#and she goes through tons of interns a every year and she’s been doing this for years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

olderthannetfic · 1 year

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I need help deciding something, im not sure whether this is the right place for it but here it goes.

I'm in a fandom that is about 10ish years old, went through a decline and then saw a huge surge at the beginning of 2021 because it got a (very good) show based on the books. While the canon endgame is good ol' friends-to-lovers, the most popular ship is an enemies and lovers with a bunch of 'problematic' elements. It's so popular that it has more fics on ao3 than any other ship in the entire universe in which the story is set.

Now, most of the fans of the ship hang out in a discord server, and I, being obsessed with the ship, joined it in early June. Tumblr doesn't have much content for the ship because of the harassment faced by the fans by antis when the show was released and I detest using twitter so the server is my only contact with that series.

And, everything is cool. The members are super chill, extremely helpful, the mods are great and have excellent events every month for the members, and I've had an overall good experience. I'm not very active, I only talk about once ever 2 or 3 days, but I read all the messages because they tend to be quite interesting.

Now here is where the problems begin: on different platforms, on three separate occasions, I have heard negativity about the server. Once on ao3, an author complained about the server in her notes, and when some fandom newbie asked her to explain she said the mods were power hungry jerks who silenced anyone they didn't like and there was a lot of negativity, and they looked down on everyone who wrote dead dove. On tumblr, a person claimed that they were the founder of the server and they got bullied by the members and made fun of by the mods because they wanted a channel for darker topics (dead dove, underage etc) while this founder did not, and the overall experience left them traumatized. One of my friends from the server left because she said that she had issues with mods and didn't like who she had to be in order to stay in the server.

Which... sounds bad, except the ao3 and tumblr person's reasons seem to directly contradict each other with respect to dead dove? And the server does have a dead dove channel (you have to take a role for it, so you can leave the role and it will be hidden any time) although they restrict underage but that's because of discord's TOS. The server is very much proship so I don't see them looking down on dead dove doesn't make sense. And the tumblr person claims to be the founder, but the server has two people marked as founders and there is absolutely no trace of this third person. None. Not even a mention of x. Neither is there any trace of an argument regarding these topics. As for the person who left the server... she was a good person, but a little insensitive and very likely to jump to extremes, which was why the mods had warned her a couple of times not to do so (some of her statements could come across as ableist even if she didn't mean anything like that). I'd ask her if there was more but I don't really know her that well. The mods are very hands off, only occasionally asking to shift to appropriate channels if required, that too not often. They've been great, and they put tons of effort into creating events and stuff, more than I have seen in any fandom.

I won't say that there had never been issues. I found that sometime last year, there was a pretty big ruckus. There was a BNF, whose works became so popular that it was all anyone would talk about so some people got tired (there were like 200 members back then). So discussions of the BNF's work got relegated to a thread. Later on tumblr some other authors criticized the bnf's work (all her fics reeked of internalized misogyny even if her writing was good, so it's not surprising) thinking she'd never see it (she was on twitter not tumblr), but somehow she came to know and brought it up in the server. The other authors apologized, but then some others got into the discussion and it got into a whole ass free for all where some were siding with the bnf saying how unfair it was that her work had to go into threads instead of the normal channels, and how others mocked her and how she'd been patient. Another group sided with the other authors and said that they had a right to criticism, they hadn't done it on a platform where the bnf would see it anyways, and the bnf had created unnecessary drama by dragging the issues into the server. Long story short, bnf quit the fandom, a number of people got kicked, and 'leave your issues at the door' got added to the server rules, and it was suggested that criticism be done on private groups and stuff where others wouldnt see it (not a rule because the mods made it clear they would not handle any drama outside of the server). There was a little disagreement between two members when one of the actors got accused of being racist (unfairly, imo, based on a couple of paparazzi pics, and the accusations have since been blown away). But that was all. I could find no other records of controversies or bullying, and I spent quite a bit of time searching.

Overall my personal experience has been positive in the server. The closest you get to a disagreement is just people crackshipping the craziest ships and making up increasingly ridiculous scenarios for crack while others go 'MY EYEEEES' or 'BRAIN BLEACH BRAIN BLEACH' but it's all in fun and those members are very close friends who know there's no ill will. And yet every time I see criticism of the server I feel hesitant and wonder whether I'm deluding myself, whether I'm so desperate to have contact with this fandom that I'm turning a blind eye to stuff (even though I don't think I am). But not one, not two, but three different people have said these issues exist on the server, and while one or two could be clowns, ALL of them can't be, right? Not to mention the drama last year.

I don't know, I love being on the server, but whenever I see things like this it makes me uneasy. I'm not sure what to do, I don't want to be a part of it if all these accusations are true.

Wait and see, I guess. A bunch of people complaining about a space could mean anything from a literal conspiracy to smear its name to the natural disagreements that arise wherever people congregate to secret nastiness you haven't noticed.

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mariacallous · 10 months

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In satellite pictures, they look like the pale blue and gray eggs of a giant butterfly, laid in tight patterns on some dismal leaf. The eggs, made of steel, are tanks brimming with radioactive fluid—contaminated water from Japan’s Fukushima nuclear plant. The water will soon be diluted and pumped into the sea. Núria Casacuberta Arola, of ETH Zürich, is among those who will be watching. Closely.

“We have access to a ship that goes to the coast of Fukushima every year, sometimes once, sometimes twice,” she says. Casacuberta Arola and her colleagues regularly drop an assembly of jars into waters near the incapacitated power plant to collect samples at different depths. The lids of the jars close automatically, one by one, as the device is slowly pulled back up to the surface.

By doing this, and also taking sediment samples from the seabed, they hope to be able to tell in the coming months and years whether the disposal of water from Fukushima is causing a noticeable rise in radiation in this corner of the Pacific Ocean. The water release could start as early as next month. If there is a significant bump in radiation levels in the surrounding waters, it will mean things have gone very wrong.

In 2011, a massive tsunami struck Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station. The defensive sea wall intended to protect the plant from such an onslaught was many meters too low to stop the monster wave. Seawater flooded the facility, ultimately leading to partial meltdowns and huge explosions at some of the reactors. It is considered one of the worst nuclear accidents in history.

In the years since, workers have had to constantly pump water into Fukushima’s stricken reactors, which still contain hot nuclear fuel. This water has, thankfully, done its job of keeping the reactors cool, but it has become irradiated in the process, meaning it can’t just be flushed away. Workers have kept the used cooling water on-site, building tank after tank in which to store it. All the while, they have known that they will eventually have to dispose of it. Today, there are 1.3 million metric tons of contaminated water on-site. And no space for any more tanks. The time to do something about it is here.

It has taken years of research, modeling, and sampling, but earlier this month the International Atomic Energy Agency gave its approval for a discharge plan. Japan’s Nuclear Regulation Authority signed off on the proposals at the same time, meaning that the Tokyo Electric Power Co (Tepco), which is in charge of the plant and its cleanup, has full authority to begin slowly releasing the water into the ocean via a 1-km-long underwater pipe.

Some aren’t happy. Local fishers are strongly opposed to the plan, and there have been street protests in South Korea. Yet many scientists are highly confident that the discharge will be perfectly safe.

The contaminated water, enough to fill more than 30,000 fuel-truck semi-trailers, contains a mix of unstable chemical elements, known as radionuclides, that emit radiation. To keep these radioactive components to a minimum, Tepco has installed special water purification technology that treats the water before storage. In essence, it involves passing the contaminated water through a series of chambers containing materials that can adsorb radionuclides. The isotopes stick to those materials and the water flows on, a little cleaner than before.

However, it is not 100 percent effective, and many of the radionuclides it’s designed to extract, such as the isotopes caesium-137 and strontium-90, for example, can still be found in the stored water. There are also some isotopes the system can’t remove at all, such as carbon-14 and tritium, a form of hydrogen with two neutrons and one proton in its nucleus (hydrogen usually contains just one proton).

Despite this, the water is extremely safe because the concentrations of radionuclides are so low, explains Jim Smith, a professor of environmental science at the University of Portsmouth. “I’m not concerned,” he says of the plan to discharge the water.

Many of the above radioactive isotopes were released into the ocean at the time of the disaster in 2011—and some traveled. One study found them floating around 3,000 km away in the Arctic Ocean six years after the accident. Once the discharge begins, radionuclides will undoubtedly spread out into the Pacific, but this is very unlikely to have a noticeable effect on the environment, Smith says.

For context, he points out that he has many years of experience studying the effects of radiation on living things near the destroyed nuclear power plant in Chernobyl. Even there, where exposure to radiation is much greater, the impact appears to be tiny. “We know radiation damages DNA, probably there are subtle effects of radiation at these levels, but we don’t generally see a significant effect on the ecosystem,” he says, referring to that work.

Plus, tritium—one of the isotopes that can’t be removed from the stored water—is already present all around us at low concentrations, though higher levels are associated with nuclear-related activities. The authors of one 2018 study speculated that unusually high levels of tritium in the Rhône river delta in France were down to historical pollution from the watchmaking industry—tritium has been used to make glow-in-the-dark paint for watch dials.

What many people don’t realize is that water containing tritium is actually routinely released into the sea—sometimes in vastly greater quantities than are to be discharged from Fukushima—by nuclear facilities all around the world, including in the US, Europe, and East Asia. The Cap de la Hague nuclear processing site in France releases 11,400 terabecquerels (Tbq) of tritium every year, which is more than 13 times the total radioactivity of the tritium across every storage tank at Fukushima.

Tepco is regularly testing the stored water ahead of the release, the company says. The water will be re-treated, multiple times if necessary, and diluted more than 100 times to bring its tritium radioactivity concentration down to no more than 0.0000000015 TBq per liter, a level equivalent to a 1/40 of Japan’s national safety standards. Roughly 70 percent of the stored water also contains radionuclides other than tritium that are at concentrations exceeding regulatory limits, says the Japanese government—levels of these will also be brought down to below Japan’s regulatory standards. The water will then be tested again before being discharged.

For a final point of comparison, Smith calculates that cosmic rays interacting with the Earth’s atmosphere over the Pacific Ocean annually cause the natural deposition of 2,000 times more tritium than will be introduced by the gradual Fukushima release.

Tatsujiro Suzuki at Nagasaki University remembers watching in horror as the disaster unfolded back in 2011. “We all thought that this kind of thing would never happen in Japan,” he says. At the time, he was working for the government. He recalls the confusion over what was happening to the reactors in the days following the tsunami. Everyone was gripped by fear.

“Once you experience that kind of accident, you don’t want to see another one,” he says. The long shadow cast by the disaster means that, for the water release plan, the stakes—at least in terms of public trust—could not be higher.

Suzuki argues that it’s not quite fair to compare the Fukushima water to fluids discharged from other nuclear facilities elsewhere in the world because of the challenge of cleaning up the many different radionuclides here. “This is an unprecedented event, we have not done this before,” he says, adding that he thinks the procedure is “probably safe” but that there is still room for human error or an accident, such as another tsunami, that could cause an uncontrolled release of the water into the sea.

Tepco and the International Atomic Energy Agency have considered such possibilities and still judge the risk to human and marine life to be extremely low. Sameh Melhem, now at the World Nuclear Association, formerly worked for the Atomic Energy Agency and was involved in some of the research to evaluate the discharge plan. “I think it’s very safe for the operators themselves and also for the public,” he says, adding: “The radionuclide concentrations coming from this release, it’s negligible.”

Last November, Casacuberta Arola and her colleagues collected samples of seawater off the coast of Fukushima, and they have recently begun to analyze them. The scientists measure the levels of various radionuclides that might be present. For tritium, that means removing all helium from the sample and waiting to see how much new helium emerges from the water as a product of radioactivity. This makes it possible to extrapolate the amount of tritium that must be present, explains Casacuberta Arola. She and her team have records of radionuclide measurements like this from the sea off Fukushima going back years.

“We already know that the values that we see now close to Fukushima are close to the background values,” she says. If that changes, they should find out fairly quickly. As will the International Atomic Energy Agency and other observers, who, separately, intend to sample water and wildlife in the area in the coming years to keep an eye on things.

Smith says that despite overwhelming evidence that the water release will be entirely safe and heavily scrutinized at every turn, it is not surprising that some people are skeptical of the plan. They have a right to be, he adds, given the troubled history of the plant.

At the same time, the threat posed by the release—even in a worst-case scenario where everything goes wrong—is miniscule compared to some of the other environmental risks in the region, such as the effects of the climate crisis on the Pacific Ocean, Smith says.

Casacuberta Arola agrees. Negative coverage of the discharge plan has been used to “brainwash” people, she argues, and to instill fear against the nuclear energy industry. “To me,” she adds, “it’s been very much exaggerated.”

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magical-awesome-kid · 2 years

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I have the BEST most DUMBEST AU for Pokémon Legends Arceus.

The Arc Phone Has Internet AU.

Dawn/Akari finds the widget for the Internet DEEP in the folders. Arceus tried to uninstall it, but he couldn’t get it off because Perfect Design or whatever, so he just hid it. Akari pulls up the Internet and it’s in-time with how long she’s been gone in the future (let’s say she’s gone six months at this point? So she’s got the news page for six months after she disappeared).

And who’s on the news page? Her.

Now, for the sake of this story, Dawn’s memories are a little scrambled. Not to Ingo’s extent, but things were still missing. She couldn’t remember her first name - Dawn - but she remembered her middle name - Hikari. She goes down the Internet rabbit hole and not only finds every news article about Champion (Champion! How could she forget? Her Pokémon worked so hard for that!) but also finds her Wikipedia page, which is full to the brim not only of pictures and notes but also incorrect info (this, weirdly enough, jogs her memories as she goes to correct it).

Then she realizes Oh. Oh shit. I can contact mom and Barry and Lucas and the League!

And she does. The phone and texting apps won’t go through, but all her social media still work. Not wanting to cause total chaos, she DMs everyone she feels needs to know.

It’s chaos. She’s balancing 40 conversations with various entities and then SOMEONE posts a link and says “I made a secure discord for all of this plus we can video call” (it was probably Volkner).

As the chaos is ensuing, Akari sends one picture of herself in Jubilife Village, and she happens to catch Ingo in the background.

And then someone sends it back with a big circle on Ingo and is like “IS THAT INGO?!?”

And Dawn is like “OMG I forgot Ingo said he was from the future! Do you all know who he is?”

Dawn’s thread is flooded with news articles and wikipedias on Nimbasa’s subway system and the bosses there.

She pulls over Ingo and, after explaining what a phone is, he’s scrolling like a mad man.

It’s not like an instant snap back. Everything sounds so right and familiar. It’s not until Dawn gets a video call from the Unova League does it start to take hold.

Emmet, who has spent the last three years hoping, praying that his brother was out there, who was trying to cope but still held hope, who refused to do a funeral, even a symbolic one, because his brother couldn’t be officially ruled as dearly departed yet, is bawling into the line with Elesa and all their Pokémon (it’s clear in the background that they’re in one of the conference rooms of the Nimbasa Gym to get everyone into the shot).

Ingo ends up recovering a lot faster now. Talking over things with Emmet or Elesa or Drayden or just about anyone in his past life makes it solid, gives him a ring to hang on to, and he gets back on track. He’s still forgetful sometimes, but he doesn’t feel like he’s lost everything precious anymore. Because Ingo doesn’t have an Arc Phone (they’re still unsure how it happens to him, but some of the international police, who have experience with missing memories, suggest Ultra Wormholes), they just have Ingo and Hikari be a relative hunting pair. Ingo enjoys talking about his memories with anyone just to make them more whole, but Dawn is the only one who understands. Dawn is relieved to have an adult just… understand and be there to help her (she’s been through a ton for her age and she’s def cried to Ingo about how her “pokemon adventure” has turned out). They’re also trying to avoid a space-time paradox what with their future knowledge.

Hisui falls in line with Sinnoh time, but Unova is many time zones away. A nearly 12 hour time difference. Ingo doesn’t care. He’s always been an early riser, so he calls in the wee hours of the morning, when it’s dinner time in Nimbasa, and he shares breakfast while they eat dinner and talks for at least an hour. He promises to be prompt the next day, and it no longer feels so far away, his home.

Dawn always checks in with her mom and everyone in the later evening. Her mom is one call, Barry and Lucas another, League messages and specific requests from Cynthia and Various Professors to document the past and see about bringing some DNA samples back to the future (fossil resurrection is a very common thing after all). She’s almost begging Cylene and Komodo to give her other work so she can say she’s busy not screwing up the timeline.

When a plan is in place to get them back to the future - Professor Oak mentions his own adventure with Celebi and believes she’ll be easiest to find and convince to help - Ingo and Dawn take their time thanking everyone and getting to say good bye. It seems rather bittersweet going home…

But Rei follows them.

Rei, who has always had a sharp eye for these things, points out what he’s learned about the Strange Device that Akari has and that he’s heard her arguing with no one a few times in her lodgings (she blushes at the implication of how loud she was). Deciding Fuck It Being Here Has Already Fucked The Timeline, she plops the phone in Rei’s hands just as Celebi arrives at their pick up point. She explains that the phone must always be kept on him and, if it starts ringing, click the green button. She disappears with Celebi, leaving Rei confused.

Rei uses the phone over the next day, just trying to figure more out. He catches onto the photography feature immediately, realizing why Laventon loves pictures so much. It’s such a great way to document things.

And then, almost exactly 24 hours after Hikari and Ingo left with a strange Pokémon, the phone rings.

Rei hesitantly answers.

Dawn is there with Ingo. They’re in a strange room with strange people and Pokémon, but it’s like looking into a little window to another world.

(It is, in a way).

Dawn explains what’s going on and, after swearing Rei not to totally spill the beans (they approve a list of people that could know - The Professor, the Clan Leaders, maybe Cylene in time) they catch up on all that’s happened. The man who refuses to get his feet off Ingo’s lap is Emmet, his (annoying) twin brother, that’s Dawn’s excitable best friend Barry and her newfound cousin Lucas, her mom, Ingo’s best friend Elesa, and SO MANY Pokémon in the background. When Rei asks, Lucas has to shut Dawn up from revealing too much about the future.

Rei swears to try to keep out of Hisui history via the Internet, but he does look up more ‘modern’ stories and discoveries. In turn, Rei goes across the region and beyond to explore his own world. Dawn and Ingo learn how the modern world works once more.

So yeah. The Arc Phone Has Internet AU.

#subway bosses #subway master emmet #subway master ingo #submas #Akari pokemon #Dawn pokemon #Rei pokemon #subway boss nobori #subway boss kudari #pokemon #pokemon arceus #pokémon legends arceus #legends arceus #pla #I headcannon that after Ingo gets back he and Emmet are in close contact for nearly three days #just to make sure the other doesn’t disappear #the Pokémon refuse to leave him alone #Dawn’s are the same #at least one sleeps on her bed at night now so she can’t be snatched by a god #Dawn’s family and friends fully support this #Elesa is the only one with common sense #not much but still #(she assigns a little Emolga to tail Ingo)#(because they brought their Pokémon Ingo’s Gliscor and Emolga and Chandelure are always flitering above him)#(also Emolga has no qualms following Ingo #into the bathroom)#he trained his Pokémon NOT to do this!#(but Elesa is like ‘bitch I’m a model Emolga’s seen it all)#(Emolga has no shame)

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hops-hunny · 3 years

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College Girls

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: anon “How about Rodrick invites the reader to a party (he’s been crushing on her for the longest) but she plays hard to get and at the party her friends try to convince her to give him a chance and later it leads to them playing 7 minutes in heaven and they confess to each other and it goes from there ;) it could end in smut or fluff your way ly <3”

Summary: (college!au) College girls and their games, good thing Rodrick loves to play.

Warnings: Mentions of weed and alcohol, making out, teasing

A/N: Ok I forgot to make them confess but it’s implied sorry anon. I still hope you enjoy it!

If there was one thing Rodrick knew, college was a shit ton different than high school was. However, that wasn’t a bad thing. Unlimited booze and bud, hot chicks, and parties that never ended? He was practically in heaven! He had grown into himself, feeling more confident than ever since Heather had rejected him his senior year. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he thought about her but if he had to pinpoint it, it was a few months ago when she had hit him up, begging the boy to give her a chance. Oh the irony behind that. That was another good thing about college. In high school, all the girls thought he was just some loser who wasted too much time on a band that would always be shit.

But with years of experience under their belt and more free time to practice, Löaded Diaper was beginning to become a big deal in their rinky dink shithole off a small town. God was he glad too because with clout, also came hot girls in skirts that barely covered their ass. The opportunity for endless amounts of hookups was an absolute dream come true, but all dreams lose their shine eventually. When fucking became a mere thing to pass the time between class, gigs, and parties, he realized that it wasn’t as great as he thought it was. He was starting to crave something more, something like or, someone like- her.

God she was a babe. Rodrick still remembered the first time he saw her. Löaded Diaper was doing another house gig, everyone in the crowd dancing and moving to the intense music. And all of a sudden, a strobe light glossed over her perfectly, almost like a halo of blue light and his eyes were hooked. She was there with her friends, one of them whispering something in her ear which caused her to lock eyes with his. Pretty (e/c) eyes meeting his own brown ones. It was almost perfect, almost. As soon as they had finished the last note of their song, without missing a beat she swiftly made her exit and he made his way after her. Rodrick jumped off the stage, chasing after her and her friends all the way till they reached the curb. He grabbed her arm causing the girl to look back.

“Hey, uh, did you enjoy the gig?” He asked, running his fingers through his sweaty hair nervously. He felt his nerves rise even more at the sound of her friends’ giggles.

“I wouldn’t have stayed the whole gig if I didn’t, would I?” she retorted, rolling her eyes as she began to open the passenger door of the black mercedes.

“Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question..” he trailed off as she closed her door. His eyes widened at the fact he hadn’t gotten her name prompting him to take off after the car. He felt relieved as the girl rolled down her window, looking up at him through her thin framed sunglasses. “Wait! I didn’t get your name, I’m Rodrick.” he smirked, watching as she pulled her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head.

“Didn’t give it.” she quipped, sending him a wink as her friend took off into the distance. Who was she? All he knew about her was that she had a mouth on her and lived on the other side of campus. A lot of girl’s fit that description so it wasn’t easy asking around about her. However, as he stood here in the corner of the party his fraternity was throwing, he’d recognize a pair of nice legs like that from anywhere. His eyes took in her appearance. She had on a denim mini skirt, black turtleneck and a pair of knee high boots that matched. The boy had to practically stop himself from gawking at how good she looked, curves clinging to every bit of the form fitting outfit. He cleared his throat as his friend nudged him, looking to see what he wanted.

“Uh don’t look now, but I think that girl you were eye fucking is definitely eye fucking you back dude. Is that the chick from the gig a few weeks ago that you won’t shut up about?" Rodrick glared at the man, shoving him into the wall before walking towards her. He watched as her friends “coincidentally” all began to head off in other directions, leaving her to offer him a flirty little smile behind the drink she’d been nursing.

“Well if it isn’t the little drummer boy! To what do I owe the pleasure, Rodrick?” she purred, sitting down her now empty cup. She stepped forward, leaving them to be pressed chest to chest. It could easily be blamed on the crowded room but the two knew otherwise. He smirked back at her, wrapping his arms around her waist securely.

“I’m a simple man. I see a pretty girl sending looks my way, I come.” his eyes widened as he began to overthink his word choice. “N-not like that! Like I come over not like cum in my pants. I-I’m not like some virgin...well I’m not some man whore either! I don’t fuck around a lot. Not like the option isn’t there bu-” he quit his nervous ramblings at the sound of her laughter. He relaxed, smiling as the girl wrapped his arms around her neck. He began to lean in thinking she would ask him for a kiss but instead she missed his lips, putting hers next to his ear before whispering,

“Wanna dance?” Before he could answer, the girl (who’s name he still didn’t catch) was dragging him to the dance floor, moving his hands to rest on her hips. He tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible. It took him a bit but eventually his movements matched hers, as they swayed to the beat of the song. She pressed her head against his shoulder, looking up at him as she continued the movements against his pelvic area. “I love this song, it’s one of my favorites.” she whispered. He didn’t know if it was because he was cross faded or his enjoyment of the movements but D’Evils by SiR was beginning to become one of his favorite songs too. How could it not when there was such a pretty girl pressed against his front?

“Yeah? It suits you.” he muttered, leaning his head down to hover his own chapped lips above the girl’s soft gloss covered ones. She hummed in agreement, both of them slowly inching towards each other before she stopped, letting out a cheeky giggle.

“Did you really think I was going to kiss you that easily? You’ve gotta earn it.” She said, dragging a manicured hand against the skin of his neck. He shivered a bit as goosebumps formed, watching as she disappeared back into the crowd. He swore some, groaning as he fiddled with the growing bulge in his jeans. Was he out of the game for too long or had girls always been this hard to get? Either way, he didn’t care. Rodrick was gonna get this girl and her name by the end of the night if it was the last thing he ever did. He broke out of his thoughts, keeping sight of her figure making its way through the beaded curtain which led to the basement of the large frat house. Quickly he chased after her, trying to keep up with her. And, as if on purpose, every time he’d get close she’d flash him that breathtaking smile and continue on her path. Finally, she reached her supposed destination, a small group of people on couches, discussing the plans to play something.

“So, what’s the game?” He asked, causing everyone to look up at him as he sat on the couch farthest from her. He looked at the bottle in the center of the table, proud of himself and his seating choice. The further he was away, the more likely the bottle was to land on the pretty thing across from him.

“7 minutes in heaven. You down?” A brunette girl asked, a flirty look in her buzzed eyes. He ignored her small attempt at an advance, nodding as he locked eyes with the girl of the hour. He shot her a wink, smirking as she rolled her eyes, biting her lip to hide the smile that was making its way onto her face. For someone so adamant about playing this game of cat and mouse, she seemed to be fighting off her feelings very harshly. None of that mattered now though. If there was a god, he hoped he’d be on his side. Never had he wanted to be stuffed inside a muggy dark closet with someone so badly.

“Of course I’m down. Do I look like a pussy to you?” he asked, watching as the (h/c) haired girl opened her mouth. He gave her a pointed look, tilting his head at her. “Don’t answer that, legs.” The girl looked surprised at the nickname but didn’t say anything, trailing her acrylic nails up the curve of her thigh. His brown eyes followed curiously, jumping slightly as she closed her legs quickly giving him a mocking pout. Tonight was going to be a long night.

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

Round after round was filled with surprises, none involving Rodrick or the mystery girl of his affections. Sometimes, the two people involved would cheer or jump up excitedly, ceasing the moment that they were desperately waiting for. Other times they would groan in disgust and hell, he couldn’t blame him with the hygiene of some of these people. Have they ever even heard of a shower, deodorant? Only their BO could tell. However, his odds grew more and more as it was finally his turn to spin the bottle. He picked it up, kissing the empty beer bottle as he made up some prayer. He let out a deep breath before spinning the bottle. As he watched it spin, the only thought he could seem to form was, ‘Please, please please. Cmon, cmon, cmon!’

Finally the bottle began to halt, making a rumbling noise as it stopped. His eyes followed the nose of it, letting out an internal cheer as his eyes met the (e/c) eyes from across from him. He pulled up his jeans before walking over to the girl, holding a hand out to her. She eyed it before smirking up at him, allowing her to pull him up. Rodrick looked down at her hand before tangling his fingers with her own, pulling her towards the closet. Once they both were in there, silence overcame them leaving the muffled music from upstairs to be the filler between silent space. He cleared his throat some, catching the shorter girl’s attention.

“Sooo, um. Would this count as earning it?” He quipped, giving her a flirty grin. The girl rolled her eyes before moving closer to him, pulling him down to her own height as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Rodrick wasted no time, pulling the girl by her hips and planting his on hers. The kiss was everything he’d hope it’d be. Passionate, hot, and filled with every bit of desire that had built up over the course of the party. He nibbled at her lip, causing a moan to slip from her lips. He smirked a bit, pulling away some to look into her eyes a bit.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be a good kisser. You looked like you would give me a lot of teeth and too much tongue.” she giggled some, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. He rolled his eyes, smirking as he leaned in, nibbling on her neck a bit. He felt victory overcome him at the soft whimper that came from her lips.

“My pride’s a bit wounded, princess.” he purred, lifting her up as he pinned her against the wall. He leaned back in for another kiss, this one more deep and intense than the last. He groaned softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping at it slightly. He slid his tongue over her bottom lip, quickly tangling it with hers when she opened her mouth. They’re tongues danced a bit, fighting for dominance before he won. He absorbed her moans, sucking on her tongue as he slid a hand under her skirt, stroking the skin of her upper thighs. Rodrick noted how soft her skin was before gripping at it harshly, stroking her hips with his thumbs.

Just as he slid his hands under her shirt, a knock broke them out of their kiss. He groaned in annoyance, pulling away and fixing her clothes for her as the door was ripped open. The (e/c) eyed girl was the first to walk out, looking back at him as if she had something to say.

“(Y/n).” she said, causing him to look at her in confusion. “My name? It’s (Y/n). I hope this isn’t a habit of yours, making out with girls whose names you don’t even know.” she said, looking up at him expectantly. His mouth opened and closed as he stuttered, searching for the words to say. He cleared his throat before grabbing her hand, beginning the path to his own room.

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

#rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick x y/n #rodrick x you #rodrick heffley imagine

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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mxtcha-tea · 3 years

Text

and that's how i met you mother

✎desc; love at first sight with shiratorizawa (honestly, not all of them are love at first sight but ignore that)

✎pairing[s]; shiratorizawa 3rd years x f!reader (separate)

✎genre; fluff, crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; just an excuse for me to write lovesick boys💗 (I can’t do Shirabu, Kawanishi and Goshiki’s part cause I ran out of ideas🤸‍♀️🚆)

Ushijima

It would just be a normal day in his class, learning and stuff like usual

Then after the teacher finished explaining and hand out the tasks, he'll went through his pencil case and couldn't seem to find any pen

Ushijima frowned at that and looked throughly in his pencil case but with no luck, there's none

He swore that he had put some inside, maybe his mind slipped a little?

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention as he turned his head around to make eye contact with you

You're holding out one of your pen to him with a neutral look,

"You can have it," Ushijima look at you surprised, does that mean he can just take it from you? That's a little absurd

But he didn't question it and nodded, slowly taking the pen from your hand and continue studying

The pen doesn't really sit right in his hand, it's not being his and literally someone else that he doesn't have the chance to talk to

He'll spare a glance at you every minute (ngl, he's complimenting your side view internally)

And when you caught him looking at him, he'll just blink and slowly look back at his work with a light blush on his cheeks

(Istg it's so cute)

After the class ends and before you can leave for lunch, Ushijima caught your attention first,

"Here, thank you for lending me this. And unfortunately, i can't take it from you"

You're just looking at him with a dumbfounded look before taking the pen from him,

"Ah, no problem, um..." "Ushijima Wakatoshi"

You nodded at that, scratching the back of your head "...Ushijima. And it's [y/n]"

Both of you are just standing there in front of each other but it's not awkward, surprisingly

It's as if you two are waiting for one of you to speak and end the convo

(Spoiler alert; none of you wanted to end the convo since both of you find each other interesting)

You cleared your throat, fiddling with your pen a little, "Okay, see you after this, Ushijima"

He nodded at that and with that, both of you went to your separate ways

'[Y/N], YOU AWKWARD BASTARD! THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING, I BET HE THOUGHT THAT YOU'RE WEIRD NOW!'

Ushijima's just walking towards the gym with a fairly visible blush across his cheeks as he look down

"Ushijima..."

"[y/n]..."

"I guess he's fine..."

"I guess she's fine..."

Ushijima Current Mission!

Trying to figure what other scenarios he can drag you in to have a convo with you again

Good luck Wakatoshi~!

Tendou

You and Tendou have talked with eachother a couple of times but it's nothing more than that

And Tendou actually want to talk more with you (at first for friendship points but y'know...)

Today, you look more beautiful than ever to him today

It's not like you're not beautiful every other day (he thinks you're pretty so that's why he kept on having a convo with you)

And he caught into that

Somehow, he can't help bet stare at you in a distance and he tried his best to avoid getting caught

(Tendou's scared that you find him creepy for looking at you all the time and he don't want that thought to flood you mind)

Then, you came to him to explain about the work your science teacher gave since she's absent for the time being

And you can bet that he doesn't hear a single thing you said because he's too focused on yourself

It's kinda like in those scenes in manga where the main character stare into the main interest

The main interest looking as beautiful as ever with flowers around them

Pretty eyes, angelic face, kissable lips

For him, you're perfect and he even thought that you might be an angel in disguise

No matter how you even see yourself, he would always think that you're fascinating, adorable, enticing—

"Tendou, are you okay?"

The redhead snapped out from his thought and got caught by you

By now, his face is literally mocking his hair color as he chuckled nervously,

"Ah, I'm fine! It's just that..."

He was about to stop mid sentences but thankfully he still got that crumbs of courage and just goes with it,

"...you look pretty today,"

Tendou said with a closed eyes smile, peeking an eye open and trying to see your reaction (ngl he's nervous)

You blinked

Before you literally exploded at that which is what make him surprised in his seat

You fake coughed, looking away and avoiding eye contact,

"Thanks...."

[love meter +10!]

If this is an actual manga or anime, there could've been hearts dancing around him

Timeskip to Tendou at his home and squealing quietly to himself (he can't let his family hear him fanboying for someone in his school lmao)

"We're totally going to marry 3 years from now on~" he says to himself in the mirror with so many confidence

(I just love it when Tendou act like that, let him have his moment)

"Haha, thank you gods for creating me and [y/n] in the same world,"

Tendou's Current Mission!

Getting to know you better and give tons and tons of compliments, just like in the simulations! Specifically otomes and dating games

Try your best Satori~!

Semi

It was another day, another practice session

Except that it went longer than Semi expected, he managed to run from the gym to the main entrance

But before he can even put on his shoes, heavy rain started pouring down

He look at the dark grey sky, resting his forehead onto the shoe locker with one shoe already in his foot while the other in his hand

Sighing, Semi thought about asking to come with Tendou and Yamagata since he didn't bring his umbrella

But on second thought, he realized that they prolly forgot theirs too

And all 3 of them have to run under the rain again like last time

Yamagata and Tendou: "We can avoid the rain if we're fast enough!"

He shivered at that their words and the thought of getting terribly sick again

And before Semi's brain can process a strategy for himself, he was caught off guard when an umbrella was opened next to him,

"Ah sorry,"

In those few seconds, everything went slow motion when your eyes catches his

(He swore it felt like in the anime)

He can feel his cheeks flushing a little but thanks to the wheater, it's not obvious

"Hello?" Semi snapped from his thoughts, shaking his head before focusing on you again,

"Sorry, sorry, um—" "You don't have an umbrella?"

He blinked, shaking his head slightly

It's a pretty peaceful staring between you two with the rain hitting the ground as background sounds

Until you lift your umbrella up, and pointed at the small spot next to you with your thumb,

"Here, I'll help you,"

"Eh?"

Semi was flabbergasted a little at your statement but would he decline it?

Of course not,

"Just tell me where your house is then I help you go there,"

And that's how he find himself back at his house's entrance with you in front of him,

"And that's why I just let you walk with me for the afternoon,"

"Is that so, oh wait! I haven't known your name, and you prolly haven't known my name either..."

He scratched the back of his neck before looking at you with a smile,

"The name's Semi Eita, thanks for the walk back home,"

Your lips parted a little before in turns into a tooth rotting smile,

"[y/n], no problem and thanks for the company, Eita,"

An arrow pierced through his heart as his face is literally the color of Tendou's hair

And just like that, you left him on the entrance with a funny expression upon his face

Cutting the scene to Semi punching his pillow (rip pillow)

"You already caught me off guard already but you really had to look at me like that...."

Semi's Current Mission!

Try to find you the next day after first period and try not to be awkward with you and his convo after the eventful day

You can do it Eita~!

Yamagata

Let's just say that,

Yamagata went through the late anime girl scenario

But with his toast falling down from his mouth while running towards his school

And his stamina almost running low despite being a volleyball player and a libero

(His house's prolly far from his school, cut him some slacks sheesh)

He's pretty much stumbling a lot when he enters the school and speed walking up the stairs

Some of the students look at him weirdly but that doesn't become his main concern because a strict teacher is going first

Yamagata's almost there, almost reaching his classroom's door

But god had other plans and place an invisible rock in front of him

And as you can tell, he slipped on it and now facepalming the floor

(The sound is so loud my lord)

He groaned, shaking a little while trying to sit up from his position

The male look up and is now face to face with you, who's looking down at him

Okay he might be delusional from the impact but is he actually looking at an angel right now?

"Dude, you okay? That's gotta hurt from the sound that it made—"

Your words drowned inside his mind as he widened his eyes with pink tints decorating his cheeks

'This...THIS IS IT!'

"—also I think your nose is bleed—"

"PLEASE MARRY ME!!"

You flinched at that but keep a calm face, a little bit concerned that he may hit his head too hard

While Yamagata is just having heart eyes for you, sparkles around him after saying those words almost too confidently

He doesn't know what's in him that make him think that you're the one,

But he definitely can feel it

You sighed, crouching down while searching through your pocket and pulling out a small pack of tissues,

"I think we're going so fast right now but no, maybe 5 years later or never,"

"Does that mean you agree??"

"I don't know, you're handsome but also stupid, a himbo I think,"

You wipe away the blood dripping down his nose, taking his arm, opening it and put the bloodied tissue on it before closing it, giving a light tap,

"Now go to the nurse office,"

"Will you be there for me?"

"No,"

You help him stand up, dusting his shoulder and walk away as if nothing happened

Yamagata watches you from the distance with a lovesick smile

Tendou laughed behind him with Ushijima and Reon next to him and Semi looking at Yamagata, confused,

"Hayato, I have no idea if you had your alarm on but you just came to school during recess,"

"She's perfect...also, I think I need to go to the nurse right now cause my head hurts,"

Yamagata's Current Mission!

Marry [y/n]

Have fun, Hayato~!

Reon

(He will have the best love at first sight cause I say so)

It was the school festival and it's lively in every corner of the school, the outside, inside the classrooms, even the hallways

Reon had just finished his part of his classroom and now can walk around to enjoy the festival

Honestly, it's a pretty normal day to him despite being the school's festival

The students of Shiratorizawa has always been this lively so it's good that they can be keep the atmosphere as how it is like any other days

Since the others are still working on their parts, Reon was all by himself

Sure, the quiet sounds without Tendou, Semi and Yamagata is fine but he prefer it being loud anyway

A short of way to fill in the boring silence

But what's the bad thing to enjoy the peace once in a while?

So he take a small walk outside the Shiratorizawa building

Stalls decorated the outside with students busy serving the customers

He was greeted by some of them as he greeted them back with a warm smile

Hands inside his pocket while looking at the sky every few seconds

Baby blue sky with fluffy white clouds, it is the spring afterall

It was at that moment where he turn his head around and caught your eyes

It was something between those few seconds that a lighting strike between the string connecting you two for a second

Reon knew he did from the moment you two clashed with each other so suddenly

It was...not love at first sight exactly,

But rather, familiarity, like,

'Oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you,'

The staring prolly lasted more than he expected before you snapped out from your thought, shaking your head,

"Sorry! Didn't mean to..." "But you didn't do anything?" He rose an eyebrow, smiling sheepishly and watch your panic slowly dissolves

"Well, technically yeah but It was bad of me to stare off at you like that,"

He chuckled, your heart clenching at that,

"Don't worry, I think I did it too...maybe both of us did,"

"Ah, yeah! Probably..." you fiddled with your fingers, visibly nervous facing him since he's basically a stranger even tho being in the same school,

"Reon Oohira," "Eh?" You look at him with confusion at first, while he just offers you a smile,

"My name, since we have...how to say it, meet each other? And I don't want to make you uncomfortable after all that so I think it's best if we introduce ourselves,"

Your heart's basically beating out loudly that you'll afraid that he'll hear it

But, that doesn't seem so bad, does it?

You mirrored his smile, this time more confidently than before,

"[y/n] [l/n], nice to meet you Reon!"

"Please,"

Reon put his hand onto your head, "Just call me Hira,"

You fainted

"She's interesting, I love her,"

Reon's Current Mission!

Get to know you better and honestly, there's nothing else to do after that other than asking you out

You'll do great, Oohira~!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu crack #shiratorizawa #shiratorizawa x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #tendou x reader #tendou satori #semi x reader #semi eita #yamagata x reader #yamagata hayato #reon x reader #reon oohira

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kozumekenza · 3 years

Text

on my mind :: two

:: suna rintarou x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 1.5k ::

After a drunken one-night stand with your ex, you thought you could get him out of your life for good. Unfortunately, the two of you can’t seem to keep away from each other. Why can’t you leave each other alone? And more importantly, why is he still on your mind?

tw: mentions of alcohol, hangovers, profanity, talk of sex, one-night stands

After a lot of deliberation and even more wine with Yachi, you both came to the conclusion that ignoring Suna and the one-night stand would be the best course of action. You were also hesitant to give back the National Team jersey you had taken, fearing that it would draw attention to what had conspired between you two.

Instead, you adopted the expensive jersey into your wardrobe.

So now you sat, head thrown back over the edge of your couch, fifth glass of wine in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, bright red jersey with a large 12 and Suna’s name emblazoned on the back haphazardly thrown over your body. It was a comfortable jersey, plus, it was laundry day. You would wash it before (if) you ever gave it back.

Yachi stole the wine glass out of your hand before you could drain the rest of it.

“What the fuuuuck, ‘Toka? I was almost finished!”

Yachi just looked at you with a blank expression. “Y/n, you need to go to bed before you show up to your first day of work hungover. You’ll thank me in the morning. C’mon,” she grabbed your hands to pull you up, dragging you along all the way to your bedroom.

You cuddled into the sheets, trying to ignore the smell of Suna’s cologne on the jersey and failing miserably. Yachi brought you a glass of water and painkillers, then turned off the lights and bid you goodnight.

At least you knew why Suna was in Tokyo now. It made sense that he would make the National Team, and it was a major oversight on your part for accepting a job as a trainer for said team. However, there was nothing you could do now. You would just have to wait and see how it all played out.

You tossed and turned before finally surrendering to the comfort of the jersey’s scent. It was easier to fall asleep when you could pretend someone was next to you, anyway. When you ultimately dozed off, it was to memories of your ex-boyfriend’s calming hugs and bright smile.

---

When you arrived at the National Team Training Center the next morning, you were anxiously waiting for Suna to corner you about Saturday night’s events. Instead, you were able to walk all the way down to your new office across from the locker rooms without seeing anyone else. You set down your purse and backpack in your new office, smiling at the Assistant Athletic Trainer plaque outside your door. Popping back out into the hallway, you dropped a coffee off with your boss, Iwaizumi Hajime, whose office was adjacent to your own.

Practice didn’t start for another hour, giving you plenty of time to calm your nerves about seeing Suna. You booted up your laptop and began preparing the players’ training regimens. After about thirty minutes, Atsumu strolled into your office.

“Hey, y/n!”

“‘Tsumu!” He wrapped you in a big hug, lifting you off the ground and causing you to giggle.

“How’ve you been?” He set you back down and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Good! Lots of prepping for this new job, making sure all of your workouts are in order.” You gave Atsumu a light punch in the arm. You had missed joking around with him. Before you moved away from Hyogo, he was one of your best friends.

“Well, I hope it goes well. Hey, speaking of which, my shoulder has been kinda sore lately, think you could massage it for me?”

You just rolled your eyes and nodded. Of course, Atsumu would use your new position to his advantage. You could already tell that these next few weeks would be full of Atsumu begging for back massages when he didn’t really need them. On the bright side, at least if he was trying to scavenge a massage from you, Suna probably didn’t mention anything to him.

“Let’s go out to the court, practice is about to start. I’ll do it out there so that we aren’t late.”

Atsumu nodded, so you grabbed your backpack with your medical supplies and followed his lead to the court. You dropped your stuff at the bench and motioned for him to sit down. As you worked on his shoulder (his muscles were kind of tight after all), he talked about the temporary move to Tokyo and preparations for the upcoming Olympics. It was only April, but the competition would be here before anyone knew it. At least the team had the benefit of being at home for the duration of the Olympics. You couldn’t imagine having to adjust to a new timezone before competing at an international level.

As you two talked, more players began to filter in. Iwaizumi came out to check on you, scolding Atsumu for taking advantage of your trainer status, to which you just laughed.

“It’s fine, I promise. If I really minded, I would’ve told him to leave.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Iwaizumi looked at his watch, “Shit, I gotta go. It’ll probably be just you out here for most of the morning, y/n. I have a ton of meetings and work to catch up on, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! I can handle it, don’t worry.” You smiled, trying to conceal the large amount of fear you still held for interacting with a certain middle blocker. Iwaizumi gave you a grin before turning and walking back towards his office.

Atsumu smirked at you, “He totally thinks you’re hot.”

You punched Atsumu in the shoulder, hard. “Shut the fuck up! And he does not, he’s gay, and he’s fucking married!”

“Hm, what a bummer. You’re too tense, you need to get laid.”

Your eyes widened as you slapped a hand over his mouth. “Atsumu!”

“Hey Atsumu, y/n, long time no see.”

Your heart dropped as you turned towards the unmistakable voice, one hand still on Atsumu’s mouth.

“Sunarin! What’s up?” Atsumu shrugged your hand off as he stood and gave Suna a half-hug. You stood to the side, slowly inching towards your backpack as a means of escape. If Suna turned his attention to you, you could just busy yourself with whatever you had in there.

“Fuck, y/n, it’s been forever since I last saw you.” You looked up at Suna, schooling your expression into something resembling calm, cool, and collected and ignoring the pounding of your heart.

You gave a half-hearted laugh, “Yeah.” Suna flashed you one of his signature grins, and you nearly choked on air. Why was he so attractive?

“You’re still as beautiful as ever.” Fuck. “So this is what you’re up to nowadays?”

“Yep!” You allowed a little grin to slip through. “Living the dream as an assistant athletic trainer!”

“That’s awesome. I always knew you would do something great.” Oh my God. “Well, it looks like practice is about to start. We should go out sometime, catch up! It’s been years since we’ve talked.”

You nodded and watched as he jogged over to where some other players were stretching, then turned and buried your face in your hands. What the fuck. He didn’t remember Saturday. That was good. Now you just had to play it cool around him, and everything would be fine.

You felt an arm settle itself on your shoulder. “He totally thinks you’re hot.”

“Atsumu, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The man in question quickly removed his arm from your shoulder, giving you a questioning look. “The fuck is your problem with him? I know you two still have whatever from high school that’s unresolved, but you look like you want to die on the spot right now.”

“If I tell you, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” You could already tell you were going to regret this.

Atsumu brought his hand up with a cheesy grin on his face. “I solemnly swear. Now tell me.”

You sighed and internally cringed. You couldn’t believe you were about to tell Atsumu this. “On Saturday night, I got drunk and woke up in Suna’s bed,” you watched as Atsumu’s jaw dropped, “And he doesn’t remember anything, thank God.”

“Holy fucking shit, y/n!”

“Keep your fucking voice down!”

“Wait, wait, wait, it gets better,” you winced as you prepared yourself for whatever bad news Atsumu was about to bring, “He called me Sunday morning, talking about a ripped skirt and a bra some chick left, and that she stole his National Team jersey. You’re telling me that was you?”

Grimacing, you nodded.

“Damn, y/n. You’re screwed.”

You nodded again.

---

After a morning of tough practice, you were finally enjoying some peace and quiet at your desk. You ate the bento Yachi packed for you (she was a literal angel) and tried to avoid thinking about how hot Suna looked while practicing today. You couldn’t stop staring at him; every time you looked away, you somehow found yourself looking in his direction again.

Your buzzing phone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Osamu’s laughing voice filled the tiny speaker.

“Y/n! You slept with Sunarin! And he doesn’t even remember!”

You were going to murder Miya Atsumu.

taglist: @sunasexual @call-me-lulu

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shelobussy · 3 years

Note

I know you talk abou st*cky in the interracial ships stuff, but can we talk about st*ny? Iron husbands is literally right there, but I also always sees Rhodey as Tonys moral support only. And ik Tony is very shippable with most characters, but the fact his ship is Rhodey is one of the lowest ships in ao3 (ironstrange, winteriron and god forbid stark*r all had more fics in ao3).. It's pretty telling this side also has racism problems...

I'll go ahead and answer this here, but letting y'all know that I do have a marvel sideblog if you want to hit me up there (@themarvelarchives).

Hey, I'm going to ramble for a good minute.

So after I posted my very incoherent, controversial take on St*cky vs SamBucky, there were a ton of ppl who came onto anon saying that St*cky shippers were racist. I think I only answered a few, but y'all were pretty insistent on it. I personally have not observed that St*cky shippers are so I'm not calling anyone out on that side of the fandom for that.

I also did not call out anyone on this side of the fandom bc that's not what my meta was about. I think I mentioned maybe once or twice in the whole post that there was underlying racist in the fandom, but since you asked, we can talk about it here.

Covert Bigotry In Fandom Spaces.

To understand what's going on in the MCU, we have to first look at what I call "woke-queer" fandom.

So "Woke-Queer" Spaces is the phenomenon where certain fandom members like to call ppl out on their bigotry, while covertly harboring their own queerphobia/racism/etc. An example of this that we're all familiar with is TERFS and how they like to claim that they are progressive and woke, while also claiming that trans women are fake and trans men are sexist.

How this translates to fandom, however, is the hypocrisy that is cancellation and callout culture.

For example, Supernatural in particular is a fandom that likes to call out the writers on their homophobia and racism, and yet, somehow, the fandom is chalk full of homophobia and racism. If you want to read more about this, here is a truly excellent article from the perspective of a queer woman of color.

Moving on, I've also talked in a previous meta post, on the internalized acephobia that exploded in 2019 after Good Omens was released. Rather than reiterate everything I said in that post, I'll just leave it at this: the controversy in the Good Omens fandom can be summed up by the fact that queer audiences are claiming that Ineffable Husbands is the wrong kind of queer. The hypocrisy oozes off the screen, doesn't it?

A final way this viably translates to fandom, is in how the Doctor Who fandom evolved over time.

So Steven Moffat takes over as head writer and showrunner in 2010. It's a new series, a new Doctor, a new Tardis, and new branding. He steps up the action, changes the color grating, and raises the stakes. Women are sexier, the Doctor is smarter (and more of an asshole, but that's another meta post), and every companion comes with their own impossible mystery that makes them Special™.

Series 5-10 got tons of woke points for having lesbian characters, an episode where the Doctor is homoerotic with James Corden, and an underlying trans narrative with the Master's reincarnation. What a lot of people forget, however, is that his series was incredibly sexiest, incredibly lesbian/biphobic, and basically turned the Doctor into everyone's fantasy sex-object.

This, unfortunately, brought out the worst of the fandom. There was RTD Era vs Moffat Era wars exploding in certain corners, TenxRose shippers vs ElevenxRiver shippers.

What does this have to do with covert racism in fandom cultures though?

Hnnngng ok, so back in RTD era's we get Martha Jones, the Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show. Except for the fact, of course, that she is written to be in love with the doctor. She's a brilliant character--smart, sassy, flawed, funny, flirtatious--and her entire plotline is reduced down to a school-girl crush on a white man.

She doesn't do well with fans, they scrap her after one season.

We move on to Donna Noble (The Other Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show) and RTD's era ends with them scraping her too and regenerating David Tennant's Doctor.

It will be five more series (not seasons, SERIES) until Doctor Who will have another black companion--who gets extra points for being gay--only to fall victim to "bury your gays" at the end of the season (but not really bc no one stays dead on Doctor Who).

The fandom's reception of Martha Jones was historically bad. The comparisons to her predecessor, Rose Tyler, were rampant and everyone was finding a reason to hate her.

The fandom's reception to Bill Potts was also historically bad, as everyone was screaming that she was being written for more "woke points" and that they wanted Clara back.

Fandom has a historically bad reputation of being problematic and, I would argue, the majority of it has to do with these toxic undertones of bigotry that slip under the radar. "Woke-queer" spaces, as I call them, are these instances above where spaces that claim to be inclusive of gender/orientation/race are covertly bigoted.

Marvel and Cancelling

Now is an excellent time to talk about the MCU.

Anthony Mackie (Sam Wilson) has recently come under a lot of criticism from fandom members for shutting down shipper speculation.

"The idea of two guys being friends and loving each other in 2021 is a problem because of the exploitation of homosexuality. [...] something as pure and beautiful as homosexuality has been exploited by people who are trying to rationalize themselves."

I can't find the rest of the quote, but Mackie goes on further to say that it was important to him to portray "a sensitive, masculine figure" without insinuating that there was romance involved.

Woke culture lost it's shit. Everyone was suddenly claiming that Mackie was calling them exploitative for shipping a gay ship as a queer audience, which could not have been further from the case.

Mackie actually makes some very excellent points in that sensitivity is not gay/queer. Woke culture loves to rag on Toxic Masculinity, but the minute someone plays a character who is loving and sensitive with no queer narrative in mind, they are immediately canceled.

What Am I On About

Okay, let's actually address what your ask was about, Nonnie. You pointed out--rather truthfully--that it is unfair to call-out racism on one side of the fandom, while ignoring it on the other side.

Well, I've gone back through my St*cky vs. SamBucky analysis (which is incoherent at best, I apologize for that) and I see maybe once instance where I called out fandom members for being racist. Here's what I had to say about racism:

"[...] Iron Husbands is a rarepair, probably because it’s an interracial ship."

"[there is] nothing wrong with shipping two white men, but it does become a problem when you ignore/bash POC/interracial ships to the determinant of your own white ship."

And then there was the post you brought up where I addressed interracial ships in the fandom. That one is probably more relevant to this topic, to be honest, as I actually addressed fandom racism there. I assume that your reason for bringing up Stony is because it's a ship that is more relevant to my side of the fandom, HOWEVER, the reason I highlighted Stucky instead was because I was comparing the fact that they've both been around the same amount of time and are relationships that feature the protagonist and their best friend.

You brought up St*ny in the ask, however, so I'm going to talk about St*ny for a minute.

As someone who never has nor will ship St*ny, it never even occurred to me that some of the problem behind the Iron Husbands tag being so small is because everyone ships the white, boring ship. You brought up a very valid point, but because I was never in that part of the fandom, I can't really speak to any possible underlying racism there, besides what I've already said above.

I would be interested in hearing a St*ony shipper or ex-St*ony shippers thought on this, but sadly I don't know any. If you have any more thoughts regarding this, Nonnie, pls drop back into my inbox.

You do make some excellent points in this ask though, and I would like to talk about racism on my side of the fandom.

So back to Mackie and his Twitter cancellation. Notice that Disney made him address the rumors and not his co-star, Sebastian Stan. Anthony Mackie is put on blast and made to answer fan demands and receives backlash, while Sebastian Stan gets to fly under the rader. This is not, by the way, a criticism of Stan, but instead of the blatant racism Disney has been displaying over the past few years.

How this ties in with the rest of my post has to do with my "woke-queer" spaces bit. The outcry across the MCU fandom over Mackie was swift and unforgiving. He was cancelled on charges of homophobia and bigotry--all the while these same fans turn a blind eye to any queer interpretation of other interracial ships and discourse in their own fandom.

The racism that I'm speaking about, of course, is an almost passive racism. Of course if you don't ship a specific ship for reasons other than their race, it's perfectly fine. It's okay not to ship Iron Husbands or SamBucky or any other interracial fandom ships. However, the distinct lack of shippers in the fandom IS telling because there are people who would ship that exact ship if not for the fact that one of men is black.

I don't have much more to say about this except to thank you for bringing it up and for listening to my long rambling post.

(Feel free to bug me about Tony Stark, MCU ships, MCU Meta and anything you want to talk me about on this blog and @themarvelarchives.)

#this got long sorry #iron husbands #sambucky #james rhodes #tony stark #sam wilson #anthony mackie #doctor who #moffat critical #my meta #ash does meta #ash does fandom #marvel #mcu #fandom critical #fandom criticism #long post

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yurimother · 4 years

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LGBTQ Game Review - A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986

Before diving into the meat of Oracle and Bone’s A Summer’s End, I want to talk about the women behind this game Tida Kietsungden, and Charissa So. So and Kietsungden have done nothing but impress me since the announcement of A Summer’s End. They have repeatedly demonstrated their immense effort and dedication to creating a beautiful and thoughtful experience. Through conversations with the studio and reading their blog entries, I gained a remarkable understanding of how this game is both a tribute to classic cinema and a love letter to the Yuri and LGBT community. Through careful research and thoughtful expression, the two women navigate and acknowledge complicated issues, including Asian LGBTQ history and Hong Kong’s delicate political situation with grace and maturity. I am in complete awe of both women and their work. However, regardless of my profound respect for these creators, I still endeavor to offer my unfiltered thoughts on the visual novel, giving praise and criticism where appropriate.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a Yuri visual novel set, as you may have figured out, in Hong Kong in the year 1986. The game follows a young office worker, Michelle (Fong Ha) Cheung, who has a chance encounter with a free-spirited woman named Sam (Ka Yan) Wong. Both women feel drawn to each other, and the game explores this mutual attraction and the budding relationship which emerges from it.

This plot follows the standard girl meets girl story that has permeated the Yuri genre for the past several decades. Like most Yuri stories, the older and more experienced woman, Sam, is rebellious and beautiful, with long dark hair and a dominating persona. Michelle, although far more naive in the ways of love, breaks the trend of this trope by being the more sullen of the two. I would have liked to see the game diverge a bit more from the standard story of the genre. Fortunately, A Summer’s End is a romance story between adults who do not work together, setting it apart from the norms. It even includes a coming out section that creates a more robust LGBT identity than any tale of temporary schoolgirl love.

The story is well put together and well presented. The story is told primarily from Michelle’s perspective. It mostly takes place over a few days, during which Michelle engages in a whirlwind romance with Sam. This story features the struggle between her feelings and passion and her devotion to tradition and her mother. The progression of her affection is unrealistically fast. The story feels a bit rushed, and many of the societal and personal quagmires the game stumbles upon are not sufficiently developed or confronted. Had the game indulged in a more prolonged and tumultuous struggle for Michelle, conclusions would have felt much sweeter, and the story would have gone from good to great.

Even with this massive missed opportunity, there are plenty of exemplary moments and aspects of the narrative. The game pulls no punches addressing Michelle’s slightly overbearing mother and the conflict between the two. It would have been incredibly simple to take the easy route on this one. Still, the developers stuck to their guns and manage to explore a challenging situation satisfyingly, all while keeping the characters realistic and sympathetic. In fact, every scene relating to LGBT rights and history is flawlessly executed.

There are also some fantastic chapters, including a thrilling but refreshing bike ride and a flashback scene that recontextualizes certain events from another perspective. The many references and allusions to classic cinema including some older lesbian films and plenty of Asian works, are particularly noteworthy. However, the best part of A Summer’s End by far is the setting.

The location and time period is intrinsic to Sam and Michelle’s tale, as it is shaped by and reflects contemporary culture and LGBTQ rights. Oracle and Bone create a vibrant and lively world, a jaw-dropping depiction of Hong Kong in the 1980s. Everything helps feed into the creation of this world, including a fantastic and retro UI, small touches such as a Cantonese subway announcement, and objects encountered like a disposable camera help convey a strong sense of the period. However, the soundtrack sells it more than any other element, save perhaps the artwork, transporting the player to the era. While a few tracks are the standard easy listening affairs one expects from visual novels, there are tons of excellent city pop and disco beats, complete with plenty of synths and confidence! Finally, a visual novel soundtrack that contributes more than just background noise!

Sadly, the game’s dialogue choice system and branching paths are far more of a hindrance than a help. I can honestly say that the game would play better and be way more enjoyable as a kinetic novel. Most choices feel inconsequential, changing nothing of the story and resulting in almost the exact same response from other characters yet, they have a hidden points system. If you do not earn enough points, parts of the optional adult content will be unplayable until one goes back to find the right choice. I spent several hours replaying, and eventually skipping through, the game to unlock all the scenes, and finally gave up with one CG left unseen. The only choice with any actual effect is painfully evident in its consequences. One option leads to the bad ending, which is well written, but no reasonable player would go down that path unless they just wanted to see the whole game. The second unveils the true good ending, which no player in their right mind would not pursue, as again, the choice is obvious and adds nothing to the game. There is no reason to put in an alternative ending or tedious dialogue choice.

The characters in A Summer’s End are well constructed. Sam is adventurous without being obnoxious and has a mature though appropriately unrefined demeanor. Michelle is extremely curt and somewhat distant, although she displays a sharp wit and more timid nature on occasion. Both women participate in engaging, deep, and thoughtful discussions, often with each other, although sometimes internally, and thus feel well developed and complex. Unfortunately, their chemistry, while not absent, is not enough to sell the whirlwind romance. There is insufficient expression of their feelings and attractions, both internally or through dialogue and actions, so their inevitable closeness feels unearned.

However, even in the short game, both characters change with each other, especially Michelle, as she becomes more affectionate, confident, and caring. She begins to embody some of Sam’s warmness while never losing herself. Some of my favorite dialogue and interaction came from her towards the end of the game, although I will not spoil it. Additionally, side characters have a strong presence thanks to their firmly established characteristics and a profound effect on the narrative. Each has their own sprite and mannerisms, helping cement them as fixtures in A Summer’s End rather than tacked on assets.

The visual novel contains optional adult content, which is installed in an extra patch and can be toggled on and off. I played through the game with and without it and can happily report that the story is just as fulfilling and complete without it. Although the unlockable nature of these scenes is aggravating, they are very well written and sensual without being exploitative. There were moments I did not care for as much, such as Sam getting carried away at one point, but it felt very realistic and incredibly sensual. The artwork in these sexual encounters is some of the best in the game, embracing darker colors and showcasing intense desire.

Speaking of the artwork, it is stupendous. The game is bright and striking, with amazing backgrounds complete with luminous neon signs, glaring televisions, and life and activity oozing from every corner. The backgrounds are so beautiful and detailed they could effectively serve in place of CG art, although there is plenty of that asides. The character models and designs are similarly excellent, with expressive poses and faces. The various outfits, of which the game has many, embody iconic 80’s fashion. Artist Tida Kietsungden draws both the characters and CGs with a distinctive hand-drawn style, which allows them to play well off each other and add to the beautiful presentation. The detail and care that went into the aesthetics are enormous and elevate the game at every moment.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a vibrant and intimate experience. The fantastic setting and flawless artwork surround a compelling and thoughtful story about lesbian love and desire, societal expectations, and the bonds between family and lovers. It is rough around the edges, with a slightly rushed story that leaves little time to wallow in complexity and an awful dialogue system. However, it will win players over with its striking presentation and sophisticated subject matter. I look forward to more from this studio and highly recommend you check this game out!

Ratings: Story – 7 Characters – 6 Art – 10 Music – 8 LGBTQ – 8 Sexual Content – 3 (8 with patch) Final – 7

Purchase A Summer’s End on Steam and itch.io, available April 23

Consider supporting Yuri news, reviews, and content on the YuriMother Patreon

#Yuri #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #gay #reivew #a summer's end #hong kong #girls love #gl #wlw #lesbian #visual novel #games #video games #gaming #manga #anime #reviews

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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A Tiadrin theory

I woke up this morning with a sudden headcanon about Tiadrin, and as I poked at it, it filled out nicely, so I’m gonna go ahead and call it a theory at this point.

It gets angsty, as all good Moonshadow theories do. If your heart doesn’t weigh 6 tons by the time you reach the end of this post, I didn’t capture the feeling properly.

Several bits of detail flutter around this mysterious woman, and I’ve theorized various versions of her circumstances, her relationship with Runaan and Ethari, her former position before the Storm Spire, the reasons she went there, and the reasons Runaan was so hellbent on avenging her dishonor.

I don’t think any of them landed as well or tied together as neatly as this one, though. Hence “theory” instead of just “headcanon.” Here we go:

FIrstly, some meta information. This is a fun tweet, but in this post I’m looking directly at “belief systems as sources of both comfort and restraint” and at the “weight of guilt” and “cycles of trauma” lines, in regards to Moonshadow culture, and specifically Moonshadow assassin training.

And raise your hand if you’ve been looking further afield than the front-and-center Janaya-with-Soren nod from “ripped women who teach soft boys to stab,” because I have. TDP is full of parallels and imperfect mirrors.

So, in the spirit of soft yet angsty cycles and the ripped women who perpetuate them, Theory Part I: Tiadrin trained Runaan, because she was the leader of the assassins before he was.

She’s referred to as a mastermind. Assassin leaders need to be good with plans of all sizes. We’ve seen how Runaan silently adapts to chaos and doesn’t tell anyone what his new plans actually are. He’s a good leader. But he also had to learn those skills from someone. Whoever instructed him was a tactical genius, and also very Moonshadow, and Runaan was an adept student.

Also, Tiadrin is a goddamn badass. She’s several inches shorter than Lain, Runaan, Ethari, and Viren. But she is a powerhouse in battle. She knows her physics well enough to drag this 6′2″ human battle mage skidding across the floor. Monster thighs, monster intellect.

As a 5′4″ woman who trained in jujitsu for several years, let me just say: gender equality in battle is great, but physics does not care. It will crush your popsicle-stick ass if you try to chuck a 250 lb person across the room and your math is off. The most accurate fighters are the ones who know how hard physics hits back when you’re sloppy.

Tiadrin earned every inch of respect, and every inch of her thigh circumference, the old-fashioned way. She worked for it, all day every day. Runaan does the same thing. He might have half a foot of height on her, but he trains like the world will crush him if he’s not perfect. And that’s very Moonshadow assassin in its own right, because it will, and it tried. Tiadrin knew what she needed. And she knew what Runaan, soft boy that he is, needed. And she made sure she trained it into him, all day every day.

Tiadrin is one of the reasons that Runaan survived the fight in Harrow’s chamber. She made him the fighter he is, the person he is, and that was just enough to pull him through... so he could see his own mentor trapped in a coin. Yay, thanks Viren.

Theory Part II: Runaan’s squad was made up of all the elves Tiadrin has personally trained, or trained by proxy.

If Tiadrin was Runaan’s trainer and mentor, then her honor was his honor. And when she supposedly faltered and fled at the Storm Spire, that suddenly cast him, as an individual assassin and as the current assassin leader, in a terrible light. If his mentor was a coward, what did she teach him? Would he also duck and run when things got hopeless, and abandon his duty?

The doubt that must’ve swirled around him when the village learned the terrible news about Lain and Tiadrin must’ve sliced right through him. Thousand-yard stare, biggest internal Oh No ever. Runaan lives to serve his people, and to have them doubt him, after all he has done to train them and protect them from harm, would be the worst kind of pain. He had to make it right.

But not just him. Assassins seem to take solo missions even for their first kill, if Eljaal’s covered shoulders are any indication. You can Moonshadow your feels if you don’t have to watch your friend kill someone, if you don’t have anyone watching while you stab someone to death. You can pretend it’s all serene and just and smooth and valid and honorable. You can hold to your love of life and dance right past your embrace of death, if no one else sees it. But Runaan’s mission had 6 members. They were definitely going to have to watch each other murder people. Why?

Tiadrin’s honor was their honor. An extended family of brothers, sisters, cousins, fosterlings, anyone who was drawn to Tiadrin, or her to them, bonded together over their family feels and protective instincts. They were family. And then their leader fell, her honor crushed.

They had to make it right.

They all carried Tiadrin’s honor with their own, taught by her personally, regarded as honorable assassins. Until she seemed to have a fatal flaw in her character. Then everyone wondered if that flaw got passed down, too. The assassins had to prove that it hadn’t been, for the sake of their people, and for all of Xadia who trusted them to take out threats in the dark. They had to go set right Tiadrin’s “mistake” and take Harrow for Zym’s death. All of them. Every single one, no exceptions.

No exceptions. That’s why Rayla had to go, too. Tiadrin taught Runaan everything he knew about being an assassin, and when she moved to the Storm Spire, Runaan dutifully passed Rayla’s mother’s teachings to Rayla herself, feeling like part of the family, an essential connection between mother and daughter, between assassin mentor and mentee. He tried to get it just right, just perfect, so Rayla would feel like she’d been trained by her actual mom as much as possible. Not just because Tiadrin was Rayla’s mother, but because Runaan respects Tiadrin’s prowess so much. She was the best, and every bit of Runaan’s efforts to be his best reflects his respect for her.

You don’t get to be the assassin leader unless you’re the best there is. Runaan knows that from both sides. And just like Tiadrin did with him, he does his best to teach Rayla everything she needs to stay safe and alive, so she can do her duty too, and come home safe to her family every day.

And, in the end, part of that duty had to be avenging her mentor’s mentor, her own mother, by accompanying Runaan on his mission. Her lessons were from Tiadrin, one step removed. If there was a flaw in her training, no one would trust her when it was her turn to lead the assassins, and she’s not even done training yet! Rayla understood Moonshadow honor, assassin honor. She was driven to ask Runaan to take her with him, and he could see exactly where she was coming from. Their honor was tangled up with Tiadrin’s. They couldn’t back out. They had to go to Katolis, them and everyone else Tiadrin had trained.

That’s why the binding ribbons came out. They were in a do-or-die situation, in the most literal sense.

They could not go home in failure. If they all failed, it would take out a whole line of assassin training, possibly the same one that had lasted for countless generations (okay maybe we can count them and there are like 30) and crush the Moonshadows’ spirits. And they’d literally rather die than see that happen. They were all ready to give their lives to restore Tiadrin’s honor, and their own, because without her legacy, there would be such a crater in the assassin corps that it might never recover.

Yes, this is basically my angsty “Runaan’s found family went into battle together and most of them died” headcanon again, but this time with a solid theory behind it. I’m not sorry. I love this angsty idea, it’s horrible. Do you see the cycle of trauma? I’ve got one more part to add, which may make it clearer.

Theory Part III: Assassin leaders always go serve at the Storm Spire once they successfully train their own replacement.

In this theory’s version of Why Laindrin Went To The Storm Spire, Tiadrin was always going to end up at the Storm Spire, once she became the assassin leader. That’s where the veteran assassin leader goes, see, to liaison between the dragon throne and the current Moonshadow leader. They know the assassins’ skills far better than any Skywings or dragons do, and they know the leader in charge of them, so they can give guidance or direction as needed, or simply phrase the Dragon King or Queen’s request in such language that the assassin leader knows intuitively what really needs to be done.

Yeah, Tiadrin writing Runaan mission directives. I can see it.

Tiadrin’s mentor would’ve left for the Spire when Tiadrin got promoted to leader. The person she trusted most in the world, who had trained her, left her behind, only to communicate by long distance. Moonshadow deniability, amirite--we’re not stabbing people, we’re sending tactical correspondence, yep that’s it. But Tiadrin was still surrounded by Runaan and the other young assassins, and she bonded with them all, and life was bright.

Then, the shadow came once again. Runaan was an excellent student, and she knew he was ready. Maybe she delayed, and delayed, Moonshadowing her reasons. Maybe she wanted the chance to bring life into the world, to try to balance out some of the death she had dealt. Maybe she wanted a few more years of domestic life in the Silvergrove with all her favorite elves, to bolster her heart for the years to come. Maybe her mentor at the Spire was up to shenaniganry in dragon politics and she wanted to buy them more time to lay those plans in place.

Knowing Tiadrin even the slightest bit, I will assume it was all this and more. But eventually, she couldn’t put things off any longer. She had to go fulfill her duty to the dragon throne and join the Dragonguard as the representative of the Moonshadow assassins who had bound themselves to the protection of Xadia long ago. She had to walk away from her bright life, her family, her friends, her allies, and climb up into that misty stone tower, to spend who knows how long away from everything she knew and loved.

And she did. She chose to walk away, for love of Xadia. She took her beloved husband with her, but she left the Silvergrove, Xadia’s protection, and her own daughter’s upbringing in the hands of the elf she chose to replace her. The soft boy she’d taught to stab, who would teach her baby girl to stab, too.

Because this is The Way.

I know I’ve had an angsty headcanon that assassins don’t retire. But, consider this: maybe one of them can. One of Tiadrin’s many plans could have been counting on Runaan’s extreme prowess and devotion to Rayla. If Tiadrin knew that she could return to the Silvergrove in peace and retire there with Lain once Runaan trained Rayla to take his place as the assassin leader, then she could live in the Silvergrove again for the rest of her life, and also get to see Rayla grown big and strong and become the assassin leader herself, another proud elf in a long line of honor and tradition. She might feel that was a big accomplishment, considering the dangers they all face. And it would be.

Yes, this would hinge on the fact that Runaan would have to leave the Silvergrove to replace Tiadrin at the Storm Spire, to serve as Rayla’s liaison to the dragon throne. Cycles of trauma, remember? Tiadrin can’t have all of her family back in one place, ever again. She has to love and train someone enough to put them through the life that she’s having to live, and she has to be strong enough not to let that break her. And then, she has to choose between them. She chose Runaan first, so that she could hope to choose Rayla later. She trusted him with all the future happiness of her heart. And he did his best with it.

But they didn’t quite make it, in the end, because of Viren.

I know this has been a lot of angst. I know. But there is a moonlit lining to this theory, and I think we all need to consider it. If there is a cycle of taking the assassin leader out of the Silvergrove to serve the dragon throne for ancient promise reasons, then if that ancient promise is ever rescinded or redressed in an effective way, the family won’t need to keep yeeting loved ones out of its orbit. And if assassins cease to be a necessary evil as a result, then no one will have to leave, or stab, again. At least, not for the same angsty reasons. They could stay together and never need to leave again.

It won’t be easy to break such a cycle. It might be impossible. But if anyone can manage it, it’ll be Tiadrin, and her family.

extra headcanon for this theory:

Tiadrin, packing up for the Storm Spire: One last thing, Runaan.

Runaan, stoically attentive because what are feels on the day your mentor leaves you: Yes, Tiadrin?

Tiadrin: Ethari will need to pick an apprentice to replace him, too. He should start looking now.

Runaan: Why? Only the Silvergrove’s Master Craftsman gets to pick an apprentice, and Ethari isn’t--

Tiadrin: *wink” Not yet, he’s not.

Runaan: Tiadrin, please, what have you done?

Tiadrin: I want to come back here someday, Runaan. I want to see your good work with Rayla. And I can’t do that if you flat-out refuse to leave your husband when Avizandum calls for you to replace me. So he needs to be ready to leave, too.

Runaan: I, I, I would nev-- I couldn’t--

Tiadrin: *patting his shoulder briskly as she strides out* Mmhmm, sure thing, kid. The council votes him in next Thursday. Be good while I’m gone! I want to find this place exactly the way I’m leaving it. Lain, honey, get your coat!

Lain, in the next room: Yes, Tiadrin!

Runaan, soft-eyed, to the silence in her wake: Yes, Tiadrin.

#tdp #tdp theory #tdp angst #laindrin #tiadrin #runaan #rayla #tdp headcanons #i liked her before but now i adore her

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atlafan · 4 years

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Lake House Tattoo - One Shot

a/n: so my birthday is in a couple of days, and I think a lot of you know I write about piercings a lot, but don’t have any major ones of my own...or at least I didn’t UNTIL TODAY! Finally got my belly button pierced yall! I wanted my nose done, but it’s not safe to do so yet, so I got the next best thing. Anyways...the guy that took care of me was really nice, and made me want to write a little piercer!Harry fic. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: FLUFF!

Words: 2.3K

Y/N was a simple woman. She worked a 9-5, regular old office job, and she liked it enough. She had a great group of friends, and a relatively normal family. There wasn’t too much to complain about. She was well past her wild college days, but as her twenty-fifth birthday was approaching, she wanted to do something that she felt was a little out there for herself.

A lot of her friends had different types of piercings. She only had her ears pierced. She had two sets in her lobes, and a simple stud in her cartilage. But her friends has some of the cooler ones, some had their noses pierced, and others had their belly buttons done. Bingo. A belly button piercing would be perfect. It was the little bit of defiance she was looking for, but it was also discrete. Maybe for any other person it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but it was something her mother was adamant about not allowing her to have as she was growing up, which was annoying because it seemed like everyone had it.

“Will you please come with me? I’ll need someone to hold my hand…” She asked her best friend, Maggie.

“Of course! But I promise, it won’t hurt that much. Where are you getting it done?”

“Lake House Tattoo, the piercer came really recommended from some friends at work. I wish I could have my nose pierced, but it’s frowned upon.” She sighs. “And another ear piercing isn’t outrageous enough.”

“Plus it’s discrete like you wanted. Are you going to tell your mom?” She giggles.

“Maybe some night if I get drunk enough and work up the courage. I’m about to be twenty-five, I’m an adult, I don’t live at home, she can’t say anything.”

A couple of days before her birthday, Y/N and Maggie drive out to the tattoo shop. It was on the top of a hill on the coast. The piercer, Harry Styles, came recommended by just about everyone she spoke to, so it was worth the almost hour long drive. Plus, it was a beautiful day out so the girls didn’t mind.

They both walk in, and step up to the counter. There were a couple of people sitting behind the desk. One of them had sleeves on both of his arms and those really large gages. His hair was buzzed short and bleached blond. The other man behind the counter had brown hair with soft curls. It was pulled back by a red bandana and a small clip. His left arm had a ton of tattoos, and his right only had a few. He had a small hoop in his left nostril, and that was all Y/N could see for piercings.

“Hello, I have an appointment at two…I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, the belly button, right?” The man with the bandana says. “I’m Harry, you’ll be with me.” He smiles and then squints at Maggie. “Are you getting anything done?”

“Um…no.” She says.

“Alright, you’ll have to out here, I don’t allow more than one person in the room.”

“But she-“

“Sorry, thems the rules.” He says as he stands up to place some papers on the counter. “Need your license and for you to sign some things.”

Y/N swallows and hands him her license and then signs the forms. She slides the papers over to him and he puts them in a folder. He hands her back her license and comes around from the counter.

“I’ll be right out here when you get back.” Maggie gives her a reassuring smile.

“Ready?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Y/N says nervously. She knew it wasn’t going to be that bad, but she didn’t do well with needles, and she knew she was going to be a little bit exposed to a stranger so her nerves were shot.

She follows him down the hall to a staircase, and up they go.

“So, a little birthday present to yourself, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s nice, hope I can add the special experience.” He smiles and gestures for her to head into the private room. It was small so she understood now why Maggie couldn’t join.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He says to her softly. He must be able to tell she was nervous. “I’m gonna take really good care of you, okay? I like my customers to be happy.” He goes into a closet and pulls out a container of different piercings. “Pick your favorite.” He pulls on some gloves. “Just make sure to look, not touch.”

Y/N nods and peers into the container.

“I like this one, the darker clear jewel.” She points to it.

“Ah, so the electric pink isn’t your thing?” He jokes and grabs the piercings she wants. She laughs nervously as he sterilizes it. “So…” He looks her up and down. “You’re not going to want to wear anything high waisted for a while, and you can’t go swimming either.”

“Okay.” She looks down at herself, now feeling stupid for wearing a tucked in short sleeve shirt with high waisted shorts. “I’ll be able to wear these low, it’s no problem.”

“It’s a popular trend right now.”

“They’re just flattering.” She laughs nervously again and he smiles. She watches as he puts something on a q-tip and he looks at her.

“Are you wearing a bra with that?”

“Um…yes?” She had to be blushing by now.

“Could you just tuck your shirt up in it?”

“Oh! Sure.”

She pulls her shirt up and does what he says, and then she lowers her shorts a little. He moves to stand in front of her and then he dips down to his knees, swabbing whatever is on the q-tip in and around her belly button. Y/N was sweating. She knew he must do this a million times a day, but it certainly wasn’t every day Y/N had a cute guy get on his knees in front of her.

“Just cleaning you up, sweetheart.” He must have notice her flinch when the q-tip hit her. “There we go.” He smiles up at her and stands to her feet again.

He sets the bed down so it doesn’t look like a chair anymore for her to lay on.

“Okay, hop on up and lay down for me.”

She nods and does as he says.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited, but I’m really nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart. Like I said, I’m gonna take really good care of you.”

Y/N was screaming internally. She wanted to tell him to keep calling her pet names. For whatever reason it was relaxing her. His was voice was also deep and he had a nice British accent, so it was all just very soothing.

“I’m just going to squeeze here for a second to get the area ready.” He pinches down right at the top her belly button.

She flinches involuntarily when he first touches her. Y/N’s stomach was sensitive, it always had been. She takes a deep breath once he’s done. She looks away when she sees him grab the needle.

“Alright, now you’re going to feel the needle.” He says as he presses it through her.

She gasps, biting her bottom lip and pinching her eyes closed. It was over before she knew it, but shit she hated needles.

“Dis great sweetheart, all done. Just need to crew the top of the jewel on and clean it up.” He smiles at her.

“Thanks.” She lets out a breath.

She flinched every time he touched her stomach. He gets the top of the jewel on and cleans the area up. He explains how long it’ll take to heal, and since it was summer it was fine to go in the water, and he touches her lower stomach at about where she could go up to.

“Just don’t be in there along, especially if it’s a lake.”

“Yeah, stagnant water is pretty gross.” She giggles.

“Exactly! No baths either, just as gross. If you’re in the shower it’s okay to get it wet, just don’t let it get beat under the water, yeah?”

“Okay.” She smiles up at him.

“I’m just going to put my hand on your shoulder so I can lift this back up, and I just want you to sit a moment.”

She nods and her eyes flutter closed a moment as his hand reaches her shoulder, and she slowly sits up. She feels the pinch of the jewel as she does so and winces. She can see it in the mirror before her and she smiles.

“Like it so far? You’ll be able to see it closer in a moment.”

“Yeah! Thank you so much.”

“Oh, my pleasure.” He grabs his card and hands it to her. “Okay, now for the aftercare, this is really important.” He goes into the closet and grabs a can of saltwater spray. “You’ll want to get some little paper cups and q-tips, first thing in the morning and before you go to bed you’ll clean it out. Then a few times a day just spritz it with the spray. The less you touch it the better. These heal from the outside in, so it actually takes six months to a year for it to heal altogether, and then you can change the jewel all you want. You’ve got my card, so please, call me anytime if you have questions. The only stupid question you could have is the one you don’t ask.” She giggles at that and he smiles. “Take my hand, I’ll help you hop down.”

She does so and slowly gets off the chair. She blinks a few times, but she’s alright.

“Lightheaded at all? That can happen afterwards.” He gives her hand a squeeze.

“I think I’m okay.”

He nods and lets go of her hand. She steps closer to the mirror so she can inspect her new piercing, and she beams at herself.

“It looks so good, thank you so much. I’m so happy with it. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and it feels great to have it done.”

“I’m so glad you like it. I like when my customers are happy. Come back and see me anytime.”

“I will.”

He leads her back down the stairs with her to ring her up.

“Do you live around here?” He asks as he gets the order together on the computer.

“About an hour away, why?”

“Well, that’s the only aftercare spray I trust and they sell it locally here.” He gets up and grabs a couple of more cans for her. “Take these on the house.” He winks at her. “But promise to come back for more when you run out.”

“I promise.” She smiles and puts them in her bag with the other can. “Thank you.”

“That’s be sixty altogether.” He slides her the receipt. “Gotta fill that out before I run your card, sweetheart.”

She leaves him a twenty dollar tip and gives him his card. He smiles big when he sees the tip and runs the card. She takes it back and puts it in her wallet.

“All set, Y/N?” Maggie asks, coming up to her. “I was just looking around at the shop.” She points towards the room where people could buy piercings and studs.

“Yeah, take a look.” She lifts her shirt slightly so her friend could see.

“It’s so cute! Love the jewel you chose.”

“Thanks.” Y/N looks at Harry. “Well, if I ever need anything else pierced, I’ll certainly be back. This was a great experience.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I also do tattoos if you feel like being especially brave.” He smirks.

“Definitely won’t be coming in for that, but another piercing for sure.”

“Fair enough. Remember, if you have questions, my number’s on the card.”

“Thanks, I’ll definitely reach out if I need to.”

He nods and watches her leave. She hands Maggie her keys, not feeling up to driving.

“Oh god.” She says as she sits down. “Definitely going to take some getting used to.”

“It’s an adjustment for sure. So, was he as short with you upstairs as he was when we first walked in?”

“Not at all! He was super nice, he kept calling me sweetheart. Oh my god, Maggie…”

“What?” She chuckles.

“I got so nervous, before we got started he, like, knelt in front of me to clean me up…”

“Oh, that’s hot.”

“I wasn’t expecting it at all. I know it’s just part of the job so it’s no big deal on his end, but-“

“How often does a guy get on his knees?”

“Exactly! It was…intimate. He made me feel really comfortable. I nearly lost it when he started talking about aftercare.”

“You’ve read one too many erotic novels, Y/N.” She laughs. “He seemed pretty adamant about you calling him, maybe you should find an excuse.”

“He did ask if I lived around here…but that was just to make sure I had plenty of the cleaning spray. He gave me two extra cans for free.”

“You should ask him if you’re cleaning it right, like, explain to him what you’re doing, and then just see where the conversation goes.”

“It’s probably just the shop number…” She looks down at the card and her eyes grow wide. “Oh my god…he wrote in pen and put his cell number on it!” Her and Maggie squeal. “Okay…maybe I’ll call him. He’s really cute.”

“Plus…it’s kind of hot that he works at a tattoo place.”

“Super hot, I don’t know what it is about it. I wouldn’t mind hearing him call me sweetheart again. I wonder how often he does that.”

“Guess you won’t know until you call him.”

“I guess so.” She smiles and bites her bottom lip as she looks out the window. Best start to a birthday ever.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #tattooartist!Harry #piercer!harry

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ghostburs-blue · 4 years

Text

Peace Is Momentary

Summary: soulmate!au where your soulmate will appear to you in a time of need. Spencer’s gone 20 years without meeting his; so has y/n. What will happen when fate finally connects them together?

Warnings: angst if you squint, nothing else really

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: this might become a series if people like it enough!! we’ll see ;)

Spencer knows there’s a chance he’ll never meet his soulmate. He knows the statistics, he’s done the research. Yet, he always feels a little bit better at the thought that someone was made just for him, someone who’ll stay with him through it all.

Of course, he assumed he would have found his soulmate much earlier in life. Most people found theirs when they were as young as 16, though always in the same fashion. Spencer was turning 22, 6 years older than the average age of finding your one true love.

Your soulmate would come to you in a time when you need them the most; when your soul calls out to its other half in a cry for help.

Every time Spencer broke down or cried, whether it be over a case at work, his mother’s condition, or quite literally anything else, he prayed that his soulmate would magically appear in front of him. Alas, the cards simply haven’t been in his favor.

Unknown to Reid, about 20 minutes away, you were in the exact same predicament. All of your life, you had waited to find your soulmate. When your parents passed in your high school years, there was a small part of you that was hoping you would find your soulmate right then and there. That... didn’t exactly work out.

You had moved in with your aunt and uncle in a different city and had turned into the epitome of a rebellious child. You wore clothes your modest family would have a heart attack upon seeing, listened to music the church choir you were a part of would scoff at. However, if there was one thing you were good at, it was school.

You didn’t have a ton of money growing up, so you worked harder than anyone you knew to get scholarships to college. You juggled a full time job at your local coffee shop while still in school to get your engineering degree, and boy was it tiring.

“Excuse me lady? I’ve been waiting for 10 fucking minutes. What have I got to do to get a coffee already?” A man with a thick (Boston?) accent leered at you. You groaned internally, proceeding to plaster a much too bright smile on your face in an attempt to hide your obvious disdain for him.

“So sorry sir! Your cold brew will be coming right up,” you exclaimed cheerily, though you felt anything but. Turning away from him, you let your hands fly over the coffee machine to make a drink you’ve made a thousand times over. Your mind starts to wander as you brew the espresso. Did you even have a soulmate? What if they hate you? What if they’re dead? What if-

Your thoughts were cut short as the espresso machine beeps, jolting you back to reality. You quickly finish off the cup, gratefully sliding it across the bar to the rude man waiting close by. You turned around and caught your coworker’s bemused expression; you were too tired to complain.

Spencer frowned as he gazed at the crime scene photos. What wasn’t clicking?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of Emily’s heels clacking on the linoleum floor. He turned with his chin resting on his hand to see her wearing a pitying look on her face. In one hand, she held a cup of coffee.

He reached out, pointing to the styrofoam cup. “Is that for me?” Spencer asked, secretly hoping it wasn’t so he could get some rest.

Thankfully, Emily shook her head. “No, Reid.” She sighed, looking back up at him sadly. “Listen, I know you really want to solve this case. Don’t get me wrong, we all do. But you’ve been awake for what? 30 hours straight? You might be a genius but even Einstein needed rest,” she finished. Before Reid could protest, she lifted a hand. “Go back to your hotel room and sleep. That’s a direct order from Hotch.”

Spencer frowned unhappily at the brunette in front of him, but he knew when the conversation was over. Grabbing some files he was fully planning to mull over on the comfort of his stiff hotel mattress, he brushed past Emily and headed towards his car.

After a long shift, you groaned as you pushed open the door to your tiny apartment. Immediately, you stripped off your clothes and headed straight for the shower in an attempt to scrub off the now nauseating scent of coffee.

Emerging 20 minutes later with bright red and freshly exfoliated skin, you felt like you were about to collapse at any second. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

Reid sat on the bed, papers and crime scene photos splayed out in front of him. The heels of his hands dug into his eyes as he tried to prevent tears from running down his unshaven cheeks.

You wake with a start, sweating slightly. Looking around, you frown. This isn’t your hotel room, you think to yourself, confused. You gasped when you noticed a man sitting on the bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in months. His clothes were misshapen, hair messy and clearly not brushed. He was boyishly handsome, you decided with a satisfied nod.

The gasp you let out caused him to look up; you both realized what was happening at the same moment.

“You’re my soulmate,” Spencer breathed out, at the same time you muttered “Oh my fucking god.”

For a few more moments, both stared at each other, unsure how to act and what to do.

Reid made the first move, awkwardly scooting over slightly and clearing his throat, patting the now empty space next to him.

You quietly shuffled over, perching politely on the edge of the bed.

“So um... where are you right now?” You offered, genuinely curious as to why he was in a hotel room in seemingly the middle of nowhere.

Spencer laughed. “I uh- I guess it’s a long story,” his voice trailed off slightly as he noticed the look you gave him, the one that said Really?. “I guess that was a stupid thing to say,” he mumbled.

You laughed, hitting his arm gently. “Don’t worry about it. For now, we have all the time in the world.”

And so the night progressed; Reid told you all about working at the BAU and you told him all about, well, working at a coffee shop. You quickly found out Spencer was a literal genius, and you, completely serious of course, asked if he would do all your homework for you. (Spoiler alert: he said no because it “goes against his morals”. What does that even mean???)

You could feel yourself fading as Spencer got happier and happier. You both seemed to realize you didn’t have much time left. You grabbed his hand, staring deep into his eyes. You could feel yourself leaning in, Reid too-

“Wait!” You exclaimed, and the two of you jumped apart. “What’s your name?” You asked breathlessly.

“Oh!” He replied, seemingly surprised that you two had never exchanged names. What he didn’t know, however, was that you were slipping away from him much faster than either of you could have realized. “It’s Sp-“

And just like that, you were gone. You woke up in your own bed to find it was morning, sunlight streaming through your windows. Racking your brain, you tried to remember what he said his name was. Unfortunately, all you could remember was the short 2 letters you heard before you vanished. He hadn’t even gotten your name! How was he supposed to find you now?

Across the country, Spencer woke up with his head pounding. Bleary eyed, he tried to make sense of what just happened. He met his soulmate, then lost her just as fast. He didn’t even get her name!, Reid kicked himself.

The next few days for the both of you seemed like hell. You found out it was practically impossible to find records of government employees, especially from divisions like the BAU. You grew increasingly frustrated while scouring through database after database.

Spencer had immediately called Garcia, but made her swear to keep it a secret. He attempted to give her an idea of what you looked like, only to hear the disappointed sound of Penelope’s voice letting him know that she had a list of about 10,000 people who fit the description. Of course, knowing Penelope, no secret ever stayed a secret for long. No more than a few hours later he was met with a chorus of congratulations from his fellow colleagues, including Morgan’s “I knew you had it in you!”, which was met with a sad frown as Spencer explained the unlucky situation.

Unfortunately, nothing much happened after that. You gave up your search on this mystery man, he did the same. Every day, however, you both woke up and hoped today would be that one special day where they found each other again. Every day, they were met with another heart wrenching disappointment, until one fateful afternoon.

Your back ached as you scrubbed down the counter for what felt like the thousandth time that day. It had been a few years since what you liked to call “the incident”, and you liked to keep it out of your head at this point. You were now in grad school, in a different city. You still worked at a coffee shop, though this one was much more busy and frankly much more stressful.

You stretched slightly, pulling your arms up in the air as you readjusted your torso. You turned when you heard your coworker call your name; he was going to take a break. You nodded at him, letting him know you would take over for him.

There was a lull in the customers in the shop, which made sense considering it was 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon.

You decided to make the most of the break and started to clean the espresso machine in front of you. As you grabbed a dish cloth from the sink, you heard bells in the doorway tinkle slightly as the door was pushed open.

You looked up with your customer service grin automatically painted on, ready to greet the customer. The welcome died on your lips, however, as you realized who it was. It was him.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized something else; he was kissing a girl who was definitely not you.

You forced yourself to walk over to the cash register, clearing your throat to break the intense lip-locking session apart. A faint look of annoyance crossed Spencer’s face as he looked up at who interrupted them.

His first reaction was exactly what you thought it would be. He froze slightly, then slowly walked up to the register with what looked like a death grip on his (girlfriend’s?) hand.

Though it was the girl who spoke, you found your attention kept flitting to the man next to her. You couldn’t tell if she was oblivious, or just didn’t care.

He had... changed to say the least. Stubble covered the bottom portion of his face, and his hair had grown out. His cheekbones looked more defined, and he walked with an aura of confidence that he didn’t have before. Still, you had to admit he looked very handsome.

You were shaken out of your stupor when you felt the gaze of the girl. She looked at you with, was that impatience? You asked for her payment and her name, Stacy, noting it down on both cups before you took her credit card.

You hurried around behind the bar in an attempt to give them the drinks as quickly as possible and get them to leave. How were you supposed to talk to him now? He literally has a girlfriend!

You finished making the two coffees and set them on the counter, calling out her name to let her know the drinks were ready.

“One nitro cold brew for you, and one iced vanilla latte for him,” you handed over the drinks directly to each of them, making a point to shift Spencer’s drink slightly, causing him to look down. He caught your drift as he noticed a little extra writing underneath Stacy’s name.

His girlfriend grabbed his hand, throwing a quick and insincere “thank you!” over her shoulder at you as they left the store. You slumped against the sink, grabbing the countertop with your hands. What in Gods’ green Earth was this?

Outside, Spencer finally got the chance to look at the cup. He smiled as he read what you had scribbled on there.

Underneath your phone number, you had written, “It’s a really long story but I hope you have the time. Let’s talk soon?”

It was nearing 9 pm when you were starting to lose all hope. What if you made a mistake, and that wasn’t actually your soulmate? You shoved a pillow over your face with irritation and groaned, collapsing onto the sofa next to your phone. As you lay in silence, you heard a noise. Your phone was vibrating.

Sitting up quickly, you picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You asked breathlessly.

A familiar amused chuckle rang on the other end of the line.

“Hi, soulmate.”

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marvel-ousnesss · 4 years

Text

Hand in Hand

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Y/N and Harry the night of the Brits.

word count: 2806

masterlist

A/N: I wrote most of this on my phone so sorry for any typos or mistakes. Lots of love 💜💜💜

“Y/N, Y/N!”

You approached the source of the storm of voices with a wide grin on your face. You still couldn't hide the thrill that your fans brought you, nor you could stop yourself from just hanging with them for a bit. You ambled through the red carpet exchanging smiles and posing for selfies until you reached the end of the path.

When you stepped inside, you greeted a few other people who had arrived at the event and went to freshen up a bit so you could pose for some photos.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and grinned widely. You felt like the girl singing covers in her room, yet here you were, attending your first-ever music awards as a nominee —with one of the best albums of the year under your arm.

As you made your way back from the restroom, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, they spoke.

"Well hey, fancy seeing you here.” Harry's voice was raspy, tinted with mischief.

You stopped, turned toward him with an amused half-smile.

"Right back at you,” you joked back. “Do you come here often?"

He exhaled a fruity laugh and smiled at you, finally allowing his gaze to drift down onto your figure and then back to up to meet your own. "You look… wow."

He made you blush with almost no effort but you were quick to cover it up, doing your best to get rid of the tension that seemed to constantly glide around the two of you.

"Well, don't you look 'wow' yourself", you smirked.

It had been going on for a few months now; flirting here and there, hanging out at parties, and even a few dates which you had tried to keep out of the spotlight. Nevertheless, headlines hadn't stopped gushing on about 'the newest, freshest face of the industry' and the 'beloved, eclectic Harry Styles.'

Looping your arm around his you subtly prompted him to continue walking toward the awaiting cameras, where you were headed before bumping into him. He obliged, smoothly guiding you through the crowd of crew members, press, and artists.

After a moment of hesitation, his hand traveled to the small of your back. When you felt his tender fingers against the silk of your gown, you lifted your head to look at him.

"So, what’s the game-plan for tonight?”

“Y’know how ‘t goes,” he explained. “Step one: performance, step two: get hold of all the tiny statues, step three: world domination.”

You laughed, but insisted, “really, how’re you doing; ready?”

Even if he seemed to be perfectly collected, you knew that tonight’s show had his head spinning. This was gonna be his first live performance of the year, and, to be honest, you thought it was admirable that he decided to go through with it after what had happened that weekend.

“‘m just a mess of nerves and excitement right now. Tonight needs to be brilliant.”

He didn’t wanna talk about Caroline’s death and you were ok with it, so you didn’t push on the topic.

“I’m sure it’ll be. The whole album’s just amazing; and, you know, the guy who sings it isn’t that bad either.”

He chuckled lightly, then sighed, “just hope I make it justice.”

You smiled, “you will.”

That’s when you found yourselves between the gray wall upholstered with logos and brand names and the army of photographers equipped with cameras of all sizes.

You both faced them and quickly displayed your best angles.

Offering a smirk as he fixed the collar of his blazer, Harry asked, “what ‘bout you, eyes on the prize, I assume?”

You turned around with grace, so that the back of your outfit was visible, then faced the cameras over your shoulder.

“Well, yeah,” you sighed dramatically. “But, to be frank, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep them there with you looking so dashingly handsome.”

His eyes widened for a second and he let out a ringing laugh, his cheeks reddening slightly. It was truly a beautiful sight. However, no longer than a moment later, he concealed the gentle blush with a snort and a devious grin, which he directed at the cameras.

“I know ’m irresistible, love,” he smirked. “And I hate to tell you this, but I‘m ‘a be professional tonight, no funny business.” His tone was dripping with feigned seriousness.

"Your loss," you flipped your hair.

_______

You guided Y/F/N to the table where your team had been placed. Being honest, she was thrilled to be there with you, but also quite surprised that you had honored the promise you both made back in middle school. When you had first told her about your YouTube channel —after a fair amount of bugging on her part—, she had shown complete support and joked about being your date to the met gala. But, as the met was still clearly out of your league and you had missed the Grammys because of your mom’s birthday, here you were.

She already knew your manager so you introduced her to the rest of them before taking a seat, ready to enjoy the rest of the evening.

The first few minutes were full of laughter and conversation. When the event officially began, you watched the presentations with a gaping mouth and cheered hastily when every award was presented.

Before you knew, it was already time for Harry’s performance. You bit the inside of your lip when he climbed upstage, effortlessly rocking a lace jumpsuit that gave a deific, but simple air to him.

“Can’t believe you turned that down to bring me,” your friend whispered to you.

“Seriously?, my first ever-awards were something I needed to share with you, dork.”

“Awww, friend.”

“Aww”, you mocked, then hit her shoulder lightly. “Shush, let me listen.”

Everything happening on stage was truly breathtaking. You mouthed the lyrics as your gaze followed his every move. His eyes were full of stars and his voice was so flooded with emotion that it made chills run down your spine.

“I’ll rip his throat out with my teeth if he ever fucks up.”

Those words somewhat pulled you out of your daze-like state. Part of you wanted to ask her what she meant, but it was no use. For her, you were an open book, so you didn’t even try to hide how bad you had fallen.

Only with a glance your way, Y/F/N managed to catch the way in which your eyes twinkled when you looked at him and the way you blushed ever so slightly when she brought him up.

You tried to conceal the impact of her words with a sip of your drink, to which she responded with a smug wink.

The following half an hour or so went by uneventful. You nearly fainted when Lizzo performed, and it didn’t get better when you discovered she was but a few tables away from you, next to where Harry had been placed. A couple of categories where presented and the moment you dreaded the most arrived.

Celeste was flawless on stage, and you couldn’t be happier for her. Yet, as you listened to her song, your brows were glued in a frown and the corners of your mouth seemed to weigh a ton. It was time for the rising star award, and then came international female solo —to which you had been nominated.

You turned your head to the side when you heard the scratching of a chair against the floor, and offered a quivering smile to Harry, who had not so discreetly sneaked to your table.

“Hey,” he mumbled, taking hold of one of your hands under the table.

“Hey.”

Celeste’s speech, which ended before you would’ve wanted, was followed by Sporty’s introduction to your category. You tried to stay positive as the nominees were announced.

Y/F/N managed to dodge Harry and get her hand on your shoulder. She gave him an awkward attempt of a smile, then looked at you. “You got this.”

You nodded at her words but, not so deep down, you knew this wasn’t gonna be your year.

“I’m so excited, they’re all so brilliant,” Sporty began.

Harry’s grip tightened on your hand while she opened the envelope, and you barely heard him mumble, “come on.”

That’s when the winner was announced. Billie’s name echoed through the speakers across the place and your face fell for a few seconds.

You were quick to recover and clapped just as eagerly as you had for the rest of the winners, but the smile plastered on your face quivered a bit as you swallowed a wave of disappointment.

That changed when she got to the stage, that’s when utter pride kicked in. While Billie said a few words in acceptance of the award, Jack Whitehall made his way to the table and squeezed a chair between you and Harry. You let out a snicker as he clumsily tried to sit comfortably, then you moved a bit back.

He was given his cue by the camera guy and began.

“Congratulations, to Billie Eilish! Now, I’m just so excited to be here with this power couple who, for some reason, are not officially a couple yet.”

"Glad to have you."

His eyes drifted between the two of you, then settled on Harry. “Harold, you’ve been coming to the brits for 10 years. Not to make you feel old.” Then he looked at you. “Y/N, on the other hand, this is your very first time here.”

"Yup," you chuckled. "Total newbie."

“Sorry for the stock question, but how’s it feeling so far? Kidding, we don’t wanna talk about that, do we? I bet you’ve already got at least five rehearsed versions of the answer to that question.”

You snorted.

“Let’s get to the point here.“ Jack leaned closer to the table, to which you responded by mimicking his posture. “Ever since the ‘Up All Night’ era, when Harold here was just a lad with his little bow tie and a mop on his hair, he’s been a ladies man.

Harry scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

"And, as such, he can only be paired to someone like you,“ he pointed his finger at you in mock accusation, “my dear Y/N, who has been leaving a fair share of lads and ladies’ hearts broken —including my own— ever since your very flare-up on that strange platform which somehow houses both Rebecca Black’s ‘Friday’ and your phenomenal album ‘Tears of Blade’. However, putting my broken heart aside, I wanna Know… you didn’t come as each other’s date, why’s that?"

Harry took a sip of his drink, "I tried, but she turned me down."

Jack faked shock. "Should I get my hopes up then?"

"Oh no, none of that."You shook your head. "I just brought a friend tonight."

His mouth opened in realization, then he smirked, wiggling his brows. "Not to intrude, but… a special friend of yours or a friend friend."

You threw your head back, laughing, then said, "Jack, this is Y/F/N. Y/F/N, Jack."

"Hi." She stretched out her hand, which the host gladly took.

“I like the way your hand fits in mine,” he gushed.

——————————

You struggled to stay awake in the car to your place, your eyelids didn’t seem to be obeying you anymore and your head was feeling too heavy for you to lift. Harry chuckled when he looked at you, bringing you closer to him so you could use him as a pillow. For the rest of the ride, he quietly hummed to the music playing and did what he could to ignore the feeling of numbness that was beginning to invade his arm.

You woke up when the car stopped and raised your head, scanning your surroundings. When your gaze met Harry’s, you smiled. He grabbed your purse and helped you out of the car, then you both took the lift to your apartment.

"Make yourself at home," you said, taking off your coat and shoes.

"Thanks, love." He hanged his blazer on the rack by the door, together with his vest and the purple pashmina that adorned his neck.

After changing into some sweatpants and a t-shirt, you made your way to the living room and found Harry, neck deep into your fridge. That's when you recalled you hadn't done any grocery shopping.

"Tell me if you find something, my fridge's just sad to even look at," you jested, standing behind him.

"S'not that bad. I mean, carrots, beer, tortillas, we could do wonders out of this," he scoffed, still looking for something worth looting.

After no avail, he closed the door.

"Or… we could order pizza."

He chortled, "Y/N/N, we ate like an hour ago."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

He sighed, letting himself fall to the couch in fake exasperation. "Woman, you’re a bad influence." Now, that was a yes.

You giggled when he ended up sitting on the floor, then taunted, "worried your Gucci suits won’t fit you anymore?"

"Ha-ha very funny." Harry settled on the floor, grabbing one of the decorative pillows.

"C’ mere," he patted the spot beside him.

"The couch’s right there."

"So?"

"So?" you mocked, "you come here." You clumsily sat on the couch, but he grabbed your ankle and pulled you to the floor. You let out a squeal but, taking advantage of the boost he had given you, managed to place yourself on top of him, caging his body between yours and the couch.

You were about to gloat, but he placed a hand on your waist and used the weight of his body to push you back, turning the cards.

"You got me where you want me, what are you gonna do?" When you spoke, your voice came out quieter than intended.

Harry's hand found the hem of your shirt and he began tugging it faintly, brushing your skin ever so slightly. He looked at your lips for a moment, then your eyes.

"'Ve got a few ideas-" his words were drowned by the doorbell ringing.

"Fuck," he groaned, head burying in the crook of your neck. Your fingers curled around his silky locks, then you mumbled, "I have to get up, you know."

He grumbled something else, but you pushed him off you.

You received the pizza and locked the door, proceeding to put the cardboard box on the marble counter. As you cut the tape with a small knife, Harry joined you in the kitchen. Stepping behind you, he placed his hands on your sides and a kiss on the line where your neck met your shoulder.

"Patience is a virtue, Harold," you teased.

"Don't care."He rested his head on your shoulder but his hands carried on with the feathery strokes.

Just then, you opened the box and swiftly turned around, giving him a quick peck before stepping out of his grasp.

"Help yourself," you instructed while grabbing two beers from the fridge.

After giving him one, you took hold of a slice and walked toward your previous spot on the living room floor. "Don’t know bout you, but I’m starving."

Harry followed with the box in hand, after settling once again, he placed the box between the two of you and grabbed the remote control.

You shook your head and scoffed, "all that wailing and you're just as hungry as I am."

"Not my fault that the bloody doorbell killed the mood." He took another bite.

Three beers per head later, as the credits of Dirty Dancing rolled up the screen, the pizza had been discarded long ago. You hummed to the credits song as your head rested on his lap, enjoying the feeling of his hands playing with your hair.

"Thanks for tonight," he mused.

"What d'you mean?" You adjusted yourself so that you were looking up at him.

"Just, you know, "he hesitated, finding the words. "You made sure it was a great night."

Your mouth opened in realization before you smiled, lifting one of your hands to his cheek. “That's what 'm here for." Then you sat up, and joked, "besides, 's only fair to admit that, for a business night, it was fun."

"You break my heart, love" he sighed, "all your business partners get after parties like tonight’s?"

"Nah," you avowed, "just the cute ones."

"I'm relieved, then." He pulled you to him by the waist.

You beamed, throwing your head back, "you're unbelievable."

When you straightened up, after your laugh died down, his gaze found your lips once more and he leaned in. "Can I kiss you?"

Your hands moved up to the back of his neck and, without a word, you pressed your lips to his.

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