#I guess? idk how to tag this. Hopefully it’s alright to put things in the dbhc tag

[bella-rose29]

Idiot ~ Anthony Lockwood x f!reader

Requested by anon:

Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader, with childhood bestfriends to rivals to lovers with the miscommunication trope, but also a happy ending with both of them being together. So the plot could be like, they were childhood best friends but then when Anthony's family died he later wanted to start the business, but she thought that he was out of his mind because she was scared about him being in danger, but he thought she just didn't think he can handle it so they got into an argument and she left. After that, they started hating each, later she joined Fittes as an agent, so he was even more angry. So they became rivals in the ghost hunting business. Then they got put on a mission later, and idk she gets injured and his like "who did this to you," but they're still enemies, even though the whole time there is sexual tension between them. This request is super chaotic, so just make your own plot with these elements, I guess. I'm not good at describing plots, I will be happy with whatever you write, but please let them have a happy ending and be together. Also, could you try to make this as long as you can because there aren't as many Lockwood fics as there should be.

I might have changed some bits a lil bit and probably spent way too long talking about their childhood, but hopefully this lives up to your expectations anon! (Please let me know if it doesn't though)

Word count: 9.5k exactly (holy shit this is insane i had way too much fun with this)

Warnings: swearing, violence, fighting, descriptions of injury, mentions and descriptions of Lockwood's family dying/being dead, major spoilers for the books (and the show), some stuff probably doesn't make sense (like at all), i might also have misremembered and made up some things but we'll go with it, Lockwood is actually kind of a dick for some of this oops, he gets better i promise, hospitals, mentions of being on morphine (for the pain), references to Lockwood being depressed, they're idiots in love.

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list!

It was nearly 3am and Y/n L/n had had enough.

She was exhausted, weary, worn out, and pretty much any other synonym for the word 'tired', and she just wanted to go to bed, but Anthony Lockwood had other ideas.

"Give it here, come on!"

Y/n groaned, then half-heartedly chucked the bits of paper at her best friend from where she was lying on the floor of his living room. Jessica laughed, despite also losing to the 5 year old boy at Monopoly, and shook her head at his greedy smile as he counted the money. How he had ever managed to get the two of them to agree to play with him, Y/n didn't know, especially since she'd not really been paying attention when the rules were explained. But then she saw how happy he was at the idea of playing with the two girls, and Y/n knew she could never make her best friend sad.

She did really want to go to bed though.

Jessica Lockwood appeared to notice Y/n's droopy eyes, and quietly spoke to her brother, stifling a laugh at his pout when she told him they should probably stop.

"But we aren't done yet!"

"I know, Anthony, but you've definitely got the most money, I'm sure of it. You're going to win no matter what, so I think we should let Y/n/n go to sleep, yeah?"

"Oh..." he'd noticed his friend's demeanour now, and felt immediately bad for making her stay awake. "Alright then. Y/n/n?"

"Mmm?"

"You ready to go to bed? 'Cause Jess says I won, so I reckon we can go up now."

"Mkay," she murmured, too sleepy to answer in proper words. Going up to bed was a haze, and she only really woke up when she stubbed her toe at the bottom of the stairs (Anthony hadn't told her that was there, despite saying he'd guide her). She was sure she brushed her teeth, Jessica would have checked, and they were all already in their pyjamas, but the only other thing she remembered before dropping off completely was seeing Anthony's face on the pillow next to her, already snoring lightly.

~~~

Y/n couldn't remember most of Anthony's sixth birthday now, what with all the memories that came in between, but she did remember his joy at receiving her present.

He'd spent the majority of the morning since Y/n and her family went next door gloating about how he was finally six, and now he was old enough to do so much more than Y/n (who was still five). She'd rolled her eyes, laughing when he did victory dances all around the house, and laughing even harder when he fell over while doing one of the previously mentioned dances.

They'd run away and hidden in his room in the attic after collecting plates of cake, and Y/n made sure to pick up her carefully wrapped present on the way up. He'd noticed immediately that she was carrying it, of course, he was far too observant to miss it, and had demanded that she let him open it right then and there. Initially she'd refused, feeling shy and worried that he wouldn't like it, but he'd given her one of his secret smiles, one of the ones reserved specifically for her, and said "Please?" so sweetly she caved.

He placed the cake to the side, then spent a good minute unwrapping the gift, being oh so gentle with the paper in fear of breaking it. When he saw the item inside, his smile burst out, bright and blinding, and Y/n felt her own smile form on her face, pleased at his reaction.

"Do you like it?" Nerves were still coursing through her, but they left her body when he raised his head and met her eyes.

"I love it, Y/n/n," he whispered, lifting the picture frame all the way out of the wrapping. She'd convinced her parents to print the photo off, and then spent hours making a frame that would fit it perfectly, complete with lolly sticks and stickers, trying to make the best gift for the best friend she'd ever had.

The photo was the two of them the previous Christmas, bundled up in ridiculous festive jumpers and sat in front of the Lockwood family tree in the hallway, presents surrounding them. Their parents had insisted on a photo before they ruined the area with rubbish everywhere, and the two of them could barely contain their excitement. There was a slight blur to them, a testament to their energy, but their smiles were so wide and they were hugging so tightly Y/n knew it was the perfect photo to give him.

"Where did you even get this? I thought your mum hid the camera?"

Y/n giggled at his comically wide eyes. "I just asked her, silly. I did have to do some chores but I didn't mind, it was worth it."

She barely had time to move her plate of cake out of the way (she hadn't eaten any in the last few minutes, far too focused on Anthony's reaction) when he surged forward, bringing his arms around her in a crushing hug.

"Thank you," he said, although it was muffled since his head was pressed into her shoulder.

"Anything for you, Ant, anytime."

They stayed there for a while, just hugging on his bed and revelling in each others' presence, both knowing that Y/n had meant her words.

~~~

When Anthony had to fight his parents' ghosts, Y/n had cried.

He was crying too, since he'd seen them die less than a day ago and now he had to keep them dead, but seeing her best friend in so much pain had made Y/n cry harder.

Anthony was trying to push back the tears so that he could see, so that he could fight, and Y/n hated that he was doing this on his own.

She had been kept in her room by her parents, the adults being too scared for their daughter's safety to let her go and help Anthony, and she was watching him through her bedroom window. Despite the tears streaming down her face and the sobs racking her body, she could tell he was crying (or trying not to) because of the way he was hunched into himself, as if by making himself smaller he could make everything stop. His body was shaking too, heaving with silent cries as he fought off the two ghosts in front of him. Why they were in his back garden, Y/n wasn't sure, since they'd died on the road in an explosion a few minutes drive away, but she was only six, and didn't understand much anyway.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, perched on the window seat with her gaze fixed on the boy next door, but she knew that it was far past her bedtime when he finally stopped them, and she woke up with her face stuck to the window, tear stains on her cheeks.

Realising it was light again, Y/n hurried to get dressed, tearing down the stairs and into the house next to them, knocking rapidly on the front door. It swung open a few moments later, revealing Jessica, who smiled sadly at the small girl in front of her and waved Y/n in.

"He's in his room," she said quietly, voice raw from crying.

Y/n nearly tripped countless times climbing the many stairs, and by the time she'd made it to the attic she was out of breath. Pushing his door open, and going up the last few steps (seriously, why were there so many steps?) she froze at the top when she saw him curled up under his bedsheets, shaking with near-silent cries.

"Anthony?"

She heard him sniff, the sound gross and snotty, and then he turned his body around to face her, and Y/n felt her heart break in her chest.

He clearly hadn't slept all night, eyes red from crying and lack of sleep, and he was struggling to keep back the fresh tears that threatened to break through.

"Oh, Ant."

Y/n rushed to the bed, climbing to sit next to him and pulling his head into her lap, brushing her fingers through his hair.

They sat like that for hours, long after Jessica brought up some toast for the two of them, and even when Y/n's back hurt from the headboard and her legs were numb from having his weight on them, she didn't stop stroking his hair, soothing him silently.

When he finally sat up, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose (Y/n made a mental note to put her clothes in the wash as soon as she got back home), she pulled him back in for a hug, both of them sat up this time.

"Thank you, Y/n/n."

She remembered the last time they'd done this, hugged on his bed while he thanked her, but this time it wasn't happy.

"Anything, Ant. Anytime."

~~~

"Ant, don't be stupid!" Y/n giggled, watching him climb the tree.

"I'm gonna get you an apple," he shouted, smiling down at her. "You're gonna love it, I promise!"

He'd just been reaching out for one, bright red and shining, when they'd heard a crash from inside his house, followed by a scream. They'd frozen where they stood, Y/n on the ground and Anthony in the tree, and then suddenly they snapped into action, scrambling to get inside and find Jessica.

They tore up the stairs (somehow Anthony had caught up to her, despite having been up the tree), and he pushed open her bedroom door just in time to see the ghost.

"NO!"

He moved before Y/n did, grabbing a spare rapier from the dresser and moving to fight, hoping to save his sister.

Y/n moved, but backwards, taking a step back out onto the landing, her hand on her mouth.

"Anthony."

He had pushed the ghost back, and was picking up a net.

"Anthony."

He had thrown the net over the broken pot, wrapping it up securely.

"Anthony," she said, eyes fixed on the bed.

"What?" His eyes were wide with terror as he turned to look at her, evidently scared that she was in danger, but when he followed her finger that pointed to the bed, he choked.

"No," he croaked hoarsely, and Y/n felt terrible for making him realise. "Jessica? Jessica please wake up. Jessica. Jessica, this isn't funny. Jessica, please. Jessica."

He kept on like that, repeating her name and asking her to wake up, but Y/n knew that she wouldn't. She moved again then, over to where he stood, rapier hanging limply in his hand. It had only been three years ago he'd lost his parents, why did he have to lose someone else that he loved? Pulling him into her, she let him sob into her shoulder (difficult, given his growth spurt).

Y/n knew at that point that she wouldn't ever leave him.

~~~

"You what?!"

"I'm starting training," Anthony replied, not looking up from where he stood at the kitchen counter, buttering toast.

"But... but why?"

"Because," he shrugged. When he didn't expand on it, Y/n sighed.

She was worried about him.

He'd been vacant, hollow, since Jessica's death, and although he tried to smile and make everybody think that he was doing just fine, Y/n knew her best friend better than that. She saw the bags under his eyes, the lack of joy and mischief that used to reside in his gaze.

"Because what, Anthony?"

"Look, I'll be fine. This guy called Nigel is gonna train me, and then I'll be an agent, and I can keep you safe."

"I can keep myself safe, idiot," Y/n huffed indignantly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

"I know, I just want to be extra sure that you'll be okay. And everyone else."

"We're nine, Anthony. You went to a funeral a week ago and already you're talking to agents?"

"Yes. I'd like it if you came with me, obviously, but if you don't that's fine too. I'm doing this anyway, with or without you."

That hurt.

They always did everything together, so why was he talking like this?

"Fine. I'll talk to my parents. You need protecting too, dummy."

She'd broached the subject that night at dinner, expecting them to say no.

"Are you sure you want to do this, darling?"

"Yep," she said, stabbing some peas with her fork.

Her parents shared a look.

"Alright. Just promise us you'll be careful, and you'll pay attention in your training, yeah?"

Surprise made Y/n jolt, sending peas skidding across the table. "I can go?"

"Yes, but you have to promise us-"

"I promise!" Her parents chuckled, shaking their heads in a way that reminded Y/n of Monopoly and a late night.

~~~

Training was horrible.

Everybody was mean to her, just because she couldn't run as fast as the others, or move as quickly with a rapier.

"Look at her, she's gonna die within minutes!"

"Nah, she'll never make it that long. On the plus side, if she's in our group we only have to run faster than her!"

"Won't be too difficult!"

Y/n scowled at the whispers, making her way over to Anthony. She huffed, plopping down on the bench next to him and glaring at the girls.

"What's up with you?"

"They're being mean about me. Saying I'll be useless in the field."

"Aw, Y/n/n, they're stupid if they think that. You'll be amazing, I'm sure." He nudged her shoulder with his, smile working its way onto his face. Y/n couldn't help but smile back; his was too infectious. "You'll prove them wrong, I'm sure of it."

After that day, Y/n worked ten times as hard on the practical elements, a new intensity coming into her training with the other agents. She sparred against Anthony when they got home, blunt rapiers clashing in her back garden while her parents cooked dinner.

Within a month, she could beat pretty much everyone she trained with, the only exception being Anthony. He'd shown a skill with the rapier from the very beginning, and his long body made him graceful in a fight. She'd nearly beaten him a few times, but then he'd had a fire light in his eyes and he'd push her back, focus deadly as he forgot everything but the fight. She grew scared in those moments, and had stopped trying to beat him, afraid that he'd forget who she was and hurt her.

~~~

When they were fourteen, Y/n broke her promise and walked out on Anthony Lockwood.

He'd started a business, his own goddamn agency, in his own goddamn house, and he'd wanted her to work with him. She barely recognised the boy that stood in front of her the day he asked her; he was a shell of the best friend she used to have. He was vacant still, and she just wanted Anthony Lockwood back.

"Please? It'll be so much better if we're working together! You can come and live here, and your parents are still next door so you're not too far away, and we'll go on cases together, and it'll be great!"

Y/n had shaken her head, fear creeping up her spine. He'd grown a death wish recently, and although he vehemently denied it, she'd seen how he didn't seem to care about his personal safety when on cases led by the trainers.

"Anthony, you can't do this, please. You're gonna get hurt," she pleaded, hoping he'd come to his senses. If he wasn't so broken, she'd say yes, gladly, and work with him as they had always planned they would. But he was broken, and this job could destroy him.

"What, do you think I can't do it?" His brow furrowed in confusion, and Y/n could practically feel his guard start to go up.

He'd never done that with her before.

"It's not that, I just don't want you getting hurt. You're my best friend, Ant, and I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't lose me," he'd raised his voice slightly, pushing off of the kitchen counter as he got defensive. "You've seen me," he swept an arm out, referencing the training missions. "I'm the best agent they've got, and we both know it. I won't get hurt. I'm too good for that."

Y/n scoffed. "Do you hear yourself, Anthony? Do you realise how arrogant you sound? Because that's gonna get you killed." She'd raised her voice too, to match his, and she jabbed a finger into his chest.

"Arrogant? You think I'm arrogant? I thought we were 'best friends'?"

"Why did you say it like that?"

"What?"

"'Best friends', like we're not. You did little finger quotes like it was sarcastic."

"You always do this! Make something out of nothing!"

"What?" Her eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You tell me! You're the one saying I'm gonna get killed when I'm the most skilled agent we know! Why can't you just trust me?!"

"Because you will, Anthony! You will get yourself killed, and I can't let that happen! You can't start a company, just join Fittes, or Rotwell!"

"Fittes? Rotwell? I'd rather eat my own foot than join one of them! You just think I'm not capable of any of this, don't you? You think, that because my family is dead, I can't do this, because I should be grieving instead. Well I have grieved, and if you don't want to stay, then you can leave. I don't want you here if you're gonna keep being like this. Come back when you've sorted your attitude out." He turned his back, busying himself with making a cup of tea.

Y/n stared at him, mouth open in shock and tears threatening to fall.

"Prick. You're the one that needs to sort your attitude, not me."

She left then, grabbing her bag from the chair and scribbling a 'fuck you, Lockwood' onto the paper cloth on the table.

~~~

A year later, Y/n was working a job, and was actually somewhat happy.

She'd joined Fittes after her argument with Lockwood (she stubbornly refused to call him 'Anthony' until he'd apologised to her), and had been put in Quill Kipps' team. He was nice enough, arrogant and conceited at times, but Y/n put that down to his failing Senses and the stress of being team leader, since he was alright the rest of the time. He was more like an overworked teacher on a school trip with a bunch of primary school kids, and the bags under his eyes really added to the image.

It was a minor threat, Type One ghost that was giving an old lady the creeps, but they'd been waylaid on their way back to Fittes by a group of ghosts in the park, and two figures struggling to fight them all. There had to have been around twenty to thirty ghosts (all Type Ones, but they were angry), and when Kipps wondered aloud who would be so daft as to take them on, Y/n sighed, knowing exactly who would do it.

The Fittes team had jumped in, using the remainder of their flares and energy to help, and Y/n found the source, securing it quickly and efficiently. Mass graves were never fun, and this one wasn't much better. Spreading the silver net over the area, Y/n stood, careful not to jostle it.

"We don't need Fittes coming in, thanks, we were perfectly fine on our own."

"Sure," Kipps snorted. "Because being completely surrounded by ghosts and nearly dying is being perfectly fine. Give it a rest, Tony. Go back to your house and leave the agent work to the professionals, yeah?" Y/n rolled her eyes as she got closer, but she couldn't help but agree with what her leader was saying.

Anthony Lockwood looked terrible.

She had no idea who the other boy was (although he did look vaguely familiar), but he at least didn't look like he was on death's door.

"Y/n?"

She raised her eyebrows (she still couldn't figure out how to raise just the one, despite practicing for hours).

"Lockwood."

He flinched, almost imperceptibly, but she knew him too well to miss it. Nobody else noticed.

"Why are you... Are you working for Fittes?"

"Yes." He wasn't getting more out of her, not until he apologised. Kipps was looking between the two of them, as was the other boy with Lockwood, both clearly confused.

"How do you know each other?" Kipps asked.

"We were-"

"We were neighbours. Didn't talk much outside of that." Her tone was bland, and her face nonchalant, and she turned to leave. "Has somebody called DEPRAC?" Ned nodded, waving the radio in his hand.

"Said they'd be two minutes. Should be here in a minute."

"Perfect. Can we get that tea now, Kipps?"

He hesitated, obviously still unsure about what was going on. "Sure. We'll drop the other Source off first though, yeah?"

They left, and although Y/n could feel Lockwood's stare on her back, she didn't turn around.

~~~

It was a month later that Y/n saw Lockwood again, and it was almost the same situation. Her team had been patrolling the streets, making sure the area was secure, when they'd seen magnesium flares going off. They'd rushed in, and Y/n had scoffed when she caught sight of the long black coat and flashy moves.

"Outta the way, Tony!"

The Fittes team had made quick work of the Type Two, bagging the Source and claiming the reward. Y/n felt a little bad about the money, but at the same time Lockwood needed to learn how to get control over the situations he put himself in if he wanted to keep the reward. He seemed to take on the cases that were ridiculously out of his reach, and if Y/n was speaking to him she'd guess that he was trying to prove a point.

She and her team were warming up in a cafe afterwards, one of the late night ones that opened specifically for agents, when Lockwood and his coworker walked in. The pair breezed past, and when the other boy had smiled apologetically at them and given Y/n a little wave, she remembered who he was.

"George! Wait, it is George, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," he scratched the back of his head, and adjusted his glasses on his face. "I wasn't sure you remembered me, to be honest."

"I knew I'd seen you before, it just took me a bit to remember where from. Also it was dark the last two times we saw each other, so that won't have helped. Anyway, how are you?"

They chatted for a while, George shifting the piles of paper he had in his arms.

"Do you need to put those down?" she asked after he readjusted them for what seemed like the millionth time.

"I should probably get over to Lockwood, actually. I'm pretty sure he's burning holes in my jumper right now."

"Oh, he's glaring at me, don't worry."

"Why would he be glaring at you? You're lovely," he questioned, confused. "I thought you were just neighbours anyway?"

"Yeah. We had an argument a while back. He was a knob."

"Oh. Yeah, I can see that he would be." George nodded in understanding. "I should definitely go and join him though. We've got all this to get through," he held up the papers slightly, and Y/n smiled up at him.

"Well good luck, George. See you soon?"

"Probably the next time you save us. Lockwood has a death wish apparently. Doesn't let me research for long enough," he complained, shaking his head as he turned and left. Y/n had been right. Lockwood was being reckless, and he'd get himself, and quite possibly George, killed.

She and her team were just finishing up, with Kipps paying the bill and her other teammates standing with him at the till, when Lockwood came over. Y/n had stepped outside, breathing in the cold night air, and when she heard the door she instinctively turned to look, expecting her coworkers.

"Oh. It's you."

"C'mon. Don't be like that, Y/n."

She snorted. "You know you're proving me right, right? You keep throwing yourself into situations you can't win in, and you're going to get yourself killed."

"I'm not proving you right," he started, frown forming on his face. He'd had another growth spurt, she realised. He'd stepped closer to her, out of the way of the cafe door so that other agents could enter, and now he towered over her.

"Yes, you are. Stop being a dick, Lockwood, and realise that you're going to get yourself seriously hurt someday."

"Since when was I Lockwood to you?"

"You know when."

"True. Lovely message, by the way. Great parting gift."

"Yeah, well you were being an asshole, and it felt fitting to write 'fuck you'."

He muttered something under his breath, too quiet for her to hear.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'Yeah, I bet you'd like to'," he repeated, louder this time, meeting her eyes with a smug smile on his face.

"Grow up, Lockwood."

"That's not a denial."

Y/n turned to him, looking him dead in the eyes. "Yes it is." She tried to sound threatening, but that was difficult when he was nearly a whole head taller than her. She was saved by her team coming out of the cafe, and she shoved her hands in her pockets, hunching her shoulders against the chill.

"You alright, Y/n?" Kipps asked, concern for his colleague appearing on his face.

"Yeah, fine. Let's go."

~~~

Those meetings kept happening, and it was beginning to frustrate Y/n.

Lockwood had started being more flirty, as if he actually enjoyed getting on her nerves, and the past year had been exhausting.

It was the same every time.

Y/n's Fittes team would be patrolling, or coming back from a job, or heading to a job, when they'd see two figures, or their flares, or hear their shouts, fighting an incessant number of ghosts. The group would jump in, joining the fight, and somehow Y/n and Lockwood ended up next to each other. She was certain he engineered it that way specifically so that he could irritate her with his comments, and that just irritated her even more. What he said was always the same thing, too.

"Do you come here often?"

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"What are you doing after this?"

When she told him to shut up and focus on the job, he'd ignore her, or answer with something just as bad.

"Make me."

"I'll stop talking if you join me later."

Both of those were said with smug smirks and winks, and Y/n went home to her crappy flat close to the Fittes building (she couldn't stand being near him after the argument) every night wondering what the hell had happened to her old best friend.

The last case had been particularly annoying.

The same routine had occurred, but this time there were three of them.

Y/n was surprised to see the girl, but as soon as she saw her fighting she decided that she liked her. She was feisty, and from what Y/n could tell, didn't take any of Lockwood's shit. She looked like the sort of person Y/n would be friends with, or at least get along with, like with George (they had limited contact outside of saving them).

But then the Fittes team had helped, and Lockwood hadn't come near Y/n.

She was glad in some ways, it meant she didn't have his incessant flirting in her ear, and she was glad, until she looked to see where he'd gone.

He was side by side with the girl, and they fought together like they'd been doing it their whole lives. For some reason it annoyed Y/n, despite the fact she'd sworn to block out any feelings for Lockwood other than annoyance and hate, and she grumbled the rest of the night. Kipps picked up on it, and questioned her.

"What's up with you? Surely you'd be happy that Tony left you alone?"

"Yeah, I am. It's something else, don't worry."

"Alright... well, don't let it get to you too much, yeah? We need you focusing on missions, you're too good at what you do."

Y/n nodded, flushing slightly at the compliment.

They made it to the cafe just as Lockwood and Co did, and Y/n bristled at seeing the three of them laughing together.

Well, at seeing Lockwood and the girl laughing together.

George she was just happy to see, he was always nice to her back when he worked at Fittes, and when they passed each other in the Archives or finished jobs together, and she didn't think she could ever be mad at him.

Lockwood and his new colleague, however, she could justify.

"Oh, hi!"

Ugh, she was nice. That made disliking her even harder.

"Hi," Y/n forced a smile, hoping it didn't look too fake.

"I'm Lucy," she said, coming closer to Y/n as the two of them trailed behind the others.

"Y/n. How long you been working with him then?"

"Uh, about a week? Do you... do you not like Lockwood or something?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You just... said 'him' like you wanted to rip his head off."

"Oh. Well, that's one thing I wanna do to him."

Apparently Lockwood tuned in to their conversation at that specific moment, because he turned around, smirk already in place.

"What are the other things you want to do to me, Y/n? I'd love to find out later. My place or yours?"

Y/n scoffed, pushing past him to join her teammates. Behind her she heard a thump, followed by a small "Ow!" Assuming that Lucy had hit him, Y/n smiled, and started liking the girl again. Maybe she wasn't as bad as she originally thought.

~~~

It had been nearly two years since Y/n had first met Lucy, and her second impression of the girl had stuck.

They'd saved Lockwood and Co far too many times since the girls had first met, but Y/n didn't mind. She enjoyed seeing Lucy and George (and Lockwood, but she wouldn't tell anyone that), and if getting involved and having to suffer Lockwood's chatter meant that the three of them lived another day, Y/n would gladly take that sacrifice.

Y/n and Lucy met up regularly in the down time that they both shared, either at Y/n's flat, or in a cafe or shop somewhere. Sometimes George came along, having snuck out under the pretence that he was researching at the Archives, and the three of them had lengthy chats about pretty much anything. Lockwood came up in conversation a lot, of course, given he was something they all had in common, but Y/n always steered away from the subject.

Tonight, however, she wasn't getting let off the hook.

"Why do you always do that?" Lucy asked, stuffing a chip in her mouth. They were sat on the floor of Y/n's tiny kitchen, take away boxes of food in front of them.

"Do what?"

"Whenever Lockwood gets mentioned you start talking about other things. Why do you do that?"

Y/n shrugged, eating some of her own food. "'Cause he's a knob and I don't want to think about him more than I have to?"

"He's always flirting with you though, and you always flirt back."

"Thanks for the observation, George. And I do not flirt back!"

"Oh you totally do, like earlier, right, he was saying something about how your uniform really compliments your complexion or something, and you look really good in it, and you said, wait, George, you take over, I need a drink," Lucy spoke.

"You said 'thanks, I look better without it', and winked at him. I had to physically push him out of the way of a ghost because he was stood staring at you like an idiot."

"He always looks like an idiot," Y/n mumbled, cheeks going red.

"George is right, he's actually gonna end up hurting himself if you two don't get on with it soon."

"He's at risk of death anyway! And get on with what?"

"Snogging," Lucy said, at the same time George said "Making out."

Y/n stared at her friends, hand pausing halfway to her mouth, chip in between her fingers. "What?!"

"Seriously, there's so much tension I could slice it with my rapier. Just stick your tongue in his mouth already."

"Lucy!"

The girl just shrugged. "We are seventeen, you know that right? I know people who've shagged at seventeen. I'm honestly surprised the two of you haven't yet, which is why you need to get on with it."

"That would be... no, that's too weird."

"Why is it weird? He's your old neighbour, you had an argument about something petty probably, and now he's flirting with you 'cause he's realised how hot you are. If he doesn't kiss you I will, just so I can say I kissed the hottest girl I know."

"Aw, thanks Luce. I'd rather kiss you than him, to be honest."

"The bar is low. He's punching."

"Definitely. You alright George?"

"I don't understand girls," he replied, having been quiet the last few minutes while Y/n and Lucy went back and forth. "What did you argue about, anyway? Because you've held a grudge against him for at least three years now and I have never known why."

"Was it petty?"

"No, Lucy, it wasn't petty." Y/n sighed, taking a break from eating. "He... We were fourteen, just finished all of our training, and he told me he wanted to start his agency."

"That is kinda petty though."

"Lemme finish. I don't know how much he's told you about his family," she paused, looking at the other two.

"Not much, but we know they're all dead."

"Yeah, and he showed us Jessica's room."

Y/n raised her eyebrows. He'd kept that room stubbornly locked since she'd died.

"Right. Well, a week after her funeral, he told me he wanted to start training to be an agent. We were nine, and he was definitely not okay at all. Anyway, we did it, and then like I said, when we'd finished, he told me he wanted to start an agency in his house and he wanted me to join him. He was still not himself, and I was just worried that he was going to end up killing himself. Hell, he'd almost hurt me a few times in training. We were the top two in our academy, so we ended up fighting together a lot. But he'd get... intense. Focused. But not in a good way. It was like... he saw anyone he was up against as a ghost, and he wanted revenge for what had happened with his family. We argued about the agency. I told him something about how if he did it he'd just end up hurt, because I knew him and I knew that he wouldn't think he had anything to live for. He took that to mean that I thought he was incapable, and he told me to leave and that I could come back when I'd fixed my attitude."

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Y/n staring at her take away box in her lap, George and Lucy absorbing everything she'd told them.

"Fuck," Lucy finally said, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah."

"Wait, so you weren't just neighbours?" George asked. "You must have been closer than that if you knew him so well."

"Best friends. We're the same age, and our parents had lived next to each other since before we were born. Just made sense really that we were friends."

"Does he know? That you were worried about him?" Lucy questioned.

"Probably not. Should have guessed it though, given how close we were. I mean, he's seen me ugly cry at funerals, and they weren't even my relatives, they were his."

"Maybe you should talk to him? I know, I know, he needs to apologise for being a knob, but you were fourteen. I mean, it's three years on and he's still the mental age of a five year old, but talking might help?"

"Anyway, Lockwood's hopeless when it comes to women. Completely clueless," George added.

"How would you know?" Y/n frowned, not liking the way her heart clenched at the idea of Lockwood talking to other girls.

"Because he hasn't done anything about you, and you're probably the most amazing girl that's ever going to get a chance with in his life. Maybe he's intimidated by you."

"He's not getting a chance. Not like that. Don't look at me like that, Luce. If I don't kiss him that means I'm kissing you."

"Oh, alright then. I'm fine if you don't wanna make up with him," she replied, cheeky smile appearing on her face.

They left the topic alone after that, moving on to other subjects, but Y/n couldn't help but think about the boy with a death wish.

~~~

It was only a week after her evening with George and Lucy that Y/n had to help save Lockwood again (it was so ridiculous she was almost entirely convinced he came unprepared just so that he could see her).

"Miss me, darling?"

"In your dreams, Lockwood," she shouted back at him, dodging a Type Two. She gritted her teeth as she hit the ground, jagged rocks digging in and pain shooting through her side. Rolling, she stood again, panicking for a moment when she realised she'd dropped her rapier.

"Here you go, darling," Lockwood said, appearing out of nowhere with her rapier. "Do I get a reward for returning your belongings?"

"Yeah, you do, actually," she replied, getting close enough to him she could feel his breath on her face. "You get to not be stabbed by me. Duck." He did, almost immediately, and Y/n threw a flare at the Spectre behind him. Lockwood popped back up, somehow still smiling despite the utter carnage surrounding them.

"If I got hurt, would you visit me in hospital?"

"Yeah, to finish you off."

He laughed, and Y/n turned away so he couldn't see the blush rising on her face at the sound. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of something that definitely wasn't dead rummaging around where she had thought the Source for the cluster was.

Relic men.

"Lockwood?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Relic men, over by the Source. What are we gonna do about them?" She hadn't taken her eyes off of the two figures that were crouched by the oak tree, afraid that if she moved her gaze they would run off. When Lockwood only cursed, she panicked, wondering what was wrong. Normally by now he would have charged in to the fight, all guns blazing. Why wasn't he doing that now? Had he suddenly realised that she was right? Because this was really terrible timing if he had. "Lockwood?" Her voice had gone up in pitch, fear making it quiver. Relic men were nasty, and a lot harder to deal with than ghosts. Ghosts she'd been trained for.

"We're surrounded by them. They're blocking all reasonable exits."

"Shit. Okay. What about unreasonable exits?"

"What?"

"You said they're blocking all reasonable exits, yeah? So what about the unreasonable ones? Could we get out anywhere else?"

"Uh... there's a gap in the fence over there," he pointed. "But that would mean letting them have the Source. It's too powerful, we can't let that happen."

"Ugh, okay, hang on. Go and tell the others, just in case they haven't noticed."

"What about you?"

"I'm keeping an eye on these two, make sure they don't get away. I'll try and get closer, but there's a lot of Type Ones in the way."

"You'll be okay?"

"If I die you can take me on a date."

"That's... what? That doesn't make sense."

"Take it or leave it, Lockwood. Get a move on."

He left, casting a last look over his shoulder at her before disappearing into the night to find the others. Y/n felt unease creep up her spine, and she gripped her rapier tighter, her other hand hovering over the remaining flares in her belt. The relic men were still digging, and a few of the ghosts had noticed the disturbance now, moving over. Y/n frowned, a thought occurring to her.

Relic men waited until the ghosts were gone.

So what were they doing here, now? Why endanger themselves? Before she could think on it further, she felt the air shift behind her and ducked to the left just as a fist appeared in the space her head was in mere seconds ago.

Shit.

She pulled herself back up, readjusting her grip on the rapier and taking a quick glance over to the tree. Seeing the two relic men still there, Y/n whipped back around, ducking again just in time to miss the next punch. The man pulled out a knife, the edges jagged, and a wicked grin came over his face. Y/n gulped, then parried his attacks. He was relentless, swinging and then swinging again immediately after, never letting up on her. It was all she could do to keep her arm upright and strong enough to block him, and the ache in her side from hitting the ground earlier was turning into a throb that wracked her body with pain. The relic man noticed the weakness, and his grin grew wider, broken teeth showing. He became even more frantic in his attacks, and Y/n felt herself stumbling backwards over the grass. The floor was uneven, and she tripped, crashing onto her back. She got her rapier up in time to hold off the relic man's knife that had carved a path through the air to cut through her head, but he was stronger than her, and his blade was edging closer to her face. He was only using the one hand, and Y/n realised a split-second too late that his other hand was reaching for his belt, where a second knife was strapped. Her eyes widened in recognition briefly right before he plunged the blade into her side, and she let out a scream.

The pain was all-consuming, and it took everything in her to keep her rapier up, the shockwaves coursing through her body. She took a hazy note of the fact that he hadn't pulled it out yet, which was good, but her vision was blurry, which was not so good. At least if the knife was still inside her body then she wasn't losing too much blood. Her grip weakened, and she saw the other knife jolt towards her face before it disappeared, the man being flung backwards into the bushes in a flash of light. Lucy appeared, hair wild and filled with leaves, her own rapier in hand. She crouched down, pressing a hand to Y/n's cheek and checking if she was okay.

"Threw a flare at him, should knock him out for a while. LOCKWOOD! HURRY UP! Sorry, I told him to get his ass over here just now, but he's stuck with some ghosts, and they're-"

"Lucy?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was hopeful, glad that her friend was conscious enough to speak.

"Please stop talking."

"Y/N!"

She winced at the shout, and Lucy moved over to make room for Lockwood. Y/n rolled her eyes at the cuts on his face, and the gash on his arm. "You can't help yourself, can you? Gotta throw yourself into danger headfirst."

"Shut up. Can you sit?"

"Did you just tell me to shut up? Anthony Lockwood, do not tell me to shut up when I could be dying."

"Y/n, please, don't do this. Can you sit?" His voice was insistent, desperation seeping into his expression, and his glare was convincing enough that she tried to sit up. The pain in her side was too much though, and she ended up half-slumped against a tree. "Who did this? Y/n? Who did this to you?" His tone was lower now, with something dangerous in the background.

"Lucy hit him with a flare. He's over there somewhere." She waved in the general direction she'd seen him disappear in. "Anthony, where are you going?" He froze, looking down at her from where he now stood. The full moon was behind him, and he looked otherworldly in the silver light.

"Lucy will stay with you, okay? Just hang on. I'll be back in a minute. Don't die on me now, Y/n/n." He softened a little at the last part, trying to convey a million emotions in a few words.

"Wait, I'm staying here?"

"Yes, Lucy." And with that he left, stalking in the direction Y/n had pointed him in.

"You alright?"

"Brilliant, thanks Luce," Y/n replied, and then she promptly passed out.

~~~

A soft beeping woke Y/n up, and the harsh light above her and the sterile smell in the air immediately told her that she was in a hospital.

That didn't explain the warmth in her left hand though.

Blinking as she adjusted to the bright light, she turned her head to the left, and had she not been drugged up on painkillers she would have reacted much more quickly and jerked away.

But she was drugged up on painkillers, so instead she just stared at the boy asleep in the chair next to her bed.

Anthony looked peaceful when he slept, he always had, but he didn't look particularly comfortable right now. His right hand was holding her left, and he'd managed to pull one of his long legs up onto the chair, bracing his forehead on his knee while his left arm dangled off the side of the armrest. Yeah, he couldn't be comfortable like that. She squeezed his hand lightly, but he didn't wake. A nurse came in, and upon seeing Y/n awake, smiled.

"Your boyfriend must love you a lot. He hasn't left your side since you came in. Rode in the ambulance with you too, which he wasn't meant to. Paramedics said he was very insistent and needed treating anyway, so they let him. He's been really worried about you." Y/n was on too much morphine to fully comprehend what was going on, and her brain had stopped working properly at the word 'boyfriend' anyway.

"Oh," was all she said, and the nurse smiled, going through her checkups. Y/n drifted in and out of consciousness for half an hour before Anthony woke up.

He blinked a few times, just as she had, stretching like a cat, long limbs going everywhere but never removing his hand from hers. His grip only tightened, and when he saw her watching him with a small smile on her face, he returned it.

"You're awake."

"No, I'm dead," she deadpanned. "Obviously I'm awake, idiot. If I died I'd have to go on a date with you."

He frowned. "Would that really be so bad?"

"Yeah. You should be going on a date with me, not the other way around."

He laughed lightly, more an amused exhale than anything else. "You are so drugged up right now."

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'. His thumb was stroking across her hand, and Y/n wondered if he knew he was doing it.

~~~

"Ugh, do I have to live at yours? What's wrong with my house?"

"You live on the fifth floor and there aren't any lifts. You were also specifically told not to climb too many stairs."

"Yeah, but your house has almost as many stairs as my apartment building, so what's the difference?"

"The difference is that I can look after you here, because I live here. Don't touch that, it's still healing, and- ow!"

"Oh shit, sorry. It looks healed."

"Yeah, well you're not the only one that got stabbed, alright? Here, let me get the door."

Anthony sprung up the last step, fishing the keys out of his coat pocket and unlocking the door. Y/n followed behind, wincing when the movement up the stairs put pressure on her wound. She'd been in hospital for two weeks once she'd woken up, and had been told to stay at home until she was properly healed. Anthony had taken on the role of carer immediately, and the nurses had all mentioned (multiple times) what a good and loving boyfriend he was, looking after Y/n the way he was, despite his own injuries.

Neither of them had denied it.

Once inside 35 Portland Row, Y/n took a look around, and was surprised to see that it had barely changed in the last three years.

"Right. Tea? I think George has just put the kettle on."

"Anthony?"

"Yeah?" His smile was tentative, clearly not wanting to scare her off when she'd just started calling him by his first name again.

"Please don't make me sleep on the sofa. Because that looks like the same one your parents got when we were four and I remember how uncomfortable that one is." She pointed to the sofa in question, and he shook his head.

"No, you're not sleeping there. What sort of a boyfriend would I be if I let that happen?" he joked, and Y/n felt her heart flutter at the idea. "You can sleep in my bed, alright? It's only one flight of stairs, which will hurt, but it'll be good for you to get the exercise in, make sure you're healing properly."

Y/n frowned. "Where are you sleeping if I'm in your bed?" She half expected him to say that he'd be right next to her, but he smiled softly again.

"Sofa. No, don't look at me like that, I've slept in worse places."

"What worse places? Ant, you've got to look after yourself! God, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

She started making her way up the stairs, huffing from the effort. She was tired, despite having spent just over two weeks lying down, and it was already late in the evening.

"It doesn't matter, alright? Just... let's just get you to bed, okay?"

"You're sleeping in a bed, and that's that."

"You are so stubborn sometimes."

"So are you!" She made it to the half landing, and hobbled over to the door she remembered being Anthony's. "You still in here?" At his nod, she pushed the door open, going over to the bed and sitting on the edge. "Seriously, this bed is big enough for the both of us. I'm not letting you sleep on the sofa, Ant. It's super uncomfortable."

"Won't that be... I don't know. Won't that be weird?"

"Why would it be weird?"

"Because we haven't... we're not... you don't like me and I'm scared you're going to murder me in my sleep."

"You... what? Uh... okay. I'm not gonna murder you in your sleep, Ant. One, that's completely dishonourable. I would do it while you were awake so that you could look into the eyes of your killer. Two, I do like you, I just also need you to apologise. For what you said."

"You want me to apologise? I was just defending myself, because I was hurt by what you said. You made out like I wasn't capable and that stung, because you'd always been my biggest supporter."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Anthony. I wasn't saying that at all. I was worried about you because you weren't yourself after Jess died. You were... I don't know. You weren't you, and it freaked me out when you said you were starting an agency, because it's a crazy thing to do! You sort of became a shell of my best friend, and disappeared, and I was worried that you would die and I would lose you because you wouldn't care about living anymore. I know that you are perfectly capable of fighting, and you're one of the best swordsmen I've ever met, but you're an emotional wreck, Ant."

He was quiet for a bit, staring into space as he thought about her words. Y/n sighed, lying down on the covers and closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She felt the bed dip next to her as he sat down. "I'm sorry. I said some horrible things to you and you had every right to leave. I don't have an excuse for what I said, and if you want to leave tomorrow morning then I'll help you move into your flat again. But I just... I'm sorry, Y/n/n."

Y/n sighed again. "I don't want to go. I've missed it here," she admitted. "And yeah, you were an idiot and an arse, but you're my idiot, alright? You have a lot of grovelling to do as well." He nodded rapidly, and a secret smile spread on his face, one of the ones he showed her and nobody else.

"Your idiot?"

"Yes, Anthony. My idiot." They smiled at each other, soft and gentle. A thought occurred to Y/n, and her brow furrowed. "What happened after I passed out in the park? All I remember is you looking murderous and asking who stabbed me."

"Oh, right." Anthony looked away, blush creeping up his neck.

"What happened?"

"He's not coming after you again, if that helps. Or anyone. DEPRAC completely purified the area."

Y/n gaped at him. "You killed him?"

Anthony shrugged. "He hurt you, badly, and you could have been killed. If Lucy had been a second later..." He trailed off, eyes clouding over slightly.

"Ant?" Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing at the stab of pain that shot through her in protest.

"Hmm?" he turned to look at her, and his eyes went wide when she slid an arm up around his neck.

"Lucy and George think that we need to make out."

"They, uh... they what?"

"They think that we need to make out."

He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering between hers, trying to figure out what was going on. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper.

"What do you think?"

"I think we should listen to them. They're normally right about things. What about you?"

"Uh... okay?"

Y/n hesitated, suddenly unsure.

"Ant, do you want to? Because if you don't that's totally fine, I just assumed that you felt the same as me, and we were both fine with the hospital thinking that we're dating, and I genuinely really like you, and I probably love you-" she was cut off by his lips on hers, slightly chapped but still soft.

"I do want to, I'm just hopeless around girls, especially the ones I've loved since I was about ten." He'd barely pulled away, his nose brushing the side of hers, breath fanning over her lips.

"George was right about that too, then," she murmured, kissing him again. "He said you were hopeless with women."

"Thank god. I thought he knew I've been in love with you for years."

"Oh you're in love now, are you?"

"Started about seven years ago, but sure." He pushed forward again, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek as he kissed her softly and slowly.

"Is that why you flirted with me?"

Anthony flushed, nodding slightly. "In my defence I am completely hopeless with pretty girls, and I wanted to know if there was any chance of you sharing my feelings."

Y/n kissed him again, short and sweet. "I love you, Anthony Lockwood. Just look after yourself more, yeah?"

"I love you too," he replied. Y/n prodded him in the side.

"And?"

"And I'll look after myself more," he said, smiling. "Anything for you, anytime."

They kissed again, for longer this time, exploring each other and being mindful of their injuries, and Y/n thought she could happily spend eternity wrapped up in his arms

"You're definitely not sleeping on the sofa," she said when they paused for air a while later.

"If you say so," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. She smacked a hand against his chest, face going red at his implication.

"Not like that, idiot."

"Your idiot," he smiled, pure joy on his face as he pecked her lips.

"My idiot," she replied, mirroring his grin.

[bettsfic]

Hi betts! I hope you’re doing alright and that your semester is wrapping up smoothly. I have a question about genre, I guess? I’ll preface this with the fact that I am not a writer or lit person, but just an enthusiastic reader. But as I’ve been on Tumblr and TikTok (in this case BookTok), I’ve noticed that it’s a lot of the same kinds of books that people get obsessed over. Largely, SFF written by women and often in “new adult.” I’m thinking of V. E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, etc. I’ve read a number of these books and enjoyed some of them quite a lot, but they’ve never captivated me the way they do some. That’s fine, people have different tastes. But after being served yet another TikTok about this same category of book, I kinda realized that for some reason they just don’t feel that adult to me. Which is weird because they typically deal with very adult themes. Some are super sexual or violent and the like, but the way they’re written doesn’t feel mature to me. Even The Poppy Wars, which is very adult, falls into this category for me (I did enjoy this one, though). I’ve tried to interrogate this for bias, especially since I know a lot of people like them because they are written by women, (mostly) feature more diversity, and have large female audiences. But then I think about which books did feel adult, but fall in similar genres: N. K. Jesimin and Ursula Le Guin come to mind (even her youth fiction feels more adult to me). So I guess I’m curious what you feel makes a writing style more mature versus simply the content? Why is it that SFF, while often depicting adult events, doesn’t come across as mature? I guess my frustration is that it’s one of my favorite genres, but the recommendations I’m getting across many folks just...isn’t the SFF I want. How does one distinguish between these? Idk if I’ve expressed this well and I definitely am not trying to judge people. I’m just looking for a certain atmosphere in my reading that I find rarely.

i’m so excited i have an answer to this. so first i want to say, i experience this also and it’s why i struggle to get through a lot of books. it’s why i love the secret history but couldn’t get twenty pages into if we were villains, even though everyone told me they had a lot in common. even if the description of a book is compelling and the story is very much to my taste, and even if the writing is totally competent, i’ve found that sometimes there’s just something lacking that makes me set a book down and never pick it back up. 

i was thrilled to find there’s term for this: the implied author.

the implied author was coined by wayne c. booth in his book the rhetoric of fiction which, while dense, is a really fantastic read (if you’ve been keeping up with my newsletter you know how feral i am for this book). as a blanket definition, the implied author is the space that exists between the narrator and the writer. when you read something, you can’t make any factual conclusions about the writer (the author is dead and all that), but the narration often tips you off to the idea that the consciousness behind the writing is wiser and knows more than the narrator. 

that’s a very condensed version of booth’s definition, which takes up like 40 pages. here forward are some conclusions i’ve drawn based on it. 

when the space between the narrator and implied author is narrow, some of us as readers tend to get bored pretty quickly. it’s what you’re referring to as maturity. however, when that space is wide, when it’s clear that the implied author is much, much bigger than the narration, that’s when i’m willing to sink my teeth into something. the wider that distance, the more i’m happy to ignore things like syntactical clumsiness or poor grammar. i would follow a good implied author into hell. 

for example, i could write a story from the point of view of a violent abuser. if you were to read it, you wouldn’t be able to say for certain that i, the writer, was not a violent abuser also. but you would be able to tell via the implied author whether or not there is an awareness of the abuse, whether it’s being written with intentionality. not morality, mind you, but artistic purpose. 

the implied author has an idiosyncratic relationship to the reader. sometimes depending on the complexity of the work and the critical reading skills of the reader, the presence of the implied author can be invisible. this is the catalyst, imo, to a significant amount of the present morality discourse. many (if not all) purity officers and antis don’t have the reading skills to be able to see the implied author, or that the moral trespasses that occur in fiction are written intentionally and for a purpose. they believe that anything depicted in fiction is advocating for or promoting that which it’s depicting. 

lolita is kind of the ultimate classic example of the inability of some readers to see the implied author. nabokov even has a fictional preface from the pov of a scholar doing research, flat-out telling us that humbert is a bad guy and Do Not Trust Him. and yet, lolita has been misinterpreted and vilified for decades now.

in that same vein, the implied author is the reason that some stories put a bad taste in our mouths. it’s how we reach the conclusion that a story is racist or sexist or homophobic outside the literal depictions of racism, sexism, and homophobia. how can you witness racism taking place in a story and know that it’s speaking to the experience of racism and not advocating for racism? that’s the presence of the implied author. sometimes, though, you can’t tell. sometimes a writer tries to speak to the experience of something and fails at making clear their own awareness. or sometimes, they’re just not aware at all. 

in fanfiction, the implied author takes place, in part, in the tags. i remember stumbling upon a fic written by a purity officer which depicted an extremely unhealthy, non-negotiated power dynamic. and none of it was tagged. i had no evidence the author was aware that they were even writing something “problematic.” obviously i support their right to depict whatever kind of relationship they want for whatever reason they want, but i did find it a bit off-putting, that this person who was a known harasser in fandom had no seeming understanding that they were writing the very kind of fic they were rallying against.

but, you know, my hands aren’t clean either. until the MFA, i was a very poor reader. for example, in 2010 i read the hunger games for the first time. in 2020 i re-read the series on my kindle, where all my annotations from 2010 had been saved, and so i got to see all my glaring misinterpretations of the text. every time katniss has to get dolled up in the capitol and made beautiful, i left a note like “ugh,” because i thought all depictions of performative femininity were Bad. even though thg is a YA book and i was an honors student in college, i was still unable to see that katniss’s beautifying was commentary on consumerism. i was oblivious to collins’ implied author, the presence in the book that is shaking you by the shoulders and going, THIS IS WHAT’S WRONG WITH SOCIETY. 

but sometimes, like in your case, the opposite situation occurs: you the reader are wider than the implied author, and so some books have little to offer you in terms of depth or insight into the human experience. i don’t mean that to sound pretentious or anything; what i mean is, we all read at different skill levels and for different reasons, and we all get different things out of the stories we read. we’re all at different places in our reading lives, and we all have room to grow.

i hope i explained this clearly enough! hopefully one day i’ll be able to write a formal essay on this, because booth wrote about it in the 60s and a lot has happened in fiction since then. 

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

-

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

[shadamyheadcanons]

If you’re still doing the thing with the characters, I’d really like to know what your headcanons are regarding Silver? Also, canon be damned, Shadow being Silver’s dad is adorable.

I’m not really the type to put time limits on prompts like this, so anyone’s free to ask. Forever. Unless I specifically tell you to stop.

Send me the name of a character and I will tell you my:

1: sexuality headcanon

Bisexual. Have I ever felt he was flirting with a male character? No. Have I ever shipped him with a guy? No. But as I read in a YouTube comment once: “Bi silver is the least surprising thing in the world.”

2: otp

I’ve never seen him with anyone but Blaze. I like how they’re on the same deep, intense wavelength, but she still finds him endearing. I’m glad they completely broke all logic and put her with him in Sonic ’06.

3: brotp

Blaze again. They’re that good of a match.

4: notp

Never thought about it. I see him shipped with so few characters. I sometimes see him in polyships with Shadow, so I guess I’d say those two. I can’t help but see them as relatives, canon be damned. I’m less bothered by Silvamy, particularly as a one-sided crush, because the case for her being his ancestor is weaker.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

Going along with my (canonically false) idea that he’s a Shadamy descendant and knows it, it’s weird and unnerving to him anytime he sees Amy fawn over Sonic. No matter how uncomfortable it makes him, though, he knows he has to let things play out on their own, so he kind of just hangs back and cringes.

6: one way in which I relate to this character

I’m easily swayed by others. Dedication to one’s ideals is a great trait to have, but it can lead to naivete, which can be dangerous, something I’m sure Silver would agree with. I’ve gotten better at resisting that as I’ve matured. Hopefully he will, too.

7: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

I’m sure a lot of people would talk about how he’s easily manipulated, but I’m more bothered by his ridiculous quill style. Does he do that on purpose? How much control do hedgehogs have over that? Are his just unruly? Is that the style hundreds of years in the future? Do you think he knows? Idk. The back is perfectly fine, but the front...god. It’s alright in shots where it’s more swept-back, but when he’s standing still and it sticks up? It’s been said that it looks like a face-palm. I don’t disagree with that analysis.

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

He is the very embodiment of a cinnamon roll. Just...god. Watch this video. His dialogue; the way Sonic’s trash talking goes over his head because he’s just a genuine, sweet boy who’s spent too much time saving his future to learn how to talk to people; his clumsy, endearing attempts to plant a garden; the way he was absolutely floored by the “beauty” of a desert; how the poor guy flailed like he’d never been hugged before when Amy met him--he’s just such a cute, awkward, lovable character! Why don’t I write this guy more often...?

For those who need more context for the “Silver is a Shadamy descendant” thing, check out my SDS tag. You want to know what I think actually happened? Some of the writers sincerely thought Silver was or could have been descended from Shadow and acted accordingly. Some of the more convincing evidence for this: Ian Flynn flat-out said he thought Silver was a shadamy kid, tongue-in-cheek or not, and Shadow and Silver are Lancelot and Galahad (father and son) in SatBK. We know the writers cared about which knights were who: Gawain was particularly loyal to Arthur, mirroring Sonic and Knuckles’ close friendship; Percival was said to have spent some time dressed as a girl, aligning with Blaze’s gender; and Lancelot was Arthur’s biggest rival by which I mean he cucked Arthur by sleeping with his wife, an implication Sega had to dodge by conspicuously NOT making Amy the Guinevere to Sonic’s Arthur in the ONE game where she finally gets a date with him, and that’s absolutely hilarious to me. The sheer potential of shadamy is so strong that Shadow cockblocked Sonic in a game he’s not even technically in. They MUST HAVE known Galahad was his son. It was only after these things were said and done that ONE (1) person from Sega shut it down, and now we’re supposed to pretend there’s no credence for this. I refuse.

[everything-laito]

hey,,, i've seen this controversial opinion about laito not being sexually assaulted by cordelia. . .as the only opinion of laito that matters, what are your thoughts on it? i know you've made some posts in the past about cordelia and laito's relationship, but i think that now would be a good time to i guess, remake a post or clarify your thoughts so people could follow along?? i hope you enjoy your day.

*proceeds to crack all my knuckles at once*

This isn't really my own "response" cuz oh boy I'm sick of this petty ass drama lmao. To begin, SKLDJF I'm very flattered that you hold my opinion in that high of regard! I'd say there's others that have interesting interpretations of him too though :) but again, thank you :') glad you enjoy what I have to say!

I know I've already kinda responded to this via a screenshot here, just to hold you––and others reading this––over. As much as this is a great time to talk about a how-to-analysis, I’ll still put that as a separate post eventually, but I still will go over the philosophy of truth and writings etc. But anyways, to answer your initial questions, they’re under the cut!

And no, I’m not specifically calling anyone out here. These are just issues with the fandom that I find as a whole, along with some extremists. Thus, I’m not going to be putting tags for people to easily find this post because I don’t want to be wound up in this drama––once again this is just more commentary on the fandom as a whole, which hopefully you can apply to people you find!

I have a lot of my own thoughts about Cordelia and Laito’s relationship here (just in case if people need it):

1. Goes over potential grooming of Laito, facts about Cordelia and what happened before she did stuff to Laito, and when did she rape Laito for the first time?

2. Stuff about incest and how any relationship out of a parental/child relationship is abuse even if it’s not penetrative sex, more incest stuff, and just more thoughts on their relationship

3. Neuroplasticity, trauma, Karlheinz, and isolation

4. What does sexual trauma look like? And some stuff on Laito’s facade

5. More stuff on his facade, and projection on Yui

6. My thoughts on Laito’s dark fate vampire ending + Conclusion

7. Answering some inbox stuff relating to Cordelia

Sure I realize I might be missing some stuff but that’s just my whole analysis on them. I’ll probably make some follow up posts eventually but I’m not sure when that will be.

But as for this analysis/ramble, I’ll divide it up into sections:

The issue of hypocrisy in the Dialovers fandom:

I- oh dear god. Ok, just saying, there’s a lot of people being like “oh I hate Cordelia because she was abusive” then ??? yo??? Why do you like the boys?? They’re abusive and we see more of them than Cordelia??? I just personally hate hypocrisy. However, it’s okay to hate Cordelia! It’s okay to love Cordelia! It’s okay to hate the boys and it’s okay to love the boys too. But recognizing that you don’t like one or the other just because “they’re abusive” is a fallacy at that point.

The reason why so many people hate Karlheinz/Cordelia/Beatrix/Christa/Richter (or at least start off hating them) is because they are written as the villains of the story! Karl’s the main villain, and the rest (including the diaboys and Yui) are kinda just tragically wound up in his plans. You sympathize more with the boys because you spend more time with them and watch them grow! It’s a whole “us vs them” situation. Since those people were awful to the boys/the boys hate them, you’re like “yeah they’re bad!” But the issue with the whole “us vs them” situation (as in real life) is that people tend to excuse the actions done by the “us” party.

Same thing goes with extreme Karl/Cordelia/Richter fans (I’ve never seen a hardcore Beatrix/Christa fan but they’re probably out there). Some hate the diaboys but love the people in that party. They’ve also done some shitty stuff too! Bro, even Yui has done some terrible stuff! But that’s because she was a product of the events she was thrown into––and same with everyone else.

Karl has been the mastermind of all this, and for me I don’t have any sympathy for him, mainly because we’re not shown anything to sympathize with (except that he just is tired of living but idk why he wants to create a whole new race like lmao science nerd ig, I feel that king). A lot of people like him for his looks, and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing––he’s a fictional character, objectify these characters however you want. This is more of a personal opinion of mine though. And maybe people do just sympathize with his outlook on life, that’s totally fine.

But since these characters are all attractive in their own regard, they all get the treatment of “pretty-boy” syndrome (Idek if that’s the exact name for it). Which is just the privilege pretty people get. But again, this is fictional, so it’s not necessarily important in this case. Bro I got into DL cuz of “ooga booga hot vampires” and stayed for the complex lore and characters (especially one complex character, wonder who that could be). I imagine most people got into DL because of that, or out of sheer curiosity.

Ok, I’m throwing out a lot of points but not really connecting them. Lemme give you an example: I don’t like Reiji. His character doesn’t vibe with me most of the time aside from the fact that he’s hilarious. But I just am very neutral/neutral-negative on his character. But I’m not like “oh cuz he’s mean/abusive” cuz LOL EVERYONES MEAN IN THIS GAME. Sure you can still say that, it’s just not a very strong claim. Hypocritical claims tend to be like that. Same with a lot of Yui haters. In this case, they’re more jealous that she’s there and not them, which I’ve explained a lot in this post about toxic femininity and Yui in the fandom etc. But it’s ok to just not like a character! It’s alright! I know someone who just doesn’t vibe with Subaru. She doesn’t know why, she just doesn’t vibe with him. There’s no need to defend it either. But the use of hypocrisy is my main issue, and I’ll get to that in the next section.

(There’s a really good post explaining this too but I cannot find it for the life of me. I think it was made by @/abottleofkarlheinz or @/the-madame21)

How opinions of fictional universes left unchecked can effect real life:

I’ve said this a little bit in that Dialover PSA post I’ve made about Yui that I linked a couple paragraphs ago. But the reasons why people say they hate Yui is concerning. If you don’t like Yui, that’s totally fine! Again you don’t need reasons to hate on a character or defend it. But if you do choose to defend those characters, make sure what you’re saying isn’t out of some other place in your heart. Let me explain.

In that “Yui PSA” post I made, I say how your attitudes in being critical of a fictional universe usually does reflect on who you are as a person, at least when you’re making certain claims. In that Yui post, I say that the hatred on Yui is a result of the “other girl” mentality. On top of that, it erases her experience as a survivor. Yes, this is a fictional character, but bringing that into real life can have some dire consequences if you don’t differentiate them. If you have the same attitude of Yui with other survivors if the “abuser is hot” then thaaaaaat’s so fucked up.

For example, there’s people who have crushes on real life serial killers! That- that’s absolutely disgusting! Those real people killed living people and effected so many lives and families. Dude I have fictional crushes on fictional serial killers, and that’s different, because it is a removed universe. It’s why I can still call myself a lesbian but still have crushes on fictional male characters, for a further example (and vice versa! I have straight friends who crush on fictional characters of their same gender! But that doesn’t make them any less straight. And no, I’m not erasing bi people here either, just clarifying in case if you needed that).

Not being able to differentiate your opinions of a fictional universe can get very toxic. Like I love Laito, but I’m not like “omg I wish he was real so he could do that stuff to me uwu” like no!!! UH!!! I wouldn’t want to date anyone like him in real life! That’s literal abuse! And if Laito was here in real life it’s not a controlled environment, he’d literally be able to do anything with you, etc. That’s what makes a fantasy, a fantasy. They’re controlled.

Also vice versa, some people get really triggered by Dialovers, specifically Laito’s route. A lot of non-consensual acts that he does have been experienced by people in real life in any extent, myself included. For me, it’s a personal escape from that, because it is an environment where I am prepared for those events and can control my exposure to it. For some, they are reminded of the reality they had to experience. Fictional universes are inspired by real life, no matter what way you look at it. Real life people are making it, after all.

I feel like I’m going in so many circles, but trust me, I’m getting to the point.

I- I can’t explain this enough but it is most definitely implied that Cordelia had raped and sexually abused Laito. If it was explicit, DL would be an 18+ game, but they cannot do that in Japan. I’m not going to like defend this point because so many people (myself included) have defended this point. It’s implications carry over into Laito’s character and why he’s like this. He’s a textbook sexual abuse survivor. I just,,,, cannot explain this enough. Same thing with overwriting the abuse of Yui. They get jealous of Yui. Sure I’d say a good chunk of people have ravishment fantasies here. At least the 18+ people in the fandom who are into that stuff. But oh my dear god, ravishment fantasies are super super dangerous to enact in real life. It’s possible to do them, but it would take years of building up to that point in kink. That’s a whole other discussion though and I’m not incredibly comfortable talking about it knowing that minors read my blog (I’ll also have to say here: no minors in kink--its alright to educate yourself but pleaaaaaaaaaase don’t enact on any of those activities until you are of age, and even so that still can be dangerous right as you turn 18).

But anyways, saying that Yui should enjoy this because she’s experienced the ravishment fantasy you’ve dreamed of? Oh fucking hell, if you leave that opinion and mentality unchecked and it goes into real life, that’s incredibly awful. Abuse apologists are absolutely terrible people, almost as much as the abusers themselves.

If you twist the narrative that Laito loves Cordelia or Yui loves the boys at the end of the first game, that’s still––ughhhhhhhh. Especially when it’s so obvious that Laito has so many mental issues with Cordelia. His whole monologue and breakdown at the end of Dark Fate definitely tells us that he has had such an issue with Cordelia. And MB+ Laito is still Laito. As for Yui, dude she literally goes through stockholm syndrome in the first game like it is so goddamn apparent idek how to explain this at this point.

Ok dear god lmao wow, uh I think that’s answering the first couple of questions?

The philosophy of truth:

“Truth” has been an incredibly debated topic in philosophy for years. Truth is more of a subjective item rather than objective. Sure you can have personal objective truths, but they may not be the same truths for others. For example, a tomato is red. However, that tomato is red to me, because I am not color blind. A red-green color blind person may see the tomato as being brown or more muted in color. That’s their truth. They can’t really imagine what red is (ok depending on severity of their color blindness), considering they have not experienced the color red in the same way people who don’t have color blindness do. God uh, here’s a whole ass essay about truth, I’m cherry picking some of the things in there that are relevant to this.

Basically what I’m saying is, truth is very subjective. However, there are philosophers arguing a more objective truth. But that’s a whole other discussion. Also, this isn’t to support any political opinion, but I can use that as an example. Let’s go for well... The death penalty. I’m in America, we have the death penalty in some states. Yes, this is a very controversial topic, and no I’m not arguing the ethics of it here. Just hear me out.

If you live in Europe for example (except in Belarus and Russia––ok when I looked it up they consider Russia in Europe and technically it is but also there’s the whole chunk that is not- lmao even the truth of geography can be subjective), you might be like “yeah what the fuck are Americans doing?” (a common sentiment that I also share lmao). But yeah, what the fuck are we doing? Why is the death penalty still in existence? Yes, there’s statistics that prove that it doesn’t deter crime, but even crime rates is caused by a lot of different things too. Even statistics aren’t always accurate, because of many different factors. They’re not objective either, although good statisticians try their best to get good results and not skew the data. (please try to see where your data is coming from and who it is sponsored by––it matters a TON)

I’d say the closest thing we have as an objective truth to argue the death penalty or not is money. Money, although the concept is subjective, is a very objective currency. It’s why artists hate “exposure” compared to “money” as sole currency. The death penalty is very expensive, and not even used that often.

So, although money is currency made by us, and is technically 75% linen and 25% cotton (in America at least) with some funky dudes n numbers printed on it, it doesn’t sound that special. However, it would be considered as a baseline of some type of “objective truth” in ~society~ because people are typically on the same page of what money’s worth. Even so, this baseline of truth is still subjective! If Bill Gates accidentally has a $20 bill fall out of his pocket, that’s nothing to him! But if someone who’s working very hard to make ends meet loses that same amount of money, it could deal a lot of financial damage to that person.

Ok, hopefully you guys kind of get my drift. There are a lot of theories of truth, I’m just explaining one (honestly I forget the name of this theory) because it is the closest to the types of truth we are dealing with. And in this case, it’s called “canon.”

What the fuck is analysis:

The concept of “canon” is the objective truth that we have when analyzing universes. They’re our bread and butter of interpretation and extrapolation. The art of analysis clings to this notion of an objective truth. It needs a baseline. I’m going off of Aristotle’s rhetorical triangle, because that type of analysis I have the most experience with.

This is called rhetorical analysis. Rhetoric is the use of words in a persuasive fashion, and the analysis part is a breakdown of how words are used in order to achieve persuasiveness. I don’t typically use a lot of explicit rhetorical analysis in my personal writings, but I guess a version of it. Which typically has to deal with intention and execution. A lot of analysis on language has to do with this. Language is incredibly subjective. Certain words carry individual meanings to people. I have gone over the difference between real and lexical definitions before, and I’ll do it again.

I’ll just copy and paste what I’ve said before here from this analysis:

To put it simply, lexical definitions are the definitions you find in the dictionary. This is an “official” and “agreed upon” definition. Real definitions (quite a misleading name in my opinion) is the definition that’s more kind of “felt” in a way and how you internally interpret the word in context (these can be through individuals or any niche group). What I mean by this is that when you say a word (for example) to convey a feeling, you usually won’t know the dictionary definition off the top of your head. You say that something’s “savage” for example when you want to describe something violent or gruesomely awesome (it depends if it’s in a slang context or not) but there’s many lexical definitions (and outdated lexical definitions) of the term. But the first definition that usually comes up is “adj (of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled.”

But people typically don’t think of the lexical definition when they learn what a word means; they usually learn the context of it and apply it as such. And that’s what a “real” definition is. Laito has a differing definition of what affection and love is, and that’s his own meaning and what it means to him.

I’ll even add another example to that too. The word “cunt” in english refers to a vagina. That’s just it. It’s lexically synonymous with “vagina,” “pussy,” etc. However, “cunt” has a subjective meaning to it. This is where “real” definitions also come into play. Many people view the word as vulgar and dirty. And that’s cuz we live in a ~society~ lmao. Our use of language has shaped what this word means in a context outside of the dictionary. I’ll do you one more. The Japanese word マンコ (manko) is also vulgar slang that’s kind of like our word “cunt/pussy.” Sometimes I say “cunt” for jokes, but I don’t use it that often to begin with since it’s just a very strong word to most (albeit it’s not that strong of a word for me). However, マンコ is a strong word to many Japanese people, but if I hear it even though I’ve been learning Japanese, it doesn’t have that same effect as hearing “cunt” for me is (which still, idc if I really hear it depending on context) because I haven’t been shaped in a culture that uses Japanese.

Even so, tone, intention, and context is HUGE in this. If someone called me a “useless fucking cunt” when they’re angry at me, I’d be close to crying. If someone told that to me as a joke, I’d be like “lol yeah you right, bitchass” and if someone said that in a consensual sexual context, it would certainly tickle my masochistic heart.

DSLKFJ also sorry if you don’t like hearing that word, I just had to utilize a strong example for this. But anyways, now let’s change the lens to Dialovers.

No, it never explicitly says that Cordelia rapes Laito. It doesn’t. However, there’s this WACKY thing called being able to infer, reading between the lines, and identifying implications. Those are kind of all the same things. However, indirect exposition is used a lot in effective creative writing. The utilization of this type of exposition is more preferred when writing a story, because direct exposition is kind of referred to as “info-dumping” when used excessively. Forgive my jargon: this is just showing vs telling as we’re taught in every writing class. I’m personally very bad at it, which is why I stick to writing these, and stick to reading creative fiction. (NOT SAYING IF YOU’RE NOT GOOD AT THIS TO NOT CONTINUE TO PRACTICE CREATIVE FICTION, I JUST DONT HAVE THE CURRENT MOTIVATION TO GET GOOD AT IT)

Dialovers uses a LOOOOOT of showing. And even so, its “showing” ability is very minimal considering the Japanese language can be vague on its own, it’s medium (visual novel) does not show a lot of things explicitly most of the time (and even when it is shown it doesn’t convey a lot). There’s several CGs of Laito and Yui where it doesn’t show the amount of pain or the dire situation Yui’s in, compared to what she’s saying she’s going through.

When I made my whole breakdown on Laito’s HDB route from Yui’s perspective, I got several comments about how they didn’t realize how bad his route really was. That’s either because people might not have experience with verbal abuse themselves, can’t exactly see Yui’s body language except her head (and even so, her expressions are limited), or don’t know a lot of gaslighting/verbal abuse techniques/have done research into it. Honestly verbal abuse is kind of hard to realize, so I’m not calling anyone dumb here. Despite me knowing a lot of the signs, I didn’t know I went through it––and even so I’ve denied it. And that’s what is so effective about this game though! Especially Laito’s route! Because you’re also sucked in with limited knowledge because you’re seeing this through Yui’s perspective, and on top of that it’s isolating. You can only make so many choices, and I feel like Dialovers is perfect as a visual novel. You get caught up with a lot of shock value things that Laito says, which serves as a perfect distraction for your first time through. But anyways, I’m getting off track.

For example, many people found his Maniac 07 chapter to be very confusing. I broke that one down here as well, and even so I was confused at first (also I was like 14/15, dear god). It tells you SO little, but you know that Laito’s incredibly upset at Richter for some reason, and even so, Yui comments on it a little too. Laito is shown to still hate Richter in DF, but he talks about it a tad more.

Here’s a further example from my writings in that first part of the Cordelia/Laito analysis series but I have bolded the terms I use to convey this rhetoric:

There hasn’t been any flashbacks that specifically show us the first time that happened. However, I believe that there was a flashback in HDB that shows one of the first times. Here’s a scene from Laito’s Dark Epilogue:

Cordelia: ー Laito…Laito… Laito: …Hm? Is something the matter? Cordelia: I have a favor to ask. It just isn’t enough. You can do it, right Laito? Laito: You really are something…So that’s why you came to me again? Cordelia: Fufufu…That’s right, Laito. Come on, quickly… Laito: …Guess it can’t be helped. I’ll love you plenty. Cordelia: Aah…My cute Laito~ I love you. I really do. Laito: I can do it…right? Cordelia: Of course, Laito. Now, quickly…

First of all, ew. Second of all, Laito’s diction implies that this was maybe the second or third time this occurred. He asks a question, and ends it with “again.” We know by this that it is not the first time, but the question also means that Laito might not have expected to occur again. His tone also implies some surprise to it, at least in my ears. His other question, “I can do it, right?” screams hesitance to me. If this scene took place down the line, or after many times he did this with Cordelia, I don’t believe he’d be some level of surprised or hesitance.

That’s what rhetorical analysis is. You take the contextual meaning of the words, the tone they use, and extrapolate what they imply. On top of this, we know that the term “love” here is sexual, implying that they did something sexual. We are not given the details of this, but considering we know that Laito uses “love” before he rapes Yui in the game, we can infer that’s what happened (or something similar) to himself with Cordelia, considering he projects on Yui quite a bit.

I was going to go over what is good/bad analysis, but I think I’ve implied it anyways here. Utilizing separate information from different sources of canon in order to make sense of something is good analysis. That’s our objective truth: canon. I’m not saying I’m the best at analysis, but I am fairly confident in it. It’s how I’m able to attempt to answer some of your “how would Laito react” questions without it being specifically hinted in the game. You cannot cherry pick specific sentences and go off of that alone for analysis. It’s context. It’s reading tone. It’s knowing the characters attitudes towards things, how they speak, etc. There’s a lot going into analysis in general. I know I didn’t elaborate on Aristotle’s rhetorical triangle right now, but that’s for another date I suppose.

Oh dear god I hope I didn’t lose you guys, I know this is a lot of information, but if you have any questions/comments/clarifications, as always, please let me know!

Hope you enjoyed! -Corn

[lysershine]

willwoodimagines lore??

So! It gets deeper, because @willwoodimagines did not lie, this shit goes back a while. This is gonna be a long post, because I halfass nothing, so have a read more so this doesn’t murder my blog or your dash.

 If you wish to proceed, good luck! 

Alright, you’re stuck in here with me now. Welcome to hell. The first thing I located is a link attached to One’s part of the introduction that leads to lots of binary which reads:

“hello? is this working? i don't know if this is going to be removed or not so please write this down. or don't. but remember it we're all still down here. it's hard to post cries for help now. the last time we tried it did not go well. but you're reading this, which, thank god i guess none of us know where we are. we were not given our own address. which makes alot of sense. listen just keep attempting to send us messages we are seeing them even if we cannot respond thank you, mod 1”

So that’s horrific. The italics in their intro also spell out “help me”, I assumed that was a joke the first time I saw it but FUCK IT we’re going full conspiracy so we’ll say that’s a genuine cry for help. They are “down” somewhere and captured, so you know, normal Tuesday night! 

The oldest thing I found that might be connected to lore is this post where One insinuates that Two is like, trapped below them somehow? But I think that’s probably an unconnected joke, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of anything between that and the second-oldest link.

However, another more-recent thing that is more-conceivably lore alludes to Two being trapped near One but not with them. I point out the tags on this post:

The oldest post that I think is definitely lore is this one right here, from Three:

The first link following the 100 follower announcement is found in this post from Three, and the binary reads:

“Listen carefully. The video that Will (Wood) be posted is extremely important. Do not skip it.“

Fair enough! So the post immediately following that is, indeed, of a video courtesy of Two, of them sprinting through a tunnel and then out into the woods. This is immediately followed by this post from Three, where they seem to assert that something, -- presumably an escape plan, -- is now in action. They are immediately shut down, however, by One in this post. However, that post has a link to MORE binary, and it reads:

“hello? can you read this? mod 2 is free! and hopefully will be coming back for us both. you all did absolutely nothing to help so i'm not thanking you for this. however i am thanking you for following us all! you've given us moral support thank you, mod 1“

So I’m assuming that whomever or whatever is keeping the lot of them has access in some capacity to this tumblr, because One is quietly supporting these endeavors but also trying to keep them quiet, saying in the tags that Three is “scaring the public”. 

One follows this up with another post, apologizing for the pandemonium on the blog with a link to even more fucking binary attached. This time, it reads:

“we're not in ddlc. i am not monika. listen to me closely. mod 3 and i are still stuck here. we have been posting cries for help for weeks. go look for them! they're like easter eggs. just for you! thank you, mod 1“

Welp. Here I fucking am, One. Are you proud? Are you fucking happy yet? I’m the official lorekeeper for the fucking willwoodimagines blog are you pleased?

Anyway.

Two posts shortly after, saying that he’s reached a McDonald’s and bit a guy to escape. Which, fair enough, good for him! He also adds in the tags that everything will be okay soon. So, that’s great! 

EXCEPT.

AS I AM FUCKING WRITING THIS GODDAMNED POST, ONE GIVES ME MORE LORE. I am not mad. Anyway.

One just now posted this, another apology for today’s chaos but with two links! Yay me! Link one directs you to a groupchat, the Will Wood Imagines HQ, a chat between the three mods, detailing Two’s escape and everyone’s very odd adoration for fast food. But then again, Three says they’ve been eating slop for a while, so. Fair enough.

In this conversation there seems to be a bit of confusion over who exactly put them in the cellar where they’re captured, but the consensus seems to be that it is indeed Will Wood himself who is keeping them prisoner. However, Two also asserts that very soon he will be able to save One and Three, apparently with the help of Will? Who is also probably their captor? So that’s a little odd and I’m trying to uncross those wires in my head but I have nothing yet. What I do have for certain, though, is the second link in One’s post. It leads to binary, which when translated, becomes:

“i do think it's less endearing and more terrifying how people on a blogging website care more about my freedom than my own friends and family did i dont need to sign this. you know who it's from“

And this is the part where, -- had I not just read that they were probably maybe idk sort of hostages of Will, -- I would be super incredibly concerned. But I’m glad I scare you, One, I hope you appreciate my dedication to your bullshit. <3

This is all that exists as of the moment I hit the post button! So, as I understand it, here’s the story so far:

One, Two, and Three are captives, probably of Will Wood. They are kept in a cellar, -- One and Three appear to be together and Two seems to have been held separately. As of today, Two attacked their captor and escaped, running out of the woods where they found their way to civilization. Out in civilization, they got McDonalds and met Will Wood. (Oddly enough they make a distinction that they know Will from his documentary, which might have something to do with something but I’m not sure what yet.) Will, -- who again, is probably their kidnapper, -- is enlisted to help Two rescue One and Three. 

Will (Wood) it work? I don’t know! But as more lore comes to light, I will be sure to update!! How has my life come to this!! :D

[thefoulbeast]

Writers tag game!

A big thank you to @saathiray for the tag! This looks like a really interesting one to do!! :D :D

Alright, let's get into it...

How many works do you have on ao3?

21!

What's your total ao3 word count?

ough.... maths..... if i wrote the numbers down right, then 187 780 words! :D

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

To no one's surprise, most of there are blue exorcist fics haha :,D

1. Clickflight. (71) 2. Ad terram nullium. (61) 3. Oh, my worst emotions. (60) 4. Human(oid?) (59) 5. aranea et flamma (42)

Do you respond to comments; why or why not?

I do! Well, almost every time (but the comment has to rub me the wrong way / confuse quite hard to make me not respond). I don't really know why? It just feels polite maybe shdusdh

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I'm not sure any of my fics have particularly angsty endings 🤔 They're mostly ambiguous or menacing in some way hahah... Perhaps Ad terram nullium or Oh, my worst emotions are the angstiest ones. Cor Aegrotum is also a good contender because it definitely ends on a bitter note. :D :D ahh idk lmao

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Another difficult question. Not sure. Speak fondly upon that memory is probably the most feel-good fic I have so I reckon it has the happiest ending 😂

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've ever written?

I don't think I've ever written a crossover, no. The closest is a current wip that's like characters from one thing in the setting of another thing? But I didn't keep any characters from the thing I got the setting from, not sure if it counts as a crossover lmao.

Hope this made sense <3

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I have not, thank goodness! Perhaps quite lucky, since I know one of my faves isn't too well liked in the fandom lol. But it's a small fandom, and the character isn't very popular so ¯\(´･ω･`)/¯

Also, I'm not exactly a well known/popular author so. I can just do whatever I want most of the time lmao

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have written smut, various kinds of it. >//-//>

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. Hopefully not :D

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, I haven't ^w^ I've considered trying my hand at translating fics on occasion though, I like translating stuff well enough. Not that anyone needs fics translated into latvian much 😂

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! But I think I'd like to try someday maybe, because two authors and friends I look up to a lot (jay & rynoa if u read this ily) collaborate on a lot of fics and they always come out so cool and good and solid and i think that's so neat that creatives can come together like that?? like wow!! truly amazing and beautiful to witness <3

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Genuinely don't know!

I've come back to a specific collection of Tarn/Deathsaurus (from the transformers more than meets the eye comic) fics a whole bunch so I guess that's as close as it gets!

I... have a hard time remembering stuff I like outside of the periods I am obsessed with it, you see. Currently I'm reading a lot of star wars fics so there's a lot of kylux and some gingerpilot?

it's really hard to say, im not sure i have an all-time favourite , more just a bunch of faves i come back to from time to time

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

A fic I started about Tarn from transformers getting some kind of head injury and having to re-learn how to speak? I really like the concept of it because his voice is how he kills and all that, but I just don't know what direction it could go in anymore. It's more of a thing I can ponder about privately rather than something I want to bring to a finish and publish, if that makes sense?

Other than that one, I have a whole bunch of fics I started in fandoms I dipped my hands into but never found friends and stuff off who to bounce my ideas so the motivation kind of died. One of those was a thing for Gotham's Penguin - I was going to do like a life story in vignettes but I recognise now I won't finish it :D

What are your writing strengths?

I sort of? Idk how to put this in a way that doesn't sound too self-aggrandizing, but once I get into a character's head, I get into a character's head. Multiple people have praised my characterizations, one even going as far as to say that the voices sound like the canon and that's something I hold really dearly in my heart and which makes me feel v warm inside. ;3; <3 <3 <3

What are your writing weaknesses?

World building and having more than 2 people in a fic 😭 I focus so much on the character I'm writing about that sometimes it's hard to think about everything that happens around them, or to make the other characters have enough depth! All my fics are like... sticking to a single person, deep pov style. I would like to get out of my comfort zone more and try and write fics that focus on more than one character!

What are your thougts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

There's a time and place for everything! Usually I just hope that there's translations in the end notes 😂😂 But it can definitely help in making the reader feel as helpless and confused as the character who doesn't speak the language :D

What was the first fandom you wrote fic for?

Ib, the rpg game, I think? At least that's the first one I wrote fic for on the computer, I think I might have written something like yugioh fanfic in a notepad in sixth grade 🤔🤔 afraid i've lost both, though

What's your favourite fic that you've written?

ahh... difficult question...

I think it's sort of a tie between Somnus and Even a worm will turn? They're both about Toudou and I like them for different reasons. Somnus just came out so beautiful and poetic, I think, a lot of meaning packed into just under 1k words, whereas Even a worm will turn is like a beast full of negative emotions and violence and all the dark stuff and the way the soul blackens as it goes down the slippery slope between what one feels they have to do and what is right that i managed to get out in a weirdly cathartic way... It's really hard to decide on this question hahah...

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

As for tagging my fellow writers and friends: @shiroufujimoto @29rynoah @tonguetiedraven @kugisaki-nobara-rights @yuriotoko @inuyoshie @bluewindfall @emperorsvornskr

[tyonfs]

i like me better (when i'm with you)

❝ jesus, mark, if you’re not going to read the room at least sparknote it.❞

PAIRING ▸ jeong jaehyun x fem!reader (ft. best friend!mark lee) 

GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, friends to enemies to lovers, college au, rival sports teams 

WARNINGS ▸ more to be added as i keep writing but !! sexual !! tension !! lots of it, jealous!jaehyun, public sex, teasing, fingering, hate sex, raw sex (pls use protection), oral sex, lots of sneaking around, pool sex, mark being oblivious to his cockblocking, slight exhibitionsm, and yes actual fluff exists ! 

SUMMARY ▸ there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought that your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts. (props to @chanluster​ for making me scrap my old summary bc it kinda sucked)

PLAYLIST ▸ i like me better by lauv • unravel me by sabrina claudio 

RELEASE DATE ▸ roughly around september 1st (or hopefully sooner) 

WORD COUNT ▸ probably around 10k?? or more?? idk but i have about 7k rn 

TAG LIST ▸ @gotoartistprofile @chanluster​ @steamyjaehyun 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ send me an ask if you wanna be added to the tag list !! i hope ya’ll stick around for this! i can’t wait to publish it & btw the preview is shortened down a little and isn’t the final version so some parts might be changed for the final version :)

PREVIEW ▸

“You and Jaehyun,” Chenle said, “there’s some tension there.”

“Wow, Sherlock Holmes. Observant, aren’t you?” you spat, words dripping with sarcasm. “We’ve hated each other for years. Of course there’s tension.”

“Y/N, I think he means a different kind of tension,” Mark said.

“What kind of tension?” you asked, shocking the rest of them with your surprisingly innocent response. In retrospect, it was more because you couldn’t imagine the answer being anything past the realm of hatred.

While they all hesitated to respond, Johnny spoke up, “He meant the ‘I wanna beat you up and then have rough sex with you’ kind of tension.”

You immediately froze—long enough for Chenle to take a picture of your reaction—the expression on your face a cross between incredulity and visceral rage. You must have looked like a ticking time bomb because Mark had to take a cautious step back.

“Come again? Rough sex?” You were well aware of how strangled and pitched your voice sounded as soon as it escaped your lips, how guilty it sounded, but you couldn’t focus on that as the weight of Johnny’s words were sinking in. “Jaehyun and I?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Johnny answered.

“That’s a lie.”

“Yeah? Then why do you two always look at each other so weird?”

You didn’t know how to defend yourself now so you just said, “He’s a bastard and I would never see him in any other way.”

“You say that now but we all know—”

“Alright, let’s drop it,” Mark said, trying to defuse the situation before you blew it up into an argument. “I would rather go rest in my hotel room instead of being a witness of a homicide.”

“Fine, fine,” Johnny relented.

You scoffed and jabbed at his foot with yours before letting the topic go. Your squabbles with them were all in good nature, but this one somehow put you off. It was like Johnny had planted the seeds and were waiting for them to grow. You were starting to mull over every interaction you’ve had with Jeong Jaehyun.

Johnny and Chenle had made a startlingly accurate observation. You and Jaehyun did look at each other for a little too long sometimes, nearly to the point where it seemed like you were basking in the attention of the other—

No fucking way.

You were not going down that path. There was nothing more to your relationship with Jeong Jaehyung than pure hatred and resent. He was a douchebag who was intent on making you feel like shit. His only motive was to start shit again between you and Jaemin, who you would’ve completely forgotten by now if it weren’t for him.

No way. There was absolutely no undercurrent of desire that was creeping its way to be uncovered.

Or was there? a small, treacherous part of your mind offered.

You were lost in your thoughts as the coaches handed you your room key, as you waited for your roommate who was some girl named Eunha from the other school, as you made your way to your room on the fifth floor.

The only thing you could think about were those long stares, those mesmerizing eyes, and the implication behind them. You always attributed it to Jaehyun being a hormonal teenage boy, but you had to admit that you’ve seen him look at you with some semblance of lust. Perhaps that same feeling was buried far in the depths of your consciousness, too.

Could you be attracted to Jeong Jaehyun?

No, you argued with yourself, and shit, even your frontal lobe sounded unconvinced. He’s a petty bastard and that’s all he’ll ever be.

You instilled the mantra of you and Jaehyun being sworn enemies in your head, but you couldn’t help the fact that it was peppered by the memories of an irritatingly familiar smirk. You scowled, willing your head to get rid of all-things-Jeong-Jaehyun, but he was right there.

Literally. He was standing right in front of you.

“Hey, neighbor,” he teased, all too satisfied with the horrified look on your face. “Guess you can’t get rid of me.”

[daydadahlias]

‘Ello mon soleil (i’m gonna ignore u tagging me there...) anyway i’m curious as hell so i’m gonna ask a whole of six questions hopefully no one will ask in between: 1, 5, 18, 20, 21, 35 <3

Also god i agree with the top/bottom thing. It’s so unnecessary?? Like... dude just write it as it is for you... why you gotta put everything into boxes... mhm i don’t like it. But whatever

That’s it hope you have fun i’m expecting a novel <3

God, mon ciel, you really do want a novel. Alright, lemme crack my knuckles and get to writing. ((And yes about top/bottom stuff!!! S’dumb as shit))

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

I started reading fanficiton when I was in sixth grade because that was when I properly got into the TV show Supernatural. It was a long, terrifying phase, and I wrote several shitty as fuck fanfictions for it on Quotev (which were fucking reader and OC inserts?? Because my friends were writing them... So I did too and... I hate it. I fucking hate it. This is my dark past. This is my fucking villain origin story). I had three different Quotev accounts through the years (6th - 8th grade) and everything I wrote on them was shitty hot fucking garbage that makes me want to violently gouge my eyes out. I am going to pull you a direct line from one of my Supernatural fanfics to prove it. 

“That may be the case gentlemen,” Principle Birch was arguing back to them. “But I already told you, no student has reported being struck by lightning!”

You stopped in your tracks. Struck by lightning...? But... you were struck by lightning. This couldn’t be a coincidence. 

As you can see, I was an author in the making. Look out, Hemingway, I’m coming for you.

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Fuck, I have too many... I honestly cannot even say them all. They definitely have a huge effect on whether or not I’ll read something. I won’t read anything with a daddy kink; I won’t fucking do it. I refuse. I would rather bash my head into a wall than ever read the word ‘daddy’ used seriously in a fic. Dub-con is such a hard no that even thinking about it makes me want to shrivel into a tiny ball and cease to exist. I won’t read soulmate aus. There’s no real reason. I just... don’t vibe. I don’t like the idea of predestined futures. Won’t read coffee shop aus... Won’t read anything where a chapter is less than 2k words... For 5sos, I don’t like reading any fics written before 2016 to be 100% honest. I will but I try not to because it sort of creeps me out that someone looked at 17/18 year old Luke Hemmings and went “lemme write some porn abt that kid” idk, idk. I’m definitely not one to judge. ALSO THE BIGGEST ONE: WHEN FICS CALL CALUM “THE KIWI” OR “THE MAORI BOY” I LOSE YEARS OF MY LIFE. FOR FUCKS SAKE JUST CALL HIM CALUM. It’s Fucking Racist. No ones out here calling Ash “the white man” what the fuck.

((I answered 18 + 20 so I’m moving on to the others))

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Oh, that’s tough. I love pretty much everything about writing and posting fic. I don’t actually think I have an answer to this. I don’t love the anticipation after posting, I guess, when you’re inbox is at (0) and you don’t know what to do about it. But I love pretty much everything about writing. It’s literally all I do in my free time. 

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

Oh my g o d. I cannot even begin to express it to you. Fuck. Writing means so fucking much to me and being able to share that writing means even more. In a more serious way... (I’m trying to think of how to say this delicately) I went through a really genuinely bad time before quarantine started (lot of personal shit happened to me and things were just not going well) and I didn’t really know what to do, y’know? Nothing was okay, I wasn’t happy, and I was starting to worry I couldn’t fix myself. But then school let out because of the virus and I was stuck at home with all this time to write and just exist, and I really fell in love with the band and writing about them and it become such a necessary escape for me. Reading comments and interacting with people on tumblr and all that shit has been so important to me these last few months. And I’m in such a good place now and I can fully say that fanfiction has been a large part in making me happy again. :D

From Fanfic Ask Game

[parkaiur]

Snowy Days - Jihoon

❀ genre: college life + romance + a dash of angst 

❀ word count: 5491

❀ a/n: just read the tags below but if ur too lazy to basically: don’t expect lots of updates and i just wrote this as a form of therapy for me. i guess i missed writing and needed to rant /shrugs/ 

also this title sucks but idk what to do with it either LMAO 

❀ ❀ ❀

It was a quiet, winter evening; the snow was gently falling outside and the laughter of college students filled the dorm hallways. 

I, on the other hand, was curled up in a ball on my bed, reading a book. The soft sounds of my hand turning the pages lulled me in a dreamland of swoon-worthy boys. 

Suddenly, I heard a loud bang. 

I flinched and jumped up on my bed to see what had dropped. 

“Sorry! Just dropped my pan, how’s it going?” I sighed thankfully, realizing it was just my roommate, Naeun. Naeun was a freshman like me; we hadn’t talked much before rooming together. We got along most of the time, but being around people just irked me sometimes.

I pointed at the book, trying to hide the girlish daze in my eyes. 

“Just reading, like usual.” I kept my words short, hoping she would get the hint that I wasn’t in the mood to talk. It wasn’t like I was mad at her or anything, but I need my breaks with all the socialness of college. I don’t think people understand how tiring it is for introverts to have to be “on” all the time; “on” meaning social. 

She nodded. “What book?” 

“It’s called ‘Win Some, Lose Some’ by Shay Savage. It’s a really amazing novel about a boy who was Autism and a girl who ...” I trailed off when I realized she had her back towards me. The sound of her pots and pans flying into her drawer was distracting. “A girl who befriends him basically. How was your day?” I asked politely. 

I braced myself for her long winded answer. Most people just say “good” or “it was pretty alright” but not Naeun, she pops off and talks about things no one really needs to know, and no one really cares. 

“It was okay. I saw one of my friends on campus and I waved to her because it’s so weird, right? Seeing people you know on such a large campus. And then I walked to English and my professor was just such in a good mood today, she’s so nice, I love her.” 

I smiled carefully, hoping she doesn’t realize how much I do not care about who she waves at or how her professor looks. 

“Then, I went to the library and did some of my math homework and I got started on the next chapter. And then I started to do my English homework which I got kind of stumped on. Anyway, all I could think about is this big burrito when I was studying.” She took out two large burritos and plopped them on a blue plate. 

I nodded and told her I was going to go back to my book. She nodded and right as I was about to plug in my earbuds to drown out her voice while I read, she stopped me with her voice.

“Hey, I’m bored, do you think Ahyoung and Somi are busy?” I took out my earbuds once more and shrugged. 

“Probably not.” 

“Hm. Is it cool if I invite them over? I mean, you don’t have to say yes if you just want to be alone, I know how you get like that.” 

I forced an awkward smile. “Um, I actually want to just chill and be alone, but you can always go to their rooms... they live in the same building.” I tried not to let my annoyance show in my voice, but it was rising. 

She furrowed her brows and sighed. “Yeah, but they’re so far...” She whined. 

Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes. 

“I mean, they always come to our dorm, maybe go to them today?” I really didn’t care what she did, I just wanted to be alone. 

I turned on my music and opened my book so I didn’t have to hear her complain. She went back on her phone and I was content reading in peace. 

Five minutes later, I heard loud knocking on the door. 

What? She did not just...

“Oh, hey, Ahyoung! How’s it going?” 

No way, she did not just invite people over after I told her not to. 

I felt my blood boil, but I tried to keep my calm. I was not going to make a scene, especially since Ahyoung was my friend. 

I locked eyes with Naeun, who I visibly glared at. 

“It’s chill, y/n, you don’t have to talk we are just gonna hang a bit and then go watch some TV.” 

I bit my tongue to not snap at her. Her insensitivity was rubbing me the wrong way, but I didn’t want to blow up. We were all adults here, I didn’t want to seem like a child who got irritated when they were forced to socialize with their mom’s friends. 

Soon, I heard another knock. 

“Hey, Sooyoung! Come in, we are picking a show to watch.” 

I tried to calm down and read my book, but when I say I want to be alone, I really mean I want to be alone. 

I felt myself boil over in anger as I could still hear them over my earbuds. Their laughter and constant chatter couldn’t be tuned out. 

“Ok, we are gonna go to the lounge and watch TV. High five!” Naeun held her hand right in front of my face and I hit it just to make her leave. I swear, I’d rather hit her face instead. 

As soon as I heard the door slam shut, I pulled out my earbuds and went to rinse my face. 

How insensitive of her! I explicitly told her not to invite anyone over to the dorm, and there she goes. She can’t walk up one flight of stairs to see our friends?? So fucking rude. 

Living in the dorms as an introverted person was terribly hard. I don’t even know if introverted is the right word for it anymore if I want to go days without talking to people. And it sucks when no one truly understands me and doesn’t take my words seriously. 

I groaned and stared at myself in the mirror.

“Just two more quarters and you’re free for the summer.” 

I sighed and wiped my face on my towel. 

College was hard. 

I had found my group in college, but unfortunately, I had made the same mistakes as I did in high school. First, I stayed connected with some friends from high school who I had planned on cutting off. And most importantly, I put too much time and effort into people who disrespect me and don’t care for me. 

And now I live with someone like that. 

It angered me to feel so out of place, so alone in the dorms even when I had friends. Whenever I wanted to escape, there was no where to go. All my friends were here. 

I clenched my fist. 

All of a sudden, I couldn’t just sit down and read. I glanced over in the corner of the room and saw the camera from my photography class sitting there. 

I looked outside my window and saw the soft snow falling down. 

I quickly pulled on a warm, puffy jacket, jeans, and headed out to take some photos with my trustworthy camera. 

-----

The air was colder than I remembered. I felt my nose crinkle as the wind blew snow into my nose. 

The city was beautiful; it was painted in white sparkles. I snapped a few photos and took a deep breath. 

I loved being outside and having no one notice me; this was one of my favorite things about living in the city and college in general. I snapped pictures of groups of people walking across the street. The blur of the street lights combined with the softness of the snow captivated me. 

“Some nice pics you got there.” 

I jumped at the voice and almost dropped my camera; thankfully, it’s always wrapped around my neck.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think you’d get so scared.” 

I looked up and saw a boy around my age staring at me. And dang, was he cute. 

I thanked God for the weather because my cheeks were already red. 

“Uh, um, it’s fine.” I fibbed quickly. I felt awkward because I didn’t know how to act around guys my age, especially ones as cute as him. 

Be friendly, be friendly. He just wants to be friends.

“Um, I’m y/n by the way.” I took out my hand to shake his. He chuckled and reciprocated the action.

“Jihoon, Park Jihoon. You live in this building too?” He pointed at the building next door to me. I shook my head and watched as the snow fell onto my shoulders.

“Oh no, I live in this one.” He nodded. “Are you a freshman?” I asked. 

He laughed heartily. I liked how he didn’t hide his emotions. “Oh no, I’m a sophomore this year but I’m an RA in this building.” 

I made an “O” shape with my mouth. “Ah, a resident adviser. I’m applying to be one next year, kinda nervous but hopefully I’ll get the job.” 

His eyes widened. “Oh really? I rarely meet people who want to baby a bunch of freshmen.” I laughed at his comment. “But hey, it’d be cool if we were in the same dorm next year. You could teach me to take such pretty pictures.” I laughed and flipped through the photos on my camera out of habit.

“Don’t get your hopes up, I haven’t even been accepted for the job yet. Also, I’m taking photography 101 with Professor Lee Miyoung, I’m sure she’s a better teacher than I am.” I teased. 

He shrugged. “Well, I doubt she’s as pretty as you.” 

My heart froze. 

W-what? Did he just flirt with me? Oh god, what do I say now? How do I flirt back? I-

“Sorry, was that weird? I wanted to call you pretty but I didn’t mean to lowkey talk about a professor’s beauty either.” He looked mildly embarrassed when he shook out his hair full of snow. 

I gave him a small smile. “Um, no, not weird, it was actually kind of smooth. I don’t really know how to respond to flirting.” 

Oh my god. I just said that. 

His eyes lit up mischievously as I tried not to blush even harder.

“Oh flirting? Is that what we are doing?” He teased.

“Technically, that’s what you are doing.” He laughed loudly and his voice echoed throughout the streets. I only hoped to have that loud of a voice as an RA. 

“You got me there.” He then looked down at his watch and frowned. 

“What’s wrong?”

He looked up at me with his soft brown puppy eyes. I swear this guy is too cute to be real. “Um, my shift is starting soon.” He then took out his phone. “I know we just met, but you seem pretty cool-”

Before he could finish, I took his phone and typed in my number.

“There, now you can teach me how to be an RA and I can teach you how to take photos.” I said as confidently as I could. 

He seemed a bit surprised at my voice, but nodded.

“Sounds great, see you later.” He waved to be as he walked away, but slipped on a patch of snow. 

“Ah, be careful!” I shouted. He gave me a small smile and walked back into his dorm.

Well, at least this day ended on a high note. 

-----

“Hey, where’d you go last night? We were wondering where you were at.” 

I’m an adult, I don’t have to tell you everywhere I go.

I bit back the words and forced a small smile. “Oh, I just went to take some photos for my photography class. The snow looked really pretty last night.” I left out the minor detail that a cute boy started to talk to me. I wanted to keep the giddiness to myself. 

“Oh cool. I just came back from the gym. I saw a really cute boy in there. He was really fit, dark skinned, dark hair. And he smiled at me and I smiled back. We didn’t get to talk because I was so out of breath, but I hope he’s at the gym again.” She went off without me asking her too. 

I understand that I’m being a bit tough on her, but she irritated me first by inviting people over when I told her not to. People always talk about communication in college, but sometimes people just don’t listen to you. 

“Cool, hope you see him again.” I said nicely. I have to put on a nice face with my roommates, as I don’t want to be in an awkward living situation. 

“Yeah... how was your day today?” 

-----

“And then she just invited you guys over, disregarding what I had just said before! Isn’t that rude?” I voiced to Ahyoung, my best friend. I’d known her before going to college, well, I’ve known her since we were 8. 

She looked a bit hesitant on what to say. 

I went on about the situation. “I’m not saying I hate seeing you guys, but you know how I get when I want to be alone. I...I just want to be alone and it makes me crazy when I see people. Plus, I told Naeun I wanted to chill out and be alone and then she just invites you guys over, without telling me?? I’m not crazy.” I ranted. 

Ahyoung sighed and took a sip of her coffee filled with milk and sugar. 

“I mean, she did say she was inviting us over in the groupchat.” 

I glared at the younger girl. “Excuse me, I was sitting right next to her, she knows I didn’t check my phone. It’s rude to not tell your roommate you’re inviting people over, and it’s even ruder when we just talked about how I didn’t want her to invite people over. It’s not like she forgot within the five minutes.” 

“True. That wasn’t nice of her.” I noticed she hesitated on saying anything bad about her. We were all friends, but I was the one who had problems with friends in the group, as usual. I didn’t like very many people, but I was civil and nice to everyone; that’s what being an adult is all about. 

“Yeah...” I trailed off. I don’t know when it got so weird between us, but it felt like I couldn’t talk to my best friend about things in my life. I didn’t even tell her about the cute guy who flirted with me. Deep inside of me, I knew she didn’t deserve to know these things about me when she didn’t want to hear the bad parts of my life. 

It felt like everyone wants to be around me when I’m laughing and joking, never when I’m serious and want to talk about my feelings. No one wants to listen when I want to rant about real things in life, yet they love when someone rants about some “dumb” thing a girl did in the hallway. 

I didn’t get why they judged people before they knew them. I always tried to talk with people before I made judgements, yet people think it’s weird when I judge people I talk to. That’s the way you’re supposed to judge people... when you get to know them personally. Duh.

As I was talking, I saw her eyes focused on something far away from me. 

I turned around and saw her crush standing there. She stopped listening to me as he waved at her. I saw her eyes bright up when she saw him and I grew annoyed. I was telling her about something that was bothering me, and then she chooses a boy over me. Not cool. 

“Hello? Earth to Ahyoung??” I teased. She shrugged me off. 

“He’s so cute. I know he doesn’t like me, but I can’t help myself.” 

I snorted. “Yeah, he doesn’t like you and actually, he only dates white girls and you my friend, are not white.” I knew I was being harsh, but I hear about him every single second and it angers me when I want to vent about something in my life and she doesn’t think I’m as important as her crush.

She flinched at my harsh words. 

“You just wouldn’t understand, you’ve never had a crush before. You’ve never been in love before.” She said matter of factly. 

Ouch. 

This was all true, but it hurt when she said it like that. I’ve never felt romantic love, wow, thanks for reminding me. Maybe I’m too busy taking care of my dumb friends who don’t care about me. 

Maybe.

-----

“Bye, see you later.” I waved her off as we both went to class.

As soon as I turned around, I saw a familiar face. 

Jihoon. 

I fixed my hair and prayed none of my mascara had smeared on my face. 

Be confident, make friends. 

“Hey, Jihoon.” He turned around with a confused look on his face. I felt a leap in my heart when he smiled at me.

“Oh hey y/n, it’s weird to see you without a camera.” He joked. 

I felt my heart skip a beat when he said my name; I was so used to people forgetting about me. 

“Hah, well it’s weird to see you in the daylight.” I joked. When I saw him left an eyebrow, I knew I said something wrong. 

I felt my face burn up at my own words. 

“Not like that.” I blubbered out. He let out a light laugh. 

“Well, I mean, you’re right.” He took note of my embarrassed state and changed the subject. “So, what class are you headed to?”

“History of the Ancient Greek and Roman worlds, how bout you?” 

“Woah, what an interesting class. I’m heading to choir practice actually.” That made me stop in my tracks.

“Wait, you sing?” 

He chuckled. “Yup, that is what you do in choir.” I felt a bit embarrassed at my statement. “I’m joking, I’m joking, but yes, I do sing. Have been doing so for my whole life.”

“I did choir up until high school, I didn’t feel good enough for college. I still don’t know how to read music and it’s been years.” 

“It’s hard, but you get used to it. You should give it a shot if you really want to though. Or come watch one of our performances.” I smiled at him.

“One day.” I stopped walking and pointed at the building in front of us. “This is me. I’ll see you later?” 

He nodded and smiled. 

“I’ll see you later.”

-----

Two weeks had passed and I hadn’t seen much of Jihoon. We waved to each other in passing, but it was midterms soon, and exams were the only thing on my mind. We sent each other memes daily though and we just got each other’s humor- that was rare. 

I was filling out my history study guide until I heard my roommate, Naeun, walk in.

“Hey, y/n~ Ahyoung, Sooyoung and I saw you talking to a boy yesterday~ Oooooooo what’s his name?” 

She sat right in front of me, not giving me any personal space. 

I tried not to blush but honestly, my face was turning red because I was so annoyed at her.

“His name is Jihoon. He’s an RA in the dorm next to us, we met at an RA informational meeting.” I lied. I didn’t want to tell her I ran out of the dorm because I couldn’t handle her and people.

“He’s cute, nice body too.” I felt a an overwhelming sense of jealously and protectiveness wash over me. I hated it. I didn’t want to be this person. I probably only felt this way because I didn’t like Naeun right now. 

“Yeah, you can have him if you want. I’m not into him.” I lied. 

She raised a brow. “Really? Don’t be upset if he falls for me then.” I knew she was joking when she flipped her hair dramatically, but I wasn’t into it. 

I felt my buried insecurities rise when I stared intensely at her face. Her eyebrows were neatly plucked, which I was always too scared to do. Her skin was tanned and even, not blotchy and red like mine. Her fashion was trendy and most boys liked her because of her socialness, on the contrary, I was awkward and mean to boys, unintentionally. 

I just went back to doing my homework, shaking off the comparison. 

-----

Later that night, I saw a message pop up in my texts which was weird because I usually mute everyone.

‘hey midterms are killing me and i dont understand anything... want ice cream?’ 

I tried not to laugh even though both my roommates were at the library. 

‘uhhh shouldnt u be studying if u dont understand anything?? mayb??’ 

‘LOL thats not how it works young padawan’ I rolled my eyes. He thinks he’s so much older than me. 

‘also I don’t eat ice cream, i don’t eat dairy’

‘... aight imma head out’ 

I snorted and tilted my head back in laughter. 

‘ok, no ice cream... what DO you like?’

You. I like you. 

... Definitely not sending that.

‘UMMM i like hot chocolate?’ 

‘okay, i’ll be at your dorm in 5. what is your room number again?’

‘303′ 

‘aight’ 

I looked down at short shorts and tank top and then at the harsh winds outside. I threw on a pair of cute leggings and a heavy sweater. I put on a black jacket over it and placed a beanie on my head. 

I did my brows and put on a few swipes of mascara. I carefully applied my lightly colored lip balm and sprayed face mist to look dewy and cute. 

Is this a date? Or is this just two friends being adventurous? 

Whatever, I want to look cute at least.

Seconds after I finish, I hear a knock at my door. I took a deep breath.

This isn’t a date. This isn’t a date. Calm down.

I opened the door. 

He was wearing a puffy jacket and dark black jeans that outlined his thigh muscles. Yum.

I also noticed he was wearing a gray beanie... which was identical to mine.

“Cute hat.” I noted. He grinned and tugged on my beanie. 

“Same goes for you. Ready for some hot chocolate?” 

“Yes, where are we going to get said chocolate caliente?” 

Jihoon gave me a weird look. “Chocolate what?” 

I stared at him, stunned. “Chocolate caliente. Caliente means hot in Spanish. Therefore, hot chocolate. You didn’t take Spanish in high school?” 

He shook his head. “Nope, I took Japanese because I’m a weeb.” I snorted. 

“Wow, I should be surprised but I’m not.” He pushed me playfully and I tried not to freak out over the warmth of his skin. 

“You’re telling me you don’t watch any anime?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Of course I watch some anime. But am I full blown weeb... no.” 

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I can change that, don’t worry.”

“You still didn’t tell me where we are going.” My fingers felt crisp from the cold air. It wasn’t snowing tonight, but the ground was still white. 

“Aha, we are going to my favorite cafe called ‘Pink Heart Cafe’. It is decked in pink hearts.” 

“As expected from a Pink Heart Cafe.” I joked. In the near distance, I noticed a sign that had a baby pink heart that wrote ‘Pink Heart Cafe’ in cute lettering. 

I crinkled my nose from the cold air. “What, you don’t like pink?” 

“No, no, I love the color pink actually. It’s just kinda cold out here.” He nodded. 

“Maybe it would be warmed if we held hands... maybe.” 

For the first time, I felt comfortable with someone’s flirtatious comment.

I smirked and hooked my hand with his. I felt my heart beater faster. Much faster. And I loved it. 

I saw him smile widely and hide it with his hair. 

“I’m a lucky guy.” He whispered. 

We walked into the cafe. 

“Hi! Welcome to Pink Heart Cafe, for here or to go?” 

“For here, please.” The woman nodded. 

“Please take a seat. We will come take your order soon.”

We took our seats in the corner, next to the pink fairy lights. I was in love with the aesthetic. 

“Cute place. And fancy it seems, they come take our order at the table.” I sang a bit of Twice’s Fancy. 

“Oh gosh, you love Twice?? Me too!” I shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I mean, I like them, their songs are cute and catchy but I’m not a diehard fan.” 

He frowned. I can change that too. 

I sighed and rolled my eyes dramatically. “Wow, it seems like there are a lot of things you want to change about me. What do you even like about me?” I teased. 

He smiled harder and I noticed a blush on his face. 

“Uhhh, that’s a good question. I like... I like how you’re honest with your emotions. I like how you’re good at photography. I like that you want to become an RA because of the money and--” I gasped and pushed him on the arm.

“That’s not the only reason! Yes... the pay is good, but I like helping people.” 

Our laughter died down as he gazed at me intensely. 

“You like helping people? Tell me more about that.” 

I paused. No one had asked me that before. 

“Um, no one’s asked me that before. I guess I just like to see people happy. I like appealing to people’s emotions and most times, I’m pretty good at making people like me.” I said honestly. I saw his face light up at my words. “And I also want to be a teacher after I graduate, so being an RA would help improve my social skills and teach me how to interact with those younger than me and work through their problems. I don’t know, people say it’s hard and that it can be tough if kids come to you with suicidal thoughts and feelings of anxiety and depression, but I mean, I just want to do it and give back to the community somehow... I don’t know. ” I mumbled off, feeling like I said too much.

His gaze was so serious, I was scared I bored him to death.

He leaned closer to me and I freaked out. I held my breath, waiting for what was next until he spoke. 

“You’re so awesome.” He finally said. 

That... that was surprising.

“Um, thanks?”

“I’m serious! That’s so amazing why you want to be an RA. Honestly, I took up this job because it pays well and I’m good at talking to people, but sometimes I couldn’t care less about my residents. I like how you’re so kind to people.”

I laughed, “I’m not that nice.” 

“Yeah right, you were nice to me the first time we met. And I could’ve been a creepy dude and I almost made you break your camera.” 

“Well, I was nice to you because you are a cute boy.” He choked on his drink at my blunt words. I grew shy all of a sudden and laughed with him. 

“Jesus, give a boy a warning before you say such words.” He was pink in the face and I felt my heart warm. 

“It’s true, you are attractive. But it is also true that I’m not nice. My roommate is irritating the heck out of me and I have to tell myself every time I talk to her to say nice things and not hurt her feelings ‘cause she’s so damn sensitive.” 

He paused for a moment. I was nervous he would think I was a bad person. Which... technically is what I’m trying to convince him of. 

“Wow, you just got ten times nicer.” Now it was my turn to choke on my drink. 

“What? I just told you I have to force myself to be nice to my roommate even though I just want to snap at her all the time.” 

Jihoon leaned back in his chair with a smug look on his face. “Exactly! Most people would’ve just called her a bitch and moved on! Moved out or from what I’ve seen, some girls do mean shit like throwing another girl’s clothes out of her closet or flirting with her boyfriend. You... you just be nice when someone is mean to you.”

“She’s not mean, just rubbing me the wrong way.” Jihoon rolled his eyes.

“See? You are still defending her even though I’m sure she’s putting you through more than other people would take.” 

I shrugged. “I don’t know, most people don’t take me seriously when I talk about it.” 

“Try me.” 

I hesitated at first, but when I saw his open and honest look, I spilled.

“Well, I’m quite an introverted person so I need my alone time. And when I told her, this was actually the night that I met you, um, I told her that I wanted to be alone. And then she invited people over to the room and yes, they left soon, but when I’m in my isolation mood, I just... I just don’t even want to look at people.” 

He stared at me with a curious look so I rambled on. “I know, it’s dumb-”

He placed a gentle hand on top of mine.

“No, that’s not dumb at all. She should’ve respected your words. I would be so mad. Give me more!” He pounded his fist on the table for dramatic effect. 

I felt my heart lighten when he wanted to hear more of my words. I was so used to people ignoring me and brushing over my concerns.

“Uh, well, just... well not just Naeun, my roommate, but some of my friends in the same dorm as me. They are just really judgmental and the negativity just pains me. I don’t like judging others before getting to know them, so hearing them talk bad about random people they don’t know just pains me. And I’m no saint, yes I judge people, but I make sure I talk to them first and get to know them before I make judgments.”

Jihoon smiled. “You keep getting better the more I get to know you. I do the same thing, my friends think I’m crazy when I say ‘hey that dude looks kinda mean and no one likes him, i’ll be friends with him’!” 

My eyes widened. “Oh my god, that’s how I met most of my friends!” 

We laughed as we bad mouthed our friends and the people who have hurt us. 

“Why do you stick with such crappy friends? No offense, you deserve so much better.” 

I shrugged. “I mean, everyone says that to me and truly, I don’t even know. I just feel so connected to them now and they have their good moments-”

“Good moments aren’t enough if they consistently hurt you.”

“I know, I know! I just... maybe I’m not that good of a person then if I stay with them. Like people say, you are who your friends are.” 

“That’s bull, you’re a good person, I know that. And your friends don’t even care to listen to you rant, I can tell I’m the first person you told all this stuff too because you have flames in your eyes. You deserve friends you can trust and are able to rant to. I promise.” 

I bit my lip, thinking of what to say. 

“Thank you, I guess I just think I am helping them by staying with them. I don’t want to hurt their feelings.” 

“Just know that you have me now, and if you ever need to rant or vent or whatever, I’m here for you. You have me now.” 

I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. No one’s ever said that to me before and meant it. I know he meant it, it was written all over his face. 

I nodded slowly, accepting the moment we were having. 

We sat in a moment of silence until the waiter came for the check.

I dug through my pockets to get out the ten dollar bill I stuffed in there. 

“Hah funny,” Jihoon chided when he whipped out his card before I could do anything. I gasped. 

“Ah, Jihoon, I brought money!” 

He tsked and stood when the waiter gave him his card back. “Yeah right, I’d never let a girl pay on the first date, that’s like... illegal.” I rolled my eyes, until I realized what he had just admit.

“Date?” I questioned carefully. 

He looked away from my gaze, like he didn’t mean to say the word. 

“Yes... date. Do you have a problem with that?” 

I grinned.

“Nope.”

[sebspocketsquare]

Wishing you were here... 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (chatroom)

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s the first real thing I’ve worked on this year... oops! Anyway, I’ve had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Part 1 is mostly just a preview of what’s to come, I have other, longer chapters written and I’m thinking I’ll post once a week! Let me know what you think! (PS i did put a ‘read more’ link in here, so hopefully it works!)

Warnings: language, maybe? flirting? pet names

Masterlist

The only light illuminating your bedroom is the one that comes from your computer screen - bright, almost blinding, and making your eyes silently scream for sleep. 

You’re moments from giving in, from turning away from the chat room you’d found your way into a few weeks ago, hoping that you’d find someone to take the edge off your loneliness.

Unfortunately, all you’d managed to find was creepy 60 year old men begging to see your breasts. You weren’t here for it. 

A long yawn escapes you, the kind that makes you raise your arms over your head and extend your entire spine. You’re in the process of lowering your arms to exit out of the chat program, when a new IM appears on your screen.

[Sarge1917]: Hello.

You refrain from rolling your eyes, willing yourself to believe that this one won’t be a creep… but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your head, one that whispers: he’s just like the rest.

You reply anyway.

[SpaceKitten]: Hi there.

It takes a few moments before you receive a response.

[Sarge1917]: How are you?

You’re used to the first question someone asks you being “pics?” Or “dtf?” You can’t even think of one person on this god awful site that asked you how you were.

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly.. I’m exhausted. How are you?

His reply is almost instant this time.

[Sarge1917]: Oh, about the same. It’s pretty late where I am.. nearly morning, but I just can’t sleep. What’s got you up?

The fact that he has taken the time to try to have a normal conversation with you has you appalled… but also intrigued.

[SpaceKitten]: My mind won’t stop racing. I’m up all night, every night. I’d blame insomnia, but…

You hit the send button before you realize it. 

  [Sarge1917]: but…?

You don’t expect him to reply so quickly and you face an internal struggle: do you be honest, or do you lie? 

He’s a complete stranger, so why not tell the truth?

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly, I’ve never liked sleeping alone.. Once the sun sets and night takes over I.. I’m overwhelmed with how lonely I really am. I can’t stop thinking about it.

He doesn’t respond straight away this time, and you’re afraid you might’ve scared him off. Fiddling with a random toy on your desk, you anxiously await the sound of a new IM coming through.

[Sarge1917]: We have more in common than you think. I know that feeling, exactly, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’m sorry.

You’re chewing your lip as you re-read each word, letting it soak in. 

A total creep would never speak to you in such a sweet way, right? 

You decide to be brave.

[SpaceKitten]: I keep telling myself that Mr. Right will come along some day and sweep me off my feet, but.. The more I think about it, the more it seems unlikely.

[Sarge1917]: Why’s that?

You sit back in your chair for a moment, letting out a long sigh as you contemplate your response. You’d been honest with him so far, so why not continue on that note?

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly?

[Sarge1917]: Honestly.

Taking in a large breath, you write out your reply.

[SpaceKitten]: Honestly.. most of the men I’ve gone on dates with, and the ones I’ve met here only want one thing from me.. and I’m not looking for just that, you know? I want something.. real, I guess? That probably sounds stupid..

His response is delayed for a few moments, but when it finally shows on your screen, you have to bite back a smile.

[Sarge1917]: Not stupid at all.

[Sarge1917]: In fact, I’d like to apologize on behalf of all of the men who have made you feel like a sex object.

[Sarge1917]: Nowadays, most men are.. for a lack of a better word, pigs. It makes all of us look bad.

[Sarge1917]: You deserve better than that. You deserve to be treated like a goddess.

[SpaceKitten]: Oh, I don’t know about a ‘goddess’, but.. I’d like to at least be treated like a person.

[Sarge1917]: Like an equal.

[SpaceKitten]: It’s like you read my mind.

[Sarge1917]: (:

You’re not sure how late you stayed up talking to your new mystery friend, mostly because you end up falling asleep at the keyboard. The only reason you wake is the sun peeking through the curtains and directly on your face. 

The first thing you’re acutely aware of is that your back and neck are killing you. You’ve got drool stuck to your cheek and you’re quite sure the shape of the keys are embedded into the side of your face. 

You couldn’t look worse. 

The computer is still up and running, your chat app still open, along with your conversation.

You feel guilt flood your belly immediately.

While having such a pleasant conversation, you fall asleep on him? What kind of jerk does that make you?

The guilt starts to swirl and alter to another emotion as you read the last bit of your conversation over, the skin up your neck and to your cheeks burning with.. embarrassment? Desire? You weren’t sure.

[Sarge1917]: Well, kitten, it would appear you’ve fallen asleep on me. Can’t say I blame you, it’s nearly 7am here..

[Sarge1917]: I really enjoyed talking with you. And I’m glad I was able to help you find a way to sleep.

There’s a long time gap between the last message and the next.

[Sarge1917]: I was thinking.. maybe if you wanted.. we could talk again? I don’t know what it is, but.. I really would like to get to know you better.

[Sarge1917]: Would that be alright with you?

[Sarge1917]: I hope so.. Sweet dreams, kitten.

How could you possibly say no?

Night after night, week after week, you fall asleep at your desk messaging back and forth with Sarge. He’s sweet, charming and almost a little too perfect in some ways. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t grown attached - the kind of attached when chatting with him was the highlight of your day; the kind where you’d once spent an entire hour wondering what the color of his eyes were and if he has a beard or not. 

It’s the kind where you’re afraid that someday, he might disappear.

6 months later, you were still conversing every day, but that fear just seemed to grow and grow. How long would this last?

You’re in your usual spot at your computer with your usual snacks, listening to music. It’s late, your neighbors have already gone to sleep, and it almost feels like you’re the only person left awake in the entire world.

Until a new IM notification appears on your screen.

TAGS: (sorry if you dont like being tagged, its been so long since i’ve posted idk who to tag anymore lolol. @mindingmyownbusiness @plumfondler  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @loricameback @tinaferraldo @geminimoonbeamx  @preserumsteverogers @moderapoppins @lowkeysebby @buckyshattergirl  @jayattemptstoruletheworld   @the-observant-fangirl @moondancewrites @moonbeambucky @trinityjadec  @stevieang  @bionic-buckyb @eyecandybarnes @propertyofpoeandbucky @promarvelfangirl @ballyhoobarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @cate-lynne @witchymarvelspacecase @imaginingbucky @theimpossibleg1rl

[all-hail-the-witcher]

hello, this is your fbi agent

okay so i have no explanation for this im sorry

____

ship: ralbert

genre: crack with memes

warnings: first person (????), memes, more memes, this is not related to spies, the worst crack and even worse writing, idk fam

editing: ha

words: 1099

____

*record scratch*

*freeze frame*

Yes, that’s me, Albert Dasilva, sitting behind a desk, spying on someone through their phone camera for the FBI. You’re probably wondering how i ended up in this situation. Well, frankly, I am too. I always knew that I was a walking meme, but I never thought that I would actually become one.

See, I had just finished college and, like most college graduates, was looking for a job. One of my friends who asked to remain nameless *ahem* jAcK keLLy, told me to apply to work at the FBI because apparently you only need a college degree to do that. And me, being the dumbass that I am, decided to do it as a joke cause fuck it, why would they ever hire someone who had been arrested for stealing oats and cream cheese from Target when they were 14? (Alright fine, I technically wasn't arrested, the cop was clearly caffeine deprived and let us off with a warning. Although they didn't catch us the one time Jack and I stole one of the Target balls in broad fucking daylight. Wait. Forget I said that. I’m a good wholesome Christian child and have never stolen anything, anything I may or may not have told you was a blatant lie.)

Plot twist, they fucking hired me.

(Jack got a real kick out of that, believe me.)

And, as part of my intern training, I had to do only the most memey job on the whole internet:

Watch people through their phone cameras.

Yes! We actually exist! This is not just some dumb meme that the internet made up! And I would know, because the idiot I’m assigned to watch doesn’t sleep so therefore I don't sleep and I have the dark undereye circles to prove it!

God, I want a fucking nap.

But no, instead I’m watching an idiot look up fucking lazytown quotes at two in the fucking morning.

*muffled shouting* Oh, and he’s hot. Thanks for reminding me, Jack. Not like that's WHY IM WRITING THIS YOU ASSHOLE!

*deep breath* Okay, anyway. Back to the story.

Why am I doing this?

Right. Cause I hate myself, that’s why.

Anyway. The kid that I have to watch through his phone camera. His name is Race. And no, before you ask, I do not know why he goes by Race. It’s not my business. I only watch his every move on the Internet, I don't know his whole life story! What kind of organization do you think the FBI is, huh?

Just kidding, we definitely know your whole life story and its definitely recorded in three different places, one of which is a vault hidden under Argentina. But you didn't hear that from me.

*more muffled shouting*

Jack is telling me that I’m “beating around the bush too much and need to get to the point.” Fine. I know that’s what you came here for anyway.

In short, it was a stormy night and the power had gone out, but I, a dedicated FBI intern who did not want to lose my only source of income, was using my rapidly dying iPhone to watch my assigned civilian through his phone camera. That night, the man had looked especially enchanting, the light from his phone illuminating his luscious blonde curls and accentuating his deep blue eyes, making it seem as though I could drown in their-

Okay this just sounds like shitty Wattpad fanfic. Is tHAT WHAT YOU WANTED JACK?! Also I don't know what Wattpad fanfic is like because I’ve personally read any. I spy on people through their phone cameras alright, I’ve seen a whole lot of weird shit.

Essentially, what happened was I caught some feelings. And, my supervisor figured this out by reading my weekly reports and told me essentially to “tell him you like him so you can go on a date and I can reassign you so that I don't have to keep reading these lovey dovey reports because they make my brain turn to mush.”

Thanks for that Katherine. Love you too.

And now, here I am, having this fan tas tic  monologue while trying to figure out how to compose a text message.

(Before you ask how I have Race’s phone number, I work for the FBI. There’s a lot of information I have that any normal citizen would want. Like what is actually kept in Area 51 (baby iPhones), if mothman is real (he is and secretly is the president of the United States), and if Canada is real (its not). But you shouldn’t trust any of this information because I work for the FBI and I could be lying to you.)

Here’s what I have so far:

Hi Race. My name is Albert and you might not believe this but I am actually the FBI agent in your phone...yes, we exist. I’ve spent the last 5 months watching you and I think you're kinda cool and pretty cute and was wondering if you would like to meet up some time. (Also stop looking up lazy town quotes at 2 am, I now have the whole show memorized because of you.)

Overall, it’s not bad, but there’s some things that I think could be improved and- wait, Jack, nO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING STOP GIVE THAT BACK I’M NOT FINISHED!!

*10 minutes later*

He sent it. Jack sent my fucking message before it was fuking finished and now Race isn’t going to fucking respond and I’m going to be alone forever and Katherine is going to reassign me and I’m never going to see Race’s angelic face ever again and-

Oh.

He responded?

What the hell?

Honestly, I guess I should have seen that coming. Race has no common sense.

What? I’m allowed to say that! I spend my days looking at what he googles, alright!

Anyway, I’m sure you're dying to know what he said, so here it is:

Hi Albert! You better not be trolling me because this has been the biggest and I oop moment I’ve ever had. Please tell me that you haven’t exposed my two am lazy town search sessions to the public. No one is supposed to know about that. And yes, I would love to meet up with you. Mostly to apologize for my google search history and for the memes (hehe) but also because anyone who can spy on me for 5 months without going to therapy than maybe you can actually put up with my craziness! Xx Race.

Huh.

Maybe this job isn’t so bad after all...

____

im so sorry please dont unfollow me

feedback is always appreciated, hmu to be on the taglist

tag list

@fairly-awkward-trashcan​

@well-the-kids-do-too​

@racetrackcook​

@ughwaitwhat​

@aw-jus-let-em-try​

@voice-foundshoe-lost​

@stopthe-presses​

@ridin-in-style​

@pinecovewoods​

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing​

@getchapapes

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen​

@stellar-alpaca​

@saxoph-ella​

@smolcanadiankid​

@disney-princess-sized​

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog​

@insane-tomato​

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn​

@have-we-got-news-for-you​

@thatfancyclam​

@myidkwhatmynameisblog​

@legoflambwrites​

@not-a-scab​

@albertdasillvaprotectionsquad​

@entschuldigung-bitches​

@thebroadwayaesthetic​

@tea-and-theater​

@seasickdolphin​

@auspicioustarantula​

@newsies-of-ny​

@mrs-higgins​

@spot-me50-papes​

@papesdontsellthemselves​

@deathcast-s​

@the-poodles-of-pulitzer​

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters​

@humanracoon​

@irondad-spiderson-duo​

@albert-eats-cookie-cake​

@nico-nat​

@localfakeitalian

@carryyourownbanner

@warmwoolysweaters

@spot-the-brooklyn-pirate

@writing-makes-me-antsy

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 30)

On The Move Again...

Idk what to say about this chapter other than a little bit of fluff? A little bit of angst? A little bit of pissed off reader? Just.. mucho dialogue, as per usual with my stuff lmao. 

Just wanna let y’all know that I go back to uni tomorrow (I start back really late, I’ve realised) and I’m going into my final year, so I will likely be busy. BUT, I hope to keep posting enough that you wont notice much of a difference, but yeah. If updates become a little less frequent, it’s not cause I’m getting bored of writing this :) side note... I’m so fucking ready to be done with university! 

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Arthur woke me up gently, dusting kisses over my face and petting my hair, whispering my name and rocking me in his arms to rouse me as delicately as birdsong. For about thirty blissful seconds I completely forgot about our circumstances, so enamoured with the feeling of waking up with him. This was something I had only done a handful of times but if this was every morning I would be a very happy woman. 

"Good morning, angel. I'm sorry to wake you, but I gotta get up," he whispered to me, his hand still smoothing over the back of my head. 

"I don't mind waking up if this is the first thing I see," I murmured sleepily, making him laugh. 

"I gotta say, it was real nice for me too," he said, kissing my forehead once before wrapping his arms around me and rolling us over until he was above me, though dangerously close to the edge. He slammed a hand on the table next to us before we ended up on the floor together and we laughed as he shuffled us back into the middle of the bed. 

"I don't want us to get up," I sighed. 

"Me neither, but we gotta figure out what's happening with Jack," he said, and it all came tumbling back to me. 

"Oh God, yeah, you know I was almost at peace for a second," I grunted, dropping my head back against the bed and trailing my hands up Arthur's sides. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, nestling his face against my neck and inhaling deeply. "I can hear Dutch out there. I ought to go out and talk with 'em, hopefully he's figured something out."

"Alright," I whispered, patting his back a couple of times before releasing him. 

With a groan Arthur pushed himself up and off of me, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stretching, rolling his neck and grunting as his joints popped. His jaw stretched open with a yawn, one which I caught and mimicked shortly after. I shifted to join him sitting up, and after taking a moment to straighten out our clothes and tidy our hair, we rose to our feet and emerged from the tent. It struck me how shameless we seemed to suddenly be about what was going on between the two of us. It had gone unspoken, but I believed both of us had frankly stopped caring about who knew and who didn't. 

Regardless, nobody noticed us leaving the tent together, too preoccupied to care, thankfully. Dutch, Hosea and John were sat around the table talking; Arthur joined them and I pottered off, leaving the men to it and instead heading to grab my morning coffee. I caught sight of Abigail sitting on the ground on her bedroll with her knees hugged into her chest, eyes distant. I opted not to disturb her, taking a seat with Tilly and Mary-Beth in front of their wagon. 

"Morning, girls. How're you two holding up?" I greeted them. Tilly was washing a chemise while Mary-Beth was distractedly stitching a white garment that I quickly noticed was dappled with a few specks of blood. Before any of them could even answer I spoke again. 

"Mary-Beth, you're bleeding!" I pointed out, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. 

"Oh! Oh shoot, what a mess. I pricked myself earlier on, didn't realise I'd drawn blood," she plopped her finger in her mouth and sucked on the injured digit. I put my coffee down and took the garment from her; it was a stocking with a tear in it. 

"I'll finish this, don't worry. There ain't too much blood on it, no harm done. 'sides your finger."

"I'm away with the fairies this morning," she shook her head at herself. 

"Ain't we all. How're you, Tilly?" I asked. 

"About as well as you'd expect. The other day I couldn't stop thinkin' about how bored I was, now I'd happily take boredom over all this mess," Tilly sighed, sitting back on her heels and shaking her hands free of water. 

"I'm confident the men'll get Jack back," I assured them both. 

"Me too, it's just all the worrying until then. Has Arthur said anything to you about where he is?" Tilly asked me and looked up at her, momentarily – and frankly unjustifiably – surprised that she'd asked me about Arthur. 

"Oh, no, he hasn't," I said after a pause. 

"How is he doing, anyway? He's been awfully quiet lately," Mary-Beth began, "not that he ain't usually quiet, but you know what I mean."

"Arthur? He…" I paused, looking down at my sewing. "I reckon his injury knocked it out of him for a bit, he didn't much like being cooped up. Then of course, first thing he does after getting back out there is watch Sean– it's understandable. I jus' think he's going through it a bit."

"Well I hope he knows he can come talk to any of us if he needs it. Though, I suppose he has you for that, now," Mary-Beth commented. I looked at her, a light frown on my face. 

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, we ain't idiots," Tilly laughed "it's extremely obvious that you and him are somethin' more than friends."

"No, that ain't what I meant. You don't think I'm… stealing him, hogging him away from all of you, do you?" 

The two girls looked at me, two sets of eyes going wide for a few long seconds before they both laughed. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Mary-Beth patted my knee, "I just meant he has you to open up to now, I ain't surprised if he don't talk to us about that stuff all that much anymore. I don't mind it, it makes sense."

"Before you came along, if Arthur was going through a rough patch, he'd come speak to one of us women. That ain't happened in a while so we figured he was talking to you instead, is that not the case?" Tilly added, picking the chemise out of the bucket and squeezing the water out.

"Oh, no, he does," I nodded, thinking back to the previous night, all his talk of getting out of here, no matter how idealised the thoughts were. Mary-Beth leaned forwards a bit, inspecting my expression. 

"Everything okay between you two?" She asked. 

"Between us, yes, everything is wonderful," I told her, a small sigh escaping me. "I just wish everything else was the same. I don't like seeing him worried. I'm worried too, but I know it ain't a scratch on how he must be feeling."

"Well, I'm just glad he has you. That man deserves a bit of love, that's for sure," Mary-Beth said, "after Mary, and everything that's happened to him."

"Mary-Beth," Tilly said, her tone a warning. 

"What?"

"You don't bring up a man's past relationships to his new lady," she chuckled, shaking her head. I smiled in amusement.

"It's alright. I know about Mary, even met her once. Well, not really met, saw her from a distance."

"Really? Oh, well I admit I was a little worried when I heard she was around. She practically carved the poor feller's heart out and spat on it. He was real excited when she agreed to marry him, I don't know how she could do that to him," Mary-Beth sighed. 

My heart thumped uncomfortably and I stared blankly at her. She noticed my silence and looked at me, the colour draining from her face soon after. 

"They were engaged?" I asked, my voice small. 

"Oh, Mary-Beth," Tilly said tightly, shaking her head. 

"I thought you knew," Mary-Beth covered her mouth. "Oh, goodness. I'm a fool."

"No, no it's fine. I've no right to be upset," I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. "I guess it just surprised me, I didn't know it'd gone that far."

I understood better why Arthur had been so deeply hurt by her. Why he'd held onto her for years, why he'd kept her photo, why he'd acknowledged her letter and gone to meet her despite the pain he knew it'd cause him. She was the woman he'd loved so much he'd wanted to share the rest of his life with her.

"No, you're upset. Oh gosh, forget this I'll do it later," Mary-Beth snatched the sewing from me and tossed it aside, clasping my hands in hers. "This was years ago, he's clearly moved on and he has you, he's completely taken by you, it's so easy to see."

"I don't need reassurance, like I said, I have no right to be upset over something that happened before he even knew me. He has his own life, how awful would I be to turn sour over him living his own life?" I forced a laugh, shaking my head. 

It was true, I had no reason to be upset. And I wasn't upset, not with Arthur, he'd done nothing wrong. But I did feel something cold and sickly and gross in my tummy and it was startlingly close to inadequacy.

"Mary-Beth is right, he's crazy about you. I watched him drawing you the other day when you weren't looking. Never seen the man look so peaceful," Tilly added, moving closer to join us. She put a hand on my shoulder as she sat beside me. 

"You did?" I sputtered, eyes going wide and my face going hot.

"Yeah. You were brushing your horse and he was at that table over there just watching you, sketching away in that journal of his. I'd love to see what's inside that thing," Tilly giggled. 

"I bet it's real romantic," Mary-Beth remarked, her voice low and tender.

"It never occurred to me that he might write about me in there," I thought aloud. 

"You should sneak a peek while he's sleeping," Tilly whispered and I flashed her a disapproving frown. 

"Oh, I couldn't. That'd be a violation of his privacy," I said. 

"I guess," Tilly sighed glumly. "You should at least ask him."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I reckon I might prefer the mystery."

"Might be full of things he's too scared to say, could show a soft, vulnerable, tender side to him that his tough, manly lifestyle forces him to hide," Mary-Beth stared off into the distance, her expression nothing short of dreamy.

"Good lord, Mary-Beth. You really have to stop reading those novels," Tilly laughed and Mary-Beth playfully swatted her arm. I couldn't help but smile, eyes wandering over to Arthur across the camp. That smile quickly faded though, when I noticed Lenny approaching the group with two men I did not recognise. 

"Hey, Dutch! We got a problem," he called out, pointing his gun at the back of the men, keeping a close eye on them as they walked towards Dutch. 

The men were well dressed in suits and ties and bowler hats, the second of the men had a gun slung over his shoulder. Something told me they weren't friends of the Van Der Linde gang. I stayed put as the men exchanged a few words. 

"Crap, that's the Pinkertons, I reckon," Mary-Beth hissed under her breath when she noticed. The gang slowly surrounded the group, forming a crowd that couldn't not be at least a little intimidating. I rose to my feet, crossing the camp towards them to listen in on what was happening, aware of the fact that Tilly and Mary-Beth were hanging back. 

"I don't know if you're aware but this is a civilised land, now. We didn't kill all those savages to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing, it's done," the first gentleman was announcing when I got close enough to hear. The atmosphere was so dark and thick, it was like I could taste it or smell it, it was foul like the contents of a spittoon.

"This place ain't no such thing as civilised. It's man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites," Dutch responded, his words so well articulated, spoken almost like poetry right from a book. 

"And as a consequence, that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the Messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?" The agent questioned, eyes scanning the crowd around him. His eyes found me. "Oh, and who is this? You must be new, haven't heard anything about you."

Dutch and Arthur looked my way, Dutch's expression stony and serious, Arthur's immediately turning to painful worry. 

"Leave her–" Arthur started, abruptly cut off by Dutch. 

"You'd single out a lady whom to your knowledge has done nothing wrong? That doesn't make you a man any more than threatening the likes of me does," he said. Hosea, who happened to be closest to me, pushed me behind him and obscured their view of me.

"Whether or not any of you lowlifes consider me a man is of no importance to me. I am here to offer you all a deal. You, Dutch, come with me and I'll give the rest of you three days to run off, disappear and go live like human beings someplace else," he bargained, and I stared at the back of Dutch's head, my heart in my throat as I awaited his response.

Dutch chuckled.

"You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain't that fine?"

"I don't wanna kill all these folk Dutch. Just you," the agent stared at Dutch with such disdain I could practically feel the second hand effects of it, creeping hotly up my arms like vines.

"In that case, it'd be my honour to join you," Dutch's words were low, pleasant, "excuse me friends, I have an appointment to keep, with…"

The metallic clicks sounding out across the crowd rose hairs on my neck, weapons being readied, the threat loud and clear. 

"I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch," Miss Grimshaw warned. It was clear that nobody here was prepared to let the men take Dutch away. And Dutch… he was well aware of this.

"You're making a big mistake, all of you," the Pinkerton glowered, unsettled and frustrated, losing his grip on the situation he was so evidently being overpowered in.

"Yeah, dreadful. We have got something. Something to live and die for, how awful for us. Mr? Milton, stop following us, we'll be gone soon," more cool, velvety words from Dutch.

"I'm afraid I can't, and when I return I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die. Run away from this place you fools. Run!" 

"Come on," Lenny grabbed his arm, got him moving only to be shaken off.

"Get your damn hands off of me, boy," and with that, the gentleman returned from the direction they came. As they disappeared through the trees, the air seemed to clear just a bit. It left behind an unpleasant sludge but at least I felt I could breathe. 

The crowd dispersed as Dutch turned to Arthur, the men spoke quietly and I backed away, shaken by the experience. I knew that the Van Der Linde gang were wanted, chased by a dozen different groups of enemies, but actually seeing the evidence standing in the middle of the place we were all meant to feel the safest was difficult to wrap my head around. 

-

I found myself with Javier again, I'd sought him out when Dutch made the announcement that we were moving again, so I could help to take some tents down like last time. We worked together well enough. We were taking down Arthur's first, deconstructing the canvas and posts, loading everything up on the ammunition wagon it all attached to. I was tasked with carefully unpinning his photographs from the side of it so that they wouldn't be lost in transit. Javier and I weren't as talkative this time around, but his choice to start this particular conversation vexed me.

"This piss you off?" He asked, holding up the photograph of Mary. I frowned at him. 

"No," I simply said. 

"Alright," he said innocently. "I just thought, since you and him…" he trailed off. 

"Whatever he and I are, he's allowed to keep a photo of a person he once held dear," I said, packing away the keepsakes in Arthur's chest. I took the photo from Javier and it joined the rest.

"So, are you guys serious?" He asked. When I didn't answer him, he walked around to stand in front of me, folding up Arthur's bedding. "Micah's been sayin' some stuff."

"Micah," I repeated, looking up at Javier. "Micah doesn't know anything about Arthur and I so take it with a pinch of salt."

"No, not about Arthur, 'bout you and him, at the Parlour House," he told me. 

I stared for a moment, mind failing to conjure up a response. 

He smirked, though he seemed surprised. "So something did happen?"

"What's he been saying?"

"Nothing, really. It's all vague suggestion, was saying it 'round the fire the other night when you were in here with Arthur," he explained. "I know you and Micah have had some tension, with that kiss that day."

"What the fuck did he say?" I reiterated, getting irritated. 

"Said stuff like you and him make a good team, the usual crap. But then he talked about you two going out drinking at the Parlour House, you two had fun together, got along real well. Said it with this smirk on his face," Javier told me, wearing a salacious smirk of his own. "Didn't make it hard to read between the lines."

"Right, so basically, he's tryin'a start a rumour about me and him? What, that we kissed? Slept together?" I scoffed, and Javier shrugged. "Well, here's a rumour, spread it all you like. That bristly faced creep asked me to sleep with him at the Parlour House that night, an' he's clearly feeling hard done by considering I rejected him. And don't worry, Arthur already knows about the whole damn embarrassment and I talked him down from beating him, but I'm sure he'd reconsider if I jus' said the word." 

With every word I stepped closer to Javier, poison in my tone that wasn't really directed at him. The corner of his mouth curled up and he leaned away, holding his hands up in surrender. When I was finished, he let loose a chuckle. 

"Alright, I got you, loud and clear."

"I've been trying my damnedest to find the best in him, I know there's some decency in the man, but, by God. He's making it real difficult for me not to join the rest of 'em in hating the bastard," I huffed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment mixed with anger.

"Ay, it's okay. I never really believed him. Don't think anyone else did, either, we all saw how you were when Arthur got fucked up by the O'Driscolls," he reassured me, putting a hand on my shoulder and gingerly pushing me backwards, out of his personal space.

"Yeah well, even so, I don't take kindly to someone making me out to be somethin' I ain't. Say if someone did believe him, then watched me hanging around in Arthur's tent all these weeks, they'd think I was a real piece of work," I muttered, snatching the pillow from Arthur's bed and putting it in the wagon, then moving to roll up the thin padding that served as a mattress.

Javier laughed. "I think you're overestimating people's ability to give a damn. Even if it was true; you wanna get it on with half the gang, that's up to you. Wouldn't be the first girl," he snickered. 

I cocked a brow at him. 

"Could'a been any one of us in John's position," he shrugged. My head whipped around towards where Abigail was, helping pack with Sadie and Karen. 

"Oh, I ain't gossiping. Stop it," I muttered, shaking my head.  

"Alright, muñequita," he chuckled, "no more gossip."

"What does that mean?" I asked. 

"What does what mean?"

"Mune– mune– that word you said," I shook my head, the unfamiliar word dissolving in my mind before I could repeat it.

"Muñequita?" He smirked at me, looking a little surprised that I'd asked. A little embarrassed, even. "Oh, nothing. It's a… just a name. A term of endearment."

"Oh, alright. It's a pretty word," I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at him. 

"Means little doll. People don't tend to ask me what I'm saying, so I'm a little caught off guard," he laughed, shaking his head and turning away from me to lift up the bed frame. "The name seemed to suit you. Those jobs you do, putting on all these roles, playing pretend. Like a little kid's doll." 

He leaned the bed up against the wagon and turned to me, appraising my reaction.

"Well, playing pretend…" I started, pursing my lips in thought. "I guess I can pretend it ain't me robbing people blind. It's Jemima Jones." 

Javier laughed through his nose, tilting his head down. 

"Jemima Jones. She's a clever girl, but don't let her take all the credit–"

"I'm glad you two are gettin' along so nicely but if you remember, we all have the threat of death hangin' over us until we get packed up and gone. Get moving!" Miss Grimshaw hissed as she marched passed us. 

Javier and I shared a glance before getting back to work.

[ravens-rambling]

It’s time Thomas stops running

A/N: Hey so I got inspired randomly and wrote this. I’m not even sure if this is cannonly how it went down in the au but I was thinking of Spiderverse’s Peter and how he was scared to have kids with MJ, so he ran. Again not sure if this is something Thomas would actually do or not but idk. Also, I just realized this is my first fic with the perspective of Thomas! Would you look at that! Hopefully, I got MJ’s character right XD 

Spiderverse Au belongs to @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil

summary: Thomas ran. He's run before and now he’s doing it again. He can’t help it, but last time...last time it ended a friendship. A relationship. And now he’s worried that once again he’ll ruin it. Can one of his sons calm him down enough to face his fears? Or will he run until he can’t run anymore... and find that once again he is alone? 

WC: 2,49

ships: uuhhh idk what the ship name for Thomas and MJ is so yeah, Platonic LAMP, mentions of RED 

warnings: Crying, hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety attacks, mentions of breakup, 

Tag List: @punsterterry @frostedlover @stormcrawler75 @mutechild @mycatshuman @panicattheeverywhere15 @thewinterbookqueen @analogical-mess   @saddestlittlebabe

Oh, he screwed up, he screwed up badly. Now he’s screwed up a lot of things in his life. Let’s…not go down that gigantic list. The point is right here, right now, he messed up. And he’s not sure if he can fix it this time.

It’s been an issue for a while now if he had to be honest. It’s why his previous boyfriend broke up with him really. But recently it was brought up again and he’s not ready to face it yet again. He’s just not. Sure he has more of a support group going for him this time. But that just means there is more on the line.

More to be scared about. More to worry.

What is the thing he’s oh so worried about?

MJ wants to have a kid.

Now, now, he knows what you’re thinking. Oh, won’t that be good? That would mean taking it to the next step right? MJ loves you that much that he wants to share the love you two have.

That’s not the point.

The point is…is that he’s Spiderman. He’s a hero.

Which means he has a lot of villains that would love to hurt him and anybody he cares about. Also…hes not sure he’s ready for that.

If he had to be honest with himself…he's scared. Scared that he won’t make a good father. Scared that he screwed it up and hurts the kid or MJ, even more than he has right now of course. Scared that this kid would be dragged into his problems. Scared for so so many things.

He’s not sure he can take that on.

Now, of course, he does have well, sort of, four kids now. But he’s trained them well they know how to handle themselves if push comes to shove. But this kid? This kid would be defenseless. This kid won’t know anything about defending itself. MJ, on the other hand, …well he’s MJ he knows full well how to take care of himself. But would he be able to defend their kid if something happens and he can’t get there in time?

He’s not sure…

Now he is not doubting MJ at all. He is strong. Stronger than Thomas could ever dream of being. He has dealt with so much over his life that it puts Thomas’s life to shame. That’s not his worry his worry is the fact that his enemies are supervillains which means they have powers.

No matter how strong MJ is he isn’t superpowered strong.

And heaven forbid if something happens to MJ and their kid? Oh… He doesn’t know if he can take it. It would crush him. Worse than losing the kiddos. Worse than losing himself. He just…can't do that. He can’t risk that.

So what did he do? He ran.

Just like the last time this happened. He ran with his tail between his legs and didn’t look back.

Go on you can say it, he knows it, he’s a coward. A coward that is too scared to face the music. A coward who always runs. A coward who can’t even face his emotions. All he does is run. Run from bad guys. Run from love. Run from a slim chance at a happy life for him. Run from a family.

The last guy he was with…didn’t like that. He didn’t like that he ran and kept running. No… He got tired eventually and kissed their relationship goodbye.

That’s what’s gonna happen with the two right? MJ will realize he is tired of running after him, tired of making sacrifices for a guy that’s not worth the trouble, and finally, move on. Maybe it’s for the best… Maybe…this love thing won’t work out, in the end, no matter what he does…

Yeah… Maybe not…

Thomas glanced down to his phone with another sigh, the same ringtone he has for MJ filling the night air. He breathed out as he ran a hand through his hair and looked back out to the city lights, ignoring it.

Eventually, he’ll get tired of chasing after him…

Eventually-

“There you are.”

With dark, tired, almost teary eyes he looked over his shoulder to see the familiar figure of a white dressed teen with his hoodie up… Virgil…

Maybe he’ll get tired of him eventually too, right?

Maybe he’ll realize he isn’t such a good mentor or dad figure… Maybe they all will realize that someday. Cause that’s what he is… A disappointment.

“Dude? Dude, Earth to Thomas.”

Thomas jumped as he blinked and suddenly Virgil was a lot closer than before but he still kept his distance, thankfully. Slowly Virgil smiled and walked closer to him, and even more slowly took a seat beside him his feet dangling off the edge.

And with that, he took off his mask letting the hood fall down and looked over to Thomas with a small smile his hair all over the place and a worried look in his dark brown eyes, “What’s up, dad? MJ is pretty worried after you stormed off. Well, actually that’s an understatement more like frantically calling between all our phones and yelling our ears off when we pick up.”

His heart pricked with worry and anger at himself at hearing how frantic MJ is. He’s never like that even when he isn’t home after a few nights…

Yeah… A runner…

“It’s just…” He sighed and looked back towards the city breathing in and out. Virgil was silent as he gathered up his thoughts. Thankfully he didn’t look at him as he did so simply looking out at the city as well. They sat there for a few minutes enjoying the silence. Until Thomas broke it again.

“You know I love you guys right?”

“Yeah? Like kids yes we know.”

“Do… Do you know why I broke it off with my last boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t good enough for you?”

“No… No that wasn’t it… Not at all…”

He took a shaky breath. Guess he’ll have to actually say it. He’s never really talked about this, not to a single soul…

“The reason was…he wanted to have kids… A-And I got scared. I got scared cause I knew the risks and I wasn’t ready. I’m still not…”

“And MJ wanted that? To have kids?”

“Yeah… That’s what he wanted to talk about. He thought we could adopt. Even showed me some pictures of these cute kids from that nice orphanage but it just… I’m still not ready, Virgil. I don’t think I’ll ever be. And that’s not fair for MJ. He deserves better he deserves-”

“Now I’m gonna stop you right there, dad.”

The serious tone of the teen made Thomas whip towards him. He’s never heard Virgil this serious before. And oh boy the spark that went through the kid's eyes. Yep, he’s deadly serious.

“First off, self-deprecation is my thing. Don’t go stealing my thing. Second off, this is MJ. He will understand more than you know trust me, okay? He’s not like the last guy. If you are serious about never wanting kids MJ will never leave you just for that, you got it? MJ isn’t like that and never will be. Third off, who says you won’t be a good dad? I mean you have four teens right? And yes,” He cut off Thomas as he opened his mouth, “with you being a superhero and everything there are even more risks. But honestly… Thomas,” His eyes grew teary at this one and he breathed out.

“You are the best dad anybody can ask for. You are the best boyfriend anybody can ask for. Most importantly,” He paused at this and smiled reaching forward to touch Thomas’s leg, “You are the best friend anybody could ask for.”

Oh… Oh dear…

Before Thomas could even help it or realize what he was doing he started crying hard. Tears tore down his cheeks. And before he could stop himself he lunged at Virgil his arms wrapping around the thin male as he sobbed harshly.

“There, there dad. It’s gonna be alright. Oh and I forgot to mention, this kid, they won’t have just you and MJ protecting them. They will have all four of us, I’m sure even Dolion, Remy, and Emile, will be on their asses if they so much as touch your kid. Understand?”

That made Thomas cry even harder. All his fears all his worries Virgil just presented on the table and he cleared through every one of them. He didn’t know where his son got so intelligent but oh boy was it something. Even he was impressed…

Yeah… He was impressed with his son.

They spent what felt like hours up on that tall building the background of the city and his cries the only thing that filled the air. Virgil holding him the entire time even rocking them gently and playing with Thomas' hair to ground him… Just like what he does during one of Virgil’s attacks…

Until finally his sobs quieted down until it was just hiccups. Very slowly he started breathing back to his normal self again.

“You okay there?”

“Y-Yeah… Sorry for crying on you.”

“Hey, 'tis payback for all the times I’ve cried on you. So we’re good now.”

Thomas chuckled as he drew away from their hug grimacing as he saw all the tears and snot on Virgil’s outfit, “Sorry about that. I’ll do the laundry this time.”

Virgil looked down and chuckled waving his hand, “No, it’s fine dad. I’m serious. Also, your laundry detergent isn’t very good anyways. I’ll take at least three loads to get this out if I leave it to you.”

“Yep… Sounds about right,” He laughed as he wiped his eyes then sighed again.

“Thank you, Virge… For all of that… It meant a lot to me.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. Don’t tell Roman I got all sentimental I’ll never hear the end of it. Now,” He put back on his mask as he stood up. Thomas glanced up to see him extending a hand and though he couldn’t see his lips he could tell he was smiling.

With his own smile, he took it and stood up.

“You have a boyfriend to talk to,” And with that, he did his signature two-fingered wave and ran off the side of the building. Thomas watched as he slingshotted through the night air.

He supposes he does…

With new found energy in his eyes, he put on his mask and started making his way towards MJ's place. Though before he does he's got to make one detour…

Once he got to his door he breathed out a nervous breath. Would MJ be angry at him for just leaving quickly like that? Would he forgive him for just bailing? Oh, maybe this was a mistake… Maybe-

The door opened and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the familiar orange curls and his freckled face, though his heart stopped for a completely other reason when he saw the tear stains going down that same freckled cheeks.

“Thomas! Oh god. I was so worried,” And before Thomas could even take a breath again he was practically tackled to the floor in a hug and his eyes pricked with tears once again, “Don’t ever do that again! I thought you were mad at me! Or worse that you got hurt somewhere since you weren’t answering any of our calls. Oh god were you hurt? Please tell me you weren’t hurt. Oh god-”

“MJ. MJ, I’m fine I promise,” Thomas chuckled.

“Good… Okay… You don’t look like your injured… Yeah…” Now he was backing up from the hug tears still coming down. Then he huffed and smacked his arm playfully and gently.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For making me worry you selfish little prick! I thought you were angry at me and never coming back. God… Thomas, I thought I would never see you again…”

And if that didn’t break Thomas' heart he didn’t know what would. He felt like his heart was bleeding as he gulped.

“Well… Virgil helped me… And… We have something to discuss… Well, a lot of things but first…” He showed the huge flower bouquet that was hidden behind his back, it was covered with different colors of roses. All the colors of the rainbow. He smiled as he waited for the others reaction as he mumbled, “This is for making you worried. I’m sorry.”

MJ gasped loudly and started crying even harder which caused Thomas to suddenly get worried all over again.

“No, wait! You're not supposed to cry! Why are you crying? Do you not like it? I can return it! I just thought-”

“Shut up you gay disaster and kiss me.”

“Wait what-”

Before he could finish his sentence lips smacked against his with a loud thud noise. Thomas slowly closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around MJs waist. They leaned into each other as the kiss ticked by. And slowly all the tension and nervousness that engulfed Thomas bones just a moment ago evaporated just like that. MJ wasn’t mad with him.

He came chasing after him…

And just as soon as the kiss started it ended and they both looked at each other their eyes sparkling with energy for each other. And they smiled and giggled.

“Okay, pretty boy get inside so we can talk and so I can put these roses in a vase. I’m sure the neighbors would love to hear more of our little conversation.”

“Yeah… That sounds lovely.”

With that MJ took Thomas free hand and led him inside. They certainly did have a lot to talk about, but Thomas wasn’t as scared or worried about it as before. He felt a certain calm through his body as he stepped into the house and closed the door.

Yeah...He's not running again.

“Did he go in?”

“Yes, Roman, he went in.”

“He did? Yay! I was so worried about him.”

“Yes, Pat you won’t shut up about it. Can we please get out of this bush now? Roman, you are on top of me.”

“Oh, hush nerd. You complain too much.”

“Now now boys don’t argue. Yes, Lo-Lo we can leave now.”

“Thank god.”

As the two teens left one grumbling while the other yelled at him the pastel wearing teen paused in his tracks.

“Virge?”

“Yeah?”

“Nice work. I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, Pat.”

[thedailyimagines]

Imagine finding a cursed Rabbit Foot, then trying to survive after losing it while on a mission with Zatanna and Artemis.

Anon requested: “Imagine finding a Rabbit Foot (and not knowing it was cursed) and trying to stay alive after losing it while on a mission with Zatanna and Artemis. “How was I supposed to know it was cursed?!””

.

So this is taking place during season 1, in the episode ‘Secrets’. It’s the Halloween one with sword dude (Harm) and Greta (Secret). Spoilers I guess? (Can there be spoilers for something that’s been on for a while? Idk).

~~~~~~~~

“What is that?” Y/n looked up at a very disgusted Artemis. After working with the team for so long, the archer and the magician were...at odds sometimes. Maybe growing up around John Constantine has changed some of y/n’s perceptions?

“This? I won it at an arcade game. It’s a rabbit foot.” Artemis shook her head.

“That is disgusting.” Y/n shrugged and headed to their room.

“They’re supposed to be lucky. Besides, it’s probably not a real one. Why put a real one in an arcade?” Neither one noticed the faint glow the rabbit’s foot had.

<—>

“Soooo...Halloween night, and we’re fighting crime?” Y/n toyed around with the bouncy ball in their hand. Normally Halloween was spent with Constantine fighting demons. But Zatanna had insisted they tag along tonight with her and Artemis.

“Yep. Let’s get going before the bad guys get too far.” Zatanna happily turned to start the patrol around the city. Artemis shrugged and checked her bowstring.

“Alright then—watch out!” Y/n threw up a magic shield at the last moment. Which would have worked perfectly if the second attack hadn’t broken through and hit them head on.

“Y/n!”

<—>

When y/n came to, they were in a dusty room. There were no lights, no sounds, and most importantly no sign of Artemis or Zatanna. If there was a door, it wasn’t in y/n’s line of sight. Great.

“Where the crap am I...?” The sound of footsteps from behind caught y/n’s attention, then a sword was held up to their throat.

“It is finally awake.” Y/n jerked their head towards the voice, finding a rather built man wielding the sword. The sword was practically humming with energy.

“Listen buddy, I don’t know who you are but if you want to keep your bollocks then I suggest you let me go!”

“It thinks it is in control. Amusing.”

“Screw you!” The swordsman was about to say more until something fell out of y/n’s pocket. He picked it up and y/n saw it was the rabbit foot. Hadn’t they left it at home?

“It seems that one had a gift on itself. Harm knows what this is, and it curses the last holder.” Y/n rolled their eyes. Of course the crazy sword guy would think a cheap replica is actually magic.

“That’s just a prize from an arcade. It’s not real!” The swordsman smiled menacingly.

“It doesn’t sense the magic. But Harm does, and Harm knows that it is cursed.” Magic? There was no way that stupid foot was magic. Right?

“Look, I really don’t care that you took the charm. But how would it have been cursed? And in an arcade of all places?” Harm ignored their comment and pocketed the rabbit foot.

Extending the slightest bit of their magic out, y/n tried to sense the magic energy around the rabbit foot. They could only sense a hint of magic. Whatever was there, it was either long gone or y/n wasn’t skilled enough to sense more.

“Harm does not care where it found the gift. But Harm will be back to dispose of it after slaying it’s allies.” The swordsman left the room, leaving a tied up y/n to worry about their friends. Y/n hoped that Artemis and Zatanna found a way to escape.

“Y/n! Are you okay?” Speak of the devil. The two heroes entered the room. Artemis kept a watch on the door while Zatanna cut the ropes around y/n’s wrists. Y/n rubbed their raw skin and nodded.

“I’m fine. Listen, remember that rabbit foot?” Artemis groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Really y/n? Now?” Y/n waved her off and kept explaining.

“It’s real. An actual charm. It’s cursed so that the last person to hold it is cursed when they lose it.” The color drained from Zatanna’s face. Artemis however, was not as affected by the revelation.

“So how is that relevant now?” Y/n swallowed hard.

“I was the last person. And Harm took it from me.” Zatanna’s eyes widened in horror.

“You let him take it?!?!” Y/n put their hands up defensively.

“He took it! I was tied up, I couldn’t keep it from him! And it wasn’t even supposed to be in my pocket!” Artemis snorted and led the way out of the room.

“Leave it to you to get cursed.” Y/n glared at the archer.

“How was I supposed to know it was cursed?!?!” Zatanna stepped in and pointed down the hall, where the three could see Harm with a look of rage on his face.

“Guys! Right now we should focus on not dying!” The three heroes ran throughout the old house trying to avoid Harm. But he seemed to find the at every turn. Finally y/n had enough.

“Listen. That foot is either giving him the advantage or I’m giving all of us a disadvantage. The best thing to do would be me to split up with you guys.” Both Artemis and Zatanna shook their heads.

“No way! We are not leaving you alone for that monster to find you!” Y/n pulled away from them and stood their ground.

“This isn’t up for discussion! I’ll be fine, I promise.” Y/n gave them a smile, hoping their fear wasn’t showing. “I’m not going to die on Halloween, it’s too cheesy.”

With some hesitation, Artemis and Zatanna ran down the hallway. Y/n watched them go and then ran down the opposite hall. If there was a way to get out of the house, they could contact the team, the Justice League, Hell even Constantine!

“There it is.” Of course he found them. Leave it to a curse to get y/n killed. Ducking beneath the sword swinging towards their head, y/n darted past Harm towards what was hopefully outside.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!” The sword wielding psycho turned and ran after y/n.

“Harm will do no such thing.”

“Well fine then! Not like I wanted to kiss a psycho!” Y/n took a sharp turn and darted down another hall. How big was this house? The next door y/n ran through led them outside.

“Y/n! You’re alive!” There was Zatanna and Artemis, with what looked like a little girl? Y/n brushed it off and gave both the heroes a tight hug.

“Why do you sound so surprised—is that a grave?” The sight of the grave surprised them. What was it doing at a place like this?

“It’s Harm’s sister, Greta. He killed her.” Y/n was nearly rendered speechless. How could a brother do that to a sister? Wait, did that mean the little girl was—no, not the time now.

“That bastard.”

<—>

It was done. Harm was arrested, Greta moved on, and everything was hunky dory. And after they got the rabbit charm back, y/n found themselves taking a zeta tube to London. They walked the rainy streets until they found the flat they were looking for.

Y/n steeled themselves and knocked on the door of the flat. Mild curses were heard from inside before a disheveled blond man opened the door.

“Y/n?” Y/n shifted from one foot to the other nervously.

“Hi Mr. Constantine. I need your help.” Y/n held up the rabbit foot charm. John blinked, and then stepped aside to let y/n into his home.

“Of course kiddo. And I’ve told you, call me John. Now come inside, you look like you’re freezing.”

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gif, all credit goes to the owner.

[luckyspike]

The Trouble with Nocturnal Ambush Predators - A Good Omens Fanfiction

when I went to post this on AO3 (found here), turns out Crowley’s weird statue has its own tag

shit’s wild guys

anyway crowley and aziraphale make a bet about how shitty crowley’s vision is

nobody but also everybody wins, in a way

count the parks and rec references. also of course i had to make someone a doctor because i live at work i guess idk

-

Everyone was rather surprised when Brian announced that he would be going to school with plans to become a doctor. Brian, who reveled in dirt and grime, Brian that even at twenty would wear clothes more than once if he thought he could get away with it, Brian that ate food out of takeaway boxes and still left them in the sink. It was startling, the image of Brian, that Brian, standing in a sterile operating theater, scrubbed and gowned and as anti-septic as possible. And yet, this was also Brian that was always there for the Them, who would come the moment he was called if help was needed, who swallowed his pride and rebuked his filthy habits if only for a few minutes, to help his friends and save the world.

It was surprising but, the Them and friends reflected, not entirely shocking. It did make sense, in a sort of way. “I’d really like to study infectious diseases,” he said one night over dinner at the Pulsifer’s, while everyone was still gathered around the table for drinks. It was late, and Anathema had gone an hour or so ago to put her little daughter to bed, even over the child’s protests and desperate clinging to Crowley, who objected much less firmly than any self-respecting demon should have. Well enough then, he told Aziraphale, when the angel had pointed it out, that he was only still a demon in technicalities only.

Pepper looked amused. “You should see him in classes,” she said, for she was in the same class as Brian, with her sights set on psychiatry as a specialty once she’d graduated. “He sits right up front, a real gunner, and every time they ask about some weird bacteria, boom! He’s right there with the answer.” She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing, too. “I think it was all the dirt he always had on him when we were kids - he communed with the germs and they accepted him as one of their own.”

Brian flushed. “I don’t talk to germs. I just think they’re jolly interesting, is all.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Adam Young said, leaned back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. “Someone ought to, right? Otherwise we’d all die of cholera or something.”

Aziraphale frowned into his wineglass. “Nasty illness, cholera. I remember the pump outbreak …” He shook his head, putting an end to that reverie, and smiled at Brian instead. “It is fortunate you have such an interest, Brian - the world needs doctors, certainly.”

“So what’s medical school like these days?” Crowley asked, a mirror of Adam, leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table, idly swirling the scotch in his glass. “Last time I tried was, oh, the sixteenth century I think. Thereabouts.” He winced. “Pretty sure it’s got on since then. Hopefully.”

“Oh, yes,” Brian nodded. “Yes, I’d imagine it is. Very structured now, and there’s labs and independent study and practicing skills and all kinds of things, not to mention all the lectures and exams.”

“So many,” Pepper agreed mournfully. “Endless exams.”

“D’you practice on mannequins then?” Crowley looked thoughtful. “I’d imagine they do a good bit with mannequins.”

“Some yeah. And then some - the safer stuff - we practice on each other. Y’know …” Brian thought, waving his hands vaguely. “Listening to lungs and hearts, eye tests, that kind of stuff.”

Aziraphale looked up at that. “Eye tests, you say?” He looked across the table to Crowley, a grin slowly spreading over his lips. “Crowley, dear, we could finally settle the debate -”

“No. No, we can’t.”

Newt, who had been washing up in the kitchen, returned, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Debate? What are we debating, then?”

“Nothing,” Crowley griped. “Angel has been insisting for the past decade or whatever - since you kids were eleven, however long ago that was -”

“A decade,” Wensley confirmed.

“Right, so that long, I’ve had to hear about how I really shouldn’t be driving because snakes don’t have good visual acuity.” Crowley spread his hands. “To which I make my point: if I really couldn’t see, you think I would’ve gone this long with the Bentley without crashing it? Armageddon notwithstanding, that was extenuating circumstances.”

Aziraphale muttered into his wine, “Only thanks to occasionally-gratuitous use of miracles.”

“Occasionally, angel! Occasionally doesn’t count. Not like it’s a daily occurrence.

“And anyway, my vision’s better than a human’s at a distance and in the dark,” Crowley said authoritatively. “Horizontal planes an’ light refraction and all that. Saw a film about it.”

“Listened to a film about it,” Aziraphale mumbled. Adam snorted.

“Wasn’t very nice,” the boy said, although he was grinning.

Pepper laughed a little too, while Crowley presumably glared at Aziraphale - the sunglasses, as ever, made it difficult to tell for sure. “It’d be easy enough to test, if you really wanted to.”

“I don’t.”

“Not even for a wager?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale at that, and a long silence stretched out. The Them and Newt watched, rapt, because they’d only ever seen the two supernatural entities bet on something once before, and that was whether or not either of them could, after two bottles of wine, climb to the top of the biggest tree in Hogback wood without using miracles, wings, or shapeshifting*. They had, if memory served, wagered an entire years’ worth of song-selection privileges. It was, perhaps, fortunate that neither had won the bet, because in retrospect Adam considered it a distinct possibility that an ultimatum like that could only have ended in some kind of argument**.

[* They couldn’t, but no one had paid attention to that, because the entire spectacle was so hilarious that the end result was fairly irrelevant, and Crowley turned into a snake when he thought no one was watching and cheated anyway. ]

[** Crowley and Aziraphale, after the Nahpocalypse, argued very seldom, but being that neither liked to do anything by halves, arguments were usually intensely dramatic, if short-lived. The last argument had resulted in Crowley living in the garden at Jasmine Cottage as a snake for a weekend, and only ended because Newt threatened to call animal control on him if the two didn’t reach some kind of agreement about whether or not Tom or John Barnaby was the better detective .]

The demon was tempted. “What are the stakes?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something.” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let’s say … oh, alright. You win, and I turn a blind eye to whatever you want to do to your plants for a month before the flower show next year.”

The Them and Newt, like spectators at a chess match, breathed out. “Oh, that’s a good one,” Brian mumbled.

“But if I win, which I will, of course, then …” Aziraphale considered it. “Then …” He thought harder, and then beamed. “Then next time the neighbors want to take a week holiday, you have to take care of their smallholding by yourself .” There were assorted gasps from around the table.

Crowley barked a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Because you know you’d lose.”

“No, because I always end up taking care of the smallholding by myself anyway, bloody goats.” Crowley leaned his elbows onto the table and tapped his chin with steepled fingers. “Right, when I win, I’ll … or you …” He brightened. “I get to yell at my plants, and you have to let me move the statue into the living room for an entire year.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Not the statue. No, just the plants.”

“No, the statue is a part of this.”

“When I win,” Aziraphale soldiered on, pretending they were not arguing about Crowley’s infamous Angel Statue that served as a crucial part of every argument and poorly-concealed threat in their relationship, “you have to put the blasted statue in a storage unit somewhere, and you take the speakers off that abhorrent vacuum cleaner."

Crowley looked appalled. “You’d cut out DJ Roomba’s tongue for a bet?”

“I’m hardly -” He looked to Crowley, and then relented, with a sigh. “Alright. No speaker on DJ Roomba for three months. Then you can put the speakers back on.” He seized Crowley’s hand the moment the other extended it, and they shook on it, both with equal enthusiasm and smugness. “I look forward to my three months of peace.”

“Can’t wait to put my statue in the living room and kill those bloody fittonias at last.”

Pepper and Brian exchanged a look, while Adam, Newt, and Wensley were trying to hide their laughter behind their hands. “We should print a Snellen chart,” Pepper said solemnly.

“Definitely need a Snellen chart.”

Newt nodded and stood from the table. “The printer is has bluetooth. Wait for me to be outside before you connect to it.”

Once Newt had vacated the building briefly, it was easy enough to print the eye chart. Adam found a measuring tape in a cookie tin full of sewing supplies***, and they solemnly marked out the ascribed distance. “Never done one of these before,” Crowley said, sobered-up for the endeavor. “What, you’re just supposed to read it?” Aziraphale was standing over his shoulder, arms crossed, looking so smug he might as well have already won. Perhaps he had.

[*** “ Why do you need it?” Anathema had asked him as she rocked Millie to sleep on her shoulder. Adam had explained, and she had nodded. “Oh, definitely,” she’d said. “The sewing kit is still in the linen closet in the bathroom - there should be a tape measure in there. Wait until I put Millie down to bed. I want to be there.” ]

“Yeah, you cover one eye,” Pepper instructed. “Right, and then you read the smallest line you can see. Ready?”

“Easiest bet I’ve ever won,” Crowley said, motioning to Brian to flip the corkboard he’d pinned the chart to. “Right, go for it.” The board flipped, and Crowley blinked. “Well, there’s the big ‘E’ at the top.”

“Everyone knows the big E,” Anathema said, dismissive. “He said read the smallest line you can.”

“Right. Ah …” There was an uncomfortable pause. “Can I try the other eye?”

“I knew it,” Aziraphale hissed triumphantly.

Brian swallowed. “Uh. In a minute. Um. Which … which direction is the ‘E’ pointing, then?”

Crowley frowned. “Whatever way ‘E’s usually point. What kind of stupid question is that?”

The assembled humans and one angel looked at the ‘E’ which was, very clearly, printed backwards. Aziraphale raised his hands to his mouth. “Crowley, you drove us here.”

“So? Didn’t crash, did I?” He switched eyes. “Oh, yeah, the other one’s better.”

“You’re serious?” Brian asked, craning his neck around to stare at the chart. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, so what’s that mean, then?” Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels.

Pepper grimaced. “You’re legally blind?”

“No, that can’t be right.” He shrugged. “I drove us here, didn’t I?”

“He drove us here at 100 miles per hour,” Aziraphale added, in a mix of astonishment and terror.

“Right, and didn’t hit anything -”

“This time,” Anathema muttered under her breath.

“And made great time, all here, safe as houses.” He smirked. “Could a legally blind guy do that?”

“Maybe Daredevil,” said Newt, unhelpfully.

“Anyway,” Crowley went on, turning away to stalk across the room, past his horrified angel, and flick off the light switch, instantly plunging the room into darkness, “you’re not looking at this the right way. Move the chart around a bit, med student,” he instructed, the last part said with some disdain.

“You’re not at the line,” Brian protested.

“Just move it.” There was a whisper in the dark as the corkboard started moving in irregular figure-of-eights, Brian waving it around. Had it been light enough to see, his confusion would have been plainly evident on his face. “Right, so you got the ‘E’, which is backwards, then F, P, ah … T, O, Z, er … right, faster, okay, L, P, E, D, and then … Hm. Yeah, not sure after that.” The lights flipped back on, and Crowley put his sunglasses on. “So there.”

All the others looked from Crowley, to the eye chart, and back. “How?” Adam demanded. “You didn’t mess around -”

“Nocturnal ambush predator,” Crowley replied, as if it were obvious. “Plus, the ink’s still a bit warm from the printer. So even easier, really - I’ve got a whole extra sense, even, unless humans can see infra-red.”

“We can’t,” Wensley assured him.

“Right, so what’s that make me, then? I win, obviously.”

Aziraphale jumped in then. “Oh, no, no you don’t. Under human standards -”

“That was never specified.” Crowley grinned, and showed his teeth. Nocturnal ambush predator indeed. “Don’t try that with me, angel, remember which one of us is the demon, here.”

“It was inferred.”

“No such thing in a bet. Has to be expressly specified.” Crowley made a fist. “The fittonias die tonight.”

Since the lights had come back on, Anathema had been frowning, her lips moving occasionally as she clearly puzzled something over. She spoke, finally, slowly, and said, “But … but when you hit me with your car … it was night. And I was moving. And you were moving.” She looked at him, frowning. “You should have seen me, then.”

Crowley shrugged. “Wasn’t paying attention. No harm done, anyway.”

“Not after Aziraphale fixed me!”

Crowley scoffed. “Right. Like I said.” He pointed to Aziraphale. “I’m making an entire pop playlist for DJ Roomba just for this, angel.” He grinned even wider. “And I’m moving the statue as soon as we get home.”

“Really, dear boy, I don’t think this is as clear-cut as you say.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Crowley pointed to Brian and Pepper. “Med students, stop me if I’m wrong -” they wouldn’t “- but the definition of visual acuity does allow for corrective devices, yes?”

“Yes,” said Pepper, while Aziraphale groused, “A moving chart and total darkness do not count as corrective devices, you know they mean glasses -”

“So there you go.” Crowley crossed the room and tore the chart from the board. “With corrective devices I’m … 20/50. So there. Not perfect but I still win.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were narrowed. “That’s cheating.”

“Again, if it’s not specified in the terms then technically it is not cheating. I’ve got books about this somewhere^, Aziraphale.” He spread his hands. “I’ve made a few bets and bargains in my life, believe it or not.”

[^ Books that were, he would not add, written in blood and bound in human skin.]

Aziraphale scowled. “You’re not putting that statue out.”

“Oh, but I am. I won the privilege.”

“You didn’t win anything.”

“Oh, but I did.” Crowley rubbed his hands together. “I definitely did. By the laws of betting.” He clapped Brian on the shoulder. “Thanks for moving the chart, kid.”

“And not letting the ink dry all the way,” Adam added under his breath with a poorly-stifled laugh.

Aziraphale was still scowling at Crowley, arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss this further in the car.”

Crowley made a noise that might have been a chuckle, if there wasn’t just so much infernal glee instilled in it. “You sure you want me to drive home?” The angel’s wine glass miraculously filled itself. “Oh, so you’re going to be like that?"

“That statue is going out over my discorporated body.”

“It’s a very expensive statue.” He wilted a little under the blue fire in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Alright, we can talk about it in the car.”

The angel swallowed the wine in one gulp. “Capital.”