending adventures. In my playthrough I walked in expecting a fairly basic adventure game with excellent presentation and left having experienced that same notion. This is all to say that Stories Untold, as far as I can tell, is not bending any genres.

The text adventure portion of Stories Untold doesn’t make a noticeable departure from one of the earliest text entry experiences ELIZA; a program created in the 1970’s that simulates a psychologist by responding to a user’s text entries (7). In fact after having played around with some ELIZA clones online (8) I’d say that Stories Untold actually underdelivers in this genre compared to ELIZA that was developed nearly fifty years ago. Point and click began with the game Enchanted Scepters in 1984 released on the Mac (9). In that game you do much the same as you do in Stories Untold: Moving your cursor to find an interactive point that hopefully drives the game forward. An activity unfavorably described as ‘pixel hunting’.

While I do concede that Stories Untold executes well enough on its mechanics would I also concede it is genre bending? Absolutely not. Mechanically speaking it falls very strictly within its genre.

As for the intense visuals the game advertises it has? I’m strongly inclined to agree. This game’s visuals are a love letter to the 80’s. It’s as if the game reached into the past and brought a portion of that era forward in time both temporally and visually.

Stories Untold also executes on psychological-horror aspects as well. There were times I was genuinely frightened both via jump scares and/or the dense atmosphere the game draws the player into. This game evoked feelings of fear, mystery, and foreboding of what was behind the next event.

“It is up to the designer to provide the appropriate information to make the product understandable and usable. Most important is the provision of a good conceptual model that guides the user when things go wrong.” (10) -Don Norman

The promise of a text adventure sounds great on paper: enter some text and the game reacts to what one entered driving the player’s progress forward. Just the thought of that fills my mind with excitement at being able to utilize my conversational skills I’ve learned in life to interact with a game sounds incredible The thing is, and the reason I’m personally not a fan of puzzle games is that they almost always seem like playing a game of ‘guess what the developer was thinking’ instead of the player applying their common sense to solve a puzzle.

If for example in a text adventure game you are trying to walk around a house you simply typing ‘walk around the house’ may or may not work. Perhaps the developer perceived ‘walk into yard’ as walking around the house. For me this creates a schism where it stops being about me vs the game and instead becomes a battle of how my exact wording for doing something very simple differs in verbage in how the developer would write it. So instead of walking around the house and losing myself in the story I’m now trying to guess what the developer thinks are the right words to say. What compounds this here is that the feedback is binary; either what I typed works or it doesn’t and I get the equivalent of an error message that doesn’t offer any guidance on exactly what the developer was thinking. This ‘guess what the developer was thinking’ issue wasn’t as pronounced in the point and click sections of the game. These were almost always tests on one’s observational skills and parsing over every little detail until the path forward reveals itself. Some of the puzzles I was willing to endure and some… I just looked up a walkthrough to solve them so I could get back to enjoying the game’s incredible atmosphere. The crazy thing about Stories Untold is me as a player desperately trying to scrutinize every little detail to move forward shares a strong connection to the game’s narrative. I really appreciate that despite my misgivings with this game’s puzzles.

As for the game’s narrative itself… I say I left the game mostly satisfied. Throughout the game the music, visuals, and gameplay really got my mind racing with the possibilities of the world that was spilling out before me. “Where could this story be leading?”, I excitedly pondered. And sometimes I was even afraid the game would provide an answer. Seeing how it was resolved was a bit underwhelming. I won’t lie. I went from a mind racing with possibilities to a flat, “Oh it’s that? Well that’s something I guess.”

If there was one thing I wish this game did differently it would have been to have focused entirely on the text entry mechanic presented in House Abandon. I said before I went and played with some ELIZA programs online and I loved that there was no failure state. The conversation just continued even if the code emulating a human would sometimes spout nonsense. I don’t expect anyone, let alone Stories Untold, to conjure up a fully realized artificial intelligence to amuse me for my 3 hour adventure game. But I can’t help but muse about a more realized text entry loop.

This game has 12 total achievements to earn. (11) Since the game utilizes a level select system, there are no missable achievements. Most achievements are earned by just progressing through the game. The ones that aren’t awarded in this manner are obtained by light exploration and finding some collectibles. All in all very easy to 100% in one sitting.

Significance

Stories Untold has received several notable awards (12) including British Academy of Film and Television Arts Game of the Year in 2017 (13).

Steam Reviews has it sitting at ‘very positive’(1) while Metacritic has it at a 7.0/10 user score. (14)

It has sold at least over 100,000 copies on Steam (15). If Steam sales remained roughly the same on the other platforms it was ported to (Nintendo Switch, Playstation, Xbox) that would imply at least a few hundred thousand people have decided to enter the world this game provides. While adventure games have drastically changed since the days of Colossal Cave Adventure with games like The Walking Dead and Until Dawn, text adventures have mostly fallen out of mainstream gaming discourse. For that reason the fact that Stories Untold managed to break through in the way it did favors it being a touchstone for many adventure and text adventure games going forward.

Recommendation

Ask yourself the following: Do you like arbitrary puzzles? Do you mind some psychological horror in your entertainment? Do you ever wish you could just play through chapters in your favorite book? If you answered yes to both these questions then this game was made for you.

What if you’re like me and you can barely stand puzzles in games because they seem to evoke a ‘guess what the developer was thinking’ type of feeling?

I would still recommend this game. The reality of the game is that it can be completed in just a few hours. When you get stuck, look up a guide, solve your roadblock, and get back to enjoying this game’s stellar atmosphere. It’s really worth experiencing. Especially if you lived through and/or are a fan of the 80’s

If you’re completely puzzle adverse but still enjoy interactive narrative? It might be worth looking up a playthrough or livestream.

Sources

1. Dev & Publisher: Stories Untold on Steam (steampowered.com)

2. Adventure Game Def: https://www.britannica.com/topic/electronic-adventure-game

3. colossal cave adventure: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colossal_Cave_Adventure

4. ludum dare: https://ldjam.com

5. game jam: http://www.nocodestudio.com/development-updates/2016/9/5/the-house-abandon

6. dev interview: https://www.pcgamer.com/crafting-the-unique-genre-defying-horror-of-stories-untold/

7. ELIZA (origins): https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007%2Fs00146-018-0825-9

8. ELIZA (interactable): http://psych.fullerton.edu/mbirnbaum/psych101/eliza.htm

9. 1st point click game: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2011/01/history-of-graphic-adventures/

10. Don Norman: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E257T6C/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_2BZA3S6D0KPFSKXFKHVM

11. Achievement List: Steam Community :: Stories Untold :: LihimSidhe

12. Various Awards: http://www.nocodestudio.com/nocodegames

13. BAFTA: https://www.bafta.org/media-centre/press-releases/british-academy-scotland-awards-2017-winners-announced

14. Metacritic: https://www.metacritic.com/game/pc/stories-untold

15. sales: http://www.nocodestudio.com/development-updates/2017/9/21/stories-untold-news-patch-indiecade-awards

#storiesuntold #nocode #devolverdigital #videogames #sciencefiction #horror #adventure #scifi #horrorgames #horrorgame #textadventure #videogame #enchantedscepters #ELIZA #colossalcaveadventure #adventuregames #adventuregame #scienceficitiongame

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bundleofyarrow · 3 years

Text

chapter 6 is up!

the latest chapter of my Milo x Reader fic is live, and it really sets the stage for the story! if you didn’t see enough Milo in my last post, you might be satisfied with what you see here! it’s below the cut or you can read it (or any chapter!) on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087343/chapters/72127755

i’m also open to write scenes and imagines related to what’s going on in the Bundle of Yarrow universe, so feel free to send me an ask if you’re interested in getting something!

Chapter 6: Dappled Grove

Pattering on leaves. Dripping from bark. The rain sings its own music from the canopy of the forest. Branches of the trees here reached out to one another, creating a secluded corner of the Wild Area. Mushrooms thrived in the damp, muddy floor of the grove and apples swayed further up in the wind. Unlike the wide open fields you just ran from, there were ponds and creeks, and reeds of tall grass lining small lakes. Songs from the Pokemon within them harmonized with the rain.

Opening your eyes, the world is sideways. As feeling returns to your body, you feel the cold, sticky mud against the left side of your face and body. When you attempt to rise from the ground, a dull, thudding pain vibrates down your front. You’re able to support your body weight with your arms, though your elbows feel like they could give at any moment.

Looking back, you see the raised root of a tree, and further into the distance, the border between the Rolling Fields and Dappled Grove. When it doesn’t seem like you’re being followed, you begin to pick yourself up from the ground. Spotting some of your things in the mud, you grab some stray Pokeballs and leave the berries you picked earlier for some lucky scavenger. It wasn’t long until you noticed your phone, its screen bright and, if you were to listen for it, constant low vibration. You wanted to leave it there, but your better judgement compelled you to pick it up and wipe it down. It wasn’t a mystery who was trying to get in contact with you, but you couldn’t think of two people you didn’t want to talk to more right now.

You slip the phone into your bag and scan your surroundings, pulling your soaked and muddy hair out of your vision. Despite hearing a chorus of Pokemon calls, you couldn’t see any in sight. They must all be hiding snug in nooks among the trees while it rained.

Right now the best thing to do is to find some sort of shelter, so you can get dry. First you needed to get back to the cliffs, and then see if there any empty caves you could stay inside. After the rain stops, you can begin to make your way back to the train station along the southern border of the Wild Area, and head back to Postwick.

The vibrations of your phone against the contents of your bag is audible to your ear as you take a few steps into the grove. You’re not entirely sure what direction you’re going in, but you know you should hit the cliff walls eventually. Raindrops and the squishing of mud beneath your footsteps are all that accompany your scrambled thoughts of recent events. And your phone. constantly. going. off.

At this point you feel too deep into this to admit that you’re acting unreasonable. Sure, maybe you shouldn’t have dashed into the middle of a Diggersby vs Piloswine turf war, and sure, maybe running in the complete opposite direction of safety because of petty grievances was a little extra. You can’t really explain your reaction to knowing Sonia and Leon were rekindling their intimacy, but the way Leon treated you like the plague for the past day only to be back to his good ol’ Champion self after spending the night with her just felt wrong. You felt cast aside, like moment he realized you weren’t after his body, you were just a risk to his reputation.

Your feet stomped through the mud as your thoughts compounded upon themselves. Whenever you could hear your phone vibrating, begging for you to pick up, your movements became more erratic. Your brain recalls all the things Leon said to you in your closer moments, and you can’t seem to completely push them away. And that vibrating just gets louder, and louder, and-A large splash erupted from your periphery, and a loud burst knocked you back screaming off your feet. Your ears rung and you felt dizzy, trying to get back up but stumbling. In front you was a creature with glowing red eyes and strange vibrating protrusions all over its body. You assumed it was a water Pokemon of some sort given that it was blue and came from the marsh you were passing by. You would check your Pokedex but your phone probably slipped to the bottom of your bag by now. Trying to look at it through the dim lighting of the grove, it was terrifying and making this constant, oppressive vibration noise. You didn’t need to pull out your Pokemon to sense it was strong, way more than you could handle.

You slowly backed away from it, and you began to notice small tadpole-like Pokemon hop out of the tall grass and around the larger one, shrieking high pitched trills that pierced your hearing. It seems like you walked a little too close to a nest of these Pokemon, so you were hoping if you just left everything would be okay. Turning and running, you put your all in getting away from the Pokemon so you can survive this disaster of a trip. But you hear a rumbling, and before you know it a powerful cry yells out and you feel a sticky liquid hit your right leg. It immediately seizes up, causing you to fall and shout a curse out into the trees. Looking to your leg, you see muck covering it as the muscles convulse, making you scream as the Pokemon stalks towards you. You attempt to get up, but the pain of the Pokemon’s sonic attacks and losing control of your leg makes you fall forward again.

Is this it?

You don’t know why this Pokemon is so determined to hunt you. Crying out, you hear nothing. No one. Sonia’s shoulder bumps and hugs flash through your mind. Leon shielding you from the Onix. Dragging yourself away, you realize how much you don’t want things to end here. Despite everything, you did have people out there, waiting for you. Wanting to know you’re safe.

The padding of the Pokemon’s footsteps pick up in speed, you try crawling faster but you can tell, it’s not enough. You look back just in time to see it lunge at you with its fist.

Never enough.

A bright light flashes between you and your assailant, rippling just inches from your face where it made contact with the punch attack. This knocked the Pokemon back, which stumbled in shock. It looked up in the distance behind you, from where you could hear foot steps.

“GIGA DRAIN!”

The Pokemon begins to glow green, which starts to surface on its skin as small globes of light. Then all at once, they shoot from it and back towards the voice, promptly causing the Pokemon to faint.

It was hard to process what just happened, your brain preoccupied a range of stimuli and concerns related to your safety. A headache sets in when you realize your ears have been ringing this entire time. There’s running and yelling coming towards you, but it hurts to concentrate on them. Rain continues to fall on your face. Your leg throbs. Only makes sense that you pass out.

~*~*~*~

The first thing you notice is that it’s still raining. But instead of it falling on your face, you hear its rhythmic tapping on a fabric of some sort above you. As sensation begins to return to your body, you realize that you’re not lying in mud, but against your back is something padded. Something is vibrating…

Your eyes spring open and your breath quickens with the image of red eyes and vibrating skin in your mind. Instead of seeing the forest canopy, you find yourself inside a green tent. Turning your head hurts when you go too quickly, so you slowly look around and see your bag next to you, and noticed you’re lying on your sleeping bag. Confused, you rise up into a sitting position, rubbing behind your ears attempting to ease your headache. As you do, your right leg slips out in front of you, and you see that it’s been cleaned and dressed with a bandage. It feels numb but not as bad as it did before, and the camphoraceous smell implies someone applied medicine to your injury.

Speaking of someone, who brought you here? You look around and spot someone else’s camping gear, including a sleeping bag, first-aid kit, what looks like snacks for Pokemon, and a lantern hanging from a hook in the center of the tent. You don’t recognize any of it, meaning a charitable stranger must have saved you from that Pokemon.

It dawns on you that you’re still in your muddy clothing, but the mud that was on your skin and in your hair was gone. You spot a washcloth browned with mud on the floor by the first aid kit, and blushed thinking of someone touching you with such care. You decide to quickly change into new clothing before anyone returned. As you pull out your clothes from your bag, your phone lights up to show the countless amount of notifications you’ve gotten, all from Sonia’s phone. You begin to feel guilty, especially now that you encountered danger, but can’t bear to talk to them just yet.

Just as you pulled on fresh clothing, you hear heavy footsteps approaching the tent. You’re not exactly sure what to do, pretend to be asleep? Wave hello? Go out to meet them? What’s the proper etiquette of being put up in a stranger’s tent?

While weighing your different options, you hear the zipper to the entrance open, making you freeze up. Whoever it is, they are large, starting to frighten you a bit. But soon they stick their head in enough for the lantern light to glow on their face.

“It’s… you!?”You see the wet but same friendly face of the man you met back at Route 1. Unruly rose-colored hair, eyes as green as Galar’s fields, freckles dancing across a boyish face. Fumbling since you still don’t know his name, you make room for him to enter. “You’re awake!” He clambered in and quickly zipped the tent shut. His wide frame made the space seem smaller once he settled in. “Thank Arceus that you’re recovering.”

He has that smile on his face again, warm and gentle. Your cheeks heat up just imagining him carrying you back here to the tent and treating your wounds. It’s not hard to see the contours of his chest through his wet, white shirt, and the impression of mud against it where your head must have been. He begins to empty his pockets of a gnarled looking root that it seems like he dug up in the grove. Before he could explain anything, you leaned forward towards him on your left hand, looking him in the face as if committing it to memory.

“Please,” Your voice is a mix of trembling and dreamy, probably because you’re still fighting exhaustion. “your name. What is your name? I’ve wanted to know ever since we last met.”

The man pauses, taken aback at the sudden attention. His gaze shifts between each of your eyes, like he was struck with some sort of realization. It might have been a trick of the light, but his freckles seemed more pronounced and his cheeks a shade more pink.

“M-Milo, I’m Milo! Mighty rude of me not to introduce myself before, my apologies.” His eyes look away from you, like he was embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Milo.” You repeat his name to yourself, and smile at him, offering your name in return. “I’m so happy to see you again.

”He pauses for beat, as if he was expecting a certain reaction that never ended up coming. His face softened and he smiled back again.

“Looked like you were in a tad bit of trouble there for a second with that Seismitoad. Thankfully I heard ya and was able to make it over in time.” Milo’s eyes travel down to your injury. “How’s that feelin’?”

You pass a hand over your injured leg, your mind momentarily flashing to when that muck covered it. “It’s a little numb, but at least it’s not twitching anymore.”

Milo puts out his hand and shows you what he collected while you were unconscious. “My poppa always told me to make tea out of this here root if I was ever hurt in the Wild Area, and it’s never failed me. I’m gonna make you some and it’ll fix ya up, good as new!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that for me.” Your gaze drops to the floor. “I’ve been enough of a burden already.”

“Hey now, chin up.”

You look back up at him and his soft expression. “Don’t say that about yourself, looks like you’ve had quite the rough day. I’m happy I found you, if only so we get to cross paths again.” He pulls off his cap, running a hand through his wet hair in attempt to get it out of his face. That’s when you realize he’s just in from all that rain.

“Milo, you’re soaking wet! Don’t you think you should get out of those clothes?”

You look at him with some concern as he starts to turn a bit red. Is he getting a fever?“

I, ah,” His eyes look away from you, not at all able to keep his usual friendly eye contact. “I wouldn’t wanna m-make ya uncomfortable…”

It took you a second to get what he meant, mostly from the slight squirming he was doing while under your gaze. You briefly imagined him peeling off his wet shirt in front of you, eyes widening and definitely getting a full blush.

You scramble to turn around as fast as you can, looking completely away from him. “S-sorry! I can leave if you want! This is your tent.”

“Don’t be silly.” A chuckle accompanies his words, and he seems to rummage in his bag. “You’re fine right there.”

A quiet comes between you two, enough to hear the rain tap against the tent and the vibration of your phone in your bag.

“Your phone’s been goin’ off ever since I found you. Seems like someone’s quite worried.” You turn to face Milo to respond, only to catch him trying to pull his head through a dry shirt. His well-built chest and torso were rather exposed, you could tell that he regularly does physical work to have that physique. Your eyes can’t help but notice he has some freckles on his shoulders and in the center of his chest. You felt a wave of heat travel through your body as you quickly looked back away.

“O-oh do you think so?”

“Are you not gonna to check?”

He continues to rustle around, and you have a permanent blush trying to not think of him changing his pants. You attempt thinking sobering thoughts, about the amount of worry Sonia and Leon must be feeling right now, not if his freckles trail all the way down his body.

You let out a long breath after pausing to think of what to say. “Milo I…” Your voice trembles and you can feel the emotion rising to your eyes. “I messed up. I really just… made a mess of things.” Putting your hands to your face, you try to calm your breathing, but it doesn’t seem to help much.

A gentle weight places itself on your shoulder.

“May I?” Milo asks softly.

Nodding, you turn to him, rubbing at your face as he lightly rubs your shoulder, now in dry clothing with a small green towel hanging from his neck. “You always seem to catch me at my low moments, I must seem like such a bummer.” “I don’t think that at all. Not one bit.”

You look at him through your hands and misting eyes, and he has that genuine, reassuring expression. You try to smile, if only to show that you appreciate the positive energy he is sharing with you.

“C’mon, you can tell me all about it.” He turns to small gas stove, which he must have brought out while he fished for his new clothes. It was big enough to hold a small kettle, which he poured water in from a canteen. It also looked like he had a paring knife and shallow bowl set next to him. “I’ll prepare your tea while you do.”

You’re not really sure where to begin, and you don’t necessarily want to gossip about Leon and Sonia to Milo. In a way, you didn’t want to disturb the gentle warmth he radiated.

“Well, after I met you, I decided to take Wooloo on an adventure.” Milo would look up and nod every once in a while as you spoke, just to show you he was still listening while peeling and cutting the roots. “My cousin, Gloria, she just got her first Pokemon. So did her neighbor friend, and they both were determined to enter the Gym Challenge. I figured, if someone so young could set out into the unknown, why can’t I? It was a good excuse to get out of Postwick and see the rest of the country. I didn’t know really what I was doing- well, I mean, I still don’t know what I’m doing, but I figured, I had I fight my fear of failing and just try.”

Saying all that out loud reminded you of how you were planning on returning to Postwick. Was that still the best thing to do?

“It’s brave of you to step outside of your comfort zone. You should be proud of yourself!” Milo regards you with another smile, lifting the top of the kettle to check that the water was boiling. Satisfied, he carefully slid the chopped root into the kettle with the edge of his knife and replaced the lid.

You feel a bit bashful. “Are you always this encouraging to everyone?”

In your mind it was supposed to be a whisper, but Milo clearly heard you given his stammering. “N-no, it’s just, y’know, the nice thing to do! It’s part of my j-” He’s clearly blushing, and you can tell he’s trying use the towel to hide the color in his cheeks.

Milo’s reaction makes you chuckle a bit, it’s satisfying to see that he’s not completely composed and measured all the time.

“Anyway!” Is that a bit of a pout you see? “I guess you made it out here because you’re on your way to Motostoke for the opening ceremony? Are you joining the challenge too?”

His eyebrows raise a little as you shake your head.

“Honestly, I don’t really know much about the Gym Challenge. I don’t think I’m really that strong, or if I’m any good at battling or training Pokemon. It’s not that fun seeing them get hurt… But I do like spending time with them though! With Wooloo, and Yamper, and now Vanillite. I feel they all want to be with me, like they just know I’m someone they like.” You say that last part a little quieter. “And when I set out with new friends, and new Pokemon, all I could think about was the memories we would make together.”

That faint smile returns to Milo’s lips as he tips the kettle, pouring the tea into two ceramic tumblers the color of sage. “Sounds wonderful to me.” He slowly picks up one of the cups by the rim and moves it towards you. It’s a wonder how delicate his hands are despite their size. “Careful now, it’s hot.” You take it from him, brushing fingers with him as you do. If he noticed you blushing from that, he doesn’t show it. “It’s quite bitter, but it’ll heal ya up right quick, I promise!” He picks up his tea and gestures it towards you. “To good health!”

For a few moments all one could hear was the rain and the both of you blowing on your tea to cool it down. When you heard more vibrating, you reached into your bag and set it to silent before returning to the task at hand.

Milo looks between you and your bag a few times. “You sure you don’t wanna answer it?”

“I will have to eventually, and when I do it’ll make me sad.” You blow on your tea a couple more times. “I’d rather enjoy this moment with you right now.” He looks down towards the tea in his lap, enough for his cap to cover his face. “I’m enjoyin’ this moment with y-you too.”

It’s your turn to offer him a smile. “Milo?”

“Y-yes??” He looks up to you, seeming a bit distracted.

“Do you believe in fortune-telling?”

Milo is caught off-guard with that question, tilting his head as he tries to puzzle out what you mean. “Hmm, well, my Gran reads my tea leaves whenever I visit. There are times I think my Wooloo’s sleeping arrangements can predict the weather. And my family gives each other good luck charms as gifts all the time. So a little I suppose!”

You reach into your bag, feeling around for something in particular. “I talked to a fortune-teller before I left on this trip, and she offered to read my fortune. I wanted to know what my adventure was going to be like. Know what she said?” Milo tilts his head again in curiosity when you look to him. “That I’m going to find love when I least expect it.”

“R-really?” His green eyes blink a few times as he processes what you just said so forwardly. “Ain’t that somethin’…” Milo leans into his towel again. “Didn’t know someone could go on an adventure lookin’ for love like that.” He desperately tries to busy himself, deciding to refill your cups with tea as he avoids eye contact.

Your hand finally finds what’s you’re looking for, and you pull out a bundle of sticks wrapped in a worn silk scarf. “I do a bit of fortune-telling myself. Or really, I like to do some self-reflection.” You place it between the two of you and unfold the silk, letting the small sticks roll out a bit. “These are yarrow sticks.”

“Yarrow, huh.” He rubs his chin, intrigued.

“It’s a bit complicated to explain, but you can get messages through grasping the sticks and counting the amount you have. After you go through it a few times, it indicates special symbols that will give you your fortune.” You look up to Milo, who is giving you his attention and looks mystified. “As thanks for saving me, can I read your fortune?”

He nods eagerly. “Only if you wanna, of course! You don’t owe me anythin’.” You smile again and begin the process, closing your eyes, picking up a bunch of the yarrow, then counting them. “This does take a bit, how about you tell me a story? What are you doing out here in the Wild Area?”

“Well,” Milo considers his words. “Mostly for training really. Thought I could use some extra practice with my Pokemon. Been swamped with work and haven’t had as much time for battlin’.”

“So you’re not just a Wooloo rancher, you’re also a Pokemon trainer?”

You’re not looking up at him, but you could tell Milo was stumbling over what to say.

“Th-that’s right, yeah. And with the Gym Challenge starting up ‘n all, there’s gonna be a lot more fightin’ ‘round these parts. The Wooloo have been hoggin’ all my attention lately that my other Pokemon are gettin’ a tad jealous.”

“I can imagine Pokemon and people alike fighting for your attention. You have that kind of aura.”

“I-is that so?? I’m not sure, just a regular ol’ lad here. Nothin’ special!”

You find his consistent modesty rather charming. It’s not hard to imagine Milo’s genuine nature attracting a lot of people. He must have his hands full. Looking up to him for a second, seeing his gaze cast down to his fidgeting fingers, you reply simply with “I’ll have to disagree with that.” You’re not entirely what’s going on with him, but for a man of his size he tries to hide himself often. You enjoy his reactions and earnest manner, which makes you want to get to know him better. “Are you ready for your fortune?”

“Yes!” He says maybe a little too eagerly, staring down at the different piles of sticks. “So you arranged ‘em into piles of different amounts. And they all line up to mean somethin’?”

You nod and stare intently, counting the different lines and trying to remember your studies. “It describes your current situation, a catalyst for change, and how that will influence the future.”

He nods some more, looking up and down the row of piles.

“It looks like… right now, you’re going to be a part of a gathering. Where you’re a leader of some sort.”

Milo fumbles the cup in his hand, panicking a little trying to catch it and not splash tea all over the place.

“Is everything alright??” You ask, alarmed at the sudden reaction.

“Y-yes, sorry, I just wasn’t expectin’,” He gulps. “this to be so precise ‘n all.”

You give him a bit of a puzzled look and he rubs the back of his neck with an apologetic smile. Maybe it’s better to let him tell you the details on his own time.

“Hmm, well, the emphasis is on feeling tasked to bring people together. But eventually, that will change.”

Milo leans in some, curious to hear what you have to say and amazed these simple sticks could conjure up such meaning.

“It seems like you’re being indecisive about something, and that’s creating confusion. The people around you are expecting more action, but you’re unsure of your social standing.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the intense look in his eyes tells you that the reading is really sinking deep. This is the first time you’ve seen him look so serious.

“Because of that, it looks like you will follow a new path, or really, a new person. While it seems like you should be the one leading, you have to learn what it’s like to let someone else take the lead for you. The main piece of advice is: be completely open and sincere. Though it can be tough, that is the best way to navigate your relationships during this change.”

Milo seems to be struck by the message you delivered. You allow a few moments to pass, folding your hands in your lap as he contemplates the meaning.

You hear a buzzing noise of a Rotom Phone, but you know it’s not yours. Milo sits up and looks you in the eyes. “Thank you for this, it was a wonderful gift. Plenty food for thought.” He reaches into one of the pockets of his camping bag. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to check this.”

Nodding, you gather all your yarrow back up and bundle it with the silk it came in. You’ll have to remember to thank your auntie for putting this in your bag, it’s your favorite keepsake of your grandmother’s.

Milo is scrolling through something on his phone with a faint smile on his face.

“Good news?” You ask, putting the sticks back into your bag.

“I just got sent these!” He shows you his phone with what looks like pictures from a photoshoot. A striking woman is in all of them, posing confidently in different swimwear outfits. She clearly gorgeous, must be a model for fashion magazines. “It’s my girlfriend Nessa, isn’t she so cool?”

Oh.

You start to feel embarrassed, as all the attention you were getting from Milo made you feel a little special. But you should have caught on by now that it’s likely he’s attentive to everyone. That’s just the kind of guy he is.

“She’s beautiful, what a lucky guy you are!” It’s unclear how sincere you sounded, but you hoped it was enough. For the second time today, you’re not sure why you’re feeling as strongly as you do. Milo, at least, seems oblivious to the emotional rollercoaster you’re on, so you’re able to small talk some more before he suggests both of you going to sleep.

“We can begin hiking towards Motostoke in the mornin’, should only take us about a day or so more travel. Then you can meet back up with your cousin and see her in the openin’ ceremony!” He explained as you both slide into your sleeping bags. “Nessa’ll be there too, I hope you get to meet her!”

You turned your back to him as he puts out the lantern. For some reason, you’re not as excited as he is to arrive in Motostoke. A few moments pass in silence before you find what you want to say.

“Thank you for saving me Milo. I know you just think it was the right thing to do, and it was nothing but… It means a lot to me. I hope to be able to be there for you when you need help.”

There are some shuffling sounds, what you guess to be Milo shifting in his sleeping bag. You feel his gaze from behind, but he doesn’t make any moments towards you at all.

“You already have been.”

You both wish each other goodnight. It took you a bit longer to fall asleep that usual, even with how exhausted you were, because Milo’s presence was nearby. He kept shifting around too, but since your back was towards him, you could only speculate why. The rain continued to beat against the tent, eventually lulling you into a deep sleep.

~*~*~*~

A soft humming weaved among the sound of rain, guiding you into the waking world. Your eyes slowly opened and take in the scenery, trying to remember where you are. At first the man nearby you seems like someone from a dream, but you remember it’s Milo. He’s in his own world peeling and slicing apples, balancing his phone on a knee and every once in a while looking to it as he arranges the fruit on plates. He has such a boyish look but a wise air about him, and you find the contrast appealing. It’s clear Milo has such consideration to his strength, and pays careful attention to how he interacts with the world. Just makes you want to get to know him a little better.

You must have shifted around or had your breath pick up, because Milo looked over to you and noticed you were awake. He offers you a smile.

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

A part of you flutters a bit hearing that. Drawing yourself up into a sitting position, you let out a short yawn. “Morning~”

“I didn’t wake you, did I? Jus’ thought it would be nice to have a little bite of somethin’ before we left.” While he did have a bit of softness to his voice, it seemed like he was wide awake.

“Not at all.” You were going to tease him about his singing, but decided you should be more cordial with a taken man. “What’s cookin’?”

“Just some apples from the grove!” He hands you a plate of apple slices after you move from your sleeping bag and over towards him. “It’s best to save the real cookin’ for when we’re able to get outta this rain and set up a campfire.” He takes a bite out of an apple slice, chewing as he thinks through something. “How’s your leg feelin’?”

You move around and bend your leg. “It’s definitely feeling better! Still feels a little numb at times, like my leg has fallen asleep. But your magic seems to be working!”

After chatting a bit more over apples, you both get ready to leave and break down Milo’s tent. He’s able to locate a path that would take you both northeast through the Dappled Grove towards West Lake Axewell.

Soon into your walk, it’s clear that your leg isn’t back up to 100% capacity. While you didn’t really feel any pain, you noticed it didn’t have the quickest reaction time, leading you to stumble a few times whenever there was uneven footing. You try to play it off as being clumsy, but Milo notices what’s going fairly quickly. He moves to your right side and extends his left arm towards you.

“Here ya go, hold onto me for support.”

It is shocking to you how he says this with a completely straight face, not thinking about how your skin is going to touch his, how you’ll feel each other’s body heat as you inevitably press up against him, how to a stranger in the distance it’ll look like the both of you are-

Before the moment can completely pass, you slip your hand around his bicep, completely flushed. As you walk, each time you feel like you’re going to stumble, you’re able to shift your weight into him. His sturdy build barely moves whenever you do, he even whistles a bit during the quieter moments of your journey. It’s like all of this is natural to him.

It’s still raining in the Dappled Grove, but it starts to ease into a drizzle along your journey. Eventually you both come across a serene pond surrounded by large, flat rocks. Milo helps you down on one of the rocks to rest, and says he wants to scout the rest of the area to make sure it’s safe. “There’s Bewear ‘round these parts, and that’s a critter I wouldn’t want us to run into.”

He leaves you with the quiet sound of rain hitting the pond next to you. The ripples are almost calming, hypnotizing even. Leaves and flower petals float along the surface. As you look, you start to notice that the leafy pads of the pond are actually Pokemon, whose blue bodies are underwater. There’s a group of them floating with each other on the far end of the pond, squirting streams of water at each other and making what you assume to be giggling noises. They didn’t look to be putting too much effort into dodging each other, rather allowing the force of the water sprays push them toward and away from each other. After your encounter with the Seismitoad, you can’t help but smile at seeing the more playful side of Pokemon.

Until a stream of water hits you straight in the face.

You sputter a bit, surprised because this didn’t come from the group you were watching, but a lone one hanging by your side of the pond. It giggles shyly at your reaction. “Well two can play at that game miss!” You grab your water bottle, take a swing, and squirt back at the Pokemon. Yours was weaker and smaller, but she still let out noises that made it seem like she was entertained. You both went back and forth with your antics until you heard a soft chuckle nearby from behind you.

“Havin’ fun?”

You jump a little at Milo’s voice, and feel your cheeks heat up knowing he probably watched you act silly for bit there. He settled down next to you on the edge of the pond, offering a finger for the Pokemon to brush against.

“Do you know what kind of Pokemon this is? I don’t think I’ve seen any in Alola.” You smile at how naturally she seems to warm up to Milo.

“It’s a Lotad! Very calm and sweet Pokemon. I train with one of its evolutions sometimes.” He smiles a bit as she floats a bit in a circle. “Alright we should go now. How ‘bout you go swim with your friends?”

The Lotad gives a look to the others and then looks away, floating towards you instead.

“Aww it looks like she’s feeling a bit left out. I know how that feels.” Lotad begins to crawl out of the pond next to you.

“Seems to me that Lotad has taken a shine to ya!” Milo fishes out a green bean and hands it to you.

You smile as she allows you to feed her. “I really enjoy it when a Pokemon seems to pick me out. It’s nice to be noticed.”

Milo shifts his weight, but doesn’t say anything.

“I wish there was a way to catch a Pokemon without battling it.”

“Sometimes you can!” Milo pulls out one of his Pokeballs. “You see, all that matters is when this button here,” He gestures to the knob at the front. “presses against the Pokemon you wish to capture. If the Pokemon accepts your ownership, then it’s easy as pie and they’re snug in their Pokeball! But most Pokemon like bein’ free, so you have to weaken them first in order to catch ‘em.” He hands you the Pokeball. “How ‘bout you see how she feels?”

You look to the Lotad and hold the Pokeball out to her. “What do you say? Would you like to come along with me? There’s a whole bunch of friends who’d be happy to meet you!” The Pokemon takes one final look at the others deeper in the pond, and then nudges at the Pokeball. With a flash it opens and soon the Lotad is in the ball. With a couple light shakes, the ball clicks and it seems like she’s ready to be one of your Pokemon.“Wow you’re right!” You hold up the Pokeball, amazed that it happened. “I always thought you had to take Pokemon by force.”

“Usually, that’s the case.” Milo has his hand at his chin, looking like he’s really thinking about something. “But it looks like you naturally attract Pokemon! I noticed that with the Wooloo I gave you. Technically, we’d have to do something more official, like me releasing and then you capturing him. But he just went right over to you and accepted you as his trainer.”

You giggle a bit. “That one is still attached to my hip, I’ll be surprised if he ever wants to do anything but cuddle.” Sliding the Pokeball into your bag, you shoulder it on and stand up from where you were lounging. “I bet he’s going to be so happy to see you!”

Milo smiles as he lends out his arm again, which you take. His demeanor hasn’t changed at all, nothing is awkward about how he is around you. When you try to imagine Leon doing the same thing, it’s like he would get hives and pass out from so much physical contact with you.

“It looks like the coast is clear for the rest of the way outta here. And the rain lets up in the direction we’re headed.” You’re reminded that it’s still drizzling as water collects and drips off the edge of his cap. “I’m sure you’d like to be near a warm cozy fire right about now!”

“With you? Of course.” It’s your turn to smile when Milo mumbles a sort of thanks.

You feel like, maybe, this adventure is worth going on after all.

#milo x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield imagines #pokemon milo imagines #pokemon milo #pokemon swsh imagines #a bundle of yarrow #fanfiction #fic

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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Drabble: All You Knead is Love (baon)

Summary: Saturdays are baking days and Stretch kneads to dough Edge a favor without a breach of crust.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Stretch was still living in the Underground, time seemed to go a little differently. There wasn’t a neat divide of weekends and weekdays, not really, what would be the point. Before things got bad, days were spent on sentry duty, hopping from one post to the next and napping between, heading home to choke down his bro’s latest attempt at tacos while NTT played on the boob tube, and evenings spent drinking too much at Muffet’s before heading home to do the same thing again. After a while, it all blurred together and when things started to—

(reset)

-get bad, well, it wasn’t like Stretch cared much about the day of the week.

Things were a little different on the surface when it came to a schedule and Stretch knew before he even opened his sockets that morning that it was Saturday. The delectably yeasty aroma wafting its way all the way up to their bedroom was like the siren call of lovely carbohydrates, beckoning to all innocent travelers to meet their starchy doom.

Okay, maybe that was a little on the dire side, but Saturday was baking day and since Stretch wasn’t exactly tied to a ship’s mast, he was about to wander on down and see what was on the menu.

He took long enough to wash up and toss on some clothes, the better to head off any conditions Edge might have about him swiping a muffin or three for his brunch, and it wasn’t noon yet, not for fifteen minutes yet, totally still brunchtime.

As predicted, Edge was standing at the kitchen island with a mound of pale dough in front of him, be-aproned and ready to get it on with his inner Paul Hollywood. Despite numerous gifts of ‘Kiss the Cook’ and ‘I cook as good as I look’ aprons, Edge still wore the plain black one he always did, only barely smudged with flour.

(The frilly apron didn’t bear mention, since Stretch was the one who wore it that one time, that and nothing else, and it did not survive the event. Worth it.)

The Stretch blinked as he got a better look at the largess on their kitchen counters. Dozens of muffins sat grouped together, their domed tops seeded with berries or nuts or chocolate chips. There were trays of cookies in high piles, sugar cookies with colored sugar sparkling and the cross-hatched peanut butter ones. Small, round cookies with a thumbful of glistening jam pressed into their middles.

Then there were loaves of crusty bread alongside knotted rolls scattered with sesame seeds and herbs. The countertop was heaped with enough gluten goodness to start a bakery and Edge was busily kneading even more. It all looked delicious, sure, and soft fluid magic was already filling Stretch’s mouth, begging for him to try his hand at a little tasty thievery.

Except if Edge made all this today, then he’d been up before dawn and he’d already been standing a lot longer than he was supposed to. Even if he was kneeling on his scooter, the cartilage in his leg was gonna start swelling after a while. Doctor’s orders said sit every two hours and the certain tightness of Edge’s mouth, the narrowness of his sockets, stated pretty clearly that Edge needed to park his carcass.

“babe,” Stretch said, cautiously. He crept closer, making sure to keep his hands nice and visible. The chances were low, but no reason to set off any nasty old triggers and make this into an event. “don’t you think you’ve made enough? even i won’t be able to eat all of that before it goes stale.”

“I’m taking most of this into the Embassy,” Edge said. His fingers moved expertly as he divided the dough, weaving it into a wide braid. “If you’d like something, you can help yourself.”

Normally, an invitation of free reign over Mount Delicious would have Stretch doing to the happy carb dance, but today? Not so much. Time for take two.

“so, after you’re done with that one, can you come out and watch a movie with me?” Stretch turned the wheedling up to max, “i could use a lap to lie on.”

Edge didn’t even look up, his slim hands working another ball of dough until it was smooth and elastic. “I need to finish this.”

“yep, you do,” Stretch agreed. He drew on his knowledge of many seasons of view the Great British Baking Show to ask, “but doesn’t it have to rise again?”

“It does, and while it is, I have three more loaves proofing.”

“uh huh.” Yeah, okay, time for the direct approach. Stretch reached out to gently lay his hands on top of Edge’s, stilling him. “babe, please. how long have you been standing? huh?”

The expression on Edge’s face told a long, convoluted story, a tale that went from indignance to faltering honesty, to dismay, to guilt. He glanced towards the corner where Stretch could see three more bowls of rising dough.

“Too long. But I need to finish this or else it’ll all go in the trash,” Edge admitted. Yeah, and Stretch knew exactly how Edge felt about wasting food.

“okay,” Stretch considered the options. There was really only one. “then let me help.”

That was a plan that worked on a few levels. It’d get Edge to sit down and Edge couldn’t exactly refuse without implying Stretch couldn’t do it. Considering all the times that Edge tried to encourage him with his attempts at cooking, any insinuations otherwise were gonna bring the wide, hurt eye sockets into play.

A long, fraught moment of hesitation and Stretch was about to get his wounded look warmed up when at last Edge said, “All right.”

Their dining room set was currently a card table hawked from Papyrus’s garage and the remaining chairs from their last set. Edge sat in the chair and propped his leg up on the one across from it. Didn’t quite hide his grimace well enough and yeah, Stretch didn’t have a single regret about making him take a seat.

That was, until it was his chance to turn on his inner chef.

Kneading dough wasn’t hard, exactly, but how the hell did Edge keep it from gunking up all his finger joints? Had to be about the technique and that wasn’t something Stretch was going to pick up in an afternoon. By the time he got it mostly looking like Edge’s and split into three lumpy balls, he got to learned something new about himself. Namely that he couldn’t braid and that might’ve been more frustrating if it weren’t for the fact Edge couldn’t keep a straight face as he watched. That normal stoic expression of his was cracking around the (heh) edges and trying to smother it under a hand was about as useful as Stretch’s braid.

“No, no,” Edge sputtered into a chuckle, “you bring the strip on the outside in…the other strip, you just did that side…”

When Stretch was done, his dough braid sort of looked as if it’d taken a sad anime walk through the rain after senpai didn’t notice it at the volleyball game.

He gave it a forlorn poke with one finger, asking meekly, “can i knead it back together and try again?”

“No need, it’ll be fine, love,” and then Edge proved he was as cruel as the interns’ rumors said by adding, “Two more to go.”

Stretch set the sheet with the almost-a-braid on the counter and covered it with a light towel before grabbing another bowl, dumping it onto the floury counter. “sorry, babe, i’m never going to be much of a cook.”

“That would be why you have me. Here.” Edge stood up and came around behind him, sliding his arms around Stretch to add his own hands into the kneading. “Like this, slow and even.”

Their height difference meant Edge couldn’t even see what he was doing and he still did better than Stretch. Didn’t help that warm press of Edge’s body against his own was distracting and Stretch exhaled weakly, trying to match Edge’s rhythm as they worked the dough together. “you’re supposed to be sitting.”

“I was sitting.” The deep vibration of his voice shivered through Stretch. Between his shoulder blades he could feel the light pressure of Edge’s skull resting against him. “I’m fine, love.”

That concerned voice in the back of Stretch’s skull was getting further away. Between both their hands, Edge’s deft and his own clumsy ones, they got the dough evenly divided, and Stretch tried his hands at braiding again. This time with Edge’s fingers resting lightly against his own, nudging when he nearly went the wrong way, guiding him better blind than Stretch did with both eye lights watching.

As if their thoughts about watching were mirrored, Edge chose that moment to speak up, “Do you know, I like watching you cook.”

Stretch snorted, looking down at his second braided loaf, still a little sloppy despite Edge’s help. “you like watching me fuck up?”

Those guiding fingers took a second to flick against his in light punishment, “First of all, you aren’t fucking up. And I do like watching you. As I’ve told you before, there’s a satisfaction to providing food. Giving nourishment to those you care about,” Edge shifted behind him, his breath warm against Stretch’s cervical vertebra, “Those you love.”

Stretch let his sockets droop briefly closed, sighing out, “oh, butter that toast, babe.”

The question of whether or not his braiding skills constituted a fuck up was up for debate, but he wasn’t about to argue about the satisfaction that came with baking, especially when it came with Edge wrapped around him like croissant. In a minute, he was gonna drag Edge out to the living room and make him take a better rest, maybe snag a few of those muffins with them to share.

For now, Stretch was gonna knead up that last bowl of dough with his husband’s help. Then he could enjoy his just desserts.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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constantlydiscombobulated · 4 years

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N.H ASK 1 - tequila sunrise N.H X FEM!READER

An afternoon with the boys is what you expected on the sunny bank holiday; it was a rare occasion that everyone was in London. You had decided to host impromptu drinks on the roof of your building. The sun’s heat shone down from the moment it licked the surface of London’s outskirts at dawn that morning. The glass shards warmed quickly making your alternative looking flat warm, almost sauna like.

You had made a quick effort to prepare minimal beverages as you knew the boys would bring their own. Your flat was relatively small yet housed you and your best friend Anita perfectly. She wasn’t around much pulling long shifts at St Pancras Hospital so that meant you often had the space to yourself. You didn’t host marvellous parties or spontaneous get-togethers like today’s event often, most of your time between reading novels for the publishing company you worked for was or spent watching crime dramas to the late am. But this august bank holiday was the first in perhaps years that Anita didn’t have to work.

Anita, a tall and thin creature, long ginger hair which subjected her to the odd ginger joke of course. She had dark green eyes which ensured her uncanny resembled to cartoon character: Kim Possible. However, this did mean she went as Kim Possible every year for Halloween.

“Doll?” she called from down the hallway. You liked this flat a lot; the bedrooms were across from each other and yet both were spacious. You had the roof flat so unlike every other flat you didn’t have the access to a balcony, so the landlord had given you access to the roof. You and Anita had lived there for 5 years which meant your bank holidays had been spent doing up the roof and previously shattered greenhouse for your use. “I’m gonna take the ice buckets up – you gonna be okay?” she asked, smiling at you as she filled up the flimsy plastic buckets with weird side handles with ice and water. You nodded, mixing the last of the tequila in your pitcher of tequila sunrise. The amount of alcohol in these jugs would put you in the hospital if you consumed them alone.

You had gotten out 7 glasses to hold cocktails, each with a different coloured umbrella, one with stripes on from the last party you had hosted last year; you had also chopped up various complimentary fruits to go with the drinks and some carrots to dip in some homemade hummus. You brushed yourself down, the boys would be arriving soon and that would be chaotic from the second they stepped foot indoors.

Anita had convinced you to wear a pretty dress with your sandals rather than melting in your jeans and t-shirt. It was something you had purchased on sale a while back – completely on a whim. It was a short maxi dress, the straps crossed at the back; the dress itself was white but was covered in sunflowers, you had a pair of worn orange Birkenstocks on with matching nail polish on your nails. Despite having good company, you didn’t bother with much makeup or anything too full on with your hair – you just shoved it up in something in between a bun and ponytail.

As if on cue there was a knock at the door, evident commotion happening outside. You walked over and opened the door with ease; the boys never seemed to get you starstruck anymore, to you they were normal people.

“’Ello” Louis called, patting you on the back as he put some beers in your fridge and crisps on your countertop. You greeted Harry while he was mid carrot – a snack he knew you had gotten purposely for him. “Payno” you called hugging Liam who harboured more alcohol, this time with mixers as well.

“where’s goldilocks?” you asked, Niall had recently used a box dye in his hair, and it had gone a bit bright before a hairdresser had snuck into a hotel room and fixed it for him. That was, of course, before he regrettably sent a picture to you, who had later put it in the group chat where it was meme’d. Louis laughed at your nickname,

“on his way, had errands or something” he replies nonchalantly. The boys helped themselves to the drinks and made their way to the roof. They had been in your flat more times than you could count. During the world cup you had found yourself watching it with Tommo and Payno getting a little too aggressive when your preferred team wasn’t doing so well.

You ushered the boys to the roof while you waited on Niall. He was never usually late, if anything that was usually Louis.

“oi tommo, take some of this booze up, yeah?” you called, not turning back to him to see if he took anything but presumed from the brief ruckus he did. You fumbled around the flat looking for some sun cream and sunglasses but disturbing the search was the sound of the door opening and quickly shutting again.

“You’re late Horan” you called, not looking behind to him until you had found the things you were looking for.

“Sorry, perfection takes time” he shoots back, his wit - dry as always

“Yet you’re still so far from it” you snort, eventually greeting him. He hugs you briefly before giving you a bunch of flowers; tulips, your favourite, a bunch of red and orange ones.

“you like ‘em, pet?” he asks, you nod a little with a smile. “still your favourite then?”

“yeah, something like that Nialler. The boys are upstairs so head up when you’re ready” you inform him. You grab a glass vase from the cupboard beneath the sink, filling it with fresh water. You notice in your own company that these aren’t just shop-brought, but from a florist. You appreciated the sentiment, but Niall had several zeros in his bank account so you knew he could afford random trips to the florist.

When you reached the roof, the others had put on some background music and were already joking around with each other. You took the remaining seat in between Anita and Niall, sipping on your glass of tequila sunrise – something which cause you to meet your demise. The sun rays warmed your skin, something you basked in. You adored the sun, always trying to spend as much time in it as possible.

The song changed to Taylor Swift’s 22 and you just laughed to yourself.

“sorry curly, this gotta be awkward for ya” you joked, Harry just rolled his eyes before shaking his head.

“nah, she didn’t write this one about me” he humoured you, taking a pseudo-angry bite from a carrot stick. You listened more to the to and fro, seeing Anita exchange in light-hearted conversation with Liam and Harry was nice- it was rare she let her hair down for more than five minutes. You squirted some sun cream into your hand as you felt your skin getting warm; you got your legs fine and your arms but knew you would have to ask for help on your back – your eyes flicked to Anita who was deep in conversation, then to niall on your left, he seemed content on his phone.

“hey Nialler, do us a favour?” you asked, he turned off his phone placing his focus on you. “do me back?” you asked, smiling widely at him. He nodded with no pushback; his hands were calloused from playing the strings yet were gentle on your skin.

“can I move the straps?” he asked, you nodded, he fiddled with the straps of your dress rubbing the cream into your back and shoulders slowly ensuring he was covering the exposed skin.

“ay up what we missed? Nialler is feeling up our resident geek” Tommo shouts from the other side of the circle of chairs, a grin on his face. The rest of the group turns to see what he’s going on about.

“it’s the luck of the Irish, not every day I get to touch a shoulder” jokes Niall. You lean towards the direction Louis was sat in before announcing:

“It’s the accent really” you flirted with great ease and choosing to wink at Tommo who just shakes his head turning back to his conversation with Harry. His interest was lost after your response, you hadn’t bitten in the way he wanted. You leant back into Niall’s touch, relaxing beneath it. He finished up a couple of moments later, closing the cap of the bottle with a sharp snap. “thank you” you supply with a genuine smile.

“what’s the latest read?” he asks, it’s not often you’re asked about your work from anyone but Anita, so his query takes you by surprise.

“I always get lumbered with the romance novels” you complain, “suppose it’s the apparent trail of broken hearts I leave behind” you joke, he looks confused, “one of my co-workers hit on me and I tried to reject him nicely but he didn’t get the hint”

“oh” Niall replies, you continue,

“he was nice enough but he’s not the calibre of man that I usually go for”

“calibre of man?” he laughed, saying it a little louder then you would’ve liked.

“yeah, I’ve got standards” you retort. He is still laughing at your phrasing, so you sip more of your drink to wait it out. You slipped your feet out of your sandals and rested them upon his lap, he stopped laughing shortly after your action. You remembered to keep your legs closed as you weren’t wearing shorts beneath the dress.

“oh yeah? Giv’ us ya check list, am sure we know a bloke for our bookworm” he asks, waiting out your initial hesitance.

“natural brunettes; tattoo free and Irish. Know anyone?” you asked, teasing him on purpose, “doesn’t sound like anyone I know” he barks, his laugh overshadowing the rest of the chatter. You heard Louis mumble something which earned the others laugh but you felt the moment to ask him to repeat himself had passed.

“nah, no one I know at least” he finally announced, still laughing at you. Your cheeks had tinged. “I like your dress” he adds.

You notice now it’s a little low cut, you hadn’t realised it, but it really showed your cleavage – especially with the bra you were wearing. “not too much?” you ask, still feeling a little uneasy in it.

“nah, look’s good.” He confirmed, “wearing it for any reason”

“Anita” you replied quickly, “I brought it ages ago and she seems to think today is the best occasion for it” he is tapping the beat of the song on your legs, an action which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“she’s right” he mutters, “‘s a good look” you nod not knowing what to do with the information, so you sip the last bit from your drink. You move to go refill it but harry stops you, taking your empty glass from your hands.

“stay love, I’ll do it”

“thanks H, you gem” you return, you smile at him before looking back to Niall. Anita however doesn’t let this moment lasts when she pulls you up to dance. You had met Anita when you went to university together; she was studying nursing and you studied English literature. Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend switched on, it had been in the charts in your last year of uni and countless nights out had started with this playing while you got ready. You jumped and sang with her, no care in the world. Liam had gotten up to twirl you both about; Tommo watched from his chair when Harry had returned and joined in. the song ended in laughter all around, you sat on Niall’s lap, resting your head on his shoulder – his hands rested either on your leg or waist.

“why didn’t you come dance?” you asked.

“I ‘aven’t had enough to drink to do tha’” he replied, you shook your head in disbelief.

“drink up then as I’m getting the shots” you told him, vacating his person to bring up shot glasses and the various spirits you had to do shots with.

When you had returned to the roof another body had arrived, it must’ve happened while you rooted around for spirits in the pantry.

“Capaldi! Thought you’d got lost” you cheered, awkwardly side hugging him while balancing everything else on a tray. You poured shots and everyone did a few rounds to feel the buzz. Niall was talking deeply with Lewis, so you went over to Louis and Harry to see what had captured their attention.

They were discussing Harry’s sister, her new boyfriend or something you gathered.

“hey” you said, waving a little as you sat beside Louis.

“what can I do for ya’” Tommo asked, you laughed,

“nothin’ just couldn’t corrupt our church boy for much longer” you taunted; Louis laughed at your remark.

“tha’s good, I like tha’” he comments, Harry speaks next.

“you publishin’ anything I’d like?”

“nah, H. I promised I’d text if there was anything of your taste” you remind him, he doesn’t really respond. “how is my favourite styles anyway?”

“I’m alright” harry jokes, you scoffed rolling your eyes, knowing he’d bite regarding your comment about Gemma.

The evening passed in an alcohol induced haze; despite being late Lewis had tried to catch up on the alcohol consumption and was significantly more drunk then the rest of the guests at your social gathering. The atmosphere was relaxed, Anita lounged across Harry and Louis who were in deep conversation; Liam was on the phone in the corner speaking passionately to whoever had captured his attention while Niall and Lewis barked with contagious laughter in the seat Niall had claimed since he arrived.

you held your glass high and navigated around the chairs and empty bottles over to the clowns making more noise than everyone else combined.

“hey guys” you chirp, taking a seat beside Lewis. Niall, while listening to Lewis’ anecdote fixes his glance on you, it lingers for a few seconds shared with a soft smile before Lewis’ hand gestures grabbed his attention again. Niall had briefly excused himself which earned Lewis’ joking with your usual banter until Niall returned to match it.

The sun had long gone, and a breeze filled the air; goose bumps littered your skin, and would no doubt cause a shiver or chattering of your teeth if you didn’t equip yourself with an extra layer. Before you could do such a chore Niall returned baring a cup of tea in your favourite mug and his hoodie which he had discarded earlier on that afternoon.

“’ere” he passes the hoodie to you which you take no time in slipping on before carefully handing you the mug.

“how’d you know I was gonna go get a jumper?” you asked bewildered, slightly laughing at the coincidence of it all. Niall shrugged, “just know ya, I guess” he mumbles while he takes the seat he occupied before. You mouthed a quick thank you as to not interrupt Lewis’ resumed story to Niall.

The first to leave was Liam, soon after his departure people started yawning and stopped drinking; Harry and Louis left thirty and forty-five minutes after Liam which just left Niall, Lewis, Anita and yourself.

The party had taken itself naturally back indoors, Anita was half asleep on the couch as she had since changed into her pyjamas and cozied up beneath a knitted blanket she had purchased from John Lewis on sale a week prior, Lewis was dozing next to her and Niall and yourself lounged on smaller couch together – the seat was really meant for one yet you almost always seemed to fit both of you on there, you always found yourself cuddled into Niall’s grasp and quite often with a stolen layer from him.

“wha’ you doing tomorrow, blondie?” you asked, looking up at him in such proximity.

“well I was hopin’ that you’d wanna do something” he replied, his voice quiet, “jus’ me and you” you beamed up at him.

“I’d love that” you whispered back; he smiles.

“don’t put it in the group chat Tommo will only take the piss” he states after, not meeting your gaze.

“that’s okay Nialler, don’t want them crashing like they did last time” you laughed lightly, he just smiles squeezing you. You just rest your eyes basking in the warmth and the flowing serotonin that is coupled with hugging someone with such intimate affection.

You were, and are always, content when you were with Niall.

----

Thank you to @socialfake for the ask! hope you like it xo

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gleekto · 4 years

Text

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Even Better than the Real Thing (10/13)

Kurt drops the phone as his heart starts to race and panic takes over. He feels like he’s going to throw up. No. He doesn’t have time to throw up. He immediately signs on to tumblr and deletes his blog. Gone. But it’s too late anyways. He calls Mercedes on autopilot.

“It’s over, Mercedes,” Kurt shakes as he says it. “He knows.”

“What? Who knows what?” But he can practically see the information dawn on her as she says it. “He knows you were a fan? Shit.”

“Yes, specifically, he knows that I was LimaBlaineFan - and I say was because I just deleted.”

“Oh my god, Kurt. How did this happen? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. And I don’t know. Or I can guess. He surprise visited me and I forgot to close my laptop screen and I must have left him in my room while I was dealing with Rachel and her oat milk,” Kurt puts the pieces together. “Fucking oat milk.”

“So he ended it on the spot?”

“No. God. He didn’t even say anything. He must have seen something but not much, gone home and read the blog, and then texted me 24 hours later with a terse goodbye.”

“So what did he say?” Kurt sends her the text. “It’s not great,” She agrees. “But that’s not exactly closure.”

“I don’t think I get closure after what I did. Just memories of our night together and of what an idiot I am.” Kurt goes over the whole story with Mercedes - how he obviously wanted to be chill when he met Blaine, didn’t want to seem like a desperate fanboy but just a friend of Rachel’s - which he is! That wasn’t a lie. And he always made sure to give Blaine an out, not to talk too much, but Blaine kept wanting to talk and flirt and - well, as soon as he really started to believe that they were more than friendly acquaintances with a mutual friend, he stopped blogging. But it was too late by that point to say ‘Oh by the way, I was such a big fan of Sing! that I have a blog about it and your name may feature.’ But he knows it’s all an excuse. Blaine told him the first time they met that a fan is not a friend. And he didn’t heed the warning. Or tell the truth.

Mercedes listens to the story she already knows, and affirms and agrees, but unfortunately, can’t really fix a situation that can’t be fixed. Kurt spends the night staring at his ceiling and the next day moping around the house, tired and cranky. He binges Gossip Girl and eats popcorn and texts Mercedes sad face emojis.

Even Rachel notices that something’s wrong when she comes in that evening. “You’re still in pajamas?” She looks at him quizzically. “And you look like hell.”

“Thanks?”

“And I only point that out because it’s very unlike you.”

“I guess that is actually a compliment.”

“What’s wrong?” Before he thinks of what he’s going to say, Rachel interrupts again. “Wait. Blaine was a wreck today - bags under his eyes, forgot all his lines. Just said he had a rough night. Okay, Kurt. What is going on with you two?”

“Nothing now.”

“Now?”

“It’s not working out, okay?” Rachel starts to say something again but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” She seems to clue in to the fact that he does not want to talk about it. “I’ll go out later to get you a piece of cheesecake from Henry’s.” His favourite cheesecake place.

“Thank you,” He says sincerely. “Best therapy.”

...

After his cheesecake, which did take his mind off the mess of his life for at least 15 minutes, he moves back to his bedroom for night two of ceiling gazing, when his phone buzzes.

Blaine: So you didn’t respond.

He stares at the message, willing the right response to come to him.

Kurt: I honestly just don’t know what to say. Other than I’m sorry. I guess that’s what I should have said.

Blaine: So you are LimaBlaineFan, right?

Kurt: Guilty. Very guilty.

Blaine: Shit.

Kurt: I know we’re done - it’s my fault. You don’t need to say anything.

Kurt can’t actually bear the idea of Blaine lecturing him on honesty amidst crushing his heart.

Blaine: It is your fault. But we should talk.

Kurt: We should?

Blaine: Meet me at the Coffee Bean tomorrow at 3, okay?

Kurt: Let me check my calendar.

Blaine: Cheeky.

Kurt knows he made him smile despite himself.

Kurt: I’ll be there.

...

Kurt gets to the Coffee Bean half an hour early so he can be sure to be there first. He buys Blaine his favourite medium drip and adds a vanilla almond biscotti.

“These for me?” Blaine says as he sits down across from Kurt.

“The least I could do.” Blaine rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but he accepts the coffee and cookie. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Blaine says and pauses, sipping his coffee.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kurt starts.

Blaine shrugs. “Go for it.”

“Why did you ask me to meet you for coffee? I mean, after finding out the guy you just -” Kurt gets red despite himself.

“Got naked with,” Blaine fills in.

“Yes - was actually a fan following your career-”

“And my body parts,” Blaine adds and Kurt gets much redder.

“I mean, I think that gives you license to fully ghost me without another word.”

“True,” Blaine nods his head. “But for one, you are my co-star’s roommate-”

“At least that’s true,” Kurt sighs at himself.

“Also, I’m not an asshole.”

“But I probably gave you reason to think that I am one.”

“No - which is the real reason I wanted to talk. The timeline.” Kurt looks at him confused. “Your blog on tumblr. It seems like once we met, you only blogged a few times. And by the time I was interested in you, you stopped posting.”

Kurt nods, giving himself an internal high five for at least one decent choice. “I did. Right after we-”

“Made out all night?” Blaine has got to stop putting these images back into his head in the midst of a break up conversation.

“No. It was before that. After you - you know we talked in my room-”

Blaine remembers, smiling. “When I got you to tell me you had never been kissed so I could tell you that you should be.”

“You’re so calculating,” Kurt shakes his head.

Blaine raises his hands in defense. “My intentions were pure, I promise. Besides, I could say the same about you.”

“I wasn’t calculating! I wasn’t even trying to be your friend, let alone your, you know. I am definitely not sophisticated enough to try to deceive you to get you into bed, god. I was just trying to seem reasonably normal and cool around my roommate’s new co-star who by complete coincidence was my celebrity crush of the last four years. It was way too uncool to reveal my alter ego to you.”

Blaine smiles, probably despite himself. “Can I tell you some of my favourites?”

“Oh god.”

It seems Blaine spent the better part of his evening delving deeply into the fandom mind of LimaBlaineFan, because he had screencapped some of Kurt’s oldest, and cringiest posts.

-Why isn’t he shirtless in that scene? The other guys are shirtless. Roy is hot. And no, I don’t think he’s embarrassed.

“Well, you are right about that. I’m not camera shy.”

-Thank God Blaine Anderson has a better fashion sense than Roy. Roy and his loose jeans and sweatpants - how would I even catch a glimpse? But did you see Blaine on that red carpet? Maroon suit, pants so tight. His ass is perfection.

-Blaine’s interview for Pride was perfection. He says we might even catch him out on the dance floors, dancing with some hotties. Maybe then he’ll be shirtless.

And of course, Blaine appreciated Kurt’s hard work on one of his most recent posts - The privileges and pitfalls of playing straight for an out gay actor: Quotes from Blaine Anderson’s interviews.

Kurt lets Blaine read each one, sitting silent in embarrassment and biting his lip through it all. It’s the least he deserves. Just as Blaine finishes his list and Kurt is about to go into profuse apology once again, they’re interrupted.

A young woman who looks about seventeen scurries quickly up to their table. “Hi. I’m sorry. I know you’re busy. I’m just such a huge fan of Sing! And now That’s So Rachel-” - If that was a fan test, she passed. She knows both shows. That’s a minimum. “Can I get a pic with you?”

“Of course. Thank you so much for watching.” Blaine takes her phone like a pro and angles it so he and the girl are both in it, Kurt trying to avoid being the photobomb in the background. Blaine turns back to him as the girl leaves.

“I guess that would’ve been me a few months ago.”

“For you, I might have even given a hug. Or the coveted kiss on the cheek. I always try to connect with the gay guy fans.”

“You succeeded?” Kurt tries and Blaine laughs. At least the energy between them is better. Much better. Like he won’t have to hide in a corner if he’s ever at an event with Blaine again or anything like that.

“I guess I did.”

“The first time I met you, you told me that a fan is not a friend.”

“I did.”

“Would you have asked me out if you had known from the beginning?”

“Probably not. Against the rules.”

“That’s what I thought.” There’s an awkward pause - Kurt’s not sure there’s anything else to say and apparently Blaine agrees because he switches the topic to the latest script and his excitement about working with Patti Lupone - who apparently, even gets to slap him. By the time they leave the café, Kurt feels relieved. He’s survived his first break up. Not that they were really together. He doesn’t have the energy to grieve the loss of kissing, and touching, and ironically still not having seen Blaine shirtless (pantless, yes). He’s sure it will hit him like a ton of bricks after he finally gets a real night of sleep, and then he will have Rachel prepare the cheesecake. Again.

He crawls into bed early that night, grateful the shock and awful adrenaline of the last two days has finally left his body. His phone buzzes as he closes his light and he plans to text Mercedes back to tell her he’ll update her tomorrow. But it’s not Mercedes.

Blaine: Some rules are made to be broken.

#even better than the real thing #gleekto writes

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seagreen-meets-grey · 4 years

Text

Hooked On A Feeling Ch. 1

When Hiccup and Astrid realize they've never hung out alone before, they decide to change that. And how do you better spend time with your Good Friend than by playing Mario Kart all night?

[Chapter 1: Come A Little Bit Closer] [Chapter 2: Fooled Around And Fell In Love] [Chapter 3: Go All The Way]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

Hiccup was at his fourth beer when he noticed.

He was leaning against the railing of Justin’s balcony, the cold night air cooling his skin, warm from the heat of the living room and the alcohol. It was game night, a tradition he and his friends had started over two years ago when none of them had really known anyone yet, trying to find their place on Berk’s huge university campus. Some of them had been in the same campus tour group on day one, the rest had met in class. If Hiccup recalled correctly, it had been Justin, also known as Fishlegs among his friends, who had suggested a night of board games and bonding, which had turned into a bi-weekly event of drinking and trash-talking each other over SingStar, Monopoly, Cards Against Humanity and the like.

Currently, they were taking a quick break from playing. Tuffnut and Snotlout needed a smoke break, Fishlegs one of his many potty breaks, and the rest of them just went along.

Hiccup was fairly sure that Tuff’s twin sister was filling up everyone’s water glasses with vodka, which would at least result in a hilarious moment of spitting out drinks all over Hiccup’s Monopoly board. He had long ago decided to never take his Game of Thrones board to game night if he didn’t want it back sticky and covered in oily crumbs.

He had opened a new beer bottle and followed Tuff, Snot and Astrid outside, engrossed in a conversation about the latest rumor about two of their professors dating.

By the time the two cigarettes were merely tiny smoldering dots in the ashtray on the windowsill, snowflakes started to descend silently from the dark sky. Snotlout looked up and stuck out his tongue to catch one, but it fell into his eye which made him whine and dramatically stagger off to the bathroom to wash it out, with an excited Tuff in tow who began to tell him a story of one of his many cousins who supposedly went blind from a snowflake in his eye.

“Muttonheads,” Astrid mumbled when the boys were gone.

Hiccup grinned and shook his head. “If we’re lucky, Tuff manages to make Snot so paranoid that we can sell him anything that will apparently prevent him from going blind.”

Astrid leaned against the railing next to him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m intrigued, Haddock. Keep talking.”

Animated by her reaction, he fell into his habit of gesticulating while talking, beer bottle still in hand. “Like, we could tell him about this old myth that says making bad choices in board games will increase your body’s healing capabilities.”

“Yes!” Astrid pointed a finger at him. “We’ll let Tuff scare him further with his ridiculous tales about cousins he doesn’t have, and he’ll eat right out of our hands.”

She was beaming at the chance to mess with their friend, and for a while, they kept brainstorming ideas to make Snotlout lose at Monopoly on purpose.

He was taking another sip of his beer when it hit him.

“Hey,” he interrupted her newest plan and she raised her eyebrows in question. “You know what I just realized?”

“That most of our friends share one brain cell?”

He chuckled. “No, I already knew about that. I meant… We’ve never, you know, done this before.” He gesticulated between him and Astrid.

“Messed with our friends?”

“No. No, I mean, I mean we do that a lot, but… But, you know, we never-- we never hung out like this before, just- just the two of us.”

He could see the same realization dawn on her. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

“Haven’t we?”

“We haven’t!” She shook her head disbelievingly. “How long have we been friends now? Almost three years, right?”

Hiccup nodded. “True. And we never really hung out outside this group.”

Astrid shivered and gestured with her head to go back inside. “We have to change that.”

They sat back down next to each other on the large sofa. Astrid reached for her water glass but was smart enough to sniff at it before taking a sip. From the corner of his eye, Hiccup spotted Ruffnut peering over in anticipation. He heard her curse when Astrid took the nearest bottle of coke and filled her glass to the brim. She took a scrutinizing sip, scrunching up her face for a second, shrugged and settled with it.

“So what do we do?” she asked, taking another sip.

Hiccup hummed in thought, crossed his arms and leaned back, tapping the neck of his almost empty bottle against his arm. “And when do we do it?”

“Do what?” Fishlegs asked, sitting down in front of his side of the Monopoly board.

“Hang out,” Hiccup and Astrid said in unison. Astrid held up her hand and without looking Hiccup gave her a high-five.

“Uhm,” Tuffnut said and made an open gesture. “Aren’t you hanging out right now?” He squinted his eyes. “Or is hanging out what the kids are calling it these days?”

Astrid threw a game piece at him and Hiccup felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “Hanging out as friends, you muttonhead!” she yelled.

“Right,” Tuff said, although Hiccup could tell he didn’t quite get it yet – or believed it.

“Hey, Hiccup,” Fishlegs chimed in, “didn’t you order Mario Kart for your Switch last week?”

“I did!” Hiccup sat up straight and turned towards Astrid. “All 48 races. Next Friday. We stay up all night. Loser buys the other a Christmas gift.” He offered her his hand.

She considered it for a second. “No falling asleep and the gift has a cost limit.”

They shook hands.

“Deal.”

_______________

Hiccup was at her place at nine, his Switch and Mario Kart game in his bag, as well as the ingredients to their self-made pizza. In return, her fridge was filled with energy drinks.

They said cheers with the first can and started on the pizza.

Astrid’s apartment had underfloor-heating that made the kitchen warm and cozy. Outside in the dark night, more snow was falling, covering the world in a white blanket. Music was coming from Astrid’s portable loudspeaker box.

“Someone’s been watching Guardians of the Galaxy,” Hiccup noted while he rolled out the premade dough on the griddle to the Marvel movie’s official mixtape.

“Nah, just dug it out when I went through my playlists.” She started humming and dancing on the spot where she was cutting onions on the kitchen counter.

She could feel the caffeine from the energy drink settle in her system. Using her knife as a microphone, she twirled around to face Hiccup at the kitchen table. “I’m hooked on a feeling!” she sang, taking joy in the way Hiccup started laughing at how off-key she sounded. “I’m high on believing!” She slid across the tiles in her beloved blue fleece socks, holding the knife-mic out to Hiccup.

“That you’re in love with me!” he sang into the fake-mic, equally off-key. She danced back to her cutting board and took another large gulp of energy drink. Not that she thought that hanging out with Hiccup wouldn’t be fun, but she just hadn’t anticipated it to be this nice.

While the pizza was in the oven, she opened her second drink and pulled Hiccup to his feet. Later, she claimed it was the caffeine coursing through both their bodies that made them decide they should have a dance-off right there in her small kitchen. Sliding on soft socks, slipping and catching themselves on the furniture or each other, they alternated between battling each other in ridiculous dance moves and twirling each other around, bumping into the table and counter several times.

When the oven timer went off, Hiccup loaded three big pieces each on two plates while Astrid disappeared into her little study room and came back with a DVD case in her hand.

“I’m up for some Home Alone, how about you?” She really hoped he wasn’t one of those people who hated the movie. Christmas time was Home Alone time for her.

“Am I ever!” Hiccup exclaimed and Astrid whooped and skipped off to her bedroom. He took a deep breath before he followed her, smile ever-present on his face.

They settled on her queen-sized bed, the desk with the large TV she got from her uncle Finn for her birthday in front of it, pizza and energy drinks on a tray between them.

Hiccup was impressed with the accuracy and passion with which she recited basically half the movie. But her amused expressions told him he didn’t fare any different with his impressions of Kevin and the bandits alike.

"I always think," she said when Kevin prepared his master trap, "that I'm glad Kevin seems to know what he's doing. Would have been a fucking chaos if he didn't."

Hiccup nodded vigorously. "Wanna know a fun fact about me?"

She peeled her eyes away from the screen and looked at him, genuine interest in her eyes.

"When I was a kid- actually, it started when I was a kid, and when I was fifteen, I was, like– Anyway, um… Basically, Kevin McCallister was my childhood hero."

"Oh, no." The dread in her voice didn't match the anticipating grin on her face.

"Yep," he said, popping the p. "Made my parents' life hell, especially because my inventions and traps never worked the way I wanted them to."

"Oh my god," she laughed.

"My father still doesn't let me live down the day I decided to rebuild the zipline Kevin uses to get from the house to his tree house."

"But it shouldn't even work in the movie, like, all of these traps are bullshit, realistically speaking." She wiped tears from laughter out of her eye.

Hiccup gave her a deadpan expression. "Well, fifteen-year-old me was confident he had made the right tweaks."

"What happened?"

"Umm…" He averted his face and she leaned over the tray to shake his shoulder.

"Now you have to tell me!"

Hiccup sighed and turned back to her, trying to keep up his serious expression. "I had fastened the end of the line, the one that started at the house, on the windowpane. At that point we were living in this old house with wooden panes. You can probably guess where this is going."

"Nope, totally lost. Don't leave out even one detail." Hiccup shot her an unbelieving expression, but she kept looking at him with that twinkle in her eyes, so he gave in with a defeated sigh.

"Fine, the wood was too old, it snapped when I jumped, I fell and broke my left leg in two places. Had to wear a cast for weeks. From then on, I was done with those experiments."

“But you’re studying engineering.”

He shrugged. “Exactly. Never said I was done with all kinds of experiments forever.”

A sly grin formed on Astrid’s face right when on TV the hot iron trap went off. “Let’s use the energy that kept young Hiccup going on Snotlout and the twins.”

He slowly shook his head. “You. Are. Evil.”

“Nope, not evil.” She opened two new cans of energy drinks and handed him one. “Just working with what I got to make the world a better place in these difficult times of Snotfaces and Nuts.”

He snorted and threw her an amused look. He was definitely in the right company.

_______________

“Alright.” Astrid stretched in the middle of her room and cracked her knuckles. “Let’s do this. I’m ready to destroy you.”

Hiccup just hummed disbelievingly from where he was setting up his gaming system. “Better open the windows for a few minutes first, the air in here is really bad.” When Astrid did just that, he added, “because it smells of loser!”

“That’s because of you,” she countered without batting an eye.

“I know, my fault, I should have thrown you out earlier.” A pair of socks flew over his head while he was plugging in the HDMI cable. "Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me."

"Keep that up and I'll have to kiss you for real."

Hiccup looked up at her and saw her eyes dart back up from somewhere below his midriff. He looked at the backside of his pants. Did he have a stain there? He couldn’t find anything. Dismissing it with a shrug, he joined Astrid on the bed again. She handed him his energy can, opening another one for herself. This couldn’t be good for their health.

While the game was loading, Astrid repeated the rules. “We play all 48 races. We can’t fall asleep. If one of us does, the other is strictly obligated to wake them up. Loser buys the other a Christmas present but it has a clear cost limit.”

“Wouldn’t we get each other little gifts anyway?”

“Additional present, then.” She took a large gulp of her drink.

“I don’t think you should drink so much of that stuff; your body’s energy will drop tremendously as soon as the effect wears off, and you’ll fall asleep. Also, you’ll get diarrhea.”

She threw him an unimpressed look while he took a sip as well. “Look who’s talking. Besides, I know my own body. I’ve done this before.”

“Sure,” Hiccup shrugged and dipped his head back to drain the can. “Let’s deal with it when the time comes.” He wasn’t able to keep still anymore, wiggling his toes to countermeasure the pace of his heart. Definitely not good for their health. They really shouldn’t do this. There was a pop and a sizzling sound and he was handed a new drink. Oh, well.

When the Mario Kart home screen came up, Hiccup took his controller and chose the right settings. Astrid grabbed the other one and tested out the buttons. It had been a while since she’d last played it, but Hiccup was dead certain she hadn’t forgotten how to properly kick his butt. Or, as he would make sure in tonight’s case, die trying. He’d love an additional Christmas present from her, and he’d love even more to destroy her. Smirk on his face, he moved the stick to choose his character as she did the same.

“You can’t be serious!” Astrid yelled accusatory. “Link isn’t even a Mario character!”

“So?” he shrugged. “He’s a choosable character and you know I love Legend of Zelda.”

She wasn’t having any of it. “You can’t play a non-Mario character in a Mario game, Hiccup.”

“He’s still a Nintendo character, and what’s the big deal?”

“We said we would play this right, so no characters from other games. Choose another one!”

“If I have to pick a character other than the one I always pick, you have to do the same,” he argued. “No Bowser for you, milady!”

“At least he’s from Mario.”

“Do it properly, Astrid!” He grinned. “If I have to repick, then so do you.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine! But I don’t trust you with this. I’ll choose for you.”

He stuck out his hand. “Only if I get to choose for you.” They shook on the deal and switched controllers.

“Let’s see…” Astrid mumbled while going through the different available characters. “Got it!” She pushed a button to confirm her selection.

“What?!” He threw his hands up in indignation. “Why am I Waluigi?!”

“Because he looks like you.”

“Pah!” He quickly selected her character. “I guess you’re Baby Peach, then.”

She huffed. “Really, Hiccup?! Because she’s blonde?”

“No,” he said, smirk back on his face, “because she's a helpless baby and she, too, needs saving all the time because she keeps getting kidnapped by the same dude over and over again and she’s a bi– uff!“ She shut him up by surprise-tackling him to the mattress.

“Oh, really? Who needs saving now, huh?”

He struggled underneath her, but she had him pinned down with her full weight. His chest was warm underneath her arms and his face very close to hers. She furrowed her brows. Had he always had that many freckles? And did he know that there were so many shades of green in his eyes? She noticed the stubble on his chin, and he actually smelled really nice.

When her face suddenly started to feel hot, she did the first thing that came to her mind; she pushed him off the bed.

“Ow, why would you do that?!” Hiccup pulled himself up on the edge of the bed, and Astrid hoped he hadn’t seen the blush that was only slowly leaving her cheeks. But he had seen it.

For a moment, he frowned in confusion. Why was she acting so flustered?

“That’s for making me Baby Peach and comparing me to her,” she said evenly, trying to sound nonchalant, but she would still not meet his eyes. Huh. Maybe he could work with that, he thought, caffeine pulsing in his blood – whatever weird thing was going on.

They settled back into position next to each other, an arm’s length of space between them, and started the game. While they were racing over Cheep Cheep Beach, throwing shells and bananas at each other, Astrid didn’t say a word. Hiccup made a few comments every now and then and tried to trash-talk her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Her face was focused but her eyes were far away. He hoped she wasn’t mad at him because of the Baby Peach thing.

His character broke through the finish line first.

“Wait, what?!” she shouted, perplexed, after she came in sixth.

Hiccup grinned mischievously at her. “Maybe you should pay more attention to the game if you want to win.”

“I was paying attention,” she insisted, “it’s because of stupid Baby Peach, she’s useless! Let’s start anew with our characters.”

Hiccup feigned shock, holding his hand to his heart. “What, you – Astrid Hofferson – want to back out after only one race?!”

She glared at him and raised her chin with determination. “I’ll show you a race, Waluigi!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Racing through the Water Park course, Astrid did her best to keep her concentration on the game, but her attention was continuously diverted. Why was it so nice to be so close to Hiccup and why was she suddenly so aware of him? She could feel his body heat next to her where they were sitting on her bed in their pajamas at 1 a.m. She’s had five energy drinks and she kind of wanted to make out with him.

It didn’t help at all that, during the next five races, his leg moved closer to hers inch by inch until their knees were touching, and from time to time, he shifted on his butt and leaned very close to her in the process. He let out this quiet chuckle that pierced straight through her heart and then he was suddenly sitting normally again and she realized she’d been driving against walls for a minute.

He won the fifth race with several positions ahead of her and she wanted to whack her controller on his stupid face.

“Whohoo!” Hiccup shouted, celebrating by jumping up from the bed and doing a little dance in front of the TV.

“You cheated,” she grumbled when he let himself fall back next to her.

“Astrid, you can’t cheat on Mario Kart.”

“You also don’t play a non-Mario character on Mario Kart and yet here we are,” she countered.

“But I’m not even playing Link.”

“Yes, because I saved you from that.”

“I never needed saving. See, that’s the difference between me and Peach–“

She punched him on the arm, shutting him up. “Feeling overconfident, are we?”

“Score.” He pointed at the ranking list on the screen.

“Pff,” she made, “we’re just getting started, Haddock.”

With matching competitive grins, they got ready for the next race.

“Ha!” Astrid exclaimed when she sent a blue shell for Hiccup on the N64 Rainbow Road and lead the brigade of opponents rushing past him, claiming her first victory of the night.

She finally went on a winning streak, the adrenaline that came with it keeping her from getting drowsy, unlike the not-cheating cheater next to her. Nine races later, she stretched her arms with a loud yawn and used the pause to check the messages on her phone while Hiccup leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t long until his head rolled to the side and came to rest on her shoulder, his even breaths tickling her neck. She bit her lip. They’d agreed to stay awake, but she couldn’t find it in herself to wake him while he looked so peaceful and relaxed.

The loop of their characters cheering on the screen behind the updated ranking list went on, the music becoming background noise while she went through every social media feed on her phone, ignoring the increasing pressure in her bladder.

But more than a liter of energy drink had the power of two days’ worth of water, and it started to feel like it was trying to turn her insides out. She regretfully and carefully moved Hiccup’s head out of the way, immediately missing its weight on her shoulder and the warmth of his body leaning against her side.

Peeing felt like the liberation of France and she sighed in relief. Maybe she could be back before Hiccup woke up.

She wasn’t. When she came back from the bathroom, he was stretching on her bed, bleary-eyed and disarmingly cute with his messy hair, rubbing his eyes and face like a child.

“You broke a rule,” he yawned. “You didn’t wake me.”

“I didn’t notice you’d fallen asleep, doofus. I was in the bathroom.” She settled back on the blanket, making sure to leave a little space between them lest she got foolishly distracted by him again.

He reached over her to grab another energy drink and she could swear he was smirking. But when she eyed him properly, his eyes were big and innocent, a little red-rimmed from being tired and staring at a screen for so long. Choosing to forget the whole thing, she resumed the game.

#httyd #hiccstrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #fishlegs #tuffnut #ruffnut #snotlout #ff #fanfiction #modern au #fluff #maja writes #mario kart

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