#also that last sketch is another AU that's been in my brain since last month. yes. it is a demon/angel au <guy who loves demon/angel aus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shhhhyoursister · 3 years ago

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photographer!au

hey yall this is the first of the unfinished aus im going to be uploading, im leaving in all my notes and unedited bits so you can see the process and everything!!! i hope you all enjoy!!!!!!!!!

Matteo felt a bit like a ghost at times, with the way he slowly paced the hallways of his home. It wouldn’t be too out of character for him to have become a ghost without even realizing it, especially being alone in an old, large, dismally lit house for as long as he had been. He was sure the air was swimming with spirits, could tell from the shadows that would quietly slip from room to room, slithering along the walls with nothing really there to cast them.

When he was a kid, he was terrified of his house. Understandably, considering the constant creaking and tapping and thudding that came from the basement, the attic, even the walls in Matteo’s own room. His parents would always tell him “Houses just make sounds, Matteo, you have to get over it,” and eventually he did (figure out how to end)

(start new paragraph) around the time he started realizing how much of a ghost he was, amongst his family and even his friends. Quiet, woeful, longing for some kind of life to live. He could sympathize with them, and his fear vanished.

(rearrange) It still made him laugh, though. His house looked haunted, from the outside and the inside, and the fact that it was surrounded on almost all sides with dense, thick, dark woods didn’t help. Matteo was still sometimes horrified by the noises he heard coming from outside, never knowing quite what was out there. At least his father had updated all the locks before he left.

Another ghost, but one that managed to escape.

The more Matteo thought about it, everyone in his house was a ghost in some way. His father left, leaving almost no trace except for the money that went into the house and Matteo’s bank account, keeping the place safe and livable for a young adult who had never lived on his own before. His mother was also gone, but her departure was much more like something out of an actual scary story. He didn’t like to think about it.

Matteo filled the silence of the empty house with music. He had begged (guilted) his father into buying him a set of bluetooth speakers that were always playing something, usually quieter stuff or instrumentals when he was feeling it. It helped make the house feel more alive, make Matteo feel more alive and connected to the world, and honestly helped hide the noises that would come from any direction with no warning.

He knew that he could also feel more connected to the word if he ever went out into it, but it had been a few months. Sometimes Jonas or Hanna would come over, but people didn’t tend to stay long. He could get why, but it didn’t make him feel better about it. He couldn’t control where he lived, his family was making sure of that. Something about the house being in their family since it was built, it was an important piece of their history, whatever. Matteo was just waiting for some distant cousin of his to call him and say they’re moving in; he was pretty sure he had heard whispers of it happening soon.

The only times he really saw people, besides the couple times a month his friends would dare to enter the house, was when he went out to buy food or weed, the only essentials he had been restocking. He couldn’t remember the last time he got a new shirt, or pair of shoes. He sometimes worried that he had forgotten how to communicate outside of simple small talk and asking for an ounce, with how little he saw people. He didn’t even know if the people physically closest to him could be considered neighbors, as the amount of miles his property took up was too much for him to think about. He sure as hell never saw them around.

Which was why it was so strange when Matteo saw him for the first time.

He wasn’t as scared as he should’ve been to see a dark figure creeping around his property. He was mostly confused, as he lived far enough from any real towns that he had to actually learn how to drive, and had an old pickup truck parked outside to prove it. He looked out the other windows, and didn’t see any cars or anything else outside. It was dark out, and especially dark with the trees around him, and he didn’t even have any lights on his house besides the small lamp next to the couch and his TV. He had been watching something when he noticed the person.

He started wondering if it even was a person. There were tons of wild animals that could have come out of the woods, sniffing around his property looking for scraps. He had seen bears behind his house before, and there was no reason to assume that the thing outside was a person.

Until, as Matteo watched from the window, there was a bright flash from where the figure was standing. Matteo jumped back, yanked the curtain closed, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no clue what the flash was but it confirmed that there was definitely a person behind his house.

The person was still far away, right at the edge of the woods, and Matteo didn’t feel like he was in any imminent danger. He slid the curtain open the tiniest bit, just enough so he could peek an eye out, and saw another flash. After that second flash the figure stood still for a moment, and then bent down, and stood up, lifting what looked like a bike up off the ground. The person mounted the bike, and rode away quickly. Matteo watched the bike disappear in the direction he knew the road was, and he let out a breath.

It might have just been a weird neighbor who got turned around on a nightly bike ride, even though he had been warned since he was a baby to not go outside his house without some kind of light to scare away potential animals. Or maybe it was someone from some organization in his area, making sure the properties were being taken care of. Matteo thought of a million excuses, all of them seeming rational enough to not panic. He triple checked his locks before going to bed, and everything looked good, so he made sure his phone was fully charged and he pulled an old baseball bat out of a closet just in case. Better safe than sorry.

He was still thinking about it the next morning, as he stood at the door leading out the back of his house, steaming a mug of coffee clutched in both hands. No matter the season it was always freezing in the mornings where he lived, and to compensate he was wearing his purple jacket over a sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, two pairs of sweatpants, and a pair of fuzzy rainbow socks over a more boring white pair. The socks had been a gift from Abdi his first birthday after coming out to them, and he had rolled his eyes in the moment but they quickly became his favorite things to slip on in the morning.

He took a sip of the coffee as he stared over the grass leading to the woods, feeling warmth spread all the way to the tips of his fingers. He leaned back against the doorframe, took another sip and then dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept great the night before, still too full of adrenaline from the person on the bike to even close his eyes. He shivered a little, remembering the previous night, and looked out again, at the spot where he had first noticed the figure.

He was about to turn away, go back inside to text Jonas about the whole thing and joke about it to make himself feel less nervous, but his eyes caught on something. Something flat and dark, lying in the grass, he couldn’t quite make it out but it looked like a book. He stared at it for a good few minutes, and then placed his coffee cup down and wrapped his arms around himself, shoved his feet in the boots he kept by the door, and started walking towards the woods.

There was a wet chill in the air, and he could see his breath as it shakily left his lips. His heart was pounding again, his hands shaking a little where they were clutching his sides, but he strode on, his eyes fixed on the book. He reached the spot, and stood some feet away, glancing around as if the person was going to come running out and snatch the book out from under him. He didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear anything besides the usual morning song of the birds around him, and the rustling trees, and he bent down as quick as he could and grabbed the book.

It was cold, was what he noticed at first, so much so that he almost dropped it right away. He wrapped his hand in his sleeve and looked at it, his second observation being that it seemed to be a journal or something, with no title on the cover or the side, the front and back a dark, brown leather. He tucked it under his arm and quickly shuffled back inside, closing the door behind him and putting the book next to his coffee so he could reabsorb some warmth. Once he could feel his hands again, he looked at the book, and felt a chill go through him that wasn’t from the cold.

Great, he thought to himself, his breathing picking up as he did so, the mysterious dark figure creeping around your backyard in the dark totally isn’t going to be mad that you took their journal. They totally aren’t going to come get it back and they totally aren’t going to have a weapon and they totally aren’t going to kill you when they see that the only person here is a scrawny gay baby who hasn’t even talked to another person in two weeks.

Not the most helpful path for his mind to take. His eyes were still fixed on the book, his brain spitting out thousands of awful things that could be inside it, and he quickly walked over and flipped the cover open. And he titled his head.

The first thing he saw wasn’t words like he was expecting, but what looked like a drawing stuck onto what Matteo thought was a photograph. The background was a dark tree, the black leaves clear and crisp against the background, and the sketch on top was of a bird. It was cool, even if it belonged to someone who was going to come kill Matteo to get it back.

[He flipped the next page, and saw a drawing of a boy in what looked like a dress, with his fist up, and an angry face. He flipped to the next one and saw some sketches of a few different random faces, probably not random to whoever owned the book. He kept looking through the pages, eventually grabbing the book and turning page after page as he started his usual ghostly path around the house. (change to more generic creepy sketches/photographs of houses and Matteo realizes that that’s probably why he was taking pics but he keeps flipping and sees some more personal sketches and some of people)

He must have flipped through hundreds of sketches, photographs stuck onto paper, and combinations of the two, which he knew there was a word for but he couldn’t think of it no matter how hard he tried. When he got to the last page, a little disappointed to be nearing the end, he saw one blank page. The page right before it had a fox, with writing at the bottom that Matteo didn’t read before his attention was caught by the only completely white page in the book.]

He shook his head, dropping the book back onto the table in his kitchen, deciding to forget about it until he ate something and called Jonas to whine to him about it.

He walked to his fridge and pulled it open, frowning when he noticed how empty it was. He sighed as he realized that he needed to go shopping, and looked in all the drawers, only finding a few random pieces of fruit, some tupperwares of old leftovers that he needed to throw out, and some beer. He really needed to go shopping. He pulled the freezer open and smiled when he saw a carton of ice cream he had forgotten he had bought. He wasn’t below eating ice cream for breakfast.

He pulled it out and set it on the counter, and heard a sudden thud thud thud on the wall closest to him. He jumped, but rolled his eyes, and said out loud, “I’m sorry Helena, but I don’t have anything else!”

There was another thud and then quiet, and then a weird scraping sound that got quieter and farther away. He didn’t have names for all of the ghosts in his house, but there were a few prominent ones. He had made up a story about Helena, an old cook who died in a tragic onion slicing incident, who was going to spend the rest of her days scolding anyone in the house for inadequately feeding themselves. He would hear thud anytime he reached for candy over fruit, or pizza over vegetables, or made another pot of spaghetti instead of learning how to make anything else, or closed the fridge without taking anything out. Helena was the loudest by far.

He happily ate his ice cream, and then called Jonas. Jonas not only sounded worried, but a little annoyed at Matteo’s lack of worry about the whole situation.

“Bro, you saw someone creeping around near your house in the middle of the night, found a fucking journal in the same place the next morning, and decided to take it?” Jonas asked, his voice getting higher and higher as he spoke, “do you want to get killed?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone died in this house,” Matteo joked back, making a ghostly wooing noise into the phone, but Jonas didn’t seem to find the humor in the situation.

“Do you want me to come stay for a few days?”

Matteo snorted, “You? Staying over at my house? Jonas, you can barely spend five minutes here without pissing yourself.”

“It’s not my fault that my best friend lives in a fucking haunted house, but I’ll come stay if you if you need me too. I honestly might do it anyway.” Jonas said, and Matteo rolled his eyes.

“Dude, I’m fine. Weirder things have happened here.” He didn’t know how true that was, but he was hoping it would just further deter Jonas from wanting to come by. He didn’t want to spend a week with Jonas jumping at every tiny noise, insulting the ghosts that Matteo considered his friends. That might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn’t fun to have people in your home who were so obviously uncomfortable.

“Well, call me the second anything else happens,” Jonas said, and then said, “no, call the police first, and then call me. Promise?”

“I’m not going to call the police, dude.”

“Matteo,” Jonas said, suddenly serious in a way that made Matteo shut up, the smile slipping from his face, “I already worry about you so fucking much being out there alone, can you at least promise me that you’ll be smart about this?”

Matteo bit his lip, feeling guilty. He didn’t know Jonas worried about him so much. He sighed out, “Okay, okay, if I see anything I’ll call the police, and then you, and anyone else you think I should.”

“Probably Amira too, but don’t tell her about this because she’ll come there and kill you before that other person even has the chance.”

Matteo laughed, and heard Jonas chuckle on the other end. He did really appreciate that his friends cared about him, but he kind of wished they would show it in ways that didn’t involve him getting scolded.

“I’m definitely not going to tell her,” Matteo laughed again, and then got quiet and his own kind of serious and said, “and thanks, dude. I’m sorry I’m scaring you, but I promise I’ll be safe and if I’m not someone will know.”

“Okay, good,” Jonas sounded relieved, “and I will come visit soon, okay? I miss you, man.”

Matteo smiled. They ended the conversation, Jonas relieved that Matteo wasn’t just going to let fate take its course with things. He went back to his fridge after, started looking through the cupboards too, and made a list of everything he needed. He got himself dressed and ready to go out, and hopped in his car and started the engine.

And it didn’t start. He turned the key again, and again, and finally on the fifth try the pickup roared to life. His car was a piece of shit but it usually got him from point A to point B, so he couldn’t complain. He also didn’t have the money for a new one at all, and was planning on selling it whenever he moved to the city. He hated driving.

He made his trip out as quick as possible, feeling strange with all of the eyes of the other store patrons on him. Nobody was actually looking at him but he was so unused to being around people, especially as many as were crowded into the aisles. He grabbed everything he needed and had paid and was back in his car in under twenty minutes, a new record. He blasted music as he made the drive back to his house, and brought the groceries in and shoved them in the fridge with little thought.

He lazed around for the rest of the day until he realized he should probably start making food, and he eyed the fresh produce he had bought, trying to remember the last time he had ingested a vegetable, and he grabbed a bag of spinach and a few other things to make some nutrition-packed eggs to make up for his ice cream breakfast. There was a quiet bang on the wall next to the fridge, Helena’s usual way of giving her approval for Matteo’s food choices.

The sky had darkened as he was cooking, and he was standing in the middle of his kitchen eating the eggs out of the pan with the spatula, because why not, when he saw movement out the window. He paused with the last forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth as he tried to focus his eyes in the almost pitch black outside, and they suddenly caught on what he could only assume was the same person as the night before, standing in the exact spot Matteo had found the book, standing perfectly still.

He held his breath. The figure didn’t move for a while, at least not that Matteo could see, and he put the pan down on the counter, his hands shaking hard as he grabbed at his pocket for his phone. He had just dialed Jonas’ number, not wanting to jump to the police quite yet, when the person suddenly whipped around, grabbed their bike, and rode away, much faster than the night before. Matteo lost track of what direction the person was going in, and his eyes widened as he started panicking that that direction was towards his house.

He dropped his phone, probably the dumbest thing he could have done in the situation, and stood there hyperventilating until he caught the briefest glimpse of what had to be the figure on the bike, once again following the path back to the road. It didn’t completely calm Matteo’s nerves because the person knew that the book was gone, knew that the only house for miles around was Matteo’s and the speed that the person had left at was a little concerning. Not enough for Matteo to call Jonas, but he spent another night wide awake, eyes wide open, on the couch because for some reason it felt safer. He passed out from pure tiredness just as the sun started to creep up over the trees.

And then nothing, for a few days. Matteo found himself constantly glancing towards the windows, sure he was going to see someone right outside brandishing a weapon and demanding entry, the book, and Matteo’s life. He didn’t know why he was so sure that the person was going to kill him for taking it, but it just seemed like the kind of thing that would happen to him. He’d just become an actual ghost and haunt whatever random family member they shoved in the place to keep it in the family.

No, nothing happened until a few days later. Matteo had even started feeling less tense, his eyes darting to the window less, less convinced that he had even needed to be worried in the first place. It wasn’t the first time he had seen someone in the woods near his house, even though all of those times had been during the day and he had at least one parent in the house. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

Until he was making himself breakfast one morning. He hadn’t wanted to hear it from Helena so he was making eggs again, with peppers instead of spinach for some variety, and he heard a bamg that didn’t sound like one of his usual visitors. He froze, but didn’t hear anything else so he continued sliding his spatula around the pan. He gasped when there was another sudden bang, and few more, and what sounded like something pounding on his door until there was a crack, and even though he wasn’t in the room he could tell by the sound that his door had been forced open.

He turned the stove off, and then again, froze completely in place. His eyes were darting around the room, eyeing the knife on the counter and the thick wooden rolling pin that was leaning out of the sink. He had options to protect himself, if only he could fucking move. He heard footsteps, heavy ones, loud ones, and he snapped into action. He grabbed the rolling pin and strode out of the room, filled with enough adrenaline to be convinced that he could take whoever had just broken into his house.

It didn’t take long for him to find the intruder. He was facing away from Matteo, and when Matteo spotted him he stopped moving. He didn’t see any weapons in the person’s hand, could only really see a large black jacket, black backpack, black pants, black shoes, and the back of a head of curly, dark hair.

Matteo shifted his weight and felt his blood run cold when the floor under him creaked. The person whipped around, and yelled out a terrified, “What the fuck?”

They stared at each other in a shocked silence. The guy in front of him didn’t seem too scary, or like he had come to kill Matteo for stealing his book. He looked scared himself, his bright brown eyes still wide, his lips parted.

“I thought-” the guy stuttered out, shaking his head in shock, “I thought this place was abandoned.”

Matteo tilted his head, wondering if he really was a fucking ghost, or maybe his house was abandoned and he was just considered abandoned along with it. He took a breath when the guy tilted his head back, and then quickly said, “Well, nobody told me that.”

He didn’t know why he was trying to joke around with the person who had just broken into his house. Remembering that fact he felt his breathing speed up a bit, his hands clenching tighter around the rolling pin, and he must have moved it enough to be noticed, because the guy quickly raised his arms, with his palms out as if Matteo had told him to put his hands up and drop any weapons.

“I promise, I really thought this place was abandoned,” he said quickly, stuttering over his words, “I’m a photographer, I take pictures of abandoned places. I promise I didn’t know anyone lived here. Please don’t call the police, this isn’t the first time I’ve accidentally broken in somewhere and they don’t like me very much.”

Matteo furrowed his brows. He noticed the strap around the other’s neck, leading down to a very fancy looking camera gently resting against his chest. His story seemed to check out, so it would have made sense for Matteo to kick the guy out with some stern words, and go to the store and buy the strongest locks on the market.

He didn’t of course, because he’s Matteo, but what he did do was drop the rolling pin to his side and ask, “What’s your name?”

The guy smiled at him, and Matteo couldn’t help but notice that it was a really great smile, and said, “I’m David, and I’m really sorry I kicked your door in. I’ll pay to replace it, and to get you new locks because the ones you have definitely aren’t doing their job.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Matteo snorted, and at the expectant look from David said, “I’m Matteo. And this place is haunted, so it’s good you weren’t trying to break in. Well, trying to break in to do something bad.”

David’s eyes lit up, and he asked, his smile growing, “Haunted?”

“Yep.” Matteo replied, popping the p, smiling when from behind him he heard what sounded like a doorknob being shaken, and then a door creaking and a thud, and said, “that one’s Timmy. He died from shock after walking in on his parents having sex.”

David laughed, his grin growing bigger until his eyes were almost shut from it, and Matteo had to tell himself that it was not the time to start ogling. Just because a boy with the prettiest smile Matteo had ever seen and the nicest laugh he had ever heard was in front of him didn’t mean he had to fall for him. Especially considering the guy had broken into his house.

David started looking around, his eyes only staying on each feature of the house for a second before moving on, and Matteo got so lost in watching his calculating gaze that he jumped when he suddenly said, “This place is amazing, when was it built?”

“Um, I don’t really know,” Matteo said, trying to think back in his memory because he was sure someone told him at some point, “a long ass time ago.”

David laughed again. Matteo’s stomach fluttered at it and he quickly turned around, running his hand over the top of some cabinet that was probably hundreds of years older than him.

“If you want,” he started, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Jonas yelling at him not to, “you can still take pictures here. If you want it to look authentic you might have to move my Switch and the flatscreen but I’m sure we can work something out.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to intrude, I’ve already done that enough.” David replied, shaking his head, though his eyes were still roving around the room, his fingers twitching towards the camera around his neck.

Matteo shrugged, “You wouldn’t be intruding. I don’t really do much, as long as you don’t steal my shit or look through my stuff I don’t really care.”

It was dumb as fuck for him to offer a complete stranger free range of his home, his home in the middle of nowhere, a complete stranger who again, had broken into his house, but it didn’t seem like he needed to be scared of David. He seemed nice, and was way too apologetic about the situation to have any ulterior motives. Matteo hoped, at least. And what did he really care if a cute boy came around a few times to take pictures of his house?

“Are you sure? I can pay you a bit, or have my sister bake you something in return. Is there anything you want?”

Matteo smirked, and said, “Just knock next time and you’re good.”

David smiled back, held a hand out, and said, “You’ve got a deal.”

Matteo grabbed his hand, but quickly pulled away when the second their skin touched, he felt a shock. He looked at his hand, and then back at David who was doing the same, and said, “Might have to cancel that arrangement if you have superpowers.”

“Well, you live in a haunted house, how do I know you aren’t a ghost? Maybe I shouldn’t be accepting offers from ghouls anyway.” David quipped, the corners of his mouth turning up.

“A little late for that, we did shake on it.” Matteo replied, smiling at the back and forth. He hadn’t had such smooth conversation with someone who wasn’t a close friend in years. He kept trying to remind himself that David was there in his house because he broke in, kept trying to stare at the scratches on his boots from kicking the door in, but his eyes were always drawn back up to David’s face.

“Good point,” David said with a grin, and then he looked towards the door, and continued, “I should probably go, I’m sure you’re busy.”

Matteo looked down at himself, at his sweatpants and shirt that had a stain on it, and his rainbow fuzzy socks because of course he was wearing those, and said, “Yeah, lots of important business to take care of.”

“Like buying new locks? And making sure I didn’t break your door? And making sure you get the receipt for everything so I can pay you back?”

“Yep.” Matteo said, popping the p again, blushing when David smiled at him.

“I’ll let you get to that,” he said, and then his face dropped and he said, “and again, I’m so sorry about all of this. I can’t believe I broke into your house and you’re being kind to me.”

“Maybe I just want someone else here for the ghosts to focus on,” he said, and grinned when there was a bang from somewhere behind him, “It can get a little tiring.”

David looked thrilled, and started heading towards the door, calling out on his way, “I can’t wait!”

Matteo watched him walk out the door with a wink thrown over his shoulder, and walked over to the nearest wall, pressed his back against it, and slid down until his ass hit the floor. He dropped his head into his hands, and muttered to himself, “What the fuck just happened?”

There was a quiet knock on the wall a couple of inches away from his head, and he didn’t know who it was from but he appreciated it nonetheless.

***

Matteo made the executive decision to tell absolutely nobody that the first thing he did when someone broke into his house was invite him back. He knew that Jonas would be in a car on his way over in a second just to yell at Matteo in person, and he was sure Amira would learn how to teleport so she could get there first to kick his ass. He figured it was better to keep them in the dark until David turned out to actually be a murderer or something.

He did realize, about an hour after the entire situation happened while waiting for an employee at the hardware store he went to to get him the strongest locks they sold, that he and David hadn’t actually arranged a time for him to come. He didn’t have his number either obviously. And with these new locks he won’t even be able to break in if you don’t answer the door, Matteo thought to himself, laughing just as the employee walked back over. He shot Matteo a strange look as he handed the locks over, and Matteo bought them and left as quickly as he could.

It didn’t really matter too much because a few days later, just as Matteo was twisting the end of a joint he had just rolled, there was a knock on the door. He paused, knowing immediately that it was David because nobody ever came to visit him. He tucked the joint behind his ear and got up, shaking the nerves out of his hands as he walked to the door. He didn’t want to admit how much of his nerves were purely because David was attractive.

He pulled the door open and felt all the air rush out of him. David was standing there with a huge grin on his face, wearing a simple tee shirt and shorts, the camera around his neck and a bag strapped to his back. He tilted his head when Matteo didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” he said finally, stepping back and inviting David in with a slight bow and sweep of his arm, “enter if you dare.”

David took in a dramatic breath and closed his eyes as he stepped over the threshold, and then opened them again, darting around in faux fear at the surroundings. Matteo rolled his own, and crossed his arms over his chest, not really knowing what to say.

Thankfully David seemed to want to get right into working, and he stepped further into the house, his eyes darting around again with actual interest as he studied the foyer of the house. “Can we start in the kitchen?”

Matteo nodded and led him that way, hoping that he had cleaned up from cooking breakfast that morning. He was pleased to see no pots or pans out on the counters, and nothing in the sink, either. David looked around, smiling at the older features and furniture and stepped forward to look closer at the cabinets. He ran his hand over the wood, and then stepped back again, raised the camera to his face, and pressed his finger down. There was a click, the sound of the shutter going off, and then David pulled the camera away from his eye and started clicking through the buttons on it. He turned, took a picture of the open space of the kitchen, and then checked that one too.

#this was a weird but fun one that is not my usual vibe but god did i love this whole idea #davenzi #i guess????#enjoy friends i spent so much time on this

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sweetsubharry · 4 years ago

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hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!! 💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

#ask lots #Lottie fic rec #fic rec #larry fic rec #larry stylinson fic rec #larry fanfic rec #fanfiction #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #bottom harry #top louis #sub harry #dom louis #footballer louis au

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 4 years ago

Text

Shameless self promotion ahead- why? Because i have nothing else but soukoku brain-rot rn (yes, I'm working on the stack of request for my personality HC thing- but some of ya'll gave so little information it be hard T_T)

-Bsd college Au- (It's soukoku)

Dazai’s confident, independent, smart, but a total jerk and playboy

.Chuuya's confident, independent, slightly idiotic, but a total pushover.

Dazai’s unorganized, calm, and enjoys making his roommate's life hell.

Chuuya’s organized, irritable, and hates his roommate with his entire soul.

Sadly, Dazai finds his roommate appealing to the eye, in other words hot, but he’s still… a closeted bisexual.

Sadly, Chuuya finds his roommate hot, but his roommate insists they’re straight.

Nakahara Chuuya and Dazai Osamu are roommates.

Chapter 1: Roommates With every rustle of the leaves, a brisk wind passed over, chilling the humidity to be bearable for a moment. Yokohama tended to have warm summers, even towards the end there were days when the humidity stung. It could be cold enough for a hoodie in the early morning, but far too humid for one in the later afternoon, right before it cooled down again. The signs that lead into the sweet release of the cool fall season.

“You know, I said I was helping, not doing most of the work here.” Oda, a male with slight stubble and brown, slightly red hair grumbled. His eyes looked back to another male, arms wrapped in bandages, and eyes drained of any emotion. The smallest cardboard box within his hands as he snickered.

The boy was Dazai Osamu, an 18-year-old who’d pushed through hell to make it here. Despite not wanting to go to college and instead be a basement dump until he died, he stuck his tongue out.

Within that exact second, Dazai's eyes filled with life, something that he could do on command, a mask of sorts. “But Odasaku, I can’t carry all the heavy boxes!” the childish whine Dazai produced towards his cousin scraped within the poor adult's ears.

“If you ate anything besides ramen and take-out, you might be more than skin and bones,” Oda grumbled. Setting the final box down in the dorm room. So far there hadn’t been a sign of whoever Dazai’s roommate was to be. Oda prayed for the unfortunate soul who had to deal with the brunette.

“I don’t only eat ramen! I ate vegetables just yesterday!” Dazai crossed his arms, laying his finger over his bandages.

“The ‘vegetables’- Oda moved his hands to form air quotes around vegetables - in those 10-minute self serve ramen packets don’t actually count.'' Frowning Dazai pouted, acting like a child once again. It was something Oda had never minded considering his cousin had never had a real childhood.

Before he could make another whiny remark, the door to the dorm opened.

Stepping from a rather expensive-looking car, a ginger-haired male stepped outside into the warmth of the closing summer. His hair, longer on one side than the other, rested neatly over his shoulder. His feminine-like frame caused him to stand out a bit more than he’d like. Though, it was natural for a model to stand out in the crowd. Not that he modeled too often, it had been a pastime after moving in his third year to Yokohama. He’d done it with his older sister a handful of times before then, but she’d left for London just before they moved.

Grabbing one of the cases, he glanced at his father, who was getting out of the car. “Dad, I can handle this myself, you really don’t have to help me.” The petite male mumbled slightly embarrassed. Though, his words were the truth considering his strength was out of the ordinary for his size.

“Nonsense Chuuya, let you old man at least have this.” The boy's father, a male who kept his locks of raven hair down to his waist in length, shivered as he spoke.

Chuuya sighed, handing his father a few smaller boxes as he grabbed several of the larger boxes. “How’s Ane-San been?” Chuuya hadn't been able to call her with how busy he’d been the last month, he suspected his father, with how protective he was, had to have called at least once.

“Ah, Koyo has been doing alright. Both she and Yosano (Koyo's fiance) plan on coming down for Christmas.” Rimbaud smiled lightly as he spoke. Chuuya’s lips also turned into a smile hearing that he’d finally met his older sister's fiance. The two of them had been engaged since she’d graduated from college two years ago, and had been together for 5 years before that. “So when will you be attempting dating again? I do miss that boy… it was Shirace right?”

As his father mentioned the boy's name, Chuuya's stomach tightened and his heart picked up before he calmed himself. The two of them were cities apart, he’d never see that boy again. Shaking off the thoughts that had flashed within his mind, he smiled. “It wasn’t meant to be dad. Regarding another boyfriend, I don’t know. I know Ane-San dated a lot, I'm just not sure I want to get back into dating yet.” Chuuya shrugged as they came up to his assigned dorm. Grabbing the handle, he twisted it and opened it, coming face to face with his roommate looking like he was about to start a childish bicker with whoever that was.

“Hey…” Chuuya’s attempt at speaking was completely suffocated when Dazai turned to look at his roommate. God, he was more than just good-looking. Sure Dazai was on the frail and thin-looking side, but he still looked perfect. The shape of his jaw, to the depth of the brunette's coffee-colored eyes, all added to his looks. That was also looking past the males' ideal height. He was positive, the brunette noticed he was being checked out.

“He’s so… so short.” Dazai snickered as he looked Chuuya up and down. His eyes glanced all around looking for little things to poke fun at. At least, that’s what he was saying he was doing. There was no way he was checking Chuuya out. Sure, he did resemble a girl, at least a little bit. His eyes were a replica of the clear ocean. The way his hair curled around his face, the small freckles that stood against his pale complexion… were all attractive.

At least, it had been until the male’s brow twitched and his hands balled into fists. “I’m still growing!” he hissed almost like an angry child. Rimbaud sighed, tapping his son's shoulder.

Oda looked to him apologetically before turning to Dazai. “That’s the first thing you can say? Not, hey or hello?” Dazai shrugged, walking to his room with a yawn.

“Eh, I’m tired, I wasn't thinking of being polite. Plus, when am I ever polite?” Dazai smirked, leaning his head back as he shoved his hands into his back pockets. Sadly, his statement was nothing less than honest. He was never polite. If he wanted something, he was upfront about it. How else would he have such a long list of girls' hearts he’d shattered?

Chuuya rolled his eyes before moving the rest of his boxes into the dorm. ~

Chuuya took an hour to get everything from the boxes and his suitcase into his closet and drawers. His secret box, which he’d made sure to carry in, was still packed tightly, but that was because he was figuring what to do with it. Luckily, his closet had the perfect space for bottles. Unlucky to him that space was out of his reach. Hissing to himself, he looked around before grabbing the footrest to one of the chairs. When he finished organizing and making sure every drawer was labeled with what should be put inside, he glanced around.

His roommate had yet to unpack anything from his boxes. Not that there seemed to be many boxes to begin with. In fact, they were all labeled, one box of clothes, another labeled self-car, and a third labeled bandages. That had been something he noticed about his roommate. Rolling his eyes, Chuuya moved to knock on his roommate's door. The response he got was grumbled and inaudible. “Are you going to unpack?” there still came no response, so he figured his roommate was simply sleeping after a long trip or something. Shrugging it off, Chuuya walked into his room, directly next to dazai’s with a very thin wall separating them. Pulling out a sketchbook and some pencils, he put on some music and began sketching some art designs.

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phantom-curve · 3 years ago

Note

For your prompts: 5. trepverter for Willex, please?

this one kind of got away from me, but hopefully it still mostly captures the essence of the prompt! and if not, it's at least a cute little fluffy Willex moment that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. set in an AU where the boys are alive, here is some flustered Alex ft. supportive Reggie and Luke.

trepverter - a witty response or comeback you think of only after it's too late to use (Rated T for swearing with a Trigger Warning for mentions of homophobic parents)

They say hindsight is 20/20 but Alex never really paid much attention to that until the day he found himself knocked flat on his back, elbows scratched and head pounding as if he had been hit by a freight train instead of an irresponsible skateboarder. It probably didn’t help that he had been in the middle of trying to calm himself down, all the signs of an impending anxiety attack mounting within his system until he had finally just put his feet to the pavement and started walking to get some of the overwhelming energy worked out of his system. He probably could have been more attentive, more aware of exactly where he was going and who was headed his direction, but he figured it would be fine on a random Wednesday morning in October when the tourists weren’t really around and most kids his age were in school.

Alex wasn’t in school because his parents had withdrawn tuition payments after he had finally worked up the courage to tell them he wouldn’t be bringing a nice girl home because he didn’t want to date any girls, in fact he would much prefer to date some boys, but the pressure of keeping his identity a secret hadn’t made that possible either so he was done hiding and he hoped they could accept that. Turns out they couldn’t accept that, or him, once he made it obvious he wasn’t going to go back in the closet or give any girl the chance to “change his mind”. As if that was even possible.

It hadn’t been a big blowout, more of a silent retreat, his parents completely withdrawing any and all support from his life over the course of the last few months. And apparently that included tuition, as Alex had discovered that morning when the school called to inform him they had finished completing his withdrawal forms, and they would be sad to see him go. Which had led him to the boardwalk, and then directly into the path of whatever hooligan that had crashed into him. Maybe if he had just been able to keep his mouth shut for 3 more years he wouldn’t be lying here, breathless and bruised, and still on the cusp of absolutely losing it.

Hindsight, Alex thought to himself as he stared up at the clear blue LA sky, can absolutely kiss my ass.

“Awh, man!” A voice above him whined. “You dinged my board!”

Alex toppled off of the anxiety ledge and straight into an ocean of lost control.

“Dinged your board? Dinged your board!? Dude, you ran me over!”

He punctuated his statement by leaping to his feet, which would have probably been a lot more threatening if he didn’t immediately stagger, hand held to his head as the world spun and his stomach rolled.

“Oh shit.”

The voice cursed quietly, and then Alex felt warm hands against his biceps, steadying him until everything slowly came back into focus. There was a boy standing in front of him, black cracked helmet perched on his head, soft brown eyes staring at him with a tinge of concern and remorse. When it was clear Alex was steady once more, he released his grip and offered an easy-going smile.

“You’re right, man, I totally pancaked you. My bad, are you okay?”

There was a weird feeling in Alex’s gut. Not the kind of sickening wave of nausea he had experienced when he first stood, but more of a fluttery feeling. His brain had quieted somewhat, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just look where you’re going next time.”

His voice came out soft and almost breathy, not at all the warning tone he had meant to use, and Alex could feel his cheeks warming slightly in embarrassment. The other boy’s smile grew. He reached up and unclipped his helmet, lifting it off and then tossing his head back as a cascade of long brown hair tumbled out. A few stray pieces fell to rest alongside his face and Alex felt his mouth fall open slightly. His stomach swooped and then dropped completely, like he had just plummeted from a rollercoaster and his mind went blissfully blank. Everything narrowed down to the absolutely beautiful boy standing in front of him, face awash in golden morning light, cheeks flushed from his exertions, dimples and white teeth on full display as he grinned yet again. Alex wasn’t sure he had ever met someone so blindingly attractive in his entire life, and then the boy winked, winked!, and lifted a hand out towards him.

“I’m Willie.”

It was the best name Alex had ever heard of. When their palms met, a spark shot up his arm and straight to his heart.

“Alex.”

Thank God he remembered how to talk, because he truly hadn’t known what to expect when he opened his mouth. Willie released his grip and Alex left his hand suspended for just a second before he pulled it back and shoved it into the pocket of his jean jacket.

“Nice to meet you, Alex. Listen, I really am sorry about knocking you over. Any chance I can make it up to you?”

It took Alex an uncomfortably long amount of time to process what Willie was asking. Long enough for him to panic and wonder if it was like a date or if it was like a pity thing or oh God what if Willie wasn’t even into guys and Alex was about to make this whole thing super weird and –

A chirping sound came from Willie’s pocket. His eyes flitted away from Alex’s to pull a phone out and check the screen. Alex felt a strange twist in his heart as he watched Willie’s easy smile fall only to be replaced by an annoyed grimace and eyeroll as he silenced the phone. Without skipping a beat, he thrust it back into his pocket and pulled out a sharpie instead. Alex barely had time to register how much he liked the way Willie’s hand felt on his forearm before the other boy was suddenly bent over it and there was a cool sensation sending goosebumps up his arm as the tip of the marker scratched across his skin. When Willie pulled back, that brilliant smile was back in place and his eyebrows were dancing so merrily Alex wanted nothing more than to watch them forever.

“I gotta go, but that’s my number. Text me sometime.”

And then, before Alex could work up the nerve to say anything, Willie was tossing his skateboard to the ground only to chase after it with a few bouncy steps before jumping onto the deck and quickly making his way down the boardwalk, away from Alex. He watched for longer than it was probably acceptable until Willie was nothing more than a speck in the distance. Only then did he look down to see the numbers sketched onto his forearm in orange ink.

(213) 555-3276 Willie<3

It was the heart that did him in. That heart had to mean something, right? It was intentional. Willie had written his name with a heart. Alex wasn’t making that up, it was inked onto his own arm! He studied it as he sat on the beach, mind silently replaying every single second of his short interaction with Willie over and over again while different groups of people came and went around him. There had to be a reason for the heart. Alex fiddled with the braided rainbow bracelet on his wrist, the motion familiar and soothing. Had Willie noticed it when he grabbed Alex’s arm to write his number on? Was the heart some kind of sign?

Alex let out a groan and fell back against the sand, the texture scratchy against the back of his head where a slight throbbing still persisted. Another silent reminder of his morning encounter. He wished he had thought to say something when Willie had asked him about making it up to him. Wished he hadn’t panicked or let his stupid brain go into overdrive worrying about what might happen for so long that nothing ended up happening. If he could go back, he would have told Willie, yeah, he could make it up to him. Maybe take him out to coffee or dinner and a movie or ya know, just any kind of date in general? But Alex wasn’t that smooth, and he wasn’t quite that confident yet. And now all he had was a number in orange ink and a name with a heart and absolutely no answers to the millions of questions crowding his brain.

He let out a deep sigh and sat up again, before finally climbing to his feet. It wouldn’t do to sit and worry, even if that was kind of his specialty. Luke had a girlfriend now. And Julie was incredible, and Luke was a disaster, so obviously the guy had to have some kind of game. Alex couldn’t quite believe it, but maybe he could give him an idea of what to do in this situation. Alex turned his feet towards the apartment the boys had been sharing since Luke turned 18 and left his parents’ house for good and started the long walk back to their shared home.

Luckily, both Luke and Reggie were home, which meant Alex had two sounding boards for his word vomit as he paced in front of where they were sat on the couch. Reggie was kind of like a puppy in the sense that all he had to do was exist and people flocked to him, so he also had more experience than Alex did when it came to figuring out someone’s true intentions after a first meeting. By the time he had finished giving the boys the run down, he was feeling like they might be able to put their collective braincell to use and figure out exactly what the best course of action would be here.

“Yeah, man, I got nothing.”

Alex groaned and Luke held up his hands defensively.

“Look, dude, just cause I’m dating Julie doesn’t mean I know how I pulled it off! I’m just hoping my luck holds out until I can convince her to marry me, okay?”

Reggie was nodding thoughtfully, so Alex held out hope that maybe he would have some words of wisdom.

“I mean, he sounds like he wanted to at least like...talk to you some more, right? Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given you his number. And the heart is promising!”

Alex let it soak in for a second. An idea struck him out of nowhere.

“What if I just text him and tell him he can make it up to me by going on a date?”

“Bold moves, dude. I like it”

Of course, Luke liked it. It was a very Luke-inspired move. But Alex didn’t quite have the same guts as Luke. He didn’t think he could really pull it off.

“Ugh, no. My anxiety would skyrocket the second I sent the text. I just wanna know what the heart means!”

“Why don’t you ask him that then?”

Alex didn’t like how Reggie was the voice of reason here. That was supposed to be his job.

“Because if I ask him that he’ll know I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“You have been thinking about it all day.”

Alex finally reached his physical limit and stopped his pacing to fling his body onto the couch between Luke and Reggie, both boys catching different limbs and silently shifting to accompany his sudden presence.

“I don’t want him to know I’ve been thinking about it all day! That’s pathetic. Ugh, why didn’t I just say something in the moment!”

Reggie’s fingers were gentle against Alex’s scalp as he carded a hand through his hair reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Lex. You’ll think of something to say when the time is right. Release your worries to the wind and all that other junk, ya know? Just breathe.”

So, Alex breathed and tried to surrender his obsession into the ether. Reggie had been on a bit of a self-help kick lately, but honestly, it did help Alex more often than not, so he resolved to try and follow his best friend’s advice, even as his anxiety raged against the idea.

Turns out, the right time was exactly 11:43 pm when Alex suddenly awoke from a dead sleep where his dreams had been invaded by none other than Willie himself. He looked down at the number, the hastily scribbled name, and the accompanying heart bright against his pale skin even in the darkness of night and typed the message into his phone before he could think twice about it.

To: Willie<3 Considering you pancaked me, I think it’s only fair you make it up to me with a pancake breakfast. 9 am at Sandy’s Diner?

The responding message was almost instantaneous.

You’ve got yourself a date. Catch ya in the morning, pancake ;)

And for the second time that day, Willie wiped Alex’s mind completely blank, the word date playing on repeat until he fell asleep with his lips still curved into a smile, visions of a certain long-haired pretty boy dancing through his head.

#in other news this is my 1000th blog post!#feels appropriate to honor that with Alex losing his mind over Willie for 2k words straight #mads writes #willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie jatp #willex fic

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hotpinkhoshi · 5 years ago

Text

kiss it better | one

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

*a/n*: hiiiiii! so here we go. i don’t have much to say except that you’ll probably notice this chapter is a bit shorter than they usually are for my fics. with this story, chapters may or may not be shorter in length. this is just easier on me, and helps me to keep a regular posting schedule. now, i’m not going to say i won’t post longer chapters, but i just wanted to get it out there. i have a tentative posting schedule in mind, which i’ll make a post about later, but i’d say you can probably expect a new chapter every two weeks.

also, just want to say- i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy right now. stay home, wash your hands, avoid contact with your face, and if you have to order food tip your delivery drivers a lil extra! and to those that don’t get to stay home and still have to work, i’m right there with you. we’ll get through this and all we can do is take it day by day ❤️

✩ index here ✩

make sure you read the prologue first!

Today had started just like any other day. Mark got up and went about his morning, brushing his teeth, eating his breakfast, and taking his usual ten minutes to sketch the ideas in his brain before heading off to work.

It’d been slow, but Mark wasn’t worried. There were enough appointments on Saturday and Sunday to make up for a slow Friday. The temperature had reached an uncomfortable high, so he’d dressed himself in a black muscle tee to offer some relief from the sticky air.

The early afternoon went smoothly. Mark took the opportunity to work on some new designs and do some organizing in his tattoo room, while the other guys opted to sit around showing each other funny videos on their phones.

By the time lunch rolled around, he decided to sit outside with his iced coffee, scrolling through social media on his phone while relaxing in the shade of the awning. He glanced up mindlessly, his eyes drawn to a figure standing across the street.

A girl holding an ice cream cone. Mark’s breath caught in his throat because, no, it wouldn’t be you. You’d be back home, attending some tiny college where your parents could keep a watchful eye on your every move, not here in the great big city.

Then the girl dropped her ice cream cone, her whine audible even from where Mark sat. He couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips. He shook his head, just as there was a knock behind him on the glass of the door.

Dahyun popped her head out. “Youngjae needs help grabbing some boxes from the back, can you help? Jackson and Yugyeom are being assholes.”

Mark nodded, one last glance across the street before he stood up, heading back inside.

-----

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as Mark pressed the tip of his tattoo gun to your skin. Just the constant buzzing of the tool was enough to set your nerves on edge.

Once you felt it, though, it wasn’t so bad. It hurt, but you’d been through worse. It was comparable to a thousand tiny kittens scratching you with their claws, over and over again.

“You doing alright?” Mark asked, once one long minute had passed.

You nodded, your arms squeezing the back of the chair you were straddling. It was an uncomfortable position, but it was the only way Mark would be able to access the back of your shoulder. You’d also had to strip down to just your bra, so at least you were given some modesty.

“Yeah. Just... how long will it take?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed how hard he was concentrating. His tongue was stuck between his lips, peeking out the corner. He was entirely focused on the art that he was tracing onto your skin.

“Not long. The shading is what will take the longest, but it’s small, so I should have you out of here within the hour.”

You exhaled slowly and pressed your forehead into the cushioned back of the chair as he went over the same area a few times. Though he muttered a ‘sorry’, you found yourself wincing from the pain.

Yerin had left to get ready for work, as the stenciling and position process had gone on longer than either of you had thought. You’d made Mark move the stencil several times until you liked the positioning. Admittedly, it had been a stalling tactic to delay the inevitable pain that was coming.

“How’s Taehyung?” Mark asked, just as he took a break from tracing onto your skin. You opened your eyes to see him reaching for a cloth to wipe across your skin.

The question caught you off guard. Just the name of your brother was enough to rub salt into the wound you’d been holding closed for the last two months. You gulped, turning your face to press your other cheek into the chair, hiding your expression.

“He’s good. He’s been in Japan for two years now, I think. He’s happy there.”

You barely even noticed Mark returning to your tattoo, the pain less noticeable while your mind was occupied.

“That’s good. I saw on Facebook he has a girlfriend now?”

You nodded. “Mhm. Her name’s Jennie--she seems nice.”

Mark didn’t need to know that you hadn’t spoken to your brother since the week before you moved to Seoul. He didn’t need to know you’d been avoiding his calls, texts, and e-mails. Most of them you deleted without even opening.

From what you knew, Taehyung and Mark had simply drifted once they both moved out of your tiny town and started creating a life for themselves. Taehyung spent his years after college roaming the world, taking photos and putting on exhibits until he secured a steady photography job for a Japanese magazine.

Mark moved before that, though you hadn’t known he’d moved to the city until today. You hadn’t ever been close to him besides the casual greeting when he’d be downstairs playing video games with Taehyung while you were doing homework.

When you were younger, you’d had an innocent crush on him, only because he was one of the few boys that paid you any attention. You’d only ever had a handful of conversations, but he was always polite and even helped you with your math homework once or twice. It really hadn’t taken much to impress you back then.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” Mark asked.

You were grateful for the slight change in subject. It was only a matter of time before he started asking about your parents, and you wouldn’t have been able to pretend any longer.

“A couple of months. I just… wanted a change,” you told him honestly.

Maybe you’d gotten more than you’d bargained for… but regardless, you were grateful for your newfound independence.

“I get it,” Mark replied. “Alright, outline is done. Now we’ll just have to shade. I’ll give you a few minutes, okay?”

You lifted your face from the back of the chair and sat up straight. “Can I see it?” you asked.

It took a moment for you to realize Mark’s ears were turning red because without the shield of the chair, your entire bra-clad chest was now on display for him. It didn’t help that you’d chosen a pink, lacy bra just because it was the first one you’d grabbed out of your laundry bag.

Quickly, you leaned forward again to cover yourself with the chair, biting forcefully onto your lip. You could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry…” you said.

Mark cleared his throat and turned around, reaching for a handheld mirror on the table behind him. “It’s okay… I’ve definitely seen worse. Not that it was bad, or, well-”

It was obvious he’d put his foot in his mouth. You found yourself giggling, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. Mark looked as if he was desperate for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head at himself as he turned back around. “Here,” he said chuckling softly as he held up the mirror behind you so that you could see the work he’d already done.

You managed to stifle your giggles as you turned your head. It was no wonder Mark was known for pieces like this--his lines were crisp and clear, flowing in such a way that it looked as if your skin was born with this intricate design. You couldn’t wait to see how it looked when it was complete.

“Good?” he asked.

“I love it,” you said, smiling wide. “Makes the pain worth it.”

Mark looked pleased with your answer. He set the mirror down and got up, switching out the ink on his pen for the color he was going to use for the petals, a soft cool toned purple.

You resumed your position against the chair after a few more minutes, fists clenched as you prepared for the pain.

-----

It turned out not to be so bad. Mark kept you distracted, asking you questions about your experience in the city so far. When he sensed you avoiding the topic of home or your parents, he didn’t push.

Once he got your tattoo bandaged up, you sat around talking for another half an hour while he showed you photos of his drawings, as per your request. You’d never known that he was so talented.

“I guess I should be going,” you said after a lull in conversation. If you wanted to get back to your room before your roommate began their daily music blasting and loud video game routine, you’d need to head back.

“Where are you staying?” he asked, pulling off his gloves and washing his hands in the miniature sink against the wall.

“Just… this little place,” you answered. Little was an understatement.

When you’d moved out, you’d only had a suitcase and a finite amount of cash. It hadn’t exactly been planned, so your options were limited. You stayed in the first hostel you could find, and you were disappointed to find that the wages you received from serving couldn’t provide you with anything better.

You shared a room, currently with a Russian girl a few years older than you that seemed to only be staying in Seoul to play shooting games and blast ear-piercing rock metal. Your last roommate hadn’t been nearly as bad, but you weren’t having great luck.

“Here, I’m just finishing up for the day. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat, then I’ll take you home.”

Your efforts to refuse his offer were basically ignored. He gave you no choice as he led you out to the front room to pay for your tattoo, whispering something lowly to Dahyun as she wrote up your bill.

“Mark,” you said in protest once you saw the total. You didn’t know much about tattoo pricing, but you were sure this was significantly lower than it should have been.

“What? It’s a family and friends discount.”

You sighed. As much as you wanted to refuse his help, you had to admit you could take whatever discounts you could get. Tattoos were expensive and you certainly didn’t have the budget to get one as impulsively as you had today.

“I’ll get my stuff ready, then I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Mark asked and you nodded, watching as he walked off to his room.

“Family and friends, huh?” Dahyun asked, eyebrows raised as she watched you sign your receipt. “You must have gotten really close back there.”

You laughed, sliding the receipt back over the table. “It turns out, he used to be best friends with my older brother. So… family, I guess,” you said, though you never really saw him as such. No matter how many times your mother acted like he was her second son.

“Wow, small world,” Dahyun said as she handed over a sheet of paper with a list of bullet points on it. She went over the aftercare process, recommending the creams and ointments that she preferred, and ways to help it heal faster.

After thanking Dahyun over and over for her kindness, you gathered your things and waited outside of the front door for Mark.

When your day began, you never would have thought you’d be having dinner with your brother’s old best friend, bringing back memories you hadn’t quite been ready to revisit. But he was so sweet to you, so easy to talk to, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to say no.

You’d always admired Mark’s choice to move to Seoul straight out of school, with no plan and no connections to the city. And he only came back for holidays and special occasions. While you were hastily packing your clothes into a duffel bag, you remembered thinking briefly of him.

“Ready?” Mark asked from behind you as he exited the shop. The sunlight hit his skin, bringing your attention to the swirling designs upon his shoulder. The way his shirt was cut allowed you a peek of his ribs—you could see loopy cursive etched on his skin but you were unable to make it out.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you replied with a smile, tearing your eyes from his bare skin.

#writing #fanfic #got7 fanfic #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark fanfic #mark smut #mark angst #mark tuan smut #got7 scenario #got7 smut #got7 angst

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polandspringz · 4 years ago

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Fanfic/Writing Updates!

I know I just put this in a mess of tags on my last post, but just an update for my readers:

Sorry for the delay in updating fics/writing stories! I was dying towards the second half of my semester so I didn’t have time to much other than some one-shots. Right now though, I’ve kicked it into high gear, lol. So here is what I can currently promise you to look forward to.

Obey Me

You Don’t Really Wanna Stay (Sequel to “Cause You Don’t Really Wanna Go”, now known as the Hot n’ Cold series): Chapter 2 has been finished since mid-April. I haven’t published it because I sort of screwed myself going off script and publishing chapter 1 before I wrote the entire fic (unlike how with CYDRWG, I wrote the entire thing in one week and then published it over a few days/like a week). I’ve had the entire story outlined in this case, but it was just a matter of writing it. Chapter 3 is also finished now, so I will be working over the next few days to finish Chapters 4 and 5 before I start publishing the rest of the work on a schedule. This was a story that was originally only meant to be 2 chapters, but as you can see, things have expanded. An epilogue may or may not be written later on (similar to the Mammon fic as well). I may or may not have plans for a third fic in this series.

Siberia: This story has had the entire plot and every detail outlined since I started writing it last fall. Again, it’s just a matter of writing it all together into a long chapter with scenes instead of plot points and summaries of events on a notebook page. Once the above fic is finished being written, I will immediately resume work on Chapter 8 of Siberia, and similarly, will try and get through 2-3 chapters before I start publishing again. At the earliest, I can guarantee an update by the end of May or June. I’m hoping to get ahead in my writing to help me out later on.

Designing in the Devildom (Series): There are SO many one-shots planned for this series still. I originally planned on having a loose chronological order for them, but as some of you may have seen, we’ve kind of deviated a bit. I have several documents with drafts for various stories that have been in the works for months, but am putting this series as less of a priority compared to the above works. I received an ask suggesting I continue the “M’Lady” fic with a follow-up of the actual fashion show the demons would participate in, and have drafted sketches of each outfit the characters would model, which I would like to publish alongside the work, so that is one of the projects that is taking some time.

gen:LOCK

I have so many stories still planned for gen:LOCK, and as I work on my other fandoms, I find myself itching to get back to this fandom that I love so much. I don’t want to give a lot away, but I have at least 3 ideas revolving around Yaz and 1 idea focused on the gen:LOCK team as a whole. They aren’t short one-shots or drabbles, so I ask you to be patient and promise by the end of the summer you will see something from me soon.

Cars gL AU: Believe it or not, I did plan a sequel to that joke fic. The idea came about after I wrote the ending to the story, and the response from the actual Cars fandom was so nice, it really made me want to write a follow up. It will be significantly shorter, but I hope everyone will enjoy it as well.

Miscellaneous

Omori: I have plans for a multi-chapter AU that if I nail it the way I want to, well it might not do anything but be self-indulgent for me, but I think it might obliterare the fandom (as I joke to my friend often). I won’t be working on this story until I finish Siberia, as there is a similarity between them and I wish to give each their proper attention.

SK8: I hate Adam but I love writing for Adam and Tadashi. I had another story idea floating around in my head but no concrete notes on it, so I can’t guarantee when this will be written, but know there are plans for it.

FF9: I’ve been promising my sister an FF9 fic for about 2 years now. I had an idea after beating the game but forgot half the location names in the game, and that’s what’s been holding me back. I planned for it to be more long winded and descriptive, but might go a more straight to the point approach. I’m hoping to try and finally sit down and write it before May 31st.

Genshin Impact: I have notes in my fanfic writing journal for a Xiao fic and a Dainsleif fic. Writing for Genshin Impact feels very volatile though and as much as I appreciated the response on my Albedo fic months ago, I cannot guarantee I’ll ever get around to these, lol.

Yu Yu Hakusho: ON GOD IVE GOT NO IDEAS FOR THIS YET BUT I DO HAVE THE DESIRE TO MAKE SOMETHING GOOD BECAUSE I LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH. SO SOMETHING WILL COME OUT OF THIS BRAIN OF MINE

Demon Slayer: SAME THING I AM DETERMINED TO DO SOMETHING, DONT KNOW WHAT YET

#my writing #writing #poland's thoughts #obey me #gen:lock #gen lock #genlock #sk8 #ff9 #genshin impact #yyh #yu yu hakusho #demon slayer

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codenamesazanka · 4 years ago

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Well I attempted the essay and I got stuck on the first sentence, so have this very draft-y fic I wrote a while ago that somewhat encapsulates my feelings about Villains in a way similar to what the essay ideally would be like:

AU where somehow Spinner got caught by Heroes during Gigantomachia month; don’t ask me how, all I wanted was to write bits of scenes of Toshinori interacting with Spinner and pretending I know things about psychology.

“…no criminal record beyond League of Villains activity. So we brought in a de-radicalization specialist, but seeing how he’s refusing to talk, and with the Commission breathing down our necks, he’s probably going to be transferred to Tartarus the moment the prosecutor’s office gets through to the judge…”

Despite all his years as a Hero catching criminals and handing them over to the justice system, Toshinori never was too familiar with how the process actually worked. The paperwork he had to file was already a nightmare - the thought of learning the intricacies of the courts barely entered his mind. As the counselor beside him talked, he could only nod, nothing to say, attempting to roughly sketch out the path she was describing for the young man on the other side of the glass.

Iguchi Shuuichi had been given the full bind - maximum restraint and containment, every part of him that can and might move strapped down onto his chair; but he seemed to have shut himself away too. He sat with his shoulders hunched as much as they were allowed, face turned down and away from the rest of the world, eyes shut to everything around him. Since Toshinori had first seen him from the observation room about half-and-hour ago, Iguchi hadn't moved at all. It had been three days since his capture. Toshinori wondered if he had been as still as this the whole time.

“—Dr. Nakaya will do another session later this afternoon, but…” The counselor sighed. “It’s a pity. He’s probably the best candidate for the program too.”

“…You called it the “de-radicalization program,” correct?” Toshinori asked, turning to the counselor, who immediately gave him her full attention. “May I ask what exactly that is?”

“Of course, of course! Essentially it’s rehabilitation focused on having the individual reflect on their belief system and rejecting extremism. Allowing them to accept different perspectives and solutions, and understand how their current way of thinking is both harmful to society and themself.”

“That sounds a little too easy for this kind of situation.” Tsukauchi said, looking up from some notes he was taking. “Plus vague. How is that different from any other rehabilitation programs in prisons?”

And Toshinori had to agree with that. He looked back at Iguchi, still unmoving. “You said he was the “best candidate”. That means he’s different as well? From other Villains.”

“That’s what we hoped.” The counselor paused. “Have you read his profile yet?”

[…]

“Build a relationship with him?” Toshinori asked, frowning.

“Another way to put it is ‘treating him as a complex, multifaceted person’,” Dr. Nakaya said with a wry smile. “You see, Mr. Yagi, we think of terrorists - of Villains as single-minded boogeymen that have no history or future. But they’re human too, with a human brain and human emotions, motivations. Our program’s theory is that young people like Iguchi Shuuichi felt something significant lacking in his life, and in trying to fill that hole, they turn to philosophies like that of Stain.

Iguchi Shuuichi fits that model almost exactly. His family told me that he had been a hikikomori. For years. He was aimless, friendless, he ‘had no light’ in his eyes, as his mother said. Then suddenly Stain appeared on the news, and he became obsessed. In just a matter of weeks, he left home to dedicate his life to— to whatever the League is working towards. Interviews with your students said that he was fanatic when talking about Stain. So isn’t that a grand narrative? Having what seems like a noble purpose, having a group of people that would take him into the fold, believing he is doing something important. World-changing. There’s a reason research has shown that many terrorists and extremists got their start as young adults - it’s a time of change and possibilities, and it can be scary not knowing how you’ll spend the rest of your life.”

“So if you were to… become his friend…”

Dr. Nakaya chuckled, looking pleased. “We don’t have to necessarily be his friend, but if we show we are trying to understand him and we want to talk to him, that fulfills the social need - that people acknowledge us, are willing to spend time with us, want to share things with us. That should give us a cognitive opening - get him to lower his guard and defenses, which will make him more willing to listen to us too.”

Toshinori took note of the ‘we’s, but didn’t pursue it.

[…]

The list of Iguchi’s ‘likes’ included titles of video games, movies, and books. At least, Toshinori assumed they were titles; none of the words sounded familiar to him.

“He also apparently likes knives,” Dr. Nayaka said. “But I didn’t include that for obvious reasons. Well, I’m saving that and ‘Stain’ for last if this doesn’t work.”

“I don’t know anything about video games,” Toshinori said. He gave an embarrassed grin. “Though I guess I can ask him to explain them to me…”

“That list is just suggestions. Ask him about his favorite food, about his family. Tell a joke. Use your status as All Might.” She shrugged. “As long as you get him talking.”

[…]

The intercom buzzed. “You can leave now if you want, All Might.”

That felt like admitting defeat. Toshinori stayed in his chair. Nothing he was saying was working, nothing had worked, except…

He took a deep breath. “Shigaraki Tomura…”

And there it was again - Iguchi tensing up, breath quickening.

fulfills the social need - that people acknowledge us, are willing to spend time with us

want to share things with us

Toshinori said, “I knew Shigaraki Tomura—”

The intercom came on again, and this time it screamed. “You know that’s prohibited, All Might! He’s not allow— Ow, what—” The guard’s voice was suddenly replaced by Dr. Nakaya’s. “No, this is good, this is good! Keep going—” Then it was both voices, along with sounds of a scuffle, before it cut completely.

Iguchi looked at Toshinori with a great deal of suspicion and contempt. “I already told you that you’re not going to get anything out of me about him. No matter what you do or say or— or do to me.”

Toshinori paused, then smiled slightly. “You’re very loyal to him. That’s...good.”

There was an instant reaction, Iguchi’s facial expression giving away to what looked like shock and chagrin. He opened his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut.

From behind Toshinori was the sound of someone pounding on glass and muffled yelling, but he ignored it.

make him more willing to listen to us

In some capacity, Iguchi Shuuichi cared, or at least had an interest in information about his leader. And that was something they had in common.

“I knew his grandmother.” Toshinori said, the words feeling rough in his throat as he forced them out. “Shigaraki’s grandmother. She was like a mother to me.”

It was like collapsing a wall. Toshinori spoke, and Iguchi stared at him, his defenses falling to reveal the vortex of emotions behind it, confusion, horror, anger, too many to distinguish.

“Had things been... different, maybe I would’ve— he’s her grandson, so I would’ve been like an—”

“Why are you telling me this?” Spinner asked. He sounded as uneasy as Toshinori felt. “What does this have to do—”

Toshinori found himself standing up. As if there was something urgent he had to do, something he must head for immediately. His body moved without him thinking—

“I want to help him.” Toshinori said. “I have to, I have to save him. There are— many things I have to do…for him, for Shigaraki Tomura. So please, young Iguchi, if there’s anything you know that can help…”

#nalslastworkingbraincell #nalwrites #fanfic #kinda #AU #Spinner #yagi Toshinori

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emybain · 5 years ago

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Welcome to the Renegades!

hiiiii this is a short little oneshot of an AU im currently obsessed with where Nova’s family didn’t die and she ended up becoming a renegade (so obsessed that I made important notes for the au). this is where ruby becomes a renegade and is being given a tour by sketch’s team. I tried following some canon (besides the fact that nova is an anarchist in canon) but it was a little hard finding the exact times when each member of sketch’s team joined the renegades, so I kind of took that into my own hands. in advance, I apologize for what’s about to come, and I would also like to thank anyone who may have inspired some snippets in here:)))

“And this is the training hall.” The elevator came to a stop, and Adrian, Danna, Oscar, and Ruby stepped out. Adrian peeked over at Ruby, watching her face light up in awe. He led the three of them down the walkway over the training facilities, going slow so she could take it all in. He thought back to the first time he saw the place, although it was brand new and not nearly as large as it was now.

The trials had been held a few days ago, and Ruby was the newest member to Sketch’s team. It had been a difficult fight to get her, as multiple teams had challenged her, but Adrian had seen her potential. She was trained in martial arts and her ability to bleed gems would be useless in a fight. Part of his motivation to get her on his team may have been influenced by Oscar’s interest in her at the trials as well. Even now, Adrian had to hold back a smile from watching his friend trying to keep his cool around her.

“My brothers would die if they saw this place.” Ruby shot a grin at Adrian. “They’re twins, and they’ve always wanted to be Renegades.”

“Are they going to be?” Oscar watched her intently, his attention solely on her. Adrian had never seen him act this way around a girl before. Ruby was cute, he had to admit, with her bubbly attitude and freckles and black and white hair, but he wasn’t interested in her the way Oscar was.

Ruby shook her head, biting her bottom lip. “They’re not prodigies.” Her smile faltered for a moment, but it reappeared just as quickly as it fell as her eyes scanned the training hall. “What’s going on over there?”

Adrian followed her gaze to the huge salt water swimming pool that was usually mostly empty save for the occasional water elemental. Today, however, a small crowd gathered around the edges, their own training forgotten, and others that passed by slowed down their stride to get a better look. He frowned, squinting. There was a group of three, or was it four, people in the pool, and from the look of it, water was going everywhere.

Their small group headed down the stairs and to the swimming pool. Adrian exchanged glances with Oscar, who shrugged his shoulders. He must’ve been thinking the same thing: who was in the pool? Adrian racked his brain for a list of the water elementals he knew, but most of them preferred training in the early morning or at night to avoid getting other prodigies soaked.

Adrian pushed his way through the clump of people, craning his neck to see over them until his group had made it to the front. There were four people fighting in the water, one of the teams. He recognized the tail of Ramona Sánchez, alias Sirena, before it came crashing down into the water, spraying himself and everyone else watching. He frowned. It was rare to see her team training in the middle of the day.

“What the hell is Nightmare’s team doing here? It’s not the crack of dawn,” Oscar muttered beside Adrian, clearly as confused as he was. Nova Artino, the leader of Ramona’s team and an old friend of Adrian, claimed her team trained in the early hours of the morning to avoid other people. As Adrian thought of her, lips pursed, one of the prodigies was thrown from the water, landing on their back a good ten feet from the pool. They groaned and stood, spluttering water from their mouth and wiping their eyes. It was Nova, alias Nightmare, and she did not look happy. Her other two teammates, the Whisperer and the Piper, also known as Benton Halthorne and Adèle Toussaint, charged Sirena. Well, the best they could while in her realm of expertise. Her wall of water fell slightly from the distraction, but she blocked the attack physically instead of using her powers, a rare occurence to be seen for a Renegade. Nova took this opportunity to jump back in the water to aid her teammates. It was clearly a three against one fight, hardly fair, but when did Nova Artino ever fight fairly?

Adrian crossed his arms over his chest, mesmerized by the scuffle. It was always interesting to see what Nightmare would do next in a fight. She was arguably the most unpredictable Renegade in Gatlon, and undeniably one of the best, at least in her age group. From around him, he heard tiny gasps and mumbles of approval or shock whenever she did something. It wasn’t every day they got to watch her team train; because of Nova, they were one of the best teams in the Gatlon branch. It was hard for many to understand why, reasons being Nightmare’s team training at unholy hours in the morning when everyone else was sleeping. It was also odd watching them train because they were one of the few teams that trained together, at least for the most part. Sure, Adrian had seen them running the track or scaling the climbing wall alone, but it wasn’t often, maybe only a couple times every week.

Unlike others, it didn’t surprise Adrian how good Nightmare’s team was, together and as individuals. He had been friends with Nova from an early age, before his mom died, and even though they had drifted apart in recent years, he knew how determined she was to be the best.

Eventually, her team called a truce to take a break. The crowd of people watching dispersed quickly, as if to avoid being judged by Nova. It was almost comical the way some people were afraid of her or didn’t like her because they believed she was stuck up. Adrian knew that she just liked to keep to herself and her close circle of friends, but was kind to strangers and to those who talked to her. While she could be pretty intimidating, Adrian had seen a side of her that no one else had, a side that showed just how weird and dorky she actually was.

Sirena was the first out of the water, her tail morphing into two human legs as the water carried her to the edge of the pool. She helped her teammates get out, and Adrian could see the burns and scratches from the pool along her arms. Nova was the last out, gratefully accepting Sirena’s hand and hopping up to sit for a moment at the edge with her. They shared a few words, smiling, their body language toward each other vastly different than it was five minutes ago.

“Who’s that?” Adrian nearly jumped, forgetting that his team was still beside him. He looked over at Ruby.

“That’s um...that’s Nightmare’s team.” He cleared his throat. “You might remember them from the trials. They were one of the team’s who wanted you to be a Renegade.”

Ruby hummed thoughtfully, then pointed at Nova. “That’s Nova Artino, right? Ace Anarchy’s niece.”

A mischievous smile lit up Oscar’s face. “Also known as Adrian’s girlfriend.”

Adrian felt his cheeks grow hot. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“That party four months ago says otherwise,” Danna joined in, smirking.

Adrian rolled his eyes, trying to play it off. They had been teasing him about that party since it happened, and it was getting old. “We’ve been friends for years. It’s not like that.” He let out a long sigh. “Anyway, I’ll introduce you. Just...don’t mention her uncle, okay? It’s kind of a sensitive spot for her.”

He led them over to Nova’s team, who were all chatting as they dried themselves off. “Hey, Nightmare, got a sec?” Nova stopped talking and turned to face Adrian, wringing out her hair with a towel. He took notice of a band aid carefully wrapped around the top of her ear; it must’ve been a new earring, this one looking like an industrial piercing. Being a sensible person, she would have taken it out along with the rest of her piercings to avoid injury while training, but since it was clearly a new one, she couldn’t remove it just yet. He had to hold back a teasing comment; she must’ve had another argument with her parents and went out to get the piercing done to aggravate them. By now, she was almost out of room on her ears and would have to start piercing other parts of her body, something he was sure her parents would kick her out of the house for.

“Why, so you can rub in the fact that you always get away with stealing people I wanted for my team?” She placed the towel over her shoulder and crossed her arms.

Adrian couldn’t help the smirk that rose to his lips. “Still jealous that Danna chose me over you, huh?” A year ago at the last trials, Danna had given an exemplary demonstration, resulting in both Adrian and Nova arguing over her. Adrian’s dads had finally let him form his own team that year as long as he could find people. It was also the same year Oscar tried out, and after getting him on his team, Adrian had been determined to find at least one more person, and Danna was perfect. So when Nova Artino spoke up, already with a team of three, one of them having joined that day, all hell broke loose. It was quite the scene; the audience was left in tears and it was in the papers the next morning. He would’ve let her take Danna for her team, knowing that there would be other chances, but he noticed the way her eyes had softened while Danna displayed her powers, the way she leaned forward and rested her head on her arm. Why not mess with her and take away her chance at romance with Danna? When he had teased her of only wanting Danna on her team because she was cute, however, she nearly put him in the hospital. Totally worth it, and Danna had been a valuable member to his team since.

Nova rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m not that petty.” She shot a sweet smile over at Danna. “But you’re always welcome here whenever you realize how stupid Sketch is.”

Danna nodded, biting her lip to hide her smile. “Noted.” When Adrian shot her a look, she shrugged. “What? It could be fun.” Fun as in Nova and Danna had struck up a friendship in the past year that was dangerous considering their personalities. Fun as in the two of them on one team would mean Nightmare’s team being unstoppable. Yeah, fun.

“Actually, I was here to introduce you to Ruby Tucker, alias Red Assassin.” Adrian gestured a hand in Ruby’s direction. She raised a hand and waved awkwardly at Nova.

“Oh yeah, I remember you from the trials.” Nova’s smile became friendly. “You gave a badass demonstration, by the way. Guillotine deserved what was coming to her for doubting your abilities. I would have welcomed you to my team, but I figured Sketch needed you more.” She winked at Ruby, who let out a small laugh and mumbled a ‘thank you’. “Anyway, this is my team: Adèle, Romana, and Benton.” She pointed to each one as she introduced them.

“The Piper, Sirena, and the Whisperer.” Ruby nodded enthusiastically. “It’s great to meet you. When my brothers hear about this, they’ll freak.” With a glance to Nova, she added, “they’re big fans of you guys, especially you, Nightmare.”

Nova’s cheeks lit up, her eyes widening in slight surprise. “Oh! That’s awesome.” Although the tone of her voice said otherwise. She looked back at her teammates. “Well, we should probably get back to training. We’re already behind as it is, having to start in the middle of the day.”

“What’s that about, anyway?” Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys usually train-”

“At four in the morning?” Adèle cut in, lips turned upward. Her accent was as thick as the day she came to Gatlon a year ago from northern France. “Yes, but Nova had to babysit overnight and her parents didn’t get home until early afternoon.”

“Which is why we need to get back to training, right?” Adrian could tell talking about her personal life was awkward, if not upsetting, for her to do. He never really understood why she was that way; even with him when they were alone, she tended to keep the conversation on anything but her home life. Her parents were nice people, and her siblings, while sometimes overwhelming, were fun to be around.

Adrian nodded, being the first to change the subject. “We should get back to our tour as well. Oscar really wants to show Ruby the cafeteria.”

He noticed the look of gratitude Nova shot his way before she turned her attention to Oscar. “Very important business, then. All you can eat nachos is no joke.”

Oscar agreed, and Sketch’s team bid farewell to Nightmare’s, turning in the direction of the elevators.

“That Benton guy is cuter in person,” Ruby said as they walked, glancing over her shoulder at the retreating forms of Nightmare’s team. Oscar nearly tripped over his cane, blinking wildly in her direction.

“Pretty sure he’s taken by Johnathan Stillion, right, Adrian?” Danna peered over at Adrian, then nodded her head in Oscar’s direction. Adrian held back a snort.

“Yeah, but don’t worry Ruby, there are plenty of other cute Renegades. Some might even be closer than you think.”

Adrian may have been thinking about a particular Renegade as he said those w

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sunflower-swan · 4 years ago

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Wolfstar chapter 6

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 6 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 6 Prompt: Ocean

Rating: General

Word Count: 1992

Tags: original character, pining

Chapter 6

Remus

Monica, “For You I Will”

I will cross the ocean for you

I will go and bring you the moon

I will be your hero, your strength, anything you need

Remus and Sirius sat at their favorite corner booth at the Potter’s Wheel Cafe for their morning coffee ritual. Sirius was having his usual black coffee with cream and no sugar. While Remus preferred a sweeter mocha cappuccino.

“So Silas is in America then?” Remus asked. While waiting for Sirius, James and Lily had filled him in on the finer points of what transpired after the ‘You’re a wizard?!’ incident.

Sirius nodded with a small frown. “Took a long-distance portkey to New York early this morning.” He exhaled a sigh so heavy it flipped the hair that had fallen into his face. “Six...bloody...months.” He punctuated each word with a knock of his knuckles on the tabletop.

Remus felt bad for his friend. It was obvious he hadn’t gotten much sleep since they had last seen each other. His charcoal eyes usually glowed with a fire that burned through Remus' soul. Today they were a shadowy reflection rimmed in red, all spark gone out. And that was when they were open long enough for Remus to see them. Throughout most of their brief rendezvous this morning, his eyelids became heavier and heavier over his sunken eyes.

“Maybe you should take the day off. Catch up on some sleep?” Remus suggested after Sirius’ head nodded forward for the third time.

“Hmm?”

Remus threw a couple Muggle bills down on the table. “Come on, Sirius.” He went around to the opposite side of the table and helped Sirius to his feet. “We’re going to get you home.”

Sirius acquiesced to Remus' touch, and the latter led them to the alley apparition point. Once there, Sirius attempted to shake loose of the grasp Remus had around his waist.

“I can manage, Remus,” he mumbled.

“No! No, no. You are in no state to apparate anywhere on your own. I’m impressed you didn’t splinch yourself getting here.” Remus tucked his arm into Sirius’. “Hold on to me.”

“Mmm, ok.” Sirius relaxed into his body.

Remus’ spine straightened and his breath caught at the warmth of Sirius’ body perfectly fitted against his. Restraining all his instincts, he pushed aside the inconvenient feelings, and turned with a POP.

They landed in a secluded area outside Sirius’ flat, and Remus helped him inside. He half-carried Sirius into the bedroom, walking past a faded leather jacket thrown over a chair in the corner, and unceremoniously dumped him into bed.

As he turned to leave, a photo on the nightstand caught his eye. He picked it up. It was a picture of himself with Sirius, James, Lily, and Harry, standing outside the Tattoo Lounge, about a month after he had opened.

James was holding little Harry in one arm and holding Lily’s hand with the other. Remus had his hands tucked into his pockets, and Sirius had an arm around his shoulders. Photo Remus was grinning broadly and kept casting covert looks at Sirius, whose hair was blowing around in his face.

The four of them almost immediately accepted him into their circle. Which, looking back, was a little funny considering they had thought Remus was a Muggle.

He chuckled softly to himself and set the picture back down. He had reached the doorway when he heard Sirius rustle behind him.

“Remus?”

He paused, placed a hand on the door jam and turned his head. “Yes?”

“Did you know you smell like old books and chocolate?”

This declaration startled him. He swung around to question about this revelation, but found Sirius had started to snore.

~~~~~

Remus stopped by the Loft before returning to the Lounge to inform Sirius’ employees that he wouldn’t be in today. They seemed unaffected by the news that Sirius was ‘ill’. He didn’t see that they needed to know any details further than that.

Once he returned to the secluded solitude of his own shop, he attempted to look over his appointment schedule for the day. Despite his best efforts to focus on the task at hand, he found his mind was in another place. A very Sirius-centric place.

Old books and chocolate? Sirius said Remus smelled like old books...and chocolate. What did that mean? He had been almost asleep when he had made the statement. Did that matter?

Sirius smelled like fresh coffee and leather. Remus would be lying to himself if he said it hadn’t percolated into his subconscious over the last year and a half. Being in Sirius’ bedroom where his scent was everywhere had caused Remus’ insides to squirm.

Not that any of that mattered. Not really. Sirius was with Silas, and Sirius was his friend...nothing more.

Around mid-day, a middle-aged man wandered into the shop. The bell over the door dinged, and Remus glanced up from the magazine article he was reading.

Remus studied the man with interest. He was wearing black converse, cuffed light wash slim fit jeans, and a black tee. Remus couldn’t help but notice how well his toned body filled out the tee. The man looked around the place like he was surprised to find himself there.

“Can I help you?” Remus offered.

The man jumped. “Whoa! Didn’t see you there! Sorry!” He chuckled, placing one hand to his chest while the other ran through his salt and pepper crew cut. “Whew! Old ticker’s still working,” he added with a jovial smile, and a pat to his chest.

Remus grinned in spite of himself, and stood. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He apologized and held out his right hand. “I’m Remus, and I don’t usually make a habit of scaring my customers to death.”

The stranger’s whiskey colored eyes sparkled. He grasped Remus’ hand in his rough and calloused one. “I’m Logan.”

A bolt of electricity shot through Remus at the handshake, and he cleared his throat. “Ahem. So, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“This is a tattoo parlor, right? I thought the answer to that question would be self-explanatory.” Logan ran a hand across his five o’clock shadow with a mischievous grin.

Oh, brother. Someone thinks they’re a comedian. He forgot to roll his eyes because he was lost in Logan’ sparkling, sepia-flecked ones. “Did you have anything in mind?” You tall drink of probably straight water, he added in his head.

“No,” Logan said with a shrug and a smile that showcased his gleaming straight white teeth.

Right… “Ok. Well, I have a book here of some of the pieces I’ve done.” Remus pulled the book out and laid it open on the table. “You can look through here and tell me if anything jumps out at you.”

Logan leaned over and pulled the book toward him. “You did all these?” he asked in an impressed tone. He eyed Remus up and down before turning back to flip through the pictures.

Remus felt his face flush. He felt very exposed after the ‘check-out’ Logan just gave him. Maybe not so straight after all. He attempted an air of coolness and leaned one hand on the desk to peer through the pictures with Logan. “Yep. All me.”

“Very impressive.” Logan nodded his head.

Remus grabbed his sketch book and a pencil, and hopped up to sit on the desk. “Tell me about yourself,” he said, flipping to a blank page.

Logan's eyes widened only for a moment before he straightened up and leaned his hip against the desk. “Buy a man a drink first,” he said with a sly smile.

Godric, give me strength, said one part of his brain. While the other said, A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone! Instead, he waved the sketch book and said, “I’m going to sketch you a design.”

“Buy me a drink anyway,” Logan said, and took a step closer to Remus.

His sandalwood musk, which Remus had noticed the moment he stepped through the door, was now in sharp relief and threatening to overpower his other senses. At that exact moment, someone else, who smelled like fresh coffee and leather, burst through the door.

“Remus!” yelled the new man.

Logan jumped back the distance from which he had traveled moments before. Eyes and mouth wide in shock at the interruption.

“Remus?”

Remus looked between the confused look on Sirius’ face and the startled one on Logan’s, knowing exactly what this looked like.

“Sirius.” Remus attempted nonchalance. As if a ridiculously good-looking and age-appropriate man, practically breathing down his neck, was an everyday occurrence.

Logan sighed in defeat and stole the sketchbook and pencil out of Remus’ hands. Before Remus could protest the theft, he wrote something in it, closed it, and handed it back to him. “Call me,” he said with a wink and strode out of the tattoo shop, giving Sirius a curt nod.

Remus clasped his hands together in his lap, and lifted a questioning eyebrow at Sirius.

“Is that your attempt to look innocent?” Sirius asked, joining Remus sitting on the desk.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Remus replied.

“Huh, right.” Sirius picked up the sketchbook and flipped through the pages. “And ‘no idea what I’m talking about’ just happened to leave you his number?”

Remus ripped the sketchbook out of his grasp and stood up. Sirius was grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“Quit grinning like that,” he said. “What did you want anyway before you disrupted...nothing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sirius fluttered the paper he was clutching in his hand. “Got a letter from Silas!” He looked down at the letter. “He says he made it to America fine. And he said he gets a personal day tomorrow, and he had a really cool idea.” Sirius' eyes sparkled. “At noon tomorrow, I go to Land’s End in Sennen, Penzance. At the same time, he goes to Montauk Lighthouse in New York. Then we can wave at each other across the ocean. Isn’t that sweet?”

As Sirius finished explaining The Plan, Remus could only nod in disbelief. “If it’s noon here, isn’t that like, 7:00 A.M. in New York?”

“Well, yeah. Anyway, want to come with me?”

“Come with you?”

“Yeah. To Land’s End tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Sirius' face split in a grin from ear to ear. He rushed forward and clutched Remus in a rib-splitting hug. “Thank you so much! I couldn’t stand to go alone. I have to go arrange a portkey.” He released Remus and started for the door. “See you around eleven o’clock tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” Remus waved as Sirius ran out the door.

Why… Remus sat back down in his office chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He put his elbows on the desk. Closing his eyes, he rested his chin in his palms while his fingertips massaged his temples. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Remus contemplated why Sirius had asked him. Why not James? Why did Remus agree so quickly and easily to accompany him?

After some time had passed, Remus stood to look for something constructive to do. The scent of coffee and leather lingered long after Sirius had left, and it made his stomach ache as he paced around the shop. He picked up items only to deposit them somewhere else a moment later. Eventually, he picked up the sketchpad. He looked down on it a long time, before slowly flipping open to the page where Logan had left his number.

Remus hadn’t noticed at the time, but the smell of sandalwood that Logan brought into the shop had disappeared the moment Sirius had appeared. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Logan was really cute. Impossibly really cute. And age appropriate. Maybe he should call him. Maybe...

Remus slammed the book shut and threw it on the desk. Then he sank to the floor and rested his head on his arms between his bent knees. Who was he kidding? He doesn’t date. He can’t date. Not in his condition. And not handsome Muggles.

Next Chapter: Chapter 7

#writersmonth2020 #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #slow burn #alternate universe #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic

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heyyyharry · 6 years ago

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My Girl Series: Chapter 14 - Home Truth

…in which Y/N discovers a family secret, and Harry is in despair.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 13: Ghosts - Y/N returns to Holmes Chapel, and Harry is a little too late.

A/N: The next chapter will be the last one of this book.

Warning: this is 8k word long, so it’s inevitable that I’ve made plenty of mistakes. If you spot some, just ignore them alright? 😂

OC version

"Y/N, can you take this to the attic?"

Y/N paused halfway down the stairs to lift an eyebrow at Marcy, who was holding a pile of old books and fashion magazines. The bride-to-be was probably influenced by their family tradition — in this house, they never threw away old things, instead, they either tried to fix them or hid them somewhere in case they might need them again. Most of those things ended up in the attic.

"Why don't you do it yourself? I'm busy," Y/N lied in order to get away with the little favor, only to realize how dumb she sounded. If she was in London, it would make total sense since the big city life was always in a rush. But now that she was in Holmes Chapel, how could she possibly be busy? All the people she wanted to be with were now far away. The only thing she could do was drive around town or bring a book to a coffee shop in her neighborhood to read the day away.

Marcy only gave Y/N a smile, ignoring the lame excuse as she insisted, "I would, but I'm allergic to dust. It'll only take a minute."

"Lucky you," Y/N muttered as she rolled her eyes and marched down the stairs to take the books and magazines from her future stepmother.

Marcy thanked her for it before rushing back to the kitchen, probably to check on those cookies in the oven for her own wedding tomorrow morning. It was only a small celebration so the family did everything by themselves without hiring any wedding planner. Now that the decoration was all finished, Y/N wasn't much useful around the house since she couldn't cook. Therefore she told herself it was only fair if she did the small favor for Marcy.

To be honest, Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the attic. That place used to be her nightmare when she was a little girl. The thought of evil creatures lurking in the dark among dusty old furniture and shelves was the reason she'd slept with the light on for an entire month after climbing up there once out of curiosity. Now that she was an adult, it was barely more than a crawl space with low ceiling and mold. She had to hang her head to walk in, trying to locate obstacles in the dark for the only source of light was from the long narrow windows near the ceiling.

The unsoftened echo of her footsteps on the floor made of timber brought on a claustrophobic feeling, and so she put the books and magazines in the corner to hurry back to the ladder as fast as she could.

Right before she reached the entrance, Y/N tripped over a small table and almost lost her balance. But she didn't fall, instead, she knocked over a dusty carton box which fell onto the floor and created a loud thump that echoed within the confined space. Dust flying all over the place got the girl coughing uncontrollably, still, she decided to bend down and clean up the mess she'd made.

The first thing that got her attention was a portrait of her younger self, sketched by her mother. Everything in that box belonged to her mother. Most of them were drawings and souvenirs she'd bought on their family trips. Y/N had no idea how long they'd been in this attic, but judging from the yellow hue of the paper, she would guess that they had been there since her mother was still alive.

As a result, Y/N ended up staying in the attic for longer than she'd intended to. She sat on the floor, going through the rest of the stuff in the box, feeling whole inside for the fact that most of her mother's sketches were of her face, some others were corners of their house and random objects like a tea set, a bowl of fruits, a flower vase,...

There wasn't anything unusual, until...there was.

At the bottom of the box lied a little tin box. The girl almost didn't see it for it was hidden too well. For some reason, just looking at it gave her a feeling that there was something inside she had to see.

With her heart thumping like a drum, she brought it to her lap and carefully opened it. It would've been a huge disappointment if the box had been empty like she'd feared, but her instinct rarely made a mistake. The box contained many letters written to her mother from a man named Dave Hardfield, alongside which was a photo of them together. His lips were on Tam's cheek and Y/N had never seen her mother smile that bright before. At first, Y/N assumed the man used to be one of her mother's boyfriends before meeting her dad. However, when she looked at the date on each letter, she discovered the truth that'd been hidden for all those years. Those letters, love letters to be exact, had all been written and sent when her parents were married already.

Y/N found out, to her dismay, there were worse fears than invisible monsters in the attic, it was the ones living within every person including the ones you thought you knew all too well.

She picked up one of the letters to read through the first few lines just to make sure she didn't draw any conclusion way too soon. But what she learned wasn't what her heart wished it'd be. Her mother had been in love, madly in love, but with another man, not her father.

She felt a lump in her throat when she read the part about them planning on leaving this town once the divorce had been settled. That letter came just a week before the accident.

The grip of her hands tightened, nearly tearing the page in two. She was so in shock that her brain stuttered for a moment and breathing became difficult. It took her a while to come back to her sense and gather everything besides the letter to put it back in the tin box before leaving.

She didn't even think as she hurried down the ladder, marching straight to the front door while clutching the letter in her hand. This man, whoever he was, might have the answers to most of the questions she'd been asking herself since her mother's death, beginning with what had happened the night of the accident. Y/N walked fast, wasting no time, yet her father appeared without warning to stop her right before she could reach for the doorknob.

"Where are you going?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter, who was quick to hide the letter behind her back.

"To a coffee shop," she said, trying too hard not to let her anxiety show. And maybe she was putting on such a good act that her dad didn't seem to suspect a thing.

"I was hoping you would stay to help us out."

"I will when I get back. Promise."

"Not so fast, young lady." Bradford cleared his throat loudly as he clutched her by the arm when she barely managed to escape. "You're acting strange. Are you alright?"

"Of course I am."

That reply was followed by the fakest laugh she'd ever pulled. Even she knew that, how could her father not?

"Is it—" The man paused to decide if he should make a guess. It wasn't really a guess since he already knew the truth. It was because of Harry. She'd been crying for that boy and hurting for that boy, like she had most of her life. It was obvious. But then again, Bradford pretended like he had no clue. His daughter had never been a sentimental person, not openly at least. Maybe it was one thing they both had in common.

"Never mind..." He sighed, twitching his lips. "Be back soon, alright?"

Smiling in return, Y/N gave her father a firm nod. "Hey dad, can I borrow your car?"

"Sure. But don't crash it."

It was meant to be a harmless joke. But as both of them came to realization, they just quietly stared at each other for two seconds long. Bradford handed her his car key, stuttering as he wanted to say something to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately, Y/N didn't hesitate to walk out of the door.

The truth was, she had no plan at all. She just knew she was going to see the man named Dave Hardfield, whose address was on the letters sent to her mum. She didn't even have the script of the things she should say, or the list of questions about everything she was dying to know. She just wanted to go see the man to learn the truth, whatever it was, even when she wasn't ready to hear it from a complete stranger.

Funny how one surprise came right after another without a single break. The last person Y/N would expect to show up in Holmes Chapel right now, was waiting right outside her house by his car.

"Isaac?" She gasped, walking fast towards the man whose smile was as bright as the sun when he saw her face. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"So you...drove all the way here from London...to see me?"

He took a deep breath, letting it all out. "You're gonna tell me I'm stupid for doing this, aren't you?"

To his surprise, she shook her head fast and pulled him into a hug so tight that it almost took his breath away, literally. Y/N didn't seem to care as she kept repeating the words "thank you" into his shoulder, leaving him no choice but to also wrap his arms around her.

It finally occurred to her how desperate she was for a hug. It didn't matter whose. She just needed to feel a little bit of comfort after the series of traumatic events that'd been after her lately. At least with Isaac, she knew there was only peace.

"I'm going to Heartward," she said, pulling away but her hands were still resting on his hips. "Wanna come with me?"

"Where is that?"

"It's a town nearby, only an hour drive from here."

"Sure. Let's go."

Shocked by the answer, she grabbed him by the wrist when he turned back to unlock his car doors.

"You're not gonna ask me why I'm going there?" She raised both eyebrows, mouth agape. He, on the other hand, looked as cool as ever.

"We've got an hour in the car, right?" Isaac said with a beam as he opened the door on the passenger side for Y/N.

Now she felt the need to hug him again for she didn't think she could ever repay his kindness. In order to save time, however, she'd probably save that later. If they didn't get going right away, they wouldn't be back soon enough for her dad to not suspect a thing.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed with a bright smile, watching Isaac shake his head as he laughed before getting into the vehicle as well.

For most of her life, Y/N had lived in Holmes Chapel and hadn't realized until now that she'd never gone any further than her neighborhood. This was her first journey to a different town in Cheshire. As turned out, it was a lot different from her own. The streets here were narrower and the houses were smaller. While Holmes Chapel had always been simple, Heartward was a maze with the labyrinth of roads, as complex as the human heart.

"Are you nervous?" Isaac's voice pulled Y/N's attention away from the window, back on him.

"Of course I am." She snorted, inhaling deeply to let the silence sink back in for a couple seconds before speaking up again. "What type of person do you think he is?"

"Probably kind. I mean, your mother was kind."

The answer made the girl chuckle as she lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't even know my mother."

"I know you," he said, his blue eyes sparkled with joy.

In that instant, Y/N felt warm within and she was glad he'd shown up at her door. She would still be freaking out right now if she'd gone alone. It was rather funny how she'd been his damsel in distress countless times ever since they first met. Sometimes she did think about it and wondered how he still felt about her after everything. Was he nice to the others too or her only? If the latter was the case, then there was another reason for her to believe she didn't deserve someone like him.

The smile grew on Y/N's face as she watched Isaac's face screw up while he was concentrating on the road ahead. That same smile, sadly, died out the second he brought up the name she'd tried to erase from memory.

"Have you talked to Harry?"

Y/N gave Isaac a shrug, turning back to the window on her side. "I will...at some point."

He didn't ask any further, thank god for that. The last thing she wanted was for him to figure out what had really happened between her and Harry. Though she no longer felt the pressure to reveal her sexual relationship with him to Isaac or anyone else for that matter, she was still afraid what Isaac might think of her if somehow he found out. Honestly, she felt cheap. Even though her feelings for Harry had always been true, to him she was just a replacement, nothing but a body to get him through the night while his heart stayed missing somebody else. But that was exactly what she'd signed up for, so she shouldn't be bitter now that it didn't end the way she wanted.

"Speaking of the devil," the girl muttered under her breath when a couple texts from H popped up on her screen.

"Read it," Isaac said, his eyebrows furrowed. "He must worry about you a lot."

Little did he knew, Y/N did want to. She really wanted to.

Harry had called her a hundred times since this morning and she'd fought herself from answering those calls. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she only read his texts and not reply to them. Nodding in response to Isaac's words, she eventually opened those messages.

⌲ H: If you get this, please text me back.

⌲ H: Let me know you're safe.

⌲ H: Please call me back, text me, anything.

⌲ H: I need to talk to you please.

"So? How's he?"

Y/N turned off her phone and put it away as she also turned a deaf ear to Isaac's question.

"You haven't told him where I am, right?" She asked in concern, only to sigh in relief when he shook his head.

"If I had, he would be here instead of me." With a slight chuckle, he added, "you're really good at ghosting on people, Smiley."

"Only the ones who deserve it."

When Y/N received no reply, she turned to see the goofy grin on the man's face.

Pinching his lip slightly, Isaac kept his eyes on the road rather on her as he joked, "if I hadn't texted you when I was in Italy, we would never have spoken again, right?"

She knew he wasn't serious when he said that, but his expression alone could still pain her heart. A sense of guilt flooded into her hollow chest to replace the comfort she'd been feeling this entire time in the car with him. Isaac was too nice to admit that she had hurt him too for coldly turning him down once before. She'd been too busy paying attention to how she was feeling and forgotten about him. Why was he still here after everything? Why was he still treating her like the only person in the world who mattered? Why hadn't he asked for anything in return?

"Isaac—"

"Oh! We're here!" The man happily announced as he slowed down and pulled his car over on the side of the road. She wasn't sure if he cut her off on purpose or he genuinely didn't hear her. But maybe this wasn't the time to talk about them.

"Are you sure this is the place?" She asked in disbelief when they both got out of the car at the same time.

"It is. I've checked the address twice," he assured, yet looking just as appalled as she was.

The house they were looking for was square and grey, with narrow windows that looked far from picturesque. Y/N had to check the address for the third time to make sure it matched the one on the letter. This place looked like it'd been abandoned for years. Maybe the owner didn't really care to pay enough attention to making his front yard and porch look even the slightest presentable.

Exchanging worrying looks with Isaac, she finally found enough courage to press the doorbell. She wasn't sure if anybody was home because through the windows all that she saw was a part of the pitch dark living room as far as natural light could reach.

Fortunately, just when the two of them thought they might have to leave empty-handed, the door slowly creaked open.

Y/N had never met this man in her life, but his expression when he saw her made her think he had known her his entire life. His face was stern, yet peaceful. And even though his hair was turning grey and the wrinkles were slightly visible on his broad forehead, he still appeared quite handsome for a man his age.

"Excuse me, sir," Y/N spoke after two awkward seconds passing by unnoticed. "Are you...Dave Hardfield?"

"Yes, I am." The middle-aged man nodded, his eyes were still round as he stared at her in confusion. "You are..."

"I'm Y/N, Tam's daughter," she said, handing him the envelope she'd been holding the entire time. "I found your letter in my attic, and—"

That sentence was left unfinished when Dave opened his arms and dragged her into a hug without warning. Isaac flinched, nearly pulling Y/N back for he feared the man might do something to her, but the moment he spotted the hopeful look on Dave's face, he decided to stay back and remain silent.

"You look just like her."

Those words from the stranger made Y/N's eyes well up when he loosened his embrace to cup her face. He examined her features, eyes glistened with tears as a smile spread across his chapped lips.

"She has the same beautiful eyes."

"Wow...that's very...nice of you. Thank you..."

Isaac couldn't help but chuckle at Y/N's reply, receiving a playful glare when she turned back to him.

"Come in, you two! come in!" Dave said fast, giving Y/N and Isaac no time to hesitate before urging them into his living room. When the door was shut, and the lights were on, Y/N saw the living proof of the saying 'never judge a book by its cover'. The interior was the opposite of the mess she'd seen when she first arrived — tidy and very well-taken care of.

Dave's living room gave away more than it was supposed to. Every decoration was soft and homely, showing the fact that he probably lived alone. In order to fill the void, he had created a cozy place that made him feel safe and warm so he wouldn't have to come home to remember how lonely he was. Y/N would know that better than anyone.

Above the fireplace were pictures of him with his children, she assumed, for they were arranged from the left when his twins were babies to the latest one on the right being the three of them together at the girls' graduation. There was no photo of the wife.

Dave sat down on his chair and pointed to the sofa in front of him, telling his two guests to make themselves at home. There was already a tea set on the table, so he made two cups for Y/N and Isaac, saying that he'd already had his before they arrived.

"So Y/N, is this your boyfriend?"

"No." Y/N blushed hard when she caught Isaac's stare and turned away quickly.

"My name's Isaac, I'm her friend from London," said the young man as he reached out to shake Dave's hand, showing his signature Prince Charming smirk. How could anyone not go soft for that?

"Oh, how do you like Holmes Chapel so far, son?"

"To be honest, I've been in Heartward for longer than Holmes Chapel." He chuckled, glancing at Y/N who furrowed her eyebrows at him. "This one literally dragged me here when I first arrived at her house."

She pushed his shoulder playfully, laughing along. "In my defense, I did ask if he wanted to come."

"The things we do for these ladies, right?"

Dave's comment made Isaac chuckle, but Y/N had already turned away to hide the fact that she was all flustered.

As the young people enjoyed their tea, the older man took his own letter out of the envelope, smiling nonchalantly at the memories while rereading what he'd written two years ago.

Y/N gave him a moment to get lost in his happy thoughts before breaking the silence among the three of them. "So it's true...you and my mother..."

The man's beam slowly turned into a frown as he sighed heavily, putting the letter back into its envelope.

"Yes," he confessed, eyes locked with the girl who still seemed in denial even though she'd known the truth ever since she first read his letter. Her mother, a cheater? The woman she'd looked up to her entire life turned out to be that kind of person? It didn't make any sense.

"We were in love," Dave went on despite the look on her face. "It wasn't something I was proud of, to fall head over heels for a married woman. But...I guess we never get to choose whom we fall in love with."

Isaac's eyes were on Y/N, yet hers were fixed on the man who was speaking. She didn't know how to feel anymore. Should she hate this man for ruining her parents' marriage just like how she had hated Marcy for thinking it was her? The problem was, she couldn't grow to hate him, not even the tiniest bit.

"How old are you?" Dave asked, eyes squinting at Y/N.

"Twenty."

"Wow." He sucked in a breath and rubbed his palms together nervously. "You were fifteen when I met her. Can't believe it's been five years."

"Were you married at the time?"

"No. My ex-wife left me when my girls were only six. They barely remember her."

The look on his face was heartbreaking still.

"I'm sorry," said Y/N as she wetted her dry lips. "Uhm...where are your children now?"

"They're both living in California with their husbands. I'm very proud of them," he said with a huge grin. That was enough to tell how much his children meant to him. "They're just four years older than you."

"Oh, they're the same age as you!" Y/N told Isaac, who responded with a slight laugh for how excited she seemed to discover the coincidence.

"When the girls left home, I was devastated," Dave continued with a sad smile, looking at them both. "Tam was the best thing to happen to me at the time. I believe I was also hers. She was unhappy in her marriage, yet she couldn't leave because...she didn't want to force you to choose between her and your father."

Y/N stayed silent, nodding her head slowly.

"The day of the accident, he found out about us and they got into a fight." His voice grew smaller and weaker as he recalled the tragic event that took away the woman he loved. "When I received the news, my whole world fell apart. Even now...I still blame myself for what happened to her. If I'd just given up and let her go, maybe she would still be here."

So that was how it'd happened. Her mother's affair was the reason there'd been a fight. That was why she'd given her father back the ring and drove away from the damage she'd caused. That was the truth — a hard pill to swallow.

"But you made her happier than my father did..." She spoke after a moment sinking deep in her own thoughts.

"You...don't hate me?" Dave seemed surprised by her reaction. It was certainly not what he'd expected.

"No." The girl shook her head. "At least now I know she was truly loved. So...thank you."

Dave didn't say anything else. Y/N didn't ask either. They exchanged heartwarming smiles, and Isaac reached out to hold the hand on her lap, giving her a look that said he was there for her if she wanted emotional support. Maybe that was she needed to feel at peace again.

The drive home was strangely comforting for all the secrets had been revealed, and what was left was just bare relief. Staring out of the car window, Y/N recorded the last images of Heartward into her mind like a goodbye to the little town. Then she began to wonder how many times her mother had driven down that same road, or if she had remembered the map of Heartward like the back of her hand. Maybe Heartward was her mother's London, the place that wasn't really home, but there lived the man whom her heart would always belong to.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I am." The girl chuckled slightly as she watched Isaac stand with his back against the car, one hand still holding hers. Now that she was home safe and he knew that she was safe. She wondered what would happen next. Would they say their goodbyes and he go back to London, maybe back to Italy even?

The problem was, now she didn't want him to go.

"You sure you're okay?" He raised both eyebrows, making her toss her head back and crack up.

"Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you that I am?"

"Alright, alright, just wanted to be sure," he said, grinning from ear to ear and checking his watch.

Y/N studied his expression closely, wishing she could ask him to stay, a part of her was still reluctant that she might've troubled him too much already. Nevertheless, it wasn't her to decide what happened next.

"Y/N!"

The loud voice caused both Isaac and Y/N to let go of each other's hands as they turned to her front door. Her father rushed towards them, followed by Marcy. Both seemed so distressed that Y/N thought it was quite hilarious.

"You're safe!"

"Dad, I've only been gone for a couple hours."

Isaac chuckled as he watched the girl trying to break away from her father's arms.

"The car was here and you were gone, so I thought—"

"That I got kidnapped by the ice-cream man?" She laughed, holding him by the arms. It was then that Marcy finally noticed the handsome young man standing right behind her future stepdaughter.

"Oh!" She squealed happily. "Who's your friend, Y/N?"

"Hi, I'm Isaac, Y/N's friend from London. You must be the bride."

"I am!" The woman shook his hand enthusiastically, giving him a massive smile. "Hey, why don't you stay for our wedding? A friend of Y/N's is a friend of ours!"

"Thank you, ma'am. But I'm only here for today. I'm leaving now actually."

"Would you like to stay though?"

All eyes were on Y/N when she asked that question. She couldn't really blame them for even she didn't believe in her own words. Her cheeks instantly turned red as she was sure Isaac noticed how shy she was. His smile grew a bit wider.

"Stay for the wedding?" He questioned, probably just wanting her to say it again.

"Yeah..." She nodded fast, eyes to the side instead of looking at him. "Uhm...I do need a wedding date."

"Wait, but I thought Har—"

"That's a great idea!" Bradford cut his bride off just in time as he stepped forward to pat the young man on the back. "It's not safe to drive back to London through the night. Come in, we'll have the guest room ready for you."

"But I'm not formally dressed for the wedding—"

"Don't worry about that. It's just gonna be a family party," Bradford said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, you cannot miss an opportunity to see Y/N in a pink dress for the first time since she decided that adolescent angst suited her personality better."

"Dad!" Y/N cried out, causing the other three to dissolve into laughter. Hiding her face with one hand, she sneaked a look at Isaac, who couldn't stop beaming at this point. There was something about the radiant joy on his face that made her feel calm. Holding back a laugh, she watched Marcy pull him into their house.

Marcy was still baking for the wedding tomorrow, and since she had to do it all on her own, she was thrilled to bits when Isaac offered his help.

"I used to help my mum in the kitchen all the time," said the young man. That was enough to convince her that he was qualified to be the Executive Sous Chef in her kitchen. Bradford intended to join them as well, but Y/N stopped him right before he could volunteer to lend a hand.

"Dad, can we talk in private?" She asked, holding onto his arm.

In this household, they rarely discussed their conflicts and problems, just like old furniture, they put those in a dark corner and pretended they didn't exist until someone suddenly remembered they were still there. But look at what all these secrets they'd kept from each other had turned them into? A broken family. They had never been truly happy under the same roof. From now on, something had to change.

Bradford followed his daughter upstairs to her room where their conversation couldn't be heard. When she asked him to sit down in her chair and shut the door, he knew it was something serious. So serious that someone who had avoided every single heart-to-heart talk in her life like Y/N must initiate this conversation.

Without further ado, she sat down on the edge of her bed and handed him the letter from Dave Hardfield. Judging by the look on his face, she knew he had never expected her to find out like this, if at all.

"I came to see him today," she spoke at last, tearing down the silence which was only tormenting them both. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I found out about this the day before your graduation, darling. And the accident came right after. This news would've broken you even more."

"What about after the funeral? What about when I moved to London? You'd had so many chances to tell me," she stated. The tears in her eyes were inevitable yet it still hurt him to see her cry. He didn't need to know she'd been holding them back since the moment she found those letters in the attic. He didn't need to know what the other man had said to her. All he knew was his little girl had been through so much only to find out the truth about her mother from a stranger.

"I didn't want you to hate her for this."

His answer left a lump in her throat as she swallowed her tears and narrowed her eyes at him.

"So you just let me hate you instead?"

When he nodded, her heart nearly cracked open.

"She was a better parent than I am," he said with his head hung low. "You used to tell her everything. I can't-I don't remember the last time we sat down and talked like this. Everything I know about you, your mother told me. The bond you two had was so strong, and you looked up to her so much, I couldn't take that idea of her away from you. I wanted you to always think about her as a role model so you would always have a reason to never give up."

Y/N was speechless. She pressed her lips tight and could only nod fast to replace the words she couldn't come up with right now. Bradford scooted his chair closer so he could take her hand and hold it tight, meanwhile wiping away the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, what he should've done years ago.

"Did you...did you ever love her?" Her voice trembled as if it was going to break anytime soon.

"I did. I still do," he admitted, his eyes now glistened with tears. "My biggest regret was not appreciating her presence in my life. I didn't treat her right because I thought she would always be around, until she wasn't anymore."

"So...did you hate her?"

"No." The father shook his head. "And I hope you won't either."

She looked at him through the tears, subconsciously reaching up to touch the locket lying close to her heart which was now racing faster than ever. Letting out a shaky breath, she said, "what she did cannot change the fact that she loved me, and she was the nicest person I knew. How can I ever stop loving her?"

"Good."

That one-word reply was so simple yet just enough. It was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time how they both cried and wiped away each other's tears only to smile again. This was the closest Y/N had ever been to feeling fulfilled.

When she was little, every time her parents fought, she used to wish for a better family with perfect parents who never argued. But maybe this was the best she could get. At least now she knew her imperfect family could finally be a happy one.

"Brad!" Marcy's voice from downstairs made Bradford and Y/N turn to the door. "Don't think you can get away with not helping me!"

"We'd better go." Y/N chuckled as she rose from the bed. But before she could reach the door, Bradford stopped her by the words he hadn't said in too long.

"I love you."

Y/N couldn't keep track of how many nights she'd lost sleep over those three words. She had faced the fear that she might not get to hear them back. She had faced the reality that she didn't get to hear them back. To hear them now from the man she thought she should hate most in her life had filled the empty space inside her chest, even if temporarily.

"I love you, too," she said almost as a whisper but loud enough for her father to hear. Without waiting for a reaction from him, she rushed into his arms, hugging him for the first time since she was just a little girl.

Now that she was older, she must accept the fact that her parents weren't heroes and she might not really know the people she'd always thought she knew. However, true love was constant. The love for her mother, for Harry, would always be there, no matter what kind of people they turned out to be or what secrets they'd kept from her. Just like herself, she knew they had their own pain so she couldn't blame them for their mistakes.

She might not replicate what she had lost. She wasn't sure anyone could ever fill the shoes of her mother or him. But some love could only be beautiful if kept in memory. Thus from now on, she was willing to let them both go.

"So, this photo was taken on her first day of kindergarten."

"Brad! Look at her cute pigtails! I can't believe you never showed me this before!"

Y/N sat on the armchair facing the other three on the sofa opposite from her. They had their noses stuck the family photo album. It was like a game to see who could spot the most embarrassing photo of her as a child. Apparently, her dad was winning.

"Are you guys all done?" She asked, arms crossed in front of her chest as her face contorted, but nobody flinched.

"Aww, the Donald Duck Halloween costume." Isaac chuckled. He tried to ignore her, yet couldn't help but glance up to catch a glimpse of the look on her face as she scoffed in response to his comment.

When Y/N picked out a daisy in front of her and tossed it at him, Marcy wasted no time to grab the vase, holding it firmly against her chest.

"The whatever you want, just don't hurt my flowers!" She said.

"Okay, the fun's over!" Y/N rose from her seat to grab the photo album and put it aside. With both hands on her hips, she lifted an eyebrow at the men. "Chop-chop. Get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac and Bradford said at the same time as they hurried back to the tasks they'd been assigned before getting distracted by those photos.

Bradford stood up so Y/N could take his place next to Isaac and continue arranging those wedding flowers for Marcy. Meanwhile, the father kept on looking for that cookbook he hadn't seen in years, only because Marcy's parents expected him to cook for them tomorrow night. He was just about to head upstairs and search in his room, when his phone began to ring.

It was Harry.

The man had hesitated for a long moment before picking up that call. He didn't want to see Y/N's reaction if she caught him speaking to Harry. Even so, he still wanted to know what had happened between them, knowing she would refuse to confide in him, or anyone for that matter.

"Hello?" He finally answered, keeping his voice down so his family couldn't hear.

"Is Bambi, I mean, Y/N...Is Y/N there, sir? If she is, can you get her on the phone?"

Bradford had known Harry since he was little, and he knew Harry was a good person by nature. However, after seeing the pain his daughter had endured, he now must pick a side.

Sitting in his living room was the man who made his daughter laugh, on the phone was the one who made her cry. The choice should be fast and simple, yet there was utter guilt within his heart when he decided to keep Harry from the truth.

"She went out a while ago," he lied, his heart fell to silence as a long pause followed right after.

"She doesn't wanna talk to me, right?" The sadness was clear in Harry's voice when he finally spoke.

Even though Bradford had no idea Isaac was Harry's best friend, he was aware that Harry's heart would be crushed if he found out Y/N was laughing with another man on the sofa, and the same man would accompany her to the wedding tomorrow. The father had no other choice but to be frank, "I think you should wait until after the wedding, when she returns to London. You know, give her time."

Harry was quiet for a while, as if to ponder on his own.

"Sir...do you think she still hates me?"

For this question, the older man took a deep breath. "I don't know Y/N that well, but she can never hate you."

"I know I would if I were her."

"Y/N always says things she doesn't mean. I thought you would know that better than anyone else." Bradford chuckled slightly. "She said she hated you when you left the first time, yet she still sent you those letters."

"Letters?" Harry sounded like he almost choked on the word. "What letters?"

"You never received any? That's odd...She used to check our mailbox every day, and her mother once told me that she'd been writing to you."

Bradford waited, yet the reply what came after was nothing but silence.

"Harry?" He mumbled, assuming something was wrong with the phone and the young man couldn't hear him well, until Harry cleared his throat and said that he was still listening, he must hang up now regardless.

"Can you please ask her to call me back?"

Harry's plea for help sounded so desperate. Now Bradford could only feel sorry for the boy. He looked over his shoulder, into the living room. Y/N and Isaac had long forgotten that they were supposed to be arranging the wedding flowers. They were too busy fooling around by putting daisies in each other's hair while guffawing like children. Seeing the beam on his daughter's face, Bradford was able to empathize with Harry. It definitely wasn't easy to remember how much you loved someone only when came someone else who wiped away their tears and made them smile again.

"Take my advice," the father spoke with a soft reminiscent sigh, turning his back to Y/N and Isaac. "Some things are not meant to be said on the phone."

The two-second pause on Harry's part made Bradford believe his guess was right all along. What Harry wanted to say were the three words that had started this whole mess, and Y/N deserved to hear them in person.

"I know," the young man spoke at last. "Thank you so much." And just like that, he muttered his goodbye.

The call ended with a sense of sorrowful regret, leaving Bradford standing still with messy thoughts flowing through his mind. It was Y/N's voice that pulled him back to reality.

"Dad, who was it?"

Turning his head fast, the man locked eyes with his daughter's. For a second, it was Tam that he saw staring back at him, and in that instant, he realized how much Y/N resembled her late mother.

"Was it him?" Her eyebrows furrowed when he nodded his head as an answer. What was the use of lying when she already knew the truth?

"You should call him back," he suggested. "He wanted to talk to you."

"But I don't wanna talk to him." Y/N's answer turned the man speechless. He parted his lips, yet she was quick to cut him off before he even figured out what else to say. "If he calls again, tell him he doesn't have to feel sorry...It was also my fault for expecting too much."

"Darling, it's not your f—"

"Tell him I won't call him back." Y/N interrupted her father once again. "There's really no point in torturing each other anymore."

From the look in her expressive eyes, the man understood that his daughter was badly hurt by those words of her own, yet she must say them otherwise she could never truly move on.

In silence, he watched her go back to the living room where Marcy was now instructing Isaac how to arrange those daisies. Even though he respected Y/N's decision, Bradford knew, just like him, a small part of her still wished it was Harry instead.

It was quite a wrench to Harry when that call came to an end and he hadn't got to hear her voice. The director got really mad at him for being distracted during filming and checking his phone way too often. Harry made up an excuse that he was just tired, yet none of the people he worked with was convinced. It'd been the worst day in his life ever since she left.

On the drive home, he couldn't stop replaying the conversation with one of his co-stars, who said, "I feel like this isn't what you love anymore."

He'd thought about that sentence a lot before coming to the conclusion that the man who'd said it was completely wrong. This had nothing to do with him being lazy or losing motivation since acting was what he was born to do. He loved his job, and was indeed grateful for all that he had now. But there were also the other things that he loved, one of which was her.

Now she was 185 miles away from him. And he couldn't even get her on the phone just to explain why he'd hesitated to admit that he loved her, to apologize and beg for another chance. He knew he couldn't make it back to the wedding because he'd got a commercial to shoot tomorrow morning, and he couldn't wait until after because it'd be too long. But maybe her father was right, words would sound much more sincere if they were said in person.

There was, however, something else that was bothering him. Bradford had mentioned those letters she'd written to him when she was younger. At first, he'd assumed they all had got lost in the mail, yet it seemed too much of a coincidence to be true, unless the universe really didn't want him to read them.

What if she'd never sent those letters? If so, where were they now?

Harry was too lost in the questions for himself that he almost didn't recognize his assistant who was waiting for him outside his house. The girl had to call out his name to get his attention as he walked right past her.

"Jo? What are you doing here so late?"

"Jeff said you had a rough day on set so he asked me to buy you dinner," said the short brunette as she fixed her glasses and handed the food to her boss. "And Miss Ruby Ellis called me a couple times today asking to talk to you, but I told her you were busy. Do you want me to set up a date—"

"No. It's fine," he cut her off fast, pressing his lips into a small smile. "Next time just ignore her calls."

"Oh...Okay...One more thing!" The girl stopped her boss when he unlocked his door. "I brought your laundry into your room and accidentally knocked over the books on your nightstand. I already put them back."

"Jo, you don't have to report everything to me," Harry replied as he chuckled, assuming the girl was new to her job so she was just overly careful.

Jo shook her head quickly. "I was afraid that you would see the books in a different place and think I got intrusive and read your journal or something."

"My journal?"

"Yeah, the pink notebook with your name at the back."

Harry's eyes went wide as realization hit him like a fast-moving train. He thanked his assistant, saying a fast goodbye before rushing into his house. The first thing he did was run to his bedroom and get Y/N's notebook.

She'd had it since she was nine. He always knew she wrote a lot in there, including her random thoughts, her favorite quotes, her story ideas, almost everything she could come up with; some she'd read to him, some she'd kept to herself. But he never actually got to read for himself.

If she was writing letters that she never planned on sending, would there be a better place to keep them?

Harry felt awful as he brought the pink notebook to his lap and sat down on the bed, inhaling deeply. He wouldn't want anyone to read his deepest and most personal thoughts, surely she wouldn't be happy to find out that he wanted to read hers. He was going to anyway. Desperation had got the best of him.

With trembling hand, he flipped to the back of the notebook, and immediately spotted his name written in small capital letters at the bottom corner of the hardcover. Harry didn't know why he was smiling as he gently ran his thumb over the word. He missed her too much that such a small detail could make his heart flutter.

After contemplating it for a whole minute, he took another deep breath and opened it for the first time.

Here goes nothing, said his inner voice.

The first page, which he'd seen once before, was filled with silly doodles made by a nine-year-old, hence they weren't pretty. He still remembered the day she showed him these and got mad when he made fun of her for her awful drawing skill. The memory made Harry chuckle as he turned to the second page where lied the very first entry. The ink was slightly faded due to all the years it'd lived by. Her handwriting used to be so easy to read.

On the first line right below the date, she wrote:

My definition of true happiness is the boy next door. His name is Harry Styles.

#my girl series #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #older!harry #bestfriend!Harry #actor!harry

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lilac-writes · 4 years ago

Note

2, 18 and 20 for the meta ask? Love u and feel better soon!

Thank you! I’m already starting to feel much better.

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

A few weeks ago, Sadface showed me a sketch for the prompt Masquerade for GaaLee Bingo and explained the story she was trying to tell with the drawing. The inside of my brain has been screeching MASQUERADE!! PAPER FACES ON PARADE!! ever since, and just would not let the idea go. I now have a rough draft of a first chapter of a fic to accompany the drawing, and a rough sort of outline for the rest of it, and I am just so wildly excited the whole thing.

Actually, fuck it, you want a tiny snippet? Here:

“I noticed you,” Gaara told him. “Earlier, in the ballroom.”

“During the waltz?” The man asked breathlessly.

Gaara nodded.

“So it was not just me, then.”

“Yes, I -” Gaara hadn’t thought this far ahead. Hadn’t considered what he might say to this man once he caught him. The opening strains of a slow waltz drifted across the garden.

The man in green turned to Gaara and bowed. “Would you like to dance?”

“I’m a terrible dancer,” Gaara whispered, even as he took the man’s hand.

“So am I,” he said. “But I would like to dance with you, all the same.”

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

I’ve considered and then abandoned several endings for Worthwhile. I haven’t actually written the ending yet (probably because I really don’t want it to have to end). I’ve been cutting and adding and rearranging scenes in my cowboy AU like crazy trying to figure out the timeline and get the relationships right. Hopefully by the time you get to read it, it will all make sense. There have also been a few times where I have started outlining or writing a scene from Lee’s POV and then scrapped it entirely and switched to Gaara’s which for some reason feels more natural/comfortable for me to write.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I’m sort of in a weird time in my life right now and have spent the past year or so thinking a lot about love and intimacy and what it means to really know a person. This line of thought is what moved me to start writing the sort of thing I’ve been writing in the first place. Then, in June when I was in the midst of editing/posting the first few stories in Worthwhile, a novel was recommended to me specifically because it was Pride month, and the novel in question was a lesbian romance. Naturally, I thought I’d like it a lot better than other romance novels I’ve tried to read but I hated it. Like, really absolutely despised it. Not only was the writing just. . . so bad that I can’t believe an actual human editor allowed it to be printed, but there was nothing in that novel that made me believe that the characters had any sort of genuine feelings for or attraction to one another. The whole thing just fell horribly flat and I put the book down thinking Even I can write better romance than this. And I think I poured a lot of my spite towards that novel into Worthwhile. I edited a lot of scenes to try and make it very very clear that even though at that point in the series Lee and Gaara were still trying to figure out how to admit their feelings and what to do next, their feelings for each other were real and profound to the point that it affected everything else they did.

In the last couple months I’ve become maybe a bit obsessed with the ways people can say I love you without actually saying it. I’ve started taking notes of little gestures and tokens of affection that crop up in books I read and shows I watch, and even occasionally things I witness in real life. I’m sneaking these things into my writing here and there as well.

Anyways, anon, that’s kind of just the first thing that popped into my head when I read this question, and I’m not sure it totally answers it or if it’s what you wanted to know. If you ever want to know more about my writing or one of my stories, you can always ask, anytime.

Meta Asks For Writers

#asks #answered #ask game #sorry I don't know how to ramble #but you can ask me about anything you want to know

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voidselfshipp · 5 years ago

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🌻Sunflower Au🌻

Summary: daemon falls in love with a woman, but he doesnt know how to flirt with her, shenanigans ensue.

《...》

John enters the facility, students come and go,coming in all shapes and sizes, his mother enlisted Him into this artschool, he thought that it would take more time off of him to do graffiti, but then he saw her.

She was with him in character design class,Brown hair, shaved back, green eyes with bags under them,and this big green sweater, and her name was jerico.

He couldnt Keep his eyes off of her, and that costed him the first few clases of the semester.

He needed to wow her,but how?.

Also, needed to add, that not only John was an artist but a vigilante too, pver the course of the years he took various martial arts and programming classes and courses, naming himself "Daemon"

So his brilliant brain came up with this idea.

Wow. Her. With. Your. Alter. Ego.

Altough, his relationshipp with her was going well,they worked togheter a couple of times, went to her place to work on the assigments of their shared class, and they had a pretty good friendship.

-You have a really iconic style john- jerico says as she replaces the water on the glass she used to clean her brushes- I cant quite place it,but there is something that when i see it I go" wow, thats John's work"-

She sits on the table and starts to colour another character.

-Well, yours is really iconic too-John leans back on his chair,finishing one of his sketches- they way you do the face , and the way you aply colors are kind of your trademark-

The woman blushes and shakes her head.

-Quite the Charmer, arent you-both share a chuckle and Keep working.

Hours go by and the sun sets, the moon appears on the horizon, and the stars slowly show themselves on the dark blue Sky.

-Im leaving, its late and my roomate is going to freak out- jeri says, tugging the sleeve of her green sweater.

-You sure?, this place can get dangerous at night, dont you want to stay?-john Asks leaning on the doorframe with on of his forearms, hanging over jerico.

-Please I dont want to bother, ill text you when I get home,okay?-

-You better do so, If not I wont be able to sleep tonight-

-Oh shut up- jeri playfully and softly punches him on his arm and says goodbye.

'I gotta make sure she gets there safe' John thinks , as he grabs his Gear, putting on his Oni mask.

His feet are silent as he runs on the rooftops, with his gaze on jerico, who non-chalantly walks back to her apartment ten blocks away from his.

Suddenly his eyes catch a glimpse of two men following her, he hums and observes,they dont seem dangerous,until one of them tries to steal jerico's backpack, she fights and squirms but the guy seemed to be winning the fight,until he lands on the ground and a set of shurikens pin both of the men to the nearest wall.

Then the grabs the woman and jumps, both run trough the roofs as he grabs her hand.

When the shady men finally stops pursuing them they sit, regaining their breath.

-Thanks for saving me and my bag there- she says, with a kind smile as she scoots closer.

-Uh, youre welcome, im, im--

-Oh I know! You've been in everyones mouth since you stopped those criminals some weeks ago!im so starstruck! I got saved by Daemon, THE daemon-

His cheeks heat up, If she only knew...

Or does she?.....

They sit there and chat a little bit,then daemon feels his body shiver, jerico seems to notice it as she takes off her sweater and hangs It around his back.

-You can give it to me later, ill be good to go, I have a spare one on my backpack,my apartment is just a block away-

-And how do you know I wont steal it?-both stand up.

-Because, you saved me-

They chuckle and say goodbye.

Jerico gets down the small building they were sitting on and walks, thinking of what happened.

When she gets home she finds her roomate sleeping on the couch,covering them jeri goes to her room and falls on her bed, quickly grabbing her cellphone and texting John with "you wont Belive what happened"

He sees the message pop up, as he sits on the windowsill of his house's attic window, were his room was, messaging back with" what happened?".

They Keep talking for hours until they both feel tired.

Tomorrow is saturday luckily, so they wont hate themselves in the morning.

[...]

Sunrays filter trough the blinds, daemon groans , covering his face with his hand as his half naked form walks downstairs , he hears two voices talking, but he is too sleepy to recognize them.

-John, put some clothes on, Jerico is here-his mother says

He suddenly jumps and with half-asleep , face looks at the woman, she is blushing as she contains her laughter.

Daemon bolts to his room, picking up an sleeveless shirt and throwing it on , then going on downstairs.

-its so early- he groans.

-Early?- his mother says-its twelve pm dear, its lunchtime, I invited jerico over, now sit, your friend has already set the table-

He awkwardly sits Next to jeri,muttering a hello.

-You looked cute- the woman besides him whispers- half asleep, messy,I dont get seeing you like that too often-

-Like what?-daemon asks.

-Vulnerable- she says- John, If you are trying to flirt with me,Like you've been trying these past month, Just be straightforward,no messing around-

The Mans face heat up,looking away as his mother serves the food.

-Was I that obvious?-He asks.

-Well child-his mother says- youre not EXACTLY that subtle-

-But its cute,trying to be so smooth, its nice-

They start to eat, and after it, jerico hangs out with John a bit, talking, playing some games, until its afternoon and jeri has to leave to help her roomate with some stuff.

{...}

A soft knock is heard on jerico's Window, she looks over to see her saviour from last night, daemon.

-c'mon, let me take you to a date-he says.

-Im sorry- the woman said looking at him-my heart is after my best friend, I really cant -

-Even if the person asking it is your own best friend?- John says taking off his mask- hurry up!,come on!-

Jeri chuckles and grabs her coat, opening her Window and slipping trough it, walking down the emergency stairs with her friend.

They laugh and jump trough the city and houses,running on the rooftops and climbing them until they arrive to the tallest building around,an abandoned three flored house,on its rooftop its a blanket and some candles.

-Its so corny,I know- daemon says holding jericos hand-you said to be Straight-forward so here I am-

-John I--

-Jerico, since I saw you, something is there, bugging me,pulling me to you like a magnet,I cant help it, eveytime youre near me, I have this urge to hug you, and be close to you, you are my best Friend, and I, I love you, so much...I want to be your boyfriend,but the desicion is yours to make-

-Yes,just yes, shut the fuck up and kiss me, now-

-Like , l like now, right now , now-

-Jo, did I stutter?-

Daemon pulls her on a kiss, walking backwards to the blanket and laying down on it

-took you long enough-jerico said.

-Oh shut up, If you knew that I was daemon,you would already be at my feet-

-Oh but I knew, the design?the voice?they made me realize from the moment I saw you, not even the voice disruptor on your mask can disguise your speech patterns-

-So wait,thats why you lend me your sweater?-

-Uh duh, of course,youre the only one who has my permission to touch it, even go near it-

Johns face burns red as he hides it behind his hands, Rolling on his side-

-Im such a dumbass-

-my dumbass-jeri says, hugging him from behind.

They stay in silence for a bit.

-Youre a sunflower- John mutters with his eyes half lidded.

-I think your love would be too much-

-Oh you'll be left in the dust-

-unless I stuck by ya'-

Youre a sunflower

John chuckles and kisses Jerico's forehead as they sleeply sing to eachother.

Youre a sunflower

~●~

#f/o #f/o tag #f/o community #f/o x s/i #be daemon #selfship

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8emmy · 5 years ago

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(Not So) Sweet Home Velaris

Sweet Home Alabama AU AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891252

The Illyrian Valley was vast and heavily wooded. The mountains that surrounded the valley were known for being the largest in the country. Millions of nature enthusiasts and outdoor lovers visit the national parks and mountain resorts yet no one knew that there was a small town nestled in the center. Nesta’s rental car passes the welcome sign of her hometown, Velaris population 1,035. Nesta felt her nerves running high. She hasn’t been here since she was twenty-three leaving for law school. Nesta’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

She knew that if she pulled over and called Mr. Suriel and explained the seriousness of getting the paperwork finalized that he, being a professional, would get it done. But she also couldn’t risk another setback. It was already two years of back and forth frustration, and she now had a deadline that was coming too close to the end.

If that good for nothing two brain celled bastard actually signed the papers like he should have done two years ago… Even the thought of going through this mess for two years gave her a stress headache. It should have been easy, Mr. Suriel was the one giving the papers. He was basically a family friend. He knew Cassian and Nesta since they were toddlers. It was supposed to be simple. She wasn’t trying to get money out of him as if he had any or property. His house from her suppressed memory was a glorified trailer in the woods near Starfall lake with outdated appliances and doors that were falling off their rusted hinges. It was a bachelor shack.

She only wanted a clean slate. Tomas needed a clean slate.

She glanced quickly at her diamond engagement ring. It was a decently sized diamond large enough to stand out but not so large that she looked like she had an unnecessary boulder taped to her finger. Tomas still didn’t know. He doesn’t even know that Nesta was from a tiny town in the north of Prythian. All he thought he knew about her was that she was a Corporate lawyer (true) that was born and raised in Orilon (lie). Absently she rubbed at her ring as she drove her eyes still trained on the road in front of her. She’ll need to slip it off before confronting Cassian. Cauldron forbid that the sight of it will cause Cassian to double down on being spiteful over the thought of Nesta being happy.

She rolls down Main Street. It was quiet for a Tuesday afternoon. There were a few people out and about slipping into the post office or walking out with their groceries from Vin’s General Store. She parks her rental car in front of a blue building in the window a sign reads:

“Suriel LLP For All Your Legal Needs”

She rubs at her ring, debating if she should take it off before heading in. The town lived off of gossip. Even the sight of her being seen could reach Cassian’s ear by the local grapevine before she gets to his door. She leans into her back seat, searching for her overly broad sun hat. In her glove compartment, she finds a pair of large sunglasses. She slips on her poor disguise before leaving her car.

Suriel LLP looked like it did when she was 23 when she was just Mr. Suriel’s Legal Assistant/Receptionist waiting for her letter from Orilon University Law to arrive. Reception was unsurprisingly empty. The waiting room sofa was the same brown tweed with the same coffee stains on the cushions, and she swears that the same magazines sat on the coffee table untouched. Old landscape sketches hung on the wall showing the Illyrian Steeps, the mountain range that surrounded the valley she was currently in. She walks up to the reception and dings the bell. She calls out, “Excuse me. I am here to see Mr. Suriel; I am his 1:30 appointment.”

No answer. Nesta crosses her arms over her stomach, tapping her heeled foot impatiently. Who takes lunch at this hour? Did she forget small town hours? How her lunches used to run an hour over sitting in Rita’s with Mr. Suriel pouring over legal books to study for her LSAT? When Cassian would surprise visit her at work to take her home for lunch? Her scowl deepens. Back home, Orilon is home now; she would go out to lunch maybe three times a month. Tomas was busy running his family’s small real estate empire and would try to schedule lunch dates into his overly stuffed schedule. They would go to a fabulous sushi restaurant that must have been the best restaurant in all of Prythian. Sometimes if Tomas were romantic, he would take her out to the boardwalk to eat by the sea and talk, mostly about the appending wedding and what was still needing to be discussed with the wedding planner.

She really wished she was back home.

The bell from the door rings. “Sorry ma’am I was at a business lunch, and it ran overtime.” Mr. Suriel’s voice came up behind Nesta. She turns to face him. “Nesta, your early.”

She faces the skinny old man that was being swallowed in his tweed suit that matched the sofa. Mr. Suriel’s cheeks were hollow and his lips thin. His thinning grey hair was combed over, giving him a deep part. Mr. Suriel was in his early seventies but looked like he was pushing into his nineties. “Yes, the traffic wasn’t too bad, leaving the city.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here till 1:30. Claire doesn’t come back from her lunch for five minutes.” Mr. Suriel looks up at Nesta, eyeing her large hat skeptically. “Fashion choice or trying to hide incognito till you see Cassian?”

Nesta twists her engagement ring. Mr. Suriel’s eyes are drawn to the sparkling ring a tight smile forms. “Congratulations are in order as well. Have you taken back Cassian?” Nesta’s eyes narrow. “No. It looks like you met someone new. How… Charming. All the same, congratulations on your up and coming nuptials. I am guessing your visit is more business than casual.” Mr. Suriel moves over to the hallway to the left of the reception desk. “Please follow me to my office. I have to print out the papers still. Would you like anything to drink? The breakroom is… well, you know where the breakroom is. We have a new coffee machine, the one that takes the pods. Claire claims that it saves us from throwing out so many pots of wasted coffee. I swear that it doesn’t. Her husband is selling them at Vin’s. I think he conspires with her to push sales, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Nesta follows Mr. Suriel to his office. His office was neatly organized; all his paperwork was left in neatly labeled file folders left on his long row of filing cabinets. “It looks like you haven’t switched your files to electronic,” Nesta comments taking a seat in an old worn-out leather chair. Mr. Suriel places his briefcase upon his desk beside a similarly old bulky computer monitor circa 2002. “Do you still use WordPerfect?”

Mr. Suriel opens his briefcase taking out a pair of thick-lensed glasses. “Claire switched me over to Microsoft Word 2013… I’m still getting used to the… layout.” He logins into his computer his glasses reflecting the strobing lights of the desktop and his eyes looked double in size. “We’re still not up to the times like your firm must be. I must say well done on your career so far, Nesta. I knew you would make a great lawyer; at this rate, you’ll be a partner soon.” Mr. Suriel’s eyes flicker over to her before going back to his screen. Nesta could see the shortcuts reflecting off his glasses as he searched out her divorce papers.

“I don’t think so. I’m only a junior associate; it’s going to take a couple more years even to be recognized.” Nesta takes her hat off to run her hand over the brim absentmindedly.

“My office is always looking for new talent. If you ever find yourself coming back –”

Nesta cuts in, “I don’t think that will ever happen.”

Mr. Suriel looks at her with the same tight-lipped smile and all-knowing magnified eyes. “May that be the case or not my door is always open, and I’ll be thrilled to have you back as an associate. Ah, here it is.”

Nesta sucks on her cheek. Her living here, again? Working in a tiny firm, again, dealing with small claim cases and drunk and disorderly? Ha, he must be going senile too at his age. She watches him as he clicks open the document and slowly presses print. The sound of the printer in the breakroom begins.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Mr. Suriel asks; his hands are clasped on the desk his attention solely on her; his large magnified eyes were watching Nesta like prey. How easy has she forgotten the uneasy nature Mr. Suriel has. How he lived for small-town drama and what a drama would it be to see Nesta and Cassian see each other again. An eruption of bruised prides and anger would surely rock Velaris to the core like an earthquake.

“No,” she shifts in her seat, straightening her posture. “I can handle this on my own. I am sure he’ll sign if I’m present.”

Mr. Suriel’s eyes narrow. “I don’t know. He was quite… set in his way when I last was over. He actually tore up the divorce papers.”

“You said in your email that he said that he would only sign if I was there.”

“He also said, mind you, that over his dead body would he sign anything without his lawyer present.”

“Good thing I’m a lawyer.”

Mr. Suriel’s eyes sparkle. “I think you misunderstood. His lawyer is Varian; he is out of town presently but…”

“I know that there have not been any changes since they were first sent to Varian’s office for his review. I don’t think his presence is needed to sign two-year-old papers.”

Claire comes in with a large stack of papers. “Mr. Suriel, I believe that these are yours. Nesta! How lovely to see you,” Claire Beddor was heavily pregnant. That was the first thing that Nesta saw, Claire’s large stomach and then the graphic tee showing an ultrasound of a baby holding an eviction letter with what she presumed to be Claire’s due date bolded. Nesta smiles a similarly tight-lipped one that mirrored her old boss’s. “Wow, you look so… fancy,” Claire eyes Nesta up and down.

Nesta thought what she wore was, to her, casual. She wore her signature navy blue office dress with ruffled three-quarter sleeves with a pair of understated Jimmy Choo’s. She defiantly looked more dressed up than Claire Beddor’s jeans and pregnancy tee-shirt. It was surprising to see the most popular girl in her high school look so ordinary. “Are those Jimmy Choo’s?” Claire asks taking the seat next to Nesta, forgetting about the stack of papers she held.

“Yes,” Nesta replies, watching as Claire rubs her stomach with her empty hand. “Congratulations on the baby.”

“Hmm,” Claire replies absently still looking at Nesta’s shoes and over to her Hermès Birkin, all gifts from Tomas to mark their second-year anniversary. “My third. I really wished that Isaac could afford a purse like that.” She sighs.

“Claire, can you please pass over the papers to me?” Mr. Suriel’s hand reaches over the desk. His limbs were long and bony. Claire looks over to him her material daze broken by her boss’s voice. She smiles brightly and passes the papers over to him before turning back to Nesta.

“How is Orilon, I heard it’s the city that doesn’t sleep. How fabulous.” Claire sighs.

“It’s like any city really. It’s busy, loud, and overly crowded.” Nesta says, placing her hat over her purse.

“It must be like living in a fairy tale. I could never picture myself living there myself. I have my world here. Mom and dad are growing old, and the girls have started school. It must have been so scary to move from our quaint town to the city all by yourself all alone.” Claire made it sound like it was far worse than it was. Sure, it was scary, but so is every choice an adult makes. Including starting a family which to Nesta was far more terrifying than moving cross country. “But now you’re some big shot lawyer.”

Nesta tight-lipped smile hurt her cheeks as she watched Claire rub her stomach. Would that have been her if she didn’t leave for law school? Pregnant and regretting her life choices?

Mr. Suriel interrupts. “Nesta, here you go. Everything has been flagged that requires Cassian’s signature. Please bring back the lawyer copy to me once everything is signed.”

Claire moans, “Ohhhh,” Nesta back goes rigged. Please not this, please cauldron anything but this. “Your still not divorce?”

“That’s why I’m here. You know Cassian, stubborn as a mule.” Nesta says, taking the papers into her hands. She reaches down to her purse, and a shocked sound was made from Claire. Nesta’s hand was yanked towards Claire’s face. The young woman lifts Nesta’s hand, eyeing the sparkling diamond on her finger.

“That’s a rock!” She exclaims. “No wonder you’re here. I would want to show off that sparkler to my ex too.” Her smile is wicked as she catches Nesta’s gaze. “Looks like you caught a rich one.”

Nesta pulled her hand back from Claire’s grasp. She grabs her purse and stuffs the divorce papers into it. “I would rather not discuss my personal life.”

Claire puffs her cheeks, “I’m not sure why you wouldn’t want to talk about marriage. It wasn’t like your first one was any good. The groom didn’t even show up to the reception.” Nesta presses her eyes closed tightly and breathes in and out. Count to five. Remain cold and distant. She’s just upset that you left and had a life while she stayed and made hers miserable with the additional three she made.

“I rather keep my engagement under wraps. I still need to get my divorce finalized.” She finally says, standing up. Mr. Suriel gets up as well. He moves around the desk and moves over to the door opening it for Nesta to walk out. He stops her and says, “Remember what I said. My door is always open.”

She thanks him and walks out back onto Main Street with her hat and sunglasses on.

It wasn’t like Claire was wrong. Her first marriage wasn’t great; there was a reason that she fled so far away to attend law school. Cassian was her first boyfriend. The first boy she let herself bring her walls down. He was handsome and cocky, and he knew how to spar with her. They were shockingly, friends before lovers. In her teenage heart and in her diaries, she thought that he was it. He was the one. They would be like Claire and Isaac married with three kids living in a small shack by the lake with Cassian working at the mechanics’ shop and her working at Suriel LLP as a Legal Assistant/Receptionist. But no that was not how her marriage with Cassian was.

She was a fool that got pregnant after a football game when Cassian scored the winning touchdown. They made love under the stars in the back of his pickup listening to the radio. Their marriage was the right thing to do. A respectable young lady needed to be married before she started popping out babies. It was rushed and horrible, and Nesta wished she never agreed to the whole thing. The church service was awful with Cassian running late from his long night bachelor party drinking with his brothers and turning up still drunk. She didn’t understand why he needed to be drunk to marry her. Was this not what he wanted? He always said he wanted to marry her.

Nesta shakes her head. Back to the present Archeron, there is no time to fall back to bad memories. She gripped her steering wheel tight driving towards Cassian’s home.

It was like how she remembered it but also not. The one-story home was painted pale yellow sidings with ivy growing up the sides of it. The front yard was patchy and unkempt. Even the small garden Elain started was more weeds than vegetables. The porch ran in front of the house with the best view of the lake. Two rocking chairs sat under the kitchen window the screen door was still closed, but the front door was open. She could smell biscuits baking. She closed her car door with a clang slipping her engagement ring in her purse as she walked up to the steps from the porch past the rocking chairs to the screen door. She not so polity knocked on the door.

“I’m coming; I’m coming. Hold your fucking horses, Rhys.” Cassian voice rose from the depth of the house. Nesta back straightens. He sounded like he just woke up. Great, Cassian half-awake is the worse Cassian. “Tell Feyre to calm down. I made the fucking biscuits as I told her I would.” She caught sight of him; he wore a tight-fitting tee-shirt and dark joggers. His hands were in his long hair pulling it up into a ponytail. He had yet noticed that Nesta was not Rhys. He groggily moved to where Nesta thought could be the kitchen table picking up a plate of biscuits. “I don’t understand why she still thinks I’ll flake and not make –” He noticed her his shock expression was not lost to her nor how he dragged his eyes up and down her form as if trying to make sure she was, in fact, real and not imaginary.

He walks up to the screen door. His arm rests above his head as he leaned on the door frame. He has his signature smirk on his face, and his eyes looked like they were sparkling. Nesta scowled. “As I live and breathe, my wife has returned. What can I do for you?” He looked so full of himself. So proud of himself. He smelled like Irish Spring and coconut. Nesta tries her best not to close her eyes as she breathes him in. After six almost seven years of not seeing him, he’s acting as if she was gone on vacation and was back home from finding herself. His smile was lovely and warm and so not worth the pain that she was about to give him again. But then again, she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her.

“For starters, I need you to stop being a stubborn mule and sign the divorce papers.” She wills her eyes back to ice. She takes out the divorce papers from her bag and places them in Cassian’s viewpoint against the screen door. Cassian lifts his hand to rub at his jaw his smirk no longer there, and his eyes looked heavy.

“I already told your lawyer that I ain’t signing shit till Varian looks over the paperwork.” He says, looking over the paper to Nesta.

“Varian has seen the paperwork the first time. Nothing has changed.” Nesta pushes the paper harder against the screen door.

“And how do I know that if Varian hasn’t reviewed it. I don’t want to find out that you took all my money and my home from right underneath my nose in the fine print.” Cassian gaze never flickered back to paper. He was only looking at her.

“Cassian -” Nesta begins before Cassian straightens his back. Nesta drops her hand, holding the divorce papers.

“Do your sisters know that you’re in town?” Nesta looks past his shoulder. “Of course not. Why would you want your only family to know that you came to town to harass me about divorce?”

“I have a plane to catch. Can you sign the damn papers?”

“Is Varian here?” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest as if waiting for an answer. “No? Well, I guess there’s your answer. Go see Feyre and Elain. They would like to see their runaway sister.”

“That is none of your concern. What my relationship is with my sisters is for me to decide, not yours. We have been separated for seven years, Cassian. We’re not husband and wife. Just sign the papers.”

“You know what I changed my mind. I won’t speak to you until you talk to your sisters. Varian also must be present, but I want you to talk to your sisters.” Cassian moves closing the front door and locks it.

“For fucksake!” Nesta screams at the door. She pounds and pounds at the door. “Open the fucking door Cassian! Stop being a child!”

She continues to pound as Cassian blasts music. She stops and remembers that Cassian probably still didn’t know where the spare key to the house was. Cassian was not the type to change the locks to his glorified shack residency, and he probably forgot that there was a spare hiding somewhere on the grounds of his home. Nesta ran her hand up the kitchen window. The curtains were drawn, and it looked like Cassian wasn’t in the kitchen. She ran her hand up to the top of the window frame feeling for the – “Ah-Ha!” Nesta proclaims getting her fingers around the key and pulling it down.

She unlocks the door and steps in. The house was neat. Not surprising from Cassian’s strict childhood. The kitchen was clean with old tiled countertops and 50s appliances. His fridge was covered in magnets holding pieces of paper and photographs. She places her purse on the small four-seat table set in the middle of the kitchen and walks over to the fridge seeing a photo of herself and Cassian smiling taken in tenth grade. And there was another of her and Cassian, and another and another with their friends and family and on the side of the fridge next to the oven hidden, but not well enough was the photo. The photo of the ultrasound.

Nesta turns and goes back to her purse for the divorce papers. She hears him humming, happily thinking that she gave up. She moves so she can see the tiny living room. He’s sitting on the couch flicking through channels on his tv. His plate of biscuits sat cellophaned on the coffee table next to his feet. She moves with purpose in one hand the divorce papers in the other the spare key. She moves to the stereo and slowly turns down the music. Cassian turns.

“I am calling the cops your breaking and entering on private property.” Cassian hands go for his cell phone that too was on the coffee table charging.

“It’s not breaking and entering when I know where you keep the spare key,” She waves the key in front of his face, “and also, as I am still married to you this is our property. I dare you to call the cops I’m doing nothing wrong.”

“Nesta, I swear to the Cauldron that if you don’t leave my house this instant, I will drag you out.”

“Is that a threat?” Nesta moves further into the living room. Cassian had his phone unlocked in his hand.

“Maybe, would you want to test it?” Cassian opens up his contact list going through it till he reaches Rhys’s name.

There was a knock at the door. Cassian and Nesta looked at each other. “Cas! Hey, sleepyhead! Feyre is worried that you forgot her biscuits! Cas! Wake up, dude! If you don’t get over here in like five seconds, I am coming in!” Rhys’ voice yelled from the door.

“Fuck…” Cassian rolls his head back. He snaps back, staring down and Nesta, “You stay there.” He gets up, picking up his plate of biscuits and walks out to the front door.

“There you are sleeping beauty. Come on we got to get those to Feyre.” The screen door squeaks open.

“Hey dude, I’ve got to do some stuff before I head over.”

Nesta not taking Cassian’s command began to creep over to the archway separating the living room to the kitchen. She peeps her head around the corner spotting Rhysand wearing a sheriff uniform. His dark hair that was once almost as long and shaggy as Cassian was cropped short showing off his slightly irregular pointed ears. He had the same dashing smirk and childish spark in his eyes.

“Work on a Friday? I thought you said that you would never work weekends?” Rhys said his hands on his waist.

“Yeah… I got some paperwork that needs to be done today. Why don’t you take this,” Cassian passes his plate of biscuits to Rhys.

“That’s not enough; the whole gang is over. This will not last a second.” Rhys takes the plate.

“I don’t really have the time currently to bake three hundred and fifty biscuits for your fiancé to stuff down her throat.”

Nesta’s eyes widen. Rhys was engaged? Not with Feyre, surely not. Feyre would have told her so.

“Hey, it would be Mor too, they share.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll be over in like an hour tops.”

Nesta, not wanting to miss her chance, walked into the kitchen. “Rhys,” Nesta greets walking fully into the kitchen.

“Work my ass, Cas. Think of the devil, and she appears. Nesta, what hole have you crawled out of this time.” Rhysand replies. Cassian glares at Nesta moving to the right to let Rhysand into the house.

“Not the one you were hoping of. I am here actually to –”

Cassian cuts in, “to help me review contracts. You know as she is a corporate lawyer, she has a better understanding of… contracts.” Rhysand gives him a skeptical look.

“I am not here to look over contracts if I was; he could hardly afford it.” She looks at him pointily. “I am here to get him to sign this.” She extends the divorce papers toward Rhysand who whistles.

“I thought you dealt with this already,” Rhysand looks at Cassian who was leaning against the tiled kitchen cabinet.

“I thought I did,” Cassian replies.

“Tearing it apart is not dealing with it.” She deadpans. “Can you please force him to sign the damn thing! It costs me a small fortune.”

“As much as I would love to use my badge over my brother that’s an abuse of power that might force me out of office.”

“Can you at least talk some sense into this idiot?” She asks.

“That I could try… But not today.”

“I need this signed today. I don’t have time to play this game anymore.” Nesta huffs.

“I am sure another week won’t hurt you,” Cassian replies. “Varian will be back and will look over the papers then I will sign.”

Nesta goes to her bag on the kitchen table and begins a search for her ring. She puts it on and flings it in front of Cassian. “I don’t have a month for this Cassian. I am getting married in four weeks, and I still have things to plan.” Cassian’s eyes go wide. Rhysand gasps.

“I am guessing your sisters don’t know,” Cassian replies, still looking at the diamond with a stet jaw. She really didn’t want to show the ring, but it was the only card she had left.

“Please sign the papers.” Nesta drops her hand, pushing the papers towards Cassian on the table. He sits down the vinyl chair squeaks at his weight and finally looks at the paper. Rhysand stands back at the door his eyes still looking at the sparkling diamond on her hand. No one knew. She wanted to leave her old life behind. She wanted to start her life new with Thomas with nothing holding her back. She always thought of herself a loner with no family. She pulls out a pen with her firm’s name on it and places it next to the paper for Cassian to reach.

He looks at it then looks over to Rhysand.

#nessian #acotar fanfiction #sweet home alabama

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