#Darcy needs you to see this

[that-dam-heartstopper-fan]

Welcome! You have found the madness of my blog. 

You can call me Darcy, Darce, Ash, Angel, or a nickname. I do not care (also if I tell you that my name is Angle, I meant Angel, I just can’t spell 😭)

I use she/her and they/them pronouns. I am a demigirl :)

I identify as asexual and panromantic and a burden

I reblog a lot, put random polls, and post random things about my life.

My other account: my oc: @a-poetic-apollo-kid

Lee Fletcher: @the-forgotten-apollo-kid

Naomi Solace: @best-country-singer

Naomi Solace for a closed rp for demigod’s mortal parents: @all-time-alt-country-singer

Cabin 7 ask blog: @cabin7-chaos

I created different Naomi blogs cause they are apart of two different closed rps, and I run the second one

how I run my blog:

Feel free to message me, i promise I’m nice, if you just want to talk or need to vent. I support everyone, (unless you’re a dick - homophobic, racist, sexist, etc) 

I use ‘girl’ ‘gurl’ ‘guys’ ‘dude’ and ‘bro’ as gender neutral terms, if you’re uncomfortable with it or sm just let me know :)

also I use <3 platonically, again let me know if you’re uncomfortable with it :)

Moots:

a list of my moots here lmk if you want to be added (as long as we are mutuals)

poll tag list if you want to be apart of my tag list for polls please comment on this to be apart of that

Things I follow: 

(There might be more tbh)

Heartstopper -Anything Alice Oseman | Good Omens | Young Royals | Red, White, and Royal Blue | Avatar the last air bender | Percy Jackson | Doctor Who (a bit-not really) | Anything gay/queer/LGBTQIA+ | Hamilton 

There’s more, I’m just forgetting lol 

I love music and books- please if you want to, send in recommendations.  music peoples I listen to:

Cavetown | Conan Gray | Baby Queen | Olivia Rodrigo | Wasia Project | Orla Gartland | Taylor Swift (a bit) | Beabadoobee | Girl in red | JVKE | Bailey Spinn | Alexander Steward | Au/Ra | Natalie Jane | PEGGY | Lauren Spencer Smith | Billie Eilish

(These people all have more than one song on my main playlist)

Tags: Darce has a question - for polls

Ash shares their vast knowledge - for asks

Angel shouts into the void - for vents

Darcy needs you to see this - for reblogs

rambling Darce - for rambling

Darcy has a lot to say - for my headcanons

I’m going to try my best to use these :)

Extra: I have a YouTube channel… I post edits/videos of heartstopper and Percy Jackson

picrew: here

I think that’s it, please be nice :)

I do it for the girls and the gays

(gays being anyone in the LGBTQIA+)

credits: thank you soooo much @bleep-bloop-boo for the name and @ ideas

Thank you @homocidalpotat for my tag names

[casualavocados]

Why do you always use that to piss me off? ...It makes me happy. We agreed that I'm in charge of the bars. But you come here all the time to watch me. How am I supposed to lead my people? Use your head, okay? Suit yourself. What's the matter? Chen Yi. Chen Yi! [...] Don't make me worry.

Chen Bowen as CHEN YI & Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[problematicsubmarine]

You don't have to like the ship but I'm genuinely wondering what people who insist that Sylki are a siblings relationship are smoking

[emeraldxphoenix]

plotted novella (oops sorry) for @cffidelityy

Gatherings such as this are always amusing to Mr Loki Laufeyson – more so if they are among people unknown to him. The man is undeniably striking; tall, raven-haired, lithe, strong – there is always admiration of his natural assets, and he soaks it up like a sponge. Even when word inevitably gets around that he is but a second (adopted) son, and therefore does not stand to inherit the vast Odinson fortune, strangers still curry his favour as if he were some sort of god.

Tonight is no different; dressed immaculately in expensive green silk, Loki holds court with a small group of admirers who hang on his every word. The gentlemen clasp his hand, and offer him cigars, and the ladies silently eye his figure and finger their dance cards meaningfully. He charms with smooth smiles, entertains with small sleight of hand tricks, and regales with tales of his home country. Everyone is playing their part to perfection.

The band strikes a chord, signalling to guests that the dancing will commence soon, and Loki remains in his seat, cruelly watching the light of hope diminish in ladies’ eyes as they conclude he does not intend to dance. The other young men leap at the opportunity to accompany them instead, and there is a brief clamour as those intending to dance pair off and make their way across to the adjoining room. 

It’s laughably easy for Loki to slip away in the chaos. He skirts the edges of the room, heading for the far wall and the pretty little thing beside the window who caught his eye. Dressed tastefully in cerulean blue, the young woman has been observing the room's occupants since he first spotted her, making the gentleman undeniably curious. They haven’t been formally introduced, but that kind of minor scandal has never bothered Loki, so he approaches with his hand held out towards her, and an offer on his lips: “Would you care to dance?”

[rookamell]

This is going to make sense to so few people but I'm obsessed with the Rupert/Taggie dynamic in fiction...

I can see myself quite clearly reflected in your eyes, and for once, I'm not sure I like what I see.

[a-very-fond-farewell]

I just brushed my teeth and washed it down with sparkling water (bc my piping system is not doing well rn and I only had sparkling water on me even if I don’t drink it), so you better know I’m starting this day writing my ass off

[dubiousculturalartifact]

do you ever think about how darcy's perspective of the visit to rosings is just... a completely wild time. so like. he and his favourite cousin goes to visit with his weird aunt, and ends up running into this hot girl, that he's really kinda increasingly into? she's staying in the area for a while with her bestie. so like. he was expecting a boring social obligation visit & getting pressure into marrying his other, less favourite cousin. instead, he watches the hot girl hold her own with his aunt in conversation. she banters with him over the pianoforte and they have a Moment™. he keeps going over to the house she's staying at, just to awkwardly chill there, even though he doesn't like the other people there. has a whole conversation with her about how she wouldn't mind living far away from family, as long as she could afford the travel. he extends his visit so he can keep seeing her. when he runs into her on a walk, she makes a point of detailing the exact route she prefers to take while out walking, clearly encouraging him to join her, so he does. he has a really nice time on these walks, they spend a lot of time in companionable silence, but he manages to flirt a little by implying some stuff about the future & what their married life could be like, and they have some conversations about that. and sure, she has some family baggage, but none of them are around so it's a lot easier to ignore, y'know? so eventually he just can't take it anymore, and he shoots his shot. she clearly values honesty so he explains his scruples as well, but he thinks she's been dropping some favourable signals, so he's got a good chance, right?

and then not only she turns him down she ROASTS THE FUCK OUT OF HIM. she insults him. she insults his honour as a gentleman. she flips the fuck out about... oh yeah crap the sister thing, turns out his cousin blabbed, and then I'M SORRY YOU SAID WHAT? ABOUT WICKHAM? THIS IS ABOUT FUCKING WICKHAM, MY FUCKING NEMESIS? HE FUCKING SAID WHAT ABOUT.... OH MY GOD. oh fuck. I've fucked up so badly I need to reevaluate my entire life & risk sending a letter to an unmarried woman who hates my guts, just so i can explain shit. fuck.

[calypso-rt]

bookworm II

-> blurbs pt. I

-> rafe x bookworm!reader

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. A fluke. A strange alignment of the universe that had Rafe Cameron showing up at your bookstore every single day.

Then, the excuses started.

“Yeah, uh—I lost my bookmark. Need a new one.”

You arched a brow. “You bought one yesterday.”

“Yeah, well. Lost that one too.”

The next day, it was:

“Do you guys sell… maps?”

“…Maps?”

“Yeah. Like, of the world. Or South Carolina. Or, actually, just this bookstore. So I don’t get lost in here. Y’know. Again.”

You smirked. “You’ve been in here at least a dozen times, Rafe.”

“Yeah, but, like. What if I forget where the classics section is?”

You tilted your head toward the large sign hanging from the ceiling labeled Classics.

Rafe nodded like that was irrelevant.

And then there was your favorite excuse:

“Yeah, so, uh—my dad told me I need to um…read more.”

Your lips twitched. “Your dad, huh?”

“Yeah. Real big on literacy.”

“…Ward Cameron?”

“Yep.”

“The same Ward Cameron who tried to build a golf course over the town library?”

Rafe coughed. “Uh. Yeah. He’s changed.”

It was obvious. He wasn’t here for the books.

He was here for you.

You never called him out on it, though. Not when he’d come in pretending to browse, only to spend an hour leaning against the counter, talking to you about anything, or, sometimes, nothing.

Not when he bought The Odyssey and then asked you, dead serious, “Is this, like… a pirate book?”

Not when he sat on the floor of the poetry aisle, flipping through a book like he actually understood it, just because it was your favorite section.

And definitely not when he smiled at you—soft, lopsided, like he had nowhere else in the world he’d rather be, and asked, “What should I read next?”

Because, at the end of the day?

You kinda liked that he kept coming back.

...

“You don’t have to help, you know.”

“I want to help,” Rafe said, rolling up the sleeves of his absurdly expensive button-down, like he was about to perform some impossible manual labor.

You squinted at him. “Do you… even have a job?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Not important.”

You had your doubts, but you handed him a stack of books to shelve anyway. Simple task. Foolproof.

Five minutes later, you turned around to see him absolutely butchering the organization system.

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?”

“Why is Pride and Prejudice in the True Crime section?”

He turned back to the shelf, frowning. “Oh. That’s my bad. I just, y’know, Mr. Darcy? He’s kinda criminal. The way he was actin’.”

You sighed. “And Where the Crawdads Sing?”

“…Nature documentary?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “That’s fiction, Rafe.”

“Okay, well who decided that?”

The next disaster struck when he insisted on manning the register.

A sweet old lady handed him a book, and you watched as he flipped it over, looked at the price tag, and said, “Yeah, uh… how’s twenty bucks sound?”

You smacked his arm. “Rafe. The register does that for you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” He punched in the numbers dramatically, furrowing his brow. “Beep. Boop. Okay, that’ll be… twelve dollars and ninety-nine cents.”

The woman blinked. “That’s the full price, dear. Don’t I get the senior discount?”

Rafe’s face scrunched. He turned to you, looking genuinely distraught. “Babe, we can’t just rob old ladies. That’s messed up.”

You groaned. “It’s built into the system, Rafe.”

He looked at the register, squinting at the screen like it had personally betrayed him. Then, sighing dramatically, he pressed some buttons.

“Okay, ma’am, with the discount, that’ll be… uh…” He turned to you and whispered, “How much is twelve minus ten percent?”

You just laughed, shaking your head.

And the worst part? You still didn’t kick him out. You let him stay.

Because even when he was the most useless bookstore assistant to ever exist, he looked so damn proud every time he got something right, like when he stacked books into a perfectly symmetrical pile, or when he finally figured out how to use the barcode scanner.

And, okay. Maybe you liked seeing him here. Maybe you liked the way he leaned against the counter, twirling a pen between his fingers, looking at you like you were the best thing he’d ever found in a bookstore.

Maybe you liked him.

Just a little.

...

The second you heard loud, obnoxious laughter from the back corner of the shop, you knew it was trouble.

You peeked around a bookshelf, your stomach sinking. A group of guys were shoving books back onto shelves backwards, tossing paperbacks to each other like footballs. One of them had the audacity to rest his drink on top of your classics display.

You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your pants. “Hey, guys,” you called, forcing a polite smile. “Could you please be a little more careful with the books?”

One of them barely glanced at you, smirking. “Relax, sweetheart. We're real careful.”

You hated when men called you that.

Well, most men.

Another guy laughed, nudging his friend. “We’re just here for Rafe Cameron. Heard he hangs out here now. Figured we’d see what the big deal is.”

Your jaw clenched. Of course.

Then, like divine intervention, the bell above the door jingled.

And there he was.

Rafe Cameron, walking in with that lazy, effortless confidence, except the second he spotted them, his whole demeanor shifted. His jaw ticked. His shoulders squared.

“Yo,” one of the guys called. “There he is! Dude, what are you even doin’ in a bookstore, man? Thought you were out crashin' boats or whatever.”

Rafe didn’t laugh. Didn’t even acknowledge them.

Instead, his gaze landed right on you.

“You okay?” His voice was low, rough. Protective.

Your stomach flipped, but you nodded. “They’re just messing up the shelves.”

That was all Rafe needed to hear.

He turned, stepping up to the group with a slow, deliberate swagger. “You break somethin’ in here?” His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

The guy with the drink shrugged. “Relax, man, it’s just books.”

Rafe’s expression darkened. “Put the drink down.”

The guy blinked. “What?”

“Put. It. Down.”

Slowly, the guy obeyed, setting the cup on a table. Rafe stepped in even closer, his voice dropping lower. “Now pick up every single book you messed up.”

One of the guys scoffed. “Bro, what’s the big deal? Since when do you give a shit about—”

“I give a shit,” Rafe snapped. “And if you don’t, then you can get the hell out.”

Silence.

The guys glanced at each other, clearly not expecting this Rafe Cameron. They expected the reckless party boy, the guy who didn’t care about anything.

Not the guy who was standing in the middle of a tiny bookstore, ready to start a fight over misplaced books.

One of them grumbled something under his breath, but they started fixing the shelves. Sloppy, but you’d take it.

When they left, shoulders hunched, trying to laugh it off, Rafe turned back to you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You just stared at him for a second, crossing your arms. “I didn’t know you were my personal security now.”

Rafe smirked. “What, you think I’m gonna let some jackasses ruin our bookstore?”

You blinked. Our bookstore.

Your face felt warm.

“…You put Pride and Prejudice in True Crime last week.”

“I stand by that.”

...

At first, you didn’t notice.

Rafe would sit at the counter, flipping through books as you worked, occasionally grumbling when he came across a word that was too long for his liking.

But then you started finding them.

Books left open on the counter, always on a page with some long, complicated passage, marked up in that messy, boyish scrawl of his.

You found the first one in a well-worn copy of Wuthering Heights.

“This dude is insane. No way she actually likes him. (Not that I relate)”

Then, in Pride and Prejudice, right under one of Mr. Darcy’s confessions:

“This is the most dramatic way to say ‘I like you’ I’ve ever seen. Might use it tho.”

And your favorite, scribbled in the margins of The Picture of Dorian Gray:

“Would I sell my soul for eternal youth? Idk, would you still like me if I had gray hair?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing every time.

Finally, one evening, as you locked up, you found a copy of Jane Eyre left open right on the counter. A single sentence underlined.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you.”

And right next to it, in his handwriting:

“Yeah. What he said.”

A/N: my fav duo :(

[traveler-at-heart]

Good Luck Babe

Summary: Wanda's boyfriend is the biggest asshole you've ever met. You think she'll choose you in the end.

Wanda Romanoff x F!R, eventual Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Don't be fooled by the summary, this is a Natasha Romanoff x R fic

Classes can be a drag. Especially the early mornings, where not even a cup of coffee can make you focus.

And then, there’s Wanda Maximoff, looking at the professor as she speaks, diligently taking notes while looking perfect, as usual.

She catches you staring and you have to look away, pretending that you weren’t just wondering how she manages to look effortlessly beautiful.

Class is dismissed and you take a minute to pack your things, preparing for the next session. You try not to roll your eyes as you find Wanda with her idiot boyfriend right at the door. As usual, they take up too much space, and you have to push one of them aside.

“Coming through, princess”

You don’t have to look back to know Wanda glares at you, annoyed at the nickname.

To be fair, the first time you used it you thought you were both involved in playful banter. Hell, you even meant it to be flirty, but she took great offense in it, which was the case with most things you did, whether they were aimed at her or not.

It was pretty clear she hated your guts. You just didn’t know why.

——

“I don’t know what her problem is” Wanda says, the music loudly booming across the house.

“What?” Jarvis says, leaning forward because he didn’t hear a word Wanda said. Partly due to the loud music and also because he’s looking at other girls, albeit discreetly.

“Y/N. She’s always being a total ass” the girl says, watching as you enter the house, avoiding her stare.

“She’s just jealous because you’re so pretty” he says and that’s enough to distract Wanda.

Across the room, you curse under your breath at the sight of the Maximoff girl. God, you hate her stupid boyfriend. Always runnig his mouth to his friends about Wanda, telling them private things… you’d overheard them at a bar once and it took every ounce of your being not to kill him right then and there.

Not to mention, the rumoured affairs that everyone knew about. Everyone, but Wanda, that is.

“You made it!” Carol greets you, and then follows your gaze. “Ugh, that guy’s the worst”

“Agree” you nod, turning to look at her. “Shots?”

“Hell, yeah” your friend says, taking you to the kitchen where Val is pouring some alcohol.

To your relief, you get to avoid Wanda for the entirety of the night, and as your friends arrive you quickly forget what had soured your mood in the first place.

Wanda, on the other hand, is not having such a great time. At some point while she was chatting with Pepper, she lost sight of Jarvis and can’t seem to find him anywhere. Knowing Stark could get crazy ideas, she worries that they might be doing something reckless so she goes around the house, looking for her boyfriend.

She’s expecting everything but seeing him with his pants around his ankles while a girl Wanda doesn’t even know gives him head.

“Wanda!” Jarvis shouts, startled.

“That’s not my name” the girl says, smiling playfully. “Or are we role playing?”

“I need to get out of here” Wanda says, closing the door.

Of course, he chases her down the hall, desperately sayig any excuse he can think of. Wanda tries to walk past him, but he blocks her from going downstairs.

“Don’t be so uptight about it” he loses his patience when Wanda refuses his apology. “Guys just need to do it more than girls, it meant nothing”

“You’re an ass” she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Wanda, don’t leave” he warns, as she finally walks around him to go to the first floor. The shouting makes some people turn around, and it’s almost impossible to ignore the commotion.

You’re standing next to Val and Darcy, unable to look away as the oh so happy couple keeps shouting at each other.

“Guess he got caught red handed this time” Darcy mutters. She and Wanda were friends but had a fallout and you suspected it had to do with Jarvis and his side pieces.

“Let go of me” Wanda insists when he takes her arm, pulling her close to him.

“People are staring, shut your fucking mouth”

“You’re hurting me” she protests, trying to losen his grip.

Maybe it’s the way she says it, so defeated or even scared, but those words make you snap, and you walk up to them, pushing Jarvis away.

“Stay out of it” he warns.

“Make me”

You are expecting the first punch so you dodge it in time, but he manages to land another one on your mouth, and you feel the taste of blood.

“You’re gonna regret this” you say, launching yourself forward until you knock him over, landing on a coffee table that breaks. Grabbing him by the shirt, you land two punches and go for a third one when he kicks you, making you gasp for air.

“That’s enough” Thor steps in, his brother looking delighted at the chaos. “You better leave”

Jarvis glares at him, but truth be told, Thor doesn’t like him and he is your friend. He leaves the Odinson house, cursing under his breath.

“I’m fine” you tell your friends as they bring over ice to put on your cheek.

“Want us to take you home?” Carol offers.

“It’s good” you say, shaking your head. “I should go, take some painkillers”

“Call us if you need anything”

“Ok” you pat Darcy’s back, leaving the house where everyone’s partying like nothing even happened.

As you walk to your car, you spot Wanda, sitting on the sidewalk, wiping away the tears that roll down her cheeks.

“You ok?” you ask, standing next to her.

“He’s an idiot. No, I’m the idiot for being with him” she rambles.

There’s a very sarcastic comment at the tip of yout tongue but you save it.

“Did he drove you here?” Wanda nods and you jiggle the car keys. “Come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm”

“I don’t want to be alone” Wanda hugs her knees, and in spite of everything, your heart aches for her.

“Any friends that can take you in for the night?” she shakes her head no and you sigh. “Wanna stay at my place?”

“Are you sure it’s ok?”

“Yeah, come on” you say, walking to the car. You drive in silence, eager to get home and put some more ice on the punch.

Wanda gets out of the car and follows you to the dorm you share with Carol, who usually stays with Val most nights.

“Take the bed” you say, handing over some clean clothes so she can change.

Wanda looks at you, and you feel uncomfortable at the intensity of her gaze.

“I… thank you, Y/N”

“Sleep tight, princess” you say with a smile and for the first time she doesn’t look upset as you call her that.

——

The smell of bacon and butter wakes you up and you stretch, trying to remember why you’re in the couch.

When you see Wanda in your kitchen, everyhing that happened comes back and you groan, rubbing the sleep off your eyes.

“Ouch” you say when you rub close to the punch on your cheek.

“You’re up” Wanda says, smiling. It’s a strange sight, as she’s used to glaring at you or just ignoring your presence.

“You sleep ok?” you say, trying to hide your blush when you notice she’s still wearing the clothes you let her borrow.

“Yeah, thanks” she nods, pulling up two plates with pancakes. “I wanted to thank you for everythig you did last night”

“No need” you say, grabbing a fork and eating. Wanda’s just being nice and you honestly don’t want to force her to interact with you, so all you want is to finish your food and give her an out so she can leave.

“He’s been texting me” Wanda says, looking at her food but not eating anything. “Saying it was a mistake, a one time thing and that it would never happen again”

“And you believe him?” you try to control your tone.

“I’d heard the rumors… even from Darcy. You probably know already”

“We assumed that’s why you fought, but she told us it was none of our business. And I know this isn’t none of mine, but you deserve better”

Wanda giggles at that and you look at her, intrigued.

“I’m just… I thought you didn’t like me”

“Where’d you get that?”

“The nickname, your constant glares across the room…”

Oh, shit. Here you were thinking you were obvious about your crush, and Wanda thinks you hate her.

“I hate… Jarvis. I knew he was a dick so I always disliked him. Seeing him with you. Yeah”

“Do you like me?” Wanda asks and you take a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders.

The girl smiles, finishing her food. You stay in the kitchen, fidgeting with your fork until she comes back, changed into her own clothes.

“I should get back. Do you need anything? Painkillers, ice?” she leans forward, her hand touching your bruise gently. Then, you notice her eyes drifting to your lips.

“I’m fine” you say and she nods, stepping back.

“See you in class?”

“Yes” you say, smiling as she waves goodbye. Carol walks in ten seconds later, looking behind her.

“Was that…?”

“Yes”

“Did you…?”

“No” you cut her off. “She just didn’t want to be alone after what happened”

“Y/N…” Carol says in that tone you dislike so much. You’re about to get scolded over something that isn’t that big of a deal.

“Carol, come on. She slept in my room, I stayed on the couch. That’s it”

“I just don’t want to see you getting hurt” your friend says and you nod. “I mean, you got a split lip and a black eye already so maybe it’s a little late for that”

“Yeah, that’s true. Come on, there are some pancakes left”

——

You tell yourself it means nothing. Wanda sits next to you during class, and offers a second scone she got from the cafeteria.

“How’s the eye?”

“I’m not blind” you shrug your shoulders. “Jarvis hits like a little bitch”

Wanda snorts at that, and you can’t hold back your own laugh. That attracts the attention of Professor Harkness, who focuses on your eye.

“Do I even want to to know, Y/L/N?”

“Nah” you shake your head and she rolls her eyes.

“Alright”

With that, the lesson begins. You try hard to focus, but Wanda smells really nice and you’re only human. At one point, she shuffles in her seat, her leg coming in contact with yours and you give up on taking notes.

“You ok?” to your surprise, Wanda follows you out of the classroom. “I can let you borrow my notes, if you want”

“Wanda” you stop abruptly, sighing. “Listen, you don’t owe me anything. I helped because it was the right thing to do. So don’t worry about paying me back in any way”

“That’s not… ” she stutters, fixing her hair. “I don’t really have any friends. I was always with him”

“Oh” you feel like an idiot. “Well, ok. I could use those notes”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, come on. I’ll trade them for a coffee” you smile, walking next to her to the library.

—

It surprises you, how much you and Wanda have in common. She likes sitcoms and though you’re more of a Friends kind of girl, it’s fun to watch those old shows where they dance and sing from time to time.

“I only know Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins” you confess one time, which prompts Wanda to invite you to her dorm for a marathon.

“Where are you going?” Darcy says when you walk past her and Carol that evening.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun” Carol smiles and you glare at your friend.

“Well, Wanda and I…”

“Oh, my God! You traitor. Brutus!” Darcy shouts, throwing a napkin at you. “She’s the worst”

“I wouldn’t know. You didn’t tell me what happened”

“She got you there” Carol points out, eating popcorn while she enjoys the show.

“That is besides the point”

“Look, I’m not putting Wanda on my will or anything, we’re just hanging out. And if she mentions you, I’ll be the first one to defend you”

Darcy sighs, chewing on her lip.

“It’s not about me. Wanda has the habit of just… using people when she’s bored or on a break from that idiot. And then they get back together and forgets about you. Which sucks. I wouldn’t want it to be the case for you, that’s all”

“I’ll be careful” you promise.

Once at Wanda’s, you’re trying to enjoy the show, but Darcy’s words are echoing in your head. You had to admit that if you spent more time with Wanda, you’d probably develop an even bigger crush. And if she went back to that asshole, it would hurt you.

Was it really worth it?

“Is the show boring? We can watch something else. I know it’s weird that I like this” Wanda pauses mid episode.

“No, it’s just… Darcy said some things…”

“Oh. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to hang out anymore” she sighs, looking down at her hands.

“I’m just thinking… maybe it would be good if you fix things with her? Say sorry. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it”

“I can try, but you know her. She won’t make it easy” you both laugh at that. “Is that all?”

“Yeah” you lie. “Come on, let’s keep watching. I wanna know if Rob goes to Ritchie’s play”

Wanda smiles, this time moving closer to you. Her head rests on your shoulder, relaxing against you. It’s so intoxicating, to have her so close, to feel her warmth.

And all you can think over and over again is “please don’t break my heart”. But you can’t ask for the impossible.

—

You’re really not expecting Wanda to take your suggestion at heart, but one day you see her speaking with Darcy in the hallway, your friend pretending to not be interested in the conversation at all.

The only sign that she actually forgives Wanda is when you’re sitting with the girl at the cafeteria and Darcy sits next to you, carrying a tray.

“This is the only seat that I could find” she mutters unconvincingly, making you and Wanda smile.

Though you spent most of the time in each other’s dorms, watching movies or shows. You learn that Jarvis was the one that dragged Wanda to all those parties and anytime you invite her to one she politely declines.

Now, you’re staying in while the rest of your friends are at the Odinson mansion. You don’t know if they’re allergies or a mild cold, but you’ve been feeling sick all day and wanted to rest.

“Coming” you groan when someone knocks. You open the door to find Wanda on the other side. “You’ll get sick, what are you doing here?”

“I made you soup”

“Thanks” you take the container, and you gotta admit the idea of warm soup makes your mouth water. “I’d say do you want to come in, but I really do worry this might be contagious”

“I’ll be fine” she walks inside, finding her usual place in the couch and patting the spot next to her. “Come on. We’ll even watch that boring show you like”

“The Office is not boring!” you huff, making her laugh.

A couple of episodes later, and you feel your eyes slowly closing, a side effect from the  medicine you took. Wanda notices, and makes you walk to your room.

As you lay in bed, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel Wanda sliding next to you, her hand on your forehead.

“Your fever is down”

“Mhm. Thanks to the magic soup”

“I’m staying, in case you need anything”

“Ok, baby” you nod, too sleepy to notice what you’re saying.

Wanda’s heart flutters at the term of endearment, and she watches you sleep peacefully, her mind racing with thoughts about what could this possibly mean to you both.

On the other hand, you don’t remember anything and are startled when you feel someone sleeping next to you.

“Wanda?” you say when you turn around, smiling at how cute she looks, all confused.

“I must have fallen asleep here. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks” you lay on your side, still smiling. Wanda is still thinking about the way you called her and it’s fairly obvious you don’t remember.

Still, she leans forward and you almost watch in slow motion as her lips meet yours in a short kiss.

“Why did you…”

“You make me feel… I don’t know. Safe. I’m sorry, if I crossed line. Maybe I should go…” she sits up and you follow suit, making her turn to you.

This second kiss is a bit more urgent and less delicate, but you hope it makes a point.

“Now I really hope that what I had wasn’t contagious”

Wanda laughs at that, her hand over yours.

——

The next few weeks you grow closer to Wanda. You spend most of the time at her place, watching sitcoms and more often than not, you end up making out on her bed, until you’re both out of breath.

She also enjoys teasing you endlessly, like that time she sat next to you in Agatha’s class and put her hand on your thigh. Your knee jolted forward, crashing against the table and making the professor glare at you.

This time, you’re supposed to be studying in your room, but you find that looking at Wanda as she goes over her notes is far more interesting.

“Stop” she says after a few minutes and you smile.

“I’m not doing anything”

“You’re staring”

“Can you blame me?” you crawl behind her, placing small kisses down her neck. She sighs at the contact, leaning against your front.

“Are you doing this to get my notes?”

“Maybe” you laugh against her shoulder, making her turn until you’re kissing her, and she pushes you down on the bed, straddling your lap.

“You better work for them, then”

Next day, when you’re done with your test, the first thing you do is reach for Wanda’s hand. To your surprise, she flinches away, grabbing the strap of her bagpack.

“Did you do ok on the test?” she’s quick to ask, hoping you won’t push it too much.

“I think so, yeah”

“If you pass, I’d say you owe me for borrowing my notes” she smiles.

“Well, we could go out to the movies. Or dinner?” you suggest, your heart beating faster. It’s a thought that has been going through your mind recently.

Not that you don’t enjoy the kissing and sneaking around, but you’re eager to take Wanda out, find new places together, talk about something else other than classes and her old shows.

“I’m not sure I can make it” Wanda says, avoiding your eyes again.

This new rejection stings and you drop your shoulders, looking for an excuse to leave.

“Yeah, you’re right. We have lots of stuff to do. I’ll catch you later” you say, walking faster and not waiting for Wanda’s reply.

The rest of the day is spent in your dorm, which isn’t unusual. The only difference is that you’re alone instead of enjoying Wanda’s company, and hiding from seeing her.

“Wanna go to Joe’s with us?” Carol offers. “To celebrate midterms are over”

“Sounds fun” you agree, because it’s been forever since you’ve been with your friends.

“You can invite your girl”

“She’s not my girl”

“Oh?” Carol tilts her head to the side, putting the pieces together. “So that’s why you only hang out in the dorms”

“What did you think we were doing?”

“Having sex like crazy”

No answer comes to you, because sex is something that hasn’t happened yet. Or maybe never, considering Wanda doesn’t want anything more.

“I don’t think she knows what she wants, Carol”

“Do you?” she asks gently. Your immediate response is a shrug of your shoulders, and it’s a lie, because you know exactly what you want. “Come on, it’s her loss then. Let’s just go out and have fun”

Meeting your friends does improve your mood and you’re happy you listened to Carol. You eat and play pool, until everyone gets restless and looks for something else to do.

“Heard Stark is having a party” Carol says, knowing he always gets the fancy booze.

“Pass” you’re the first one to speak.

“Why?”

“Isn’t he best friends with Jarvis?” Darcy says. “We don’t want to have another fight, do we?”

“Oh come on, there will be so many people he won’t even notice that you’re there!” Carol insists, and you can tell she’s gonna be stubborn and annoying until she gets what she wants.

So, you agree, but spend the whole time looking around, waiting for that jerk to pop out of nowhere and pick up a fight.

“I don’t think he’s here” Darcy says, patting your back. “Let’s just have some fun, then Val will drag Carol out of here and we can go home, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan” you nod.

For the next hour, you do enjoy the party and are even surprised when Tony seems happy to see you. To be fair, he is a lot nicer than most of his friends. You’re relaxed, dancing to the music and doing shots with Darcy and Val, almost forgetting why you were so sad in the first place.

That is, until you walk out of the living room to get another beer, but the place is so crowded you bump into a girl.

“Sorry, are you ok?” you say, turning to make sure she’s fine.

Your stomach drops when your eyes meet Wanda’s.

She calls for you, but the sound of her voice is drowned out by the music and the ringing in your ears. Jarvis says Wanda’s name, and you take advantage of the distraction to escape, pushing people out of the way.

When the fresh air hits you, the first thing you do is bend over the railing of the porch and throw up, coughing and wretching violently.

“It’s ok” Darcy comes out of nowhere, getting the hair out of your face.

“Shit” Val sobers up immediately. “Time to go home?”

“Yeah, come on. Let’s get a cab” Carol says, patting your back.

They think you’re wasted, but all you are is heartbroken. Wanda was with him, after everything you’ve been through.

The shame over being so naive makes you stay in your dorm for the entire day.

Wanda shows up the minute Carol leaves.

“You should go”

“Please let me explain”

“I don’t think that’s possible” you shake your head. You know it, deep down. She’ll never give you a place in her life.

“We’re just… friends. He wanted to talk, apologize”

“Wanda” you plead, hoping she’ll stop. But instead, she pushes past you, her hands in your face.

“I can’t lose you”

“Why would I stay?”

Wanda answers with a kiss, that is slow at first, and then borderline agressive. You’re pushing, then pulling, unsure of what you want from her, but she pulls your pants down, just enough for her hand to fit, moving past your underwear and circling your clit. Your nails dig into her shoulders, gasping and breathing as she enters roughly, her fingers moving fast and hard.

It’s not nice or affectionate, but a way to further claim you, ruin you, brand you. Now she’s reached and touched more of you, and you’ll never be able to erase it.

Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, and after the high, you come crashing down. All you feel is bitterness and guilt and anger. Wanda stays inside, biting your neck. The sting reminds you, you’re only gonna get pain out of this.

—

It becomes a vicious circle. Wanda is distant in public, because more often than not Jarvis is by her side. And then, she corners you in any spot she can find, kissing you and pressing her body against yours.

The more you let her in, the weaker you are and it’s nearly impossible to stay away. It will hurt if she leaves, and it hurts to be with her.

“I don’t know how to stay away” you confess to Carol one particularly hard night. Darcy was called to offer her support, and she provided that along with snacks. “You were right, Darcy”

“I didn’t want to be” she says, holding your hand. “You’re the only one who can put a stop to this. She’ll never stop looking for you”

You can’t see yourself doing that, but then you walk past her in the hallway, and you hear her saying those words to Jarvis.

“I love you”

You couldn’t even get her to hold your fucking hand.

Pushing past her, you walk away, hoping to find the nearest bathroom and lock yourself there. Lucky for you, Wanda doesn’t follow you.

There’s someone else waiting outside.

“Miss Y/L/N” Professor Harkness greets and you nod, looking at your feet and hoping she doesn’t notice your red eyes.

“Professor”

“You’re too advanced for my class. My wife has a spot in her lecture. New people to impress, most of them pHD students”

Her emphasis in the new makes you understand.

You won’t have to see Wanda in class.

“Ok. I’d like that”

“Keep your head high, kiddo” Agatha says, her hand on your chin. “And don’t tell any of this to Rio or she’ll accuse me of going soft”

“Yes, Professor Harkness. Thank you”

“Mhm” she nods, giving her signature smirk and turning around.

One less place where you’ll have to see Wanda.

Soon after that, you change everything about your routine. Where you eat, study, even go out for runs. Hell, you change your phone number and Darcy is kind enough to let you stay with her for a while. That, and the Thanksgiving break are enough to give you three weeks of space.

It hurts and more than once you have to stop yourself from looking for Wanda. But what’s the point of being a secret? The longer it goes on, the more it will hurt.

Still, there are days when anger weights heavier than sadness. You’re mad at yourself, for being so stupid. At Wanda, because she was a coward and a liar. And those times, you get restless and go out to run, listening to music until you reach a hidden lake. It’s one of the few places you can be at peace, because you found it after Wanda broke your heart. So, there’s no ghost of her here, only you and your conflicting emotions.

Throwing stones at the lake is a way to pass time, and you’re doing exactly that when you hear rustling behind you.

“Sorry” a raspy voice says. Your eyes meet green ones, but these are softer, almost shy. The girl has beautiful red hair, braided with a few strands lose. She misinterprets your silence, and quickly retreats. “I’ll find another spot”

“That’s ok. I can… I can go”

“No, you don’t have to” she’s quick to reassure.

“Well, we can always share” you propose, smiling. The girl nods, and places her bagpack next to a log. She pulls out a book, and begins reading. You continue throwing rocks, stealing glances here and there.

“Is the book any good?” you finally ask.

“Depends”

“On what?”

“On your fascination with social expectations in Russian society during the 19th century”

“Pass. Got anything lighter?” you joke. To your surprise, the girl pulls out another book.

“How about the perils of indulging in romantic fantasies?”

“I know those very well” you say, grimacing. She puts the book down, smiling at you. You try to smile back, but turn your attention back to the lake until you’re able to calm down.

“Lit major?” you guess, pointing at the spot next to her. She moves her bag, allowing you to sit.

“Yeah. You?”

“Anthropology. Minor in Art History. I’m surprised we haven’t seen each other in the building”

“I'm a grad student, so I’m usually at the library” the girl says.

“No parties?”

“No one ever invites me” she shakes her head.

“I’d invite you” you blurt out, finding her blush adorable. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be forward”

“It’s not… you’re fine”

“So. Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary. Are you trying to find out if Tolstoy really wrote his book with Flaubert’s in mind?”

The girl gives you an appreciative smile, nodding.

“Yeah, but it’s more about how men in 19th century wrote about women. Even in two different societies, the protagonists are punished for following their desires”

“No one should be punished for that” you say, looking at her. She averts her eyes, holding back a smile.

“Why Anthropology?” she changes the subject.

“Because. We’re the same and we’re not, even thousand of years apart. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“How so?”

“Do you think you have anything in common with someone who lived thirty thousand years ago?”

“We need food to survive. Sleep, water, oxygen” she lists, and you nod.

“Mhm. All basic needs. Next question, did you make a drawing of your hand when you were a kid?”

“Everyone did” she says, as if it’s obvious.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to see what it looked like. Because it was my hand and no one else’s”

“And people thirty thousand years ago thought the same thing. And left their handprint in a cave in Southern France. Isn’t that something wonderful?”

She stays silent for a second and then smiles.

“I suppose it is, yes. To have an impact, so long after you’re gone too”

“You get it” you nod. “I’m Y/N, by the way”

“Natasha” she says, smiling at you.

The next few days, you catch yourself thinking about Natasha, and even with all the distractions, your mind goes back to her. It takes every ounce of self control to not wait everyday by the lake. Why would you want to get hurt, when you just started healing?

Love never ends well for Anna Karenina, Emma Bovary or yourself.

And yet… three days later you’re by the lake, holding a book of your own collection and an extra scone. You’re about to give up when Natasha shows up, and she seems as eager as you.

“Hey”

“Hi” she answers, a smile on her face. “Am I interrupting lunch?”

“This is for you. I mean, I was hoping I’d see you here” you stutter, looking everywhere but Natasha’s eyes.

“I was hoping to see you too” she confesses. It takes you by surprise, so she grabs the scone and the book as you try to gather your thoughts.

“Emily Dickinson” she reads. “Enjoying it?”

“You can borrow it if you want. I mean, yes I enjoyed it when I read it. But I just thought, you might like a change from male authors”

“Thank you” she nods, holding it close to her. “I actually have to go…”

“Oh, right” you nod, trying not to look disappointed.

“Can I have your number?” Natasha blurts out, her cheeks turning almost as red as her hair. “To give you your book back”

You smile, handing over your phone.

“I recently changed my number and I haven’t memorized it yet. So give me yours”

“Ok” she says. As soon as the device is back in your hands, you send her a text.

“See? Now I’m sure I gave you the right number”

“Talk to you soon. Thanks for the food”

When is it appropriate to text someone without looking desperate?

Either way, you can’t hold back your excitement as you walk to your dorm, jumping on Carol’s back as she’s eating her cereal.

“Are you mad?” she says, flakes and milk flying all over the counter.

“I’m just happy!”

“Why?” she glares, hoping you’re not back to your old ways.

“I spoke to a girl. And she gave me her phone number”

“Oh, my God! Y/N!” Carol shouts, the rest of her cereal thrown away as she dances around.

“What’s all the fuss?” Val says from the shower, concerned over the noise. Carol runs to the bathroom and opens the door wide.

“Y/N met a girl”

“Way to go!” Val joins the celebration and you’re about to say thank you when you notice she’s stepping out of the shower.

“Gah, bye”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want your new girlfriend to think you’re a pervert!”

“Shut up” you say, walking to your room and flipping her off without turning back.

The rest of your evening is spent studying, but also looking at your phone waiting for anything to come through.

As you’re getting ready to sleep, there’s a text.

Nat: I’m ready to give the book back.

Y/N: It’s been… seven hours?

Nat: I’m a fast reader.

Nat: Secret spot? Saturday morning.

Y/N: I’ll be there

—

It’s the first time you’re there so early. The light filters through the leaves, birds chirping as their day begins with the rays of sunshine.

The walk to the lake is lovely, and you spot a couple of small flowers as you find your way to the place. Deciding to get one for luck, you twirl it around in your fingers.

You sit by the log, looking at the fog over the surface of the water when you hear soft footsteps approaching.

“I was afraid you’d stood me up” you joke when Natasha sits next to you.

“And stole your book?”

“The book, I could get over” you admit, giving her the flower. Natasha smiles, her fingertips caressing the petals delicately.

Your eyes are focused on the curve of her lips and those beaufitul eyes.

“Well, I’m here” she says, smiling when your eyes meet hers. “Thank you, I enjoyed reading it”

You take the book, your hands touching briefly.

“There’s a problem, though”

“What is it?” you say, worried that something’s wrong.

“I gave the book back, but I still have to thank you for that scone”

“Oh” you laugh.

“So, what is your preferred payment method? Ice cream? Coffee?”

“It’s a little early for ice cream”

“Then we’ll get it later. I know just the place”

“Yeah. I’d like that”

Though there are no classes, Natasha still has to meet with her advisor, so you chat for an hour until she has to go back to uni, agreeing to meet at your dorm in the evening.

“Is this a date?” you ask your friends on the video call as they agree on what you should wear.

“Of course it is, you silly goose!” Carol says, her face occupying half of the screen. “Wear something hot!”

“No, something comfortable. It’s an ice cream date, not a club” Val argues, trying to get a glimpse of the options.

“Something comfortable AND hot”

As they keep arguing, you opt for a pair of jeans, a white cotton t-shirt and a light jacket.

“Gotta go” you say when someone knocks. After hanging up, you are surprised to check Natasha’s ten minutes early. Plus, you don’t remember giving her your exact room number, agreeing you’d come down and meet at the lobby.

You’re about to open the door when the voice on the other side makes you stop in your tracks.

“Y/N? Please. Open up. I need you”

Wanda.

That voice, those words, the feelings you’ve been trying so hard to push away and bury come back. But instead of hurting you, they make you angry. You’re about to go out with a wonderful girl, who seems geniuenly interested in you. And here comes Wanda, trying to stain that as well.

Without thinking twice, you climb out of the window, holding on to the emergency ladder. You look down, unsure of what to do when you reach the last step.

"What are you doing?" Natasha says, rushing to stand above you.

"Parkour?" you reply weakly. "Is it too high?"

"Don't worry, I'll catch you"

Trusting her, you jump. Truth to her word, she eases the fall as you land, but you drag her along with you as you stay on the floor.

“Are you hurt? Why did you do that?”

Her hands are running over every inch of your face, going down to your shoulders and arms. The worry in her eyes only makes your heart beat faster.

“My roomate accidentally locked me inside”

You figure it's better than saying "My situationship is outside my door and I wanted to avoid her"

“You could have told me, and I would have gone and find her” Natasha insists.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get ice cream? I won’t ever do this again” you promise, holding her hand. The redhead rolls her eyes, but nods and leads you away from the building.

You make small talk, appreciating how her hand doesn’t leave yours as you get away from campus and to the walking district. You try to look discreetly behind you, hoping Wanda didn’t see you and followed you.

Natasha finds the store, opening the door for you.

“Rocky road, please” you give Natasha puppy eyes and she smiles, ordering strawberry ice cream for her.

“So, what’s your deal?” she asks as you leave the store.

“My deal? What do you mean?” you say, mouth full of ice cream. The girl wipes the corner of your mouth with her napkin.

“You mentioned parties. Are you some sort of wild girl looking for someone to charm every night?”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite the Casanova” you laugh. “No, come on. My friends are cool and we just like to have fun from time to time”

“So, not a player” she notes with a smile.

“I did get my heart broken, though”

“Fella done you wrong?”

“His girlfriend done me wrong” you correct, wishing you were talking about anything else. But truthfully, if you want things to work out, you better be honest. “She was with me, but only on her terms and as if I were a secret”

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve that”

“I moved on. So, don’t think I’m just messing here, Nat. I really like you” you hurry to say, blushing slightly.

“I like you too” she takes your hand. “Now, let’s finish our ice cream so I can show you this awesome bookstore I found”

The next few hours are spent talking about college, some of your plans for the future and also, your friends. You smile when Natasha comments she’d love to hang out with them.

Before it gets dark, you walk back to campus. Worried that Wanda might still be at your door, you asked Darcy a while back to go check. Apparently, the coast was clear.

Natasha walks you to the door.

“I had the best time” you say, smiling. “We should do it again. Maybe go to the movies?”

“Would love to” Natasha nods, her eyes drifting to your lips. You lean forward, heart beating fast as you’re eager to feel her lips on yours.

“Are you still here? I told you to beat it!” Darcy opens the door, making you both jump back. “Oops, I thought you were someone else. Sorry, I’ll go back inside. Pretend this didn’t happen, make out”

“Darcy” you groan. Your friend doesn’t get inside, though.

“The famous Natasha. Y/N here won’t shut up about you”

“Shhh, don’t listen to her, she’s off her meds” you ask Nat, covering Darcy’s mouth and pushing her inside. As you close the door, you hold it so she can’t open it again.

Natasha laughs, her hands going to your hips and pulling you softly. You take a few steps forward, smiling as she lifts your chin, leaning to connect your lips in a slow kiss.

It’s mindblowingly good, although too short for your liking.

“So, when are we doing this again?”

“The date or the kiss?” she jokes and your hands go around her neck.

“Both”

“As soon as you’re free” she says, kissing you once more before leaving for the day.

Darcy snaps a picture the second you walk inside.

“That’s the gayest you’ve ever looked, congrats” she says, sending the picture to the group chat.

You roll your eyes, pulling out your phone and smiling.

Y/N: Best I’ve ever had

Nat: The kiss or the ice cream?

Y/N: What do you think?

Smiling at your phone, you walk to the couch where your friend is sitting.

“I’m happy that you’re happy” she says, relieved that you’re healing from everything that Wanda put you through.

“Me too” you sigh, pulling your knees against your chest. “Though I do have to ask. Did Wanda say why was she here?”

“I didn’t care enough to find out. All I did was tell her to leave you alone. And then I pretended you were inside so she wouldn’t go anywhere else looking for you”

“You’re a great friend” you nudge her with your foot and she glares.

“Ew, get that thing away from me”

“I take it back” you show her your tongue.

The next week, you text Natasha between classes, and though she’s very busy, she’s always making time to get back to you. You agree to go out on another date on Friday, but neither one can wait to see each other, so you end up at the library on a Wednesday evening, each one focused on your work.

Well, Natasha is focused on her work. You’re looking at her, because this is the first time you’ve seen her wearing glasses and it’s adorable.

“Find anything interesting?”

“Plenty” you say, not even pretending to be reading your notes.

“You’re not the only one who’s staring” Natasha’s eyebrow arches, speaking without looking up. “Brunette, green eyes, a lot of rings and eyeshadow”

“Oh”

“Is that the infamous ex?” she says and you’re scared she’ll be upset about this whole situation.

“Uhm… yeah. I’m sorry. If she’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll just leave…”

Natasha looks up at that, eyeing you up and down as you struggle to read her expression. She surprises you by pulling your chair until it bumps against hers, leaning forward and kissing you, one of her hands on your thigh and the other holding your chin, in that signature move that always makes your head spin.

“Maybe that’ll keep her away” Natasha says, smiling and bumping her nose against yours.

“You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me to focus on an essay” you say, biting your lip.

“Then let’s get something to eat. We need a break from all this studying” she proposes, picking up her things and leading you out of the library, her hand in yours.

You don’t care to look around for Wanda to check if she’s watching, because this moment with Natasha is yours. She’s holding your hand, kissing you, spending time with you whenever she can, instead of hiding you like you’re a dirty secret.

By being herself, she’s given you the one thing you always craved for. Something real.

Finally, Friday comes and you’re buzzing with excitement, getting ready to meet Natasha.

“Wanna go to a party tomorrow? You can invite your girlfriend” Val says, painting her nails while Carol throws a ball in the air.

“We haven’t had the talk about being each other girlfriends”

“What? And you call yourself a lesbian? This is the second date, you should be adopting a cat by now”

“Like you and Val with Goose?”

“Yes!”

“Well, sorry to disappoint the sapphics, I’m just trying to not scare her away. And about the party, yeah, if Natasha’s up for it, we’ll stop by”

“Alright, it’s at Stark’s”

“Oh. Maybe not, then”

Your friends share a look, and you glare as they both stay silent.

“You can’t avoid her forever” Val is the first one to speak. “She’s gonna keep looking for you, getting in the middle of what could be a good relationship just because she thinks she can”

“Yeah, next time you see her, don’t jump out the window. Open the door and tell her off” Carol agrees.

“You did what?” Val looks at you, baffled.

“It’s ok, Nat was there to catch me. Speaking of which” you hear a knock on the door, and stand up. “See ya, cat ladies”

“Hey! We only have the one”

You laugh as you open the door, but then you’re interrupted by Natasha’s lips on yours.

“Hey”

“Hello” she smiles, and then looks behind you as your friends whistle.

“Meet Val and Carol. My two former best friends” you grumble when they make kissing sounds.

“Nice to meet you” Natasha greets over your shoulder.

“Bring her home at a decent time” Carol says. “Unless you plan on having sex. In that case take her back to yours so she doesn’t wake me up”

“I hate you so much” you sigh, pulling Nat away.

“We’ll see you at the party tomorrow”

“Sorry about them” you mumble when you’re going down the stairs.

“What was that about a party?” she asks, opening the car door for you.

“Ever heard of Tony Stark? Big house, bigger ego. Loves to have parties. We don’t have to go unless you want to” you say, half expecting her to turn down the invitation.

“If you want me to go I’ll be there”

“I just want us to spend some time together, doing whatever you want” you say, blushing.

“I did promise I’d try going to a party with you, and it seems like the perfect time. Could meet the rest of your friends”

“Alright then” you nod, excited and terrified about how things could turn out if a certain someone is there.

Carol is right, though. You can’t be looking over your shoulder all the time, expecting Wanda to approach you and open those wounds.

If you have closure, in whatever way that is, she won’t have the power to hurt you anymore.

It’s hard to focus on the movie with Natasha by your side, her hand clasped in yours over your leg. At one point, you lean against her shoulder and she kisses your temple.

She’s so perfect, it makes you dizzy.

“What did you think about the movie?” she asks as you go out of the theater, her arm around your waist.

“It was good. I’m glad I understood most of it without having watched those other Alien movies”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked a different one” she protests, pulling you to a stop.

“I just want to be with you. Plus you looked so excited to watch it, I had a hard time saying no”

“Is that so?” she arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t use that against me, Natasha” you warn, getting ready to argue but her lips silence you, and you moan against the kiss.

It’s not nearly enough, and you need more of her, not just kissing.

“So if I ask you to go back home with me, will you still have a hard time saying no?”

“On the second date? What do you think I am, a harlot?”

“I’d count the lake as a date of it’s own. And the library too”

“So, this is like the fourth one?” you say, counting with your fingers.

“You don’t have to, I was only…”

Natasha’s words are cut off by your lips on hers, and she holds back a moan of her own when you run your tongue over her bottom lip.

“I’d very much like to go back to your place”

The drive back is silent, but not in an uncomfortable way. There’s a certain tension, and the expectation of what is about to happen makes you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.

“This is home” Natasha says, opening the door to her apartment. Of course, as a grad student, you expected her to have her own place, but you still admire how homey it feels. There are books everywhere, which makes sense, and pictures of Natasha’s family.

“It’s lovely” you say, turning back to look at her. The tour of the place is forgotten, as you watch Natasha approach you slowly, her hands dropping to your waist.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. A bit” you admit, because lying to Natasha has never been something you’d consider doing. “I want this to be perfect. And for you to really like it”

For me to be enough.

“It’s already perfect” she says, coming closer and kissing you slowly. Your eyes close as you enjoy the sensation of her lips against yours, hands wandering to your lower back. Without breaking the kiss, you discard your jacket and take hers off as well, and she immediately pulls you against her, your hands holding her cheeks as she deepens the kiss.

“Are we doing it standing up?” you ask when she breaks apart, breathing heavily against your neck. “Because I’ve never tried it, but I am open to experimenting”

“You could just say that we should take this to the bedroom” she laughs against your temple.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Still, she laughs as you pull her by the belt loop of her pants, guessing that her bedroom must be that last door to the left.

“Bingo” you smile, opening the door. There are more books scattered on the nightstand and the floor, but at least the bed is clear. “God, Nat, your reading is gonna kill me” you say as you fall to the bed and make her land on top of you.

“Sorry, I don’t have company very often”

“Are you a virgin?” you tease, knowing full well she’s dated in the past, though nothing serious.

Instead of answering, she kisses you again, her lips drifting down to your neck, and then lower to your stomach. In one swift motion, she unsclaps your bra and lifts your shirt up, her tongue swirling around a nipple. You moan, surprised at the contact, holding her head in place as she moves to the other nipple.

“Does it look like my first time?” Natasha says against your lips, her hands going down to undo the button of your jeans.

“I’m sorry, I was only joking, baby” you say, and it’s almost embarassing how desperate you sound.

“Good girl” she comments, pulling your pants down. You struggle with your underwear and Natasha’s too impatient, so she pulls it aside and starts eating you out, her tongue making circles and swirling around your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you say, biting your hand to keep you from screaming. Natasha nudges your clit with her nose as she moves to go up and down and you’re close when she stops. “Why?”

“I want to be inside you”

It’s a mystery, how your brain doesn’t stop functioning at that, but you manage to discard your shirt and start to undress Natasha, eager to feel her skin against yours. Once you’re both naked, she flips you, so you’re on top of her, straddling her lap.

“I’m debating if it would be better to have my fingers or my strap buried in your pussy” she says, and you wonder how the girl who is so well spoken can manage to be so crass.

Not that you’re complaining.

“Anything you want” you say, aware that you’re rubbing your center against her thigh.

“What’s that?”

“I… please. Just use me” you plead, desperate for some release.

Those words do it for Natasha, who takes out a strap on from her nightstand. You protest when she stands up to fasten it around her hips, feeling like you’re gonna combust if she’s not touching you.

“Shh, I’m here” she soothes you, laying on top of you and rubbing the strap against your entrance.

“Fuck me, Nat” you squeeze your legs around her, hoping she stops teasing you.

“That’s the plan, baby. Tell me if it hurts?” Natasha asks as she begins to fill you up, and you’re too far gone to give a verbal confirmation, nodding instead.

“More” you insist when she stops, searching for any sign of discomfort. Natasha thrusts forward, sinking the entire shaft and you moan, arching your back. “Harder”

Truthfully, Natasha’s never been so adventurous or forward in her sex life, but the way you’re pleading, clenching and panting underneath her, wakes something entirely new inside her. Pushing your knees against your chest, she moves in and out, reaching new spots that make you see stars.

“Yes, yes, yes” is all you manage to say, holding on to the sheets as your knuckles turn white. “Nat, I’m gonna…”

The words are stuck in your mouth as a powerful orgasm takes over, leaving you breathless. You feel Natasha slowing down her movements, and then she goes to kiss your neck, the strap still buried inside you.

“That was…” you sigh, trying to make your brain work. As your breathing steadies, your muscles relax and you let a finger run up and down Natasha’s side. “I don’t know what to say. You’re the one with the big words”

“That was fucking hot” she says, making you laugh. “And I’m not done with you”

Good thing your schedule was clear for the next day, because you weren’t getting any sleep tonight.

—

Your muscles feel sore when you wake up, stretching and turning in Natasha’s arms, watching her sleep.

Her alarm woke you up, but she’s still sound asleep.

“Nat” you say, moving her fiery hair out of her face. “Baby”

“No” she protests.

“Time to get up. You’re meeting your advisor, remember?”

Natasha curses under her breath, clearly not caring enough to wake up.

“Hey… what if I sit on your face?”

“I’m up” she says, opening her eyes and pulling you by the waist. “Come on, giddy up”

“Nuh-uh. Get dressed”

“Why would you lie about something like that?” she whines, burying her face in your neck.

“I didn’t lie, because technically, I didn’t say I’d do it right now. Get dressed, I’ll make breakfast and then we can go back to uni”

“Fine. But this discussion is not over” she kisses your cheeks, neck and then your lips, smiling as you laugh. “Morning”

“Morning, baby” you say, appreciating how beautiful she looks even with bed hair.

When she gets up, you find one of her t-shirts and go to the kitchen, looking at your options. You opt for french toast and make some coffee, because Natasha is definitely gonna need it to stay awake.

“Tastes amazing” she comments when you sit down to eat.

“Breakfast or me?” you tease and she almost chokes with her coffee. “Sorry, let’s eat”

“So, what are the plans for today?”

“Laundry, some homework. Standard stuff”

“Do you have any plans for lunch?” Natasha asks and you shake your head no. “Would you like to eat with me? After I’m done with my meeting and you finish your stuff, of course”

“Would love to” you say, smiling at how domestic and perfect it all feels.

Once you finish breakfast, you get changed and walk to Nat’s car. Parking close to your dorm, she kisses you goodbye and walks to the professor's offices.

You’re so distracted, thinking about everything that happened that you don’t notice Wanda sitting outside your dorm until you’re at the door.

“Wanda” you say, your hands in the pocket of your jeans. “Hey”

“Y/N? Did you just get here?” she says, looking around and then at the time on her phone. “You didn’t sleep here?”

“What do you want?”

“I want… to apologize”

You sigh, hoping the conversation ends soon so you don’t have to ever talk to her again.

“Anything else?”

“I thought he would change. He promised. But then it happened, again and again. And all I could think about is how you’d never do that to me”

“No, I wouldn’t. But now it’s too late. You made your choice”

“It was the wrong choice. Please, just give me another chance. I was scared before…”

“No, Wanda. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear it and we’re not gonna be anything at all. Natasha is… she’s amazing and I want to be with her. You had a choice to make and you went with him. And now… I have to choose the girl I’m in love with”

“Is there anything I can do or say…?”

“No. I’m sorry” you shake your head. Wanda nods, wiping away the tears. It does tug at your heart, seeing her so alone and broken. But it’s not on you to fix this.

Not anymore.

You let out a sigh when she leaves the hallway, turning in the other direction so she doesn’t see you wiping away a tear of your own.

Your eyes meet Natasha’s. She’s holding a bouquet, looking at you intensely.

“Nat. I can explain.”

The redhead drops the flowers and you’re scared she’ll walk away, but instead, she approaches you, lifting you as she kisses you. You sigh against her lips, holding on to her as if she’s the only thing in the world.

“I heard. Everything. You don’t have to explain anything” she puts you down, smiling. “I’m in love with you too”

“I don’t… know what to say” you laugh, craddling her face in your hands.

“No need to speak” she pulls you closer again, walking back until your're cornered against your door.

“I swear to God, if it’s that girl again I’m going to…” Carol opens the door without a warning, making you almost fall. “Awww, you guys! Val, come look! They’re kissing”

“With tongue?”

“I hate you so much” you complain, hiding your face in Natasha’s neck. She laughs, kissing your temple. “Now close the door so I can say goodbye to my girlfriend”

“Girlfriend? Val, they’re girlfriends!”

“Wohoo!” the girl screams from somewhere inside the apartment.

“Agh, it’s like having overbearing lesbian mothers” you slam the door shut, turning to Natasha. “I’m staying at your place tonight, or they will drive me insane with all their questions”

“Tonight, every night. Whatever you want. Just know… you’re getting very little sleep” she says with a smirk, kissing you.

“I can live with that”

[moonlight-joy]

Love Letters in the Margins

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Spencer has a habit of leaving handwritten notes in the books you borrow from his personal collection. One day, you finally write back.

Pairing: Reader/Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid’s personal library was nothing short of magnificent. Towering shelves filled with well-loved books lined the walls of his apartment, their spines worn from years of eager reading. When you had first started borrowing from his collection, you had done so carefully, treating each volume like a fragile artifact. But what you hadn't expected to find—hidden between passages and prose—were his words.

The first time it happened, you had borrowed Pride and Prejudice. Nestled in the margins, in neat, slightly slanted handwriting, was a comment next to Elizabeth Bennet’s sharp-witted retort to Mr. Darcy.

“You remind me of Elizabeth—sharp, observant, and far too intelligent for the company you keep.”

You had stared at the note for minutes, heart pounding. Spencer had written this long before you borrowed the book, hadn’t he? It wasn’t meant for you, was it? The thought of confronting him about it seemed daunting. Instead, you traced his words with your fingertips, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest.

That discovery led to another. And another.

In The Picture of Dorian Gray:

“You would never be swayed by vanity. Your soul is too kind.”

In Jane Eyre:

“If I were Rochester, I wouldn’t have kept secrets from you.”

Each annotation, each carefully placed comment, felt personal. They weren’t just general observations; they were thoughtful, tailored to you.

Days passed before you gathered the courage to respond. You chose one of the books Spencer often reread—The Great Gatsby. As you turned the familiar pages, you found a passage underlined in Spencer’s careful hand:

“He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity.”

And next to it, in his delicate handwriting:

“Longing is a difficult thing to master.”

You exhaled deeply, running your fingers over the ink. If Spencer had been leaving these notes for you, maybe he had been waiting for a response, just as you had been waiting for a sign. With a rush of courage, you picked up a pen and, in the same margin, wrote:

“I wouldn’t need a green light. You’ve always been within reach.”

When you returned the book, carefully placing it back on his desk at the BAU, you felt the weight of your silent confession settle in your chest. What if he never noticed? What if he saw it and said nothing? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but it was too late to take it back now.

The next day, Spencer found you in the bullpen, book in hand, his expression unreadable. Your heart leapt into your throat.

“You…” he started, voice soft, reverent almost, as he flipped open The Great Gatsby to the exact page where your response was written. His fingers traced your words like they were delicate, precious.

“I—” you faltered. “Was that okay?”

His eyes locked onto yours, something unspoken passing between you. Then, he smiled. Not just any smile—one of those rare, genuine smiles that lit up his entire face, the kind of smile that made your stomach flip.

“You wrote back.” His voice was breathless, in awe.

You swallowed hard. “I was wondering when you’d notice.”

For a long moment, Spencer simply stared at you, the book clutched to his chest. It was as if he was processing every possibility at once, and you could almost see the thoughts racing in his brilliant mind. Then, before you could panic, he took a step closer.

“I—” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “I’ve been leaving those notes for you.”

Your breath caught. “You have?”

Spencer gave a short, nervous laugh. “For a while now. I didn’t know if you’d ever see them or if you’d—”

“I saw them,” you interrupted, a smile tugging at your lips. “And I loved them.”

His shoulders relaxed, relief washing over his face. “Really?”

You nodded, warmth spreading through you. “Really.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Spencer exhaled, flipping the book open once more. “So… does this mean I can keep writing to you?”

You tilted your head playfully. “Only if I can write back.”

His smile widened, his fingers brushing against yours over the worn edges of the book. “I’d like that.”

From that day forward, every book exchanged between you contained more than just stories. Between the lines of famous literature, nestled in the margins of classic texts, you found something even more precious:

Love letters in ink, waiting to be read.

The notes continued, hidden within the pages of literature both of you adored. A stolen thought in Wuthering Heights, a whispered confession in Les Misérables. Each time Spencer handed you a book, your fingers would brush, lingering longer than necessary, and his eyes would search yours for recognition.

Then, one evening, as you flipped through Anna Karenina, you found a note in the final pages, underlining a passage about fate.

“Sometimes, love is written long before we even know it exists.”

And below it, in a nervous, yet determined script, Spencer had added:

“I think I’ve been in love with you longer than I realized.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering against your ribs. This wasn’t just a passing thought, an intellectual observation. It was real.

Without hesitation, you reached for a pen and, with steady fingers, wrote beneath his words:

“Then it’s about time we stop reading between the lines.”

That night, when Spencer saw your response, he didn’t just smile.

He kissed you.

And for the first time, there were no more words left unwritten.

The notes continued, but they became something different now—love notes, secret confessions, playful teases. You wrote to him in the margins of history books, and he replied with riddles in the pages of mystery novels. The space between you had once been filled with unspoken words, but now it was a novel of its own, each sentence a promise, each underline a touch.

One day, Spencer handed you a book without a title on its cover. Puzzled, you flipped it open to the first page, where a single line was scrawled in his familiar handwriting:

“Every great love story deserves to be written.”

And beneath it, in smaller letters:

“Will you write ours with me?”

Please support my work with like and comment

[ellynneversweet]

I’m so fucking serious when I say ‘whether a person can understand the chronology of Pride and Prejudice is a marker of intelligence.’

Like. The reader receives very detailed character study of Darcy in the first half of the book that omits one very crucial detail of why he decided to indulge himself in his absolute worst traits in the scene in which he is introduced. This allows the reader to assume that this is his base state and not Darcy at his worst. Then the reader is, via Wickham, fed a fictitious account of Darcy at his worst which really does make him look like a villain who could and would have the power to make the lives of his family utterly miserable. Then at the midpoint of the book we are given information about what occurred prior to the start of the book which recontextualises everything about both Darcy and Wickham. Most people understand this should change their understanding of Wickham because Elizabeth explicitly dwells on it and thinks about how this changes her opinion of why he was behaving the way he was when Elizabeth and Wickham met. A surprisingly large amount of people don’t seem to realise that this should also change their understanding of Darcy, possibly because Elizabeth doesn’t explicitly dwell on these same facts being the reason Darcy was behaving the way he was when Elizabeth and Darcy met.

This makes sense from Elizabeth’s perspective because the primary way in which she relates to both Darcy and Wickham is as men who are courting her and who she has to decide to encourage or reject based on limited information, and Elizabeth has already been established to have an extremely low tolerance for male and marital bullshit — see Mr Collins, who is not brutal or economically foolhardy but simply an insecure ass who needs to be intensively managed. Darcy on a bad day is still a pretty good guy, but he’s Elizabeth’s absolute upper limit of how much she is prepared to put up with in terms of ‘my husband is having a bad day and I have to deal with it’ so it’s not enough for her to know he can be like that. She needs further encouragement that Darcy on an okay or good day is an actively nice, pleasant, responsible person to be around — which is what we get at Pemberley and in Aunt Gardiner’s observation of him.

But. But. YOU ARE NOT ELIZABETH, DEAR READER. You are getting to read about all these characters and their flaws. Which is why you need to understand when Elizabeth is wrong or doesn’t notice something!

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 6

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 6 of 7, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky

a/n4: all this was supposed to be in part 5 but everyone got really chatty in the text messages…also you can blame @sinofwriting for the cliffhanger, they encouraged me 😈😈

GO READ PART 5 FIRST!!

Masterlist | Taglist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Valentine’s Day

logansargeant

liked by y/n, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 1,992,813 others

tagged: y/n

logansargeant: I find myself running home to your sweet nothings…you’ve been such a large part of my entire life, I don’t think I’d be able to recognize myself without you. This is just a small thing really (especially compared to everything you’ve done for me) but thank you y/n for being my constant support, for being by my side, for being my biggest cheerleader, supporter, defender…for years you’ve watched me chase my dreams and now that I get to have you actually in my corner while I do it? A dream come true

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user1: ok who’s cutting onions

↳user2: I knnnnnoooowwwww 😭😭😭

↳user1: who knew Florida boy could be so romantic…

oscarpiastri: yeah we’re all asking for you to stop raising the bar thanks

↳logansargeant: not a chance

↳y/n: just get on our level

↳oscarpiastri: why am I friend with you guys again

↳logansargeant: we grew on you like mold

↳user3: this trio is something I didn’t know I needed…

user4: so so so glad mother has a man who knows her worth

↳user5: right?? He’s a good one

user6: he’s getting love songs sung about him and writing such lovely things back…google how to be Logan Sargeant?

↳user7: this!!

↳user8: I don’t know who to be more jealous of…

alex_albon: I didn’t know you had such a poetic soul Logan…

↳logansargeant: for y/n? Of course I do liked by y/n

↳alex_albon: oh you’re gonna be a mushy one aren’t you…

↳oscarpiastri: you really have no idea

jensonbutton: first congrats kid! But y/n? How’d you pull that one off?

↳logansargeant: me? I had nothing to do with it. Y/N is the mastermind in this relationship!

↳y/n: you knew all along what I was doing

↳logansargeant: and I wouldn’t change anything

↳y/n: neither would I!

↳jensonbutton: oh go be gross somewhere else please

↳y/n: why? Afraid of looking bad?

↳user9: love that we’re getting catty y/n interacting with the gird now! liked by logansargeant

y/n: oh my lovely Logan…there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be than supporting you

↳logansargeant: have I mentioned I love you lately?

↳y/n: not in the last 10 minutes at least!

↳logansargeant: You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.

↳y/n: Mr. Darcy and donuts? A+++

↳user10: he got you donuts?

↳y/n: he did!

↳user11: where can I get my own Logan?? liked by y/n

Bluesky

Logan’s Email

williamsracing

liked by y/n, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, user and 2,982,915 others

tagged: logansargeant, alex_albon, oscarpiastri

williamsracing: Team Torque is back at it this week! This time it’s all about relationships, both on and off track, with special guest Oscar Piastri!

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user12: god this is everything I ever needed

user13: this is Logan —> 😍😍

user14: oh my god what happened? I can’t get the episode to load…

↳user15: so much ngl you are missing a lot! But most of it was the boys publicly simping for their girlfriends (like 95% of was talking about how amazing their girls are)

↳user16: as they should!

↳user15: oh I’m not arguing! But also Logan talked a lot about y/n’s love songs and how they came to be

↳user14: oh my god I’M MISSING THAT???

↳user15: I’ll dm you don’t worry

user17: ok but love story being written while they were at a cousins summer wedding?

↳user18: that’s just perfect…

↳user14: really 🥺🥺??

↳user17: yes! It was one of y/n’s cousins wedding and she brought Logan as a guest. He woke her up one night by throwing small pebbles at her window

↳user17: one of her relatives caught them running around after their curfew and they had to sneak around together after that cause they were ‘grounded’

↳user14: that's just 😍😊🥰

↳user17: right? Finally y/n’s parents got involved and let them out of their restrictive ‘grounding’

↳user14: how are they so romcom???

user19: I was right on choosing enchanted as my favorite

↳user14: spill!

↳user19: 😂😂 Logan snuck into one of y/n’s sponser’s? Partners? party (Idk Logan was kinda vague on whose party it was) to see her

↳user19: it was a masquerade but y/n recognized him immediately and they spent all night dancing with each other

↳user19: this was during y/n’s first big tour and they hadn’t seen each other in a while and Logan says they were both worried about how strong the relationship actually was with the distance

↳user19: that’s why the song asks who he loves and she’s asking for it to be the beginning not the end

↳user19: she apparently wrote it that night after the party and released it within the week

↳user14: everything I learn from this episode (WHICH I STILL CANT WATCH WIFI YOU SUCK) just gives me all the feels

user20: user14 mine was another song talked about and I guess it was one of the last ones wrote for the album and it was written on the floor of their new apartment

↳user14: gimme gimme gimme

↳user20: 🤣

↳user20: not much more to know — she bought them an apartment shortly after her 17th birthday (her family moved back to Florida) and they had some friction when they were actually living together

↳user20: apparently they had an argument, she ran out the door, and he followed right after her

↳user14: 🙏 WiFi please. Please. I need to actually watch this

user21: ok but my favorite part was Oscar laughing at Logan when Alex brought up All Too Well (10 Minute Version)

↳user21: user14 Alex brought up that song because it really talks about like a bad unhealthy relationship and a bad breakup and toxicity…

↳user21: Logan almost burst a lung laughing (seriously it’s like 2/3 minutes of it) but he finally manages to calm down and explain

↳user21: apparently she wrote it at a restaurant while waiting for him because he got held up in traffic

↳user14: seriously??

↳user21: yup! He had had to make an emergency stop because he saw some kittens on the side of the road and his phone was dead

↳user21: so she was waiting on him on their anniversary and he was making a stop at the vets to make sure the kittens were all healthy

↳user21: he made it right before she got in her car to leave and he like ran over to her car with a kitten in one hand and petal-less flowers in the other

↳user21: she polished up and released the song and it’s like an inside joke between them now

↳user14: are you serious??? One of the most heartbreaking songs is a joke for them??

↳user21: yup 😂😂

logansargeant

liked by y/n, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 3,293,916 others

tagged: y/n

logansargeant: that feeling when your girlfriend gets the entire MetLife Stadium to wish you luck from the other side of the world

Thank you everyone for the well wishes!

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user22: you got this Logan! Monaco will be good to you

↳user23: it better be!

y/n: all the well wishes and best of luck my love!

↳logansargeant: I’ll win it for you babe

↳user24: winning in THAT Williams is definitely a true declaration of love liked by y/n

oscarpiastri: wait where’s my well wishes??

↳logansargeant: how about you get a world famous girlfriend first then ask that question?

↳lilyzneimer: hey!

↳logansargeant: nothing against you lily of course!

↳y/n: be nice to lily Logan!

↳logansargeant: I am! I’m just trying to make fun of Oscar

↳y/n: well that’s ok then!

↳oscarpiastri: hey! Liked by lilyzneimer, y/n, logansargeant

charles_leclerc: what a beautiful moment

↳y/n: don’t worry Charles! We’ll wish you luck tonight

↳carlossainz55: Please dont worry about him — he’ll respond later. He just straight up fainted first

↳y/n: 😂😂

user25: go prove Williams wrong Logan!

↳user26: am I the only one that thinks something fishy is happening with Williams?

↳user25: oh absolutely not. I know it’s only been a week since y/n and Logan went official but they haven’t capitalized on it at all

↳user27: it doesn’t have to mean anything? They’re probably just as shocked as us

↳user25: oh mark my words. Something fishy is up

Bluesky

user28: they are Not wrong

↳user29: man those free practices were awful

user30: James Vowles I’m in your fucking walls

↳user31: fuck his walls I’m chasing after him with a goddamn bat

↳user32: start treating Logan with respect! jv.f1

user33: Seriously vowles?? Logan has brought you more points this season than Alex??

↳user34: right?

↳user35: this is only Logan’s second season (in a WILLIAMS) and he’s already outperforming his more experienced teammate!

↳user33: ALL GOOD POINTS jv.f1

user36: jv.f1 DO BETTER

↳user37: THEY ARE BOTH YOUR DRIVERS TREAT THEM THE SAME

user38: jv.f1 go get an attitude adjustment

↳user39: we’re the Captains now and we say fucking treat your drivers as people jv.f1

↳user40: that’s fucking right

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y/n_gossip

liked by y/n, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 3,724,618 others

tagged: logansargeant, alex_albon

y/n_gossip: another Team Torque episode came out! And it’s still all about y/n!

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user41: another one so soon???

↳logansargeant: tbh we got bored 😂

user42: y/n is really hosting a dinner party for everyone?

↳logansargeant: she is! She’s really excited to actually meet everyone I’ve been talking about

↳user42: that’s so precious

oscarpiastri: Lily has been talking nonstop since y/n texted her

↳logansargeant: y/n is also really excited

↳user43: the fomo I have right now…

alex_albon: raise your hand if this is the only thing you’ve heard about recently? 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳carlossainz55: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳charles_leclerc: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳maxverstappen1: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳danielricciardo: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳pierregasly: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳georgerussell63: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳landonorris: 🙋🏼‍♂️

user44: ok but what are the chances of everyone going to the tour again beforehand?

↳user48: highly likely I’m guessing

↳lilymhe: oh it’s happening!

↳charles_leclerc: oui

y/n_gossip

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 778,445 others

tagged: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, aussiegrit

y/n_gossip: it’s Philadelphia night 1! We know from the recent Team Torque episode that most of the grid were planning on going to the tour again ahead of the Montreal race this weekend!

view all comments

user49: I saw Lando, Max F, Max V, and Danny Ric arrive!

↳user50: what I wouldn’t give…

user51: my sister managed to get a picture with the Haasbands!

↳user52: I did! And I traded bracelets with them 💜💜

oscarpiastri: definitely an experience

↳logansargeant: sorry you got left with Lando!

↳landonorris: I wasn’t that bad!

↳maxverstappen1: you absolutely were

alex_albon: the friendship bracelet trading business is very serious…

↳user54: of course it is!

↳logansargeant: y/n is loving it!

↳user55: you gave her our bracelets?

↳logansargeant: gave? No no no — I earned those bracelets. But she does have a collection of them and she loves seeing people trade them!

↳user55: omg 😳

user56: this is still the best thing happening this year…

↳user57: it really really is

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 13,294,638 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: Montreal you were so beautiful…congratulations on the podium Logan, it was certainly well earned!

view all comments

logansargeant: you are clearly my lucky charm and I’m going to need you to come to all my races from now on

↳y/n: as often as I can and as soon as my tour ends, my love!

↳user58: I want what you guys have…

oscarpiastri: what a race mate!

↳logansargeant: thanks dude!

↳oscarpiastri: such an American…

↳logansargeant: you knew that already!

user59: what an amazing fucking race today Logan!

↳user60: I have no idea what f1 is but go Logan!

↳user61: I’m living for the new formula 1 fans…

↳user60: it’s been fun learning! So far most everyone has been really nice and welcoming!

↳user62: the more the merrier!

alex_albon: good job Logan!

↳logansargeant: congrats to you too! P6!

↳alex_albon: 🎊 🥳🥳 definitely been a Williams weekend!

user63: and still jv.f1 can’t be actually happy can he???

↳user64: oh good I’m glad someone else caught it!

user65: jv.f1 be happy for both of your drivers challenge failed!

Bluesky

user66: please be a new chief engineer!

user67: Adrien Newey to Williams?!?

user68: dare I say…new team principal??

↳user69: you dared. And you did…

↳user68: come on! I can’t be the only one thinking it!

↳user69: oh no you’re not…just that I would never say it

user70: watch it just be new liverly or something

↳user71: that’s not big changes…

lilymhe posted a story, iamrebeccad posted a story, francisca.cgomes posted a story

[getting ready for dinner! @.y/n][an amazing hug a day keeps the doctor away @.y/n][the best grwm are with best friends @.flavy.barla @.y/n]

alex_albon replied are you gonna be done literally any time soon?

↳lilymhe I’m getting to know my new best friend. Leave us alone

user72 replied so so so jealous

user73 replied you went from creepy flirting to closed friends so fast…tell me your ways

carlossainz55 replied taking notes 📝

↳iamrebeccad not your hugs — just hers!

↳carlossainz55 corazón…

user74 replied I don’t know who to be more jealous of…

user75 replied which star did you wish upon?

pierregasly replied you’re still not ready?

↳francisca.cgomes you can’t rush perfection…

↳pierregasly I’m not rushing y/n…I’m rushing you!

↳francisca.cgomes you’re sleeping on the couch tonight

user76 replied I’m gonna need a full YouTube video on this grwm…

user77 replied Netflix get in there stat

user78 replied who all is there getting ready for the dinner???

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story, lilyzneimer posted a story, yoursister posted a story

[cheers 🥂 to new friends @.y/n][ready for night out on the town @.y/n, @.carmenmmundt][what a night…thanks for the invite @.y/n]

charles_leclerc replied 🥂🥂

↳alexandrasaintmleux she’s so lovely Charles…

↳charles_leclerc you both are Mon amour

user79 replied how the turntables…

user80 replied ok let’s just switch lives right now…

oscarpiastri replied finally!

↳lilyzneimer don’t you dare try to rush us Oscar! We’ll get there when we get there!

↳oscarpiastri we could have already been done with dinner if you guys were on time!

↳lilyzneime: leave us alone!

user81 replied you guys are all so pretty…

user82 replied absolutely stunning

y/n replied thanks for coming Lily…I didn’t even understand myself how nice it would be to have a friend when meeting everyone

↳lilyzneimer of course! And don’t worry — they already said they’d be on their best behavior…

↳y/n 😂😂

y/n replied now stop whining! I took you to a race and to a fancy dinner

↳yoursister no! Now I wanna go shopping! And to Silverstone! And Vegas!

↳y/n fine to the shopping, maybe to Silverstone, and you have to ask mom for permission for Vegas

↳yoursister you’re no fun!

↳y/n that’s me! The no fun sister

logansargeant replied thanks for coming — y/n was worried about meeting everyone and I know you coming with us helped her a lot

↳yoursister of course! Invite me to more places and events!

↳logansargeant Vegas is up to your mom

↳yoursister damn it

user83 replied now that’s a slumber party I want to be invited to…

user84 replied the fomo…

user85 replied no pictures of the actual dinner??

logansargeant

liked by y/n, landonorris, estebanocon and 2,97,455 others

logansargeant: dinner was lovely. Thanks to everyone who came!

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y/n: thanks for helping me out this all together Logan!

↳logansargeant: anything for you sweetie

user86: damn she really got the entire grid to come…

↳user87: not only the current grid but past members AND the reserves and academy drivers too?

↳user88: the power she has…

charles_leclerc: it was a lovely dinner! Thank you y/n and logansargeant!

↳y/n: thanks for coming!

↳charles_leclerc: I wouldn’t have missed it

oscarpiastri: such a great evening! Thanks y/n

↳y/n: anything for my favorite Aussie

↳aussiegrit: me?

↳y/n: no

↳danielricciardo: me?

↳y/n: close but sorry

↳oscarpiastri: what do you mean close???

↳y/n: Danny didn’t spend years thinking he was Logan’s best friend! liked by logansargeant, danielricciardo

user74: ok I know who to be jealous of…

↳user89: all of them?

↳user74: all of them!

user90: I would kill all of you to be at that dinner

↳user91: extreme but I understand

lewishamilton: it was lovely to meet you y/n 🖤

↳y/n: same! And our conversation was enlightening!

↳user92: XNDA collab?!?

Bluesky

user93: you better say sike right now

user94: this is obviously a joke

user95: they can’t be talking about y/n and Logan right??

↳user96: they better not be!

user97: he’s done better then Alex has this entire season!!!

↳user98: I’m going to riot if this is true…

↳user99: you better check Williams social right now oh my god

Bluesky

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala--67 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @theendofthematerialgworl @angstyntasty

[bethanydelleman]

One criticism of Jane Austen is that she ignored the lower classes. I find this kind of dumb on multiple levels, primarily because not every work of fiction or social criticism needs to include every single social ill, but also because she does talk about servants/the lower classes quite a bit more than people realize and what she says is important.

The overall theme: kindness to servants/the lower classes/the poor is a very important mark of character.

We all know that Elizabeth Bennet changed her mind about Mr. Darcy after hearing a positive character reference from his housekeeper, but that is just one example of many. The Dashwood girls are better employers than John & Fanny since they easily find servants to move across the country with them: Her wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. Also, servants tended to brag about having wealthy employers, these three servants wanted both a far away and a less prestigious job. John & Fanny were really that bad!

Another mark against General Tilney's character is that he gets irrationally angry at/scares servants:

To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

“Why! How can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.” (Henry, on his father coming to his house for a visit. This may be half a joke, but General Tilney is very critical of the meal)

Mrs. Ferrars's character is made quite plain in this complaint about paying annuities (basically a pension here) to some of her husband's old servants:

I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever.

Mrs. Ferrars is loaded, and she begrudges paying a few pounds to 3 servants. She is greedy and ungrateful.

Mrs. Norris's treatment of the servants is similar to her treatment of Fanny. It shows the depth of her miserliness (how much could one boy really eat?) and also cruelty:

"I had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, and was just coming out, when who should I see but Dick Jackson making up to the servants’ hall-door with two bits of deal board in his hand, bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother had chanced to send him of a message to father, and then father had bid him bring up them two bits of board, for he could not no how do without them. I knew what all this meant, for the servants’ dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have always said so: just the sort of people to get all they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lubberly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought to be ashamed of himself), ‘I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick, so get you home again as fast as you can.’ The boy looked very silly, and turned away without offering a word, for I believe I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will cure him of coming marauding about the house for one while. I hate such greediness—so good as your father is to the family, employing the man all the year round!”

It also highlights her hypocrisy, as Mrs. Norris has moved in during the play to help with the preparations, so she is getting free meals all week but she won't let this kid eat when he's helping his father (who is building the stage for the play)

Mr. Knightley considers the common people of Highbury before moving a path, even though he likely owns all of the land and can do whatever he wants:

"But John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path"

The kind Musgroves, who have given their nursemaid a retirement plan instead of turning her out:

A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa.

And who clearly are rewarded for this kindness.

Anne Elliot showing kindness to Mrs. Smith, who has nearly fallen right out of the gentry, vs. her fathers disdain for charity:

“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”

Added to Sir Walter and Elizabeth's idea to cut expenses:

“Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that there is any one article in which we can retrench?” and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom."

Vs. how the Crofts treat the poor:

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners’.

Henry Crawford's moral fall begins with ignoring the needs of his tenants:

"I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property... I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?”

Of course, Henry does not go to Everginham, as he knows is right, but instead goes to the party in London, where he again runs into Maria...

Yes, Austen didn't write servants/the lower classes as full characters in general, they are in the background and around the edges of the scenes, but over and over, we can sort characters into moral and immoral by their treatment of those less fortunate around them.

[cursedhaglette]

Solavellan fic recs please I’m so hungry 🥺🥺

oh I'd love to provide! these have been my personal favorites so far (also fair warning, I am a solavellan fucked in DAI truther and that is reflected in my choices below so your mileage may vary)

Everything by niceasspavus - especially their fic Servitude which is an absolute masterwork. The prose is succinct but spectacular, the smut is excellent and never feels out of place (smut sometimes can with solavellan okay) and they dig into Solas' mind in a really beautiful way. They also started a modern AU fic and while that's not usually my trope at all, I've actually read what they have posted so far like three times because it's so good. Can't wait to see if they grace us with more.

Fellchaser by @rosieofcorona - Okay make that literally anything Darcy touches I recommend but Fellchaser is...I want to plaster my walls with it. The walls of my mind prison at least. The first time I read it, I literally read it five times back to back to back (I was admittedly very high but that's NOT THE POINT) because I was so taken with the prose and every detail. It is absolute perfection, seriously, the only thing wrong with it is that it isn't 100k words

What He Wouldn't Give by sugarhihello - a devastating take what happens immediately after the Crestwood scene we know and hate to love. I'm scared of writers who can make me want more of a scene like that and yet this fic gives me that

The Waiting by say_lene - solavellan thigh riding, need I say more?

Even Gods Need Miracles by callmebecks - A study of Solas' mindset from DAI to now include the DAV ending.

A Field as Wild as Your Heart by lillith_morgana - An exceptional take on the solavellan ending/post-DAV with gorgeous prose

Dreadful Recollections by @scaryanneee - if you know me from the bg3 era at all, you know Think of Me is a smut of all time so scaryanne joining us in solavellan hell has been SO FUN (for me personally at least eheheh) This little smut is so brilliant because it truly gave me so many ideas to play with for my own ship during this time period while also being so hot??? Also just read the tags on this and you know you're in for a great time

Handle With Care by feynite - I'm sure you've seen feynite if you've looked at solavellan fics because Looking Glass is the biggest one but I think this is just a really excellent little fic of theirs. Sad AND sexy - what every Solas fan is looking for I think

solavellan moots, please feel free to add on - I'm always looking for more and I'm sure others are too! anon - hope this gave you some tasty morsels and feel free to come back if you need more! xoxox

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone - pt 3

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Since Aaric tried to make you leave Basgiath, you’re not speaking to him. So, you decide to take out your frustration on the mat.

Warnings: Iron Flame spoilers, violence, swearing, Mr. Darcy’s School of Yearning, ANGST

Author’s Note: I’m basically ignoring the entirety of the canon plot-line of Iron Flame so…

Word Count: 4K

Part Two | Part Four

————

-Assessment Day-

(Reader POV)

Anxiety and anticipation run rampant amongst the cadets as we stand around the edge of the large mat in the quadrant’s gym.

Professor Emetterio stands on the sidelines of the mat, parchment in hand as he reads out the rules and pairings for each session.

As he lists names, I feel a heavy, pleading gaze on the side of my face. Like I’ve done all morning, I ignore it. I never look, never meet those green eyes, and continue on with my day. Thank the gods I had chores this morning and I didn’t have to be anywhere near him. It’s hard enough knowing he thinks I can’t survive here. That I’m fragile.

“I can’t watch you die.”

His words from last night slam into me, stealing my breath. Burning fills my eyes and I quickly close them, counting each rise and fall of my chest to keep any tears at bay.

I’m not going to cry in class. I’m not.

I pinch my nails into my palm, ignoring the sudden awareness to the scar on my skin that matches his. The memory of our pricked skin, our promises, makes the burning in my eyes so much worse. Fuck.

Stop it, I chastise myself. Don’t waste your tears on him. Get a grip already. Focus.

I allow that festering anger from earlier to rise again. I quickly latch onto it, opening my eyes and holding firm to that anger to keep me from meeting Aaric’s stare.

“Sloane Mairi and Aaric Graycastle,” Emetterio suddenly calls out, dragging me away from my thoughts.

I ignore the burning need to look at Aaric as he approaches the middle of the mat. I catch him rolling his shoulders in my peripheral and I try not to snort at the absurdity. He’s had private tutors all of his life. Lessons on combat were one of his favorites and he insisted on extra lessons. He’s going to wipe the floor with every single person here.

I smirk. Except for me.

The blonde girl who slept in the cot next to mine in the dorms strides across the mat. This is an awful pairing; it’s obvious already. She’s shorter than Aaric and lacks awareness of her limbs as she begins to pace around him. Her movements are jerky and unsure. Aaric’s are swift and calculated. I can’t help but allow myself to finally look at him, watching for his tells. From the way his eyes snap to hers, I can see he’s already found her weaknesses. If you blink, one would miss how he quickly sweeps her legs out from under her, holding her legs down with his as he wraps an arm around her neck, squeezing till she immediately taps out. It’s over in under a minute, and everyone stands in bewilderment.

I roll my eyes. Fucking show-off.

“Again!” Emetterio yells from the sidelines.

I feel someone slide up next to me.

“Hey,” Violet greets quietly, as to not draw attention to us. “Still ignoring him?”

I try to ignore the distant sound of Aaric slamming Sloane into the mat, her groans echoing in the gym.

“Again!”

This is just unfair to Sloane.

I turn to Violet, sighing. “The prick deserves it. So does Dain, that nosey son of a bitch,” I glare in Dain’s direction, where he catches my eye and shrinks back a bit from my lethal stare. Good.

Violet huffs a laugh. “Yeah, Dain deserves that. He’s not on my good side right now either, if that keeps me in your good graces,” she winks.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling as I shove her playfully, ignoring the open stares from Violet’s friends across the mat. Gods, I’ve missed her. And Dain, when he’s not being so self-righteous. When we were little, we all used to play tag in the palace gardens. As young teens, we mock-played being riders and flying dragons before accidentally crashing into some precious heirloom and running away, making Cam’s twin older brothers, Halden and Alic, take the fall for it.

A bitterness fills me as I remember Alic. It’s been three years since he was killed, and the memory of Cam’s fury upon receiving the news is enough to make me want to look at him right now. Remembering how he tried not to cry when receiving the devastating news, even when Alic was a complete asshole as an adult. It didn’t matter. He was still his brother, his blood.

My thoughts force me to chance a glance at Aaric. He has Sloane on her knees, gasping for air as she quickly taps out. Emetterio’s mouth is in a permanent frown as he assesses them. At this rate, Sloane’s going to end up black and blue if that swollen eye is anything to go by.

When she heaves for air, standing to face Aaric again, I can’t stand it anymore.

“I’ll take him!” I shout, louder than I should since every single person whips around to look at me. I make the mistake of catching Aaric’s gaze. His eyes widen as I step forward.

“No,” Aaric refutes, but it’s not loud enough for Emetterio to hear.

“Fine by me,” the professor nods to Sloane. “Take a breather. Hopefully, you’ll learn something from this.”

I wince watching Sloane limp her way to the sidelines.

“You sure about this?” Violet asks.

I nod before saying under my breath, “I’ve fought him before.”

“Enough to beat him?”

I smile at her.

Violet whistles, low enough for only me to hear. “Good luck. Kick his ass.”

Striding across the room, I can feel the frustration rising in Aaric. His stare is intense when I finally face him. His green eyes smoldering with annoyance as I take a fighting stance. With the cold fury I felt last night from being controlled by him, I let it consume me, bolstering me as I raise my fists in preparation.

At Emetterio’s order, we begin.

Aaric’s taller and broader than me, muscles defining his arms and legs from years of severe training, but I know I’m his match. I’m smaller and lithe, able to maneuver around him like a snake in tall grass.

We begin our dance like we’ve done many times before. Only this time, everyone in the room fades away. It’s just us, our bitterness, and unresolved issues. What could go wrong?

Knowing Aaric, he won’t make the first move, not with me. He’ll wait, like a patient predator. I give in, attacking him head-on with a punch that he slides through, catching my wrist and twisting me so my back slams into his chest. His arms cage me as he holds me against him, locking my limbs in place with his iron grip.

“You can’t keep avoiding me,” he whispers in my ear.

I knock my head back, but he knew it was coming, his head swerving out of the way as he wraps his arm around my neck, immobilizing me. He doesn’t squeeze or press into me like he did with Sloane. He’s going easy on me, the bastard.

I pull a cheap move and stomp on his foot with my heel, pushing backwards to make him stumble. He catches himself before locking me to him again, this time I’m facing him.

Green eyes with flecks of gold fill with concern as he stares at me. It must look as if we’re glaring with the way our arms are locked, pushing for dominance, but I’m entirely caught in his gaze. My heart begins to soften at his obvious concern, longing filling me to talk to my best friend, but the raging bitch inside me, the one who helped me cross the parapet, yells at me not to give in. Even if he’s pretty.

I want to scratch his eyes out, remembering how he stared at me last night. So full of desperation to get me to leave. His look bordered on pity when I fought for my right to be here, and it bothered me to no end. If I wasn’t so attracted to him and worried about his stupid face scarring, scratching him to death wouldn’t be a fucking issue.

I shove my elbow into the curve of his arm, disarming his hold on me. Dancing away from him, I use the distraction to throw a solid punch at his solar plexus. The impact makes him stagger, but he comes back at me swinging. I easily dodge the punches.

“Stop fucking around and fight me,” I growl.

Aaric subtly shakes his head, his jaw clenching.

“You’re a coward,” I hiss at him, low enough so no one around us can hear. “And a hypocrite.”

His face shutters, as if the words slashed through his defenses. Good. I hope they do. I throw a punch that he easily blocks, but use it to distract him from my leg rising to kick the back of his leg. He folds, trying to catch himself, but I use my momentum to tackle him to the ground. We’re a mess of limbs as I try to pin him, but he uses his weight and strength against me.

He slams me to the ground, knocking the breath from my lungs momentarily. I let out a gasping wheeze, and Aaric suddenly falters. His hands loosen.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry—“

I slam my head into his, bone crunching from the impact. Blood streams from his broken nose as my head throbs, leaving me momentarily disoriented. On instinct, his hand comes up to his nose to stop the bleeding, and I take my shot. I elbow his stomach and knee him in the groin at the same time.

Aaric groans, but I’m not finished. I leap upwards at him, throwing him to the mat. Using my weight, I pin his legs with mine and hold my elbow over his throat, digging to stop his airway. He chokes and gags. I press harder, uncaring, unfeeling. All I am is rage.

When his eyes meet mine, the anger that’s coursing through me suddenly dies like a flame in the wind. I’m left shaking and gasping, staring down at him in shock over what I’ve just done.

His eyes catch it. That momentary slip on my face. With anyone else, they’d use it to their advantage. Throw me over and take me down. But not Aaric. Not Cam.

“I yield,” he gasps from under my hold, but his voice is strong, sure. And Emetterio hears him, stopping the fight.

Gasps from our onlookers bring me back to the present. I shove myself off of Aaric, stepping out of his reach as he’s slow to stand.

I try to ignore the pang of guilt that stings me from seeing the blood still gushing down his chin, staining his skin. The slight pain in my arms and legs is nothing compared to the ache in my gut.

I miss my best friend. Every cell in my body yearns to confide in him like I always do. To seek his comfort. He knows everything about me, having seen almost every tear I’ve shed. Can’t he understand why I’m here? Why I followed him, to become a rider? Maybe I did come here to try and save him, but maybe I can prove to him that I’m more than just the girl who hung on his every word, following him around the palace like a dog. I crossed the parapet. I beat his ass on the mat. I can fight my way through this place and live.

Even if he doesn’t believe I can.

I shake my head, moving away from the mats and towards the exit. I hear a shout of my name far behind me, but I don’t look back.

————

(Aaric POV)

The spoon in his hand begins to bend as Aaric grips it tighter and tighter.

“Uh, you okay, Graycastle?”

She won’t look at me, let alone talk to me. It’s been weeks. I can’t sleep. This is starting to get fucking ridiculous.

A glance at the cadet who’s speaking to him has him grinding his teeth.

“Yeah, I’m just… not very hungry.”

Aaric ignores him once more and continues glaring across the room at Y/N. Weeks have gone by, and she’s completely blocked him from her life. Acting as if they’re strangers. The only time he has any claim on her attention is on the mat. Emetterio has been rotating everyone to test their strengths and learn from their weaknesses, but every time Aaric faces Y/N, she’s cold and lethal, like the glaciers of the north. At least she’ll meet his eye when they fight.

Training with her brings back too many fond memories. It was only a couple of months ago that their training diverted to private sessions. For the last year, they were partners, taking turns beating the other up. They’d discuss weak points and show one another different moves. Laugh when the other took a misstep and landed in the mud. Joke and tease when accidentally knocking the other off their feet. It was fun when he was able to train with her.

This time? Not so much.

For the last few weeks, when he trained with her on the mat, he met her calculated rage. This was far different from the Y/N he knew back home. The one who gave him carefree smiles and stole slices of cake from the kitchen to bring him out of his gloomy mood. The way she would endear herself to him when she talked non-stop about the newest edition of a book series she adored, just to distract from how much his father pissed him off that day.

Y/N laughs at her table, stopping Aaric’s heart and his train of thought as he watches her talk with Sloane. He wishes he were sitting next to her, hearing whatever it is she’s laughing about. It’s been a while since he’s seen her resemble her old self. He’s caught her reading in the quadrant’s library, curled up in a chair, a few times. Or even basking in the sun with her eyes closed as the cadets wait outside for their chance to practice the gauntlet. Those few moments have reminded him so much of his best friend, he would momentarily forget she wasn’t speaking to him. He’d almost try to talk to her if her glares didn’t solidify where they stand now.

But he plans to fix that.

When she gets up from her table, so does he. Following behind as she makes her way to Battle Brief. Just as she turns a corner, he grabs her by the elbow and shoves her through the first door he opens.

Y/N stumbles into the empty classroom as Aaric locks the door behind him.

“Kidnapping attempt number three,” she shakes her head, leaning against a desk. “I’m more shocked this didn’t happen sooner.” Her eyes skate around the room, never meeting his. Still avoiding him. “Going to put me on Dain’s dragon, kicking and screaming? Strap me down and throw me out this time?”

Aaric’s gut clenches. “Of course not.”

She rolls her eyes before examining a chart on the wall to the left of him.

Look at me, he begs. His fists clench to keep himself from walking over and grabbing her chin to force her to look him in the eye. He can’t stand this distance between them. It’s eating him alive.

He misses his best friend.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” the words strike out with desperation, sounding like a plea. He notices her eye twitch, but she doesn’t look at him. “It wasn’t my right to force you to leave. But,” he softens his tone. “Please understand why I tried to find a way out of here for you. This place is a death trap. I only want to protect you.”

She closes her eyes for a second, breathing deeply. He can tell by her stiff shoulders she’s holding back from yelling at him again. He wants her to yell at him if it means she’ll talk to him, stay near him, maybe forgive him.

“I can’t watch you die.”

“Then don’t look.”

The memory of their last conversation comes unbidden, leaving a sharp sting in his ribs. That night, after she left him alone in the dark hall, she never saw how he stumbled back against the wall, staring in pleading horror at the girl’s dormitory door. His eyes had burned, and the burning didn’t stop as he stormed away, disappearing into the night.

Since then, fear has been choking him, consuming him as days turned into weeks. Every night, he wakes with gasping, heaving breaths as nightmares plague him. Lingering dreams of someone snapping her neck on the mat, or being pushed off the parapet, or even finding her dead body in the hallway haunt him.

Aaric now knows what true fear is. It’s driving him insane.

“It’s not your decision to decide what’s best for me,” her voice cuts through the room, silencing his raging thoughts. “I’m capable of knowing what I can and cannot handle.”

“I know—“

“Do you?” She finally, finally, meets his eyes, coldness solidifying in her gaze. It takes everything in him not to shrink back. “It’s been almost a month since parapet, and all I’ve done is survive. You can pity me all you want, think me weak and fragile, but I chose to be here, same as you. Unlike yourself, I don’t have a death wish or a hero complex. I’m not trying to save the world, I’m trying to save you.”

Silence falls heavily upon the room as something cracks inside his chest. Something undeniably broken that almost sends him to his knees.

Tears fill her eyes, and the sight sends him jerking forward, desperate to hold her. But he stops, unsure. It’s that uncertainty that kills him.

Before coming to Basgiath, back at home, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Not with her. Never when she needed him. He’d have wrapped her fully in his arms, breathing her in, as she cried into his chest. That same instinct courses through his veins even now. Even when she despises him.

Yep. He’s severely fucked things up between them.

Y/N gives an exasperated breath, closing her eyes. A single tear falls down her cheek. “I’m so tired of this, Cam.”

Aaric softens and takes two daring steps forward to stand inches away from her. “I’m truly sorry,” he ensures his voice is gentle, calming. “I’ve never wanted you to believe that I think you’re weak or fragile. I’ve known you for so long that I know that’s not true in the slightest. You tore across the country just to kick my ass and tell me how much of an idiot I am. I’d say that’s a level of bravery I’ll never be able to reach,” he smiles softly, catching the slight blush that rises to her cheeks at the compliment.

“Not only are you brave, you’re also incredibly selfless and stubborn,” he ignores the slight narrowing of her eyes. “I truly wish you weren’t so you’d be far from here, reading by the fire as you wait to hear from me.”

She scoffs. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d just sit by—“

Aaric shakes his head. “You wouldn’t. You’re too good, too strong, and way too loyal of a friend to leave me. I should’ve known better.” He tilts his head to meet her glistening eyes, fingers burning to hold the skin of her cheek. “I know better now.”

Her shoulders drop at the confession, another tear falling from her eyes. The sight wounds him deeply.

“What can I do?” Aaric’s green eyes bounce between hers, desperately clinging to the fact that she’s still here, she hasn’t attempted to leave the room. He has to think that’s a good sign. “Please, tell me what I can do to fix this. I—“ he swallows, muscle jumping in his jaw as he clenches his fists to keep from reaching out and pulling her to him. “I miss you so much.”

His eyes suddenly drop to her lips. “So, so much.”

A heavy stillness coats the space between them. The moment feels suspended in time before she gives a small intake of air, a gasp, before she surges forward. She crashes into him, practically throwing him off his feet before he catches himself and finds she’s hugging him. Relief courses through him as he immediately wraps his arms around her frame. Breathing in her scent of lilac and citrus, a sense of rightness settles in his bones.

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers against him.

They cling to one another, uncaring how long they’ve been hiding in an empty classroom as voices come and go in the hall. The feel of each other is so familiar, it echoes with memories they can never forget. Instead of being in Basgiath, they’re transported home.

If Aaric closes his eyes, he can practically imagine holding her in the palace library, as he’s done before. But the far-distant roar of a dragon brings him back to the present. Reality crashing through the quiet.

Using his fingers to find and tilt her chin up to meet his eye, he smiles at her. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

He reluctantly lets go of her, stepping back to extend a calloused hand between them. “Hi, I’m Aaric Graycastle, and I have a severe case of suicidal hero complex.”

The laugh that bursts from her lips has his heart soaring.

She smiles as she slides her hand into his. A tingle shoots up his arm from her touch. He tries to resist pulling her back into him to hold her again.

“I’m Y/N Thorne, and I’m far too stubborn to let my best friend get himself killed.”

His eyes sparkle as he purses his lips. “He sounds like a total prick.”

She laughs again. “He is.”

“You should beat his ass,” he winks.

She shakes her head. “I already have.”

Aaric holds his ribs as a laugh escapes him. Gods, he missed her.

“C’mon, let’s get to class, or we’ll be late,” she sidesteps him and raises a brow in obvious mockery. “Graycastle.”

He smirks. “Haven’t you heard? A prince is never late, Thorne.”

She raises a brow in mockery. “Oh? Do you see one? All I see is a pompous ass.”

Aaric rolls his eyes before nudging her as he opens the door for her. “After you, my stubborn wench.”

“Say that again and we’ll see how long our friendship lasts,” she glares.

He chuckles, stepping close to her. “I thought you were friends with me cause of my charming personality.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me break your nose again.”

“If that means you’ll touch me, I’m all for it,” he winks.

His focus is entirely on the way her cheeks flush, making her hide her face beneath a sheet of her hair. Pride swells in him at the sight.

“Idiot,” she murmurs under her breath.

Once in the hall, his grin is stupidly wide as he slips her book bag from her shoulder. She tries to fight him for it, but gives up as he races ahead of her. She chases him, before clinging to his side as they make their way to Battle Brief.

There’s a spring in his step as they walk, a lightness he hasn’t felt in weeks that makes him giddy. He looks down at his best friend, who gives him the carefree smile he’s missed, and everything feels so incredibly good, he hopes that together, they can survive this place and accomplish what he came here to do.

With her by his side, he knows he can do anything.

[pseudoquiddity]

(Short, truncated, but hopefully not reductive) Russian history lesson!!!

A perspective that needed to be beat into the dirt when I first started playing Pathologic was that the Bachelor was a city dandy and dandies inherently imply conservatism, which is a British Victorian ideal that has been described like this: "the upper classes were expected to affirm their masculinity through sexual distance, abstinence and self-control," a kind of "cerebral, self-denying asceticism" (Ashish Nandy, The Intimate Enemy; btw). The image of a well-dressed, well-spoken and educated man is found in a lot of core western texts - like Pride and Prejudice, where Darcy is in an ideologically conservative space because he's a part of a protective wealthy class.

But, you know, be careful that bias doesn't drip into your interpretation of Daniil Dankovsky, because his political and social positions are wildly different. The Victorian upper and upper-middle class were historically borne from an accumulation of luxuries brought in through global dominance and colonialism, which drove that subsection of people to the far right. Also, because of this wealth and national expansion, people were moving to cities (to London) in droves. England shifted from a rural to urban-based country. "By 1851 over half the population lived in settlements of 2,500 or more, peaking at around 80 per cent by the 1890s," according to an article by R J Davenport, just to give you some numbers.

Okay, but Russia? "87 percent of the population was rural when revolution broke out in 1905, and 85 percent still rural when it erupted again in 1917" (Dorothy Atkinson, Stats on the Russian Land Commune). Of the small percentage are the intelligentsia, educated people who went to college, which was at first dominated by nobles and then by the turn of the century was overrun by "commoners" (like Dankovsky, who in a monarchical society mostly made of peasants is still beneath high, noble classes)

From these commoners came liberal radicals, and from some of these liberal radicals came futurists. This is what Dankovsky is (Futurism/Utopianism. You see).

(Okay, Russian futurists are different from Italian futurists and there were many different types of Russian futurism, but everything came from Marinetti)

This revolution was running parallel to other cultural revolutions inside Russia, inside cities, and parallel to the Bolsheviks. But post-revolution, Lenin condemned the intelligentsia as the chaff between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie, in assistance to the bourgeoisie. So they are all summarily stomped asunder.

But this is where the Bachelor is! This is where he's coming from. And I think all modern Russian media that concerns itself with futurism or the culture surrounding 1917 is written with the inexorable knowledge that all of this Utopianism will be usurped by the USSR. Dankovsky may be doomed by the narrative but the narrative itself is doomed by history.

This is not in-depth at all, I'm sorry, but I hope it's serviceable.