#(without having to close the inbox for an extended period of time)

[bad-traffic-smp-ideas]

how far along are we with the queue?

This is the funny thing about the queue, right... the more it posts, the more attention the blog gets, the more asks I receive to put into the queue, the more behind the queue gets, etc, etc...

But the current posts are from February-ish, with some mixed in for "current relevancy" (ie directly pride month related ones), and there's ~200 posts left in the inbox/drafts, if that's what you're asking!

[xxoxobree]

His Perfect Girl

Yandere Miles 1610 x Fem Reader

Summary: A simple touch is all it took to gain a lover.

WARNINGS: Obsessive Behavior, Stalking.

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. Don’t come in my inbox on bs, I cuss folk out you have been warned.

A/n: I actually like this , I’m fucking mad that I have to put a disclaimer on my shit! Hope you like it too

Miles remembers it like yesterday, the day his perfect girl stumbled into his life.

He quickly adjusted his pants as he went to open the door to exit the main building to go to his last period. He felt soft warm skin in contrast to the cold metal he was used to, quickly looking up to see. You. It was as if time slowed when he saw you.

Who were you and where have you been all this time? He stood for a while just to stare, just to take you in, before the silence was broken by your beautiful voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said, a small smile resting on your face to not seem awkward.

"Oh yeah," Miles said, standing straight before extending his hand. "I'm Miles."

"Y/n," you said, shaking his hand.

"So that's your name, such a perfect name for a perfect you," Miles thought to himself. He ingrained the feeling of your soft hands into his mind. Your hands felt so good, so right in his. He looked down at where you two held contact, feeling heat radiate throughout his body.

You scrunched your face up at how he looked at your hands and shook it for too long. "Nice to meet you, Miles," you said, trying to slip your hand from his firm grip. Miles looked back at your face, finally letting go before you pushed the door open, walking out of the building.

Miles watched you disappear before sprinting to his room. He had to tell somebody, anybody about you. And Ganke was his victim.

He closed his dorm door, back pressed against it as his chest rose and fell rapidly. His mind raced with thoughts of you, the encounter that just took place. The excitement consumed him as he looked over at Ganke, his roommate and closest friend.

"Ganke, you wouldn't believe what just happened," he said, dropping his bag and pacing back and forth in the room, a smile on his face as he tangled his hands into his hair.

Ganke looked up from his laptop, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What's got you all worked up, Miles?" he asked, intrigued by Miles' sudden burst of energy.

Miles, unable to contain his excitement, blurted out, "Her name is Y/n, and we're in love, Ganke!"

Ganke's eyes shot up, shocked by the sudden confession. "In love? Whoa, when did you two meet?" he asked, trying to make sense of it all.

"Just now," Miles replied eagerly. "But I can feel it, Ganke. She gave me this look, and she held my hand. It was magic."

Ganke paused his game, finally realizing the seriousness in Miles' voice. He looked at his friend, concern etched on his face. He wondered if the stress of school and being Spiderman had finally taken its toll on Miles' sanity.

Miles jumped into his bunk, a content sigh leaving his lips, his mind still locked on you. It hadn't been a coincidence that your hand fell into his, or that you looked at him so fondly. Miles could feel his heartbeat quickening; he had never felt this way about someone before, especially after saying so little to each other. But he was convinced that you were placed in his path for a reason.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, Miles couldn't help but envision your first date. He wondered what he would say and what you would say in return. He imagined introducing you to his mom and dad, the smiles on their faces, and the immediate connection they would feel towards you. And if you spoke Spanish, well, that was a bonus. His parents would absolutely adore you.

Lost in his thoughts, Miles picked up his phone and typed in "Pandora.com" because it was the only jewelry website that came to mind. Without hesitation, he clicked on the rings section. He wondered if you would want a big diamond, something that matched the enormity of his feelings for you. Perhaps engraved with the words "I love you," a constant reminder of the love you shared. He couldn't help but picture the two of you having a grand wedding, surrounded by adoring tios and tias, celebrating your love.

Feeling inspired, Miles reached for his sketchbook and started to scribble your name, adding his last name next to it. "Y/n Morales," he whispered softly, savouring the euphoric feeling that came with speaking your name out loud. He knew deep in his heart that your meeting wasn't a coincidence; it was a sign that your paths were destined to intertwine.

The next day as Miles walked through the halls, his eyes searched high and low for you throughout the sea of students. Unable to find you, he grew a bit frustrated. Why would you hide from him? Were you intentionally avoiding him? The bell rung, and he rolled his eyes, walking to his class.

He sat down, piling his books on the desk, lost in his thoughts. That's when you walked in, and his eyes immediately stuck to you, his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He burned your entire being into his memory. He noticed that you opted to wear a sweater instead of the jacket today, and that your skirt rested a few inches above your knees. Your curly hair was pinned back with a clip, with two loose pieces framing your face. You and a friend sat at the desk in front of him, a perfect spot for him to keep an eye on you.

You could practically feel Miles' gaze boring into you, and you turned around, locking eyes with him. A smile on your face as you waved to be nice. Little did you know, Miles had more than just a little crush on you; in his mind, you already belonged to him.

As the class carried on, Miles couldn't focus on anything else. His head rested in his palm, his eyes fixed on you. His perfect Girl

The days passed, and Miles' obsession with you grew deeper. He would follow you from a distance in the halls, his eyes fixated on your every move. He knew everything you liked, from the music you listened to, to the books you read, all gathered by sitting nearby you and your friends, silently absorbing every conversation.

Miles was an artist, and you were his muse. His sketchbook was filled with pages and pages of intricately detailed portraits of you. But his favorite drawing was the one he did of you two on the first day you met, where your hands had accidentally touched.The connection that ignited his obsession.

He looked up from his sketchbook to see you, your pretty smile on display as you laughed with your friends. A tinge of jealousy hit him; he wanted to be the only one to make you laugh.

Again, you felt a slight discomfort, like someone was watching you, and caught Miles' gaze. You waved at him before turning back to your friends.

"Guys, isn't it weird that Morales is always looking at me?" you asked your friends.

They began to giggle. "That kid is practically harmless, Y/n. He's got a little crush," Sasha said.

You shrugged your shoulders, pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind.

"Dude, Y/n, I dare you to go talk to him," Yasmine dared, making the rest of your friends look at you mischievously.

Your eyes widened. "What?" you questioned. "Just go say hi or something," Chloe added.

Rolling your eyes, you agreed. "Fine." You got up and walked toward Miles, who noticed immediately. He noticed all your moves, and his heart thumped faster the closer you got.

You sat down. "Hey, Miles. I saw you looking from over there," you said, pointing to the table of your friends who were waving and smiling at you two.

Miles paused for a second, his eyes scanning every feature of yours. It had been a while since you two had been face to face, and he needed the memory to stick.

"Miles?" you said again.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yeah, yeah. Hey," he stammered.

"Okayy..." you trailed off. "I'm gonna..."

"No, no, wait. I'm sorry. Can I have your number? You seem like a really cool person," he said with a smile that oddly made all of your weird feelings about him dissipate.

"Uh sure." You said pulling out your phone.

Being Spider-Man had its perks, and for Miles, that one special perk was being able to watch over you, to take care of you, to make sure you're safe. It was a responsibility he took seriously, and he would cross boundaries.

He would stick to the walls, invisible in the shadows, silently observing as you walked into your dorm. He listened intently as you talked, sharing the details of your day. He knew which teachers you liked and which ones you hated, the subjects you struggled in. It was a level of knowledge that went beyond mere curiosity – it was obsession.

He watched you undress, the feeling of being perverse foreign to him. He longed for the day when you would slip into his clothes and hold him tight as you both drifted off to sleep. But for now, he was okay with the stolen moments it was only a matter of time.

This nightly routine had become a constant in his life, and being a student at Vision made it all too easy. He had become great at picking the lock to your room's windows, sneaking in just to look at you. Your beautiful face, a face he was obsessed with, brought him both joy and pain. He listened to your light snores, cherishing every sound.

Sometimes, he couldn't resist getting ahead of himself. He would give you quick pecks on the lips, desperate for more but unable to risk waking you.

If you did wake it was nothing as he would cloak himself camouflaging with the surroundings.

You don't know how it happened but Miles Morales weaved his way into every part of your life it seemed like there wasn't a moment that you weren't with him. Everything was perfect in Miles' world and you were his Perfect Girl.

[bedlamsbard]

I know this is kind of out of nowhere but for the longest time I was super weird and mentally dismissive of your burning out of Star Wars because I was someone who survived the OEU's insanity back in the day and managed not to burn out of Star Wars in the face of ridiculous nonsense like the Yuuzhan Vong and Killiks, so if I could survive that, you were of course entitled to dislike Star Wars but I still found it silly. Anyway I just finished watching Tales of the Jedi(Resolve) and I Get It Now.

...I recognise that may not be the most hinged thing to say to someone I don't actually know, and apologise for my mild to moderate insanity; I slept three hours, am very sick, it's shark week, and my brain seized on you as someone who'd Get It and who I had been hard on in my thoughts in the past, but, like, none of that actually affected you until I randomly said it? So anyway sorry for babbling at you like that lmfao, I'll stop talking now

Okay. I've been thinking about these since I saw them; I saw the first one before the second one arrived, which was a hell of a thing to wake up to since I saw it first thing in the morning. While my usual policy is to leave messages along these lines in my inbox, I was genuinely upset and wanted to respond once I had a more coherent reaction than "why me, gods, why does this always happen to me."

So, first of all, I'm sorry that you had an installment in canon that didn't do it for you; it happens to the best of us and there are very few people in fandom who uncritically (or even critically) enjoy everything in canon, especially in a fandom as big and long-running as Star Wars.

It's also very common for people to fall out of love with a fandom, even a fandom they've been in for a very long time; I would say that fen who have consistently been in one fandom for an extended period of time are probably rarer than those who haven't. It's not always because there is one installment that is just The Worst; often that's just a tipping point for fen who have been on the edge for a while. (Ask your average former MCU fan who left after Avengers Endgame.) Other times fen just drift away from a fandom without a reason to push them out. Maybe their favorite characters have died, maybe the canon is no longer telling stories they're interested in even if none of those stories are "bad," maybe it's a closed canon and without new stories there's nothing to keep them there; there's any number of factors.

I had a very dramatic breakup with Star Wars three years ago, and it was about three years after I really should have gotten out of the fandom, because I had not been having a good time for a while at that point. And honestly, considering that I hadn't had a healthy relationship with either Star Wars or the fandom for a while before that, for various reasons that go well beyond what was happening in canon, arguably I should have gotten out even earlier. However, I'm monofannish to a fault and I really needed something that would actually kick me to a new fandom -- which meant it couldn't come from Star Wars.

I don't really dislike Star Wars as a whole. There are individual installments that I quite dislike, there are some that I still love, and the vast majority of Star Wars I'm neutral on. I do however have a very fucked up relationship with Star Wars, including the canon, the PTB, and the fandom itself. I have gotten regular abuse on Wake and Gambit for the past ten years, which really screwed up my relationship with AO3 and with the prequel era. There is canon that I really, really dislike, some of it because it personally does nothing for me (the ST), some of it because from my point of view, it completely fucked over a story I love (Rebels S4, TCW S7, some other stuff that contradicts stuff from the EU I love; I came out of the EU too), some of it because I just plain don't like it (THR, most of the comics), and some of it because watching it just plain made me feel like I was being gaslit, which is not something I say lightly (Mando is the worst offender, but there are others). A lot of these are problems that could come out of any fandom, especially a large, long-running, multi-media fandom; I know a lot of Marvel people who have very similar problems, though I think the scale tends to be slightly different there just because the canon is set up differently.

When I switched fandoms, I had to recalibrate my entire relationship to fandom, to canon, to AO3, and to how I interacted with all of them. I still have to check myself in most of those places because my relationship with Star Wars had screwed me up so much. I had to train myself into being able to post on AO3 again; I do talk regularly about how a lot of what I write is shaped by trying to avoid getting the kind of reactions I got and still get from my Star Wars fic, even years later. I have to make conscious decisions not to engage with every part of the canon without feeling like a failed fan, especially the installments I'm pretty sure I'll dislike, because I tried to do that in Star Wars and it regularly messed me up. As a cosplayer, I still have a fairly bad reaction to even seeing the word "approvable," and it took a while for me not to have a similar reaction to "screen-accurate." I'm still destashing most of my Star Wars merch and right now, my reaction to seeing new Marvel merch isn't "ooh, would I wear/use this?" it's "when I inevitably have a horrendous breakup with this fandom will I be able to resell it?" which is not a really healthy relationship to have with a fandom. (I have mostly moved off this but not entirely.) I knew that Star Wars had screwed my relationship with Disney World, when I had a panic attack on Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind because I was so terrified that it was going to be ~necessary canon, even though Marvel has never operated that way; Star Wars does with Galaxy's Edge, which I don't really like being in anymore either.

And yes, I'm aware all of these are an extreme overreaction to getting out of a fandom. I'm not happy about it either and I wish it wasn't happening. It's better now than it was a couple years ago and I'm frankly glad I'm not in the fandom anymore; I'm happy for people who are or who have gotten back into it and are having a good time. I am not one of them; I may some day be one again, but probably not anytime soon.

But even if I didn't have this specific fucked up relationship with Star Wars, a fandom I have not been in for three years at this point, sometimes people just burn out on a fandom. I'm not a CSI:NY fan anymore, either. (Which my last big fandom prior to Narnia, which I just drifted away from. I've only been in five big writing fandoms over twenty years.)

[atlafan]

She Was There - Part One

a/n: This fic has everything: single dad!harry, psychiatrist!harry, a live-in nanny, a slight age gap (she/s 27/28 and he’s like 37), Harry is a dom, but also a switch, and the slowest of burns! There are 11 parts of this up on my Patreon. The series is officially done, so I’m posting the first part here for yall to get a taste. If you want to read the other 10 parts, it’s only $5.00 on my Patreon. My peeps on there really enjoyed this story, so I hope you do too! Please reblog!!! Leave me notes and comments!!! Come to my inbox to give me your thoughts!!!

Warnings: none! this is only the beginning 😈😈😈

Words: 2.8K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Aubrey Williams)

Being a single father is hard. It’s even harder when you work more than sixty hours a week, and your three kids are all under the age of ten. It’s karma. It has to be. Harry only had to be a dad every other weekend because the children lived three hours away with their mother, but she recently passed so now the kids are living with him full time. He was able to take a sabbatical from work, thank God, but he’s due to return in a few weeks and he still hasn’t found a nanny for the kids.

He thought of just finding an after-school sitter, but he knows that when he goes back to work, he won’t have the time in the morning to make breakfast and lunches, and get the kids ready for school. His ex-wife was getting enough alimony and child support so she didn’t have to work. The kids didn’t need anyone extra.

It was difficult at first. Harry mourned the loss of his ex-wife, but he needed to stay strong for children. She was gone now, forever. They got divorced for a reason, but she was still the mother of his children. The ache he was feeling was normal. Luckily, the kids didn’t mind moving in with Harry. He enrolled them all in a private school, he figured they could use a little extra structure, and he also just wanted to give them the very best. He felt guilty for basically being an absentee father since the divorce.

Maddie is ten, she’s the oldest, Cole is eight, and Sean is six. Each child an even bigger surprise than the last, but a blessing nonetheless. That was the one thing Harry and his ex-wife agreed on the most. No matter how much they fought, they made sure to put the kids first.

But now Harry has to get back to work because he would like to continue to provide for his children without eating into his savings. He can’t exactly do his work from home now that they’re living with him, so he has to go to his office. Many of Harry’s patients have been seeing Niall while he’s been gone. Niall’s been a wonderful help to Harry. It’s not easy being a psychiatrist, nor is it easy to take on someone else’s patients for an extended period of time.

Harry’s been interviewing plenty of nannies, but he wants to make sure the kids feel comfortable with the hire, and none of them have clicked yet. Most days, the kids whine that they don’t want Harry to go back to work, which breaks his heart. But he didn’t spend four years in undergrad, four years in medical school, and another four years in a residency program to not be a practicing psychiatrist. He and Niall own their practice together, and have a few other colleagues that they’ve hired on. They do quite well.

After another failed interview, Harry’s not sure what he’s going to do. He contemplates maybe doing telehealth appointments, but he really doesn’t want to do that kind of work at home.

Later that night as he makes his way up to bed, he finds his three children fast asleep on his mattress. He pouts at how cute they are all snuggled up together. He gets in on his side after washing up, and Sean makes his way to cuddle up close to him. Harry sighs and puts his arm around his son. He needs to figure something out, and soon.

***

Burning the candle at both ends isn’t sustainable. But Aubrey isn’t sure what else she can do right now. She’s been living in a hotel for the last two weeks, and that isn’t exactly cheap. She barely even has time to enjoy the soft mattress with how much she’s been working. But when you catch your boyfriend cheating on you in your own home, you leave before he has a chance to give you some bullshit excuse.

“I told you, you can crash on my couch for as long as you need.” Sidney tells Aubrey over coffee on Sunday morning.

“No, I don’t want to put you out.”

“You know…my boss’ associate has been in the market for a live-in nanny.”

“That sounds like it could get messy. I feel like the wife always gets jealous.”

“He’s a widower.” Sidney whispers. “And on top of that, they were divorced, so it’s not like he’s sobbing over how much he loved her. He’s been at home for months taking care of his kids. They lived with the mom full time and only saw him every other weekend.”

“How many does he have?”

“Three, all of them are in elementary school. My boss has been taking on all his clients to help out, but I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep helping. You’re so good with kids, Aubrey. You were always the most sought-after babysitter.”

“Babysitting and being a nanny are two different things. Especially if I’d be living there. What if the kids hate me?”

“Aubrey, who could ever hate you?” Sidney asks flatly. “Do you want me to ask my boss for more information? He thinks very highly of my opinion.”

“That’s because you suck his dick every other day.”

“Shh!” Sidney swats at her friend. “I told you that in confidence. No one knows, and no one needs to know.”

“Mhm.” Aubrey rolls her eyes. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to have more information. It would be a better job than working at a 24-hour diner.” She sighs.

“I’ll see what I can do. As good as the coffee and the free breakfast is here, you deserve better.”

“Thanks, Sid.”

***

A few nights later, Niall brings over Chinese food for Harry and the kids. Harry’s eternally grateful, and the kids are overjoyed about the food.

“So, Sidney, you know Sidney…” Niall starts as he and Harry clean up in the kitchen.

“She’s your assistant who gives the good head.” Harry smirks.

“Exactly.” Niall nods. “But don’t say that out loud again. Anyways, she has this friend Aubrey who needs a job. She caught her boyfriend cheating on her, and they worked together, so she had to quit her job, and it was this whole thing. She’s been living in a hotel, and it’s starting to add up. Sidney told me Aubrey’s great with kids.”

“Does she have any experience as a nanny?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then how could I trust her with my kids?”

“Could you just give her an interview? She and Sidney are close, and Sidney’s been worried about her.”

“And you care because…?” Harry smirks.

“Don’t make me say it.” Niall groans. “Please, H?”

“Alright, I’ll give her an interview. But if the kids don’t like her, I’m not hiring her.”

“Deal.”

***

Aubrey’s mouth is agape as she pulls up to Harry’s home. It’s fucking huge. Sidney should have prepared her more. She takes a sip of water before getting out of her car. She makes her way up to the door and takes a deep breath. She rings the bell, and a moment later, an older woman opens it.

“Hello.” Aubrey smiles. “I’m here for an interview.”

“Hi.” The woman smiles. “I’m the kids’ grandmother. Harry had to go into the office today.”

“Oh.” Aubrey nods.

“He said it would be alright if I conducted the interview, please come in.” She steps aside and lets Aubrey in. “My name’s Millie.”

“I’m Aubrey, it’s nice to meet you.” Aubrey shakes her hand. “This is a gorgeous house.”

“Isn’t it? Harry bought it after the divorce. Believe it or not, when he was married, the house he had was even larger. His ex had extravagant taste.” Millie shakes her head. “God rest her soul.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, that must have been really hard.”

“It was a total shock, but that’s life.” She sighs. “Anyways, Harry asked me to give you a tour of the home, and then you can meet the kids. They’ll be home from school soon.”

Aubrey nods, and politely follows Millie around the home. She wouldn’t have her own section of the home to herself, but she’d have her own room and bathroom, so that would be good. Millie explains that the job would include some light housework, mostly for the children. Laundry, afterschool snacks, breakfast, and lunches. Aubrey would also need to help with homework, baths, and bedtime. It wasn’t anything that scared Aubrey. It all seemed pretty standard.

Around 3PM, the kids get home from school. Millie tasked Aubrey with making a healthy snack for the kids while she greeted them at the door.

“Okay, kids, this is Miss Aubrey Williams.” Millie smiles.

Aubrey pouts at the three children. They’re way cuter than she was expecting.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all. What are your names?” Aubrey asks softly.

“I’m Maddie.” Maddie hops up onto the stool at the kitchen island, and grabs one of the slices of apple covered in peanut butter that Aubrey set up. “That’s Cole, and the one clinging to Mimi’s leg is Sean.”

“They call you Mimi? That’s adorable.”

“Grandma didn’t have the right ring to it.” Millie laughs and helps Cole and Sean up onto the other stools. “Maddie is ten, she’s in fourth grade, Cole is eight, he’s in second, and Sean is six, he’s in first.”

“Wow, you all are so close in age.” Aubrey smiles. “That’s nice. Do you like your school? I know it’s still new.”

“It’s okay.” Maddie shrugs. “Could I have some juice, please?”

Aubrey looks at Millie, and Millie nods, so Aubrey grabs three Capri Suns out of the fridge. Maddie automatically helps Cole and Sean with their pouches.

“Do you like the uniforms?” Aubrey asks.

“I like not having to think about what I’m going to wear when I get up.” Maddie answers.

“Oh, I bet. Do you still get to do what you want with your hair and stuff?”

“I think so.”

“What do you say after you finish your snacks, you all go change into something comfier? You all can watch a little TV to unwind until dinner.” Aubrey tells them.

“You’re not going to make us do our homework right away?” Cole asks, his eyes widening.

“You guys were just in school for, like, eight hours. Your brains need a break. We’ll eat dinner around five, then we’ll do homework, then we’ll wash up before bed. How does that sound?”

“Works for me.” Cole shrugs.

“What’s everyone’s bedtimes?”

“I’ll answer that.” Millie says. “Maddie is allowed to stay up until 9:30, while Cole and Sean go to bed at 8:30.”

“I like to read before bed.” Maddie says. “That’s why Dad lets me stay up later.”

“Yeah? What do you like to read?”

“Babysitter’s Club.”

“Oh, I love that series!” Aubrey beams.

“Kids, go on and change, yeah?” Millie tells them. “And I don’t want to hear anyone fighting over the remote, understand?”

“Yes, Mimi.” The three say in unison before hopping down from their stools.

“They’re so cute.” Aubrey says to Millie.

“Aren’t they?” Millie gushes.

“How have they been doing after losing their mother?”

“As good as they can.” Millie sighs. “Luckily, since Harry’s a psychiatrist, he knows a thing or two about helping children deal with their grief.”

“May I ask…how did she die?”

“It was abrupt. One second, she was fine, and the next she wasn’t. Maddie really stepped up apparently. She’s taken on a lot. I think she’s resentful towards her mother. The boys look up to her, which is good. Honestly, I think it’s been the toughest on Sean. He was a clingy baby, didn’t like to be put down at all. It’s carried over a bit. He’s so sweet, the poor thing. When the kids first moved in with Harry, they slept with him every night. They’ve gotten better, but they still have their nights.”

“Rightfully so. I couldn’t imagine losing one of my parents at such a young age, and then having to move and start all over somewhere new.” Aubrey sighs. “What would get them really excited for dinner?”

“I went shopping earlier this morning, I was planning to make a baked ziti. Would you like to help me make it?”

“Yeah.” Aubrey nods.

The ladies get to work on dinner while the kids watch television. When dinner’s ready, they all sit at the table together and eat. Aubrey asks the kids more questions to get to know them better, and they ask her questions too. Maddie does most of the talking.

Aubrey helps the kids with their homework after dinner while Millie cleans up. She observes her grandchildren as they work with their potential new nanny.

“I was hoping Harry would be home by now, I’m sorry.” Millie says to Aubrey before she leaves.

“It’s okay.”

“I think things went well. I’ll get the debrief from the kids in a bit.”

“Thank you for having me over with them today. I had fun.”

“We’ll let you know one way or the other soon.” Millie smiles, and opens the front door for Aubrey.

Harry doesn’t get home until around nine. He apologizes profusely to his mother, but he explains that he needed to get some writing done and catch up on emails. Maddie stayed up in the living room with her book so she could talk to her father. She comes shuffling into the kitchen where Harry and Millie are talking things over.

“There’s my sweet girl.” Harry smiles and lifts Maddie up to sit on the kitchen island. “You look exhausted.”

“I had gym today.” She shrugs.

“How come you’re not up in bed? I thought you liked to get cozy with your book.”

“I do, but I was waiting up for you.”

“Oh?”

“Hire her.” Maddie says. Harry and Millie look at each other, then back at her. “Cole, Sean, and I talked it over. We like her. Hire her.”

“Just like that?” Harry chuckles.

“Dad, she treated us like people. She asked us questions about things other than what our favorite subjects in school are. She let us watch TV after snack, she helped us with our homework, and she even got Sean to sleep without having to cradle him like a baby.”

“You all felt comfortable with her? Remember, she’d be living with us.”

“Hire her.” Maddie hops down from the counter. “We haven’t liked anyone else, and we won’t like anyone else you bring in. We want Aubrey.”

“Mimi?” Harry looks at his mother.

“I liked her a lot. I looked over her resume, same as you, and I think she’s more than qualified. She was sweet with the kids. And as much as I’ve loved being here, I’m itching to get back to Florida. So, I agree with Maddie. Hire her.”

[hollywillows]

welcome home - harry styles x gn!reader

summary: harry comes home from tour

a/n: i’ve decided to start taking writing requests again! specifically, i’m adding harry to my request list! if you have an idea for a fic, message me or send it to my inbox and i’ll respond/write as quickly as possible!

the house just wasn’t the same when he was gone. that much was made obvious as soon as harry had left for love on tour. you’d been able to attend the first few shows, much to your excitement, but had soon had to go back home to keep up with your job.

you were beyond excited and proud of him, of course, but hated being without him for such an extended period of time. he’d been on tour before, but this one felt so different. you supposed that being with him all day every day for the past year and a half had made you grow dependent on having him there.

whatever it was, something made you miss him even more than you had expected to, and you couldn’t wait for the day that he would finally be back home with you.

little did you know, harry was missing you just as much. performing was his passion, and he loved getting to finally return to the stage with the songs that he loved, and the fans that he loved, who he knew also loved him.

but, despite getting to live his dream once more, he missed getting to roll over in bed to wrap his arms around you, he missed making breakfast with you in the morning, and he missed the feeling of your lips on his.

as his final performance came to an end, he thanked the audience, bounding off of the stage. he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to be home for another day, but he knew he couldn’t wait that long. he was already in la, and you were staying in your shared home only hours away.

harry got into his car, happily drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, knowing that he would soon get to be with his love again.

when he arrived home, you had already fallen asleep, exhausted. harry opened the door to your shared bedroom, smiling to himself at the sight of you tucked into the blankets asleep.

he carefully and quietly made his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and rinsing his face before taking off his clothes and changing into sleep pants and a random t-shirt. when he went back into the bedroom, you were still asleep with your back facing his side of the bed.

gently, so as to not wake you, harry lifted the covers on his side of the bed, carefully climbing in. the feeling of the bed dipping was what finally woke you, and you blinked your eyes open. realization hit, and you gasped, spinning around in bed to face him.

“harry!” you practically squealed, wrapping your arms around him and tackling him into the covers.

he chuckled at your reaction, a widespread grin on his face as he kissed your cheek repeatedly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “missed me that much, huh?” he asked.

you rolled your eyes, pulling away so that you could look at his face. he was still glowing from post-performance excitement, and you brushed a sweaty curl out from his face. “how was the show?” you asked, just as you had for every other one.

“magical.” he replied, looking up at you adoringly. “but i’m so glad to be back with you.” he admitted, lifting his head up so that his nose brushed against yours. you hummed contentedly, closing your eyes in bliss as you relished in his presence. “i love you.” he said simply, running his fingers through your hair.

“i love you, too, h.” you replied, soon falling asleep on his chest.

sorry this one’s a bit shorter! i hope you enjoyed

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

#258 - Paper Rings

I know, I know, I know. I have 400 prompts in my inbox but this little moment wouldn’t leave me today after that new clawen shot was released. Every single time I see that little gold ring on Claire’s hand I have heart palpitations.

title inspired by Taylor Swift.

AO3

PAPER RINGS

It was remarkable what Owen could make out of nothing. She had seen him at work before, in the brief period they had spent together between their first disaster and their second. But this, the three of them living out in a cabin with nothing else to do beyond the odd job. He was good with his hands, he had infinite knowledge of how to make things, in the least, he had the tenacity to try.

He was always fiddling with something; his knife whittling at a piece of wood, his hands teaching Maisie to defend herself, his fingers twisting a piece of wire into art. 

That was how she found him, back hunched as he sat by the fire, nothing but tree tops and stars above his head.

‘Maisie’s asleep.’ Claire announced, lowering her body onto the bench beside his. They’d had an incident, only a week ago, where a herd of ankylosaurs rolled through in the middle of the night, a little too close for comfort. Despite an ever-blooming love for dinosaurs, the encounter had rattled Maisie and she had been struggling to fall asleep since.

‘She alright?’ He asked, tilting his head to look at her. 

Claire shrugged, offering him an unsteady smile before he turned his gaze toward the wire in his hand. ‘We’ll see in a few hours.’ It wasn’t uncommon for the eleven-year-old to climb into their bed rattled with worry. ‘What are you making?’ Claire asked, knowing sometimes the answer was simply nothing. He had a habit of winding things into nothing, fidgeting for the sake of it.

He lifted his gaze to her again, left hand holding up a small gold loop, the wire braided around itself.

Her heart skipped a beat, slight panic flaring at the base of her neck. He wasn’t, was he? ‘Owen,’ she laughed nervously trying to push through the lump in her throat. ‘Did you make me a ring?’

His eyes darted away from hers. ‘Ah, no. I was just—I just, you know.’ He gestured with his other hand the way he just fiddled with whatever he found. ‘It is a ring though, isn’t it?’ He grinned in the light of the fire.

‘It is.’ Claire answered, meeting his eye despite the rising anxiety within her. There hadn’t been time to think when they directed Maisie into the nearest vehicle and shuttled her away. The last few months had been about survival, the future unknown and Claire was only realising now that she hadn’t stopped to take stock of what she wanted from this rekindling of their relationship. ‘I like it.’ It was small, delicate, understated and had come from Owen’s hands. ‘The question is, does it fit?’ Claire extended her right hand, fingers dancing in front of him.

Owen took her hand gently, large fingers holding onto hers as he shakily slid the gold band over her right ring finger. 

Claire could swear she felt a zap of electricity when the handmade ring closed around the flesh of her finger, settling there like it had always belonged.

Her throat was dry, her heart pounding as she lifted her eyes from their hands to his face. They had talked about marriage once, briefly, the two of them awkward and noncommittal about what they wanted in life.

She felt it now. How right this was, Owen was it, the only man she could ever imagine hiding away with, leaving the world they knew behind to protect something more precious than their own lives. When the storm passed and they felt safe enough to leave their little portion of the woods with Maisie, she wanted to marry him. It surprised her how little she cared about the fanfare and the wealth of it all. Claire wanted her sister and the very same ring Owen had fiddled into making by the fire.

‘Perfect fit.’ He beamed at her, lips pulling up in a self-satisfied grin.

Without asking, she knew he wanted it all too. The life together, the ring on the correct finger. 

Claire raised her hand to his face, cupping his cheek before she leaned in and kissed him. Her kiss was gentle at first, thankful, appreciative until Owen slid one hand into her hair, the other tugging at her waist.

‘We should probably take this inside before Maisie wakes up.’ Claire muttered, breath warm against Owen’s cheek as her hand threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Owen dropped his head to her shoulder, arms loosely hanging by her sides. When she was right, she was right. He grumbled, the sound vibrating against her as Claire took a moment to revel in the man. For a moment there, in San Francisco, she almost lost him. There was no one else she would rather be hauled up with in the woods. She wouldn’t be there at all if it wasn’t for him.

Behind them, the rickety board in the deck creaked. ‘Claire?’ Maisie called, ruffled pyjamas and messy hair trembling in the light by the door. ‘Can I just sleep with you?’

‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Claire pulled herself up from Owen’s embrace, her hand on his shoulder keeping her steady. ‘Of course, you can.’ She pulled away from Owen, his hand catching hers as it slid from his shoulder. He held on as long as he could, large fingers wrapped around her palm, his thumb rubbing at the thin gold band now snug around her finger.

One day they were going to have a conversation about that ring when Maisie was settled and the nightmares were kept at bay, when the people who posed a threat had gone and the walls that kept them locked in had completely dissolved. She was going to talk to him about that ring. 

[parkers-gal]

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

want more? my masterlist.

taglist tingz :) 🏷️  want to join? fill out this form.

th + pp taglist: @spideyspeaches @strawberrytom (no smut) @turtletaylor98 @parkerpeterparker2004 @peterbenjiparker @kelieah​

permanent taglist: @mayrapreciado20​ @tomhollandlol @roseke​ @supremethunda​ @wonderfulfluffer​ @farfromtommy​ @mamaparker28​ (no smut/tw) @pxxerfect​ (no smut) @seutarose @pixiedustsupplyco​ @itssmadelyn​ @white-wolf1940​ @woopwoopwoop222 @chrisosterfield​ (no tw)

th taglist: @lmaotshollandd

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

    January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

    February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”  

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Hermitopia AU Conclusion

The last ask has been answered, the masterposts are complete, and (although art, writing, and Discord discussion are still accepted and encouraged) it is finally time to officially wrap up the Hermitopia AU! Because this was such a massive event - and no small thing to moderate - there will be a pause in blog activity for a day or so before the inbox will open for regular headcanons again. I apologize in advance for the wait!

In the mean time, I would just like to say: I am so, so thankful to everyone who participated in the AU. Your ideas and your creativity have made this blog a better place, whether you sent in one headcanon or dozens, and I am constantly in awe of the energy and enthusiasm of this community. Thank you, all of you, for making this universe we’ve created as vast and as interesting as it turned out to be.

Below are a collection of my own ideas, for those of you who like a satisfying (but still not entirely closed-ended) ending. These events take place as many days, months, or years into the future as you need them to make your own ideas work, and none of them are set in stone. You can take all of them, some of them, or none of them as truth if you want to...but either way, it has been an honour to build on a project like this one alongside you all.

And with that...the Hermitopia AU concludes! Finished, or barely begun, like so many good projects are. Have a great day everyone, and happy headcanoning!

- Mod Shade

"People of Hermitopia."

The man on the screen shifts, running a nervous hand across his bald head and squaring his shoulders. The broadcast quality is unstable, but it's more than enough for every citizen in the city to recognize who's speaking.

"This is your Concorp Branch Director, Cub. As I'm sure you are aware, I am the head of Project VEX in this city. You all know the VEX initiative as groundbreaking, life-saving, a shining success and a step towards a new era for humanity...and some of you may even see me as a hero for creating it.”

He closes his eyes, a brief look of pained remorse crossing his face. For a moment, he looks utterly defeated, almost small in the face of his impromptu audience of thousands...but finally, he fixes the camera with a steady gaze once more and begins the great unravelling.

“Maybe it was all those things, in the beginning. Maybe *I* was, once. But today, after far too long, I have some confessions to make...."

~

- For years, Cub had been desperately scrambling to hold the tatters of his life’s work together. Project VEX had started so well, and he had poured so much of himself into it, that when the failed experiments and rebellions became more and more frequent he was unable to accept a change of course. He covered up the project’s failings to maintain funding and public image, but mostly to maintain his own image to himself - that he was still the hero he’d set out to be and create at the project’s start. However, his denial was wearing on him heavily, and eventually he had a breakdown and decided to go public rather than keep drowning the city in lies.

- This breakdown was prompted by xB, who after his own moral breakthrough, confronted Cub and urged him to stop withholding knowledge and truth. xB also informed Cub of his own unknown truth - that the unintended power of his presence was the thing that was keeping the experiments successful when Cub was around. This was the final straw in breaking through Cub’s denial

- Along with Cub’s broadcasted speech, files were released to the media containing proof against most if not all of Concorp’s falsehoods. Many names were cleared of crimes that had been pinned on them, including Beef, Impulse, Doc, Cleo, and the majority of the other Unrestrained and Unaffiliated former VEX trainees that the company had tried to cast away

- Understandably, it took a very long time for the chaos to die down and all that information to be processed by society and the justice system. It may be years before the community can see some of their heroes in the proper light again, but at least they are now free to begin rebuilding their reputation without being labeled as villains and traitors.

- Those who actually did commit villainous acts are given a fair trial, with consideration for their motives and the new Concorp information as extra evidence

- The VEX program is withdrawn by Cub’s superiors and put under a strict review. It is reborn after a massive restructuring, with a new director, new limitations on what experiments can and cannot be attempted, and a greatly extended screening and training program to reduce the chances of graduates becoming villains. The new project will produce far fewer heroes with much subtler powers at first...but if that is the cost for the safety and stability of the city, then most people would agree that it is a small price to pay.

- Cub is not permitted to work on the new Project VEX in a management role, ever again. It’s a harsh blow for him, to have to watch his dream from the sidelines...but he knows he gave up the right to guide it when he abused the control that it gave him. At least his superiors allowed him something to do while he awaits trial: he is present (although guarded) at every new VEX trainee’s first experiment, lending his power to increase their chances of success.

- Mayor Scar resigned willingly. Nobody had enough evidence to accuse him of anything, and he didn’t plan on giving them a reason to look by trying to stay in office. Instead he chose to make his exit from both Concorp and government matters complete, at last. Or so he thinks. Who knows? Maybe he’ll learn what most of the people he’s helped to manipulate have already found out: that connections and old grudges don’t easily lose their grip.

- Scar is replaced by TFC, voted in by almost unanimous community support and funded by donations from all the people he’s saved over the years

- The greater Convex company offers a choice to the survivors of the old program: Come to work under their new, more honorable system, or take a generously large settlement and be free to build new lives

- Team ZIT declines the job offer, pooling their payment and using it to buy a shiny new base together for their independent hero venture. There are still a handful of real villains to fight, after all, and there are bound to be more once people start successfully copying Concorp technology. Now that Impulse is back at their side, they wouldn’t give up their roles saving the community for anything - but they’re done with being used by some guy behind a desk. From now on, justice and bravery will be their only guides!

- ...justice, bravery, and TFC, that is. He isn’t their boss by any means, but the more experienced hero does drop by often between his mayoral duties to make sure the youngsters stay out of trouble and in one piece.

- The nHo, according to all official records, took their settlements and split up, leaving Hermitopia far behind. However, Team ZIT suspects that the vigilante life hasn’t left them so easily. They’d be the last ones to report the odd sighting of a whipping vine or a distant masked figure, though - unregulated as they are, the nHo’s shady methods for a good cause prove useful from time to time. (And their base has really good tea. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit more than “the occasional sighting”...)

- Ren settles back into his meadow cabin, but after that massive release of info and a long, LONG period of processing, he now has Iskall, Stress, and Cleo as regular visitors. Every morning he wakes up and forgets for a moment that it’s real, that they’re really alive and with him again...but they are, and he is happier than he ever thought he would be again.

- Jevin and Mumbo visit the cabin occasionally. It took a while for Mumbo to get his memory back, but he now remembers all of his friendship with Iskall and Grian, and they come together for fun and shenanigans regularly with the rest of the cabin crew.

- Grian still spends his time looking for his clones, but honestly, he doesn’t mind. The adventure always did hold more meaning than the conclusion for him, and now, he has friends to help out!

- False disappears into thin air to wait out the fallout of Concorp’s information release. She snags herself a quiet job and a small apartment on the outskirts of town, fully intending to return to her mercenary work just as soon as the dust has settled...next week, maybe. Or the week after that. Or maybe, once the garden has been fully planted. She’s really enjoying having time for stuff like that now...but she’ll get back to work, really, she will! Soon.

- Joe and Cleo tearfully reunite through xB, and Joe becomes another frequent visitor to the cabin. Cleo also visits Joe’s base in the time exclusion zone, but she really prefers the cabin. Time skips are disorienting, and they make her want to sneeze.

- Keralis and Void come to an agreement. Xisuma isn’t entirely clear on what that agreement is - something to do with an allowance of cookies from Biffa’s bakery in exchange for not killing anyone - but he’s more than happy to be less sore and tired all the time.

Hermitopia is making progress. Real progress, this time - not just the breaking of humanity’s limitations, but breaking them with true heroic care, with the good of everyone in mind. There are some hurts that will never fully heal, mistakes that can be learned from but not undone, and yet...now there is a path, a way forward. It won’t be easy, but a kind and gentle future waits for them, welcome and well deserved. They will figure it out, together.

And together, they will step forward, into the new world that each of them has helped to create.

[wishing4nuclearwinter]

How about Q, Y, and Z for dealer's choice?

I forgot this was in my inbox, whoops! Answering for Sol and Arcade. Again.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

I would say for Sol that it’s his deception skills honestly. Arcade holds the title of “Worst Liar in the Mojave”, but Sol does a very good job of putting on an act to get Arcade out of whatever suspicion he accidentally places upon himself. Knowing that he has that back up provides some level of comfort for Arcade.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sol is very much the type who tries to keep himself busy as much as possible, but especially if he’s missing Arcade. He’s a patient person in general and is usually alright to just keep working until they are reunited, often spending his time with Veronica or Boone or another friend to ward off any loneliness. If he is entirely without company from close friends then he’s more likely to get stressed out about being away from Arcade for extended periods of time.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Sol would do pretty much anything and everything for their relationship. In one of his timelines Arcade gets found out by the NCR and Sol leaves everything behind to run away with him. Unwavering loyalty to the people he deeply cares about has been one of his greatest motivators since he was a child. Though it’s worth noting that Arcade is far more important to him than the relationship itself and he will put Arcade’s well-being above it if he has to.

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 15

We’re taking a break from the smut this week, folks! This update I bring you more soft Kuvira, specifically moments where our favorite girl needs some extra loving. We don’t see Kuvira as feeling much of anything in the show but I think we can all imagine she feels deeply and intensely so...that’s what this is kind of. She just has someone to love on her and reassure her ❤️ As always, I love to read your comments so feel free to drop some on AO3 or leave me some messages in my inbox! LOVE Y’ALL! 

Ba Sing Se

It’s not unlike Kuvira to fall asleep at her desk these days.

You’ve been in the Earth Kingdom capital for some time now, and although the worst of the violence has since subsided, the imminent work of bureaucratization poses an overwhelming task.

There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that Kuvira will fully restore Ba Sing Se to its former glory — even improve it. Given Suyin’s decision to remain complacent in the face of such chaos, Kuvira symbolized the steady hand that would guide a city in disarray into an era of peace and unity.

From the moment she took it upon herself to oversee this venture, she proved time and time again that few people—if any—could assume such an undertaking and carry it to completion. She managed to instill a persistent flame of hope in everyone, even beyond her army. There was a reason her popularity grew so rapidly among the local residents.

She was the beacon of light no one had expected to find but now relied on as a means of getting through this period of such great distress.

But at the end of the day, Kuvira is still human.

Despite having initiated a new kind of relationship with her, you’re ashamed to say that sometimes even you forget this simple fact. Kuvira is many things: above all else, she is a strategist. Of course, this mentality shapes every move and decision she makes in Ba Sing Se and this extends far beyond politics.

She’s methodical in her approach to life, modulating her demeanor in a way that allows her to easily adapt to constantly shifting environments, people, and interactions. In doing so, she often becomes a force of pure energy, steady and obstinate. After all, one doesn’t become the Great Uniter by projecting any degree of weakness. The Earth Kingdom needed somebody who embodied strength, fearlessness, and hope. They needed to reclaim that sense of certainty that had been shattered the moment all structure—however precarious it was—vanished upon the Earth Queen’s death.

So when you walk into your makeshift quarters, lit up only by the dwindling flame of her desk lantern, it’s a sharp reminder that even Kuvira reaches her limits.

You walk over to her slowly, paying extra attention to the weight of your feet against the floor. When you reach her, you kneel down and carefully drift your fingers towards her arm. She has them folded beneath her cheek, her lips parted just enough for a faint whistle to travel between her teeth. You touch Kuvira’s shoulder and stay still, not wanting to rouse her from slumber too brusquely.

She sniffles once and the sound makes something in your chest twinge so you press your fingertips into her uniform just enough for Kuvira to feel the pressure of your hand more surely. “Kuvira,” you whisper. “It’s me.”

Upon hearing your voice, her eyelids snap open and even through the dusty orange glow of the room you can see just how bleary-eyed she looks. You wonder if anyone has ever seen her like this, walls down and vulnerable, but the answer comes to you before you dwell on it too long.

“I’m sorry,” she says, flattening out her back so she’s leaning into her chair. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me…”

“I think I do,” you respond, inching forward until your lips softly press against her cheekbone. “Come on, let’s get you out of this stuff.”

Never having been the recipient of such doting, it takes Kuvira a few moments to respond but she eventually stands and walks over to your shared bed. You pull away the sheets of metal along her shoulders and forearms, carefully setting them aside while Kuvira pushes the breastplate off her torso and lets it clatter to the ground.

Once she’s cloaked only in her dark green uniform, she collapses onto the bed and looks just about ready to pass out. There’s one more thing left for you to do though.

You quickly kiss the crown of her head before crawling onto the mattress and finding a position along her back, your knees positioned around her hips. Kuvira’s braid is barely a braid anymore, mostly a disheveled rope of hair with some vague semblance of pleated folds.

You make quick work of it, dragging your fingers through the thick strands and undoing the knots you encounter. Once it feels loose and heavy, you reach for the brush on your nightstand and start guiding it from the roots to the tips along her back.

It’s a choreography you unknowingly crafted at some point when you could finally call Kuvira your lover but it’s one that you fall into so easily it’s as though you learned it another lifetime. Your fingers know exactly how to glide through the silk-like texture of her hair, how to hold the contours of the brush so your movements stay slow and gentle. Kuvira lets herself fall against your palm and you imagine this might be how a moonflower preens beneath the glow of a stainless night sky.

You aren’t sure how long you brush her hair but eventually her breathing evens out again and can’t tell if she’s fallen asleep. She starts inching forward and it’s sufficient indication that you’ve done your part.

With a loving smile, you set the brush aside and guide her onto the pillow. Leaning down, you let your lips hover over her temple before finally pressing them against the soft skin. Though you attribute it to a trick of the light, you fall asleep to the image of Kuvira’s cheek twitching against your touch.

---

Republic City

In the context of all that was to come, three years seemed like such an insignificant period of time. There was so much left to do to consummate the burgeoning Empire. The vast majority of the former Earth Kingdom now fell under Kuvira’s rule but there was still the matter of Zaofu. The United Republic of Nations.

Although Kuvira had successfully wrested the authority to rule from the young prince, the Earth Empire army knew it was only the beginning of a much larger mission. The past three years hadn’t been easy by any means but there was something unusually intimidating about annexing Zaofu and the United Republic.

Perhaps because it felt much more personal. Of course, you felt the connection of a common background with all Earth Kingdom inhabitants but Zaofu was your home. You grew up there...Spirits, you probably still had loved ones there.

And Republic City? Maybe it was the way people and communities hailed from all nations and found ways to live in relative peace after the horrific events led by Amon and then Unalaq. But even then, all of it seemed precarious when compared to the vision Kuvira was putting forth.

As you drive away from the Four Elements hotel, Kuvira’s hand wrapped tightly around yours, you think back to Zaofu once more but this time you aren’t met with images of your old library or the bright green fields that lay beyond the metal walls.

No, you think of Suyin. She was the last person Kuvira spoke to before you left Republic City. You had waited in the shadows of the hotel patio after the failed coronation, hoping it would shroud you enough to avoid being seen by any of the world leaders.

Just when you were about to make your way upstairs Kuvira stepped out of the elevator, flanked by her guards. “Everything has been packed,” she said coldly. “We’re leaving. Immediately.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond, instead charging forward without a second glance at her surroundings. The interaction left you stunned before you finally came to your senses and scurried close behind her.

The first few seconds in the Satomobile were almost tangibly uncomfortable. You wanted to ask how she was doing, to soothe whatever venom Suyin had undoubtedly said. There was a dark shadow cast over Kuvira’s face, one that you hadn’t seen since you first left Zaofu all those years ago.

Instead you stayed quiet, folding your hands over your lap and looking at the cityscape zooming by. Eventually, Kuvira’s gloved hand slid over yours, twisting between your fingers until your palms met in that familiar embrace you could distinguish even without first knowing it was her.

As the train comes back into view, you squeeze Kuvira’s hand, hoping the sentiment translates all the same despite your inability to verbalize them. The tension in her body doesn’t loosen up but she closes her eyes momentarily and lets out a slow, even breath through her nose.

For now, it’s all you can ask for.

---

The State of Yi

The meeting with Yi’s governor ended poorly. Even without Kuvira’s report, the smattering of ink dripping from the metal table was indication enough.

After exchanging a few curt words with the young airbending boy, she makes her way back into the train and calls an impromptu Inner Circle meeting. Bolin reluctantly leaves Opal’s side while Baatar joins without hesitation.

The conversation is awkward at best, deeply uncomfortable above all else. Kuvira keeps it together quite well for someone who had been shunned away mere moments ago but you’re certain no one else can see the fire of indignation in her eyes.

“There has to be another way to help them, right?” Bolin insists. “Can’t we just stay another day? If we bring Opal and Kai on board, I bet we could come up with another plan to help these people.”

“You more than anyone should know we cannot afford to waste our time on fruitless negotiations,” Kuvira snaps. “I will not sacrifice the wellbeing of our fellow citizens who are willing to accept our aid for a single governor who refuses to acknowledge the suffering of his people.”

Varrick, Bolin, and Baatar end up falling into a chaotic exchange of potential solutions that very quickly wears Kuvira’s patience thin.

“Enough!” she commands. You watch in silence as everyone freezes and slowly submits to her exasperation. “I have made myself clear. We will wait one day — not an hour earlier or later. If the Governor would rather see his people perish, I will not be held responsible. This meeting is adjourned and I expect no one to leave this train unless expressly informed to do so.”

Everyone nods and promptly makes their way out of the room. You make a move to join them but wait for everyone to get ahead first before sliding the door closed and pivoting back towards Kuvira.

She’s silently fuming — a vein sticks out from over her collar and her hands are woven tightly together behind her back. You imagine she might look composed to others who don’t notice those details but you’ve learned to see past the iron facade she forges around herself.

You fold your hands over Kuvira’s and feel the tension her fists carry, the way it courses all along her arms and bleeds into the rest of her body. Kuvira isn’t known for being a very relaxed person — she’s all hard lines and perfect posture, angled features and unyielding brow.

But this rigidity is different because it’s fueled by ire. Kuvira doesn’t take refusal well and with most of the Empire united, the Governor’s reluctance proves especially inconvenient.

However, she softens into your touch and you start to see her for what she really is, for what she only allows you to see. A woman on the brink of burnout. A leader nonetheless, so close to securing all she has worked towards, but which she has sacrificed too much to achieve.

She unfolds her hands and weaves her fingers into yours, letting her shoulders drop just enough for you to know this is helping to some extent.

And even though it lasts no more than a minute, because suddenly you’re interrupted by the voices of her guards requesting her immediate presence, when she looks at you there’s a softness along the corners of her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

---

Zaofu

The army is stationed immediately outside the Zaofu metal domes. Kuvira had left with Bolin and Baatar moments ago to meet with Suyin and hopefully come to an agreement that would eliminate the need for outright combat.

You insisted on joining her, afraid of what she might be subjected to and unable to accept that potential reality. You never knew the Beifong matriarch to resort to violent tactics but her response to Kuvira’s actions led you to believe anything was possible at this point.

Nevertheless, Kuvira had none of it. “I’ll be with Bolin and Baatar — I’ll be safe. I know Suyin. She knows better than to try anything of that nature with our army posted just outside her gates. I promise you I’ll return, unharmed,” she reassured, kissing you once before making her way outside.

You pressed your hands against the window, watching as the three of them grew into small green dots that eventually disappeared past the metal lotus structures. Kuvira was smart, you didn’t doubt that. She could absolutely hold her own. Yet despite her attempts to sway you otherwise, you still found it difficult to accept that Suyin wouldn’t try anything.

So you paced back and forth, sitting and standing, fiddling with your hands and carelessly flipping through papers on your desk until you heard guards murmuring and saw Kuvira’s silhouette making its way toward the tent.

She returns with Bolin and Baatar at her side again and you notice the former appears rather grim. Nevertheless, you’re instantly hit with the searing desire to throw yourself around her, to feel the heat of her blood beneath her skin and the bends of muscle and bone pressing against yours.

She’s here. Obviously she’s okay. But you can’t shake the need to confirm it by feeling her and knowing she’s uninjured.

Bolin starts talking, a nervous edge in every word, asking too many questions that ultimately set Kuvira off. She towers over Bolin, questioning his loyalty to the Empire, to her, and you stand in your corner silently. Baatar watches with an almost smug look on his face and it makes you scowl.

“Both of you are dismissed,” Kuvira says when she steps back. Still thoroughly shaken by the encounter, Bolin stays frozen for a moment before Baatar coughs and they step out of the tent in tense silence.

Kuvira sits down and leans forward so her fingers press against her temples. She sighs frustratedly and tightens her jaw. Even with all that transpired in the past ten minutes, that instinct to hold her close and just feel her doesn’t waver but you know better than to cave into it right now.

She does look up at you and her face has grown haggard with frustration in the span of seconds. It startles you how easily she conceals this side of herself, doing so in a manner that seems so effortless that she has everyone convinced that she really is impenetrable.

Right now, she lets the veneer crumble until all that’s left is an expression so openly cumbered with fatigue it seems to draw you in with arms of its own, tugging you forward until you’re at Kuvira’s side and she’s still looking up at you.

Every possible gesture seems inappropriate. What could you tell her that would offer that reassurance she needs? How can you be sure that’s what she needs at all? She’s being faced with the increasingly likely reality of using brute force to take that which once served as her home.

You don’t know when Kuvira’s cheek presses into your belly but when it does, your arms wrap around her head of their own accord.

Kuvira’s body speaks to yours in a language of gentle touches and unspoken pleas. Naturally, you have come to understand the meaning of each movement and your body responds as such. You hold her close to your body, feeling her head dip into the soft flesh, and smooth her hair over her scalp.

You aren’t sure what’s going to happen next. The Avatar is still gone. Despite Kuvira’s threat, you know Suyin will not acquiesce and there is still the possibility that she will try something horrible to stop Kuvira. And even if you manage to successfully take Zaofu for the Empire, that leaves Republic City.

But with Kuvira’s head cradled in your arms, her cheek dipping into your torso, all of that stops meaning something if only for a moment. Right now you have each other. Most importantly, Kuvira has you. And you’ll figure everything out as you go.

[wallofweird]

I’m so excited for season 5! What are you most excited for? 😍😍😍

And did you see they’ll bring the covid theme to this season?

I’m so sorry I haven’t answered this sooner, I think I probably read this ask while I was sleepy and decided to reply it later and then forgot there was something in my inbox. I’m really messy, so I apologize, but thank you for sending me this, I really appreciate when people come to talk to me. :)

Yes, I did see that they will bring COVID-19 to the plot! I’m glad that’s happening because even though This Is Us is all about The Pearsons, they are conscious about what’s happening in the US, the world and at each specific timeline. They’ve addressed to some extent The Cold War, The Vietnam War, racial segregation etc, even small things like fashion and musical trends (like Kate being obsessed with Alanis Morissette, this is such a 90/2000′s thing and I believe she was listening to Hanson when she was upset after her first break up?). So not addressing COVID-19 would feel wrong, I’m sure they will address the Black Lives Matter movement and maybe even police brutality and the presidential election too to some extent. Of course, the focus will still be The Pearsons and all these life-changing events happening in the big three’s and Rebecca’s lives, but they will acknowledge how the world will be affecting their lives too.

By the way, this turned out to be waaaaaaaaaaay longer than I expected it to be and I apologize for it, haha. By the way, this is in NO PARTICULAR ORDER.

So, about what I’m most excited for, well, that’s really a hard question because there are so many things left to explore and so many different places they can go. I guess one way to put it is that I’m more curious about the unseen and barely seen stuff. For example, I believe we’ve seen enough about Jack and Rebecca as parents of children and teenagers, so I wouldn’t mind if they reduced those scenes a little bit. I’d love to see them as parents of babies (which would be a great parallel with Kevison and Katoby), or when they first started dating, when they got engaged, when they were newlyweds. And I believe it’s not a coincidence that we’ve hardly seen any of those experiences regarding Rebecca and Jack, it feels like they saved it for when Kevin finally found the one (cough Madison cough).

I’d also like to see more of them before getting to know each other, their childhood and teenage/young years (we already know there will be one flashback on the first episodes at least!), maybe a little bit of their other relatives as well. Like, what happened to their parents and Rebecca’s sister? Specially Jack’s mother, he mentions she made three clothes for the babies, so she was still around when the big three were born and that was eight years after their first encounter. 

I’d love to see more of past timelines that haven’t been visited enough as well. The 20′s is my favorite episode from season 2, I loved the storylines in there and mostly loved to see Kevin, Randall and Kate in their late 20s. Show me more of what was happening in their lives back then! Also, show me more of Randall and Beth as newlyweds and first-time parents too and more parallels with Kevison, please?

Kate. I know that eating disorders and insecurity just don’t go away, that they can be a daily struggle and anytime they can haunt you back and make you relapse. I’m glad the show explores that. However, they also work on Randall’s anxiety and Kevin’s addiction really well and have given them more different stories. I want the same for her. I’m glad that she is also married and has an expanding family of hers, but it seems like she post-poned her career again and I’d like to see her working again at some point. Also, what happens to her in the future? We saw a flash-forward that was like, two years from now and she was all dressed-up and seemed to be writing a song. I hope things are going well for her. And no, I doubt she is dead. 

More about ‘the others’. Show me more of Madison, Beth, Toby and Miguel! Why isn’t Madison close with her family? How did she develop bulimia? Isn’t there really anyone who she count on in her family? Will they reconcile or has she left them for good to make her own family like Jack did (another potential for parallels, btw). I remember Beth mentioning to William that she had a lot sisters and lived with an enormous amount of people and we kind of saw it on the few episodes that centered on her, but what are her sisters like? How were their dynamic while growing up and what is it like now? Same for Toby, he has mentioned having a brother and a sister and it looks like they’re not that close, but Toby really loves and admires Kate’s bond with her brothers, so I feel like he craves that kind of relationship to himself and I’d like to know why he doesn’t seem to have it with with his own siblings. Plus, Miguel. He has biological children and grandchildren and yet he seems to be closer to Rebecca’s side of the family. And we’ve seen him with his biological family and know it is complicated, but couldn’t they fix or at least change that a little bit?

Randall’s biological family. Memphis is one of my favorite episodes from season 1 and one thing that was very satisfying and rewarding to see was Randall bonding with his biological family. The show has done a great job showing how Randall felt a vacancy in his entire life for being black in a racist world, for being black in a white family, for dealing with racism in his own family, for not having enough black references for a long period of his life, for being adopted, for being abandoned, for not knowing anything about his biological family, for not sharing genetic traits with his family, for still feeling like an outsider among some black folks he tried to connect with. He said it once that he either tries too hard or not hard enough, but he never manages to GET IT RIGHT. So when he met his biological family in Memphis, it was sort of an awakening, fulfilling moment after 36 years of dealing with all those complex feelings. And that was all, which is one of my few disappointments with the show. However, Sterling has talked about it and it seems that they will explore that again. And if they do, I hope he can introduce Beth and the girls to his uncles and cousins! Sure, he is closer to The Pearsons, but it wouldn’t hurt to have him spending time with his biological/extended family at least for one episode on seasons 5 and 6, right?

Final closure for Kevin and Sophie. I thought episode 3x16 was the perfect closure for them: Sophie talked to him about Grant and how he was her soulmate, they recognized the fact Kevin didn’t commit to their relationship as he did with his relationship with Zoe, they said goodbye without any hard feelings, he went back to Zoe and said he wanted to have a life with her and bought Sophie and Grant tickets to a concert. It was perfect. Then, I guess they wanted to play with the ‘who’s the baby mama’ question for one last time and brought her back as a plot device. It didn’t feel natural at all. They threw in two stories about a game they had imagining different endings to Good Will Hunting and her family ring out of nowhere, no previous hints, built-up or whatsoever. It felt like something made last minute to fuel them enough so she could be considered a baby mama/wife contender again after how badly their relationship played out with the cheating, hiding, lying, heartbreak and overall dynsfunctionality and the fact he dated Zoe for a year and saw himself marrying her. Even the way their relationship has been portrayed over the course of the show, it is an idealization. When Kevin is fine and happy, when his career is going smoothly, when he is life is well, he doesn’t think about her. When he gets frustrated and deluded, he runs back to her. It’s not a constant sentiment of missing her and longing for her, it’s a desperate move and Justin has talked about it and even compared it to his addiction and a unhealthy coping mechanism. So I just want them to definitely shut the door on it now. I believe they have done 50% already with them watching the ending of the movie and saying “it was better than they could've possibly imagined” and Sophie laughing at his billboard, not giving any hints of seeing him in a romantic light anymore. Now, they just need to write some closure to the ring. Give it a proper ending and move forward.

Deja, Tess and Annie. The girls are growing up! So keep giving them more things to do, specially Tess, she is one of the few LGBTQIA+ characters in the universe of the series, so I hope they explore her even more. Specially since she’s come out to her school not so long ago and it is in a phase of her life when the first crushes and relationships tend to happen, there are a lot of things they can do with that and I’m sure we from the LGBTQIA+ community would love to see it. Also, show me them in the flash-forwards! I’d also appreciate if we saw Tess having a love interest and a wlw kiss in the future. 

Deja and her biological family. She’s adopted by Randall and Beth, but she has a whole story before them, she has a mother that is apparently doing well too and is a part of her identity. Showing adoptive and biological families having a well-balanced relationship for the sake of their child would be refreshing and really important and they could show the contrast between Deja’s and Randall’s experiences. There is a lot of potential there.

Hailey. I have no idea how the adoption process works in California/the US, but I hope the little one comes as soon as possible! And adult Hailey is adorable, too, she seems to be such a devoted sister, so I hope to see more of that as well.

Unexplored or underdeveloped dynamics. I know that Jack, Rebecca, Kate, Randall and Kevin are the leading characters. I know Jack/Rebecca, Randall/Beth, Kate/Toby and now Kevin/Madison are the main couples and they will have a lot of screen time. I know Kate and Kevin have a special bond because they are twins. I know Kevin and Nicky have a special bond because he stayed with his uncle and helped him with his sobriety. I know Kevin has a special bond with his nieces and baby Jack because he is the last one to become a parent. I know all of that and I don’t want that to change. Still, it doesn’t hurt to mix it up and shake things up a little bit. Give me a little bit of Randall and baby Jack, show me a little bit of Kate and Nicky, bring back a little bit of that funny dynamic Kevin and Toby had on the early seasons (I remember one scene where the actors did a little bit of an ad-lib and it was awesome), give me a little bit of Madison and Randall’s girls, the women/men hanging out together and Rebecca and Miguel! We’ve already got confirmation about Rebecca and Miguel’s story being explored this season, so I’m excited about that.

Kevison, Kevison, KEVISON!! This is absolutely no surprise since I’ve been interested in them since season 2, Madison is my favorite character and a lot of my blog is dedicated to them. Just give me EVERYTHING. Again, one of my few complaints is how the main relationships happened way too fast on this show. Don’t get me wrong, I love the couples as much as the next person and I can enjoy every trope if they are done right. Still, my favorite are still the slowburn ones. As I viewer, I like to see the seed being planted, watered and the slowly growing like a real plant. I like rooting for something, knowing that it will happen, but not when and how it is going to play out. I like to see every single step of the journey: being acquainted, becoming colleagues, friends, confidants, best friends, falling in love, dating, getting engaged, married and BEING married. I love seeing little things and changes in their dynamic, like becoming more touchy, lingering looks, making each other blush, a little bit of jealousy... Sure, we got a little bit of those moments with Jack/Rebecca, Randall/Beth and Kate/Toby, but it wasn’t the same feeling because they were all love at first sight (which is one of the tropes I usually don’t like) and got together pretty quickly. And even when we saw their first meeting, or Jack being a little jealous/hurt when he saw Rebecca with her ex-boyfriend, it was more of a momentary thing than an example of changed dynamics and feelings becoming deeper and romantic. It wasn’t the result of months and a number of episodes in the making, it was a flashback we visited when we already knew the destination of their story, that it wouldn’t last and they would be happily married and the love of each other’s lives. So I specially appreciate that kevison will be the only main couple to have a different construction and development. I’d also love to see flashbacks of the time they slept together (it was afternoon when they met at Kate’s house and they went to Madison’s place and he only left the next morning! WHAT DID THEY DO DURING ALL OF THAT TIME?), which I’m quite confident we will get, but also before that. On episodes 4x10, 4x12, 4x14 and 4x18 I got the feeling that they were quite familiar with one another. They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t awkward with each other anymore, they were comfortable hanging out and shopping with Kate, he sweetly smiled at Madison’s quirks, Madison seemed unimpressed and annoyed when she opened the door to him and she didn’t have problems at all stepping inside Kate’s house as if she owned the place and ignoring Kevin when he told her it wasn’t a good time. Their dynamic really changed since episode 3x15 and Justin mentioned Kevin saw her as part of the family before their night together, so I wonder why. Also, some parallel flashbacks would be particulary nice. For example, they could have a flashback of Madison making a pregnancy test on a day that Kevin is babysitting Jack and daydreaming of having his own children. They could show parallels of Kevin and Madison struggling with addiction/bulimia in the past. Maybe she also lost a close relative and grief has impacted her as much as Kevin. So. Many. Possibilities. That. Can. Be. Explored!!!!! Those two are the characters that have THE MOST IN COMMON WITH ONE ANOTHER and there are a lot of things the writers can explore with that. Another particularly sweet thing that wouldn’t hurt or take more than a single minute would be a flashback of them meeting each other way before Kate. Like, if they had bumped into each other on the street years before and don’t remember it until they talk about it one day and realized they saw each other before? I’m watching this dizi (aka a Turkish TV show) where the characters are in a considerably similar situation, pregnant as a result of a drunk one-night stand after their first date and there was this moment where they were talking and she remembered she had bumped into him years ago when she was heartbroken over her ex getting engaged. It was such a small and fulfilling moment. It really gives the idea of COMING FULL-CIRCLE and I’d love to see something like that.

Kevison and the other couples enjoying their pregnancies. I feel like we see the characters with their children as much as we should, and I definitely appreciate that, but we don’t get to see them enjoying the pregnancy period. Last year, most of Kate’s pregnancy revolved around worry, for example. And I get that since it was a complicated pregnancy and she had suffered a miscarriage before, but still. Kate only has one biological child. Rebecca only got pregnant once. Madison is likely to be pregnant only one time too. We basically only saw Beth and Lucy giving birth and that was only one time for each character. It would be nice to see their pregnancies being fun. Documenting it, buying baby clothes, discussing baby names, building cribs, decorating the baby(ies) room etc. It would be nice to have flashbacks of that and specially to see KEVISON doing all of that, since this is the pregnancy that is happening at this current moment.

The characters having friends outside their families and marriage. Like I said before, I KNOW that the focus of the show are the big three and Jack and Rebecca. I know which dynamics will be more explored on the show and I don’t want that to change. However, Kate is the only one that has the luxury of two friends (Madison and Gregory). Randall got Jae-Won on season 3 (I actually think they only became real friends last season, tbh) and Kevin had Cassidy for a while and now doesn’t even seem to talk to her anymore (not that I miss it because I didn’t like their dynamic, specially after they slept together and I just wanted season 4A to focus on him and Nicky without anyone’s interference). Let them have some friends of their own too and hang out with them at least for an episode? Same goes to Beth, Toby, Rebecca and Miguel (I know he had Jack, I’m talking about present time).

Kevin’s career. For now I want him to focus on his children and Madison, but when it comes to his career, I’d like to see him doing different things. He played a soldier and a cop. Let him play different characters and show more versatility. Maybe doing voice-work on a Disney movie for his children to watch it and enjoy it? Dealing a little bit with fame, tabloids and paparazzi could be interesting as well. He’s not a big celebrity like Oscar-winner actors, but he is famous enough to be photographed on the street and have mean rumors about him spread on the media (they mentioned one about him being drunk and running over his daughter with his car), so there are many possibilities to explore when he comes to his career too.

Kate being there for Madison during the pregnancy and more moments of Kate helping and comforting her during difficult times, both in the present and the past years. This is not criticism. Kate helped her when she relapsed that one time and took care of her. It also didn’t make sense to focus on Madison that much because her character didn’t have such a big role back then. Now, things have changed and Madison will be needing her, so let Kate repay the favor.

The couples enjoying some adult time without children involved. One of the very few flaws of This Is Us. We only got that with Jack and Rebecca. The only times Kate/Toby and Beth/Randall tried to have a night just for themselves they had problems. Susan mentioned that she would like to see them going on a date and so do I? Hopefully we will see Kevin/Madison, Randall/Beth and Kate/Toby having some quality time without the kids as well.

If we get to see more of the big three as older children and teenagers (which I guess we are because unless that’s changed, the actors are still part of the main cast), I hope they show more moments of them bonding, having fun and helping each other. Having their own experiences and having each other’s back instead of problems that Jack and Rebecca try to solve for them or help them with. Let them be bigger characters and let them be close as siblings too. That episode where they watched Arsenio Hall together was particularly sweet and refreshing to see, same goes to Kevin helping Randall at school when he got a notification and was having a panic attack. However, for their teen years, I’d definitely love to see them being easy with their parents and those five having a good time together, enjoying each other and their parents for a change, specially since Jack passed away when they were only 17.

Jack, Hailey and the twins. Sure, they will be little, but I hope we get to see the cousins together for a decent amount of time. It is really nice that they are all close (Madison/Kevin/Kate), and NOW, FAMILY. It is nice that Hailey, Jack and the twins will be closer in age and not have a lonely childhood. I hope they explore that a little bit.

Jack Damon. I love him. He is creative, charismatic, funny and adorable. He is also one of the few representation of disabled people that was done right. He is a visually-impaired person played by visually-impaired actors. His disability is a part of who he is and his story, but not all of it. He is a successful musician. He has a big family with his daughter, wife, sister, cousins and uncles. I want to know more of him. Plus, the writing exploring accessibility. Episode 4x13 when Kate, Jack and Rebecca went to the retreat and we saw all those children playing and having fun and living a full life was amazing. We need more of that on TV.

Plus, what about Nicky? Who did he marry? I have an entire theory about this and I hope he can get a little family for himself. Don’t get me wrong, The Pearsons are his family too, his bond with Kevin is one of my favorite relationships in the entire show, but I’d want him to have a family outside of his extended family, too, you know?

Dr. K and Wlliam. We can never get enough from them! I don’t know how often we will see them due to the pandemics and the fact the actors are eldery, but they are the guest stars I will never grow tired of. A fantasy sequence with the entire family while having Jack, Nicky and William would be particuarly nice. They could’ve done it on episode 4x17 and I was a little frustrated that they missed the opportunity.

The future of the family and the future of the show. Rebecca is a grandmother now. Randall, Kate and Kevin are parents. Deja, Tess and Annie are growing up. Jack is 1. Madison is very close to giving birth to the twins. They’ll be 40 when the season premieres. Kevin is a year sober. They’ve all grown in so many different ways. And since Rebecca’s health and memory are deteriorating, I’d like them to be in the upfront of the narrative now. As I mentioned before, I know the leading characters are Jack, Rebecca, Kevin, Kate and Randall. I know the big three are some of biggest characters on the show. Still, when it comes to family, the narrative has always focused on Jack and Rebecca as parents and Kate, Randall and Kevin as children. They have always explored more the problems those three experience, whether is in the past or present time and Rebecca and Jack trying to help them navigate through them and solve things. Let’s reverse everything. Let Rebecca be vulnerable and having her children taking care of her. I’d also love to see more of the future timelines with Randall’s girls as young adults, Jack, Hailey and the twins as children and teenagers, them and their parents dealing with all of that. What will Randall and Beth do when they all go to college and move out? What will Kate and Toby do when their children have nightmares? What will Madison and Kevin do with the twins when they have problems at school? Let us see (more) of Randall’s, Kate’s and Kevin’s parenting style and what they got from their parents and are passing on for their kids and what is their own approach to parenthood. Let us see them passing on Jack and Rebecca’s legacy for the future generations of The Pearsons, but also making their own little traditions and having their own experiences. Let’s us see them making NEW MEMORIES FOR THEMSELVES AND THEIR FAMILIES. It is a good idea to explore both on seasons 5 and 6, imo. Showing how far they have come, how this family that started with only a couple and has evolved into this gigantic fabric of people and how Jack and Rebecca will live forever though Kevin, Kate, Randall, their children, Hope and the ones from generations that are still to come.

IT’S NOT that I exactly WANT it, but iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif we really have to go there:

Kate and Toby’s divorce. I don’t want it. I love them as people. I root for them as a couple. Sure, they have faced some major problems and this season explored that, but I hope they get passed it, specially since they are about to welcome a second child. Still, I can’t come up with a good enough of an explanation why Toby isn’t wearing his wedding ring. Every possible reason that crossed my mind was either heartbreaking or underwhelming at best: there was a small incident and he will buy a new ring, they got divorced, Kate died. I don’t want any of it to happen and I bet money that Kate doesn’t die. Still, if after making such a big deal of it, it turns out that they just are buying new wedding rings or whatever, that will be so ANTICLIMACTIC. And if they do get a divorce, it will be REPETITIVE since they teased it for the entire season and they stayed married. So far, if it were for them to split up, it should have happened on season 4. If they’re reaaaaaaally gonna go there, I hope it will be done well considering there are only two seasons left, two children involved and it was something they literally played with LAST SEASON. They must find a way to make it REFRESHING AND NOT REPETITIVE. They must find a way to explore the outcome of it. Dealing with a divorce, being single again, the custody of their children and how it will change their dynamic as parents. I also want them to find a new love. Sure, it would be realistic if they ended up alone, yes, and there’s no shame in that. A lot of people don’t want to get married or never see that dream coming true and those are stories worth telling too. STILL, I’d be really frustrated with they were the only characters who ended up alone when Randall/Beth and Kevin/Madison are happily married. Even Jack and Lucy seem to be going strong! So show them finding someone else and give well-developed love stories with different people for them while exploring everything else that’s already going on too. I wanted there to be a big and plausible enough explanation why on earth Toby isn’t wearing his ring and yet is still very much married to Kate, but I recognize it is more wishful thinking.

If they still want to bring Sophie through flashbacks, then answer relevant questions than just having her there sitting next to Kevin. The divorce is a great example of storyline and it can serve as a parallel for Kevison, like, what they got right and Kevin/Sophie didn’t. Justin said Kevin cheated on her twice, so how did all of that happen? We don’t know.

[gstqaobc]

CBC THE ROYAL FASCINATOR

Friday, April 09, 2021

Hello, royal watchers and all those intrigued by what’s going on inside the House of Windsor. This is your biweekly dose of royal news and analysis. Reading this online? Sign up here to get this delivered to your inbox.

Janet DavisonRoyal Expert

Prince Philip’s life of duty

(Adrian Dennis/Getty Images)

For so many years, Prince Philip was at Queen Elizabeth’s side — or walking just behind — deeply devoted in his duty as consort to the woman who is now the longest-reigning monarch in British history.

But the Duke of Edinburgh, who died this morning aged 99 at Windsor Castle, was seen by many as having his own role in helping an institution steeped in tradition try to find its way toward the future.

Much of that began nearly 70 years ago, after the former sailor who gave up a successful naval career saw his wife ascend the throne.

“What Prince Philip did was help modernize the monarchy in the 1950s,” Michael Jackson, president of the Institute for the Study of the Crown in Canada, said in an interview this morning.

“It was still a very tradition-bound institution…. We can credit Prince Philip, with the Queen’s full support, of course, with modernizing [its] finances, protocols, how Buckingham Palace was run … its outreach to the Commonwealth.”

Philip pushed to have Elizabeth’s coronation televised in 1953, an idea she did not wholeheartedly welcome at first.

“He was the modern person,” John Fraser, author of The Secret of the Crown: Canada’s Affair with Royalty, said in an interview this morning. “He was in touch with real people, non-royal people, and so he always had the instinct to reach out. He understood both the dark side of the media presence as well as the necessity of it.”

Fraser credits Philip’s profoundly unsettled early years, after he was “born in poverty and insecurity,” with how he looked toward the future of the Royal Family, and the monarchy.

“I do think those early years were the single biggest factor in his life and how he approached life,” said Fraser. “I think he never assumed things would last forever because he didn’t make any assumptions like that, and I think he certainly assumed the monarchy wouldn’t survive if it didn’t reach out more to the constituency that it had to serve.”

Fraser met Philip, and recalled him as a man who would revel in asking questions and challenging others.

“He was — charming is not the word I would use — but he was an invigorating person to speak to.”

Jackson, who was Saskatchewan’s chief of protocol from 1980 until 2005, met Philip during four visits to the province — three with the Queen and one on his own — and remembered a man with “a great sense of humour.”

“Sometimes people found him a bit abrasive, a bit abrupt, but that’s the way he was,” said Jackson.

“He was a straight shooter and he complemented the Queen beautifully because the Queen is a very soft-spoken, more laid-back person. Prince Philip really spoke his mind and occasionally made jokes and … put everyone at ease. I found him very refreshing, good to work with.”

With Philip’s death, there is an inevitable sadness for the Queen, and inevitable concern for how she will cope with the passing of her husband of more than 73 years.

Both Fraser and Jackson say the Queen will carry on, with Jackson noting “That’s the way she is. She’s a very strong person” with a deep religious faith that will sustain her.

“She’ll do her duty,” said Fraser. “And I think that’s the big lesson of him. He did his duty.”

For a full obituary of Prince Philip, click here.

For photos from Prince Philip's royal career, click here.

Family dysfunction

When Philip Mountbatten married Princess Elizabeth in 1947, the family he was joining was in marked contrast to the fractured one he had known in his youth. His parents' marriage broke down and offered him nothing like the nuclear family arrangement (mom, dad and two kids) that Elizabeth had known throughout her childhood. "In marrying the Queen, [Philip] gained that sort of stable home life that he didn't have when he was younger," royal author and historian Carolyn Harris has said in an interview. Philip's parents were Prince Andrew of Greece and Princess Alice of Battenberg, a great-granddaughter of Queen Victoria. Philip was born a prince of both Greece and Denmark on June 10, 1921, on the dining room table at Mon Repos, a villa that was the summer home for the Greek royals on the island of Corfu. He was the last of five children — his four older siblings were all girls. At the time, he was sixth in line to the Greek throne. But life in Greece didn't last long. His father, a professional soldier, was exiled from Greece in 1922 as his uncle, King Constantine I, was forced to abdicate. Philip's family fled, with the story being that Philip was nestled into an orange box as the family was evacuated from Greece on a Royal Navy ship. They eventually made their way to Paris. Philip's childhood took a "dysfunctional turn," author Sally Bedell Smith wrote in her book, Elizabeth The Queen, when he was sent by his parents at the age of eight to England for boarding school. The family eventually broke down. Philip's mother, who was born deaf, was ill periodically, diagnosed with schizophrenia and spent time in a sanitarium in Switzerland. His father went off with his mistress to Monte Carlo, where he died in 1944. Philip was left to be brought up in the U.K. by his mother's family, shuffled among various relatives and boarding schools throughout his youth. He didn't see or have any word from his mother between the summer of 1932 and the spring of 1937. "It's simply what happened," Philip said matter-of-factly in an excerpt from a book by Philip Eade, Young Prince Philip, Turbulent Early Years, published in the Telegraph. "The family broke up. My mother was ill, my sisters were married, my father was in the south of France. I just had to get on with it. You do. One does." As life went on, there really was no father to guide, consult or do anything else a father can do for his child. Several other close relatives died in his early years, including his favourite sister, Cecile, and her family in a plane crash in 1937. The following year, the 2nd Marquess of Milford Haven, his uncle and guardian, died of bone cancer. That left the marquess's younger brother, Louis Mountbatten, to bring up Philip. His family ties also extended into Germany. Three of his sisters were married to German princes involved in the Nazi party. Cecile and her husband, Don, had just joined the Nazi party before they died. Those family alliances had a visible repercussion when Philip and Elizabeth were married in 1947. "His sisters were not invited to the wedding as they were married to German princes who had been involved in the Nazi party during World War Two," Harris said. Philip's mother, Princess Alice, however, was at the wedding, and in her later years, came to live at Buckingham Palace. Alice had her own moment in the cultural conscience in 2019, as an episode during the third season of the Netflix drama, The Crown, focused on her. "She's just the most extraordinary character," Crown creator Peter Morgan told Vanity Fair. She set up charities for Greek refugees and later established a nursing order of Greek Orthodox nuns. During the Second World War, while her son was serving with the Royal Navy and her German sons-in-law fought for the Nazis, she was hiding Jews in Athens. As much as there was the distance between Philip and his mother in his younger years, there was a closeness later. Alice came to live at Buckingham Palace in 1967. Alice died at the palace in 1969 and was interred in the royal crypt at Windsor Castle. In 1988, her remains were transferred, as she had wished, to the church of St. Mary Magdalene in east Jerusalem. In a 1994 visit to the Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial in Jerusalem, Philip planted a tree in his mother's honour and visited her gravesite. "I suspect that it never occurred to her that her action was in any way special," Philip said during his visit. "She was a person with deep religious faith and she would have considered it to be a totally human action to fellow human beings in distress."

No stranger to Canada

(Frank Gunn/The Canadian Press)

Prince Philip's last visit to Canada was a short one in 2013 — on his own, without the Queen — to present a ceremonial flag to the Royal Canadian Regiment's 3rd Battalion. It came as something of a surprise. Philip had experienced a few health scares in the 18 months prior. So overseas travel was not necessarily a given for the Duke of Edinburgh at the time. But given Philip's feisty personality, dedication to his role and some of the interests he showed over the years, his return to Canada — he made more than 70 visits or stopovers between 1950 and 2013 — may not really have been a complete surprise. The 2013 trip was billed as a private working visit and was only a few days long. But while he was here, he was finally able to pick up the insignias he had been awarded as companion of the Order of Canada and commander of the Order of Military Merit from David Johnston, then Canada's governor general.

To read more about Philip’s time in Canada, click here.

Royally quotable

“He is someone who doesn't take easily to compliments but he has, quite simply, been my strength and stay all these years, and I, and his whole family, and this and many other countries, owe him a debt greater than he would ever claim, or we shall ever know.”

— Queen Elizabeth, publicly acknowledging Prince Philip’s importance to her during a speech on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary in 1997.

To read more on what Philip meant to the Queen, click here.

Remembering Prince Philip

Royal Fascinator readers are welcome to share their thoughts on the passing of Prince Philip, and any memories they may have of meeting him over the years. We’ll include some in the next edition of the newsletter.

I’m always happy to hear from you. Send your ideas, comments, feedback and notes to

royalfascinator@cbc.ca

. Problems with the newsletter? Please let me know about any typos, errors or glitches.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

Waking up every morning in a proper bed, in a proper building, with proper heating and air conditioning and water and and andandand- Waking up, period, was a strange experience for FrostNova since she’d arrived at Rhodes Island. Or rather, since she’d found herself in a bed at Rhodes Island, saved by the grace of whatever god presided over what remained of Terra and the mind-numbingly massive effort invested in the attempt to resuscitate her, every day had a dream-like quality to it, as if none of this was truly happening anymore. Her Oripathy, which she’d been sure would be the death of her, was stabilized, albeit on the precipice of falling apart should she even attempt to use her powers, so like many of Rhodes Island’s patients, she found herself busying herself with her recovery and administrative work. And it was during said work that she first encountered the red-hot mistress of the King’s Wand, Skyfire.

While Frost was processing a requisition for a flame-retardant robe (where did they come up with these things?), the Feline burst into her office. “You!”

“You seem to recognize, but I don’t recognize you.” She looked up from her keyboard. “How may I help you?”

“Spare me the pleasantries, witch. You were part of Reunion before coming here, yes?”

She sighed. “Yes, before coming to my senses, I aided Reunion. I have since repented of my foolishness.”

“The only repentance you deserved was being disintegrated.” Skyfire’s outfit was beginning to smolder. “Fortunately, I’m here to oblige you.”

“If you wish.” FrostNova, with a sigh, continued with her work.

She couldn’t believe it. Ignoring someone who was threatening her directly - the nerve of this woman! “Any last words?”

“Tell the Doctor,” she replied, without missing a beat, “whoever keeps burning through their clothing should ask for an inhibitor when outside of combat.”

“‘Whoever keeps burning their-’ what do you mean, an inhibitor?” As the Feline said the words, there was a snap as the elastic holding her bra in place came undone.

The Cautus noted this and carried on. “As a practical measure, those of us with dangerously powerful Arts can wear certain garments or accessories designed to limit their ability to leverage those powers. One of the less carefree members of Reunion made one for me in the hope it would meaningfully extend my lifespan, and while it was not entirely sufficient, if I’d made more regular use of it, it could have been. Miss Skyfire, I presume?”

“...Yes, that’s me.” She sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Did the sound of my strap breaking give me away?”

“The smoke you emitted as a result did, at the least. If you would like, I can have a request in the Doctor’s hands by the end of the day for an inhibitor to be made for you.”

Skyfire thought for a moment before sighing. “Do so, then.”

“I’ll begin as soon as you’ve apologized to me.” In truth, she was already working on it, but she did want an apology. “You did threaten to kill me just now, after all.”

“...I’m sorry. Ever since Reunion killed the Wand’s beloved, we- I haven’t been able to forgive them. They must atone with their lives. For what they did.”

Yelena nodded. “I can understand the sentiment, but consider: did the man who killed this Phil already die?”

“They did not.” The Feline began smoldering again. “They escaped in the riot that followed.”

“I see. That is rather unfortunate. May I suggest you do limit the scope of your hatred to those deserving it, nonetheless? In this case, the ones immediately responsible for Phil’s demise?”

She stared at the Cautus disbelievingly. “Why do you care about the fate of these criminals?”

“Many had little choice in where their allegiance fell - without a better alternative, they flocked to those who made great promises with honeyed words, or were forced to join the mob by those rushing forward behind them.” She looked back at Skyfire. “But there are certainly some I would like to freeze where they stand and watch the life leech out of their eyes.”

“...That’s fair. I’m glad we came to an understanding.”

Yelena nodded. “Certainly. The Doctor should have that request in his inbox before the end of today. Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” She turned to leave. “I’ve research to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”

“Likewise.” ‘...Did my nerves play tricks on me, or did I feel the room heat up when she walked into my office?...’

-- -- --

A few days went by, and Yelena heard nothing more from the spitfire Skyfire. She assumed that either she’d gotten her inhibitor, and ergo she didn’t need to come see her again, or she hadn’t and decided to take the problem to the Doctor themselves. Either way, FrostNova had other things on her mind, so why should it matter?

...It mattered because it had been years since she’d felt even that tiny bit of warmth, and damn it all, she wanted to feel it again. During her time with Reunion, it seemed like that warmth was impossible to find, but now she had hope again, and if there’s one thing Yelena had learned from being saved by Rhodes, it was that sometimes hope was the key ingredient to making something possible. Fortunately for her, she had an opportunity not longer after coming to this decision when the Caster found her at lunch.

“Good afternoon, FrostNova.” Skyfire sat in the chair across from her. “I wanted to thank you for the inhibitor request; it’s been three days since I destroyed my clothes, and not for lack of trying.”

“I’m happy to have helped.” She would have continued, but after spending five hours in her office with minimal contact with other people, her communicative powers were somewhat shot.

The Feline wasn’t done, however. “There’s a side effect that I was hoping you might know how to deal with, since you’ve had one for longer. When I have to take it off at night, I emit a lot of excess heat, which means that now, rather than burning through my clothes, I’ve incinerated three sets of sheets in four days. Do you know where I could find a heat sink?”

“A heat sink?” Ah. Well, this was as good a chance as any. “I happen to sponge heat rather well.”

“That would be fine.”

Should have known that was too- wait. “I expected you to be less open to the idea.”

“Why wouldn’t I accept your help?” She shrugged. “I’ve grown accustomed to others seeing me without my clothes as a side effect of my Arts, and if it solves my problem as well, I’ve only gained from it...More than that, however, I think I know why you’re volunteering.”

“You know about my condition, then?”

 Skyfire blinked. “Condition?”

“You don’t know, then?” Yelena decided to ask the follow-up question after answering the Feline’s. “For some time now, I’ve been completely unable to feel warmth; whether because of nerve damage, a side effect of my Oripathy, a mix of both or some unknown third factor, I now chill the air around me rather than warm it. The other day, when you came to my office, I...I felt warm, for the briefest moment, for the first time in years.”

“...Ah. I see. That makes perfect sense.” The plastic fork in her hand wilted as she blushed.

The Cautus smiled. “Why did you think I offered to help you?”

“W-well, as a single woman with a prestigious position in academia, I’ve received several... offers of intimacy.” Half true - she’d received offers before achieving her status as an acclaimed scholar, but only after reaching her ivory tower did she regret not considering them more thoroughly. “And I imagine you’d have to be rather close to absorb enough of my body heat to have an effect...I’m sorry, I may have been projecting a little.”

“Projecting? Did you want me to be propositioning you, Skyfire?”

Caught like a cat in the fish tank. “...It’s rather lonely at the top, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to climb far to isolate yourself.” Yelena paused for just a moment before she sighed. “Well, it seems I have no choice in the matter now, do I?”

“In which matter?” The Feline, for once, wasn’t quite following.

She brushed her hand against Skyfire’s glass of water, freezing it solid as her inhibitor redirected some of her ambient chill, on her way to handing her a note with her mobile number. “I’ll see you tonight. Depending on how...heated things become, I can’t guarantee your sheets will survive.”

“I have one more set in my closet.” Her hand shaking, she reached for the note, but found her open hand instead. “So soft, but so cold. Like freshly-fallen snow. Or, at least, I imagine this is how it feels to hold snow; I always melted it before it reached me.”

“Mmm.” Yelena’s words had escaped her once again, however, as radiating from her hand and through the rest of her body was the feeling hope had promised her: warmth.

Or, perhaps, love at first touch?

[hard-reset-with-a-hammer]

The world certainly loves to get my attention in interesting ways. More often than not, the methods used to do so are only a means to an end in order to piss me off, but this time I'm genuinely amused.

The most recent happening that has garnered my attention is the big stink going on with Hedge Fund concerning $GME and a handful of Redditors who bought the hell out of GameStop shares. A lot of people don't understand what this means or why so many of the wealthy and empowered are making a big deal out of it, but your ever helpful Uncle Fuck Off is here to educate you on things.

So let's start at the beginning. What is Hedge Fund? A Hedge Fund is an alternative investment that is designed to protect investment portfolios from market and certainty, while generating positive returns in both up and down markets. Hedge funds are financial partnerships that use pooled funds and employ different strategies to earn active returns for their investors. These funds may be managed aggressively or make use of derivatives and leverage to generate higher returns. Basically, it's a way for a select, limited number of very wealthy people to get even wealthier by buying stocks and trades at a low price, then waiting for the demand of these stocks and trades to go up in order to sell them at a higher price. Here's an example; Imagine a loaf of bread at any select store cost $2.00, and the supply is limited. Now imagine buying all that bread at $2.00 a loaf, completely emptying the county supply of bread. Then, directly afterwards, you turn around and start selling that bread at $3.50 a loaf, garnering a $1.50 profit.

It's kinda like that, but on a much, much larger scale, often resulting in the spending of millions/billions, and making a profit of half that after accounting for purchase.

So now that we've explained that, let's move on to the next chapter.

So what's going on with GameStop stock? Well so far, over the last 6 months, GameStop stock price has seen an 8000% increase, which is insane by any standards. The more complex answer is that it's stock has become a central gamepiece in a financial power struggle between a major hedge fund, Melvin Capital, and a group of amateur stock traders who yell on the internet.

So how is GameStop tied up in all of this? Well, Like many companies that are in rough shape, GameStop was the subject of what's called short selling, in which professional investors borrow shares of stocks to sell and then buy back later so they can return them, which lets them pocket the profit if the stock price goes down. They're basically bets that the company will fail. GameStop was one of the most shorted of all publicly traded companies. Other companies on the list include AMC Theaters, Bed Bath & Beyond and even the most defunct Blockbuster. And then GameStop became the source of a "Short Squeeze". I won't even get into explaining what a Short Squeeze is, it's a long and complicated subject. I'll just leave it at; A Short Squeeze means investors bought at a high price and bet the price would continue to fall, and when it didn't, they were left with millions in stocks that they had to sell at a much higher price.

Moving on, a handful of ametuer investors on the Reddit page r/wallstreetbets decided to throw 100% of their portfolios into $GME once they saw the shares rising, causing those who run WSB (r/wallstreetbets) to temporarily switch the community to private with the excuse that they were "Experiencing technical difficulties based on unprecedented scale as a result of the newfound interest in WSB.", which I think means the bean counters tried to intervene with us normal people making more money than we're supposed to.

This is where things get a little complicated and a bit more unclear. Shares in GameStop ticked up on January 11th after it named three people to its board of directors as part of a deal with shareholders who had been agitating for change. That caused some short sellers to abandon their positions, helping to drive the stock up more in the following days. The stock traded for about even for a few days, but things really began to change on the following Friday.

CNBC data showed that the volume of shares traded - a closely watched indicator of activity around the stock - spiked on Friday. Increased volume can indicate a short squeeze, meaning people who had bet against the stock either chose or were forced to give up and take losses. and while WSB had gotten some media attention in recent days for its GameStop boosterism, a boom in coverage of GameStop and WSB helped bring the story out of the financial world and more into the mainstream. GameStop shares would go from trading at around $43, already significantly more than it traded at the beginning of the year, to as much as $380, becoming one of the most traded stocks on the market along the way. This alone has Wallstreet shitting themselves, as it could potentially cost them tens of billions of dollars.

So how will the market be different if this continues? There is some belief that WSB signals the arrival of a powerful new force as large numbers of retail investors find influence by acting in concert or following one another into a big trade. That may serve as a check or balance on other large forces, such as hedge funds, which are used to throwing their weight around without ordinary investors affecting a price. As for how it couldn't affect us normal people, right now, the speculation activity is only around a few companies, which isn't that uncommon. But the broader concern comes when what are known as retail investors - amateurs buying stocks for their own personal gain - become overly exuberant and inflate stock prices, sometimes by taking out loans to buy shares. and some skeptics point to the situation around GameStop and other companies as evidence that the stock market has reached a dangerous level of enthusiasm and speculation.

n

Now, very often a short squeeze ends in a price falling back to where it was before the drama started. In 2008, when Volkswagen was in the middle of a trader tug of war, it briefly became the stock market's most valued company, but it's price settled down eventually. History suggests that no stock can go up forever, and over time, stock prices generally reflect the expected future earnings of corporations. But long shots can go on for extended periods if the players have enough resources to risk. Tesla, for example, would need 1,600 years of profits to justify its current price to earnings ratio, according to a calculation this last year.

So far, there's no evidence that any of this is illegal, although NASDAQ CEO Adena Friedman has said stock exchanges and regulators need to pay attention to the potential for schemes fueled by social media. While Reddit didn't answer questions this past Wednesday about whether it's in touch with regulators, it said it prohibits posting illegal content or facilitating illegal transactions. In a short statement, a Reddit official stated "We will review and cooperate with valid law enforcement investigations or actions as needed".

Of course I personally find this all to be bullshit. In my personal viewpoints, this is just another way for the very rich and wealthy to strongarm us normal people into being complacent, as they cannot make money off of us if we continue to make more and more money. Many investors and Wall Street members have stated that this could very well impact the fragile Trickle-down Economy, however, this again is absolute bullshit. Let me explain why.

Trickle down economy works exactly how it sounds, except it doesn't work at all. The long and short of it is investors and very wealthy people make a lot of money and they believe that eventually that money will make its way down to us normal and poorer people, however it never really does as most of the time, and in very, very many cases, these investors and wealthy people will more often than not square it away in a bank account or throw it back into stocks where they can make more money to put in their bank accounts. Trickle-down Economics only works the other way around, where us normal, poor people make money and buy stuff to put that money back into the economy where it will eventually make its way back to the wealthy making them far wealthier. Now I will agree that not all of that money goes back to the rich, but a good portion of it does. Most of the time that money will go back to paying employees, paying for equipment, and paying for materials used, but whatever else is left will go back to the rich. So you can see why this GameStop shit has Wall Street's panties in a twist.

Now, keep in mind that even if these amateur investors do win in this stock trade and cost Wall Street billions in US dollars, it is very unlikely that we of the current generation will see any of that money come back to us. The reality of the situation is that it would take years if not several decades for the money that Wall Street "loses" to circulate back to the normal person.

And that's what going on in this fucked up problem child of a country. Anyway, hopefully some of you actually paid attention to all of that, because I'm sick of explaining that the only side I'm on is my side. If you've got legitimate points that you'd like to make, I'd gladly listen to them and debate them, and I'll even concede defeat if I am wrong, but stop blowing up my inbox with half baked arguments because I have no patience to argue with someone who has little more intelligence than a water flea.

[ravenforce]

Ithaca Pt. 1

Word Count: 2928

Warning/s: None, right now. 

A/N: The O8 x Avengers College Au crossover fic you didn’t ask for is here, or at least the first part of it. I would first like to explain that Ithaca will be Avengers arc of this crossover. Manhattan will be the O8 parts. Secondly, I would like to apologize for being away all the time. December just really knocks the life out of me, to be honest. I’m not even playing a lot of video games as compared to the end of November but I’m still always tired. Anyway, I’m sorry. Lastly, as I said before, this fic is the wild and ambitious. So I would apologize in advance if details get inconsistent. 

PS. I would really love to hear your feed. Hit my inbox or the comments. xx

PSS. No pairing yet. Pairings will unfold as the story goes. 

Part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

***

Looking at your one backpack sitting idly in front of you outside the JFK, waiting for your best friend Maria to pick you up. You realized it’s been too long since you’ve been home. Home being where Maria is. She was adopted by Nick when you were thirteen. Giving you five years alone in the system, jumping from one foster home to another until you were old enough to take care of yourself.

You were never resentful that Maria got adopted and you never did. You were always too smart and too smart-mouth to be adopted anyway. You also love her too much to begrudge her of anything. Besides, she never stopped being your best friend even after she moved to New York. You two still talked every day, you both still know the ins and outs of each other lives even though you’re a few states or even a coast apart.

When you turned eighteen, you run away from foster care and graduated with your first degree in Literature and Mathematics at MIT. That’s right, after Maria left, you poured your energy into school effectively accelerating you to university. Now at 21, you decided to give in to Maria’s plea for you to come home and continue your education at Cornell University where she’s attending. Having finished all your minor classes, you’re able to transfer at Cornell as a third-year Art student.

“Y/N!!!!”

You looked to your right to see Maria running towards you. Thanks to all the time you spent doing Muay Thai, you were able to keep your balance after Maria launched herself on your person.

“Y/N,” she muttered against your hair. By the watery quality of her voice, you have no doubt that she’s actually tearing up in your arms.

“Hey,” you said a little breathlessly before wrapping your arms around her tighter.

Maria pulled away after a minute and you’re able to see her tear-stained face and beautiful smile. She runs her eyes all over your face and down to your body to assess your physical well-being.

“God, you look so good,” she said, content that you didn’t lie to her when you said you did learn how to cook for yourself and not rely on takeaway food forever.

“Thank you. You look amazing too.” Not that Maria ever looks anything short of magnificent anyway. Even when you two were still at the orphanage wearing hand-me-down clothes, she looked beautiful.

Maria blushed profusely before tugging you out of the airport and towards the parking lot. It was so good to have her hold your hand again and listen to her speaking voice in person after being apart for so long.

“What?” she asked when she noticed you staring at her after you both got inside her car.

You smiled softly. “Nothing, I just missed you. Missed this,” you said and Maria understood.

“I miss you too, silly,” she said before unbuckling her seat belt and leaning against her console to kiss your cheeks.

It was then your turn to blush. When she noticed it, she laughed remembering how you hate public displays of affection so much. Such a cool guy.

“Stop laughing,” you said with a pout, which prompted her to laugh harder as she backed out of the parking lot.

***

The drive from the airport to Ithaca took a while but you and Maria didn’t mind. You spent the rest of the drive back talking about literally everything. You weren’t surprised when Maria pulled up a tall building at the City Center. After all, she did tell you she was renting at a luxury apartment smack in the middle of busy Ithaca. What surprised you was Nick being there to wrap you up in a hug the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Y/N!!!” he yelled before hugging you.

You just had to chuckle at how he and Maria greeted you in the exact same way. 

“Hey, Nick,” you said before hugging him back. “What are you doing here?” 

Nick pulled back and grinned at you. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you. Besides, Maria needed help cleaning up,” he explained solemnly.

“Oh Nick, let’s give her the house tour before you tell her how messy I have been,” Maria said emerging from her bedroom wearing a fresh shirt.

The layout of the house is pretty cut-through. The first thing you will see when you enter the apartment is the modern kitchen attached to a small living room and a balcony on the far side. To the right is the shoe closet, and the hallway leading to a small storage room, a common bathroom, and the bedrooms.

“And this will be your bedroom,” Maria said after opening the second door to your left.

You can tell Nick and Maria took the time to customize your room to give you the best comfort available the moment you flopped down the bed. The sheet smelled fresh off the laundry, and the bed was the softest you ever slept in. Maria gave you literally five seconds to have the bed all to yourself before she launched herself next to you, and tugging you against her. Nick watched you two cuddle and giggle like a pair of five years old before he decides he has seen enough.

“Alright children, I’ll step out for a while to get us some food. Both of you freshen up before dinner,” Nick said from the doorway.

“Yes dad!” you both yelled at the same time. Nick shook his head with a smile before leaving you two alone.

When you heard the apartment door closed, you burrowed your head back against Maria’s neck and cuddled her as your life depended on it.

“Welcome home,” she whispered before kissing the crown of your head.

***

Between settling in, and Maria excitedly showing you around town, the weekend was a blur. You woke up Monday morning with no Maria but a sweet little note on your breakfast telling you that she had to go to school without you because she has early morning swimming practice. You wished to go to school together like old times but you are running on a different schedule than Maria. You sat down and savored the tasty ensemble of crispy bacon, perfectly poached eggs, toasts and black coffee that your best friend made you while scrolling through your phone to check on your schedule again. 

When you arrived at school with plenty of time to spare to find your classroom. The last thing you want to be on your first day is to be late. You were checking your phone again for your schedule when someone spoke in front of you. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

When you looked up, you had to restrain yourself from blinking twice because there stood in front of you is probably the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on. You take back what you said about being late on your first day. The last thing you want to be on your first day in uni is to have gay panic in front of your new school mate, who you’ll probably see often if the Head Girl pin on her lapel is anything to go by. 

You cleared your throat. “Who’s asking?” you managed to ask as casual as possible. 

“Natasha Romanoff, Student Council President,” she introduced herself politely while extending out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You smiled shyly and fought the blush that’s creeping up under your shirt. “Pleasure is all mine,” you said softly. 

Natasha looked at you for a second before relaxing her posture and smiling. “I’m here to give you the school tour,” she explained before pulling the door, prompting you to walk with her.

Natasha’s very leisurely phase made you wonder if you’ll ever make it in time for the first period. You glanced at your watch. 

“Oh,” Natasha gasped and frowned. “Am I boring you?” she asked quietly. 

“What?!” you exclaimed, earning a few curious looks from students at the hall.

Nat didn’t bother to pay them any attention. She’s looking only at you. “No, no, you’re not boring. I was just wondering if I’m allowed to skip the first period on my first day of school because this is by far the coolest school tour I’ve ever done,” you rambled on until you saw the grin on Natasha’s face. 

“You’re cute when you ramble,” she said matter-of-factly. “And no, you’re not allowed to skip the first period because you’re here.” 

You glanced at the door and saw that you were indeed standing in front of your classroom. You blushed and forced yourself to look back at this intriguing specimen of a human being in front of you. 

“Oh.”

Natasha took a step towards you and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “See you later, Y/L/N,” she said before walking gracefully away. 

***

When you got inside the room, it was almost half full. No one paid you any attention because Natasha, bless her heart, walked you to the back door. When the bell rung, the only seat left was the one next to you. About twenty minutes after the class started, the front door swung open and a disheveled blonde walked inside.

“Ms. Danvers. Glad you’re able to join us today,” the teacher said. “And only twenty minutes late.”

The whole room laughed, the blonde woman chuckled too.

“Sorry Mr. Banner but it’s the meet season,” the blonde girl said.

Mr. Banner just sighed and waved her off before continuing the lecture. The blonde girl immediately spotted the only empty seat next to you. Your eyes met and for the second time that day you felt like your breath has been knocked out of you. For her part, Danvers seems to have frozen on her spot on the podium as well before she heard Mr. Banner clear his throat.

“Get it together, Danvers and sit already.”

Danvers took the steps of the stairs up to you in twos.

“Hi, I’m Carol. Carol Danvers,” she introduced herself before flopping down on her seat.

God, she’s even more attractive sitting there a foot away from you. Her hair’s golden, her eyes are warm and her smile is radiant.

“Hi, Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you whispered.

She grinned. “Oh, you’re the genius from MIT? Nice to meet you. Maria can’t stop talking about you,” she tried to whisper but fail.

“You know Maria?” you asked even though you weren’t confused about how Maria would be friends with such a looker.

Before Carol can answer though, Mr. Banner shut his book loudly. When you turned back towards the front, Mr. Banner was looking straight at you and Carol.

“Care to include us in your discussion, girls?” he asked, not sounding very pleased.

You were on the way to shaking your head and shrinking in your seat before Carol spoke. “Did you know we have a MENSA student with us right now?” she asked. She sounds like she’s bragging a long-time friend’s achievement.

Mr. Banner didn’t look impressed. “I know Carol, that’s why I left that seat for you. So you can, maybe draw some inspiration and put an effort into this class.”

The whole room rambled with laughter. Carol still didn’t look affected by any of it.

“Well,” she started before blatantly checking you out. “I can already feel the inspiration coming.”

There was collective groaning inside the room like Carol does this thing all the time. Mr. Banner even facepalmed, literally. You couldn’t say or do anything but blush profusely on your seat. Mr. Banner called the class in order and continued the lecture with minimal interruptions from Carol because she was paying attention to you more than the blackboard.

When the bell rang, Carol was quickly being sought by various students, most of them are girls. A girl whisked her away, but Carol managed to stop by the door and wink at you. You groaned quietly before reaching out for your bag to look for your phone.

***

You: I swear school is out to get me.

Maria: Already? It’s your first day. Lunch? Meet me at the dining hall.

You: On my way.

Maria: Great! You’re great. Breathe. I love you.

You: Aye. See u.

Maria: Say it!

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your phone before relenting and typing out a response.

You: UGH! Fine! Love you too.

Maria: Now, was that so hard? :)

Growing up on the system though made it a tad hard for you to be vulnerable. Maria’s an exception though.

You shook your head before pocketing your phone and walking towards the direction of the dining hall. It was a part of the school tour with Natasha earlier that morning. So, finding the building wasn’t a problem. The problem was when you arrived, it was already packed full of hungry, noisy college students. The good thing is, looking for Maria on the crowd is second nature to you. You craned your neck up to scan the hall for Maria’s signature tight bun. 

It took a grand total of seven seconds before you spotted it on the table smack right in the middle of the hall. You walked casually towards the table but stop short when you realized Maria wasn’t sitting alone. She’s sitting in what you can only guess as the popular kids' table if the sheer number of attractive people sitting on it is to go by.

“You don’t plan on standing there for an hour, do you?” A voice too familiar spoke behind you. 

“Stark!” A pretty boy with military cut blonde hair wearing a basketball jersey shouted from the table before you could turn around and answer.

The whole table turned to your direction. Maria smiled at you. Tony didn’t wait for you to turn to him before he’s practically dragging you towards the table. 

“Who’s this?”

“Steve, don't be rude,” Natasha said firmly. Steve promptly closed his mouth. 

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Maria introduced.

“Oh! The girl who vested Tony at the tech talent show on his own company?” Steve perked up and teased. 

Tony glared before throwing a napkin over Steve’s face. “Shut up,” he growled which prompted the table to erupt with laughter. 

“Hey, sit here,” Natasha and Carol said at the same time, which stopped the laughter almost immediately. 

Natasha and Carol glared at each other. Everyone was looking at the two’s stare off before a guy with sleek black comb back hair pulled you to sit beside him.

“Problem solved,” he said before smiling at you. You smiled at him thankfully. “I’m Loki. This is my big brother, Thor.”

Thor, amidst his muscular stature, gave you a toothy grin before extending his hand for you to shake. “Welcome to the gang. Don’t worry, we’re not always this messy,” he said. Something about Thor tells you he’s a safe space, so you let your first guard down and relaxed.

“Yeah, we’re always messier,” a girl who has her arms slung at the back on Carol’s chair said. “I’m Valkyrie, Val for short.”

You murmured a soft ‘nice to meet you’ but your eyes are focused on Val’s fingers playing with the ends of Carol’s blonde curls. You averted your eyes only for you to catch Natasha’s. She smiled before sliding across the table the other half of her sandwich. 

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” she explained softly.

“I wasn’t planning to but thank you,” you answered gratefully before taking a bite off the sandwich. It’s peanut butter, one of your favorites. 

Maria stayed low and watched the interaction between you, Natasha and Carol. She tossed the bottle of coconut water she got for you earlier before pulling out her phone. 

Maria: Now, I get it. Tread carefully, baby. 

You took a quick glance at your phone when you heard a notification. You looked at your best friend and rolled your eyes at her before turning back your attention at your conversation with Tony, Thor, and Loki.