#i have read and replied to almost all important mails today!

[daughterofhecata]

Hasse den Tanz, den man aufführen muss, wenn man noch nicht herausgefunden hat, welches Level von Formalität mit einem/einer bestimmten Dozent:in angemessen ist - die ganze Amerikanistik schreibt Mails die mit "Sehr geehrte:r" beginnen und mit vollem Namen und Titel enden, mein einer Dozent aus der Slavistik schreibt regelmäßig Mails mit Wortlauten wie "... ihr müsst natürlich auch die Kafka-Analyse lesen, ça va sans dire... [Vorname, gelegentlich auch nur die Initialen, wenn er es eilig hat]".

[glystenangel]

Breaking & Entering

Burglar!Toji x Afab!Reader (Oneshot)

tags: 18+ MDNI, exactly what you think it is, masturbation, fingering, raw sex, penetrative sex, missionary position, sex with strangers, maybe a bit of mask kink but not really, praise kink, spit kink, creampies, earlicking, cuddling, failed one night stand, some domestic shit

summary: you’re doing some self-care when all of a sudden toji breaks into your house

or a b-film porn plotline featuring you and toji + some corny fluff

~3.9k

thanks for reading and enjoy <3

_________________

You often exhausted yourself.

Every day, you would come home straight from work and fuck the stress out of yourself. After that, you usually took a long nap.

Today, your vibrator battery had died as soon as you had pulled it out of your nightstand drawer.

“Great.” You mutter, tossing it back in and laying back onto your bed with a sigh.

After a moment of unfulfilling silence, you undress yourself anyway, figuring you could rub one out with your fingers. Even if it feels juvenile. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right? 

You slide a hand down, shivering at the tentative touch of your fingertips.

It feels warm and wet. Good.

“Fuck it,” You sigh before you start to cascade your hand up and down, your breathing quickening as you insert a couple fingers.

When you’ve coaxed yourself into climaxing and the back of your head is reeling into your pillows, you hear a knock on your door.

Probably the mailman. They’re usually late and just leave your mail on the doormat, so not important enough for you to stop.

All sound fades away when you feel your pussy flood with pleasure, tingling under your palm and sopping your sheets with cum.

“God.” Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you feel tears lining the edge of your eyes.

You try to hold onto the feeling as much as possible, soaking in the reprieve from your day to day life.

A desolate sigh from your throat muddles the aftershocks.

“I wanna cum again.” You smear the cum across your clit, rubbing it in and watching the fluid with hazy eyes.

“Need some help?” A deep voice resounds from the doorway.

You lived alone.

You jolt up immediately, and you see a large man standing there. He’s tall with a solid frame of bulky muscle, and dressed in all black. The dark t-shirt he’s wearing is stretched across the broad expanse of his chest, and you can see the outline of his hard on in his pants. Although he also has on a balaclava, you can see the square cut of his jaw and the glisten of emerald in his eyes. A large canvas sack is clutched in one of his hands, and you can see the outlines of your apartment knick knacks through the material.

The fabric of your comforter is immediately fisted into your hands as you attempt to cover yourself, “Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” He cocks his head to the side, setting the bag onto the floor with little regard for the contents. 

You internally wonder what the fuck kind of response that was, “Yes!”

“Okay, I’m Toji. Can I fuck you now?” The man posits, tucking a hand into his pocket and beaming.

The blanket scrunches in your hand while you tuck it closer up to your chin. Although he doesn’t seem dangerous, you’re apprehensive purely based on the context of his arrival.

He shrugs, his next words taking an offhand tone, “You don’t have to say yes. I just wanted to help you.”

It’s almost…sweet when he puts it that way. Regardless, you take a moment to absorb his presence.

The emerald sparkle of his stare dims, “Alright, I’m gonna go.” 

Toji acquiesces with an oddly good natured attitude, and he appears to even forget about the sack at his feet when he swivels past the door frame.

“W-wait.”

The muscles of his back visibly relax, and he turns back around, “Yes?”

The reply that leaves your lips is surprising, “If it’s okay...you can stay.”

As your eyes fan downwards, you can feel the intensity of his gaze even without looking. He steps toward you, his shins brushing up against the edge of the bed before he places his palms on either side of your feet. The bold actions force you to meet his eyes again.

Then, he pulls off his mask.

Pretty is the first word that comes to mind. Cocky comes second. Both are well-deserved, with his chiseled features and sweeping, dark eyelashes. His hair is tousled from being underneath the fitted cap, onyx colored strands of silk. They contrast sharply against his olive toned skin, some hair falling over his eyes and the high bridge of his nose. The underlying movements beneath the planes of his face and body ripple with an innate confidence. It’s no question that Toji knows he’s handsome, and the corners of his mouth stretch his smirk across his face as you realize it for yourself. Stupidly, but truthfully, you want to kiss him.

“Change your mind?” He asks, wrapping a hand around your ankle.

The touch causes a tremor to run through your legs, and your breath catches fast enough to make you blink.

“Is that a problem?”

Toji rubs his thumb over your skin, where the touch is soothing and curious, “You know you’re really cute. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice and all.”

“So can you? Help me?” You blurt out, growing impatient and afraid that you’ll lose your nerve.

Toji smiles and then rises to crouch over you, trailing his fingertips over your hips, “Well, let’s see. Based on what I saw, you like it like…this, right?”

He positions the pad of his thumb over your clit, and it nearly slips from how wet you already are.

A thoughtful noise leaves Toji, and then he slowly lifts his hand up to his mouth to lick the flat of his tongue over the heady slick. As soon as he swallows, his thumb is back on the swollen nub, and he deftly stuffs the middle and ring finger of his other hand into your pussy.

“And like this?”

At the intrusion, you let out a gasp, but Toji sinks his appendages deeper in. He felt so much better than you, his fingers thick and stroking the sensitive ceiling of your pussy. It makes your vision blur, and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears that you feel dizzy.

His thumb circles your clit faster and faster, squishing it repeatedly and forcing your pussy to pulse with pleasurable static. Once he’s knuckle deep, he draws his fingers in and out to follow the pace of his thumb until your back is arching into his hand. 

“Ah, oh- oh my god!” Your hands wrap around his wrist, but he dutifully continues.

It was almost as if your resistance was so slight he couldn’t feel it. You wondered exactly how strong he was.

“So cute, I can feel your pussy twitching all over my fingers. That good, huh?” He coos, twisting his fingers inside of you.

You moan, eyes rolling back into your head when his palm slaps the underside of your already overstimulated clit over and over. This is exactly what you needed.

“Damn, you’re reacting better than I expected.”

He seems amused, yet turned on by you. 

He pressed his thumb down with greater weight than before, “You really are something else.” 

You hardly hear him, and instead of replying you cum on his fingers, your pussy suckling at his fingers for as long as possible before he pulls them out.

“Fuck.” You whimper, eyebrows squeezing together and shivering at the cum seeping down your core.

Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm persist, you glance at Toji in time to see him lapping at the mess you left on his hand. He leaves one hand on your hip, anchoring himself there and seemingly to reassure you as you catch your breath.

“You taste fucking good. I’m gonna have to make you cum again.” He sends you a grin as his tongue pokes out between flashes of white teeth to finish off the last dribble of cum left.

You don’t care what you have to do, you need more of him.

You weakly reach out a hand to tug at the hem of his shirt, “Please, fuck me Toji.”

Another proud grin, “Okay.”

He tugs off his shirt, and you briefly admire the grooves of muscle that trim his figure before he undoes his lower garments and throws them into the corner of your room.

The deepest lines of muscle cut into his torso, outlining his hips and the erect girth of his cock. The entirety of it is split in half by a slow moving, almost translucent trail of precum that makes the large veins running along the bottom of his cock glisten. You watch the leaking precum until it gets caught in the coarse, jet black hair criss-crossing over his balls. 

“I’m gonna put it in nice and slow. Okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to not make a sound until he starts dragging his hardness over your soaking entrance.

“Toji.” You urge, wiggling your hips.

“Easy.” He whispers, effortlessly lifting your legs over his shoulders as he focuses on the languid heaving of his cock along your folds. 

Every movement can be heard, the sluggish friction punctuated by the lewd parting of your sticky folds. You think you might actually go crazy seeing your fluids wetly mixing together and oozing over the slit on the tip of his cock.

“Once I start, cum as much as you want.” He kisses the side of your knee, and then Toji starts pushing in.

He’s steady and methodical, and when your muscles tightly accept inch after inch, he lets out a groan so hotly satisfying that you instantly constrict around him. 

Although he did keep his word on going slowly, he just barely fits. You have to will yourself to maintain the stretch around him, and you nearly choke on the sheer size at any minute movement, especially with his hips now fully pressed against yours. Inside, you can feel every eager throb of his cock.

“Jesus,” Toji seems to be just as needy as you are, but he takes the time to adjust his grip on you, “Fuck. Okay.”

He brings his hips back, and you both moan at the feeling of your pussy walls clinging to Toji’s cock. Evidence of the struggle to keep him where you want him comes in the milky strings of precum that adorn the ridges of his boner. He bows his head down, experimentally driving his dick into you so he can find the spot that makes your heels bend into his back. Those first few, delicious motions cause his name to tearfully erupt from your lips, and from that point on he becomes merciless.

Your bed creaks noisily as he ruts into your pussy and makes your lungs fill with nothing but wanton pleads for him to keep going.

“Just filthy, letting a stranger fuck you like this.” Toji pants, a laugh edging along his lips as he fondly looks down at you.

The sentiment has a scowl skating across your features, “You’re the one fucking me-oh, so how dirty are you?”

He beams, “I’ll show you.”

You nearly regret asking him, because he tucks his chin against his chest and unfurls his tongue.

A long, clear thread of spit descends from his tongue, drizzling your sore clit. It then spills down onto the section of Toji’s cock that is unsheathed from your pussy, and he lets it nearly fall over the curves before he unhurriedly drives it into your pussy. You can vaguely see his spit mixing with your precum, and you can’t tell if your increased wetness is because of Toji’s saliva or his cock. It was probably both, you didn’t care enough to think more on it. 

Especially not as Toji crouches further down to place his knees firmly on either side of your thighs, plunging himself in and out and in and out and-

God, you know that you're going to cum soon.

Although your sight fails you in between mind numbing rushes of cock, your eyes stay desperately trained on his. They’re glazed over from the sheer feeling of you, and the blatant pride in that is fucked out of you every time it rears its head.

After some time, Toji’s voice breaks through the cloud of bliss you have shrouding your thoughts.

“Mind if I cum inside? Just once.” 

His waist and forehead are sheened with sweat, and you see his eyebrows cinch together before his mouth falls open with a shuddery oh shit.

You bite your lip, you know you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

“Hurry. I’m gonna cum.” Toji says tightly, trying to slow his thrusts.

His abs clench with restraint, and it only makes the sides of his cock languidly caress the walls of your pussy until you can hardly see.

Well, he did ask nicely.

“Okay.” You gasp out, balancing his hips with yours and letting out a high whine when he starts fucking into your pussy faster.

“Really?” Toji grins, not stopping his pace and groaning when you clench ardently around the thick ridges of his cock.

“You’re fucking crazy.” He leans down, scanning your trembling body from where your pussy is being bullied into submission by him and splattering uncontrollable precum onto your thighs. 

When he meets your eyes, the cunning smirk never leaves his face.

“I like that. I like you.” 

He messily thrusts into you, letting your excitement seep around his cock in a pretty white ring that only grows wider as he grinds into your pussy.

“You don’t have to say it back. I know. It’s okay, just keep being good for me. Come on, let’s finish this.”

His voice is sugary yet rough in your ear, and his tongue licks at the inside of it. A shiver runs down your spine, and you can tell Toji feels it because he gives your ear another lick and spears his cock further inside your leaking, warm core.

You think you might love him.

It’s almost sickening how good he’s making you feel, sliding between your legs without a care in the world. Your silky walls beg him to stay inside, and every time he draws his cock back you get so whiny he has to shove it in hard or else you won’t shut up.

The bulky muscles of his frame are all tensed with branches of veins, and the ones adorning his stomach seem to be beating with more and more satisfaction as the slaps of your pussy yield underneath him. You can feel the sensitive nub of your clit being consistently rubbed at by his front whenever he shifts his hips. It only adds to the eye rolling pleasure of his cock as it swims through the runny syrup of your arousal. 

“I’m cumming. Fuck, ah!”  Your entire body succumbs to the heavenly sensation of your climax, your pussy thrumming with pleasure as it continues to take every pound of Toji’s insatiable dick.

“Fuck.” Toji follows you with the gritty swear, the heavy and gratifying feeling of his cum filling you up. 

He never stops, burying a hand in your hair and pinching at one of your perked nipples with the other.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

To your surprise, he leans down to kiss you, and your tongues twist together in ecstasy. As you swallow every subsequent moan, you feel him pumping his hot cum deeper into your stretched open pussy.

The fat head of Toji’s cock is dragging so harshly and perfectly along your pussy that you’re sure you’ll never get a better fucking in your life. It had to be, Toji was too good at angling himself exactly where you needed him to be. Too fucking good at gauging how much pressure and speed it took to make you cum until your voice was hoarse and you saw fuzzy white on your eyelids.

Your cunt is overwhelmed, but still sucking at Toji’s big cock as if he had only been in you for a few seconds.

“Fuck, what are we going to do? You’re getting so full.” He trails his hand down to your waist, laying his hand flat against your stomach and not hiding the proud look on his face when you let out a cry and his cum bubbles out of your quivering hole.

“More. Please, please, please.” You shamelessly beg, squirming under him.

“More?” He tilts his head, pulling you down onto his cock by the tops of your thighs.

The sharp memory of cumming echoes in your pussy, your folds clamping around his cock.

At your clear need, the corner of Toji’s mouth lifts, “Sure, why not?” 

_________________

After thoroughly fucking you late into the night, you find yourself encased in Toji’s strong arms, shaking as he soothes his hands over your ravaged figure and tells you how amazing it was. His chest is solid against your back, and your hands are over his as he hugs you close.

“Shit.” You quietly pant, willing the fog over your mind to dispel, “Shit.”

Toji chuckles, and the deep rumble of it makes your stomach flutter.

“God, that was fucked up.”

“Shut up.” You lift your chin to look up at him, and he kisses your forehead in amusement.

“Don’t go there, you won’t like how I shut you up.” 

The words make you immediately duck your chin into your collarbone, and he laughs again while tugging you nearer.

You can feel the shape of his mouth nestled in the hair behind your ear, “I’m kidding, we’re done. For now.”

This time, you turn, “For now?”

Toji shrugs, “You don’t want me to come over again?”

You scoff, and the sound only makes his lips pull over the white of his canines in a wide grin.

“You were robbing me!”

“And then I fucked you. Real fucking good too. Can’t say I’ve done that anywhere else I’ve broken into. Don’t you feel special? Being my first.”

At that, you press your lips firmly together.

“Come on, don’t be like that. I’m not a criminal all the time. Wouldn’t ever hurt you either, unless you wanted me to.” The man drawls, and you almost want to laugh because it’s oddly comforting.

You stay quiet though, and Toji’s teasing demeanor falters.

“Come on.” He repeats more gently, arms encircling your waist.

“You’re gonna put everything back. And, you’ll stop being a piece of shit.” You finally say, bewildering yourself with your own voice.

He smiles so genuinely it makes you feel stupid, but you can’t help how your heart swells at the sight of it.

“Deal on the first part. No promises on the other thing.”

_________________

When you wake up the next morning, your stomach drops when you realize Toji is no longer sleeping next to you.

You rush out, quickly tugging on clothes and scanning your apartment with your heart in your throat.

“Sweetheart, I’m right here.” 

Mechanically, your eyes land on him. He gives you a cheeky wave, and the air floods back into your chest. 

“I didn’t wanna wake you up. You look pretty cute asleep, you know.”

The two of you stare at each other motionless for a while. For some reason, you’re speechless.

Toji is more disheveled than you thought he would be, seemingly held together by bits of sleep and the wrinkles of his t-shirt. His hair is mussed and swept up, as if he woke up and raked his hands through it until the chaos was out of his face. Leaned against your counter with a tired smile, he looks like he belongs in your kitchen. Like he might have always been there, in between your snack filled cabinets and the glass stove. You would be damned if you pretended he wasn’t looking extremely good either, cowlick and all. He peers lazily into the toaster as the red wiring lights up, and then back up to you.

“You want a waffle?”

_________________

Toji never leaves your apartment after that day.

Eventually and at your urging, he gets a proper job. You can easily piece together that he still indulges himself with some shady shit, but he fucks you into the mattress every night and helps you pay the rent now so you suppose it’s fine.

Sometimes, Toji will gift you fine jewelry and when you question where he got it from he’ll shrug and say he found it on the street.

You know what he means, but you give him a kiss and thank him for it anyway.

He also tells you he loves you almost every day, and sulks when you don’t immediately reply back with the same, affectionate phrase. It reminds you of a cat, the way he’ll complain until you kiss him on the nose and tell him you love him back. When you meet the handful of friends he has, he presents you as the best thing that ever happened to him. You shyly swat his arm whenever he introduces you that way, but he keeps saying it regardless.

One day, he gives you a ring. 

“Oh, it doesn’t fit.” You slide the band of metal around your index finger, and then let it snugly sit just below your middle knuckle.

Toji tsks from beside you on the couch, “Let me try.”

He grabs your hand, smoothly taking off the ring and then lifting your hand in his. Your heart still rushes with warmth whenever he touches you, and you quietly admire the lines of his handsome face as he examines your hand. Careful is the best word for how he handles you, eyes searching your fingers for the perfect place. His lengthy eyelashes are lowered, and you only see tiny peeks of verdant glimmer behind them. The smooth expanse of his cheeks are sculpted and lovely, lined with invisible specks of kisses you had given him earlier.

Then, wordlessly, he places it on your left ring finger.

It fits so perfectly you hardly register that it’s separate from your skin. As adrenaline rushes up your spine in epiphany, a thought obscures your potential joy.

“Wait,” You take pause before you can scream out in excitement, “Did you steal this?”

The inquiry makes Toji sneer and reel back into his seat.

“Fuck no! I’m not gonna steal our engagement rings.”

Every subsequent question or breath you had is knocked out of your chest.

“Oh my god! Toji-” You interrupt yourself when you give him an elated kiss on the cheek, and he wraps his hands around your waist as you shout, “So it is! And- wow! It’s so pretty!”

A chuckle escapes Toji as he smooths a hand down the back of your head before pulling you into his lap to hold you close.

“So, is that a yes? You’ll marry me?”

“Yes!” You give him a kiss that he returns just as happily, and then you settle back into his arms.

Peering at the ring and leaning your cheek into the nape of his neck, you sigh.

“Thank you, Toji. I love you so much.”

At your last declaration, you look up and find his eyes again. When your gazes meet, you can’t even attempt to describe the devoted adoration shared between you both. 

“I love you too. I’m gonna take care of you, you know that?” His voice is watery, and after loving him for so long you know how genuine Toji’s promise is.

He bows his head low, emotion flooding his vision and peering at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world .

You place your hand on his cheek, fighting back your own tears.

“I know.”  Then, you lightly elbow him and your tone is infused with laughter, “That’s what you get for robbing me.”

Toji hugs you closer with a roll of his eyes, but gently rests his chin on the top of your head.

“That’s what I get.”

_________________

End Notes:

lowkey was laughing while i wrote this but also it's kinda hot? idk don't look at me HAHA

longer than i intended it to be, got carried away lol lmk ur thoughts<3

[lovemesomesurveys]

This time last year, what was happening in your life? It’s pretty wild to look back at this time last year and have absolutely how badly things would take a turn in a couple months. I really wasn’t doing well health wise, but I never thought I’d wind up in the hospital for 3 months with everything so out of whack and almost dying twice (I did once).

Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? Of course I will. Ya’ll should know me by now. I have my Starbucks Doubleshot white chocolate energy drink right now.

Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? My mom. She had asked me to do something for her and I had some questions about it. I also had to show her a couple things. 

Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? Yeah.

Do you bathe your pets regularly? She gets bathed every few months. It’s actually better not to do it too often.

Do you have a mailbox or do you collect your mail from the post office? We have a mailbox. 

What was the last animal you saw, and was it a pet? Yes, I last saw my doggo. 

Have you ever had an ear infection? I have. They’re quite unpleasant. 

If you could watch any TV series right now, what would it be? I want to finish the rest of the new season of You. I watch it with my mom and brother, so with their varying schedules it can take us awhile to finish a show. If I were watching it by myself, I would have been done in two days (one day for the first half that was released and another day for the rest).

Would you have any clue when your best friend last got their hair cut? I think my mom cut her hair a couple months ago.

Someone messages you just as you’re about to go to sleep. Do you reply? A text message? I likely wouldn’t even check it. Or, I’d read it and not reply until later on. 

Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? No. My doggo does and it’s really cringey because you can hear her teeth grinding together. 

Have you ever been hospitalized due to dehydration? Well, dehydration was part of it. It was a small part of many issues I had going on. 

Is there anything you need to remember to do before the day ends? Hmm. Nope, don’t think so. 

When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? I like to be able to hear a little background noise to be aware in case something important happens or someone calls me. 

What’s your favorite online radio site? I very rarely use them anymore, but I do like Pandora. 

Do your parents have any authority over who you date? I mean, no, seeing how I’m 33 years old, but that being said their opinion very much matters to me. It’s important to me that my parents like them and they like my parents. If there were any issues or concerns, I’d want to hear them. Ultimately, it’s my decision but I would listen to what they had to say and take it seriously. I’d want to be able to work it out and not have any issues. 

How many different shades of nail polish do you have? Zero.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? My usual Cream of Wheat. 

Are you lucky enough to have an ice maker in your refrigerator door? I wouldn’t consider myself lucky if I had one or unlucky that I don’t. I don’t even use ice, so it doesn’t matter to me.

Are you the type to wake up before the sun has even risen? Some nights, even having taken my sleepy time meds, I wake up a couple times before the sun comes up. It’s super annoying. Thankfully. I typically go back to sleep, but I love the nights when I’m actually able to sleep all the way through. 

Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? I have, actually. I can’t remember what It was called at the moment, but it was a show a friend had gotten me into. 

Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. I mean, I certainly could, but I’ll spare you for now. 

Do you have a favorite towel? What color is it? No. 

Have you seen any films with Judy Garland in them?: I’ve only seen The Wizard of Oz. 

How did you feel when you woke up today? Why? >> tired. kind of sad. because that's just how it is sometimes? I don't know, man. <<<< Oh, do I understand that feeling all too well.

Who was the last person you messaged on Facebook? My mom.

When was the last time you saw them? This afternoon before she went to work.

Do you have a friend named Nick? What’s his favourite food? No.

What are you listening to? A YouTube video about Disneyland ride history. 

What year are you/did you graduate? I graduated with my BA in 2015.

Are you obsessed with anything? I tend to get that way with shows and movies I really enjoy.

Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Mmmm, waffles.

Do you prefer non-diet or diet soda? Non-diet.

Do you like seafood? Blech, no.

Are you craving anything right now? My Doritos Locos taco that I’m about to eat.

Do you dress appropriately for your age? I think my leggings and oversized graphic tees are appropriate attire.

If McDonald’s sold hot dogs, would you buy them? Yeah, I think I would.  

How long is your hair? It’s choppy and short. My ends barely reach my neck.

Do you like your neighbors? I don’t have any issues with them. I don’t even know them.

What’s your school motto? --

Has a bird ever flown into your window?  Nooo.

Which word did you say first, mama or dada? I think I said, “mama”, first. 

How old were you when you learned to walk? I never got to that stage thanks to my accident at 7 months old that left me paralyzed from the waist down. 

What was your first pet’s name? His name was Buster.

How many kids were in your class in kindergarten? I think there were like 30 or so of us.

Who was your best friend in elementary? Back in the early elementary school days best friends kinda changed all the time. It was a very loosely used term. I’d say my real best friends I met in 5th grade. 

Who was the best athlete in your freshman class? I don’t recall. I didn’t pay attention to the sports stuff.

What teacher did all the high school boys/girls have a crush on? There wasn’t one to my knowledge.

Where do you see yourself in a year? I hope by this time next year I’ll actually be able to do things again, travel, and gain back my independence. 

If you were able to change one thing about yourself, what would it be? My stubbornness. The amount of issues its caused me that could have totally been avoided...

Are you content just blending in with the crowd? I never want to stand out in the crowd. I just want to do my thing, pay no mind to me. 

[sephyathredon-writing]

Radio Drama (Great Ace Attorney Chronicles)

((Warning: Do not read if you have not finished both Great Ace Attorney 1 and Great Ace Attorney 2: Resolve!))

Ryunosuke recieves a letter in the mail with a radio station and a time on it, nothing else. Susato thinks it might be a channel that airs radio dramas, the truth proves to be much more horrific. An entry for Whumptober under the prompt “Screams from across the hall.”

  It was a typical day in the Sholmes residence. Ryunosuke was between cases, so there wasn’t much for him to do at the moment. When he went downstairs, he found that Susato and Iris were already eating breakfast. They saved him a seat, as usual. He was never one to rise bright and early, even if he tried to. Still, he wasn’t as much of an oversleeper as Sholmes notoriously was. Speaking of…

  “Where’s Mr. Sholmes?” Ryunosuke asked as he sat down.

  “Hurley had an important case he had to attend to. He’ll probably be gone all day.” Iris responded, pouring herself some tea, “I’ve invited someone special over today, though.”

  “Oh?” Ryunosuke asked, “Who did you invite?”

  “Why, none other than Mr. Reaper.” She responded with a smile, “He seems awfully lonely all the time.”

  “You invited Lord Van Zieks?” Ryunosuke asked. “Did he mention anything about Kazuma coming with him?”

  The mere idea of Iris inviting him over, and Van Zieks actually accepting, would have surprised him if it had happened months ago, but now it only made sense that he’d want to spend time with his niece, who didn’t know she was his niece.

  “Well, It’s the strangest thing, Runo.” Iris responded, “He told me last night that he hadn’t seen Kazey at all that day. He didn’t even show up to the prosecutor’s office when he was supposed to.”

  “Oh, yes, that is peculiar, and very unlike Kazuma. He’s usually very punctual.” Susato responded. 

  “Iris, I don’t think Kazuma would take too kindly to being called ‘Kazey’.” Ryunosuke corrected her..

  “Then what do you think he’d prefer being called, ‘Zumey’, ‘Kazu’, or maybe ‘Zuma’?” She listed off each name.

  “Well ‘Kazey’ is better, but I think he’d prefer to just go by Kazuma.” Ryunosuke placed a hand to the back of his head as he spoke, an apologetic expression on his face.

  Iris responded with a petulant expression, “Come on, Runo, you know nicknames are my thing. Everyone I meet has to have one.”

  “Yes, but, maybe you should see if the person you’re nicknaming actually likes the name first, is all I’m saying.” 

  “That’s not the important thing here.” Susato’s voice stopped the bickering between the two as they both paid attention to her, “What’s important is that Kazuma’s been missing. He stays with Lord Van Zieks, right?”

  Ryunosuke nodded, “Yes, he was given a room in the Van Zieks mansion to stay in, I believe.”

  “Then isn’t it worrying that someone who he lives with, and who he has an apprenticeship with, hasn’t seen him?” Susato asked. 

  “Yes it is, but you know Kazuma, he tends to do his own thing. We should ask Van Zieks when he gets here. If he still hasn’t seen Kazuma, then we can worry…” Ryunosuke reasoned.

  Susato thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, “Alright. That sounds reasonable. Iris, what time did you invite Van Zieks over at?”

  “Oh, I invited him to afternoon tea, at around 4.” She replied

  “We’ll just have to wait till then to see if it’s any cause for alarm then.” Susato responded with a nod.

  The rest of breakfast went similarly to others spent in the Sholmes residence. Iris and Susato chatted excitedly over the table and Ryunosuke joined in once or twice with his own thoughts on a particular subject.

  “Oh Runo, I almost forgot!” Iris exclaimed as she was cleaning up the dishes from breakfast, “Something came for you in the post.” She handed him a little envelope, “Completely slipped my mind. I do hope it’s not too important.”

  “Oh, thank you Iris.” He replied, politely, taking the envelope from her and opening it. The sheet of paper inside contained nothing but a three digit number with a decimal after the second one and a time underneath, 5:00 pm.

  Susato peeked over Ryunosuke’s shoulder, “Looks like someone trying to promote their radio channel. Could be exciting. Wonder if they have any of those ‘radio dramas’ I’ve been hearing about.”

  Ryunosuke handed the sheet of paper to her, “If you want to see what it’s about, go ahead, but I’m not really interested in listening to the radio.”

  “Oh, I think I will,” She looked over the paper, “Though, It’s strange. The paper doesn’t have anything else on it, just a frequency and a time. You’d think that someone wanting people to tune into the station would want to include some kind of advertising.”

  “Well, people are compelled by mystery. Maybe by keeping the details a secret, they’ll actually attract more listeners.” Ryunosuke reasoned.

  “Maybe…” Susato looked at the paper with a puzzled expression.

  The chatter died down soon and everyone went on with their day. Susato and Ryunosuke went out for groceries and Iris sat at her typewriter, typing up the newest iteration of the new Herlock Sholmes book. 

  By the time the pair made it back home and got everything put away, it was time for Van Zieks to come over. 

  They asked him about Kazuma when he arrived.

  “Sorry, I still haven’t seen him. To my knowledge, he didn’t even show up at the mansion last night. The two of us had a case going and I don’t think he’d just cut contact with me entirely out of nowhere, especially when we’re in the middle of solving a case.” He explained, hanging his cloak by the door, “I have called Scotland Yard. They are out looking for him as we speak.”

  Scotland Yard likely meant Gina would be leading the investigation. Ryunosuke let out a breath that he’d been holding in response. If anyone can sniff out Kazuma’s location, it’s her and her dog. 

  “Good to hear that somebody is looking for him.” Ryunosuke responded.

  Van Zieks nodded, “If I thought I could find him faster than Scotland Yard, I would. That being said, If they still have not found him by the time I have left this place, then I will take matters into my own hands.”

  “Let me go with you,” Ryunosuke demanded, “Kazuma is my best friend. If he’s in trouble, I want to help.”

  “Oh, yes, me too, I can’t bare the thought of sitting at home while Kazuma might be hurt or in danger out there…” Susato’s voice trailed off, a sad expression on his face.

  Van Zieks looked between the two and nodded, “If it comes to that, I would be glad to have the two of you at my side. I know how much he means to both of you.” Van Zieks paused and looked past the pair, to where Iris was sitting on the couch, “But for now, I believe I came here to have tea with Miss Iris."

  So, the four of them had tea together, until Susato broke off from the group and headed over to the radio, inputting the station that she had seen on the piece of paper earlier. There was just static, even though she was on the correct station.

  “Oh, I guess it’s nothing after all…” Susato sounded a bit dejected as she reached for the dial. Before she could touch it, the static cleared and there was only silence.

   “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Boy do I have quite the show for you today.” A man’s voice came from the radio.

  Susato clapped her hands together lightly and held them to her head, a smile on her face, “Oh! It is a radio drama! I wonder what this one’s about.”

  She pulled up a chair and made herself comfortable near the radio.

  Ryunosuke’s attention was caught by the speaker as well.

  The speaker continued, “You see, the man I have before me today is none other than the Reaper of the Bailey’s very own assistant.”

  Van Ziek’s attention was caught by the use of the word ‘reaper’. Now he was listening too.

  Susato’s expression went from excited to worried as it was clear this wasn’t what she was thinking it was.

  “Kazuma…” Ryunosuke felt like he was going to be sick. Why did this man have Kazuma? What was he going to do?

  Ryunosuke’s answer came in the next moment.

  “I think it’s about time we make Mr. Reaper pay for how he has wronged us in the past.” It was clear that the man’s words were not addressed to anybody in the room. 

  Ryunosuke felt a heavy anxious weight settle over him, “Wha- What does that mean?” Whatever it meant, couldn’t be good.

  The radio went silent for a moment, but then Ryunosuke heard grunts and groans that definitely belonged to his best friend. It dawned on Ryunosuke what they were doing after the first severely muffled scream.

  “Oh, oh god. They’re hurting him.” He reeled back from the radio, fear and shock on his face.

  Van Zieks moved closer to the radio and looked back at Susato and Iris.

  “You two, go inform Scotland Yard of this. We’ll try and get to the bottom of this.”

  “I can go on my own,” Iris responded, “I think Susie should stay here.”

  Susato nodded, looking to be on the edge of tears, but she seemed to be holding it together well enough. There was a determined expression on her face.

  “If I can help in any way, t-then I will. I’m not about to just run away when he’s in d-danger.” The stuttering words showed just how weak her facade was. 

  Without another word, Iris grabbed her backpack and left without Susato.

  Van Zieks stared at her for a moment, then nodded, turning back to the radio. 

  “At least Iris is spared from whatever sounds may come through the radio, now.” Van Zieks let out a small sigh of relief.

  Susato nodded, “Thank goodness for-” 

  Her words were cut off as the muffled screams progressed into full blown ones, they certainly came from Kazuma. The sound of it was almost too much for Ryunosuke to take.

  “I, I can’t. Lord Van Zieks, I can’t listen to my best friend being… being tortured like this.”

  Ryunosuke looked up at the man who seemed to be the very picture of the word ‘composed’. He wasn’t sure how the prosecutor maintained such a calm and collected demeanor when faced with such a gruesome situation. 

  “Feel free to leave the room, then.” He replied.

  “What are you saying? I can’t just walk out on him.”

  “Then stay quiet and let me figure this out. The audio must hold a vital clue.” Van Zieks flinched as a particularly loud and agonizing scream sounded from the radio. It put a crack in his facade.

  Susato was listening nearby, tears streaming down her face.

  There was silence between the three of them for a while, nothing but Kazuma’s screams could be heard.

  Ryunosuke flinched with every scream he heard, fearing that each one would be the last. The Kazuma he knew was strong and willing to fight to the very end he didn’t think his best friend would break so easily. They must be doing awful things to him. Just thinking about it made Ryunosuke shiver. 

  “Dammit” Van Zieks cursed, “At this rate, we won’t be able to save him.”

  “T-There’s got to be something….” Susato sobbed, “Anything to tell us where he is…”

  And then Ryunosuke heard it.

  It was being masked by the screams, but it was certainly there. 

  Tink. Tink. Tink.

  Metallic tapping noises. He might have dismissed it as unrelated if there wasn’t a certain rhythm to them.

  “Shh…” Ryunosuke pressed his ears to the radio. The screams were right in his ear now, making his stomach lurch and twist, but he pushed it down, focusing on the noises, “Susato, do you hear that?” He pulled back so Susato could listen.

  Susato moved closer, putting her ear where Ryunosuke’s had been previously. She let out a shutter at the sound of Kazuma’s screams, but then she heard it too.

  They’d heard that rhythmic sound before, in the Old Bailey, being played through a music box. They hadn’t been able to interpret it then, but after the case, they had found a means to.

  Ryunosuke and Susato made eye contact with each other, both of them letting out a gasp.

  “It’s Japanese Morse code.” Susato replied, pressing her ear closer to the radio, working to interpret it into letters.

  Ryunosuke got up and retrieved a pen and a spare piece of paper. Van Zieks, ever the pragmatist, fished a folded map out of his pocket. He may know London like the back of his hand, but it made sense that he would carry a map on him just in case he got lost. 

  “L and then O-M-E-W,” Susato spoke each letter clearly and concisely, translating them from Japanese to English in her head, “B-A-R-T-H-O-L-O-...” She paused, “It just repeats from there.”

  Ryunosuke wrote down the letters as fast as he could, even the repeats. He then handed the paper to Van Zieks.

  “I knew Kazuma would think of some way to let us know where he was. He must recognize the place, or he might have seen an indicator on the way in. I don’t know how he knows, but I think this is a street name.” Ryunosuke reasoned. 

  “Looks like you are right.” Van Zieks responded, showing him a spot on the map. A large warehouse on Bartholomew Avenue, “That has to be it.”

   “Then let’s go.” Rynosuke was already grabbing his coat and his friend’s beloved katana and heading out the door. Susato was close on his heels. They didn’t even bother to turn off the radio.

  Van Zieks nodded, grabbing his coat and heading out the door as well.

  The pair manage to hail a carriage outside and as they’re getting in, Van Zieks is stopped by Iris, having returned with Gina Lestrade at her side. 

  “Lord Van Zieks, are you coming?” Ryunosuke asked, one foot in the carriage.

  “Go.” Van Zieks commanded, “I’ll be right behind you. We can’t afford to waste time, but I should inform Scotland Yard of the new information we’ve gathered.”

  Ryunosuke nodded and stepped into the carriage with Susato, telling the driver the address of the place and to get there as fast as they could. 

  Once the carriage was on its way, Ryunosuke and Susato finally had a moment to catch their breath. 

  Susato rested her head against Ryunosuke’s shoulder, tears still in her eyes. Adrenaline was still keeping them from feeling the full brunt of the exhaustion that came with going through such a stressful situation, but they sure felt some of it hit them.

  “Don’t worry, Susato. You know Kazuma. He’s strong. He’ll make it through this.” Ryunosuke reached behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her close, “We’re doing everything we can.”

  “But, what if we’re too late? What if the carriage is too slow? I don’t think I could take it if he d-died again…”

  “I know I can’t.” Ryunosuke replied, “But it won’t come to that.” Ryunosuke reached down to his side to hold Karuma’s handle for a moment. It was the sword that Kazuma had entrusted to him. Even though he knew the man had another weapon to defend himself with, he couldn’t help but wonder if things might have been different with his beloved Katana by his side.

  He’d never had to use the sword, but today he might just have to. He prayed that his Kendo training would serve him well in this case. 

  Things grew quiet between them, but Ryunosuke disliked silence during such a tense situation, so he searched his mind for something to fill the time.

  “I didn’t know Kazuma knew Japanese Morse Code. Where could he have learned it from, I wonder?” He asked.

  “Oh, Well… I taught it to him, shortly after I learned it.” Susato replied, “I was so sure it would become the future of international communication. So sure that I insisted that he learn it as well. So in addition to learning English for his study trip, he also learned that.”

  “And he can remember both... Amazing.” There was disbelief in Ryunosuke’s voice as he spoke, “I have trouble with just remembering my English letters sometimes.”

  Ryunosuke felt Susato’s form relax against him. They hadn’t saved Kazuma yet, but he could tell she appreciated the momentary distraction.

  The conversation went on for a little bit longer, and not long after it had died down, the carriage pulled up to the warehouse.

  “Thank you.” Ryunosuke handed the driver his payment and hopped off with Susato. 

  The building in front of them seemed imposing.

  “Are you ready, Susato-Chan?” Ryunosuke asked, “We don’t know what we’re going to find in there.”

  Susato took a deep breath and nodded, then the two of them hurried inside. Ryunosuke’s hand rested on Karuma, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. 

  As soon as they got in the warehouse, they were confronted by the sound of Kazuma’s screams once more. The sound hit Ryunosuke square in the heart, threatening to make him tear up again. The whole time they were in the carriage, he was suffering.

  Susato took Ryunosuke’s free hand and walked along with him as they both followed the sound of the screams.

  Someone started talking just as the screams died down, and the tapping along with it. Ryunosuke recognized it as the man that had been talking through the radio. Suddenly he felt anger coursing through his veins. This was the man causing Kazuma so much suffering. His grip on Karuma tightened as he got closer, using crates stacked all around the warehouse for cover.

  Ryunosuke was always a firm believer in letting the law punish the criminals, but it was never so personal before. 

  “Ah, his screams are music to my ears, as I’m sure they are to yours, dear viewers. That’s not even the best part. All his loved ones are tuned into this station, listening to him suffer as I speak, and they can’t do a single thing about it! They have no idea where I am!” The speaker boasted.

  “You… will… pay… for… this….”

  The words were spoken quietly and Ryunosuke had to strain his ears to hear all of it, but that was definitely Kazuma’s voice. It was strained and hoarse from all the screaming, but it was there.

  He was alive, for now. 

  “Hmmm, what do you think dear viewers? Should we silence him, once and for all? Take away something precious from the Reaper, like he took something precious from me? From all of us?”

  There were a few moments of silence. Ryunosuke and Susato managed to get close to the torturer and his victim, close enough to get caught if they weren’t careful.

  When Ryunosuke peeked out from the crates, he almost recoiled in shock upon seeing Kazuma. The man was tied to a metal table, covered in blood. There were gashes all along his body, dyeing his white prosecutor outfit red. It’s a miracle the blood loss alone didn’t kill him. His face was contorted into an expression of pure agony. It was clear that he was just barely on the edge of death. 

  There was nothing in the immediate area other than the table, a lamp and another table with a device on it. He assumed it was sending the radio signal.

  Susato almost let out a shriek when she saw Kazuma, covering her mouth so as to not give away the fact that they were there.

  The speaker laughed at Kazuma’s words.

  “If you think anybody is coming for you, then you’d be wrong. Nobody’s going to stop me from killing you.” He held up a blade and thrust it toward his helpless victim.

  Clank.

  Ryunosuke acted on instinct, almost as if he were letting the sword itself defend it’s real master. He unsheathed Karuma and used it to deflect the blade. With his other hand, he pushed the attacker back and got between him and Kazuma.

  “R-Ryunosuke. It’s about t-time you… showed… up.” Kazuma was struggling to speak. Susato rushed to his side, trying to do what she could for his injuries. Kazuma looked up at Ryunosuke’s back, a small smile on his face despite the immense amount of pain he was in.

  “There was no way I was going to let anyone hurt my best friend.” Ryunosuke responded, his gaze fixed on the attacker. The man was quick to get up and lunge at Ryunosuke again, but he tried to tap into what he’d learned in his Kendo classes. The hand with the kendo glove on it was currently wielding Karuma. 

  He parried the knife and pushed the man back again. Pure adrenaline pumped through his veins as he tried not to think too hard about what he was doing. 

  ‘A man’s Katana is his soul’. Kazuma’s words echoed in his head.

  In that case, he was technically wielding Kazuma’s soul to save his life. He tried not to think about how poetic that was as he narrowly missed another attack, this time throwing his weight against his attacker as the man passed him, sending him falling to the floor again.

  As Susato fixed Kazuma up as much as she could, he could not take his eyes off of Ryunosuke. Even through the sheer agony he felt, his expression was one of admiration.

  “He wields Karuma w-well.” Kazuma whispered, just before he blacked out from the pain. 

  Ryunosuke pushed his attacker to the ground yet again.

  “You really think you can beat me, Lawyer? I don’t know where you got these fancy moves, but I doubt you’ve even wielded that sword before.” There was a crazed edge to the attacker’s tone.

  “Oh, I don’t need to beat you.” Ryunosuke sheathed the sword, placing his pointer finger in the air, like he does with Mr. Sholmes after a dance of deduction, “I simply needed to buy some time.”

  Someone appeared behind the attacker, cloaked in shadows, holding a long, thin blade up to his throat.

  “So,” The shadow’s voice was baritone and the hand holding the sword had familiar long white gloves, “You thought you could take away something important to me because I put your crime lord brother in jail, huh? Is that it?”

  The attacker’s expression changed from confidence to fear. He didn’t respond, only trembled where he stood, dropping the knife in his hand.

  “Lucky for you, I am a man of the law, so I’m not going to kill you. Instead I am going to turn you over to Scotland Yard. There will be a trial, and I will make sure you rot away in the deepest, darkest jail cell, forever.” The shadow stepped into the light and Ryunosuke could see Van Zieks, looking scarily intimidating.

  “I second that.” Ryunosuke responded, “So you better hope and pray that you don’t get us for your trial. There is more than enough evidence to indict you.”

  “But, but I…” The man was struggling in Van Ziek’s grasp.

  “Objection!” That one word from Ryunosuke made him shut up for good.

  A few people from Scotland Yard filed in behind Van Zikes, including Gina.

  “We can handle it from here.” Gina told Van Zieks, who relented, handing the criminal over to her. She restrained him as best she could and hauled him off to jail.

  Ryunosuke finally let out a breath he’d been holding since he’d first heard the radio broadcast.

  “Kazuma!” He suddenly remembered his friend, going over to the table.

  He wasn’t bleeding out anymore, but he was pale and breathing heavily. Susato bandaged him properly.

  Without a word, Ryunosuke drew Karuma and cut the ropes binding Kazuma’s hands and feet. 

  Susato still looked upset. She couldn’t take her eyes off Kazuma. She’d done everything she could for him in the moment, but she didn’t know if it was enough.

  Van Zieks appeared behind Ryunosuke and looked down at Kazuma’s broken body. No emotion showed on his face, even if there should be.

  “He should be taken to a hospital. I have paid the carriage driver that I had hailed to wait outside the warehouse for me. We should be able to take that one.”

  Was it Ryunosuke’s imagination, or did he hear some emotion seep into Van Ziek’s voice? It sounded like regret. 

  He dropped the thought for now, reaching down and picking up his best friend, holding him as if he were fragile, even if he was quite heavy.

  He looked between Susato and Van Zieks.

  “Alright, let’s go.” Ryunosuke turned back toward the way he had come, taking a deep breath and then walking. 

  He could feel each one of Kazuma’s breaths, could feel his heartbeats. The fact that he could tell his best friend was still alive made him stronger. 

  He was able to make it out of the building and into the carriage. He and Kazuma took up the seats on one side while Susato and Van Zieks took up the ones on the other. 

  “Judging by the look of your friend there, I’m assumin’ you all want to go to St. Barts, right?” The carriage driver asked. 

  “Yes.” Van Zieks replied. And without another word, they were off. 

  Silence lingered between the group for a few minutes. Ryunosuke shifted Kazuma around so only the top half of his body was in his lap, the other half draped across the other seat. His arms held the man protectively, desperate to make sure he was still alive.

  It wasn’t until Kazuma opened his eyes again that the silence was broken.

  “I knew you’d figure out my code eventually… or… I guess it was Susato that did that, huh?” His voice was still weak, but he could speak full sentences without stuttering. That was a good sign.

  “Yes, I’m glad I taught you that.” Susato spoke up, “I didn’t think it’d come in handy quite like this, though.”

  “Yeah, that was…” Ryunosuke shivered, “That was quite an ordeal, for you especially Kazuma. You should save your strength.” There was some lingering nervousness in his voice. 

  Kazuma seemed to ignore that comment, as he just kept talking. “I can’t believe you actually used Karuma in battle. You looked just like a samurai, Ryunosuke.”

  He blushed in response, “Me? I had no idea how to wield that blade. I only relied on my experience from kendo training.”

  “Still, it worked.” Kazuma replied.

  “I would have treated that guy to a Susato Takedown, if I wasn’t so worried about treating your wounds.” Susato commented.

  “I think I would have enjoyed seeing that.” Van Zieks commented. He’d never seen one of her takedowns before. Ryunosuke was sure he was wondering how someone so small could do something like that. 

  “Van Zieks is here too?” Kazuma asked.

  “Yep, he wanted to rescue you, same as us.” Susato answered.

  “That’s… surprising.” Kazuma replied.

  “What’s surprising? You’re my apprentice. Besides, I wasn’t about to let them injure my pride like that.” Van Zieks explained.

  Ryunosuke knew it went deeper than that. The two of them had come somewhat of an understanding after the big case, the one where Van Zieks was the defendant. He would poke the prosecutor about it, but he decided to leave it alone for now.

  Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, everyone felt a wave of exhaustion roll over them. Things had been too tense for too long. By the time they had arrived at St. Barts, everyone but Van Zieks was already half asleep. They checked Kazuma in and stayed there when he got his wounds treated.  

  Later they found out from Gina that the radio broadcast was being transmitted to the people who had been loyal to the criminal’s brother. They all wanted revenge on the reaper for sending their boss to jail. So they’d all have to be careful for a while. 

  Kazuma made a full recovery. Not a day went by that someone wasn’t at his bedside. It wasn’t often Van Zieks, but Ryunosuke and Susato made sure to visit when they had time, and Iris too, often bringing tea or desserts with her. Kazuma was amused by her nickname for him.

  When he was allowed to leave the hospital, he and Van Zieks were invited over to tea again, and they all had a nice afternoon together. 

[lascldiva]

Mac mail gmail takes long load

Mac mail gmail takes long load download#

Mac mail gmail takes long load free#

Although its interface has not changed much, the scope of features that it offers has changed dramatically. It integrates with not just Microsoft Office accounts, but with Gmail, iCloud and Yahoo Mail. If you have access to Microsoft Office paying $6.99 per month, then Outlook is included in that package, so it is a great idea to utilize its features if you or your company has access. This means any Word or Excel document can be easily sent and received. It gives you email, calendar, and contact lists all in one space and integrates with the entire Microsoft Office suite. If you are emailing and writing a lot with work, then Microsoft 365 Office Outlook is as good as it gets. They are essential if you are emailing a lot, and even if you are not an avid emailer, they are still a quality option to keep your inbox tidy. They are great at handling attachments as well, this means that you can send or receive documents, images, files, or spreadsheets with ease.Įmail clients look to make your life easier by keeping your emails organized and sending them straight into specific folders to maximize productivity. They offer solid organizational tools like folders, pockets, or labels and have an integrated search engine to help you find whatever you need. Okay, maybe that did not sound so simple, but everything aside, an email client allows you to organize and reply to emails as well as send new ones. The user interacts with it and the client downloads messages from the email server itself for local use. Simply put, an email client is a program that reads and sends electronic messages. So, what is an E-mail Client? and what Does it Do?

Mac mail gmail takes long load free#

Many services are free to use, but others offer additional features, more templates, or more cloud storage for an additional monthly fee, and again, depending on what you need the client for, these fees may be worth paying. So, it is important that services offer their features at a reasonable price. The email client market is growing more and more competitive. However, all of the basics should still be covered, it should keep your inbox organised and notify you of any important mail instantly. Especially if you are paying for one, because so many services are free in today’s market, companies are under pressure to stand out and offer solid and unique features. Featuresĭepending on what you need an emailing client for, having a feature rich platform can be really important. However, all of the emailing clients on this list are fully integrated and capable of handling emails from any source. The last thing you need is to open an email from Yahoo and see that it is not supported by your client. One of the main selling points for an email client service has to be its ability to integrate with other mailing apps to collect all of your data, and to send and receive from other platforms. What an E-mail Client Service Should Have

So, what is an E-mail Client? and what Does it Do?.

What an E-mail Client Service Should Have.

This has been a vexing problem to try to resolve. Nor am I experiencing any other perceptible slowdown in Web traffic, including the sending and receiving of messages once Mail is open and running. Prior to this strange and unwelcome behavior of Apple's Mail app, I hadn't made any changes to my Apple Mail Settings, nor to my Google Account's Mail Settings, nor to my router settings (Airport Extreme) or cable modem. Moreover, if I were to log into my Gmail account via Safari, the Inbox messages continue to display almost instantly, whereas if I were to open the Mail app at this time (Safari still open to my Gmail page), it still takes anywhere from 10 - 20 seconds to display the information. Nor does this improve if I disable all Junk Mail filtering. Initially, I thought this may result of processing of Rules I had set up in Mail's Preferences, but disabling all of the Rules has had no perceptible effect on this problem. Quitting and immediately re-opening the Mail app yields the very same behavior, except that the delay appears to be a bit shorter than the day's initial opening. When it does so, the messages populate the window almost instantly, as before, and all other features of the app continue to work normally (as before all this began).

Mac mail gmail takes long load download#

I've been having the very same issue, viz., Apple's Mail app has suddenly begun to download new messages from my Gmail account very slowly - by which I mean that after clicking on the Mail icon in my Dock, the app opens (evidenced by the menubar), but the "Viewer Window" doesn't display for (sometimes) up to 15 or 20 seconds.

[meeedeee]

The First Post To The First Slash /Shipping Mailing List

The Date: October 19, 1992 ("it was almost 29 years ago") The Poster: sherrold* 

Context: the first pan fandom slash (shipping) mailing list, Virgule-L, was in its infancy. Safe spaces for women to talk about slash online were rare. And most fan fiction was distributed in print fanzines (which is why fanzine reviews like the one Sandy wrote were so important as a single fanzine cost $15-20 or around $30-40 in today's dollars.) Fan run conventions were the only way to meet other groups of fans and mailed letters and phone calls were the tenuous tethers that strung these fan groups together. The mailing list - and the Internet - was about to change...everything. ****************

Well, welcome to my adventure in mailing! I hope to have this set up soon as a 'real' mailing list, with it's own address. Until then, I only know one way for one of you to write to everyone at once. Just reply to a letter from the list, and answer yes, when it asks, 'reply to all'. So far there are 7 of us. I'll let everyone introduce themselves. I am Sandy Hereld,* I write as Alyx (often with a friend who used Alys) the pen name is *not* a secret. I started in "/" fandom in trek, moved to Pros, and now am very crazed about B7. I still love Pros, and like a lot of different fandoms, including Wiseguy, Starsky and Hutch, and Muncle. I helped run a slash con here in town last week, Virgule, and hope to make Escapade** this year (in February, in Santa Barbara--one of the list subscribers co- runs it--memberships still available), but not Revelcon.*** Maybe, if I get a new job, Media West. I've never been there, and I've always wanted to go. I just finished a great Multi-mediazine called Homosapiens Too. It has an interesting variety of fandoms and crossovers; even more important, there wasn't a single story that stunk (though I liked some better than others, of course.) Page count is Pros/Booker 18 pgs (Bodie/Booker) Eroica/Muncle 5 pgs (Eroica/Illya) Batman 4 (Batman/street punk) Nightflyers 6+ (cartoon, from the movie) TNG 5pgs (Beverly/symbiote) B7/TOS trek 5 pgs (Blake/Spock) Dangerous Liaisons 7 pgs (Valmont/Danceny) Damiano 2 pgs (from the R.A. McAvoy books) MUNCLE 2 pgs the usual Star Wars 4 (cartoon, original characters) Pros 4 pgs the usual B7 50 pgs (Blake/Avon) Perhaps I should mention at the there was a contest for most outrageous crossover pairing. My favorites were: The Right Place To Be (Bodie/Booker) by Arcane Annie & Stew--Bodie quits in a huff after an Operation Suzie, and is too embarrassed to go back; Booker has quit somewhat similarly. Seeing how stupid the other's foolish pride looks, they both learn things about playing roles and 'what really matters.' They also have pretty good sex. Do Blond's Really Have More Fun? (Eroica/Illya) by Barbara T. This definitely is set at a time when Solo and Kurykin are having some problems. The crossover is a fascinating one, and it works. (Anyone needing Erioca explained, just e-mail me. It is a pretty new/small fandom, but growing fast.) Brand New Day (Spock/Blake) by Jane Carnell follows immediately after Blake's pod makes planetfall after Star One. A great Blake, and if not a totally convincing Spock, it's close. Worth it for this scene alone. --Blake "What do you like?" "Anal penetration," "Which way round?" Blake inquired. "I am a telepath. It hardly matters. Whichever way pleases you." Valmont (Valmont/Danceny) by Stew -is a romantic, but very plausible retelling of the movie Dangerous Liaisons, all from Danceny's POV. For any that have read the book, you know it is told solely in letters and diary entries, so this collection of Danceny's diaries is very faithful to the original feel. It is also an amazingly concise retelling, squeezing 2 hours into 6 1/2 pgs. Submissive It Ain't (Pros) is basically just a sex story, but one firmly based in the very different personalities of Bodie and Doyle. Nice idea, beautiful sex, slightly weak ending. Puppeteer (Blake/Avon) by Bryn Lantry is a convoluted but beautiful story where: the action is in the emotions, everyone has multiple motives, and no one truly knows their own minds, much less understands their crewmates. A bit alternate, set sometime in the months before Star One but after Blake has already got the idea in mind, this is a wonderful character study of Blake and Avon, with Vila and Cally in strong supporting roles. Not my favorite type of story -- I think I prefer something a bit more straightforward, but undeniably compelling and well written. The other stories weren't dogs either... The Muncle story, Hanging In Time, by Y.J. is a very disturbing portrayal of the hurt-comfort syndrome in Illya, The Batman story will appeal to anyone who liked "The Dark Knight Returns" With All My Symbiotes -Susan Douglas- has some nice female slash. Why Couldn't It Be Me has gotten a certain amount of press as "Biblical slash." It does have two biblical characters in it, but it is just a vigniette, and has no overt slash content. A few caveats: I disliked the art in the first story, and was indifferent to the rest. I had a hard time reading the 2 cartoon sections; I thought the penning needed to be clearer, and the xerox needed to be darker for those sections. With those few quibbles in mind, I recommend the zine highly. It has an interesting collection of stories set in an amazing variety of universes. The editor is joining a growing number of publishers and putting the word count down -- 80,700, with 40,700 of it in Bryn's B7 story. It is available from Manacles Press here in the U.S. at  [address removed]. There is no U.S. price on the zine; it says to SASE Manacles Press, and I can't remember whether I paid $15 or $18 at the con. From Australia, it is available from the publisher...[address removed] $12 within Aust, $20 posted overseas airmail. (I assume that's $Aus)”

*Sandy passed away in July 2011 of cancer. One of our final joint projects was going  through our emails dating back 20+ years to find fandom history we could share

**Escapade is the longest running slash convention and is still held in Southern California (as of 2021)

*Revelcon is a slash friendly multi-fandom convention held in Texas. As of 2021 it is still running

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?”

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘The_gr8_bugaboo@yoohoo.com’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

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

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S.  Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[legends-live-in-memories]

Business (Mis)Management

AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle! 

Fics Masterlist

Timari Oneshot 2.3K words

Summary: 

"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "

One shot using two prompts for this server event: Day 3:College AU Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."

without further ado: 

It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. 

Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.

It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills. 

When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.

“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of. 

After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble. 

A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things? 

The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation. 

“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.” 

Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.

“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”

Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”

He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.  

“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?” 

Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”

Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.

“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.

“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”

Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right? 

“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit. 

“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”

What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass. 

She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail. 

Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing. 

Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.

The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind. 

They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”

“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.” 

“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.

“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”

“Huh.”

“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!

“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”

“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”

“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

What?

[sunrisefairy]

Last chances

Pairing: George Weasley x reader Warning: Alcohol, swearing, angst (but worth it i promise) Summary: Y/N is getting married. To someone that isn’t George. 

A/N: this was written for @inglourious-imagines​​ 1K writing challenge (i just realised i didnt tell you before hand what prompts i was gonna do so i hope thats okay) based off the prompts ‘you need to leave’ and ‘d-did you just k-kiss me?’

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972​ @inglourious-imagines​ @klausdatprettyboi​ @georgeweasleyswhre​ @horrorxweasley​ @amourtentiaa​ send me an ask if you would like to be added

———————————————————————————————————

George felt all the air being sucked out of his lungs as he read over the golden cursive words printed onto the crisp white paper. He could feel Fred’s pitiful stare burning holes into the side of his head, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the paper in his grasp. George’s brain was overflowing with thoughts, but his head was empty at the same time, as if every time he reached out his thoughts were dissolving into liquid and slipping through his fingers.

By the time George managed to make eye contact with Fred, his eyes were red and burning with tears, the only thought he could wrap his fingers around was the one which was destroying him the most, “she’s getting married?”

~~~

The sun was beating down harshly making the sand feel like tiny grains of lava, but George didn’t care. It was the middle of summer and the Weasley family had invited the Y/L/N’s to the beach. John and Nancy Y/L/N had been very good friends with Molly and Arthur Weasley for many years having met during high school. But soon after graduation John and Nancy got married and decided to travel the world which they had done for a few years before having their daughter Y/N. They moved around a lot while Y/N was a baby, still wanting to explore and see what the world had to offer. But now, Y/N was 7 and they decided it would do her and themselves some good to settle down somewhere, plant some roots so to speak. Which is how they ended back in the small town John and Nancy grew up in, the one where the Weasleys were still living.

Giving that it was summer, and the weather was reaching high temperatures the Weasley family decided to spend the day at the beach so the children could kill some energy and excitedly invited their old friends, John and Nancy to catch up.

George was particularly thrilled not only because he loved days at the beach playing with his siblings and making sandcastles just to pretend he was a giant and stomp on them, but he couldn’t wait to meet Y/N. His parents had told him and Fred that Y/N was their age and although Fred wasn’t very interested in playing with a girl and would much rather prank Ron, George had a good feeling about Y/N.

George had just finished constructing a sandcastle he named ‘Castle Weasley’ and was about to jump on it when his mum calls for him. He drags his bare feet through the hot sand over to his parents who are chatting with 2 people he doesn’t recognise.

“Fred, George this is John and Nancy, and this is their little girl Y/N.” Molly gestures to the timid girl hiding behind her mum’s leg.

Reluctantly Y/N moves from her previous hiding spot and stares doe eyes up at the twins in front of her. George’s mouth is dry and his palms are clammy, but he doesn’t think it’s from the blistering heat. George Weasley is staring at the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

~~~

It’s been 3 weeks since Y/N’s wedding invitation arrived in the mail and George had shoved it under a pile of bills he was also planning to ignore. Although he doesn’t need to see the invitations to remember the words which were written on the paper ‘kindly join us for the wedding of Y/N L/N and William Chapman. Saturday the seventeenth of April at 11 o’clock.’

It was the 10th of April today, just 7 days till Y/N’s wedding. George felt bile rising in the back of his throat every time he thinks about Y/N marrying someone which wasn’t himself. George has had a crush on the girl ever since he first met her that day on the beach. Back then he only ever saw it as a silly little crush which he hoped he’d eventually get over. But years went on and his crush only grew and grew until it was suffocating. When they reached high school, George planned to tell Y/N about his feelings but chickened out each time, scared of ruining their friendship.

To be honest George always felt (maybe he just hoped) that him and Y/N were meant for each other and sooner or later they’d be together. He held tightly onto this when Y/N started dating William. George was optimistic that William and Y/N’s relationship wasn’t serious and eventually they’d break up and George could finally confess his feelings. All of that went down the drain the second George open up that stupid envelope.

“I ran into Y/N today. At the store,” Fred says carefully trying to gage his brother’s reaction to her name. George just offers a grunt in response, eye staring blankly at the tv in front of him. “she asked about you, wants to know if you’re going to the wedding since she hasn’t heard anything from you.”

George doesn’t reply. Fred just sighs, ”c’mon mate. You’re really not going to go? It’s Y/N we’re talking about here. She’s your best mate.”

George racks his ringers through his already messy hair, squeezing his eyes closed. “That’s exactly why I can’t go. It’s Y/N. How can I sit there and watch Y/N marry some other guy and pretend I’m okay with it?” George feels tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, it’s a wonder he has any tears left to cry.

Fred moves closer to George on the couch, wrapping his arm around his twin who chokes out a sob, “I know buddy, I know it fucking hurts.”

~~~

Since graduating high school George and Y/N made it tradition to catch up once a week if not more so they wouldn’t lose touch. But their newfound busy lives with university and work meant they hadn’t seen each other for a month. They finally found a day that they were both free and decided to meet up for coffee. George had paid for Y/N’s latte while she found them a table by the window. He set their drinks down admiring how beautiful Y/N looked, she was practically glowing.

“So, Y/N what’s new with you? I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you,” George takes a long sip of his coffee.

George knows Y/N must have some important news for him, judging solely off the smile that she’s failing to conceal. “Well, if you must know. I met someone.”

The colour drains from George’s face and he coughs trying to regain his composure. “Like a boy?”

“Yes a boy silly, his name is William and I met him at the library. It was actually really funny I was turning down one of the aisles and he” George drowns out Y/N’s voice, he can hear his heart thumping in his chest, threatening to jump out.

George knows, he knows it’s his own fault for not telling Y/N how he feels sooner. He knows he doesn’t have anyone else to blame but himself, but it doesn’t make this hurt any less. Sweet, kind Y/N, who had gently cradled George’s heart unknowingly since they were 7, has squeezed it between her slender fingers like a stress ball.

“George?” Y/N words break him from his trance.

“That sounds amazing Y/N, I’m really happy for you.”

~~~

It’s Monday and Y/N has been trying to contact George for days with no luck. She ran into Fred last Saturday who said George has just been super busy with work, she didn’t believe it one bit, she needed to find out why George has been ignoring her.

She pushes the store door open and the bell above chimes announcing her arrival.

“Sorry we’re closed for the day!” a voice travels through the store before it’s owner exits the storeroom to see who the culprit is, who clearly cannot read the ‘closed’ sign hanging on the door.

George’s eyes land on Y/N who is standing by the front door unmoving and twiddling with her fingers, playing with an engagement ring that seems out of place on her left hand. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N steps closer, not noticing the way George takes a small step back, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

George doesn’t speak, he’s certain that his voice would be unsteady if he did. Y/N hates the silence, so speaks again, “I’m getting married you know, on Saturday.”

George sucks in a breath, turning his back to fix one of the displays. “Yeah, congratulations,” he mumbles.

“I didn’t know if you got the invitation or not, kind of expected you to call.” Y/N shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, moving so she is standing beside George who is avoiding her gaze. “What’s the matter Georgie?”

George shakes his head, “kind of fast isn’t it? Why the rush to get married to that twat?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, ever since George met William, he made it very clear he didn’t like the bloke. “George stop it. He proposed and I said yes. We figured why wait to start our lives together, y’know? So on Saturday I thought that-“

“-I’m not going.” George’s words felt like a hot knife to Y/N’s chest. When George finally mets her gaze he continues, “I’m not going to the wedding Y/N.”

“Why?”

“Because! Because William is a prick and doesn’t deserve you. I can’t sit there and watch you marry some idiot.” George knows his voice is getting louder and that his hands are flailing around but he doesn’t care. “He’s an absolute tosser! You deserve better than William.” You deserve me.

“William has done nothing but love me, George.” The thought of George not being there at her wedding breaks her heart. George was her best friend; how could she not have her best friend at the wedding. “Are you really not going to be there for me?” Y/N’s voice is quiet and timid.

It shatters George to see her so upset and the next words almost kill him.

“No, I won’t be there.”

~~~

Click.

Click.

Click.

“Okay mum that’s enough photos now!” Y/N giggles trying to hide her face behind her hands.

“Just one more please! George put your arm around her this time.” Nancy says holding the camera up to her face.

George wraps his arm around Y/N waist pulling her closer to him very aware of the way Y/N leans into his side. It’s the night on the school dance and somehow he had gathered enough courage to ask Y/N to go with him, she agreed of course and now they were standing out the front of Y/N’s house in front of the rose bushes while Y/N and George’s parents took photos.

“Okay now one with the four of you together,” Molly says pushing Fred and his date over to the rose bush. The four of them stood together smiling at all the flashing cameras which almost blinded them.

Molly wipes a tear that slips down her cheek, she always got emotional during things like this, “I cannot believe my little babies are growing up. 16 and going to a school dance with their gorgeous dates.”

“Right mum that’s enough, we’re gonna be late,” George groans although he didn’t mind having his arm around Y/N’s middle.

Molly nods agreeing, “right fine! Don’t want to keep you from your dance, have fun!”

Arthur drops the 4 of them off at the school hall reminding them he’d be back at 12 to pick them up.

All 4 of them spend most of the night dancing together and laughing at Fred’s questionable dance moves. Soon the upbeat song comes to an end and a much slowly one started playing. Immediately Fred extends a hand to his date, “m’lady. Care to dance?”

George turns his body to face Y/N who is gazing up at his tall frame, he gulps “Y/N do you wanna dance with me?”

The smile that spreads across her face could light up the room, “yes please.”

For the remainder of the night George and Y/N sway slowly to the music, Y/N moves closer to George until her head is resting against his chest and his arms find their place on her hips.

Y/N can hear George humming to the music above her and she smiles giving his shoulders a small squeeze, then whispers so quietly she’s worried George doesn’t hear her. “I hope we are always best friends Georgie.”

“I promise we will be love.”

~~~

Friday night and George hasn’t spoken to Y/N since she visited the shop. He’s ignored her phone calls and text messages; she came into the shop again on Wednesday, but George locked himself in the backroom telling Fred he had to do stocktake.

George could feel himself falling apart, Y/N was upset with him, Fred was annoyed at his childish behaviour. George felt himself fall deeper and deeper as his heartache and sorrow grew stronger every time he remembered Y/N’s engagement. The only thing which seems to numb his feelings was the alcohol.

At this point George wasn’t sure how much he had had to drink, but the buzz running through his system was better than the bitterness he was feeling before. It had just hit 11:30pm at night and he had finished the last of the tequila from the bottle. With no alcohol to distract his brain his eyes drift over the numerous photo frames he has hanging on the living room wall. His eyes stop at one photo in particular, it’s of him and Y/N from the day at the beach when they were 7. Despite it being the first time the two had met, they looked like they’d known each other since birth. Y/N had been very shy when she was introduced to the twins, but George quickly made her feel comfortable and the day was spent with lots of laughter and smiles. In the photo George and Y/N are stood side by side on the sand, grinning up at the camera. They had just made a huge sandcastle village and were very proud to show off their creation. George’s eyes wander down the photograph to their hands which are tightly intertwined. He bites his lip before stumbling out the front door.

~~~

“Do you ever think about getting married Georgie?” Y/N questions, she’s lying beside George outside on the grass, staring up at the clouds moving above them. They did this a lot, gazing at the sky trying to find the funniest shapes in the clouds.

George is only 12 but he knows exactly who he wants to marry, not that he will admit that.

“No, not really.” George tries not to freak out when he feels Y/N’s hand intertwine with his own, “do you?”

Y/N nods, “yep, I want to marry someone who is funny and will let me eat ice cream for dinner.” She giggles and it makes George’s heart soar, it the 5 years of knowing Y/N it had quickly become George’s favourite sound.

He turns his head to face Y/N, she’s still looking up at the sky, there’s a faint smile on her lips.

“I’m funny.” George isn’t sure what he’s insinuating.

Y/N turns to face him, “you are. Would you let me eat ice cream for dinner?” he nods eagerly.

Y/N purses her lips before smiling, “well then Georgie, maybe I’ll marry you.”

George can only hope that’s true.

~~~

George’s fist hammers against the wooden door. It knows it late and there’s a chance William will answer instead of Y/N but in this moment he doesn’t care. “C’mon Y/N open up! It’s me George.”

The door swings open and Y/N is standing on the other side in a fluffy dressing gown wrapped snuggly around her body rubbing her eyes. “George what the hell are you doing here?” There’s a trace of annoying on her voice, mostly because he’d woken her up but also because she’s been trying to talk to him all week and he decides to show up at her house at midnight the night before her wedding.

“I-um,” George stammers, his words getting stuck in this throat. He has spent practically his whole life wanting to tell Y/N he loves her but never being able to find the words, this time was no exception. So, in George’s alcohol fuelled mind he decides if he can’t use words then actions are the next best thing.

Y/N is staring blanking at the redhead on her porch, eager to know the reason why he’s standing in front of her after ignoring her all week. George timidly steps closer towards Y/N before resting his hands on her cheeks and pressing their lips together roughly.

Y/N is stood frozen on the spot until her hands reach up to rest on George’s chest. She can taste the strong alcohol on Georges mouth, and she’s pulled back to reality and pushing him away. “D-did you just k-kiss me?”

George nods.

Y/N is filled with anger and it starts to bubble up inside of her. “What the fuck George? You’ve been ignoring me all week not answering my calls or texts and-and then you just come here drunk and do that? You can’t come here the night before my wedding and kiss me. It’s not fair!”

George’s shoulders slump, “I’m sorry, I just had to say- that I…” he pauses again, his eyes scanning over Y/N’s face hoping somehow she’s learnt how to mind read.

“What? You had to say what George?” Y/N is aware that she’s yelling but she can’t bring herself to care.

“That I love you.”

Y/N doesn’t speak her brain is running a hundred miles a minute. The silence is unpleasant and unbearable, George looking into Y/N’s eyes trying to read her expression.

“You need to leave,” Y/N utters, her face unmoving.

It’s like George’s feet are glued to the ground, he’s brain is screaming at him to move but he can’t.

“You need to leave George.” Y/N’s voice is firmer this time, “I’m getting married tomorrow and you need to leave right now.”

~~~

George Weasley is an idiot. No, he’s more than an idiot, George Weasley is a dickhead, plain and simple.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he got home, he kept replaying the night over and over. Every time he closed his eyes, he was met with Y/N staring back at him. Except she’s staring with so much disgust it makes George feel sick, he can still hear Y/N’s voice telling him to leave. George Weasley not only managed to lose the life of his life in one night but also his best friend. He feels like a dickhead.

George glances over at the clock next to his bed. 10:30 am. Y/N is getting married in 30 minutes. His chest pains, he thinks he might throw up.

George staggers out of bed and towards the kitchen, he needs water. His journey is interrupted by a harsh knock from the front door. He sighs, he knew Fred would come around to try and convince him to go to the wedding. George figures he couldn’t go to the wedding even if he wanted to, sure that his invitation was no longer valid after last night.

“Fred, seriously I’m not going,” George flings open the door and he almost passes out.

Y/N was standing there looking like an angel, he thinks maybe he died from alcohol poisoning and was actually in heaven. Y/N’s hair was laying loosely across her shoulders, she was wearing a breathtaking white gown which hugged her body perfectly.

George mouth is gaping open his voice coming out breathless and in a whisper, “what-what are you doing here?” He’s half expecting Y/N to slap him across the face for his antics last night.

“I couldn’t do it,” Y/N also whispers, as if this is a secret conversation, only meant for the two of them.

“Why?” George squeaks.

“Because I love you.”

Y/N steps closer and drapes her arms around George’s neck pulling him closer so their foreheads are resting against each other.

As soon as she woke up this morning Y/N felt ill. It wasn’t until she was standing in her wedding dress by the church did she realise why she felt sick. It was because the man that was waiting for her inside the church wasn’t George. Her mum sensed her daughters doubts and offered a comforting hand on her shoulder, “darling, you tell me right now if you want out. I’ll get a car, I’ll sort out this whole thing, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Without thinking Y/N had responded, “I want out mum.” That lead to Y/N zooming away in her dad’s car straight for George’s place.

Y/N gazes into George’s warm and gentle eyes, she felt home, “I love you even though you’re an idiot who waited to tell me you loved me till the night before my wedding to someone else.”

George chuckles, “yeah I guess I am but I’m your idiot.”

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 12: Capsaicin

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Maybe he wrote her address wrong.

The odds of that happening are pretty damn slim; Mulder’s had it down by heart for years, but he’s grasping at all possibilities right now.

He had sent the letter through the postal service in an attempt to keep himself from stressing out over its delivery, but that plan backfired the minute the envelope left his hands.

He dropped it in the mail on Saturday evening. It’s now Wednesday, and Scully has made no mention of it. There’s been no indication in her demeanor at all to suggest that she’d received any revelatory mail-pieces.

He might live the rest of his life in this horrific limbo, a purgatory of his own construction. He’s been on pins and needles all week, filling the basement office with nervous energy, furtively glancing at Scully in attempts to read her facial expressions. Did she get the letter and throw it out? How is she so calm? Maybe it got stuck in one of the sorting machines…

Before he knows it, Scully’s bidding him a friendly “goodnight” and shutting the office door.

Say what you will about anxiety, but it sure spices up the workday.

Mulder drives home in a fog; he’s exhausted from the mental exertion of thinking in circles and jumping to conclusions. Inside his apartment he flops down on the sofa and calls for takeout from the Thai place down the street that has his order memorized.

The next time he confesses his undying love to somebody, he’s going to use e-mail.

A knock on his door shakes him from his reverie.

“How much do I owe-” he begins as he opens the door, then freezes.

Scully is standing at his doorstep, a high flush on her cheeks. She looks somehow startled, as though he surprised her by opening his own front door.

“Scully,” he says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mulder,” she replies, voice cracking on the edges. Her big blue eyes are full, ready to spill over her lower lids.

Oh.

“You read it,” he says softly. He feels his chest tighten into a tight knot of anxiety, and he swallows hard.

She nods. “Can I- I need to come in.”

He stands aside, ushers her into his living room.

She’s vibrating with nervous energy. Mulder motions to the couch. “Would you, uh, like to sit down?”

“I’d prefer to stand, thank you,” she says, voice tight. She grips her elbows.

“Well, I guess I’ll sit,” Mulder says softly, lowering himself to the couch. “Scully, I-“

She holds out a hand. “You got to say your piece, Mulder, now it’s time for mine.” Her lower lip crumples slightly, and he wants to get up and hug her.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “Mulder, when I received your letter today…” She blinks back tears. “I was completely overwhelmed. I’m not even sure how I managed to drive here,” she admits. “And I appreciate that in it you acknowledged the inopportune timing of your confession. Things just keep piling up,” she says. “But now I just want to know, need to know… why the hell did you wait so long?”

There’s pain in her voice, and he aches in return.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he says simply, “and then Mark happened.” It’s so insufficient, but it’s all he has.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she says. “I wish I’d known. I dragged you into this mess with him, and the whole time you… you felt that for me.”

“Scully,” he says slowly, “If I had told you I loved you, would you have still gone out with Mark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and his heart falls into his stomach.

“How can you ask me that?” she says, voice a rough whisper. “What do you want me to say?”

Say no. Please. “I’m only interested in the truth, Scully. You of all people know that by now.”

A tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away roughly. “I… I don’t know. Do you have any idea how long and hard I worked to not feel? I’d wake up every damn morning thinking about you. I’d scrub myself raw in the shower so you couldn’t smell me, sense how much I wanted you all fucking night. I’d come to work and turn my heart off, bury my feelings so deep that even now I can barely scratch the surface of them. I did it for years, Mulder.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “So when my mother introduced me to a nice man with a little girl, I decided to go for it. And I almost forget how to really feel something. But you… you never let me forget. And the rational choices cease to make sense.” She sniffs noisily. “You turned my entire world upside down.”

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry-” he begins.

“No,” Scully interrupts. “No, Mulder. I don’t want your guilt, or your pity; I don’t need it. I want you, and me. I want us to be the two broken people we are, healing. We can’t keep hurting each other with misguided attempts to protect each other.”

“What do you mean, then? How do we stop?”

“By being honest,” she says, coming around the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch. “We start here. Right now.”

“I-I don’t know how much more clear or honest I could possible be,” Mulder stammers. “The letter spelled it out. My cards are on the table.”

“They are,” she agrees, “But you wrote under the assumption that I wouldn’t reciprocate. You left no room for alternatives.”

“Alternatives being…”

Scully’s eyes are pleading. “Mulder,” she whispers, beseeching.

There’s a knock on the door.

Mulder glances over his shoulder, startled out of their moment. “I ordered Thai,” he explains. “If you’re here, then that must be the delivery guy,” he says.

Scully nods. “Likely.” She gets up from the sofa and crosses to the desk, fetching the tissue box there. “You should-”

“Answer the door, yeah,” Mulder agrees absently, standing and feeling his pockets for his wallet.

The bored teenager on the other side of the door holds the bag out. “Sixteen forty-nine,” he says.

“Give him a twenty,” Scully instructs from the living room, blowing her nose.

Mulder digs a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the delivery guy. “You and the Mrs have a good night,” the boy says, stifling a yawn as he shoves the money into the pack on his waist.

“That tip was what, twenty-five percent?” Mulder grouses, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“Oh, so you can do math,” Scully says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So what’s your excuse for being a lousy tipper, then?”

“Spoken like a former waitress,” Mulder mumbles.

“You’re goddamn right,” Scully says. “Best IHOP server in San Diego.”

Her bravado contrasts sharply with her puffy eyes and watery voice, and Mulder wants to pull her into his arms and never let go.

“You want any of this?” he asks, pulling steaming cartons out of the bag. “There’s plenty for both of us, and if you don’t eat I’ll feel like a crappy host.”

She sits back down on the couch, setting the tissue box on the coffee table. “If you don’t mind sharing,” she concedes.

“I’ll grab you a fork,” he replies, giving her knee a squeeze.

They eat quietly, passing cartons between them, migrating together until they’re shoulder to shoulder in the center of the couch.

“So,” Mulder says, “Before the food got here, we were talking about something pretty important.”

Scully nods, turning her fork to wind noodles around the tines. “That we were,” she agrees.

“About honesty,” he prompts. “Alternatives.”

Scully sets her fork down, closes her eyes. “This… this is difficult for me, Mulder. It’s surreal; I didn’t expect this outcome for us. For you to… to feel the way you do,” she clarifies.

“On the contrary,” Mulder says, “I feel like this was always going to happen, from the day we met. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

Scully looks at him then, eyes wide.

“Th-that’s the first time I’ve said that aloud,” he says in realization, eyes not leaving hers.

Scully nods. “How’d it feel?” she asks softly.

Mulder licks his lip. “Kinda depends on how it felt for you,” he responds, voice low.

She takes a deep breath. “Call me crazy, but I think I need to hear it again.”

He nods, then on impulse leans in until his mouth is next to her ear, strands of coppery hair tickling his cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he murmurs.

Scully reflexively grips the edge of the couch cushion. “Don’t,” she warns, voice husky and breathier than he expected. “I’m not ready.”

He draws back. “Ready for what?” he asks.

She smoothes her hair behind her ear. “You,” she says simply, looking him up and down out of the corner of her eye. She picks up her fork and takes another bite of noodles. “I’ve spent so long in denial, Mulder, I feel… flammable. Like the smallest spark could just…” she motions to herself. “Destroy my equilibrium, or something.”

“Is this the official medical terminology? Because I’m not familiar,” he quips.

She huffs a laugh. “No, Mulder. What I’m trying to say is that I think we should go slow. Whatever ‘going’ means, in this case.”

“But we are a we,” he clarifies.

“Yes, I think we are,” Scully says tenderly, facing him again. “I… I want to be. But I’m processing things, so I need you to give me time.”

You can have my whole life. “That’s fine by me,” he assures her. “So you think we have a spark, Scully?”

She licks her upper lip, nodding. “Oh yes,” she says, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “Yes, we do.”

He leans back into the couch cushions. “Well then,” he says, eyeing her lazily, “When you feel like starting some fires… I’m your boy.”

[thishintoflove]

A Sweet Package - BobaDin Week Day 5: AU

Pairing: Din Djarin / Boba Fett

Rating: General (no warnings aside from mild swearing)

Summary: Boba has to deal with an unwanted package at his front door. Luckily, the hassle turns out to be worth it when he meets the package's true owner.

A/N: Here, have some tooth-rotting fluff because these boys deserve it! (ﾉ☉ヮ⚆)ﾉ ⌒*:･ﾟ✧

Also available on AO3

“Ouch, shit, god dammit,” Boba swore as he stubbed his toe.

He shifted his keys to his other hand and leaned against his apartment door as he bent down to rub his toe, glaring at the offending object.

The damn package was in the wrong place. The worst part? He hadn’t even ordered anything recently.

It had been a long day, he was tired, and he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with unwanted shit outside his door.

Boba was inclined to just let it sit there, but he had to move it out of the way if he didn’t want to repeat this stubbed-toe incident tomorrow. As he glanced down again to shove it away with his foot, he noticed that the package had actually come to the correct place, but it had come to the wrong person.

It was his address, but he was certainly not the “Grogu Djarin” to whom it had been addressed.

He’d been living here for almost three months and he hadn’t received any other pieces of mail. Surely there was a forwarding address set up for this Grogu Djarin? The outside label had a personalized message that read, “To Grogu. I love you to the stars and back, little one. Happy Birthday! Love, Dad.”

Ah shit. He was going to have to do something with it.

Boba did not want to be responsible for a kid missing out on his birthday present. Grogu Djarin would probably be expecting his package-- what if this was his only birthday gift? Another closer look at the box revealed a “Perishable: refrigerate after opening” label. Damn, he certainly couldn’t just keep the package and hope that the father in question would come by and collect it. Given its size, weight, and postage markings on it, whoever had ordered it had spent quite a lot on getting it sent.

Boba sighed and bent down to carry the package inside. As he set it down on the kitchen table, he saw that there was no return address, just the information from the company that had sent it. A bakery. A well-known, quite expensive bakery.

He had a very clear picture of what was going on now, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. Boba’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t his responsibility, technically… But the thought of a little boy not receiving his birthday treat, from his father no less, was enough to soften his heart.

He couldn’t get the vision of this unknown man telling his sad child that he wasn’t getting a birthday cake this year out of his head. It was terribly sad...

Oh great. He was on a mission now.

Boba had to get the cake to this child. He needed a plan. Returning to sender would be useless at this point, so he had to find out the current address of Grogu Djarin’s father.

He grabbed his phone and typed up a quick message to his landlord and leasing agency.

"This is Boba Fett from apartment fifteen. Do you have a forwarding address for the previous tenants? I’ve received a time-sensitive package for them."

After sending the message, Boba ambled around his apartment and tried to find something to take his mind off the Problem sitting on his table. He took some cold noodles out of the fridge for dinner and listened to a voicemail from Fennec that mostly involved her complaining about a recent customer.

Right when he was about to dive into invoices from work, his phone buzzed with a message from his landlord. It contained the former tenant’s email address.

He scratched the back of his head as he considered how to compose the email. He figured keeping it formal was a safer bet. He didn’t want this guy thinking he was some kind of creep. Boba hummed to himself as he typed out a message.

"Hello. I’m the current tenant of your previous apartment and I’ve received a package addressed to you. It says “perishable” on it so I figured it was important. Let me know how you’d like to proceed."

He leaned back in his chair, assuming that it would take a while for Grogu Djarin’s father to respond. But it didn’t. Within five minutes, his phone chirped with a response.

"Thank you! I was wondering what happened when it didn’t arrive today like it was scheduled to. It was my own fault for forgetting to update my address when I ordered online. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks for letting me know what happened."

Boba frowned as he read the response. The man obviously wasn’t expecting anything from him. That was a good thing, but Boba still felt guilty. Perhaps the man was too polite to ask anything of him? He decided to dig a little deeper.

"The package is a birthday cake, right? I recognize the bakery on the label. Do you still need it?"

"Yes, it’s a cake. It’s my son’s birthday tomorrow. All the kids in his class are obsessed with this bakery but we’ve never been, so I decided to order from them as a surprise. I’d offer to come pick it up but my son’s already in bed and I can’t leave him alone. Thanks for letting me know what happened to it. You can get rid of it, or enjoy it yourself if you want."

Boba sucked in a breath and considered his options.

"Are you still in the city? I could bring it to you."

"I couldn’t ask you to do that."

"It’s no trouble."

"Okay, then yes, thank you! I can’t tell you how much that means to me. My address is ---"

Luckily it wasn’t too far from Boba’s apartment. No more than twenty minutes. He could handle that.

He sent back one more message affirming that he was on his way, and then he gathered up the package and his keys. So much for a relaxing night. He had to be up early as usual, but the warmth in his chest almost made up for it. Hell, he felt like some kind of personal Santa Claus. Fennec would say that his actions were “good karma”, but deep down Boba knew he was doing it for the little boy on the label. He knew what it was like to have a disappointing birthday as a child. Boba wouldn’t allow another child to experience that if there was something he could do about it.

Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of an unfamiliar apartment door, double-checking his email to make sure he was at the correct address. He knocked gently, since it was late and the kid inside was likely asleep.

After a brief moment, the door opened to reveal a tall, disheveled man. He was fit and looked only slightly younger than Boba, but his hair was a mess and there was... flour? Yes, flour, spilled across his shirt and sleeves. His brown eyes immediately widened in recognition and gratitude when he realized who was at the door.

“Hey,” Boba said awkwardly, hefting the package in his arms, “I believe this belongs to you.”

“Yes, thank you!” the man exclaimed, opening the door wider and stepping into the threshold, “You really have no idea how much this means to me. My son’s going to be very happy tomorrow.”

“I figured,” Boba replied, handing over the package. He allowed his eyes to run over the man’s features again. He was a mess, but cute. Very cute. And he was clearly a caring father. It made Boba want to be nicer than usual.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. Can I pay you, or give you something to thank you-”

Boba just held up his hand and shook his head.

“It’s no problem, really. I wanted to. As soon as I saw the ‘happy birthday’ message, I thought oh shit, I gotta get this to them. I hope your son enjoys it.”

“I’m sure he will. You really did me a huge favor. We moved a few weeks ago and my head’s still all over the place. Finally got a two-bedroom,” the man said, then quickly shut his mouth when he realized this might be unnecessary information.

“Congratulations,” Boba replied, giving him a wry smile. The man blushed and shifted the package under one arm so he could reach out and shake Boba’s hand.

“I’m Din by the way.”

“Boba. Nice to meet you.”

He knew he could walk away right now, but something about the man in front of him was magnetic. Boba was jaded enough at this point in life to not believe in stupid romantic fantasies like love at first sight, but there was something about this man that seemed special. His eyes captivated Boba’s attention, and he found that he wasn’t ready to end their conversation just yet.

“Were you trying to whip up a last-minute backup cake?” Boba asked, gesturing to the flour he spotted on Din’s collar and neck.

Din gave a humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Just cupcakes. And it was going terribly. I uh, can’t bake to save my life,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Boba hummed and tilted his head. Should he…? Yeah, he was going to be honest with Din.

“Well, I can.”

Din’s brow furrowed and he gave Boba the most adorable confused look. “Huh?”

“I can bake. Actually, I bake quite a lot.”

“You do?”

“Couldn’t tell just by looking at me?” Boba tossed back sarcastically, but he grinned to show the man he wasn’t truly offended, “Yes, it’s my job. I own a bakery.”

“Oh! That’s amazing! And you… came all this way to deliver a cake from a rival bakery?”

“I’ll be honest, when I first saw the package at my door I was ready to dump it in the trash, but your note changed my mind. They’re overrated, but they’re still pretty good. I’m sure your son and his friends will love the cake.”

“I’m inclined to believe you, seeing as you’re an expert and all.”

“But now you’ll have to allow me to get some free advertising out of this deal,” Boba replied, his grin widening, “If you’re interested in trying some real delicious, authentic stuff, come by my place with your son sometime. It’s over on the West Side. I promise I’ll make something that’ll blow this cake out of the water.”

Din’s eyes sparkled as he nodded, “I think that’s a fair deal. It won’t take much to convince my son, he has a massive sweet tooth.”

“Fantastic. It’ll be worth the trip, just wait and see.”

They smiled at each other like they were in some kind of damn rom-com. Boba knew that he was probably wearing the same goofy-grin as Din but it didn’t bother him. So what if he appeared soft? It was near-midnight on Wednesday, there was no one else in the apartment hallway to see them anyway. Even if there was, Boba couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Well… have a good rest of your night,” he said to Din, taking a step back. He had to leave before he did something really stupid, like lean in for a kiss with this overly attractive stranger. This wasn’t actually a movie- it wasn’t like there was a soft-rock ballad swelling in the background.

“Thank you again, Boba,” Din replied, his voice brimming with sincerity. He gave Boba one last soft smile as the man started to step away, “And I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

“I look forward to it.”

As Boba walked back down the stairs, he couldn’t get the stupid smile off his face. Fennec would laugh at him tomorrow when he recounted the story, but he didn’t care. Sure, real-life wasn’t a movie. But this was as close to it as he’d ever come, and you could be damn sure that he was going to savor it.

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Falling For You But You Are Worlds Away: Chapter 1

Summary: After a close call with a reporter that resulted in Simon getting hurt, Linda makes a difficult and heartbreaking decision. Meanwhile, Wilhelm returns to Hillerska, hoping to at least rekindle his friendship with Simon, only to find that even that was no longer possible.

Title inspired by Taylor Swift's "Come Back, Be Here."

Note: So... after several weeks of obsessing... I finally did it... I finally wrote Young Royals fanfic. And, I really shouldn't because I have Grad school and a part-time job and I barely have time to breathe.Speaking of that, I probably won't have a consistent update. There might be times when I disappear for several weeks. Please be patient and understanding with me, I'm still trying to balance school and work.

AO3 link

It was supposed to be a normal day of running errands – a trip to the grocery store, dropping off mail at the post office, and maybe getting ice creams as a treat on the way home. But, no, Simon should have known better than to think that his life would somehow go back to normal during Christmas. After all, the prince had denied his involvement in the viral video and Simon had broken up with him to give both of them some space. This all happened only a week ago.

But, even after all that trouble and heartbreak, here he and his family were, being chased down their own street by paparazzi with their stupid cameras and fake sympathy.

“Simon, won’t you tell us your side of the story?”

“Is Prince Wilhelm lying? Are you in a relationship?”

“Mrs. Erikkson, how did you react when you found out your son may have been involved with the prince?”

“Don’t say anything,” his mother hissed in Spanish, clutching Simon and Sara’s arms tighter against her side.

The plastic bag of groceries was digging into Simon’s skin and he wished he could adjust his grip but he didn’t dare slow down. Those hyenas at his heels could catch them and he didn’t want to give them that satisfaction.

But, then, Sara let out a startled scream. A reporter had grabbed her arm, making her drop the groceries. Clementines rolled out of the bag and onto the pavement.

And, just like that, Simon saw red.

“Let go of her!”

He ripped his arm from his mother’s hold and lunged at the reporter, pushing him away from his shaking sister. The reporter, a middle-aged man who had probably been doing this for a long time, released Sara. But, before Simon could pull her away to safety, searing pain exploded at his cheek. He tasted the blood before he even realized what had happened.

His mom and Sara screamed.

The other reporters began to yell at the first one. Things like “What is wrong with you?!” and “Fuck, you can’t touch our sources like that! We’re gonna get sued!”

His name was being called. It sounded like Sara.

But, Simon, feeling dazed and tired, just stared up at the bright blue sky. He didn't even realize he had fallen to the ground. It was a nice day, though.

It should have been an ordinary nice day.

 .....

“Thank you, officer, we really appreciate your help.”

“Just doing our job, ma’am. Please don’t hesitate to call us over if you see any more suspicious individuals around your home. We’ll send someone over, immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Linda bid the police officers a good day and shut the door. With them gone, she finally lowered her mask and allowed the weariness of the day to manifest in her bones. She leaned back against the closed door, letting out the breath she had been holding.

No matter how many times she had dealt with the police, it never failed to make her exhausted. She should be used to this by now.

When she and the kids still lived with Micke, it wasn’t uncommon for neighbors to call the cops to complain about her ex-husband disturbing the peace. Mostly because he was yelling at her and the children. Sometimes, even hurting her. (He never touched the children. Linda never let him. The one and only time he almost laid a hand on Sara was finally when Linda finally gathered her children, important documents, and a few meager possessions and fled into the night.)

Linda believed that they were past all that. That in this new life she built for herself and her children, they would never have to call the police to their home or worry about their safety ever again. But, after what happened to Simon today, she could no longer hold on to that dream. Not for the time being.

She knew what she had to do to keep her son safe, even if it hurt her. Even if Simon would resent her. She hoped he wouldn’t. That he would see that she was doing this for him.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, Linda straightened her shoulders, lifted her head, and began to make her way back to the living room, where she could clearly hear her children bickering on the couch.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sara asked her brother.

“I’m fine,” Simon answered, sounding annoyed. “He didn’t even hit me that hard.”

“You could have hit your head!”

“But, I didn’t.”

“You should have left him alone.”

“He touched you!”

Sara pressed her lips together and looked away as she dabbed ointment to her brother’s bruised lip. Simon flinched, which made his sister’s lips quirk to an amused smile.

But, despite her children looking seemingly okay, joking around and teasing each other the way they always did, Linda couldn't stop looking at that dark mark marring her son’s handsome face. 

Clearing her throat, she stepped into the living room.

“Mi amor, how are you feeling?” she asked, sitting on Simon’s other side.

“I’m fine, mama,” he replied, immediately. “It’s just a scratch, it will heal in a few days.” He grinned. “It makes me look badass though, right?”

Sara snorted. “More like reckless.”

“A reckless badass.”

“Mi amor,” Linda interrupted, gently, not wanting them to start bickering again. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Simon straightened up, looking serious. Linda’s chest felt heavy as she took his hand in hers and stroked it. Sometimes, she wished her children were still small and had no other care in the world except for what candy they could get at the grocery store that week.

“It’s about school,” she began.

“I’ll transfer back to Marieberg,” Simon said, misunderstanding where the conversation was going. “I don’t mind. Sara can stay at Hillerska, she has friends there now, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Besides, Rosh and Ayub are excited to have me back.”

Linda shook her head. “I don’t think you should go back to Marieberg either.”

At that, Simon’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? I should go to another school? There aren’t any others close by.”

Linda sighed as she looked her son in the eye. “When the… video… first came out...”

Simon flinched and looked down at his feet.

“... I thought about how to… protect you. Especially after what happened today-.”

“Mama, I can handle it,” he interrupted, still unable to look at her. “I was fine today.”

“No, you weren’t,” Sara interjected. “You got punched.”

Simon glared at her. “They’re just reporters, I can handle them.”

Linda squeezed his hand. “It’s not just the reporters, Simon. It’s also… the others. Remember that boy from the other day? He followed you home! He could have hurt you!”

Simon's eyes flashed in anger at the memory. “But, he didn’t, you drove him away. And I would have been fine, I could take him.”

“That doesn’t stop me from worrying!”

Linda ran a hand through her hair, frustrated and cursing her son’s stubbornness. Unfortunately, that was one thing he inherited from Micke.

“Anything could have happened and I can’t protect you! Not at school, not at the grocery store, not even here at home! And do you know what that does to me?! I worry about you every time you’re out of my sight, Simon!” 

Unbidden tears brimmed at Linda’s eyes but she refused to let them fall. She had to be strong. She was making the right decision.

“A few weeks ago, I called your Tia Elena. She already knew what happened, the news reached them...”

“Oh, God!” Closing his eyes, Simon groaned and fell back against the couch.

“… and she actually suggested that… you go to live with her for a while.”

Almost immediately, Simon’s eyes snapped open and he sat up. “What?”

“I wasn’t sure, before, because I don’t want you to be away from us. But, after what happened with that boy from the other day and the reporters today… I think this is the best thing for you.”

“To send me to America?! That’s the best thing for me?!”

Simon pulled his hand away from her hold and stood up, presumably to stalk off to his room.

Linda tried to blink away the tears. “Simon, mi amor, please! This is the only way to keep you safe!”

“You’re sending me away! From you and Sara and my friends! My whole life is here!”

“It’s only until this all dies down, I promise. You can transfer back to Marieberg next school year. But, just for this term. Please, Simon.”

She watched Simon’s stiff back as he processed her pleas.

“W-What about a visa?” he asked and the hope in it broke her heart. “Don’t I need one of those? And they take time, don’t they? By the time they process it, school’s gonna start and I still have to travel and-.”

“You have an appointment with the U.S. Embassy the day after tomorrow,” Linda interrupted. “Your Tia Elena took care of everything. She even sent some money along to help with the fees.”

“Oh.” Simon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “W-Would they even have room for me?”

“There’s only her and Ana now ever since Ricardo left them. And she says you can work at her store to earn some extra money, if you want.”

From the corner of her eye, Linda spotted Sara, who was unusually quiet. Her daughter was staring at her brother, her face unreadable. It was difficult to read Sara these days. But, Linda hoped that her daughter understood why she was doing this.

Sara didn’t want to leave Hillerska and that was fine, she had gone ahead and applied for that Grant to be a resident. But, even if Simon applied for a Grant too and became a resident, he would still get chased by reporters. He would still get recognized and followed by creeps and people who wanted to do him harm in Bjarstard. But, in America, with Linda’s older sister, he could be safe from the scandal.  

“Is there really no other way?” Simon asked, softly.

Getting to her feet, Linda moved towards her son and wrapped him in her arms.

“Mi amor, I know this is difficult for you. It is for me, too. I want nothing more than for you to stay here in Sweden with me and your sister. But, I want you to be safe. I want people to stop stalking you and bothering you about something so… traumatic. You don’t deserve that. You deserve to go to school and live your life in peace. In America, no one knows who you are. You can live normally again, go to school, and even… date someone new.”

Simon flinched in her arms and she regretted her words.

What Simon had with Wilhelm was truly special, something for the books, the kind of love story you often watch on T.V. and read about in books. She had never seen Simon as happy as he had been when he was with the prince, even if they thought Linda didn’t know. (Of course, she knew! She was his mother!) It was only a shame that their story ended in a tragedy that not only broke her son’s heart but also brought negative and unwanted attention onto his life.

“Simon, please,” she begged. “Just for a few months, I promise, mi amor. And, then, you can come home and life will be back to normal, I’m sure. Please.”

Time felt like it was slowing down as they stood there in the middle of the living room, Simon slowly breaking in her arms and Sara only watching helplessly.

Finally, her son let out a breath. “Okay,” he said in a soft voice. “I’ll go.”

Linda burst into tears and buried her face against the fabric of Simon’s orange sweatshirt.

Despite her own heart breaking into pieces at the thought of being away from her son, she was also so incredibly relieved.

 ......... 

The Christmas break was too long, in Wilhelm’s opinion.

He spent most of it making required public appearances, sitting in on council meetings, and attending royal parties. He went about his duties like a robot, his emotions numb and something in him broken. His mother thought he would get over it if she threw enough things at him to keep him busy enough to not think of Simon. But, obviously, it didn’t work.

Simon was the first thing on his mind when he woke up in the mornings and the last thing he thought of before he slept at night. He had tried texting but his texts went unanswered. His calls would result in just ring after ring after ring until voicemail picked up. He spent many hours just scrolling through Simon’s Instagram, not seeing any new posts. Rosh, Ayub, and Sara had all blocked him so he couldn’t even see any posts of Simon, if there were any.

During the yearly Christmas party hosted by the Royal family, it was normally Erik who had to socialize and make nice with all the nobility and distant relatives who came. But, this year, Wilhelm had to do it. And it was fine, at first. He managed to remember some names and those he didn’t remember, he managed to sidestep with a polite “sir” or “ma’am.” But, then… But, then!

His mother introduced to him the daughter of a Duke whose name he couldn’t remember. With the way his mother smiled and practically pushed the girl to his side, Wilhelm knew exactly what she was doing. It ruined the rest of the party for him, as well as that poor girl’s Christmas. Wilhelm was so annoyed that he ignored her when she tried to make conversation. Eventually, he caused her to break into tears when he bluntly said that he didn’t care who designed her dress.

The Queen tried to scold him, called him a disgrace, and demanded that he get himself together. Wilhelm only shot her a blank look, excused himself, and left the party.

There were no more attempts at setting him up after that.

So, when Christmas break ended and it was time to return to Hillerska, he was relieved. He dutifully packed his things, including the small Christmas gift he got for Simon. He was hoping that even if they couldn’t restart their relationship, they could still be friends. Wilhelm would take anything Simon was able to offer him right now, even if it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Your Royal Highness,” Malin called through the door. “You’re supposed to be at the church in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Malin!” Wilhelm called back to her.

The prince looked over his appearance in the mirror one last time, making sure his school tie was tied properly and his jacket free of lint. Not that Simon would care about those, but Wilhelm wanted to look his best, for once. He even got a haircut over break. He wondered if Simon did, too. He couldn’t wait to see him.

Feeling the anticipation brimming inside him, Wilhelm made his way out of his room. He joined the others in leaving Forest Ridge to head to the church. Ahead of him, Henry and Walter waved, pausing to let him catch up to them.

Despite their initial impression on Wilhelm, they really did mellow out the more he got to know them. And when the video came out, they were the only ones who didn’t look at him weirdly (at least, not blatantly to his face) and never once asked about the video. They even texted him a Merry Christmas over break. He would take their company over August’s.

And, speaking of the devil, there was his traitor of a cousin now, pushing through the other boys to get to him. Wilhelm quickened his steps, not wanting to get caught in a conversation. He had successfully avoided him during the Christmas party at the palace after giving firm instructions to Malin and Johan to ensure that he didn’t get close to Wilhelm.

Luckily, his bodyguards were most likely doing exactly that as Wilhelm made it to the church and slipped into a pew without August catching up to him. Henry and Walter slid in after him, chatting about their holidays.

“Wonder what they’re singing this time,” Walter wondered aloud.

“Hope it’s something good,” Henry added.

Wilhelm only smiled, his annoyance at August finally melting away and replaced by excitement to see Simon and hear him sing again. Christmas break was too long.

Finally, the whole church had filled up and the Headmaster signaled for everyone to be quiet.

The choir entered.

Wilhelm spotted Felice and gave her a small wave. She had remained a great friend to him throughout the break.

As the choir began their song, Wilhelm scanned the heads, looking for that familiar head of curls. Someone else was doing a solo this time, a girl he didn’t know and her voice was nice but it wasn’t Simon. Why wasn’t Simon doing the solo?

Wilhelm couldn’t even hear the song or decipher the lyrics. His eyes desperately scanned all three rows but he couldn’t spot Simon.

Where was Simon?!?! Did he miss the first day of school?!?!

But, Sara was just a few pews ahead. She wouldn’t leave home without her brother.

The excitement that had earlier filled him turned into fear.

Did Simon quit the choir?!

Not caring about how it looked, Wilhelm scanned the pews across from them and the pews behind him, trying to spot those curls. But… he couldn’t see them. Not one strand.

The choir had finished singing now and the Headmaster had stood up to welcome them to another semester, go over the rules of the dorms, and list the school administration’s expectations from their students.

All of it went over Wilhelm’s head.

And, finally, they were dismissed to go to their first class of the day.

Wilhelm shot up and, muttering apologies to Henry and Walter, made his way out of the pew. He ignored the “hello’s” sent his way and hurried to the front.

Sara and Maddie were chatting with each other as they made their way down the aisle, all excited smiles and talking about how wonderfully Felice sang.

“Sara!”

The girl slowed down and froze upon seeing him. He saw the anger flash in those normally calm eyes. Then, she turned her gaze away and walked past him.

Wilhelm was not giving up.

He turned around and gave chase. “Sara! Sara, wait! I just need to ask you something.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Prince,” she seethed, not stopping.

He hated to do it but he gently grasped the arm of her school jacket. “Please, I need to ask you. Where’s Simon?”

Sara pulled her arm away, glaring at him. “Why do you ask?”

Wilhelm swallowed. “He didn’t sing with the choir. And I can’t find him anywhere and I just-.”

“He doesn’t go to Hillerska anymore.”

Wilhelm’s heart stopped. “What?”

Sara shrugged, turned on her heels, and walked away. Maddie shot Wilhelm a pitying look before hurrying off after her.  

His chest felt tight. And it seemed like there wasn’t enough air for him to breathe.

Simon... left?

[missmonsters2]

You Found Me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC

Summary: Part II to Under the Light.  Two years have passed . You think there are somethings you can’t survive, but you find a way. And when you’re forced to face Wanda once more, you learn that time can heal almost anything, but some things don’t change.

Note: This was part of my 500 (or 800) follower celebration a while back. 1/3 fics that I will be writing a part II for with a happy ending. This is about as happy as it gets LOL For any new readers, make sure to read part I: under the light for this to make sense. 

Warnings: implied depression, panic attacks, moving on & therapy.

PART I: Under the Light

Genre: Soft Angst & Romance

Count: 6589

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The end isn't always what you think it is. 

You think after the end, that's it. Roll the credit scene, and fade to black. That's the end of the book; there isn't anything else.

But it's not.

There's always something after the end, and in your case, it's called moving on.

"So?"

You look up, thoughts interrupted.

"I don't know, doc," you sigh, leaning back on the couch.

"Try to explain it," he gently asks, his legs are crossed as he's got his chin in his hand, notebook strewn aside.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, trying to string your thoughts together.

"I guess the hardest parts are the small things I have to remind myself that I don't need to do anymore. Like, earlier this month, there was a new Netflix show that I know she'd love, and I caught myself not watching it because I felt like I should wait for her, but I don't need to anymore," you hope that's enough to convey what you're feeling to your therapist.

"And?" He probes, and you sigh. 

Of course, it wouldn't be enough. You knew better by now.

"And I feel...lost," you shrug.

Your therapist hums.

"Why do you feel lost?" Your therapist questions. "What was it about Wanda that made you feel found?"

Talking about Wanda still feels like there's a painful thudding on your chest.

"I..." You rasp, "Because she was like me. Broken. She saw me for me and loved me anyway. And that all crumbled apart."

"Because she's not broken anymore?"

You nod tiredly.

"So, what is the concept of broken people?" Your therapist asks as he leans back in his chair. "If you can be unbroken, were they broken in the first place? Is being broken a forever issue?"

You're silent because you don't know. 

"Think about it," your therapist says, uncrossing his legs. "I think you should be opening to meeting more people, making more friends, and letting things progress naturally without too many expectations."

You nod, licking your lips, thoughts coming and going from your mind.

"Alright, that's it for our session today. Think about what I said and come see me again in a couple weeks," your therapist closes his notepad, standing up to let you out.

"Alright, thanks, doc," you say with a soft grin that your therapist returns.

"You're doing really well," he compliments you, "much better than when I found you."

You laugh, "You mean a real nutcase."

"Not at all," your therapist smiles, "You came here, lost and alone. Even though you had said you wanted to give up, you found a job before anything else. You have a stubborn fighting spirit, that even when you feel like you're at your end, you keep going. Be a little proud of that."

"Thanks, David." 

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Do you ever wonder what the truth is? Is the truth just a matter of circumstance? 

Because the truth is that you had run. You ran from New York and began again in LA. 

You saw the missed calls from Wanda and changed your number. You knew that she could find you, if she wanted, you can't hide from her powers and you can't hide from Tony's money.

But running and changing your numbers told her you didn't want her to come after you. 

But maybe there's a truth to that too.

"Hey, got your usual."

You look up to see the friendly coffee shop owner across from your building.

"Have I become that predictable, Lucy?" you reply with a friendly smile.

Lucy hands you your drink, laughing lightly as she does. She throws in a free muffin.

"Maybe you're just my favorite customer," she grins.

You quirk your brow at her. Lucy is undoubtedly pretty, with her blonde hair and green eyes. She's funny, and she's easy-going.

"Are you flirting with me over baked goods?" 

"Is there any other way?" Lucy tilts her head.

You smile at her, and she returns it.

"Can I have your number?" She asks bluntly, and you find yourself pausing for a moment.

It's small things like this that you find catching yourself at.

The quick second where you almost automatically say no because your body is so used to having Wanda. 

The next quick second, where it feels like you're cheating even if she's not with you anymore.

It's a constant reminder you have to learn to live your own life.

You grab an extra coffee sleeve on the side and the pen, scribbling your number down.

You give Lucy a small smile before you wave off and set off to get to work.

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"Hey, where's the fire today?" You ask your coworker as you see the office bustling around more than usual.

"We have a new client. She wants a marketing plan for her company. It's brand new, but she's bringing loads of money. Harris is sucking ass hard to keep her happy," your coworker gossips with you and you hum.

You're not really too concerned about it. After all, you're still relatively new to the company, only having worked for a year and a half. 

You were just a novice marketing designer. You worked on small jobs, fixing up other people's work, creating a few things here and there. Your boss was just starting to give you more responsibilities and really liked the ideas you were bringing.

"She sounds like a pain in the ass," you say. You've met big clients before. Most of them were demanding and a little on the rude side, but you couldn't really do much about it when you're just a novice designer. 

"Oh, we're passing by the meeting room, let's see what's going on," your worker huddles a little closer to you as the conference room comes up. As you pass by the glass walls, your breath stops.

It's been 2 years, but you could never forget her face.

She looks the same, a little more mature maybe. She's dyed her hair blonde, and no longer has the split hair part, but now to the side.

An array of emotions flicker through you, but it's the single, loud thought that draws her attention to you.

'Fuck.'

Her head whips over to you, shock registering on her face, and at least you know this wasn't a planned attack.

"Oh, she's hot," your coworker whispers to you, and the only response you have to that is swallowing.

"I gotta go," you mutter, speeding past the room and leaving your coworker alone. 

You don't even know where to go, but all you know is that you can't be in the same building as Wanda, let alone a room. Bolting out of the building, you walk and walk until you find yourself back at the café. 

You sigh, entering the shop.

"Hey," Lucy greets you, surprise on her face that you're back so soon.

You try to give her a smile, but it probably comes out as more of a grimace. 

And when Lucy cocks her brow at you, you sigh.

"Sorry," you breathe, "I got ambushed at work. I need somewhere to hide, and I don't know, I ended up here."

Lucy merely nods as you take a seat at one of the tables, setting your bookbag down. You've got your head in your hands as you're trying to control your breathing.

A cup of coffee being set down brings you out of your momentary panic. You look up to see Lucy taking a seat diagonally from you. 

"On the house for my favorite panicky customer," she lightly teases you, smiling when she gets you to chuckle. 

"Thanks," you say, taking a sip of the drink. 

You can tell it's decaf, and you smile at her being considerate. 

"So," Lucy slowly speaks, "want to share what's gotten you so shaken that you ran back to my coffee shop before I even had a chance to give you a call?"

You bite your lip.

"I..." You start.

"My ex showed up at my firm. She's a customer. An important one at that, it seems."

It's probably not a good start to talk about your ex, one that clearly so affects you still, to someone you just gave your number to in the prospect of going on a date. 

Lucy hums. 

"It didn't end well?" She surmises, and you shakily nodded. 

"Are you still in love with her?" Lucy asks.

You don't answer right away, but it's enough for Lucy to have an answer. 

You don't look at her because it's obvious this was crashing and burning too.

"I..." Lucy licks her lips, "would like to take you on a date."

Your head snaps at to look at her like she's grown three heads.

"What?" You sputter. "Are you sure? I have a lot of baggage clearly."

Lucy shrugs.

"Who doesn't have baggage?"

Your expression shows her that you're unsure because this doesn't exactly spell out it's going to end well, not that it wouldn't either.

"Look," Lucy puts her hand atop of yours, "I'm well aware you're probably still in love with your ex. Whatever it was, it must've been intense. I know full well what I would be getting myself into if I take you on a date. But I think you deserve to go out with someone and see there's more out there."

You stare at her hand on top of yours, blinking. 

"Just think about it," Lucy pats your hand as the door rings, indicating another customer has come in. "You're welcomed to stay to hide, and you know where to find me."

Lucy leaves you in your thoughts. You do take her up on her offer to stay because there's no way to go out back to the office. You e-mail your boss you'll be working elsewhere for the day, but he doesn't care as long as you turn in your drafts. 

At the end of your shift, you get up, giving Lucy a half-shy, half-awkward wave and leave.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You leisurely take your time walking home to be able to process your thoughts. 

You feel a little calmer than you did when you first bumped into Wanda this morning, but now you had more on your plate with Wanda and deciding if you wanted to go on a date with Lucy. 

Although time has passed, you were only really beginning to heal yourself.  You weren't really sure if you were in the right headspace for dating. 

It felt much more serious now that Lucy knew you had some baggage, and still wanted to go on a date. It didn't feel casual anymore.

You were beginning to walk up to your duplex when you spotted someone sitting on your steps. 

"What are you doing here?" You bite out.

There she was, Wanda, sitting on your steps with her head in her hands. She snapped up, hearing your voice. 

A wide variety of emotions passed her face. 

"You're here," she breathed, and you find yourself recoiling with the thick emotion in her voice as she spoke. 

Wanda stands up, going down the steps before she's standing in front of you.

The smell of vanilla and cinnamon invades your nose, and a whole new wave of anxiety passes you with the familiarity of it.

Your heart starts thudding in your chest, and you're breathing heavily. Something on your face tells Wanda you're about to have a panic attack. She starts to come closer, wanting to wrap her arms around you, but she pauses.

Wanda knows that she's the cause of this right now, so she backs up and gives you some space with her hands up non-threateningly. 

"Hey," she softly speaks, "it's okay. I won't invade your space."

You close your eyes as you try to focus.

"That's it," Wanda tries to guide you, "breathe in. Hold it...that's good, okay, exhale slowly."

This repeats for minutes until you've calmed down. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda says slowly, "I would've called first, but I didn't know your number."

"That didn't stop you from showing up at my place," you mutter. 

Wanda bites her lip, but nods. 

"What do you want?" You ask her.

"Can we go inside? It's not safe about it to talk outside," Wanda nods her head towards your door.

You frown, not really wanting to let her in, but you sigh and nod. 

You pass by her, careful to not breathe in her scent as you open the door and let her in. 

You barely acknowledge her as you drop your things on the kitchen table and start to heat your kettle for hot water. 

Wanda walks in slowly, taking in your place. 

She notices that it both feels homey and empty.

You've clearly taken care of your place, getting a nice couch, and the effort of getting pillows and throw blankets for it. There's art on the wall, but there are no personal photos anywhere. 

It was like a show home. 

You watch Wanda stare at your things as you lean against the wall. 

"Why are you here?" You ask, breaking Wanda's thoughts as she looks over to you.

She purses her lips, let out a deep sigh.

"I'm on a mission. I didn't realize you were working there. I just wanted to let you know that I'm investigating your boss."

"My boss," you repeat slowly, and Wanda nods. 

"I can't go into many details, but I'm undercover right now."

You grumble. Of course, the firm you pick to build your career has a shady boss running it.

"Fine," you huff, "I won't get in your way. Anything else?"

Wanda's eyes soften as she looks at you.

"How are you? You look good," she sincerely says to you, and you give her a blank expression. 

There's a tumulus feeling rumbling underneath you. You want to scream at her because why is she asking? It's none of her business. 

Wanda sighs again when you don't answer her. "I sincerely didn't know you worked at the firm. If I had known you worked there, I would've asked someone else to take this mission."

There's a bit of a sting to her words because as much as you didn't want to see her, it sounds like she didn't want to see you either. 

"Well," you huff, "no worries about me. I won't get in your way. Do what you have to do."

Perhaps because there's a bite to your words, a tone of sarcasm as you walk back into the kitchen, Wanda follows you.

"Hey," she calls, grabbing your wrist to turn you around. You immediately pull your arm away, and Wanda lets go, an apologetic look on her face.

"I didn't mean it like that," Wanda explains.

It's silent, and you don't say anything, not making another move even though your kettle as turned off, signaling the hot water was done.

"I wanted to chase you," Wanda says. 

The words hang in the air, and you're not sure what to do with that. You just let the words sting.

"I wanted to follow you immediately the day you left. You ran so fast. One moment you were breaking up with me, and then the next day, you bought a plane ticket and left," Wanda ran her fingers through her hair. 

"I harassed Tony into finding out where you had gone. I bought a plane ticket, ready to go after you," Wanda stopped talking.

You were clenching and unclenching your jaw. 

"But Natasha said I shouldn't," Wanda finally says, and you're ready to explode at her, barely able to just keep it in.

"She said that you were hurting, I was causing your hurting," Wanda frowned. "Natasha said you needed to heal, and where we both were, I would only hinder your progress. You needed a change of scenery without me."

You don't know what to say to that.

Because it's true. 

With more time that passes, it's easier for you to admit that you being with her at the time was making things worse for you.

She wasn't in a good place when you had met her and got together. But Wanda was healing before you, and you weren't ready for that.

You relied on her too much, put Wanda on a pedestal, kept putting her before yourself. 

You were probably hindering Wanda's healing too. 

It was too hard for you to see her with Vision, even if it might've been nothing. 

"I respected your space, and I didn't check up on you," Wanda tells you, taking a cautionary step closer. "But that never changed the fact that I'm still in love with you. I'm still waiting for the right time for us to get back together."

You recoil slightly as she gets closer. You're not ready for this. You can feel every muscle in your body screaming to run. 

"Why?" You hoarsely ask, tears welling in your eyes.

"When you left, you said I had outgrown you," Wanda says, and you feel a slice across your heart at the bitter memory.

"But that's not true," Wanda shakes her head, "I had loved you when we first met, loved you when we were in the dark, and I will love you as we keep moving. It doesn't matter if we don't move at the same pace. I will love you."

They're pretty words, you feel. Because all you can remember is how she had said none of this as you were leaving. 

All you can remember is how she turned to Vision.

You don't have anything to say except you turn to bolt for the door, leaving Wanda in your place. 

You hear a call of your name, but you keep running, thankful that she doesn't follow you. 

You pull out your phone and dial.

"Hello?"

"I know it's after hours, but can you please see me right now?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You staring a picture above the fireplace.

"Did you want anything to drink?"

You turn your attention away from the photo, looking at David.

"Water, please," you quietly ask. 

"Sure thing," David grins as he yells down the hall for water, making you wince.

His husband, Liam, shows up looking unimpressed with David as he shoots you a wink before leaving.

You're in David's study room as he hands you the water and gestures for you to take a seat.

"Sorry for showing up like this," you apologize.

David waves it off. "It's fine. You came at a good time. Liam was kicking my ass in scrabble, he was getting too smug."

You smile lightly. It's been a while since you had seen Liam. When you had first arrived, you saw David pretty regularly and sometimes even ate dinner at their place while you were still trying to get yourself together.

"So?" David settles into his seat with his hands, clasped together. "What's got you rattled?"

"Wanda showed up."

It's quiet for a moment as David assesses what you said.

He hums.

"Why did she show up?"

"She's a client at my firm. An important one and she can't choose another firm. She didn't know I was working there," you explain as best you can since you can't tell David she's undercover. 

David nods. 

"And what happened?"

"I ran," you tell him. "I hid in a coffee shop I go to every day, where the owner asked me out on a date, knowing full well I'm not over Wanda. Then I went home, and Wanda was there waiting for me."

You speak so fast that David widens his eyes minusculely.

He doesn't say anything, so you assume you need to keep talking about what happened.

"I had a panic attack when I smelled her scent," you mutter, "I let her into my place, and she explained why she had shown up. I know she wasn't trying to ambush me."

"Alright, it sounds pretty standard. Did she leave after?"

You explain the rest of what happened to David, who seems to be taking in what happened as he sits in silence for a bit.

He hums. 

"What did you think about what she said?" He asks.

"Lies," you immediately say. "Or at least partially lies."

"Why is that?"

You sigh a little frustratedly as you lean forward in your chair. "Why didn't she say those things as we were breaking up? I told her to admit it, she had outgrown me, and she didn't say anything. Saying nothing might as well have been agreeing. Now she's here saying that she would always love me?"

"And what if it was true? That you two had outgrown each other?"

"Then there's no point," you say, "even if we land in the right place, we could always outgrow each other again."

David hums again, and you hate it when he does that.

"Just say what you're thinking," you grumble, and he smiles. 

"In my professional opinion, it's true that it can happen again. But here's the thing, love is not just a feeling. It takes work and effort. You have to choose that every day. Two years have passed, the two of you are different people. Back then, you were choosing to not move forward; Wanda was. That's where your insecurities had stemmed from when she was getting closer to Vision. Space apart might have been the best thing for you to not rely on and hinder each other. But now, you're here. Healing. Choosing."

"So, I should get back together with her?" Your brows furrow.

David laughs lightly, "No, I didn't say that. That's something you will need to decide on your own. I'm just here to help you rationalize your feelings and thoughts, suggest you do things that may help. That's why I think you should accept the date with Lucy."

"What?"

David rests his elbow on his armrest, rubbing his index finger and thumb together.

"Lucy was very clear she understood what she was getting into if you choose to go on a date with her. Seems like she's offering to show you a good time without any strings attached. You might not come across an opportunity like that again," David points out.

"If it leads to something more and you want that, you have your answer," David smiles.

You sigh shakily and nod sharply.

The end of the session comes, and David leans forward.

"Just remember, you're different than who you were two years ago. Wanda coming back doesn't change that. She's different than who she was two years ago. You don't need to idealize her. She's just another person too."

You shakily nod your head, thanking David for squeezing you in so suddenly, and say bye to Liam on your way out.

When you head home, Wanda is no longer there, but there's an address written on your notepad on the counter.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next few weeks pass by with a blur. Work gets so busy, you hardly have time to think about anything.

Not that it stops you from thinking about things, but it's easier. 

You see Wanda in the building occasionally, but other than a nod of acknowledgment, she doesn't speak to you. You're sure it's because you ran out the last time, and she's trying to respect your space again. 

Though, sometimes you find yourself staring at Wanda from afar. You think about what David says and how you're both different people. She does seem different.

She walks with this air of confidence that she didn't have before. She smiles more, and she doesn't look as angry and resentful as she once did. 

You find yourself self-reflecting on yourself when that happens. You can admit that you've come a long way, but you aren't quite sure you'd categorize yourself in the same place as Wanda, but you are moving forward. 

That night, you show up at the coffee shop, surprising Lucy as you come in.

You haven't seen her in weeks, you even stopped coming for morning coffees.

"And she lives," Lucy says amusedly, but you feel a little guilty for avoiding her.

You breathe, gathering your courage as you look at her.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Lucy tilts her head, staring at you momentarily before she smiles, and you think she has a beautiful one. 

"I'm actually just closing up, so if you'd like to wait, we can go to this nice little ice cream shop a couple blocks from here."

You nod eagerly, happy that you hadn't botched this up. 

You two make small talk as she cleans up, catching each other up on the week. 

The walk passes quickly, and you learn things about Lucy like how she had gotten her degree in literature and was a part-time writer working on a novel. The coffee shop was her parents, but they had passed it down to her when they had retired. She's thinking about it passing it down to her little sister when her sister is old enough. 

You stare at the ice cream menu for almost 20 minutes, unsure what you want to order, but Lucy is patient and talks about her recommendations. You apologize, but she waves it off.

You end up choosing what she recommends, and you like it, but you're not surprised since Lucy seems to understand your coffee order.

The date is simple.

It's easy, you find.

Talking to Lucy is easy, and she's definitely a beautiful woman. 

Even when Lucy slowly reaches for your hand to hold, with a half-shy smile, half-smirk, you let her.

You hear your name.

You turn around to see Wanda standing there, frowning as her eyes pass over your held hand.

"Wanda," you breathe.

The way you say her name, Lucy immediately knows. 

But then you're holding Lucy's hand tighter. 

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asks, trying to play it off casually. 

"I'm..." you start to say, but the words die on your lips.

"We're on a date," Lucy answers instead, brow raised.

"Date?" Wanda says, looking at you, and you swallow.

That feeling like you're cheating on her comes, but you squash it down because you know you're not.

"Yes," you say firmly. "I'm on a date. I'll see you at work."

With that, you turn, Lucy in hand as you drag her off. 

When you're finally far enough, you sigh. 

"Sorry," you mumble, feeling awkward.

Lucy shrugs. "You handled it better than I thought you would. I thought you had swallowed your tongue for a moment."

You let out a rough chuckle as you keep walking. The two of you sit on a park bench, enjoying the weather, the ice cream, and each other. 

"You're still very much in love with her, not even close to being over her."

Lucy speaks after a moment of silence when the conversation had died. 

You look at her, surprised she would bring it up again. She didn't even say it as a posed question. She stated as a fact.

You sigh, "yeah."

"But, you want to move on?" Lucy asks.

You struggle. 

"I don't know," you answer finally.

Lucy reaches over to hold your hand again, and you look down. 

"Does this feel good?" She asks.

You lick your lips as you stare at your intertwined hands. 

"It feels easy," you admit. 

Lucy tilts her head but sighs as she pulls her hand away.

"Can I tell you something?"

You nod, unsure.

Lucy looks ahead of her. "I don't think love should be easy. Sure, that would make everything simple. I don't think love should be a constant battle either, but I think we both should get a love that's worth fighting for."

You swallow, looking away. 

Because you agree.

It's so easy with Lucy. You know that if you let yourself, you could fall in love with her. It would be easy, and you know there's a simple path ahead of you. You'd know what the next steps would be every time.

With Wanda, it's always hard. It's true, you're not always fighting her, but being with her is not a simple feat. 

But you don't know if you want that. 

Lucy turns you and kisses you on the cheek swiftly. 

"Maybe it's not with me, maybe it is. Maybe it's with your ex, maybe it's not, but there's a great love out there. For both of us. I hope I succeeded in showing you a good time."

You smile at her and nod.

"Thanks," you tell her softly, and although she's not yours, you feel like you're losing her a little. You're losing out on something wonderful, you just know it. 

You can't help but blame Wanda a little for that. 

"I expect to see you Monday morning for the best coffee ever," Lucy says she stands up, "and a big fat tip."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," you smile at her as she waves at you before leaving. 

You stay on the park bench much longer after Lucy left, sighing. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When work comes around Monday, you do as you promised and get coffee at Lucy's, staying the extra minute to chat before you're on your way.

Work is relatively quiet today, Wanda seems tense, and midway through the day, your boss is getting arrested in front of everyone. The executives are taken in custody for questioning, and it will be decided later on who will take over the company.

Everyone is allowed to leave for the day with that, but you decide to stay at the office longer to get work done because you get distracted too easily at home.

It's nearly 2PM when Wanda appears in front of you. 

"Hey," she says softly, and you greet her back with a soft grunt in return.

You close your laptop, wanting to take a break as you look at Wanda.

"Looks like you're done your mission. Lucky you, you get to return."

"I'm staying in the area for a little while longer while things are getting wrapped up," Wanda shakes her head.

You merely nod. 

But at least you know she won't be showing up at her workplace anymore.  You get up, going to the copier room to make some copies of your report for next week.

Wanda follows you, standing at the door and leaning against it slightly with her arm.

"Are you dating her?" She asks bluntly.

And you pause for a moment before you continue with what you're doing.

"It's none of your business," you tell her.

"If you were over me, you would just answer," Wanda answers back, and you snap your head towards her and glare. 

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" You grit.

Wanda shakes her head.

"I just want you to tell me if you're dating her," she stands up straighter.

"Why do you even care?" You grumble with a shake of your head.

"Of course I care, I'm in love with you," Wanda says it so easily that it pisses you off.

You accidentally crumble the papers in your hand as you turn to her.

"Wanda," you say very slowly, trying to rein in your temper. "This is already difficult enough for me. You coming back here, even if it's was unintentional, makes this hard for me. I'm a long way from where I was but seeing you just a reminder of how broken I was. How broken we were, and how easy it was for you to move on."

"You don't think this is hard for me too?" Wanda hisses at you as she takes a step closer. 

"You don't think me losing the love of my life because of my inability to say the right things at the right time doesn't keep me up at night? I'm a long way from where I was too. I was just as lost as you were. You thought I had moved on, outgrown you, but I was just lost. You can't lie to me and say you weren't frustrated how you felt every day."

"But I didn't turn to anyone else when I felt that way!" You shout at her.

"Vision means nothing to me!" Wanda shouts back at you, throwing her hands in the air. "We just have a commonality between us, which is the stone. I was just learning about the stone."

Wanda conjures up red wisps between her fingers as if to emphasize her point. 

And even though you had known that might've been the case, it hadn't hurt any less.

"You can't deny that we're bad for each other," you shake your head. 

"I love you," Wanda throws out, and it makes you tense. "I know you're still in love with me too."

"You don't know that," you breathe. 

But Wanda walks up closer to you, she gets up in your personal space, her face hovering over yours.

"Then why do you get so affected by seeing me? Your thoughts are a mess, and why do your lips tremble when you breathe my name?"

You glare at her. 

"That doesn't mean I'm in love with you. You think I can't kiss other people? That I can't move on from you? Love outside of you exists." 

"With Lucy?" Wanda sneers her name. You don't even have to ask that Wanda got her name through reading your mind. 

"Why not her?" You challenge.

Wanda stands there, staring at you, her pupils dilating and contracting as she takes you in.

"Then, let's see you if you can run back to her after this."

And before you can say anything, Wanda's thrusting her hands against your jaw into your hair, gripping it familiarly as she slams into your lips with unadulterated passion. 

She moves her lips against yours, tilting your head as she backs you against the photocopier. 

It hits you so fast and so hard.

The feel of her lips.

Her scent invading your senses. 

She tastes like honey and chocolates, and you know she's been eating candy. 

She runs her hand through your hair. Her hand eventually reaches the back of your neck, and she holds it to keep you close to her. 

It takes the sound of her soft sigh to bring you back to reality, and you push her off you.

You furrow your brows, chest heaving from her kiss.

You look at her, and she's staring at you equally as breathless.

"You're such a fucking asshole," you tell her, shaking your head as you push past her. 

You're pissed.

How dare Wanda just...just kiss you like that!

She has no boundaries, no sense of what you're feeling. 

You gather your things, glaring at Wanda to not follow you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda sighs.

She fucked up.

She knows she did.

Wanda makes herself some tea at the place she's posted to until she can go home. It was pretty close to the firm for obvious reasons.

She shouldn't have kissed you like that, but it was like this ugly green monster, and the fear of losing you when she saw you with Lucy overwhelmed her.

Wanda had understood what Natasha had told her. She had understood, and let you go on the hopes that the two of you would both grow and be in a better place. 

It wasn't easy for Wanda, she felt like this giant hole was created in her when you left. 

She wasn't a good girlfriend, and she had to work through that. 

Maybe it was premature, but seeing you brought up all the feelings she never left behind. 

Wanda looks outside, noticing the day had passed by quickly, and now it was dark out. She looks at the clock and sighs when it's already 11 PM, but Wanda is feeling no closer to being able to sleep. 

Wanda knew she was going to need to apologize, that was if you were even willing to talk to her. 

She wouldn't be surprised if you decided to quit the firm and moved. 

Wanda sighs, rubbing her forehead and temples with her hands. 

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Wanda turns her head to the door, brow furrowing. The knocking continues until Wanda walks up to open the door.

You push past her and walk into her home.

"You know I had a lot of time to this about this, but what the fuck is wrong you?" You immediately fire off, pacing back and forth.

"You think you can just drop back into my life, even if you didn't mean to, tell me you're still in love with me and kiss me?"

You turn around and glare at her. "Is it crack? Is that what you're smoking? Because who the fuck does that!"

"You had no right to do that, you're such an inconsiderate asshole!"

Wanda frowns, taking the yelling. Your chest is heaving with anger.

"Are you done?" She asks, and you nearly start screaming at her again.

"Did you just come here to yell at me?" Wanda raises her brow.

It's quiet for a moment as you stare at Wanda. 

"No," you finally after a moment. "I came to do this."

And suddenly, you're running towards her, jumping as you wrap your legs around her midsection as she's forced to hold you up, slamming your lips down on her. 

You kiss her wildly, and Wanda response immediately. You wrap your arms around her neck, kissing her over and over as you tangle your hand in her hair.

Moans are heard, and Wanda is walking, nearly stumbling as she both holds you up and makes her way up the stairs to her bedroom.

She throws you on the mattress.

Chest heaving, but from kissing is a much better image Wanda likes. You sit up, grabbing her hand as you remove her rings and toss them aside, making haste to unbutton her shirt.

And Wanda pulls your shirt over your head.

Her body presses yours down to the bed, hands aligning as she intertwines them.

It feels right.

Wanda is going to make sure she loves you with all her might.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's late into the night, and twilight will come soon. You lie there, breath coming to a steady rhythm as Wanda covers your bare chest with the blanket.

She kisses your shoulder, and you sigh in small contentment.

Under the blanket, you seek her hand out, holding it.

"I'm in love with you still," you confess and Wanda smiles.

"I know."

"But I'm also scared," you tell her, "I'm not really sure if I'm ready for more right now."

"Love is patient," Wanda answers, squeezing your hand.

"How do you know it's the right time for us?" You ask her.

Wanda shifts in the bed, throwing her other hand behind her head.

"I suspect there's no such thing as the right time," she admits, "but I do believe we're both in a better place. The feelings never left. We're both choosing to fight for our own life, choosing to fight for us."

"I don't know if broken people should get second chances," you admit. It's been a ride in therapy, but these thoughts still come.

Wanda turns to you, raising herself onto her elbow.

"Broken people get to heal," she insists firmly. "We're not always broken, and I won't lie and say there won't be cracks, but I love you no matter what. You love me, no matter what. Our cracks are a beautiful reminder that we're fighters. No matter what is revealed when we're under the light, I will fight for you. For me. For us."

You find yourself crying, and Wanda dips down to kiss you tenderly.

"Under the light, you found me."

[bladekindeyewear]

THE DEVICE

I don’t usually put images from the latest updates on main outside a read-more cut, but I’m getting further people messaging in today saying they think THE DEVICE hidden under a sheet in HS^2′s latest -- the one at the very center of the noncanon singularity, where they believe bringing Vriska and having something too important for Canon to ignore happen will make a difference -- matches the shape of the Hiveswap door.

And it definitely, INTENTIONALLY matches the general SHAPE of the door as well as its “trapped under a tarp” aesthetic, but in Homestuck that’s no guarantee that the device is the SAME, much less even similar.

Plus, as much as a Hiveswap door gives things a “trading between worlds” feel in a story where we’re ALREADY bifurcated between Meat and Candy sides, and as much as Dirk is specifically afraid of Yiffy in a metatextual making-that-story-better-than-mine sense, there’s some reason to believe from Calliope’s language that the goal of the device is a bit more esoteric:

CALLIOPE: as far as everyone else is concerned, we might as well not even exist! JOHN: is there no way we could let anyone know that we're in here...? CALLIOPE: almost certainly not! CALLIOPE: there are very few ways for anything to escape the kind of predicament that we are in right now.

If the device’s purpose were to more or less directly enlist the help of those in Canon -- at the present time, at least -- or pull one of them away while shoving another in their place who could relay the status of their current predicament, then Calliope answering John’s question this way would be pretty weird.  Though, by using the weasel-wording “very few”, she does not rule OUT the idea that this device DOES allow SOMETHING to take place between Canon and Non-Canon.  Especially since, considering their goal:

CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more. CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it. CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak.

--could easily be accomplished by forcing all of canon to heavily, HEAVILY depend on noncanon, by inserting some crucial event or extraneous factor at some important time and place, important beyond even the typical canon-centric doomed timeline’s occasional importance to the plot.  Note, Calliope already mentioned, earlier in the conversation:

JOHN: you mean we ended up with the bad possibility. CALLIOPE: not at all! since both possibilities depend on one another's existence, it really doesn't make sense to call them "right" or "wrong". they both just "are".

--that Meat and Candy could not exist without each other.  Which could just have to do with the fact that “choices” matter to Paradox Space, especially the choice to do something Heroic for the sake of reality or to relax and sit back, and that if it weren’t important enough to have required a choice, then it wouldn’t have been important enough at all.  But Terezi had interactions with people across BOTH sides of the coin flip, and Vriska specifically was able to get a message through to her on Meat Earth C from deep in Candy (which Calliope lampshaded she would have been very surprised to find out happened-- another thing that makes Vriska powerful for sending things back and forth even if the "event" may or may not directly involve her, (edit:) not to mention John too with Breath's mail/messages association!).

So, simply sending ANYTHING or ANYONE across the gap, if this tarped machine even DOES that, wouldn’t do on its own-- it would have to be something important, important possibly to all existence.  If you wanted to get super-serious, maybe even the as-of-yet-unsourced final frog sent to young Jade.  Thus proving that without the Candy timeline, Earth C’s universe -- not only the place of the kids’ victory, but the eventual birthplace of Calliope and Caliborn and the origin of Lord English -- couldn’t exist at all, and consequently either forcing the Candy version of Earth C out of the singularity or forcing reality to acknowledge the fact that the WHOLE singularity -- all of “non-Canon” -- has relevance, and thus stability. Alt!Calliope would have made her fanfic-timeline come true.

But, that’s just one theory.  I wrote this post so y’all could reblog and debate other possibilities for both the machine under the tarp and the dramatic act of relevance that they intend to have take place.  Some sort of silly dramatic kiss?  Shoving Vriska into Hiveswap’s timeline?  An “oops, all Vriskas” disaster?  I’ll keep this up to date with some of your theories and addendums under the cut as y’all reply/reblog and send in asks.  What exactly do YOU think is the eventual, silly-serious-or-both purpose of all this bullshit?

titenoute said: “There has been people thinking at the beginning of Hiveswap that the Portal could link the characters of Hiveswap to Earth C. Tbh, knowing that Earth and Alternia are going to be destroyed in Hiveswap no matter what it makes sense to have the possibility they’d survive this way, by going through the portal.”

Anon points out that Dirk could have the other side of a Hiveswap door on his end under the tarp he’s hiding from Terezi, and I had some thoughts on that in the link, including what he might use it for.

[honestlyhappyharry]

Chapter 10

The Storm

Chapter 9

Something on Tuesday morning felt off. Harry had stayed over again, much to your delight. He didn't want to overstep the boundary lines but everything was falling into place between the two of you, it was like you had gone back to your old relationship. Warm and cozy was all you could feel.

But that morning was cold. Harry's side of the bed was cold, at only 6:30. While he'd not stayed over much you still felt like it was out of character.

You tried to push it out of your head and got out of bed to pack Lily's lunch for Pre K before making her breakfast.

At the bottom of the stairs, you peeked into the lounge to see Harry hunched over on the couch, phone in hand. "Are you okay?" He popped his head up and just started, blankly.

He was a lot different from his usual morning clinginess when he wrapped himself around you, not letting you get up.

"Get out your phone," Harry told you, the tone of his voice made you do it quickly. His tone wasn't mad but upset or a little hurt. You quickly pulled out your phone from your pyjama shorts and waited for his instruction. "Go on Twitter." That sent your head racing, Twitter had always been a wild place of quick-spreading news and all you could think about was what was written about you and Harry.

Lily never crossed your mind.

Harry watched you for a few minutes while you looked through the stream of tweets. "Oh, shit." Finally, you snapped up to meet Harry's eyes again. "This is really, really bad."

"I know," Harry stated, patting the seat next to him so you sat down beside him. "It started with an article on the Daily Mail with a photo of me and Lily from last night, you know when I was carrying her to the car?" You nodded at that. "I didn't even realise anyone was there and I think it was posted after we went to bed. Then, like most things about me, it blew right up on Twitter this morning in the UK before it was morning over here. Pretty much the whole world was tweeting about it before we woke up."

"It would be good if your fans slept." You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled a little. "It's the top trending hashtag. The press is going insane and management have flipped out. I'm not even sure what the fans are thinking, maybe mad or confused or even happy."

Harry dropped his head into his hands and left his phone on the couch beside him. It was still unlocked and you could see more tweets flooding in. If you spent the whole day reading the tweets that were already tweeted, you wouldn't finish reading them for the whole day.

Something like the was bound to happen, Lily looked exactly like Harry so it wasn't hard to put two and two together, but you thought you'd have a few more months. Especially last night because you hadn't seen anyone who even looked interested in who Harry was.

"I'm really sorry, Haz. I know that was not how you wanted it to come out and it's not how I wanted it to come out either." You told him as you wrapped your arms around him, desperately trying to console him.

"I have to do an interview on Wednesday, you know, trying to explain it all. Until then please promise me something." Harry informed you and you nodded, anything he wanted you would agree to. "Please don't look at Twitter until it's all sorted. Or Instagram." He told you and you nodded in agreement.

"Okay, but you're also on a ban." You told him, knowing people would be saying worse about you but you hardly wanted him to see all the bad things that were being said about him.

"I promise." He agreed, before getting up. "I should go, though, got lots of music stuff to do." He told you as he walked to the door, you followed and waited for him to put his shoes on.

"I'll miss you." You told him before he spun around. His hands were instantly on your waist, yours moving to his chest. He kissed your lips for a few seconds, giving you the same electric feeling you always get around him.

He smiled once he pulled away. "I'll miss you more, baby. And I'll call you later." He left you standing there, wondering how wrong it was all about to get.

~

You woke up on Wednesday, hoping that it was all a bad dream. The worry was almost as bad as Monday. It was made worse by the fact Harry wasn't there. However, the little voice jumping on your bed urged you to get up.

"Mummy, mummy, get up." Lily cheered as she jumped on your bed making you sigh. Sleep-ins were a rarity in your house but no matter what you were grateful to get up to the little girl.

Rolling over to face her you opened your arms so she could fall into them. You placed a kiss on her head and inhaled her smell, it was something you never wanted to forget.

"Are you excited to get your nails done?" You ask her and she nodded quickly. She had been talking about it since you told her what was happening.

"I'm getting pink, remember." She told you excitedly, it wasn't her favourite, yellow was but she was decided.

After breakfast and you both got changed, Lily was in the car with you as you drove to the nail salon. Your nerves were getting worse as you got closer but you arrived 7 minutes early, also 7 minutes before Harry's interview. Thankfully a radio interview limited the face to face contact Harry could have with an interviewer. However, it was live which meant no editing.

"Gem!" Lily said as she saw Gemma. You could tell from dinner that they had clicked. Lily loved listening to her tease Harry and their personalities were a lot alike.

"Lily!" Gemma replied as she picked her up and hugged her. They really looked a lot alike and the few baby photos you could remember of her as a child rendered them identical.

They hugged and you gave Anne a hug. "I'm so sorry about what happened with the press." She whispered and you smiled at the fact that after so much time she still cared enough to say something. It was an ode to how close Harry and Anne were.

"It sucks, but Harry's interview is in a few minutes so hopefully it'll get cleared up." You told her and she nodded. You doubted it would but a little social media cleanse was nice.

Soon after you hugged Gemma who only said, "It'll be alright," to which you nodded, knowing, in the end, it would be.

There was a little bit of resentment towards the press because you wanted to be able to tell the world on your terms.

The nail bar was nice, modern and sleek. Unlike Lily's bold neon pink, you went for a plain white which you figured looked best with summer outfits. Summer was a very exciting idea, having all that time to spend with Harry and Lily.

Once your nails were done Gemma and Anne insisted that you and Lily came with them to lunch, which you gratefully agreed to. It was an incredible feeling to be fitting back into their family after so long apart and you were thankful they were so accepting.

You could tell Anne was itching to talk to you, a more nervous silence falling over the atmosphere. As soon as you got to the restaurant and ordered Anne made Gemma take Lily to the park across the road to play. There was an odd mix of gratitude and fear you were feeling.

"Did you know the first night Harry told me that he had Lily, I was over at his place and I just started crying?" She started and you shook your head before she continued her story. "I was mad at him, so upset with the whole situation but I felt a lot of sympathy for you both. I wouldn't tell him this but you went through worse, raising her all alone which is why I was mad at Harry. I don't know all the details of your breakup but I feel for him when he was in that state." She continued while you nodded, out of all of her qualities she was so emotionally intelligent. "I wanted to talk to you, but he wouldn't let me."

"I know." You said, there was still the unresolved guilt you felt. Anne had an amazing granddaughter she hadn't met until a long time after your parents had met her. But thankfully Anne was much smarter than to be jealous. "I wish you guys had met her before now." She could tell it was the truth. "I even wish I stayed with Harry or went back to tell him or just anything that didn't lead to today."

Anne wasn't going to let you take the fall. "I've never blamed you for what you did. I still blame him for driving you away but I know how hard it was for him." It was nice to pour your heart out to someone who was so neutral despite hearing her son's grief for years.

"It's nice to have someone else to talk to about this." You smile over at her and she returns it.

"Mummy!" A small voice called and Lily came walking over, hand in hand with Gemma. They were both wearing the same famous Styles smirk.

"Hey, how was the park?" You asked her, just before your phone started ringing. Embarrassed, you pulled it out to put it on silent but your eyes glanced at the name.

Harry <3

You look around at everyone else. "It's Harry."

"Take it," Anne told you quickly. "It'll be important or he'd text." She definitely knew him very well. Gemma nodded, taking her seat next to Anne while Lily sat next to you and coloured her colouring book.

"Thanks." You smiled, answering the call as you walked away to somewhere quieter. "Hey." You spoke into the phone.

"Baby." Harry's low voice came over the phone, making a shiver come over your spine. "Did you hear my interview?" He's quick to ask.

By now you had pushed open the doors and you were standing outside. Thankfully the wind wasn't too cold on your skin. There was a little park bench near the restaurant where you sat, phone to your ear. "No, how did it go?"

"It was okay. They asked about Lils, obviously. How old she was, you know the general stuff." You could tell there was something off in his voice, something he wasn't telling you so you didn't reply until he spilt the beans. "Then there was some personal questions about what happened between me and you and why Lily was never known to anyone." He continued, getting quieter.

"Are you alright though?" Even if you didn't want to hear the answer, you had to ask.

"Yeah, I am. I think it's good the story has been set straight. It's going to be better now though and I'm excited to talk you all out without the paparazzi finding out." The air felt lighter, and if you could see yourself you'd see how much more relaxed you looked.

You nodded before realising he couldn't see you. "I mean they'll still probably going to write some terrible stories."

"Yes, and maybe don't go on social media or those celebrity gossip websites, my team is still saying they're still slamming me." His tone was an indicator he was hurt about it, which made you hurt because this whole situation was partly your fault.

"I'm sure they're slamming me too." You laugh, unreciprocated.

His pause was an acknowledgement of his agreement. "Don't want you to get upset, so please don't."

"I should go, we're having lunch." You tell him, thinking back to who you left inside.

"Yeah, how's it all going though?" He asked, still wanting to talk.

"It was really fun, we're had our nails done, we talked a bit and now we're at lunch."You tell him and you can almost see him nod.

"Ooo, anything about me?" He asked quickly, he seemed back to his normal self.

"Hmm, maybe. Is there anything else?" You asked him.

"Can I come over later? I don't really know how this works." He sighs, it made you giggle a little bit about his shyness.

You thought about it for a second before you replied. "I think it works like it used to when we didn't live together but we might as well have been." You confirmed, only imagining his smile.

"Right, so I come over, we have sex, go to sleep and then have some more sex." His crude comments made your eyes widen.

"Harry Edward Styles, I meant you can come over whenever you'd like but maybe I'll retract that." You smirked to yourself as you heard him sigh.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should also go but don't forget who's name you'll be screaming tonight."

There was no point in trying to reprimand him now. "I'll see you later." You said as you ended the phone call. It made you feel warm inside, as cliché as it was, knowing you'd be the one he fell asleep next to made everything seem better.

You walked the few metres back into the restaurant and talk a seat down at the table. Quickly you realised how long you had been on the phone with Harry.

All Lily, Anne and Gemma looked up at you. "What happened?" Anne was quick to ask.

"He just wanted to talk to me about the I-N-T-E-R-V-I-E-W." You spelt out so Lily remained unaware of what was going on. Not that she seemed to be paying attention to what was going on, she was still colouring.

"Oh, did he say how it went?" Gemma pipped up. She was always curious, that was something you learnt when you dated Harry all those years ago and she was asking how everything was going. Not that you minded it.

You nodded. "He said it was good to get it all out but the media and fans are still in a bit of a frenzy so he's said no social media for me." You let out a sigh, being in mock frustration.

"He's very sweet when he's in love." Gemma didn't even realise the words she was saying until they came out, that was when your eyes widened.

"Gemma," Anne growled, stopping her from talking about how much Harry loved you with a disappointed head tilt. You found it hard to keep the thoughts from racing after that. Did Harry love you? Did you love him? Did his feeling from all those years come back? Had it been long enough?

You hoped the answer was 'yes' but your mind forced some rationalisation. When you first told Harry you loved him you had only been together for 2 months and you had almost been dating him for 3 now. Maybe it was more innocent now.

After what Gemma said, the conversation slowed down a bit but by the time lunch was over you were on top of the world. Everything finally felt like it had fallen into place.