#..I feel awful that I can’t actually remember the date again. it’ll have been seven years.. sometime in late january.

[void-kissed]

oh i LOVED reading about how alectra would fit into the genshin plotline... if she were an NPC id be visiting her during every major plot beat to see what shes up to. she sounds like a very fun easter egg, kinda like those fatui guys who hang out near the mondstadt city waypoint

aaah thank you so much!!!! yeah I got way too attached to the concept of her foreshadowing stuff going wrong, ‘cause like - the first time you see her is during Ending Note, and you can only see her right at the start of that specific quest; she’s waiting outside the cathedral, looking up at the Barbatos statue, and she won’t give any dialogue when spoken to by the Traveller (or, if she did, it’d be something short, like.. “Isn’t there somewhere else you’re supposed to be going at the moment?”). However, her being there means she’s then right there to be in the cutscene where Signora first appears and then gets Venti’s Gnosis, so if you noticed her waiting outside beforehand, that’d clue you into who she was without actually telling you much of anything about her. But she only appears in a very short interval, so she’d be easy to miss.

The next time she could be spotted would be during the part of the Liyue archon quests where you’re going around buying things with Tartaglia’s money, and the idea is that she’s sitting high up on the rooftops, so that if you wanted to go to try and talk to her it’d be a massive hassle (and she’s not very easy to spot). If you actually went out of your way to do it though, she’d maybe say something like.. “Ah, so you actually managed to make it up here? I must say, you’ve quite the keen eye to have sighted me. Even so.. you’re still setting the stage at the moment. So, please, carry on as you were. I wonder how ready you think you should be for the show.” This is foreshadowing the upcoming (though not as immediately upcoming) boss fight with Tartaglia himself - he’s her brother, or as close as she has to one anyway, so it’s no wonder she’s keeping an eye on what he’s up to.

I don’t quite know if there’s an opportunity for her to show up again in the game itself here, but one thing that I do know happens is that she has a bit of a confrontation with Tartaglia some time after the boss fight, because she didn’t realise he wasn’t in on the same things that she was regarding everyone’s plans. She then also runs into Zhongli again after the cutscene where he gives up his Gnosis to Signora, and she manages to get a lot of comfort - and a hug - that she needed from that interaction (since.. well, I associate Zhongli quite strongly with my grandad. for some reason. so I wanted to have him and Alectra (and Lamia because she visits Liyue with Yoimiya during Lantern Rite) be close, even if it makes little to no sense, because of that.)

When it then comes to Inazuma, Alectra has the first act of her story quest - “Luscinia Cineris Chapter - Act I: To Be Fooled By A Familiar Face” - slotted in to try and space out the pacing of that nation’s archon quests somewhat. Her story quest revolves around the Traveller being mistaken for Alectra by some guards, and subsequently having to clear their name by figuring out what was really going on (since all they saw was someone “fairly short, wielding a sword, with blonde hair” wearing either “dark clothes” if playing as Aether or “a sleeveless dress” if playing as Lumine). In the process they would probably find out more about Alectra by overhearing some Fatui working for her or something. The section of this quest where you get to play as Alectra comes right at the end, when everyone goes “okay so we’ve established it definitely wasn’t the Traveller who’s been causing the problem. But then.. who was it?” and then you switch to Alectra successfully breaking into some official building or other, taking care of all the guards there, and stealing some important documents. Something, something, be gay do crime? =P

..oh crumbs I’ve been writing for nearly an hour. Help. This was supposed to be a quick reply. I hope it was alright ;w;

[honeypiehotchner]

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end 

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Masterlist here 

AO3 Link here

��Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’  Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ . 

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red. 

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers. 

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s. 

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves. 

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own. 

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’ 

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh. 

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky. 

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply. 

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion. 

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response. 

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink. 

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes. 

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’. 

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water. 

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’ 

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation. 

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next. 

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say). 

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart. 

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face. 

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.  

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap. 

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away. 

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips. 

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest. 

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’  by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes. 

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind. 

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that. 

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’ 

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’ 

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come. 

‘Tsumu?’ 

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses. 

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again. 

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes. 

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye. 

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka. 

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate. 

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home. 

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’. 

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a  dad  made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that  shit  - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated. 

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’ 

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’. 

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death. 

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see  hope  reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too. 

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands. 

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup. 

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family. 

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed. 

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips. 

[bunnysuit-femboy]

The Worst Wingman - Dust and a Goddess

(Chapter 1 / 3)

Jean x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: mentions of homophobia

Summary:  Jean knew you better than anybody else, so why was he so good at picking the worst people on the planet for you to go on dates with. You were persistent to find a boyfriend this year and you thought Jean could help you find the perfect man, but apparently he loves to watch you suffer. If only you knew the perfect man for you was the one setting you up on all of these dates.

Notes: I posted this on my Ao3 first, but I thought I’d post it here too. So, please enjoy!

First Saturday

Another Saturday night meant another shitty date with another uninteresting and weird guy. You knew Jean hand-picked these dates that he sent you off with, but it seemed he didn’t know you or them at all. Every single date was just another bust, undeniably and irrefutably.

And, this date was just another on the already long list of bad dates.

“So,” Your date said with a smile, “You’re good friends with him, aren’t you?”

You nodded with the wine glass close to your lips. He had asked you the same question nearly fifteen times in the last fifteen minutes. It was as if he couldn’t believe it himself. As if he were surprised, or maybe even a little bit jealous.

“Yeah,” You said with a fake smile, “We’re in the same friend group. I met him freshman year, when I became close friends with Mikasa and she introduced us-”

“How is he?”

“Huh?”

The redhead smiled wide, “How is Eren? What’s he like as a friend?”

You raised your eyebrows and placed your glass back on the table, “Eren?”

The redhead nodded excitedly. He was nearly on the edge of his seat, leaning towards you like a child about to hear a war story from his grandfather. It was odd that the boy had gotten caught on the idea of Eren being friends with you when you had just explained how Jean was the one who set you up on the date.

“Eren is- um,” You looked around the small restaurant, trying to find inspiration for a way out of this conversation from the other diners, “He’s cool.”

The boy is physically upset about your discretion, “And?”

“And,” You involuntarily continued, “He’s- uh, he’s very nice. He-uh he helps me with my homework, and helps me study quite a bit.”

It was all a lie, but only partially. Sure, somebody in the friend group was really nice and helped you with homework and helped you study, but it wasn’t Eren. It was Armin who was the nice one, but you didn’t know Eren well enough not to switch the two names when talking with the boy in front of you.

“That’s awesome,” The redhead said with an admirational sigh, “I bet he’s super helpful. He’s definitely the type to not give up until you know everything, for sure.”

“Oh.” You grinned at your empty dinner plate. “For sure. He’s the best. He’s super dedicated, and he always makes the harder information easier for me to understand. He’ll word it in ways that he knows I’m more comfortable with.”

“I’ll have to join you two, sometime.”

You looked at the boy with furrowed eyebrows, “You want to join me and Eren while we study?”

Boy, is he going to be upset when he finds out Eren is actually an adorable blonde boy with big ocean eyes who’s not nearly as blatantly mean. Also, it’s a bit strange the redhead wants to go on a study date with you and somebody else. Isn’t he at this date for you? But, all he’s asked you about all night is Eren.

“Of course,” The boy said with a smile, “I would just love to see him again.”

You giggled lightly to yourself, “Do you want me to get his number for you?”

Though the comment was purely a joke, the boy didn’t flinch nor smile. He just stared at you with a look of defeat in his eyes and he almost looked angry. His eyes never left your face, his mind not finding an ounce of humor in your question.

His reaction caused your smile to quickly falter, “Do you actually have a crush on him?”

The redhead rose from his seat, “I have to use the bathroom.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Right now?”

“Yes,” The boy’s voice came out harsh, “Right now.”

“Oh, okay.” You watched as the boy walked off towards the bathroom. And, once he was out of earshot, you pulled your phone from your purse sitting on the back of the chair and phoned Jean.

The phone only rang once before the call was picked up. He spoke a half-assed greeting above the sound of yelling in the background. You knew he was with Connie and Sasha tonight and you knew they were playing video games from the noise coming from behind his voice.

“Don’t hey me,” You spat angrily through the phone, “This guy is insane, Jean, he’s fucking weird.”

Jean was now laughing, “How is he weird?”

“He keeps asking about Eren.” You took a quick peek at the male’s bathroom door. “He offered to go on a study date with me-”

“That’s nice of him.”

“-And Eren.”

“Oh,” Jean said, “That’s weird. Eren doesn’t even study with you, he’d have to be smarter than you to be of any help.”

“I may have lied to him.” You took a quick swig of wine from the glass and then turned back to the bathroom doors.

“Aw,” Jean said with a smirk, “Poor Floch.”

“Floch,” You said excitedly, nearly knocking the discarded fork from your plate, “That’s his name! I forgot it about two hours ago, but didn’t have the heart to ask him.”

Jean was uncontrollably laughing on the other side of the phone. It wasn’t like these types of calls were foriegn to him. You normally called Jean in the middle of a crisis, and most of your crises these days happened mid-date when the boy did something weird and left to go to the bathroom.

“You’re a horrible date,” Jean said between his giggles.

“It’s not a normal name.” You held the wine glass to your lips. “I wouldn’t have forgotten his name if it were Brian or Nick. It’s his mom’s fault I forgot his name.”

Jean smiled into the phone, “Now, you’re blaming his mom for your ignorance, how cruel.”

You couldn’t help but grin as well, “Also, I think he has a thing for Eren.”

“Really?” Jean takes a moment to remember something. “That actually makes a lot of sense. I met him through Eren because they were in the same chemistry class last semester. He seemed reluctant to go on the date with you until Eren told him he should, then he was all for it. I thought it was weird, but not weird enough to be concerning.”

“It’s not weird nor concerning,” You said sweetly, “He just has a crush and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, it’s endearing.”

“He’s actively homophobic.”

“What?” You peek at the bathrooms and notice nothing has changed. “You set me on a date with an active homophobe?”

Jean shrugged, “I didn’t think about it.”

You shook your head angrily, “After this date, I am coming straight to your apartment and I am giving you a piece of my mind, Jean Kirstein.”

“Oh no,” Jean said with a smile, “I’m really scared, she used my last name.”

“You should be really scared. I’m bringing my baseball bat and everything.”

You took another peek at the bathroom and then checked the timer on the call. Seven minutes and fourteen seconds was how long you had been on the phone with Jean and how long Floch had been in the bathroom. Sure, it could be reasonable, but you still got a weird feeling from the whole thing.

“‘You okay?” Jean asked endearingly once the silence between you two had settled.

“He’s coming back,” You lied, “I gotta’ go.”

“Okay, just-”

The call ended quickly with one press of your finger. You put your phone back in your purse and let the bag fall to the side of the chair. You looked around the beautiful restaurant and tapped your fingers impatiently against the clothed table.

You leaned to your side in order to get closer to the couple beside you. At the table sat two people: one with long brown hair and wide glasses dressed in a tux and the other with short dirty blonde hair also dressed in a tux.

“Hi,” You said to the brown haired person to your immediate right, “Could I ask a favor of either of you? It’ll only take a minute, I swear.”

The brown haired person smiled widely, “Of course!”

“My date, a redhead, went to the bathroom nearly twenty minutes ago, and I can’t go into the boy’s bathroom-”

“You want me to go?” The brown haired person’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I can go see if he’s still in there, or if he’s sick, or if he’s dead - God forbid, but how interesting, right?”

You nodded with a smile, “Yes, thank you, please. I’m sure he’s not dead, but I’m just worried.”

“Don’t worry until I come back with news.” The brown haired person stood up and left, heading towards the bathroom.

You watched the nice brown haired person go off towards the restrooms. You watched them weave around tables, even stopping now and then to peek over diners’ shoulders, looking at what they had decided to eat for the night. They were strange, but in an endearing way - something you weren’t entirely used to seeing on these dates.

“You know,” The blonde guy spoke up suddenly, snapping you back to reality, “They’ve done that a few times on our dates before, as well.”

“Hm?” You turned to the brown haired person’s date.

The blonde guy smiled, “My date, they get interested in something in the bathroom and don’t bother coming back out for half an hour. The first time is scary, but you’ll get used to their curious mind.”

You grinned weakly at the nice man, “Yeah, I have a feeling there won’t be anything to get used to because there won’t be another date.”

The blonde boy furrowed his eyebrows, “Oh?”

“He wasn’t the best date I’ve been on, nor the best person I’ve been on a date with.” You turned towards the bathroom in time to catch the blonde man’s date making their way back across the restaurant with a frown. “In fact, he’s the first date to ever crawl out of a bathroom window to get away from me.”

“I’m sure that’s not what happened,” The blonde man said with a worried glance at his date. You weren’t sure how you knew it, but you were entirely sure of the redhead’s escape.

“He’s gone, dear.” The brown haired person placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as they sat back in their seat. “The window was pried open, I assume he crawled out of it.”

You nodded with a fake smile, “Thank you, for checking. I can pay-”

You reached for your purse, but the brown haired person shook their head, “No, no. Don’t even try to pay me. In fact, let us pay for your meals, it’s the least we can do.”

You shook your head quickly, “No, I can pay for them, but thank you.”

“No, he left you high and dry and-”

“You’ve already done enough for me tonight.”

“-You don’t deserve to pay for a meal you didn’t even enjoy.”

While the brown haired person was distracting you with a back and forth battle of who would pay for what, the blonde man waved down a passing waiter. He mumbled something to the waiter, pointing at your table over his shoulder. The blonde man pushed a small plastic card into the waiter’s hand. The waiter nodded pityingly, running off quickly towards the hostess’s table at the entrance.

“No,” You said with another shake of your head, “You don’t have to pay for a taxi, I don’t need one-”

But, you did need one considering Floch was your ride here.

“No,” The brown haired person continued, “Let me pay for your wine. In fact, have our wine. It’s the least we can do.”

“No, I don’t need more wine-”

The waiter was back and the blonde man finally spoke up over the argument between you and his date. He held two slips of paper in his hand and looked at you both with a small smile.

“Hange,” He said to make his date stop debating with you, “It’s okay, she doesn’t need your insurance card. And, ma’am, don’t worry about the bill, it’s already been paid for, and you don’t owe me anything in return. I’ve been in your shoes before, and I wish somebody would have done this for me.”

“Sir,” You said quickly, “It’s really not that big of a deal-”

“Not anymore,” The blonde man said with a smile, “Next time you come to this restaurant, just bring somebody you trust. I promise, not everybody is as awful as that boy.”

You bit your lip to keep the newly created tears from falling. You couldn’t help the overload of emotions happening in your throat and eyes. You didn’t normally cry so easily in front of strangers, but these strangers were overly generous. And suddenly, you were remembering the last ten dates that all ended just as horribly. It seemed like nothing was working out in your favor anymore.

“Thank you,” You said with a large smile contradictory to the tears that now fell down your cheeks, “I-I don’t know where to find those not awful people, but I really hope I will someday.”

“Oh no!” Hange said as they quickly wrapped you in a tight hug. “Moblit, look, you broke her.”

Moblit giggled with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry I broke you, dear.”

You shook your head into Hange’s shoulder, accidentally wiping the tears on the shoulder of their black tux. You couldn’t express to Moblit how badly you wanted to find not awful people, and how badly you wanted a date that didn’t end horribly. It was just more complicated than that, and it seemed awful people were the only ones Jean could offer you dates with and the only ones he thought deserved dates with you. So, what did that say about how he viewed you as a person?

You spent a few minutes crying into Hange’s shoulder, mumbling incoherently about boys and school and your pot-smoking next door neighbors who are way too loud when they have sex. They listened to your tangent intently, nodding along, as if they could understand any of your words.

Once you had wiped the tears from your face and thanked the couple profusely some more, you made your way from the restaurant. You knew you could call a taxi to Jean’s apartment, but the weather was nice and his apartment wasn’t too far away. So, walking seemed like a convenient money-saving way of getting the whole date out of your mind.

You walked down the street of town, but once you got to campus, you slid the heels from your feet and into your hands. You walked across campus with your shoes balancing on your fingers like the morning after a horrible one-night stand.

Eventually you made it to Jean’s apartment building and found your way to his front door within a few minutes. You knocked on the wood with your heel and weren’t too surprised when the door opened almost immediately. Jean stood in the doorway, still shouting at the other two over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Jean said once he finally turned his attention to you, “How was the-” You swung the heel swiftly into his stomach, earning a surprised grunt from the boy.

“Don’t mention this date ever again.” You said the threatening words with a glint of anger to your voice, but your face was pressed into a sweet smile.

Jean nodded slowly, “Will you at least tell us what happened?”

You sighed, “Later, I’ll tell you, but I know Connie will bully me for it.”

Jean nodded some more, “Later?”

“The least you can do is let me stay the night.” You raised your eyebrows at the boy. “Since you made me go on the worst date of my life with a homophobic jerk.”

“Okay,” Jean said with a grin, “But only because you’re practically begging for me.”

You swung the heel into his stomach a second time, but he grabbed it before it could give any damage. You both looked intently at each other, your eyes glaring annoyedly and his eyes admiring the sight in front of him. This was exactly what you expected from him, this is exactly how he acts after these dates. He’s always the one to pick up and put back the broken pieces once the doll breaks, even if he’s the reason the doll fell in the first place.

Once you walked into the apartment, you left your shoes and purse by the door, right beside Jean’s shoes. You waved a quick hello to Connie and Sasha - who were too distracted shooting zombies to see you - as you walked past them in the living room and found your way straight to Jean’s room. You knew the apartment like the back of your hand, you had been here a million times.

You walked across the small room to your drawer that Jean keeps all of your clothes in for when you stay. You pulled it open and picked out a pair of cheetah print pajama shorts and an old t-shirt from an now irrelevant ex boyfriend. You threw the clothes on his bed, getting ready to change just when the door suddenly opened.

You turned to the door with tired eyes and furrowed eyebrows as Jean joined you in the room. He leaned against the now closed door, physically keeping the others from joining as well. He crossed his arms against his chest, taking in the sight of him - you in your satin black dress you wore on nearly every date.

“So,” Jean said finally, “What happened?”

You sighed, “He crawled through a window.”

Jean’s eyebrows furrowed, “He crawled through a window?”

“Yes, when he went to the bathroom and I called you. He crawled through a window to get away from me.” You looked anywhere around the room but the boy. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey,” Jean moved from the door, coming across the room to you, “Nothing’s wrong with you. Something’s wrong with him.” Jean held you at arm’s length, his hands on your shoulders. “Not only did he leave you, but he has a crush on Eren of all people. I’ve seen birds at the park who are more attractive than he is.”

You grinned sadly, “I bet people don’t crawl through windows to get away from Eren on dates.”

Jean ran his hand down the side of your head, “Eren doesn’t give them the chance, I don’t think he’s ever been on a date.”

“But, people would go on one with him.” You finally looked up at the boy in front of you, trying to keep the tears from spilling the second time today. “He’s not undateable. I’m undateable. I’ve scared guys away every Saturday night for the last two months.”

“You’re not undateable,” Jean said sternly, “You just haven’t found the right one. And, you won’t find the right one if you don’t keep going on these dates. Every horrible date means you’re one more Saturday closer to your soulmate.”

“And, what if I don’t have a soulmate? What if I’m damned to die alone?”

“Then, I’ll die with you.” Jean brought you in for a tight hug, your face snuggling into his firm chest. Jean whispered his words, mostly to himself, “I’d give up 200 soulmates if it only meant I could die with you.”

You closed your eyes against the soft fabric of Jean’s shirt. It was hard to trust his words when there seemed to be so many contradicting factors. Maybe tonight was a total bust, but next Saturday was a new day. You could try again next Saturday, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that. And, every Saturday for the rest of your life until you found your soulmate, even if that seemed like a pointless mission.

You’d do it for both you and Jean, it was the least you could do.

First Sunday

You woke up in Jean’s bed with his body close to yours. It was a standard cuddling position for your friendship: face-to-face, his arms wrapped around your side, your arms cradled against your chest, and your legs intertwined. Despite the normalcy associated with the position, you still woke up with a dorky smile and butterflies floating around your stomach when you saw him sleeping in front of you.

Today was no exception.

You grinned ear to ear as you watched the peaceful rise and fall of Jean’s tanned chest under the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. You watched as his lips parted against the pressure of the pillow under his cheek, a small stream of spit rolling from the corner of his mouth and onto the fabric of the pillowcase below. Every Saturday night ended with tears and regrets, but every Sunday morning began with sweet dreams and a special sleepy boy.

You turned away from Jean, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. The only way to successfully grab the phone was to also pull yourself from Jean’s grasp and from between his legs. It was a horrible price to be paid, but it had to be paid nonetheless.

You checked your lock screen, reading over playful messages from your roommate asking about how good Floch was in bed - assuming you had stayed at his house since you hadn’t come home. And, a few confused messages from Eren asking you who Floch was, why he was texting him, and how he was connected to you.

You locked the phone and turned back to Jean. You were expecting the boy to still be napping peacefully, but he instead stared sleepily at you. Your face had been in a grimace from the mentions of your date last night, but Jean’s honey brown eyes quickly dissipated any negative feelings.

“Good morning,” You whispered, “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning,” Jean said as he shifted his head and wiped the spit from the corner of his mouth. He was hoping you hadn’t noticed the wetness and that you weren’t questioning the wiping motion he made at his cheek. “And I-”

You smiled, “From the drool spot on the pillowcase, I’ll have to assume you slept well.”

Jean’s cheeks turned rosy, you could see the physical embarrassment on his face. He wasn’t the type to accept humiliation so easily, he was always one to fight back. Just his humiliation isn’t enough, if he’s going down, he’s taking as many people he can take with him. So, you weren’t sure why you were surprised when he swiftly sat up, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to shove the wet spot into your face.

You yelped, rolled, and sprung from the bed only a second before the pillow could land on your cheek, right where it was heading. You were up on your feet quicker than you ever thought you could be, your body still feeling the aftereffects of sleep. You looked down at the boy in front of you, the pillow still tightly gripped in his hands and a mischievous smile smacked across his face.

“You little bastard,” You said with a shocked smile.

Jean smiled back, “I’m actually quite big.” The words were meant as a joke about his body’s size, but both of your dirty minds immediately jumped to the size of something else on his body. “In more ways than one.”

You shouted at the boy between the giggles escaping from your throat, “Jean! Seriously!”

Jean shrugged, laughing along at his own joke, “I’m sorry, I had to!”

“You didn’t have to do shit!” You made your way to the bedroom door. “I’m going home!”

“One bad joke and now you’re leaving.” Jean leaped from the bed, following you to the door. “At least let me make you breakfast first.”

You turned to him with an intrigued glint in your eyes, “Will you make me waffles?”

“Sure,” Jean said as he playfully shoved your shoulder, “I’ll make you waffles.”

“With chocolate chips?” He walked in front of you, leaving the room with you following behind him like a child.

“Yes, I can add chocolate chips.” Jean tried to hide the grin spreading across his cheeks. “Do you want bacon and sausage as well?”

“Shut up,” You said from behind his back, “You know that I don’t.”

His voice sounded sweet, “Yeah, I do know.”

You stood against the counter, only a foot away from where he stirred the waffle mix. You watched as he eyed the waffle box intently, then poured the four other ingredients into the bowl after the dry mix. He looked a bit confused as he moved the spoon around the bowl, as if he was deathly afraid of missing something but not wanting to give the impression that he’d be stupid enough to miss something.

You knew where the coffee was kept and how to work his coffee machine and while you waited for it to brew, you watched Jean with a weak smile across your face. He could feel your eyes on him. Jean tried to ignore the weight of your eyes, not wanting his cheeks to go red though his chest was already inflating from the action.

Jean spared a glance in your direction, only a few seconds before the coffee finished brewing with a loud splash. For those few seconds when both of your eyes were held on each other, time seemed to slow. You could read the admirational glint in his brown eyes and he could read the appreciative glint in your eyes. Before the moment could go much further, you turned away and grabbed the coffee pot and mugs.

You not only knew which coffee beans Jean preferred, but you also knew how he liked his coffee. You poured a little bit of his roommate’s creamer into his mug, and then the tiniest bit of sugar as well. After the coffee was finished, you handed him the mug with a quick smile.

Waffles eventually found themselves on plates and forks eventually found themselves in between fingers. You both ate breakfast against the kitchen counter, Jean leaning down farther than you had to. You moved your fork against the softness of the slightly underdone waffles - he didn’t know just how much batter was supposed to go into the waffle maker at once.

Jean suddenly spoke up by your side, “Are you free this Saturday?”

You turned to the boy, “I normally am. Who’s next?”

“I have a friend on the football team.” Jean ignored your initial grimace to the statement. “He’s nice and desperate, the way you like ‘em.”

You turned back to your waffle with a small pout, “Maybe I should give guys a break for a little.” Jean raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll just become a nun and write off men altogether.”

“You can’t do that!”

Your head snapped back to Jean, “I can’t?”

“No,” Jean said, “You can’t.”

“And, why can’t I?”

“You just can’t.”

A thick silence had settled in the room, the only sound being the scraping of forks against the porcelain plates. You wondered why Jean was against you becoming a nun. You assumed it was because he was the type to fight persistently, so possibly the idea of giving up on something indefinitely was foreign and upsetting to him. You knew he indirectly reflected onto other people, yourself included.

After a few more moments of silence, Jean started walking away. You watched him as he moved across the living room, heading straight towards his bedroom. Right before the boy could get to the door, he turned to you with a single raised eyebrow and a cocky grin.

“Hey,” Jean said from across the room, “Do you wanna go to the bathroom before I do?”

You looked around the kitchen with a confused look on your face, as if the apartment could give you any clue as to what he was implying with his words. You didn’t have to use the bathroom, nor did you ever insinuate within the last twenty minutes that you did.

You tilted your head curiously, “Why would I need to go to the bathroom before you?”

Jean smiled at the idea of his next words, already proud of himself, “Just to make sure I can’t crawl out through the window.”

Jean laughed as you pretended to throw your fork across the spacious apartment. He was proud of his joke, and you had to admit that you weren’t as upset as you should have been. Last night, the idea of your date crawling through a window in order to get away from you was the worst thing that had ever happened. But with Jean, it was just a funny memory.

Jean came back to the kitchen after a few moments, still giggling lightly about his joke he made nearly two whole minutes ago. You ignored his cockiness by trying to fight the smile forming on your face.

Jean leaned towards you, wrapping a muscled arm around your shoulders. Being pressed against his body in this way made you now realize how he smelled. He smelled of a rich cologne of rose and mahogany. You hadn’t noticed the cologne before he left for the bathroom, but it could have very well slipped past you.

Jean spoke from above you, “I’m glad you aren’t still upset about last night.”

“I never said that.” You looked up at the boy, his arm still around you. “But, I am starting to see the humor in the situation.”

“Good,” Jean said with a smile, “It’s not nearly as bad as that guy who asked if his mom could join you for the date.”

You cringed at the thought, “And, I said yes.”

“And, the one who asked for a vial of your blood.”

You shrugged at the taller boy, “At least he asked, there was the one guy who stole my hair scrunchie without asking first. I think he used it so he could clone me.”

“Yeah.” Jean quickly remembered another awful date. “And, the one who gave you a yarn doll of yourself as a first date gift.”

You smiled widely, “I’m nearly a hundred percent sure that it was actually a Voodoo doll. I’m glad I accepted it before I told him no to a second date.”

Jean grinned down at you, only an inch or two from your face. It was hard not to smile when looking at the boy. He was beautiful and reminded you of an ancient sun god. From his tanned skin, to his lively brown eyes, and his deeply inviting smile. It was hard to look at Jean and not feel your heart skip a beat, especially when you were so close to him.

“They’re all funny stories now,” Jean said, “So, that’s good.”

You moved deeper into his arm, “Funny stories that I don’t need.”

“But, funny stories nonetheless.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled sarcastically, “Thanks to you.”

“Hey!” Jean was pulling you into a quick bear hug as you laughed against his chest. “I try to find the University’s best guys for you! They are truly the school’s finest.”

“Then, why do they all suck?”

He didn’t answer your question because he wasn’t sure he knew why. He didn’t know why he threw these horrible guys onto you, under the impression of them being good matches. But, in his defense, it was hard to find somebody of your quality.

You were a goddess amongst mortals and these men could never be enough for you. And, if these men were mortals compared to you, then Jean felt he wasn’t even a mortal. He was the dirt hiding in the crevices of somebody’s shoe, he was the dust somebody breathed in before they yawned. Jean felt he could never equal up to you, but maybe these other guys could get close. And, maybe - just maybe - if he helps you get a boyfriend, then he wouldn’t think about you being a goddess so much.

Next Chapter

[life-rewritten]

Tharn and Type 7 Years: The marriage disagreement

When I think about Tharn and Type, I think about their love, their passion for each other, and their growth to get to the place that they are in, in Tharn and Type 7 years of love. The sequel for the show. Whilst on the surface it may look like Tharn and Type have remained the same; argumentative, non-communicative and everybody's favourite word to use toxic. I think they are so much more different, so much more in love and happy and healthy. One issue though that comes about for their new show is the marriage disagreement. Tharn wants to propose to Type, but Type for some reason keeps on avoiding and rejecting the proposal. It's a weird disagreement to me, but then when I look at the characters and how they have been shaped and view the world, it becomes quite clear no one is right or wrong when it comes to this matter. Let's look at the marriage disagreement from both of our guys' point of view.

THARN: THE PSYCHOLOGICAL, EXTERNAL, AND INTERNAL NEED TO BE LOVED

Let's look at our Tharn. When we first meet him he's you know; sly, sexy, confident in who he is. He's been out for a long time since he was 14 and so he is proud of who he is. And why shouldn't he be, he's rich and spoilt, successful and talented, and he's also sweet, kind, selfless and possessive to those he loves. He's the perfect guy, and Type knows that and Type falls for that. The thing is when you actually look at Tharn and try to bring out his flaws you see the same reasons he's perfect is the exact reasons for why he isn't perfect: he's spoilt; so he always gets his way, and because of this he's manipulative, he's possessive; so he's always jealous and explosive when it comes to whats his being taken away, he's kind but selfless; so he always lets things build under the surface, he avoids conflict not to lose what he cares about so he's a pushover. This is all because of one thing, in particular, that's his biggest flaw, he's terrified of being unlovable. 

Tharn’s Psychological Scars

Let's dive into that deeper because it's interesting. First of all, when we watch Tharn and Type season 1, we only think Type is the person who has suffered psychological and mental damages/trauma that has shaped him into the flawed person he is at the start. It's understandable why Type is the way he is, but we fail to do the same for Tharn. Tharn is also a victim of some psychological/mental hurt. He's always been deserted each time he got to close; he was always secretly manipulated by his best friend who continued to maim him and convince him that there was something wrong with him and he didn't deserve to be loved. This is why his biggest fear/hated word is break up.

Tharn has been turned into someone who is clingy and possessive of the people he loves because for a very long time he didn't understand why everyone he got close to, left and blamed it harshly on him. In fact Long has caused many painful scars to Tharn: he got physically punched and hurt by Tum his best friend for something he didn't do but also the mental strain that had on him when he lost his best friend and being accused as an awful person, he lost all the people he kept falling in love with. And even though he and Type get back together after he realises the truth, it still hunts him that he was the cause of all that happened to the people who dated him for example, Tar. He's terrified at the realisation that everyone who falls in love with him gets hurt, and it makes him think he deserves to be unlovable. 

Thus Tharn is overly protective,  possessive and clingy of his relationship despite the fact that it should seem stable because of it lasting seven years, but no his mind automatically finds loopholes and places for where it could be weakened. He goes into overdrive to ensure that Type is his and won't leave him again. So he obsesses over something that will ensure that nothing will separate him and Type for example something where they have the law and pieces of evidence that they're tied together for life. Marriage.

The origin of his and Type’s relationship

But Type automatically rejects, and this is why he's scared, he's worried about Type not wanting them to be married: 

You have to remember that Type started of this relationship very differently, he was homophobic excessively due to his own scars, and he kept Tharn on a loop for a while before they got together. First of all, for Tharn, he can't help but question if Type is still feeling this way if he still sees their relationship as something unnatural and unacceptable. It scares him because it's something that could cause their relationship to fall apart at any time if Type reverts back to his old self.

Also in episode he over hears Type talking about the future saying that if they break up then it’ll cause an issue, but the thing is Tharn only heard his trigger word break up, Type shouldn’t be thinking that they could break up, could they break up, could he end up changing mind on their promise to each other? It seems like he’s already making prevention plans for when they do, what could cause it and how can he prevent it? These are the thoughts probably running in his head And for him the way to stop that is marriage. 

It's irrational but if you're someone like Tharn who's become obsessive with the protection of his relationship then its understandable that he's finding irrational reasons in his head why Type could leave him. He's overthinking everything, and he hates that.

The jealousy of Phu and Cir

This hate is further exacerbated with jealousy for Phugun and Cir. We've seen Tharn now meet with Phugun and Cir in both episodes, in both episodes we've seen him marvel at Cirs possessiveness and their overly affectionate manner. These two are a device to shadow what's going on in Tharn's mind: they are the antithesis of Tharn and Type, they're softer, and they don't seem like they argue, or fight, they're overly affectionate to each other in public, and Phugun is gentler/sweeter when it comes to showing his love for Cir. I'm not saying Tharn wants someone like Phu as his; he loves Type. Still, he's being forced to see another couple act the way he wants, he wants to be possessive, and call Type his in public the way Cir tells him to back off from Phu, he wants to hold hands and have Type lean his head on his shoulder in public and have Type call him his in front of people. Again because of his mindset, being in public, showing their affection to other people, makes it more evidential that they have something real, having people know that they are dating/married prevents home wreckers/ others from questioning if they are making up their partner and hiding the fact they're single; Both in episode 1, have to hear people question their relationship, the authenticity and genuineness of it because they've hidden who they're seeing for seven years. It's another trigger for Tharn, hearing people question the authenticity makes him also see another loophole/question if Type is really his. That's why he says he wants Type to be only his in episode 2.

TYPE: THE PSYCHOLOGICAL, EXTERNAL, AND INTERNAL NEED TO BE PROTECTED

Let's look at Type. On the other hand, we have our problematic but lovable Type. Type is very adamant about not seeing the importance of marriage. Like I said before, I don't blame him, Type focuses on protection, or should I say prevention for their relationship. He's all about preventing outside sources from bothering them; he's all about ensuring that they keep on being the way they are because it's not an issue to him, he's okay with the people who know, so he's not ashamed of Tharn, he's willing to show their relationship to his parents, so he isn't going to revert back to thinking what they have is not natural.

But for Type he's focused on reputation, people's opinions and loopholes that cause a break down in their relationship (funny same as Tharn). Type's own is more logical and rational. He's focused on how the world perceives gay people. Let's look at Type's mindset first.

His family and society

First, his father is still against him and Tharn being together. That's already proof to him why telling people or involving world isn't useful for their relationship, it just causes bothersome noise and anger, and it becomes an unwarranted issue for them to deal with. Type has spent most of his life being homophobic because of his past trauma, for him he's spent time looking at it from someone who is against their relationship, so he knows what people can do in anger, (ruin Tharns family reputation or hurt him or Tharn ) if angry or irrational.  For Type, society isn't as lenient to LGBTQ as it should be, so he's focused on protecting what he has with Tharn. He saw how his father reacted to them, what if others do the same, what if their environment hate them and life is more challenging for them.

Also because of his past Type has a very negative reaction to people being involved in his life like that. One because after his trauma happened it was all over the news and he was a victim of people invading his space for that very reason. He had all his information, reputation, and self exposed to people who were cruel to him and so yes hates being public because of this as well. 

The nature of his and Tharn’s relationship

Secondly for Type getting married isn't a necessity, not when he knows and is confident that he and Tharn will last. Tharn has other reasons why he can't think like that, but for Type one thing he's sure about is their love for each other, they don't need physical evidence for that, they already are the physical evidence that they're forever. Because Type and Tharn have chosen each other as life partners, they tell each other that every day, they show each other every day, they've demonstrated their relationship to the people that matter to them, and they already live like a married couple for seven years.

As much as I understand Tharn's need for evidence/action to prove that they won't be separated, it is still stupid, because home wreckers will always try to break them even when married, Type still isn't going to be as affectionate in public because he's not that kind of person in public, and nothing will change their dynamic after they're married because they already live together, see each other and spend most of their time together like a married couple.

THARN AND TYPE 7 YEARS OF LOVE

But like I said, I get it. The only issue now that pushes this as a plot is how Tharn reacts to this issue when he's not getting his way. We know he can be sometimes manipulative, (he likes to guilt Type into doing his bidding/ forgiving him when they fight like putting his hand on the pan to get him to feel sorry for him), we know he can be hotheaded and just as explosive since we saw his reaction to being jealous and possessive in season 1 so mix this issue and fear with Fiat (walking in and choosing to fight for Type because they're not married). It means Tharn will make mistakes when he reacts to that.

One thing for certain though is Tharn loves Type, Type is all he cares about and wants, he's willing sometimes to be patient and hold back for Type, he tries to be understanding and communicative in episode 2, but also he still has this issue in his mind, it's going to keep on building and building, and soon it'll cause an explosion. That's why him being a pushover isn't a good thing for this.

The one thing that remains above all this is that Tharn and Type love each other, even despite having different opinions, they can't bear the thought of losing each other, they decided from episode 1 that it was them against the world, together. So no matter what happens, they will keep fighting to be together, they will keep trying to understand each other. Like I said they have matured, their relationship has changed and becomes healthier, (fighting does not mean toxicity, it just means they're realistic), and they have loved each other so far for seven years. They haven't lost that passion and attraction they have for each other. This season its time for Tharn to mature and deal with his own fears, flaws and scars last season we watched Type deal with his as he fell in love with Tharn, so let's see what happens next.

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Five

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Little bit of angst, fluff, and smut (we got some butt stuff as well)

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

Harry was beyond excited to go to the Cape with you today, and just spend the day together as your little family. Buster was being a good boy in the back seat like always. There wasn’t much traffic like the two of you suspected. He looked really cute today, he was wearing a forest green sweater with a pair of loose jeans. His pearls out and proud.

The first location you’d be checking out was an inn with indoor and outdoor accommodations. It wasn’t right on the beach, but you could see it in the background, and that’s all that mattered to you.

“Here it is, love.” Harry says to you as he pulls into the parking area.

“It’s even prettier in person.” He hums in agreement.

You get Buster’s leash on and help him out of the car. You both head inside and tell the woman at the check in desk that you were there for a tour.

“Ah, the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Styles.” A man says, approaching the both of you. “Welcome to our inn.”

“Thank you.” Harry shakes his hand and so do you.

“And who’s this little guy?”

“This is Buster, our little fur baby.” You giggle. “We’re hoping to have him bring the rings down the aisle.”

“Very cute, we see that more and more these days.” He pats him on the head. “Shall we?”

You both nod and follow him out to the main ballroom.

“So we accommodate both buffet and a served dinner. We know a lot of people opt for buffet these days because it is less expensive, but know we have the room for both. We can also set up the ballroom pretty much anyway you’d like. Nice round tables and what not. Typically we have the dancefloor over there along with the DJ.” He points to one end of the room. “The bar usually goes there.” He points to another direction. “But other than you have complete creative freedom.”

“Couldja see yourself dancin’ out there, babe?”

“Oh for sure. Aw, Harry, our first dance.” You hug his arm quick and continue to follow the man.

Harry completely forgot that a couple hundred people would be watching the two of you dance…he knew how to dance, but he wanted to make it really special for you.

“There’s a door that leads out here to a nice patio.” He opens the door for the both of you. “Folks can take drinks out here, but there is a gate that doesn’t allow them past a certain point. We can set up tables and chairs out here as well. It’s a beautiful view of the water, don’t you think?”

“It’s lovely.” You say.

He leads you out back through the ballroom and to where the bathrooms were. Then through another set of double doors to the outdoor space where the ceremony would be.

“That gazeebo is breathtaking.” You say as you walk up to it. You look out back towards the inn. “Looks like there’s plenty of room for chairs, sweetie.”

“Mhm, this is a gem for sure.”

“There’s a path down that way to the beach as well. Many couple do their first looks down there, and family photos since it’s a bit more private.”

“Good to know.” Harry says. “Are we doin’ that? A first look?”

“They’re cute, but I’d really like the first time you see me in the dress to be when I walk down the aisle.”

“I feel the same way actually.”

“Can you show us what a room might look like? Maybe a bridal suite as well?”

“Of course! Right this way, I’ll show the bridal suite first, it’s just down the hall from the ballroom.”

The bridal suite had a ton of chairs and mirrors and a bathroom. It was ideal. He shows you wear the groom and his party typically get ready as well, and then shows you what the honeymoon suite looks like.

“Will you two be having separate rooms the night before?”

“I think that’s the plan.” You say as you walk in. “This is lovely.”

“Jacuzzi tub too.” Harry says, poking his head into the bathroom.

“We have dog accommodations as well. We can make sure there’s biscuits and a bowl for water in whatever rooms you stay in.”

Lastly, you follow the man to his office and take a seat.

“I know it was a lot to see, and I’m sure you’re considering some other places.”

“We are.” Harry says. “Can we see your packages and stuff like that?”

“Of course.” He gets a piece of paper from his desk and explains the different packages and prices. It was honestly really fair and surprisingly enough under $10K.

“I’m just curious, could we see like when your open dates are? That might sway our decision in the end as well.” You say. You knew Harry would have a lot to discuss over lunch before going to the next location.

“Sure, when were you two thinking?”

“Ideally, next fall…” Harry says. That sounded really soon to you, and way too much to handle in a year.

“But we’re flexible.”

The man takes out a calendar and shows you both.

“As you can see, we’re completely booked through next fall already. I think people wised up that that’s a bit cheaper too. However…” He flips to April 2022. “If you’re looking to still save a few bucks we have some open weekends as early as April. It’s not terribly hot, but not too cold either.”

“Could I take a picture of that?” You ask.

“Certainly.” You take your phone out and snap a picture of the calendar.

After a few more questions you thank the man for his time, and head to the small restaurant the inn had to test out the food a bit. They allowed Buster to sit at your feet.

“So…what’d you think overall?” Harry asks.

“I love it, honestly. I wonder how the other place will compare.”

“You didn’t seem too, uh, broken hearted that it wouldn’t be able to be next fall…”

“Harry.” You sigh. “I just don’t think it’s realistic with everything else going on this year. Hell, I’m going dress shopping with Erica next weekend, and the weekend after that I’m supposed to meat El and her other bridesmaids for our dresses. I’d rather have a bit more time so we’re not stressed, you know?”

“I get it…felt sick when I saw 2022 though, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I know.” You laugh. “It feels really weird to wait that long, but I have a feeling it’ll fly by.”

“I’ll be twenty-eight by the time we get married…”

“Mhm, and I’ll be turned twenty-seven.”

“You really wanna wait that long?”

“Well…” You lean a little closer. “I could use that time to get off birth control so we could go on our honeymoon and we could…you know…” Harry sits back in his chair to contemplate all of it.

“I suppose it would give us more time to keep saving for all the things we want…” He takes a sip of his water. “God, what torture, havin’ a fiancé as sexy as you and not bein’ able to come inside yeh. Damn shame.”

“Harry!” You shush him. “Please.” You shake your head. “There’s other places on my body you can do that.”

“We’ll need to be really careful so you don’t get pregnant beforehand like El and Lou.” He laughs.

“Mhm, very careful.”

“Okay, I suppose that’s a good compromise. I wonder what dates the other place will have open. They could have some sooner, you know?”

“We’ll just have to see what they say.”

Needless to say neither you nor Harry liked the second venue nearly as much, and it was way more expensive. The dates were also farther out. Your choice was easy enough to make, so you decide to just drive back to the first place and talk to the man.

“Back so soon?” He says, delighted.

“We love it here.” You say, sitting down in his office. “And we didn’t want to risk not getting a good date. We think April 2022 is perfect.” You give Harry’s hand a squeeze.

“We’d like the package with the buffet…” Harry says. “The silver.”

“Excellent choice.” Harry writes him a check for the deposit. “We’ll be contacting you shortly to do a food tasting. Please take some time to look over our menu options. Did you enjoy lunch?”

“We did! It was delicious.” You say.

“Wonderful. We’ll help you every step of the way best we can. I’ll be your direct contact so please don’t hesitate to reach out with any and all questions.”

“Thank you so much.” Harry says and shakes his hand.

You both squeal once you’re in the car.

“April 18th, 2022…can you believe it? We’ve set a date!” You say.

“I’m so excited, baby.” He kisses you. “Let’s get home, I need to get in there.” He gives your thigh a squeeze and you giggle.

“Sounds good to me.”

//

“Harry, if I don’t get up now I’ll be late to Erica’s bridal appointment.” You giggle.

Harry wouldn’t get off of you, he had you pinned to the bed.

“But it’s our anniversary.” He mumbles as he kisses your neck. You look up at him and smile. “This day last year I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I believe your exact words were, am I your boyfriend?”

“And you said, would you like to be.” He kisses you again. “So, you can’t leave until I’ve had my way with you.”

“Of, is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Couldn’t you have your way with me when I get back?”

“You’re not gonna be home until like dinner time.” He pouts.

“Baby, please don’t make me feel guiltier than I already do…besides, I need you to go on Vista Print today and see what you want the save the dates to look like, remember?”

“Fine, but we’re havin’ a quickie in the shower.” He looks down at you. “If that’s what you want of course.”

“I do.” You kiss his nose. “Thanks for double checking.”

Harry managed to suck a huge hickey on the back of your shoulder. You were just happy it wasn’t you who would be getting in and out of dresses today.

“Oh! That’s been my favorite so far, honey.” Your mom says as Eric comes out in her fifth dress.

You had stayed relatively quiet. You didn’t really like any of the dresses she picked out, but then again Erica wasn’t you, and she had a different sense of style. You look over at Bridget who was more focused on the flute of champagne the store provided. You roll your eyes and look back at Erica who was looking at you.

“You haven’t said a thing…”

“Sorry, it’s just, I’m not the one who’s going to be wearing the dress, you are. Do you like it? Is it comfortable, can you walk and dance in it?”

“I think I love this one. I haven’t loved the others.”

“Then you should get this one.” Your mom says. “You have to love it, especially at these prices.”

“Good point, this is it, this is the one.” She squeals.

You all go out for lunch after.

“When do you think you’ll wanna go dress shopping Y/N?” Erica asks.

“No idea. I have some time yet. Probably after the holidays.”

“That’s a good idea, that way that holiday weight will be gone.” Your mom laughs.

“I don’t typically gain a lot over the winter…besides I could completely change my mind and go shopping in London when Harry and I go again for Christmas.” You shrug.

“You wouldn’t want us there?” Erica asks, frowning.

“It’s not that-“

“And who would you go with? Anne and Gemma?” Your mom asks.

“Maybe. I’m not saying I would buy anything out there, but if I happen to walk by a bridal shop and see something I like I’ll probably go in.”

“Must be nice to just go to London whenever.” Bridget says under her breath.

“Well, that’s what happens when you have a real job and make a life for yourself and don’t live in your mother’s basement.” You huff.

“Y/N.” Your mom says.

“No, I’m sorry. We dance around this all the time, and no one ever scolds her for the comments she makes. I’m so sorry that your three younger siblings managed to get their shit together and you couldn’t, Bridget, really I am. But I’m not going to sit here and let you shit on the things I get to experience. And I don’t get to go whenever I want, and neither does Harry. He’d go a lot more if he could.”

“If you’re going to have an attitude like this then maybe I just won’t be involved with any of your plans.” Bridget says.

“Good, music to my ears actually.” You sit back and cross your arms.

“That’s enough girls.” Your mom says. “Neither of you really mean that-“

“It’s my wedding, I can do things how I want. Erica wanted us all here to help her find a dress, that’s great. But that might not be how I want to do things.”

“It’s not always about you.” Erica says.

“Really? Then who is my wedding about?”  

“It’s about you, of course, but it’s also about the people that love you.”

“Well pardon me for not always feeling totally loved by own my family. You know if Harry had said he wanted to get married overseas I would’ve done it in a heartbeat, and then what you have done Bridget? Mum would’ve paid for all your accommodations, and you wouldn’t even offer to pay her back.” You look away from the three of them, and then to Erica. “I’m sorry, this is your day.”

“The dress shopping part was fun…I’m happy I finally have a dress. And you know what color I’d like the bridesmaid’s dresses to be, so you can shop with your friends how you like.” She smiles.

“So are we just going to pretend you two aren’t fighting right now?” Your mom says to you and Bridget.

“She started it…s’not my fault she’s bitter.”

“I’m not bitter, I like my life just fine, thanks.”

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes. “So, what’s next, what else do you need to get done?” You ask Erica.

“Well, honestly, not much. Venue and food is good to go. The DJ has been booked. All of the stressful stuff is done. Now we get to plan the fun stuff like the bridal shower and the bachelorette. But that stuff won’t be until months from now. Don’t you have another wedding you’re pretty involved in like a month before mine?”

“Yeah, our friends Louis and Eleanor.”

“Oh, they just had a baby over the summer right?” You mom asks.

“Mhm, Eliza May, she’s so stinking cute. Anyways, they’re getting married like exactly a month before you, and I’m in her wedding party. Harry is Louis’ best man.”

“Will Louis be his?” Erica asks.

“Yeah, but he hasn’t asked him yet. We’re going to ask Niall to officiate. We’re going to take him to dinner soon to surprise him.”

“I’m surprised Harry was okay pushing things off until next April since he was so eager to get engaged.” Your mom says.

“He really wanted it to be next fall, but with all of this stuff going on it would’ve been too much. I didn’t wanna take away from Erica. Plus, I still have so many classes to take. We compromised though…”

“On what exactly?” Bridget asks.

“Well…I told him I would get off the pill a little sooner so by the time we get married we could start trying for a baby sooner.”

“Isn’t that exactly how your friend Eleanor got pregnant?” Erica asks.

“Yeah, but they just weren’t being careful. And nothing’s happening just yet. It’ll probably be another year until I get off of it. He wants a baby so badly, so I think my promise of that perked him up.”

“I think it’s sweet he wants to have a kid with you, honey.” Your mom says. “It takes a real man to not be afraid of something like that.”

“Today is technically one of our anniversaries…he asked me to be his girlfriend a year ago today.”

“Why didn’t you say something?! No wonder you’re all pissy, you should be home with him.” Erica says.

“It’s okay, we’re going to hang out tonight.” She puts a hand on the back of your shoulder and you wince.

“Sorry, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just…pulled a muscle at the gym the other day.”

//

When you get home you’re hit with an intoxicating aroma: tofu curry. Buster greets you and you walk into the kitchen.

“Hey baby!” Harry says just stirring the mixture before letting it simmer.

“It smells so good in here.” You give him a kiss. “I made sure to eat light at lunch because I knew you were going to make something yummy.”

“And I made chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.”

“Aw, remember the first time I made those for you? And you had to show me how to eat them properly.” You giggle.

“How could I forget, that was like the first time we really made out.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “How are your sister and mum? Erica find a dress?”

“Mhm, and it suits her really well. I got into it a little with Bridget at lunch, but other than that it was good, pretty normal.”

“Why’d you get into it with her?”

“Sometimes I just can’t bite my tongue, you know me. She made a comment and I chose not to ignore it. It’s fine, it happens.” You shrug. “Like I said, pretty normal.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t bite your tongue. She’s thirty-three and you’re way more mature from what I’ve gathered.” He kisses your forehead. “Go sit in the dining room, I got it all set up with candles and everything.”

“You’re too cute.”

You go out and sit down. He set it up really nicely. A few minutes later he comes out with two plates full of the delicious curry, and the naan bread you both like.

“Mm, oh my god, you’ve outdone yourself.” You say after taking a bite.

“Glad you like it, baby.” He smirks and then he starts laughing.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just remembered what we did the night we made things official.” He takes a bite of bread and grins at you.

“Which was what?”

“You let me down on you for the first time.” You nearly choke on your food. The memory came flooding back to you. “You begged me to let you move yourself against me.”

“Harry, please, we’re at the dinner table.”

“So? Not like there’s any kids around.” He looks over his shoulder at Buster. “I know he’s a smart dog, but I don’t think he fully knows what we’re sayin’.” He winks at you and you nudge him.

“Sometimes I think it’s really silly with how timid I was.”

“You had good reason. It just made things more exciting and creative. Like sometimes I’d nibble on you and other times I wouldn’t use my teeth at all. I feel like I really got to learn what your body reacted to the most.”

“I’m happy I could help you conduct your study.” You shake your head and continue eating.

You help clean up and then you both sit on the sofa with the strawberries. You giggle as you feed them to each other. Harry slowly drags one around your lips before letting you bite down on it. He pulls you in for a kiss, sucking on your bottom lip. Your hands tug at his hair and he groans against you.

“Bedroom.” He says against your lips and you nod.

You both race down the hall and into the bedroom. You get all your clothes off and you both get onto the bed. He kisses down your body and spreads your legs apart. His thumb works your clit while his tongue licks into you.

“Fuck, oh my god.” Your head rolls back. “Been thinking about this all day, you have no idea.” He moans against you as you tug on his hair. He loved when you talked like this. “You really know what do with it, Harry, shit.” He rubs you really fast, making you come all over his tongue. He licks his lips as he sits up. “Your turn.” You grin.

He lays down and you get between his legs. You don’t waste any time getting your mouth on his tip. You suck on it while your hand works the rest of him. You cradle his balls while you take more of him in your mouth. You groan when you taste more of his precome. It wasn’t so much that you liked the taste, it was more that you loved making him feel so good.

“Y/N.” He moans. “Want you to come sit on my face.” You pop off him.

“But I already had my turn.” You say confused.

“Didn’t realize it was a one and done situation.” He smirks. “Get your ass up here.”

“Let’s do it at the same time.”

You crawl up his body and turn around so you can still suck his cock. You gasp when you feel his tongue on you again. You were a bit more sensitive now. After he makes you come again he has you lay on your back. You think he’s going to get his dick in you, but he starts fingering you instead. He spreads your legs really far apart as he curls his fingers up inside you. He takes his fingers out and sucks his pinky into his mouth before continuing. He looks down at you and sees how wet you are, and how it’s dripped down to your other hole.

“What? You’re making me self-conscious, what are you looking at?” You prop yourself up on your elbows.

“What do you say, can I get this in there while I finger you? You’re awfully lubricated for it.” He holds up his pinky and wiggles it at you.

“Okay…”

“Really?”

“Yes, but only your pinky, and don’t just stick it in.”

“Would you let me rub around it first?”

“Sure.” You put your hand on his shoulder and he looks at you. “Happy anniversary.”

“Couldn’t have asked for a better present to be honest.”

“I get to do it to you after.” You pout. “Pleaseeee.”

“Already a step ahead of yeh, I showered already and everything.”

You smile and lay back down all the way. You feel his fingers lightly graze around your little hole and it doesn’t feel that bad. You had let him rub the tip of his dick against it enough times that this really wasn’t that much different. You feel him insert his middle and index fingers back into your core to further relax you. You gasp when you feel his pinky go inside your ass.

“Okay?” He looks at you.

“Mhm.”

“Could you…unclench so I can move it?” He chuckles.

“Sorry.”

Harry uses his other hand to rub slow circles on your clit and you’re able to relax a little more. You truly weren’t sure what the appeal of doing this to a girl was, but as he continued to do what he was doing, you felt stimulated in a way like never before.

“You’re so fucking wet, you like it, angel?”

“Feels good, yeah. Make me come, Harry.”

“Yeah, you want me to make you come again?”

“Please.”

His fingers pump faster, and you grip the sheets until you cry out. He was really giving you a good time tonight, but then again, it was an anniversary.

“Can I just fuck you for a bit before we get to all the other stuff?” He says.

“I need your dick so bad, please, put it in.”

He smirks and does as you say. You both moan once he’s all the way in. You hold him close to you and wrap your legs around his waist.

“I’m gonna come if you keep your legs like that.”

“Good, I want you to. You’ll get hard again, don’t worry.” You bite down on his shoulder and he loses it.

When he pulls out he sticks his fingers right in to collect the mixture and he hold them up to your mouth for you to suck on how you like. You lap around his fingers and suck them clean.

“Yup, that didn’t take long.” He looks down at himself and you both laugh.

“Go get the towel while I grab everything else sweetie.”

He nods and grabs his towel to lay on the bed. You grab the lube and the strap and place them both on the bed. Once you get him fully prepped and stretched, you get the strap on, and thrust into him.

“Holy shit.” He groans. “Hit it right away, angel.”

“I did? I must be getting better at this.” You smile and lean down to kiss him quick.

You stroke his cock while you rock in and out of him.

“You look so fucking good like this, Harry.”

“So do you.” He grits his teeth and you can tell he’s getting closer.

“Wanna make a mess, Harry? Wanna just come all over me?”

“Fuck, yeah I do.”

His come spurts out in ribbons all over your necks, chest, and stomach. You wait for him to catch his breath before pulling out. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“You’re absolutely filthy.” He tuts his tongue a few times. “Gonna have to take a good, long bath to getcha all clean.”

“I guess so.” You smile.

Harry sits behind you in the tub as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“You’re so special to me, Y/N.” He coos. “My special girl.” He kisses your temple and you look up at him. “Love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You give his thigh a little squeeze. “I feel really lucky.”

You and Harry barely had a fight since you got engaged. It was like you were in this new honeymoon stage where you were always on each other’s side. Not that you were looking for a fight or anything, but the two of you had just been way more agreeable lately. Maybe it was your meds doing their job, or maybe it was the excitement of planning the wedding of your dreams with your soulmate. You loved the feeling of not being able to wait to see him, and you loved even more feeling so wanted the minute you stepped through the door. There wasn’t much more you could ask for.

[ghostspideys-moved]

Spidey || S.H.

A/N: This idea has been sitting around my computer for a while, but I’m finally trying to beat my writer’s block. I might mess around with this au some more in the future, but for now, here’s a Spider-Man au.

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve shows up at your window, more than a little beat up. That’s when you find out his biggest secret.

Despite how late it was, you're up studying. You have a lot to get through, and you've already devised a plan. As long as you focus, you can finish soon enough to still get a good seven or eight hours of sleep. It'll have to do. 

You're so focused, so in the zone, that you almost don't catch the light tapping on your window. It's just loud enough to catch your attention. 

Curiously, you get up to open the window. "Steve?"

He has a few cuts and scrapes on his face, and he's slouching tiredly. Overall, he looks awful.

What really catches your attention is the Spider-Man costume he's wearing, the mask hanging in his hand. You're quick to connect the dots, though you have so many questions. 

"Can I come in?" Steve asks.

You nod quickly, escaping your trance long enough to pull him into your room. Your questions can wait. 

While you don't know exactly what you're doing, you know there's a first-aid kit in the bathroom, and you fetch it. You make him sit on your bed as you dab at the cuts all over his face.

Steve hisses and flinches before settling again, trying his best to stay still. "Sorry." You try to press lightly and more carefully. If you can, you want to spare him as much pain as possible. He already looks impossibly beat and worn out as it is. 

As soon as he's cleaned up, Steve seems prepared for the onslaught of questions you must have. And boy do you.

You're silent for a moment, trying to decide where to even start. "So, you're Spider-Man, huh?"

"How could you tell?"

You snort and push him playfully, careful not to hurt him. He laughs and nods. "Yeah, I am," he finally admits. Not that he can hide it when he's clearly still in his suit, and he's obviously taken a beating. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you, but I wanted to eventually," Steve continues. For as long as he's been doing the whole superhero thing, he'd thought over time and time again how to bring it up. Especially once the two of you started dating. He knew it had to come up eventually.

Your mind is racing still, but you're glad you know now and that he's safe. "That's why you always disappear so much," you realize. You can't believe you never figured it out. It just seemed outlandish to think that Steve Harrington and Spider-Man were one and the same.

Now that you know, it explains so many things.

"Someone has to save the city," he says. Steve is silent for a moment before taking your hand. "I'm sorry you have to find out like this."

Of all the ways he envisioned telling you, he never would have guessed you'd find out after finding him beat up outside your window. 

You sigh and shake your head. "It's fine, really. I'm just glad you're okay." It occurs to you how often Steve has to fend off villains. He must look worse than this some days, and the thought of that breaks your heart. Because if that's the case, then he clearly continues to go out as Spider-Man despite all of the pain.

"If it makes you feel any better, I heal fast," Steve assures you. "Like, a lot faster than everyone else."

It doesn't totally make your worries disappear - they probably never will - but it helps. And your previous questions come back to mind. 

"Okay, wait. How did you even become Spider-Man?" That was perhaps your biggest question.

Steve grins sheepishly. "You remember that trip we took to Oscorp?"

You nod. It was sometime last year, but you remember.

"I got bit by a spider, but I didn't think about it at first," he explains. "Turns out it was a radioactive spider, and now I have all these cool powers."

Honestly, you were amazed. It was pretty clear by the way your eyes lit up as you listened. Just listening to him go on about everything he'd been through - it was amazing. Sure, you'd kept up with a few of Spider-Man's run-ins with criminals. Who hadn't? He was all over YouTube. It was crazy to think that was Steve the whole time, though. 

"So can you climb walls?" you ask. Obviously, he could. You just wanted to see for yourself.

Steve grinned and stood, only limping slightly. You gasp as he starts climbing until he's right on the ceiling. "Holy shit," you mutter. 

He climbs down. The look of awe on your face gives him a confidence boost. "Does that answer your question?"

You nod quickly, still shocked that this was real. "Oh my god. My boyfriend is Spider-Man." You can't believe it. 

Steve can tell you're still processing everything. It's a lot to take in, and he knows that. He sits next to you again, kissing your cheek. "I know this is a lot of information all at once," he says. "I really am sorry." He just didn't know who to turn to, and he panicked. But he was glad you were accepting it so far.

"Does anyone else know?" You'd feel like an idiot if everyone else had it figured out before you.

Steve nods. "Just Dustin," he admits. "But only because he helps me." The kid wouldn't give up once he had it figured it out. If Steve didn't let Dustin help, he'd never hear the end of it. Besides, Dustin was much more technologically skilled than him.

You're at least relieved you're not the last one to find out. 

It finally dawns on you that it's late, and your studying went forgotten. Oh well. Not the end of the world.

"Do you want to just stay the night?" You ask. If he was hurting too much, you didn't want him making it worse.

Steve shook his head. "I've caused you enough trouble."

"Nonsense. I still have some of your clothes you can change into."

The look of concern on your face breaks him. "Alright, fine." He's able to get changed without feeling too much like he's been run over. You even hide his suit for now and help him settle into bed. 

Once the light is off, the two of you are cuddled as close as you can without causing Steve any discomfort. It's not the worst pain in the world, but he knows it'll be a while before he can actually get any sleep,

You try to stay up with him as long as you can manage, but after studying hard for hours on end, you feel drained. He can tell.

"You should get some sleep, Y/N," Steve insists. "I'll be fine." 

You protest, though it dies out when you yawn. It's clear you can't win this one, and the thought of sleep tempts you. It isn't long before you give in and fall fast asleep in his arms. 

Steve feels much better being able to hold you. It almost feels like he can shield you from the horrors the world has to offer. And he's faced so many of them himself that all he wants is to protect you.

There's a lingering feeling of unease in the back of his mind. Now that you know his secret identity, you could easily become a target. The idea makes his stomach churn, and the fear weighs him down like a ton of bricks. If he can help it, that'll never happen. And though he knows you would never blame him if it did, Steve can't help thinking you deserve so much better.

As if sensing his anxiety, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him. Steve smiles and brushes your hair from your face. It's enough to reel him back in, grounding him to the moment.

For now, you're safe and in his arms. If nothing else, he can hang onto that thread for as long as possible. And you look so peaceful that it melts his worries away, if only for the night. 

With how much of a fight he put up today, Steve knows he's earned the right to get a good night's rest. He pushes aside any nagging worries, letting his troubles go forgotten for the time being. It's late, and so he holds you close, kissing your forehead, before drifting into sleep.

//

Taglist: @charmedtenderness​ @nxncywheeler​ @musicalytrashpanda​

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 9)

A/N: it’s reader backstory time! This part also includes season 6 spoilers :) xx

word count: 4.0k 

tw: mentions of violence, abuse, cursing, other criminal minds stuff!

masterlist:

The beginning of letter #8 was scribbled out, like you’d written but decided the words weren’t quite right. Spencer tried to look through the black ink lines to see what you wrote, but most of it was smudged from tears. 

“This was the night everything changed, Spencer. This was the beginning of the end, but at the time it just felt like the beginning. It was a little over a year ago, sorry for skipping some of the middle. I could’ve written a 5,000 page novel about every little moment I had with you. If I had the time, I would. I’d write about every date night, every bouquet of roses, every case you held my hand through. I thought about writing about a lot more of the ‘happy’ parts, but they would’ve just been fun, little, anecdotes and made my heart hurt more. I decided on only highlighting the important parts, not that the happy parts were unimportant. I think they may be the most important, they’re the only things that kept me going at the end. Those parts gave me hope that maybe one day we’d get back to those people. But we didn’t and those people are long gone. Now all the bad memories outweigh the good ones. I need you to see the ugly parts. I always showed you those, and you still told me they were beautiful in some way.  

“Everything is a masterpiece if you look at it in the right way” 

So here’s the ugly Spence, any clue how to make this beautiful? How do I make this a ‘masterpiece’? Because I don’t know. 

Before I start, I want you to put on some regular clothes and pack up the box and put it in your car. Remember how in the first letter I said you’d need to go somewhere? This is that letter. So get in your crappy car that brought us together and drive to the place where it all started to fall apart: Meridian Hill Park.”

Spencer stopped reading and did as you asked. He took the sweatshirt off and hung it in his closet in a place he’d see it everyday. He didn’t really own any ‘regular clothes’ so he ended up in slacks and a dress shirt, his version of regular. He grabbed the box and the last of the coffee in a to-go mug and got in the car. He slipped the disc from letter 2 in and listened to Stacy’s Mom on a low volume. Between that and the snow, he felt like you were right there with him. 

When he got to the park, he sat in his car for a moment and reopened the letter. 

“There? Good. The bench we sat at is next to the blue bird bath and under that huge oak tree. Go sit at it.”

Spencer got out of the car, now wearing a heavy wool coat and scarf, and made his way to that spot. After most of your dates you’d go for a stroll around that park and always end up at that exact bench. You’d talk for hours, or sometimes you’d people watch. Either way, that bench became another one of your places. He set the box down on his left, the spot where you usually sat, and kept reading.

“That particular night was in December, during that weird week in between Christmas and New Years when time doesn’t feel real and the world is almost at a stand still. (My favorite week of the year) I had begged you to go to the movies with me. I dragged you to see Frozen. 

“Frozen?” You said, crinkling your nose, “Out of all the movies?”

I laughed and told you that I needed to see it because Mia had and already loved it. I think I said something like, “If I’m going to be her cool Aunt we have to see it.”

And you agreed, because you’d do anything for me. You always would. So two thirty-somethings went to see a six o’clock showing of Frozen on a Tuesday. We looked ridiculous; your messenger bag was overflowing with snacks and we were the only people there without a child. 

I loved it though, and you did too. When the movie was over we sat in the lobby at a table and I finished my slurpee as you told me about the real story of Frozen. 

“It’s loosely based on ‘The Snow Queen’ by Hans Christian Andersen from 1845. They both have a snow Queen, reindeer, trolls, frozen hearts, and snow creatures, but that’s where the similarities end. In the original story there is a horrible magic mirror and,” You finally paused to breathe, “ROBBERS!”

I laughed, “Aren’t all fairytales actually awful? We’ve just disney-ified them for kids?”

You nodded, “Most fairy tales in their original form were gruesome to the extreme. In Cinderella, the step-sisters had their feet mutilated to fit into the shoe.”

I yawned, “That’s why I always stuck to Pixar.”

We laughed and threw away our million candy wrappers. As we were leaving I saw a photo booth, one of those old one’s like I went in with all my high school boyfriends. I pulled you over to it and you grimaced, “It’s a small space CRAWLING with germs Y/N!” you whined to me, “Do you know how many people have been in there?” 

I rolled my eyes, “It’ll take thirty seconds and I will sanitize after!”

I tugged your arm in and we both barely fit in the booth. You pulled me onto your lap and four poses later we had two photo strips covered in pictures of you kissing my cheek and us smiling. That’s your momento for this letter.”

Spencer reached in and grabbed the photo strip delicately between his fingers. It was one of those tacky ones that looked like a roll of film and all the pictures were in black and white. The first one was the two of you smiling as wide as you could, the second you stuck your tongue out and Spencer scrunched up his nose, for the third he kissed your cheek, and the last one you turned your head to meet him. His heart softened for a moment, remembering how soft and sweet your kisses were. They were usually delicate, like you were kissing the finest of china. Or they were intense, like you were drowning and he was coming up for air. He felt warm, despite the snow falling all around him. 

“This is my copy. We printed two. I don’t know where yours is, I just hope it isn’t in the trash. I know it’s another photograph; you just got one of those from JJ’s wedding.  But I love photographs. I have a million of you and I. I always used to shove my phone in your face and you’d block it with your hands. I haven’t been able to bring myself to delete them yet. I just love pictures. They capture moments, the good and the bad. Sometimes the only thing that can get the feelings across is a photo, so here’s four. 

I remember sticking them in my purse as we walked out of the theater hand in hand and found ourselves in this park. I love it when the cherry blossom’s bloom, but they weren’t blooming. We found our way to this exact bench that you’re sitting on right now. I think it has the best view of the fountain. You put your arm around me and I snuggled into you. You were trying to talk about work; something about Rossi and Gideon? I didn’t know. I was so tired, I couldn’t even focus. I remember just staring at the dry fountain; they turn it off when the weather gets too cold. 

“Don’t you agree?” You said, but I didn’t register it, “Y/N?”

I looked up at you and blinked a few times. I sat up and moved myself off of you, “What? Sorry about that I—“ my own yawn interrupted me, “I’m just really tired.”

You looked at me so concerned. Your pretty, honey brown eyes always could see right through me. 

“Tired? But we went to sleep at ten last night, you should’ve had at least seven hours.”

I just shrugged and you raised your eyebrows at me, waiting for me to spill. 

“I couldn’t fall asleep the last few nights.”

I avoided your prying gaze that felt red hot on my skin even in the freezing air and played with the locket around my neck, as I usually do when I’m nervous. 

“Y/N,” You said and grabbed my two hands to make me look at you. I looked you straight in the eyes. 

“Talk to me.”

I sighed, “No.”

“No?” You looked offended, I don’t blame you. 

“No,” I said plainly. It looked like I was picking a fight, but I wasn’t. I just wasn’t ready to tell you. It’s so weird, we had spent over two years together by then, and I still couldn’t tell you. I don’t know why. It wasn’t you. You make me feel comfortable and safe. I think talking about it made it more real for me, you know? And I just didn’t want it to be real. 

“Is it the nightmares? Are they back again?” 

I just nodded. Of course you knew, you always knew.

“Y/N, we’ve been through this. You have to talk about them.”

I groaned and you dropped my hands to run yours through your hair. Frustrated is how you felt in that moment, and I don’t blame you. I was mad at myself too. 

“I know! But can’t I just not want to talk about it?”

You stood up and paced in front of me, “You have to talk to someone! Even if it isn’t me.”

“That’s the thing! I don’t trust anyone except you with it!”

You sounded defeated, “Then why don’t you tell me? You haven’t slept, Y/N. You need to take care of yourself. I can’t just sit back and watch you do this to yourself. It’s not healthy.”

That isn’t the last time I heard you say that, but it was the first. That became your favorite phrase at the end. “It’s not healthy,” as if you’re the judge of what’s healthy and not.

My heart ached at the sight of you; purple scarf disheveled and your eye bags a similar color. Your hair was tousled from running your hands through it and you looked like you might cry. I patted the seat next to me so you would sit down and then before I could even think them, the words were tumbling out of my mouth. Every. Damn. Detail.”

He remembered it so clearly, as if it were yesterday. The cold air bit at your skin causing you to shiver and pull your coat tighter. The only warmth either of you felt was what was radiating off the other. It wasn’t much. 

“It’s the nightmare, like the nightmare. The same one from Jacksonville. It just won’t go away. I wake up sweaty and disoriented and I can’t breathe.” 

Silence came. How hadn't he heard you wake up the last few nights? Why didn’t he notice? He silently scolded himself while watching your feet draw little shapes in the snow. The flakes landed on your hair perfectly and the light made you look like you had a halo. An angel. His angel.

You got yourself together and back tracked, “Do you know what I did before the BAU Spence?”

He thought for a moment and realized he didn’t. He had no idea. It was a strange feeling. He knew the last four or so years of your life so well. He spent two and some change of them with you, together, but he knew little about you before then. He knew about your family and your childhood, but that was it. Your early twenties were a secret. 

“No, I don’t,” He croaked, running his hands nervously down his pants, as if they were sweaty, “Rossi just called you one day and the next you were here.”

You sighed and didn’t dare look at him, “I worked with Organized Crime in California. With the Bratva.”

“The russian mafia?” His voice went high, like it always did when he was confused. 

“Let me start at the beginning,” You took a deep breath and held it for a moment, “I went to school, got my criminal justice degree, you know the usual stuff. I worked on various other criminal psychology and forensic degrees and certs until I turned twenty-three.”

“So you could join the bureau,” he finished your sentence. 

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Yeah, it was my life long dream. So I joined at 23, found myself in organized crimes twenty weeks later. I was on the fast track. Not as fast as you of course,” You smiled and bumped your shoulder with his, earning a warm smile that made you feel more comfortable. 

“I worked various cases for a year or two. Low level stuff, you know? Until they actually needed me.”

He was nervous to hear it now, half regretting asking, and half celebrating the fact that you’d share your deepest darkest with him. 

“You know like in old movies when the gangster has a pretty girl in a skimpy dress on his lap? And she pretends to know nothing about what he does? Yeah that was me. Turns out I was the right age and type for Alexei. So there I was. Twenty-five. Had no idea what I was doing, going undercover.”

“Like Emily did with Doyle,” he said. 

You nodded, “Like Emily and Doyle. That’s part of why we got along so well, we both had similar experiences. She knew what the long haul was like.”

“How long were you under?” Spencer whispered. 

“Sixteen months.”

His eyes went wide, “Sixteen?”

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’. 

“That’s a long time.”

“You don’t become a mafia kingpin’s girlfriend overnight, Reid.”

He laughed. You didn’t. 

“See you guys do the short stints. A night, maybe a day or so. It’s different. It’s draining. Constantly worrying about knowing the details of my cover while also not losing myself in the process. Sometimes I couldn’t tell where the cover ended and I started. I was paranoid, looking over my shoulder constantly. If they knew who I was, I’d get killed instantly.”

He stiffened next to you, but you carried on. 

“And you can’t break character. You have to do whatever they want. I had to be his girlfriend. I had to pretend to love him. You know how tiring that is? Pretending to be in love with a man you’re trying to take down? Pretending to like what he likes? Pretending to want to be a part of the sick shit they did?”

He sighed, “You had to do everything he wanted.”

His heart sank and he suddenly felt angry. He needed to punch this guy in the face. 

“Everything,” You practically spit out, venom dripping from the words, “And Alexei’s favorite pastime was killing people who he thought were disloyal. He’d switch it up. Some days he liked to make them suffer, others it was one between the eyes and out. He liked to make me watch.  He liked hurting the dancers too. They had a club, they always have a damn club, and those girls were the only friends I had for months. He liked to hurt them too, defile them. ‘Ruin them’ he’d say.”

Spencer’s arm reached around you now. The cold was getting to both of you, but you didn’t budge from the bench. You didn’t curl into him for safety. You just stared at the snow. 

“He liked when it hurt. He liked to throw things at me. Bruise me. Pull my hair. God I hated it,” your voice was a mere whisper now. Spencer’s grip around you tightened with every word. He wanted to protect you. He always wanted to protect you. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” He mumbled into your hair. A few frozen tears dripped down your cheeks. You sat like that, silently sobbing while remembering what had happened to you. What you’d seen. 

“What happened to him?”

You took a shaky breath, “I begged them to let me out. We had enough. I had stacks and stacks of pictures and evidence. But they didn’t let me. My awful handler would always say ‘just a few more days, Y/N, just a few.’ Then that would become another month. The job only needed eight months. I was there double that. Finally, they did the raid. I got kudos and congratulations. A promotion and a couple extra bucks, as if that would take away what I had been through. I wasn’t myself anymore.”

You took a thick swallow, finding it hard to breathe, “So I quit.”

Spencer held you still, not moving a muscle. 

“I quit. I gave up my dream. I moved back to Connecticut. I made coffee at Starbucks for $7.25 an hour. I read. I went on trips and vacations. I needed to find myself again. Then one day you guys stumbled into them and Rossi called me since I knew first hand how they worked. That was all I needed. A taste of it again, and I was all in. So a week later I showed up, Rossi raving about my ‘ability to get information out of people.’ I developed the skill to survive, Spence.”

You turned into him now, head on his chest. 

“So the nightmares are those memories. The girl’s faces. The young kids who messed up jobs. They’re hurting and I can’t save them. That’s the nightmare.”

You sat in silence, letting the words hang in the air between you. You were tired and spent, leaning your full body weight into him. He was just trying to relax and keep calm. He was pissed, and a little bit was directed at you. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N, but thank you for telling me,” His voice was low and raspy, his head spinning. For just over two years he had been your person. Your rock. And he didn’t know this about you? Why couldn’t you tell him? He told you all of his dirty secrets; his dad, the kidnapping, the drugs, and you ‘couldn’t tell him?’ Why?

“That’s why I was so scared when Emily ‘died.’” You used air quotes around the last word, “Her nightmare came true.”

“Yours won’t.”

You sniffled and rubbed your ice cold nose, “I know. You guys keep me safe.”

You looked up at him, falling into his big doe eyes. They were hurt and twisty, but full of love. And you looked at him like he was everything in the world. In that moment, he was. 

He treated you differently after that night. He was always kind and gentle, but he approached you with a new sense of care. He didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. Someone finally understood you, and it felt so good. But one thing always bothered him, why did you wait so long to tell him? He didn’t think he’d ever know. 

“I loved you and trusted you enough to lay it all out for you, and you took it all in. You told me you wouldn’t let it change anything, but it did. I thought it changed us for the better. Maybe it didn’t, I’m still not sure. You told me it made me stronger, more resilient. It made you love me more, if that was even possible. It made me human. You told me Ernest Hemingway once said “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” You said I was strong at those broken places. 

So that’s what this photostrip is to me. It’s the day I officially took all of my walls down and showed you the parts of me that aren’t pretty, and you didn’t run away. You stayed and kissed me on that freezing cold park bench and warmed me up with a hug I never wanted to leave. I thought after that it would take something much greater than you or I to break this apart, like divine intervention. We were impenetrable, but then again, so was the Titanic.

That night I didn’t have any nightmares. I didn’t have a bad one until a few weeks ago. I missed having you next to me during it. You were right, talking about it does help. I’ll find someone out here to talk to, I promise. 

That night, all the walls were finally down. I think that was my fatal mistake, if only I kept them up a little while longer.

So look at us, all young and innocent before the world left us jaded and hurt. I miss your cheek kisses and the way your hands feel snaking around my waist. I miss your fact dumps and the way you feel like home. Thank you for taking me at my worst, loving me, and leaving me better than I was when you got there. Just like being under, it’s now hard for me to tell where I end and you begin. So many parts of you became parts of me. I’ll have to work on finding myself again, and this time I won’t do it over grande java-chip frappucinos, I’ll do it over case files. I’m finally done running away.” 

Spencer’s throat was dry and his palms were so sweaty the ink was bleeding underneath his fingers. How was he sweating when it was barely ten degrees outside? He put the letter and photo strip back in the box and stuffed it in the passenger seat of his car before walking back into the park. 

The fountain was off again, but he remembered what it looked like running. He walked the same paths you had walked with him a million times. He never wanted to walk them alone. He wondered if Seattle had any nice parks like this for you to walk through. He hoped you were close to Pike Place Market so you could order a coffee at the first ever Starbucks. He hoped you were happy. 

He remembered the way the park looked in the summertime, all lush, green grass and kid’s playing. He remembered the picnic you went on when the blanket flew away. He remembered kissing you under huge trees and feeding birds. As he walked around, he could almost see it, shadows of the people you used to be.  

He walked for maybe an hour before retreating back to his crappy car and crying for a moment. He didn’t turn the music back on as he drove home. He just thought of the way your body racked with tears at the nightmares and how he could always calm you down, almost instantly. He wondered who would see you through the nightmares now? They’re too hard to do alone. 

He didn’t remember when he got home, seemingly having driven on auto-pilot the whole time. When he got back inside he dropped the box and made a beeline for where his copy of your photo strip was, on one of his many shelves covered in books. He grabbed the book he had started six months ago. It was a gift from Rossi and he only read half of it, a rarity for him. When he got halfway through, everything happened and he couldn’t bring himself to open the book up anymore. He rifled through the pages of  ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ and found the photo strip where it was acting as a bookmark on the page where he had left off. He took it out and slammed the book closed, not wanting to read any of the words, even by accident. 

He took the strip over and compared it to yours. His was worn and bent and the shiny photo paper had dulled from the many pages he had stuck it between. Yours was in perfect condition, still shiny and even a little sticky, like it hadn’t been touched. He stared at them, wondering what your life would be now if you could’ve held onto the people in that photo booth. There were so many what-ifs, he didn’t even know where to begin. He knew he couldn’t just leave it at these letters, he needed more. He needed to see you and he fully intended on breaking your ground rules, but not until he was finished. He walked back to the box with newfound vigor, and grabbed #9.

PART 10!

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings

@ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog​ @blameitonthenight @goldentournesol​

(i think some tags aren’t working so if anyone knows how to fix that pls lmk :)

[writingsfromhome]

A June “Love” Story

Part 2

A/N: I’ve been working on this one for a while, it’s about the reader and Harry bumping into each other every year in June and how things change every year. Some what-ifs + missed chances. I loved writing it, I hope you’ll love reading it.

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

June 8. Seven years ago.

As much as I wanted to turn away and go back home, I’d committed to this and I had to go through with it. The “this” in question was a blind date my uni friend Jack had set me up on with a friend he’d know since primary, saying how he was in town and he just knew we would get it on. Even though I told him I still wasn’t over my ex, he insisted.

“It’s fun, it’ll help you get over that man child!” Jack encouraged me on the way here.

“So you’re just trying to push me into a one-night stand to get over him?” I ask suspiciously. “Did your friend ask you for help to get laid or something?”

Jack laughs, “You’ll see when you meet him, he does not need my help. I just want to help you take your mind off...he who must not be named.”

“Two years of my life I gave to him,” I sigh. “It’s only been a month.”

“It’s just one night, you don’t have to commit to my friend forever. You might not even see him again”

“I know, I know. Whatever.” I grumble, touched that Jack cared enough about me to set this up for me but not wanting to say so.

The restaurant is a new Indian spot in east and I take a deep breath before entering. Immediately the hostess catches my eye.

“Two under Styles?” I ask, using the name Jack had given me.

She leads me to a table in the back and I spot him, not because I’d seen his picture beforehand, but he’s the only guy sitting alone and also he was gorgeous. Like, I was jealous of him gorgeous. And to think I hadn’t even put much effort into my outfit. Bollocks.

His eyes alight when they land on me and I give him a small wave. He immediately stands--such a gentleman, and I introduce myself trying to appear less nervous than I was. His big warm hands clasp mine and I feel a tingle up my arm.

“Harry,” he says, sitting down with me. “I hope it’s okay to say but you’re not exactly what Jack described you as.”

I roll my eyes, “His description was probably more ogre-like wasn’t it?”

Harry laughs, it lightens the mood around us, and his smile. Jesus. He definitely didn’t need Jack’s help.

“It was...bland. But you’re a lot more special looking than his Jane Doe description.”

I fight the blood rushing to my face but I can tell Harry knows how flustered he just got me because he ducks his head down and chuckles. I wanted to make him laugh all night, the thought pops into my head and I push it away. Get a grip Y/N. you just met him.

“I didn’t mean to make you speechless,” Harry teases once he looks back up.

“I was not-you did not make me speechless,” I stutter out. “I was just looking at the menu.”

“So shall we order?” He glances up, a twinkle in his eyes. I busy myself with the menu for the first time.

And despite the awkward first impression, after a glass of wine we’re both a lot more relaxed. And I actually want to kiss Jack in gratitude because this date was exactly what I needed to take my mind of of my ex. Harry makes me laugh like crazy, and we find out we know a couple more people in common. He was charming, a patient listener, and knew just how to push my buttons to keep me blushing all night. Or maybe that was just the wine.

As we get kicked out of the restaurant at closing, we stand outside, huddled against the evening air.

“This was nice,” Harry smiles at me. We wait for my Uber, I was hoping I could ask him to join me.

“Yeah, did you want to head to mine? I’ve got at least three unopened bottles of wine with our names on...” I trail off as I notice Harry stiffen. “Or we could just head home?”

“Ah,” Harry looks away, around us, before back to me. “I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow. It’s...best I call it a night.”

“Oh,” maybe I misread the whole fucking evening. I cringe; I was so lonely I’d made up a whole chemistry equation between Harry and I. A guy like him wouldn’t go home with a girl like me. How embarrassing!. “Of course. My Uber should be here anyway, it was a really nice time...thank you. For dinner.”

“No thank you,” Harry says softly. My Uber pulls up to the curb and he walks me to it, opening the door like the gentleman he was. “I’ll get your number from Jack, maybe we can...get together next time I’m in town?”

“Sure,” I say, wanting to end the conversation and just go home. “Good night Harry.”

He leans down and kisses my cheek and I grip the door to keep from running my hands through his hair or something equally as stupid. I wanted to go home and cry, and then maybe go to Jack’s and wring his neck.

Harry:

The first thing I do when I get back to my flat is take a cold shower. It took every atom of my control not to invite her back to mine and spend the whole bloody night with her, memorizing every inch of her body.

I’d just have to leave her next week when I left the city again, and a girl like Y/N deserved more than what I could give.

June 14. Six years ago.

“It’s Dr. Jack Caster to you,” Jack gloats and looks at Nate. “And especially to you.”

Nate stiffens beside me and I pipe in, “Don’t get so big headed Jack-you won’t fit through hospital doors.”

“Well I’ll just go through emergency won’t I?” Jack winks and we laugh, I relax having dodged the tension between Jack and Nate.

When I told Jack my ex, Nate, and I had gotten back together just weeks after he had set me up on that awful blind date last year, he was angry. He’d stopped talking to me for a week but like always, he eventually came around.

Nate and I had a long history, and we were trying to work things out! Although, we did break up once between then and now but we were going strong now. Jack’s friend Harry had texted me between that time, but I’d just texted him to say I was in a relationship. He never responded back so I didn’t give it much thought. After how embarrassed I was after the date, I was okay with never seeing him.

I watch Jack eye Nate as he spoke, Jack always gave Nate a hard time. Even during his own graduation party-Jack finally finished his residency and was officially a Dr-we were all in his flat celebrating the amazing occasion.

“I’m just so bloody proud of you,” I say after the crowd around us grows bigger. I give him one more hug before excusing myself to give space for everyone else moving to congratulate him. Nate trails behind me.

“He really hates me,” Nate says.

“Well,” I wasn’t even denying it as I walk towards the drinks. “He just doesn’t approve of us.”

“He never did,” Nate scoffs. “Don’t you remember in uni?”

“He was protective back then,” I find myself getting annoyed already. Why was I always easing the tension between Jack and Nate like it was my job? Ever since Nate and I got together in uni, Jack’s been standoffish at best with him. He just didn’t trust him. But that wasn’t what I wanted to focus on today. I just wanted to celebrate Jack and find myself a good drink...

“Y/N?” A voice comes from behind Nate and I as I pour an unlabelled wine into my cup. We turn to look and, of course. Harry Styles stands behind Nate. “Y/N, wow it is you!”

Harry ignores Nate and pulls me into a hug. I can smell the alcohol on him--this was not going to be good.

“Harry,” I eye his white t-shirt that showcase his lean arms but quickly glance away, I had a boyfriend!

“Hiya, I don’t think we’ve met,” Nate steps in belatedly. “I’m Nate, Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“So you’re the boyfriend.” Harry secretly winks at me. I knew if Nate found out how I knew him, it would make him insecure and send us spinning into another fight. I had to play mediator once again, I realise as Harry turns back to Nate. “I’m Harry, I-“

“He is Jack’s mate from primary, they go way back!” I pipe in.

“Yeah, way back, I thought you’d look different y’know?” Harry continues looking at Nate. Nate glances at me, questioning who Harry really was while Harry looks at me too, “I thought he’d look different. But Nate my man, you’re a lucky guy! Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“Yes, as we established,” I grind my teeth; Jack must have told him about Nate and I and our complicated history. And I didn’t want to get into it so I try to change the subject. “I didn’t think you’d make it here!”

“Well, Jack’s a bloody doctor,” Harry eyes Jack and shouts out his name but it’s too loud to carry. I’m just glad I’d struck the right chord to distract him. “You only become a doctor once right? I had to come to this!”

“Well if you got more than one doctorates technically-“

I cut Nate’s smart-mouthing off, “That’s sweet of you to support Jack. But Nate and I were just going to say hi to some old friends so maybe we can catch up later!”

“Eh. Nothin’ to catch up on,” Harry turns as I begin inching away. He was clearly going through something--the party was just starting and he was well on his way to wasted. But I had enough on my plate with navigating Nate and all my friends. I couldn’t look after Harry too. “You’ve got a boyfriend, I missed my chance. I’m drunk! Woo hoo! We’re all caught up now.”

I freeze, glance at Nate and he’s staring at Harry trying to figure out what he meant. Before he can open his mouth, again I drag Nate away.

“Did he hit on you or something?” Nate asks me.

“No not...he asked me out on a date.” I confess. “Back when we broke up. It’s nothing though, he’s drunk and I’d only met him once before. I barely know him. Hey let’s go say hi look there’s Mel...”

Crisis averted. For now.

***

“Harry’s pretty drunk,” I whisper to Jack later that night. I spotted him huddled outside in the cold and even though I told myself not to get involved I can’t help it. He seemed so vulnerable.

“His girlfriend just dumped him,” Jack follows my line of sight to him. “Bad night to celebrate anything. But the liquor helps him cope.”

“Well...shouldn’t you say something to him?”

“Nah,” Jack shrugs. “I’ve seen him like this, let him get it out of his system. He’ll just crash in the spare room if he needs.”

I never understood males, I think, as Jack walks away. If my friend just got dumped and was drinking to numb the pain, I’d make sure to give them any help they needed even if what they needed was just a drinking buddy.

“Can I join you?” I ask Harry, joining him outside with a beer for me and a water bottle for him.

“Ah, thanks.” Harry accepts the water. “Won’t your dick boyfriend mind?”

“Hm,” I glance back to where Nate talks animatedly to our uni friends. He’d gotten high off of someone’s grad gift to Jack and that usually meant I would be ignored for the rest of the night unless I listened to him talk for hours about whatever nerd shit his friends and him loved. “I don’t think he’ll notice, and even if he does, that’s his problem.”

Harry glances inside, “If I came here with you, I would never leave your side.”

“Well,” I tease. “Codependency isn’t very romantic.”

“Well neither is whatever you twos got going on.” I guess Harry got blunt when he was drunk.

“Ouch,” the words sting a little.

“Oh fu-sorry I-“

“Don’t,” I cut his apology off. “It’s okay. I’m used to everyone criticizing our relationship. We’re just...working through some stuff. Relationships aren’t always romance all the time right?” Harry makes a disapproving noise and it reminds me. “I heard you were dumped today.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m being an arse. Sorry, I can’t help it. I’m not usually like this. I’ll be embarrassed about it tomorrow if I remember.”

I lean against the wall, the cool bricks a nice reprieve. “I guess we’re even on the embarrassed part.” He looks over questioningingly. “When I asked you back to mine after our date? That was a bit embarrassing when you rejected me. So we’re even.”

Harry laughs and leans his shoulder against the wall so he’s facing my way. The string lights reflect in his eyes making a permanent twinkle. “Just s’yknow I wanted to go back to yours. like crazy. I almost said yah. But you’re more than a one night. I would never have gone to my meeting if I woke up to you.”

I open my mouth and then close it, letting the confession settle in, my stomach fluttering with butterflies like a schoolgirl. His eyes on me and his words create an exhilarating feeling inside, my heart picks up speed. I forgot what it felt like to be paid attention to like that. But I had a boyfriend...maybe I should’ve stayed inside where he was.

“Wait,” Harry pushes himself off the wall and leans down to be eye level. “Have I left you speechless? Again?”

“No,” I say too quickly. “I was just...thinking about um-”

“Speechless,” Harry breaks into a toothy grin. “Woman, you’re speechless.”

“Did you just call me woman?” I can’t help but laugh.

“I did,” Harry moves closer to me, his hand coming down on my waist and the alcohol on his breath a reminder he was drunk. “Do you got a problem with it?”

“Maybe,” I pretend seriousness as he leans in low, I try to say something else but my mouth is dry and the blood pounds through my ears. His eyes are on my lips, I think, is he going to kiss me?

“Y/N?” Nate’s voice near the door interrupts us and reminds me where I was and who I was with. I yank myself away from Harry and walk towards the open door. “There you are, what are you doing out...” I can feel Harry walk up behind me as Nate trails off. I pray he was too drunk or high or both to remember this.

“I’m right here--was just keeping Harry sober. Did you want to leave?”

“Uh,” Nate keeps an eye on Harry. “Yeah, most everyone left. I’m gonna call an Uber. Jack said we can leave the car here.”

“Perfect,” I say and without looking back at Harry I lead Nate back inside. That was close.

June 25. Five years ago.

I flip on the TV for some background noise as I towel dry my hair and begin getting ready for the wedding. Nate’s cousin was getting married today and I was invited as his plus one.

Things had been okay between Nate and I finally. My friends kept telling me I should move on anyway but Nate and I had history. That was worth something. It was nearly four years on and off.

“This next single is from his debut EP dropping August 17th, here’s Harry Styles on MTV.”

My thought are interrupted as I look to the screen and sure enough, Jack’s Harry is laying on a bare bed lip syncing a song. His song. Holy hell, he was on television!

I drop my brush and stare, mesmerized by his every move, the story his words paint, the emotions he displays in every performance of his lyrics. He was bloody good!

I suddenly remember his hand on my waist, how he looked at me like I was something special; I watch the same hand run through his thick locks. A sigh escapes me, he was electric...And I had a boyfriend. But for a minute I imagine what my life would’ve been like if I had gone home with him, or if I had kissed him that night at Jack’s...

I go back to brushing my hair but the song, and mostly the video, stay with me throughout the day and during the wedding and when I get back home I look him up and like a greedy goblin, take in everything I can find about him. It’s not enough.

June 2. Four years ago.

Harry:

I was finally back in London after months away. I’d been on tour for most of this year, my EP being a hit globally. It really felt unreal most nights standing on stages singing my heart out to thousands of strangers, who sang my heartbreak and heartache right back to me. I felt like the luckiest guy alive, like I was living in a 24/7 dream.

And speaking of heartbreak, I spot Jack walking towards me at the tube station looking like a wounded puppy. He’d just broken up with his girlfriend, and he was the exact picture of heartbreak.

“My work keeps me busy Harry, she knew that when we started dating! And a year later she decides she couldn’t keep up with it. It’s just so unfair!” He tells me as we walk.

“I know,” I sympathize with him. I’d had many failed relationships since before my career even started. Starting with my missed connection, the one that could’ve been: Y/N, who’s house we were also going to.

The story was that Y/N and Nate (Jack and I both actively protesting the idea she was still with that loser) moved in together and hosting a housewarming. Jack was supposed to bring his girlfriend but after everything that happened, Y/N agreed for the last minute switch knowing he needed the emotional support. I was nervous to see her, it was a couple years since I saw her last. But something almost happened that night. We never talked since, she’d just walked away from me. I did see her the next morning, as I looked out the window after crashing at Jack’s, she was opening up her car to drive back home. But I just watched her leave

“Aww Jack c’mere!” Y/N greets Jack as soon as she answers her door, pulling him into a big hug and squeezing visibly.

“Are you trying to kill me,” Jack chokes out to which Y/N laughs and lets him go.

“Nate’s just getting dressed, he’ll be down.” she tells him.

He mumbles something about not being there for him but Y/N ignores him and turns to me. Something passes over her face but she pastes on a smile and greets me with a hug too. But unlike Jack’s, it’s just a quick squeeze.

“What an honour to have you here Harry Styles,” Y/N jokes. “Our own celebrity; I heard you on the radio! I could hardly believe it was you the first time I heard your single!”

“I can hardly believe it myself now,” I hand her the rosé I brought. “Here, for your housewarming.”

“Aw you shouldn’t have,” she accepts it, making sure not to touch my hands. Just as quickly, she turns away and shouts upstairs. “Nate did you pick up the alcohol this morning?”

“What?” Nate calls from upstairs. His voice, I couldn’t stand it. I try to ignore the annoyance and move to the kitchen where Jack was already trying to make himself a drink.

“This vodka taste like fart,” Jack calls out to Y/N but she’s too busy yelling up the stairs. It stops when the doorbell rings again, the guests were arriving.

***

“Y/N! We’ll do the washup later!” One of Y/N’s friends calls out. Everyone minus Y/N were all sat around with dessert, a round of poker going. I had no idea how to play so I sat on the sidelines and watch, itching to talk to Y/N alone. She’d been hosting all evening moving from friend to friend, and I wanted to ask about her, see how she was. I knew she had her own life, but I wanted to check in.

“It’s alright!” She calls out. “I always lose at poker anyway, I’ll join you lot later!”

“Just leave her,” Nate says as he acts as dealer, not even pretending to care. “She won’t come. She always needs everything to be clean to relax.”

“Hey remember when Y/N came over to your dorm during finals with all those cleaning supplies and...”

Somebody brings up an old story I can’t relate to. I get up. Maybe I could help Y/N load the washer or something.

I excuse myself but nobody notices, Jack was already passed out on the couch and everyone else here was either recognised me and were too shy to say anything or had no idea who I was and why I was invited. The anonymity was a nice change from the usual.

“Hey, Y/N,” I say softly as I enter the kitchen. The dishes were loaded and the machine open, Y/N with her back to me was just frozen in place, staring at something in front of her. I have to call her name again.

“Oh, hey Harry,” she glances back quickly before rearranging some plates and closing the doors. Her voice sounds stuffy.

“Can I help with the cleanup?” I ask.

“Oh that’s sweet I’ve got it.” She continues to mess about the dishwasher but her voice doesn’t sound right. I ask again, and she drags her sleeve across her face before turning to me. Her eyes were puffy, she had been crying before I came in. At her own dinner party, while the rest of us were out there-including Nate-she was here, crying. I clench my jaw, the anger flaring up to replace how upset the thought made me. “You go out and just enjoy the company Harry, I’m alright.”

I don’t respond at first, just staring at her trying to decide if I should state the obvious. Clearly she wasn’t alright. “Well love,” I say, “the thing is I don’t think the company really knows who I am and why I’m invited.”

That gets a snort out of her. I consider it a small victory. “I take it Jack’s passed out then?”

“Like a light.”

She shakes her head. “Poor guy. I thought Jess was the one for him too, didn’t she seem nice?”

“Yeah,” I don’t admit I’d only met her once. “He’s taking it really hard, I think he though she was the one-“

“Y/N!” Nate, of course, interrupts us with his heavy tone. “Could you not hear me call your name? Where’s those sweets we ordered online the other day? The wine gummies?”

“Top left cabinet,” Y/N says automatically, no trace of emotion in her voice. I watch the interaction, he doesn’t even acknowledge that she’d been crying even though it’s clear as day. He just eyes me as he fishes out what he came for. I realise he was probably the reason she was crying. My hands form fists by my side.

“You joining the game Harry?” Nate asks me.

“I’m not much of a poker player,” I say lightly. “Bad pokerface.”

“I’d say you’ve got a pretty good pokerface,” Nate looks between Y/N and me before leaving. I had no idea what that was supposed to mea but I tighten my fists anyway.

“He’s a bit of an asshole isn’t he?” I turn around, forgetting “he” was her boyfriend. Y/N looks angry, so I apologise. “Sorry, I just don’t get why you’re with him.”

“Are you serious?” She asks.

“What?” I shrug. “I’m just saying-“

“You’re just insulting the both of us is what you’re doing. God, Harry, you’re always a little bit rude aren’t you? And you haven’t even got the excuse of being heartbrokenly drunk this time.” She juts out a hip and waits for my response.

“What?” I respond dumbly.

“The rude thing you said about Nate and me at Jack’s grad party-“

“I don’t even remember that night, I got drunk...” her earlier words come back to me and I cringe at my bad habit. “Did I say something rude and blame it on being drunk?”

“Ladies and gents, he’s not just handsome but smart as well.”

Y/N’s sarcasm isn’t lost on me. But she called me handsome and I can’t help but feel flattered. As she turns away to wiping down the countertop, I slide closer.

“So you think I’m handsome?” I ask.

She gives me a death glare, even with her puffy eyes it’s scary. “Don’t flatter yourself, it’s just what all the articles say.”

“You read articles on me?” I’m actually surprised.

“No, I’m not bloody obsessed with you, I just read them when they show up and...ugh nevermind.”

Y/N turns away and walks to the small kitchen window. The sun had set a long time ago, the street lights cast orange halos every 10 feet, and I don’t think she realises that the night’s turned the window into a mirror; I can see her reflection in the window pane. I watch her annoyance at me fade away into sadness as her face crumples into how she was really feeling. And I feel like a dick.

I walk closer to her and she hunches her shoulders. I hesitate before I say anything..

“Do you want me to leave?” I whisper.

The seconds pass by slowly as I anticipate her “yes”. But she surprises me by slowly turning to face me. Tears streak her face again but this time she doesn’t hide them. She just shakes her bowed head--she wanted me to stay--and walks towards me. So I do the only possible thing, I open up my arms to hold her sadness.

[casualmaraudering]

a meet-cute drabble for @wolfywordweaver who needed cheering up ignore that im like 90 hours late and also who for some reason likes my awful prompt ideas enough to turn them into fantastic fics, ily!!

***

“Sirius! Honey, come here, will you? I need someone to show Remus around!”

Sirius - 21 years old, soon to start his last year of his BDe in illustration, dreams of one day opening his own tattoo parlour, and helps out his adoptive parents in their animal shelter whenever he’s not in classes - is currently battling a very stubborn Husky going by the name of Kettle. Just so happens it’s the week of bathing all the dogs, and Kettle would quicker chew through the lock on her kennel rather than surrender herself to Sirius and his (evil, apparently) bath sponges.

“Your lucky day, girl,” Sirius says, exiting the kennel, making sure he’s taken all the bathing supplies with him - they wouldn’t last very long if he’d leave them alone with a pup Husky. “But I’m not done with you!” he eyes the dog, who barks at him. Cute, that one, despite being hellishly stubborn. “Just you wait, we’re getting you into the bath today if it’s the last damn thing I do.”

“Sirius!”

“Coming, mum!” he yells back, finds a cloth to quickly wipe his hands (there’s fur just about everywhere, and the fact his preferred colour of choice is black doesn’t help - he looks like a cheap rug), and runs to the front of the shelter.

With James and his broken leg (Sirius had almost nothing to do with that particular accident), their parents need someone to help Sirius out with running the shelter: a full-time employee rather than a typical volunteer, til James can come back and resume his usual role. Sirius vaguely remembers mum telling them over dinner that a friend of hers has a son (or was it a nephew? Or cousin?) who’s willing to help out.

Somehow, she forgot to mention he’s hot. And exactly Sirius’s type, too. And that’s something Sirius would’ve loved to know beforehand, so their first meeting wasn’t with him covered in dog hair, wearing one of his oldest, most worn out t-shirts, and with his hair up in the most unattractive up-do known to mankind.

“Oh, there you are!” his mum, currently talking to Curly Hair And Freckles, waves him over. “That’s my other son, Sirius. If you’ve any problems or issues, if you’re not sure what to do - he’s the one to talk to. Sirius, be a darling and show Remus here around.”

“No problem at all,” Sirius smiles charmingly (it would’ve been more charming if he didn’t have dirt on his cheek). “I’d shake your hand but it’s bath day and I’d rather not get you dirty.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Remus says - his voice is warm, with an accent Sirius can’t quite place. Northern Irish? “I don’t mind getting a bit dirty.”

Sirius blinks, losing his composure. This hot guy didn’t just flirt with him, right?

The tour of the building is very pleasant - and indeed, Remus seems to be catching onto Sirius’s flirting and flirts right back. Not that Sirius finds that particularly surprising (he’s aware of his appearance, plus he’s got a rainbow tattoo on his forearm, so him being gay isn’t much of a secret), but it’s flattering nevertheless, especially that Remus is very much what he’d look for in a boyfriend.

When they’re done with the tour, Sirius deposits Remus in the office to sign some paper; Sirius plans to go back to battling Kettle, but his mum stops him at the reception.

“He’ll fit right in, don’t you think?” she asks.

“Yeah, definitely. Seems to like animals, so that’s the most important.”

“His mum says he likes boys too,” mum flashes him a grin. Sirius blinks. “You two seem to be getting along. And Hope says he’s single.”

“Mum-”

“You like him, at least.”

“I do not!” She cocks her head and raises her brows. “Okay, maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean anything. You don’t have to go out of your way to get me a boyfriend, Ma. I’m fine.”

“You should ask him out,” his mum elbows him - he groans in annoyance, which just makes her grin harder. “There’s no harm in that!”

“Yes there is! I’m gonna work with him for two months! It’ll make things awkward and we’re here every day for seven to twelve hours.”

“I just want you to be happy, love,” she puts her hand on his. Sirius smiles - he can’t be mad at her, ever. “Give it some thought, okay? Remus is a very nice boy, I think you two would make a good couple.”

“I’ll think about it.”

*

Sirius is mid-way through scrubbing Kettle - who’s trying her best to get away any opportunity she gets - when the backdoor opens behind him.

“Need any help?”

He turns to see Remus leaning against the wall, an amused smile on his face (and a cute one, too).

“Would be lovely, yeah,” Sirius replies. He’d love to stare at Remus more, but Kettle almost slips past him, so he goes to stop her - he gets his whole shirt wet and soapy, but he can’t care by this point.

“Doesn’t like baths?”

“Hates them. Her name’s Kettle and I love her to death, even if she’s a bit of a goblin. Get the conditioner for me while you’re there, it’s on the shelf to your left. The sooner we’re done, the sooner she can roll around in the mud again.”

Sirius is extremely determined to ignore their hands brushing against each other through the whole process of soaping and then drying the dog. He’s also determined to ignore just how his stomach squeezes whenever that happens.

“You don’t happen to have a spare t-shirt, maybe?” Remus laughs awkwardly, pointing towards his chest. Just like Sirius, he’s covered in dog hair, soap, and water (Sirius refuses to let Remus’s shirt clinging to his body affect him. He’s not 17 anymore, he’s not about to get hot and bothered by something so stupid).

“Oh yeah, sure, in the staff room,” Sirius replies absentmindedly, grabbing the key to the staff room. His mum has probably gone home by now, so it’s best to have a key in case it’s closed.

He leaves the bath area (it has a more sophisticated name, but it’s not like he ever remembers it) with Remus behind him, going through the narrow corridors of the shelter.

“You’ll have to get used to the dog hair, I’m afraid,” he throws. “It’s always good to have at least one spare outfit in the locker. There’s very unfortunate accidents sometimes.”

“Oh, I know. I foster a lot,” Remus replies, once they’re inside the staff room. For the umpteenth time in his life, Sirius curses just how small the space is. “I’m quite used to having dog fur on me 24/7.”

“You’re a great addition, then,” Sirius smiles at him briefly, before going to dig through his locker. He picks one of the shirts he has he thinks will fit Remus. Although similar in height, Sirius thinks his shoulders are a bit broader, so it might end up a bit big on Remus still. “Hope you like Queen.”

“One of my favourite bands, actually.”

Sirius nods in approval, and tries to focus on changing on his own instead of staring at Remus. He mostly succeeds. But also confirms his theory that Remus’s entire body is covered in small freckles.

Once he’s back in clean clothes (or, well… relatively clean. His entire wardrobe has a permanent layer of dog hair on it), Sirius sighs and goes on to mentally slap himself for what he’s about to do. He’s either going to prove his mother very wrong, or have to deal with her ‘I told you so’ til his dying day.

“Are you free right now?” he says quickly, before he can change his mind. “D’you maybe wanna grab a coffee with me? There’s a good Italian place down the road. They do desserts, too, if you like sweets.”

Remus blinks at him, and Sirius is ready to regret all of his life choices and migrate to France, but then his mouth breaks out in a very gentle smile.

“Are you asking me out on a date, by any chance?”

“Would you be terribly upset if I were?”

“Well… you like dogs. You like Queen. You have long hair, which I’ve been told I have a thing for-” Sirius smiles at that, his hand brushing through his hair in response. “-and I’m very curious about that one Celtic tattoo. So… I’d rather be happy if you did decide to make it a date.”

“One question, though,” Sirius flashes his signature grin - and hopes Remus finds it at least half as attractive as everyone tells him it is. “Do you let people take you home on the first date?”

Remus raises his brows in amusement, but his smile doesn’t falter. Sirius feels his heart skip.

“If you pay for dessert.”

[statticscribbles]

Fourth

Summary: 4th of july Scott/reader being bff’s and planning a fourth of july trip; it rains so they’re stuck in a tent and realize they have feelings for each other.

When Scott had asked you about going away for the fourth of July you’d squashed down the feelings you’d felt and grinned. Fourth of July was no time for romance; it was fireworks and BBQ’s and family getting slightly too drunk and panicking at the sparklers your family had lit; as far as Clay was concerned which is why he avoided the invitation. You had some thoughts that Scott had only said it since Clay had been sitting next to you when he asked and they way Scott looked sort of sick when he offered had you worried he was jealous of Clay; you decided to talk to him on the drive out of town; it was only a half hour to the firework stand but then another almost two hours to the campsite.

”You really had to pick this playlist?” Scott gestures to the stereo and you grin nodding feverishly. “It’s our playlist! You really think I’m going to miss the chance to blast all of the best hits and memories we’ve had?” You can see him smiling as he drives and you pretend to be asleep. You can catch him watching you and you wonder what you look like to him because all you see is one of the most beautiful people and kind souls; despite everything he’d done in the past; you’d stood by him and helped him relearn proper behaviour. You can’t count the number of times he’d thanked you; or his parents and other people had thanked you. You weren’t really sure why what you had said had gotten through to him but you were relieved he wasn’t making shitty jokes or being creepy towards any girls. You tried to avoid thinking about him with other girls; not that he seemed to date anyone recently.

”So we want three black cats, seven bottle rockets and fifteen sparklers?” “Fifteen packs of sparklers??” You stare and Scott furrows his brow. “They don’t sell them individually?” “No they sell them in like packs of thirty.” “Holy shit that’s awesome!” You laugh at Scott smiling and gathering the fireworks he’d paid for before putting them into the car. “So we can stop for food in a few miles?” He grins and you point out the signs you can see; the last town area before the campground. “So umm burgers, burgers, or burgers?” You point to each of the signs as you drive by; he circles back and pulls into the burger joint you’d both passed last; you had a soft spot for their malts and it seemed Scott remembered when you told him two years ago the last time you’d both gotten to go out here. Of course that was before Hannah; and before the school fell apart and you push away the rest of that train of thought focusing on the malt you have left to finish. “You okay Y/N?”

“Yeah just thinking about the last time we were here. It feels like a lifetime ago; I mean two years a lot can change..” You force a smile and Scott grins back; you can feel the false smile you’ve given getting a little more real as he nods; eyes lighting up with a memory. “Yeah; remember your hair back then; you’d done it the night before because you wanted a change.” “Oh my god; nooooo Scottt shut uppppppppppppp.” You whine and shove the malt he’d gotten slightly so he frantically grabs at it; he saves his but of course yours spills down your front.

He laughs and you frown grabbing the jacket he’d taken off and marching to the bathroom to wipe the melting malt from your front. You manage to get most of it off but your shirt is soaked so you peel it off and try to dry yourself off with the paper towels in the bathroom and then zip up Scott’s jacket over your bra and sigh knowing the spare clothes you’d packed are at the bottom of the trunk in the car. You resign yourself to the rest of the drive being wrapped in Scott’s hoodie which you don’t really mind. “Oh you didn’t use it as a rag.” he grins and you nod furrowing your brow when Scott’s eyes land on your shirt in your hands. “We should get going.” He mumbles and you nod confused at why he’s suddenly so closed off.

The drive is the same way and you manage to change; deciding that you’re going to make him go swimming before lighting the fireworks off later. “We should go swimming.” You echo the words from before you’d left the diner and then offer out his jackers to try to make peace. “Oh um thanks..” He nods and you gesture from the tent frowning when Scott flicks water onto your face. “Can’t go swimming in the rain.” You pout and then sigh, nudging him over in the tent; you still end up sitting next to him and he offers his jacket back out to cover the shirt you were wearing over your swimsuit. “Sorry; we can’t even do the fireworks; this is such a shit fourth of july.” You pout and Scott shrugs. “I mean I get to spend it with you so it’s not that bad.” “We’re stuck in a tent.”

“Yeah we are; I’m not just out here by myself looking like an idiot.” “Glad I could save you from looking like an idiot then.” You grin and him but he doesn’t smile back. “Aw come on Scott; it’s not that bad; I’m sure it’ll stop raining soon and then we can actually go swimming and light fireworks.” “No I think I’d rather this..” “Being stuck in a tent with me?” “Being with you.” “Oh.” You scoot closer to him and he grins shyly; wrapping his arm around you. “I’m sorry about the diner; I think you thought I was upset at you; I wasn’t; I just; you looked really cute.” “I was just wearing your jacket?” You prompt, confused at what he’d find cute about that. “Yeah; you were wearing my clothes; it was cute.” “Since when has me wearing your clothes been cute?” He shrugs again and you shove his shoulder. “Seriously; you’re not just messing with me are you?” “No; I just; I think I always thought you were cute? I mean like I admitted that I liked you to myself a while ago.” He freezes slowly, turning to you in horror, his face bright pink.

“Like me?” “No; um maybe; yeah; I’d like to date you.” “Wait we went from liking me to dating me?” “If you want?” “Why wouldn’t I?” He responds and you know your face now looks like his did moments ago. “You like me back?” “Well technically I like you first and; wait; what do you mean back?”

“Umm like an exchange? You like me and I like you back..” “Oh.” “This still isn’t the worst thing I can imagine; it’s actually turning out to be a really great fourth of July.” “How? It’s pouring rain outside.” “Yeah;  and we’re sharing a tent. Here, so we don’t get any wetter; unless you want.” He grins and you flush at the implication as he zips the opening up.

Support My Writing?

[leechtwinsfling]

Twisted Wonderland @ DISNEYLAND  [ Chapter 3 ]

✨ Twisted Wonderland FanFiction ❤

[ Disneyland Date Series - HEARTSLABYUL ]

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

We are lead another portion of the garden as I find decorated tables inside the tall wall rose bushes. A few people are already seated as a server dressed similar to a butler heads our way before bowing.

“Welcome, for two?” 

“Ah, no, we actually have five more coming. So it’ll be a total of seven.” I answer getting the butler to nod before leading us to an empty table of eight. 

The table has a black tablecloth with three rounded plants in a row on the middle of the table. Each golden seat has a red ribbon wrap around with roses behind. There are three sets of different size plates, and neatly organized cutlery along with tea cups.  

Since the size of the table is similar to the seating back at the Heartslabyul’s Unbirthday Parties, I take my seat at the middle of one side as Riddle takes the head. We wait patiently for the others to come as I find small snacks already on the table.

Trying not to drool at the appetizing food, I hear familiar voices nearby getting me to look over to the entrance to find Cater and Trey. Smiling, I wave them for their attention as they are looking around. Seeing us, they inform one of the butlers who was welcoming them before heading over. 

“Hey guys.” I greet.

“Hey, the Queen of Hearts mentioned you two.” Trey informs with a chuckle, “Said that it’s a shame Riddle doesn’t have a lover.”

I laugh hearing this as Riddle sighs, “If I have a relationship, I don’t want it to affect my learning.”

“What, is there a rule that doesn’t allow you to date?” I ask.

“Actually -” 

“WOW! THIS PLACE IS AWESOME!” a distinct voice shouts getting all of us to instantly know who it is. 

Looking over to the entrance again, we find the three stooges grabbing everyone’s attention. I couldn’t help stifle a laugh watching them running everywhere as the butlers try to calm them down. Seeing Riddle getting annoyed, it seems like the three could feel his glare as they stop and look over to us. They halt their crazy running before heading over to us quietly. With how they act reminds me of children who know they’re in deep trouble from their parents. 

“There are other people here, don’t bother them.” Riddle lectures them for minutes as I find Cater sitting between Riddle and I. 

Trey sits across from him having an amused smile on his face watching the three as usual getting a scolding. When the second year finally finishes with a huff, the three take their seats. Grimm sits beside me as the other two sit across, all with guilty glum faces.

“So where did you go?” I ask Grimm wondering where he went when we were at the theater. 

“I smelled tuna, but in the end it turned out to be tuna scented eraser.” the cat sighs as I react with a horrified face.

Tuna what eraser?!

Just when I am about to comment about such an absurd product, trumpet horns ring as I realize that every table is now full of people. A red carpet rolls down the entrance as the mascots that we saw minutes ago walk down towards the larger table at the end. It’s design is near the same replica as all the other tables except for the parts where it’s bigger for the mascots’ hands and size.

“Presenting! Queen of Hearts!” a soldier-like dressed staff shouts as the Queen is the last one to walk down the red carpet.

When everyone is seated, the Queen stands up, “I welcome you all to my Unbirthday Party. Please enjoy yourself!”

With that, people dig into the tea and food offered getting me to wonder how do we pay for all this.

“I’m pretty sure all this is not free, so where do we pay?” I ask Cater who’s munching on a bite-size sandwich.

“Oh, we paid it beforehand. Trey reserved it once we were told we’re coming to Disneyland for a field trip.” he answers.

Okay, not a shock.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Ace asks staring at the Queen like a love-struck boy.

“Ace... you do know she ain’t real, right?” I ask concern for his well-being.

He dramatically gasps at me, “Don’t say that! What if the children hear you? It’s like saying Santa is not real!”

Turns out, someone must have heard him as a nearby table a child begins crying saying that Ace said Santa isn’t real. The parents look over to our table before giving a disapproving glare.

“Good job, Ace. You ruined a kid’s childhood.” I shake my head disappointingly at him.

“Hey! You’re the one who started it!” Ace blames.

“Quiet, let’s all just enjoy the tea please?” Riddle sighs already used to our bickering during times like this. 

With us enjoying some small talk about our experiences so far, along with the tea and snacks, I hear Cater soon humming along with the music which I recognize is the ‘Unbirthday Song’. Couldn’t help myself, I decide to hum along getting his attention. He breaks into a smile before singing along with the music and raising his tea cup to me. Laughing, I clink my tea cup with his as we both begin singing the song.

“A very merry Unbirthday to me !” he begins singing loudly that other people look over to us.

“To who?” I sing back deciding that it’ll seem fun despite being embarrassing. 

“To me!” 

“Oh you!” I point to him looking shocked.

“A very merry Unbirthday to you!” he offers me a hand which I take after putting my tea down.

“Who me?” I question.

“Yes, you!” he quickly touches my nose.

“Oh, me!” I gasp in surprise.

“Let's all congratulate us with another cup of tea! A very merry Unbirthday to you!” he cheers as people begin applauding and cheering.

Laughing at how he amazingly hit that high note, he then pulls me off from the table as he continues singing. Instead of being a small show to each other, it then becomes a huge performance for the whole party.

“Now, statistics prove, prove that you've one birthday.” I speak looking over to a group of children enjoying the unplanned performance.

“Imagine, just one birthday every year!” Cater adds.

“Ah, but there are three hundred and sixty four Unbirthdays!” I cheer.

“Precisely why we're gathered here to cheer!”

“It’s also my Unbirthday!” a child from the crowd raises his hang getting Cater and I to look over at each other before smiling and heading over to the small boy.

“It is?” Cater asks picking the child.

“What a wonderful world this is!” I pat the boy’s head.

“In that case!” Cater puts down the boy.

He puts the boy’s hand with mine before grasping the other boy’s hand and mine. We begin dancing in a circle as we continue to sing.

“A very merry Unbirthday!” we sing as children become rushing over to join the circle.

“To me?” the small boy asks.

“To you!” I smile finding the circle growing big as adults are cheering from the sidelines.

“A very merry Unbirthday!” the audience then begins singing.

“For me?” the children asks.

“For you!” we all shout.

“Now blow the candle out my dear and make your wish come true! A merry merry Unbirthday to you!” we all sing together.

Once the music ends, I can’t help but laugh as the children demand another performance from Cater and I.

“One more time! Can we please?” a child begs pulling down my shirt.

“Please!” other children chorus.

“Okay! Okay!” Cater agrees, “Everybody get ready!”

Everyone heads back into a circle as another child grabs my hand. I smile at the small girl who smiles widely back at me.

“You have a nice boyfriend, Big Brother/Sister.” she speaks.

Okay, stop right there. How many times has it been that people mistaken me to be with these boys.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I laugh.

“Eh? But you’re holding hands with him!”

“Yes, and everyone else is holding hands with others too, right?”

“Ah!” she realizes, “Yeah!” 

After many repeats of singing and dancing, the parents decide to help us as they see the exhaustion on Cater and I. Giving a relief sigh, I feel Cater lean on top of me with his chin on my head.

“Ah~ I didn’t expect to be so tired this early in the morning.” he  hugs me, “[N/A]~ Carry me~!”

“You think I can carry your heavy-butt?” I ask feeling tired on my own.

“So mean~”

“Can’t help but tell the truth.” I laugh before feeling him actually put all his weight on me, “Ugh, oh my god, what did you eat?”

“Trey~! [N/A] called me fat!” Cater tattles as I’m trying to support us from not falling face down on the ground. 

“I didn’t! How do you expect me to carry a grown man?! I’m still growing!” I argue dragging us towards our table.

“I’m still growing!” Cater gasps.

“Ha, not with your age.” I laugh obviously fooling around.

“I’m only two years older than you!” 

“Two years! You’ve eaten more than 2190 meals than me!” 

“How did you get that number?” 

“Well, there’s 365 days, and the average amount of meal is three. So 365 times three is 1095. Then multiply with two since it’s two years, and that’ll be 2190.” I easily explain.

The boys can only stare at me as the first years look at me like I’m talking gibberish as the older two didn’t expect this from me.  “Okay, I might be not that smart at school but that’s only because everything I’m learning is entirely new to me! Remember, I’m from a different world than you guys.” I remind getting them to snap out of their daze.

“Awe, our little transfer student continues to surprise us all still.” Cater hugs me tighter. 

I let out a choking sound, “Can’t breath. Can’t breath!”

He releases me allowing me to gasp for air before relaxing, “I thought I was gonna die just then.” “Am I that strong~?” “With the addition of your body weight, then sure~” I continue to tease getting him to gasp and sulk before slapping me playfully.  Laughing, I sit back onto my seat as he does the same. The party continues as the mascots visit each table to talk with the children. I, personally, am stuffing myself with this delicious food in front of me.

“Y/N~! Try this!” Cater offers a bite of his small chocolate cake on his fork. 

Without hesitation, I take a bite and can’t help but moan from the richness it melts on my tongue.  “Right~! It’s so good! Here, have another bite.” he offers another spoonful which I once again eat from.

“This scene reminds me of a mother feeding her baby.” Grimm comments.

“Don’t be jealous that Mother loves me more than a stray cat.” I stick my tongue out at Grimm playfully. 

“Ah! There’s chocolate on your cheek.” Cater takes a napkin and gets ready to wipe it but stops.

Instead he smirks and leans in before licking the chocolate off my cheek. My eyes widen as I can’t help but blush like a tomato. The others saw this and are frozen into place as they can’t believe what happened. “There~” Cater smiles acting like nothing happened but knows what chaos he just started.  And the party ends with a food fight started by the first years. 

[ to be continued ] 

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

ammmy, light of my life, can i get a richie going through his old toys and finding one of Eddie’s so he calls him up to reconnect? please and thank you! :)

remember me? I remember you

a/n:  this sort of turned into a thing? Let me know if you want a part two!

*Click title to read on AO3

* * * * *

Richie rolled his eyes as his mother disappeared up the flight of stairs that led to the attic. When he had made the decision to come home for the weekend to visit his parents, he hadn’t expected to be going through all his old toys and comics so his mom could make room in the attic for other things. He had wanted to spend the weekend chilling, maybe going out for dinner and spending some quality time with his parents, but nope, he was spring cleaning instead.

“Goodness, Richie, you have got so much stuff up here it’s insane! We really should have done all this before you went to college,” Maggie grumbled and Richie had to hold back a snort. After all, he had suggested they have a garage sale with all of the things he wasn’t going to be using after he graduated High School, but his mom just wasn’t ready to part with her only child’s youth.

He voiced as much, only to receive a grunt from the woman that birthed him and then suddenly a box was thrust downwards, almost hitting Richie square in the face. “A little warning mom!” He laughed, taking the box and sitting it down on the hallway next to his bedroom door. He remained on the bottom step, accepting any boxes from his mom before she emerged once more.

All in all, there were five full boxes of Richie’s childhood that had been stuffed up into the attic. Some of them were even covered in cobwebs, which caused a shiver to run down Richie’s spine just a little. A wave of sadness passed over him as he looked down at them, his messy handwriting making it clear which box was which. He might be twenty seven now, but looking at his old stuff made him feel fourteen again.

His mom seemed to sense the hesitation and she gave him a light smack on the arm, “Come on, we need to go through all of this and decide which stuff is worth keeping and what stuff I can donate to the Bangor Hospital Children’s Ward.”

A smile made its way onto Richie’s lips then. Ever since his mother dropped down some of the hours at the factory she was working at, she had been making up time by volunteering at the Children’s Ward in Bangor. He felt a little bad at the possessiveness he felt over some of the toys in the boxes, as he knew that he would never play with them again, but some of those kids at the hospital would.

“Alright mom, let’s get looking through these boxes!” Richie picked up a few and carried them down the stairs to the living room, where they slowly began opening them and making two separate piles.

The first few boxes were just a bunch of Richie’s old comics that he had spent most of his middle school and early teenage years reading over and over again. They were so worn from reading that Richie wasn’t sure the hospital would accept them, but his mom didn’t agree, these comics would make some little boy or girl very very happy.

It wasn’t until they got to the last box that Richie came across something that he actually knew he wouldn’t be able to part with. His throat closed up the moment he set eyes on the toy, and his eyes began to fill with tears. How could Richie have ever forgotten about this? More importantly who gave him it?

Gingerly, he reached his hand into the box and pulled out the luminous orange stress ball. The little smiley face was still present, but it had started to fade somewhat. Richie let out a choked laugh, and suddenly he wasn’t twenty seven anymore, but sixteen.

“I can’t believe you’re moving, tomorrow,” Richie whispered, his fingers picking on a loose strand of his sweater. Eddie Kaspbrak smacked his hand away, giving Richie a glare. He stopped picking almost immediately and looked down at his feet.

They were sprawled out on Richie’s bed, comics shared between them. The whole day had been spent at the Quarry with the other losers and Stan had even got the extra mile and made a picnic. It was a lovely goodbye party, but now, when it was just Eddie and Richie alone, it was really starting to settle in that this was the last time they’d be able to do this.

“Do you think I’ll like New York?” Eddie asked after a few moments of silence. It had been a topic of conversation for the losers ever since Eddie told him his mother was moving them to the city. He had never actually outright asked if anyone thought he would like it or not.

Richie pursed his lips, thinking over what to say to as no upset his best friend…and crush. Yeah, Richie was pretty much gone for Eddie and the fact that he was leaving him was like a punch to the gut. Deep down, he wished he had had the guts to tell him how he felt before, but he didn’t. He would never be able to tell him now, it just wasn’t fair on either of them.

“I think that it’ll become a place that you’ll love just as much as Derry,” Richie finally settled on, biting his lip in the process.

Eddie tilted his head to the side, clearly processing Richie’s words before he nodded, “Maybe, but I know I’ll never find another group of friends that I love as much as I love you guys. We’re losers, and we always will be, right?”

“Right,” Richie nodded, trying his best not to cry. The tears were for tomorrow when Eddie was in a car, driving south to New York with a van full of his belongings. “I’m really going to miss you, Eds.”

“Don’t,” Eddie shook his head, and Richie swore he could see tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to think about how we’ll probably never see each other again and that just…it’s too much for me to think about right now.” As soon as he stopped talking, Eddie jumped off of the bed and started to rummage through his bag.

Richie tilted his head and frowned, “Eds? What are you doing?” Eddie jumped back up, holding something behind his back, which was only stemming Richie’s curiosity. “Eds?”

“This is really stupid but…I wanted to be able to uh, give you something to remember be by?” Richie tried not to scoff, because there was no way he’d ever forget his Eddie Spaghetti. “So when I was shopping yesterday, I found this.” Eddie pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a bright orange stress ball with a smiley face on it. “For when you need to let out some of that energy.”

Carefully, Richie accepted the ball and looked at it in complete awe. Eddie had gone out of his way to buy Richie something he knew he’d use every day, so that he wouldn’t forget Eddie. “I love it, Eds. Thank you.”

Eddie flushed a little and tucked some of his hair behind his ear. “I was um, wondering if we could sign our names on there too?”

This time it was Richie’s turn to flush red and he slowly nodded his head, pulling out a black sharpie pen from his drawer. He passed the pen to Eddie, who uncapped it and wrote his name in his lovely cursive writing, before passing it to Richie. His hands were shaking, but he managed to write his own name right next to Eddie’s.

He sat the ball on his dresser, so the pen could dry and he turned his head to find Eddie pulling his shoes on. That was when Richie realised that it was almost 10pm and Eddie had to be home. “Eds…”

“I’ll see you, okay?” Eddie breathed and Richie could only nod his head. Eddie moved closer, hugging him as tight as he could before pulling away. “Goodbye, Rich…”

“Bye, Eds.”

“Richie?” His mother brought him out of his thoughts and Richie soon realised that he was crying. He flipped the ball over and their names were still there, etched in black pen. How the fuck could he have forgotten about Eddie. His Eddie. His first love.

“Sorry mom, uh…” Richie cleared his throat. “I need to make a phone call.” He had no idea how he was going to find Eddie’s number, but if there was a will, there is a way.

* * * * *

Eddie Kaspbrak stared at the ring in the black box that he had bought over a week ago and he felt nothing but bile fill up in his stomach. His mother had been so insistent that he ask his girlfriend of a year, Myra, to marry him, even though he could think of nothing worse. Still, he went out and bought the ring, but he had still yet to ask her the damn question.

He didn’t even want to marry Myra, hell, he didn’t even want to be dating her. Eddie had come home from a day of work and Myra had been sitting at his kitchen table with his mother. They were polar opposites, but his mother was so sure she was the woman for him, he didn’t even have a chance to disagree.

Deep down, he knew what she was doing, after all, he had come out as gay to her about three weeks before Myra was introduced into his life. His mother had been so shocked that her son prefers the company of other men, she literally forced a woman into his life.

Was it crazy for him to still be hung up over a guy who he had been in love with when he was sixteen? A guy who he hadn’t seen in eleven years and whom was probably married with kids of his own now? The thought did make Eddie laugh a little, as Richie Tozier had never been one to show signs of settling down…ever.

Still, Eddie never forgot about his best friend from Derry, or any of his friends actually. Especially Richie though, he was always going to have a special place in his heart for Richie.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned, tossing the ring box onto his bed and watching as it bounced up and down before landing by his pillow. “I don’t want to do this. Damnit, please, something, just give me a sign that I should just pack up my shit and leave!”

Of course, just like Eddie had expected, there was nothing. Not a single sound or movement that could even be understood as a sign he shouldn’t propose to the woman who makes his life miserable. With a sigh, Eddie stood up and put on a nice shirt and pants, pocketing the box in his pocket before he left the apartment to head to the restaurant where he would meet his mother and Myra. He had to do it today, his mother had said, there would be consequences if he didn’t.

When he was just a few metres away from the restaurant, so close that he could make out his mother and Myra’s forms sitting in the booth, Eddie felt his phone ring in his pocket. He froze for a second, wondering whether or not to ignore it and call the person back later, when he changed his mind. He was stalling for time, after all.

Without looking at the caller ID, Eddie answered the call and pressed his phone to his ear, “Edward Kaspbrak speaking?”

“Eds? Is that really you?”

The second he heard that all too familiar voice, the voice that he never could forget, Eddie froze in his tracks and jumped into an alleyway, shaking like a leaf. “R-Richie?”

“Holy shit it is you,” Richie breathed on the other line and Eddie felt a lump form in his throat. “Fuck, Eds…it’s been so long.”

A watery laugh bubbled out of Eddie’s lips and he wiped away a few stray tears with the palm of his hand, “Eleven years to be exact,” he whispered. “How- How are you? How did you even get my number?”

Richie chuckled down the phone and Eddie swooned. He had forgotten just how perfect Richie’s laugh was. “Funny story, uh, my mom was making me clean out some of my old toys and I…I found the stress ball you gave me the night before you moved away.” He started, his voice soft. “The second I saw it I…I immediately hated myself because I forgot about you. Kind of, I mean I didn’t forget but I…did. I know it doesn’t make any sense but anyway, the second I saw it, I knew I had to find you. To talk to you again. So I googled you.”

“You googled me?” Eddie asked, shaking his head in amusement because of course Richie would google him.

“Yes, Eds, I googled you.” Richie spoke as though it was obvious. “And I came across the company you work for. Risk Analyst, Eds? Really? I thought you wanted to be a Doctor?”

That was right, back in High School Eddie did want to be a doctor. Thanks to the move however and the new adaptation to his new life, he had fallen behind on his grades and didn’t meet the entry requirements. “I- I didn’t get into medical school, so I…yeah. I know the job sucks. I hate my job but a friend of my mother got it for me and I couldn’t really say no.”

There was a silence on the other side of the phone for a few seconds before Richie spoke up again, “Was I interrupting something?” He asked and that was when Eddie remembered his lunch plans. That was also when he remembered the sign he had begged for back at his place.

“No, no not at all. I wasn’t planning on doing anything.”

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @mrs-vh @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @thundercatseddie @eduardoandale @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @fuzzylogik @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking

[writethehousedown]

And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Seven (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: I DID IT! kinda at the last moment, but here she is. we’ve reached yet another end. thanks for reading fellas! sideblog for crying about the ending with me is @chachkisalpaca - a million thanks to frey for beta-ing this.

Summer of 2021, a year later.

Vanessa launches herself into Crystal’s arms when she sees her step foot onto the beach.

“You came!” She screeches so loud it hurts her ears. But she doesn’t complain, she’s missed Vanessa a whole lot. Crystal just hugs her tighter, lifting her up.

“Of course I came! I missed you, bitch,” she exclaims, settling her on the ground again. Vanessa takes her hand and guides her where she and Kameron are settled. “I gotta say though, if you made me stop on my way back home after losing to Shea Couleé in Hawaii, just to see you lose tomorrow, I’m done being friends with you,” Crystal deadpans, and Vanessa briefly lets go of her hand to playfully smack her.

Hawaii hadn’t been half as bad this year compared to the last one, considering she ended up in the fifth place, so the second place was an upgrade, and she did spend a great time while she was there — though Vanessa didn’t join her, preferring instead to stay in California in order to practice for an upcoming competition she was sure she would excel in thanks to most surfers being in Hawaii, but she still had April and Jaida to hang out with.

Things with Jaida were cooler now; they had managed to become actual friends and whatever awkwardness from the past was resolved. She still was her usual self, though this time around she seemed goofier and way more laid back. Crystal wonders if it has to do with that contact in her phone —“Babe” with three purple hearts— and the fact she’s also making a stop in California before returning to Milwaukee.

“Shush, you know I’ll win,” Vanessa says with a cocky grin, and her confidence makes her think that she’ll indeed destroy the competition.

They make small talk as they navigate their way back to Vanessa and Kameron’s blanket; Crystal asks how life is going since they moved in together on their one year anniversary, and Vanessa looks oh so radiant as she tells her how every morning and night is better than the last one, and that family reunions with Brooke aren’t as awkward as they could be thanks to them getting their shit together and talking things out.

Crystal asks if Plastique and Brooke are still a thing, and Vanessa shrugs, says she hasn’t talked with Brooke since the summer’s started, but last thing she knew was that they were visiting Plastique’s family in Vietnam over the summer and that the tickets were already paid for. Or that’s what Yvie told her, anyway, when she made a quick stop in California before heading to Hawaii to see her girlfriend.

Kameron is as strong as ever and almost crushes Crystal in a hug that leaves her breathless.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Kam,” she says, and Kameron laughs wholeheartedly upon seeing her expression.

“How are you, Crys? Where’s your surfboard? I thought I could get some cool photos of you and ‘Ness,” Kameron inquires, reaching for her professional camera carefully tucked in her backpack.

“Ah, I left it at my hotel room. I was having lunch when Vanj told me y’all were here already, and the restaurant was a few streets down, so.” She shrugs, taking the hair tie on her wristband to try and collect her short hair in a low ponytail.

“Aw, d’you have money to rent one? I wanted to beat you like Shea Couleé beat you in Hawaii, so I can have a taste of how it’ll feel to win tomorrow,” Vanessa teases her, placing her head on Kameron’s shoulder. Crystal rolls her eyes, both due to Vanessa’s cockiness and how disgustingly cute they are.

“You talk a big game, but I’m sure that I can beat you harder than Shea Coulee beat me!” Crystal retorts, earning a loud laugh from Kameron and Vanessa. She laughs too, and proceeds to tell Vanessa she has enough to rent a surfboard for maybe an hour. Vanessa claps excitedly, grabbing her hand and guiding her to the rental shack, before giving Kameron a quick kiss, promising to be back in a second.

Crystal rolls her eyes again. She can’t stand affection right now, not when she told her latest girl she was leaving yesterday and she stood her up at the airport, not even bothering to send her a goodbye text.

It’s disappointing, because she thought maybe this girl was like Gigi and she cared the tiniest bit about her.

But Gigi is unique. There probably won’t be anyone like her ever again, and Crystal is at peace with that for some odd reason.

They tried to stay in contact once they left Honolulu, but life is hectic, and it was becoming quite hard to juggle college, her job, and texting a girl half a country away on the regular. The last time they talked was on Crystal’s birthday, a simple “Happy birthday, babe!” with a heart and a globe emoji attached to it. Crystal liked the message and replied with a polite ‘thank you’, and that was it.

She tries to remember where in California Gigi said she was from. Maybe, if there’s the tiniest bit of coincidence that she lives near, they can have a movie-like reunion and revive those three weeks together, but she doesn’t get her hopes up.

*

Maybe Gigi doesn’t hate beaches that much after all.

Well, she can’t say that right now, not when she’s the only one without a girlfriend to spend summer with — Brita is going out with a girl from her class, after she spent all year long complaining about her and her shit attitude, Jan has a long distance girlfriend whom she talks with every day and swears is coming to see her before summer ends, and Jackie and Nicky are so sweet together it’s disgusting.

She feels left out, somehow. Probably because all they talk about in recent times is their partners and love lives, and Gigi hasn’t had a proper date since April, when they set her up with a senior called Pearl and their date went awful. She’s pretty sure Pearl is now dating someone else, though.

“Geeg, do you wanna come with me to get a smoothie?” Brita asks, sounding only a little bit impatient. Gigi cocks a sly brow when she notices it’s the second time in the hour she’s going for a smoothie.

“Brita, for the last time, Aiden is working and you shouldn’t be spending all your money on smoothies. The chemical bathrooms are a mess,” Jackie scolds her, briefly stopping running her fingers through Nicky’s hair, who’s lying across Jackie’s lap.

Brita folds her arms, saying, that ‘for the last time, it has nothing to do with the fact Aiden works there’, when suddenly Jan shoots up and runs off, leaving all the girls surprised.

They call for her and try to follow her as well as they can, when they spot her running into a woman’s arms, and the woman lifts her from the ground, spinning her around. They kiss while Jan is in the air, and Gigi can’t help but to roll her eyes.

Great, another pair of lovebirds she has to put up with.

Jan meets them back at their spot after kissing her girlfriend for what felt like a lifetime and introduces her as Jaida. Gigi vaguely remembers her from somewhere else.

“We met last year in Hawaii, and went out while Jay was there! We’ve been texting a lot since then, and remember that I went to Milwaukee for winter break?” Jan explains excitedly, snuggling closer to Jaida with each word she speaks. Gigi tries not to roll her eyes when Jan tells them, for maybe the hundredth time, how Jaida asked her to be her girlfriend when she visited her over winter break. Jan kisses Jaida’s cheek once she’s done talking, and Jaida just smiles brightly.

“I couldn’t pass the opportunity! You had me hooked since the moment I met you, and since this was my senior year, y’know, I thought we could make it work once I graduated,” Jaida says, bringing Jan closer by her waist and kissing her forehead.

“What were you studying?” Nicky inquires.

“I’m a communications major, and as of now I’m trying to get a job around here, so I can finally move out of my little town. And, ‘sides Jan, the beach here is always a plus. It’s a surfer’s dream,” Jaida explains, chuckling softly, and soon she’s bombarded with questions about her sport.

The fact she’s a surfer makes Gigi think of Crystal. She could’ve also had a surfer girlfriend if she tried hard enough to make it work, but she guessed that just wasn’t meant to be like Jaida and Jan.

She thinks of asking Jaida about Crystal, but decides against it. She still has Crystal’s Instagram and follows her page religiously. All she has to do is send her a text, but she doesn’t have the courage to do so after so much time having passed.

“Hey, girls? I’m gonna get ice cream, I’ll be back in a moment,” Gigi announces, grabbing her phone and shoving a couple of dollars into her phone case. She’s running away from the lovey-dovey couples more than anything, though she could also use some ice cream to help her cope.

She walks aimlessly around the beach, trying to remember where she saw the ice cream stand, avoiding children that are running around with water guns in their hands and screeching like banshees. Some beach balls are thrown her way, and she kicks them back with ease, dismissing the people that scream ‘I’m sorry’ towards her.

Gigi has learned to appreciate the unique chaos of the beach, even if she still gets annoyed at little things like the long queues to buy ice cream, and the disgusting chemical bathrooms. In the end, these are little details in the grand scheme of things.

Crystal taught her that.

It’s stupid how often she thinks about Crystal. When she starts forgetting the sound of her voice, she replays the audio messages she sent her. And sometimes, if she concentrates hard enough, she can feel the ghost of a kiss burning on her neck.

Perhaps she should download Tinder again and get a grip.

Gigi finally finds the ice cream stand she was looking for and buys the biggest cone there is, with scoops of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate. She likes to keep it classy.

She’s slowly making her way back as she licks the Ice cream, wondering if her friends would believe her if she said she has a headache and is going home. Gigi really has no will whatsoever to sit through an entire evening of her friends rubbing their relationships in her face, while she’s painfully—

“Gigi?”

Gigi freezes mid-movement, looking for that voice she’s heard one too many times through audio messages. She finds the owner of said voice standing a few feet away, with her hair, that was once long and ebony, cut above her shoulders, dyed in a deep green that looks almost black, wearing a stupid yellow Hawaiian shirt over a red bikini, holding a surfboard under her arm.

She blinks repeatedly before realizing it’s not her mind playing a trick on her. It really is Crystal who’s approaching her.

“Crystal,” she manages to say, staring at her. Crystal’s smile is still the same, and her plump lips are as kissable as ever. She has a new piercing in her belly button; Gigi thinks it suits her. “It’s— I didn’t— You’re in California,” Gigi blurts out, and Crystal smirks.

“I am, yeah. I arrived this morning,” she says, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, but Gigi decides to think it’s a sunburn. “I was gonna, uh, I was gonna practice with Vanessa for a bit. She’s got a competition tomorrow, here,” Crystal comments awkwardly, making Gigi wonder where has the cheeky Crystal she knew gone.

“Are you participating too?” She asks, licking her melting ice cream.

Crystal shakes her head no, much to Gigi’s surprise.

“Oh, no, I’m sitting this one out. I didn’t have the time to sign up for this one; I was in Honolulu for another competition, like every year. I came in second. I did get a consolation prize and some money, though,” Crystal explains, going from excited to disappointed, and excited again in the span of a few seconds. Gigi giggles; she’s missed Crystal’s enthusiasm.

“How long are you staying?” Gigi asks, with a tinge of hopefulness in her tone. Crystal smiles softly, tapping on the surfboard.

“Like, three days,” she replies, biting her lower lip. Gigi’s heart sinks for a moment, but she continues. “You think that’s enough time to catch up before I’m back to Missouri?” Crystal asks, sounding way too sheepish.

A smile spreads on Gigi’s face, immediately thinking of all the things they can do together while she’s in the city, and a squeal of happiness escapes her mouth before she realizes.

“Oh my God, yes! I mean, it’s not as much time as I would want, but we could make it work,” Gigi assures her, and Crystal nods, giving her a toothy smile.

“We can make it work,” she repeats. Gigi nods dumbly, licking her ice cream again when she feels her hand get sticky with the melted cream. Crystal stifles a laugh. “I have to catch up with Vanjie, but, uh, do you wanna go for a swim together when I’m done?” Crystal asks, as if she didn’t know Gigi would say yes.

Gigi nods, and Crystal is already turning around to go to her friend, when Gigi tugs on her arm. She turns around, careful as not to smack any kid with her surfboard, and before she can say anything, Gigi steals a kiss from her.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathes out against her lips, and she can feel Crystal smiling before kissing her back.

“Summer’s way funnier with you,” she mumbles in response, forgetting about Vanessa, who’s waiting for her. The only thing she can think of right now is Gigi and how much she’s missed her lips.

[talesofstyles]

Masterlist

Alright babies, I’ve decided to put all my writings in one place so it’ll be easier for you to find them. There aren’t a lot yet but you’ve got more things coming your way. Bonne lecture!

* denotes filth

One Shots

Happy Anniversary*

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry, lawyer!harry

In which you celebrate your anniversary in Harry’s office

***

“Don’t chuck me just yet,” he jokes, and you can feel the words said against your lips at the same time as you hear them.

You give him another quick kiss, giggling as you pull away. “Don’t worry,” you shake your head. “Not for another fifty years.”

“Make it seventy, will ya?” A sly smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Sixty five,” you deadpan. “Give or take.”

He’s chuckling as he lets one of his palms slide up your leg, the other running down your back, stopping just above your arse. His grins widen when he doesn’t feel anything else beside your work dress covering them. “You’re not wearing anything under this?”

“Not a stitch,” you murmur.

***

Good Morning Indeed*

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry

In which Harry and his wife is trying to sneak in a little quickie in the midst of the family’s morning chaos. Followed by 50/50 bread tantrums, wrestling a biscuit-hunting kid who’s set on having Hobnobs for breakfast and two stroppy teething babies. Fun.

***

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper.

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

***

Drs Styles*

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry, doctor!harry

***

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to those days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would’ve been confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to kiss me. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

***

Reconcile

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry 

In which nearly divorced Harry is trying to win his wife back. Oh and his bitter nine-year-old daughter.

***

“He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do.

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight.

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

***

Reconcile II*

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage.

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside.

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns.

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster.

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife.

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

***

Stitches and Pucks*

tags: hockey!harry, boyfriend!harry

In which LA King’s best player (on and off the ice) has had enough scoring puck bunnies and is now whipped by the new team doctor. 

***

“Let me drive you home,” I quickly say before she gets the chance to order a ride. Not sure why I did that because I certainly have never offered women a ride home without the promise of getting in their knickers, and I can assure you that I won’t be getting anywhere near hers tonight, but maybe I just don’t want this night to end yet.

We’ve been glued at the hip from the moment I bought her first drink, and three hours purely just talking with the same woman? That’s a record in my book. While I’m not ashamed to admit that I also like looking at her, honestly, to me that’s just an added bonus. I think it’s safe to say that I have never met anyone like her before. Granted, with most women usually there wasn’t much talking, but from what I learnt in just the span of three hours is that this doctor of mine is a hell of a lot of fun.

I swear she’s just a pure fucking joy to be around. Conversation with her is like a never-ending merry-go-round and she makes me laugh a lot. She’s bright and witty and she’s one of those people that knows no strangers. She can easily talk about anything from politics to sports even to crude jokes, and add on to that, she’s just so kind and inclusive that several times tonight I actually had to drag her away to one of the back tables so we could have a proper chat without the crowd around us.

“You don’t have to,” she gives me a hesitantly sweet smile.

“But I want to,” I gallantly insist as I turn and offer my arm to her. “Come on, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

“Well, alright then,” she smirks, her hand easily slides into the crook of my elbow. “I could save a few bucks.”

I roll my eyes and tease her, “didn’t take you to be such a skinflint.”

“Hey!” She playfully slaps my arm with her other hand as she laughs and I’m glad I amuse her.

No, seriously... I like her laugh.

There’s no doubt that she wants me, just as there’s no doubt that I totally want her. We’ve got this really heavy flirting going on all night, and plenty of innuendo, but I won’t be surprised nor disappointed if she doesn’t invite me inside when we get to her home and nothing happens tonight.

We’ll get there, I’m sure.

Until then, I’m completely fine drinking beer, being her personal chauffeur, and getting to know her a little better.

***

Quid Pro Quo

tags: lawyer!harry, enemies to lovers

In which you can’t stand your colleague.

***

“I tell you what, this is ironclad,” you let out a heavy sigh as you throw the document on the coffee table in defeat. “Houdini wouldn’t even get out of this contract.”

“We need to adjourn,” Harry suggests, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Regroup tomorrow to get to the bottom of this with clear heads. I’ve got a trial at half nine but I’ll be done by noon.”

“I can’t rest before we figure this out,” you state stubbornly, pausing for a second to let out a yawn. “But you go home. I’ll let you know if I’ve got something.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “You have to rest. If you were to come up with something you would’ve by now.”

You feel a stab of indignation. “Are you saying that I’m not capable of getting to the bottom of this myself?”

***

The Law of Attraction*

tags: lawyer!harry

Sort of continuation of Quid Pro Quo. In which YN is using Harry to get over her ex, and well... he’s not complaining because she’s a damn good lay.

***

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks and she turns to look at him. He gives her a tiny smirk before his eyes get back on the road, but he reaches his hand out to her bare knee to give her a squeeze. “Still haven’t answered me, doll.”

“Sorry- what did you ask?”

“Why did you want me to go with you?” He asks again. “He wants to merge, right? That’s totally your thing. You don’t need me.”

“You helped me with his crisis a few months ago,” she reminds him. “Just thought we could do his business together again. He’ll be happy he’s getting two partners, the firm will be happy because they can charge double. It’s a win-win, really.”

“Bollocks that,” Harry laughs. “Worst bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s all, honest,” she feigns innocence.

“Honey, I didn’t go through law school for nothing, did I?” He replies without moving his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re using me as a human condom, aren’t you?”

“What the hell does that even mean?” She drops her jaw in shock at the fact that he calls her out on the carpet just like that.

“You’re afraid you’ll catch feelings again if you’re left alone with him, so you bring me as a shield. Am I right?” He asks her with an accusatory eyebrow raise. “You know what, no need to answer that. Of course I’m right.”

“I told you, he’s just a client now,” she insists, trying to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as Harry’s hand inches its way up her thigh. It’s incredibly arousing, but she also finds it a little disturbing since they’re having a conversation about a man she’s head over heels for. She almost want him to stop but fuck if she’s going to ask him.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here,” he says, and it’s really hard for her to concentrate on what he’s saying since he’s squeezing her thigh. His fingers pressing deep into her muscles and she can only wish they’re a few inches higher. “But if in any way you want to get him back, just say the word and I’ll back away, yeah?”

***

Did I Break It?*

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry

In which you and Harry share a glass of wine in the kitchen and enjoy scraps of leftovers from the kids while trying to figure out Year 3 maths homework. Followed by a giggly, quite realistic smut because some nights aren’t just meant to be, are they?

***

“Here, check your boy’s homework then,” you can’t help but grin as you slide his maths book across the counter.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he mutters jokingly as he catches the book, and his eyes widen as he looks at the questions. “Whoa, equivalent fractions. Year 3 kids do that now? What ‘appened to number lines?”

You let out a hearty laugh. “I know right?! I’m pretty sure I did this in Year 5.”

“Okay, we’ve got this,” he rolls up his sleeves, making you laugh even harder, before tucking a pencil behind one of his ears. “Six over twelve is blank over ninety six. Fuck, what’s ninety six divided by twelve?”

“Now’s the time to use yer brain innit, big head?” You tease him this time.

“Oi!” He complains, trying to sound annoyed but the smile plastered across his face is hard to miss. “Be nice t’me.”

***

In Sickness And In Health*

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry

After the birth of the twins, Harry and YN’s marriage suffers.

***

Sometimes, when the frustration takes over, Harry can’t help but wonder if he could just confront her. ‘What do you want, really? Do you want to get a divorce? Just say it.’ Because he’s tired of feeling helpless. He’s tired of feeling like he may have a little hope one second yet having it crushed the next. But when he sees her, he doesn’t have the heart to.

She’s YN, his wife. He loves her and he can’t lose her.

***

Mess Is Mine

tags: dad!harry

A three-part story about a single dad Harry and single mum YN.

***

“Well, she’s named after me mum so she’s definitely her favourite grandchild so far,” Harry grins. “She’s basically Anya’s second parent, my mum.”

“Oh, I thought her mother is Russian!” YN exclaims. “I love her name.”

Harry’s grin widens as he shakes his head. “Thank you. No, my mum’s name is Anne and I want to name my daughter after her, but having two Anne(s) would be confusing. So I opted for another version of Anne.”

“That’s a really gorgeous name. Your mum must be very happy,” YN says as she tucks her hands inside her pockets because it’s getting a bit chilly.

“Definitely made her my mum’s favourite grandchild for sure. Well, she’s currently her only grandchild so that may change sometime soon,” Harry says proudly, grinning even wider. “I’m gonna be an uncle in a few weeks.”

***

Mess Is Mine II

tags: dad!harry

***

His eyes widen in surprise when YN giggles. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“What?!” He looks at her, surprised. “So you knew? All this time?”

YN is clearly having fun with this. “Knew what?” She asks nonchalantly.

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t ya?” He says, his eyes twinkle in delight. “That I fancy ya?”

YN giggles again, folding her arms. “Well, you weren’t being very subtle but you weren’t straightforward either.”

“Tha’ a yes, then?” Harry grins, taking another slug of his wine.

YN smiles back at him. “That’s a hell yes.”

***

Mess Is Mine III*

tags: dad!harry, boyfriend!harry, husband!harry

***

YN is still in her bathrobe when he steps into the bedroom, smiling through the mirror at his reflection from the door. Her hair is done and she’s just putting the last bit of some make-up before she slips into her outfit for the night. Her black lace jumpsuit is ready on the bed, waiting for her.

Harry is still standing by the door, staring at her intensely. He folds his arms across his chest, not a word comes out of his mouth.

“You gonna stand there and gawk at me all night or are you coming in and help me get into my outfit?” YN smirks at him through the mirror.

***

On S’envoie en L’air?*

tags: husband!harry, dad!harry

In which a little mid-day quickie and cockwarming on the balcony are involved during their family holiday to Côte d’Azur. Plus Harry teaching his little boy to swim.

***

“On s’envoie en l’air?” Harry whispered, still standing between your legs as you sat on the edge of the tall bed. You let out a little chuckle. “Wha’?”

“Nothing. S’just your three year old speaks better French than you,” you teased him and he tickled your sides, earning a burst of giggles from you. “It’s true! I swear you only know three sentences; going to the cinema with your family and friends, how to make a coffee this delicious and sh-”

“Shall we ‘ave a shag?” He cut you off, finishing your sentence. A boyish grin plastered across his face as he continued. “Think we shall, hmm?”

***

Half A Heart 

tags: dad!harry, husband!harry

In which Harry’s new album is stressing him out and he lashes out at the kids and his wife.

***

Both you and Harry were stubborn and it seemed that your three years old got that gene. She sighed heavily and tugged on the hem of Harry’s shirt to get his attention. “But, dad-”

She stopped mid-sentence because Harry startled her. He huffed loudly in annoyance and turned to her. His face was stern and it might be the first time in her three years of life that the little girl was scared of her daddy. “Eleanor, what did I say?!” Harry questioned her, not even bothering to use a term of endearment which was strange for him.

***

Half A Heart II

tags: dad!harry, husband!harry

In which Harry tries to make amends with his wife and kids.

***

“Love, don’t say that.” He begged you to stop. He couldn’t hear more of that coming from you.

“No, don’t love me and I will say whatever the fuck I want to say.” It’s rare for you to curse so when you do, he knows that you’re really upset.

“You know it isn’t true.” He spoke lowly. “I didn’t mean anything I said.”

You seethed. “No, I don’t know. I hope it isn’t but I can’t shake the thought that it might be true. The way you said it, it was just very conv-”

Harry cut you off. “It isn’t true. Please don’t let that idea get into your head. I was a complete twat, I didn’t even know what I said. M’sorry.”

***

A Bit Of Singin’

tags: dad!harry

In which Harry’s little girl being extra clingy before her daddy’s show and ends up running to the stage.

***

Suddenly you wanted to sneeze so you let go of Charlotte’s hand to cover your mouth and nose. And what a big mistake that was. Charlotte immediately ran to the stage. You and George tried to catch her but that kid was fast. One of the crews who was standing near the stage managed to catch her but she screamed from the top of her lungs, “NOOO! I WANT TO GO TO M’DADDY!”

The song just ended so the arena was silence for a second, only Charlotte’s screaming was audible. Harry turned to look at her, shaking his head as he laughed. “Alright, alright, c’mere.”

The crew let go of her and she ran up to him immediately. Harry knelt down and opened his arms, pulling his baby girl into his chest before standing up and went back to the middle of the stage. “Y’just can’t wait can yeh?”

***

The Kitchen’s Closed

tags: dad!harry, husband!harry

A little Father’s Day special in which YN gives Harry a vasectomy appointment for his Father’s Day present.

***

“Do we really have to go?” Harry paced around your bedroom anxiously as he waited for you to get ready. The babysitters—yes you always hire two at the same—would arrive soon.

“Yes we do,” you tried to stifle your snigger. “It’s a really simple surgery, Harry, won’t take longer than 20 minutes.”

“Think m’balls know what’s going on and have gone into hiding,” Harry mumbled nervously. “They seem to have retracted into my body.”

“Your balls are fine, H. I’m sure they’re still there,” you snorted in laughter, shaking your head.

***

Baby Steps

tags: dad!harry, husband!harry

Harry and YN takes baby lad to the park to teach him to walk.

***

“Jeez, you’re such a mum.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Well yeah you knocked me up.”

“Aye, that I did.” He cackled.

After you fed baby lad his snacks, Harry taught him to walk by holding his hands above his head, letting your baby set the pace and direction. The sight in front of you was really heartwarming.

“Where’s mummy? Should we walk to mummy?” He looked down to your baby and your baby flashed a grin, making the two bottom teeth and the newly popped two upper teeth that were responsible for your lack of sleep two weeks prior fully visible.

***

Mates*

tags: bestfriend!harry

Can Harry help his best friend to forget her ex?

***

“Morning mate,” greeted the man before he took a sip of his coffee.

Harry mumbled in response before it was cut with a yawn. “Mor- whoa,” he raised his palm to make a stop sign, and continued after he finished yawning. “You don’t live here.”

“Uh,” awkward silence filled the kitchen. “I don’t.”

“What are you doing here?” He knew it was a stupid question, but that somehow didn’t stop him from asking.

“Er, uh,” the guy looked down at his mug for a second before he answered. “Visiting.”

“Visiting what? My roommate’s uterus?”

Blurbs (or concepts or drabbles... you name it)

Instagram Prompts

Text From Last Night

[mymarvelbunch]

Different Roads... Same Destination: Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (established)

Summary: When the Avengers went back in time to get the Infinity Stones, new timelines were created. By not delivering them back to their exact same spots, you and Steve created major changes in those timelines. What happened? (Non-American!Reader)

This is a sequel to “Be Your Own Hero”. I highly recommend you read it first, since it features many major changes in canon that are addressed here.

Notes: Y/N = your (first) name; Y/Co = your home country; Y/Ci = your home city; Y/N/L = your native language (to be ignored in case you speak English).

Masterlist

Part One

New York, 2012

The Avengers were still trying to understand what happened when a loud ‘thud’ was heard. Tony turned to see the Scepter lying on the ground.

“Well, here is the thing Loki used to brainwash people”, he said. “But where is the Tesseract?”

“This isn’t the Mind Stone”, Loki said. “They placed the Tesseract in the Scepter.”

Everyone turned to him. He had already been right minutes prior, when he pointed out there were four Avengers from the future. Now the team was more inclined to believe him again, especially Thor.

“How do you know this, brother?”, he asked, frowning.

“The glow is different, for starters. And... I don’t know how to say this accurately, but I feel different when the Mind Stone is near me. Ever since those warriors came from the future and took it, I felt... lightweight, even if for brief moments. As if...”

Thor’s eyes widened. “As if the Mind Stone has some sort of power over you.” Loki nodded weakly. “Well, this is important information. Mother will certainly know to fix this. Stark, hand me the Scepter. It will be safer in Asgard.”

A SHIELD agent opened his mouth to protest, but there was little they could do as Tony gave Thor the Scepter. The Asgardian walked to the open balcony, his brother in his arm, and left, though not without asking his ‘brothers-in-arms’ to find the Mind Stone first.

“We’ll do surveillance around the Tower”, Runlow said, “with your permission, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I don’t want that thing near any of us.”

~~

“Wait”, Tony said. “Loki was under mind control back then?” 

You turned behind to face him, but a quick glance told you almost everyone was surprised. “You didn’t know? He told me back in 2014.”

Loki wasn’t there to defend himself, busy as he was being king, but Thor was. “Honestly, I didn’t know either, not until Asgard was destroyed. Loki told me on our way here that Mother chose to perform her purification spells out of everyone’s eye because... It would be better (or less worse) to have people believe Loki had turned evil than to have them know about Thanos. But yes, he was under Thanos’ influence through the Mind Stone. It wasn’t exactly like what he did to Barton and others, but close enough.”

That made an awful lot of sense. No one had a good answer for that, and they turned back to the ‘screen’.

~~

It took five years for the Mind Stone to be found. In the meantime, SHIELD was dismantled, the Winter Soldier was revealed to be a brainwashed Bucky Barnes and HYDRA was taken down piece by piece.

There was no Scarlet Witch, no Quicksilver, no Ultron, no Sokkovia Accords, no Zemo. Steve found Bucky in Bucarest in 2016 and, after weeks of talking and with Sam’s help, took him to New York. There, they faced another battle, as many people wanted him in jail for the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier.

Surprisingly, their help came from Tony. “I know what he did to my parents, yeah. I read all those files Romanov leaked. But we all saw what brainwashing does to a person, huh?”

No, Tony and Bucky didn’t become friends. Despite his forgiveness, Tony was still wary of him; poor man had his own mental health issues to face already. But he was willing to pay the best lawyers to convince the public that Barnes had no control over himself for the past seven decades, and that the Winter Soldier was nothing but a weapon in HYDRA’s hands. It took time and money, but it was worth it, for Bucky was absolved and reclaimed his status as war hero.

Even so, he didn’t want to stay in US. “Too many memories”, he explained, and Steve understood. It all got worse when one of Tony’s employees found a glowing Stone in the elevator shaft. Thor wasn’t on Earth when it happened, so the Mind Stone stayed at the Tower for a while. Needless to say, Steve was worried, and Bucky was terrified.

“I found a place that might be good for you”, Maria Hill told him one day. “Y/Ci, in Y/Co. It’s a place untouched by HYDRA and with no evidence that the Winter Soldier ever stepped foot in there. No memories, no triggers.”

Bucky accepted the offer almost immediately, and Steve was happy to follow him. “I’ve had enough fights for a lifetime”, he said. “We should have retired from soldier duty decades ago, Bucky. We both deserve a normal life.”

It was early 2018 when they finally settled, and, upon Steve’s insistence, Bucky started looking for mental health care facilities.

~~

Your grip on Steve’s hand tightened when you recognized the mental health facility Bucky got inside. “I was an intern there at college”, you said. Steve’s eyes widened, and he grinned.

“Maybe Bucky will be the one to get you instead of me”, he teased.

Behind you, whispers could be heard.

“It’s weird to not see myself with you guys”, Wanda said. “I wish I could know if Pietro is alive.” Vision rested his hand on her shoulder, likely reflecting on how would his life be if he had stayed as a disembodied voice.

“Wakanda wasn’t even mentioned”, Shuri said. “I guess with father still alive, the borders remained closed.”

“Probably the reason why Bucky moved to Y/Co instead of Wakanda”, Sam added. “If people still think Wakanda is a poor country, no one would think of it as a mental health care reference.”

“I’m not mentioned either”, Scott said, “which is kind of weird, because I don’t see why I wouldn’t meet at least Sam.”

“Yeah, but there was no fight in Germany for you to take part of”, Hope replied. “They probably never contacted you again. Parker isn’t mentioned either.”

Someone shushed them.

~~

Even though he had scheduled it all by himself, Bucky didn’t want to go his first appointment alone. So, when Y/N called for Sebastian Stan (his new alias), he and Steve (who called himself Chris Evans) stood up together from their seats.

Inside, Bucky soon confessed his true identity. Your surprise was visible for five seconds, and then you smiled. “I’m glad you trusted me with such a delicate information, Mr. Barnes. But I wish you’d tell me your story with your own words, not just what was said about you on newspapers.”

Steve stayed inside the whole time, having also revealed who he was. Bucky didn’t tell his whole story at once, give there was a time limit for his appointment, but you asked him to come back in a week. “We can’t give you any concrete diagnosis for now, Mr. Barnes, though we have a few suspicions. But I assure you we’ll help you in every step of your recovery. You won’t be alone.”

After three more sessions, he was diagnosed primarily with PTSD, along with general anxiety disorder and memory problems (he had yet to remember key details of his past).

You were supposed to leave the facility at the end of the month, but your mentor offered you a prolonged stay. “You mentioned your next internship would be in surgery, and you don’t like it, right? I can pull some strings to keep you here. It’s not like you’ll need those skills to become a psychiatrist.”

You happily accepted his help. You’ve always been sure of what you wanted to do after finishing college; skipping surgery internship was honestly a dream come true, and you were eager to follow Barnes’ case. Your classmates didn’t know his true identity, but the case discussions made it clear you got one of the most complex cases at the facility, and some classmates envied you.

Your teacher was successful, and for the following three months you stayed, taking care not only of Barnes, but of other patients as well. It was a wonderful experience, and you were sure you had fallen into the staff’s good graces, which increased your chances at getting into residency program there after graduation.

As the weeks went by, though, you noticed something rather odd. Barnes had been getting inside the room alone since his fifth appointment, but Rogers still accompanied him, waiting for him outside. Eventually, you asked your patient why that was, assuming he’d say he still didn’t feel safe coming alone. Instead, he grinned.

“Oh, he pretends he comes for my sake, but he actually just wants to get a glimpse of you.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva.

~~

At your side, Steve laughed and hugged you tight.

“Guess I didn’t steal Y/N from you after all, punk”, Bucky said, grinning just like his alternate counterpart.

“Thank God”, you replied. “No offence, Bucky, but seeing us dating would have been way too awkward.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

---x---

It wasn’t easy for Steve to convince you to go on a date with him. You were hesitant, given he was her patient’s best friend and roommate, but eventually you conceded.

“We won’t talk about Barnes at all”, you said firmly. “And if I sense this will affect my relationship with my patient, it’ll be over.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied instantly, willing to do anything to see you more.

You had charmed him from day one, and his interest on you only grew as weeks went by. When the day of your date arrived, he was a nervous wreck.

“Haven’t seen you like this since Peggy”, Bucky mentioned.

“Shut up, jerk”, he retorted. “And go hide, I don’t want Y/N to see you and cancel our date.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger and you haven’t even kissed yet”, he teased, but left to his room anyway.

A date led to another, and another, and another... Steve waited for you to leave the facility and stop seeing Bucky to ask you to be his girlfriend, and she promptly agreed.

A year later, when you met the Avengers for the first time, Thor told the story of how he, Loki and others fought Thanos when he invaded Asgard to take the Space and Mind Stones. Your eyes widened as he gleefully detailed the purple alien’s demise.

“Glad you defeated him still in Asgard”, Tony said. “We just found out about another of these Stones here on Earth. A wizard here in New York is its guardian.”

“Really? Give me his address, I figure we have much to discuss.”

You didn’t really understand all those talks, but Steve’s visible relief was enough information for you.

~~

On the current timeline, that same relief was visible among everyone. “A peaceful timeline”, you commented. “I hope there are more of these.”

After Strange showed what happened to the Avengers who were not featured, Wong took his place to show another timeline. You straightened your back as the ‘screen’ showed you briefly kissing Steve in Morag.

~~

Did you like it? I was looking forward to write about the consequences of those changes. Butterfly effect is strong here.

For those who don’t remember, in ‘Be Your Own Hero’ Loki tells the Reader he was under the influence of the Mind Stone in the events of the first Avengers movie. This is a popular theory that explains some differences between his behavior in that movie and his behavior on... well, any other movie he’s in.

In this, I try to touch on how things would be different if this information was made known right away, instead of being kept a secret. Being seen as a victim instead of a villain changes a lot for Loki’s story, and therefore Thor’s arc as well (The Dark World and Ragnarok’s. It also helps Tony understand Bucky’s story and actions better, since he saw the effects of mind control on Clint and Loki.

Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Ultron and Vision are all products of the Mind Stone, meaning that, in its absence, they don’t exist. The events of Age of Ultron are what make Civil War happen, meaning one doesn’t exist without the other. With no Civil War, nobody reaches out to Scott, T’Challa doesn’t become king to open the borders, and Peter Parker’s role in Tony’s life is probably less significant (though I do believe he mentors the teenager anyway).

If you want to follow my crazy ideas on time travel and its consequences, taglist is open!