#THE FIRST FRIEND SHE CAN PROPERLY RELATE TO

[captainsaltypear]

for legal reasons caine needs to give pomni her own marketable gummipoo plushie. as a treat.

[marauroon]

𝟏 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟎𝟎 — 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑. (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬)

two boys send you a series of letters over the course of the school year. one, a sweet ravenclaw boy who wants to get to know you. The other, well— you don’t know, but he already knows you.

eventual james x fem!reader | 14.0k | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

CW | the marauders are… reasonable human beings? technically oc love interest for plot reasons, james is a yearner, girlhood in its truest form

The first morning back is crisp and golden—the sort of late summer day that makes Hogwarts look like something out of a painting. You’ve just arrived off the train, your trunk bouncing along behind you, and the air’s got that unmistakable scent of lakewater, freshly-polished wood, and the beginnings of autumn. You’d missed it. Even if you’d never admit that to anyone.

Lily walks beside you, chattering about her summer, about Petunia being an absolute nightmare (what else is new), and how she’s already dreading the mountain of work that NEWTs are supposed to be.

You hum along at the right places, nodding as if you’re paying attention, but you’re mostly distracted—scanning the crowd ahead, watching as students laugh and jostle their way toward the carriages. You can already see the back of Sirius’ head, black hair tied back with a ribbon someone must have dared him to wear, and James beside him—his usual mess of curls half-tamed under a Gryffindor scarf, even though it's hardly cold enough for it yet.

They’re not causing trouble.

And that’s… strange.

You don’t realise you’ve slowed down until Lily stops too, blinking at you.

“You alright?”

You shake your head, smiling faintly. “Yeah, yeah. Just… forgot how much taller everyone’s gotten. They look like seventh years,”

She snorts. “Speak for yourself. Potter still looks like a fifteen-year-old with too much energy and not enough shame,”

You glance back at the group of boys as they vanish into one of the thestral-drawn carriages. The usual suspects: James, Sirius, Remus, Peter. The ‘Marauders’—still the stupidest name you’ve ever heard. Though you have to admit (not aloud, obviously) that it suits them. Or… used to.

Because something’s changed.

It started at the end of last year, when James had pulled you and Lily aside—separately, mind you, in an unusual display of emotional intelligence—and apologised. Properly. Not with a joke, not with a smug smirk, but with sincerity so unsettling that it had rendered you both speechless for a good few moments. You’d shared looks with Lily afterward, both trying to decide if it was a prank, some elaborate ruse meant to throw you off-guard.

It wasn’t.

And he hasn’t gone back on it either.

Which is why you’re currently standing in the entrance hall of the castle, shoulder to shoulder with your friends, and you feel a little… off.

Because things are peaceful. For the first time in years, things are actually peaceful.

The Marauders aren’t hanging hexed signs on people’s backs, they aren’t enchanting staircases to flatten when someone climbs them, they haven’t even thrown water balloons from the Astronomy Tower. And sure, they’re still winding up Severus at every opportunity—but even that’s been reduced from full-scale ambushes to petty jibes and muttered comments in the corridors.

It’s quieter.

Less… annoying.

And that should be a good thing.

It is a good thing. Probably.

—

You settle into sixth year like slipping on an old jumper. The classes are harder, of course—double Potions is hell on earth, and Charms seems to have tripled its expectations overnight—but there’s a rhythm to it.

You get up, you go to class, you spend time in the common room with the girls, laughing and playing Exploding Snap or braiding Dorcas’ hair while Marlene does impressions of the professors.

There’s no chaos. No Marauder-related distractions. And no James Potter, appearing behind you to tug on your robes or ask if you’re sure you didn’t drop your dignity in the corridor somewhere.

It’s… peaceful.

But peace, you realise after the third week, is a little boring.

No one’s called out your name in a loud, humiliating spectacle at dinner. No one’s nicked your favourite quill only to return it days later enchanted to sing show tunes. No one’s bewitched your name onto the Prefect noticeboard with the title “Most Likely to Hex You for Breathing Too Loudly.”

And no one’s watching you anymore.

Not in that way.

Because even when it was annoying—especially when it was annoying—there was something almost flattering about it. That attention. That sense of being seen, even if it was by someone like James Bloody Potter. It made you feel... well, not special exactly. But noticed.

You’d never admit it out loud. Not to Lily, not to Marlene, not even to yourself if you could help it. But in the quiet moments—when the library’s too silent, or the common room too tame—you find yourself missing the noise.

It’s deeply inconvenient.

—

The girls are thriving, though. Lily’s top of every class (no surprise there), Marlene’s got half the Hufflepuff Quidditch team vying for her attention, and Dorcas has taken to sketching everyone in increasingly dramatic poses. She caught Sirius with his eyes closed in History of Magic and drew him like a fallen angel; he signed it and stuck it to the back of Peter’s chair.

Even that felt nostalgic.

Because back in the day—not even that long ago—Sirius and James would’ve been howling with laughter, probably doing impressions of Binns until the man floated out in exasperation. Now, they seem more subdued. Not boring exactly, but... more grown up. As if they’re slowly starting to realise the world doesn’t revolve around them.

Well. Not entirely.

You still catch James showing off in the corridors sometimes—trying to balance a stack of books on his head while walking backwards or charming Remus’ tie to change colours during class. But it’s gentler now. Less abrasive. Like he’s finally learning the difference between being funny and being cruel.

And the strange thing is: you think you might actually like this new version of him.

You’re not sure what to do with that.

—

You’re sitting by the window in the common room, watching the storm pelt against the glass, your Transfiguration notes spread across your lap and a blanket tucked round your legs. The others are upstairs—Lily’s doing prefect rounds, Dorcas is in the bath, and Marlene’s probably flirting with the Ravenclaw Beaters again.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You stare at your notes, then out the window. Somewhere down by the greenhouses, you think you can see Sirius running through the rain, jacket over his head. You squint, and sure enough, James follows a moment later, slipping slightly in the mud but catching himself with a laugh you can’t hear.

They’re soaked.

They’re laughing.

And they didn’t come bother you once today.

You look back at your notes. Your quill sits idle in your hand.

You’re being ridiculous. Pathetic, even. You hated when they bothered you. They drove you mad, especially James. The constant attention, the teasing, the half-jokes that toed the line between affection and annoyance—it was exhausting.

But it also made you feel like someone had your name in their mouth. Like someone saw you.

You press your lips together.

No. You’re being selfish.

You wanted peace, didn’t you? You got peace.

And now you’re here, sulking because a boy hasn’t thrown a dungbomb near you in three weeks.

Brilliant.

—

Lily finds you later, your notes long forgotten, the storm still raging outside.

“You look like someone drowned your owl,” she says lightly, collapsing onto the sofa beside you.

You blink. “Just tired,”

“Mm,” She eyes you. “You’ve been a bit… quiet lately,”

You shrug. “Just getting used to the workload,”

“You sure it’s not something else?”

You hesitate. Then: “Do you think James actually changed?”

She tilts her head. “Honestly? Yeah. I do,”

You weren’t expecting that. “Really?”

“Yeah,” She picks at a thread on the blanket. “He’s still a prat, obviously. Still immature and annoying and thinks the sun shines out of his arse, but… he’s not mean anymore. Not like he was,”

You nod slowly.

“And he apologised,” she adds. “That meant something to me. To you too, I think,”

It did. It still does.

You think back to that moment at the end of fifth year—James, red-faced and stammering, looking more like a boy than he ever had before. You remember how he wouldn’t meet your eyes at first, how he said your name like it mattered. And how for the first time, he didn’t laugh at the end. Didn’t wink. Just waited.

You’d told him it was fine. It wasn’t, but it was getting there.

Now, it might actually be.

But still.

“I kind of miss it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Lily looks at you, confused. “Miss what?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Just… never mind,”

She doesn’t press.

But later, when she goes upstairs and you’re alone again, you look back out the window. The rain’s slowed to a drizzle, the sky dark and drowsy. You think about James—how he used to be, how he is now. You think about how, somewhere in that strange in-between space, you stopped dreading his presence and started noticing his absence.

And the worst part is?

You’re not even sure when it happened.

—

It’s a dull, grey Thursday in early December, the kind that makes you want to burrow into your scarf and pretend the rest of the term doesn’t exist. You’re in the Great Hall for breakfast, half-asleep, cradling a mug of tea between your hands and trying to pretend that the mere idea of double Potions doesn’t make you want to fling yourself into the Black Lake.

Around you, the usual morning chaos unfolds: first-years bickering over toast, owls swooping in with letters and parcels, and Marlene arguing with Dorcas over who used the last of the strawberry jam. Lily’s scanning the Daily Prophet with her usual “this world is doomed” expression, and you’re debating whether or not to try and eat a banana when—

A piece of parchment glides gently through the air in front of you and lands, neatly, on your plate.

You blink. Then stare. Then blink again.

It’s folded perfectly, sealed with a little silver charm in the shape of a star, and it is absolutely not yours.

The table goes very still around you. Lily sets her paper down. Marlene pauses mid-swipe at the jam pot. Dorcas leans in with her eyebrows already raised.

You glance upward, half-expecting someone to shout “surprise!” or for Peeves to come crashing down from the ceiling, cackling. But there’s no sign of trickery. Just a few owls flapping overhead and a Ravenclaw table full of students minding their own business—or appearing to.

“Open it,” Dorcas hisses, eyes wide.

“I—what if it explodes?” you whisper back, only half-joking.

“It won’t,” Lily says. “Look at the charm. It’s a standard animation seal. Whoever sent it used proper magic,”

“That just makes it more suspicious,” you mutter, but your curiosity’s already gotten the better of you.

You peel the charm off and unfold the parchment.

The handwriting is careful, slanted slightly to the right, and clearly someone’s taken their time with it. The ink is deep blue and slightly shimmering at the edges—someone’s fancied this up a bit.

You begin to read.

Hi, sorry to send this in such a dramatic way, but I figured a floating letter was better than stammering at you in person and making a complete idiot of myself. I know this is kind of out of nowhere, but I’ve… well, I’ve noticed you. And I was wondering if you’d maybe want to write to me over the holidays? Just letters, nothing weird. Or, you know, more, if you’re up for that. No pressure though. I just think you’re kind, and funny, and I’d like to get to know you. From, Nick (Ravenclaw, sixth year, dark blond hair, sits near the windows in Charms—just so you can place me, if you want to).

You stare at the letter.

Then read it again.

And a third time, just to be sure it says what you think it says.

It does.

You make a noise somewhere between a squeak and a choke, and immediately try to stuff the letter under your plate, but Lily’s already yanking it out of your hand.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, skimming it with wide eyes. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever read,”

“Wait, wait, let me see—” Marlene leans across the table, grabbing the other side. “‘Just letters, nothing weird’—what does that even mean? Is he worried about sounding like a creep? Oh, this is brilliant,”

Dorcas is fanning herself dramatically with her napkin. “Do you think he wrote a rough draft? This is totally a rehearsed letter,”

You hide your face in your hands, the heat of your cheeks threatening to set fire to your fringe. “Stop. Please stop,”

“I will not stop,” Lily grins. “You’ve got an admirer. An actual, charming, respectful admirer who wants to write to you like it’s the 1800s. That’s romantic,”

“It’s embarrassing,” you groan.

“It’s amazing,” Marlene corrects. “And you have to write back,”

“I don’t even know him!”

“That’s the point!” Dorcas says. “He wants to get to know you. He gave you a perfect way out, he’s not assuming anything, he’s just interested. That’s rare,”

They’re all smiling now, all leaning in, and you can’t help it—you laugh, a little helpless and a lot flattered.

Because it’s sweet. It is. And no matter how much your face is burning, there’s a fizzy, fluttery sort of feeling in your stomach you can’t quite ignore. You glance up again, eyes scanning the Ravenclaw table.

You spot him almost instantly.

Nick: dark blond hair, just as described, pale eyes, face mostly hidden behind a book, though he’s clearly not reading. He looks up. You look down. He looks away quickly, ears going pink.

You smile without meaning to.

“Right,” Lily says, dragging her bag into her lap. “We need paper. A quill. What colour ink should we use?”

“I’m not writing him back in the middle of breakfast,” you hiss.

“Why not?” Marlene’s already pulling a little bottle of silver ink from her satchel. “Strike while the iron’s hot! He’s probably dying of anxiety over there,”

You hesitate for a moment too long, and then the decision’s made for you—because Dorcas finds a clean piece of parchment, Lily’s already got your hand in hers, and Marlene is dictating a reply out loud while you splutter about how this isn’t how people normally handle these things.

You’re still trying to snatch the quill back when a voice drawls from behind you:

“What’s all the noise about, then? Secret girls-only plot to overthrow the Ministry?”

Sirius.

Of course.

You twist in your seat and find him lounging half on the bench, half on the table a few seats down, chin in hand, eyes glinting with nosy curiosity. He’s got toast in one hand and mischief in the other.

Lily lifts her chin and says, very primly, “None of your business,”

“Oh, now I have to know,” he says, kicking his legs up beside you.

You glance to your side—and there he is.

James.

Sitting quietly at the Gryffindor table, a few seats down, half a piece of toast hanging forgotten in his hand as he watches the scene with a blank expression.

It’s only a second, but you see it. That flicker of something behind his eyes.

Recognition.

Understanding.

And something sharp that he swallows before it can show too clearly.

Because James Potter knows what giggling girls and secret letters mean. He knows.

And it shouldn’t matter—it really shouldn’t. You’re barely even friends. Civil, maybe. Tentatively polite. But whatever it is between you now, it’s not enough to warrant the sudden, stiff way he turns back to his plate.

It shouldn’t sting.

But it does.

—

You finish the letter with the girls' help. It’s nothing dramatic—just a polite reply saying you’d be happy to exchange letters over the holidays, and that you appreciate his kindness. You keep it short and friendly and completely avoid saying anything that might sound too enthusiastic.

(Which is a lie. You’re a bit enthusiastic. But you don’t need them knowing that.)

Dorcas folds the reply with military precision, Lily reattaches the little star charm, and Marlene volunteers to deliver it on your behalf—“to spare you the embarrassment,” she says sweetly, already halfway across the hall.

You look down at your plate, appetite long forgotten.

“Alright?” Lily asks, nudging your shoulder.

You nod. “Yeah. I think so,”

“You’re allowed to be excited, you know,”

“I am excited. I’m just… surprised,”

She smiles. “It’s nice though, isn’t it?”

You glance again toward the Ravenclaw table. Nick’s looking at Marlene like she’s an incoming Howler, his whole face red to the ears as he takes the letter from her hand.

You smile again.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “It is,”

—

Across the table, James doesn’t look up.

He doesn’t need to.

Because he saw the whole thing. The letter, the blushing, the girls all but bouncing in their seats. He saw Marlene walk across the hall with that parchment and Nick take it with shaking hands.

And it’s stupid. Petty.

But it hurts.

Because it’s been nearly two years since he realised he might actually like you—properly, not just in the annoying-you-is-fun way, but in the way that meant he started watching you when you weren’t looking. Noticing when you got a haircut. Learning the way your nose scrunches when you’re trying not to laugh.

He apologised. He grew up. He’s trying.

And it still wasn’t enough.

You’ve got someone now. Or the beginnings of someone.

And he’s just James Potter, watching from afar with jam on his toast and something bitter on his tongue.

He shoves the toast in his mouth and doesn’t say another word for the rest of breakfast.

—

You don’t expect the first letter from Nick to come so quickly. It arrives the morning after you get home for the holidays, hand-delivered by a glossy, silver-feathered owl you don’t recognise. Your name is written in the same neat, slanting script, and it still makes your stomach flip just a bit.

The note is folded crisply, the parchment thick and expensive-feeling. You hesitate before opening it, standing by the kitchen window with snow dusting the garden outside, everything quiet.

First off, thank you for not laughing at me. I thought I’d regret sending that letter the second I did it, and I very nearly snatched it out the air mid-flight to get it back. But you were so... kind. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t kindness. So thank you. It feels a bit odd writing like this, doesn’t it? But I also kind of like it. There’s no pressure when it’s just words. I don’t trip over them this way. So, here’s me: I like Charms best. I once accidentally set my robes on fire in Herbology (don’t ask), I’m allergic to pineapple, and I think people who can fall asleep on trains are borderline magical. Tell me something about you? Anything. Something silly, or secret, or both. Yours (nervously), Nick

You smile like an idiot for a full five minutes before you even think about writing back.

And so it begins.

The letters come every few days, sometimes short and scrawled in rushed excitement, sometimes long and meandering with little sketches in the margins. He tells you about his mum’s failed attempt at decorating the tree with actual enchanted snow, and how it flooded the sitting room. You send back a drawing of a dog dressed in a Father Christmas hat (badly drawn, but Nick says it’s ‘profoundly moving’). He tells you he’s rereading Hogwarts: A History just for fun, and you reply with a list of reasons why that’s definitely unhinged behaviour.

Sometimes he signs off with ‘Yours, Nick.’

Sometimes with ‘Yours (hopefully).’

Once—‘Yours (unless the owl’s eaten this and you never see it).’

You find yourself checking the sky for owls more often than you care to admit.

It’s not dramatic. Not whirlwind, heart-racing, can’t-breathe kind of love. But it’s nice.

And after the year you’ve had, ‘nice’ feels revolutionary.

—

You return to Hogwarts with a small box of letters tucked at the bottom of your trunk, tied neatly with a silver ribbon courtesy of Dorcas, who insisted they deserved to be “presented like the delicate artefacts of flirtation they are,”.

The minute you’re back in the dorm, you’re swarmed.

“Show us everything,” Marlene demands, already bouncing on the edge of your bed.

“Yes, come on, let’s see what your secret Ravenclaw Casanova had to say for himself,” Lily adds, mock-prim, though she’s clearly grinning.

You hesitate only a moment before reaching into your trunk. The box feels warmer than it should, like it’s soaked up some of the good from the past few weeks.

You hand it over, and the girls descend like a pack of curious Kneazles.

“Oooh, look at this one—‘Yours (unless the owl eats it)’—alright, he’s cute,” Dorcas says approvingly, flopping onto her stomach with the letter held aloft.

“Is this a little sketch of a Thestral wearing a party hat?” Lily giggles. “He’s got your sense of humour. That’s weirdly adorable,”

Marlene sniffs, mock-serious. “I give it two weeks before they’re holding hands by the lake,”

“Two? You’re being generous,” Dorcas snorts. “I give it until Sunday,”

You hide your face in a pillow. “You’re all horrible,”

“Don’t change the subject,” Lily grins. “Have you written him since we got back?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Told him I’d meet him after lunch. Figured we could, I don’t know… actually talk in person,”

They cheer like you’ve just won the bloody House Cup.

—

You find Nick leaning awkwardly by the courtyard archway, his hands stuffed deep into his robe pockets, and his scarf trailing loosely over one shoulder. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps—and immediately fumbles to straighten up.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” you smile.

It’s quiet for a moment, but not the awkward kind. Just the sort of quiet where snow mutes everything, and your breath fogs the air between you, and the castle feels suspended in time.

“It’s nice to see your face,” Nick says finally. Then pauses. “I mean—obviously I’ve seen your face before. Loads. I’m not, like, suddenly surprised you have a face,”

You laugh.

“I know what you meant,”

He exhales, relieved. “Good. I wasn’t sure I’d manage to string two sentences together without turning purple,”

“You’re only a bit pink,” you tease. “That’s manageable,”

You end up walking the long way around the courtyard, snow crunching underfoot. It’s a bit stiff, at first—he trips over his words, you don’t know where to put your hands—but something about it feels... promising. Like maybe the letters weren’t just a fluke.

He makes you laugh. You make him stammer in a way that’s far too endearing. It’s not dramatic, and it’s not sweeping—but it feels nice.

And when he says, quietly, “I’m really glad I wrote to you,” you don’t hesitate before replying, “Me too.”

—

From then on, you start seeing him more often. You meet by the greenhouses for walks after Herbology. You sit beside each other in the library, sometimes talking, sometimes just reading in companionable silence. You laugh when he fumbles his words or stutters a bit too quickly, and he blushes when you compliment his handwriting.

It’s soft. Sweet. Easy.

And that ease is what James hates most.

He doesn’t mean to. Really, he doesn’t. But every time he sees you and Nick tucked away in a corner, talking with your heads bent close, something in his chest twists too tightly.

He tries not to look. He tries.

But he always does.

He catches glimpses of you in between lessons, notices the way your smile tilts differently when you’re with Nick, the way you lean in without thinking. He sees the way you laugh, just slightly quieter than with the girls, more private.

He sees all of it.

And it kills him.

Because Nick doesn’t look nervous anymore. Not like he did in December. He looks like he belongs next to you now, like he’s settled into a space James never even realised was open.

And James?

James is still stuck in the same place, staring from a distance and pretending he doesn’t feel like his lungs collapse a bit every time your eyes skim past him without stopping.

The worst part is that Nick’s not even unlikeable. He’s polite. Respectful. He doesn’t show off or brag. He’s never hexed someone. He’s the kind of boy you should be with.

Which makes James feel like even more of a twat for hating him.

But he can’t help it.

Because you’re slipping further away with every shared smile and hushed conversation, and James Potter—Golden Boy, Quidditch Captain, supposed heartthrob—is left standing on the sidelines, too late and too cowardly to do anything about it.

Not that he deserves to.

Not really.

Not after everything he used to be.

—

There’s a quiet little path just past the edge of the Forbidden Forest, winding between thickets of tall grass and old stone walls from Merlin-knows-when. It’s not quite on the Marauder’s Map because it’s not technically a shortcut or a secret passage — it’s just peaceful. Removed. The kind of place couples start to frequent when they want to be left alone.

You and Nick have discovered it recently.

It’s become something of a habit, heading out there after classes with a thermos of tea or stolen pastries from the kitchens, bundled up in scarves and gloves, talking about everything and nothing as the winter wind rushes through the trees. It’s your space now, and it’s lovely. Safe. Uncomplicated.

You don’t notice the stag at first.

He’s standing far off at the treeline, half-hidden behind some low-hanging branches. Massive antlers, golden-brown fur, eyes sharp even from this distance. He looks almost surreal — like he belongs in some enchanted forest painting, too noble and elegant to be real.

Nick notices your distraction. “What is it?”

You tug his sleeve and point. “Look!”

His head turns, eyes following your finger. When he spots the stag, he startles slightly. “Blimey,”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you say, smiling. “It’s just a deer,”

“That’s not just a deer, that thing’s the size of a carriage,”

You laugh. “Don’t scare him off,”

You take a slow step forward, fascinated. The stag doesn’t move. Just watches you, eerily still.

There’s something oddly… familiar about him.

And James — because yes, of course it’s James — is having what could only be described as a full-scale emotional breakdown inside his stupid stag body.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. Not exactly.

It had started out harmless enough — a little sulking, a bit of brooding, the usual staring-longingly-across-the-classroom-at-your-empty-chair sort of behaviour. And then Sirius had made some off-hand joke about how you and Nick probably had a “special little spot” by now, and James had laughed like he wasn’t actively dying inside.

Cue: terrible decisions.

Because obviously the most reasonable response to your blossoming teenage romance was to follow you in his Animagus form. Spy on you. Lurk.

Real mature.

But he couldn’t help himself.

There you were, sitting beside Nick, cheeks pink with cold, smiling in that soft way James remembered from last year when he made that ridiculous fireworks spell in Charms just to make you laugh. And Nick — bloody Nick — looked like he’d won the lottery.

It should’ve been him. He should be the one making you smile like that.

And then you turned, eyes catching the movement in the trees. James froze. For one horrible second he thought you recognised him, that somehow you could see straight through the fur and hooves and spot him for who he really was — awkward, lovesick, completely out of his depth.

But instead, you grinned.

Properly grinned. That wide, sparkly-eyed smile that had always made something in James’ chest flutter.

“You know stags are a sign of good luck,” he said, smiling softly at you.

You tilted your head. “Are they?”

“In some places, yeah. Seeing a stag’s supposed to mean… well, something sacred. Or new beginnings,”

James, still very much standing there like a massive idiot, nearly snorted.

New beginnings, his arse.

You took a step closer to Nick, hands fiddling with your scarf. “How fitting,”

Nick’s cheeks flushed red, even under the pale winter sun. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

James felt the moment before it happened.

There was a hush in the air, the kind that hangs between two people right before something changes. A kind of invisible pull. You leaned in—just slightly—and Nick moved at the same time, closing the space with a nervous sort of determination.

And then you were kissing.

It wasn’t a dramatic, spin-you-around kind of kiss. It was tentative. Careful. Sweet.

But it wrecked James all the same.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he felt as though he physically couldn’t. He wanted to disappear, but he was literally a giant animal. Instead, he stood there, paralysed, watching the girl he loved kiss another boy while he pretended to be a woodland creature.

You pulled away first.

Nick, ever the gentleman, looked nervous again.

“Sorry,” He muttered, hands fumbling. “I didn’t mean to— I mean, I did, obviously, but I didn’t want to make it weird. Was that… alright?”

You stared at him for a moment, lips parted. “It was,”

Nick smiled, visibly relieved.

And James—full of repressed feelings and bad decisions—bolted.

He galloped full-tilt back through the trees, hooves skidding over frosty ground, lungs burning with the kind of emotion that didn’t make sense in this form.

When he finally transformed back, he nearly punched the wall.

—

He storms into the dormitory, robes askew, hair windswept and damp from snow.

Remus looks up from his book. “Alright there?”

“No.”

“Did you fall in the lake again?” Sirius asks from his bed, chewing a Sugar Quill and looking thoroughly unconcerned.

“No,” James grinds out, pacing the room. “Worse.”

Peter sits up. “Worse than the lake?”

“I watched her kiss him.”

There’s a pause.

Sirius, now mildly interested, swings his legs over the side of the bed. “You what?”

“In the forest,” James says, throwing his arms up. “I was— I don’t know—just following—walking—I didn’t mean to stay that long, but then I saw them and I couldn’t move, and then he kissed her.”

He collapses into the armchair with the weight of a man who’s just seen war.

“Mate,” Remus says gently, closing his book, “you followed her?”

James groans. “Don’t say it like that.”

“In Animagus form?”

“Don’t say it like that!”

Sirius is cackling now. “James, my boy, you absolute idiot,”

James throws a cushion at him. “Do you want me to cry?”

Peter’s eyebrows are high on his forehead. “So… you watched them snog and then what? Ran off crying in your stag form?”

“Yes, Pete, that’s exactly what happened, thank you for summing it up so eloquently,”

Remus sighs. “Look. I know this is hard. But what did you expect to happen? You’ve been watching them from afar for weeks, acting like you don’t care, and now you’re surprised that she’s moved on?”

James sulks deeper into the chair. “I didn’t think it would hurt like this,”

Sirius tosses a Bertie Bott’s bean at his head. “Then do something, mate,”

James blinks. “What?”

“Tell her,”

“I can’t,”

“Why?”

“Because!” James flails his arms. “She hates me,”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Remus says calmly. “She was just… wary. And to be fair, you earned that. But you’ve changed. She sees that,”

“Lily’s talking to you again,” Peter adds. “That’s a massive shift from last year,”

“She’s dating Nick,” James mutters.

“So?” Sirius shrugs. “Relationships end all the time. Especially school ones,”

Remus shoots him a look. “Not exactly the message we want to send right now Pads,”

“Sorry, Moony, but it’s true. James has been pining for her like a tragic protagonist in a bad romance novel for years. If he doesn’t say something soon, he’ll combust. Or do something even stupider than stalking her through the forest,”

James groans. “You’re making it sound so much worse,”

“You made it worse, mate. You literally watched her kiss another boy from the bushes,”

He buries his face in his hands. “What do I even say? ‘Hi, sorry I was a git to you for years, but now I fancy you and have no idea how to act like a person anymore’?”

“Honestly,” Remus says, “not a terrible start

James peeks up between his fingers. “I can’t just tell her,”

“Then write,” Peter suggests, surprisingly earnest. “You’re always better in writing,”

The room falls quiet.

James slowly lifts his head.

“…Do I have to sign it?”

Remus frowns. “You want to send it anonymously?”

Sirius leans forward, interested. “Like a secret admirer?”

“No, like… a vent. I get it all out with no risks,”

“You think she’d read it?” Peter asks.

James shrugs. “She might,”

Sirius leans back, chewing on his quill now. “Alright. An anonymous letter. Bit dramatic, but very you,”

“You think it’s stupid,”

“I think,” Sirius says, “it’s better than sitting here moping while she falls in love with someone else,”

James doesn’t reply.

Instead, he stands, walks to his trunk, and pulls out a piece of parchment.

And a very fancy quill.

Because if he’s going to tell you the truth—even secretly—he’s going to do it properly.

—

It arrives one cloudy morning at breakfast, right between a plate of toast and a half-soggy letter from your mum asking if you’ve remembered to send your Nan a Christmas thank-you.

You barely register it at first—the slip of parchment settling onto your plate with an elegant little flutter, the ink shimmering faintly as if kissed by starlight. You glance up, expecting to see an owl flapping off, but the air above the Gryffindor table is clear.

Weird.

You look down again. It’s not a scroll, not a Howler, not a folded scrap from Lily asking about Herbology notes. It’s stationery. Thick, cream-coloured parchment that feels almost too nice for Hogwarts post. The edges are trimmed with delicate gold foil. The writing, when you unfold it, gleams like the surface of the Black Lake at midnight.

And it is… a lot.

You don’t know me. Not properly, anyway. Maybe you think you do, and maybe that’s my fault, maybe I’ve made sure you didn’t want to. Maybe I got too used to being the kind of boy people only like in theory. I can be a bit of a twat, but if I’d ever had the courage to actually be honest with you, this is what I would’ve said: I notice everything. I notice the way you chew your lip when you're thinking. The way your handwriting changes when you’re writing something personal. I notice that you give away half your dessert even when you complain you’re starving, that you always carry extra hair ties in case your friends need one, that you hum when you’re nervous. I’ve noticed that you like thunderstorms more than sunshine, and that you pretend not to care when people don’t listen to you, but it bothers you. I wish it didn’t. You’re not just pretty, you’re brilliant. You’re clever in ways people overlook, and kind in ways that make them assume you’ve never been angry. But I’ve seen it. I’ve seen your temper flare and your spine straighten and I’ve wanted to be someone who could stand beside that, not against it. I used to think if I just waited long enough, you’d look at me the way you look at the pages of a good book — like something worth opening. But I don’t think you ever will. And I’m tired of pretending I’m fine with that. So this is me. Being honest. Finally. I hope you’re happy. Even if it’s not with me.

You read it three times before you even breathe.

It is—quite literally—the most intense thing anyone’s ever said to you. And they didn’t even say it. They wrote it. Anonymously. No name. No initials. Just… left it here like a bloody emotional bomb.

“Oh my God,” Marlene breathes, peering over your shoulder. “Who wrote that?”

You blink, still dazed. “I don’t know,”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Dorcas is already reaching for the paper. “Let me see,”

Lily sets down her tea. “That’s not Nick’s handwriting,”

You snatch the letter back instinctively, folding it like a guilty thing. “It’s not from Nick,”

“Oh hell no,” Marlene says, loud enough to turn heads from the other end of the table. “What kind of coward doesn’t sign their name to something like that?”

You flush, tucking the letter under your plate. “Can we not do this here?”

“No, sorry, we’re absolutely doing this,” she says, hands in her hair. “You just got the Hogwarts equivalent of a bloody sonnet and we’re supposed to ignore it?”

You shrug, trying for breezy but failing miserably. “It’s probably a joke,”

“It’s not a joke,” Lily says, eyebrows furrowed. “No one puts that much effort into a joke. That was… honest. Painfully so,”

Dorcas whistles low. “I can’t believe someone’s been carrying all that around. And didn’t even sign it,”

“They should’ve,” Marlene says. “You don’t get to say all that and then disappear. It’s manipulative,”

“It’s anonymous,” you say quietly. “Not manipulative,”

“They want something from you without saying who they are,”

You shrug. “I don’t care who they are,”

Which is, of course, an outright lie.

Because for the next two weeks, you read the letter every single night after the others have gone to sleep.

You tell yourself you’re just curious. That it’s like solving a puzzle, trying to piece together who might’ve written it based on the phrasing, the details. You go through every male voice in your head like a bloody index file: is it someone from your year? Another House? Is it someone who sees you more than you realised?

And worse: is it someone you’ve hurt without knowing?

Because how long has this boy—whoever he is—been noticing you? Caring about you from some hidden distance? How long has he been watching you laugh, cry, argue, love your friends… and stayed silent?

Because now that someone has said those things to you—someone who wants your laugh, your bad handwriting, your bloody spare hair ties—you’ve started comparing. And Nick, for all his sweetness and quiet charm, hasn’t said anything remotely like that.

Nick likes you. He likes your face, your smile, your laugh. He likes sitting next to you at lunch and holding your hand when you walk to class. He likes being liked.

But whoever wrote that letter doesn’t just like you. They see you. In this terrifying, intense, specific way that makes your stomach twist every time you reread it.

And that’s the problem, really.

Because now every interaction feels dimmer by comparison.

When Nick compliments you, it feels too rehearsed. When he kisses you, you wonder if he’s noticed the freckles on your shoulders, or if he’s just decided that kissing you is nice. You still like him. You do.

But you also can’t stop thinking about the letter.

—

Meanwhile, in the boys’ dormitory, James is slowly unraveling.

He hadn’t meant for the letter to actually get to you.

Well, he had, obviously. That was the plan. Fold it all up, pour his heart onto the page, let the Marauders deliver it like some weird emotional owl service. But he hadn’t expected it to work. He thought maybe you’d read it once and toss it in the bin.

But you didn’t.

You read it. And then you kept reading it.

James knows because he keeps watching you. Not stalking—definitely not stalking—just… observing. From across the common room. Or the Great Hall. Or occasionally (and he hates himself for this) while pretending to tie his shoelaces in corridors you happen to be walking through.

You’re thinking about it. He can tell.

You’ve gone quieter, more introspective. You still hang out with Nick, still smile when he tugs you along to some late lunch in the courtyard. But the spark in your eyes when you look at him doesn’t quite reach the edges like it did before. Not like it does when you’re reading.

James sees you in the library with it tucked into a Transfiguration book.

He sees you smiling at it in Charms when Flitwick isn’t looking.

And every time, it hurts.

Not because you know it’s from him—but because you don’t.

You’re holding a piece of his soul and you don’t even know it’s his.

The Marauders are no help.

“Just tell her,” Sirius keeps saying. “It’s not going to kill you,”

“Yes it will,” James mutters into his pillow. “Instant death. Right there. You’ll have to plan my funeral,”

“Moony can write the eulogy,” Peter suggests. “Something tragic,”

“I’m not writing him a eulogy,” Remus says dryly. “I’m writing him a howler if he doesn’t grow up,”

But James doesn’t want to grow up. He wants to hide.

Because this is worse than being rejected. This is watching you choose someone else while still holding onto the most vulnerable thing he’s ever written and having no idea it’s from the boy who used to trip over his words around you.

He thought writing it would help.

It hasn’t.

If anything, it’s made everything worse.

Because now he knows how close he got. And how far away he still is.

And you— well, you’ve got a letter folded fourteen times and stashed in your pillowcase like some embarrassing secret. You’ve got Nick waiting for you after class and your friends teasing you about mystery boys and you’ve got no idea that the person who sees you best is someone you’d written off two years ago.

But you’re starting to wonder.

Because whoever wrote that letter knew things even you hadn’t noticed about yourself.

They knew how you listen harder when people talk about books, how you write longer sentences when you're nervous, how you care more deeply than you let on. That kind of observation doesn’t happen overnight.

That kind of thing takes years.

—

There are times in relationships when it feels like the edges of your life blur together, and the lines that once separated who you were from who you are in someone else’s eyes start to fade. It’s a strange and subtle thing. At first, it feels like you’re merely adjusting — slipping a little to fit more comfortably into someone else’s world. But gradually, as time passes, the edges of that world begin to shape you. And in the process, you start to lose sight of where you end and they begin.

That’s what happened with Nick.

At first, you thought it was something gentle — a sweet, budding connection. After all, the letters had been lovely, hadn’t they? The way he wrote about things you’d never noticed, the way his words seemed to speak to you in places where you hadn’t realised you were waiting for someone to. He was kind, he was funny in his own way, and he tried his best to get close to you. Really close.

But the truth is— he tried too hard.

You hadn’t noticed it at first, or if you had, you dismissed it. After all, it was sweet, wasn’t it? The way he wanted to take you to Hogsmeade every weekend, the way he seemed to try to do all the right things, say all the right words. He’d bring you flowers—small, simple ones from the Greenhouse, wrapped in brown paper. You’d smile, thank him, and tuck them into a glass jar on your windowsill.

But soon it wasn’t just flowers. It was sudden plans to study together for hours, even when you weren’t sure if you really needed to. It was long conversations about everything and nothing, always turning into late-night talks that kept you tethered to him, even when your mind wandered to other things—or to other people.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but the truth crept in. Little by little, things started to change. At first, it was just the fact that when you sat with Nick, it was easy to forget. You didn’t think about the boy who’d written you that anonymous letter, you thought maybe this was enough—that Nick was enough. But after a while, something started to feel… off.

It wasn’t his fault, not exactly. Nick was a genuinely good person. But somewhere along the way, he began to push harder than you could keep up with. And rather than reassuring you, that energy felt suffocating. The careful gestures, the predictability, the pressure to move things forward.

You began to realise that you weren’t sure if you wanted to move forward. Not with him. Not like this.

The shift became obvious one cold afternoon in the library, when Nick tried again—really tried—to kiss you. His hand brushed yours as he leaned in, but instead of feeling that warm flutter you’d always read about in romance novels, you felt yourself stiffen.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. You did. But with each moment that passed, the picture you’d once thought was perfect started to crumble. In that space between the kiss and the hesitation, you saw what was missing. It was like the world suddenly tilted. You realised you’d been holding on to something that wasn’t quite real, a dream of what could be, rather than what was.

You pulled away.

“I think…” you started, the words heavy in your throat. “Maybe we need to talk,”

Nick paused, his expression flickering with concern. “Talk about what?”

“I think I’m not really sure what I want anymore,” you said quietly. It wasn’t easy. It never is. “I think I’ve been… confused. I don’t want to lead you on,”

He blinked, his lips parted as though he was about to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. “You’re saying this now?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve said something sooner,” You looked at him, trying to make it hurt less. “But I think maybe we both rushed into this, and now… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for this. For us,”

There was a long silence, his face softening, eyes full of something like defeat. And then he spoke, his voice quiet but steady.

“I think I knew, somewhere in the back of my head,” he admitted. “I wanted to be the one to make you forget. To make you forget the other person. The one who… knows you. Like that letter,”

You froze at his words, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

Nick shifted uneasily, rubbing his neck, looking around as if he wanted to find some kind of answer in the shelves of books. “I mean…” he said slowly, “You were never really mine, were you? Not in the way I wanted. Not in the way I needed,”

A knot tightened in your chest. He was right, but it hurt to hear it. “You’re not wrong,” you murmured, your heart sinking. “I don’t know what I was looking for. But I don’t think it was this,”

Nick gave a soft, resigned chuckle. “Yeah, I think I figured that out a little too late,” He paused. “I tried. You know? I tried to make it work, tried to be what you needed. But I guess… you’re right. I couldn’t compete with someone who really knows you,”

“I’m sorry, Nick.” You said the words because they were true, because you did care about him, but you also knew that this wasn’t right anymore. You couldn’t force it to be something it wasn’t.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “I just… I don’t think I can keep pretending I’m okay with the idea of you still thinking about someone else. I’m not him, am I?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No. You’re not,”

For a moment, you both sat there in the quiet of the library, the sounds of students working, the soft scratch of quills on parchment. It was a peaceful kind of sadness, though. Not dramatic or explosive — just two people who had tried, who had cared, and who were now realising that they had reached the end of the road.

Nick exhaled softly, meeting your eyes. “I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me,” he said quietly. “I think you need to find the person who really gets you. The person who sees all of you, like that bloody letter,”

You felt something tighten in your chest at his words. “I want you to be happy too. I’m sorry,”

He smiled faintly, his eyes soft. “Don’t be. It’s just… I think we both knew this wasn’t going to last, not like this. I care about you. I always will. But I can’t be the person who’s always second best. I can’t compete with someone who sees you the way you deserve to be seen,”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I get it,”

“Good luck,” Nick stood up, dusting off his robes. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. Even if it’s not me,”

And with that, he walked away.

—

It took a few weeks for the aftermath to settle in. You weren’t sure if you’d done the right thing. But as time passed, you started to understand. You’d never been in love with Nick. You’d never been in love with the idea of him, either. And even if you hadn’t fully understood what that letter meant—the one you’d read so many times, the one you’d kept hidden under your pillow—you were starting to.

You’d tried. You’d tried to make it work, to make Nick fit, to make everything make sense. But in the end, you couldn’t ignore the cracks that had formed the moment you started comparing his kindness to the depth of someone else’s words.

You hadn’t found it yet, whatever it was that you were looking for. But you knew you would. It wasn’t about finding someone who could match Nick’s sweetness, or someone who could take his place.

It was about finding someone who saw you.

—

The Marauders had a plan. A very misguided, very well-meaning plan. And, naturally, that plan revolved around James.

They were determined to fix him, to make him move on, to help him forget about the girl who had (without him knowing) already managed to ruin him. But, as usual, they hadn’t bothered to take into account the very real fact that James didn’t want to move on. At least, not in the way they thought he should.

Ever since his brief but very real heartbreak — the one that no one, especially you, knew anything about—James had been moody. His attempts at pretending he was fine fell flat. He acted like he was fine, smiled like he was fine, but everyone who knew him could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t fine. He was not fine.

But the Marauders, being the Marauders, had an answer. They were going to find him someone to kiss, someone to distract him from you.

James had tried to shrug it off. He had told his friends, repeatedly, that he wasn’t interested in anyone else. He didn’t want to be fixed, and he certainly didn’t want to forget you, not when he couldn’t forget that letter, not when every little thing about you still echoed in his head.

But the Marauders were insistent.

“Mate, you’ve got to move on,” Sirius said one evening, sprawled across the couch in the Gryffindor common room. He was half-teasing, but there was a seriousness to his voice that James couldn’t ignore. “You’ve never kissed anyone else. Never shagged anyone. How do you know you don’t like it, huh?”

James shot Sirius a dry look. “I don’t need to shag anyone to know I’m not interested in anyone else,” he muttered. He had been hoping to avoid the topic altogether, but Sirius, as always, was relentless.

“You don’t know that until you try, Prongs,” Sirius said, winking as he nudged James in the side. “Besides, you can’t just pine over her forever. You’ll drive yourself mad,”

James clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists. “I’m not pining,” he growled. “I’m just… not interested in anyone else. It’s that simple,”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so,” He flashed a grin. “But you’re coming to the Quidditch after-party tonight, right? I’ve got a plan to fix this. You need to at least try,”

And that was how James ended up, several hours later, at the Gryffindor Quidditch after-party, reluctantly swept into the chaos of his friends’ scheming. There was no getting out of it. Sirius had insisted. Remus had given him a knowing look. Peter had simply nodded along, looking vaguely terrified of being left out of the plan.

James had been forced to accept that the Marauders weren’t going to leave him alone until he did something. So, with as much reluctance as he could muster, he gave in.

The party was rowdy, with a thrumming energy that could only come from a Gryffindor Quidditch victory. It didn’t take long before Sirius had dragged James into a conversation with a fifth-year Gryffindor girl, a girl James vaguely recognised from the common room. She was nice enough, but James wasn’t interested. Still, he followed through because, well, Sirius had already set it all up.

"Just give it a try, mate," Sirius whispered, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs-up from across the room. “You might actually enjoy it,”

James barely suppressed a groan. He couldn’t explain it, but the thought of kissing anyone but you felt wrong. There was a tightness in his chest every time he tried to think about being with someone else.

He didn’t know what it meant, whether it was the letter, or the way you had slipped so easily into his thoughts, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be here. That he wasn’t supposed to be kissing someone else.

Nevertheless, after some awkward small talk, the girl leaned in, and there it was. His first real kiss, forced and strange, under the loud cheer of the party around them. It lasted barely ten seconds before he pulled away, completely baffled by the sensation. She smiled at him, clearly pleased with herself, but it didn’t feel right. The kiss, the girl, the situation, none of it.

It wasn’t until Sirius erupted from across the room, clapping and cheering loudly, that the full weight of the absurdity of the situation hit James. Sirius, always the showman, made it a scene—announcing loudly that James had officially kissed his first girl, and proudly pointing at James with a triumphant grin as if it was some massive accomplishment. It was a joke, sure, but it made James cringe.

You were standing near the punch bowl with Marlene and Dorcas at that very moment, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as the whole situation unfolded in front of you.

There was something about the way Sirius made a spectacle of it that rubbed you the wrong way. The obnoxious cheering, the over-the-top comments, the way everyone turned to look at James and the girl like they were stars on a stage.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it bothered you so much. Maybe it was the sheer lack of subtlety. Maybe it was the fact that James didn’t seem to care much for the girl at all, or that he was only doing this to prove something. You couldn’t quite place it, but something about it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You found yourself staring a little too long, a little too intently, at the scene. Maybe it was the stupid party. Maybe it was the fact that James had always been so full of himself. But whatever it was, it didn’t sit right with you.

Your friends noticed. Marlene raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You okay?”

You blinked, startled by the question. “Yeah, of course,” you said quickly, though your voice was a little too sharp to sound convincing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she and Dorcas exchanged a knowing look, and you felt a flush of embarrassment rise up your neck.

You glanced back at James, still awkwardly standing with the girl, still the centre of the attention. You looked away, the feeling in your chest growing uncomfortable. You didn’t like it. You didn’t like the way this felt, or the way it made you feel. And yet, you couldn’t deny the slight tug of something — something more complicated than you were willing to admit.

After the party, James felt it too. The awkwardness. The discomfort. The wrongness. He sat with the Marauders, and despite the fact that they were celebrating his “success,” James couldn’t shake the feeling that it had all been for nothing.

“I don’t know what I expected,” James admitted, dropping his head into his hands as they all sat around in their dorm. “It didn’t feel right. I didn’t… I didn’t enjoy it,”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, an almost sympathetic look crossing his face. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

“No,” James muttered, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt wrong. It wasn’t the same,”

The Marauders exchanged glances, the air thick with unspoken understanding. Of course it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be the same. Not when his mind was still filled with someone else. Not when James wasn’t ready to let go.

“Well, mate,” Remus said softly, “I think we all know what’s really going on here,”

James shot him a look of frustration. “I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t want to be with anyone else,”

“Alright,” Sirius said, his voice suddenly serious, “If you’re really not ready then we’ll leave you to it,”

James sighed, rubbing his eyes in defeat. “I don’t want anyone else. I just… I don’t know what to do about it,”

The Marauders fell into a thoughtful silence, each of them looking at James with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. There was nothing they could do for him, not unless he was ready to confront the real reason he was so stuck.

And, for now, James was content to wallow. He didn’t want to move on, and he wasn’t about to let anyone push him into it.

—

There was a strange sort of silence to James’ heartbreak. It didn’t roar like his laughter or crackle like his temper. It didn’t come out in jokes or pranks or the boisterous chaos that usually followed him around like a second shadow.

No, this was something different. Something quieter. Quieter than anyone had ever expected of him. There was a whiteness to it, an absence, a stillness—a kind of stillness that looked out of place on him.

He didn't speak to anyone about it anymore. The Marauders had tried—Sirius, mostly, with his not-so-subtle nudges and jabs—but James had stopped responding. He didn’t mope, exactly. He just grew more introspective. Not solemn, not angry, just… somewhere in between. And every time someone mentioned your name, something behind his eyes would flicker and then dim again.

It wasn’t until he overheard you, Marlene, and Lily chatting in the corridor near the library that everything shifted again.

You were trying to be quiet—your voice low, tone calm, your words slightly hesitant. But James had always been good at picking you out from a crowd. It was something he hadn’t even realised he’d trained himself to do until recently. So when he passed by that corridor and caught your voice, he paused. And then he heard it.

“Well, it wasn’t like Nick did anything wrong. He’s sweet. I just…” You sighed. “I don’t know. It stopped feeling like it was about me, you know? He was chasing something, not necessarily me. And after that letter turned up, it just made it worse,”

James stopped breathing. That letter.

“You still don’t know who it’s from?” Lily asked, a note of intrigue in her voice.

You huffed out a laugh. “No. And it’s driving me mad. I feel like… whoever wrote it knows me better than I know myself. And I don't even know his name,”

Marlene scoffed. “If he knew you that well, he’d grow a spine and tell you who he is,”

“He’s probably scared,” Lily offered gently. “Those letters aren’t just passing notes. They’re—intimate,”

James ducked into an empty classroom before they could spot him, heart pounding. His palms were damp. His whole body felt too hot, too aware. You'd broken up with Nick. Because of him. Not that you knew it was him, but still. His words had changed something.

He had told himself, after that first letter, that it was a one-time thing. A catharsis. An exorcism of all the things he couldn’t say to you out loud. But after his revelation. He found himself itching to write another. And another.

The second letter had come days after he saw you in the courtyard laughing at something Dorcas had said, your head thrown back in a way that made his chest ache. He’d gone back to the dorm, heart full and throat tight, and written about it—how he wished he could be the one making you laugh like that. How he’d never seen anything brighter than the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

Then came the third letter, and the fourth. And soon, it had become a habit. A ritual, almost.

When he couldn’t sleep, he wrote.

When he saw you in class and wanted to say something but couldn’t find the nerve, he wrote.

When you passed him in the corridor and gave him a polite, almost friendly smile, he wrote.

And the letters changed. They weren’t just emotional ramblings anymore—they were layered with observations, with memories, with confessions he had never let himself say aloud.

You wore your hair different in Potions today. I liked it. But I think I would’ve liked it even if it looked awful, which is… probably not a great thing to admit, is it? You’ve got this little crease between your brows when you’re concentrating—it only appears when you’re really focused. I don’t think you know you do it. When you walk down the corridor, I can tell what kind of mood you’re in before I even see your face. It’s in the sound of your steps. In the rhythm of it. Happy-you walks different than annoyed-you.

You never responded. You couldn’t. There was never a return address, never any way to send anything back. But James didn’t care. He didn’t need a reply. Just writing to you—being able to express it, even anonymously—felt like enough.

Sort of.

Because the truth was, as much as it helped to write the words down, it also hurt. Every letter was a reminder of everything he wanted and couldn’t have. Everything he’d spent years pretending not to feel—buried beneath jokes and hexes and all the noise of adolescence.

And you? You kept every single one.

You didn’t tell the girls about it. Not really. Not after the second letter. You pretended it was over, that it had been some sweet, silly little mystery. But in truth, you’d hidden them. All of them. In a little shoebox under your bed, wrapped in an old jumper. Some were creased from how often you unfolded and re-folded them. Some had the faintest smudge in the corner from where you’d cried, unexpectedly, at something you hadn’t realised you needed to hear.

You didn’t know what to do with them. You weren’t over Nick—not really. That kind of closeness doesn’t disappear overnight. But it was impossible to keep pretending that he had understood you like this anonymous writer did.

Whoever he was, he had seen you. Not just the version of you that most people acknowledged—the smart, sharp, sometimes-sarcastic girl who was always one step ahead of a comeback. No, this person had paid attention to the margins of you, the unnoticed edges. The things you didn’t even know were there until he wrote them down.

I think I started liking you back in fourth year. You were defending someone in the corridor—some little second-year who’d dropped their books, and some Slytherins were laughing at him. You didn’t even hesitate. You stepped right in like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That’s when I knew. Only I’m not sure if I just like you anymore. It’s something more. Something I don’t know how to name. Is it pathetic to say that I hear your voice before I see you? That I can pick you out of a room before I even look up? I don’t mean to. It’s just—it’s like my ears are tuned to you. Like a frequency I can’t ignore.

You lay awake most nights now, reading the letters again after the others were asleep. You tried to analyse the handwriting. You wondered if it was someone in your year. You made a list of suspects in your head and crossed off half of them, even though it didn’t bring you any closer.

Sometimes, when you caught James looking at you from across the room, you’d wonder. But then you’d scoff at yourself, because James Potter? Really? He was… well, James. All swagger and messy hair and cocky grins. You’d made peace with the fact that he wasn’t half as insufferable anymore, but he was still James.

And yet…

The letters were not the work of someone who didn’t care. They weren’t careless. They were intimate in a way that left you breathless. Each one revealed a little more—each sentence brushing up against truths you hadn’t admitted even to yourself.

They came like clockwork now—one every week, always arriving in the oddest of places. Slipped inside your Arithmancy book. Folded neatly on your dinner plate. Once, even tucked inside your scarf in the common room, which really freaked you out because it meant he was closer than you thought.

It was terrifying and exhilarating. And the worst part? You were beginning to need them. Crave them, even. His words had become a constant, something you looked forward to with equal parts dread and hope.

The box under your bed grew heavier by the week.

And James? He was slowly losing his mind. Every time he saw you reading a letter—head tilted, eyes flicking across the page, your expression soft and unreadable—it hurt in the best and worst way. You liked them. He knew you did. But the longer he went without saying anything, the more impossible it felt to tell you the truth.

Because what if knowing ruined it? What if it stopped being magical the second his name was attached?

He was a coward. Marlene had said so, loudly, and James knew it was true. He could face down a rogue Bludger, duel a seventh-year, prank Filch and escape with a grin—but he couldn’t tell you he was the one who had been writing to you.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

He poured his soul into those margins. Into those pages that would never carry his name. Because it was the only way he could tell you the truth and survive it.

And maybe that was enough.

Or maybe, eventually, it wouldn’t be.

—

You didn’t mean to tell them. Honestly, you had every intention of keeping the whole thing a secret forever. But Marlene had a sixth sense for drama, and Dorcas had a sharper nose for mystery than a trained bloodhound. So when your bed-curtains had rustled suspiciously in the middle of the night and Marlene had caught a glimpse of shimmering ink through the crack of your open trunk, it was game over.

You’d barely managed to shove the letter beneath your pillow before she pounced.

“Aha!” she whispered in triumph, yanking back your curtains with no regard for your sleep schedule. “I knew you were hiding something!”

“Marlene, go away,” you groaned, but Lily was already sitting up, blinking owlishly, and Dorcas was dragging her own blanket across to your bed.

“Nope,” Dorcas said brightly, sliding in beside you with terrifying ease. “Spill it. Is it more letters?”

You were betrayed by the silence. The way your face didn’t even have time to arrange into a proper lie before the truth fell across your cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Lily whispered. “There’s more?”

“There’s loads more,” Marlene said, shoving aside your blankets and finding the shoebox tucked beneath your bed like a woman possessed. “Holy hell, you’ve got a whole bloody collection.”

You didn’t fight it. Not properly. Not after the fourth letter was unfolded and read aloud in a reverent hush, the girls falling completely silent around you—save for the occasional sniff or soft exhale of disbelief.

“He watched you drop your quill and memorised how you tucked your hair behind your ear,” Dorcas said, practically vibrating. “I thought blokes only noticed when girls breathed near them,”

“It’s beautiful,” Lily whispered. “It’s like something out of a novel,”

“Romantic,” Dorcas agreed.

“Terrifying,” Marlene added. “I mean, what if it’s Mulciber or something?”

You almost choked. “Please don’t even joke about that,”

Thus began the unofficial—and entirely chaotic—formation of The Girls’ Detective Agency. It wasn’t your name for it, obviously, but once Marlene had made badges (from parchment, glitter, and sheer manic determination), you didn’t have much choice in the matter.

The mission was clear: uncover the identity of your mysterious letter-writer.

Their methods, however, were… questionable.

They started with handwriting analysis. Marlene attempted to casually wander through the library, requesting to borrow ink samples from boys “just out of curiosity,” and Lily spent an afternoon in the common room “helping” people with their Transfiguration essays so she could examine their penmanship. Dorcas, who had stolen your Divination notes under the pretext of “astrological clarity,” tried to match the emotional tone of the letters to various star signs.

“I’m telling you,” she said one night with complete certainty, “this is a Cancer Sun, maybe a Pisces Moon. This is water sign poetry,”

You didn't know what a Pisces Moon was meant to mean, but Dorcas said it like gospel, so you just nodded.

Meanwhile, Marlene was not subtle. At all.

“What if it’s Remus?” she hissed once across the common room, loud enough for three people to turn around. “He’s broody. And he reads so much poetry,”

You swore you saw Remus twitch.

But you shook your head. “No. It’s not him,”

You were sure about that. Remus was clever, kind, thoughtful—but the letters didn’t sound like him. His voice was steadier, more deliberate. The person writing to you was something else entirely—someone who struggled with the weight of what he felt, who was reckless with his emotions in a way that wasn’t controlled or clean. Someone who wrote like he was bleeding onto the page.

There were flashes—little things—that made you wonder if maybe, maybe, it could be James.

But every time the thought flitted across your mind, you swatted it away.

James Potter didn’t write letters like this. James Potter was a menace with a Quidditch obsession and a lopsided grin. James Potter, who had only recently evolved into someone tolerable, wasn’t exactly someone you pictured lying awake at night, pouring his soul into parchment.

Sure, he wasn’t as obnoxious as he used to be. And sure, there was something softer in the way he looked at you lately—but you’d chalked that up to the fragile peace you’d made after last year’s chaos. There was no way he was the one leaving notes beneath your scarf.

Besides, if he’d written something this vulnerable, he would’ve shoved it into your hand and dared you to read it aloud just to watch you squirm. Right?

So, no. Not James.

You were wrong, obviously.

But that wasn’t the point.

—

The final week of term came faster than expected. sunlight glittered on the edges of everything—floating house flags outside the Great Hall doors, open windows letting in a soft breeze, a warmth that seeped into your bones. Everything felt a little too warm, a little too bright.

And still, the letters kept coming.

The last one arrived on the morning of the train home.

It was simpler than the others. A small square of parchment, no shimmering ink this time. Just words. Words that didn’t try to be anything other than honest.

I don’t know if I’ll write again. I think I might be running out of ways to say it. I miss things I’ve never had with you, and that’s a strange kind of grief. Have a nice holiday. Try not to overthink things. I know that’s rich coming from me. Yours, always— even if you never know who.

That was it.

You folded the letter carefully, hands trembling, and slid it into the shoebox with the others. And then you stared at it for what felt like hours, until Lily touched your arm gently and said, “We’ll miss the train,”

And that was that.

—

James watched you leave through the frost-smeared train window, his heart quieter than it had been in months. The Marauders were deep into a loud game of Exploding Snap, Sirius laughing at every blast, Peter shouting protests, Remus rolling his eyes fondly.

None of them knew he’d written another one.

James had stopped telling them after the fifth or sixth. It felt private. Sacred, almost. Sharing it would have made it real in a way he wasn’t sure he could handle. So he kept it to himself—his stupid little secret. His confession scrawled across parchment instead of spoken out loud.

He knew he was being a coward. That had become obvious. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not when he saw the way you read them, all curled up with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Not when he noticed the way your hand trembled slightly on the paper. You felt something. He was sure of it.

But he also knew that eventually, you’d want more. And he couldn’t keep offering faceless intimacy forever. So he wrote the last one. Said goodbye. Sort of.

And then he sat on the train with his forehead pressed to the glass, pretending he didn’t care that you hadn’t figured it out. That you were probably leaving for the summer thinking about someone else entirely. That maybe, despite everything, he’d never actually be enough.

—

Back at home, the days grew longer. The pace slowed. The house was warm, the food good, the sleep long and uninterrupted. And yet every night, without fail, you found yourself at the window.

The box of letters came out the first night you returned. You told yourself it was for closure.

It wasn’t.

You read them again—each one from the beginning. Chronologically. Like chapters in a book. You traced the handwriting with your fingers, letting the words sink into you slowly.

He loved you. That was the truth of it.

Maybe he hadn’t said it directly. Maybe he hadn’t signed his name. But no one wrote like that without meaning it. No one watched you so closely, noticed so many tiny things, remembered throwaway moments from years ago unless they’d been in love with you for a long, long time.

And you were still no closer to knowing who he was.

That was the worst part.

How could someone be so close and still so invisible?

You stared out the window into the night, watching your breath fog up the glass. The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the world in silence. Somewhere out there was someone who had seen all of you—really seen you—and hadn’t asked for anything in return.

And you missed him. Terribly.

Not Nick. Not the quiet comfort of that easy romance.

But him. The one who knew the cadence of your footsteps. Who listened for your voice before he saw your face. Who remembered fourth year like it was yesterday and noticed how your hands trembled when you were angry.

You missed someone you didn’t know. And it felt like the loneliest thing in the world.

—

I know I said I wouldn’t write you anymore, but I’m afraid I can’t help myself. The truth is, I’ve been terrified of saying it out loud, of giving you something you don’t need or want. But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve loved you for so long, in ways that I can’t even put into words. I’ve watched you, really watched you, every day, and I’ve noticed things about you that no one else ever could. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking, the way you hum softly to yourself when you’re studying, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. I’ve memorised the way your voice sounds when you laugh, the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re annoyed, the way you frown when you’re trying to figure something out. And I’ve done all of this because I care about you. So much more than I should. I’ve tried to get over you, to forget you. I’ve tried to date other people, to move on. But none of them were you. None of them could be. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t even know if I’ll ever send it. But I need you to know that I’ve been here, always here, loving you in the quietest ways, the most secret ways. Maybe this is selfish. Maybe it’s unfair of me to ask you to care about someone who has never had the guts to say this to your face. But I don’t know what else to do anymore. I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t matter to me. Because it does. You matter to me, more than I can say. I’ve always been here, waiting, in the margins of your life. Maybe that’s where I belong. But if you ever look up, I’ll be there, still waiting. —James F. Potter

He stopped writing. Blinked down at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

His hand hovered over the signature. It looked too sharp, too obvious. Too final.

He stared at it for a long time.

Folded the letter in half.

Then unfolded it.

Folded it again.

“Mate, you’re torturing yourself,” came a groggy voice from across the room. Sirius, of course. “Just send it to her already,”

James looked up. “She won’t want it,”

“You don’t know that,”

“She might hate me,”

Sirius yawned and flopped back down onto his pillow. “She definitely won’t hate you. That’s the worst-case scenario you’ve built up in that tragically romantic brain of yours. And even if she did… so what? At least you’d know,”

James looked down at the folded parchment.

He could send it. He could sneak into the Owlery now, under his Invisibility Cloak, and you’d get it tomorrow. And then you’d know. Everything.

But then you’d know.

He imagined your face when you opened it. The surprise. The disbelief. The way you’d go back and read every single letter again, this time with the truth laid bare. Would it be relief? Would it be disappointment?

Or worse—would you already know, and just not want to face it?

James tucked the letter into his pillowcase and lay back down.

His heart was racing.

He didn’t sleep.

He didn’t send the letter, either.

Not yet.

Maybe never.

[rose-maidenn]

⋆✿˖°Pick a Pile : What do People dream of you ⋆✿˖

Hey guys here in this reading I dive into various kinds of dreams people have about you some can be very clear and other can be eerie , select any Pile using your intuition and all of it might not reasonate as it is a collective reading

Masterlist | old masterlist

Want a longer reading or another reading book at

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Pile 1 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read).

Manhattan, 444 , deli , delhi, psychedelic rock , chappal roan , Manu, sweet 16 , Anna karenina , Malcom and Marie, Mr and Mrs Smith, sweet blond jesus , sundays , 1970s , breakfast , clear cut diamonds , heist , monetairy affair, mole on the left side of cheek , glittery dress , you're wearing pink or yellow or black as you read , you have birthday on 5,21,8,5,12 of the month , you're born on Wednesday.

The first dream about you is dreamt by a young girl or a female friend you admire a lot , it's about shopping and spending time together in a cafe and having doughnuts and chatting about how so many changes have befall you yet how close the both of you feel to each other . I see the symbolism of the fan maybe this conversation is carried out as you guys look at the ceiling .

The next dream about you is dreamt by your mother about you being successful, maybe in a business industry or the singing industry , you might be an alto , I see peonies being represented (wealth and prosperity) , she also might have received a task to do to ensure that something involving writing a small chit and placing it somewhere maybe in the altar, money bowl etc .

The third dream I tap in is dreamt by an online friend , blond or red hairs , they dream of you in a garden harvesting fruit with them I see a lot of red around, this could be sunset time or the colour of the realm is red . I see that they relate to you a lot and want to spend time with you . They keep you in their prayers a lot and hence they dream of you so vividly.

Pile 2 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Cobra Kai , 555, Birth of venus , a purple car , crown , eatery , devilish sweet , idiocracy , self made star , faraway land , willow , apples , yule ball , Saraswati, Athena, yellow , Azul, attar , dogs , bed bugs, blond hair , Birth mark on bosum or scalp , you're burning a candle as you read , you're wearing white , blue or green as you read . Born on 31 , 3 , 7 , 6 , 17 of the month . Born on Tuesday or Friday

The first dream about you is dreamt about you is a weird competitive and erotic dream , it's dreamt by a colleague who has been dreaming to overthrow you , they're so obsessed with you it has turned psychosexual , I'm not getting into details but you might need to do a cord cutting , I feel you're also experiencing dreams about them , honey go ahead and cleanse yourself.

The next dream about you is from an admirer I see them taking you on a helicopter or a private jet to an island and talking with you all day long , they play with your hairs make you food mainly pasta and give you a head massage. They get continuous dreams about you , in other dates they visit museums and sit by rivers talking to you about classics , their childhood and your wishes and wants , sweet so sweet .

The third dream about you is dreamt by a teacher or a guru or a superior, it's related to your academic or spiritual journey , you're on your way to unlock new horizons and the teacher is being asked to prepare themselves to guide you properly . They also see that you place them in your success story and make them famous much like they becoming famous because their student made it big in life .

Pile 3 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Sylvia plath , danger , conceit , burrow , red alert , sapphires, skin , the substance , weaving , crocheting , barbie in the 12 dancing princesses , Trans, bi , blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb , lack of communication, berries , rainbows , horses, manifesting generator , wedding bells , piercings and snake or quote tattoos , you're wearing pyjamas as you read . You're wearing red , sheer , beige , pink as you read . You are Born on 1, 18 , 19 , 25 , 13 , you are Born on Thursday, Monday .

The very first dream is by a friend you are cut off from or just fell apart from , they're dreaming of you near a fountain or a water body giving them advice or consoling them about something this person is having a bad time actually they sleep really less , maybe you should talk if they aren't bad or toxic . They also dream of you both being In a concert maybe guns and roses

The next dream is by someone who is actively manifesting you , it's crazy and eerie , they don't see your face , could be a soul mate or someone from your soul tribe, they see you spending their time with them and talking about various subjects , also going on a travelling journey also see some arguments and casino is also seen . Guys it's 1:11 am hehe a confirmation

The third dream is an absolute action packed banger of a dream could call it a batman coded superhero dream , it is being dreamt by a past admirer or a childhood friend who still likes you, you're being upheld by a monster who keeps eating your skin and then he /she comes along and protects you and heals you through some dna regeneration technology and then yall kiss and call it a night.

Thanks for reading hope it helped 🌸✨️

[solxamber]

Hi hi solxamber!! (Is that spelled right?) I hope you’re having a lovely day/night! if you would allow me too I’d like to make a request/ask, ignore this if you wish!

But freshwater stingray yuu! She’s so sweet with everyone (even though she may be such a quiet person) and super calming too! But she’s so misunderstood (◞ ‸ ◟ㆀ). Kinda like how a lot of humans now treat wild stingrays, they think she’s dangerous and always aggressive! But really she just wants a friend (；へ：). Oh! And she’s also very tall too! Like Floyd tall, since freshwater stingrays are some of the biggest known rays in the world! She also has a long, whip-like, stinger (tail) that she can’t control even in the water! Maybe this in a small one-shot form (if you do that!) with Octavinelle and Diasomnia? I feel as if specifically Malleus and her would relate to each other very well with them both feeling isolated and feared because of something that they really can’t control!

Please feel free to ignore this if you wish! You are under absolutely no obligation to respond to my request! Sorry if it was really long (I’m severely hyperfixated on any form of marine life) 人(_ _*)

And do you do anon names? If so could I be a 🪼anon?

Octavinelle, Diasomnia with Freshwater Stingray! Reader

hi! yeah you can be 🪼 anon! and don't worry about the length at all, the more detailed, the more fun i have writing it! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3 and it's spelled right! you can just call me sol tho!

Azul Ashengrotto:

You sit in the quiet corner of the Mostro Lounge, sipping tea and trying to keep your long tail from accidentally knocking anything over. It’s always the same—people giving you wary glances, as if you’re a threat just waiting to explode. Your tail, with its unpredictable movements, has always been a point of misunderstanding, and despite your calmness and sweet demeanor, most people steer clear of you.

Azul has been watching you for a while now, his sharp eyes glinting behind his glasses. He finally makes his way over, that ever-confident smile in place as he sets a fresh cup of tea in front of you.

"Everything to your liking?" he asks, voice smooth as ever, but there’s a hint of something more—genuine curiosity, perhaps?

You look up, startled. "It’s fine," you mumble, trying not to let your tail twitch in nervousness. But of course, it does, brushing lightly against the floor. You freeze, pulling it in tightly to your side.

Azul’s eyes follow the movement, and instead of the discomfort you usually see in people, there’s only understanding in his gaze. He leans in a bit, resting his elbow on the table. "It must be difficult," he says softly, "having to be so aware of your tail all the time, when people can’t see beyond it."

You blink, surprised at how easily he’s put it into words. "Yeah," you admit, glancing down at your cup. "People think I’m dangerous. But I just… I don’t want to hurt anyone." Your voice trails off, soft and sincere.

Azul chuckles, though not unkindly. "I understand more than you think. People often mistake strength for malice. They forget that control takes time." He gestures vaguely toward his own carefully controlled smile, his smooth façade of confidence. "And patience."

You tilt your head, meeting his eyes for the first time properly. "You... you don’t think I’m dangerous?"

"On the contrary," he says with a smirk, "I think you’re someone worth knowing. Dangerously misunderstood, perhaps, but aren’t we all?"

You can’t help but smile a little at that. For the first time in a long while, you feel like someone is seeing you, not your tail or your height, but you.

Floyd Leech:

You’re wandering through the courtyard when Floyd spots you, and of course, he makes a beeline in your direction, grinning like a shark who’s just spotted prey.

"Heyyy, Shrimpy!" he calls out, stretching his arms over his head lazily. You brace yourself, knowing that Floyd isn’t exactly one to respect personal space.

"Hi, Floyd," you say softly, still trying to keep your voice friendly despite the knot of nerves forming in your stomach.

As expected, he immediately slings an arm around your shoulders, oblivious to the way your tail twitches nervously behind you. "Whatcha doin'? Lookin' all serious. You plannin' to sting someone with that big tail of yours?"

You blink, startled by how casually he brings it up, but you know Floyd doesn’t mean any harm by it—he’s just Floyd. "No," you say quickly, "I don’t sting people. It’s not like that. I don’t want to hurt anyone."

He gives you a curious look, then laughs. "Aw, I know, I know! I’m just messing with ya!" His grip tightens slightly as he leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But y'know, if anyone’s ever giving ya trouble, just say the word, and I’ll help ya take 'em down. Sting 'em, punch 'em, doesn’t matter!"

You blink again, unsure how to respond to Floyd’s unique brand of... support. But something about his carefree attitude puts you at ease, and you find yourself smiling despite everything. "Thanks, Floyd," you say quietly.

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "No problem, Shrimpy! Let’s go find someone to mess with, yeah?"

Jade Leech:

It’s in the depths of the Coral Sea when you first meet Jade properly. He’s calm and composed, as always, but there’s a calculating gleam in his eyes that makes you nervous. You’ve always been wary of people who observe more than they say—those are the ones who usually misunderstand you the most.

"Ah, you must be the freshwater stingray everyone’s been talking about," Jade says with a polite smile, his eyes scanning your tall form, lingering on your tail for just a second longer than usual.

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say. "Yes. And you must be Jade."

"Indeed," he replies smoothly. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard quite a few interesting things about you."

You wince internally, imagining all the rumors about how "dangerous" and "unpredictable" you are. But Jade doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "It must be difficult," he muses, "being constantly misunderstood because of something you cannot control."

You blink, caught off guard by his words. "Y-yes," you stammer, "it is. But I try not to let it bother me."

Jade’s smile widens, and for the first time, you see a genuine warmth behind his usual calculating demeanor. "That is a wise approach. I believe there is much more to you than others realize. Perhaps we can... learn more about each other."

You feel a flicker of warmth in your chest. Maybe this encounter isn’t so bad after all.

Malleus Draconia:

You’re floating near the edge of the lake when you sense someone watching you. You turn slowly, and there, standing by the water’s edge, is Malleus, his dark eyes focused on you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

You’ve always felt a strange connection to Malleus. Both of you are feared for reasons beyond your control, and both of you know what it’s like to be isolated because of it.

"Good evening," he says softly, his voice deep and soothing.

"Good evening, Malleus," you reply quietly, moving closer to the shore. "What brings you here?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he gazes out at the water, his expression thoughtful. "I often find solace near the water," he admits. "It’s... calming."

You nod in agreement, understanding exactly what he means. "It’s the same for me. People seem to think we’re dangerous just because of how we look. But the water... it doesn’t judge."

Malleus turns to look at you then, his eyes softening. "Yes," he murmurs. "We are not so different, are we?"

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable silence, sharing an unspoken understanding that words could never fully capture.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he glides through the air, catching sight of you as you swim quietly near the edge of the lake. He lands gracefully on a nearby rock, grinning widely. "Ah, my dear stingray! How does the evening treat you?" he calls out, his voice filled with playful energy.

You blink in surprise, unused to such cheerfulness, but you offer a small smile in return. "It’s... peaceful," you reply softly. "I like the quiet."

Lilia chuckles, sitting cross-legged on the rock as he watches you, his eyes glimmering with curiosity. "You always seem so quiet and calm. Yet I hear rumors—some people say you're dangerous!" He laughs at the absurdity of it, as if the idea is nothing but a joke to him.

You sigh, glancing down at the water, your long tail swaying gently beneath the surface. "They think I’m dangerous because of my tail. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but… it’s hard to control sometimes."

Lilia hums thoughtfully, leaning forward a bit. "Ah, but isn’t that the way with most things in life? The most wonderful, powerful things are often the ones most misunderstood." He winks at you, as if sharing a secret.

You can’t help but smile at his words. There’s something so comforting about Lilia’s playful wisdom, and you feel your usual anxiety melting away. "Maybe you’re right," you say quietly. "It’s just… hard."

Lilia nods sagely. "Hard, yes. But don’t let that stop you from being who you are. Strength and kindness aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. You remind me of myself in my younger days!" He laughs again, the sound bright and infectious.

You chuckle softly, feeling a bit lighter. "Thank you, Lilia."

He winks again, standing up with a flourish. "Anytime, my dear! Now, shall we play a game? I bet you can’t catch me!" Before you can protest, he takes off into the air, leaving you laughing quietly at his endless energy.

Silver Vanrouge:

Silver is resting under the shade of a large tree when you spot him, his eyes closed as he naps peacefully. You hover nearby, not wanting to disturb him, but your tail accidentally swishes too close to a branch, causing it to rustle loudly.

Silver’s eyes blink open slowly, his gaze finding you immediately. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh… it’s you," he murmurs, his voice still soft with drowsiness.

"Sorry," you mumble, embarrassed that you woke him up. "I didn’t mean to… my tail…" You trail off, trying to tuck your tail away behind you, but it flicks out again despite your best efforts.

Silver shakes his head, giving you a gentle smile. "It’s okay. You didn’t wake me on purpose."

You feel a warmth spread in your chest at his understanding. Silver is always so calm and kind, never judging you the way others do. "Still, I’m sorry," you say, moving closer to sit beside him.

He watches you for a moment before speaking. "You don’t need to apologize for something you can’t control," he says quietly. "I know what it’s like to be misunderstood. People think I’m lazy because I fall asleep a lot, but it’s just… how I am."

You look at him in surprise. "I didn’t know that. I thought you just liked to nap."

He chuckles softly, leaning back against the tree. "Maybe a little. But it’s more than that." He pauses, then turns to you with a soft smile. "I don’t think you’re dangerous. You’re just… you."

His words are so simple, but they mean more to you than he knows. You smile back at him, feeling a little lighter. "Thank you, Silver."

Silver nods, his eyes closing again as he drifts off into another peaceful nap, leaving you to quietly enjoy the moment beside him.

Sebek Zigvolt:

You’re swimming near the edge of the lake when Sebek marches over, his loud voice cutting through the peaceful air. "Ah, there you are! I’ve been searching for you!" he declares, arms crossed and chin held high.

You blink, startled by his abrupt arrival. "O-oh, hello, Sebek."

He stares down at you, his expression serious as usual. "You must stop hiding yourself away like this! It is unbecoming of someone with such... size and stature!" His tone is as sharp as ever, but you know he means well—he’s just... Sebek.

You glance down at the water, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I’m not hiding. I just like the quiet."

Sebek huffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "Nonsense! You should be standing tall and proud! You are far too... graceful to be skulking about like some common creature of the sea!"

You blink in surprise at his words, unsure how to respond. "Um... thank you?"

Sebek’s eyes narrow, as if he’s not quite sure you understand his point. "Do not mistake me! I am simply saying that you are far too formidable to let others fear you so easily!" He pauses, his voice lowering slightly. "It is... their loss if they cannot see that."

Your heart warms at his unexpected compliment. Sebek might be loud and brash, but his words hold a certain sincerity that you can’t ignore. You smile up at him. "That’s... really nice of you to say, Sebek."

He stiffens, his cheeks flushing slightly as he clears his throat. "W-well, I am merely stating the facts! Now, come! We must train! A creature as powerful as you should not waste your time in solitude!"

Despite his usual intensity, you can’t help but smile. "Alright, Sebek. Let’s train."

With a proud nod, Sebek leads the way, his loud voice echoing through the air as you follow, feeling just a little bit more understood.

Masterlist

[kuurechr]

notes: naoya is your little brother, but reader is only mentioned, this is mostly just a cute meeting for tsumiki megumi and satoru

Satoru, for the first time in a while, was struggling. Usually things came easy for Satoru. Toji had to wear him down to beat him, and even then he wasn't properly beaten. Suguru affected Satoru because of their connection. So for his other so-called struggles, he had excuses.

But with kids, apparently, all his skills were lacking.

The Tsumiki girl was definitely kind. She was laughing at his half assed jokes, and reassuring him about what he was doing. Satoru told the kids they could get whatever they wanted, and Tsumiki chose the cheap options for her brother.

"What do you want?"

"Me? I can... are you sure?"

"You can get anything you want."

"I'll take what Megumi's getting as well."

Megumi hadn't spoken at all, instead opting for glaring at Satoru, looking down at his food, or frequently glancing at his sister as she ate her food.

The two clearly cared for each other. They had each other's backs, in a way that Satoru did with his close friends. It was a bit odd seeing this sort of bond between two kids, especially when he lacked it until he went to high school. But they needed to develop it, being on their own.

They were tough kids, not by choice. So Satoru didn't blame them for being the way they were. He just needed to make them feel comfortable. And that was hard to do, because he'd never done this before.

Tsumiki was speaking to him though, about their schools, and their regular routines. Satoru nodded, answering questions, trying to ask them what they'd like to do.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Satoru-senpai?"

Satoru opened his mouth to answer, smiling as he was about to gush about you, but he was interrupted by his least favourite person ever. The one who was unfortunately related to his most favourite person.

"Now what do we have here?"

Satoru scowled at the sound of his voice, and immediately Tsumiki and Megumi glared at the man as well. It made Satoru grin a little, seeing how defensive the kids had gotten with someone he clearly disliked. Maybe that was a sign that the kids trusted him already.

"Gojou Satoru and," Naoya looked over at the kids, grinning. "Children." He grabbed a chair and sat next to Megumi who was fully scowling now. Tsumiki pulled his chair closer to her side, amusing Naoya. "What is this? Did some whore leave the kids with you?"

Yeah. Satoru wanted to say. Your cousin.

"I'm taking them in," Satoru answered briefly.

Naoya furrowed his brows. "To do what? Teach them? The girl is a regular civilian. The boy..." Naoya narrowed his eyes at Megumi. He had his suspicions now, clearly.

"I'm sure you know of your infamous cousin with no cursed energy," Satoru interrupted Naoya's thoughts. "And about what happened. These two are the kids of his first and second wives. I'm taking them in."

"They're his kids?" Naoya asked, his eyes widening. "Zenins?"

"They're his wives kids," Satoru shut him down. "Fushiguros."

Naoya sighed, clearly a bit disappointed, but he kept his stare on Megumi. "This one seems to have cursed energy though."

"He does," Satoru agreed. "I heard you had your birthday recently. How was that first drink?"

Naoya grinned. "I did! Honestly, I passed out so I don't remember that night all that well! And you know, for it being my party, everyone was getting busy talking about Y/N."

"Y/N?" Satoru repeated.

"Yeah, you might know her. She's a bit too weak to be on your radar though."

"Yes, you're older sister. She has a great innate technique, and she's quite strong. I'm- well, we're friends, at least."

Megumi squinted at Satoru, trying to decipher his words. The glasses threw him off at trying to read the man.

"Why're you wasting your time with her? She's going to get married off to someone soon. About time, they should've been planning the minute she turned sixteen but she ran off to your little school. Why she'd sabotage herself that way, I do not know."

Tsumiki and Megumi glanced at each other as they saw Satoru clench his fist, with his jaw clenched as well. Tsumiki turned back. "Megumi and I have to go to the bathroom!"

Satoru's head whipped to the kids. Tsumiki grinned at him, while Megumi's face still seemed indifferent, but they both were clearly faking this for him. "Alright then," Satoru grinned. He stood up quickly, slapping Naoya's back harder then he should have, before taking the kids away, heading towards the public bathrooms.

"You know we don't actually need to go to the restrooms," Megumi pointed out. "And the exit is the other way."

Satoru grinned. "I know. But I want to show you two something quickly." Satoru squatted down. "Megumi get on my back."

Megumi scowled. "No."

Rolling his eyes, Satoru went ahead and picked up Tsumiki, who squealed as he did so. He was fairly tall so she was pretty high up off the ground, and being a little scared, she gripped onto him tighter. Satoru tightened his hold on her to reassure her. "Hold onto my leg then, 'Gumi."

Ignoring the nickname, Megumi wrapped one of his arms around Satoru's legs, confused as to what Satoru was about to do.

However the minute he warped, Megumi quickly gripped Satoru's legs with both of his arms as his heart beat quickly, feeling it drop to his stomach.

As quickly as it happened, Megumi realized they were in a completely different place. Megumi let go. "What was that?!"

"Teleporting," Satoru answered, a confident lilt to his tone. But when did he not sound cocky?

"You can do that?!" Tsumiki exclaimed, clearly giddy from the experience. They were two elementary schoolers who had just teleported after all! Without explaining all the math and the technicalities of the skill, it was really cool. Satoru just made himself out to be a superhero, and even though he'd had no plan to do so before, he was glad they had to do this.

"You're so cool!" Tsumiki fawned. "You can teleport anywhere?!"

Satoru nodded, smiling widely.

"Oh my god, Megumi, we should make a list of everywhere we want to go! Where do you want to go?!"

"The library."

"I said anywhere!"

"And I said the library."

"Well!" Satoru clapped his hands together. "You can make the list at the library right, Tsu?"

Tsumiki hesitated. "Um, yeah." Satoru was confused at the hesitation, so Megumi filled him in.

"She prefers Miki."

"Oh alright!" Satoru said, quickly. "You can tell me that stuff, okay, Miki?" 

"Yeah, I know," she nodded, before grabbing Satoru's leg and making a superman pose. "Now let's go!"

You can read more of this on AO3 ! Nothing Special

[sparkleofpizza]

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

The beginning.

THE 2019 SEASON

Melbourne, Australia, 2019

I was nervous, I knew you shouldn't be, but I was.

The sun was shining bright down at the Melbourne Circuit, you could hear the delighted conversations from fans just outside of the motorhome. Everyone was excited for the upcoming season of Formula 1, with new drivers and grid line up changes. And I was one of the new faces at the paddock, although not a driver.

I’ve been no stranger to this whole life at the paddock and following Formula 1. I grew up with it as I’d follow my father around since the moment i learned how to walk.

Jenson Button, former Formula 1 driver and world champion. I carried my last name with pride, I love my dad more than anything in the world, but the moment I showed genuine interest in the motorsport world people started to talk.

So now, I can't help but wonder, what is everyone going to say the minute you walk into the paddock as not a guest, but as a McLaren intern.

Sure, I will be the first to admit that having the Button last name did help I get this internship, but I conclude the training to be here on your effort, with my intelligence, my studies and everything I prepared myself for.

I knew working at the PR department didn't come easy in the motorsport world, I not only had to deal with PR, reporters, FIA, and the drivers, but you had to understand the dynamic of the sport, of the car, and everything else in case I needed to step up to give a statement on behalf of a driver or the team.

I spent countless days, in 2018, going over the FIA regulations, learning about the cars, all while taking classes in UNI and juggling the McLaren PR training.

Someone called out my name in a soothing manner. I lifted your head, meeting Sophie's smile. Behind her there were two men, one standing tall and proud and the other a bit more awkwardly. I knew very well who they were as I will be working close to them.

"Hi, Sophie." I smile at her "Would you like to join me for coffee?"

She nods, taking a sit across from me and gesturing the two men to do the same.

"I wanted to introduce you three properly since you'll be working close together." She says "These are our 2019 drivers, Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris. This is Y/n, she is our new PR intern."

I smile at both of them.

“It’s nice to finally meet you both.”

Carlos smiles “Likewise, I hope we get along well, the three newbies of McLaren.”

I laugh at his little joke and Lando follows suit with his own laughter that is a bit too contagious.

He seems a bit shy, maybe it’s because it’s his first season in Formula 1 and he feels like he has a lot to prove. In a sense I relate to him. We’re both here to show we’re good and deserve to be here.

And without even speaking for more than 5 minutes with him, I can already feel that we’re going to be friends soon enough.

Xangai, China, 2019

I have my back turned to the door of McLaren hospitality as I fumble with the coffee machine. It’s very early in the morning on Friday, a few hours away from the start of free practice. I am feeling exhausted from the long flight from England to China and the different time zones.

“It seems like the coffee machine is winning the fight.” A voice cut through the silence of the hospitality.

I turn around to find Lando standing beside me with a smile on his face, showing his dimples and amusement.

“I can’t get it to make coffee, I think it’s broken.” I complain with a huff

“Did you turn it on?” He asks me amused

“What?”

“Did you turn on the machine?”

“Of course I…” He reaches his arm across from me, pushing a button and the coffee machine beeps before finally brewing my coffee. I feel my cheeks go warm in embarrassment “Sorry, I’m uh still half asleep.”

He giggles, that infectious laugh of his that I always find myself smiling and giggling along whenever I hear it. If there is one thing I have already learned from Lando, it's that it’s nearly impossible to be serious around him. He carries this natural good natured aura, and he’s funny and likes to make jokes and see the good side of things. And whenever I’m around him I find myself a giggling mess.

We grab our cups of coffee and take a seat at one of the comfortable arm chairs at the corner of the room.

“You look tired.” Lando points out, sipping his coffee.

“I’m jet lagged, and I had a paper to turn in for uni so I stayed up until late and I only got a few hours of sleep on the plane because I had to review the questions for yesterday’s press conference.” I tell him, basically chugging down my coffee “Do you think I’d get fired if I drank Red Bull?”

He shakes his head.

“You should get some sleep during FP1.” He tells me

I sigh “Yeah, but it’s not really worth the drive back to the hotel, I will probably only manage a twenty minute nap before I have to come back here.”

“You can nap in my driver's room.” He offers, a friendly smile on his face

“Oh, no, I can’t accept it.” I shake my head “Thank you, thought.”

Lando smiles, leaning over the armrest of his seat to get closer to me.

“I insist. You need sleep to be on top of your game. Come on.” He stands up offering his hand. I eye it for a moment before accepting it. He pulls me up to my feet.

He guides me through the corridors of the hospitality until we reach his driver’s room. He opens the door and I’m a bit surprised at how neat it looks. I half expected it to be a mess of clothes.

“Here, you can sleep on the couch, it isn’t much but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you.” I smile, sitting on the couch and taking off my shoes.

I get into a comfortable position, curling up on the couch and instantly closing my eyes. I feel something soft covering me and I open my eyes a bit confused.

“I don’t have a blanket.” Lando says, his cheeks turning red. “So I uh… covered you with my jacket.”

I feel my chest grow warm at his sweet gesture. I smile at him.

“Thank you, Lando.”

He smiles back at me, and at that moment, I think is when I started to have a crush on him.

Barcelona, Spain, 2019

I should have expected Spain to be a bit insane considering the fact that I work with a Spanish driver. The minute I stepped out of the car with Carlos following behind me, the fans started to scream and throw themselves at us.

I’m not unfamiliar with the whole passionate fans wanting pictures and autographs, but since I used be a toddler or a child, they at least head the decency to not push and pull at my dad because I was clinging to him.

But now I am an adult, and they don’t care about those things anymore and I had never been mobbed by fans before without having my dad or my uncles by my side.

The fans screamed at Carlos who was doing his best to attend each and every single one of them. And things only got worse when Lando arrived and they suddenly wanted pictures of the best new funny duo of the grid.

They pulled at me, shoving pictures on my face to get them to sign since I worked with them, and they yelled questions about what it was like to work with the both young drivers.

I tried to step away, get away from them fans, but I was stuck in between the mass of people and to make matters worse they managed to separate me from Carlos and Lando who were looking at me concerned over the chaos.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck is going on?” A harsh loud voice cut through the yell of fans “Stop pulling at her! Get your hands off of her!”

Suddenly a tall blonde man dressed in red was pushing the fans away from me, shielding me with his body as he yelled.

I cling to the back of Sebastian's Ferrari shirt, telling like a little girl again, but completely relieved that he was there with me with his familiar force of comfort he always knew how to bring me.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, gluing me to his side and I knew if I wasn’t 20 years old anymore he would have picked me up and carried me like a toddler out of this mess. He glared at everyone who tried to get in our way and stirred me inside the paddock.

“Prinzessi.” Sebastian called me the same nickname from when he first met me as a newborn “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head “No, I’m… I’m fine.” I say, but my voice is shaky and he can tell that I’m holding back tears.

He places his hands on my shoulders, peering down at me with intense concerned eyes as he scans my body to look for any injury.

“What the hell is wrong with you both?” Sebastian yells the minute Lando and Carlos finally catch up to us “They were eating her alive!”

They look sheepish and terrified of being scolded by the German who looks lived with anger.

“She’s your PR assistant, but you’re supposed to keep your fans in check to keep her safe!” Sebastian continues with the harsh tone “She could have gotten hurt! They were touching her and shoving her! That was so reckless from the both of you!”

They nod, stiffly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vettel.” Lando says, eyes wide “I promise this will never happen again. I’ll- I’ll make sure she is safe at all times from now own. I- I swear!”

Sebastian doesn’t correct him on the Mr. Vettel name calling, he nods still with a glare.

“Come on, prinzessin.” He says in a much more soft tone, his arm resting against my shoulder in a protective parental manner “Let’s get you to Ferrari, uh? I will get you one of those chocolate pastries you love so much.”

With one final glare Sebastian takes me away from them. The McLaren drivers share a confused look as they watch me walk away.

Monte Carlo, Monaco, 2019

The Monaco Grand Prix is always a big event. Lots of celebrities and former drivers gather in the city to watch the historical race, and that’s how I find myself sitting at the McLaren hospitality chatting away with uncle Nico while my dad gets us drinks.

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch the race from Mercedes, uncle Nico?” I ask him, making my best innocent look that always got me away with things when I was younger and probably until this day when it comes to the drivers who watch me grow up.

“No, of course not.” Nico Rosberg shakes his head, a found and almost proud smile on his face “This is the first race I am watching this season in person and you’re officially a Formula 1 employee, I’m staying all weekend here with you at McLaren.”

I want to argue with him that I’m not technically a F1 employee as I’m just an intern, but he gives me a pointed look and I only nod.

“So, what is this that I hear about you and a rookie driver?”

I widen my eyes as I look at him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Nico laughs at me “Seb has told me that you’ve become inseparable from the rookie McLaren driver, Norris.”

I huff, I should have known uncle Sebastian would open his mouth and gossip about me to his retired friends.

As if being summoned, Lando walked into the McLaren hospitality, wearing his cap backwards and smiling big as always. Carlos is beside him as usual and they both make their way over once they spot me.

“Hola, pequenita.” Carlos greets me, ruffling my hair affectionately before spotting Nico sitting across for me and getting a bit embarrassed.

Lando stands beside me ready to make a joke when he notices Carlos’ expression and widening his eyes when he sees Nico as well.

“Hello, Nico.” Carlos greets him

“Carlos, always good to see you.” He smiles before turning to Lando “And you must be one of the 2019 rookies, Lando?”

Lando nods quickly “Yeah, yeah. That’s me, nice to meet you Mr. Rosberg.”

Nico’s smile widens as Lando addresses him as Mr. Rosberg, feeling pleased with himself. I shot him a warning glare.

“Please, join us.” He says, motioning for the boys to the empty seats.

Lando sits beside me as Carlos sits across from me, leaving one empty space at the head of the table.

Nico makes light conversation, asking mostly questions about Formula 1, but I could see the glint in his eyes every time he asked Lando something, who seemed incredibly shy at receiving attention from a World Champion.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get the drinks, I ran into some old friends.” My dad says walking to the table with a glass of my favorite refreshing drink to have in Monaco “There you go, sweetheart.”

I smile, accepting the drink “Thank you, dad.”

Lando and Carlos both choke on their saliva at the same time when they hear me call Jensen Button my dad.

“Ah, just the men I wanted to meet!” He exclaims “Carlos, Lando, you both have been doing such good jobs here at McLaren. My daughter talks a lot about you.”

I watch as they become flustered over the news. My dad smiles, taking a sit at the head of the table.

“I heard you both let her get swamped by a mob of fans?” He asks with a smile, but I can see the hard look in his eyes.

“Dad!” I scold him “Uncle Seb already gave them a hard time!”

My father chuckles, soon being followed by Nico. Carlos and Lando’s eyes are wide and they look terrified.

“I know, I know.” My dad lifts his hands in surrender “I’m just messing with them. But I still have eyes and ears on the paddock so…”

“Dad!” I scold him once more.

He laughs again and finally switch subjects, talking about the new grid line up of this year and asking questions to Lando and Carlos who seem to become a bit more comfortable at the presence of Jenson Button and Nico Rosberg.

Hockenheim, Germany, 2019

Lando was in a bad mood, I could tell it from far away. He was moving frantically around the garage and he had a scowl on his face.

The past five races have been of ups and downs from him, he had two DNF, one race out of top ten because he got p11 and two races where he scored points. But he was pissed off still from his p11 on his home race in England.

It also didn’t help that the reporter he got placed with decided to improvise some questions that wasn’t pre approved and it made Lando uncomfortable with the way he was pressing on the matter of him doing a bad job at his home race.

And then, to make matters worse, he DNFed again today.

“Lando.” I say his name in a soft tone

He whips his head quickly towards me, a deep frown on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I say, I place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it in reassurance “It’s raining terribly today, everyone is spinning.”

He huffs annoyed.

“I should be good at racing in the rain.” He complains.

“How many times have you raced in this circuit?” I ask him, calmly.

“Well- this was the first time, but…”

I cut him off “And how many times have you raced in the rain in a Formula 1 car?”

Lando blinks at me as he answers “This was also the first time.”

I nod, my thumb rubbing sof circles on his forearm.

“And how do you expect to be good at something you’re doing for the first time?”

He looks away from me, and I can tell he is staring to consider my words.

“Valtteri has been doing this for a long time and he also crashed.” I tell him.

That get him to look at me again, his frown turning into something a bit more hopeful.

“Bottas didn’t finish the race?”

I shake my head “No, he didn’t. Even the experienced ones are having a hard time out there. This is only your first race in the rain, Lando.”

He sighs, and slowly he nods his head. He shifts his arm, making my hand slide down and towards his. His hand is much bigger than mine and it’s warm despite the cold weather from the rain. He squeezes my hand.

“Thank you. I just-…”

I smile at him, squeezing his hand back.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

And for the first time since he DNFed, I saw Lando’s dimples as he smiled at me.

Marina Bay, Singapore, 2019

Singapore has always been a hard circuit. The warmth and humidity did no good for the drivers to be racing for long periods of time. Still, it’s one of my favorite circuits because I find it beautiful to watch the race at night.

I’m watching from the McLaren garage, this time considering the hot weather conditions, they allowed the PR team to wear lighter clothes, so I’m in a simple dress, standing close to the AC and sipping water every few minutes.

I wince when I watch Carlos spin and crash into the barrier. The garage grows quiet for a minute.

“He’s ok!” His race engineer announces and we all finally breath normally again

A few moments later Carlos enters the garage with an annoyed look on his face. He places his helmet on one of the shelves and go to speak to his team.

I keep my eyes trained on the screen to watch Lando’s progress while I look for the schedule of reporters who want a world with Carlos after his DNF.

I accept the request of two journalists and move over to where Carlos is.

“Hey… you ready for some interviews?” I ask, eyeing him

He clenched his jaw before nodding and following me out of the garage and onto the media pan.

I give out instructions to him on the way there and step back when he positions himself to give the interviews. I watch intensely, jotting out necessary information on my iPad and ready to intervene at any given moment, but despite the bad situation, the interviews go smoothly and soon enough we’re back at the garage.

Carlos excuses himself to go shower and change clothes, clearly not in the mood for conversation.

In a blur of moments I watch as uncle Seb wins the Singapore Grand Prix, a proud smile on my face. Lando finishes in p7 which is great since he’s on the pointing zone.

“Congratulations, Lando. You did a really good job today!” I tell him

His smile grows bigger “Thank you, thank you!”

Even though he’s happy, I can notice the tiredness ok his face. He’s completely drenched in swest and I can see the slightly tremor of his hands, probably about to begin an hypoglycemic episode without even realizing.

“Hey, why don’t you take a sit?” I say, gently grabbing both his arms and walking him to a chair. I move quickly as I push my water bottle into his hands and search for a snack “Here.”

Lando looks at me a bit confused, but obliged.

“Oh.. wow.” He chuckles “How did you even know how to do this? I didn’t even realize I was feeling weak.”

I smile, my hand twitches at my side as I feel the want to run my fingers over his curls.

“I’ve been on the watching side of this sport since I learned how to walk. I learned a thing or two.”

He nods, still munching on the chocolate protein bar I gave him.

“Yeah… I uh sometimes forget you’re the Jenson Button’s daughter.”

“I’m glad you do.”

Lando tilts his head to the side, confused, but doesn’t say anything and I’m grateful for that.

Austin, United States, 2019

The season is coming to an end, thankfully. All the traveling, working and university studying at the same time has been taking a toll on me. It is too much, and I could see it every time I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror. The circles staring back at me.

My body was sore, my throat scratchy and my head hurt. I knew the flu was making it’s way to dominate my body.

Still, I put on makeup to cover up my sickness face and went to the paddock for media day.

“Buenos dias!” Carlos greeted me once I entered the van and sat across from him and beside Lando who was bouncing with energy on the seat

“Good morning.” I say, cringing a little at the way my voice sounded

Lando frowned, pushing his face close to mine to examine me.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a low voice, his brows furrowing

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Still, he kept analyzing me. From the corner of my eyes I could see Carlos lips turn upwards in a smile he hid behind his phone as he scrolled through it.

Lando said my name slowly, softly.

“You look sick.”

I pout slightly as I say “Geez, thank you for saying I look terrible.”

He huffs, clearly not finding my attempt to brush it off as funny as I did. He lifted his hand up before placing it on my forehead.

“You’re hot.”

“Oh, so now I’m…”

“Stop trying to deflect it.” Lando cuts me off before I can make another joke. “You’re sick. Why didn’t you say anything? You should be in bed resting.”

I shake my head, getting away from his hand.

“I’m not sick. I’m great. I’m just jet lagged and a bit tired, nothing some coffee won’t fix.”

Lando frowns and it takes me by surprise to see the irritated look on his face directed at me. Sure, I’ve seen him mad before when the race doesn’t go the way expected or when the media gets too much, but never aimed at me.

“I’ve seen you jet lagged and tired before and this is not it.”

I say his name in a sigh and he says my name in a warning. We stared at each other for what feels like forever, before Carlos giggles at us and says we arrived at the paddock.

The minute I get out of the van I start to quickly walk inside the paddock, scanning my pass, knowing the guys will stop to talk to the fans and I will be free of Lando’s questioning. I start to make my way to the McLaren hospitality when I feel a large hand land on my shoulder.

I flinch in surprise, whipping my head around and finding Lando beside me, still frowning.

“Lando.” I try to sound stern as I say his name, but it gets mixed up with a cough I try to hold in.

That only makes his frown deepen. He starts to drag me somewhere.

“You’re going to the medic center now.” He says, stern.

I complain and try to stand still, but he is taller, bigger and much stronger than me so he basically drags me.

I can see some people turning around to look at us, but I keep telling him to let go.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sebastian shows up in front of us, hands on his waist and I know that behind his sunglasses he is glaring at Lando. “What is going on here?”

“She’s sick and she’s being stubborn about it.” Lando says, still holding onto my shoulder “So I’m taking her to the medic center.”

Sebastian frowns, placing his sunglasses on top of his head as he takes a step closer to me.

“I’m not sick.” I say “Lando is being dramatic. Tell him to leave me alone.”

“She is sick! She even has a fever!”

Sebastian looks between the two of us, but he knows me long enough to know I am lying. He places a hand on my forehead.

“Norris ir right, you do have a fever, prinzessin.”

“No I don’t.” I say stubbornly.

He arches an eyebrow, as if challenging me.

“Do you want me to carry you to the medic center like you’re still a tiny baby?” He asks and I shake my head quickly, knowing very well he isn’t bluffing “Then let Norris take you and follow everything the medics say.”

“But Sebby!” I whine.

“Prinzessin.” He gives me an unimpressed look “Go to the medic center with Norris, now. And I’m not asking, I am telling you to go.”

I huff with a pout, knowing I won’t win this argument so I let Lando take me to the medic center while Sebastian watches from the distant as the McLaren rookie fusses over me.

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2019

The paddock was busier than ever, so many people with so many big smiles and shouts of happiness.

It’s the last race of the season and it leaves a bittersweet feeling on my chest. On one hand I am extremely happy that the season is finally over and I will be able to go back to a somewhat normal routine, going to college everyday, normal sleep schedules, as normal as an university student sleep schedule can go, and staying at home for a bit.

But at the same time, I am upset about being away from Formula 1 for the time being. I got used to seeing Lando and Carlos everyday, they are already a big important part of my life. I like the thrill of being in a different place every other week, of learning new things and watching the races.

I’m sitting at the VIP lounge section at the rooftop, overlooking the paddock bustling with activities. I’m sipping an Italian soda while I soak in the last moments of the 2019 season.

I don’t say anything as Lando slips quietly on the seat beside me. He has dark sunglasses perched on the top of his nose and he’s wearing a black McLaren shirt. His thigh brushes my slightly to gather my attention.

I shift in my seat to look at him and he already has that dimple smile on his face.

“It’s been a long year, huh?” He says quietly

I nod, smiling softly at him.

“It has been… feels like it was yesterday that I meet you and Carlos on my first day at the paddock.”

He hums, reaching out for my glass of Italian soda and taking a sip without even asking for it. I don’t mind, it’s normal between us by now.

“How was your first year as a Formula 1 employee?” He asks

“Better than I expected to be honest.” I tell him, playing with the hem of my dress “I didn’t get bad words from people for being Jenson Button’s daughter.”

Lando nods, understanding what I’m hinting at.

“You’ve been doing a good job, I think you’ve proved yourself here.”

“No, I haven’t yet.” I tell him. “But what about you? How was your first year as a Formula 1 driver?”

His smile widens “It was insane. Sometimes still feels like I’m dreaming. I know the results I’ve been getting aren’t ideal yet, but being here… it’s great.” I can tell he’s happy by the way his eyes lit up “I got so luck to have a good teammate.”

I nod, he sure indeed found a friend in Carlos.

“And even luckier to have the most beautiful and incredible PR intern.”

My cheeks grow hot the minute my brain register and processes his words. I lift my eyes to look at him, his cheeks are also tinted pink and he was a sweet smile on his face.

We stare at each other for a moment, only gazing in each others eyes. I reach for his hand and he squeezes mine in his big one.

“Will you be here with me next year?” Lando asks in a soft tone.

“Yes.” I breath out “I’ll be here with you next year.”

[back2bluesidex]

Girl Crush - MYG

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here.

Read the follow-up drabble, Afterglow.

Pairing: Husband!Yoongi X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, arrange marriage au

Wordcount: 1.5k+

Summary: It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

Based on Girl Crush by Harry Styles (Cover).

Warnings: unhappy marriage, unrequited love, yoongi loves someone else. this is very painful.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: I had this idea sitting on my head for a long time now. Thanks to @jimintaemin for requesting this and giving me a chance of writing this. This is very angsty just as you wanted. Hope you like this. Hit me back with your feedback!:)

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

“I assume you already know that this is a marriage of convenience, a negotiation between two companies. And I hope you will not expect anything from me. As long as it’s about responsibilities, I am okay with those. But don’t expect anything more.” Min Yoongi had said, cold and stoic, as if not conversing but stating some flat facts related to stock prices. 

He was not wrong. Whatever he had said are indeed facts and there was nothing you didn’t already know.

So you stood there, standing as still as a porcelain doll, ready to fall and break at any given moment. 

“And just so you know… I have someone.” he finished, diverting his eyes from you even though he never really looked at you properly. 

Although you were glad that he didn’t. You were more than happy that he didn’t witness tears rolling down your face, gathering below your chin and dropping down at the immaculate fabric of your wedding gown. 

Do tears leave stains? You hoped that was not the case. 

It’s not that you pictured a fairytale married life for you. You know arranged marriages come with more cons than pros. You knew you would have to pay the price.. but at the same time you had no choice. You were even more reluctant to do anything because it was him. 

It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at. 

It was foolish for you to expect a man of his stature would not have someone to love, to be loved by. And it was even more foolish for you to think, you can be his wife, a real one.. and lead a life with him. 

However, now you know it’s impossible. And the realization made you feel helpless, caged and broken. 

“I won’t expect anything, I promise, but in return… Can we at least be friends? It will make things easy for both of us.” you’d uttered upon managing your voice and emotions. 

Only then he looked at you, like really looking at you with a small smile playing on his lips, he’d said “sure.”  

That was the moment you realized you had a girl crush. And it was the woman who managed to make Yoongi, your husband, fall in love. 

“I got it real bad.. Want everything she has That smile and that midnight laugh.. She's giving you now.” 

You thought, you would be angry. You thought every possible darkness would cover your senses, when you’d meet her for the first time. 

But wrong… you were. 

You had so many prejudices about this woman and you hated her with every drop of blood your body owns but all of it evaporated in thin air when she smiled at you standing right at your and yoongi’s door. 

She is beautiful, she is kind, she is loveable… and maybe everything else you can’t ever be. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I never thought I was going to see Yoongi ever again.” she’d murmured as she stood close to you in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you three. 

You had stared into her eyes then.. Trying to find mockery and a hint of brazen victory telling you, “you’re only his paper wife. I own his heart.” 

But again.. Again you were disappointed. 

In her eyes, there was no mockery, no pretense, no dishonesty.. Rather only understanding and kindness. Only then you understood why Yoongi loves her so much. 

Why will it never be you and always be her.  

That night as you stood at the balcony, enjoying the stinging sensation cold wind brought to you, you heard them laughing.

It was the first time you heard Min Yoongi laughing. Even though faint and muffled, you could still sense his happiness through the sound. 

Min Yoongi was finally happy... for the first time since the wedding ceremony... and you were not the reason. 

All of a sudden, you were jealous again, even though you were not sure if you had the right or not. 

“I want to taste her lips… Yeah, 'cause they taste like you I want to drown myself… In a bottle of her perfume”

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you invited her to your and Yoongi’s honeymoon. 

Both of your and his parents have been pestering you to set out for the trip. You have been using excessive workload as the excuse and you assumed Yoongi to do the same.

But a week ago, everything went south when Yoongi had a fight with his father. As a result, flights were booked, accommodations were chosen and you two were notified only two days prior. 

That night, Yoongi didn’t come back home. And when he did, he didn’t speak a single word to you. 

The visible frown on his forehead and the cold aura that oozed from him, made you want to make him smile, made you invite his lover to the trip secretly.  

She was already there when you two reached and you will never forget Yoongi’s reaction when he realized what was happening. 

The grumpy cold Yoongi broke into gummy smiles and giggles as soon as he saw her. They kissed right in front of your eyes and you silently cried. 

Oh how you wish, you could taste him too. How you wish, he would hold you like that, caress you like that. 

How you wish… he would love you like that. 

“I want her long blond hair… I want her magic touch Yeah, 'cause maybe then… You'd want me just as much”

 “Babe, could you please turn your head a little? Yes.. yes just like that.” 

You watched the man as he clicked photos after photos of the woman he loves, seemingly trying to document her beauty for a long long time.  

You watched her as her long blond hair flowed like a waterfall down her shoulder, wind ruffling it gently making her look even more beautiful. 

“Let’s take a selfie, will you?” she shouted at him and he chuckled. 

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, he said, “you smell so nice.”

You wondered, what she smelled like, what perfume did she use to make Yoongi look this satisfied. You even considered asking her, purchasing a bottle and drowning yourself in one of those if that means Yoongi would love to smell you too, he would curl himself around you late at night. If that means Yoongi would want you, just as much. 

“I don't get no sleep… I don't get no peace Thinking about her.. Under your bed sheets”

“Where are you going?” confusion dripped through Yoongi’s voice. You stopped at your tracks and turned to face him. 

“I will sleep in the other room. You two should have your space. I will send her in as soon as I am there.” you smiled at him, even though your heart bleed invisibly inside your chest at the thought of how they would spend the night together. 

“No, Y/N. We will adjust. You sleep here in the suite.” Yoongi commented, as firm as a verdict, as he stepped towards where you stood. 

“But Yoongi, I am alone, what would I do with all this space?” you sighed. You definitely didn’t want to be left alone at the honeymoon suite, decorated for the newlyweds. You hate it. Totally loathe the decorations. Those giant red hearts had been mocking you since the moment you stepped there. You might tear those to pieces if you were left there alone, raising endless questions regarding such an act. 

“You have done enough. You have done much more than you needed to and I feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. So, please… stay here. Enjoy the stay. We will manage.” giving you one of his tight lipped smiles, Yoongi slipped out of the room to spend the night with his lover. 

That night when you slid inside the covers, which smelled awfully like him because he took a nap earlier in the evening, you started breaking down. 

Your hopes, your dreams, and your heart all started crumbling right before your eyes. You held the duvet tightly around yourself and pretended it was yoongi wrapped around you, it was Yoongi, whispering sweet things in your ear, it was Yoongi, telling you that he loved you. 

Somewhere you knew, Yoongi is actually doing all these things in real-time but.. Not to you.. Not for you. 

You closed your eyes, tears streamed down your cheeks and wetted the pillow. You imagined your life as her… as your girl crush… as the woman your husband, Min Yoongi, loves. 

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

[pricklyjim]

Sorry to ask. I was just curious about Arcee and Elita lore?

Origins:

Elita was a middle-caste Cybertronian, working as a mining supervisor. slightly stern, yet empathetic, and fiercely protective of her workers, bending rules to prioritize their safety while maintaining high efficiency to keep the government off her ass.

Arcee, is from the upper caste, serving as a diplomat and secretary to aid the Primes, managing peace talks, social events, and Cybertronian national affairs. She’s calm, graceful, and loyal to her duties but unfortunately very unaware of the struggles of lower-caste workers.

their meeting:

their meeting starts when Sentinel prime tasks Arcee to visit the mines to gather feedback, brushing it off as too unimportant to attend to himself.

she accepts, it’s not like she can say no, so she just gets on with it and heads down there to the most well-known mine.

there, In the mines, she’s nearly crushed by a crate of raw energon but is saved by Elita at the last second when she pushes her out the way.

Their first interaction is slightly awkward and tense: Elita questions Arcee’s presence there and her motives— saying she won’t make it long in the mines.

but Arcee insists on staying anyway, to complete her report properly, of course, much to Elita’s dismay.

now working together, Arcee, over time, grows fond of Elita’s courage and compassion for others, while Elita is drawn to Arcee’s genuine desire to understand the miners’ struggles, asking them questions and even helping out when she can.

after many late-night conversations and shared drives across Cybertron, their professional relationship deepens into a friendship—and eventually, love.

first comes chatting, then comes courting, then comes:

When the caste system inevitably collapses and the Primes fall, along with rodimus, the invisible social barriers keeping arcee and elita apart disappear. They confess their feelings under the sight of the shining ores in the mine and deepen their bond through a simple conjunx ceremony, alone, away from prying eyes.

siding with the Autobots:

Elita’s leadership and people organisational skills make her a valuable asset to Orion Pax’s cause as he officially forms the Autobots and Arcee’s diplomatic experience’s help navigate any future relations and peace talks with Megatron.

whilst the pair join the fight, Arcee also runs into Magnus!

Once reunited with Magnus, an old friend, Arcee finds ground to bond more closely in their shared work, even helping give advice and support to Magnus as he silently mourns Rodimus’s absence, trying to be a pillar of support to the mech who once looked out for her.

Through every challenge, Elita and Arcee’s love endure, and to them, as long as they’re besides one another, that makes them content, and helps them to fight for a future filled with peace and prosperity.

[note]

I wanted them together because although I love seeing optimus and elita together, SHE NEVERRR GETS A HAPPYYYYY ENDING, like DUDE- give her a break!!! 😭

Plus they’re cute :)

[foolinafable]

It's for the best .ೃ࿐

Keith Kogane x Fem!Reader Synopsis: locked in a cell, the white paladin remembers her happier times and hopes that she can make it back to a certain black paladin. Word count: 3.7K Tags: slight angst, flashbacks, mentions of torture but not graphic, set tentatively around season 4 Notes: Apparently, vld is having a resurgence so send in some requests!

You knew it was for the best. Sat cross-legged in the confines of your cell with a small smile on your lips, contented, knowing that you have done everything you could, that this wasn't in vain- rather it was what was supposed to happen. For the betterment of the entire universe, sometimes sacrifices need to be made. You remember telling Keith something similar during one of his many brooding moments. Now wishing that you could remember which conversation it was or maybe just that you had paid more attention to your time together, especially now you didn’t think you would ever see the boy with the mullet again. 

You were sat next to Hunk, the pair of you looking up giddily at Takashi Shirogane, the famed astro explorer. He was speaking to the class about his recent accomplishment as he had just broken the record for the fastest orbital velocity. Everyone had tried the flight simulator and despite not being able to get passed level 3- like the rest of the class you were still excited by the prospect of meeting the youngest pilot to ever lead a mission in space. Even more happy that you had done better than James Griffin in the simulator- as he never stopped going on about his good grades and how much better he is. So to wipe that smirk off his face made it all worth it. As you and Hunk were fangirling in the corner you heard Griffins whining causing your attention to go back to the simulator, where apparently one more person was having a go. The pair of you walked towards the commotion as the annoyed brunette sounded out “No way! Keith made it past level five?! Thing's got to be broken.” That was the first moment you saw him, well properly at least. The young boy with a mullet and a ‘disciplinary issue’ if you were to listen to what your teachers told you. He walked away from the training simulator with a grin on his face and you couldn’t help but smile too. Especially when he looked your way as he walked off. 

‘He doesn't even know you're gone’ you muse to yourself, and it’s true. The last you had heard from him was on the other side of a screen during a planning meeting with the Blade surrounded by your teammates, who similarly had yet to know the fate of the white paladin of Voltron. They would soon realise when you don't return through the wormhole and when they find your lion broken and alone. But then it will already be too late, as the galaran ship that held you prisoner was already galaxies away taking you towards inevitable doom. You think you're pathetic, as you are already giving up but what else can you do, your weapon is gone, lion missing,  and you are locked in a cell with only your body inside of it with nobody even knowing where you are- not even you. Worry roots deeply inside of yourself as you think of your friends, a lump in your throat growing at the thought of them discovering that you're gone- they have all lost enough already. You’re sure Lance would try to be enthusiastic, claiming that they found Shiro so they could find you. Still, even he would know the saddening truth that the galarans won’t make the same mistake twice as he tries to hide his tears from Pidge who would be clinging to Hunk, begging him to tell her it’s not true- she only just got her brother back and now she has lost her sister- blood related or not. You knew it would destroy the team if you couldn’t get back to them and what worries you is that you're struggling to see a way that you can.

It was nerve-wracking, waiting to find out who Iverson and the rest of the teachers decided to team you up with for the simulators. It was a big deal, as this was going to be your team for the rest of your time in the Garrison. Last year you couldn’t wait for this moment, but maybe that was because you were certain that the boy with the mullet would be by your side as you were as Shiro put it “the only person that can put up with him” but he left, dropped out without so much of a goodbye, and you could understand, the loss of Shiro, Matt and Sam was difficult for everyone but nobody took it worse than Keith and you suppose it made sense as Shiro was all the boy had. You shook the thoughts of him out of your mind when Iverson finally came into the room, twiddling the rings on your rings on your fingers as you stood near Hunk who looked ghostly pale and going on queasy as you both prayed that the older man would do you both a solid and put you two together. You listened as he called names into groups, feeling somewhat better when Griffin was put in a group that didn't include you. Then your name was called and you were told to stand next to a tall Cuban boy wearing blue, you smiled as you walked up to him and he smiled back seemingly just as nervous as you were, then a smaller boy with round glass and a green jumper joined the group, your eyes squinting when looking at him, almost as if you had seen him before but you couldn’t place where. But before you could question it Hunk's name fell out of Iverson’s lips, you looked up in alarm as you saw Hunk coming towards your group, shocked that your prayers had been answered. The fear that was eating away at you was dulled slightly as he came to stand next to you. Sure it wasn’t the team that you wanted but maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Being in space has always made your internal clock question how long has passed, but it seems to be worse when alone in this cell. You believe it has been a few days based on the number of trays of food delivered to your cell, the only interaction with another you’ve had this whole time. At least you think, as you find yourself waking up exhausted with pains and aches all over your body, but you have no memory of doing anything or even anyone coming into your cell in the first place. You thought you would've been face to face with Zarkon or his witch by now, but as time passes, you struggle to believe that would happen at all, which causes a pit to develop in your stomach as the unknown of your future begins to dawn on you.

You can still hear the conforming hum of your lion in the back of your head, trying to reassure you that all is well but as the days pass by you begin to believe it less and less simply repeating to yourself that it was for the best.

“Things could’ve been a lot worse” you theorised. Sat with Pidge in this trash heap with your lions completely shut down. At least you were together and there were (up to now) no enemies trying to kill you both. To be honest, you wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anyone else. After Pidge finally revealed to everyone that she was in fact a girl, something you had figured out back in your garrison days, not long after you had become a team and saw the photo of her and Matt taken prior to the Kerberos mission, but you only knew because he had shown it to you first, during one of his many tutoring sessions with you. You liked to think that while Shiro was Keith’s mentor, Matt was yours. A sentiment he very much enjoyed, so much that Pidge later told you that she had already known who you were when she met you. A fact that made your heart swell. Your friendship with Matt was one of the many reasons that Pidge thought of you like a sister and the main reason you looked after her so much- you wanted to look after her for him while he couldn’t and while this mindset got you into many arguments with Keith over putting her safety over your own you wouldn’t change a thing because you knew it was the right thing to do (Also Keith couldn’t really say anything as he constantly put himself in harms way for everyone on the team.) You couldn’t help but feel protective over her as she was the youngest out of your ragtag bunch and was annoyingly the only one you could baby as you were the second youngest of the group as Lance loved to remind you. While being here with Pidge definitely made you feel a little better, you couldn’t help but be relentlessly worried for the rest of the group, as they always found some way to get into trouble- especially Lance and Keith. It was like trouble sought them out, always getting into some sort of issue whether it be with aliens or with each other. So you couldn’t help but double over in laughter when Pidge using her junk-made paladins started an argument between the fake Lance and Keith.  Eventually, you both decided that you had waited around for help long enough and decided to try and find your own way back to the castle. Pidge made you gather together materials to make a home beacon signal in hopes that it could reach the castles of lions to allow them to find you two. No surprise to you Pidge’s brilliance worked its magic as the castle of lions appeared in the sky from a wormhole, the pair of you hugged each other happy knowing that you weren’t going to grow old on a trash pile as you had both dramatically claimed. You two were more than ready to return to the fight against Zarkon to save the universe and hopefully, find Pidge’s family.      

You dream of him, black hair, violet eyes and his grumpy temperament clouding your thoughts as you try to rest. But, when you wake cold and alone in that dark cell you are reminded of the present and how you need to try and stop yourself from dreaming of the past.

Thought it was “just goodbye for now” you bitterly mumbled as you awoke from another dream of him. This time the memory sticks with you- of the goodbye you shared as he left to find himself with the blades, those were the words he uttered to you as you blanketed him in your embrace. That it was temporary, that you two would come back together again and you remember how you smiled through your sadness nodding at his words, believing him truthfully- as you always did. But you are now struggling to believe it anymore and you don't know if you are more mad at him for uttering those words or yourself for trusting them to be true. Up to now, all attempts to contact your lion have failed miserably but you can still hear your lion if you concentrate enough- as though you two are connected to the same string and you pray that it never snaps, clinging onto it like a lifeline.

You were buzzing, tapping your hands against your legs as you bounced on the balls of your feet, waiting for Pidges Lion in the cockpit while the rest of the team looked at you, amused. Lance, clearly feeding off your joyous attitude, ruffled the hair on your head, messing it up slightly. You turned to the boy, pouting as he withdrew his hands, using your own to try to flatten whatever mess he had made as he giggled at your reaction. A smile quickly returned to your face when Pidge stepped out of her lion with a familiar boy following behind her, you ran towards the pair, wrapping your arms around Matt’s shoulders in welcome, your smile only increasing when he hugged back with just as much gusto, you could hear Lance muttering something about someone being jealous if they were here to Hunk and Shiro but you weren’t paying close enough attention to anything he said, instead, you were very happy that the man who you would call a brother was really okay and just like Shiro had survived the Kerberos mission. When the family reunion had ended Pidge introduced Matt to the rest of the group, except for Keith as he was yet again away on some mission with the Blades. You watched amused as Matt’s eyes landed on Allura and something similar to what you see in a romcom played out as he screamed “You are so beautiful!” you struggled to keep the giggles to yourself as you saw Coran turn red in anger, clearly seeing this as an inappropriate way to talk to the princess and finding humour in Lance’s clear jealousy as Hunk made the boy walk away from the group. You decided to do something similar telling Pidge to give Matt a tour of the castle ship as you walked away with Coran and Allura, pulling both the alteans away with your hands.

Calming down an angry altean was albeit harder than you expected, especially when Allura was of no help at all as she was just laughing at how worked up the older man had become, but you understood it was because he felt so protective over her especially since there was no Alfor to help him and she was like Coran’s little girl so nobody would ever be good enough, you whispered just as much to him as Allura was talking to her mice and that seemed to make him less annoyed, knowing that somebody else understood him. It wasn’t until later when gossiping with Allura about your lives before all this, that she mentioned that it wasn’t just Matt’s interaction with her that annoyed Coran but also his interaction with you, claiming that he always got annoyed when others in his eyes tried to “flirt” with you, her or Pidge. However, she quickly noted that he never got annoyed or got Lance and Hunk to intimidate Keith like he did anyone else when it comes to you a comment made your cheeks burn.   

You startle awake to the sound of your cell door being opened, eyes darting towards the light, confused when the door continues to open, eyes squinting from the light now surrounding you for the first time in weeks as you try to identify the body in front of you when a voice gasped out and a familiar voice spoke your name. All worry evaporated from your body as Matt Holt wrapped you in a hug and you knew for the first time in weeks that everything would be okay and that maybe Keith was right- it was just goodbye for now.

You now sat in the control room of the ship you had been captured in surrounded by freedom fighters. After hearing over hacked intercoms about it carrying ‘precious cargo’ for the emperor, they had infiltrated and taken control of the ship.

“And that was me was it?” you mused looking towards the Holt boy to which he cracked a smile sending you a simple nod in response. You had changed into your white and silver spacesuit and your bayard had been retrieved for you. Now more than ready to return home to the castle of lions, to the paladins and to him. 

The first thing you saw, unsurprisingly, as the ship came out of the wormhole was your lion, growling in happiness, bounding towards her paladin only stopping when she was at the front of the ship, eyes locked onto you. You smiled gleefully at your lion feeling your connection stronger than ever, as though the string that attached the you two was unwavering, unbreakable. As soon as the ship reached the castle of lions you were enveloped in the paladin’s embrace, you would’ve fallen over when Pidge launched herself into your arms, legs wrapped around your middle like a koala,  if weren’t for Lance keeping you balanced by surrounding you in a hug from behind. Hunk joined the misfit group of cadets finishing off the group hug similar to how they used to in the Garrison when they, for once, completed the training simulator much to Iverson’s shock. Thoughts of worry could be seen swimming through Shiro’s eyes as you caught them when looking up, he nodded at you, the tension flinging off him like water down a hill as you turned back to your family holding Pidge and Lance by the backs of their heads, smiling and reassuring them that this was real, that you were real as tears dropped from the twos eyes. You could feel Hunk’s laboured breaths, clearly trying to stay strong for the group as the rest were blubbering messes. Walking away from your embrace and towards the freedom fighters with Shiro shaking hands and thanking them for getting you back to them as the trio dropped towards the floor, holding onto each other like it was the last time. 

It was only later when you had changed into your everyday wear, speaking with Allura and Coran holding both of their hands, stroking them gently that the paladins noticed the new scars decorating your arms and some scorch marks adjourned your neck along with bruising that you wouldn’t comment on. Or rather that you couldn’t as you claimed to not remember anything except for the dark room you were kept in and then Matt saving you. Another change was your hair, which had a white streak in it, you simply chuckled at the development turning to Shiro claiming "We match now" causing everyone to laugh and they supposed it fit you well - “As she is the white paladin” Lance claimed.

It was only when Coran transferred your memories temporarily into a crystal that they all saw what you endured on the ship, you were beaten and tortured for answers, electrocuted, burned for sport and tested on by some druids. At that point, they stopped watching as Shiro was looking rather green, probably from remembering his own time with those vile creatures. But you mused that you were lucky as you still had all your limbs and according to Coran who looked at your scan results from the healing pod whatever they were trying on you didn’t work as you were the same as you were before, “except for a few scars and a new hair colour that is” He pondered twiddling his moustache. And he was right of course you didn’t feel any different, maybe a bit more anxious at night and a few more nightmares but who could blame you after being trapped in a dark room for weeks. Of course, the memory loss was slightly concerning but they all believed it to be a coping mechanism to keep you sane and you were glad that you could only properly remember the dark room, that it was all that really haunted you at night and that those things you saw on the screen projected from your mind didn’t and you hoped it stayed that way.

The entire universe that was apart of the coalition let out a sigh of relief when it was revealed by Allura on comms to the members of the alliance that the white paladin of Voltron had been found and returned mostly unharmed.  However, nobody’s relief could be felt greater than that of Keith Kogane who had been fighting with Kolivan for weeks when they received the information of your disappearance and probable capture, he remembers the way his legs nearly gave out from under him when during a meeting with Allura the altean claimed that Voltron couldn’t come to the rescue this time as they were missing a paladin- missing you. He Surprisingly didn’t even need to sneak out on a blade ship to try and find the castle of lions to see if it was true, rather Kolivan who was probably fed up with his moping simply turned to the boy and gave him ship and co-ordinates simply asking him to back in time for the next meeting. The older Galaran didn’t think he'd see the boy move so fast, mumbling annoyed about how much more work would get done if he did. 

You didn’t hear him on comms asking for Coran to allow him into the cockpit, too busy in the training deck with Shiro and Allura showing them that despite being out of action for a few weeks you were ready to get back out there because as you told them “the galra don’t wait for anyone” and that “this revolution wasn’t going to fight itself.” You didn’t even hear your teammates asking for you to come to the control room over comms, far too busy fighting the training dummies and your comms device left on the side. What you did notice was when you were lifted from behind, a pair of pale arms grabbing you by the waist causing a gasp to erupt from your throat, You spun around ready to attack until your eyes met his, and then your sword dropped to the floor as Keith held you in his arms, staring intensely at you as if you would disappear if he dared to look away for even a second. You quickly returned the embrace, arms circling his back as you threw your head onto his chest, almost unbelieving that he was there, his arms moved, crowding around your head pulling you impossibly closer to his body as he noticed the white strand of hair, his fingers pressed against it confused as he rested his nose atop your head, breathing you in, reminding himself that this was in fact, real and not just one of his sick dreams he has been having since finding out you were gone. 

Being held in his arms made everything real, and you thought that if you had to through everything all over again just to have this moment, in his arms, you would. It was all be for the best if you ended up in his arms at the end of it all.

[dollypopup]

even more things I love about Colin Bridgerton

-his taste in waistcoats is genuinely A++

-he cares so much about the women around him. brought his mum an expensive, sentimental gift. supported Eloise's pursuits to learn about feminism. gave Fran sheet music to show he cares and listens to her passions, compliments Penelope and refuses to let her say bad things about herself

-even when he's mad he's never disparaging. the absolute worst thing he's ever called a woman in the entirety of the show was 'cruel'. he called his older brother an ass in defense of a woman, and that might be the meanest thing he's said to anyone in the show

-his swoopy curls

-how much he values and respects consent and honesty. He just wants to be his whole self with Penelope and is so incredibly vulnerable with her

-THAT HE APOLOGIZES. I was watching a comedy special and they dropped the line 'Do you know how rare it is for a powerful man to apologize when someone's not threatening to take something away from him if he doesn't?' My god, how refreshing is it that we have a man who apologizes wholeheartedly and earnestly so many times? to his mother, to his friends, to his sisters, to his ex, to his wife, and he does it with his WHOLE CHEST. I need Colin Bridgerton to run tedtalks on how to properly apologize, it is sexy as FUCK

-he feels things so deeply because he's so emotionally sensitive, and didn't want to be intimate with Penelope in anger because for him, intimacy with her is special and a positive thing and he didn't want to colour that with negative emotion

-he cries when he's upset, he's a sad crier, and he's an *angry* crier. Like how is anyone ever meant to win a fight against him? The man just has to blink his wet soppy seal eyes at me and I'm a goner

-he can't stay mad for long. he's too empathetic

-he can be awkward and silly

-his silly puns (we shall gallop along, i oiled my way right in)

-he tries to see things from other people's perspectives. He came to Cressida trying to understand and relate to her, he reads Penelope's letters and tries to understand her choices and merge her and LW in his mind

-HE ASKED FOR ELOISE'S BLESSING!!!!

-for the most part, Colin doesn't ask for emotional labour from the people around him. he tries to cope with his concerns on his own. he is not afraid to do that work on himself first

-he pushes back against the male machismo of his peers. he's not just respectful to the women in his immediate circle, but also the women who are out of it. he's nice to the debutants but maintains his distance so as not to lead them on, he defends Marina even though she broke his heart, he's just a good dude

-he holds everything. . .so gently? cups, quills, his wife

-he's a total sweetheart, how can you not love him???

[autumn-sweet-fae]

Jayvik + CaitVi Arranged Marriage Royalty au concept

But, Viktor isn’t the one Jayce is engaged to.

Piltover is ruled over by a council of family houses

While Zaun has One royal family that looks out for their people and keeps the Barons in line.

The council proposed arranged marriage, declaring it a wonderful way to reforge their once severed bond, as equals. And yet, the offer is for Jayce Talis, the 24 year old head of the lesser house Talis, to marry Violet, the newly 18 year old eldest princess and heir to the thrown of Zaun.

After the proposal King Vander has to talk his husband King Silco down from declaring war for the obvious fucking slight.

To offer such a minor house as the groom-to-be to their daughter and heir, as if the kingdom of Zaun is little more than a vassal state for them to exploit yet again. They did not fight and sacrifice so much for their sovereignty to be given such disrespect.

But there are trade relations to remember, and livelyhoods of their people to protect, so they begrudgingly accept the proposal after some serious haggling.

They demand for Jayce Talis to be who travels out to Zaun, instead of the suggested insulting idea of Violet going to Piltover, and for there to be an official courting period where princess Vi holds the right to cut off the engagement at the months end if she so chooses.

The council agrees and promptly ship Jayce Talis off to Zaun by the days end.

The expediency of his quick arrival does raises a few eyebrows as well as suspicion,

As it should… because had Zaun not agreed to the proposal, Jayce Talis would have instead been exiled for his crimes of attempting to create magic.

His trial had been a secret, as all house related trials are. His mothers pleas for mercy to not have her boy banished to some far off continent had been what had given the counselors the idea to use him instead as their political pawn.

But, if he fails to secure this engagement by the months end, then both he and his mother will be stripped of their house statues and banished.

So Jayce, force to surrender his life’s work in hextech (save for a single notebook he managed to hide), is escorted across the river to Zaun to woo a princess he has never met before. He doesn’t even get to say goodbye to his mother or his only friend Caitlyn.

Meanwhile, Viktor, respected inventor and tutor to the royal children of Zaun, (and the unofficial fifth adopted sibling if you asked those children) gets a front row seat to the explosive fallout from Vi learning about the engagement.

It’s obvious to everyone who knows her that she will absolutely be rejecting the proposal to this man the second she that can. But the fact that she has to court this Piltie pretty boy for entire month?? And he’s arriving TODAY???

How Viktor got roped into being the one to welcome Jayce to Zaun, he’ll never know.

Once Viktor believes his stalled long enough for Vi to agree to the charade, he brings the him to properly meet her. Jayce and Vi’s introduction and pre planned first date would be so fucking awkward and even hostile a first.

Jayce would be spiraling because he can tell how much she hates him and it’s becoming clearer and clearer the more he get to know her that there is NO CHANCE she’ll feel anything for him beyond friendship at best by the months end.

He’s set up for failure, there’s nothing he can do here to save his mother from His mistakes…

In a rush to excuse himself, his secreted notes gets left behind. Vi finds them and mistakes the scientific and mathematic notes to be something of Viktors so returns it to him.

Viktor is enthralled by the research he finds, surprised to discover this clearly belongs to Jayce (who signs every page of his notes). He simply must find Jayce to ask him about what this all means.

Viktor does not expect to find Jayce attempting to step over the railing of his fourth floor balcony.

Much like in Arcane, Viktor talks Jayce down off the ledge, inspiring him not give up and to continue his passion for science. Jayce opens up to Viktor, telling him the true reason he was chosen for the betrothal. How he was the expendable would-be exile with ideas too dangerous for Piltover.

“But not too dangerous for Zaun.” Viktor tells him

With those words the two dive into his research together, spending days in Viktors lab to recreate Jayce’s lost equipment before they’re finally able to test their theories.

Meanwhile, Vi cannot say she’s disappointed to be stood up for another of her and Jayce’s scheduled ‘dates’, but she is curious as to what the hell he’s up to. Not enough to investigate herself, no, she’s much happier running around Zaun with her siblings and checking in on her people.

Until she finds a young Piltie enforcer trying and failing to not draw attention to herself.

The enforcer, Caitlyn, informs Vi that she’s currently investigating a sensitive case regarding the relations between Piltover and Zaun and request Vi direct her to where she might fine a contact to the royal family house hold, if not Jayce Talis himself.

Vi, deeply amused by this topsider who clearly has no idea who she is, decides to spend the day giving her the run around for her own entertainment and to get more info from her.

Now, the truth of Jayce’s situation is incredibly dangerous for anyone to know. Offering a member of a lesser house for a princess heir’s hand in marriage is bad enough, but a criminal exile?? The uproar, the unrest, what were the counselors even thinking?? A sentiment that had been privately discussed between Caitlyn and the young counselor Mel Medarda. Mel had hoped talking with you younger Kiramman might give her insight on her mother’s ideals as well as Jayce’s character due to their friendship. Instead she inspired the young woman to take up the investigation personally.

Over the plot, Vi and Caitlyn grow closer to each other. The ladies both unaware of each others true statues as the Princess of Zaun and the High Counselors daughter of the Great House Kiramman.

Meanwhile Jayce and Viktor fully realize hextech and discuss the possibilities for it in Zaun, while also trying to figure out what to do about the engagement and how to save Jayce’s mother.

My plot ideas fizzle out here, however there is still the idea of Piltover still pushing for the engagement and throwing an ultra fancy ball to celebrate the desired couple’s official announcement once the courting period ends.

Everyone is invited, the councilors, heads of houses, the Zaun royalty and barons. All waiting in anticipation for Princess Vi’s arrival on the arm of her betrothed beau Jayce Talis.

Only for Vi to appear at her own engagement party with her betrothed beauty Caitlyn Kiramman on her arm. To Caitlyn’s mother’s horror and Vi’s fathers’ delight.

All this providing ample distraction for Jayce and Viktor to smuggle Ximena Talis out the back and into a carriage headed for Zaun. Viktor making sure to act as the perfect gentlemen to his future mother-in-law.

[startheskelaton]

Can you tell us more about Landlot(Sparkplug's ex boyfriend)please?

Oh gosh I'm gonna go on a huge tangent about this guy, mostly because I feel like it.

So Landlot is the newest version of a character that belonged to my own ex boyfriend. However I was the one to properly flesh out his character, the most my ex did was give him a color pallet and basic personality.

For context, One Spark first started as a fanfiction called "End of the rode" made by my ex. It was a post apocalyptic transformers au where the Optimus and Megatron are dead, the autobots are trying to make another arc to get to Cybertron and the decepticons are now led by Starscream. The story only really got a proper threw line when I suggested adding a character I had thought up, Sal Witwicky, the orphaned daughter of Spike Witwicky. Sal's deal was that she resented transformers because they not only destroyed her world, but let her family die, now she's one of few surviving humans. She gets found by Hound and reluctantly agrees to go back with him to the autoboot base.

At one point, Sal was supposed to be horribly injured by Ravage (who was only there because I really liked Soundwave, and his addition helped fill in plot gaps), to the point she was about to die. However they put her in a experimental protoform body... she would now be known... as Sparkplug. (I also came up with this plotline)

Why am I going on about this? Well because it's important to why Land lot exists on my current story. Landlot in the old fanfiction was a twin and was one of the first transformers built on earth, post Sparkplug getting put into robot body. He was supposed to be the leader of his group, as he was kind of a hotrod wanna be. He was also vary clearly a self projection character for my ex, similar to how I tend to project onto Sparkplug. I had offered the idea for Sparkplug and Landlot to be a couple, I can't remember if my ex was on board for the idea or not, however I do remember it being the only thing close to romance in the whole story.

So here we are a good maybe 6 years later. I had a lot of trauma from that relationship to the point I still dream about him, and the moment I realize it's him in my dream, I try and get away from him, not wanting to be with him at all. I won't say I was a saint during that relationship, but I do resent him for being able to find some sense of peace with intimacy. A lot of shit happened... So when I decided to remake the Transformers AU, I was mean to Landlot.

So who is Landlot in the One Spark AU?

Well he's a 1970's Plymoth GX, who emerged with his twin sister, Defender. They emerged pretty soon after the matrix awakened the energon on earth. They emerged vary close to the autobot base and were taken in and trained like any normal sparkling would be trained back on Cybertron. He fit in vary well as he remined a lot of the autobots of the older days, just a bunch of guys who turned into cars acting like heroes and messing around. He would become a poster boy for the transformers born on Earth.

How did he end up dating Sparkplug? Well I'll tell yah. Despite a lot of my art showing people dotting over Sparkplug, that wasn't the case for a majority of the autobots, yes a good amount of them formed bonds with her, but it was only because they were related to prime. Bot's like Ironhide, sideswipe, Blur, Proceptor and a good amount of other autobot's being vary against Megatron and Soundwave being allowed to join, and some are still convinced that Sparkplug is just part of a secret plan of Megatron to try and take over earth again.

So a lot of bots stayed away from her, and this bias would trickle down to the new earth born bots on the base. So Sparkplug never had any friends her age, the closet being Rumble and Frenzy who were basically teenagers when she was born. However Sparkplug did grow up to be rather pretty... well... as pretty as you can be while being a weird combination of two bots. Even though she tried to talk to the other young bots, her awkwardness and bluntness only made them stay away from her. However Landlot slip in, seeing an opportunity to have a cute/shy girlfriend. Sparkplug fell hard and fast for him because she had never had anyone interested in her romantically. He would try and mold Sparkplug into a sweet, dotting and helpless shy girl that would hang on his arm to make him look cooler. Because how badass would it be to show that he was able to get the notorious Megatron's daughter to be his side chick.

Eventually, Sparkplug got tired of getting the short end of the stick and decided to break up with him after seeing that he was trying to get with other bots behind her back, bot's that vary clearly didn't like her.

So that's where they stand as of now. Landlot is still a celebrated leader for his heroics and fun personality, while Sparkplug just only got passed to go on missions and was put on the most mind numbing job imaginable.

sorry that this is so long, I just really wanted to share all this info

[sergle]

When I talk about something bad I've experienced, Baked In to my experience as A Woman, I am not "making my little cousins feel like shit for being women", because I am talking in a space with, allegedly, adults. I am not bringing my problems to children in the first place. That said, I don't HAVE to make my baby cousin feel bad, because she's already experienced sexual harassment in her life, and she's only 8, and doesn't even understand what any of it means yet. And everyone in her family can try to instill confidence in her, and never talk about our bodies in a negative way. But she can still feel like she's too chubby, because she still goes to school, and talks to other kids and their parents, and still sees ads, and still watches tv. We can be positive, but we can't fix the root of the problem. And I don't HAVE to tell trans women that "pain is a rite of passage", because that's not a Rule being enforced (by me), because I've already sat and listened to my friend complain about constantly shaving as a Baseline necessity and how it hurts her skin and she has to put makeup onto fresh cuts on her face because going out without a full face of properly feminine makeup would make her life worse, and being anything less than thin and lithe makes her "less feminine", and ALL the things that can make her "more feminine" are behind a paywall. And I can try to make her feel better, and I can hear her experiencing the tenfold version of problems I relate to, but I can't fix the root cause of her problems by just telling her not to complain. Forcing happiness as a core personality trait for women is not the Girlboss Feminist move that you think it is, and no amount of gender euphoria in the world will make you immune to systemic oppression.

[fandomapocalypse]

Love and relationships in Hazbin Hotel

Episode 7 has something interesting and in the song that is called "Out for love" is sung by a character that is referring to a type of love different from a romantic or sexual one, Carmilla is openly talking about familial love. Vaggie of course relates this to her romantic feelings towards Charlie and how she wants to help her. But something else interesting happens in episode 7, Rosie is properly introduced as Alastor's bestie. This leads to showing another type of love: platonic love.

Now to the main point of this post: Alastor. It's canon that he is aroace and as an ace myself (I'm still questioning whether I'm aromantic or demiromantic but this post isn't about me lol) I'm extremely happy to see myself through him. Plus, the fact that the perfect Tumblr sexyman is aroace is genius and hilarious, you can't possibly top this type of humor.

Alastor for me has been a great ace representation and I've seen myself mainly in how he acts around his friends or other people.

When it comes to Niffty it looks more like a relationship between someone with their feral cat or their crazy little sister. But it's still a genuine connection and a fun chaotic one at that, he even lets her touch his hair and climb on him. In regards to Mimzy, he has shown he cares about her and welcomes her with open arms. He openly hugs her, which shocks everyone in the cast. This is extremely important because Alastor usually only starts physical contact to mock others or to pretend physical closeness as a manipulation tactic (like he often does with Charlie). When it comes to people he hates Alastor may touch them but will quickly wipe his hand on his clothes, like what he did with Lucifer. Personally, I don't like personal contact and only accept it if I start it and usually I use it as a way to show affection with close friends. Also, they have known each other since they were alive, so Mimzy probably knows a lot about Alastor that the rest of the cast doesn't. Mimzy also says that they used to dance together. But that doesn't exclude the fact that she uses Alastor's friendship and affection to save her own ass and taking into account how Husk reacted to Mimzy, this isn't the first time she does this. Also, the relationship between the two starts to crumble after what happened in episode 6 and Mimzy seems to be the kind of friend who will pretend that they are still on good terms and still ask Alastor for favors in the future.

Now jumping back to Alastor's true bestie: Rosie. They probably bonded at first over their cannibalistic natures but it's clear that it evolved beyond that. Personally, I don't ship Alastor with anyone, but when it comes to Rosie I headcanon they are in a QPR.

There are various reasons why this relationship is so great and wholesome, the first one being that there is no power imbalance, they are equals. Both are cannibalistic overlords and are on equal footing in terms of power. When Rosie first sees Alastor she is genuinely happy which is something new because most people react badly to him out of fear or hatred.

Alastor respects Rosie, he even compliments her, in her introduction he says she is "the most darling, delightful, and dangerous Overlord of this side of the pentagram". Considering how self-centered and narcissistic he can be, it means a lot. Alastor would rather die again than compliment another Overlord who isn't Zestial, which he respects but out of fear. Alastor respects Rosie as his close friend. When they stand next to each other they give an air of equals, something that never happens thanks to Alastor's ego and sadism towering over everyone else. With Rosie it's different and Rosie can openly tease Alastor with the "Look at you, so polite! Alastor you can learn a thing or two" when comparing him to Charlie when meeting her, or "I'm just kidding, I know you're an ace in the hole" to tease him about his asexuality. This is something that not a lot of people can do because Alastor is obsessed with control and respect. After all, we see how badly he reacted when Husk insulted him.

He also harmonizes with her, he willingly makes a duet with her in "Ready for this". He isn't interrupting her, instead, he agrees with her and they sing together in unison. This is the first time he doesn't openly hijack a song or fight for control over it, like he did with Vox and Lucifer (although this also happened because this is Charlie's song, but who cares the point still stands). Also, this is the first time we see him dance with someone, instead of forcing them to join his musical number (like he does with Charlie on various occasions). Alastor and Rosie are in perfect sync and it's so wholesome and precious to see him being so openly happy with her. Many have pointed out that the only times Alastor is genuinely smiling is when he is with Rosie and it shows by his expression in his eyes.

Finally, Rosie is the only one capable of bringing the most human emotions out of him, the most obvious one being confusion. In the scene of "ace in the hole" Rosie manages to confuse and surprise Alastor for a solid second, which is a huge change of his persona around everyone else of control and manipulation. Also, it's hilarious that Alastor doesn't know what being aroace is, he probably thinks he is above all that.

He is openly relaxed around Rosie and lets her touch him in an affectionate way, something that not even Mimzy can do. It may be because of the height difference but Mimzy only touches Alastor to hug him and to emphasize he is a "heartless son of a bitch" and Alastor clearly gets irritated by her touching him that way and even moves her finger away from him. This never happens with Rosie and he even welcomes her touching him by not having any walls with her. It's Rosie the one starting the physical contact and Alastor doesn't seem to mind and he never tries to use physical contact to take advantage of her like he does with other characters. Rosie is one of the few people who can touch Alastor without losing an arm and instead have a positive reaction out of him.

The most genuine relationship Alastor has is with Rosie, he even has the confidence and comfort to stop his elegant and reserved persona of not swearing. Which he only does when he is truly angry, like what happened with Lucifer. Or when he is threatening someone like he did with Adam. Or when he is shocked when his microphone breaks. He swears to insult Susan, which is someone they both despise equally. Something that you would only do with your closest bestie.

Finally, let's talk about Alastor's breakdown in the last episode. We've already seen that Alastor is capable of having friendships that aren't based on an end goal. Alastor knows this but he rejects it because he is at the hotel originally for selfish goals and doesn't want his emotions to get in the way. He is terrified of ruining his reputation as a sadistic killer and becoming an altruistic who cares about his friends. Alastor wants to stop himself from starting to care about the crew the same way he cares about Rosie, Mimzy, or Nifty to some degree. This is confirmed by his conversation with Niffty, where he admits he has grown accustomed to the main crew and perhaps he is growing feelings of affection towards them in his own way.

In regards to shipping him with Rosie, I see it as a platonic ship or a QPR. Some people have a headcanon that if they had known each other when they were alive they would have married for tax benefits and to avoid the social stigma, which is the only right answer. When they first met in hell they probably had dates in cannibal town where they ate human flesh while gossiping and trash-talked about the other overlords. Which is exactly what an ace person like myself wants from a close friendship.

As an ace, I really like Alastor not because he is the ultimate Tumblr sexyman or see him as hot but because he is an extremely fun character that I can relate to. I'm grateful for the crew and VA that take into account he is aroace and take seriously that aspect of his character. I don't mind that the aroace representation in Hazbn Hotel is a narcissistic psychopath, if you want a more wholesome ace representation you can check Todd in Bojack Horseman or Saiki in The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.

I don't mind people shipping Alastor, after all, it's just people having fun, but you can't ignore that he is aroace and how this affects his relationships. So yeah have fun and respect and aroace community :)

ok thanks for hearing my rant bye

[hiramaris]

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 9

Chapter Summary:

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual? They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!Farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None?

Notes:

I know, I know I'm such a horrible person for leaving this story hanging loose in the air. I've honestly had this chapter rotting in my drafts because I didn't have the motivation to write anymore, not to mention the lack of luxury with time. I just recently graduated as well so I was busy preparing for that back in July-October (I'm a working woman now, hooray! [Not 😔]) Nobody told me that working a 9-5 job (or more like 8-6 in my case) is going to be the end of me. That doesn't even include the 6-hour commute back to back. So as you can see, I'm dying here. I don't really have the time to sit in front of my laptop after hours of sitting in front of my company laptop 😔 I'm really sorry for the long wait, and I still can't promise an immediate update after this. This chapter serves as my apology to you guys. Hope you like it!

Fall 1

"Tell me. Are you and Y/n/n dating?"

Haley nearly choked on her food. Emily said it so casually that she wasn't prepared how to react properly.

So, as opposed to her usually calm and composed demeanor, Haley only managed to sputter a pathetic "what?" as she sat down her toast and reached for her glass of water in hopes to wash down the piece of damn bread she had swallowed accidentally without chewing it properly, courtesy of her sister.

"Are you and Y/n/n dating?" Emily repeated, unabashed and with her annoying eyes crinkling from the side, a look Haley knew all too well when Emily was trying to rise up something in her.

"No, I heard you the first time!" Haley exclaimed, her face turning red as she slammed the empty glass. "I mean–what the hell, Em?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, taking a leisurely sip of her coffee, acting like she was not actively ruining her little sister's evening right now.

"You mean to tell me you're not after your whole public display of affection on the night of the moonlight jellies?"

For a brief moment, the events flashed back on Haley's mind– your silent tears, quivering lips, Haley's arm wrapped around your waist in an almost protective, comforting way as you shared your thoughts with her for the first time since you came here. It was a casual and completely platonic thing to do.

She could vividly remember how fresh tears bested up on your eyes as a baby jellyfish separated itself from its group and went towards you, almost peering cautiously at the human before her.

It was beautiful, you said that night. The night was magical. and that only sank into you that you were no longer Joja's prisoner. You're here, in Pelican town, making a name for yourself, with townspeople who loved you and treated you as an equal. You have actual friends that care for you and most importantly, you found a home.

Was it casual for her to know all this?

"Y/n was feeling emotional at that moment. I was just trying to be her friend," she finally said after a moment of silence.

Yes, it's casual.

Emily must have noticed her pausing as she scoffed behind her toast. "Friend? I certainly don't kiss Sandy's forehead, and she's my best friend."

"Because you're doing way worse with her." Haley rolled her eyes at that. "Seriously, Em, get off my back. Y/n and I are just good friends."

"Okay, I'll get off your back if you can counter my arguments," Emily challenged, leaning forward the table with a mischievous glint in her eye.

She should say no. Emily's just giving her something else to bite on knowing fully well Haley's bound to bite more than she could chew.

Say no. There's nothing to counter because there's nothing to even argue about.

Say n–

"Yoba, fine, if that will shut you up." Damn it, Haley.

Emily's smirk grew and Haley dreaded the first thing that would come out of her hippie mouth.

"You don't kiss Alex on the forehead at all. You don't even hug him for Yoba's sake, and he's your best friend. You're going to tell me everything that's going on with Y/n is entirely platonic and casual?" Emily's expression was triumphant as she laid out her case.

Haley lets out a grin of her own. If Emily's going to lay out obvious bullshits like this then she can definitely handle whatever her sister's planning to throw at her.

"First off, Alex stinks—"

"Y/n/n's job makes her friends with dirt and sweat, no offense to her, but isn't that an ick already to you?" Emily interrupted, smirking.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about because her hygiene is almost as impeccable as mine," Haley retorted, a smirk of her own forming as she took a defiant bite of her bacon.

"Okay... Were you practicing your answers before?" Emily narrowed her eyes at her, suspicious. "There's no way you're this prepared to counter my arguments!"

"So, I won?"

"Ah, ah... not quite, little sis." Emily stopped her from standing up. "How about the sunflower? That girl planted a whole yard of sunflowers in her yard and you mean to tell me there's nothing homosexual happening around you guys?"

"She's a farmer, duh. Of course, she's going to plant sunflowers at some point. They're pretty and very much profitable."

"Not as profitable as blueberries, corn, or cranberries. Plus, I've been there, it's almost half a hectare, it's crazy."

"You're kidding?" Haley's eyes bulged at that. She's got to admit, she did not see that bullet coming. "Last time I was there, it was just in her front yard."

"Half a hectare," her sister affirmed with that stupidly annoying knowing smirk. "You didn't see that coming, did you? Got no counter for me?"

"Shut up. If you're so curious about her lack of good strategy with her crops, you should talk to her yourself." Haley finally snapped, pushing her plate away.

She's done humoring Emily with her shits.

"Oh, I'll do just that." But it seemed her sister wasn't done with her either. "Anyway, moving on. How can you explain the holding hands?"

Haley visibly relaxed at that. She has some sensible explanation for that, one she's certain Emily wouldn't be able to counter.

"Female friends do that."

"Hmm... So if she were to hold hands with her best friend, Penny, that would be alright with you?" Well, shit.

That made her pause for the second time this evening.

"Of course," she scoffed. "As I said, it's normal for female friends to do that. It's a casual thing girls do. Nothing to bat an eye for."

Sensible explanation her ass. That wasn't even half-sensible, if at all

"I figured," Emily responded, expression turning much more serious now that it kind of made Haley even more nervous. "I just thought if she were this mushy with you, and you're just friends with her, then she's probably mushier with her best friend."

Silence.

Because what the fuck is she supposed to respond to that? This is a piece of information that hadn't crossed her mind, ever. She knows you're a sweetheart to everyone. It's as if it was second nature to you. It was a casual and completely platonic of you to do. Nothing to bat an eye for.

Nothing.

Still. She just hadn't considered the possibility of you being mushier to others.

Were you also comforting Penny the way you were comforting her?

So caring and protective that it felt like those warmth were exclusive just for her only?

She just couldn't imagine it before and now it's physically making her sick in her stomach. Was this still casual for her to even feel?

"She's pals as well with Leah, I heard they'd occasionally do sleepovers in their cabins. It's so cut–" Emily went on before finally noticing the turmoil in her sister's eyes cascading down to her hands. "Okay, what did that tissue ever do to you?"

Haley stopped, noticing the crumpled piece of tissue against her clenched fists. She looked up to Emily with a sharp glare and found her sister staring back at her, not even flinching away from her dissecting gaze. "Why are you even saying this to me?"

"Nothing. Just thought it would be best to talk to one of the possible sources. I heard from Abigail that Y/n/n just recently purchased a bouquet of flowers so I thought she might have given it to you."

Emily's sudden nonchalance at this conversation is infuriating her to a certain degree that she felt like she wanted to barge inside Clint's sorry-ass-of-a-shop and beat the living shit out of him.

Emily went on, humming casually as she piled up the dishes to wash them in the sink. "Hmm, I couldn't believe I was wrong. You were so close with her that I thought she'd give it to you. I guess she's been secretly seeing someone else then."

"She what?" Her stomach dropped.

Haley was so caught off guard at her last sentence that she couldn't help but rip the tissue on her hands. So much for that.

"It's been the talk of the town, you know? There are even bets going on but it's kind of hard to pinpoint who exactly, not when she gets along with all the bachelors and bachelorettes here. Some even bet on themselves, like Abigail. I mean, it does make sense. She and Y/n/n spent an awful lot of time on those mines."

That made Haley stand up from her seat, her form indignant. "So, you bet on me? Is this why we're having this conversation?"

"Of course, I would support my sister!" replied Emily, briefly looking behind her shoulder just in time to catch Haley scowling from where she stood. She went on, almost saying the words in a singsong voice as she continued soaking the dishes. "But if you want, I can always bet to myself. Y/n is a cute gal after all."

"I hate everything about you."

"You don't!" Emily readily chirped out behind Haley who had enough of this conversation and was already stomping her way into her room.

"Good night, Em!"

With that, she slammed the door to her room in hopes of finally ending this damn conversation. If she knew this was where it would have led, she would have bolted out the moment Emily opened her mouth.

She didn't need to know all this particularly if you hadn't even said anything else to her about this.

She scoffed. 'I thought we were close enough for her to share something like this with me. Afraid not.'

"I'm just saying, sis. Y/n/n is one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the valley. Anyone would be lucky to have her."

Emily's voice came once again just behind her door making her groan against her pillow. Hadn't she had enough?

Haley briefly considered running towards her dark room just to tune out whatever Emily was going to say but she stopped dead in her tracks when her sister's words next came through.

"There's going to be a competition. If you don't get your shit together soon, someone's bound to steal her heart. I just hate to see you getting hurt."

Was it casual for her to admit that hearing this news was already starting to hurt her?

This could mean nothing. Right?

****

Fall 2

A day of shopping in Zuzu City was just what Haley needed. While she had promised herself to tone down on hoarding clothes, she made an exception just this once. Shopping was one of her ways to cope with stress, aside from photography, but she had scratched the thought of using her camera for today because she didn't feel like spending her day wandering around town. With the bets on whom Y/n was giving the bouquet to, she knew the townspeople's eyes were hot on her trail.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape when Haley stepped off the bus, her arms laden with shopping bags from her trip to the city.

She had noticed Pam looking her way since the trip began, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the older woman wanted to hear from her. That's why when the bus pulled to a stop, Haley was quick to bolt out of the vehicle.

"Oi, kid." Haley froze at the sound of Pam's voice. So much for her plan to escape. "Haley."

"Oh." Haley whirled around, fighting back a wince at what was about to come. "Hey, Pam. What's up?"

Pam's steps were slow and deliberate as she stepped off the bus and Haley had no choice but to watch and wait expectantly for the words to finally come out.

"Are you and Farmer Y/n dating?" There it is.

Despite expecting this topic, Haley couldn't help but feel her face flush slightly under Pam's scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhm... no?"

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Haley shifted on her feet, glancing down at her shopping bags as if they might provide an answer. "We're not dating," she said more firmly this time. "Why?"

"Good, then that scratches you off the list."

"Excuse me?" Haley's brows knitted in confusion.

"You see, kid. There have been bets going on about who Y/n will give the bouquet to. Of course, I'm putting all my beers on my little girl. She's the closest to the farmer, aside from you. So, if you weren't dating Y/n, then my Penny's definitely got a shot."

Haley blinked, taken aback. "And you're okay with that? I mean... Y/n's a girl and all..."

Pam raised an eyebrow, her expression turning serious. "I didn't know you were homophobic, kid."

"I'm not! I swear. It's just that… things are a bit different now compared to your—well, generation. I doubt my folks would be as accepting as you."

Pam's face softened slightly as she sighed. "Penny's father left us when she was really young. So, I don't wish for her to experience the same thing. Y/n's a good kid. Responsible and has a sense of direction. Far from my dead-beat husband. Penny's happy with her, and that's the only thing that matters to me. And it's not bad that the gal is well-off. I heard she was supposed to be Joja's heiress. But even so, that farm of hers is enough to provide for generations of her future family. I could never ask for more capable hands to take care of my kid than Y/n."

Haley couldn't help but tune out of this conversation. She didn't need to hear all the right reasons why Penny's the best shot for your heart. Penny's a sweetheart and all, has her heart set in the right direction, a characteristic that perfectly compliments your lifestyle.

But why does this feel like Emily stabbed her with her kitchen knife and twisted it for good measure just to spite her?

Wait... what did she just say?

"Joja?" She furrowed her eyebrows at this information. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From the mayor, but don't tell him I told you. I think it was supposed to be a secret or some shit." Pam shrugged. " Still... word gets around, you know? Small town and all. People talk. But it doesn't matter where she came from. What matters is who she is now and how she treats the people she cares about."

Haley nodded slowly, absorbing Pam's words but couldn't tell exactly why there was a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow.

"I guess you're right. Y/n's a good person. Anyone would be lucky to have her." Haley faked a smile, desperately hoping the older woman didn't catch her in her lie.

Pam smiled, her stern demeanor softening. "Exactly. So, if you're not interested, that's fine. But just know that I know when people are bullshitting me. I know, I know it's not any of my business. But if you really do happen to have something going on with the farmer, get your shit together soon."

"I'll..." She didn't know it was possible to have the lump in her throat grow even more, she could feel a twinge of something else she couldn't quite identify. "I'll take note of that. Thanks for the chat, Pam. I'll see you around."

"Likewise, kid," Pam replied, waving as she climbed back onto the bus. "Oh, and Haley?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what you feel, don't let fear stop you from following your heart, or else you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you had."

When even other people can point out how non-platonic and far from casual the things you and she do are, is it still casual now?

****

Fall 9

It's been an excruciating week of being asked if she was dating Y/n, and it's starting to get on Haley's nerves. Not because she was entirely opposed to the idea, but because she knew it wasn't even her to begin with, and she didn't need everyone rubbing salt in her wound every minute and every second of every damn day.

She didn't need to hear Abigail bragging to Sebastian and Sam that any day now, she'd be receiving the same bouquet she had arranged that you bought from Pierre, and how ironic it would be if she were to receive them, and how she wasn't actually opposed to the idea.

"I haven't really considered that I could possibly like a girl, but hey, it's Y/n. I'm not complaining. If she were to give me the flowers, I'd say yes in a heartbeat," she had even said. That's all Haley needed to hear to decide she wasn't in the mood to shop right now at Pierre's if she was going to hear bullshits like that.

She also didn't need to hear any sort of development you have with Penny. She didn't need to know you went with her to Zuzu to buy some school supplies for the kids on Penny's birthday. She didn't need to hear you gave the teacher and her students a tour of your farm.

She didn't need to hear any of it.

Because how in Yoba's name had she not considered your growing friendship with the redhead?

"Miss Y/n? I have a question," Haley heard one day from behind the trees by Cindersap Lake. She lowered her camera from her eyes when she recognized Jas' voice followed by yours.

"What is it, Jas?"

"You're from the city, right? How do you court someone there?"

She heard you chuckle. "Well... We go on dates, walk our dates back to their door, and then... That's when our date will decide if they still want to see us for our next date."

You paused, and Haley thought that was it, but the next words you uttered almost made her pack up her equipment and go home.

"And if we're worthy of being kissed."

"Y/n!" came Penny's scandalized gasp. "They're kids. They don't need to hear that!"

"Right, right... Sorry, Pen!"

"Ohhh." That's Vincent. "So, are you like courting Miss Penny since you're walking her home, too?"

"Vincent!" Penny scolded, sounding almost aghast at her student's blunt question.

Haley could only allow herself to breathe when you finally answered Sam's brother.

"Haha, we're walking Jas home together, remember? If anything, it seems you were the one courting her since you wanted to come with us to walk her home," you teased him.

"Ew! I don't want Vincent to court me!"

"Hey! What's wrong with me?"

"You're too childish like your brother! No wonder Miss Penny turned down Mister Sam. I bet you she likes someone like Miss Y/n. I know I would."

"Hey!" yelled Vincent, obviously offended.

"Okay, that's enough kids," admonished Penny, and Haley could only imagine the horror on her face at Jas' comment. "It's not good to gossip, Jas, and it's not polite to ask adults things like that, Vincent."

"Alright, Miss Penny. I'm getting inside. Thank you for walking me home," Jas replied, her tone still somewhat defiant.

"Bye, Jas!" you called after her, followed by the sound of Vincent sniffling. "Hey now, little dude... don't be upset. I'm sure Jas was only joking."

"I don't understand why she needs to be mean. Am I not likable?" Vincent's voice wavered.

Haley dared to take a peek behind the bushes. She watched as you knelt down to be at eye level with Vincent, your smile as warm as the setting sun.

"Anyone can be likable to a certain someone. Like you," you said, ruffling his hair. "But we can't really force someone to like us the way we want, you know?"

"But... are you just going to accept they don't like you even though you're nice?" Vincent asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

You chuckled softly, briefly looking up to meet Penny's eyes, which had been fixed on you with such fondness that it tightened the knot in Haley's stomach.

"Well... I didn't say you have to give up. Sometimes people say mean things to protect themselves. You just have to be patient, and I'm sure they'll come around eventually," you explained gently.

Vincent nodded, his big brown eyes hanging on to every word you said.

"But..." you continued, "if this person has made it clear they don't like you, then you have to accept their boundaries, okay?"

"Eh..." He pouted. "I don't get it. Adulting is so confusing."

You barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, you have plenty of time to grow up, buddy."

Vincent's expression brightened a bit at your words. "Okay, I'll try to remember that."

"That's the spirit," you said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Penny smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at you. "Thank you, Y/n. You're really good with them."

"Thanks, Penny," you replied, standing up and stretching. "They're good kids. Just need a little guidance sometimes."

"Are you feeling any better now, Vincent?" Penny asked gently. "Don't take Jas' words to heart, okay?"

"Uh-huh! I'm feeling a little better, Miss Penny! But... could Miss Y/n carry me until we get home? I'm..." He yawned. "I'm a little tired."

"Uhm, I don't think..."

"... alrighty then, let's get this little guy home as well," Haley could hear you grunt, and she could only imagine you carrying the sleepy Vincent in your arms.

"Your farm's right there, Y/n/n." Penny pointed out gently. "I can walk Vincent home. You don't have to make a detour."

"Nonsense, a little walk isn't going to kill me. Plus, I want to walk you home as well."

The redhead giggled softly. "I wasn't informed you were courting me."

"Oh, really now? I wasn't informed either," you joked, and Haley could feel herself dying a little on the inside.

****

Was it casual when you gave her daffodils every chance you could get when you barely even knew her?

Was it casual for you to have a daily mandatory breakfast with the Carter siblings?

Was it casual when you gave Haley her favorite gift on her birthday even though coconuts aren't something you can just spawn at hand when you need them to?

Was it casual that you managed to pay attention enough to actually know what her favorites are?

When you were drunk and Haley made her way outside to get you, in a greasy saloon of all places, even though she's not yet finished with her skincare, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you called her babe while you were drunk?

Was it casual when you declared you'd only allow yourself to be this close to her is in the reality you created in your dreams?

When she stayed at your place, took care of you, and cleaned your vomit-stained shirt and mattress, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you avoided her for four days because you thought you ruined her pampering day?

When she started minimizing her makeup because you told her once she's pretty even without them, was it casual?

When Haley was upset at the thought you'd be dancing with someone else, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you assured her you didn't want to dance with anyone but her?

When Haley, for once, didn't think about winning the flower dance and was focused on your endearing smile and relaxing embrace, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you were bloody and wet from the rain and the first thing you thought was knocking on her door?

When she could only focus on your wounds rather than your dirt-stained body staining the carpet, was it casual?

When Haley tried her hardest to treat your wounds despite fearing the sight of blood, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you almost died to get her a gift just because you thought she'd find them pretty enough to be the subject of her camera?

When Haley kissed your forehead the same way her grandmother used to do on her to kiss the pain away, was it casual?

When Haley forced you to take her bed because she couldn't bear to let your injured self sleep uncomfortably on the couch, was it still casual?

Was it casual when the first thing you thought upon waking up was to let Haley sleep on her bed because you didn't want her to suffer any back pain from her sleeping position on the foot of the bed even though you're injured yourself?

When Haley thought you hated her for the poisonous words she spouted on you that night and hated herself for it, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you tried your hardest to find her great grandma's bracelet because you couldn't bear to see her so upset despite your injuries?

Was it casual when you crafted a bouquet of sunflowers to make up for giving her a hated gift?

Was it casual when you planted a whole yard of sunflowers on your farm when Haley mentioned in passing that she loves them?

Was it casual when you helped her with her shopping bags even though you were obviously going somewhere else?

Was it casual for you and her to walk in the town, hand in hand? It could mean nothing.

When Haley's view of success was you beside her, was it casual?

When Haley couldn't handle the feeling of disappointing you, was it casual?

Was it casual of you to magically appear whenever she needs you?

Was it casual of you to be her number-one supporter in everything when she couldn't even believe in herself?

Was it casual when you made it your personal mission to keep her happy no matter what?

Was it casual when you made sure that no dirt could touch her not when you're around because you know how much she hated getting dirty?

When Haley no longer minds the feeling and smell of dirt, especially when you're around, was it still casual now?

Was it casual when you modeled for her despite hating modeling itself because Haley needed some new variations for her photography?

When Haley tried to conquer her fear of the ocean because she saw you once having fun with Leah swimming along the shore, was it casual?

Was it casual when you helped her conquer this fear even though you had plans for the day?

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual?

They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

****

The general store was quieter than usual that afternoon, with only a couple of customers browsing the shelves and the faint hum of Pierre’s old radio playing a static-filled tune in the background. Haley placed her basket of groceries on the counter with an air of casual confidence, her hair shimmering under the warm glow of the store's lights as if she had just stepped out of a magazine.

"There's my favorite blonde," Pierre greeted her with a grin, his tone far too cheerful to pass as entirely neutral. He adjusted his glasses as he began unpacking her items. "You got everything you need?"

Haley offered a small, polite smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I would appreciate it though if you restocked your peppermint coffee. Winter's coming soon, and I need my coffee to survive the whole season."

Pierre chuckled, nodding as he scribbled something on a notepad beside the register. "I'll keep note of that."

The rhythmic beep of the scanner broke the silence, but Pierre seemed to drag out the process, deliberately slow with each item. Haley tilted her head, pretending to examine the jars of preserves on a nearby shelf, though her curiosity flickered with each stolen glance Pierre gave her from behind the counter.

Her patience thinned as the seconds stretched on. She crossed her arms and finally turned back to him, narrowing her eyes. "What?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to slice through his act.

Pierre blinked, his hand pausing mid-air with a can of soup. "What, what?" he asked, his tone layered with faux innocence.

Haley raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting into one of exasperated suspicion. "Nothing. It's just... you looked like you wanted to say something."

Pierre hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as a sheepish grin spread across his face. "Has farmer Y/n told you who she gave the bouquet to?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Is this about the bet?"

"Sort of," Pierre admitted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Come on, I gave Gus five grand. I just know my daughter caught her eye. Why else would Y/n be here every other day just to give Abigail her weird collection of stones?"

Haley rolled her eyes so hard it felt like they might stay that way. "First off, it's none of your business. Secondly, even if I did know, I'm not about to spill it to the entire town."

Pierre's grin faltered slightly, but his persistence didn’t waver. "I get it." He sighed dramatically as he began to load her bag, though his eyes darted toward her with a flicker of mischief. "She gave it to you, didn’t she? I mean, it makes total sense."

Her irritation bubbled just beneath the surface as she prepared to unleash a sharp retort, each word she'd make sure colorful enough to crush Pierre's so-called pride.

Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood as her lips parted to speak.

But then it happened—before she could form a single syllable, the distinct scent of freshly cut grass and minted soap filled her senses. Haley froze, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as warmth radiated from the figure now standing just behind her.

"Hey there, doll," your voice was soft, low, and entirely too close for her comfort—or rather, for her ability to maintain composure. Haley could feel the faint brush of your breath against her skin, and she clenched her jaw to stifle a gasp.

Pierre perked up, his eyes sparkling with newfound interest as he set the last of Haley’s items into her bag. "Well, speak of the devil," he quipped with a knowing smirk, crossing his arms. "The farmer of the hour. What brings you here, Y/n?"

"Oh, I'm just out to get Haley," you replied smoothly, your tone casual as if you weren’t practically pressed against Haley’s back. You leaned slightly to the side, catching her narrowed gaze as she turned her head just enough to glance at you. "Emily told me she'll be here."

Haley’s lips twitched, fighting to suppress the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Do you mind?" she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with a mix of exasperation and something she refused to name.

She instinctively took a step forward, creating a thin barrier of space between the two of you. The distance was barely anything, but it felt monumental to her frayed nerves. You noticed it, of course—you noticed everything, just as you’d noticed her avoiding you the past few days. She’d orchestrated this whole "not a date" movie outing at your farm a while back before she started this shindig of avoiding you, and yet here she was, cornered by her own choices. She knew you'd confront her eventually; she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Damn you, Emily. Haley cursed internally. Her sister's meddling defies the bound of the universe.

"Oh! Out for a date, I see," Pierre chimed in, his tone laced with playful curiosity. His eyes darted between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Haley's pulse quickened, and she forced herself to remain calm. She looked at you, waiting—no, daring you to deny it. Say something, she thought. Deny it. Deflect. Anything.

Your eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind your bangs as you opened your mouth, undoubtedly preparing to clarify the situation. But before a single word could escape, the bell above the door jingled sharply, drawing all attention to the entrance.

Morris stepped inside, his smug face immediately souring the air. His presence was an unwelcome shadow, sharp and intrusive, like nails on a chalkboard.

Haley caught the subtle change in your demeanor, a storm cloud rolling across your features. You muttered a string of profanities under your breath, quiet enough that most wouldn't catch it. But Haley was close—too close—and every word hit her ears like a sharp note.

It startled her; you rarely, if ever, swore in her company.

The tension in your frame said everything she needed to know. Your clenched jaw, the way your hand flexed and then balled into a fist by your side, all screamed one thing: you loathed the man in front of you.

Haley felt her blood begin to boil, mirroring your intensity. You’d never told her exactly what had happened during your time with Joja, but the bitterness in your expression now, the way your muscles coiled like you were ready to fight, painted a vivid enough picture. That, and the sight of Morris’s condescending grin, was enough to make her want to deck the man herself.

"Miss Y/n!" Morris's oily voice filled the space, louder than necessary. "What a pleasant surprise! I finally got ahold of you." His gaze flicked briefly to Haley, dismissing her with barely a glance before returning to you. "When my employee Shane told me the new farmer who’d taken over the rundown farm was named Y/n, I didn’t think it was you at first."

Haley's fists clenched around her grocery bag. Her heart thudded with protective anger, but she said nothing, instead glancing at you from the corner of her eye. The slight twitch in your brow, the way your jaw tightened, and the stiffness in your stance spoke volumes. You were trying to keep calm, but Haley knew it was taking everything in you not to snap.

"Folks kept talking about a lovely farm you've got there," Morris continued, clearly not picking up on the warning signs. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. "Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d gone from our... employee of the month to a simple farmer in the middle of nowhere."

You took a deep breath through your nose, the air between you practically crackling with suppressed emotion. When you finally spoke, your voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a storm.

"Morris," you said curtly, your tone colder than Haley had ever heard it. "Piss off."

Haley's eyes widened slightly at your words. She'd never heard you speak like that before, not even when you were angry. There was venom in your tone, something raw and unfiltered.

"My, my... what foul words you have there, miss," Morris said, raising a hand to cover his mouth in mock disbelief, though his smirk betrayed his true intent. "Anyhow," he continued, his voice oozing false geniality, "I received a call from your mother stating that you had AWOL'ed from your job and left the city. This only spurred me to seek out the new farmer in town with the same name as you. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, right?"

Your jaw clenched, and your knuckles turned white as your nails dug into your palm. Haley could feel the tension radiating off of you like heat from a furnace. "Shut up," you hissed, your tone low but charged.

"But you were sleek," Morris went on, as if he hadn’t heard you—or more likely, chose to ignore you. "For months I tried to get a sight of you. It should have been easy, given how small this town is, but I never caught even a glimpse of you. Tell me, were you avoiding Joja on purpose?"

Haley's stomach churned as she watched you struggle to keep your composure. She'd never seen you like this—on edge, restrained, a storm barely contained behind your eyes.

"I don’t want anything to do with Joja," you spat, your voice trembling slightly, not with fear, but with the effort it took to hold yourself back. "And I don’t want anything to do with my mother. I left Joja for good, and I have no desire to take over that hell of a company."

"Joja needs its heir, Miss Y/n. No matter how far you run, Joja will always be one step behind you." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I’ve already informed your mother of your presence here in Pelican Town, and she is beyond displeased."

Haley saw your breath hitch, your shoulders stiffening as Morris’s words hit their mark.

"You’re wasting your time," you bit out, your voice quieter now, but no less fierce. "I’m not going back, and there’s nothing she—or Joja—can do to change that."

Morris chuckled, a low, condescending sound that made Haley’s skin crawl. His smirk widened, and he tilted his head in mock pity. "Oh, Miss Y/n, you underestimate Joja’s reach. This quaint little farm life of yours is nothing but a detour. We both know that."

Your fists clenched at your sides, trembling slightly, not out of weakness, but from the sheer force of holding yourself together. Your breath came out unsteady, the weight of his words pressing down like an iron vice.

"I don’t care," you spat, your voice cracking under the strain of bottled-up frustration. "I’ve spent blood, sweat, and tears on my grandpa’s farm—making it thrive, grow, and function all on its own. Every single effort I’ve made here has been worth something. Something the company never gave me."

Haley froze, her eyes darting to you. There was a rawness in your voice she wasn’t prepared for, an unguarded glimpse into a part of you she’d never seen.

"Even if I tried—even if I died trying—my mother would never be satisfied with my work," you continued, your voice rising with every word, trembling with pent-up anguish. "So how dare she? How dare she say she’s disappointed in me, like I’m supposed to care, when that’s the only thing she’s ever felt at the very sight of me?"

Morris let out a low hum, his fingers tapping idly against the counter. "Joja is all about hard work, Miss Y/n. Maybe she just hasn’t seen it on you?" His tone was measured, almost bored, but his words were like a needle aimed directly at the cracks in your armor.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound harsh and devoid of humor. Haley flinched at the sound, her heart clenching as she watched you unravel.

"Hard work?" you echoed, your voice dripping with venom. "Hard work means nothing to Joja. It doesn’t matter how much I gave, how much of myself I sacrificed, it was never enough. It was never going to be enough."

Morris raised an eyebrow, as if amused by your outburst. "Look," he said with an air of condescension, "the missus, as much as she is strict and calculated, is only doing this to ensure you’re capable of handling the company once she steps down as CEO. Surely, you must be aware of that?"

Haley could see the way your shoulders stiffened, your lips pressing into a tight line, and your chest rising and falling as you struggled to control your breathing. She knew that Morris’s words had struck a nerve, and her patience finally snapped when she saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes.

"She doesn’t care about me being capable," you said quietly, each word laced with bitterness. "She only cares about molding me into her image. Into something I’m not—and something I never want to be."

Haley stepped forward without hesitation, planting herself firmly between you and Morris, her eyes blazing with a fury that caught everyone off guard.

"Sorry to intrude," she began sharply, her tone like ice, "but have you even seen Y/n’s farm? That place was a dump before she came here, and now it’s practically a well-oiled machine. Her farm has boosted this town’s economy more than you and Pierre’s businesses combined. And you know why?" Haley tilted her head, her voice turning venomous. "Because of Y/n’s dedication and hard work. So don’t you dare stand there and act like you have the right to judge who’s ‘working hard’ when you couldn’t lift a finger to do it yourself."

Morris’s smug expression faltered for the first time, but he quickly recovered, his smirk widening as he saw an opportunity to strike back. "Ah, I see what’s going on here," he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "If you really want your fair share of Joja’s wealth, you should convince your girlfriend here to come back to Zuzu City and manage the company like the true Joja she is." His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Though I doubt the missus would approve of this... kind of relationship."

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Stepping forward, you shoved Morris back a step, your voice low and dangerous. "Fuck off. You don’t get to disrespect her like that."

Morris’s smugness wavered, but he tried to rally. "But I—"

"I don’t want to hear another word from you," you snapped, your tone brooking no argument. "Leave. Now."

Morris opened his mouth to retort, but Haley cut him off, her glare sharper than a knife. "You heard her. Get lost."

Morris huffed, his composure cracking slightly. "Hmph. I’m not leaving until I distribute my 50%-off Joja coupons to these fine customers." He raised his voice, addressing the room. "Anyone who wants a discount, feel free to take one from me."

Before the murmurs could start, you turned sharply to Pierre. "No one moves a foot," you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding. "Pierre."

"H-huh?" Pierre stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Everyone shopping here right now—everything in their carts, ring it up. Put it on my tab," you said decisively. "I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll stop by later to settle the bill."

Pierre blinked, stunned, before nodding quickly. "O-okay. Got it."

You turned back to Morris, your voice colder than ice. "No one here wants your fucking coupons. Get the hell out."

Morris narrowed his eyes, clearly frustrated but unable to retaliate effectively. "You can’t pay for their tabs forever, Miss Y/n," he sneered. "Not with the little money your farm is making."

A smirk tugged at your lips, sharp and defiant. "You haven’t seen the progress of my farm, have you?" you asked, your voice filled with quiet triumph. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never do. By the end of the year, the community center will be fully restored, and Joja—" you jabbed a finger toward him, "Joja will never taint this town again."

Morris’s face darkened, but he said nothing as you turned to Pierre and motioned to the grocery bag you took from Haley. "Please ring this up as well, Pierre."

****

"Y/n... are you okay?" Haley's voice was soft, tentative, her usual sharpness dulled by concern.

You didn’t meet her eyes, your voice steady but distant. "I’ll walk you home, and then I’ll get going. I need to be alone for a while."

Haley hesitated, searching your face for something—anything—that would let her help. But all she found was a wall she couldn’t push past. "Oh... okay," she murmured.

****

The walk to her house was quiet, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. When you reached her door, Haley turned, her expression uncertain. "It’s only a raincheck, right?" she asked, her voice almost hopeful. "You’re not canceling our movie night?"

You gave her a small, tired smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Hmm. Maybe we can do it tomorrow instead."

Haley nodded slowly, watching as you turned to leave. "I’ll see you later, Y/n," she called softly, her voice lingering in the quiet night.

You didn’t look back, but you lifted a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing into the shadows. Haley watched you go, her chest tight with a mix of worry and something else she couldn’t quite name.

****

After you had dropped her off at her home, she moved quickly towards her kitchen, her movements deliberate as she retrieved a well-worn piece of paper. A single recipe sat tucked away for ages, something she hadn’t thought she’d use anytime soon. Yet, here she was, baking in autopilot, determined to bring you something that might make the silence a little more bearable.

It only sank in for Haley that you might have been serious about wanting to be alone for a moment when you opened the door to your farm after she knocked.

Well... No going back now.

"Hey..." she greeted hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain. "I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I just... I thought it would be unfair that you're always there for me when I need you, and I left you alone just because you asked me to."

You didn’t speak immediately. The silence between you stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. For a moment, Haley worried she had crossed a line, overstepped some boundary. But before she could apologize, you offered her a faint, weak smile—a small curve of your lips, almost imperceptible, but a smile nonetheless.

"Are those cookies...?" you asked softly, your eyes landing on the tray she held out.

"Granny Evelyn's secret recipe. Freshly baked from the oven." Haley’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper. "Thought this might cheer you up."

You took a slow breath, the air between you carrying a quiet weight. You stood a step closer to Haley, your hands clasped loosely in front of you.

"I can just go and leave, you know? I just really want to bring these cookies—"

Before she could finish, you cut her off with a warm, comforting hug, wrapping your arms around her gently. Your embrace was steady, grounding, a silent reassurance. The scent of fresh soap mixed with the faint aroma of wood and grass on your worn flannel shirt created a sense of familiarity.

"Of course, you’re always welcome here, silly, with or without cookies," you said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.

"You say that but wait until you have a taste in them first," she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I'm sure they'll taste delicious. Come," you urged, motioning her inside. "It's freezing outside."

"Thanks," she murmured, stepping past you into the warmth of the house.

"These your stuff?" you asked, noticing the bags she struggled to carry. "You should have called me so I could have helped you bring them here. It must have been a tough walk from your home."

"Yeah... sorry, I know it's a lot. Had to bring my skincare, you know?" she replied with a sheepish smile, setting the bags down on the worn wooden floor.

"Heh, if I didn't know you any better, I’d think you were moving in," you joked, giving her a playful nudge.

"Shut up, goof."

"Now, now... I didn’t say I was exactly opposed to the idea, m'lady," you continued, a grin tugging at your lips. "I would love it actually. It’s getting kind of lonely in here, you know? Sometimes I even question myself why I asked Robin to renovate the house this big when I’m all by myself."

"What? So you're saying you wanted me to stay here?"

"Would it be so bad?" you asked with a playful shrug.

"Perhaps? Especially if you're supposed to be saying these sappy things to your girlfriend." Haley's tone was teasing, but her smile faltered slightly as she added, "Yoba... I just realized. Penny won't be mad if I stayed the night, right? Or would she?"

"Huh? Why would she?" you asked, confused.

"Isn't she—" Haley began as she walked towards your room.

"Wait, Haley—" you called after her, a hint of worry in your voice, but it was too late.

"Oh..." Haley paused at the sight that greeted her eyes—a bouquet placed carefully on your bed, sunflowers nestled in among them. You were arranging them yourself, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm light on the delicate petals.

It took a moment for Haley to gather her thoughts. Her mind raced a thousand miles per hour, processing what she saw and the implications behind it.

"I thought you'd given Penny the—the uhm..." she began hesitantly.

"The bouquet?" you finished, your voice quiet. "What made you think so? And how'd you even know I have a bouquet?"

"I think what you mean is 'who else didn't know you'd bought a bouquet'," she replied, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

"Damn it, Pierre." You ran a hand through your hair, cursing under your breath. "Shit— you aren't supposed to see all these."

You sighed heavily as you walked toward the edge of the bed, keeping your gaze firmly away from her. The bouquet lay forgotten on the bedspread, the sunflowers blending with the faded, dried-out petals of the original flowers.

"I bought this days ago and I couldn't find the guts to give it to you. I guess I was waiting for the perfect timing or maybe I was chickening out. Shit, I don't really know..." you murmured, your voice shaky as you ruffled your hair anxiously. "All I know is the flowers dried out because I was a coward, and now I was planning to spend the whole night replacing the flowers with sunflowers instead of having our movie night because I'm mentally and emotionally unable to think straight because of what happened with Morris earlier, and now I'm babbling this to you like a fool and—"

"Breathe, Y/n." Haley’s voice was soft and soothing, her expression gentle as she stepped closer, her eyes warm and understanding. "It’s just me."

"Breathe... I can do that," you said, taking a slow breath and closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

"Now..." Haley continued, a teasing smile playing at her lips, "Can you clarify the part about who you were planning to give the bouquet to because I’m a bit slow and I’m going to have to assume it’s me if you don’t."

"It's for you," you finally confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "I thought the sunflower already gave it away?"

"I..." Haley’s brows furrowed slightly, her voice softening as her expression turned thoughtful. "I thought you liked someone else..."

"And I thought I was pretty obvious," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"You probably would have if I hadn't seen you treating others the same way you do to me," Haley said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was thoughtful, but there was a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes. "I don't really want to assume."

"But I don’t treat others the same way I treat you," you replied gently, your voice calm and steady.

"Giving favored gifts to every possible living thing you can see, walking Penny home, exploring mines with Abigail, painting with Leah..." Haley paused, glaring at you with a raised brow when she noticed the corner of your mouth twitch into a sly grin. "Do you honestly want me to continue the list?"

"No, no need. I got the message," you said with a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you stepped closer to her. You reached out slowly, taking her hands in yours with a tenderness that spoke volumes. Your thumb brushed gently against her knuckles, grounding the moment in a sense of intimacy that neither of you could ignore. "I guess I do those things with everyone. It was almost a natural instinct that I didn't need to bat an eye. It was normal for me. It was casual."

As your touch lingered, Haley’s breath hitched for a moment, and the rapid beating in her heart began to slow. What was once chaotic and unsure began to calm down, her mind finding clarity amidst the confusion.

"But for you... everything is complex," you continued, your voice steady, eyes locked onto hers. There was a sincerity in your gaze, a vulnerability in your words that couldn’t be dismissed. "And I don’t mean it as a bad thing. You made me second-guess everything I do. I was afraid I was being too obvious because I was doing too much. I was afraid that what I was doing bypassed everything I thought should be normal between friends. I was scared I was doing too much that I might scare you away."

Haley let out a soft, watery laugh, a quiet chuckle that broke through the tension between you both. She shook her head lightly, realizing you were both overthinking the same thing all along.

"So yeah... everything I did, everything I said from the start—it was never casual," you finished, your voice gentle but unwavering. "Simply because I like you, Haley. I’ve liked you for a long time."

There was a long, charged pause. It probably felt like an eternity to you, but it could’ve only been a minute or two—maybe more. You weren’t sure anymore. If the roles were reversed, if Haley were in your place, she would’ve bolted in embarrassment, rushing back to her home to cry her heart out the moment you didn’t respond to her confession.

But this is you. You have always been patient. You still wore the same loving face the moment you started your confession and the moment you let out the last word. Nevermind your face is in a deep shade of red.

"You..." she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper before rising drastically. "You fucking idiot!"

"Huh?" you managed, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

Before you could process what was happening, her fists slammed hard against your chest. The force wasn’t enough to cause real pain, but the impact was enough to send a slight jolt through you. You wheezed softly between bursts of laughter, breath escaping in short bursts as she continued her assault.

"You liked me all this time and you didn’t say it earlier?!" she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

You let out another laugh, struggling for air as her fists smacked your chest again. At this point, it wasn’t about the physical impact—it was the sheer force of emotion behind it.

You must have had enough with Haley's fists dealing little to no damage on your ribcage because the moment she lifted her hands to strike again, you caught them gently in yours and leaned down to capture her lips, silencing the stream of profanities leaving her mouth.

When your lips finally parted, a brief, lingering pause stretched between you both, the air thick with emotions you both hadn't fully acknowledged yet.

"You could have said you liked me, y'know? No need to hit me." You said softly, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you pulled back.

"I hate you," she grumbled, her expression softening despite the harsh words. Her gaze lowered, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks as the embarrassment of her outburst settled in.

"You don’t." You sounded far too smug, watching her squirm just a bit. "Emily said so."

Haley’s brow furrowed deeply as the realization dawned. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She thought back to that conversation, recalling her sister’s confident assurance. "You know about the bet all this time?!"

"Yup." Your grin widened.

She stared at you, her expression a mix of incredulity and irritation. "You asked my sister if you have a chance with me, didn’t you?"

You smirked but remained silent, letting the unspoken answer hang in the air.

"Good Yoba… Why did I have to like such an idiot dork." She huffed, puffing out a breath as her frustration began to give way to amusement. Her lips twitched into a small smile despite herself. "Come here and let me wipe that stupid smirk from your face."

"You'll do that by?"

Her eyes rolled again, but the playful edge remained as she replied with a small, amused grin. "By kissing it off you, what else?"

~~~~~~

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

@tekanparadiae

@slug-on-bike

@prlan

@mit-suri

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[nyuuronfly]

On Rain World lore and it's implementation within the game.

This is kindof a random ramble I went on in a Discord chat and just feel like sharing elsewhere. (also note this is all primarily in reference to the original game, Survivor's story.)

I honestly think too many miss the forest for the trees a bit with RW, in terms of how important the lore is, if that makes sense. I talked with somebody about first-time experiences with the game and they said they'd watched a number of lore explanation videos on YT before starting, because of some reason along the lines of "I didn't trust the game to deliver its own story properly." To me this is almost saddening to hear because I really feel that misses the point of why the game has it's lore to begin with.

To me, while playing, any tidbits i learned about history or other information contributed to a feeling like the world I was navigating had a very real history that saturated it, yet one that I would be unable to grasp fully. It is an illusory feeling of realness, given how it is experienced. The game is mechanically not designed to incentivize collecting many information pearls, especially when in the original game you can literally just drop them off a cliff and lose them forever. You get the feeling often like you are bound to never be able to get everything, nor would you even probably want to put in the effort, so the illusion actually stays stronger because of that. Your mind wanders speculating about every little detail, whether intention truly existed behind it or not, because it feels like it did. You learned that it might have. Maintaining that illusion while playing I think is the primary reason they were included, not actually the experience of "knowing" the history. Rain World in general seems to have a thematic fixation on the simple idea that individuals have limited perspectives. Joar Jakobsson has said that one of the core ideas behind Rain World was to recreate the life of a "rat in Manhattan." That is to say, a creature that understands how to find food, hide, and live in a complex man-made structure, that cannot understand it's structuring purpose or why it was built. The very core issue of the iterators, is that the solution to the "great problem" intrinsically has to lie with knowledge that could only be obtained from "the other side." They are corporeal beings trying to know something that pertains to something outside corporeal reality. Yet pursuit of knowledge is very important to creatures like ourselves. Collecting any individual pearl is mostly an exercise in doing a lot just for little bits of knowledge. There is a lot of understanding of just how significant wanting to know more is, even something unimportant, when you are left in the dark the way you are in the game. Most information pearls you deliver are literally completely useless to know about, but they feel personally important, especially in how finding them relates to your connection to the iterators. My primary motivation to find pearls in my first play was to spend more time with Moon. On a very real emotional level, Moon felt like my only friend in the world while I played. On a mechanical level, she does literally nothing. But Rain World manages to operate on a very emotional, even instinctual level with how it's designed. I wanted to be in her company and have something to give her. Because I am alone, and lost. So something along those lines is why I felt saddened to hear the sentiment like Rain World somehow "fails" to deliver it's "story." The purpose of the game is not to find pearls and hear about some grand narrative. At it's core, Rain World is a game that's design was inspired by nature, and it's use of history within the world relates to us as a player the way history relates to us as people. It is relayed through people reading from records created by parties with their own perspectives, and connects us abstractly to a sensation that there is more out there than our own lives. That is a feeling you have as a player, and ultimately the true story that Rain World tells is the memories you have playing it. What you did, saw, and felt. The same as how our story is that of our own lives. That is the purpose of the game.