#i go from fun to angst in 2600+ words

[roosterforme]

Go Slow | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you tell Bradley why you’re nervous, he make sure to go slow.

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for an anonymous request.

Check out my masterlist for more.

You were so sweet looking. Bradley was such a sucker for a sweet looking face. And you were funny and kind, and your voice sounded like music to him. He'd just pulled up in front of your house at the end of your fourth date, and although he told himself to be patient, it was getting difficult.

"I had so much fun," you whispered between kisses in the Bronco. You'd unbuckled your seatbelt and slid closer to him, and both of your hands were in his hair. Bradley let his hands rest on your hips, but that was it. He wanted you to invite him inside because you wanted to, not because you felt like he was demanding it.

"Me too, babe," he replied, breaking the kiss. And that's when your lips connected with the side of his neck.

He squeezed his eyes closed, but he could already feel himself getting hard. When your tongue swiped across one of his scars, he groaned a bit. He pressed his lips together hard, but you'd definitely heard him.

A tiny squeak escaped your lips. "Bradley, do you want to come inside?" you asked him softly.

He took a deep breath. "I would love to."

And as he helped you down from the Bronco, you laced your fingers through his and guided him to your front porch. When you looked up at him, your face was so sweet and so open. He ran his thumb along your cheek, and your eyes drifted closed as you rubbed your face against his palm.

Bradley was raring to go, but when your fingers shook a little as you were trying to unlock the door, he took over for you. He kissed you gently as he unlocked your door, trying to keep himself from tossing you over his shoulder.

Once it was open, you pulled him inside and gently pushed him against the living room wall, your hands on his shoulders.

He yanked you closer by your waist, and a giggle escaped your lips. Bradley smiled down at you as you leaned up to kiss him. You were playful and a little shy in his arms, running your hands over his shoulders and neck and then into his hair. Your kisses were sweet at first, and then Bradley felt your tongue glide against his. When you rubbed yourself against him, he grabbed you harder and held you where he needed you.

"Oh," you gasped, and Bradley could barely take it.

"Should we move this to your bedroom, babe?"

You bit your lip a little hesitantly but nodded your head. "Yeah, follow me."

Bradley followed you so closely, he had his lips on your neck most of the way there. Your gasps and laughs had him forgetting that you seemed hesitant a moment ago. And when you reached for the bottom of his tee shirt and started to ease it off of him, he smiled to let you know he was more than okay with that. He let you explore his naked torso with your hands first and then your lips, but soon he was dying to touch you too.

But when he reached for you and started to bunch up your dress in his hands, you froze. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately letting go of the fabric. He watched your reaction in the dim glow from the desk lamp.

You swallowed hard and shook your head, but Bradley knew something was bothering you. "Are we moving too fast? We can wait. I'll wait however long you want," he rasped, bending down to pick up his shirt.

"Bradley," you whispered, and you took his shirt from his hand when he stood up. "I'm nervous."

After a beat, he wrapped you up in his arms and kissed the top of your head. "You don't have to be nervous with me, babe. Promise."

When he felt you relax against him, he reached for your chin and tilted your face up so you looked him in the eye. "But if you tell me specifically what is making you nervous, maybe we can fix it?"

Your gaze darted between his eyes tentatively, but you must have been comfortable with what you saw there. Because you told him, "I haven't been with anyone sexually in a really long time. Like almost two years." And then you winced and looked panicked, so he pulled you closer.

"Okay," he said, licking his lips. "So we can wait. And you'll tell me when you want to sleep together."

"I want to sleep with you now," you whispered, but now Bradley was the one hesitating. "You're the first person in such a long time that I've wanted to be with. I think that's what's making me so nervous. I want it to feel good for me, but I also really want it to be good for you."

By the time you finished, your voice was so soft, Bradley could barely hear you. He looked at your sweet face and kissed your lips softly, then he rubbed his nose against yours. "God, you turn me on so much, you've got nothing to worry about on my end," he promised. "How about we go out again next weekend? Give you some time?"

But you were reaching for the hem of your dress now, and Bradley tracked every inch of newly exposed skin. He immediately wanted to lick your thighs, and the curve of your waist had him almost drooling. When you pulled the dress over your head and let it drop to the floor, he let himself take a tiny step closer to you.

"I want you now. I want you to touch me," you said, taking his hands and pressing them to your hips. "Just... can you just go slow? Please?"

Bradley gulped. That little please had him feeling extra protective of you. "I'll do whatever you want, babe. We'll go slow. I like it slow."

Then your arms were wrapped around his neck and you were kissing him again. Bradley let his hands trail softly along your back, dragging his fingertips over your bra and all the way down to your underwear. He rubbed little circles along your lower back, and soon you were pressing your core against him and breathing heavier.

"Okay if I take this off?" Bradley grunted, fingering the clasp at the back of your bra.

"Yes," you hissed, kissing his neck and running your hands down his abs. "You can take it all off."

Bradley was practically seeing stars as you ground your belly against his jeans, bringing some friction to his cock. He deftly unhooked your bra and let it fall away from you. Then his thumbs were rubbing softly across your breasts, and your head was tipped back in pleasure. Next thing he knew, you were pulling him toward the bed. You went to lay down, but Bradley shook his head.

"Nope, you're setting the pace, babe. Whatever you like," he said, kicking off his shoes and stretching out on his back. He reached his hands out for you, and guided you until you were straddling his waist. "Tell me where you want me to touch you. Or do whatever you want to me. You're in charge."

You whimpered a bit at his words, and he had to bite his lip as you guided his hands back to your soft tits. "Touch me here," you whispered, rubbing your lace covered core against his abs. "That feels so good."

Bradley caressed and kneaded your breasts, and you made more noises that he loved. You leaned down and kissed his lips, still grinding against him. "Touch my hips," you told him, and he skimmed his fingers down your sides, causing you to giggle and jerk against him. "Sorry, I'm ticklish!"

"Yes, you are, and I fucking love that," he whispered with a laugh, running his fingers up your sides one more time just to hear you laugh again.

You grabbed his hands and planted them firmly on your hips. "Behave," you warned him.

He grinned against your lips as you nipped and kissed him.

"Is this okay?" he asked, letting his fingers slide inside the back of your underwear to rub his hands along your ass.

"Yes, it's more than okay," you moaned.

Bradley teased your mouth with his tongue and caressed your lower back and hips. You were now grinding against him in a slow, seductive motion that had him almost crying out for mercy. Just when he thought he was going to have to say something, you braced your hands on his shoulders and pushed away from him, only to shimmy down his body and start unbuttoning his jeans. You started to pull them down his hips, and his dick sprang free. You froze looking at his length before finally fully removing his jeans and underwear.

When you settled between his legs and looked up at him, Bradley could see his cock jumping with delight. "Can I lick you?" you asked softly, and Bradley covered his eyes with both hands and groaned loudly.

"Yeah, babe. You can lick me," he managed to say, and he was sucking air into his lungs as soon as your tongue connected with his penis. You let out a cute little noise, and then you sucked him into your mouth. "Holy shit," he whispered, watching you take another inch of him before he had to push you off. "I'm supposed to be the one giving you what you want here, not the other way around," he whispered in your ear as he rolled you onto your back and ended up on top of you.

You were giggling as you reached between your bodies and started removing your underwear. "I'm not too nervous anymore. I know you'll be sweet and go slow," you whispered with a smile as Bradley helped you get your underwear off. "And you'll need to, because you're huge."

Bradley met your eyes and asked, "Can I lick you now?"

He loved the way your pupils went wide and your lips kind of parted soundlessly before you whispered yes. Bradley ate your sweet pussy, licking you and sucking on your clit until you were writing underneath him. "Can I fuck you with my fingers?" he asked, and your responding yes was so loud and fervent, he had to laugh. He started with one finger, and you were tight, whining a bit at the stretch. He kept his tongue moving languidly around your clit and listened to your breathing as he slowly inserted a second finger.

"You okay, babe?" he asked, and he took the fact that you had your fingers in his hair, mashing his face against your pussy as a good sign. "Alright," he murmured against your slit before licking up and down. You were going to come, he could tell. So he sucked a little more gently and pumped his fingers a little harder. Almost immediately you were squeezing around him and crying out.

"Oh! Oh my God!" You had your hands on your face as you thrust your pussy against his mouth, riding out your orgasm. "That was awesome," you panted, but then you jolted upright in bed. "Bradley, I don't have any condoms."

He withdrew his fingers slowly from your opening. "I have one in my wallet. Think you can help me clean my fingers off so I can go get it?" Bradley was a little afraid you wouldn't want to, but then you reached for his fingers and put them in your mouth. You sucked them clean, and then kept them in your mouth for a minute longer, just to tease him.

"Should I get the condom?" he asked, swallowing hard.

"Yes," you whispered, and he was off the bed and digging in his jeans pocket. After he got it from his wallet, he climbed back in bed.

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

When Bradley climbed back in bed with you, he took some time to kiss your lips and your breasts, smiling the whole time. He caressed your neck while he kissed you deeply, and now you weren't nervous at all. You felt relieved that you told him what was bothering you before you just went through the motions of sex with him. Because now he was being gentle and checking in with you occasionally. But part of you was convinced he would have been really sweet even if you hadn't told him how nervous you were.

He propped himself up on his side next to you. "Are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late to call it a night. Or we can just cuddle now if you want?"

You ran your fingers along his perfect body and watched as his eyelids drifted closed and his lips parted. You placed a kiss on those lips and nuzzled your nose against his mustache. "I'm sure. I want you."

So he rolled onto his back and let his hands rest softly on your hips, and guided you as you straddled him. Then he opened the condom and slipped it on, watching your face as he did so. You knew he was going to let you control the speed, so you lined up with him and eased him slowly inside you. You were grateful he'd used two fingers on you before, because this might have been more painful otherwise.

You listened to Bradley groan with each inch you took, and it was amazing to watch this sexy man falling apart for you. Once he was fully seated, you leaned down to kiss him as you started moving your hips. "You feel good, so good," he told you as you kissed along his neck.

You moaned against him, picking up your speed a little bit, and he held your hips tighter as you rode him. "You feel good, too," you told him, and he reached his right hand up to your chest, kneading your skin and playing with your nipples as you bounced a little harder on him.

You watched as Bradley tipped his head back and panted when you kind of moved your hips in a swirling motion. You could feel something starting to build inside you again.

"You look so good like this, I'm not gonna last long. Can I touch you here?" Bradley asked, letting his right hand glide down until his thumb was rubbing your clit in the most delicious way.

"Oh, yeah. You can touch me there." And soon the little sounds you were making were getting louder. And Bradley's movements were becoming jerkier. When you pushed down hard around him, you came with a small cry, and he held your hips and rocked you back and forth on him, drawing out his own release.

Bradley pulled you down to his chest and kissed your lips, nibbling on you as you felt his cock still throbbing inside you. You continued to kiss each other as you caught your breath.

He held you against his chest and rubbed your back, finally slipping out of you. "Babe, I have an idea. How about I take you out for some ice cream, and then we can stop at the store and buy a whole box of condoms. And then we could come back here and go slow all over again. How does that sound?"

You grinned against his chest and lifted your head to look up at him. He was looking right back at you with a cautious expression, waiting for your response.

Your smile grew bigger and so did his when you said, "Yeah, let's go."

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

Thanks for reading this one! I hope you enjoyed it, nonny!

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[jerzwriter]

Unforgettable (AU) (Unblemished Part 2)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating: Teen

Category: Fluff with a bit of angst

Summary: Eighteen years ago, they tearfully ended their romance, and a deep friendship was born. Three years ago, they lost that too. Now, Casey finds herself in Boston, and they meet, potentially changing forever.

Warnings: Some sexual innuendo

Words: Approx. 2600 (sorry)

A/N: When I wrote Unblemished, I intended it to be a one-shot. Well, fanfic writers, if you had a dollar for every time that happened… An anon question had me thinking, and I realized their story was not over. As a reminder, this is an AU and not part of my Casey/Tobias HC.

A/N 2: Participating in @choicesfebruary2022challenge Day 16, Reunion

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. 😊

Follow up to Unblemished Can be read as a stand-alone

It was a perfect autumn morning. Scarlet and amber leaves created a beautiful contrast against the azure sky. The air was crisp, and the sounds of the city were punctuated by the laughter of children being rushed off to school. Casey took a sip of her coffee and smiled. She missed Boston from the day she left, but here, today, she was reminded of just how much.

She was meeting him for breakfast at ten, and she was uncharacteristically early. She didn’t want to disturb him by knocking so far in advance. So she strolled the streets of Back Bay, reminiscing about her younger days. Back then, this neighborhood was her home. The townhome she was apprehensive about visiting was her castle, and most of all, he was hers. Eighteen years had since passed, almost a lifetime, and if she knew anything now it was that life was filled with many different chapters.

She loved him too much to fully let go, and to her delight, they had remained friends through the years. Good friends who could always count on each other. She knew he was heart-wrenched when she met Craig, not six months after she left. She hadn’t planned on becoming involved with someone else so soon. But her new life in Durham was lonely. Professionally, her career at Duke was soaring, but personally was something else. Without close friendships like she had before, her free time was spent alone with nothing but memories of the life she had left behind.

That’s when she met Craig. His golden hair and kind hazel eyes were beguiling enough, but that smile could light up a room. He was funny and caring, a brilliant doctor who was in awe of her intelligence, beauty, and wit. He was head over heels by their second date, and Casey had someone who made a foreign place begin to feel like home. So, their story began.

Tobias pretended to be delighted for her when she shared the news, and, in time, he was. He met Craig several times, and by the time he stood up and watched them say their vows just over a year later, he considered him a friend. But Tobias wasn't prepared for the self-loathing he would feel as he watched Casey... his Casey... say her vows to another man. He couldn’t bring himself to stand in that place, now he was destined to love her forever when forever was the one thing he couldn't promise forever to her. He knew he had been a fool... but she was happy, and it was too late.

Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it helped him move on, and things became more comfortable. He was an old family friend who visited a few times a year. When her twins came along, they looked forward to seeing him as much as Casey. He was their fun “uncle” who spoiled them rotten and was always happy to roll around the floor and play. And sometimes, just sometimes, when watching them, she wondered how he hadn't considered this life for himself... for them. It would have tortured her if she allowed the thoughts to linger, but she would quickly push them aside. It no longer mattered they belonged to the past. She was married and Tobias was now her dear, dear friend.

Then, life happened. Casey was promoted, and so was Tobias. Her daughter's got older, and their studies and activities ate the little free time she had. Craig and Casey rarely had time together, and maintaining their relationship became harder to do. She didn’t lose touch with Tobias on purpose, but it wasn’t by accident either. On Tobias’s last visit to their home, he forgot to cover the tattoo on his wrist one morning, and Craig noticed right away. If it had happened when his relationship with Casey was still new, still strong, perhaps it wouldn’t have hit so hard, but those days were long gone, and now, it did.

“No man keeps a woman’s name on his body in a place where all the world can see it without reason! He's still in love with you, Casey!"

“Craig, you’re being ridiculous! Tobias and I are ancient history and you're overreacting!”

“Am I?! He's loaded! He could have it removed or altered if he wanted to, but nearly two decades later, he hasn't. And if it's no big deal, then why has he been hiding it from me all these years? All the years I befriended him, and had him sleeping under my roof! It took time for me to accept that my wife’s ex-lover was also her best friend, but I did because I thought what you shared was in the past. Now I know, at least for him, it never was!"

She knew she'd have to make a choice, and she chose her family. So the phone calls and texts tapered off, the visits stopped completely, and the years passed by. Casey lost track of the last time they spoke; it hurt too much to recall. But Tobias remembered, to the day.

A year in advance is when they received their invitations. Casey & Craig had been asked to speak at a conference being hosted in Boston, at Edenbrook to be exact. It was a two-week event and too good of an opportunity to pass up, so Casey accepted immediately; Craig sent his regrets.

“Of course, you have to go,” he said sarcastically over breakfast, never looking away from the newspaper in his hands. “Two weeks no less; that makes it all the more appealing. Doesn't it?”

In the past, she would have argued, defended, reassured. But she didn't have it in her anymore. Standing from the breakfast table, she threw her dish in the sink and left the room without a word.

And now, she was there in Boston. Anxiously waiting on a bench lining the picturesque street she once thought would always be her home. About fifteen minutes before she was supposed to arrive, she saw his familiar blue door open in the distance... then she walked out. Her stunning red mane glistened in the sunlight, and she was just beautiful; even wearing a far too baggy sweatshirt that Casey knew had to be his... she looked like a Botticelli angel.

They laughed... the two of them... and traded smiles. Before she turned away he wrapped her in a long embrace. Muscle memory is a weird thing, and though she was over half a block away, Casey knew just how that felt.

She stood and began walking toward the house, passing the young woman by as she did. Young being the operative word.

“Oh, Tobias,” Casey groaned to herself. She had to be less than half his age! But then again, what business was it of hers? She was there to see an old friend, her claim on him ended long, long ago.

The door swung open, and his smile was bright as the morning's sun. Casey felt her heart flutter; she forgot what his smile could do. He immediately took her in his arms, and they hugged for what felt like an eternity. She was relieved when he said they should eat out. Now that she was so near, she didn't think she could handle being in her former home, and Tobias knew he wasn't prepared to see her in it.

It was too nice of a day to be indoors, so they decided to pick food up at a local deli and eat along the Esplanade. Three years, four months, two weeks, and three days. That's how much time had elapsed between them. Tobias was quite sure of that. Yet, being together immediately felt like home. Breakfast was pleasant, filled with conversation and laughter, and neither wanted that to change. So she didn’t ask about the beautiful redhead that she saw him with earlier today, and he didn't tell her how his heart broke all over again when she stopped taking his calls.

When breakfast was done, they took a stroll along the river.

���So, you’re here for two weeks?” he said as if trying to convince himself.

“Mmm-hmm, a little over, actually. Since I won’t have much free time during the conference, and I extended a little to spend some time with Sienna.”

“Really?” He questioned. “I’m surprised that Craig and the girls are okay with you being away a day longer than you have to be.”

“Yeah, well…” she tapered.

He looked at her with growing concern, and she motioned toward a patch of grass. Sitting on the bare earth with her legs crisscrossed beneath. He leaned back on his elbows beside her, careful to keep a safe distance away.

“So," he asked gravely. "What’s going on?”

“Life… life changes,” she sighed.

It was clear that this was going to be a serious conversation, and he wanted to assure her that she had his full attention. So he sat up and removed his sunglasses to look her directly in her eyes. Casey let out a nervous little giggle, one that he knew well.

“Is something funny?” He smiled.

She grabbed his hand and ran her fingers over the tattoo on his wrist that still bore her name.

“This," she muttered. "Doesn't this bother you?"

Tobias looked down at her hand, which she mindlessly left wrapped in his. When she realized, she retreated, her cheeks turning red.

“No,” he stated without hesitation. “Not at all. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but loving you wasn't one of them. Sure, sometimes when I see it, I miss you, I miss you a lot... but thinking about you never makes me sad. But right now,” he stalled, “you tracing it, touching my hand, that bothered me a little.”

“Why?”

A tender smile came to his lips, and he didn’t have to say a word. She understood exactly what he would say.

“Do you ever wonder… what if?” She asked.

He turned away and faced the water, his eyes narrowing in deep thought. Several moments of silence hung between them before his answer came.

“Yeah. I do,” he whispered. “But... that's life. We both went on and got what we wanted, right? You’re married, you have two beautiful children, the big house, and you're happy…” he turned back to her, “Right?”

Casey deflected her eyes and swallowed to rid herself of the lump forming in her throat. With a gentle shrug of her shoulders, she deflected his question with one of her own.

“What about you? Did you end up with the life that you wanted? Are you happy?”

A puff of air escaped him and he bit down hard on his lip.

“Let's just say that the life I wanted was a lot emptier than I expected it to be, and…” he swallowed.

“And what?” she asked, almost too eagerly.

He turned toward her, his face looking precisely as it had eighteen years before when he let her go.

“My biggest regret is that I didn’t recognize that sooner.”

He never took his eyes off hers, not even after he saw them brimming with tears. She pursed her lips in an attempt to keep them from falling, and then she just blurted it out.

“I’m divorcing Craig.”

Taken aback, Tobias’s blinked. “You’re what?”

“We’re getting divorced. I told him several months ago. The irony is he was planning to do the same; I just beat him to the punch. The truth is, our marriage had been dead for so long, and it’s time we bury it.”

“Wha… what happened?”

“In some ways, I guess he got tired of playing second best, and I got tired of pretending that wasn’t true. I know that makes me sound pretty awful, doesn’t it? But I wasn't doing it intentionally. I didn’t even realize I was until... but that doesn’t alleviate the guilt.”

“What about the girls?”

"They took it as well as can be expected. They’re sixteen now, and they could sense things weren’t … right. It’ll be an adjustment, but one thing I’m sure of is that Craig and I will put them first. They'll be off to college soon, so... it'll be OK. Right? It has to be."

He motioned to take her hand but thought better and pulled it away.

“I’m... I'm really sorry, Casey.”

“I’m not," she stated at once. "Sure, it’s hard, but…I finally get my life back, Tobias! I get to be me, and I don’t have to pretend anymore. Tobias, I am finally free….”

A look of relief came over him, and he then took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Then… I’m happy for you.”

They both turned toward the water, sitting in comfortable silence for a long period of time. A thousand questions were playing in his mind, and he was determined to keep them to himself. But in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from asking the simplest yet most difficult question of all.

“Why?” he asked.

“Excuse me?

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“How did it happen? Why was he ‘second best’? Why?”

She looked upon him with a tenderness and sincerity he had never seen before. It came at the very moment she vowed to herself... no more lies, no more pretending. Even if it made things awkward or it meant that they returned to being strangers again, she had to live in her truth.

“Because I’m in love with you," she breathed. "I always have been. I can’t say I wish we never ended because I’d also be wishing away my girls, but in a perfect world, I would have stayed with you and still gotten them somehow,” she chuckled nervously. "I know I sound ridiculous right now. But I can’t tell you how many nights I've lied awake in bed, just wondering… I’m so sorry, T. I shouldn’t put this all on you. These were my mistakes, and they’re mine to live with, but you asked, and I couldn’t lie.”

She lowered her head, making sure her hair covered her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or fear that prevented her from facing him. But he never looked away. Not when her head bent forward, not when he saw her tears begin to fall, not when she lifted her hand to wipe them away. He reached over and gently raised her chin to face him again.

“You still… you still love me?" his voice cracked. "After all this time, you still love me?”

“I never stopped,” she wept. “I’m so sorry, T. I should have never left you."

“No,” he breathed. “I never should have let you go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. When you were awake thinking of me, I was under the same sky thinking of you. There hasn’t been a day that has passed in the last eighteen years that I haven't thought of you.”

Casey tried to form words, but it was an impossible feat. Her face twisted, the battle she was waging to hold back the sobs building inside of her lost. Tobias reached over and pulled her into his chest, holding her as close as he could, rubbing soothing circles on her back, and wishing he could take away the pain she was feeling.

“I love you, Casey,” he whispered. Releasing her with a nervous smile. "You know what this means, don’t you? If you want, and you don’t have to decide this right now, but if you want... this could be a second chance.”

“But, wait. Aren’t you with someone now?”

“Me?”

“Yes. I saw her earlier today. Right before I arrived, a beautiful young woman. You hugged her, and….”

“Casey,” he half-laughed, “that’s Bethany. She’s not my girlfriend, my God, she’s practically a child. She came into the hospital a few years back; she was in foster care. She was so lost, and she had no one. So I helped her out. Got her a safe place to stay and convinced her to go to college. I’ve been the much older big brother she never had. I love her to bits, but not in that way.”

Embarrassed, Casey playfully punched him in the arm. “Well, in fairness to me, old T would have had no problem with that.”

“Old T was dead from the moment I met you. But…I’m free as a bird, kid. And if you want to try this again, you just have to say the word.”

She reached up and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips to hers. They kissed for the first time in nearly two decades, yet it was as familiar as if it had happened the day before. The heart always knows its home.

“You’d give me a second chance?” she whispered.

“You’d give me a second chance?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled through tears, “Yes! I never dreamed...”

“Neither did I,” he grinned, “but I’ll tell you something. I won't let you go this time. I’ve lived a lifetime without you, and I’m going to do all I can to make sure this is forever.”

“We always should have been forever.”

“Well, I believe life works out the way it’s supposed to, even if we don’t understand it. I wish we hadn’t missed all these years, but maybe we had to. Who knows, if one of us gave in back then, we may have resented each other, and grown apart, but now… we’re both where we are meant to be. We can’t throw this chance away.”

“No, we can’t. I love you, Tobias.”

“I love you, Casey.”

He raised his hand and gently stroked her cheek. She smiled when she noticed the tattoo and took his hand in hers, brushing her fingers along her name, and they both smiled.

“Does this bother you now?” she asked.

“Not in the slightest bit.”

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @anonymousrookie @binny1985 @bluebelle08 @bluerosesbloom @charisworld @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @danijimenezv @darkswagamerpiratecowboyclown @differenttyphoonwerewolf @dorisz @genevievemd @icecoffee90 @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @lady-calypso @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mm2305 @parisa-kh @peonierose @phoenixrising308 @pixelberrygirl @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rosebudde @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @shewillreadyou @sillydg @spookycolorpeanut @socalwriterbee @thegreentwin @trappedinfanfiction @txemrn @writer-ish @youlookappropriate @zahrachoices

[cali-holland]

Holland Twins Masterlist

Last Updated: 6/25/20

Requests: Closed - please read the rules briefly here

Tag List: Open - let me know if you’d like to be tagged for anything!

Lyric Prompt List for blurbs can be found here

Main Masterlist here

~~~

Please note: All gifs used on my blog for masterlists & imagines are not mine, credit goes to their rightful creator.

Copyright notice: ALL of my imagines are posted here on my blog and they are ALL by me. While I do not own the fictional characters (both based on fictional people and real people) presented in my stories and I do not own any of the songs/scenes that inspire my works, I still legally claim the copyright to all of my fics. Do not repost these anywhere, whether it be on this site or another. If you see them on any other platform (or tumblr user) please inform me!

~~~

Harry Holland

One Shots

The Talk

 ~ Your older brother, Harrison, tries to give you the sex talk {1600 words, 6/25/20, requested}

Wrong Twin

 ~ You and Harry have your first big fight and you call him the one thing he never wanted to be called- your ex’s name, his brother’s name, Sam {3000 words, 6/23/20} ~ angst

Pictures of You

 ~ You always thought Harry hated you… but that changes when you stumble across some pictures {2600 words, 6/14/20, requested}

First Best

 ~ When you’re in desperate need of a director and an actor for your latest music video, you happen to meet the Holland brothers {1500 words, 5/31/20, requested}

Headcanons

** Most of these are from events ~ see masterlist of events (+ their masterlists) here

His pet name for you

Cuddling while he plays video games

Blurbs

** Most of these are from events ~ see masterlist of events (+ their masterlists) here

Home

Steal My Girl

Change Your Ticket

When you two get cold, Harry shares his hoodie with you

“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now”

You want to cuddle with him

You’re short and he lovingly makes fun of it

He gives you your first kiss

He meets your taller, older brother

You’re the first actress to play Thomas Jefferson in Hamilton

You’re a documentary photographer

You’re a race car driver and he comes to one of your races

You’re best friends and he finds out he’s your home screen

Moodboards

~~~

Sam Holland

*by request only - note: requests are closed*

Blurbs

** Most of these are from events ~ see masterlist of events (+ their masterlists) here

People are rude to you on an Instagram live and he gets overprotective

Skinny love between you two

He proposes while on vacation with your families

Getting caught making out by Nikki

~ part 2 (reblogged from part 1)

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

My WIPs: Ranting About the State of my Writing

Hey, all. This started as a WIP update on my fic “Aftermath” and kind of turned into a rant about how frustrated I am that I don’t have time to write properly. Sorry about that. I’ve put most of it below the cut, so feel free to skip. Normally, I would just delete the post as being irrelevant, but honestly I have a lot of feels all jumbled up in my brain right now, and I need to dig some out and send them into the world. So here it is, a post born of pure frustration.

I’ve mentioned "Aftermath” a few times, but I figured I’d give you all an update, and also an explanation as to what’s going on with this fic, which was supposed to be the next big historical story in my series, “Sawdust of Words.”

Now, you may recall that I spent a long time working on a truly mind-boggling angst-fest known as “What it Means to Be A Demon.” About 3/4 of the way through, I really needed a break to work on something a bit lighter.

(Spoilers below the break, but nothing very specific, followed by grumbling)

I had a pretty cute idea. Aziraphale and Crowley’s first big night of drinking! And it ends (spoiler alert) with the two of them passed out together! Ooh, and Aziraphale covers Crowley with his wing, because of course he does! Awww!

So I settle in and start with this opening scene of Crowley waking up to find himself hungover and a certain angel lying much closer than expected, then I planned to quickly flash back to the start of the drinking. Gotta show how they met up, etc.

Obviously, I had to stop and think it through. “Demon” takes place around 2400 BC, and there was already a reference to them meeting up and drinking together at a festival in the mid-2600s. So it had to be before then. And my outline for the series has them not seeing each other between Eden and Noah’s Ark.

There were two things I could do here. I could set this story sometime in the three centuries between the Ark and the referenced festival...or I could have them meeting up shortly after the Ark.

Anyone who knows me knows that given the choice between a fun, lighthearted story about two pals drinking and an angst fest about a catastrophic flood...well, there’s really only one way I’m going to go.

It’s fine, I thought. It’s not like I have lots of specific things to say about the Flood. I’ll just quickly go over the events at the Ark, then have them bump into each other a few years later. The plan was to do all this in nested flashbacks.

But that meant I had to think about what they both did the first few years after the Flood. And, surprisingly, I found a whole lot of angst!

This quickly took over the story, making it into a pretty heavy angst-fest. So I restructured it as a hurt/comfort - show the hurt of the Flood, followed by the comfort of them getting drunk and commiserating, and a bit of fluff of them accidentally passing out together cuz like, we really need that!

I wrote the hurt bits pretty quickly, and they got much worse than expected. I may have...um...broken Aziraphale a little. So I wanted to make the comfort more detailed to balance it. Which meant researching the places they were going to travel to so I could do a nice, rapid montage.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I’m...really addicted to historical details in my fics. Things quickly got way out of hand. Each short scene for the montage took at least a week of research, usually two, and then each grew long enough to become a chapter in its own right, and the “brief comfort montage” turned into a slow play-by-play exploring the healing process and some deeper parts of the angst. Which leaves me really stumped on what to do with the “cute, lighthearted passing out” ending I’d started from.

Somewhere around the 20k mark, I realized that this story (now 10 times longer than I’d planned and nowhere near finished) was quite likely going to be the death of me. Don’t get me wrong. I really like it. I want to share it with everyone. Not to mention I’ve tied it into several parts of the overall “Sawdust of Words” storyline, so it does need to be finished!

But because of the way it grew and evolved, it doesn’t have the tight pacing of “Demon,” or the clear theme structure of “Early Days.” And now I’m really exhausted because researching neolithic and early bronze age cultures is fascinating but not bloody easy especially when you don’t have access to an academic library. And since it was originally intended to be written as nested flashbacks, all the reveals are in really weird places in the story’s timeline.

This is the one that I’ve commented both I and my beta are too burnt out to try and fix. I went through it today, moving around pieces to try and get it into its final-ish form (final-ish because there’s still several parts that need to be written, and knowing me this could be another 10k, but at least I’ve identified most of the chapter breaks). I think it can be fixed. It’s worse than “Demon” was at its messiest phase, but it’s not as bad as, say, that one story I started writing in high school and finally gave up on after grad school. (Ask me about that some time. Fun fact: in 8 years of writing, I never gave it a title!)

It’s just that, with everything going on, I don’t have time to settle in and work on it. I don’t have time to research the three remaining stops to a degree I find satisfying, and because the character arc took a bit of a turn I can’t leave them out, either. I don’t want to start any new “Sawdust” stories until I’ve at least checked off a few of the ones I already have on my timeline (including this one, and Ancient Greece story, an Ancient Rome one, a 1968 story, and several after the apocalypse that are intended to reference these as well as get some healing for all the angst I’ve caused). About the only way I can actually get it finished is if I stop writing entirely for a few weeks, and I’ve actually tried more than once and it still hasn’t been enough time.

I really don’t know what to do next. I’m also signed up to write an aromantic Good Omens story for early May and I did write one...it just turned out super melancholy and strange because, ya know, the world right now, I had feels. And it feels strange to submit that? So I tried to start a new one with more lighthearted character moments, and I have plenty of ideas but I just...can’t...find the time.

It’s why I’ve been writing a lot of shorter one-offs (and one adrenaline-fueled insane story, “A Cunning Plan”) -- it’s a chance to step away from all the ideas that have gotten away from me and focus on something that’s just fun. Unfortunately, the longer stories don’t actually get written in the mean time.

So that’s where I am. I’m trying to keep the quality of my stories up to my usual standard, while also producing stuff because I know how much people want to read right now (as much as I want to write). But that might mean these longer historical stories are off the menu for the time being.

(That does not free you all from the angst, though. Keep in mind that both “Obedience” and “Three Little Words” were written in a single sitting!)

[ilovechristopheralexandershaw]

What would your ideal drarry fic be? Like, how would they get together, what tropes would be involved, what would be your ideal story line? Any squicks or triggers or things you aren't interested in? Any HC's with the two of them? :D

THIS IS THREE THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SEVEN WORDS OR SOMETHING HELP ME

Whoo boi, honey, lemme tell you, this answer gave me some s t r e s s. Tumblr, can you just...idk, have a save drafts option for asks? No?

Anyways, back to the point. Snuggle down into your blankets y’all, ‘cause this is gonna be one long post.

What would my ideal drarry fic be? Okay, siriusly, legit anything with angst. Copious amounts of angst. Drown me in the angst. I’m always willing to read an angsty fic, almost always as willing to read a fluffy fic and occasionally have an urge for smut but that’s like…every three months or so lmao. I prefer a story that isn’t based on the size of one’s cock. (Sorry if that’s a little crude). I’m fine with any length of fic, as long as it has a good story behind it and if it hopefully has some heart-wrenching moments that make me feel like I might have a soul after all. I love fics that keep their character – not too much, though – and have them arguing with each other all the time – its more real to me, and makes me laugh. I love drarry because of that, because it’s that ship that will keep their relationship, unlike idk shrek and Fiona who fall for each other and lose their old self completely. Drarry is that ship that stays intact and old and new at the same time, and that’s why I love it. 

How would they get together? I have this vision of the two getting together slowly. First it’s banter, insults, hexing, all the while having miscommunication and some serious pining because I’m an absolute sucker for that shit. As I said, angst. Hate turns to like and death threats to exasperated, witty little replies, private jokes between the two of them – a Malfoy Stinks embroidered on his robes in place of Healer Malfoy.

I love fics where there’s just that one, final leap of – I have to do it, otherwise I’ll never get another chance, I don’t care about the consequences. If it’s a kiss that gets them together, in that ‘final chance’ way, I love it when the other is too shocked, and the first person just loses all hope (I mean until like two seconds later when they’re snogging the life out of each other lmao). Basically just a slow build and all the sass 😊 

Tropes? Okay, I’m gonna admit that even though I’ve been in the fandom for a few months, I still can’t define so much, but I hope most of what I write here is legible.

I love coffeeshop Aus, I find them really cute and sweet, and a blushing Malfoy is always a bonus. Eighth year is my absolute jam, unless it’s a drinking fic in which case no thanks. I love friends to lovers or enemies to lovers – the slow build, especially if the author has timed it perfectly, is just argh, I love it. Pining has been mentioned like a hundred times already but I’m going to say it again just because. Roommates are okay, I guess, but not exactly my go-to. I do like muggle Aus, and even though I think Potter should be a teacher, I enjoy the action in an Auror Partners fic, too. Also uh..oops? This was supposed to be tropes that were involved not the tropes you like you dumb butt. That’s not what Nonny asked.

My ideal storyline for a drarry fic? Not sure if this is what you’re asking but I’m gonna go with it and if I’m wrong then I’m wrong y’know?

As I said, I like fics with pining. I love a number of storylines, but I’m just gonna choose one for this thing since it’s already almost if not over two thousand words (is anyone even reading this? Who cares, I’m having fun) okay I checked its like over 2600 help me. Also this turned out into a fic not an ideal storyline hhhhhhhh

I guess I like fics with slow-building pining, going from meeting together at work or having to work together for some reason in eighth year, or just seeing each other in eighth year. PTSD gets them together, but so does the (admittedly weaker) banter, since nobody understands either of them – the Saviour and the Ex Death Eater. The press is still going off about the war, and everyone has their own ways of coping. Soon enough, they’re friends – (ok let’s pretend this is eight year) and helping each other through the bad days. And soon enough, the insults that hit closer to home for others but not them, the inside jokes, the love of Quidditch, the homework assistance – all this time around each other turns to pining. Malf-Draco, with his white-blond hair and black turtlenecks that he kept even though that was what he wore as a Death Eater. With his now self-deprecating jokes instead of hurtful insults. With his smile, that shows his sneer lines of the past. With his blue-gray eyes. With his knowing smirk when they’ve done one of their own eighth year pranks. Even with his wonky Charms and obsession with stroking the Dark Mark and the way he stops in front of the Room of Requirement every time they pass. And Harry, with his mop of untidy hair and glasses that have had Reparo used on them who knows how many times by now? With his bright green eyes, with his surprisingly pale skin, with the way he disappears into the forest every now and then, staring at the clearing where Voldemort once thought him dead. They pine, they’re oblivious, and finally, Pansy spills it to draco, an exasperated ‘will you kiss him or not’ just as Harry rounds the corner in his invisibility cloak. ‘are you stupid. Pans? We’re just friends.’ (wow ideal storyline this is a mini fic by now what am I doing with life my math sheet is like right in front of me I should be doing that). The questions, that night, in their respective beds. And the finale, with Harry rethinking ‘we’re just friends’ in his head in the final Seeker-to-seeker game, Draco leaning in.

Finally. 

Okay, squicks. Here we go. First of all, I don’t really like fics where they speak really…I don’t know, childishly? To each other eg. too many cheesy pet names (‘Hi hun,’ he giggled, taking the offered plate), since my idea of drarry is a couple that banters all the time, not one that sits around squealing at each other. That’s the main reason I ship them, after all.

Another squick, although this just annoys me more than makes me uncomfortable, is when there’s a fic involving children where the author makes their speech like that of a baby. Five year olds and younger can make legible sentences, so it’s sometimes irritating when eight-year-old Scorpius is saying ‘dada give h-h-hoog’ if you get my drift.

Daddy kink is another thing. If you like it, good for you but personally, I- *shudders* no thanks. It’s just – okay, my dad’s like over fifty, and that’s what I imagine if I think of that. Sex with my dad? I’ll pass. Calling your boyfriend your ‘daddy’? I- no no no just no I’m sorry but no.

Okay, I’ll rephrase. Most, if not all kinks make me uncomfortable – I’ve said daddy already, Parseltongue (just any other language) is just weird to me (it’s not disgusting, I just find it kind of dubious I guess.), any sort of pet play is similar if not worse than daddy kink, choking or breath play sounds more like rape (I’m crude, handle it), lingerie is just hella weird and I don’t even want to know what tentacles are, thank you very much. I’ll stick to my vanilla sex.

Any sort of sex toy/tool use is also a squick (including painful BDSM stuff), but I’m not sure if that’s kink so I’ll just add it here.

I don’t mind OOC fics, but, again, if they’re too soft (unless it’s some sort of caring angsty oneshot e.g. most of @rose-grangerweasleyisbae ‘s ones) then they most likely don’t work with me either. 

Triggers? No, I haven’t read any fics that have triggered me in any way and I’m not sure if I have any. Most are squicks.

Fics, or tropes, I guess, that I’m not interested in would include either one being some sort of Magical Creature (although there are some exceptions – some writers make really good fics with these tropes), and by that I mean any humanoid creature such as a werewolf, vampire etc. Veela especially. Also, anything with mates. (Fun fact, in my first answer that got deleted, I wrote a headcanon fic thing with draco as a bowtruckle since I said I don’t know if that’s a squick bc I’ve never read it and decided to do it for fun)      

Dunno what this is, but I’m gonna include it as well – I also don’t like fics where their entire supposedly ‘loving’ relationship is completely based on sex. I’m okay with it if they’re supposed to be fuckbuddies at that point in the relationship, but if this is what the author is calling their ‘established relationship’, I don’t really like it. 

Any fic that loses the banter after their getting together, where their world and source of happiness is completely revolving around the other – that is also one of my disinterests. As I said, I ship drarry for the sass and banter (and angst). Not the sappy love. 

I don’t really like unhealthy relationships – I read a fic where the whole reason Draco allowed Potter to date him was because he complimented his flying skills, not because he liked him. That’s a really minor example, but basically any fic without actually liking each other or as I said, an unhealthy relationship, doesn’t take my fancy. Unless, of course, they’re fixing it. 

A fic that starts somewhere in the books, eg. third year or something, don’t normally take my fancy, but, again, there is the occasional exception that I turn out to love.

Not exactly Drarry but any poly relationships with the two of them are also a disinterest – I feel like they’re the ones for each other. Dunno if this sounds polyphobic or whatever it’s called, and it probably does, but that’s not it. I just personally don’t think Drarry need another person. Other ships, maybe. Drarry? Not for me. 

Eighth year fics that are based on drinking and drinking games also aren’t my thing (omg there’s like eight million alsos here what am i doing don’t shoot me please (ok i fixed it)). I just don’t like them. 

And fics with any sort of bonding lose my interest pretty quickly, especially sexual magic bonds. Mpreg, as well, again, I’ll read the occasional fic but most of the time I don’t really like it. 

Age difference, again, are something I find strange, and I can go on for hours but this is now around three thousand words and I should stop so y’all can go read your fics lmao.

 And um I’ll give you two headcanons as my way of apologising for the unbelievably late reply

 Harry, lying on the ground, blood dripping from a massive slash in his stomach, chest barely moving, lips slightly parted, tinged red with drying blood

Malfoy, now just a colleague, they’ve lost the schoolboy animosity, hovering over him, wand casting diagnostic spells even though he knows they’re no use – he knows the curse but he doesn’t know the exact variation – and the wrong healing spell will kill the Saviour – he can’t take that chance.

‘Scared, Malfoy?’

His head jerks up, pale eyes widening at the old question thrown back at him. Shoulders slump, his lungs heaving from all he spells he’s cast

‘Yes’ 

Idk just the idea of that final admittance – yes. Idk, just, my heart, man.

Okay headcanon 2 which is more of a fic by this point (someone help me im so bad at headcanons. Like this is all fleshed out in my head but ugh)

Eighth year holidays, Draco is sitting alone at the blazing fire in the common-room, strangely enough knitting, as he talks, friendly but quiet to a surprisingly happy Moaning Myrtle (the common room is where the old bathroom was)

Hermione Jean Granger sits down next to him and he flinches, almost expecting a slap like third year – he’s had hexes from Muggleborns who had nothing to do with the war, and here’s the Saviour’s friend – of course she’s gonna –

She pulls out a massive textbook, quill, inkpot, blotting paper and three rolls of parchmment from her bag, tucks her bushy hair behind one ear, and starts scratching away

He’s surprised, but still too nervous to ask why

It becomes a habit, her sitting there there, him as well, talking to Myrtle, doing Potions work, knitting as well

They start talking to each other, he finds out she Obliviated her parents and doesn’t want to come back just yet, even though she knows the Dark Lord’s gone

She finds out he’s too scared to go home, with all the memories

They become friends of sorts, helping each other when they can

When the holidays end, there are a few double takes, but nobody really questions it. After all, it’s Hermione, she never was too against Malfoy (nobody really saw that slap) and she’s always been a rule-follower. They assume its part of Mcgonagall’s asking for peace between Slytherins and Gryffindors

I mean, Ron does complain about her hanging about the ferret nowadays and not around her boyfriend, but he gets it. Besides, their ‘sessions’, if you will, are always when there’s Quidditch practice for Harry and Ron (they help train the younger years)

So yeah, it’s not too bad (and this isn’t Dramione I promise although I do ship it occasionally)

One day, though, she brings out a bundle of knitting herself. To his surprise, she knits a single sock and puts it in a box

He asks her why

‘For Dobby’

And he remembers. He remembers the strange little house elf, the one he loved as a kid but had no way of showing it. He remembers his father’s hatred of that elf in particular He remembers scowling at the poor thing, ranting to it – it was a way of venting, but in true Malfoy-raised fashion, he’d been so cruel to it as well, laughing as it jammed its fingers in doors, encouraging its pain.

He leaves the common room early that night

Next day, the Golden Trio isn’t there. Hermione (no longer Granger) isn’t there

He knitted a single sock that morning himself. He’d heard the story from their talks. He wanted to contribute. A way of apology, if you will. If it even counted. Today’s the day the elf passed away, and Hermione had said she put a sock in there for everyone

It’s pretty obvious where they’ve gone. He Apparates there after class, and finds the grave easily. It’s got a bundle of Conjured flowers, stems wrapped around the rock that serves as a headstone, and the box of socks is right there too. (what am I doing this is meant to be a short drarry hc and I haven’t even brought potter in yet help)

He starts crying

He spent last night remembering. Remembering how even through all the pain he caused that elf, a single smile, a single ‘thanks for listening, Dobby’ would make the elf bow and weep at his feet. He remembers how cruel he was, how the elf just…took it in his stride. He remembers losing the house elf, realising Potter had stolen something else of his. He remembers

And he lets it go. He spills all of it to a gravestone, apologies and ‘I know it won’t mean anything’ and ‘I didn’t know but that’s no excuse’ and ‘you always listened, how did you always listen?’ and ‘thank you’ and most of all ‘I’m so so sorry’ stumbling over each other as he tries to explain, to finally let it out

He’s crying and sniffling and that’s making it even harder to speak but he needs to say this, even though Dobby is dead, even though he’s apologised to so many people – this is one of the few that listened to him, and he’s treated the elf like garbage.

Tears drip onto the single sock in his hands

It’s hours later when he finishes. Well, not exactly finished, but he’s said enough that he thinks he’s explained himself and said sorry – even though it’ll never be enough. He’s cast a Light Charm (not a lumos ok it’s bigger don’t correct me) and he leans over to put the now-damp sock into the box too. A final ‘I’m so sorry’ and he stands up, turns around

And comes face to face with the Golden Trio

Hermione stares at him, then grabs him in a massive hug

Ron looks at him, slightly awkwardly but at her glare, he offers a tight smile

 And Harry? (wow how long has it taken for me to get here god) is just staring. Openmouthed. Who knew Malfoy had felt this much about a house elf?

And yeah that’s the point where he realises Malfoy isn’t that bad and then they go back to Bill and Fleur’s (Hermione explains along the way that they went back to the grave bc they saw the Charm and were in shock – was Dobby back?)

‘did you hear all of it?’

‘we heard enough, Draco’

 And when they get back to Hogwarts, well, it’s slow building at first. Potions help when Hermione’s out on a date with Ron, a butterbeer in the school kitchens on a Hogsmeade weekend when they want to hide from the public but enjoy the drink

But over time, the pining and the miscommunication and Draco getting back to his (albeit weak) banter with Potter leads to one thing. You know what it is.

Drarry

You know what I’m having fun writing trashy hcs so here’s a third (although it ain’t drarry. It ain’t any ship)

Alright so there is no hairdresser at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade or anywhere near the castle (I mean it was never mentioned in the books was it so this is possibly canon)

Therefore, most kids have to use spells

But we all know that each of us probably has a haircut that is somehow slightly different to one another, and there aren’t that many hair care spells in the world let alone known by a few teachers in Hogwarts

While some kids know exact spells, others, for example, Muggleborns, just use Diffindio

I mean, it gets their hair cut, yeah? That’s pretty much all they need

Of course, Hermione knows each and every spell but let’s not get to that

And Malfoy uses his own spell and a litre of Sleekeazy every morning

But since everyone else cuts their own hair, it looks as bad as each other

And that’s why Harry wasn’t teased too much about his hair (yes, also bc he’s the Saviour bUT STILL)

That’s why Sirius had long hair and etc.

Basically none of the kids at Hogwarts really had good hair and they all looked like Halt from Ranger’s apprentice (also this one is long as heck I could’ve just said everyone uses diffindio and there’s no hairdresser why am I like this)

[taxesdeathtrouble]

going to be true, if you’ll let me

i really did write another gertchase fic huh

2600 words

medium angst with a happy ending + some good old team bonding

title is from Dinah Washington’s Come Rain or Come Shine

enjoy!

Technically, this is all Alex's fault. When they'd found the safe in Chase's father's office- his parents were out of town for a convention- Alex was determined to get it open that night. 'I'm almost there,' he'd say, 'just a few more minutes,' he'd say. Bullshit, Gert would think.

As much as she wants to know what's in the safe, the biggest rainstorm in months is raging outside, and Gert had wanted to get home before it got so bad she and Molly wouldn't be able to drive home.

Which, of course, is what happens.

So now the six of them are stuck at Chase's house for the night.

She catches his eye from the couch, and immediately looks away. She's not exactly avoiding him, but she is trying her damn hardest to get over him, because she's pretty sure he doesn't like her, and feeling the way Gert does is a waste of everyone's time.

The six of them are sat in the living room, and Alex is fiddling with the safe, Nico looking over his shoulder. She'd already tried using her staff, but it hadn't worked. Gert almost wants to commend Mr. Stein for figuring out how to block literal, actual, magic, but then she remembers he's a ritualistic murderer and mentally backtracks.

Molly is taking up the entire couch and also using Gert's thigh as a pillow, but she can't bring herself to push her off. She'd carried the ridiculously heavy safe all the way from the office on the third floor to the living room two floors down. She runs a hand over Molly's curls, then shivers.

"It's freezing here. Damn, Chase, you live like this?" Nico snorts at her joke, and she lets the small bit of validation distract her from what might basically be another few hours of waiting.

"Hey, my people come from warmth and sunshine. If we had a normal heating system we'd melt."

"And what people is that, gym rats or hair gel top customers?" She really shouldn't be talking to Chase right now. It always devolves into flirting so fast- for her, at least, and that is the opposite of what she should be doing.

"Hey, not all of us can roll out of bed looking like we just walked off a colour shampoo promotional shoot, leave me and my hair alone."

"Oh but you're just so easy to make fun of. How long does it take you to reach perfection before you leave the house? Do you have to get up early or do you get to class late?"

"As if you don't meticulously plan out your outfits every morning to look as cool and unique as possible." His mouth curls around the words with a smirk, and she has to look away, just for a second.

"Pssh, says the boy who wears variations of the same thing every day just because he knows it looks nice on him, wear something other than a Henley or Polo and we can talk." His cheeks are kind of pink and blotchy. it's a good look on him.

"Jeez, would you guys stop flirting? Some of us are trying to sleep!" Molly pokes her in the stomach, and Gert pushes her onto the floor. Gently, though. She's not that mean.

"Ow, just because I called out you and your dumb boyfriend doesn't mean you can push me. Wait, that's rude, sorry Chase," she says, turning to him like the scoundrel she is, "you're not dumb."

He chokes out a, "Thanks, Mols," before getting up and going to the Nico and Alex across the room, both of whom are two seconds from busting out laughing. Karolina, who's been quietly losing her fucking mind in the corner, stops when Gert throws her her best 'if you don't stop right now there will be hell to pay' look. She'd perfected it when Molly turned 11.

Eventually, Alex cracks open the safe. Inside is a tiny usb, which he then plugs into his laptop and before settling on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. He plugs in his earbuds, and it's clear he's not going to move an inch for the next couple hours.

Molly and Chase end up having to carry the safe back upstairs. Molly keeps saying she can do it herself, but there's no way Gert is going to send her sister into a coma when she can send her into a nice nap instead.

~~~~~

"So," Molly says as soon as the safe is put back, kicking the door closed with her foot, "Are you actually into my sister, or am I, like, hallucinating?" Shit, why is everyone calling him out today?

"Um. We're not dating, if that's what you mean. Not that I don't want to date her, because," he looks away, choosing his words carefully, "because she's awesome, and so great, but I feel like I threw away my shot when I all but ignored her for Karolina, which was dumb, especially since she's literally a lesbian, how oblivious can I be, right?"

He hears a thud, and realizes looking away from a girl with power triggered narcolepsy right after using said powers was probably a bad idea.

~~~~~

Chase comes down the stairs holding a sleeping Molly in a bridal carry like it's the easiest thing he's ever done, laying her down on the couch as gently as possible. It really is unfair that he's so hot and so caring all at once. Pick one, right?

The five of them (Alex is trying his damndest to break that firewall tonight) fiddle with their phones for a few minutes, but even that gets boring after a while.

"Hey," Karolina says, hesitantly, "Do you guys want to play never have I ever? Or two truths and a lie? Or something? There's no point in just waiting in silence for Alex to get through the firewall."

"Um," Gert says, "Sure?" she's not wrong, and hey, it could be.....fun?

"Alright, so what are we gonna play? I vote never have I ever," Nico says. Chase agrees, and goes to grab the drinks with the lowest alcohol content for everyone but Molly, who just gets soda.

"I figured no one actually wanted to get drunk tonight, so." They sit in a small circle, Chase on one side of her and Karolina on the other.

"I'll start, I guess?" Nico says, "Never have I ever gotten arrested."

Gert takes a drink, but she's the only one to do so. Nico looks as surprised as she is, clearly she thought that should've gotten more.

"Okaayy," she says, "since I was the only one to drink, I guess I'll go? Never have I ever shown up to school hungover." Chase and Nico both take a drink.

"Never have I ever...." Chase starts, "fallen asleep at a random time." Molly groans and takes a drink.

"That's not fair, but if you want to play that way, fine." she looks around the group, a little devilishly, then says, "Never have I ever had strong feelings for someone in our friend group, and if it's more than one person you finish your glass." Gert is going to fight her sister.

"Molly, I'm going to sic my dinosaur on you," she says, then takes a drink, as does Karolina. Nico looks at her glass indecisively like she can't decide, Karolina watching her without subtlety as she finishes off her drink.

Chase tips back his glass for a long drink, then places it in front of him.

It's empty.

Molly winks at her when she catches her eye before Karolina starts.

"Never have I ever snuck out of the house."

Everyone but Molly drinks, and the next hour devolves from there, even after they switch to two truths and a lie.

"Seriously, though, it is absolutely freezing in here," she says, after they'd decided to stop playing, for fear they'd wake up Molly. She'd fallen asleep a few minutes ago, and the four of them left wanted to let her sleep.

"Do you want my sweater?" Chase asks. Yes yes yes i am so cold yes.

"Uh, I'm good, thanks." She can't, okay. It would only fuel the pros section of why she shouldn't fight her crush on Chase. It's starting to become a big list.

But Chase doesn't have ears, apparently, because he pulls off his sweater, a soft grey hoodie that's big even on him, and tosses it to her.

She immediately pulls it over her head, begrudgingly thanking him and smiling despite herself.

The sweater is as soft as it looks, and worn at the wrists, clearly very old. She burrows into it, smells the scent of his Givenchy cologne that she knows he has, Chase, she saw it on his nightstand- and something else that she hasn't ever been able to place, even when they were younger. She pulls up the hood, because damn, she really is freezing.

~~~~~

Oh.

Oh, shit, why did Chase do this to himself.

~~~~~

She falls asleep in the hoodie.

By 11:30, everyone was tired, so Chase found pillows and blankets, and Nico forced Alex off his laptop to get some sleep. They all mutually agreed Molly should get the couch, and lie down in a circle in almost the same spots as when they were earlier, Alex taking Molly's place. Gert curls into a ball, tucks her legs under the sweater and pulls the blanket up over her ears, knowing that she wont fall asleep but trying anyway. Since they'd learned about their parents, her insomnia had gotten worse, though it was manageable. But on the floor? In someone else's house? No way she'll fall asleep before 4 AM.  

Waking up the next morning, Gert doesn't want to get up. She actually gotten a bit more sleep than expected last night, and she's so warm, and her pillow is so comfortable.

But she cracks an eye open anyways, because her pillow happens to be moving.

She's got her arm thrown across Chase's stomach, her head resting on her chest. Their legs are tangled together, and Chase's arm is wrapped around her, holding her close, almost protectively.

Or, alternatively, he won't let go and Gert is going to die from emotional overload. Right here, right now. Screw getting their parents put in jail, screw solving the mystery; Gert is going to keel over and die right now.

"Chase," she says, poking him, "Wake up."

"Five more minutes, babe," yep, she's going to die. The epitaph on her gravestone is going to read, 'I blame Chase Stein.'

And Chase doesn't even have the decency to loosen his grip, if anything, he pulls her closer.

She sighs, and almost considers just...letting it be. Letting this happen. But as much as she wants to, she cant. She can't keep doing this to herself, you know? Chase doesn't actually like her, and she has to stop fooling herself into thinking he does.

So she reaches up and flicks his cheek, and when he reflexively moves his arm, she pushes away and fucks off to the bathroom for the next half hour.

When, she comes out, everyone is up. The storm still isn't giving up, though it's due to stop around noon. Alex is already tapping away, and the rest of the Scooby gang is in the kitchen while Chase attempts breakfast, though it seems like Molly is doing most of the work- for an overstressed fourteen year old, she has culinary skills.

"......Hey, guys." She says, trying to hide that she's nervous, though she doesn't really know why she is.  Though maybe it has something to do with the way Chase is looking at her, with stars in his eyes and a warm smile that she has to be misinterpreting, right? Right?

"Hey, you showed up. Kind of thought you passed out in there," Molly says, laughing, "Here, try this, would you? I'm trying to make our pancake recipe from memory but...." she holds out the spoon, and Gert leans forward and tastes the batter.

"Hmm," she says, "It needs blueberries, I think. Chase," she won't, can't, look at him, "blueberries?"

He takes them from the fridge and passes them to Molly, clearly trying to make eye contact with Gert, but she looks in the other direction, running her hands up and down the sleeves of Chase's sweater, that she's still wearing, somehow, in discomfort.

The pancakes are ready within the next fifteen minutes, and Nico drags Alex into the kitchen to eat. They sit together at the island and dig in, all drowning the pancakes in syrup because they're teenagers and it's required for teenagers to eat pancakes with too much syrup.

Chase is sat next to her, she couldn't avoid it, and he keeps trying to nudge her into the conversation. Prompting her, making a joke that she's obviously supposed to respond to, actually nudging her with his elbow. Any other day, she'd be able to do this. But right now, she doesn't even want to be here, she just wants to go home, eat ice cream, and wallow.

~~~~~

She won't look at him, she won't even talk to him. Chase knows that this morning was kind of.....weird, but in a good way, right? Maybe? Or maybe he really did fuck it up past repair, and there's no way they'll even be friends anymore.

God, he hopes not.

~~~~~

After they eat, they all start to head back to the living room, basically planning to stare over Alex's shoulder until the storm lets up, but Chase grabs her arm before she can leave.

"Hey, could I.......talk to you?"

"Well, we're already talking right now, but what's up?" ah, sarcasm, a girl's best friend.

He slides the door shut, steps closer, and says, "That's the thing, though, I'm not sure we are? Talking, that is. I feel like I messed up big time and then got amnesia. Gert, I know this morning must've made you uncomfortable, but it wasn't on purpose. Is there some big thing that I've done recently that upset you? If you tell me, I'll apologize, but I can't apologize for something that I don't know I did, you know?," he gestures with hands, the same way he always does when he's trying especially hard to get his point across.

"Listen," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "It's not anything you did, okay? You're......you're not at fault here, this is my thing, and I just need some time to deal, some time to fucking recuperate, I guess, and, and you don't have be any part of it, so just, just-" she has to pause slow her breathing, because she is not going to freak out right now, she is in control, she's okay.

Chase leans in and softly wipes away a tear making its way down her cheek with his thumb, cupping her cheek. "Not that you have to," he says, "but this would a bit more sense if you actually told me what the problem is." His hand is still on her cheek, and she has to resist the urge to lean into it, chase the warmth of him that she wants so bad.

".......Okay,"  is she actually doing this? What the hell, is she actually doing this? "Okay, okay, okay. I..........I have feelings for you. There. I said it."

And then she actually looks at him, makes eye contact for the first time since last night, notices the shots of green in his hazel eyes. Notices, for the first time, how he looks at her; like she put the stars in the sky and the moon was hung for her pleasure.

"Oh, Gert," he sounds unbearably soft. "Can I kiss you?"

She nods, even though she's a bit in shock, and he leans in. This is totally, absolutely, the opposite of how she thought this would go, but she's not complaining.

The kiss is soft, and kind of odd because neither of them can stop smiling, and really, that's a bigger prohibiter than she thought it would be, but whatever. It's the sweetest kiss she's ever experienced.

His other hand goes to her waist, and she twists her fingers into his shirt, and it's so, so good,-

"Hey, Gert, have you- holy crap!"

Molly is standing in the doorway, looking like she just touched a live wire. Whoops.

"Uh-"

"Um-"

"Nope!" she says, already turning around, "I don't need an explanation! Enjoy yourselves!"

They turn to each other and burst into giggles. Chase wraps one arm around her, pulling her in, and she presses her face into his chest.

Gert finally knows what it is he smells like, now.

He smells like home.

[ylc1]

Fanfic Master List (Johnlock)

I left this pairing for last since it’s the one I’ve written more fics about so... well. Here we are! Enjoy!

Burned hearts

Johnlock, complete, 7300 words.

Summary: A retell from the scene at the pool in TGG, in which John is never revealed to be Moriarty’s hostage. Believing himself fooled, Sherlock goes through a bit of a meltdown.

Some personal notes on it: this idea came to me when I first watched TGG. I think that I could have expanded it so much more and make it even more angsty but well… I still like it.

Additional notes: angst, lots of self doubt, Sherlock doesn’t cope well, Mycroft and Greg are very concerned.

Apples and Oranges

Johnlock, complete, 600 words.

Summary: Kid Sherlock is attempting to figure out why would people like kissing. John helps.

Some personal notes: this was a fill in for a tumblr prompt. Just some kidlock fluff.

Additional notes: AU, kidlock, fluff.

Long shot

Johnlock, complete, 44200 words.

Summary: Omega werewolf Sherlock is engaged to human Prince John, after having scared off his last suitor. It seems it might be working out for the best though- at least until the Dark and Immortal Wizard Moriarty rises again.

Some personal notes: when I write original fiction, I tend towards fantasy with a mix of romance. Indulging in my love for both genres was a joy. Also, this was my work with most kudos for a long while, so I guess it shows ;)

Additional notes: A/B/O dynamics, Mpreg, arranged marriage, angst, pining, misunderstandings, Jim being Jim (he’s the perfect fairytale villain, honestly)

Wildest dreams

Johnlock (although victorian), complete, 3800 words.

Summary: Watson puts an end to his relationship with Holmes, in order to marry Mary Morstan.

Some personal notes: have I told you how I love Taylor Swift’s songs? I had been trying to avoid writing this particular fic because I worried about my abilities to write something with such a strict historical setting, but I should probably have stopped listening to the song because it soon became too much :P

Additional notes: victorian (but a bit loosely I think), angst, pining, unhealthy coping mechanisms… HAPPY ENDING

Mistaken impressions

Johnlock, complete, 16300 words

Summary: John is convinced his neighbor’s boyfriend is a jerk. He sort of is, but he’s actually Sherlock’s brother.

Some personal notes: I liked this idea, but as I started writing… I lost my way a bit. So now I’m a bit stuck with is, since I have no idea where exactly I want to go with it, although I have what I think might be the last chapter half-written.

Additional notes: references to past abusive relationships, past drug addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, drama, pining, MISUNDERSTANDINGS and some attempts of humor.

Hopeless

Johnlock, complete, 45800 words.

Summary: John’s a slave in Lord Magnussen’s household. When a new slave arrives and the Master takes a fancy on her (although it’s really him), John finds himself doing the best he can to protect him.

Some personal notes: this idea came to me in a dream. Which is why it’s far darker than my usual writings and also the reason for Trans Sherlock. I don’t like fighting my inspiration and well… I went with it, even if it added another layer of complications to this particular fic.

Additional notes: trans character, misgendering, implied/referenced noncon (although there’s nothing explicit), underage (it’s never explicitly stated, but Sherlock is 14 when the fic starts), slavery, sexual slavery, very dark, very angsty, mentions of violence, murder and abuse. It has a happy/hopeful ending, though!

Home for Christmas

Johnlock, complete, 8500 words.

Summary: When Mycroft Holmes informs his family he’s bringing along a friend for Christmas, the household is thrown into utter chaos: Mummy Holmes is delighted, of course and Mr. Holmes is just baffled. Sherlock, however, is determined to figure out what is his brother up to. Mycroft doesn’t do friendships, let alone relationships, so who is this mysterious Dr. John H. Watson and what’s his business with his brother?

Some personal notes: this is the actual summary on AO3, but I really don’t know a better way to describe it ;) I think my attempt of humor did work here, even if it endeded up including a bit of angst (but not much)

Additional notes: Alternate First Meeting, humor, Christmas fic, misunderstandings (of a sort), family.

Black magic

Johnlock, complete, 7400 words.

Summary: John ends up with a magic love potion (he was drunk, don’t judge him!) and in a fit of desperate longing, he gives it to Sherlock. He didn’t expect it to work since magic does not exist, so he’s a little baffled when Sherlock starts acting love-struck.

Some personal notes: this was the first fic I meant to write for the fandom. I never got around finishing until now, when I figured I might as well give it another try. I think it could have been longer, but I had no idea what else to write :P

Additional notes: attempt of humor, magic, a surprising amount of discussion of consent issues, not actually unrequited love.

All is fair (in love and war)

Johnlock, complete, 6300 words.

Summary: Eurus’ “game” forces John and Sherlock to confess long hidden feelings. It turns out as well as you’d expect.

Some personal notes: It started as a rewrite of the “I love you” scene in TFP, turned into a sort of fix it fic. I like it, even if I’m not completely sure the logic holds :P

Additional notes: angst, drama, hurt without comfort, but has a happy ending!

Priceless   

Johnlock, complete 22485 words.

Summary: Sherlock is a Prince with a Kingdom at war. He makes a deal with the all powerful wizard called “the Dark One”; the wizard will stop the war if Sherlock stays with him forever.

Some personal notes: this fic is result of the FandomTrumpsHate auction, for the lovely @sherlock-and-john-getting-it-on​. I was asked for a “Beauty and the Beast” inspired fic with John as the Beast. I asked for the chance to use the Once Upon a Time spin of the tale and this is the result.

Additional notes: magical AU, pining, misunderstandings (they’re both so silly it hurts!), includes my attempt of some proper smut, Jim wrote himself into it and in doing that provided me with an ending :P

Saving all my love for you

Johnlock, 

Summary: Unrequited love is no fun.

Some personal notes: I just wanted to write something angsty, heart tugging. There isn’t much plot, really, just a lot of pining and self reflection.

Additional notes: based on the song by the same title,angst, pining, sad, unilock.

The art of letting go

Johnlock, complete, 47400 words.

Summary: Sherlock convinces himself that if he can’t remember what happened on the stag night, then it didn’t happen at all. Until he finds out he’s pregnant and he can’t keep pretending, that is.

Some personal notes: Oh, I loved working on this. I have a thing for unplanned pregnancies (as you can probably tell) and while writing a character as trans always makes me nervous, I thought it worked well. The story is very angsty at points and it doesn’t get hopeful until the very end so… be warned!

Additional notes: Trans character, Mpreg, angst (a lot), jealousy, pining, Mary and John are married but she isn’t pregnant, pos TSoT, follows HLV more or less.

A fortunate encounter

Johnlock, complete, 4528 words.

Summary: While escaping a group of enemy soldiers, Sherlock ends up in a mysterious island.

Some personal notes: after watching the Wonder Woman movie I couldn’t contain myself and ended up writing this short thing ;)

Additional notes: Wonder Woman AU, love at first sight, spoilers for the movie (somewhat, but not really), romance.

Just friends

Johnlock, side mystrade, complete, 4400 words

Summary: Just friends don’t live together, have sex and generally enjoy a life of sweet domesticity.

Except John and Sherlock do, apparently.

Some personal notes: Cliche, I know, but cute. I became a little obsessed with the idea of friends with benefits due a song :P

Additional notes: alternate universe- college, a little angst, friends with benefits (except not), lack of communication.

The answer

Johnlock, very side Mystrade, complete, 16700 words.

Summary: Friendless and penniless, John agrees to participate on a study conducted by the renowned researcher, Sherlock Holmes, to find the answer to what’s probably the most important question in the world: what’s love?

Some personal notes: this is vaguely based on the book “The answers”, going in the direction I thought the author was going to go when I started reading it (I like my idea much better, I must say)

Additional notes: fake/pretend relationship, a little pining, Sherlock is bad at feelings (and so is John), pseudo science (don’t look too deep into it), lack of communication.

Don’t forget me (I won’t forget you)

Johnlock, complete, 2600 words.

Summary: Sherlock wakes up one day to find he’s the only person who can remember John Watson.

Some personal notes: this idea came to me one day and refused to leave until I wrote it down. It’s just the beginning of a tale, but I don’t have much a plot planned so it’s marked as finished.

Additional notes: Eurus has actual telepathic powers, a little angst, memory alteration, open ending.

And that’s it! They weren’t quite as many as a feared :P 

I hope you’ll enjoy them! Kudos & comments mean the world to me.

And if you can, maybe Buy Me a Coffee

My other lists are here: rare pairs, johnlock & mystrade, mystrade

Last updated 18.12.2018

[thorne93]

Days of Future’s Past

Prompt: so can i request a charles x reader one shot that i got an idea for? ok so first of all y/n and charles were super close as teens but y/n died at around 19(got mixed up in smth), charles was devastated and hes still not 100% over it as an adult so when the xmen find a mutant who can control time he ends up asking them to go back and try to save y/n? and they do try and they have to convince her to stay safe bcs 'theres someone who needs her' or some cute shit like that..?but if u do this thx!

Word Count: 2600

Warning: Language maybe, death, drug abuse, angst....

Note: This is based on an ask/request. I’ve never done an ask/request so I REALLY hope I did this justice. I loved the idea and I hope it made it everything you wanted! Flashbacks are in italics.

Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @amarvelouswritings

Tags: @munlis

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I awoke with a start, a tear already falling down my aging face. Today marked the 20th anniversary of you being gone. 20 years didn’t make the fact of losing you any easier. 20 years without your laugh, without your jokes, without the way you made a room light up just by walking in, without having your voice to fill my head…Not when I had 8 long, amazing years with you as my best friend. Thicker than thieves we were...

It almost seemed like it was yesterday that we were walking to class together, joking about a professor that we both had that was just terrible. I couldn’t believe today was twenty years later...20 years after I lost you…

Getting out of bed, I pulled myself into my chair and began to get ready, all the while my reflection not hiding the pain that was so evidently etched in my face. Missing you was harder today. I missed you every day, of course, but today being April 18th....God it made everything worse. I let myself cry a little as I got dressed, a tear falling here and there, and I allowed them. I didn’t fight the urge...not today.

My first class started at 8:00 am, I was early and tried to compose myself for the kids. Some of the older students who had been here a while knew April 18th was a hard day for me, the newer ones weren’t as keenly aware of the situation.

We began our studies as usual, I got through three classes miraculously, but when lunch came and I was alone again, I found myself in the conservatory, your favorite room in the house, thinking back to the day before I lost you….the day before I killed you…

“Charles, come on, that assignment is totally bogus,” you said to me as you skipped along, me happily at your side.

“I’ll admit that it’s not fun, but it’s necessary.”

“You’re such a teacher’s pet,” you teased, sticking your tongue out. I watched your figure as you danced around me on our way to class. You were losing weight, your eyes began to sink in, I knew you had started to dabble into drugs but I wasn’t your keeper so I didn’t chastise you. I tried talking to you about it a few times and every time, you fought me tooth and nail saying it was just a little bit here and there, just a hobby, but your bodily signs told differently. Other than occasional twitching, your demeanor had hardly changed and I think that’s why I ignored it...like a fool….

“Well, I do aim to be a teacher,” I reminded you. “Speaking of,” I started, grabbing your hand gently as I pulled you over to a short brick wall to sit on. “I have some good news!” I stated.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’ve been accepted into Oxford!” I told you happily, awaiting your reaction. Expecting a hug, or a shriek, or even a friendly kiss or high five, I was speechless when the next exchange happened.

“What?” you asked in an even tone, your gaze leveling at mine. “You’re going to Europe for grad school? Charles, we agreed we’d stay state side and stay together. Remember our plan?”

“Y/N, I know but Oxford would be a wonderful opportunity for me. You can come live with me and continue college there.”

“I can’t afford that!”

“I could pay--”

You stood up, shouting, “No! Forget it! You’ve made up your mind! Just go to Europe with your fancy friends, fancy college, and all your mind reading powers and go!”

I stood, running a nervous hand through my hair. You knew of my powers, of course you did, we had fun with my powers a lot, but you weren’t a mutant.

“Y/N, it’s not like that. Please. Can’t we talk about this?”

“No, you’ve already made up your mind.” You grabbed your bag off the wall, flipped me off, and left. At this point, I knew it was a side effect of the drugs. Sober you might’ve been upset at first but after exploring our options, we would’ve made it work. You would’ve known I would never leave you behind. I sighed as I turned and went onto class.

Later that night, I went by your dorm to see if we could talk about things, to see if you had calmed down yet. I reached your dorm room, and knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again and no answer, I imagined it was you giving me the silent treatment as you always did when we had a disagreement, which was rare. You lived alone here so when I tried the door, it was locked. Breaking my promise to you, I tried to read your mind, just to see if you were okay, but….I got nothing. There was no mind on the other side of the door...So why and how was it locked if no one was in there?

Worried, I called campus security and they came by with a master key and opened the dorm. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of you on the floor, needle in your arm, your lips purple as your eyes stared straight ahead, lifeless.

“Y/N?! Y/N?! Wake up!” I shouted as I ran forward and dropped my things on the way, books and folders crashing to the floor as I dropped to my knees. I began shaking you, in a fit of shock, thinking it would make you wake up. Security saw the sight and called the police and an ambulance. You were only 19...How could this be happening? No. no. no. no….I was going to tell you I was in love with you tonight, that’s why I wanted you with me in England, but you reacted so quickly, I couldn’t. And now...now I’d never get to tell you just how much you meant to me.

The coroner said you accidentally overdosed on heroin….The realization that you were so upset, you weren’t paying attention to what you were doing, you accidentally killed yourself because you thought you were losing me...It was was all my fault...I lost my best friend and love of my life because I was too stupid to help you.

A student cleared their throat and said my name, waking me from my memory.

“Professor?” the meek Rosalie said as she stood in the doorway.

“Yes?” I said as I turned around to face her, clearing my own throat and taking a deep breath.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes...Just...thinking.”

“I see.”

In that moment, an absolutely ludicrous idea hit me. “Rosalie...You can travel in time, right?”

“I can control it, yes,” she answered, stepping farther into the conservatory.

“Could you go back, twenty years?”

“It might take a toll on me, but I’m sure I could do it...why?”

I pursed my lips, weighing the consequences...Was I really going to intervene with your fate? Bring you back for entirely selfish reasons? The moment I knew Rosalie’s mutation was time control, I wanted to ask her to save you, but I couldn’t do that. In good conscious, I couldn’t abuse her powers that way….But the pain and guilt has been eating away at me for so many years, this could be the only way to save me. How wrong could it be to bring you back? In this moment, on today of all days, my conscience took a backseat.

“Could you go back in time, and stop a friend of mine from making a terrible mistake?”

“Um, I could try? There’s no guarantees.”

“Excellent, what do you need?”

“A quiet place and uninterrupted time.”

“Come with me.”

I lead her downstairs to the hallway where we kept Cerebro but I directed her to another room, a quiet room that I use for the more shy students to do some of their training.

“Alright, do you need anything else?” I asked as we settled in the dark room with a few pieces of sitting furniture and a couple of tables.

“Would you like to come back with me?”

“You can bring me?” I questioned.

“Yes.”

“If I’m there, in the past, can it complicate anything?”

“Not unless you tell yourself you’re you...Otherwise, you can just say you’re a distant relative.”

“Then I say we go for it, shall we?”

“Alright, give me your hands and tell me the time, date, and place.”

I gave her my hands, my heart thrumming a million miles per hour. I was really about to see you again - alive. Even if this didn’t work in saving you, I’d get to at least see you one more time. I gave her the information she needed.

“Okay, just relax and take ten deep breaths.”

I followed her orders and suddenly, it was all black around me, much darker than when I first closed my eyes. Then, as if waking up, the surroundings were white and blurry, until I saw...me, I saw myself and you on that brick wall right before the fight broke out.

You looked even more beautiful than I remembered, even with being sick on the drugs, you still had this light, bubbly air about you. Seeing you again, in real life, where I could touch you again, where I could hear your voice again, even if you were shouting at me, was like a blessing all in itself. I remembered how we used to debate movie endings, dancing like fools in my house to records, how you used to make giant sundaes for us when we didn’t do too well on a test, how we used to race each other to the lake on my property to swim in the ungodly heat. All the wonderful memories had been tarnished all because I was a fool who didn’t go after you.

Now, you were getting up to leave and I made haste getting over to myself, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“You, you there!” I said as I saw 21 year old me spin to face myself.

“What do you want?” younger me asked.

“Stop her.”

“What?”

“If you don’t go after her right now, you’ll regret it...believe me.”

I eyed myself wearily but I believed me, so younger me walked up to you but you pushed him off and he started to give up so I raced up in my chair, Rosalie following.

“Y/N, Y/N,” I called and you turned on your heel to face me.

“What?”

“I know you’re upset now. I know you think he’s abandoned you. I know you’re hurt. But believe me, Charles didn’t want to hurt you….I know right now, you think the only thing will help are the drugs to numb this pain but it’s not.” How badly I wanted to smack younger me and scream at me to tell you that I loved you, and how badly I wanted to shake you and beg you to never touch the heroin again….But I couldn’t, and that killed me. I think knowing what was about to happen hurt even more than finding your body...

Rosalie spoke up and said, “You need to stay safe and take care of yourself, someone needs you…”

“Who are you?” you questioned as you looked at us, more curious than angry now.

“We’re...friends of Charles’ here. We’re concerned friends.” They both stared at us a moment before I continued, “Well, we’ll leave you to it…”

We walked away and Rosalie took my hands again. Teleporting back to the future, we found ourselves still in that room downstairs, nothing out of place there.

“Did it work?” I asked as I let her hands go.

“I’m not sure. Sometimes--”

The memories hit me so hard I let out a slight shout. After Rosalie and I left, I didn’t let you go. Younger me confessed that I was in love with you. Instead of going back to your apartment to overdose, you followed me to a pizza place to talk about our relationship and Oxford. You said you loved me too and would go with me. And you did. We lived in England for five years before coming back home, both of us graduates. When we got settled back home, I asked you to marry me just as the X-Men were forming and the kids helped give us a wonderful wedding. Because you had been fighting your feelings for me and you were struggling in school, you had turned to drugs, but because we became a couple, you openly shared with me more and the move to England was just the ticket to get you sober. You happily vowed to help me with the school for gifted youngsters, accepting each and every one as your own and the kids loving you like an adopted aunt. You helped with the school and became a professor yourself at a local college to help with more funds for our school. New memories of your laugh, us going to the movies, reading together in bed, taking Sunday naps, you making me sundaes when we’ve had a long day with the kids, how you met the new students and made them feel welcome and loved and gave them a tour of the grounds.

We raced upstairs and in the foyer, there you stood, talking to Jean and Scott.

“Y/N?” I gasped, unable to believe my own eyes.

You twirled, your face slightly aged but still just as radiant and beautiful. Seeing you, it made the doubt of bringing you back disappear.

“Oh, hello darling, where were you?”

“I was….I was just with Rosalie….”

“Well, come on, your final class of the day is starting, right? Then movie night with everyone?!” you asked as you turned to a lot of the kids in the foyer as everyone cheered. The kids went on to their class but I couldn’t stop staring.

“Charles, dear, what is it? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” you said, kneeling down putting your clipboard in my lap.

“I...I...You’re here, you’re really here.”

“Well of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

I didn’t answer, I just grabbed you in an embrace, my hand tangling in your hair as I kissed you so hard. You laughed against my lips.

“I don’t know what I did, but tell me so I can do it all the time,” you said with a giggle, the sound bringing life into me.

“I love you so much. I always have, remember that, okay?”

“I love you too, dear. Now, come on, let’s finish Friday’s studies so we can begin Friday night festivities. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect, my love,” I breathed as I took your hand while you stood up, smiling to each other.

[tauristar]

“Has anyone mentioned you have a distinctive dimple in your left corner when you smile? And your eyes, they-- they kind of crinkle at the corners. And then they look brighter than usual, like… Like you're not burdened by anything in life. It’s refreshing to see in these times.”

“I… No, nobody has mentioned that before. That’s oddly specific. When did you notice this?”

The Dalish elf offered a shrug in return, left corner quirking upwards into a smile as he kept his focus on his mabari rather than the man in front of him. Rafael could almost hear Alistair’s confusion and it was amusing. It was, perhaps, daring of Rafael to be so bold and forthcoming towards the other Warden, but he had hoped that the time they spent together…

“A few days ago,” came his short reply.

“A few days ago,” Alistair repeated.

“Okay, maybe it was more than a few days ago, but does it matter? It's a compliment, Alistair.” A pause, before he muttered, “an attempt at one.”

Alistair huffed, sitting next to the elf, sparing a glance to the mabari Rafael was petting. Said mabari soon took notice of Alistair's presence, immediately pawing at the man for some attention; attention that Alistair was all too willing to give, of course. Rafael could only smile as he scratched behind the mabari’s ear, Alistair taking the utmost important job of rubbing the belly.

Silence soon fell like a heavy blanket, weighing down on the elf's shoulders as he awaited some sort of response, any response from the other. He felt his jaw tense, his breathing slow, his heart beating erratically and skipping beats, the compliment he gave replaying in his mind. He took the chance to instead note the sun setting in the distance, causing a surreal combination of pinks, oranges, blues and reds alike to cross the sky, highlighting darkened clouds -- clouds that would no doubt bring rain later in the week. Rafael noted the light breeze, the leaves rustling together, a soft whisper of nature that brought comfort and familiarity; home. The nomadic life. The travelling through forest and the exploration of ruins, or meadows, new areas untouched by civilisation. That calmed his mind.

“I… Thank you. For the compliment.”

Rafael glanced to Alistair, breaking out of his momentary trance. “Truly?”

“Of course. I mean-- I-- it was nice of you to notice. Nobody else has, as far as I know.” Alistair glanced at the mabari, who pawed at him again as soon as he stopped petting him. “Oh, you silly mabari, don't you know my arm gets tired?”

The mabari barked argumentatively in response.

“Banal’ras loves his pets, Alistair.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Alistair replied, stifling a chuckle as he returned to his important duty of giving belly rubs. “I’ve always wondered… What does Banal’ras mean? Did I say that right?”

“You said it well. Banal’ras means Shadow. And while a mabari isn't much of a shadow, lacking subtlety in every way, I… It's because I use black kaddis warpaint on him all the time.” Rafael smiled, if sheepishly. “Banal’ras is a good name, though. Strong. It suits him.”

“Your name isn't Dalish though. Rafael is a human name.”

Rafael hummed, shifting awkwardly in his spot and watching as Banal’ras rested his head in the elf's lap. “You're right, it is a human name. My father thought it suited me well, though, and my mother didn't disagree to it. I was named after a man that my father respected and cared for, a man whom I have yet to meet. From what I know from my Keeper, it was someone they traded with often, and he was incredibly generous with what he gave to our clan. Originally, my parents wanted to name me Enasalin -- victory when translated.”

“Enasalen?”

“Enasalin. Not Enasalen. But it's close… And it sounds better than Morrigan’s attempts.”

Alistair snorted, moving his free hand to his mouth to hide the large grin finding its way across his face; in which it was a poor attempt, because it was rather obvious.

After a few moments, Alistair coughed, clearing his throat -- in the usual dramatic fashion, he noted.

“So, uh. You weren't completely honest with me when you said you only noticed the whole, umm, smiling thing. It didn't seem like a few days ago. Was it longer than that? Wait wait, I have another question too: why tell me this? Why tonight?”

“Ah. You were just waiting to bring that up,” Rafael joked. “I noticed… A month ago? It may have been two months by now. I lost track of the time it's been since I noticed.”

“And why you told me tonight?”

“... You looked sad.”

“Wait, really? Wh-- no, no, that can't be it, right? You're kidding.”

“Okay, that is only part of the reason. I… It's hard to put into words. I just thought you should know that about yourself.” Rafael paused, holding his breath if only for a moment. “Ma melava halani, ma falon. Ma serannas.”

Alistair stared at Rafael. The elf soon turned his gaze away, ever silent, stopping his absent affections to Banal’ras. Instead, it was as if he was silently debating with himself, words on the tip of his tongue but never spilling, old language at the back of his throat never to be understood again. It was as though he worried about the impression it had made on the other Warden.

“It translates to: you helped me, my friend. Thank you.” A pause. “It’s hard to explain how you helped me, but you did. And I thank you for it. When I lost Tamlen, I become more violent and aggressive, trying to take it out on everyone else around me, and while Zevran has shown me that it is okay to feel the impact of death… You have shown me that it can’t possibly be my fault, and that I should forgive myself for not being able to help him.”

There’s a small pause. “Though I admit, perhaps lethallin would suit better than falon. Lethallin is for someone familiar, or family, or a close friend.” Or more, is left unsaid.

“Aww, you think I'm a close friend?”

“I'd hope so. I've been living with you for almost a year and you're the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden. If you're not a friend, not even a close one, then I don't know what happened between my recruitment, Ostagar, and now.”

“Well if you don't remember, I can give a recap: darkspawn parties. They've trashed the place. The Archdemon refuses to take the responsibility he should. If that's not the worst thing, then we've had to deal with other not-darkspawn-related parties. Very tiresome, trying to go to all of these parties, you know.” Alistair’s lips quirked into his signature smile; playful, but hiding. “You never know how much trouble is going on in the world until you have to unite them to fight a common enemy.”

Rafael laughed in response, quietened to be mindful of the others, all of which had taken to their designated spots; Morrigan away from the camp, Zevran and Leliana talking to each other on the opposing side of the building fire. Sten taking watch by one entrance with Shale on the other, Bodahn and Sandal soon to join the others after packing up their wares, Wynne going to ensure that Oghren was well enough to eat food without feeling sick, just to be safe. He noted that while his group of friends were strange, though they were all so hilariously different from each other…

“You’re right, Alistair,” Rafael soon spoke, “but I think we’re doing great.”

“Say that to the Wardens outside of Ferelden.”

“Screw the Wardens outside of Ferelden, they don’t know what’s going on.” Rafael huffed, but offered an apologetic smile to Alistair. “I mean… They haven’t seen our team we built. We have a mabari, a Witch of the Wilds, a bard from Orlais, a qunari soldier, a healer touched by a spirit, an assassin from the Antivan Crows, a drunken dwarf, an awesome golem… Who have I missed?”

Alistair grinned, only then nudging the elf.

“You’re forgetting you.”

“What, the Dalish elf who was tainted and got tossed into the fire a day before Ostagar happened? No no, they'd sooner wipe my name from history the moment I died. I think instead it should be the would-be King of Ferelden, who deserves a lot more than what he’s gotten in the past.” A pause. “I’m… Sorry. Whatever title you’ll get won’t really matter, not to me at least. You’re still Alistair, whether it be Grey Warden or King of Ferelden, or just… Alistair.”

“No, it's okay. You're right. They'll probably see you as a Dalish elf for a while, then say you're just an elf out of nowhere, and then conveniently forget you were ever an elf after you die.” Alistair frowned. “People never liked to regard elves in a positive light. I think it’s wrong of them to do that, you’re a wonderful person and a good friend.”

“But it won’t change much once we’re both gone, summoned by the Calling.”

Rafael grabbed a nearby stick and poked at the fire in front of him, ignoring Banal’ras. Alistair frowned, kept petting the mabari, but freed a hand to place on the other’s shoulder.

“You know I’ll always tell everyone who you really are.”

“And it won’t do much good in the end, will it? I can see it now. The nobles of Orlais saying I am no elf, using my name as the ultimate scapegoat. The fearful ones in the Free Marches claiming I could never be an elf, no less a Dalish one, who saved the world from ultimate destruction. Not without a lot of help. They’d sooner say you were the one to save us all.”

“I’d tell them that you had very limited help; you even insisted on doing most things yourself, which is true, because you’re stubborn.”

“Stubborn as… What? A druffalo?”

“No, no, more like stubborn as a drake. Those bastards are tough.”

“So are halla, actually.” A smirk from the elf. “But they’re prettier and nicer.”

Alistair laughed. “Prettier and nicer? Is that your criteria, then?”

“Only if you think so.”

It was said so quickly that Rafael didn’t know what he had implied, only seeing the confusion written across the other Warden’s face. After a few moments of silence, the elf staring back at Alistair in search for answers, it finally clicked and he gasped in shock.

That was the last thing he was meant to say.

“Wait! I mean-- ugh, fenedhis, I didn’t… I wasn’t saying…”

“Hold on, Rafael. Relax.” Alistair laughed, albeit sheepishly. “Wow. Didn’t think that would be what you freak out over. Bold and daring Rafael Mahariel, freaking out over a response.”

Rafael huffed, turning his gaze away. “It was just a slip-up. Don’t think anything of it.”

The older Warden quirked an eyebrow. Before questioning the other, Alistair turned his attention to the mabari, giving a final pet before quietly shooing him away, promising more pets if he listened. As soon as Banal’ras got up and instead lazily walked to Leliana and Zevran on the other side of the fire, the blond focused on Rafael again; said elf was still poking at the fire, blue eyes trained on the flames, almost in a trance.

Alistair almost felt bad for the poor guy, knowing what he had been through already.

“I think it was more than just a slip-up. I don’t know, I may not be the smartest person here -- and Morrigan would be happy to hear that from me -- but this seems like it means more to you.” When he was given no reply, Alistair picked at his skin, blunt nails scratching across the surface but light so there were no marks, no cuts or scratches. “If it makes you feel better, you definitely suit a halla more. Those halla we saw with the Dalish clan in the Brecilian Forest? They were beautiful.”

“Don’t say it if it doesn’t mean anything to you, Alistair.”

“But it does mean something to me. Rafael, it’s okay to feel… Not-so-platonic feelings. It’s squibbly and weird, yes, but it doesn’t mean you have to hide it.”

“Is that what you’ve gotten out of tonight? That I have feelings for you, because I gave you a compliment?” I do. And now that you know, I fear you might see me differently, or worse, think less of me. “I don’t. It was just a compliment to make you feel better, and to eventually tell you that you’ve been a good friend to me and that I’ll forever be in your debt. What I said before was a slip-up and I didn’t think about it. Don’t look into it so much.”

He could feel his regret rising, choking his throat and halting his breathing, as he spared a half-hearted glare to the Warden beside him. A part of him didn’t want to admit that he was afraid. A part of him didn’t want to admit the truth to his best friend.

Rafael would sooner travel to the Deep Roads alone than admit the truth.

“Sorry,” was the reply he got from Alistair. A glance away, focused on the ground, a quiet mutter of an apology that wasn’t his to make. “It was rude of me to assume.”

Rafael didn’t respond.

Alistair frowned, but stood. “Well, if nobody needs me for the night, I’ll be… Ahem. In my tent. Over there. Away from everyone else.”

An announcement made half-heartedly, with a wavering voice. Rafael knew it meant that he thought it was his fault, his fault for assuming and for upsetting his friend, thinking he was in the wrong instead of Rafael -- feeling discarded, unwanted. Feelings that the elf knew with his knowledge of Alistair’s past that were too common, yet haven’t been felt in the past year. He watched Alistair enter his tent without another word, Banal’ras soon following him.

The silence that followed from Rafael was ever consuming; no sarcastic, witty remarks in response to Zevran’s flirting. No bitter, but almost playful exchanges with Sten. No fun mockery, no short stories from a nomadic lifestyle, nothing but silence and saddened stares into the flames of the fire.

When the Warden finally resigned to his tent, Zevran and Leliana spared a glance between each other.

“Our friends most certainly cannot keep this up. As fun as it was to watch our dear Warden fumble over his words with Alistair, tonight has ended in a disaster neither of us saw coming, yes? Dear Leliana, perhaps it is time to intervene.”

“Indeed. I think it is time we talk to the both of them. Though I would not trust you in talking to Alistair -- you would sooner embarrass him.”

“Ah, but Leliana, that is part of the fun! And the encouragement, of course. To embarrass that man is to encourage him to follow after his desires, much like how he may or may not desire our dear Warden…” A lighthearted laugh. “A shame. If only I were the one to convince him to cross that border for myself.”

“Please, Zevran, focus on the task at hand.” Leliana crossed her arms, staring at the Antivan.

He simply laughed in response. “Yes, yes, of course, my dear Leliana. Talk to Rafael, explain to him why he should be open with his feelings, convince him to talk to dear Alistair… And then see where that goes from there.”

“And I shall talk to Alistair, tell him of the situation at hand. I will ensure him that whatever he feels, he must be honest with Rafael. Let’s hope this ends well.”